“Of course,” he’d said with that wicked gleam in his eye as he gave me the assignment, “that means you first have to decide on your definition of sexual submission.”

I’d spoken with submissives in our local group who thought writing assignments were punishments, but they’d never felt like that to me. I’d always felt that sometimes it was easier to think on paper.

When I picked my pen and journal up, it was as if the floodgates of my mind opened and allowed me to put into words what speaking and thinking alone couldn’t do. Nathaniel, of course, noticed this right away. As a result, whenever there was a subject he saw I needed to come to terms with, he’d have me write about it.

He also knew that writing sometimes felt easier to me then to talking to him. When I put my thoughts in my journal, I knew he had the right to read what I’d written. But he’d assured me that nothing I ever wrote would be used against me, so his eventual reading of what I wrote didn’t worry me. I knew we would end up discussing it. But sometimes it was easier to start that conversation in writing.

He walked into the sunroom that Monday as I was finishing up.

“How’s it going?” he asked, handing me a cup of hot chocolate.

“Thank you, Master.” I took the mug and had a sip. He’d been making me the best hot chocolate since we’d gotten to Switzerland . “Mmm, this is so good. I’m almost finished with my writing.”

He nodded and took a seat opposite me. “Will it bother you if I sit in here?”

“Probably not, Master. As long as you’re quiet. Though if you’d like to distract me or if you want me to distract you, I won’t complain.”

“No distractions for now,” he said with a soft grin. “I want you to finish.”

I gave a mock sigh. “If you insist.”

For the next thirty minutes, we sat in comfortable silence. I wrote and he read something on his tablet. When I finished with my assignment, I gathered my journal, placed it on his lap, and knelt on the floor at his feet.

“Finished?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“Did you find the exercise useful?”

When he asked me such a question, I was to answer honestly. If I hadn’t found the writing useful, I was free to tell him so. At such times, only my dishonesty would be a disappointment to him. My answer today was a truthful, “Yes, it was very useful.”

He took the journal and placed it on the end table. “I’ll read over this later. For now, tell me one thing you learned while writing.” He knew that after I’d written about a subject, it was usually easier for me to articulate my feelings to him.

“As I wrote, I came to realize that sexual submission takes on many forms. And it can be played out and incorporated in a lot of ways. Whether one is a collared submissive or not.”

“Sounds strikingly similar to a statement I made not so many nights ago.”

“Yes, Master, but like you also said, it’s a conclusion I had to come to myself.”

He stroked my cheek. “And have you?”

We had been together, living a dual relationship for over six months. In that time, we’d come together numerous times as both dominant and submissive and just as Nathaniel and Abby. I loved both parts of our lives, but looking back, the intimate moments I’d enjoyed the most were those when he took control in the bedroom.

“Yes, Master. And I came up with a few ideas on how to incorporate our special relationship into our weekdays.”

“Excellent. I’ll read over what you wrote and we’ll discuss that later.”

He was always very insistent that we not negotiate anything while I wore his collar. We would most certainly discuss my ideas, but I knew from experience it wouldn’t be anytime today or tomorrow.

Frankly, I was looking forward to him taking a more dominant role in the bedroom. I thought back to a few nights ago in front of the fireplace, when he’d shown me by his words exactly how my body reacted to his commands. Every time I remembered him saying, “Fucking do it now, Abby,” my insides tightened and a particular warmth spread over my body.

That night had been the first time he’d shown me exactly how he could be more in control, even when I wasn’t wearing his collar.

“I wonder, though, Master,” I started and then stopped. “But maybe we should wait and discuss it later. When my collar is off.”

“I don’t mind having a discussion. As long as we both know nothing will be decided or agreed to until it’s off.”