Him

On Thanksgiving day, we stood in a gathering of boisterous relatives. We were a quiet island in the bustling kitchen as we leaned our heads together. I told him that I love him, but he ducked his head away.

"No," he whispered, "I'm a bad boyfriend."

"What? No, you're a wonderful boyfriend."

"No," he said with a bashful look on his face. "I abuse you." He was only half-serious, but there was a bit of truthful hurt behind his joking.

"You don't abuse me. You do nothing of the sort," I said as I touched his face. He gave me the most wounded smile.

"I hate your blog sometimes," he sighed.

I know how he feels about this blog. He does not read it, preferring to leave this space for my semi-private thoughts. But I do keep him updated about certain things that concern the blog, including some of the more negative comments and e-mails that I have received. The accusations of abuse weigh heavily upon him since he knows how much I enjoy our dynamic. He sees the fire in my eyes and the desire for the way he touches me and hurts me.

This blog his chronicled my journey, but it has been largely silent about his journey. He never owned anyone before me and this has been an experience of tremendous growth for him. He has taken on so much responsibility for my progress and development as a person, and not just as a submissive, that I think he has matured in a way as well.

He can be an impetuous person, often ruled by emotions. He can live inside his head at times and that can keep him disconnected from himself. But when he is with me, he is grounded. He comes back to earth, all that fire and emotion channeled into me. I see the best of him in me.

I don't idolize him or think of him as a god. He is not perfect and thank God for that. But I do love him more than I've ever loved anyone because of what I have seen in him over the past year. I have seen all of his dedication and determination in this relationship, as well as the soft under belly of his strength. I love him all the more for that.

I hate to see him hurt by this. He doesn't deserve that from me.

Later that Thanksgiving night, I laid next to him and cradled his head to my chest. I ran my fingertips over his face. I wanted to ease his mind about everything. I said the only thing I could: "I love you more than anything."