Soul Submissive

S and I seem to reluctantly take turns being the caregiver/caretaker. I love taking care of him, but become resentful if I must do it for too long. Then I become irrational, petulant, and overwhelmed. I fall to pieces, blaming, shouting, crying and accusing until he steps up.

As a result of my tantrums he feels guilty for missing the clues of how I needed him. He becomes overwhelmed with self-pity for being a failure. Of course, he's not a failure, he's just following my lead, doing as I have told, being submissive. He's waiting for direction. My shortcoming is that I don't always know my own needs, my own feelings. I don't realize I'm in pain, that I'm needing more than he's giving, and I attack out of confusion. He rushes to my aid, engrossed in self hatred because as a partner, as a lover, as a friend, as a son, in his mind, he's failed again.

He wants to be good. He wants to fulfill his part in the relationship. He believed that with me he could do that. That is, until I started telling him he had failed.

Once my emotional needs are met, I've had a day of pampering or comforting, I begin to come out of my funk. I immediately feel sorry for him. I realize how hard I've been on him and begin take care of him. As I've said, I love taking care of him, nurturing him and loving him, knowing that he's feeling fulfilled, but I run out of steam after some time has passed. Then the cycle begins again.

We realize now that we both need to work on communicating BEFORE disaster strikes and listening to one another better. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want him to feel guilty or ashamed. I want to be loved and comforted and I want him to feel loved and comforted too. It's so hard to strike that balance.

But I have faith that we will find it because we both want to so much. As long as we remain on the right path, focused on the same goal, I have great hope that we will reach a happier place, in time.

I've known love before. My father loved me so. I could feel his love exude from every pore on his body when he smiled at me. I also had a friend Thomas for many years that loved me, just the way I was. Thomas never wanted to change me, and loved me to be outrageous and comical and sexy. When he died so many years ago, in many ways, I did too.

I didn't want love anymore. I didn't want to feel the heartache any longer. Losing my father and then losing Thomas made me feel so alone here on earth. I didn't want to feel that loss again, so I decided somewhere deep inside that I wouldn't open up for love. Then I wouldn't miss it when it was gone.

But I did. I was lonely. So lonely and in so much pain, that I turned it all inward, piling on the pounds, hiding in my comfy, compliant life with my domineering husband. He wasn't dominant. He was a mousy, frightened child who was bossy and hateful, complaining daily about everything under the sun. He tried to control everything in an effort to stop feeling out of control inside. I allowed him to control me, because I was so sad and empty inside.

I have a lovely daughter. She's an adult now. I wanted to provide a father for her, so getting remarried to a man she adored seemed like a good fit. She was happy, he was satisfied, and who cared if I was dying inside?

Who, indeed.

Then I met him. S filled my lungs with the first breath of air I had taken in years. I felt myself again. I felt my heart again. I felt love again.

Since I've met S, I've learned the differences between domination and domineering; submission and subjugation; control and love. Love is out of control, it is flying freely, it is watching the object of your desire be all they can be and feeling your heart soar with pride for them. It is giving of yourself for them, to them, to bring their heart peace and happiness. Love is giving, not taking. It is freedom, not control. It is joy that runs through your heart, into them, and back into you.

Today I cried in his arms after S made love to me. His love overwhelmed me. I could feel the pang of the love I had felt in the arms of my father and my friend while lying in his embrace.

Love is a vibration, like a bell, that you don't just hear, but you feel as it washes on you. Today love echoed within me, a sound long quieted, reverberating from within.

My dolly is the bravest thing,
That I have ever found.
She'll sit and take my scolding,
And never make a sound.
Sometimes I forget
And pull her by her hair.
She doesn't even cry a bit,
She doesn't even care!
One day when Momma said
We'd have to throw her out,
Because she was worn and old,
And ruined just about,
I'm sure I saw a great big tear,
Come sliding down her nose.
She didn't want to go,
She'd miss me I suppose.
So I took her in
And fixed her all up nice.
Even found a new dress,
Just about her size.
Now I'll never mistreat her!
I couldn't if I tried!
It was almost more than I could stand,
The day my Baby cried.
~ L. Jorgensen

"You're my Babydoll, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you know what a girl does with her Babydoll?"

"No Mistress."

"Anything she wants."

"Yes Mistress, yes."

I want to consume him, to devour him, to hold him inside of me and keep him safe, satiating my lust from within.

