In a world newly introduced to things like 50 Shades of Grey and Diary of a Submissive, where do I fit in? I am not some bright eyed, fresh faced virgin; nor am I looking for an overbearing, jealous, rage-a-holic Dom. I don’t want to be degraded, or sworn at or put on display for the world to see. Yet, for the past 16 years I have been craving submission.
Submission, that dirty word that sends independent women screaming to the hills and inspires Feminists to pick up signs and picket; a word that also delights most men who really have no idea what it means to have someone submit to them.
I was asked the other day what submission means to me. In my biased eyes it means more than sitting with down cast eyes as someone calls me a slut or a whore; it’s more than being spanked or tied up, bruised or bitten. It all comes down to trust.
I am far from some whimpering woman who needs a man to direct her life, I’m the opposite of weak willed and as far away from helpless as a 21st century woman could be. I value my independence; it’s critical to my self worth and necessary for my mental and emotional well being.
Yet with all of this is a side of me not many know about, and those who do have a cunning and perceptive understanding of my inner workings. I am a woman who values control, my self control but also those who exude control and confidence. I have control, I can be in control but deep down, under my bravado, my independence, my self sufficiency, I want to give that control to someone and for a period of time trust that they will take care of me.
Trust, now there is a word I don’t use often.
I wish I could say I was a trusting person, but life and experience have taught me that humanity as a rule is innately selfish (myself not excluded from that generalization). The reality is that in all my years there have been only a handful of people that I would trust, and none of them, absolutely none of them were partners.
In the years I’ve spent reading and learning about submission, in all the conversations I have had with Doms or ‘dominate men’ few have caught my attention and only one was ever granted my submission. I have mentioned it to a lover before, but never let them take things to that place.
You see if I’m going to expose my deepest, darkest fantasies to you. If I’m going to bare my soul to you, expose myself to the core, I have to be able to trust you. I have to be able to trust that you have the self control to not say something that would expose us in public; I have to trust that you will push my boundaries, but never cross that line that makes it impossible to go back.
I have to be able to trust that you will read my body language and learn that although I may respectfully avert my eyes, if I refuse to look at you, something is wrong. To know that when I stop making noise, you have pushed things too far and when I roll away from you, the pain is too much.
If I’m going to ask you to experiment with bondage, I want to know that you know how to do it properly, how to check for circulation, how long to leave me that way and how to get me out if something goes wrong. If I ask you to play with wax, I need to be sure that you know what kind of candles to use, and if I ask you to do something that is dangerous, I want to know that you will tell me to wait, until things have been planned properly.
On top of all of that I have to respect you, as a person, an authority figure, but also as a caretaker. How do you treat the random people in your life that most would not give a second thought to? Do you thank your waitress; hold the door open for old women? Do you speak to children and animals with respect?
I’m frightened at the thought of relinquishing control, but with it comes with a rush of excitement unparallelled in my world. There is no greater pleasure in my lift than kneeling and caring for the man I’ve given myself to. I will gratefully cook for him, clean for him, groom him, massage him, and do anything I can to make his life easier, because it gives me pleasure.
In the bedroom I will willingly give myself, all of myself to a man who knows what my turn-ons are and gets equal excitement from them; a man who is not shy to inflict a little bit of pain, or sometimes a lot, to extract a great deal of pleasure from me; someone who is eager to lay claim on me. Someone who takes a great deal of pleasure from marking me as his, who understands that every time he asks something of me I am making a conscious choice to obey him, to submit to his will.
This probably doesn’t come close to describing my definition of submission……but it is a start.