I awoke suddenly and grabbed the alarm clock, my bleary eyes just about making out the time…..7.32am! Argh, I’ve over-slept. I leapt up and made a start for the bathroom, then suddenly it dawned on me, it was Saturday! With a groan I stumbled back to bed and pulled the duvet up around my shoulders. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift back to sleep but instantly, there he was again….the boy of my dreams.
I thought he’d gone, that the dream would fade as most dreams do, but no, as soon as I closed my eyes he was there, on his knees, smiling softly up at me, as if he had waited for me, dutifully, obediently.
Let me try to describe him to you. It’s difficult, because he’s a dream you see, he doesn’t really exist. You wouldn’t look twice at him in the street, he’s a pretty average looking guy. Average to the every day person, but oh so amazingly, exceptionally special, this boy of my dreams. He’s clean-shaven today, but sometimes I like him a little rough, with some stubble. He’s quite a manly boy. A man’s man.
My boy is intelligent and caring. He thinks of others and their needs . He has a kind heart. He is not callous, or harsh, but he isn’t weak either . He has a strong character and a delicious laugh. He doesn’t lie. He’s a man of principles.
This boy is very, very funny. He makes me laugh, a lot. He writes me poetry and sings me songs (even though his voice is really bad) and, most importantly, he worships me. He truly, really worships me. In the Spring, he brings me daffodils with my morning tea. He makes my crumpets just as I like them. He understands that I love ducks and that I often walk to the river to feed them and to talk to them. In fact, he loves that I love ducks. He loves that I am confusing and unpredictable. He loves that I can be the most loving Domme he’s ever met, but sometimes the most harsh. He adores the fact that my words can cut him in two, yet every time I do, it only cleaves him closer to me.
When we are out in public, he walks proudly beside me. My boy is a gentleman. He protects and cares for me. He is proud to be seen with me and I am proud to be with him. He discreetly does as he’s told in public. Often he pre-empts my needs and shows his devotion in subtle ways.
He is my rock.
My boy wears my collar with such great pride. He smiles and sighs with happiness, often. He sits quietly at my feet when I doze and massages my weary, aching toes after a long day at work.
He gives up all control to me. He loves that I give him routines and rituals. He wants to give more, always more and I want to take. The more I take, the more he gives. His submission is endless.
This boy embraces all that I am and all that I will be. He supports me in all my endeavours. He is loyal and faithful and he never takes me for granted. He knows how lucky he is.
My boy is romantic and loves that I am too. He never, ever forgets that he is my slave and knows that even when we dance and hug and cuddle together, he is my property, always.
My boy is fiercely submissive. He’s scared of disappointing me. He trusts me. He opens himself up to me and lets me push him, further, deeper into his submission, to places he never knew existed. He tells me that I am his One; that he has waited all his life to give himself to me. He is full of endless passion and desire. He cries hot tears of frustration and despair for me and he yearns, always, to be at my feet.
He surrenders his mind, his body and his soul to me.
I smile softly to myself and sigh as I fall more deeply, blissfully, into sleep. Sometimes I wish I didn’t wake up. For here, in my sleep, I am content, fulfilled, happier than I have ever been. For only in my dreams does my boy exist.
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