There’s something about the way my dom looks at me and says, “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
No, I don’t know.
I mean, inherently I do. He married me. He cherishes me. He cares for me even when life hard.
But there’s something about the way he looks are me, hungry, possessive, proud that I’m his. He’s proud even though I’m a mess sometimes. Okay most of the time. He’s always been proud, for reasons I don’t know that I completely understand.
I few years ago, I came out to him.
It wasn’t some kind of secret that I had been harboring. It was more that… I realized it about myself.
I’m incredibly lucky. I didn’t feel any kind of internal turmoil or even questioning really. I’ve always just felt whatever I’ve felt. Until a few years ago, I would have called myself straight, but I’ve always felt unrestricted by sex and gender and expression.
I’ve always just been attracted to… vibes.
It started in college or maybe even high school, thinking, “Women are so beautiful.”
If I’m being honest, I remember the first time I ever thought that. I was in middle school, seventh grade English class, and our teacher sat me beside this girl named Jessika. With a K. I remember thinking, “She’s kinda awkward with the glasses and braces and acne… but she is so beautiful.” I remember being really nervous around her, even though she was the shy, quiet girl. I remember being completely oblivious that the butterflies in my stomach around Jessika were anything worth inspecting on a deeper level.
I didn’t ignore my “not quite straight” feelings. It just didn’t register as weird or shameful to me when they developed. I was just… me.
I was me when I started watching lesbian porn along with heterosexual porn. When I fantasized about my female roommate in college. When I started following more and more LGBTQIA+ people on Twitter and Instagram and Tiktok. I was just me.
So when I said it out loud one night in the car, as we were driving home from date night, it just felt natural. Like me. And Cash felt the same way. I’m pansexual and it doesn’t matter. I am the same Rori to him.
“You know I’m proud of you, right?”
It sends shivers up my spine when he says that. Like I’m an addict and he gives me a hit of this thing I need.
I don’t need to define my “type” or explain myself to people. I actually don’t even need to box myself in by using a label at all. (I say pansexual because it’s the closest fit, but it changes based on the day. I just kind go with the flow.) I don’t need anyone’s approval.
But when he says he’s proud of me, it feels like exactly what I need.
We were standing in the kitchen, putting away dinner and washing the dishes. A mundane night. Both of us lost in thoughts. And then…
Him: “You know I’m proud of you right?
Me: immediate blushing and tears in my eyes
Him: “Come on.”
He took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. I sank to my feet in front of him, head down, hands on my thighs, just the way he likes. Not ashamed, not conflicted, not questioning. Natural. His pansexual submissive wife. Just me. Just Rori.
Proud to go where he leads me.
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