"My life is made up of hundreds of these little rituals. Rituals whichreinforces my status and our dichotomy, rituals made to get me turned on,rituals...made to emasculate me, rituals made to relive my humiliation overand over again, rituals that feed my kinky desires, rituals that keep mebeholden to her.One of the rituals we used to have is that every time I worshiped hershoes I would get an orgasm. So not only was she allowing me to engage inone of my fetishes, but using it to condition my mind. I had just finished my coffee when he rushed in, whistling a merry melody and smelling nicely of deodorant. Without a word, he gobbled down a bowlful of cereal, rinsed the bowl out and put it in the dishwasher."In a hurry?" I enquired.He looked at the time on his phone. "Not really." he answered. "I'm going to the library today. Remember?" Of course I remember." In fact, I was counting on it."Good. Good." He rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and was out the door in no time. "Bye Dad.. More

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