to be His

“It’s the moments just like this, with you on your knees, giving all your focus to just being *mine*. You could be reading, or watching television, or baking a cake - but you aren’t doing any of those things - not because I told you to kneel here, but because you chose this over everything else.”

Yeah it’s super interesting how we can interpret being (lovingly) restrained or restricted as loving while for others being able to do whatever they want feels the most loving. 

It doesn’t really answer the core of ‘why’ but in addition to accountability (which is part of it, as you said) there is also a sense of protection/security and I read that as love too. I’ve always had a thing for wanting to feel protected and I think punishment (and also just being limited/restricted via rules) reads as a protective thing for me. Like if X is a bad/dangerous thing then not letting me do X feels super protective and loving. 

But yeah when it comes down to WHY my brain reads those things as love? I dunno. I guess it comes down to your beliefs on nature vs nurture. Most in the community seem to fall on the nature side and say we were just born that way, 100% end of discussion. Personally, that seems kinda simplistic to me. People who take the nurture/environment view can take it in a far too simplistic way in my opinion as well though, like ‘you were parented X way so that’s why’ but of course other people are parented the same way and don’t end up dominant or submissive. My siblings have very different personalities from me, and CD’s are a lot different from him as well although we were parented roughly the same as our siblings so I don’t at all think it’s that black and white. With health conditions, you often hear the “genetics loads the gun environment pulls the trigger” quote repeated. My best guess is psychology/personality/whatever else you consider dominance and submission to be, work the same way. 

To be really honest, I think a lot of us try to figure out why we want this because we are insecure about what we want. Or maybe we are outright ashamed of it. 

I think regardless of whether we are ‘born this way’ or whether it’s entire environment (in early childhood or something) or a combination of both - none of us just wake up one day and decide ‘I think I will associate discipline and love!’ so we don’t really choose it. Yes we could choose to live this or to live vanilla, but we can’t choose whether or not to desire this relationship style. Living a vanilla relationship wouldn’t make me no longer crave discipline as a form of love. 

However even if we DID just wake up and choose to want or need these things, why would that matter? If we know we are feeling loved, and making our partner feel loved, and we aren’t harming anyone…then it would be a 100% valid thing to just choose. 

Their session had been long and intense.  He had pushed her hard that night and her body had reacted to him, responded to him so thoroughly and completely.  By the time they had finished, she was wracked with exhaustion, her body aching in the most beautiful way.  He leaned in to her and whispered into her ear, “My turn to serve you, love.”

He had filled up the tub with water for her.  He scooped her up off the bed in one swift motion and carried her to the bathroom, her arms draped around his neck as he kissed her forehead softly.  “My good girl”, he said softly to her, as she let out a soft sigh.

Entering the bathroom he took her to the tub, gently placing her in, before sliding in behind her, his legs wide around her body.  He gently took a small pitcher and filled it with warm water from the tub faucet and poured it gently over her head, stroking her hair softly.  “Mine”, he said, his voice right in her ear as he took the shampoo, gently massaging her scalp, taking the shampoo and slowly working it into her hair.  He washed her hair lovingly and slowly, taking his time to take care of her.  He took the soap and massaged it into her skin, lathering her body, the water becoming sudsy from the soap mixing into it.

She closed her eyes as his hands gradually made their way all over her, washing her and massaging her.  He talked to her and they made light conversation, nothing too serious as the hour was late and they were both tired.  When he had finished, he helped her out of the tub and dried her off, helping her into her pajamas.  They got into bed, as she moved into her familiar spot, her head gently laying on his chest, their legs slowly intertwining.  He kissed her forehead again as their lips then came together, soft gentle kisses between them.  Their eyes each grew heavy as he held her tightly against him.  “Mine”, he whispered against her ear as they drifted off to sleep.  The last words were hers, as she fell into a deep sleep.  

He pushed me over onto my back and crawled over me with a hand around my neck.

“Who is in control?” he asked.

I laughed. “Mmm…we’ll see?” I tried to lurch forward despite his hand on my neck, and snapped my mouth closed, pretending to try to bite at him. 

“What really gets me going is knowing I’m pleasing you.”

I’ve heard variations of this from a number of Dominants. And it’s a total buzzkill. Look. I get it. Good Dominants are driven to take care of their submissives’ needs. That’s important. And even in the bedroom, I can see how intoxicating it can be to give pleasure. To drive a submissive toward surrender—giving themselves over to pleasure until there’s nothing left but subby goo. That is catnip to Dominants. And yet… If it’s genuinely about pleasing me, then it loses its luster. 