For now, I must be satisfied with owning him physically. His body belongs to me, to love and adore at my hands. His cock belongs to me, to kiss, to suck, to handle, to fuck. His cum belongs to me. Not one drop will spew without my say so, nor without his cock embedded within me. I hoard each drop, enjoying the tickle of the drips escaping past my labia and onto my thighs. After he cums, I keep my thighs unclothed, so I can feel it drip for hours and smell him in on me.

He pleases me with his passion. My mouth waters at the sight of his eyes, looking up from his knees, waiting for my approval.

He is my Sweet Boy.

"I'm drawn to you in so many ways. When you hold me and I kiss you, kiss your breasts, your arms, and smell your skin, I feel this energy flow from me, into you and back through me. I don't know how else to describe it but energy, and it just makes my cock hard, as if my cock responds to your energy, your will."

S is certain it is more than just sexual energy he feels with me, responding with a stiffened cock each time I grasp him tightly and release my energy into him. It is something primal, perhaps even esoteric and spiritual that draws us together. This feeling is reciprocated in my body. I realize my orgasms flow through me, from a source outside of my body, through the top of my head, down through me, into him through our connected groins, and then shoots back through me and up out of my body. When this first happened, I was overwhelmed with excitement, as I felt a vibration that I'd never known. Now it happens so often, I forget to be amazed.

Recently I've been studying about metaphysics to find some answers. The topic of chakras came about so I did some reading about the root chakra, with was suggested by a friend of mine. . .

The Root Chakra links us to the physical world, solidity and support - especially to the physical body. It is the foundation of energy. The Base or Root Chakra manifests strongly in the motivation to ensure personal survival by way of food, rest, and sexual expression. Spiritually, the base chakra has to do with protection of individual integrity. It is an energy center that provides a solid ground from which to establish our equilibrium in order to ascend to higher awareness.

Absolutely convinced that what I feel is very real, I'm willing to explore this information further. What I know is that what I feel with S is beyond my understanding of my lifetime. It exceeds anything I've every known. I feel certain I was destined to be with him, and as a born leader, I was destined to be his Domme. I love my life now, even with the ebb and flow, ups and downs. To live any other way would not be living. I am ready to grow to a new level, accept a new understanding, and see where this road leads. If life is this wonderful now, whatever lies ahead must be Nirvana.

"I'm just not going to pay the mortgage anymore. Thank you very much for your time, but you're not helping me." I hung up the phone. The escrow representative had frustrated me beyond all reason, so my empty threat was all I had left.

I was still lying in bed. Remembering to call the bank first thing this morning, I had reached for the phone and called before my feet ever hit the floor. Now I was whining and weeping, frustrated that the bank had made an error in my escrow and having no luck getting someone to make the correction. The error was costing me an extra $500 monthly, although the money was going into my escrow account. It has just been so infuriating to be strapped for cash when it's someone else's error.

S reached over to console me. I didn't want any financial help, nor to discuss it any longer, as I had made my way through 5 representatives in 3 departments discussing, and getting nowhere. His touch was all I wanted, all I needed. He stroked my back, kissed my chest and my arm, touched my hair, wiped my tears, and cuddled me. I relaxed in his embrace. His kiss on my lips pushed the thoughts of money from my head for a moment. When I pulled away to look in his eyes, the frustration came back. I pressed my lips to his quickly to push the bad feelings away. It worked. I kissed deeper this time, sucking his tongue and bottom lip. I felt my body begin to respond.

Pushing my tongue into his mouth, he pulled me into him, and the kiss was warm and soothing. My body became stimulated, my pussy started to moisten and all I could feel was passion. I pushed him on his back and climbed up on him. Straddling his hips, I pinned his shoulders to the bed and looked into his eyes.

"Your only purpose is to make me feel better right now. I need to feel better. Lie still and let Mistress feel better. Don't struggle. I need this right now."

I rode him hard, pressing his face to the side against the mattress, until my body shuddered with orgasm. Breathless, I collapsed on top of him, kissing his sweet face and thanking him for taking care of me. He groaned with pleasure, barely audible.

"May I come now Mistress?"

"Yes, Sweet Boy. Yes. You did a good job. Come on now, cum."

He grasped my hips, furiously fucking me from underneath, gasping with ecstasy as he came.

I'm not sure if I've ever used someone so blatantly before. When I was a kid, I made friends with a neighbor who had a pool, just so I could swim there. As a teen, I went to the prom with a guy I didn't really like, just to go to the prom. In my twenties, I dated guys just to go out to nice restaurants. I've even talked a few guys into helping me financially from time to time, even though I didn't really care much for them. But to use a man in this way, well, I'm sure I've never done that before.

