A Poem About Submission

There is something about
Being pushed up against a wall, by a strong, forceful hand
The hard cold surface of the cement against my cheekbone.
Breath caught in my throat
Hearing the growling in my ear
And trying to remember my own name

There is something about
Being held by the neck of your throat
Back flat up against the wall
Staring straight into eyes that see through you
Swallowing hard
Waiting for your heart to start beating again

There is something about
Being made to crawl across the floor
at his command, feeling the burn of the carpet punish my knees.
My mind determined to make him proud
Not hesitating, even for a second
Drawing me to Him without a word
Trembling, a whimper caught in my throat

There is something about
Being pulled roughly by my hair
Feeling that hand slink up my neck
Into my tresses, close to the scalp
Grabbing, gripping it, guttural sounds emitting from His lips
The pain not nearly as strong as the urge
The urge to obey and see my every move as part of his orchestra

There is something about
Being bitten
Pain searing through my nipple
Feeling His teeth may just pierce me
Wondering, as I cry out, if He will this time
Wondering, if I will to bleed for my Submission

There is something about
Being bent over the the counter, without warning
Without pretense, without question
My skirt flipped up, cool air hitting my hot skin
My cheeks blushing, with the same color as my ass
As He warms it with the striking of the palm of His hand
The pain searing through my brain and out to every nerve ending
Overwhelmed not by the pain but because someone has finally reached me

There is something about
Being slapped across the face
Not backhanded, but a firm crisp slap to bring about
A change in behavior
A change in attitude
To make that lovely wail come from deep in my chest
I long to make it, as He longs to hear it

There is something about
Those words He uses
Those names He calls me.
His whore, his slut, his play toy
Those phrases meant to elicit a response
And I do respond
And as always, my body betrays me.

There is something about
Being thrown down and taken
Not against my will
For my will is to be there
To please, to submit, to offer, to relinquish
And as I cry out for breath, for more, for Him
I know I am finally free.

There is something about
Kneeling quietly beside Him
My body alive with both pleasure and pain
My mind silent, for once
My head bowed, eyes closed
My lips quivering as His fingers touch me
My submission, unquestioned
My Peace at Hand

How It All Began

As I look back in retrospect, there are most definitely signs that a sexually submissive woman has lived inside of me for a long time. I'm not sure if it was by a perfect storm of events, serendipity or simply a fluke that my exploration into this crazy way of life began, all I know is that it is way too intriguing to stop now.

It was August of 2008 and I had moved to Seattle with my family one year before for my then husband's job. I'm not going to go into what a horrible match he was for me but let's just say I was definitely not happy and in retrospect, I guess I never really had been. We had been married for 12 years and being the persistent and stubborn son of a bitch I am, I always did whatever it took to make it work and keep the peace. This often included completely ignoring any of my own needs so I wouldn't have to deal with his garbage. He was a very domineering man but neither in my mind nor spirit, had I ever completely acquiesced to his control. Looking back, I now know that I probably subconsciously picked him because of this deeply ingrained, although not yet discovered desire to be sexually dominated. I just didn't have the self-awareness that I have now to know that it was actually my sexual needs that required this, not the tiresome, minute details of life.

I have known the man who I have entrusted to dominate and control my sexuality for almost four years now. This man not is the husband of whom I speak. For the purposes of my writing, I will call this man T. The way we met is not what you would call sweet, romantic or the stuff romance novels are made of but the longer I live, the more I realize my life was most likely not meant to be typical or the norm anyway.

The cold, ugly truth is that I met T on Ashley Madison. Yes, I met him on a website that promotes affairs for married people. Would I have been on there if I was happily married or had a partner where I felt free to communicate and explore all my crazy desires with? No, probably not. Was it wrong for me to be there? Yes, it probably was. I'm not here to make excuses or debate the morality of the whole situation but it happened and I have to admit I don't regret it. At times, I feel guilty that I don't regret it, but the truth is that I simply don't. I do however regret the hurt I caused my family and I realize now, I should have just ended the marriage before I explored anything else. The breakup was a long, ugly process but I firmly believe it was for the best. I am happy say that now we have learned to make our limited communication for the most part productive and life is peaceful for now.

As for the story of T and I? Our journey has been a long and arduous one to say the least. I won't go into all the details but I will just say that in nearly four crazy years, our sexual chemistry has never waned. In fact, just the opposite, it has hit heights I never dreamed existed! I will swear on my mother's grave, there has not been even ONE time that I did not achieve an orgasm with this man. Not one! In my past sexual encounters, I was never a very orgasmic, sexual woman, which makes it even all the more amazing.

Besides being incredibly sexually talented, he is also a smart, funny and highly charismatic person whom I have always enjoyed talking to and  spending time with. He instinctively seems to understand my fantasies and always encourages me to embrace them.  He is a natural leader and without fail has been able to turn every last one of them into a reality. Thanks to him, I have become in touch with my sexual side and let me tell you, I had no idea what I had been missing all these years!

For the first time in my life, I do not plot and dream of what the future may bring. I neither know, nor do I care to think about how this story will unfold. Part of my submission is that I have relinquished any control over my sexuality. It is up to him when and if he has his way with me and what that encounter may entail. It is also in his power when and if I may pleasure myself and I must always obtain his permission before hand.

This sexual domination seems to come so easily to him. I never sense hesitation or insecurity in his authority of me, only a calm, commanding presence. It is like he was born to be a dominant and has been doing it for a hundred years. I have a hard time imagining anyone else having the power or expertise to reign in the sexual tornado that is me and for all these reasons, and many more, I have given him the gift of my submission.