Soul Submissive

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.

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. . .

While S was suckling my breast, I realized we had crossed over into new territory, once again. His right hand cradled my right breast, his left hand was buried in my pussy, and he sucked with great enthusiasm.

"Are you my Sweet Boy? Do you love me? Yes, you are such a good boy! Do you want to make me cum?"

He greedily sucked even harder, rubbed my clit harder, and whimpered in agreement. I threw him on his back, began riding his cock, and he cried out his delight. Words poured from his typically reticent lips, words of comfort, security and devotion. I encouraged this behavior, and rewarded him with my orgasms, and kisses to his sweet, sweet face.

Afterwards I cuddled him against my bosom, loving and nurturing him, holding him tight until he was ready to break away and move into his regular role as my equal again. No words were spoken about the encounter, but I felt our love had moved to an even deeper level. Throughout the following days, S allowed me to take on an even greater nurturing role in his life.

As a mother of a grown child, this was a natural position for me. I never breast fed my daughter, but I have heard it said that when a mother breast feeds there are certain hormones released in the brain that help create a bond between mother and child. Perhaps this is the incredibly deep bond I feel with S now. Regardless of what the definition is, I feel very protective and loving in regards to S, and I would do anything, anything to care for him.

He is indeed my Sweet Boy.

Having lost 55 lbs has been incredibly life changing for me. I still have a few pounds to lose, but I feel far more attractive, for the most part.

S finds me more sexy than I find myself. Recently, while browding through a clothing store, I held up a short, tight, black skirt. I knew he would like it, even though I hadn't worn anything so sexy in many years. He smiled slightly and encouraged me to purchase it.

The next evening we were headed out for drinks with friends. I donned the skirt, pantiless, of course, with sexy black heels. He smiled slightly with pleasure.

"Do I look ok?" I inquired.

"You look good," he replied with very little enthusiasm. But s says only what he means. Enthusiasm is not his strong suit, so if he says it, I trust he means it and try not to read between the lines.

My friends all commented on how hot I looked, as I tried to fight the insecurity inside. At the mirror in the Ladies Room two ladies also commented.

"You look so hot!" they both said.

Breaking out is hard, probably for everyone. Owning my sexuality is new and exciting, and S has helped me achieve that by requiring me to try. He never requires I do, only try.

I realized, while mounted on top of S, as he moaned with ecstasy, that control had shifted. I grabbed his hair, and while ferociously riding his cock, informed him that he was mine. He whimpered agreement. I took it a step further, asking him if we was My Sweet Boy. Again, with a whimper, he repeated, "Yes, yes, yes. . . "


We've been transitioning to and fro for a few weeks now, each of us from dominant to submissive, and back again. I have a difficult time knowing when the shift occurrs, as it is always S who initiates it. Most of the time he is dominant. He still sets the pace, keeps control, and let's me know how he's feeling. But I wait patiently for my opportunities to engulf him and make him mine. In those interludes his only purpose is to please me, which he does with great passion and humility.


Another facet has also entered our lives: equality. Somewhere in the swing between dom & sub lies this middleground. For the most part, in our day to day of sharing his apartment, we are equals. We work, play, dine, vacation, talk, love, and grow together as equals. But what I realize is that we both have our strong suits, and our weaknesses. There are times when I need his enormous strength, guidance, and wisdom and times he needs my tenacious fortitude and nurturing kindness.


Perhaps the roles have not changed at all. Perhaps the relationship has simply developed more roles.

"I'm sorry I got home late," S said as he walked in the door.

S has been staying with me for just a few days since he left his wife, until his apartment is ready for move in. I was struck by the use of the word "home" as he has only been here a few days and he isn't moving in permenantly, just visiting.

S has used "home" to refer to where he belongs. Being home for him implies this is where he is comfotable, accepted and peaceful. I was flattered that he felt this way in my home. I would do anything to accomodate him and help him through this transition.

After holding me tight and kissing me for a bit, he pulled back and looked into my eyes, relaxed and tired after a long day motorcycling with his buddies. I realized in that moment that it was not my house to which he was referring, but my embrace. In my embrace he had found his home.

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.