Soul Submissive

"No matter what I say now you're only going to see me as defending her. Your mind is made up. You want to be the victim in this!"

S could never know how much those words hurt.

Since my 21 year old daughter came to visit last week she and I had been like two angry cats locked in a closet. S was in the middle, trying to stay unscathed. I was shocked when he continued to take her side, always trying to explain her behavior to me.

"I don't think that she meant to insult you. I think she just meant. . ."

"Why don't you care about me?" I shout. I could hear myself, and I sounded like a child.

When he remarked time and again to our friends how much she and I were alike, at first I found it complimentary. Later, when I saw the two of them laughing together, an unfamiliar pang hit me deep. Very deep. Jealousy had reared it's ugly head.

I'm rarely jealous with S. His devotion is so obvious that I just never have any reason to be concerned. Certainly he checks other women out, as do I. Being bisexual, women are beautiful creatures so me, and many times I fantasize about a stranger. So when S glances, or turns his head for a moment, I know he's just being human. The act of looking doesn't threaten me at all, because I know he's with me because he chooses to be. But this was different.

Soon the arguement waned, reignited, and the silence of frustration stood between us. I did all I could to find a resolution. I spoke gently, apologized, took ownership and responsibility for my mistakes. I tried to see things from his point of view. He was so hurt and felt so attacked, that I just couldn't seem to reach him. There we stood, after declaring my pain, curled inside myself and he silent in fear. I warned him I would reject him if he attempted to touch me.

At this juncture, my only weapon of defense was to withhold affection.

Giving affection would be submitting, rewarding bad behavior, succumbing, and perhaps needy and demeaning. I wanted to stay strong, in control, powerful.

He apologized over and over, but each apology came with the disclaimer that it was my fault, saying I had first attacked him. I tried to explain that true apologies stand alone and don't come with accusations. Finally he relented, and now we sit at the happy, lively taco joint, mired in frustration and fear, and the greatest pain of all, detachment.

How do I build the bridge?

In my mind I know what to do. Reach for his hand, reminding myself that he never means to hurt me. Remember all the arguements of the past and how he's really just a boy inside who desperatly needs love. Remember that I'm his Domme and I've vowed to be his love, his comfort, his peace.

I'm so frightened. What if this is a mistake? What if this is weakness, not strength? What if he sees this as a precedent to treat me this way again? What if he turns on me again and hurts me?

I look into his eyes, see his sadness, sorrow, longing and pain, and suddenly my hand doesn't seem so heavy. I reach out my hand gently to bridge the gap.

The truth is, I don't know what I'm doing. Because I have so many feelings running through me so often, I am simply scattered. My moods change often and with all of this being so new, I'm doing my best to define how I want to proceed. It's crucial that I only do what I'm comfortable with and what S is comfortable with, and I not let anyone else's definitions of Domme define me. I know who I am, but translating that concept into behavior is often confusing.




But these things I know are true:

1. I love S like I've never loved another human being ever in my life.

2. All I want is to be honest, intimate, loving and nurturing in my relationship with S.

3. I was born to be a caretaker and I love that role.

4. I am comfortable being a leader and I take this role most seriously.

5. I am a born protector. I can and will destroy anyone who harms those I love. S will be safe for the rest of his life in my care, and no one will ever hurt him again if I can prevent it.

6. Being in charge is not the same as being in control. I'm only in control of my behavior. Not my emotions, thoughts, or desires. How I act upon these things is my decision. I am only in control of myself, no one else.

7. S is a blessing in my life and I vow to treat him as such.

8. I have no desire to harm, punish, or inflict pain on anyone. I won't do it.

9. I believe love is all I need to be a Domme. I believe love is a wonderful motivator.

10. We all make mistakes. This is new to both of us, so mistakes are bound to be made. Learning from our mistakes makes them simply life lessons, not mistakes.

11. I am worthy of love, and so is S.

12. I am intelligent, fierce, energetic, vivacious, incredibly sexual, joyful, and exuberant. I really am fun to be around, I have tons of love for everyone I know, and since I've met S, I find many people very drawn to me. I am a good human being and I enjoy being Tina.

