The absence of autonomy
Raised in a strict home, I never had any autonomy - I belonged to my parents up until marriage, and now belong to my husband.
I stopped my formal education at 16, and I was married at 21, just under a year ago. My real education was different, in that I was taught for 4 years before marriage on homely duties. I can proudly say that I can cook more than a hundred dishes, bake breads, biscuits, cakes to near perfection, including the piping. I can style my hair in many different ways, I know how to sit, walk and stand like a lady, and for all that, I have my mother to thank. She worked tirelessly to prepare me for marriage and I owe her a lot. My father was the calm, but equally strict patriarch of the family who provided us with everything, and my mother ensured my consistent discipline and unquestioning obedience. The last two years before my marriage were a real test, my mother was always ready with a cane in hand. Any mistakes got promptly corrected.
My husband now is the one who’s responsible for guiding me, leading me, providing for me, and loving me. In return, I obey his every order, no questions asked. His wish, is truly my command. His word, after the word of God, is the law in our home. I get disciplined once a week, and for infractions. He chooses what I wear, and I speak when spoken to. It is my responsibility to ensure that his palace is clean when he comes home from work, with the lounge smelling of vanilla (his favourite scent), and his wife made up as he likes, hair plaited, perfumed, welcoming him with a cup of tea.
I can proudly state that he is my owner, and I do nothing without his explicit permission. I love my life, I feel like I’m fulfilling my purpose.