The following post would have shocked and/or offended me ten years ago (although it’s quite vanilla to my regular readers). I would have thought horrible thoughts about the woman who wrote it.   

I recently went to a conference with my husband where he was one of the presenters.   He was speaking in a large auditorium on a somewhat broad topic and then speaking later in a smaller meeting room on a very specific narrowed down subset of that topic.  I attended both.

  The presentation to the large group went very well and when the floor was opened for questions I could hear the respect and awe of the audience (who was filled with people who are also very smart and rather important as well).  Ten years ago, I would have thought to myself “that’s right people, he’s mine”.  How did I feel this time?  I was beaming because I am his.  He chose me and he chooses me again all the time.  This man has options (although he would never say that) and still he chooses me and our family again and again.  I am his.  He looked so cool and casual up there and I was pulled toward him.  I didn’t leave my seat, but I wanted so badly to inch closer, to be with him, to feel his hand under my hair, firmly on my neck, and let everyone see that posture of ownership.

   We had a few minutes before the next meeting and I used it to affirm how well he had done and tell him how proud I am to be his wife.  He just winked at me and shook a bunch of hands of people who appeared to want to be close to him as well.

  The second meeting started and I was sure to get a seat in the front row.  He sounded more brilliant than before.  I was overwhelmed with the need to be at his feet.  We don’t have kneeling or bowing or posturing as part of our relationship as some D/s couples do, but I am sometimes put at his feet while he sits on the couch so we can have a serious chat.  It’s actually quite an affectionate position for BOTH of us and helps me with my desired mindset.

But this day, I wanted, needed, desired, yearned for the chance to actually kneel. I was so enamored by his intellect, so humbled that he chooses me that I could barely suppress the urge to put my forehead on his shoes. I had never experienced this before.

I could picture it. I’d quietly walk  the few steps to him and get on my knees and fold in half with my face at his feel.  He wouldn’t stop talking to the group as he motioned for me to unfold and move to his side.  Then I would simply kneel next to him while his hand on my hair softly held my head to the side of his knee.

If you are a parent, you’ve been in the position that I describe my husband in, right?  Your small child wants you, but you are talking to someone, so you just hold their shoulder or head against your thigh/hip so they know they are wanted too while you finish your conversation. Oh to live in a society where wives could do the same!

I was quite obsessed with moving to his feet and wrapped my fingers around the edge of my seat to ensure I did not move without thinking.  I’ve never had a problem saying that I admire my husband but this level of intensity was new.  My inner feminist should have been beating me up, but she wasn’t.  I simply felt soft and girly and so very peaceful.

Later I tried to explain what had happened  at the meeting.  He sat there with a big question mark on his face.  When I was done he said “well of course you did, I mean look at me” which was a huge joke on his part, but he did let me sit at his feet just a little longer before pulling me up on his lap.

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