The two-hour drive home on Monday was fairly intense, and not only because every time I shifted in my seat, I was reminded of the bruises that covered my ass. My mind was churning with the myriad possibilities that could go along with this new change in our relationship dynamic.
I was beside myself with excitement. I felt like a whole new world had opened up for us. While I am truly naturally dominant, a part of me has always yearned to be submissive. I like to care for and spoil my loves, do whatever I can to make them happy. Until such point as it is expected. Then it becomes a problem for me. It is said that true submission is a gift and that’s how I feel about it. I will give it freely (when deserved and inspired), but once it is demanded I have none to give.
Very few people in my life have ever inspired me to want to submit to them. I’m not very good at relinquishing that sort of control. I need someone who wants to take control and can handle it once he/she has it. I need to feel loved and appreciated in my service. And I don’t ever want to be thought of as inferior or beneath someone. It has to be someone who loves and respects me as an equal even though I choose to submit myself. That may seem like a tall order, but I know that it exists. I’ve seen it in action and I’ve been party to it.
Before the events of the prior week and including the time just after he met our Diva, Roland had not expressed any interest in BDSM. He knew of my history, my avid interest in getting involved in the lifestyle again, and supported me in it, but he professed to not have any desire for it himself. In fact, he was quite adamant about his disinterest.
But one day he had an epiphany that his attitude toward it were due to feelings tied to a previous relationship where they had briefly dabbled in the lifestyle (at his ex’s request). Having that realization wrought a change in his feelings about it and he opened himself up to the possibilities.
All of that combined to form the perfect storm on the night of our first visit to the Woodshed. Everything fell into place.
So on the drive home, we did a lot of talking. He expressed a lot of uncertainty about how far he wanted to go. I explained that I was fully willing to go as far as he wanted to, up to and including 24/7 total power exchange (TPE). In my mind I was rapidly going through all the different ways in which I could give up control to him. I kept throwing out ideas for the rules and restrictions he could place on me, things to give me structure and discipline. The littlest details made me giddy, like the thought of sitting at his feet with the other subs at the munches. I think I actually squealed with delight thinking about it.
Looking back, I think I might have completely blown his mind and overwhelmed him. Here I was, someone who’d already had experience in this area despite having been dormant for so long, feeling like I had awoken from a deep sleep, ready to jump back into life again. And there he was, having essentially just opened a door to a practically new, unknown plane of existence. He just wasn’t ready for everything I was so eager to do.
What we, or rather what I, decided to do was to just try to behave as if our relationship was TPE. I would give myself rules and restrictions, things that I felt would please him. I felt that this would give him an idea of what it would be like, without him actually having to take control and figure out what he wanted me to do. I thought it might be the easiest way to show him what it would be like.
One of the things I started doing in the first week after our trip was going to bed when he did at night, instead of staying up online for an hour or three after he’d gone to bed. I would undress him from head to toe, starting with his shoes and finishing with his underwear. Once he was naked I would kneel before him to suck his cock. Then he would fuck me on the bed in whatever position he chose, and go to sleep afterwards.
I tried to wait on him hand and foot, pouting whenever he got something for himself. I let him make all the decisions about any plans. I didn’t talk back to him or verbally spar with him as I am wont to do. I called him Sir. Whenever I got home before he did, I greeted him at the door in prostrate position.
All of that lasted for less than two weeks. He just was not comfortable with it. He said that he was used to doing things for himself. He also said he didn’t want to get used to any of it, because he felt like at any moment I would decide that I didn’t want to do it anymore. He didn’t want to try to assume control in anything, because he expected that at some point I would rebel. He couldn’t get invested because he knew I am not truly submissive.
And as much as I would like for it to be otherwise, he’s right. To me, it’s a nice idea, but I just can’t do it all the time. I am a very willful creature. And moody. I can never be any one thing all the time. I can play at submission for a time, but it just doesn’t stick. It doesn’t come natural to me at all. Despite how much I love him and want to make him happy. How much I think I would enjoy his will being my own.
See, the first thing that got me interested in BDSM was the Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rice, closely followed by Exit to Eden (the book, not the atrocious movie adaptation). The idea of forced submission that I would eventually abandon myself to was my supreme fantasy. I longed for a Castle or Village or Eden island resort where I would have no choice but to submit to the will of someone else. Essentially a world that does not and cannot exist at this time.
Where are we now, you might ask? Well, I submit myself to him on the infrequent occasions when he tells me he wants it, in whatever fashion he chooses. It may be that he explicitly tells me. Or he grabs me by the hair at the nape of my neck to direct me. Sometimes he just gives me a look or changes the tone of his voice. And then I do my best to give him the gift of my submission. I don’t fight it, I allow him to take it in his own way. For now, that’s how it works for us.