When Bunny Found Her Wolfie

Literotic asexstories – When Bunny Found Her Wolfie by SofiaLaFrench,SofiaLaFrench
My name is Grace, and this is my story. I am writing this with the encouragement of, and under the care of, my therapist. Sharing it here is an element of my therapy. This is a generally happy story, but writing it has been emotional and cathartic, particularly the beginning. That was the goal of my therapist; for me to write it down, so I could put my past behind me and embrace my future. My therapist has a more detailed beginning to this story but I’m choosing not to burden my readers with it; and the conversations, particularly those in the early part of this story, are the best of my (and my husband’s) recollection.

There are no sex scenes in this story, just a discussion of my path to happiness. Trust me, there IS a happy ending, an ending I could never have imagined, an ending so full of hope and love that each day I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not hallucinating. The journey to that ending is the focus of this story, and I share it to give others hope. I’m not saying that my path is the only path, far from it. My only wish is that after reading my story, you develop a sense of hope; hope that whatever you’re dealing with can, and will, be overcome. At the same time, I realize how amazingly fortunate I am, my story could have easily ended much differently. In fact, it nearly did. My husband, Deacon, has stood beside me during the writing process, sometimes literally standing there, his hand gently on my shoulder, keeping the both of us supplied with tissues. I would not have been able to do this without his strength to lean on. I love you my darling, my Wolfie, my Happy Ever After.

As a child, I was shy. I was always the quiet one in any group. Introvert is the proper term. You hear people use the words withdrawn or introspective to describe us. My pediatrician thought it was because of hearing difficulties. I refused to wear hearing aids. Back then they were a surefire way to be bullied, and that was the last thing I wanted. As an adult, I go out and engage the world, but I’m exhausted by the end of the day. After working all day, attending a party, or spending time with a large group, I need to recharge by spending time alone. Silence is my religion. I’ve been this way for my entire life.

Unlucky me, my introversion is paired with generalized anxiety disorder. When my energy gets low, or the situation seems overwhelming, I suffer from nervousness and restlessness. If I don’t remove myself from the situation, I risk a panic attack. I’ve learned to deal with it all. As a child, I was on medication, but as an adult, I didn’t care for the side effects, so most days I just toughed it out.

As if my life couldn’t get any worse, my therapist says I have an adjustment disorder. Great. Just great. I credit my last relationship with contributing to that one.

Ernie was the guy—until he wasn’t. We met online and discovered that we lived only a short drive apart. In the beginning, our relationship flourished. We had similar backgrounds, liked many of the same activities, and had similar tastes in food and music.

On our first date, we met at a coffee shop. I felt an instant attraction to him. We chatted for a couple of hours, and when we ended the date I kissed him. He was a great kisser. We agreed to lunch and a movie the following Saturday. That night after the movie, I slept with him. I’m not in the habit of sleeping with a guy that soon, but we had that instant attraction. Soon I was spending every weekend with him. I was falling hard. What could be better, right? Turns out, a lot could be better. After a few months, Ernie’s dominant side began to emerge. At first, I didn’t mind it. I could turn over decisions to him and just go with the flow. In some respects, his dominance relieved me of some adult responsibilities.

After a few more months, things began to change. It started with comments about my clothing—my skirt was too short and he thought it might give people the wrong impression, for example. Then, it was my friends.

“She’s a bit much—are you sure that’s a good person for you to hang around?”

Little by little, I kept losing my personal space. Within the first six months of dating, Ernie slapped my face as punishment for getting a ride with a male coworker to meet him at a bar. He immediately apologized profusely. Naive me, I forgave him, and things returned to what was normal for us. For a while, he was less overbearing. Then it happened again, and for several months this is how it went. He always apologized profusely and professed his love, and things got better—for a while. I thought his outbursts were my fault, that I was the one in the wrong. Much later, too late, I learned that’s how most perpetrators of domestic violence behave.

If I didn’t want to go out and he did, he berated me until I gave in.

“You want to stay in and watch a movie? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” was a common line he used. “When did you become so boring?” was another. Eventually, I quit disagreeing with him, and we did whatever he wanted.

If I didn’t enjoy a meal, he wondered out loud what was wrong with my tastes.

“You liked it last time, what’s wrong with it now? Are you trying to be difficult? Maybe I should order for both of us,” he said once after I didn’t care for the way a dish was seasoned. Yes, I liked it at a different restaurant, but this place was new.

Soon, the verbal, emotional, and physical abuse began to weave itself into our relationship seamlessly. Not like every day was horrible, there were still reminders of that person I thought he was.

