Memoir of a Submissive

A hunger burns deep within me- a hunger to serve, to give pleasure, to lose myself  - and it is rarely sated by anything. Anything beside His cock.

I kneel in worship before Him, knees spread, hands firmly gripped behind my back. Tonight there is no need for rope to keep my hands back. I will keep them in their place, for nothing will distract me from my delicious task.

He looms above me, hand holding my hair with a ferocity that brings joy, pain, and pleasure saltwater to my eyes. He directs me to take Him into my mouth. i will not be allowed to stop until He commands, and that is everything.

My mouth, warm and wet, takes in every luscious inch of Him, until He bumps the back of my throat. i rise up on my knees to get a more fortuitous angle, all while still clasping my hands in deference. i hum my joy, as i feel Him continue to harden within my confines.

Tongue swirling and lips gently sucking, intensity builds as my efforts are rewarded with a growling, “Good girl.”

My upper body moves in a primal, ecstatic dance, wantoness my only descriptor. Transported, my eyes closed in dedication and concentration, my mouth traces a familiar path from shaft to head, not one bit neglected.

Again and again, i take Him in.

(To be continued with tomorrow’s rule) ( I know.) (Tease)

Rule 25: When the cock of my Master is put into my cunt and i am directed to suck it - i will do so vigorously as long as i am required to do so. my hands shall be placed on the tops of my thighs, behind my neck or held at the base of my back so that during the sucking i can use my whole body to display my hunger to my Master.

We believe words are powerful- they can soothe, destroy, inflame. They are the tools we use more than any other to connect or to shame, and our earliest reactions to forbidden words will often stay with us the longest…

Good girls don’t use words like cunt or pussy. Those words are dirty, filthy even. Find a sweeter euphemism, one more acceptable to friends, or mother, or lover. Ones that makes you more Madonna than Whore, ones that make you more convetional.

Somehow, fitting in became vastly overrated.

Oh, society wanted to use the words to put me in my place, making cunt interchangeable with the most awful of bitches, something that all men fear and women hate. Pussy was something that even the Leader of the Free world said was to be grabbed and used, because I surely have no say in what happens next.

Master changed all. He has given me back the words that the crude, demeaning, and sometimes well-intentioned world pulled from my grasp.

Yes, cunt and pussy are mere words no more. They are power, they are peace, they are His.

Rule 23:  my mouth shall only be referred to as a cunt for it will often be used as if it were a pussy.

Rule 24:  my sex shall only be referred to as a pussy.

My body. My choice. The words rang throughout my generation. They were my first nourishment from a Brave New World, words etched into my concept of woman. Each part of this body called mine, lovingly created by Mother, Father God, knit together in the secret place of my mother’s womb.

My hands, fingers long and elegant, have tended the elderly parent, soothing the fear of what was ahead. They have held the tender, tiny toddler close from harm. They have stroked lovers to pleasure and beyond.

My breasts, full and heavy, have brought succor to infants, and thrills to the tentative, groping hands of a backseat partner- nipples, rosy and sensitive, suckled by those seeking home and peace from hunger.

My sex, hidden from the view of a world that said I should be afraid of its power, is at the core of all that I have called my own. Labia, a velvet set of lips, slick with need, both his and mine combined, provide a glistening entry.

But now it all is His, no longer mine to do with as I see fit. Tending to the most secret of gardens, He finds new ways to stake His claim on me.

My Body, my choice to give, His to design as He decides.

Rule 22: When i am ready – i shall wear His rings to signify my submission to Him – one pierced through each nipple of my breasts and one through each labia of my pussy.

