The Sweetest Submission

It is the sweetest thing, this submission


Doing those things you ask, be they large or small, direct orders or comments on what interests you,

comments that you make in passing- doing those tasks and seeing your glee in my compliance,

feeling your joy in my obedience, your approval in my joy in doing as asked.. oh my....

this submission is the sweetest feeling.


Knowing that you ask for nothing you will regret me doing.
That you ask for nothing that I will regret doing.... And I do know this, Sir.
Knowing that you ask of me to merely give you the responsibility of my submission to you,

that you DO see it as a responsibility-always considering how I will react, if it will benefit me-
it is the sweetest of feelings.


You grin with glee when I blush, when I am oh so slightly mortified, and even that makes me happy!

That such small embarrassments are seen by you as a gift from me, and that you treasure my blushes

rather than seeing them as a weakness. I find myself looking forward to those moments of squidgy blushes,
knowing you adore them.


The look of pride you have when you help me grow and learn, when together we move forward past a
roadblock, melts me. I strive to grow to see that look, to know that you are proud.


Your assurance that you see me, you note my efforts, my growth, my willingness.. that constant reassurance
and coddling feeds me strength to trust when it is kinda scary, to still submit when it is embarrassing,

to speak up when I have questions. You lift me and build me up so sweetly.. How can I not respond to that?


The weight of your eyes on me as you play me, as you drink in every sound you wring from me, as you weigh

every movement I make in response to your tender mercies fuels those very sounds and motions, your craving
for my reactions strengthen my response, a never ending cycle that leaves me a trembling, spaced out,

submissive mess with no thought but your joy in me.


Hearing you say those words, phrases I had believed to be mean, rude, crass, arrogant, dismissive... but yet

you say them with such warmth, such tangible heat, such gentleness and glee, that I crave the sound of them

passing your lips.. oh Sir, you make this submission so sweet.


One look, showing me that you do NOT approve, shatters me. Gentle as the reprimand of that look is, I feel it,

I know. I strive to not ever see that look again.


Knowing how seriously you take my words, how you strive to grow, to include my interests in your fast growing
list of skills, the care and attention you apply to learning of me, the glee you take in using what you learn.....

it leaves me helpless, eagerly looking for opportunities to to show that I cherish that gift, Sir, that you give-in
allowing me to submit to your gentle and erotic will, teaching me to trust in you and in myself, showing me

that submission is, really, truly, a thing of sweetness...


Thank you Sir... for this gift, this sweetest submission...

To Submit or Not to Submit

To Submit or Not to Submit,
That is the question

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of honest self exposed

Or to take wit against a sea of dominants

And by so opposing, so to repel them. To falsely resist, to gently submit--

No more--and by resist to say we end

The obedience, and the thousand natural submissions

That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished, silently feared. To falsely resist, to gently sumbit--

To submit--perchance to risk: ay, there's the rub,

For in that risk of exposed self what dreams may come

When we have our shields dismissed, our soul bare,

Must give us pause. There's the respect

That makes calamity of so habitual resistance

For who would bear the ropes and whips of demands,

Th' submissive's wrong, the proud Dominant's contumely

The pangs of unaccepted love, the truth's delay,

The insolence of false resistance, and the spurns

That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,

When she herself might her submission make

With a bared soul? Who would uphold yet bare,

To moan and tremble under a patient hand,

But that the dread of something after exposure,

The undiscovered truths, from whose bourn

No falseness returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those false truths we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,

And thus the native hue of resistance

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of fear,

And enterprise of gentle pain and release

With this regard their shame turns them awry

And lose the name of action. -- Soft you now,

The fair Dominant! -- Sirrah, in thy knowing hands

Be all my weaknesses forgiven.

Oh lovely hands

Hands

Strong hands, grasping my own

Tender, Firm, Trust

Strong hands, tug me forward

To lay over his lap.

Patient hands, Rubbing, Kneading

Raising my skirt

Relaxing

Into those hands

Warm Hands

Slapping, slowly, Barely Stinging

As I moan and sigh

Strong hands

Firmer, pause, carressing

i wiggle and writhe

Untiring hands,

move faster now, harder

The sting spreads

I moan

Under those hands

Relentless Hands

As I kick my feet

Struggling, moaning

Stinging hands

Bringing me pain

pleasure

Amazing hands

slaping, touching, holding

I scream

Strong hands

pinning me

still slapping

Sexy hands

Caressing me

begging

His hands

everything and everywhere

pain pleasure

in waves

Oh those lovely hands

dissapoint me

You bastard

Did I ask you for your lies?

You played hero, you ,

You taught me to be

to believe

You FAKE!

you said, princess

you promised, to be strong

you let me fall

alone

You LIAR

You held me, cherished

You spoke of love, vows

You walked away

No tears

Hero? Not!!

Heros don't run from life

or throw a princess to her knees

and sneer, empty

at her pain

Husband, huh

What a despicable phrase

Am I chattel? Answer!

Without worth?

Fuck you.

You...FUCKER

I did give of myself

I did love, and support

I trusted!!!! TRUSTED you!

and now?

I 'm Done

You don't win, your alone

i won't loose, I LIVE

you disspoint me

I survive