You don't see it when we're walking through the store,
you don't hear it when we're chatting with family and friends.
It's not apparent when I'm doing dishes and he's working on the car.
I don't feel it when he's absorbed in his games
and I'm pining for his time.
But it's always there under the surface.
Often so quiet that it's never heard and can be taken for granted
leaving me wondering if it still exists at all.
But it's always there.
One very essential and amazing part of the whole.
Often so quiet that it can't be heard, so deep that it can't be seen.
Sometimes so loud as to be all consuming, and its beat pounds through my ears until it is all that I can hear.
In every choice and in every decision.
Often hard to hear over the chaos of daily life, it's steady and strong.
Occasionally rising to the surface and drowning out all other sounds.
It's like when I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Every time, there's a moment when I know that the sound of his life is my life. My whole life. Wrapped up in one quiet beat.
I can't hear his heart beat as we bicker about who drank all the coffee, or when he grabs me by the throat and shoves me up against the fridge, or when he runs his hands through my hair.
But his heartbeat is always there.
Shaping and sustaining my life.
In a way, our D/s is very much like that--a heartbeat you don't always hear, but which shapes your days and sustains your life.
It isn't often seen as we move through our daily lives. But we can see it in our veins, feel it's movement in our blood, hear it quietly in our ears.
Our D/s is a heartbeat with it's own rhythm and strength.