Soul Submissive

When I saw the red welt began to rise from his right ass cheek, I felt sick to my stomach. I knew then that this had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

I had S purchase the crop for me earlier that evening. We had then gone out with friends, and while out, S had done something to irritate me. I told him it was time to go home, and as soon as I had him home, we discussed what had happened. We resolved our issue, but apparently, I was still harboring some aggression. When we started our sexual encounter, the tone was sensitive and loving. Before long, I felt my aggression beginning to rise. I had him bent over, taking my strap-on cock in his ass (which he enjoys), and I reached for the crop.

SMACK!

"Don't you know that I'm in charge?"

He whimpered agreement.

SMACK!

"I don't want you to argue with me anymore. Understand?"

". . . yes, Mommy. . . " he whimpered.

The welt began to rise, as did the vomit in my stomach. I had promised to never hurt him. This is not who I am. This is not what I wanted. I let the power go to my head.

I has since spoken to S about this. He had obliged my indulgence obediently. He is nothing if not obedient. Filled with shame, I told him how awful I felt, and that I would never use the crop again. He didn't say a word.

My goal is to dominate with strength, to train with love, to influence with kindness, to meet his emotional needs of comfort, security, and belonging. Fear doesn't fit in there; nor does pain.

It won't happen again.

After an incredibly fun date last night, when walking back to the car in a busy nightclub district in a neighboring city to ours, S spoke to me of fucking me in public. I knew his wish was to tear my clothing off, right on the sidewalk, with cars passing by, and to lay me on the sidewalk and fuck me, right there, right then. I also know that he is likely to do anything he desires, so if I submit, I must be mentally prepared to follow through. Of course, I would never, ever say no, and he knows this, so he assumes that responsibility quite seriously.

By the time we were 5 feet from the car, when I thought we may make it out of there clothed, he grabbed me and pulled me in to kiss. I love, love, love being kissed by S, so much so that I often cum just from being kissed. We kissed, standing in this parking lot, with club-goers passing by, as he partially undressed me and groped me unrelentingly. I came twice, just from the thrill, the passion and the intensity of it all. He was driven, and I was submissive, because I wanted nothing more than to please him and be pleasured by him.

In the car, as I drove home doing 90 mph, I massaged his gorgeous cock through his jeans and sang to him. After just a few minutes, he began undressing and was completely nude long before we got off of the highway. I drove carefully but briskly, so we did not get pulled over and he was not arrested. I realize that there was little chance of that, but I would never put my Dom in jeopardy. Part of my duty to him is to protect him, and I would protect him with my life.

When we arrived at the house, he walked into my home nude, and looked so beautiful doing so. I don't know if any of my neighbors saw, and I don't care. They mean nothing, and he means everything. Never would I inhibit his wishes for another.


After being fucked for hours, my Dom directed me to walk out to my car nude, while he moved is bike from my garage, and for me to move my car into the garage. I would do anything for him, and I take great pleasure in pleasing him. I did so with my head held high, strolling to my car with pride. I would do anything he ever asked.

As I tell him often, it will be done. You only need ask.

If there is one thing I have learned in my 45 years of life, it is self discipline. If there is anything my loving, beautiful Dom has learned in his 45 years of life, is that he does not have any desire to manage anyone. This is another example of why he and I are a good fit.

My gorgeous Dom has instituted a diet and exercise regime for me. This came about when I complained about being a size 18, and expressed my great desire to look better. He heard the words, but he looked into my heart, and knew that I meant it. These were not just the whines of a woman who wanted to gripe about, but not solve, her weight problem. This was a plea for help.

S looked into my eyes and asked for a commitment from me. For me, once that commitment was made, there would be no bickering, no negotiating, no bargaining, no pouting. He didn't set these parameters down for me, I set them for myself. This is obedience to me. Do as I am told, without question, even in my mind. If he says it, I do it. Period.

Occasionally I will receive an email with instructions about my diet. He has broken me of at least 10 foods and drinks that I was addicted to. I had no idea I was addicted, but as always, he knows me far better than I know myself. This is why I love him so. He knows me, what I need, what I am capable of, and how to propel me in the best direction.

S simply emails me, and does not follow up. If I make an error in my food choices, he informs me that I have faulted, and it never, ever happens again. For example, I sent him a photo of buffalo wings and ranch dipping sauce. I believed I had made a good choice, so I was proud to show him how well I was following instruction. He reminded me that all fat filled condiments were on the list of forbidden foods, and that meant ranch dip. I nearly broke down crying at the table with my unsuspecting girlfriends, and begged his forgiveness. I had the sauce removed from the table immediately, and apologized to him profusely.

Two weeks later, I forgot, truly forgot, once again, and had ranch on my salad. When it hit me what I had done, I texted him, confessed, and apologized profusely. I was forgiven because he knew I did truly forget, was truly sorry, and because I confessed so rapidly and openly. He informed me that I need to disassociate myself from ranch so this doesn't happen again. We have not discussed it again, and I know that it will never happen again. His approval means everything to me; absolutely everything. To let him down broke my heart. But being dishonest was simply not an option for me.

Had I not confessed, he would not have known. But my obedience is MY responsibility, not his. If managing my behavior his burden, how is that pleasurable for him? Isn't it my job to make his life more pleasurable, more fulfilling, more joyful? My obedience is the best gift I can give to my darling Dom, who has been so very, very good to me. I want to give him the best of what I have to offer.

In about 6 weeks, I have dropped down to a size 14, close to a 12. I want to be completely beautiful and healthy for my Dom, because he deserves no less.