Soul Submissive

S had been watching a documentary that I could hear from the bedroom. I only heard bits and pieces, but I determined it had something to do with children who had grown up without a father.

Later, when he came to bed he was very sweet and gentle. He held me close and I could tell he wanted to take the dominant role. He had been out of sorts for a few days, standoffish, and I didn't want to spook him. I often let him choose what role he needs and assume the role he needs from me. It had been a long time since he wanted to be the Dom and I was happy to oblige.

Earlier in the week we had quarreled over the way he forgets to comfort me. He informed me that it wasn't that he forgets, but he becomes so confused he doesn't know quite what to do. He fears doing the wrong thing, so he often does nothing. Tonight he wanted to make up for all of that.

He held me close and told me I was his girl. He cuddled and kissed me, assured me I was a good girl and very loved. Eventually we began to be sexual and finally, he had me pinned up to the headboard, fucking me gently but firmly. It felt good, wonderful in fact, but then I started to feel afraid. I didn't see it coming. . . but the fear began to set in.

After we both came he held me close and I clutched him tightly.

"Promise me you love me. Promise me you'll protect me. Promise me you won't share me with anyone. . ."

The words that slipped from my mouth surprised even me.

We cuddled and talked for awhile until I calmed down. I mustered up all of my courage, tried not to think about what I needed to say, and just spat the words out.

"I love being your little girl, and I love the comfort and security. But I don't think my little girl should have sex anymore."

S responded surprised but supportive.

"Of course! Sure. That's fine."

I left the bed and wept for a few minutes in the bathroom. Once I calmed down and came back to bed, and to him, and explained. I hadn't known I felt this way. I need to be loved and accepted, unconditionally. I want the love I got from my Dad as a girl. But as a little girl, for me, I don't want sex. I just want love.

I was amazingly relieved after this. He's been incredibly sweet, nurturing, and kind since then. I'm a very lucky girl.

Our therapy has been grueling. Delving into the pain and anguish of our pasts has left me emotionally rung out. Working with our therapist has given me incredible insight, not just in my life, but into S's past and his heartbreak he carries. Our therapist Emily is like a guide, leading us through the most fearsome territory we've ever seen. The idea of writing about what was happening began to fill me with dread. It's hard enough to live it; how can I rehash it for others?

I've been filled with shame and fear because we fight so often. We yell and scream, threaten to leave each other, cry and sob, accuse, blame, and fall on the floor, exhausted. I can't tell you how many fights there have been, most ending in one of us or both of us crying ourselves to sleep, completely spent. I worried about sharing all of this, concerned that perhaps the insight I was sharing was only leading people in the wrong direction. I had lost faith in our process because I could see no light at the end of the tunnel.

New Year's Eve we went out and had a blast. Then, right around 1:00am, the familiar cycle began. S had too much to drink, he misunderstood something I said, and plunged into grief. It happens so quickly I can't see it until it's too late. It took all I had to get him to cross the street back to our apartment building, get him in the elevator and into our apartment. He fought me every step, wailing about how scared he was to go home. He has come to fear the fights so much that the idea we would fight terrifies him.

He seemed to think I was angry, but I was not. He assumed guilt for something that didn't even happen and became despondent. This happens night after night and I don't know how to avoid it. It's not intentional by either of us. This is a result of his deep scars of childhood.

But this night was different. I was able to step outside of myself and see his pain in a new way. I've been told by Emily numerous times that it's not me he's fighting, but the demons from the past. But this was the first time I was able to separate myself entirely and attempt to comfort him, rather than fight him, while he howled for two hours.

I was filled with sorrow for my Sweet Boy who cried in pain. I wanted to comfort him, but he saw me as the enemy, shouting, accusing, crying and blaming. But it wasn't me he was angry at. It was his past. I stayed by his side, being the target for his rage, listening to him, helping him as best as I could, giving nothing back but love and tenderness. I wanted him to know he wasn't alone and he was being heard.

The next morning I knew he would wake up, immediately apologize, be filled with shame because of his actions, and I was right. But I held no resentment this time, because I hadn't internalized any of it. I was able to provide the comfort and unconditional love he needed, for the first time. That whole day I was filled with wonderment and affection, feeling closer to him than I ever have before. We made sweet love as I took control of him, owned him, nurtured him, fed him my love and overwhelmed him with my presence. He gratefully and gladly submitted, welcoming my all encompassing being over him. I sucked him in and brought him home.

I feel certain we have reached a new place in our relationship. I'm looking forward to seeing Emily tomorrow and sharing with her all that has happened. I feel we've broken new ground and I'm ready for the next chapter in our love affair.

S and I seem to reluctantly take turns being the caregiver/caretaker. I love taking care of him, but become resentful if I must do it for too long. Then I become irrational, petulant, and overwhelmed. I fall to pieces, blaming, shouting, crying and accusing until he steps up.

As a result of my tantrums he feels guilty for missing the clues of how I needed him. He becomes overwhelmed with self-pity for being a failure. Of course, he's not a failure, he's just following my lead, doing as I have told, being submissive. He's waiting for direction. My shortcoming is that I don't always know my own needs, my own feelings. I don't realize I'm in pain, that I'm needing more than he's giving, and I attack out of confusion. He rushes to my aid, engrossed in self hatred because as a partner, as a lover, as a friend, as a son, in his mind, he's failed again.

He wants to be good. He wants to fulfill his part in the relationship. He believed that with me he could do that. That is, until I started telling him he had failed.

Once my emotional needs are met, I've had a day of pampering or comforting, I begin to come out of my funk. I immediately feel sorry for him. I realize how hard I've been on him and begin take care of him. As I've said, I love taking care of him, nurturing him and loving him, knowing that he's feeling fulfilled, but I run out of steam after some time has passed. Then the cycle begins again.

