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'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.

While S was suckling my breast, I realized we had crossed over into new territory, once again. His right hand cradled my right breast, his left hand was buried in my pussy, and he sucked with great enthusiasm.

"Are you my Sweet Boy? Do you love me? Yes, you are such a good boy! Do you want to make me cum?"

He greedily sucked even harder, rubbed my clit harder, and whimpered in agreement. I threw him on his back, began riding his cock, and he cried out his delight. Words poured from his typically reticent lips, words of comfort, security and devotion. I encouraged this behavior, and rewarded him with my orgasms, and kisses to his sweet, sweet face.

Afterwards I cuddled him against my bosom, loving and nurturing him, holding him tight until he was ready to break away and move into his regular role as my equal again. No words were spoken about the encounter, but I felt our love had moved to an even deeper level. Throughout the following days, S allowed me to take on an even greater nurturing role in his life.

As a mother of a grown child, this was a natural position for me. I never breast fed my daughter, but I have heard it said that when a mother breast feeds there are certain hormones released in the brain that help create a bond between mother and child. Perhaps this is the incredibly deep bond I feel with S now. Regardless of what the definition is, I feel very protective and loving in regards to S, and I would do anything, anything to care for him.

He is indeed my Sweet Boy.