Soul Submissive

Last evening, S and I went to a concert together. He had been busy all weekend, and was really tired. The concert was in a very relaxed setting, and the music very mellow. At one point I looked over, and my sweet Dom was so sleepy.  For the next hour, every time I looked over at him, his eyes were closed and he was leaning on me, nearly dozing off. I decided that we should leave at intermission, because I felt like this concert I drug him to was boring for him, and I felt guilty keeping him up when he was so tired. It was a long ride home, and even though I was driving, he was still being inconvenienced. I simply want to meet his needs.

My mistake was trying to think for him, and I gently insisted we leave. When he said no, I didn't leave well enough alone. I thought I knew better.

Truly, I am a very fortunate Sub. Because on the way home, when S expressed his displeasure with my insistence, he was gentle with me. It is far more important that to him that I understand why I need to submit, rather than just mindlessly submitting. S loves that I am strong, independent, and intelligent, and counts on those aspects of my personality in many ways. But a submissive woman knows she cannot attempt in anyway to overpower or out-think her Dom; this is unacceptable in every instance.

When I realized how I had behaved, I felt the rush of shame wash over me. I literally felt cold throughout my body and the pang of fear clutched my stomach like an iron fist. A cold sweat broke out over my trembling body and I could barely speak. Clutching the wheel, I drove towards home, barely able to watch the road, and completely unable to look at S in the passenger seat. I thought of the ride to the concert, the way we laughed and joked, the way we touched each other and stimulated one another sexually as we flew up the highway. Now in the dark car, maneuvering through the traffic, all I could feel was deep disgrace.

No physical punishment awaited me; S knew my shame is genuine and that is punishment enough. When he asked me if I wanted to continue this relationship, tears welled up in my eyes. He then asked, "Who is making the decisions here? Is it me, or is it you?" I could barely breathe the answer, "You. . ." and choke back my self disgust. He gently took my hand, and reiterated how much he cared, how he wanted me to be myself, and if this wasn't going to work for me, that he would make the necessary adjustments. I begged him to not give up on me, with the few words I could speak, and promised that my desire to serve was sincere and that I would try harder.

Saying goodbye in my driveway, and not knowing when I would see him again, I longed for him to stay, to comfort me and ease me through my shame. He did not, for many reasons, but he directed me to not dwell on the subject. It was done, and if I had learned my lesson, then it was behind us. I promised to not dwell, and gathered up all of my strength and walked in the door to my home.

I cried myself to sleep, ashamed, and heartbroken. Waking this morning, I faced the day with a renewed determination to better serve this wonderful man whom I love so dearly.