13. S loves me.

14. I can trust S with everything I am and everything I have. He doesn't ever want to harm me.

15. I am incredibly lucky to be in this relationship. I hold it with the greatest regard and value it and S enormously. I am blessed.

So that's what I know. If I work from there, well I have great hopes of everything working out just fine. I just have to remember what is true and not listen to the doubt that rears it's ugly head.

Work from my heart, not from my head. I learned that from S.

I'm fully in charge now and he has completely relented. S has finally given in to his own desires and is my sweet slave, "My Little Fucking Boy", to be loved and led by his Mistrss. I couldn't be more thrilled.

This was a long time in coming, and we both resisted the obvious for far too long. I would fight my inner nature and listen to my head, not my heart, allowing shame to prevent me from taking my natural and rightful place as his Domme. Ladies don't lead, ladies don't love a good fucking, ladies don't command their man, they submit. How wrong I was! And how much I love and embrace being in charge and being a proud, vibrant, strong, yet feminine and demure Domme! I was meant for this my whole life.

My first order of business was to lay down ground rules. My second was to teach S that he is valuable and worthy of being treated with only dignity. This entailed putting his ex-wife in her place and backing her off of the two of us with the threat of legal action. I looked him deep in the eye when she sent her incredibly submissive text back to me, consenting to my wishes, and told him, "Do you see? I am in charge. I am in control. Not only do you answer to me, but she does as well."

When a woman comes into her own, they all see it, and fall to her feet.

Let the worshiping begin.

I felt very, very small. I sat down in the closet as he yelled from the living room. Beginning to cry, all I could mutter was, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . " It was all I had left.

Walking into the living room, nearly crawling, head hung as low as I could get it without falling forward, I lay my head at his feet and repeated, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . " It was all I could offer.

He immediately reached for me, and told me to sit beside him on the couch. Doing as I was told, I kept my head low, showing him with all that I had that I was as non-confrontational as possible. He was so gentle; I was so small.

It doesn't matter how this all came to be. Just that perhaps this is the best place for me. At least for now.

I really am sorry.

After reading countless blog posts, never have I understood the purpose of humiliation in the D/s relationship. I understand the feelings it brings, but I never knew why that would be necessary. When I feel submissive, it seems that it is usually by choice.

These last few months I've pushed S to discuss emotional issues more than he is accustomed to doing. I wanted to discuss each hurt feeling as it came up, so as to work out any issues and get them behind us, before coming to haunt us later. I wanted a clean slate, perfect canvas, to display my love for him.

While realizing how painful this was for him to be scrutinized so often, I believed I was doing the right thing, for both of us. I assumed this was some sort of housecleaning, and we would both grow from this.

Today, after one of these discussions had occurred before bed last night, we were gently talking about how he felt. He shared that often I say little things, or do little things, that hurt his feelings, but he just assumes I never meant to hurt him, and let's those things slide by. He understood that I'm not that sort of person, and he asked me to just be more gentle and loving when I find such fault in him.

Then came the reality of how wrong I've been.

I realized in a momentary rush that I had been so arrogant in thinking that my way was the only way. I had been trying to eliminate future issues by "managing" his behavior. So terrified that I would let something go that would somehow come back to hurt me, as I had done in my failed marriage, I had been pushing, instead of being understanding.

Humiliation filled me. I was awash with guilt, shame, and dismay. I couldn't look S in the eye, and felt so unworthy of his forgiveness, love, and touch. He reached for me in spite of my flaws, and wanted to comfort me.

Then came the connection between us. Passion consumed us both, and I threw myself open for him. Gently, firmly, he took me, and made love to me, while I whimpered "I'm so sorry," over and over. When he finished, I asked him if I could cum for him.

He sucked one breast and squeezed my nipple on the other. I rubbed my clit furiously, feeling the humiliation wash over me and submitting to him in a way I had never done before. The climax was cleansing for me and the best gift I could give to him. I wanted so much to bare myself completely, to submit, to relent, to bow down and give him all I had inside willingly. I had nothing to hide behind; no intelligence, no clothing, no arrogance, no virtue, no piety, no righteousness.

