The Submissive Woman
She sat at the kitchen table, contemplating the words that she had recently read. An article that had been flashing over and over again in her mind in regards to the characteristics of the submissive woman. As she sat lost in her thoughts, she did not hear his approaching footsteps. Standing beside her, he caressed her hair, his touch bringing her out of her reverie. Turning to face him, he knew something was troubling her.
Asking what was weighing heavily on her mind, she began to verbalize her concerns. He listened intently, taking in every word, as the jumbled comments began to flow freely from brain to mouth. Once she had laid upon the table, in plain view, her worries she sat silently catching her breath. Looking up, she saw him processing and pondering what she had let build. Then a smile crossed his face as he sat in the chair next to her. Taking her hand, he gently coaxed her to move to his lap before responding. Giving her a kiss on her forehead while encompassing her in his arms, he called her by a favorite pet name, knowing that she would relax into his body.
He then started to softly speak to her to quiet her concerns. His first point was the most pertinent, and all inclusive, we do not live a cookie cutter life. We are all different through our experiences and perceptions of the world around us. There is no stereotypical norm because every person's situation is unique. He told her that society perceives a Dom as someone who wears a suit and tie every day, yet that is not the case. She realized that due to her own life experiences, the clothes do not determine who a person is on the inside. Yet, she questioned herself because of how someone else perceived the way in which a submissive woman dresses. She did not fit neatly within the guidelines of wearing high heels and dresses daily, makeup applied with an artist's touch, and hair done to perfection. She would do that for him, but on a daily basis, due to her occupation, that was not feasible. As she sat there listening to what he was saying, the words penetrated her stubborn mind, there is no standard to abide by.
Smiling as she looked down and realized neither one of them, at the end of the day, fit into the author's vision. She wore minimalistic makeup, her long hair pulled up in a ponytail, and attired in her favorite jeans and funny tee. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a polo shirt that had been the choice for his hectic day.
Releasing to him her thoughts had calmed her mind. All that mattered, and was important to them, was their adoration for each other. Their relationship was theirs, no other person dictating right nor wrong, it is what they chose. The foundation of their bond, and unrelenting attraction for each other had always been the soul and mind. She submitted her naked mind, body, and soul to him so there was no concern of clothing. She was his submissive woman.
