Secret Submissive Wife

The second question made me laugh.

Hey there,

You sound hot. Will you give me your number?

Sexy Dom Dude

I had a feeling I should ignore it, but I couldn’t help typing out my response.

Dude,

I’m happily married and in a monogamous relationship. Being a submissive has nothing to do with being promiscuous. Quite the opposite, as you should know if you really are a Dom.

Secret Submissive Wife

I answered a few more. One asked for nonfiction resources and I listed a few that had been helpful to me early in my journey. Another asked for my opinion about online Web sites. I named some I’d heard of that were run well and gave my standard warning of safety, more safety, and you-can-never-get-enough safety.

The next question, though, stilled my typing fingers.

Submissive Wife,

Why is it so hard to surrender to my Master? When I do it, I feel a deep and joyful peace, but I still find myself struggling the VERY NEXT TIME. Am I not a real submissive?

Wondering

I stared at the question until the computer screen became fuzzy. I could have written the question myself. How could I give advice on something I struggled with too? Who was I to tell this person what they should do?

I saved the document I’d been answering the questions in and opened a new one. I pasted the question at the top of the page and then let my fingers fly.

Dear Wondering,

I am starting this off by saying I am in no position to give you advice. While I never struggled realizing I’m a sexual submissive, living as one has often been harder than I think it should be.

Like you, when I’m in the middle of a scene, THAT is when I feel most like I’m my true self. It’s often the time right before one that I struggle with allowing myself the freedom to surrender to my Master. Or, it could be days after that I question why I feel the need to give myself to him.

I won’t claim to know why we have this struggle and, since I still fight this battle, I can’t even give you any advice. I will say, I think it’s common. We’re conditioned to think, “ME, ME, ME” and for us to put that to the side is hard. Which is funny, now that I’m writing this down, because only by putting it to the side does the “ME, ME, ME” become satisfied completely.

So why do we have the same fight every time? Again, I don’t know. The closest I can come to explaining it is to compare it to childbirth. When I was in the middle of labor with my firstborn, I swore I’d never, ever, EVER go through that again. Yet, less than three years later, we decided to have a second child. The mind is truly a mystery; how it forgets things, I’ll never know.

For the record, and for what it’s worth, I do think you’re a submissive. Or at least, I don’t think what you’ve described means you’re NOT. Though I have the same questions myself, my inmost soul is only whole when I am fully surrendered and obedient to my Master.

Thank you for your insightful question!

Secret Submissive Wife

With a sigh, I closed my laptop and looked around the empty room. In the stillness and quiet that followed, I finally started to understand. And I had one more thing to write.

Master,

I know we have a lot to discuss. Unlike yesterday, I’m now looking forward to it. I know our different roles are what brought us together, but likewise, they are often what bring us the most strife.

Even when we are at our worst, I have never doubted your love and devotion to me. I hope you are able to say the same.

I am waiting for you in the bedroom.

Forever yours,

Abigail

Chapter Thirteen

I knew the moment he entered the house. From my spot in the bedroom, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, making small changes to my position to ensure I would look perfect when he came through the door.

In my mind, I pictured him finding the note I’d left in a conspicuous location and I recited the words in my head that I’d written earlier in the day. It was later than he normally came home, but not as late as I’d thought it would be when he told me he was meeting with Charlene. It was late enough, though, for the kids to already be in bed.

He didn’t like to talk and discuss things when I was wearing his collar. He might not like the fact that I was naked and waiting for him on my knees in the bedroom. After thinking about how to prepare myself for his arrival, though, I couldn’t come up with any other way that made sense.

His footsteps echoed down the hall and came to a stop in the doorway. I wondered who would speak to me: my husband or my Master?

“Abigail.”

Yes.