Soul Submissive

"Thank you Mommy. Thank you for the bondage and securing me so tight I can't move. I like it when I can't move. Thank you. I love you Mommy. I love you so much!"

It's never easy to be a parent. It's even harder when you're parenting a grown man who feels like an angry child, who is also in possession of his own money, motorcycle keys, and a legal I.D. to buy liquor.

Loving my Boy is easy when he's sweet and affectionate. It's so much harder when he's hurt, which is so much of the time.

"Honey, did you turn the air off again? I'm so hot, I'm burning up! Can you please turn it on for me?"

Sulking and hurt, he defends himself, complains about why I can't turn it on myself and who was the last person to turn it on/off. He talks of our apartment we used to live in and how he had to suffer when I was cold and how now he's suffering again because I'm hot. The complaining goes on for a few minutes.

What he feels is an inequality in our relationship. What he feels is unheard, not valued, not cherished and not cared for.

But those are not the words he uses. He turns it back on me, unable to express these feelings in words. He can only accuse because he doesn't have the tools to do anything else. If I make the mistake of falling into defending myself, we only argue and fight. What he wants is to be heard, valued, comforted and cherished. That won't happen if I listen to his words. I must listen to his broken heart.

After a childhood of abuse, I often wonder if my Boy is seeking punishment from me. He will do things that most certainly will anger me or start a fight for seemingly no reason. But I've been learning from these experiences and I'm pretty certain there is a reason. The pattern has become all too clear to me.

As time passes tension rises in My Boy, regardless of how things are going between us. Stress builds, mostly from fearing another fight is on the horizon. Often if he brings his Boy out to enjoy life, be expressive, silly or loving, within a day or two I can see the tension rise up within him. He fears the fight so much that he chooses to start the fight just to get it over with. He will pick the fight and run out so quickly, hoping to just get through it and on to the recovery. It's a stress reliever.

Often I feel like nothing more than an object in this exercise of frustration for him. It seems at times he can have a fight all by himself. The issue lies in him, not necessarily in anything I've done wrong.

That's not always the case, and I do my best to take responsibility when I screw up. But often times this is the case.

What I've started doing is restraining him to help ease that tension. I can see it build and I can feel him becoming edgy and short tempered. Being on this long motorcycle trip I have very little space to pack, so I don't have my "toys" with me. So I became resourceful, using a bandanna to tie his hands together, another for his feet, and two bungee cords to secure him to the bed. His cock was hard before I finished tying the first bandanna. By the time I finished securing him, literally 5 minutes, his eyes had glazed over and an incredible peace had come over him. He was serene for 24 hours thereafter. The tension had been broken without a fight.

I won't harm him, beat him, or humiliate him. His real mother did plenty of that. It only served to break his spirit. My mission is to build him up, give him a voice and help him grow. Sometimes he needs help to quell those overwrought emotions and calm his stress. Bondage is the key to helping him let go and let me take care of him.

Many months have passed since I've last written and many changes have taken place. Our relationship continues to evolve as the outer layers peel away and our true selves shine through. With the help of our therapist, we've come to understand one another and ourselves more clearly than ever.

So much of my inner turmoil has settled I'm amazed. Most days I am joyful, serene and excited to be alive, but mostly I feel at peace. Our lives are thrilling as we've been traveling by motorcycle around the U.S. for 2 months on a 6 month trip. Each day brings new sights, sounds, smells, food, people and thoughts. I feel creative and thoughtful more often. My fears have quelled and I can accept happiness with arms wide open. I finally believe I deserve to be happy and I am, very much.

S is working through things as well. He's dropped so much of his facade and is embracing the child inside more every day. When I met S he was quiet, thoughtful, and introspective. I only saw glimpses of his humor, his silliness and his playful side. He never showed anger or disdain, frustration or fear. Now I realize it was because he had lost touch with those parts of himself many years ago, hiding most of his emotions.

How could a person come to a point of being so unemotional? This puzzled me because I've always worn my heart on my sleeve, rarely feeling shame for my explosive and wild feelings. It's not as though S didn't feel emotions, he did. He has just learned to detach from them so well, to starve them so much, that they barely existed. When he met me he started feeling again. It felt good, at first, so he continued to work towards having a relationship with me. He was shocked when things started to feel bad.

And bad they did. He hadn't realized that all of those pains and injuries from his past weren't gone, but hiding under all of that denial. He hadn't processed any of those feelings, so they lay dormant waiting to attack. At some point he could deny them no longer and they ravaged him every moment of every day. Wallowing in anger and hurt he struck out at me, as I was the only one around to accept it.

Those days were hard for me. I thought of leaving him from time to time, when I felt so overwhelmed I was certain I was going to break. We had terrible fights to which there seemed no end. But just a month ago it seemed they peaked and now we are on the other side.

What I see now is just a 7-year-old boy. Almost every minute of the day S is filled with emotion, but at the time he shut off all of those feelings and bottled them up tight was only a 7-years-old boy. The child inside has never had a chance to grow, to mature, to develop. What he is now is a full-blown 7-year-old. He has no ability to be a man when he is filled with emotion.

And he cannot be both intellectual and emotional. At this juncture, he cannot bring the two into his body simultaneously. He is either one or the other. It was more difficult for me to know how to behave towards him when he was switching back and forth, which caused numerous fights. But now he's a child almost all of the time.

