Soul Submissive

"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 Imagine someone with little to no facial expression most of the time, a monotone voice, withdrawn into his world of work.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.

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?"

For most of my life, I assumed dominance walked hand in hand with fear. I realize now that this type of dominance, while it does exist, is not what I was seeking, nor am I interested in exploring this lifestyle any longer. What I want is a man who is truly stronger, and doesn't need to keep reminding me of if. S is that man; strong as an oak, quiet as the wind, as certain as the sky. He doesn't need to prove it to me, to others, or to himself, because he knows.

When S moved into his own apartment, I came to help for a few days, and get him all set up. 7 weeks later, I've yet to leave for any extended period of time. Even when he went on a trip, I remained at the apartment, simply because it was easier with all of my toiletries and clothes I needed already here.

Tentatively, one day recently I asked, "Where do you see me as living?"

"Here, with me," S replied dryly.

"Are you good with that?" I worried.

"I have no feeling about that. It's just fine. It's good. Didn't you know you live with me?" he asked, sweetly.

Apparently, I did not. I didn't know we had made that transition. It was so subtle, so natural, so easy, I never noticed. I had been afraid to ask, afraid to wonder, afraid to approach. It didn't need to be analyzed, discusses, hashed-out, and weighed. It was just natural.

For my entire adult life, I've been afraid of men. Drawn to strong men, like my father, but angry, violent men came in and out of my life, beating on me along the way. The fear I had been instilled with plagued my vision of who I was, who I wanted and how I saw the entire world.

With S, I don't need to walk on eggshells. I can say anything, ask anything, be anything. No harm will come. I'm trying to let that sink in, and see the world in a new way.

Strength does not equal Violence. Power does not equal Fear.

Imagine that.