However, I will be doing it again.

Words are not enough. Just agreeing with me is not submission.

By the same token, actions are not enough. Just going through the motions, following commands, can often be empty gestures. This is not submission. This is compliance. This is obedience. And sure, I appreciate compliance and obedience. Often these are a turn on. But do not mistake them with submission, because they are not.

S understands what I want. He understands my definition of submission. He knows when he's feeling submissive and knows when he's behaving submissive. More importantly, he knows the difference. I have no desire to command a servant who is only "acting" submissive. Christ, anyone can do that! Give a person a gun to hold against the head of a victim, and you have compliance and obedience. I know. I've had it done to me.

I was 18 years old that June when the intruder kicked in my back door and ran up into the loft, standing at the foot of my bed. He was pointing a gun at my face. I knew immediately that I was in grave danger, and these may be my final moments. I complied. For the next hour, as he robbed me, destroyed my apartment, raped me, ate food from my kitchen, killed my cat, and beat me bloody, I complied. That is, until I had had enough. Tied up on the floor, spitting blood, I rolled onto my back and stood up in one swift motion.

"Get the FUCK out of my apartment! What do you fucking want? You've taken everything. Now, GET THE FUCK OUT!!"

He ran out the door. I never saw him again.

What he didn't have was dominance over me. He never did. I complied. I acted "as if" for him, to save myself. He didn't get what he came for, because that was mine alone to give. One must give submission! No one can take that from another.

Fear does not bring submission. Just the opposite. Fear brings compliance. With S and I, only love brings submission. Only in the comfort of my arms can he let his guard down and give himself to me, freely and wholly, because he chooses to. I want nothing less than that, and only when I've earned it. Only when I've worked hard enough to make him feel safe can I have the satisfaction of his servitude.

This morning while cuddling, after his time confined to our bed for our Sunday Submission Project, I released him from his bonds. I told him he was free and he had served me well. My goal of 6 ejaculations was just a pretense for the project. What I had truly wanted was for him to feel insulated enough from his every day life to relax and surrender to his sexual being. In the actions there were very few minor differences between this sexual escapade and any other we may have. But emotionally, I feel we went deeper than we ever have before, sharing our ideas, feelings and thoughts on our D/s relationship frankly and lovingly. It was beautiful.

"I want to please you for the rest of you life," he softly declared as he held me tight and kissed my breasts.

I began to cry. I was so deeply touched by his surrender, his desire to please me, his loving affection and complete abandon, I wept uncontrollably. When I regained myself I kissed his forehead over and over, embracing him with all of my might.

"You're a good boy. You're a very, very good boy. I love you so! You're a very good boy."

Those were the words we had both longed to hear.

Our therapist has been a Godsend! Clearing away the pain, the confusion, the misunderstandings and the myths has been incredibly freeing. Recently, I feel myself letting go of all of the lifelong sorrow I had stored in my heart and opening myself to love.

The other piece to the puzzle has been taking this journey with S. He has been so willing to bear himself, not just to me, but to our therapist, and share his pain. As I've said in the past, he has a very hard time communicating. But with her, he opens up and she understands him immediately; not in what he says, but what he doesn't say. She seems to feel what he means, his intention, and works with both of us to help us understand one another in a beautiful way.

What surprised, no shocked me, was the open-mindedness with which she embraced our D/s relationship. She sees this as beautiful, helpful, and nurturing for us both. She can be blunt, so I'm sure she is genuine in her advice. But for this 60+ year old woman, she continues to surprise me with her open mindset.

She's made no comments about the punishment, neither positive nor negative, but seems to view the entire interaction as healthy and loving. I punish S very little, and always help him turn the punishment into a reassuring experience. I've never spanked him without twice as much love and comfort afterwards. For some time, I was deeply concerned that this relationship framework was unhealthy. Our therapist has reassured me that it is completely healthy, and even emotionally helpful and rewarding.

I would never want to harm my Sweet Boy; not physically, mentally, nor emotionally. Being what he needs in life, soothing his broken soul, has been the most rewarding experience I've ever known.

My Sweet Boy lie in the bed beside me, declaring his devotion to me and his willingness to please me. I cleared my mind, able to relax in his embrace, his mouth resting upon my nipple to suckle, his hard cock pressed against my thigh. The precum began to ooze onto my skin and I relaxed into my cleared mind and pleasured body.

