by Tara Sue Me
She whispered something to him and he just laughed.
“You wouldn’t know anyone who could teach Felicia how to knit, would you?” he asked, eyeing the mass of yarn that had escaped the blanket.
“No, can’t say I do. I can bring some audio books by if you’d like. Oh, I know! How about some foreign language CDs? You could learn a new language.” It sounded like a great idea, until I saw how Felicia was looking at me.
“Are you serious?” she asked. “Learn a second language?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Jackson said and then looked down to his wife with playful mischief in his eyes. “You should learn Italian so next time we go to Italy I don’t have egg on my pizza.” He shivered as if remembering the taste. “Nasty.”
“I think that was France,” Felicia replied. “And I thought it was very tasty.”
“That’s because you’re into strange and wacky food,” he teased. “Only chicken parts I want on my pizza is meat.”
I stood up. “Henry and I better head home.” I leaned over and hugged her. “I’ll come back over this weekend.”
* * *
Henry went down for a nap as soon as we got home. Playing with the twins must have worn him out. I slipped out of my shoes, let Apollo out, and made myself a cup of decaf coffee. If Nathaniel had been with me, he’d have made his delicious hot cocoa, but I’d never been able to make a cup quite as good as his, so I stuck with coffee.
I turned the TV on and flipped through a few channels, but nothing caught my eye. I wasn’t in the mood for a movie. There was an unread paperback on the coffee table, but again, it was a romance and I just didn’t have it in me to read one at the moment.
I took out my phone and brushed my thumb along Nathaniel’s contact information, trying to decide if I wanted to send him a text. But he was at work and since I’d all but accused him of sleeping with Charlene, I didn’t want to give the impression I was checking up on him.
I scrolled through my e-mails and noticed the blog had received a good number of questions. I tapped my fingers against the top of the phone. Maybe I could answer a few on the blog. Sort of like a teaser of what my TV segment would be like.
I grabbed my laptop from my tote bag and powered it up. I’d answer only a few and I’d keep everything short. I wasn’t a therapist. The first question was easy.
Dear Submissive Wife,
Have you ever gotten angry during a scene?
Uncontrolled
I typed out a quick reply.
Dear Uncontrolled,
Yes, I have. But most of the time I’m angry at myself for disappointing my Master. If you find yourself so angry you can’t focus, you should safeword and discuss what’s going on with your Dom.
Secret Submissive Wife
The second question made me laugh.
Hey there,
You sound hot. Will you give me your number?
Sexy Dom Dude
I had a feeling I should ignore it, but I couldn’t help typing out my response.
Dude,
I’m happily married and in a monogamous relationship. Being a submissive has nothing to do with being promiscuous. Quite the opposite, as you should know if you really are a Dom.
Secret Submissive Wife
I answered a few more. One asked for nonfiction resources and I listed a few that had been helpful to me early in my journey. Another asked for my opinion about online Web sites. I named some I’d heard of that were run well and gave my standard warning of safety, more safety, and you-can-never-get-enough safety.
The next question, though, stilled my typing fingers.
Submissive Wife,
Why is it so hard to surrender to my Master? When I do it, I feel a deep and joyful peace, but I still find myself struggling the VERY NEXT TIME. Am I not a real submissive?
Wondering
I stared at the question until the computer screen became fuzzy. I could have written the question myself. How could I give advice on something I struggled with too? Who was I to tell this person what they should do?
I saved the document I’d been answering the questions in and opened a new one. I pasted the question at the top of the page and then let my fingers fly.
Dear Wondering,
I am starting this off by saying I am in no position to give you advice. While I never struggled realizing I’m a sexual submissive, living as one has often been harder than I think it should be.
Like you, when I’m in the middle of a scene, THAT is when I feel most like I’m my true self. It’s often the time right before one that I struggle with allowing myself the freedom to surrender to my Master. Or, it could be days after that I question why I feel the need to give myself to him.
I won’t claim to know why we have this struggle and, since I still fight this battle, I can’t even give you any advice. I will say, I think it’s common. We’re conditioned to think, “ME, ME, ME” and for us to put that to the side is hard. Which is funny, now that I’m writing this down, because only by putting it to the side does the “ME, ME, ME” become satisfied completely.
So why do we have the same fight every time? Again, I don’t know. The closest I can come to explaining it is to compare it to childbirth. When I was in the middle of labor with my firstborn, I swore I’d never, ever, EVER go through that again. Yet, less than three years later, we decided to have a second child. The mind is truly a mystery; how it forgets things, I’ll never know.
For the record, and for what it’s worth, I do think you’re a submissive. Or at least, I don’t think what you’ve described means you’re NOT. Though I have the same questions myself, my inmost soul is only whole when I am fully surrendered and obedient to my Master.
