A Boy's Return by Tomas

A BOY’S RETURN

“I can be harsh”, the Lady said, a note of warning conveyed in every word.

“So What?”, my brain said, with the wisdom of a moth flying full speed to a forest fire’s light.

But then, that was all the wisdom that I had.

One year earlier, barely a day after Christmas, 22 years of my life with my wife, my soulmate, and the only woman I had ever really loved had vanished in a single horrible night.

With it, I had lost every dream, desire, ambition, goal and purpose that I had known in my adult life.  Only the evolution-inspired desire of humans to continue living had kept the flicker of life lit and, once I realized that, it too had little power over me.

There was no purpose.

There was no joy.

There was no other woman in my life, and I was certain there never would be.

I wandered among men, knowing relationships there would be different.  And they were.  But the wear and tear of life, not to count the nearly six decades of age, had left me largely alone in that life too.  White parties had given way to far too many white hairs.

Places of joy evoked little but wistful memories.

And then an odd thing happened.

I read.

I read articles and books and websites and passed time with a good moment here, an ok moment there, and many others in between.

And in a soppy romance about gay leathermen, a fictional psychologist discussed a fictional boy and agreed that the source of the boy’s unhappiness was that he was a sub with no one to serve, no orders to obey, no purpose – and I knew the boy was me.

In the flash of a light, I also knew a place that required nothing but knees and the courtesy that every woman deserves every day and everywhere – Dominion.

I had been there years before.  It had been good and restorative and enabled a return of joy to my life, to my wife, and to my family after years of dealing with the love of my life, and my life itself, being injured by the cruelties of her progressive illness, her pain, and the modern medical nightmares inflicted on her.  She had known, and approved, and we had survived the recession and then planned to rebuild, until the night of tears.

This time, I thought, Dominion might at least let me be me, if only for a while.

I would go. I would kneel.  I would greet.  And in the time between, I would have a few moments to feel like me, a sub, but a sub with orders – kneel and greet – and to obey.  I knew this wasn’t the focus there – I wasn’t there to serve the ladies.  Indeed, I was being selfish.  But hey, I’m a guy.  What is new about a guy being selfish when dealing with women?

I decided simply to be honest.  I wouldn’t need an owner, just time in the courtyard.  I wouldn’t need to speak, just to greet.  I could do that, and maybe only that.  If asked, I would tell the truth, and then I likely would be left alone.  My life might be short, but at least I could be me until the end.

So I came.

And she spoke.

And I told my story.

But she didn’t leave.

And I screwed up.

And she responded.

Was she harsh?  Maybe, a little.  “So What”, said my brain.

And the moth flew faster.

But it wasn’t a forest fire.  It was the light of a Goddess.  She was nurturing, and caring and dominant all at the same time.
Christmas came and left, and I was still here.

Purpose came back.

Joy returned.

And life is on the road again.  Where it goes, I don’t know, and I don’t care.  Life is in the journey, and I have work to do.

Yet, this is Confessions, not therapy.  I confess. Ich gestehe.  J’avoue.  Watashi wa kokuhaku suru.  Wǒ chéngrèn.  I came here with intentions other than to serve the good ladies.  I was selfish.  I apologize.

It also is a time to say thank you.  Thank you to Miss Eva for maintaining this place of safety and courtesy and service.  I cannot express the good you have done, not just for me but for other men I have known here as well.  It must have been difficult at times over the years.  But you have done a good thing.

Thank You to the Ladies of the Staff for carrying out the vision.