One of the things that he constantly belittled me for was my enjoyment of erotic romance novels. You know the ones. One evening I was sitting by the firepit drinking wine and reading while waiting for him. When he arrived, he blew up at me. That night, every one of my books ended up in the fire while I sat there helpless to stop him. Tears stained my cheeks.

“Ladies don’t read this trash,” he yelled.

That was my impetus to switch to e-books, and when I went looking, I discovered this amazing site. Suddenly I had access to a smorgasbord of erotic stories. I focused on the Romance category back then, and never bothered to venture into the Forums.

Then one evening at a neighborhood party, things started to get heated between Ernie and me. I tried to leave through the privacy fence gate beside the house, but he followed, pressing the argument. As I reached for the gate latch, he grabbed my arm and spun me around before backhanding me across my face as he screamed, “You’re not leaving me bitch!” The sudden twirl, coupled with the impact, knocked me off my feet. I cried out as I fell, and then everything went black, silent.

I woke up in a hospital bed with a bandage on my head and my right arm in a cast. The nurse told me I had a concussion from striking my head on one of those damn garden gnomes, and my arm was fractured from trying to break my fall. She said I had a woman waiting to see me, “She says her name is Maureen.”

Maureen is my best friend in the whole world. She and her husband, Rick, treat me like family. I’ve known them for years. I asked the nurse to show her in. When she entered the room, the look on her face told me everything I needed to know. Apparently, I was a mess.

“Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?”

“Like I went one round with Rocky Balboa,” I chuckled, but then groaned from the pain it caused in my head.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about Rocky coming for you again. The bastard is in jail.”

“What? Why? It was my fault, I made him angry. Besides, no one saw anything.”

“That’s what he thought too. He tried to say that you tripped. He didn’t know about the security cameras. They caught the whole thing. The police have the video. One of the officers told me that she thinks Ernie will be going away for a while.”

“No, Maureen, he’s a good man. He’s just passionate.”

“He’s a piece of SHIT! Don’t you talk nice about that bastard! You deserve so much better, Grace!”

“He loves me,” I protested. “He says so.”

“Gracie baby, he loves controlling you. The man doesn’t understand how to love a woman. He’s broken, and he broke my best friend in the world. I won’t let you go back to him, even if it means I have to quit my job and follow you everywhere. I’ll be your constant companion, and I’ll kill him if he tries to contact you again.”

“Oh, Maureen. You won’t kill him.”

“I will,” she said, setting her jaw. The look on her face told me she might follow through with the threat. You see, Maureen had been in the Navy Reserve Officer Training Program in college and selected the Marine option. She graduated as a Second Lieutenant in the Marine Corps and served four years on active duty. She was fully capable of taking down Ernie, but you’d never know it by her feminine looks. The military was where she met Rick. He was a defense contractor.

She changed the subject to shopping, one of our favorite subjects. She sat with me for an hour, at which time, Rick arrived, and about thirty minutes later, the nurses soon shooed them out so I could rest.

I was in the hospital for a couple of days for observation and tests, and then I was approved for release. That morning, I had a visitor, a woman that I didn’t know. She was the prosecutor. I learned that Ernie had been arraigned on Monday and charged with Aggravated Domestic Assault. He was denied bail, and she said he would get at least three years in prison, the State minimum, but likely more.

“Did you know he’s done this before?” she asked.

I was horrified. I’d been dating an abuser and didn’t know it. Didn’t want to see it.

“No,” I responded, looking out the window to hide my shame.

“He’s never been convicted because the women wouldn’t cooperate. This time, we have the video, which clearly shows that you were trying to flee when he attacked you. You have the right to face him in court, but I don’t need you to be there, and I don’t need your cooperation. This time he’s going away, for as long as I can convince a judge to sentence him for.”

She handed me her business card. “I wish you all the best. Call me if you need anything, even to learn his case’s progress.”

Full healing took time—months in fact, and Maureen was always there. She checked in on me, spent hours helping around the house, and took me to my physical therapy appointments. For the first few weeks after my release, she and Rick opened their home to me, and once I felt up to returning to work she drove me. Other friends pitched in as well. Ironically, it took this horrible event to awaken me to the fact that I had an amazing support system, and was surrounded by love.

During my recovery, we had quite a few long talks about my choice of men. I was ready to give up and commit myself to being single. Maureen would have none of that talk.

“Grace, one day someone will walk into your life and make you feel like you’re in one of those Country love longs you listen to. Don’t give up before he rides up on his stallion,” she scolded.

