Giving Her All of Me

She would be home soon. All day I had thought only of pleasing her. Of how I wanted to give her every bit of me. Of how I quaked inside at the thought of being her tool for personal gain. I hated when she made me do grunt work to be able to garner her attention, it felt more like being brushed aside than anything else, but then again, how could I argue such a point? Most anyone would interpret most of the things she does that captivate my soul and consume most of my waking thoughts as "brushed aside" and much worse.

Whatever I thought about her "taskmastering" me when she chose to, the fact was, it didn't matter. I had given myself to her completely. I wanted nothing more than to be her rock. I wanted every aspect of her life to be exactly what she wanted, at all times. The genuine way in which she would treat me with disdain and even malice as I offered up my life in service to her was enough to bind me to her alone - though it was every other detail that made her my life-blood.

Everything was straightened out perfectly, and our house (but in my heart, hers, really - as I felt everything should be) was ready for her arrival. My heart slammed into my breastplate as my queen pulled into the driveway; I am hopeless. But I say I am hopeless just as strongly and with just as much fierce resolution as someone like Shakespeare's Romeo would, in professing his bond to Juliet. I gave a last look around to see if there was anything else I could improve - at the mere hope that she would be more pleased. It looked good already though, because it looked like she wouldn't have to lift a finger. That is how I gauge these things.

I take great pleasure and satisfaction when something I do makes her life easier, better, more suited to her wants. I'm fully aware that the humiliation and shame also do that for me, but really, it's the combination of many aspects that make me so very whole when I'm with her. So. Whole.

I call it wholeness, wholeness is really just a word here, to describe something that there are no words to describe, a bond that creates a fullness, a completion, unique to her in every way. That wholeness had been growing exponentially as of late, as we had recently approached the matter of a female led relationship more completely. I wanted nothing more than for her to have the opportunity to experience more as well. Today was a chance to help with that. I wanted her to experience exponential growth in all areas of benefit to her. For both of us.

She walked in the door and I met her there to relieve her of her purse and shoes. I froze just a bit when I laid my eyes on her for the first time that day. I had thought of her almost the entire time, but none of my thoughts had matched the vision of absolute glory that stood before me now.

There she was, at 5 foot 2 inches, an ass for days, and curly, dirty-red hair that created magic against her decidedly Celtic fair skin. Her piercing, all-knowing eyes constantly contending with her fine, yet still pouty lips for the attention of whoever's eyes were looking at her. She sauntered in and greeted me.

"Hello, my dear, dear husband, how was your day today?" she asked as I began to embrace her.

"I hated that you were gone. I missed you all day." I answered truthfully, as I squeezed her close. I loved as much of her touching as much of me as was possible. She held me close to her as well, resting against me after what was sure to have been a taxing day. I wanted the moment to never end, but really I did. I wanted her to sit and relax.

"I know you did." she cooed with heavy emphasis on the word know. "I admire that about you, and love it, naturally, but it shows that you're smart too! I missed you as well. I'm glad to be home because now we can spend the evening together, and you've got something for me to read, don't you?" she said with a refreshed glow. I did.

"I asked you to write me a story today. Send it to my phone and I'll have a coffee brought to me on the couch. You may sit at my feet on the floor and I'll read it" I thanked her for allowing me to be in her presence and went to make her drink. She sat and got comfortable.

I handed her the coffee and knelt low as I sat. She smiled at me and I began to massage her feet instinctively as she started to read. She started to read out loud, but quickly saw that the story wasn't what she was expecting. She hummed a sort of intentionally drawn out, interested sounding "Hmmmm" and I longed to tell her I loved hearing those sounds. It meant she was experiencing pleasure and any pleasure she got made me vibrate to my very core.

Back to the chance I referred to before. I had written a story that was intentionally the opposite of what I was to her. I had written something that was meant to get a woman wet with desire. Something that sent a tingle to their sex with every other line. I pulled no punches. This was the kind of story that was based solely on all the passion and heat of what women yearn for. It had men of power, vulnerable women, the line blurred a bit between gentleman or beast.

She was into it right away, now reading silently and occasionally letting a soft moan or sigh escape as she read to herself. When I noticed her particularly enjoying a part, I would increase the sensuousness of the massage, but not even intentionally. I just truly breathed our bond when she was put first.

She stopped reading and looked down upon me. I smiled and was lost in her. Lost in her gaze, lost in her lips, lost in her very being. She returned the smile, but it instantly turned to that look of demand that I knew so well.

"I'm confused as to why you'd write me a story that is clearly meant to get me all hot. Obviously your purpose is to do all that you can for me, but this is different. This is turning me on in ways that you know you don't, and you must know in your heart that I will automatically draw comparisons going from the absolute sexual beast in the story to you." She stared through me, awaiting my answer, toying with my uncomfortableness like a lion who had captured a mouse.

I couldn't hide any truth from her. I had no desire to, either. Since making this way of life more intentional, I wanted to give her ALL knowledge and power over me. So I answered truthfully, damn the cost of pride, I wanted her to know my heart. I wanted her to have all access to my soul and mind and body. I wanted her to run her hands all over it. I wanted her to make a mess of it all for her. Definitely the next level of commitment.

"I know that you are turned on by some aspects of other people. That's completely normal and true for every person alive!" I spat out nervously. "I would be in ecstasy knowing that you know you can feel anything you want and you knowing that I support you entirely. Even more so when it comes to your sexual desire. I dream of a time when you wouldn't think twice about how I would feel about something you wanted. Not just out of cruelness, but in KNOWING that I was that much about your wants. I crave a reality where you openly doing what you want at anytime." I realized how pathetic this sounded as it came out. She looked at me quizzically.

