First Command

"How could she have done this?" She was screaming at herself inside. She'd invited a man to her house, to meet her children, and after only a few dates. "Madness!" she said to herself.

She was preparing a relatively simple meal, one of the children's favorites, hoping that he would enjoy it as well. Anne had even come over, taking a break before heading to college. They felt it was special, which told her all the more what a mistake this must have been.

"Charlie, set the table. Becka, put away the clean dishes, please." Check the stove, review the ingredients, wonder about the cleanliness of the house. "Delphina, vacuum the living room real quick would you." Everything had to be perfect or this would be the disaster that she knew it would become.

"Knock, knock. Anyone home?" he joked. It had to be a joke cause the sheer chaos of the house made it obvious that everyone was home. "Come in" she hollered to him, checking the contents of the sink again. "Could any of those dishes be thrown away so he wouldn't see them?"

He hadn't moved, so she rushed to the door. He was still being a gentleman and not entering the house without proper acknowledgement. He pulled a hand from behind his back to expose a small bouquet he'd procured. Daisies, her favorite. He spouted some story about counting the stems, one for each child, one for her, and one for him. "Hokum," she thought to herself. Something he made up on the spot as men are wont to do.

A vase for the flowers, and a place upon the table. Two more things to add to the many she was already working on. "Anne, can you get a vase for these." She rushed them to the sink, barely realizing she'd left her guest to wander and follow her. Great, now he was in the kitchen, the worst place to witness the disaster.

Unbeknownst to her, he'd quickly picked up on the tension in the house, and the children were reacting to it as well. This was their mother, and they knew to expect it, and how to move around it. He was the new one, and no one knew just how he was going to react.

She sat the flowers on the counter, and spun to address the next disaster, only to practically run right into him. She had to stop herself short, he was so close. Then it happened...

His hands rose swiftly from his side towards her face. Instinct told her that "something" she had done was wrong, and now he was going to punish her. He was going to strike her, as men often do. Her instinct was stuck, as she was not yet sure whether to bear the force of the hit, or duck from him. He'd never hit her before, but she knew that men always eventually strike a woman.

Instinct, it turns out, did not know this man.

His hands landed softly on her warm cheeks, serving only to direct her gaze towards his face. It was firm, but not violent. He turned her head slightly upward, enough to compensate for the difference in height. He gripped her, but only so barely. He knew exactly how much upward pressure to use to lift the weight of her head without pulling on her neck or torso. She felt lighter, and all at once under his command.

"Breathe"

It was a whisper, but she heard it as a scream, a command. Insider her head, every worrisome thought; dinner, the kids, the clutter, the TV, went away. As if they had been blown away by a hurricane, and he was the eye. He was indeed the eye, as calm settled over everything. She realized she was simply staring into his eyes. He was starring back, peering deeply into her soul. He'd done it, what no one had ever done before, quieted the storm of her mind.

"Yes, sir" was all she could bring herself to say. She could think of nothing more than to do as he said. He acknowledged her assent, and slowly released her head, but his eyes held her gaze. She found that she could not look away, nor move. He watched her to ensure she was indeed breathing, calmly, as he'd ordered her to. And once satisfied, he released her to finish her preparations.

She'd been told she was submissive, but had always laughed it off. But this man, this powerful man, had awoken something in her, and she knew in that moment, that she would always do whatever he asked.