I think it’s because I worry about being with someone who is actually more service top than Dominant. I worry about the partner who would be just fine without D/s but does it purely to fulfill me. Maybe that works for some people. But it’s hard for me to serve if I feel like I’m serving myself. Or rather, serving my partner, who is only doing it to serve me…therefore serving myself. This is why I need my Dominant to be selfish. I need the reassurance of serving in ways that my Dominant wants…and I don’t.

Imagine a Venn diagram with two circles: what I like and what my partner likes. Most relationships live in the overlap, with occasional (perhaps begrudging) ventures into the un-overlaps. This is true even in D/s. Structure and service take on a form that works for both sides of the slash. And this is how it should be. It’s an illusion that Dominants can have anything they want at anytime they want it. That illusion only holds when partners share a fairly strong overlap in what they want and need.

But for me, I need the un-overlaps—not on my side, but on my Dominant’s. I need to do things that bring me no inherent pleasure. I even need to do things I don’t like to do. I need to lick my Dominant’s ass. I need to kiss feet. I need my Dominant to piss on me. It’s not the specific acts that matter, but the fact that I don’t actually want to do them. These things that were once hard limits have become the deepest expressions of my submissive heart. I need to know that my Dominant knows I don’t like these things but requires me to do them anyway. Because it is my place as property to serve however my Dominant chooses.   

The thing about service is that it doesn’t always feel like service when you want to do it. Having orgasms doesn’t feel like service. It is, of course, when I’m instructed to orgasm. But it doesn’t feel palpably different from being a free girl. I don’t want to be a free girl. And every now and then, I need a reminder that I am decidedly not a free girl. I feel most owned when my Dominant takes what they want selfishly without regard for whether I want it.

But before Dominants can be selfish, they must be selfless. They have to take the time to understand what I need and why, then show up consistently to meet those needs. The more a Dominant takes care of me, the more they can take from me. 

I was being sassy when I ignored you, I know this all too well that it was the wrong thing to do when I recognize that your expression has changed from expectant to you’re going to purple my ass if I don’t come to you right now. Every fiber of my being says to dig in and be stubborn, you’ve never broken my stubborn streak and I can tell you’re wondering if you ever will.

“I wasn’t asking,” you tell me.

I slowly walk over to you, eyes lowered and I’m no longer smiling. I deliberately move slower still when I feel the color in my face turn hot. I knew better than to test your patience, but I did it anyway.

“Kneel.”

I kneel quickly and you take my hair gently to bring me down to all fours. You have never yanked my hair with the intention to harm. I’m looking at your shoes as you turn away to walk to the kitchen. I know better than to move because you’re going to make the punishment all the more memorable if I do. I can tell you’re watching, seeing only the shadows of your feet moving from the archway of the kitchen to your locked cabinet behind me. The lock always makes a distinct clacking sound and I cringe at the thought of that thuddy bullhide paddle that bites and stings like bees. I don’t have a clue as to what you might have taken out of there and I’m not going to look up to see either.

“Crawl here.”

You’ve sat in your chair and I make my way toward you. I do so slowly, I have no fear, just anticipation of the sting of what is to come. I’m waiting quietly, so much so that my breath sounds loud in my ears. Not only does it sound loud, my breath is erratic until I feel the warmth of your hands trace up the back of my legs and under my skirt. I gasp, feeling your fingers slide inside with ease to see how wet I am.

“Did you cum today?”

“No Sir.”

“Touch yourself?”

“Only to wash Sir.”

I hear your sigh as I wait for you to finish inspecting. I know each and every one of those too. There’s the frustrated one when your patience is wearing thin and I can see your hands become twitchy to take what is yours. There’s the sigh that that tells me you know I’m trying to be cute and you allow it because I’m not being a brat. The one I love most is the sigh that tells me you’re content and sated when you wrap your arms around me while I sleep. I know so many more, but this one has me guessing somewhat.

I clean your fingers when you present them to me. I clean them off with vigor using my mouth as you show me how glistening they are from being inside me. You’ve tilted my head back with a tug of the hair and wind your fingers in tightly and I sit back on my heels. I remove your shoes unbidden and slowly work your belt loose from the loops. I don’t look at you until you tell me to do so. I rub your feet as you like. The belt, I can see it resting over your left leg in my periphery and then you gently show me how supple it is by resting it on the tip of my nose. It smells of leather and your cologne as I become very still to hold your gaze with my own.

“Can you tell what I might be thinking right now?”

I know I have forgotten your drink that should be resting on the little end table next to your chair. I know what the answer is and slowly feel my bottom lip begin to quiver because I am acutely aware that I have disappointed you.