I realized S had but one purpose in these moments. His purpose is to please me sexually. Suddenly I wondered, how much cum could he produce in a 12-hour period? How many times could I arouse him, tease him, cum him, and rest him until he was completely spent? How much sex can he give, can he take?

I've decided to submerge him into complete submissiveness this Sunday. Beginning Saturday night, he will be confined to bed. He must wait until his "toilet time" to leave the bed, walk to the toilet, and return immediately. Aside from that, he must remain in the bed until he reaches my goal.

My goal will be that he must cum 6 times for me, in me, before he can leave the bed. If it takes him two days, then so be it. He may not use his phone, his computer, read or watch television until he has completed his task. The only exception to this is that I will be choosing some websites relating to him goal that he will be required to view.

I will keep him fed and watered, as I would any good pet, as well as cuddled and comforted. He can sleep and rest as he needs to. His only restriction will truly be to remain in our bed. His only goal, his only purpose, will be to submit completely and please me sexually.

I own him. I own his cum, even before it is produced. I own his body, his heart, his mind. But our souls are twin flames, burning together eternally.

I was recently honored by being interviewed by Dishevelled Domina. She posted my interview on her blog with a number of other interviews of Domme's. She has also posted interviews of male subs. The more I read the other interviews the more I realize how little I understand about this lifestyle, and about myself. It never ceases to amaze me, after years and years of trying to figure out who I am, how little I really know. Do you feel this way too? Or is it just me?

"You want to get in my head, don't you? You always seem to be watching me, analyzing me. It makes me uncomfortable. It seems your studying me."

When S says this, he's suspicious, fearful, and accusing. What my Sweet Boy doesn't realize is that I mean to do this from love. I'm not trying to "get in his head" to hurt him, but to better understand his needs.

S cannot communicate well.

More often than not, when I ask a question he is unable to answer verbally. Often he cannot even respond physically. He simply stares at me. Occasionally he can't even look in my direction. From time to time he will brush his fingertips against me, looking away. Other times he will grunt, "Hmmm?" in a sweet, curious way. I'm learning to take what he can give.

What we've learned in therapy and through many, many discussions, is that he's not ignoring me. He's trying to formulate the "proper" answer, so as to prevent disappointing me. In the past when I became angry due to this huge misunderstanding on my part, he felt like a huge failure and the feelings of inadequacy overwhelmed him. Once that happened he would withdraw, sometimes for days, into a cave of fear.

As his Domme I mean to coax him gently out of this cave and assure him that I won't punish him for this. I don't think this fear will ever completely leave him, although I hope it does. It's been embedded so deeply that it's become part of his character now. What my Sweet Boy doesn't need is punishment. He needs acceptance.

The hardest part of being S's Domme is knowing what he needs and when he needs it. Imagine someone with little to no facial expression most of the time, a monotone voice, withdrawn into his world of work. When he occasionally laughs out loud, or cries with ecstasy, I feel this enormous sense of victory. I know he needs to safely express himself and to be received with love and praise.

My method for "coaxing" is to consume him with my body in intimate moments. I wrap myself around him, lie on top of him, hold him with my strong hands, and whisper questions in his ear. I often feed him answers and encourage him to respond verbally. I make the questions easy, the answers obvious, and help him find the words. The more often he answers, the more praise he receives. I love praising him! I love kissing his sweet, sweet face over and over, offering him my nipple, stroking his cheek and telling him he's such a good boy!

To torture S is simple:

Ask impossible questions in anger
Demand answers now
Withdraw and withhold love and affection
Tell him he's failed
Tell him he's inadequate, inferior or unworthy
Physically punish him without comfort
Refuse comfort at any time he seeks it
Shout at him
Leave without saying goodbye, giving a kiss, and saying when I'll return
Leaving him forever


I'm a hot head with a horrible temper. I'm learning to control that so as to never even brush the edges of these events with S. I don't want him to ever anticipate this will be an end result of any of our encounters.

Some things are off limits. For us, these are.

"Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't." -- Margaret Thatcher

But to be both, that is electric! S doesn't need to hear that I'm in charge, he needs to feel it. I don't need to tell him I'm a lady, he already knows it. These are the two things that drew him to me in the beginning and the very things that keep him enthralled.

We are visiting his father and stepmother this week for his father's birthday. Most likely, this will be his father's last birthday, as his cancer is progressing at an alarming rate. Having just reunited with his father after a long estrangement, S is struggling, doing his best to break through all of his lifelong fears and rebuild the bridge. My purpose is to be his support and hold him tight, reminding him that my strength is here for him.

