Submission and Me

I don’t know where my desire to submit went. It could be that it just wasn’t meant to be or perhaps I have buried it deep within myself. It is possible that it died with my love and respect for my husband. Nevertheless, I can’t find it, and I don’t want to find it.

I am reluctant to share my view on this because I don’t want you to think I believe submission is wrong or that I don’t appreciate it. I do appreciate it. I appreciate it even more now that I’m Domme. I ache to have a sub squirming before me. I need a sub in my life. Seriously, I am so tired of making my own coffee it’s not even funny. (Okay, maybe it is, just a little.)

I am not trying to talk anyone out of submission.

I do not want to endure anymore, I have endured enough. I deserve to have someone endure for me.

I do.

I deserve that.

My body has been used by men since I was 8 years old, and I am done.


My body is mine.

I want to be more than what my past taught me to be.

I have tried to be enough for people. It has never worked.

It is time for me to be enough for me. Too much or not enough, I am me, take me as I am or the door is over there.

I want to be pampered and treated like delicate treasure. I want to be treated softly, not roughly. I want pleasure, not pain.

Being bound, having a collar around my neck, or being on my knees… well… fuck that.

I want to be in control.

I want to know what it means to be adored, to be special, and to be someone’s everything.

Submission fit me, but Dominance improves me.


A Worry

I worry that I’m a fake. That I’m just trying to convince myself that I am Domme, that I can actually own someone the way I want to own them without letting them down.

If you knew the kind of sub I was, you might understand. Let’s just say it fit me well. Really well.

There is a part of me that believes I can make a damn good Domme — it’s just going to take a lot more effort because I’m not a natural.

I don’t know what else to say…

I just want to get these feelings out in the open where they can’t hold me down anymore.

Growth Hurts – in a bad way with a (hopefully) good outcome

I have been in this self-growth stage for a while now. To be honest, I’m tired of it. I am ready to be the person I want to be. Well, that’s not entirely true, if I was ready, I would be the person I want to be. The problem is, I don’t want to see how I let myself down, how I got myself in this mess, how I had it all wrong.

*sigh* But, I can’t change without looking at those things.

Taking on this new role has done so much for me. I want to talk about it, I have tried to write about it. I felt the best way to explain was to start with who I was before, so I started there. I wrote a whole post, then I listened to what I wrote. I heard it from an outside perspective. I do not like what I read. I do not want to share what I wrote.

I have shared a lot about myself on this blog and my last blog, but this… I reached some kind of limit as to how deep I’m willing to go within my broken parts. It is one thing to reflect on them by myself and a completely other thing to share them on the world wide web.

Maybe it isn’t as bad as I think.

It probably isn’t.

I can’t help but think, “What if I could help someone?”

I don’t know. Maybe one day, but today is not the day.

I can tell you that it will fuel me to be the Domme I want to be and I know I am worth more than what I once believed.

The Ache

It starts out small, just a spec of dust floating inside me, easy enough to ignore. Then it doubles and triples, and, before I know it, it grows into this… thing. It grows until it takes up so much space that I feel like I can’t breathe. It doesn’t want to be there anymore than I want it there, so it claws at me, like it was buried alive inside my chest.

It pulls me into the dark just to shine a light on my broken pieces. It tells me horrible things until I am twisted and drowning. It wants out and it will do and say anything to get what it wants.

You see, it is starving. Unlike living things it won’t die from starvation, it grows. It gets louder. It claws harder. And it won’t stop.

It makes me feel weak and fucked up.

Over 4 years and I still haven’t been able to “just live with it” when it shows up. It hurts just like it did the first time and it will be the same every fucking time. I do, however, have a better understanding of it and it is…familiar.

It is the ache. It is the itch. It is me trying to be me, without a way to be me.

My Opinion About a Few Things

I think it was about a year ago, I read some comments written by a Dominant woman that really upset me. In fact, a lot of what I read on her blog made me mad. (I will not link her blog because I refuse to promote her in any way.) Every so often those comments will pop up out of my memory and I have an urge to introduce her face to my knee. Seeing as how that’s not possible, and I wouldn’t do it even if I had the chance, I will express my feelings here.