“I don’t think I heard you.”

I know if I try to open my mouth to speak that I’m just going to cry and that’s never a good thing. No benevolence has ever come from tears and I know I have to own up to it. You’re a big-hearted man, but in this moment, you are Sir and you are displeased with my failure to meet expectations. I was being willful and I am about to feel the tug of your leash so to speak.

“I-“

“You what?”

“With respect Sir-“

“Have you?”

“Sir?”

“Have you respected me today?”

“No Sir.”

I begin to sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, but there’s always that precipice between remaining calm, maybe even stubbornly stoic and then there’s jumping off the cliff, becoming a puddle of hysterical sobbing. That moment came and went the moment that belt rested on the tip of my nose and I had to look into your eyes as you did it. I can still feel the belt resting upon my nose despite the fact you’ve moved it back to your left knee. I’m trying not to move beyond the shudder of sobs. You lean forward, your breath hot on my ear and neck, the scent of your cologne is almost calming. The clean shave from this morning now feels like bristles of soft sandpaper as the goosebumps rise on my flesh.

“Settle baby. Go settle in your corner.”

I begin to crawl toward the corner by the window and your hand brushes the hair away from my face as I do so. I hear you get up from your chair while I am facing the corner with my knees resting on the bench. My eyes are closed and I slowly breathe in and out. My hands are folded together as if I’m praying, but they’re positioned instinctively to allow for you tie them to the closed rings atop the arm rest. I think about the things I know you love about me. I am yours. I am your clever girl. I am your good girl, I am your good girl. I am your cheeky little girl and I find myself distracted again that I have disappointed you. I don’t hear you come back into the room because I’m too busy obsessing over your disappointment.

“Stand up.”

I jump and look up to see you standing over me.

“Yes Sir,” I squeak.

Your hand comes up to my throat to press my head into the corner, your lips are just out of reach of mine and I feel a need rising inside. You know it drives me crazy when I cannot kiss you. I am completely forced against the wall by your body and I don’t flinch.

“What should your punishment be little one?”

I sniffle again and I can tell you’re trying not to smirk,

“Spanking you isn’t a punishment.”

“But you want to.”

“Cheeky little girl.”

Your sigh is not that of frustration, I discern that maybe your needs are very clear to me as I sink down to my knees without asking. My fingers reach for the button and zipper of your pants that are tight from your erection. Your boxers become a tent as I tug your pants down and look up at your eyes watching me. The almost imperceptible nod approves as I stretch to reach with my mouth and tongue. The groan that escapes your throat only encourages me to continue. I need to hear those sounds as I pull you into my mouth and slowly stroke.

“You feel so good baby.”

My hand tightens slightly, feeling the shift in your weight that pushes my head back. I move to position myself onto the little bench and run my mouth up your shaft. My teeth rake over your head slightly and your breath inhale sharply as I pull you into my mouth and suck you down hard into the back of my throat. I feel myself getting light headed after your hands tangle into my hair and pull my face into you. My eyes are watering until you release my head to catch my breath and pull me back down twice as hard. I’m about to tap out on the wall when I feel my face covered with your hot wetness dripping down. My hand instinctively wipes it into my mouth and I begin to lick my fingers.

“Good girl.”

Your disappointment alone was punishment enough as I wait for you to tell me what you want. Your hand is warm under my chin, your smile warmer still as you gesture for me to stand up.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Tie me up and spank me?”

Your eyes narrow,

“I think you’re going to sit down and write lines. I will not sass Sir.”

“Yes Sir.”

You tug me in your chest and I feel your lips lightly kiss the top of my forehead as your hands squeeze my ass.

“And early bed time for the next week, no tv or games on your phone.”

“Yes Sir.”

I see your sweet smile and I know I am forgiven; the leash feels good.

I jump up. As soon as I’m on my feet, I realize CD is looking at the dog. I freeze, embarrassed. 

CD: “I was talking to the dog…”

*we both die laughing*

Me: “I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe that just happened.”

CD: “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. That gave me a half-chub.”

*the dog is still doing what he wants.*

Tossed and bruised and used.

I was sitting in the floor of the shower, covered in Master’s urine, when He reached down and took my my chin in His hand. He had me look up at Him while subspace rolled through me.

He said, “I want you to remember three things. 1. I love you. 2. I’m a sadist. And 3. I’m an asshole,” as He stepped out of the tub and turned the shower on me full blast, with freezing cold water. I screamed from the shock and then looked up at Him and laughed so hard.

I held up three fingers and pointed at Him while He quickly turned the water to warm.