When people think of submission in a BDSM dynamic, they often picture ropes, rules, and the charged rituals of the bedroom. But there’s a deeper, quieter current beneath all that…one that flows through the everyday.
Submission, to me, is not rules. It’s about devotion. It’s about choosing to give, again and again…not because I’m told to, but because I want to. There are no chore charts. No demands. My Daddy doesn’t expect me to cook or clean, to care for our home, or to anticipate his needs. He simply meets me with presence, kindness, and strength. And in that, I soften. I offer. I serve…not from obligation, but from joy.
I once lived in a vanilla marriage where these same tasks…dishes, sweeping, folding laundry all felt like burdens, like chains. I had to force myself to stay grounded in my values, to not let resentment consume me. It was exhausting.
But now, everything is different.
Our home is a temple of mutual respect. Our days are a quiet rhythm of shared intention. I find peace in washing the dishes, love in making the bed, meaning in every small act of care. Submission, for me, lives not in the collar or the scenes (though those have their place), but in how I move through the world with him. How I tend to our life like a garden I cherish. Here’s a poem I wrote about it…
I used to sigh at the weight of the day,
each task a tether, each moment a fight.
My hands moved heavy in dull dismay
chores were shadows that swallowed the light.
In that old life, I had to pretend,
to chant away dread, to call it grace.
Even peace felt hard to defend
in a joyless, echoing space.
But now
now the broom is a gentle spell,
the stove a sun I choose to light.
Our home, this nest where kindness dwells,
makes ordinary things feel right.
I get to stir, to fold, to tend,
not from duty, but desire.
Side by side, we mend and mend,
and build a quiet fire.
No more dragging stone uphill,
no more breath held to survive.
This climb is mine, and soft, and still
and I have never felt more alive.
Let it roll, and let it start,
I meet each task with ease.
Because love has made a sacred art
of sweeping crumbs and planting peace.