S's father is a gentle, kind, funny and sweet man, so much like S that it amazes me. His wife, who he's very much in love with, is a fiery, energetic, enthusiastic woman who seems to always have a mission and a purpose. His Dad often says to me that I remind him of his wife, with all of her enthusiasm. It is apparent to me that he finds himself attracted to me, not sexually, but just like a moth to a flame. I'm not sure he even knows why, but I assume all strong women with hot tempers excite him.

Power is intoxicating, not just for the person with the power, but for those who are in the presence of it. Women of power are thrilling, feeding everyone around them with energy and light. For a submissive male, the only thing more brilliant than a powerful woman is a powerful lady. All that strength wrapped up in silk and lace, gracing the dance floor in 6-inch heels, whispering dirty jokes, leaving nothing behind but her scent, a smile and a lingering fantasy, well now that is true power.

I see my Sweetheart struggling. I see him wavering between the two sides he sees in himself; the strong man and the weak boy.

Spiritually, mentally and physically S is very, very strong. He is sure of what he believes about life, people and the universe. Mentally he is amazing; the smartest person I've ever met. He's brilliant, creative, and an intuitive problem solver. He makes the impossible look simple and easy. Physically he works his body to it's limits regularly at the gym. He eats right, indulges a little, and works hard for it.

Emotionally he has been stifled since childhood. The minute his mother slapped him in the face at age 3 and locked him in the closet until he "behaved", he stopped growing. He simply "acted" to survive, so his sole caretaker would not abandon him. He lived knowing that if weren't a "good boy", she would walk out on him and he would be alone.

In his marriage he reenacted this scene day after day, for over 23 years. His wife was abusive, insulting and demanding. Needy and sickly, she believed the entire world revolved around her and S's sole purpose in life was to care for her. He bought into this system believing he was worthy of nothing better. He feared she would abandon him if he didn't meet her needs, perhaps through death due to her many illnesses. He would be alone and it would be because he wasn't a "good" husband. Now not only was his well being in jeopardy, but another person's life hung in the balance.

Stepping out of this role into a relationship with me broke many of those notions, but not for long. He still struggles with what he believes he deserves in life, abandonment, punishment, pain, and weakness.

It is my mission to clear away the negative self image and help him grow into the amazing man I already see him as being. I will dispel the countless untruths, one at a time.

I have the inner strength to build this man up. But first, I have to break the spell of unworthiness.

On a motorcycle, trust is everything. As a passenger behind S, two people on two wheels must work as one. There is no accommodation for error. Mistakes get people killed on motorcycles.

Behind the driver a passenger can only see over the driver's shoulder, peering around the helmet. Lean too far to the right or the left to get a better look at what's ahead, and the passenger can throw off the entire balance of the bike. Leaning to get a good look may make me feel better, but there is little I can do from the rear to change our direction.

Mounting the motorcycle I make a silent agreement with the driver to take care of me, to ride to the best of his ability to keep us safe, and hope to enjoy the ride. I won't enjoy a thing if I'm constantly second guessing from the rear seat.

I've learned I don't need to know what's ahead. I've learned that S is an incredibly skilled rider and all I need to do is mimic his movements. When we hit the twisty, windy mountain roads, I must trust him completely. Keeping my head directly behind his, my shoulders in line with his, leaning into the turns with him, straightening up as he does, holding on to him, but not so tightly that it restricts him, I ride blindly with complete faith.

We ride amazingly fast. If the turn has a speed sign of 30, we take it at 65. Passing 5 cars at a time over a double yellow line at 110, my heart climbs to my throat, but my body never gives an inch. I still mimic him, in sync, perfectly in tune with him and the bike.

The freedom that comes with this is exhilarating! My mind is clear, I need not think, I simply am. Trusting him completely, assured he knows the way, confident he is taking care of me, I can be free.

I imagine this is how he feels when he looks in my eyes and asks, "How can I please you, Mistress Tina?"

I am thrilled to titillation that it is Tuesday night. Why? Because starting last week, I decided that S will remain submissive from midnight Tuesday until midnight Wednesday. Everything he does will be decided by me. He will remain nude, unless I see the need for him to be clothed. He will only eat what I give him. He will go to the gym, make my meals or buy them, bring me tea, brush my hair, wash me, and massage me.

He is as thrilled as I am.

Until now, being submissive has been a back and forth struggle for him. Demanding submission has been nearly impossible. He becomes resentful and petulant, even downright defiant. This has driven a deep wedge in our relationship and closeness. I have felt him drifting away and had no idea how to make him feel safe again. I was heartbroken that I had failed as a Domme.