I want to take care of him, to love him, to reassure him that I'm not going to abandon him. I want him to know that it's OK to be a child and to HAVE FEELINGS!! I want him to feel them ALL! He becomes so angry when he feels a negative feeling, but I'm trying to teach him that ALL FEELINGS ARE GOOD FEELINGS! Some just hurt more than others.

I'm going to make more of an effort to keep updating here more often. We've entered into interesting times.

I love this boy. My sweet, sweet boy. I'm such a lucky Mommy to be blessed with this amazing boy! S is just a boy.

S had been watching a documentary that I could hear from the bedroom. I only heard bits and pieces, but I determined it had something to do with children who had grown up without a father.

Later, when he came to bed he was very sweet and gentle. He held me close and I could tell he wanted to take the dominant role. He had been out of sorts for a few days, standoffish, and I didn't want to spook him. I often let him choose what role he needs and assume the role he needs from me. It had been a long time since he wanted to be the Dom and I was happy to oblige.

Earlier in the week we had quarreled over the way he forgets to comfort me. He informed me that it wasn't that he forgets, but he becomes so confused he doesn't know quite what to do. He fears doing the wrong thing, so he often does nothing. Tonight he wanted to make up for all of that.

He held me close and told me I was his girl. He cuddled and kissed me, assured me I was a good girl and very loved. Eventually we began to be sexual and finally, he had me pinned up to the headboard, fucking me gently but firmly. It felt good, wonderful in fact, but then I started to feel afraid. I didn't see it coming. . . but the fear began to set in.

After we both came he held me close and I clutched him tightly.

"Promise me you love me. Promise me you'll protect me. Promise me you won't share me with anyone. . ."

The words that slipped from my mouth surprised even me.

We cuddled and talked for awhile until I calmed down. I mustered up all of my courage, tried not to think about what I needed to say, and just spat the words out.

"I love being your little girl, and I love the comfort and security. But I don't think my little girl should have sex anymore."

S responded surprised but supportive.

"Of course! Sure. That's fine."

I left the bed and wept for a few minutes in the bathroom. Once I calmed down and came back to bed, and to him, and explained. I hadn't known I felt this way. I need to be loved and accepted, unconditionally. I want the love I got from my Dad as a girl. But as a little girl, for me, I don't want sex. I just want love.

I was amazingly relieved after this. He's been incredibly sweet, nurturing, and kind since then. I'm a very lucky girl.

Our therapy has been grueling. Delving into the pain and anguish of our pasts has left me emotionally rung out. Working with our therapist has given me incredible insight, not just in my life, but into S's past and his heartbreak he carries. Our therapist Emily is like a guide, leading us through the most fearsome territory we've ever seen. The idea of writing about what was happening began to fill me with dread. It's hard enough to live it; how can I rehash it for others?

I've been filled with shame and fear because we fight so often. We yell and scream, threaten to leave each other, cry and sob, accuse, blame, and fall on the floor, exhausted. I can't tell you how many fights there have been, most ending in one of us or both of us crying ourselves to sleep, completely spent. I worried about sharing all of this, concerned that perhaps the insight I was sharing was only leading people in the wrong direction. I had lost faith in our process because I could see no light at the end of the tunnel.

New Year's Eve we went out and had a blast. Then, right around 1:00am, the familiar cycle began. S had too much to drink, he misunderstood something I said, and plunged into grief. It happens so quickly I can't see it until it's too late. It took all I had to get him to cross the street back to our apartment building, get him in the elevator and into our apartment. He fought me every step, wailing about how scared he was to go home. He has come to fear the fights so much that the idea we would fight terrifies him.

He seemed to think I was angry, but I was not. He assumed guilt for something that didn't even happen and became despondent. This happens night after night and I don't know how to avoid it. It's not intentional by either of us. This is a result of his deep scars of childhood.

But this night was different. I was able to step outside of myself and see his pain in a new way. I've been told by Emily numerous times that it's not me he's fighting, but the demons from the past. But this was the first time I was able to separate myself entirely and attempt to comfort him, rather than fight him, while he howled for two hours.

I was filled with sorrow for my Sweet Boy who cried in pain. I wanted to comfort him, but he saw me as the enemy, shouting, accusing, crying and blaming. But it wasn't me he was angry at. It was his past. I stayed by his side, being the target for his rage, listening to him, helping him as best as I could, giving nothing back but love and tenderness. I wanted him to know he wasn't alone and he was being heard.

The next morning I knew he would wake up, immediately apologize, be filled with shame because of his actions, and I was right. But I held no resentment this time, because I hadn't internalized any of it. I was able to provide the comfort and unconditional love he needed, for the first time. That whole day I was filled with wonderment and affection, feeling closer to him than I ever have before. We made sweet love as I took control of him, owned him, nurtured him, fed him my love and overwhelmed him with my presence. He gratefully and gladly submitted, welcoming my all encompassing being over him. I sucked him in and brought him home.

I feel certain we have reached a new place in our relationship. I'm looking forward to seeing Emily tomorrow and sharing with her all that has happened. I feel we've broken new ground and I'm ready for the next chapter in our love affair.