2018 has been a year of great discovery. Early on, I learned the word for what I have felt for a long time: submissive. I unearthed truths about who I am, what I want, and what my soul is made of. And so, on the Eve of 2019, I would like to share some things that meant a lot to me from this year, on this road of growth and discovery of who I am as a submissive.
First, I would like to share a few songs that spoke to me as a submissive, that were constantly playing when I needed a reminder of who I am. The first is a song called “Love Gangster” by the singer Beth Hart. It is a soulful song and the lyrics are mesmerizing. The first verse really emcompasses the song: “I’m looking for a love gangster/ Someone to be my master/ I’m looking for a grave maker/ A lady killer soul shaker”. When I first heard this song, I imagined being in a bar of sorts, where there is a small stage with a small spotlight, standing up there in a deep red satin dress, lips a matching color, and singing sultry into the mic. I am in my own world, unaware of the audience watching on as I lose myself in the words, as I pour my ache into every note. One of the last verses goes like this, and rounds the song out beautifully: “I want him hard as he came/ Wearing a bone for a cane/ Nobody dares to complain/ He owns your soul and your name”. I listen to this song, and I feel the thrall of submission settle deep in my chest, tugging me forward onto my knees.
The second song I would like to share is called “Bloom” by the singer Troye Sivan. This song feels like a beckoning, inviting someone into the depths of your body and your mind. The only verse I will share is the very first one, as it speaks to me the most of them all: “Take a trip into my garden/ I’ve got so much to show ya/ The fountains and the waters/ Are begging just to know ya/ And it’s true, baby/ I’ve been saving this for you, baby”. And it is true to how I feel. My submission is an invitation into the gardens of my mind, body, and soul. It is trusting my Dom to take care of my flowers, and be careful of my thorns. For a Dom to truly accept what I have been saving just for him.
The third song I would like to share is called “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby” by the group Cigarettes After Sex. Their songs are hypnotic to me, and the lyrics of this one embed themselves into my mind and call me home. The opening lines do it for me: “Whispered something in your ear/ It was a perverted thing to say/ But I said it anyway/ Made you smile and look away/ Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby/ As long as you’re with me you’ll be just fine/ Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby/ Nothing’s gonna take you from my side”. These lines fill me with a longing so overwhelming, the first time I heard it, I was certain I would break. To be kept, to be protected and cared for and desired. It was like a dream I never wanted to wake up from, one that shattered my heart.
The fourth, and final, song I would like to share is called “Wolf & I” by a group called Oh Land. When I think of what my Dom would be to me, I think of him as my Protector in many ways. I think of loyalty, in a way that is nearly indescribably. I think of ferocity. These words make me feels as though my Dom would be my Wolf. One verse in the song goes as such: “And you are the wolf/ And I am the moon/ And in the endless sky we are but one/ We are alive/ In my dreams wolf and I”. I am sure you can gather from what you know of me thus far why these words speak to me. I am the moon, and I revolve around my Dom, bringing out the beast in him. He is my Wolf, my protector, my animal, mine. And I would be his, irrevocably.
Now I have a passion for literature, and I personally write poetry. I wrote many pieces through the course of this year trying to express the things I was feeling. I want to share a few of them here.
“I etched your name in my chest, blackened ink wrapping around my ribcage to shield my shattered heart - forged bent and broken, a savage beast, a beguiling forest entrenched in dusk, a reven submerged in bones.”
“There is no greater power that one can possess than to command the passions of another. To sway their desires so that they have nothing but a great and inextinguishable yearning to do as you please - to make your pleasure their purpose; let the body be your conductor, send electricity through every fiber of the world. Build an army of admirers and they will never leave you. It simply burns too foo to let the flame of lust and promise go out.”
“I watched you collapse upon your knees, and your impact spread through all things: a mournful earthquake, aching in all the morning sun, shaking me, steadying me. What kind of promise, what passion we have - as though I’ve falling inside of you.”
“When I finally ventured past myself, I found Death waiting at my door. He whispered to me His secrets, of those He has laid to rest, and those whose rest He has stolen - swept from beneath their crumbling feet, swiped from their spider-webbed fingers - and He cried. He wept for the rest He is never given, the rest that has evaded Him during His entire existence. He ached for the sweet comfort of eternity, and so I held Him. I laid His head to rest upon my lap, and spread my fingers through the dying members in His hair, and whispered to Him of the rest He will no longer seek, for it is found.”
“I think of them often: your graceful hands. They are like soaring wings, always coming apart, sewing themselves back together, as though at any moment you may fall to your knees and begin to pray. Your smooth, sunset hands like that of a raven’s back - foreboding me, fascinating me… asking for my pliant skin, asking for my bared neck to press against you in offering of my life in the shape of a butterfly’s tomb, emerging from the flesh. I think of how you wish to emerge there too, etched into your own weightless flight.”
“It was a day of gentle storms and raging seas - the wind was torn between a whisper and a scream - and as I sat upon the ravaged sand, I knew I was in love. The salt-soaked pages desperately holding on to my heart’s song cry out; what kind of love is this, with words so meticulously encapsulating its purity. My sinewy fingers stretch out across the earth to entrench themselves within your skin, to learn your form in all its senses. The golden specks in your eyes tell of hidden wealth trapped inside your charcoal soul. I beg you - on broken, bruised knees, eyes bleeding out their aching sorrows - to read my truth, to understand my desire, to accept my plea. Do you love me not, do you love me.”
“There is magic in your gaze, and power in your gait. I am stunned to behold your majesty, paralyzed by your mysticism, captivated by your existence. I hear the tinkling of your feet, as you dance away from me, and I am left in awe of your shadow.”
“And this is Her dwelling, the ravaging winds that grace Her skin like a lover’s kiss, washing men ashore so that they may be judged, each tasked to carry the blood red of Her heart. Did they let us break? Only the winds will tell.”
“Songs of Venus slither beneath the skin, embedding their notes into the blood that floods inside your veins. Her hymns carve a home into the temple stone, where all who lover Her may come and lay their heads. Worship Her, give Her your heart to witness. Declare the purpose of your beating heart to love Her.”
“I hold out my hand, calling to you like a ticket to the circus. The colors are always too bright, no matter how hard it is to look away. The air smells off candy apples and funnel cakes, inviting mouths to water and devour. Most of all, I promise of things only ever existing in imaginations, all of which will surprise and bewitch you into thinking the small space, the tent of mystery and mischief, is a place you could call home. So step right up and see the circus. You won’t believe your eyes.”
“And when your fingers pushed their way between my bones, I learned to move in ways only you could dream of. My hair wrapped itself around your fingers, inviting you home. I whisper your prayer like a summoning, a beckoning, a promise of things sinister and exciting and daring. I hope we’ll be daring.”