I agreed not to rush into life alone, but I was skeptical about her dream of my Cowboy Charming. During all this, I met many friends of theirs, some that I’d never met before. There was a friend of theirs who stopped by often. Since Maureen was helping me so much, more of the household chores fell to Rick, so their friend Deacon stopped by to help him with the more “manly” household tasks. He mowed, took out the trash, and kept the pool clean; things Rick normally did. Deacon acknowledged me, but if we spoke, it was short sentences. He had a gorgeous smile and was tall and muscular. He wore a quiet air of confidence and something else—an aura of protectiveness. When I asked Maureen about him she said he had been in the Air Force. “He recently got out of a bad relationship, just like you,” she added.

The day finally arrived for my cast to come off. Maureen had planned to take me, but neither she nor Rick could get off work.

“Hun, I’m sorry about this. I’ll pay for your Uber. I feel bad about having to cut out on you,” she said.

“It’s okay. You guys have lives to live, and you’ve been more than generous. Once I get this cast removed, I can do more for myself. I plan to move back to my place.”

“Don’t be in a hurry, you’re not a burden.”

“I can take you,” a deep voice interrupted. It was Deacon, he’d been standing in the doorway.

“Eavesdropping?” Maureen asked with a scowl.

“Just waiting for a break in your conversation. I’m done cleaning the pool, so I’m going to swim if that’s okay.”

“Yes, of course,” Maureen replied.

“My offer stands, Grace,” he said as he turned around and walked away.

Maureen and I just looked at each other and she raised an eyebrow. I shook my head no.

“I’m not ready to be alone with a man, particularly with one I don’t know, one trained for violence.”

“You listen to me, Gracie Jean, there is no safer place than in the company of Deacon. I once trusted him with my life, and here I am.”

“Sounds like a story that I want to hear.”

“No, you don’t. Deacon and I survived a very bad situation together. We have a bond that will never be broken. You think I was a badass. Deacon was the badass that badasses called for help.”

Tears crept from the corners of my eyes. I was reminded that there are things about my dearest friend that she will never share with me. I felt cheated in a way, and then I felt embarrassed for feeling that way.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I sobbed.

“Don’t cry, Hun. You aren’t going to upset this old Marine.”

She smiled and hugged me, I felt so safe in her arms.

“Listen, you need to get your life back. That bastard robbed you of your naivete and ability to trust. Deacon is the kind of person who can help you reclaim what was stolen. He sees you as an injured baby bird, something that needs protection. Woe be to any fool who would bring you harm while Deacon is near.”

“You make it sound like he’d be my bodyguard.”

“It’s what he does now, owns a security firm.”

“Wait, so I’d have to pay him?”

Maureen laughed, “You couldn’t afford him. Take him up on his offer, you won’t regret it. I have to get going, you know where he is.”

She grabbed up her purse and blew me a kiss as she left. I debated what to do, and ultimately decided against a rideshare. Better the devil you kinda know, right? So I went out to the pool to talk to Deacon.

He was swimming laps, and when he saw me standing poolside, he swam over.

“Decide you’d like that ride I offered?” he asked.

I nodded ‘yes’ as I chewed my lip. As handsome as he was, he was still an unknown to me, and I was nervous, but Maureen trusted him.

“When do we need to leave?”

“About an hour should be fine,” I responded.

He effortlessly hoisted himself out of the pool, and for the first time, I had a view of the man. And what a man he was. Tall, lean, and muscular; he obviously went to the gym regularly. There were a few tattoos on his arms, some that I’d noticed before. There was one on his shoulder that I’d not seen. I followed him as he walked over to the table to retrieve his towel and began drying himself. I was enchanted by his body. His sandy blonde hair was slightly curly, and he had a beard and mustache. His chest was lightly covered with hair, and I noted that his back was as well when he turned. The hair on his body wasn’t a thick mat, it was just enough to send the message that there was a virile man.

“Like what you see, Grace?” he asked, looking at me with his baby-blue eyes.

He’d caught me staring. I quickly tried to cover for myself by telling him I was just looking at his tattoos. The smirk on his face told me my cover story was unsuccessful. I reached up to touch the tattoo on his shoulder as I examined it.

In the center was an angel cradling the world in her arms. Above her was a parachute, and below her was a ribbon bearing the words “THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE”.

“What does this mean?” I asked, lightly touching the tattoo.

“I was a Pararescueman,” he said, as he dried his hair.

“You rescued Maureen.”

He ignored my statement.

“She said that you’re the badass of all badasses.”

He laughed softly, and one corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

“Maureen may have an inflated opinion of me.”

“She’s not one for hyperbole, so I’ll defer to her opinion.”

“Have it your way. I’m going to have a shower and then we can leave.”

As he walked away I took a good look at his ass. Okay, hanging out with this stud might not be so bad I thought to myself.

