Remember that I love Butler but we are both in an ongoing battle to reduce his independence, his sense of manhood, and his autonomy. He has been a great partner. He is not only willing to allow me to experiment on him but to offer suggestions.

About a year ago I did something that struck at the core of his independence. Most of you would be unable to cope with this. It seems silly but I promise that it hurt. It tore a whole in his soul and I made fun of him every step of the way. I ridicule him about it all the time.

I sold his car.

We live in an historic “trollyburg” neighborhood where bicycle travel is practical. With some of the proceeds of the sale, I bought him a tricycle with a large basket. This is not a hip looking thing at all. He looks silly on it. However, the grocery, hardware store, and laundry are all close. He doesn’t need a car.

I told him slaves don’t drive. Slaves walk or pedal. Also, I want him to stay fit as long as possible. He looks a little ridiculous on it. He does not look cool. For a lot of men, their car is an extension of their penis. Well, I chopped Butler’s off.

It was simply another way to impoverish him and draw a line between how I live and how he must live. He does all of his errands on it. It’s been wonderful.

Sometimes we leave the house at the same time, me in my car and him on his tricycle. I wave as I drive by. Only a slave would allow me to do this to him, or so I tell him again and again. I want it to be clear that he has the vehicle of a slave. He won’t be picking up any women on his tricycle. He does not belong to himself. He belongs to me. And, I want him to feel it all the time.