Memoir of a Submissive

I believe a famous sculptor once said that the greatest masterpieces were already present in the blocks of marble which he carved; he just had to chip away at them until the beauty emerged…

His shoulders remind me of Atlas, carrying not the world itself, but my world of fears and limits and hesitation.  The muscles, broad and weight-bearing, do not flinch under the pressure of guiding me into ever greater submission. Instead, they are my solid plain, rock-steady and sure.

His arms are my safe haven after chances are taken and boundaries pushed. I retreat to the circle of trust as He pulls me ever closer to letting go of the will i thought was mine.

His hands are the bringers of both perfect pain and sadistic pleasure. A bare-handed slap.  A wielded paddle.  A dripping candle of wax.

His fingers are those of an artist- delicate and decisive all at once. They can pinch a nipple, circle a clit, or trace my cheek where tears of release have fallen.

His body creates mine anew and i become His masterpiece.

Rule Number 4. i worship my Master’s body.

The Commandments say that only their author is worthy of worship. I disagree.

 i should have none other beside You. i should bow down to no one else, make no image to distract my attention from You. Why would i want any? Do i think anything, anyone, could fill my thoughts, my soul, my cunt like You?

If I go up to the Heavens, I will find only leftover carbon dust pretending to be stars. If I seek the depths of the sea, sand will merely flow through my fingers reminding me of how fleeting days can be. Stars, sea, sand are only impostors.

No, my worship will be given only to One.

Rule Number 3:  i worship my Master.

He tends to me, as the artist that He is. Softening the hard edges of my independent soul, rubbing gently to blur the lines between me and Him, letting Him create a new work of His choosing. Seductively swirling purples, whites, blues He works with vision and plans, His steady, stronger, sure hands wield the colors, the hues. He touches me with the same artistic coaxing, bringing me life where there was none. Rendering my deepest name simplistic, until the world is filled with blood-red sun.

Upon the canvas of my skin He proves every evidence of His attention, brushing lips across virgin span, staking His claim and His alone.

 He creates a world of light for my shadows, touching places no one else ever knows.

Rule Number 2:  Above all else my primary focus shall be to please my Master, hoping that He finds me pleasing in all that I do, whether i am in His presence or not. my Master knows of my potential, learning more about me in each day i am with Him. He trusts that i will act in accordance with what He perceives of my potential – He knows what is best for me and how important it is that i set a good example for other females who may be present around me.

There amid the shards of what remained, i found Him.

It seems i had done my best to tear down all that my youthful-self had built, all i had thought would fulfill. With my own hands, i ripped out every solid brick of comfortable, every rock of predictable. i said the words, i took the actions, i made the decisions. And it left me hollow, more alone than the day i realized that everyone had left.  i still breathed, but it was more the rise and fall of fragile parchment skin that i watched from somewhere outside. And yet i could not stop chasing a feeling just out of reach, one that promised a respite from the wandering.

He saw me trying to be what i was not. He knew who i really could be- a treasured, priceless, and desired pearl of great price. His firm hand took hold as He looked deeply into me and He spoke one, precious word: “Mine.”

Rule #1: i will serve, obey and please my Master.