We've been in therapy. Mostly alone, but from time to time, jointly. We schedule two hours with our therapist and take turns. If we have something to discuss together, we go in together. Our therapist gives us good suggestions on helping one another, but primarily teaches us to be independent in our personal growth. It's been amazing and quite fruitful.

I've learned that the harder I push, the farther he runs. So now I'm committed to making my bosom a safe place. No nagging, no anger, no shame. My arms are his home, and when he is in my embrace he is surrounded with love.

Wednesdays are about love. Servitude is his expression of gratitude. He wants to give to me because he feels that I've done so much for him. This is his way of showing respect, gratitude and love.

I am a very, very lucky woman.

"For men there's alot of pressure. We are expected to lead, to have answers, to solve problems. I don't think many women realize the amount of pressure men are under."

S had enjoyed a couple of beers and when we returned home, he lie down on the sofa nude. He was rubbing his tummy, looking up, just sharing his thoughts uninhibited.

"Being a man, we are expected to take charge of situations. As the head of the household, we are expected to have solutions. Sometimes things go wrong. Hell, things always go wrong. And when things go wrong, I'm the one who hears the complaints; I'm the one that has to deal with the disappointment. I feel bad when I've disappointed everyone. It makes me feel worthless; I feel like I didn't measure up as a man."

I could hear the sadness in his voice, remembering days of his past.

"There's no relief. When you're the head of the household, the man in charge, where can you go to hide? I can take off for a day or so, have a few beers now and then, but that pressure is just waiting there for me when I return. And how much relief can I feel just knowing it's waiting there for me when I return? There's no relief."

His voice had reached a stressed pitch. I finished changing into my lounging clothes and emerged from the closet, through the bathroom and into the living room. I knew he needed to see me at that moment.

"That's what I love, well one of the things I love, about being submissive. I hand myself over and that pressure that I've lived with my entire adult life is gone. The heaviness is off of my shoulders and I'm only expected to serve. If you need something or want something from me, you'll tell me, and I can do it, right away. But that pressure of coming up with answers I don't have is gone. I love being submissive with you."

I smiled and told him I loved him. He smiled back. This was a precious moment as a Domme and I knew it. It's not every day that a man can open up and intimately share feelings that run so deep. I was so proud of my Sweet Boy.

"I feel used. I don't want to be a bank. I want to be his son."

S has been trying to rebuild his relationship with his estranged father, at my encouragement, only to be set back to square one. After a couple of wonderful visits with his father at step-mother at their home in Washington, we left for our long awaited Hawaii vacation. Just before we left, S received an painful email from his father a few days after our most recent return. His father wants to borrow money; lots of money.

Here in this tropical paradise, S was anything but serene.S has been burned before loaning money to family members, albeit not his father. But this shook him to the core and I realized immediately this had nothing to do with money.

It had everything to do with his value in this relationship with his Dad.

"I don't think they reached out only to borrow, but I can't help but wonder if they reached out to my step-brother too. If they didn't, that means that they wouldn't want to jeopardize their relationship with him because they love him so much. But with me, it doesn't matter."

I wanted to reason with him, wanted to help him see it a different way, but heard a voice in my head that told me to stop. What he needed was love; unconditional, unending love. He needed his Mistress to pour over him, engulf him in warmth and comfort, and to hold him through the pain.

We went back to our hotel room and I held him close. After a back massage with scented massage oil I had just purchased, I positioned him to suckle, kissed his head and stroked his body. He slid into this comfortable snuggle, and allowed himself to be loved. He took all I had to give, not greedily, but thankfully. I made love to him, climbing on top of him and riding him enthusiastically. We fell asleep calm and satisfied.

When we awoke, I caressed and cuddled him more. We spent the day hiking and then drinking beer, two of his favorite things. I made the day about him, all about him.

I wish I had the answers to his dilemma, but I just don't. These are answers he must find in his own heart. But I can love him through it, and remind him I'm always on his side, encouraging him, supporting him, and beaming with pride that he's my guy.

Recently I've shared my newest erotic fantasy with S, and it was met with enthusiastic pleasure. He simply loved the idea and has been encouraging me to explore the idea further.

My fantasy is probably rather vanilla for most. A beautiful brunette waitress we know from a restaurant we frequent is our subject. Amanda is a fan of mine, and rushes through the restaurant every time I arrive to greet and hug me. She's a real doll, with a beautiful smile and outrageous, taut body.