The trip to the Doctor’s office was uneventful and mainly quiet. I decided that Deacon was the strong, silent type. Closed in the car with him, my senses were immediately flooded with the scent of leather and spice.

Removing my cast didn’t take long, and as we left the office I noticed an ice cream shop across the street

“Can we go in? I feel like celebrating,” I asked, waving my newly freed arm between us and pointing across the street.

“Of course, but I’m buying. A woman shouldn’t have to pay for her own celebration.”

I looked down, trying to hide the blush on my cheeks. When I finally looked up at him through my lashes, he was smiling down at me. My heart skipped a beat, and I quickly crossed the street to enter the store before I did something I might regret. We ordered our treats and as we went to sit, he grasped my arm and guided me to a different seat. He sat where I originally intended to. As we sat across from each other I gave him a quizzical look.

“I face the door, always,” he said softly.

“Why?”

“Situational awareness.”

“Situ-what?”

“Situational awareness. The perception of the elements in the environment within a volume of time and space, the comprehension of their meaning, and the projection of their status in the near future.”

“Oh, God. English please,” I said as I rolled my eyes.

“I watch for threats.”

“Who is going to threaten an ice cream parlor?”

“The same sickos that threaten churches, schools, and shopping malls.”

We sat in silence for a bit as we ate our treats. I finally broke the silence.

“So, you’re armed right now?”

“Does that bother you?”

“I don’t think so, I mean, I’m not a threat, right?”

He chuffed. “No, you’re more like a skittish little rabbit.”

“Maybe I should get a gun,” I said.

“So the little bunny is going to shoot people?”

“Well, maybe not; but at least I could threaten them.”

“That’s called brandishing, and it’s illegal. Besides, what if they ignore the threat?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly, looking down at my nearly empty dish.

“The first rule of personal safety is avoiding situations and places that might put you at risk. Not that you should change your life, but even I avoid certain places. I could teach you some defensive moves that you could use to get out of a bad situation, but you’re better off cooperating with a robbery, or screaming and running away if it’s a physical threat. Sadly, most attacks on women come from someone they know.”

“I seem to know a lot about that.”

“Like I said, I can teach you—if you want.”

“I’ll think about it. I’m ready to go.”

Thinking back now, that was the first time he used the term ‘bunny’ to refer to me. He took me back to Rick and Maureen’s house and walked me to the door.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked.

“No, I need to be going, but I’ll be back later. Rick asked me to help him repair the fence around the backyard.”

“Okay, well, thank you.”

“No problem. If you need anything, Rick and Maureen know how to reach me.”

“Or, you could give me your number?”

“I suppose.”

I handed him my phone and he entered his number. When he handed it back I dialed him.

“You think I entered a fake number?” he asked when his phone chirped.

“No silly, now you have my number…so you know who’s calling.”

He smiled that crooked smile again, and his blue eyes twinkled.

“See you around, Grace,” he whispered, then kissed my forehead and walked back to his car.

I stood on the front steps watching him leave as I melted into a puddle. I had a bad habit of falling for almost any man who was nice to me, and Deacon was as nice as they came.

For the next year or so, Deacon and I orbited each other. We’d see each other at Rick and Maureen’s, and sometimes we’d go do things together; he took me shooting, and to his gym to show me some defensive moves. We went to a concert, the county fair, a rodeo; always public places where we were surrounded by people. He never entered my home or allowed me at his. Our time together was always platonic. I don’t think he touched me other than occasionally at the small of my back to guide me where he wanted or take my hand to lead me through a crowd, and of course during the time at the gym. As time passed, I felt myself falling for him more and more; yet he seemed always just out of reach. I dated a few other men, none of them seriously. None of them were the man I had feelings for. None of them were Deacon. My infatuation with him kept me from allowing another man access to my heart.

Then one evening, as we were saying goodnight at my front door, I made my move. I rose onto my toes and placed my hands on his chest. Looking deeply into his eyes, I whispered goodnight, then closed my eyes and parted my lips. My heart raced as I felt him lean down. He placed his nose beside mine, and I could feel his warm breath.

“If we do this, things can never be the same between us,” he said softly.

I opened my eyes and searched his.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

“It is if this is a mistake, Grace. I enjoy spending time with you, but I’ve been keeping my feelings in check. I don’t want to be just another man who uses you. If we do this, then we’re going to explore our feelings and figure this out.”

“Don’t you want to kiss me, Deacon?”

“The problem is that kissing you is the least of what I want to do. I have feelings for you, Grace. Feelings I won’t be able to keep in check if we do this.”

“Then let’s do this, because I have feelings for you, and I’m tired of trying to suppress them.”

