Personal Submission

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Personal Submission

Submitting as defined by Mirriam-Webster:
: to yield oneself to the authority or will of another

My personal submission to J is interesting at best. Let's try to remember that I am a thick headed pain in the ass here, shall we. That being said, I am not perfect. I love him and want to give him the world. I will let him have me in any capacity that he sees fit. Let him do what he has the need to do to me, do with me, and do for me. I wish so much that I was perfect and that I could want to do everything he asks. I hate to clean, I can't stand working (I have no idea why), and don't enjoy being outdoors much. You see, that is who I am. I am really ill-fitted to be a slave, and not so good at the sub thing either, but I am working on that.

Non stop for the past two days I have been cleaning the house. He's not here and I figure that this is the best time to work on me. I am not prepared to live fully submissive, we have children and I certainly don't want them jaded because of us. For me the submission begins and ends with this: I am his. He owns me, he dominates me, and he loves me. My submission is deep rooted in me, I cannot submit to anyone else, only him...he had me under him within moments of meeting him. When I look at him a fire burns deep in my chest, and lust boils over...powerful. raw. real. I know I am his because I cannot leave. I am well aware that I am free to leave at any given moment, but that freewill is trivial. I cannot leave. Ever. I love him, I worship him. I physically could not walk out the door and leave him. I truly think I would die if I ever left, or if he did for that matter.

If I could change things, I would. But not in the way most people think. I would stay home and work from home and I could see him when he was home. I would hand over my checks and only keep a portion for me. I would help him love and raise our children. I would learn to love to clean. I would learn to do all the things he likes to be able to fully enjoy him. Don't get me wrong. I love that we disagree so often, it makes what we have real and not just some silly game we can end at anytime. I am his wife. I am expected to voice my opinion, and I am allowed to disagree. I like it that way. Fighting shows passion. We have a whole lot of passion.