Soul Submissive

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 am thrilled to titillation that it is Tuesday night. Why? Because starting last week, I decided that S will remain submissive from midnight Tuesday until midnight Wednesday. Everything he does will be decided by me. He will remain nude, unless I see the need for him to be clothed. He will only eat what I give him. He will go to the gym, make my meals or buy them, bring me tea, brush my hair, wash me, and massage me.

He is as thrilled as I am.

Until now, being submissive has been a back and forth struggle for him. Demanding submission has been nearly impossible. He becomes resentful and petulant, even downright defiant. This has driven a deep wedge in our relationship and closeness. I have felt him drifting away and had no idea how to make him feel safe again. I was heartbroken that I had failed as a Domme.

We've been in therapy. Mostly alone, but from time to time, jointly. We schedule two hours with our therapist and take turns. If we have something to discuss together, we go in together. Our therapist gives us good suggestions on helping one another, but primarily teaches us to be independent in our personal growth. It's been amazing and quite fruitful.

I've learned that the harder I push, the farther he runs. So now I'm committed to making my bosom a safe place. No nagging, no anger, no shame. My arms are his home, and when he is in my embrace he is surrounded with love.

Wednesdays are about love. Servitude is his expression of gratitude. He wants to give to me because he feels that I've done so much for him. This is his way of showing respect, gratitude and love.

I am a very, very lucky woman.

"I feel used. I don't want to be a bank. I want to be his son."

S has been trying to rebuild his relationship with his estranged father, at my encouragement, only to be set back to square one. After a couple of wonderful visits with his father at step-mother at their home in Washington, we left for our long awaited Hawaii vacation. Just before we left, S received an painful email from his father a few days after our most recent return. His father wants to borrow money; lots of money.

Here in this tropical paradise, S was anything but serene.S has been burned before loaning money to family members, albeit not his father. But this shook him to the core and I realized immediately this had nothing to do with money.

It had everything to do with his value in this relationship with his Dad.

"I don't think they reached out only to borrow, but I can't help but wonder if they reached out to my step-brother too. If they didn't, that means that they wouldn't want to jeopardize their relationship with him because they love him so much. But with me, it doesn't matter."

I wanted to reason with him, wanted to help him see it a different way, but heard a voice in my head that told me to stop. What he needed was love; unconditional, unending love. He needed his Mistress to pour over him, engulf him in warmth and comfort, and to hold him through the pain.

We went back to our hotel room and I held him close. After a back massage with scented massage oil I had just purchased, I positioned him to suckle, kissed his head and stroked his body. He slid into this comfortable snuggle, and allowed himself to be loved. He took all I had to give, not greedily, but thankfully. I made love to him, climbing on top of him and riding him enthusiastically. We fell asleep calm and satisfied.

When we awoke, I caressed and cuddled him more. We spent the day hiking and then drinking beer, two of his favorite things. I made the day about him, all about him.

I wish I had the answers to his dilemma, but I just don't. These are answers he must find in his own heart. But I can love him through it, and remind him I'm always on his side, encouraging him, supporting him, and beaming with pride that he's my guy.

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.