"Progressive Evolutionists"

She said, “Yes Sir”. She didn't click her heels together. There was no stiff bodied posture of military “attention”. No crisp salute to the forehead. There was no mockery whatsoever in the tone of her voice. She was not bending under the threat of a spanking or some other unseen pressure for that matter.  "Yes Sir”. It just rose like a bubble from somewhere deep inside to the surface of her being and popped right out of her mouth:

"Yes Sir" (bah-loo-p!). There it was. Simple. Sincere. Sweet.

It wasn’t an accident. And yet, it wasn’t intentional either. At least it did not appear to be. And even though there were several people around, two of whom were in the actual conversation, she displayed no noticeable shame or embarrassment.

The “Yes Sir” bubble hovered in the air resting on" bah-loo…" for an instant’s instant. Everything stopped - or at least it seemed to stop. Just froze. And then it burst (-p!) and the fragrant mist of SugarAnne’s submission rained down upon me. Apparently that was the signal for everything to begin moving at normal speed again. Because that’s exactly what happened. Everything started moving as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. Something different, and yet, something quite natural. My only acknowledgement of it was a courteous, “Thank you”, as she moved with immediacy to honor my request. I didn’t think there was any need for me to make a big deal out of it. She didn't. It just was.

“Yes Sir” (bah-loo-p!).

I guess I’m trying to say that I did not create this “Yes Sir” moment. I did not make a demand in the morning to be called “Sir”. Being called “Sir” is neither a need nor a request of mine. It is not a staple of my dominance. It is not a criterion of her submission either. Although I recall one time – just once, a single occurrence – I made her say “Yes Sir” by heat of paddle, through force of will, under the auspices of “Submission Day”. And even then she needed a skin graft (I jest) and I needed rotator cuff surgery (not true, but you get my drift) before she involuntarily voluntarily hiccupped those two measly words.

She has struggled with this "Yes Sir" thing. Her comment to Serenity on this very topic:

“Serenity,
I could never bring myself to do it. Even though I know that BabyMan deserves all the respect and reverence I can muster, it just won't come out of my mouth. I have, on occasion, referred to him as "Sir" during and instant message when he made it clear that I had crossed the line in some way. But to his face, I could never bring the word to my lips. 
SugarAnne”

Perhaps it would easier for her to say “Yes Sir” if she were made to bend to my will with percussive encouragement. Except, when it comes to “this thing we do”, I am not a creationist. I am more of an evolutionist – and a progressive one at that. If bending to my will, listen, if bending to my will does not mean she's rising to her self, then I find very little satisfaction or benefit in it.

Later in the day I caught myself studying SugarAnne. Just looking. Looking that look that a lover looks when you're wondering and thinking a thousand unexpressibly deep things about the one you love.

Deeply affectionate things like:
I’m glad we’ve found each other.
I have a lot of respect for you.
Life is good with you.

And deeply shallow things like:
Wow…nice booty!
Great tits!
I should just take you and have my way with you right now!

Deep or shallow - I didn’t say them. I just wondered them to myself. These thoughts began to warm me through from the inside out. And before I knew it – bah-loo-p! – out came the one sentence that captured all I was thinking.

“I like what you have become”, I said. She turned and gave me a soft inside smile.
And do you know what she said to me? Guess. She said, “I like what you have become too”.

How about that?! I guess in “this thing we do” we’re both progressive evolutionists.