Conflict

You look at me, both guilty and defiant.

I hold your gaze. I wait.

You are hurt and angry. You lift your chin. I know that look. You are considering your options. They are running through your mind like quicksilver, fast and light and slippery.

I don’t look away. I just wait while you run through the possible reactions in your head.

Your breathing is shallow while you fight for composure.

I can feel your flight response just below the surface. Your muscles tensing, ready to turn away from me and stride out of the room. I don’t have to look at your hands to know that they are balled up in fists against your thighs. The fingers clenching and unclenching, your short nails digging into your palms. I can see the same conflict in your face, the outline of your jaw coming into sharp relief as your teeth grind together and release over and again.

I watch your conflicted thoughts reflect across your expressive face. They are as clear to me as neon signs.

I wait for you to decide. It feels like we have been locked in this silence forever.

Finally you take a deep breath, your body relaxes, you dip your head, lower your eyes. They come to rest somewhere around my waist.

“Yes, Ma’am,” you say finally.

It is a quiet response, hard won, and I would normally ask you to repeat it a little louder, but this time I let the whisper go. I know this has not been easy for you.

I reach up, and with a gentle finger under your chin, I lift your face so that you can look at me. Your face rises under the instruction, but you can’t meet my gaze. Not yet. You are ashamed, still a little angry, still hurt.

I cup your face with one hand, my palm along your jaw, feeling the remaining tension there. My thumb caresses your cheek, my fingers curl strong against your neck. You lean your face into my hand, seeking reassurance. I give you everything in that caress. All the ‘It’s okay, sweetheart’s, the ‘You did well’s, the ‘I’m so proud of you’s, all the melty sweetness flows through my fingertips into you.

“Good boy,” I say.

You raise your eyes to mine, manage a weak smile. I tilt my head at you, a half-smile back.

I lean up to touch my lips gently to yours.

You reach for me like a parched man suddenly finding water. Pull me tight up against you quickly, suddenly, strong arms wrapping around me, fitting me into the hardness of your body like we always fit. You open your mouth to me, I instinctively enter, feel your fingers slide into my hair, I hold your head in the crook of my arm and we make reparations, desperately and greedily finding each other again.

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51 Comments

  1. Sometimes I wonder when reading your posts such as this one the circumstances (general not specific like digging into your personal business).

    “You are hurt and angry. You lift your chin. I know that look. You are considering your options. They are running through your mind like quicksilver, fast and light and slippery.”

    I understand this so much! Far too many times I have been in the situation of what I often call wanting to submit but fighting against it as well. It’s the pride in you versus the hurt and anger I think. No one wants to swallow their pride easily to admit he hurt.

    I wonder too, how you would have responded had he taken the flight response and fled from the room for the time being?

    Respectfully,
    mysticlez

    1. *smile* Yes.

      I think submission is reaffirmed over and over in a relationship. And every single time it’s a choice on the submissive’s part. And, all going well, *most* times, the choice is easy, insctinctual, natural. And sometimes it’s not.

      “I wonder too, how you would have responded had he taken the flight response and fled from the room for the time being?”

      I would let him go. I would be disappointed and hurt. I would give him some space. Then when we are both calm, we would talk about what happened and sort it out.

      Ferns

  2. A lovely post that once again, is completely outside the realm of my experience.

    While I don’t know the exact details here, I *DO* know that anytime I had acquiesced under what might be similar circumstances, the reaction was never “All the ‘It’s okay, sweetheart’s, the ‘You did well’s, the ‘I’m so proud of you’s, all the melty sweetness flows through my fingertips into you”, but rather smugness and a general grudge holding, “if you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out of here” attitude.

    It makes me happy to know that it doesn’t have to be that way.

    1. It seems to me that the “if you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out of here” attitude would come well BEFORE the acquiescence…

      Seriously though, I’m sorry you had such negative experiences. That sucks.

      Ferns

  3. Just … so … hot, if you don’t mind me saying so. *swoons*

    And so much behind those four words:

    “Yes Ma’am”

    “Good boy”

    Sexiness without sex; sweetness from anger; growth from conflict. Is a gift given after a little pain all the more sweet? It seems so.

    1. “Just … so … hot, if you don’t mind me saying so. *swoons*”

      *smile* I do not mind you saying so at all, in fact I very much enjoy you saying so. Thank you.

      Ferns

  4. Really nice post! Captures the feelings of that situation very well. I found myself feeling the feelings described as I read, powerful writing.

    And a great model of what we can aspire to…

    Thanks!

    greg

  5. For me, conflict usually isn’t between submission and defiance. It’s between submission and fear. I want to please my partner, but sometimes I’m afraid of the pain or embarrassment. But moving past that conflict and doing what pleases my partner makes it so much more special, for her and for me. I want to do things that are difficult for me, and I want to be with somebody who will ask me to do those things. Being called “good boy” means so much more when I know I deserve it.

    1. *smile* Yes, that makes sense.

      And I DO think there is something so very special about moving past a conflict together. For me pushing him and having him struggle, but agree to go there with me is one of the sweetest, most close-making things EVER. So very lovely.

      Ferns

  6. Beautifully written.

    One feels for that moment of surrender, knowing as he does, that there will be more small surrenders until he has yielded totally to you. And where free will is but a memory and he enjoys the freedom that comes from complete surrender, from being owned, body and soul, by you his Mistress. Heaven. A place where so many of us long to be.

  7. THIS ““Yes, Ma’am,” you say finally.

    It is a quiet response, hard won, and I would normally ask you to repeat it a little louder, but this time I let the whisper go. I know this has not been easy for you.”

    There’s a time to push that bit harder but there’s also a time to ease back slightly and knowing when is the mark of a good Domme

    Coug

    Course I not only push I pull too but I’m a bad Domme ;)

  8. Pingback: e[lust] #51

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