Oddly enough, as vivid as that night is in my mind, I can’t recall the spark that started it all. We were fighting over something, probably something trivial. One thing led to another and it wasn’t long before our relationship and all our difficulties came to the fore. All along I actually believed I’d convinced her that our problems were insurmountable, but I was wrong. Very wrong.
When I finally blurted out that I wasn’t sure if we were going to endure, it was as if I’d physically struck my poor darling wife. Turned out that she was just “giving me space” all along and had no idea I’d want to end things. She kept asking: “what’s happened… what’s changed you?” She wasn’t buying my feeble argument that all of the petty gripes I’d been complaining of could be enough to tear us apart.
After an hour or so of fending off one plea after the next, I had to admit that she was right. It wasn’t enough, and if I was going to end our marriage, I couldn’t bear the selfish act of letting her think it was her fault in any way.
Without warning, the flood gates opened up. In one huge emotional surge, alternating between wails of emotional anguish, and tears of personal shame, I told her who she was married to…
After a lifetime of being tongue tied when it came to the “real me”, my words flew out in one massive torrent. I spilled it all. Not in the hope that she could become the woman I needed her to be, but to convince her why I wasn’t right for her, why I was sure I could only find happiness with another, and why she should let me go.
“I’m a slave”, I wailed. “I’ve been a slave since puberty, and I’ll always be a slave. Virtually every free moment of every day, I ache to submit. I need a woman who wants to own me as badly as I need to be owned. I need to have my rights stripped away. I need for my happiness to be a distant second to my woman’s. I need someone who will not just let me serve her, I need someone who expects and demands that I serve her in every conceivable way. I need to live under threat of punishment… severe punishment if I mess up even a little. I need to be controlled, taken, and subjugated”.
Not wanting to give her a chance to respond, for fear that I might not “get it all out” if I were to stop, I continued. “You understand and accept, that gay people can’t help the way they are. They were born that way and nothing will ever change them. I’ve never had a gay thought in my life but I KNOW what drives them because it drives me as well. I know it sounds sick or wrong to you but I can’t help who I am. I’m a slave… I’m a fucking slave!!!”
When my monologue was through, I was spent, realizing I'd been running on pure adrenalin. Now I fell in a heap on my half of the bed, curled myself into ball, and wished the world would end. I never felt so low or so ashamed. Not for being who I was, but for putting her through all that I had, and wasting so many years of her life. I felt horrible for marrying her “under false pretenses”.
I was expecting her to say, “yeah, you’re right. Maybe we should separate”, but she didn’t. She told me she understood. She told me that while she’d always known I was submissive, she’d never really “gotten it” like she did now. She told me that she’d always thought my submission was just related to passivity during sex, and when I explained how sex had NOTHING to do with it in the usual sense, she understood that too.
We talked until three A.M., and while we never really coming to any sort of agreement as to what our future held, we communicated like never before. Still, now that the cat was out of the bag, I felt a little trapped. The whole reason I wanted to end things for any pretended reason other than our D/s incompatibly was because if we tried and failed, it seemed too weak of an excuse to separate. Yet, it felt cathartic to finally unburden myself.
We were both exhausted by now, and when we said good night, she said I’d given her a lot to think about. I switched off the light and after a few minutes of silence, I heard her chuckle to herself. I asked her what was funny, and she said:
“Remember the movie: ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?, you know the part when Jimmy Stewart is walking Donna Reid home when they were young and she accidentally loses her robe and winds up in the hydrangea bush? That’s when he picks her robe up off the ground, realizes she’s naked and vulnerable, and says to no one in particular… ‘Hmmmm this is a verrrry interesting situation we have here”.
I didn’t know it at the time, but at that moment, my darling wife of over 30 years, became my mistress.