He held me as my body shuttered and shook from the orgasm, enjoying the gift I had presented to him in my humiliation. Through his grace, I have found the ability to bare my soul to him, and still be forgiven.

Grace is not earned. It is a gift.

On one of the first mornings sleeping with S in my bed, I had a dream shortly before waking. I had dreamed of walking with S on a beach along the Pacific, hand in hand. He pulled his hand away, turned into a seagull, and began to fly. I stood locked on the shore and watched him glide about freely. He flew back to me.

"Why aren't you flying with me?" he asked.

"I can't fly," I replied sadly.

"Yes you can. Stretch out your arms and fly with me."

He seemed so certain, and I trusted him so, that I did as he said. I reached out my arms, turned my face upwards, and suddenly I was a seagull and began to fly.

We gleefully flew up and down the coast, side by side, occasionally touching our wingtips. Then, after some time, we flew over the ocean together, into the sun.

I think of that dream often, and how I awoke, telling him of the dream, sobbing in his arms. He held me close, and seemed to be quietly understanding everything I was trying so hard to explain.

During those first few months together I often told S that I had his hand, and I was pulling him to the other side to our future together. He was so stuck in his relationship with his needy wife, tied down by obligation, commitment and promises made from insecurity. He wanted to fulfill his duty, his vow, and somehow retain a shred of honor to his word he had given at such a young age, so many years ago.

I told him to hang onto his wives hand, and that I had his hand, and that I had the strength, determination, and sheer will to pull us all through this to the other side. The side where our lives go on, and we all find peace with this decision that he and I had made to be together.

His divorce will be final soon. His wife will be taken care of financially for the rest of her life, and compared to most divorced women, she has been one of the very, very lucky ones. Every need has been addressed, and the only thing she has lost is her caretaker and friend. But even she has found peace with this decision, and is finding comfort in a life of her own.

Now S and I have our life together, and we are ready to leave the coastline and soar out over the ocean.

My father once told me of his marriage to my step-mother that the secret to staying happy in a relationship is that you can't both go crazy at the same time.

Perhaps there are times when S takes the lead, and I must trust him, and simply follow direction when I am stuck in the sand of my limited understanding. Then there are times when he must be able to rely on my strength, and allow me to carry him to a place of peace.

He's very good at knowing which direction to head. I'm very good at getting us there.

The balance of power has settled, and it seems to lie evenly between us. At least for now. Neither dominant nor submissive, we both seem to be peaceful, relaxed, and joyful with this new horizon. The quarreling has subsided, and understanding has grown. Understanding of one another, and of ourselves.

For the most part, I don't feel dominant at all these days. My concern is that the dominance in me sparked my aggression, and anger, and fueled many of our arguments. I became demanding, intolerant, and petulant. S became frustrated and felt unloved. I came to loathe myself, unable to understand my behavior from moment to moment. Feeling lost and needy almost all of the time, I found that being the Domme was not necessarily the same as calling all of the shots. When I wanted love and affection, I demanded it. S became reluctant to give what was being forced from him.

My old issues of mistrust, fear, hurt, and disillusionment haunted me nightly. They hung about me all day, nagging at my heart, shielding me from the comfort of a loving relationship. I became suspicious, and found myself questioning all that I had once easily accepted as truth about S. He had given me no reason to doubt him; the doubt lurked in the darkness of my old fears, and peeked out when I least expected it.

If anything now I feel submissive again. But not often. Just when I see a disagreement on the horizon. If I hear the tone in his voice of anger, displeasure or frustration, I immediately submit, fearing a confrontation. Almost always it was my doing in the first place, the misunderstanding. S is wonderful in that he won't pursue an argument if I retreat. He steps back just as quickly, and it seems we both race to apologize first. Neither one of us wants the misery of the arguing, nor the fear of losing one another.

I can't imagine life without him now. If I am submitting to anything, it is my fear that I will drive him away.

Fear is a powerful thing.