We realize now that we both need to work on communicating BEFORE disaster strikes and listening to one another better. I don't want to hurt him. I don't want him to feel guilty or ashamed. I want to be loved and comforted and I want him to feel loved and comforted too. It's so hard to strike that balance.

But I have faith that we will find it because we both want to so much. As long as we remain on the right path, focused on the same goal, I have great hope that we will reach a happier place, in time.

I've known love before. My father loved me so. I could feel his love exude from every pore on his body when he smiled at me. I also had a friend Thomas for many years that loved me, just the way I was. Thomas never wanted to change me, and loved me to be outrageous and comical and sexy. When he died so many years ago, in many ways, I did too.

I didn't want love anymore. I didn't want to feel the heartache any longer. Losing my father and then losing Thomas made me feel so alone here on earth. I didn't want to feel that loss again, so I decided somewhere deep inside that I wouldn't open up for love. Then I wouldn't miss it when it was gone.

But I did. I was lonely. So lonely and in so much pain, that I turned it all inward, piling on the pounds, hiding in my comfy, compliant life with my domineering husband. He wasn't dominant. He was a mousy, frightened child who was bossy and hateful, complaining daily about everything under the sun. He tried to control everything in an effort to stop feeling out of control inside. I allowed him to control me, because I was so sad and empty inside.

I have a lovely daughter. She's an adult now. I wanted to provide a father for her, so getting remarried to a man she adored seemed like a good fit. She was happy, he was satisfied, and who cared if I was dying inside?

Who, indeed.

Then I met him. S filled my lungs with the first breath of air I had taken in years. I felt myself again. I felt my heart again. I felt love again.

Since I've met S, I've learned the differences between domination and domineering; submission and subjugation; control and love. Love is out of control, it is flying freely, it is watching the object of your desire be all they can be and feeling your heart soar with pride for them. It is giving of yourself for them, to them, to bring their heart peace and happiness. Love is giving, not taking. It is freedom, not control. It is joy that runs through your heart, into them, and back into you.

Today I cried in his arms after S made love to me. His love overwhelmed me. I could feel the pang of the love I had felt in the arms of my father and my friend while lying in his embrace.

Love is a vibration, like a bell, that you don't just hear, but you feel as it washes on you. Today love echoed within me, a sound long quieted, reverberating from within.

My dolly is the bravest thing,
That I have ever found.
She'll sit and take my scolding,
And never make a sound.
Sometimes I forget
And pull her by her hair.
She doesn't even cry a bit,
She doesn't even care!
One day when Momma said
We'd have to throw her out,
Because she was worn and old,
And ruined just about,
I'm sure I saw a great big tear,
Come sliding down her nose.
She didn't want to go,
She'd miss me I suppose.
So I took her in
And fixed her all up nice.
Even found a new dress,
Just about her size.
Now I'll never mistreat her!
I couldn't if I tried!
It was almost more than I could stand,
The day my Baby cried.
~ L. Jorgensen

"You're my Babydoll, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you know what a girl does with her Babydoll?"

"No Mistress."

"Anything she wants."

"Yes Mistress, yes."

I want to consume him, to devour him, to hold him inside of me and keep him safe, satiating my lust from within.

For now, I must be satisfied with owning him physically. His body belongs to me, to love and adore at my hands. His cock belongs to me, to kiss, to suck, to handle, to fuck. His cum belongs to me. Not one drop will spew without my say so, nor without his cock embedded within me. I hoard each drop, enjoying the tickle of the drips escaping past my labia and onto my thighs. After he cums, I keep my thighs unclothed, so I can feel it drip for hours and smell him in on me.

He pleases me with his passion. My mouth waters at the sight of his eyes, looking up from his knees, waiting for my approval.

He is my Sweet Boy.

"I'm drawn to you in so many ways. When you hold me and I kiss you, kiss your breasts, your arms, and smell your skin, I feel this energy flow from me, into you and back through me. I don't know how else to describe it but energy, and it just makes my cock hard, as if my cock responds to your energy, your will."

S is certain it is more than just sexual energy he feels with me, responding with a stiffened cock each time I grasp him tightly and release my energy into him. It is something primal, perhaps even esoteric and spiritual that draws us together. This feeling is reciprocated in my body. I realize my orgasms flow through me, from a source outside of my body, through the top of my head, down through me, into him through our connected groins, and then shoots back through me and up out of my body. When this first happened, I was overwhelmed with excitement, as I felt a vibration that I'd never known. Now it happens so often, I forget to be amazed.

Recently I've been studying about metaphysics to find some answers. The topic of chakras came about so I did some reading about the root chakra, with was suggested by a friend of mine. . .

The Root Chakra links us to the physical world, solidity and support - especially to the physical body. It is the foundation of energy. The Base or Root Chakra manifests strongly in the motivation to ensure personal survival by way of food, rest, and sexual expression. Spiritually, the base chakra has to do with protection of individual integrity. It is an energy center that provides a solid ground from which to establish our equilibrium in order to ascend to higher awareness.

Absolutely convinced that what I feel is very real, I'm willing to explore this information further. What I know is that what I feel with S is beyond my understanding of my lifetime. It exceeds anything I've every known. I feel certain I was destined to be with him, and as a born leader, I was destined to be his Domme. I love my life now, even with the ebb and flow, ups and downs. To live any other way would not be living. I am ready to grow to a new level, accept a new understanding, and see where this road leads. If life is this wonderful now, whatever lies ahead must be Nirvana.