Soul Submissive

"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.

My Sweet Boy lie in the bed beside me, declaring his devotion to me and his willingness to please me. I cleared my mind, able to relax in his embrace, his mouth resting upon my nipple to suckle, his hard cock pressed against my thigh. The precum began to ooze onto my skin and I relaxed into my cleared mind and pleasured body.

I realized S had but one purpose in these moments. His purpose is to please me sexually. Suddenly I wondered, how much cum could he produce in a 12-hour period? How many times could I arouse him, tease him, cum him, and rest him until he was completely spent? How much sex can he give, can he take?

I've decided to submerge him into complete submissiveness this Sunday. Beginning Saturday night, he will be confined to bed. He must wait until his "toilet time" to leave the bed, walk to the toilet, and return immediately. Aside from that, he must remain in the bed until he reaches my goal.

My goal will be that he must cum 6 times for me, in me, before he can leave the bed. If it takes him two days, then so be it. He may not use his phone, his computer, read or watch television until he has completed his task. The only exception to this is that I will be choosing some websites relating to him goal that he will be required to view.

I will keep him fed and watered, as I would any good pet, as well as cuddled and comforted. He can sleep and rest as he needs to. His only restriction will truly be to remain in our bed. His only goal, his only purpose, will be to submit completely and please me sexually.

I own him. I own his cum, even before it is produced. I own his body, his heart, his mind. But our souls are twin flames, burning together eternally.

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.

Recently I've shared my newest erotic fantasy with S, and it was met with enthusiastic pleasure. He simply loved the idea and has been encouraging me to explore the idea further.

My fantasy is probably rather vanilla for most. A beautiful brunette waitress we know from a restaurant we frequent is our subject. Amanda is a fan of mine, and rushes through the restaurant every time I arrive to greet and hug me. She's a real doll, with a beautiful smile and outrageous, taut body.

In my fantasy Amanda is on all fours, tied up so she can not move at all. S lies beneath her, furiously sucking and alternately milking her nipples with his mouth and hands. Amanda is gagged, but not blindfolded, and is receiving a rhythmic machine fucking in her pussy.

Me? I am standing over her with my largest strap on, ass fucking her. It is S's job to comfort, soothe and encourage her to endure when she reaches her breaking point. He is to milk her, both physically and emotionally, to her brink.

When I've determined she's taken all she can, the three of us will cuddle, with Amanda in the middle until she is soothed. She will then suck and love my DD's while S dildo fucks my and licks my clit. Once I've cum clitorally, it will be S's turn.

All of his cum belongs to me, so only I will take his cock in my pussy. While taking a lovely fucking from behind, I will embrace and make out with our beautiful Amanda, until S reaches his orgasm.

Yes, just a fantasy for now. Hopefully soon, reality.

S has been on a 3-day motorcycle camping trip with his friend. I had little notice that he was going and while gone, his phone was off for two days. I'm waiting in his apartment rather impatiently to see him.

I long to wrap my arms around him, hold him, kiss his sweet face, feel his body against mine, and look into his soulful eyes. Having ridden hundreds of miles over the last three days, I'm certain he will be exhausted. I will make him a meal if he is hungry; anything he likes. While he was gone, I cleaned the apartment, washed his sheets and towels, did all of his laundry, did our office work for him, and didn't bother him.

A couple of hours ago I fixed my hair, sprayed on perfume, touched up my makeup and put on a pretty dress. For him, I want to look my best.

Impatiently, I await the sound of the engine pulling into the garage. . .

As I have stated, I am a powerful woman. I recognize that I am strong; strong willed, determined, and intelligent. I can use those strengths, and have for many years, to further myself in life. I have also taken the backseat when I felt beaten down by life, and let the road drive away with me. I became tired of the backseat recently, and began this D/s relationship with S, leaving my husband, abandoning most of what I know and believe to explore who I am, or should I say, who ELSE I am.

Being submissive is not something I've ever been able to escape from, because it lingers in my spirit. I deeply believe in the concept of service. So how was I to reconcile this strong, aggressive personality with the belief I hold so true in being a submissive woman? Bottle it up? Bullshit. Wouldn't that just be betraying myself in another way? No, I don't think S wants to be with me to watch me minimize who I am. Nor do I wish to do so for him, or anyone else, ever again.

Last night, while riding my Dom's cock, it all became so clear to me. He loves my strength, my will, my determination, my intestinal fortitude, my drive, my passion, my power, my intellect, my skills of persuasion and manipulation. These are the very traits that attracted him to me. So I looked into his beautiful brown, soulful eyes, and realized he wanted me to be who I am. So how can the two things coexist inside of me?

While riding him, loving him, opening up to him and declaring my devotion to him, the words poured out from my soul and made it all so clear. I wasn't thinking; I was only feeling. Going forward, everything I am, everything I have, everything I do, will all be for his benefit. I will work for him, protect him, love him, comfort him, fight for him, die for him. If anyone were to try to harm him, they would have to kill me first, else I aptly destroy them. My life is now devoted to bringing to S everything I would ever want for myself. My commitment is to better his life, in every way I possibly can.