Do you remember how as a young girl you fantasized about your first kiss? Mine was always going to be this kiss that started gently and then built to a passionate, exhausting climax. Well, my first kiss was nothing like that. It was awkward. But my first kiss with Deacon was everything I’d ever fantasized about. Our lips met, and at first, it was soft and gentle, exploratory almost. Then the passion began to build until we were trading breaths and gently probing with our tongues. When we finally broke contact, we were both breathing heavily.

“Do you want to come in?” I panted.

“Are you the kind of girl who gives it up on the first date?” he chuckled.

“No, but—”

“How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many dates until I can make love to you?”

“Oh, Deacon, I don’t want to wait.”

“Three dates, no less,” he said.

“Three? But, how many times have we been out?”

“We’ve never been on a date, Grace.”

“Oh, Deacon, don’t be silly. We’re grown adults.”

“Grace, will you go out with me? Dinner and a movie next weekend.”

“Next weekend! C’mon Deacon, you’re truly being silly.”

“Yes or no, Grace. Will you go out with me?”

I searched his face, he was serious. We’d been hanging out as friends for so long and I could only imagine what an actual ‘date’ with him would be like. Just the two of us, no more crowds, quiet conversation…and holding hands. Yes, definitely holding hands and another one of those kisses!

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at six next Friday. Wear something casual, but no jeans, and put your hair up, I love it that way.”

With that, he kissed my forehead and left. Once again, I stood on my front steps as I turned into a puddle, but this time a part of me was leaping with joy. My heart pounded with anticipation.

Friday night he arrived promptly and we dined at a local mom-and-pop casual Italian place before taking in a movie. As we walked, he took my hand, in the movie he put his arm around my shoulders; and at the end of the night was another knee-weakening kiss.

Then he left.

The next morning he called and asked me out again, to Sunday brunch. Two dates in one weekend, in no time we’d have our third date and I could finally experience him in the way I’d wanted almost since we met.

Sunday brunch found me wearing a knee-length flowered sundress, and he wore slacks and a button-down shirt. Conversation for both of our dates was comfortable, with no prying about past relationships, and little talk of work; mainly we talked about current events in our lives and how we each met Rick and Maureen. He still would not go into details about the circumstances surrounding his rescue of Maureen.

When we walked me to my front door that night, he asked me to go away with him the following weekend. My heart stopped and I energetically nodded and squealed, “Yes!”

The following Friday he picked me up after work. I had been packed since the night before and met him at my door with my luggage.

“Anxious to get on the road?” he asked with a short chuckle.

“Yes, I can’t wait!”

He took me in his arms and looked into my eyes. “This will be our third date, Grace. Do you remember what that means?”

“Yes,” I choked out, my voice suddenly crackling with nervousness.

“Do you still want to make love to me?”

“More than anything in the world, Deacon.”

I suddenly felt like a schoolgirl agreeing to give a boy her virginity. My heart raced, my skin grew clammy, and my knees felt weak. I’d just agreed to sleep with this amazing man and suddenly I was nervous about satisfying him. So many questions ran through my head; would he compare me to past lovers, how and where does he like to be touched, how do I show him what I like, will he want to use a condom (not strictly necessary since I was on The Pill), how many lovers has he had? I shook my head to break the train of thought before it could lead to a panic attack. He noticed that something was suddenly wrong and looked at me quizzically.

“We don’t have to do this, Grace.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just suddenly nervous. It’s been a while for me.”

There was that crooked smile of his again.

“I haven’t been with a woman since I broke off my last relationship.”

“Same for me,” I whispered as I looked into those blue eyes again.

“Then we’ll take it slow. No pressure. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“And Grace? You need to know that I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.”

“No pressure, huh? That’s okay, the feeling is mutual.”

With that, he took my bag in one hand, and my hand in his other, and we loaded into the car. Soon we were out of the city, though he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. We drove for over an hour through the countryside before he turned down a narrow gravel lane. At the end of the lane was a small cabin on the shores of a lake. It was an idyllic scene, the perfect place to spend an intimate weekend.

And what a weekend it was. At first, it was awkward for me and my anxiety started to rear it’s ugly head. I almost fled to the bathroom at one point, but he sensed it and took things slowly. He set my body on fire with his caresses and kisses as he talked to me, telling me what he was going to do—and what he wanted to do. Soon my mind was filled with images of the two of us lost in passion and rather than being anxious about what was happening, I began to crave his touch. With my body already on fire from his touch, he set my mind aflame with his words. We made love, and afterward, I fell asleep curled up in his arms, feeling safer than I have ever felt with a man. But when I woke the next morning, that feeling of safety vanished. I was in bed alone and didn’t hear him anywhere in the small cabin. Panic set in. I realized I’d allowed myself to be taken away to a place I didn’t know, alone with a man trained for violence. I began having flashbacks to my time with Ernie. I leaped out of bed and got dressed, then threw my things in my bag. I headed for the door, though I didn’t know where I thought I was going. All my mind was telling me was to get out, get away.

