Yesterday during my slight melt down, I asked Master what I should blog about. I have been struggling with topics, particularly as some of the things that do bother me, I don’t feel comfortable with blogging about in detail here. I know that I should be able to use this as a place to freely speak my mind, but even though it is very similar to a journal, it isn’t a private place and I am always mindful of that fact.
This morning Master came back with a suggestion that I blog about the words we use and what they mean to me, thinking about how those meanings have changed. For simplicity of writing style, and no other reason, I am going to write in the first person.
Two and a half years ago I had never given much thought to submission, or to Dominance. I knew very little of the world of BDSM, indeed I had the view that it was predominantly about sex, and kinky sex at that. My life at the time was pretty much free of sex, kinky or otherwise. I felt my life had been one of domestic drudgery. Working hard, essentially doing everything for the family, being there at everyones beck and call. I felt quite unhappy with my lot. I had no understanding that my need to be that person, to serve an other, or indeed others, was part of who I was. I didn’t realise that it was possible to provide service, to submit and in return be cared for and to be protected. I knew I wanted to be looked after, I knew that I needed someone to take more control of my life, but I had a husband, and since he wasn’t such a bad man, I thought that was my lot in life.
A few times in the past 5 or 6 years, I have played online. Until early 2012 though, I had never actually been in a BDSM chat room and encountered the Dominant / submission dynamic. Something drew me there and once it did, I found it felt like home. I began reading all I could online and then bought books which told me more about it. I met S almost simultaneously. There was never a question in my mind that I was submissive and the more I read, the more we chatted, the greater the pull was. The sex offered by S was kinky, and I was as keen to explore that part of me as he was. It was part of the BDSM ‘thing’ as far as I could see then; the submission came alongside.
Fast forward to now and I recognise that within a relationship sex is very important. For me now, kinky sex is what I need, not to say that any sex isn’t something I love. It is. But what I know now is that submission isn’t about sex per say. Submission is something deeply held. A feeling, a need, a desire. It is what makes me feel like a whole person. It isn’t about kneeling, about physical restraint, it isn’t about calling my Dominant by a particular name. It is just who I am.
It never crossed my mind until recently that I might even identify with slave rather than submissive. I am still not certain, why I increasingly believe that to be the case. In the past I had a negative view of what that might mean given what I knew of the history of slavery past and present. But knowing that it is possible to consent to being someone’s property, their slave, actually gives me a sense that I could be fulfilled in a way I never imagined. That I could offer all of myself to another, and that person could want to take control of every part of me. That I would never again have to retain power over the whole of my life is something that I want and desire. Right now, there is nothing that makes me happier than when Master asks: “who owns you?” and I reply “you do”.
How then is this different from the rest of my adult life? I have always felt that I existed only for the benefit of others, but that somehow I received little in return. How is it different to willingly give up, when in the past you felt it was just taken, and what is more, taken for granted by all of those around you. Perhaps it is the knowledge that Master doesn’t take. He asks me to give, and once it is given, He retains it. Even though this relationship only started some 5 months ago, it feels like a gradual process. He didn’t demand, I gave willingly, and the more I gave the more I felt I needed to give. At some point (actually a day in May when He was away in the US), we both appeared to realise that I had a need to give up complete control. I had an overwhelming desire to become His slave.
When Master tells me He owns me, it makes me feel safe and secure. It makes me feel bound, even when not restrained. I call him Master now, freely and in a way I couldn’t seem to get used to Sir. He tells me He is my Lord (He loves being called Lord), and He is. To begin with I laughed at the idea of calling Him such a name, but now, the name Lord, is also spoken easily. The knowledge I am His girl, that my name is girl fits easily in my head. At times, I wonder, that I was ever anything else.
But the names mean nothing without the actions. I called another person Master, though only really in the bedroom (as it were). This is something deeper, more consuming. Being slave (a slave called girl), is now deeply within me. Without His help and guidance, without control, I feel lost. For me, He is my Lord and Master and whether I like it or not (and mostly I do) He owns me, inside and out.