One major factor in this decision is to improve my own life, to grow as a person, to be all that I can be, so I have not only something for myself, but even more to offer my Dom.

"Remove my boots," S said.

I had already been bent over and teased, licked, sucked and fucked hard in my dress and heels, cumming repeatedly which had weakened my knees to near collapse. Clutching the ottoman near the front door, begging to be on my back, S decided when it was time. He pulled me up by the shoulders with his very gentle touch, and breathed out the word, "Go." I ran up the stairs to the bedroom.

Reaching the bedroom breathless, I flipped on the bathroom light, and stood beside the bed, facing away from the door, trembling. For some reason, the adrenaline, anticipation, and arousal had culminated in a panicked fear. My mind raced so that I couldn't make sense of the feeling. S slowly ascended the stairs, moving up behind me stealthily. Ever so quietly, yet assertively, he commanded, "Remove my boots."

Spinning around and dropping to my knees, I could feel the deep breaths taking over my body, nearly bringing me to convulsions. My hands trembled and my mind reeled so that it took total concentration to get the motorcycle boots untied. I remembered the hundreds of days as a very little girl, greeting my father at the door in the evenings, and rushing to his chair with him. He would say, "Remove my boots," and I would gleefully do so. Now, on my knees before my Dom, I removed his boots with care, love, and submission. Feeling truly blessed to be the one graced with the honor of bowing before him and serving him in this manner, knowing the reward that lied ahead, I salivated to please him.

When Daddy would ask me to remove his motorcycle boots, I knew I would soon be in his lap and getting a cuddle. I often fell asleep in Daddy's arms, missing family dinner, dreaming as long as he would hold me. Some mornings I awoke still in his loving arms, pleased to be his darling baby girl.

When S tells me to remove his boots, I know what lies ahead as well. A grown woman's fantasy come true, a night of orgasm after orgasm, cuddles, intimacy, confessions, insight, and submission; submitting to my deepest desires, sexually, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

His boots and socks removed, I look up and see his soulful, deep brown, loving eyes, and I know that I am blessed to be dominated by the only man who is man enough to tame me. The first man to touch my soul was Daddy, but the man who owns my soul is S, for I have given it to him, gleefully.

Last evening, S and I went to a concert together. He had been busy all weekend, and was really tired. The concert was in a very relaxed setting, and the music very mellow. At one point I looked over, and my sweet Dom was so sleepy.  For the next hour, every time I looked over at him, his eyes were closed and he was leaning on me, nearly dozing off. I decided that we should leave at intermission, because I felt like this concert I drug him to was boring for him, and I felt guilty keeping him up when he was so tired. It was a long ride home, and even though I was driving, he was still being inconvenienced. I simply want to meet his needs.

My mistake was trying to think for him, and I gently insisted we leave. When he said no, I didn't leave well enough alone. I thought I knew better.

Truly, I am a very fortunate Sub. Because on the way home, when S expressed his displeasure with my insistence, he was gentle with me. It is far more important that to him that I understand why I need to submit, rather than just mindlessly submitting. S loves that I am strong, independent, and intelligent, and counts on those aspects of my personality in many ways. But a submissive woman knows she cannot attempt in anyway to overpower or out-think her Dom; this is unacceptable in every instance.

When I realized how I had behaved, I felt the rush of shame wash over me. I literally felt cold throughout my body and the pang of fear clutched my stomach like an iron fist. A cold sweat broke out over my trembling body and I could barely speak. Clutching the wheel, I drove towards home, barely able to watch the road, and completely unable to look at S in the passenger seat. I thought of the ride to the concert, the way we laughed and joked, the way we touched each other and stimulated one another sexually as we flew up the highway. Now in the dark car, maneuvering through the traffic, all I could feel was deep disgrace.

No physical punishment awaited me; S knew my shame is genuine and that is punishment enough. When he asked me if I wanted to continue this relationship, tears welled up in my eyes. He then asked, "Who is making the decisions here? Is it me, or is it you?" I could barely breathe the answer, "You. . ." and choke back my self disgust. He gently took my hand, and reiterated how much he cared, how he wanted me to be myself, and if this wasn't going to work for me, that he would make the necessary adjustments. I begged him to not give up on me, with the few words I could speak, and promised that my desire to serve was sincere and that I would try harder.

Saying goodbye in my driveway, and not knowing when I would see him again, I longed for him to stay, to comfort me and ease me through my shame. He did not, for many reasons, but he directed me to not dwell on the subject. It was done, and if I had learned my lesson, then it was behind us. I promised to not dwell, and gathered up all of my strength and walked in the door to my home.

I cried myself to sleep, ashamed, and heartbroken. Waking this morning, I faced the day with a renewed determination to better serve this wonderful man whom I love so dearly.