Dear Submissive:

Going through old writing pieces to recycle and move out of my folder, I found an old letter I wrote to Lover's parents after another grounding for a less than legitimate reason. I believe that this time he had been grounded for saying something was "ridiculous". This was about 10 years ago, give or take a few years.

Dear Submissive,

It seems that Lover is grounded again. Ah, what a shock. I figured things had been going too well these last couple of weeks, so it was only a matter of time before you thought of something to lock him away for. And like always—something else that doesn’t come as a big surprise—the reason was for nothing. Like the time you grounded him for two weeks because he came by my house to get his jacket before taking his little brother to the park. Or the time you forbade him from seeing me after he was five minutes late home. Even though we had tried to call you to tell you that dinner would be running late because the barbecue wasn’t working properly.

So when Lover called me at 8 o’clock, the time we are allotted to begin our hour conversation (because God forbid I call him at seven, or that we talk for an hour and a half rather than an hour), and told me he was grounded for saying something was ridiculous, I can’t say I was too surprised. Granted I was upset, but not at all surprised. Though I suppose you wanted me to be upset.

Because you are always trying to make me upset, trying to break my spirit, showing me in little ways that you will never approve of Lover dating me, of him loving me, of us being together. Little things that I always smile and bear, laugh at, but deep inside remember. Forever.

Like the time you told me that because we hang out twice a week (one for a couple of hours after school and the other for half a day on Sundays) you felt that Lover was obsessed with me. That he wasn’t spending any time with his friends, that we were holding each other back, that he was always trying to see me and be with me. Even though Lover hangs out with his friends just as much as he hangs out with me. Even though all of our teachers have told us that we are top of the line and how glad they are that we are together.

Because all we have ever asked for from you was to hang out three times a week in the summer. We even had a schedule, just to make you and Dominate happy: One day a week we would be able to see each other from lunch to dinner on one of his three days off from work. Another day we would be able to hang out breakfast to lunch, before I went to work. And another of our three allotted days we would hang out after work, about six, to dinner and maybe a movie.

You two agreed, saying that it was a fabulous plan. And then you grounded him any chance you got. For forgetting to let the dog out he was grounded for a week. For sitting to close to me on the couch he was grounded for another week. For attempting to braid a section of my hair after I had just cut it all off and kissing me check before telling me I was beautiful he was grounded for two weeks. When he wasn’t grounded, he was threatened with a grounding.

Do you remember Submissive how shocked you were when C threatened to move out, just after his 18th birthday? Even though he was still in high school. Remember how shocked you were, how vehement he was towards you and Dominate and how much it bothered you. The only difference between C and Lover is that C is ambivalent, a fool. Though he also had to deal with random, unprovoked groundings, there were not as frequent as Lovers. Lover will move out, as soon as he turns 18. Count on it. And all I will do is laugh.

You lost C and Lover and are in the process of losing B. How does that sound? How does that make you feel?

You are both childish. When a son grows up, his parents ought to grow with him. But not you two. No. Rather than growing, being there for you sons, helping them on the path, you two regressed. Rather than pointing them in the right direction, you pushed them off the path and kept them down with a heavy heel on their throats.
Before Lover’s father died he did a fantastic job raising three fantastic boys. Boys instilled with values and morals. Boys who open the door for people, always say please and thank you, aren’t afraid to be silly and always serious when needed. Beautiful boys who have faces that are meant to smile.

You put a frown on their faces. All you have done in the years since their father’s death is play God with them, force them into a position where they either obey or face the consequences. You lay down rules and expect obedience, refuse to listen to reason, explain any of your “decisions” and make everyone suffer when these intelligence boys ask you, “why?” Never in a snotty way, mind you. But in a curious way, one open for you decision.

Why should I ask permission when it is so much easier to ask for forgiveness? Because either way they will face the wrath of two children playing house: If they ask to do something you do not like, they are punished. If they do something you did not permit, they are punished. You treat them as if they are bunch of common place criminals. They do not sneak off to do drugs nor do anything else dangerous.

What was the worst thing that Lover ever did? While you two were at work he bought a dozen roses from the store right down the street and then walked the four blocks to my house to leave them on my front steps. He was gone and back in less than 20 minutes and the only reason you know is because he told you. And he was locked away from two weeks. You instilled in him the ideology that since he will punished for everything he does he might as well do it.

To you I am your biggest enemy, though I have done nothing to prove to you I deserve anything but your respect and trust. In your home you ask that Lover and I act like a pair of strangers, never holding hands nor sitting too close on the couch, and by these rules we obey. Yet still you show me nothing but animosity. You see me as the reason for your son’s withdrawal and so you try and end our relationship. You make it so incredible hard. But still I am here. How long has it been?

When I came into Lover’s life you made both his and mine a living hell, making his withdrawal the fault of yours. It was at that time that he would have liked nothing more than the support of his parents, but you failed to give that to him. You broke his heart.

How much would I love to have a normal relationship! To be able to talk more than an hour every day, especially on the weekends. How fantastic would it be for him to call me in the morning without you screaming at him after ten minutes that he has been on the phone for three hours and take it away from him.

How nice it would be if we could ask to see each other more than twice a week for a couple of hours without you two throwing a temper tantrum, fueling my belief that you are a pair of spoiled brats with power you don’t deserve. How nice it would be to be able to spend a day together, or to call each other up on a Saturday morning to make impromptu plans.

But because we can’t be a normal couple, or have a normal relationship, everything we do has to be a fine tuned dance, with the two of you leading a routine you have no idea how to do. And when you slip you blame us. You take everything out on Lover because he has a girlfriend who loves him, one who has been with him through thick and thin, and in your minds that is justification for everything you do. The fact that I have stayed this long only adds to your hostility, doesn’t it? How dare I love him. How dare we be one of the few couples who will be together for longer than you can possible imagine.

I am long past the point of trying to smile and be cordial towards the two of you. When Lover leaves I will laugh. Because at this point it is the least of which you deserve. It is the Universe throwing some poetic justice your way. And as only a lowly creature of the world, who am I to doubt the Universe and all that he does? It would be wrong for me to doubt, to be ungrateful. And oh am I grateful.

I have dealt with everything you two have thrown my way with grace and dignity. I have kept my head, and the worst I have ever done towards you was type this letter, although it will not be sent in the mail. I have handled everything beautiful and see it as a testimony to our relationship that Lover and mine’s song is Come What May and every part of it has rung true to this very day.

Two more years….

Two more years until I can finally look you in the eyes, laugh, and say,

“Fuck you.”

♥