21st Century June

You love it when he says “no.”

If you ever tell her, “you choose,” you’ll shatter her world.

One of the major reasons you’re in her life is so she doesn’t have to decide anything.

We were waiting for the train and I was being incessantly pouty because he wouldn’t let me go to the other side of the city to retrieve a pair of boots I keep at the office. They’re super sexy and I wanted to wear them, but we had plans and no time to rearrange our commute. His logic was sound, but being told no still made me feel a wee bit petulant. 

He tolerated it for a bit, but then he gave me The Look. You know the look I’m talking about. It’s also called the Careful, Young Lady look, or the You’re Pushing It look. Whenever I’m on the receiving end of it, I get squirmy and immediately feel tiny. I buried my face into his chest. I do that a lot when I’m in trouble or being chastised; I leaned into him as if snuggles were going to save me from a spanking. I mumbled sorry into his shirt and he said, “sorry, what?” I hesitated, not expecting him to prompt me in public, even though the subway platform was mostly empty. “Sorry daddy,” I said. I felt myself starting to throb.

On another day, we were in Zara and I couldn’t decide between two tops. I really wanted them both. I help one up, stared at it longingly, and looked at him. “I can have both?” I asked. I expected either a yes or no, but he said, “How do you ask permission for something?” My eyes widened. The store was busy enough that it would’ve been easy to be overheard. People pushed past us every couple seconds. 

“But we’re in public,” I protested.

The look on his face made it very clear that he didn’t care.

“May I have both, please?” I whispered. He didn’t make me call him ‘sir’ or ‘daddy’, but I still felt like I’d been reminded of my place.

I got to have both tops.

When he daddies me in public like that, it’s always a pleasant surprise. It pulls me out of whatever distracted headspace I’m in and anchors me. Goes without saying that it’s hot as hell, too. I’m still getting used to being mindful of my behavior outside of the bedroom. It’s not that I forget I’m his submissive when we’re out and about; I just don’t usually make a conscious effort to behave like his submissive when we’re not behind closed doors.

It’s a good thing, then, that he’s there to remind me of exactly who and what I am.

Not because he is incapable of making his own coffee or tying his own shoes, but because it pleases him to allow me the pleasure of serving his needs.

I don’t serve because I expect praise, or even acknowledgment, but when he gives it, those little “Thank you, sweetheart"s and “Good girl"s make my day.

At the end of each day, after the girls are all tucked in, I shower, stripping away the grime of the day, put on my robe, and seat myself at his feet. He most always turns off the tv and electronics, and we enjoy alone time together before heading to bed. We talk, we laugh and cry. We sometimes cuddle on the floor. I look forward to and count on this time with him (he does too) every day - it is the one thing in this world that absolutely refills my well. It grounds me and solidifies me, especially on days when it feels as if the world has tried to make me crack.

But there are also times when he’d like to watch a show or read a bit, and I just sit. I lean against his chair with my head in his lap while he unconsciously plays with my curls. I don’t read or watch or listen. I just sit in his silence. I sit WITH him, even though his attention is not directed solely on me.

This hasn’t always been the case. In the times before we began living this way, my distracted and busy brain never stopped. I wouldn’t allow it to. I was afraid to - what lied beneath the busyness was a frightening mountain of emotions I wanted to avoid. Most evenings we’d watch tv and even talk some, but it was frequently day to day things or even sometimes deeper things, but the walls were still there. We weren’t ready yet to be this vulnerable and bare.

Now, in these evening moments, I can focus on him. I hear my inner voice without fear. I share of myself, freely. I listen intently. I want to know him. And when it’s silent or his focus isn’t solely on me, I’m able to tune out the world. I tell my inner voice to stop speaking. I breathe. I feel his warmth against my cheek, I feel the flow of positive, loving energy from his fingertips as they gently knead and lift and pull strands of my hair. I feel the joy and peace exuding as he randomly strokes my cheek with his thumb, and I sit.

Either way, at the end of every day, I revel in my existence with him, as his.

Not because he is incapable of making his own coffee or tying his own shoes, but because it pleases him to allow me the pleasure of serving his needs.

I don’t serve because I expect praise, or even acknowledgment, but when he gives it, those little “Thank you, sweetheart"s and “Good girl"s make my day.

We started a new ritual. I wait for him to give me permission to start eating. It started after a suggestion of a local lifestyle couple. It is an easy task but has some big overtones. It keeps me in the right mindset, it keeps him in tune with me and gives us just another aspect to our power exchange. I really didn’t think much about it until today.

He had a horrible day at work. We sit down to dinner and I wait with my hands crossed as I usually do. He begins venting about his day. He has my undivided attention while he tells me about his day. He has started eating but I’m still waiting patiently - but listening to him intently. He speaks for a few minutes. Pauses and says “you can eat, I just needed to vent”. The whole time I thought he was just so frustrated he forgot and as soon as he paused I was going to ask for permission. As soon as he said that it dawned on me that he had me wait so my attention would be solely focused on him.

I don’t know where I want to eat tonight. I can’t tell you if I like the blue dress of the red one more. I don’t know if I need a spanking right now. I don’t want to decide how much sleep I need. I can’t say if I need to push through, or if it’s time for a rest.

I’m an adult. I’m perfectly capable of knowing how to weight my options, and I can live with he consequences of even the big decision. But I don’t want to. I chose him to lead because it frees my mind. I gave him the decisions because obedience is freeing. It lifts a mental burden that sometimes feels to heavy to drag forward.

When I’m frustrated, or sad I need him more than ever. I can’t ask him to lead when my mind is clouded with emotion. It makes me feel like a burden. Or sometimes it feels like it doesn’t count if I have to ask, but I still want it. I struggle with this because when he makes the next step clear it’s like I can breathe again. Taking the next step forward feels a whole lot easier without the weight of decision on my shoulders.