Soul Submissive

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.