At 40 you would think I'd know myself pretty well, but being M's through almost all of last year has taken me down roads I never expected and not just the kinkalicious kind. (Though those have been absolutely fucking amazing!!!! But I don't want to get sidetracked...) I remember early on in our conversations he said I would be transformed.
You could say I didn't necessarily respond with zeal. Transform?!? I mean I know I'm not perfect, but I thought I was a pretty decent catch as is. I'd done a lot of soul searching over the last ten years to find me. I was pretty confident of who I was. What more could there be? Well...it turns out that M was right. (Yeah...yeah...He usually is.) Looking back now, I realize just how much he showed me there was left in me to discover.
From the first moment we met...touched...kissed, M's affection stood out like a shining beacon on a cold empty night. He held my hand every moment he could. For miles as we wandered NYC and shared pieces of ourselves, his long fingers were entwined securely with mine. At the movies, at dinner, wandering a store, riding the subway...He would reach for me. A simple touch, a caress, a hand on my thigh, I experienced affection like I never had. When we were tucked away, he'd wrap me up in His embrace so tight, so warm, so strong. He melted the last of my walls not by force but through His consistent, warm touch. I felt openly wanted and cherished. I felt truly claimed for the first time as a woman. I'd grown use to keeping my distance. I either didn't feel any need to connect like that with a guy or it was an intentional effort to protect myself - to steel myself from being lulled into false security. With His persistence M showed me my long abandoned affectionate side and how very much I needed to give and receive that precious and meaningful intimacy. With every moment we've shared, affection has been center stage. It's a natural extension of our emotional tie. It's a demonstration to each other whether in private or in public that we are proud of each other and that we care deeply for one another.
After spending my 20's in a train wreck of a marriage, I essentially wrote off that I could ever take care of a man in any traditional way. I'm not Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart. ~shrug~ Given the emotional abuse by my ex, I had convinced myself that traditional female roles just weren't in any way my forte. Until M, the very thought of a man wanting me to cook for him filled me with dread and anxiety. Yet, somewhere along my journey with M I found myself wanting to open my life to Him in a practical way. I've mentioned before that He was the first guy in about six years that I let into my home. But it wasn't just His presence that was a huge step for me. From the moment he stepped in my door, I let myself try again to be a woman to a man. So vanilla, but it was scarier than anything He could have expected of me kink-wise. He didn't have to demand. He didn't have to instruct me. The desire to take care of Him in little practical ways came naturally. He inspired me, and I trusted that He would accept my efforts with love. No...I haven't become Betty or Martha. That isn't me. But I love to cook for Him, feed Him, stock my home and fridge with the things that make Him comfortable. I smile and melt a little when I come across bits of Him in my home. I smile to myself at the memories of us making breakfast or dinner, of me bringing Him a drink as we we curled up on the couch to watch a movie, of me undressing Him after a night out so that we can crawl in the nest. Are all of those little things? Not for me. Those are some of the biggest things of all. They say more than anything that we are more than fun, laughs, and thrills in a hotel room...we're real.
There are so many other transformations I've gone through. He showed me how to love again. He helped me find the sweetness and purity of tears. He let out the playful little girl that smiles and laughs and teases without hesitation. He... ~sigh~ I could go on and on. The simple fact is...He has irreparably changed me. When I put my hand in His, I really had no idea how many different ways he would open my eyes to me. It makes me wonder...what else is there in me left to find as we continue on our journey together? Hmmmmm...
~DominaKat
Nope. This post wasn't kinky or sinful or decadent, but my submission to M was never just been "in the bedroom." I put my hand in His to lead me and us. I knelt at His feet in complete surrender. Those acts weren't about sex. In my submission to M, I dropped every one of my guards - emotional, mental and physical - to give Him all of me. He wanted ALL of me. Not just the whore and slut who would give Him pleasure, but also the woman who could be a partner and mate. I haven't regretted a moment of my journey with M or the growth that has come with each of our steps.
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