Thank you for your insightful question!
Secret Submissive Wife
With a sigh, I closed my laptop and looked around the empty room. In the stillness and quiet that followed, I finally started to understand. And I had one more thing to write.
Master,
I know we have a lot to discuss. Unlike yesterday, I’m now looking forward to it. I know our different roles are what brought us together, but likewise, they are often what bring us the most strife.
Even when we are at our worst, I have never doubted your love and devotion to me. I hope you are able to say the same.
I am waiting for you in the bedroom.
Forever yours,
Abigail
Chapter Thirteen
I knew the moment he entered the house. From my spot in the bedroom, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, making small changes to my position to ensure I would look perfect when he came through the door.
In my mind, I pictured him finding the note I’d left in a conspicuous location and I recited the words in my head that I’d written earlier in the day. It was later than he normally came home, but not as late as I’d thought it would be when he told me he was meeting with Charlene. It was late enough, though, for the kids to already be in bed.
He didn’t like to talk and discuss things when I was wearing his collar. He might not like the fact that I was naked and waiting for him on my knees in the bedroom. After thinking about how to prepare myself for his arrival, though, I couldn’t come up with any other way that made sense.
His footsteps echoed down the hall and came to a stop in the doorway. I wondered who would speak to me: my husband or my Master?
“Abigail.”
Yes.
I recalled the words I’d typed this afternoon in reply to the question the blog reader sent. In this position I will find my soul satisfied. My body slipped deeper into my headspace.
“I wasn’t expecting either the note or to find you waiting like this,” he said.
“To be honest, when you told me I couldn’t wear your collar, I wasn’t planning to either.”
He sighed deeply
and walked farther inside the room. “I may as well have stayed at home today. I was completely worthless.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to make your day more difficult.”
“You didn’t make it difficult. I thought about a lot of things.” When he spoke again, I heard the smile in his voice. “And had you been there, I wouldn’t have done a lot of thinking.”
“I agree,” I said and I’m sure my smile matched his. “I did a lot of thinking as well.”
“I had a chance to read your blog before I left to come home.”
Earlier in the day, I’d posted the questions I’d answered. Meagan had called shortly after to say the office was getting flooded with questions for me and I would have my pick of what I decided to answer on the show. We had a meeting scheduled for early next week to go over the finer details.
“I hope you enjoyed my posting, Sir.”
“I did.” He chuckled and the sound made me smile. “I especially enjoyed how you turned down the gentleman who came on to you.”
I laughed. “I will never stop being surprised at how people act, Sir.”
“I agree. Humans are entertaining.”
Silence followed his statement and the brief frivolity that had been present left the room. The bed rustled as he stood.
“In Delaware, when it hit me that for even the tiniest of seconds, you thought I might cheat on you, it shook me like I haven’t been shaken in years. That you would think me capable of that.”
“I’m sorry.” His words felt like a punch to my gut.
“I shouldn’t have come into the room that night. I should have never taken you when I was so angry, but I had to prove to myself you were still mine.” He framed my face with his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. His breath was warm against my skin. “It made me feel like an ass and part of me didn’t want to tell you that because I know you and I know hearing me say it will hurt you. And it pains me when you hurt.”
“I’m glad you told me, though.” But he was right: hearing how my words and actions negatively affected him wasn’t easy, but he was right to tell me. I needed to know, just as I had to tell him when he hurt me.
“Your feelings are never wrong. You are entitled to them and I would never tell you otherwise. But you need to know how I feel, too, and when you say and do things that make it sound like you don’t trust me? That hurts me, too.”
“I trust you with Charlene,” I said. “I know you would never do anything to hurt our marriage or compromise your integrity.”
“It’s good to hear you say that, because she accepted the position when I met with her after work.”
I had expected as much, so hearing him say it didn’t surprise me. What surprised me was how it didn’t affect me the way I thought it would. Realizing that my struggle with my submissive nature was normal, and something other submissives experienced too, had helped me realize that just because I felt jealous didn’t mean I didn’t trust Nathaniel. That woman’s question had helped me remember it’s only human to experience contradictory emotions. But I had always trusted Nathaniel and that was the most important thing. Whether Charlene could be trusted or not was another story, but I realized too that it didn’t matter because I could trust him to handle her.
“I know you made the right decision. You’ve run the business for a long time and you’ve been overseeing the nonprofit for just as long. If you didn’t know what you were doing, neither one would be as well-off as they are today.”
“Thank you for saying that, but I do on occasion make a mistake. I’m confident, however, that hiring Charlene isn’t one of them.”
“I no longer doubt it, Sir.”
“Thank you.”
He moved and stood behind me. His fingertips brushed the nape of my neck and I shivered at his touch.
