How Did I get here?

As I signed my name on the piece of paper that formalized my complete and total submission to my husband, my God, I paused for a moment to reflect how I had arrived at this place. In some sense, it made perfect sense. Maybe my culture and upbringing had prepared me for this (more on this soon). . In other ways it made no sense at all. I am a very well educated woman with a masters degree and do not consider myself a pushover. My God is not the typical Indian guy either. He is highly educated, has a successful career and cares about women's issues and is quite liberal in his thinking. He is very respectful towards me in public and adores our little daughter. I completely trust him and love him madly. And maybe that is the reason why I find myself here. I would do this for no other man but him. I simply worship him and he is obsessed with me and that bond has led us here where I am willingly submitting myself to be his "Daasi", his "Slave". In fact, I doubt if this would have happened if I had not wanted it so bad.

He is my "Pathi", my Parameshwar. My husband, My God and I am his Desi Daasi. His Indian Slave.

"You Ok?", he asked with a smile. You sure you want to do this?.

I looked at him with tears in my eyes as a strange thrill swept thru my body. "Yes, my God" I said with a trembling voice. Then I did what I had done hundreds of times before I signed the contract, I bent down, prostrated before him, touched his feet with both my hands, then closed  my eyes and touched them with my hands. I then kissed the phallic symbol (considered a sign of the divine in our culture) that he had tied on me when we were married and kissed it with my lips.  But this time, it was not just out of respect, it was because he completely owned me.

My God gently lifted me up and kissed me lightly on my lips. My new journey had begun.