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.

I've known love before. My father loved me so. I could feel his love exude from every pore on his body when he smiled at me. I also had a friend Thomas for many years that loved me, just the way I was. Thomas never wanted to change me, and loved me to be outrageous and comical and sexy. When he died so many years ago, in many ways, I did too.

I didn't want love anymore. I didn't want to feel the heartache any longer. Losing my father and then losing Thomas made me feel so alone here on earth. I didn't want to feel that loss again, so I decided somewhere deep inside that I wouldn't open up for love. Then I wouldn't miss it when it was gone.

But I did. I was lonely. So lonely and in so much pain, that I turned it all inward, piling on the pounds, hiding in my comfy, compliant life with my domineering husband. He wasn't dominant. He was a mousy, frightened child who was bossy and hateful, complaining daily about everything under the sun. He tried to control everything in an effort to stop feeling out of control inside. I allowed him to control me, because I was so sad and empty inside.

I have a lovely daughter. She's an adult now. I wanted to provide a father for her, so getting remarried to a man she adored seemed like a good fit. She was happy, he was satisfied, and who cared if I was dying inside?

Who, indeed.

Then I met him. S filled my lungs with the first breath of air I had taken in years. I felt myself again. I felt my heart again. I felt love again.

Since I've met S, I've learned the differences between domination and domineering; submission and subjugation; control and love. Love is out of control, it is flying freely, it is watching the object of your desire be all they can be and feeling your heart soar with pride for them. It is giving of yourself for them, to them, to bring their heart peace and happiness. Love is giving, not taking. It is freedom, not control. It is joy that runs through your heart, into them, and back into you.

Today I cried in his arms after S made love to me. His love overwhelmed me. I could feel the pang of the love I had felt in the arms of my father and my friend while lying in his embrace.

Love is a vibration, like a bell, that you don't just hear, but you feel as it washes on you. Today love echoed within me, a sound long quieted, reverberating from within.

I realized, while mounted on top of S, as he moaned with ecstasy, that control had shifted. I grabbed his hair, and while ferociously riding his cock, informed him that he was mine. He whimpered agreement. I took it a step further, asking him if we was My Sweet Boy. Again, with a whimper, he repeated, "Yes, yes, yes. . . "


We've been transitioning to and fro for a few weeks now, each of us from dominant to submissive, and back again. I have a difficult time knowing when the shift occurrs, as it is always S who initiates it. Most of the time he is dominant. He still sets the pace, keeps control, and let's me know how he's feeling. But I wait patiently for my opportunities to engulf him and make him mine. In those interludes his only purpose is to please me, which he does with great passion and humility.


Another facet has also entered our lives: equality. Somewhere in the swing between dom & sub lies this middleground. For the most part, in our day to day of sharing his apartment, we are equals. We work, play, dine, vacation, talk, love, and grow together as equals. But what I realize is that we both have our strong suits, and our weaknesses. There are times when I need his enormous strength, guidance, and wisdom and times he needs my tenacious fortitude and nurturing kindness.


Perhaps the roles have not changed at all. Perhaps the relationship has simply developed more roles.

When I was in my late twenties, and separated from my Starter Husband, I met Joe. Joe was interesting, so I wanted to get to know him more. He invited me to lunch at his home after a few dates, and I gladly attended. After lunch, as I was washing the dishes for him, he crept up behind me and grabbed me by the throat. He then tenderly kissed my neck. I was excited by this, and confused as to my own excitement. A week later in his home, when we were getting a bit intimate, he began beating me as he tried to rape me. He pummeled my face, bloodied my nose, tore out chunks of my hair, and I eventually escaped. He was arrested and I never saw him again. It took a week to see out of my bruised, swollen eyes, months for my hair to grow back, but I will never forget.

This was not my first beating, but it was my last. The only other man who tried to brutalize me after this incident ended up with a gash in his head that required 13 stitches to repair, and was also arrested. In the time since this occurred, I had learned how to protect myself. I have no interest in being brutalized; it holds no sexual arousal for me in the slightest.

I am interested in My Dom because he out-thinks me. He knows my thoughts, reads my behaviors, feels my desires, and uses them to please me, and himself. He sees my need to be led, even though I am fiercely strong, and gently guides me. This, to me, is dominance. Any moronic Neanderthal can brutalize a woman, if he is physically stronger. And any man who thinks he can brutalize me may get away with it in the moment, but I will spend the rest of my days seeking vengeance until I am satisfied. My Dom is sweet, insightful, and fully aware of the power he wields over me, and uses it properly. He has a purpose when he is with me, and he has a mission. He is in charge, and he is man enough to lead. I am woman enough to follow.

A year after Joe attacked me, he had his legs broken and to this day, walks with a cane. The only cost to me was a few crocodile tears to the right person, who handled the entire situation for me. If a man cannot dominate me, I will dominate him. For me, there is no middle. He is either man enough to dominate, and I am free to be the woman I was meant to be and submit, or I will do all of the dominating.