“I don’t believe you,” he said. He said it gently. It wasn’t a challenge, just an observation.

I almost smiled, but, “No, it’s true,” I said. “I’m just not feeling it anymore, I don’t think I even am submissive anymore.”

He nodded, so I knew he was listening. Then thought for a minute, while I waited a bit impatiently to see what he would say next.

Finally, “What do you feel?” he asked. “If you don’t feel submissive, what do you feel?”

“Oh,” now it was my turn to pause. Turning inward, checking on what I was feeling, looking for words… “Guarded,” I said, and there was a bit of a question in my voice. “I feel, I can feel my defenses, almost like walls around me. I feel kind of stiff, like I have to move very carefully.”

Again, he nodded. Paused. Then, “Well, of course you don’t feel submissive. You can’t feel guarded, safe behind your defensive walls, and submissive at the same time.”

I nodded, “Well, yes, that’s probably true. But I can’t imagine feeling any other way.”

I expected the pause this time. Appreciated his thoughtfulness, and waited more patiently. We had been sitting side by side, me in my rocking chair, him in the recliner to my left. But now I leaned forward. watching him think.

At last, “Maybe your walls are so high that you won’t ever feel submissive again. That could be.” I was surprised at the surge of sadness I felt hearing those words. Tears welled up, but I blinked them back. I would not cry. And he went on.

“I don’t want to tear your walls down,” he said. “I don’t want to strip you of your defenses.” I felt a sudden urge – almost a longing – for him to do exactly that. But I pushed it away.

“I would like to try one thing,” he said.

“Yes?” I sounded too eager, bit my lip wishing I could have been more slow to respond. But that ‘yes’ hung in the air between us.

“Yes,” he said. “A simple experiment. Are you interested?”

This time I managed to pause, but not for long. “Yes,” I said, biting back the “Sir” that wanted to come after my yes.

He nodded, still thoughtful. “Let’s try this. Stand up,” he said. “Stand up and come here, in front of me, please.”

For a moment, I felt paralyzed, frozen in my seat. I almost thought I was going to refuse. Instead, a bit clumsily, I stood and took the few steps so I was in front of him. He just looked at me for a long, long minute, and I trembled, wishing he would say something, anything. Completely clothed, I felt naked under his gaze.

Then, “Kneel,” he said, gesturing slightly toward the floor at his feet.

And I knelt.

Without hesitation, without thought, I knelt.

He reached out with one hand, caressed my face, lightly traced my lips with his thumb. My lips parted slightly, but he withdrew his thumb. Traced the v-neck of my shirt with one finger.

My pussy throbbed, and a soft whimper escaped me.

HIs voice was so gentle as he said, “Tell me what you feel now.”

But I didn’t have words, and the tears overflowed and ran down my cheeks. He caught a tear on one finger and raised it to his lips, touched it with his tongue. I whimpered again, could feel my nipples getting hard. I wanted – I wanted to give him my tears.

“Come here,” he said, reaching out to me with both arms. Still on my knees, I scooted closer until I was nestled between his legs. I sighed, the deepest sigh, and snuggled into him, resting my head on his thigh, tears still running down my face.

He stroked my cheek, my face, my back, gently, patiently, waiting until my tears had run dry. “There you are, there’s my girl” he said. “Here we go.”