As I neared the front door, I heard him on the porch. The door opened and in he walked with one arm full of firewood and an axe in the other. I screamed and ran back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. There was no lock so I sat down on the floor with my back to the door. I don’t remember everything that was said that morning through the bedroom door, but I eventually calmed down. When I opened the door, he wrapped me in his arms and we both cried. When I spied the axe I tensed up, I don’t know why. He sensed my anxiety and followed my gaze to where the axe sat in the corner. He told me to wait at the bedroom door while he took the axe outside. When returned he led me to the sofa and then stoked the fire. Sitting beside me, he wrapped us in a blanket and we sat in silence as we watched the flames dance. When he broke the silence, he said something that has stuck with me to this day.

“I would give my life to protect the people I love, Grace. There’s no safer place you could be.”

The thing is, I just now realized as I was writing this, that morning in the cabin was the first time he told me he loved me. Tissue Deacon! And give me a hug!

After breakfast, we drove around the lake to a quaint little village. We explored a few shops, had lunch, and visited the grocery. The entire time, Deacon gently held my hand. When we returned to the cabin, we explored the lakeshore and the surrounding forest. We cooked dinner together and sat on the porch as we ate, watching the sunset over the lake. After a rough start, it turned into a perfect day. That night, he offered to sleep on the sofa, but instead, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the bedroom. After nearly ripping his clothes off, I pushed him down on the bed and rode him until we were both satisfied, sweaty, and exhausted. Once again, I fell asleep in his arms, but the following morning when I woke up he was lying next to me.

We dated for a year, and near the anniversary of our visit to the cabin, we returned for another weekend getaway. That weekend, on the shore of the lake, as the sun was rising, he proposed. Our wedding was a small affair; just close friends and family; although there were a few of Deacon’s friends I hadn’t met before.

He puts in so much effort at lifting me up, giving me confidence, and treating me as an equal in every respect. But outside of our marriage, I have to fake it every day out in public. Anxiety is my constant shadow, and I rely on the love between Deacon and I to be my safe harbor. He’s so good at helping me avoid retreating from life. He takes me out into situations that might cause me discomfort, but he’s like a guardian, always watchful of my emotions to be sure I’m not overwhelmed. And when my emotions boil over and I start to melt down, he’s my retreat. With his help, I was beginning to get control of my weakness. As much as his love is my strength, there are days when I secretly wish he would just take charge and tell me what to do like Ernie did. It makes me sick to think that Ernie gave me something that Deacon doesn’t, and I would never want to go back to those days.

About a year ago, my boss asked me to speak in public at a conference. He said that he would be there with me, and if I was uncomfortable, he would step in for me. I know he was just trying to give me more experience and add another skill to my resume, so I nervously agreed. As the time for my presentation neared, I became so anxious that I became physically ill. My boss came through for me and stepped up to do the presentation, but that only added embarrassment to my already awful list of feelings. The whole situation reminded me of an elementary spelling bee. I remember it vividly. I was given the word ‘library’, and I began to spell it. “El, eye, bee—” I looked out at the audience and choked, couldn’t utter another letter. Now here I was in a similar situation and I was horrified. My boss was upset with me and I thought I’d lost my job. Instead, he gave me another chance because he knew someone who he thought could help me.

When I got home that night, I shared my day with Deacon and began to melt down again. I paced the floor as I related the events of the day, becoming more and more agitated. Suddenly Deacon took my arm and dragged me to the bedroom.

“Do you trust me, my love?” he asked.

I nodded yes, of course. Then he laid me cross-ways on the bed and wrapped the bedspread over me, then rolled me over. I was now wrapped up like a burrito in the bedspread. He had me close my eyes, and reminded me of the breathing technique he’d taught me; then he had me start over with my story. Being restrained helped me concentrate on what I wanted to tell him by calming my body. I got through it, and after I finished, I felt much better.

The next day, my boss called me into his office; I was sure he was going to fire me. Instead, there was a woman sitting with him. I learned that she trains people for public speaking, and my boss was going to pay for me to attend her classes. She is an amazing lady, and gave me so much confidence, taught me how to tackle my demon, let me practice in a safe environment with others. She gave me a confidence boost, and I still consider her a friend.

