Soul Submissive

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.

"For men there's alot of pressure. We are expected to lead, to have answers, to solve problems. I don't think many women realize the amount of pressure men are under."

S had enjoyed a couple of beers and when we returned home, he lie down on the sofa nude. He was rubbing his tummy, looking up, just sharing his thoughts uninhibited.

"Being a man, we are expected to take charge of situations. As the head of the household, we are expected to have solutions. Sometimes things go wrong. Hell, things always go wrong. And when things go wrong, I'm the one who hears the complaints; I'm the one that has to deal with the disappointment. I feel bad when I've disappointed everyone. It makes me feel worthless; I feel like I didn't measure up as a man."

I could hear the sadness in his voice, remembering days of his past.

"There's no relief. When you're the head of the household, the man in charge, where can you go to hide? I can take off for a day or so, have a few beers now and then, but that pressure is just waiting there for me when I return. And how much relief can I feel just knowing it's waiting there for me when I return? There's no relief."

His voice had reached a stressed pitch. I finished changing into my lounging clothes and emerged from the closet, through the bathroom and into the living room. I knew he needed to see me at that moment.

"That's what I love, well one of the things I love, about being submissive. I hand myself over and that pressure that I've lived with my entire adult life is gone. The heaviness is off of my shoulders and I'm only expected to serve. If you need something or want something from me, you'll tell me, and I can do it, right away. But that pressure of coming up with answers I don't have is gone. I love being submissive with you."

I smiled and told him I loved him. He smiled back. This was a precious moment as a Domme and I knew it. It's not every day that a man can open up and intimately share feelings that run so deep. I was so proud of my Sweet Boy.

"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.

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.

In raging summer, oh! So grand,
I met a flood upon my land.
You washed over with a flood of fire,
Released me from the muck & mire.

Entrenched in mud from my own tears,
Imprisoned by my life of fears.
Cleanse from me all things past.
I pray, I pray our summer last.

Build and stoke my soul aflame!
Release the animal untamed!
Bite, bend, arch and claw,
Forgive all with empassioned flaw.

Rain upon my land so dry,
Kiss away the tears we cry.
Weep with passion, weep with pain!
Weep because it's all the same.

Burn with heat of summer sun,
Burn, my life has just begun!

Somewhere in between
Being your Domme and being your slave
Somewhere in between
Being who you love and being who you crave

Somewhere deep inside
The ebb and flow between you and me
Somewhere deep inside
The who we are and who we'll be

Somewhere in your heart
You know you were made just for me
Somewhere in your heart
You long to be just what I need

Somewhere in between
I know my place is by your side
Somewhere in between
What we show and what we hide

Somewhere down the road
I see your smile and hear your cry
Somewhere down the road
Into the horizon two birds fly

I was drowning. Too much pressure, I suppose. That's what S believes. So he stepped up, and pulled me into the lifeboat when I was going down. The sorrow was overwhelming, so much so that I was drowning in it.

After a few days, we settled back into our routine. S is so good at taking direction and it seems so natural to direct him. Recently, another local business owner, Randy, who wants to partner with us on a project, emailed S for a meeting. Of course S asked me to attend. During the meeting Randy continued to direct his conversation only to S. Often S would answer him, because our expertise is in different areas and he had the answers Randy was seeking. But S often looked to me for leadership. Funny thing was that Randy never realized it was me he had to please, and I would make the final decision, as I often do.

S trusts me. He trusts me with his personal belongings, his business, his life and his heart. He knows my devotion to him and he knows down in his soul that I would never harm him. He knows I'm honest. He trusts my intuition about people and my ability to read them and their motives. He knows that I won't hurt him and that I would never, ever let anyone else hurt him.

When I was suffering in my depressed state, I had to turn outward and find safety somewhere else. S recognized that and grasped my hand, pulling me back into the boat before I drowned. He then rowed me back to shore. He didn't do it because he needs me, or because he wants something from me. He did it because he saw me in need, because he's that kind of person, because he would do it for anyone who needed him. I had to trust him, the way he trusts me.

Reaching for the lifeboat was nearly impossible, because admitting weakness was something I thought a Domme couldn't do. Perhaps I need to let go of what I "think" a Domme is and just begin being myself.