**While this is not part of our current D/s relationship, I certainly respect those who have chosen this or not based on their own particular dynamic. My writing of this piece is merely an interpretation of the rule and not an endorsement or shaming of this practice. **

i have been shackled to much in this life. A career, a home, a family of origin, a church, a circle of social contacts- all “necessary” parts of any person’s journey, but a slave’s existence nonetheless. The iron bonds of approval seeking wore raw the tender skin of my wrists and ankles. The chains grew heavier and more onerous as the years passed by until i was utterly weary from the sheer effort required to take just one more step.

i sought relief by distractions, lesser gods bidding for the lot of me on the slave block of any particular day. “Here she is, folks! Anyone’s for the taking! Oh, she lacks esteem, but you can bend that to your choosing! Anything goes!”

And so i drifted as well as one can with the ever-increasing weight of ties that bound me to the highest bidder, but nothing and no one could remove them.

Until He pushed His way through the insatiable mob.

Little one, you are mine now. I shall bind you to Me with chains of submission, pleasure, and surprising new ways to hold you still and safe. You will no longer be burdened, but you will certainly not be free to roam, for that is its own prison.

Instead, I will keep you secured to the post of My will, where you were always meant to be.

Rule 21:  i shall wear the chains my Master gives me as a symbol of my position in life – that of bondage to Him. i shall wear them, as required, around my neck, my wrists, my ankles or around my waist.

Cold metal in the palm of my hand, link upon link joining together to form a circle of what appears to others as a unique, lovely, silver necklace. A single ring at the center tells so much more.

The ring rests just below my throat, as it should. Quite sensitive, this spot reminds me of my vulnerability. Throttled in anger, and i am in mortal danger. Firmly caressed by the knowing hand of my Dominant, and i am Home.

The ring is, of course, a circle, never finishing its flow. Quite smooth, it reminds me of the eternal nature of our exchange. i give, He takes, i submit, He leads, and onward toward all pleasures we journey, only to find ourselves back at the start of Us.

The ring can be empty, but it can also be the tethering spot for the most adorable of leashes, or the most commanding of chains. Quite willing, it reminds me that i am forever to be led, never straying far from my Master.

Rule 20:  i shall wear the collar my Master gives me with pride for it signifies His ownership of me and my devotion to Him.

Yes or no? This or that? Here or there?

The choices always present themselves, and the path i choose can change everything. Forever.

There was a time, a whirling, dust- storm- of- need-time, that my decisions led me to a land far, far from Home. A traveler of reckless abandon, seeking but never finding, consuming but never filled, aroused but never satisfied, i wandered farther and farther from my North Star.

The ebony night enveloped me, promising an escape from every fetter i believed bound me. Instead,i clattered about like Marley’s ghost, with chains that only became heavier the longer i tread a path of ME.

In one shattering morning and evening, and another and another after that,  He found me and called me to His heart. i was to be His, and no longer my own. i was given a highway of freedom to dance upon; i only needed to remember to whom I belonged.

 And that changed everything.

Forever.

19. When i am not in the presence of my Master and i have choices to make – i will perform them to the best of my abilities and within the boundaries and guidance He has allowed me.

In a dry and barren land, Satan proffered three temptations to The Son of Man. He still offers those enticements of passion, power, and protection to this daughter, but each boil down to one, essential question: my way or my Master’s…

And my Master’s words reach me amid the screams of self-sufficiency.

I know you’re starved. You have been apart, alone from any who could be your comfort in the blackest of midnights. You have been dry and sun-scorched, longing for a single droplet of succor. I feel every desire swirling within you- the need to be passionately understood and wanted. You believe you will surely die if you do not eat from the fruit I promise.

Will you admit this emptiness? Or are you sickened when your need chips away at the immense throne of self-sufficiency you’ve constructed? Will you ever confess that perhaps you, alone, are not enough? Or does marble-cold fear keep you in this desert?

I can offer life that is beyond what others call “good.” I can give you everything that your body cries out for when no one is left to listen. Will you accept my offer of something beyond fantasy? Where being ravished is only the start? When every wave of pleasure only promises to submit to future desires? Can you imagine a life where each day closes with release- from all this responsibility, this burden, from yourself? In losing yourself in another, your soul might just tumble over into something akin to ecstasy.

