30 things

Earlier in the week, my Master assigned me a task – to give him 20 sentences, written in the form “I know I am submissive because.” After I finished those, he asked me to come up with 10 more. I complained a little bit about the immensity of the task – it was hard coming up with 30 different ways to describe my submission – but it ended up being a really wonderful thing to do, as it gave me an opportunity to really focus my thoughts on my submission over the course of a few days that were otherwise stressful.

Here then, are 30 of the ways I know I am a submissive.

1. I know I am submissive because being on my knees is intensely comforting and relaxing for me.

2. I know I am submissive because it fills me with joy when you give me a command.

3. I know I am submissive because I would rather not orgasm than have to take control of my own orgasm.

4. I know I am submissive because you are the last thing I think about at night and the first thing I think about in the morning.

5. I know I am submissive because I fantasize about curling up at your feet.

6. I know I am submissive because my cunt gets wet when I get an email or SMS from you, before I’ve even read it.

7. I know I am submissive because it is very painful to me when I disappoint you, and I can’t relax until I have been punished and forgiven.

8. I know I am submissive because you feed me tasty tidbits from your fingers and I feel treasured rather than embarrassed.

9. I know I am submissive because I want do anything and everything you ask of me.

10. I know I am submissive because I keep you in mind in all things, from the clothes that I wear to the way I phrase my responses to your emails.

11. I know I am submissive because I feel incomplete when I am speaking with you in an environment where I can’t address you as Sir.

12. I know I am submissive because my neck feels bare without your collar around it.

13. I know I am submissive because I am happier and more content now than I have ever been.

14. I know I am submissive because I trust you utterly and completely.

15. I know I am submissive because I actually do let go when you tell me to.

16. I know I am submissive because I need you to hurt me, and it makes me feel happy and owned to see your marks on my body.

17. I know I am submissive because the more control I give to you, the less I find I want or need to have any for myself.

18. I know I am submissive because I find in you my center, my reason for being.

19. I know I am submissive because I willingly submit to you, with my body, mind and heart.

20. I know I am submissive because when I go shopping for shoes, the ones I like are the ones I know you would like.

21. I know I am submissive because I’m so in tune with you that we think with the same brain.

22. I know I am submissive because I want to learn everything about you so that I can know how to please you.

23. I know I am submissive because I need your rules to guide me.

24. I know I am submissive because I feel intense shame when I realize I have done something wrong.

25. I know I am submissive because letting you take my breath away doesn’t frighten me (very much).

26. I know I am submissive because I want to be what you need me to be.

27. I know I am submissive because I learn something new about myself and my submission every day from you.

28. I know I am submissive because it makes me feel happy and secure to be surrounded by the clothes that you own.

29. I know I am submissive because you tell me that I am.

30. I know I am submissive because I want to be yours, always and forever.

Email snippet

>> You, Sir, are a very bad influence. Nearly every pair of shoes
>> that caught my eye had a heel far too tall for regular wear.
>> Whatever have you done to me?!

> I’ve turned you into a sub. Haven’t you been paying attention?

Playing vs Being

Earlier today I sent my owner an email requesting a chance to talk about a scheduling quandary I was having. He told me he’d SMS me when he was free and I could call him. When I got the SMS, it said “You may assume the proper phone position and call me.”

A warm flush came over me. I felt so submissive, so owned. And like I was receiving a gift, by being told to assume my phone position (standing up, head down, eyes looking at the ground between my feet, non-phone arm at my side). I smiled with joy at it. As I readied myself to phone him, it struck me how different my reaction is now, to a month ago. Now, I smiled with joy over the chance to demonstrate my submission, where a month ago I would have let out a nervous giggle at how stereotypically D/s this all seemed. “Wow,” I would have thought, “He’s getting good at this Dom thing.”

In either case, I would have complied, but back then, I was playing the part of the submissive. Now I am submissive. The difference is subtle from the outside, but night and day apart inside.