A few days after ‘the bedspread incident’, Deacon recommended that I seek out help from a professional for dealing with my anxiety. At first I was mad at him for thinking I needed “professional help”, but the more we talked, I came to the realization that I wasn’t living my best possible life and maybe it was time to try something new. So, I called my insurer’s helpline and they referred me to a therapist. I’ve been seeing her since, and as I said at the beginning, she’s the reason I’m sharing this story. I’ve shared more of my life with her than with anyone before; my childhood, past relationships, friendships, my friendship-turned-love with Deacon, work, and even my love of erotic romance stories. After much discussion, she encouraged me to begin writing to tell stories of strong, sexy women; women who live life on their terms, and do things I could only imagine.

My writing attempts led me to realize that if I wanted to write a story people would like, I needed to do research. I spent hours and hours online and finally started exploring the Forums. About a month later, I published my first story. On one forum in particular, I found some kindred souls, women who are dealing with issues similar or worse than mine, and who stood up for each other in the face of poorly behaved men. When I began to share my story with them, they immediately accepted me. One in particular shared part of herself with me, and introduced me to something I’d never heard of before; the Daddy Dom/little girl lifestyle. Soon she referred me to another forum that was all about DD/lg as it’s called.

As I read the DD/lg forum I became excited. So many of the comments spoke to my heart. At my next therapy session, I brought it up. My therapist did not know much about it, but promised to research it and we could talk more at the next session. Again, after much discussion over several sessions with her about the risks and potential rewards, and doing more research myself, my therapist and I decided that I should approach Deacon.

I studied the DD/lg forum some more and posted asking for advice. I had my move all planned for one evening later in the week, he sensed something was up. He sat me down one morning and told me, “We need to talk.” It caught me off guard and I was very awkward.

“You’re who I go to when I need comfort, even more so than my female friends,” I began. He nodded, he knew this. “The thing is, we’re always in reactive mode as a couple, I have a bad day, I scurry to your arms, and you comfort me. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, my Love.”

“I know, but I feel the need for someone to can help me be proactive, and show me how to slay my own dragons. I’ve met no better dragon-slayer than you, Deacon. You and me, we strive to be equals in our relationship, but sometimes I feel the need to not be your equal. Sometimes I need someone to just tell me what to do, regardless of my feelings. Sometimes I feel the need for someone who will tell me no. No, Grace, stop your stress eating. No, Grace, you can’t hide, we are going out. But I also need someone to tell me yes. Yes, Grace, what you did was very good. Yes, Grace, you are brave. Yes, Grace, it’s okay to feel that way.”

“So what are you telling me, Grace? Are we done?”

“Oh, God no, Deacon! I love you more than life itself! I just, well, I need you to take charge of me like you take charge of your protectees.”

He looked at me as a wave of confusion washed over his face.

“You’re so focused on being a supporting husband, but I feel the need for what I’ve learned some people call a caretaker, or mentor, more of a daddy figure. I’m a badass most days, but some days I get stressed and I want someone I can disappear into, give up all control, and know I am safe. And maybe I need some of that in the bedroom too.”

“What are you asking, Grace?”

“Well, I’ve learned about a lifestyle called Daddy Dom little girl.”

“Oh, God. Did Maureen tell you about this?” he groaned.

“No, I found it online. What’s Maureen got to do with this?”

He opened up and shared with me about his last relationship. He thought she was the one. And as it turns out, the woman he was with was a submissive, and he was her Daddy! At first, I was angry because he kept it from me. I’m afraid I said some things that I regret. Once he got me calmed down, he explained that being a Daddy is not a requirement for him to be happy, and he didn’t tell me about it because of my past abusive relationship.

I mentioned the DD/lg thread on Literotica and knew about it. He said he had been a lurker and never posted, and he deleted his account when they broke up. He had a support system of other Daddies and Doms, and their littles and subs talked as well. We talked for a few hours, lots of tears. That afternoon we sat down, as I had originally planned, and looked over the threads and I showed him some of the memes that I had saved. He asked lots of questions, explaining that he needed to understand what I find attractive about the lifestyle. I’m not sure I had adequate answers, and I sure felt like he was the sensei and I was the grasshopper. When I questioned him, answers flowed easily, and to be honest, I learned more about his past relationship than I wanted to know. He ended it because she asked for things he wasn’t willing to give her, painful things, things that he couldn’t do to someone he loved.

After keeping me back on my heels that morning, he finally let me review the threads with him as I planned. He laughed when I showed him some memes from the first thread of a wolf. They remind me of him, the protector. Turns out his nickname in high school was Wolfman because he had a full thick beard. He asked me to call him that, or Wolfie, instead of Daddy. So we’re Wolfie and Bunny, and we agreed to explore the lifestyle. As we were wrapping up that night he took my hands and said something that made me cry a happy cry and reminded me why I was with him. He looked me in the eyes and said, “I never want to be your past relationship, I want to be your last relationship”. Then he picked me up and carried me to bed. I was hoping to make love but he said that we were both tired and emotional. He was right, I was emotionally exhausted. All I’d done that day was feel; whether shock, anger, fear, relief, joy, or love, my emotional state had been high-key all day.

