I will not be a gift, to be presented wrapped in fine papers, taped and bowed. I am not a thin etched crystal trophy set upon a mantle to be gazed on.
My submission is not a gift to say “ oh I will submit to you I am this most precious gift you will ever receive “ submission is not a gift.
Gifts are of baubles and books. Items to bring smiles when unwrapped, a ceramic. A book of quotes . items searched for and given at any time as you are never far from my thought - those are gifts. Gifts are items of oddity and whimsy and practical engraved knives. It is an ear, a shoulder. It is edged rocks under bare feet.
My submission is not a gift, I am not draped in a giant bow. My submission is not a gift with a receipt to be returned or used as a re-gift at the office white elephant Christmas party.
Submission is no gift nor is Dominance. It is each, it is flesh and bones. The strengths and weaknesses. It is every tear and laughter. It is smiling up to you, and learning to kneel, It is blurting out everything that scares me. It is every hope and dream. It is every adventure together to be had, every thought to share, every strife to tackle and overcome. Every dull moment and every passion. It is the barren times and the times of fruitfulness.
I am not a prize, I am not a princess, I am not wrapped all in ribbons and bows. I am not to be worshiped for being a submissive. The gift is made within the two, not of by one. I am not a gift. The gift is the pair working together, fighting together, one leading and one following, questions, answers, firmness, gentleness, stern and soft. It is the doubts and holding each other up, it the sickness and laughter.
I have a soul. I have a voice, filled with desires. I have a yearning to serve. I have the doubts of failing. I have a fight that burns slow and strong. I will rip open my chest and flames will erupt. I will reduce those to ash of those who breach my walls . I will stand steady and strong.I am foible and I am conviction. I am evil and I am virtuous. But I AM NO GIFT.