I shared this observation with him, and he’s had the same reaction on his side – things he once thought were “dorky” now are much less so. We are both in the process of becoming.

Fantasy: It’s not about sex, it’s about submission

“Don’t go anywhere,” you tell me, and then the hotel room door closes behind you.

No problem there, I think, looking down at the chains I am wearing. One connecting the cuffs at my ankles, another the cuffs at my wrists. Both of them connected to a longer chain and the collar around my neck. And then there’s the matter of the leash, which is attached to the headboard.

The chains are long enough that I can walk and move, to the limits of the leash, anyway. I can get up on the bed, or stay on the floor. I’ve got a big bottle of water if I get thirsty. And a journal to write in.

I spend the next two hours thinking about you, thinking about my submission to you. As new realizations occur to me, I jot them down in my journal. Mostly I just meditate on and feel my submission as strongly as I can. It’s not hard, with the physical reminder of those chains clinking lightly with my every movement.

When I hear you at the door, I quickly move to the proper position – on my knees, chin down, eyes on the floor. You come to me, lift my chin so I can look at you, then keep lifting so that I am standing in front of you. When you kiss me, I feel as if I might burst, so strong is my love and devotion to you.

You unhook my leash and walk me down to the bathroom (two hours and a big bottle of water, after all), attaching my leash to the curtain rod and leaving me alone to take care of things. Then you lead me back to the room, and allow me to curl up at your feet, my head leaning against your leg. You order room service, feed me bits with your fingers, and let me lick the delicious sauce from a plate on the floor.

Always, my leash is either in your hands or attached to something else. My love and my submission bind me to you spiritually and emotionally, but now I see those bonds as something physical, and they become even deeper and stronger.

Mantra for a stressful day

I am still owned. And my owner still loves me, even when he’s annoyed at me for not following his instructions, and even when he’s busy and I’m not hearing much from him. I love him, and he is my center, my everything. If I just focus on that, everything will be fine.

Control of Orgasms

I expressed to my owner my discomfort about being in control of my own orgasm so much. He agreed that it wasn’t right for me to have that control, and gave me some additions to his earlier rules.

Until you’re told otherwise, when you masturbate for me do so without regard to orgasm. If one hovers nearby, take it. If one doesn’t, that’s okay too. The point of the exercise is to feel the fundamental eroticism of your submission as deeply as possible, not for release.

And don’t use the vibrator anymore. You’re going to have to wean yourself from it sooner or later, and now is a good a time as any. The shoe, the nipple clamps, the floor, the dildo, and the ass plug — those are your sex toys for now.

So far, this has been much better. It helps me focus my masturbation on him, and not on myself, which feels much better. He would like very much for me to someday learn to come on command, and before we can get there, I need to learn to give up control of my orgasms.

Beginnings

Just over 2 months ago I began a new life as an owned and collared submissive. I didn’t really know that’s what I was doing at the time, but now it is clear that this is what I have been searching for, wanting, all of my life. And I was lucky enough to find a dominant who could take me there. I didn’t have to look far – he and I have had a wonderful and fulfilling “regular” (if slightly kinky) relationship for going on five years.

This new turn of events has been an amazing journey for both us. Neither of us has ever been in a D/s relationship before, so we are feeling our way along together. But I love him more now than ever before, a love so deep and so real that I am constantly surprised by it. We are closer than ever before as well, which brings with it its own complications. We are both married, and in open relationships with our spouses, each “primaries” to them and “secondaries” to one another. But we live in different cities and see each other much less often than we’d like (thus the title of this blog). Lately we’ve managed to be together quite a bit, but that can’t last, and we are trying to figure out how to maintain and grow what we have begun amidst the difficulty of distance and distraction.

This blog is one part of that. Right now he has set a number of rules for me that require daily email communication, but we are finding that it’s easy for important things to get lost in the flurry of emails that go back and forth. So this blog is a place where I will record the fantasies that I write for him, the meditations and mantras that help me find the center of my submission, reflections on our time together, and anything else he wants me to post.