"And you what, you want me to be reminded that you are completely inadequate more often? For what purpose? What goal? Tell me your heart. We both know that I own every piece of you, so I already know you won't be withholding information from me." she reassured herself. Little did she know that there was zero need for reassurance.

"You want me to have more control, even now, so do the right thing." She leaned forward at this, fully knowing that I would break under her spell, and taking satisfaction in it.

"I want you to see me as less and less of a man, sexually speaking, and more as the man that lives purely for your pleasure. I feel like there are certain truths in all of this that you shouldn't have to run from. That very idea steals from both you and me. If you're having to be cautious, and "real things" are off limits, you aren't being held on a pedestal like I would have." I wanted to stop - but I had no control. Being this exposed made me weaker.

"The facts have never changed. The "worse" you are to me, the more drawn to you I am. Things that add to our power dynamic are things that are real, as well as things of fantasy. Something "real" drives me to you even more because it's real, like my dedication to you. And you would use it to draw me to you even more." I stopped and wondered if I'd even said it right. I doubt it.

"If my dick can't get you off, I want you to throw it in my face. Actually. Really. Like my desire for you to own our world." She motioned for me to keep going, but by this point I didn't want to without more input from her. I obeyed anyway.

"You are everything that matters to me. My drive is made up of two things, mostly. First, that you would be always, ALWAYS given everything I am. The other thing behind my drive is that since I interpret absolute disrespect and humiliation as the greatest, closest embrace and connection I could experience, that you would embrace ALL that you can of that. Which means that "real" things would be called for what they are. In total open honestly. The way it should be." My mind raced as I wondered if she understood.

She furrowed her brow slightly as she seemed to ponder it all. I prayed that she would take any knowledge I had for herself. She began speaking, in a feeling out a situation tone.

"So you think I should try to intentionally drive home real facts, which would be hurtful, about sensitive, real things?" It seemed like she was awaiting an answer, but she cut me off as I began. She began to speak sharply, as if to drive the point that she clearly understood.

"So I tell you, oh, I don't know. Let's say I tell you that the more subservient and weak and cowardly you are before me, the less I'm attracted to you, sexually speaking. This makes you COMPLETELY exposed before me, and gives you a greater sense of worth and increases your need for me to accept you." She continued quickly.

"If the very real fact that you have never lasted more than a few minutes in bed and have a tiny cock has caused another very real fact to occur, like you not being able to satisfy me, to actually not satisfy me, your wife - then I should tell you that in a spiteful, mean way to add to your weakness and reliance on me?" She looked sincere, not playful at all. I felt sick at the possibility of wrong outcomes. This sounded like I only wanted abuse.

I should have told her that my desire for her to share in my new found joys also included the idea of more and more of her not having to do all the things she had been doing with me for my benefit, and me sincerely thanking her for it. But that was too big to add to this.

Besides, I have a terrible habit of offering so much of my very personal views, in trying to be in what I believe to be one of the ONLY 100% honest open relationships in existence, that I greatly feel I need to hold back and let her add hers. The freedom!

Imagine it, to be with someone on a magical plane where it's COMPLETELY and ALWAYS safe to be GENUINE! No false pretenses, no fears, no insecurity, no wondering if you're being accepted. Because you know. It's all out in the forefront. The possibilities, the benefits, the-. I digress, as I always do, wrapped up in the dreams of potential.

"With your tiny logic, I should read stories like the one you wrote me tonight. I should get off to them, hiding nothing of it from you, so that I can rub in your face that fact that I actually would be turned on by much better men." She searched my face for clues. I had none.

"I know you, my happy and simple servant." she kindly and softly spoke, eyes locked, in that place together. "You aren't limiting this to men. I bet it doesn't even have to be about that at all, does it? As with everything else concerning us, you mean everything. You want me to tell you you're gross and ugly too? If I mean it?" A small laugh. She chipped away at me with each word. Such artistry. I screamed in my soul for her to sculpt me for her.

She gave the slightest nod towards her foot. A quarter inch or less. This, a quarter inch, this is the level she needed ask for me to obey. I lunged to obey instantly. I held the side of my face to the top of her foot and pressed into my cheek and corner of my lip, looking up at her, awaiting her knowledge. "It causes you to worship with total frenzy, total abandon. But it does something else, doesn't it?" she toyed with my hanging on her every action, suspending me in her bubble. "It makes me your master too, doesn't it? Really your master, actually your master, for keeps - your master. Isn't that right? It makes me your life?" She paused to watch me watch her. So hungry for her.

"And I also suppose that with me taking you this high, to such great heights, your resolve to obey would also increase. Is this your way of hinting that I could have you obey to levels never heard of in the history of obedience because of how detailed it could be? Because of how much control I could assert? Are you saying that I could train you to be flawless? Bend to my every whim and desire, no matter what? Maybe own you to a level of me deciding how you feel about something?" She slowly shook her head side to side, a look of disgust.

She pulled her foot back and tapped my face with her sole methodically, as she stared into me.

"Tell me, my sweet, dedicated little loser, tell me what else you think. I love that you want to give more to us, really. I often think with happiness of your love for me. So loyal, so just for me. I love you so very much. So tell me more of how you want to be mine, more of how you want us to be closer." I could not. I needed her to reach out for us. I tried not to need, because I need so much, but this . . . I needed.

I sat there, in silence. I only wanted her to know that I wanted to spend every day of my life with her. I didn't know how to explain any of it. I didn't have a study, or a poll, or a doctor's thesis, or anything at all to explain it. I only knew. I only knew that she was both my fire and my water. That I needed to drink from her and feel her burn. That I wanted more than anything for her to treated like a goddess, my goddess. And that I knew how to increase my yearn for her and hopefully hers for my love. And I wanted her to take those reigns too. She is my goddess. She is my reason.