In my fantasy Amanda is on all fours, tied up so she can not move at all. S lies beneath her, furiously sucking and alternately milking her nipples with his mouth and hands. Amanda is gagged, but not blindfolded, and is receiving a rhythmic machine fucking in her pussy.

Me? I am standing over her with my largest strap on, ass fucking her. It is S's job to comfort, soothe and encourage her to endure when she reaches her breaking point. He is to milk her, both physically and emotionally, to her brink.

When I've determined she's taken all she can, the three of us will cuddle, with Amanda in the middle until she is soothed. She will then suck and love my DD's while S dildo fucks my and licks my clit. Once I've cum clitorally, it will be S's turn.

All of his cum belongs to me, so only I will take his cock in my pussy. While taking a lovely fucking from behind, I will embrace and make out with our beautiful Amanda, until S reaches his orgasm.

Yes, just a fantasy for now. Hopefully soon, reality.

In raging summer, oh! So grand,
I met a flood upon my land.
You washed over with a flood of fire,
Released me from the muck & mire.

Entrenched in mud from my own tears,
Imprisoned by my life of fears.
Cleanse from me all things past.
I pray, I pray our summer last.

Build and stoke my soul aflame!
Release the animal untamed!
Bite, bend, arch and claw,
Forgive all with empassioned flaw.

Rain upon my land so dry,
Kiss away the tears we cry.
Weep with passion, weep with pain!
Weep because it's all the same.

Burn with heat of summer sun,
Burn, my life has just begun!

Somewhere in between
Being your Domme and being your slave
Somewhere in between
Being who you love and being who you crave

Somewhere deep inside
The ebb and flow between you and me
Somewhere deep inside
The who we are and who we'll be

Somewhere in your heart
You know you were made just for me
Somewhere in your heart
You long to be just what I need

Somewhere in between
I know my place is by your side
Somewhere in between
What we show and what we hide

Somewhere down the road
I see your smile and hear your cry
Somewhere down the road
Into the horizon two birds fly

I was drowning. Too much pressure, I suppose. That's what S believes. So he stepped up, and pulled me into the lifeboat when I was going down. The sorrow was overwhelming, so much so that I was drowning in it.

After a few days, we settled back into our routine. S is so good at taking direction and it seems so natural to direct him. Recently, another local business owner, Randy, who wants to partner with us on a project, emailed S for a meeting. Of course S asked me to attend. During the meeting Randy continued to direct his conversation only to S. Often S would answer him, because our expertise is in different areas and he had the answers Randy was seeking. But S often looked to me for leadership. Funny thing was that Randy never realized it was me he had to please, and I would make the final decision, as I often do.

S trusts me. He trusts me with his personal belongings, his business, his life and his heart. He knows my devotion to him and he knows down in his soul that I would never harm him. He knows I'm honest. He trusts my intuition about people and my ability to read them and their motives. He knows that I won't hurt him and that I would never, ever let anyone else hurt him.

When I was suffering in my depressed state, I had to turn outward and find safety somewhere else. S recognized that and grasped my hand, pulling me back into the boat before I drowned. He then rowed me back to shore. He didn't do it because he needs me, or because he wants something from me. He did it because he saw me in need, because he's that kind of person, because he would do it for anyone who needed him. I had to trust him, the way he trusts me.

Reaching for the lifeboat was nearly impossible, because admitting weakness was something I thought a Domme couldn't do. Perhaps I need to let go of what I "think" a Domme is and just begin being myself.

"No matter what I say now you're only going to see me as defending her. Your mind is made up. You want to be the victim in this!"

S could never know how much those words hurt.

Since my 21 year old daughter came to visit last week she and I had been like two angry cats locked in a closet. S was in the middle, trying to stay unscathed. I was shocked when he continued to take her side, always trying to explain her behavior to me.

"I don't think that she meant to insult you. I think she just meant. . ."

"Why don't you care about me?" I shout. I could hear myself, and I sounded like a child.

When he remarked time and again to our friends how much she and I were alike, at first I found it complimentary. Later, when I saw the two of them laughing together, an unfamiliar pang hit me deep. Very deep. Jealousy had reared it's ugly head.

I'm rarely jealous with S. His devotion is so obvious that I just never have any reason to be concerned. Certainly he checks other women out, as do I. Being bisexual, women are beautiful creatures so me, and many times I fantasize about a stranger. So when S glances, or turns his head for a moment, I know he's just being human. The act of looking doesn't threaten me at all, because I know he's with me because he chooses to be. But this was different.