Posts before this date are backdated from emails written before I started the blog.

Fantasy: Marked

I am lying face up on the bed, spread eagle, bound at the ankles and wrists. My pussy is bright red from being slapped, and my cunt glistens and drips with my pussy juice. My inner thighs are bright red too, from repeated hits from the riding crop. Across my stomach, thin red stripes from the little red flogger. And on my breasts, deep purple-red bite marks. You are kneeling over me, and fucking my mouth with your cock. I fight my gag reflex and open for you, letting you slide down my throat as best I can. From time to time your cock cuts off my air flow, but I don’t panic. Instead, I embrace the sensation of being so completely in your hands. I use my tongue as best I can to stimulate your cock, and soon I can tell from your groans and thrusts that you are about to come. But you don’t come in my mouth. Instead, you pull out and your come spurts onto my face and chest, marking me as yours as much as the welts and bruises on my body. “Thank you, sir, thank you,” I call out, from the haze brought on by the pain and the sensation of being completely possessed by my owner and master.

Learning

I knelt next to the bed to think about our time together. I tried to think of other hot memories to share with you, as requested, but instead I kept getting stuck on something. Which is that at first, at the club, I was having trouble getting into the proper space. My mind was racing, I was wanting to lead, to take control. I managed to keep my outward presentation mostly in line, but inside I was spinning.

At the time, I wanted to tell you. Well, I wanted to ask you to do a specific thing that I knew would help me to reach that space. But I couldn’t think of a way to ask it appropriately, so I stayed silent and tried to reach it on my own. And once you took me into the back room, I did get there, so it’s not like it was a long-term problem. But I realized last night all the mistakes I had made in the beginning. Certainly I could have asked “Sir, I’m having trouble finding my place, could you please help me?” Instead, in my internal dialog anyway, I was steering – wanting to ask for a specific thing (pain) rather than just opening up my need to you. And then, when I decided to just try to reach it on my own, I was taking control of that process, and as you have pointed out to me before, the contradiction inherent in that means it doesn’t work well.

I am learning. Slowly but surely, I am learning.

After that sudden burst of understanding, I was ready to come for you. I put on the highest heels. I rubbed my clit, then used the vibrator while I rubbed my nipples. I took off a shoe and fucked myself with it while I used the vibrator on my clit and propped my purple dildo against the nightstand so I could take it deep in my mouth. Through it all, my orgasm would ebb and flow, never reaching a peak. I took the shoe out and licked it off, and switched to using the g-spot attachment for my vibrator with my finger on my clit. Which felt good, but didn’t get me any closer to coming. That’s when I realized (again – last night was a night for realizations) what it was that I was doing wrong. I was focused on coming, focused on building the right set of sensation to have an orgasm. But what I needed was to focus on you. My orgasm is not about me or for me, it is about you and for you. I put the purple dildo in my cunt, fucking myself deep and hard, like you fuck me. The vibrator was at my clit, and I thought about you fucking me on the couch. Thought about you shoving that shoe deep, deep into my mouth, so deep that I thought I might gag. Mercilessly, because you needed to do it, needed me to take it. Thought about you taking my breath, because that too is yours. And then my “please, please, please sir” was spilling out of my lips and I came and came and came for you.

Memories of a Visit, Part 2

Sitting on your lap in the club, my bare bruised ass in the air for anyone to see, trying to figure out the right way to ask if you could please, please pin me.

Being tied to a bench when I got home from work. So I could relax. That one gets hotter and hotter for me the more I think about it, because it shows just how thoroughly you know me and understand me.

You commanding me to “Stop talking” when we got back to the room and I was being a drunken chatterbox.

You biting my lips on the airplane, because it was the only thing you could do, and we both needed you to do something.

Feeling how badly you needed to hurt me, and loving that feeling.