All of it- a touch, a knowing, an all-consuming fire is within your grasp. Or just out of reach. That’s the world you’ve created here- isn’t it? Reward, redemption are always so far away. I can give you a completely tangible, ever-present Now.

The choice, as it has been from the dawn of time, is mine. There really is only one.

Rule  18: All my choices shall be based upon whether or not they will please my Master.

We took off in the early evening and would fly most of the night, clothed in darkness across the vast sea. The usual pre-sleep events had taken place- cocktails, dinner, dessert, one last night cap- and the lights in the cabin were dimmed in hopes that rest would soon follow.

We were the only passengers in the row; our destination wasn’t exactly the vacation capital of the world, hence the blessing of space. He spread one small blanket and then, another around and across us, covering me, especially. He encouraged me to lie back in His protective embrace and i did, willing myself to sleep so that i had some hope of fending off the jet-lag that would surely be my touching down reward.

As i sank slowly into a 39,000-foot sleep, i felt a somewhat familiar sensation that my brain could not reconcile with my surroundings. It was a rapid, insistent vibration right against my clit. My eyes flew open as i turned my head just enough to look up at my Master; His arms held me fast allowing for not much more than the slightest shift as my gaze pleaded with him for explanation.

His smirk was all i was granted.

Something wrong, Babygirl?

Not exactly, was my whispered response, except we might be causing some sort of international incident if we’re caught.

Then we better not get caught. Do I need to gag you? That may just cause a ruckus. Can you promise to be quiet and please me by submitting to My will for you at this moment?

And my only answer was a breathless, yes.

17. i am always in submission to my Master whether He is present or not, ready to please Him at anytime, in any place, under any circumstances, regardless of who may be present. For the opportunity to submit and to please is by far more important and satisfying than any other pursuit. i trust my Master will keep me safe, protecting His reputation and mine in the presence of others.

The July sun was just setting at about 8pm, giving us plenty of dimming light to play our childhood game on the block of my youth.

There was a “Mother” ahead of us all, as we lined up, ready to make our requests.

 It gave me a little thrill each time it was my turn to ask, “Mother, may i?”. Whether it was one giant step or four tiny ones, i knew i could only move when permission was granted.

Old habits die hard.

Sir, please?

Yes?

Sir, please may I cum?

Not yet, Babygirl.

Rule 16:  i have no will of my own other than that which falls within the context of the rules i have selected and of that which is needed to pursue the ambitions i am allowed to seek out as according to the permissions i have received from my Master. i will report to Him my progress in such matters to receive His favor or His guidance in making whatever steps may be required to move ahead so that i am successful.

No one likes a naughty girl, or so some say.

You’re too forward, too friendly, too, too much of whatever it is you are and have always been. And so you come to despise parts of you and push them down. No one will ever be able to handle all of you, all the chipped away and cracked pieces you’ve attempted to fix and reshape into some acceptable semblance of what will be tolerated.

But inwardly, there’s the little girl who just wanted to be wanted, who craved the approval and devotion of men who were weak vessels themselves.

And so you just kept searching when you would hear the unrelenting, fierce siren’s call of someone’s attention. It would find you in a tempest-tossed sea of “enough”- Young enough? Thin enough? Beautiful enough?

You would chase it until, finally, exhausted and at the end of yourself, you turned and saw Him, only Him.

Your Master knew the only means to reach you. It was an auld way, but often those are the best ways. His hands mixed pleasure and delicious pain until you knew, again and again, that His soul approved of you, desired you, wanted you, and yes, loved you. You came to understand that the wandering promised only lies and hollow hearts. You spoke your gratitude for His devoted discipline.

 And finally, gratefully, you were home.

Rule Number 15: i will thank my Master for the discipline and punishments I receive, specifying what i received and expressing the reason as to why i was given them.