“Another thing.” His fingers tangled in my hair. “I have a question for you, my lovely. Are we going to do this your way, or my way?”
My heart thumped in my throat and my need for him and what he was doing grew. I barely managed to get out, “Your way, Sir.”
The fingers in my hair fisted and he pulled so I met his eyes. “Be sure, Abigail.”
They say the eyes are windows to the soul and in that moment, it was true. In his eyes I found the answers I’d been searching for. “I’ve never been more sure, Sir.”
He didn’t answer immediately, but took his time, appearing to search my expression for verification of my words. Whatever he was looking for, his own features relaxed and he whispered, “Stand for me now.”
He kept his hand in my hair as I stood, pulling me into his arms when I came to my feet. Lowering his head to mine, he murmured against my lips, “I missed you.”
I wrapped my arms around him. It felt so good to be sheltered in his embrace. I sighed, content once more. “Life is lonely without you.”
His lips slowly moved over mine, seeking, looking for answers to questions he couldn’t voice. There was a gentle softness in his kiss that felt like a caress. And when he started a tender nibbling with only his mouth, I groaned in pleasure and tried to deepen the kiss.
He pulled back and whispered against my skin, “My way.”
I ran my nails over the fabric on his back. “I want you.” It was a need, urging me to drive closer and have him.
“My way,” he said again and reinforced his words by taking my hands and bringing them behind my back. “Keep them here.”
I wanted to protest, but his softly spoken, “Abigail,” made me stop.
“I’m not going to take you now,” he said. “But if I were, it wouldn’t be strength that I would claim you with. I would take you with a gentle whisper and control you with the faintest touch. Do you know why?”
“Because you’re a sadist?” I replied and I meant it a little.
“Because I don’t command you by force.”
I knew that, of course. My submission was given to him because he didn’t demand it. I still wanted to whine.
“Submission that is coerced. Obedience given in fear. Supplication offered because it feels it has no other option. These are not things that have a place in our world. They don’t belong in any relationship and I will not have them in ours.”
“You’re afraid I’m going to say I want to extend the time I’m collared because I feel I have to in order to make you happy?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t you know me better than that?”
“I used to think so.”
That one hurt. Was he implying he felt like he didn’t know me anymore?
He sighed. “The thing is, I need to know that extending our time is something you really want to do.”
“I do, Sir.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not one hundred percent convinced of that. You’ve said it before, but it’s not how you’ve behaved.”
I started to panic. What if he never wanted to collar me again? How would we live like that? We couldn’t. “What can I do to convince you?”
“I want you to give serious thought to what you want our relationship to look like. Think it through well. We’ll discuss it next Friday night.”
There was hope then if he wanted to discuss on Friday night since that was the night he typically collared me. If everything went well, maybe he’d offer me his collar. I tried not to let it show how impatient I would be to have to wait over a week.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He only nodded. I had my work cut out for me.
* * *
I met him in the library the following Friday night after the kids were in bed. Henry was on a new antibiotic and had slept well the last few nights and we were hopeful it would continue. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous about how the coming discussion was going to go. Like he’d asked, I’d spent the week thinking about what I wanted, trying not to let what I thought he want
ed influence my ideas.
That in and of itself was tough. As a submissive, his wants had always been one of the main things I took into consideration before making any decision. But I’d put that thinking aside and researched and talked to Christine. After all that, I’d sat down and wrote out a list of what I wanted, what I could live with, and what I wanted no part of.
Taking my list, I came up with a plan for what I thought our new schedule should look like. On Friday morning, I went through it one last time and wrote it out in my journal.
He waited for me on one of the couches. He was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, and sat with a leg crossed over his knee. It really wasn’t fair he looked so relaxed with me feeling like a ball of nerves.
“Abby,” he said, greeting me by the name he used during the week to let me know we weren’t going to be formal or in our roles for the discussion. “Have a seat. I see you’ve brought your journal. Have you given my request some thought?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting down beside him. “But there’s one thing I have to know before we start.”
It was a question that had danced through my mind at odd times throughout the last week. One that on the surface didn’t seem important, but as the week went on, it bothered me more and more.
“What would that be?” he asked.
“Why the sudden change?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t ask to be difficult or anything. I’m just wanting to understand why the increased need for dominance now?”
“I’ll let you follow my thinking,” he said. “When was it you first noticed a change in my behavior or saw an increase in my demands?”
Good question. When had it been? I thought back. “It was right before I was offered the position at WNN.” I squinted, trying to nail it down. “Matter of fact, the big change came after I accepted. And picked up when I became successful.” It wasn’t until my post became so popular, following that dreadful night at the BDSM club, that he suggested we play for a week. Were the two linked?