To be honest, I probably should have realized I was a submissive WAY before I did. If I think back over my life, I think I can pinpoint the moment power exchange became my kink.
I was 5, maybe. My family had just moved into our first house, and the next door neighbors had a little girl about my age. My father encouraged me to go over and introduce myself. They were watching Robin Hood: Men in Tights. It was the very end, where Maid Marion is on the bed wearing the chastity belt. Upon watching the film as an adult, I realized it was a chastity belt. But back then, I thought she was chained to the bed by her waist. And I knew that was sexy. I didn’t know what “sexy” was, or why the idea of being chained to a bed was so interesting. But I knew that she was extremely attractive, and Robin Hood wanted her.
I toyed with damsel-in-distress scenarios as I got older. When I discovered orgasms (also at a very young age), I always pictured myself being overcome by a strong, demanding man. And I’d win him over with my beauty and complete willingness to do whatever he told me. And we’d fall in love and live happily ever after.
Naturally, this posed a huge problem in adolescence. I didn’t realize what was going on, or why I was attracted to the boys to whom I found myself attracted. Now I can see them for what they were. And they fit nicely into a paradigm: insecure, angry, violent boys who wanted to demean me. Embarrass me. Hurt me. The unidentified submissive in me was craving dominance. The teenaged girl in me wanted acceptance. And sex. I only slept with one of them, but he was physically abusive. Cruel. He made me feel awful all the time, and he would occasionally try to break my wrist. He raped me a couple times as well. I got to the point where I WAS the damsel in distress. I would give him sex to keep myself safe. The one I didn’t sleep with was constantly contacting me purely to make me feel like I was a terrible person. And I believed him.
Shortly after escaping the physically abusive relationship for the very last time, I met Master. Back then he was just my boyfriend, but he immediately saw all the damage they had done to me. The scars that would never completely go away. For one, I covered my mouth every time I chewed my food. Master asked me why, and I told him that emotionally-abusive ex had told me it was disgusting to watch me eat. The most disgusting he had ever seen, and it sickened him to have meals with me. We had just scratched the surface.
Master was NOT like the other boys. He was kind, patient, thoughtful. He was sweet and affectionate without having a hidden agenda. He built me up instead of tearing me down. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. And of course, I did everything I could to fuck it up. But he stayed with me.
Part of my soul was missing, though. I still craved dominance. I thought it was an addiction to drama, a by-product of my trauma. I knew what a healthy relationship looked like now. I tried to shove my attraction to violence down and hoped it would go away. My sex life was coming to a screeching halt. I didn’t know what was wrong.
YEARS later, I decided to watch Fifty Shades of Gray (for free OnDemand. I knew that it wasn’t a portrayal of ACTUAL BDSM because some women I knew through my baby forum had denounced it as abuse. Plus, what good could come of Twilight fan fiction?) Anyway, I was so hot and bothered that it disturbed me. I went right back into that headspace that this was remaining scars, it was just because I was traumatized in my past relationships. But I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. I began to research.
I found novels that were praised for being true to the lifestyle. I read all about the dynamic. I read studies that said people with this kink show no significant percentage of having been abused or traumatized in any way in comparison to the general (unkinky) population. My paradigm shifted. There wasn’t something wrong with me, except the fact that I hadn’t seen the truth in time to save me from some bad relationships. No, it was perfectly normal, even ACCEPTABLE, to be kinky.
I sat Master down with a glass of wine and told him everything I had discovered. He was hesitant to try this out with me. His own moral compass said it was wrong. It was cruel, disrespectful, antifeminist. He didn’t want to hurt me. I explained to him that the reason I believe I find it so attractive is because of aftercare. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me it was alright, to take care of me while I was feeling vulnerable and sensitive. But I needed something intense beforehand in order for it to mean the same. He agreed to try it out with me.
We started slow. Hands tied behind my back with his tie. A blindfold. Spanking. I was completely blown away. So was he. Everything fell into place and suddenly the world made sense. It completely validated everything I had ever felt and removed every single doubt I had about myself. Master found that he enjoyed it, too. Quite a bit. He was enthusiastic about exploring and learning. He wanted to do more. Then I found out I was pregnant. And just like that, my sex life came to a screeching halt again. Terrified of hurting the baby, we either had to go back to vanilla sex or just stop having sex altogether. We kind of split the difference and had very rare, very vanilla sex. I have always hated pregnant sex anyway.
A couple weeks after our son was born, Master and I were back in the bedroom. I couldn’t have vaginal intercourse yet, and Master had recently been snipped. But he had me on my knees before him. At this time, I’d had 9 months of sitting and reading, researching, daydreaming. He’d had the same. We were so ready. And when we picked up where we left off, it was miraculous.
I no longer doubt myself. But I do find that I need to talk to someone. I don’t have any submissive friends, or anyone who would get it. Master and I agreed that writing my thoughts out would help give me the outlet I crave.
So there is my story and my mission statement. I do hope you will follow me.