Another Way I Know I’m a Sub/Boy

There are lots of little vignettes of how I know – I mean how I truly know – that I’m a “boy.” I guess it’s a lot like the question of how one knows he’s gay. It just feels right, everything clicks, and performing the work or hearing the words just feels natural, it makes one feel whole.

I had another instance of feeling whole as a boy a few weeks ago, and in a way, it was by accident. It wasn’t a scene, or a session, and no one got naked. It was game night with a couple of friends. My (vanilla) husband and I love to have dinner parties and play board games, and so we had a couple over that we like and are getting to know better.

I made dinner. Hubs made dessert of some sort. Typically I’m your quintessential Martha in the kitchen: stay out, I’ll do the work, and I’ll make sure it’s just right. I’m sure a big part of me wanting to make sure it’s right comes from my service side … I want my guests (and husband) to relax and enjoy their evening and I’ll make the magic happen. Seriously I would do quite well as house staff in Downton Abbey, white gloves and all.

But this particular night, something different clicked for me. I felt most at home, most useful, and most happy, when I was making sure that each person wanted for nothing. Drinks, plates, dessert, everything. I was the butler for these three studs and I relished every minute of it. I didn’t care about myself, or anything I wanted, I ate last and made sure they got the things they wanted and needed, preferably before they asked for it.

I feel whole when I’m in service. And being in service is not just about sex, or bondage, or submission. It’s surrender of control, it’s giving up any hint of my own needs. Because I don’t really need anything but to serve. Sure, that might be sucking Sir’s cock or getting tied and beaten for his stress relief or being a footrest, but it could also be serving drinks or waiting a table at a party.

My role as a boy is to ensure Sir/Daddy/Master is happy, and that’s how I find fulfillment.

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