I have an overwhelming urge to try and describe what submission means to me, what it does for me, why I am who I am. I don’t know if I’m that talented but I need to try.
A lot of people, much more well-versed in D/s than I am and probably a lot smarter, too, talk about submission as a power exchange. And it is. I willingly hand over decision-making control to Sir. He decides what happens to me, what actions I take, and what pleasure I derive from our encounters. I do so only because I trust that He will not violate my limits or my body in ways that I find unacceptable (known as hard limits). I also trust that He will ensure that I receive as much, if not more, pleasure than He does. I can feel this confident because since the first time, He has proven worthy of my trust.
Submitting to Him feels safe. I feel more protected and secure than at any other point in my life. I trust Him to take care of me, to protect me, to shelter me, to shield me – because He said He would. Because He takes every facet of my life seriously. Because He listens when I speak – even if He thinks I’m a “silly ass.”
The cliche of the hard-working, decision-making, ball-busting woman who desperately wants to yield to a man stronger than her applies to nearly every woman I’ve met who submits. It certainly applies to me. Knowing myself like I now do, I understand why my marriage was doomed from the beginning. My ex-husband (Sir calls him a douchebag – I wish I could disagree) lost my respect, my confidence, and my trust before we were even married (why I married him anyway is a story for another day). I had most of the control in our relationship and in the few instances when I didn’t, his decisions were disastrous for us in one way or another which perpetuated a cycle where I refused to cede control and authority because I couldn’t trust his decisions.
Without even realizing it, I was desperate to submit. But it would take something as simple as masturbation to lead me down the path to my true self. Allowing myself to open up about my burgeoning sexuality and to willingly explore my base desires brought me here – to Him. And nothing has felt more natural than this. From the first time He growled in my ear, dictating my masturbatory efforts, I felt like I was whole.
Of course, I question myself at times. How did I get to this point? What if this is some passing whim? (I assure you, it’s not.) Is there something wrong with me? Why do the words “whore,” “slut,” “cunt,” and “bitch” make me writhe and whimper, make me desperate to please and to cum? I’m not insightful enough to explain the whys and hows at that level, but I can tell you that it’s as if a missing puzzle piece was discovered. I could still see the picture of who I was without it, but with this aspect of who I am, the picture is crystal clear, no gaping holes. I am complete.
Part (or maybe all) of submission involves need. I need Him in so many ways – sexually, sensually, spiritually, emotionally, mentally. I am capable of functioning on my own – I have for nearly 33 years at this point. But when He chooses to guide and direct me, I feel myself relax and take a deep breath because I know it will be okay. He might not always have the right answer – but He will look for one with me. Note, I said with me – I still have a life to live, children to raise, a douchebag to deal with. His job is not to be my knight-in-shining-armor in all facets of my life. There are still those things I must handle on my own – but as my Sir, He gives me His time, His thoughts, His comfort so that I can move forward and make the best possible choices.
This may be true of all good Dominant men, but He knows when submission is what I most need. He knows in that instant, I am in another place in my mind. Cares and worries drop away, nonexistent. I can stop thinking, worrying, fretting. Submission clears my mind because a submissive’s job requires NO thought – simply action based on His desires. I exasperate and frustrate Him when I forget to stop thinking (I’m a chronic over-thinker.) When I think too much, I tend to get into trouble. He forces me to focus only on the specific words He uses – to stop looking for the deeper meaning.
When I begin to have moments of self-doubt, I comfort myself with the knowledge that I only have to focus on His specific words and actions. If He doesn’t indicate He is unhappy, then He’s not. It really is as simple as that. He says what He means; He does not play games (unless fucking my mind becomes necessary); He stays true to His word. As long as I never forget that, the rest is easy.
And that I think is my point. Submission is about simplicity. Stripping away the complexities of thoughts and worries, taking away the what-ifs and maybes, and simply obeying. Listening to the words and taking them at face-value.
“Open your mouth.”
Once the mind quiets down, everything else is easy. I can focus on the emotions I feel for Him (without becoming overwhelmed). I can focus on the sensations coursing through my body. I can free myself from the shackles of a typical vanilla life, spread my wings, and fly as my limits are stretched further than I ever imagined.
That is why I submit. Why I submit to Him? I love Him and I know He loves, cherishes, and wants me. I know that He will protect, guide, and teach me. I know that in tough times, He will stand by my side. I know that in good times, He will celebrate with me. He makes my submission easy. And in return, I simply want to give – whatever He needs at any moment in time.