My Definition of Submission

“Sarah I don’t understand why you would subject yourself to that. Having men hurt you that way. I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

I’d posted the article about Gang Bangs.

She interpreted ‘gang rape’.

Two vastly different things.

In her head I was being tied up, raped, hurt and humiliated in an abandoned warehouse somewhere by awful violent men.

We settled on the term orgy. Although to me, orgy reminds me of Caligula, women and men everywhere. Then she understood.

I just wanted me and a small handful of men. Safe play in a safe space. Consensual, sensual etc.

Still might. But that fantasy has taken a back seat to others.

I read, write, explore and fantasize a lot.

I consider myself to be a very sexually open person, because I am.

Lately, due to my present circumstances the terms dominant and submissive have been thrown around a lot.

Cue my girl…”I could never be a submissive.”

But I have read her writing, I know the type of men she gravitates to, I know how strong a man would have to be to elicit even the slightest sexual response from her.

“You keep using that word, but I don’t think it means what you think it means.” Princess Bride

I think once again, it comes back to interpretation.

I say dominant/submissive and she sees 50 Shades of whips, chains, ball gags, hobbling shoes and degradation.

If you type those words into your search browser that is pretty much what comes up.

I am figuring out what it means to me.

Many years ago I went to those clubs with my boyfriend at the time. I was exploring my sexuality and honestly? None of it really appealed to me. So much pomp and show, not enough skin and sex.

I went to Montréal with him and we answered the age old question ‘how many goths does it take to assemble a bed with a slave cubby underneath it?’ 4 the answer is 4.

Also answered a few other questions I had while gazing transfixed through a two way mirror watching 3 people play and fuck on the other side. I like to watch, I would like to get so lost with another person that I didn’t notice I was being watched like they did.

In that same bar with the mirror there were themed rooms. An old schoolhouse space where someone could get tied to a desk. Every piece of furniture and every wall was rigged for someone to get tied up or tied down.

I realized that I don’t want all the bells, whistles and equipment. I like my sex raw, passionate and on the rough side.
Playing dress up doesn’t work for me, it’s premeditated. Role-playing is too contrived. I just want to be naked.

On the fence about being tied up, but I want to be held down.

I don’t need a collar as a symbol of loyalty, just look at my face, follow my gaze, that is who my body belongs to.

There it is.

I want to belong to someone.

I want to feel safe, and let go.

I have had bad men and good men.

Twice I have been fingered with such vigor that I thought I was going to squirt and instead I ended up peeing on the floor.
Hilarious in retrospect.
The first time I was so humiliated it was 5 years before my body let me ejaculate again.
The second time I was fireman carried out of my mess in gently placed in the shower while he mopped the kitchen floor.

This is the difference, ‘a good dom can make his sub feel 10 feet tall or tiny and small depending’. Good goddamn is this the truth.

It’s about feeling strong and safe with another person and absolutely relinquishing control. No consequences, not even if you piddle on the floor.

I think my submissive nature coupled with my inner 50’s housewife and my desire to belong to someone has left me vulnerable to the wrong types of men. Especially when guiding this psyche of mine is a mantra of ‘stand by your man’ as well as ‘go team’ and ‘I got this’.

I’ve been financially and emotionally abused while being sexually shunned and neglected.
Shamed to the point where I couldn’t open my mouth and ask for the simplest of things.

I still am a submissive. I’m in control and on guard all day every day and when it comes to a man in my life I want strength.
I want to feel small, cared for and I want to be used. I want to turn my brain off, get lost, have everything go quiet and relinquish control.

It’s the symbiosis of finding a masculine man to compliment my feminine self.

I have written before here about how I love the dynamic between the sexes, especially when it comes to sex. I am girly as fuck. I want to be overpowered, held down, played with, explored, pulled apart and held together.

I want to be marked. I am the girl who loves to remember. The idea of being sore, bruised, bitten and having that written on my skin for days after appeals to me. Tangible marks to show me yes, that happened. Yes, I yielded and he owns me because I want him to.