That weekend, we began to write down our rules. Some of these rules regarding safety are not new to us.

1. For at least the first three months, we will sit down on Sunday afternoon to review and modify the rules. Once we’re comfortable that we have addressed the basics, we will review once a month.

2. No secrets, open and honest communication is a must. This includes any online posts that I make.

3. We both have the right to boundaries. I have the ultimate say in how I am treated, he has the ultimate say in how he will treat me within the bounds I set.

4. He is my caretaker. I am entrusting him with my health and well-being, both physical and mental. I will be vulnerable around him. He must treat me with respect, never talking down to me or becoming angry.

5. Praise me when I do well, and gently scold me when appropriate.

6. When I go out with friends I must tell him where we plan to be, and advise him of any changes.

7. He is responsible for anything food-related. He is a much better cook so I’m happy with that. He also does the grocery shopping. I tend to stress eat and buy things that are less than healthy. Sweets and alcohol are by permission only.

8. I am responsible for the household budget. I work in finance and this has always been my responsibility, so no biggie.

9. Other than my daily professional clothing, he retains a veto on any clothing purchases.

10. We each have requirements for personal appearance. I will start going to the gym with him to keep the both of us toned and healthy. We will both maintain an appearance that the other finds attractive including hairstyle, nail polish, et cetera.

11. We will not engage in pain play. This was a no-brainer given my experience with Ernie.

12. Every day together is a gift. We will start and end every day with a kiss and an ‘I love you’.

13. The phrases ‘Bunny feels like being devoured,’ and ‘Wolfie is hungry,’ are our cues that one of us needs sexy time. We will honor each other’s needs whenever possible. If it means leaving an event, then we will do so at the earliest convenience. We’ve discussed sneaking away and risking getting caught. We may try that if the situation arises.

14. When we are out together, he will always walk nearest the curb unless he directs otherwise. When we are seated at a restaurant or other venue that does not have seating in rows, he will sit facing the door; I am to sit to his left (preferred) or right, never across a table from him. In venues where seating is in rows, he will sit nearest the aisle. He always picks his seat and I am to follow.

15. We have a safe word for sexy time, and ‘call and response’ phrases for when we are out if we become separated.

My first household budget created after we became Bunny and Wolfie, earned me punishment. I presented it to him and he was not happy that I failed to include the personal care items we had discussed; haircuts, mani/pedi for me, and my gym membership. I was concerned at first since we agreed to the no-pain rule. He got creative, I was banished to the guest room for two nights. At this point in our DD/lg relationship, he had not touched me for a week since we were negotiating rules, and I was feeling very needy. Two more nights without him, not even just to curl against him and feel his body heat, felt like the worst punishment I could have. I made it through, and thankfully the morning after the second night he came to my bed and told me, “Wolfie is hungry.”

We have stuck with our initial list of rules for two months and only added one. That rule involves our bedroom. When he tells me to present myself, I am to kneel on the bed, place my shoulders on the mattress, and reach back to spread myself for him. During our normal Sunday review, we are going to take the BDSM Quiz together and discuss the results. He thinks that restraints may help me overcome my anxiety by taking away my physical ability to move (and maybe even see if we use a blindfold), thereby forcing me to deal with my mental state. I’ve talked about it with my therapist and she is not against it, given that it has worked for me in the past.

He reached out to his old support group, and it turns out they are still active, even gaining a few new members. He is engaging with them and has linked me in with their littles/subs. We have group chats on Viber, and we recently met at a nearby resort for a weekend meet and greet. It was amazing to spend time with the other littles and subs, and to learn how we each have a unique relationship with our Daddy or Dom. Some of them have been owned for years, and they were the most helpful to talk with.

Just this past week, Wolfie and I attended a munch. That was eye-opening for me and was the impetus for our deciding to take the BDSM Quiz. I met lots of submissives, both male and female; and learned about the larger BDSM lifestyle.

The past three years have gone by in a flash. Being Deacon’s wife has been a blessing. So many men think women want money, cars, and gifts. But the right woman wants a man’s time, effort, passion, honesty, loyalty, smile, and him choosing to put her as his priority. I am fortunate to have a man that realizes what I need. I am full of hope that I can overcome my weaknesses, and move beyond my past. I am confident that my Wolfie with do everything in his power to make that happen.

💋Je T’aime