If you’re going to ask…

I’m very happy to consider myself a service submissive and chew toy.  I help where I can, around my duties as a law enforcement officer.   Which, sorry – those come first.   I’m not bailing out on a duty day to deep clean your house at the last minute.  I realize you have a party tonight.   I have a duty, today.

If you’re going to ask a submissive for something, please remember that we’re human beings, not vending machines for money and services.  I rake leaves and shovel snow for my neighbors when the weather is bad.  I help with wood finishing at my partner’s wife’s business, because she asks and he’s my unit.  I chop firewood for another neighbor on the other side of my block – she’s a 42 year old widow and a Navy veteran with two kids.  Chopping firewood for her kids to have fires (and have a lower heat bill) is the least of her worries. Magically making half a cord of fire wood appear in her firewood is the least I (or anyone) can do.

After that – yes, I’ll help if I can.   I avoid events (once torched to cinders, twice shy), but I will help where I can outside of that.

Just please remember – we’re not vending machines.  We can’t, won’t, or shouldn’t be the types to drop everything to meet you for coffee (and pay for it, and bring you a ‘gift’ tribute) at your beck and call. 

Because if we are that kind of submissive – why would you actually want us?  Isn't that why God invented ATMs?

That’s not a submissive.   That’s a boy who watched a few too many porn movies, and will disappear as soon as he realizes you don’t live in a latex catsuit with the crotch cut out.

In the real world, we’re men who submit because we feel the emotion.   We feel the desire, to find one person who weakens us, cares for us, and takes our service.

In the rest of the world – we’re vending machines. 

Take your pick, Misses.