Soul Submissive

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.

"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.

"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.