Soon the arguement waned, reignited, and the silence of frustration stood between us. I did all I could to find a resolution. I spoke gently, apologized, took ownership and responsibility for my mistakes. I tried to see things from his point of view. He was so hurt and felt so attacked, that I just couldn't seem to reach him. There we stood, after declaring my pain, curled inside myself and he silent in fear. I warned him I would reject him if he attempted to touch me.

At this juncture, my only weapon of defense was to withhold affection.

Giving affection would be submitting, rewarding bad behavior, succumbing, and perhaps needy and demeaning. I wanted to stay strong, in control, powerful.

He apologized over and over, but each apology came with the disclaimer that it was my fault, saying I had first attacked him. I tried to explain that true apologies stand alone and don't come with accusations. Finally he relented, and now we sit at the happy, lively taco joint, mired in frustration and fear, and the greatest pain of all, detachment.

How do I build the bridge?

In my mind I know what to do. Reach for his hand, reminding myself that he never means to hurt me. Remember all the arguements of the past and how he's really just a boy inside who desperatly needs love. Remember that I'm his Domme and I've vowed to be his love, his comfort, his peace.

I'm so frightened. What if this is a mistake? What if this is weakness, not strength? What if he sees this as a precedent to treat me this way again? What if he turns on me again and hurts me?

I look into his eyes, see his sadness, sorrow, longing and pain, and suddenly my hand doesn't seem so heavy. I reach out my hand gently to bridge the gap.

The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. Because I have so many feelings running through me so often, I am simply scattered. My moods change often and with all of this being so new, I'm doing my best to define how I want to proceed. It's crucial that I only do what I'm comfortable with and what S is comfortable with, and I not let anyone else's definitions of Domme define me. I know who I am, but translating that concept into behavior is often confusing.




But these things I know are true:

1. I love S like I've never loved another human being ever in my life.

2. All I want is to be honest, intimate, loving and nurturing in my relationship with S.

3. I was born to be a caretaker and I love that role.

4. I am comfortable being a leader and I take this role most seriously.

5. I am a born protector. I can and will destroy anyone who harms those I love. S will be safe for the rest of his life in my care, and no one will ever hurt him again if I can prevent it.

6. Being in charge is not the same as being in control. I'm only in control of my behavior. Not my emotions, thoughts, or desires. How I act upon these things is my decision. I am only in control of myself, no one else.

7. S is a blessing in my life and I vow to treat him as such.

8. I have no desire to harm, punish, or inflict pain on anyone. I won't do it.

9. I believe love is all I need to be a Domme. I believe love is a wonderful motivator.

10. We all make mistakes. This is new to both of us, so mistakes are bound to be made. Learning from our mistakes makes them simply life lessons, not mistakes.

11. I am worthy of love, and so is S.

12. I am intelligent, fierce, energetic, vivacious, incredibly sexual, joyful, and exuberant. I really am fun to be around, I have tons of love for everyone I know, and since I've met S, I find many people very drawn to me. I am a good human being and I enjoy being Tina.

13. S loves me.

14. I can trust S with everything I am and everything I have. He doesn't ever want to harm me.

15. I am incredibly lucky to be in this relationship. I hold it with the greatest regard and value it and S enormously. I am blessed.

So that's what I know. If I work from there, well I have great hopes of everything working out just fine. I just have to remember what is true and not listen to the doubt that rears it's ugly head.

Work from my heart, not from my head. I learned that from S.

I'm fully in charge now and he has completely relented. S has finally given in to his own desires and is my sweet slave, "My Little Fucking Boy", to be loved and led by his Mistrss. I couldn't be more thrilled.

This was a long time in coming, and we both resisted the obvious for far too long. I would fight my inner nature and listen to my head, not my heart, allowing shame to prevent me from taking my natural and rightful place as his Domme. Ladies don't lead, ladies don't love a good fucking, ladies don't command their man, they submit. How wrong I was! And how much I love and embrace being in charge and being a proud, vibrant, strong, yet feminine and demure Domme! I was meant for this my whole life.

My first order of business was to lay down ground rules. My second was to teach S that he is valuable and worthy of being treated with only dignity. This entailed putting his ex-wife in her place and backing her off of the two of us with the threat of legal action. I looked him deep in the eye when she sent her incredibly submissive text back to me, consenting to my wishes, and told him, "Do you see? I am in charge. I am in control. Not only do you answer to me, but she does as well."

When a woman comes into her own, they all see it, and fall to her feet.

Let the worshiping begin.