That old familiar feeling.
It comes in, sweeping, like the fog on an early summer morning. Before I know it, I'm covered in it. Reeling backwards, fighting to get away, gasping for breath. It's been a fight since I recognized the beginnings of something larger than me, the fight to gain control of my life. It hasn't been easy, and I suspect it will continue to be just as tough until I give up and give in to it.
I'm not talking about anything detrimental to myself or to society. Quite the opposite. The overpowering desire to be overpowered has been there since I found my clitoris one spring afternoon when I was eight years old. Some days, it's all I think about. Rarely, it's a loving and consensual scene. Often, it comes with a roar - force, rape, pain... all the things little girls who are made of sugar and spice are not supposed to think about. I've never declared myself one of the good girls, the compliant ones who submit and acquiesce to whatever they're being told. Submission, for me, is a constant fight.
There is, however, a stronger guiding hand here. Through the years, we've been more or less involved (sometimes it just depends on the day). But he's always been there for me, showing me with a smile or a raised hand just how important I am to him. How important this is to him, to us.
I don't necessarily equate submission with pain. As anyone who has been involved with the lifestyle will tell you, there are many different levels. BDSM is an acronym - containing three different levels of involvement. There is B/D - bondage and discipline (simply about the implements used - ropes, cuffs, blindfolds, etc.), D/S - domination and submission (the mental aspect - dominating by emotional force, probably the deepest level of involvement), and S/M - sadism and masochism (pain - either giving or receiving). My submission is more about force of will - acknowledging that he is the alpha male. Letting him make some of the decisions that I don't want to/can't make on my own. Letting him guide me, letting him mold me. Bowing my head and dropping to my knees in front of him, so that he knows he owns me. It's much more than a fetish - it's my life.
I go back and forth between what I want out of this lifestyle. Some days, it's all I think about. The need to be owned - mind, body and soul - is all I want. Other days, his commands hit me like a sharp stab in the side. I hate him for it, I want to live on my own. It hasn't really mellowed any - I feel sexually bipolar. Today, it's there. It's more like an ache on the back of my heart, a call to him. I wonder if he can feel it.
I'm not talking about anything detrimental to myself or to society. Quite the opposite. The overpowering desire to be overpowered has been there since I found my clitoris one spring afternoon when I was eight years old. Some days, it's all I think about. Rarely, it's a loving and consensual scene. Often, it comes with a roar - force, rape, pain... all the things little girls who are made of sugar and spice are not supposed to think about. I've never declared myself one of the good girls, the compliant ones who submit and acquiesce to whatever they're being told. Submission, for me, is a constant fight.
There is, however, a stronger guiding hand here. Through the years, we've been more or less involved (sometimes it just depends on the day). But he's always been there for me, showing me with a smile or a raised hand just how important I am to him. How important this is to him, to us.
I don't necessarily equate submission with pain. As anyone who has been involved with the lifestyle will tell you, there are many different levels. BDSM is an acronym - containing three different levels of involvement. There is B/D - bondage and discipline (simply about the implements used - ropes, cuffs, blindfolds, etc.), D/S - domination and submission (the mental aspect - dominating by emotional force, probably the deepest level of involvement), and S/M - sadism and masochism (pain - either giving or receiving). My submission is more about force of will - acknowledging that he is the alpha male. Letting him make some of the decisions that I don't want to/can't make on my own. Letting him guide me, letting him mold me. Bowing my head and dropping to my knees in front of him, so that he knows he owns me. It's much more than a fetish - it's my life.
I go back and forth between what I want out of this lifestyle. Some days, it's all I think about. The need to be owned - mind, body and soul - is all I want. Other days, his commands hit me like a sharp stab in the side. I hate him for it, I want to live on my own. It hasn't really mellowed any - I feel sexually bipolar. Today, it's there. It's more like an ache on the back of my heart, a call to him. I wonder if he can feel it.
This entry was posted by Mellie, on
Friday, May 20, 2005.