It appears that some Dominant women believe that Femdom does not have the same sexual component for women that it does for men.

Tell me what planet these women are on so I can never go there.

I am a woman and Femdom is a sexual thing for me. I dry up like the Sahara without D/s. Femdom makes me feel sexually alive and I really enjoy it in a sexual way.

However, I do believe that Femdom is not sexual for some women.

Next up…

If leadership is a burden, why the hell would you keep doing it? The responsibility of leading is heavy, but a burden? There is a person out there that is willing to follow your rules, to suffer for you, they are there to make your life easier, not to burden you. By calling it a burden, you are saying that person is a burden, that their submission is a burden. If you don’t want to have things your way, be pampered when you want, and be deeply admired and adored, by all means, stop leading. If you like those things, shut up and enjoy it.

Ugh. I want to slap her.

I want to make it clear that a Dominant woman has her rights, she can train her sub in whatever form suits her needs and wants, I will not criticize her way as long as the sub’s needs are met first. I believe the only true “wrong way” is when the sub and the relationship are damaged, and continues to be damaged, as result of of the Dominant’s actions (side note: it is possible for the sub to damage the relationship as well). If everyone in the relationship is healthy and happy, I cannot say they are doing it wrong.

Now that I have said that…

When a submissive uses degrading words to describe themselves, such as a “weak male”…

I am having trouble explaining this one.

If a Dominant doesn’t want their sub saying such things, that is their right. I can understand why they would not want to hear their sub say that, really I do, but I can’t help but wonder if they are missing the power of those degrading words.

A man is brought up to show no weaknesses — be a man, go kill a bear, don’t cry, be strong. When a man humbles himself and says he is weak or pathetic in front of a woman… that takes some major strength.

Just because I like when a man makes himself vulnerable to me in this way, doesn’t make me any less loving or less of a Dominant.

I’m going to stop right there.


I can feel this woman’s bitterness in her words. I have a pretty good idea of why she is bitter –I have experienced some of the same. Perhaps her words upset me so much because I have been a sub and I know what it feels like to have my submission under appreciated and treated like a chore. I also don’t like that she is projecting harmful thoughts out into the world where new Dommes might take on the same sort of belief system. I wish she would be more careful with her wording.

Where I am Headed

I look back at the road I have walked, all the events that led me to this place, one after the other, building me into who I am today. I do, on occasion (ahem), misread things, but this… this I feel with every fiber of my being.

I was waiting.

I didn’t know what I was waiting for, yet I could feel it creeping up on me years before it came. I could look out into the distance and I knew something was out there, a different plan or…something, seeking me, waiting for the right time.

Call me crazy, I don’t care. I know what I felt. I know what I feel.

It wasn’t something, it was someone.

I am not an easy nut to crack. I rarely give someone a chance to see me — really see me. I don’t recommend living life that way, but it is…or was… my way. I’m trying to change.

He swept in before I even knew he was there. Sneaky little thing.

I just kept talking to him through the fear, like silence wasn’t even a choice. Perhaps I had held myself in for too long and he was the one who happened to be there, caring about what I had to say. I don’t know, he probably has secret magical powers or something. Nevertheless, I do know pieces of me kept falling out (and keep falling out) and it didn’t feel wrong, like it normally does. People don’t break through me, not like that. Not ever.

I am hardheaded and broken. I have the potential to shatter at the drop of a dime. It isn’t pretty when I do, and I hurt people in the process (unintentionally). Instead of looking away, like everyone has before him, he has stayed with me, looking right into my soul — I can’t hide it from him even when I want to. Not only does he stay, but he helps me see ways I can better my life and pushes me towards them. He keeps trying even when I am reluctant. No one has ever done that for me. I honestly don’t know why he does.

This is a service that binds me to him as tightly I want him bound to me.

He saw me first, but I see him, as well. I see the little boy and the man. I see who he could be with me and what we could be together. I want that so fucking bad it hurts.

I clearly see the pieces that led me to this crossroad, too many pieces to be a coincidence. I feel an energy bouncing around inside me and it just feels like… this boy is who I was waiting for.