Page 73 of The Secret Life of a Stepford Wife

He slid his arms in, tying it around his waist as I checked in with him.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” I murmured quietly, searching his face for any sign of anger or disappointment.

He nodded, not speaking a word. My eyes found Jester among the few people who remained. I jerked my head towards the table and he nodded in understanding. I had already arranged for him to pack things up after our scene, but even he looked surprised at our abrupt ending. No matter. When a safeword was called, it was immediate and without judgment or reprimand.

I walked Septus out of the large space, leading him towards the aftercare rooms. As soon as we entered the room, the door shutting firmly behind us, I could feel his shoulders slump.

“Septus, I —”

“I need a minute.” His curt words surprised me, and then again, didn’t surprise me at all. Thatcher was not a newbie submissive. He was very experienced and well trained. He had known. Before I had even known, he knew something wasn’t right.

“Okay.” I muttered quietly, feeling all the shame and rejection. It wasn’t him. He hadn’t rejected me. I had placed all of that on myself by not being honest. I should have called the scene before we had even begun.

“I need a shower.” He walked away from me, shrugging my arm off of his back. The door shut behind him with a loud thud.

My heart pounded in my chest. I could feel the panic begin to swell. Had I completely fucked this up already? Such a ridiculous, stupid —

The bathroom door opened suddenly, halting my thoughts.

“We will talk after, okay?” he said, poking his head out of the door. The corner of his mouth curled up in the smallest of smiles as he closed the door again. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

The shower started a moment later. I walked myself to the bed on trembling legs.

I went over it all in my mind. Every moment, every step, every strike of my implements against his body. There were a hundred places I could have stepped away, called the scene, and, in the end, just done better. I knew better. But I had let my pride and stubbornness win out over reason.

Time ticked on as the shower continued to run, much longer than a normal shower. He was obviously working through his own emotions, and it killed me. It just destroyed me that I wasn’t in there with him, helping him to work through it, especially when I was the cause of it. I wanted to honor his time and his process; to respect it. But I also wanted to run in and demand that he let me care for him, that he let me lead him back from submission to reality. That was my job as his Dominant. Instead, I was sitting here on a bed, doing nothing.

I was doing nothing at his request. I needed to remind myself of that.

I was in the middle of these very thoughts when the bathroom door reopened, steam filling the space as he stood there in the doorway, a far too small towel slung around his waist precariously.

I started to stand, but he held a hand up, denying me once again the privilege of caring for him. Privilege. That was an important word here. It was a privilege to care for a submissive, and it was his right to revoke it at any time. So I stayed still on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to join me.

After a long moment, he sighed heavily and crossed the room to me. He plopped down beside me with a groan of frustration, hanging his head in his hands.

Still, he said nothing.

It was another few minutes before he finally spoke.

“I’m frustrated with you, Sadie.”

The words stung. I stayed silent, letting him gather his thoughts and talk when he was ready. This wasn’t about me, though I felt my heart breaking. This was about him; this incredible, strong, submissive man who I was tasked to care for.

In any normal scene, I would take the lead in these moments and care for my submissive. But this was not a normal scene. A safeword had been called, albeit, by me. No matter how much I wanted to just care for him, I needed to give him time to voice his thoughts and feelings first. To help him process a safeworded scene in his own way. The scene had ended abruptly, pulling us both from our headspaces in strange and unplanned ways. So for now, it was my job to be present, be open, and to hear what he had to say. And hopefully, when it was over, he would allow me to care for him in the aftermath.

“Your head wasn’t in the scene tonight. I know that there is a lot going on right now, and I am right in the thick of that with you. But tonight, your head wasn’t there with me in that scene.”

His words were soft, and not at all accusatory, even though there was an accusation to be had. He was right. I had found my mind flitting back and forth between the moment we shared and the drama at home.

“You’re right. I struggled with it tonight. I should have stopped the scene before it began. I’m so sorry.”

“I need you to know that I understand that. I do. None of us are perfect. We can’t have a perfect scene every time. That almost never happens. It’s human nature to let things get to us at times. If you had talked to me about that struggle before we ever entered into the scene, it would have been okay. You can talk to me. As your submissive and as your… whatever we are.”

“Partner,” I whispered softly.

“Yes, that. I didn’t mean to come off mean or accusatory with my words, but I…” His words trailed off as he sat up, looking at me.

“You put yourself in my care and I didn’t have you as my focus,” I answered for him, understanding and acceptance of his truth resonating within me.

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