I identified as submissive for three years – pretty much as soon as I started having regular sex. I read books where the main characters were subby and fantasised endlessly about being owned by a ‘Sir’. I’m an anxiety prone individual and I guess I thought having someone to guide me, look after me and give me the pain that’s always helped clear my head, would fix me.
In reality, my anxiety gets worse when somebody orders me around. I already have no control of my life, and that’s something I become acutely aware of because my anxiety tells me it. Every. Single. Day. I’m also anti-authoritarian to the core. Every fibre of my being wants to push back when I am told what to do, or who to be, or (god forbid) what to wear. I struggled at school because certain hard-line teachers forced my innate nature to rebel against them. I struggle at work because people think job titles give them real power over other human beings. I believe that as humans we should always be equals and being treated as anything less enrages me to the point of angry tears and balled fists.
When I first started sleeping with Sam I was sure he was kinky, as much so if not more than I was, but it was a while before I knew he was submissive. When I did find out I was disappointed. How could we explore our power-play kinks if both of us were submissive? Sure we could find another Domme (something we have both fantasised about) but that dynamic wouldn’t work for us a monogamous couple.
So instead we would take it in turns to tie each other to the bed, tease and deliver spankings. Whilst it was no doubt pleasurable and fun to explore new things with one and other, it soon became apparent that we were both just ‘going through the motions’ without any real conviction. For some people a little play around with power exchange in the bedroom is all they need or want, for others (like us) a wider and more prominent exchange is needed in order to fulfill our kinks.
I decided that we should at least give power exchange a proper go, with me as the Dominant since being submissive seemed like more of an integral part of Sam’s sexuality than it ever had been for me. I saw submission as a simple kink of mine – a sexual practice outside the norms of vanilla that I was interested in and turned on by. I no more ‘needed’ it than I need two hundred cats. For Sam it was that and so much more, he fetishized so many aspects of the ‘traditional Domme’, leather and latex, cat suits and whips. When it came to sexual activities, he desired to serve more than anything else in the world.
So my journey into Dom-hood began. I spent hours trawling through fetlife forums, looking for the perfect way to be a Dominant. I pondered over honorifics, Maa’m, Mistress, Goddess but none of them fit, I was waiting for that one world that would actualize and solidify my domly nature but I never found it. I still haven’t.
I struggled with the idea of being Dominant, its just not who I am (or have ever been) in real life, I take a back seat, always. A watcher, a listener, never at the forefront, never making decisions or giving instructions. I’m also small, diminutive, and weak, to me these things were the opposite of what I should have been, a strong, confident domineering woman. Determined though, I soldiered on.
He told me his fantasies and I bought whips and paddles for me to weild, gags and chastity devices for him to wear. I’d tie him up and penetrate him with a plethora of different toys, I spanked him when he didn’t do as he was told, and spanked him when he did. I wore latex, even though the smell made me gag and barked sexual orders at him, even though it made me cringe. Before long I was done with it, sick of having to get a million sets of rope and cuffs from the draw, sick of trying to be the ‘perfect Domme’.
The part of this that felt wrong to me was that this kink was all his and all for him. Whilst it’s true that I love him with every fibre of my being and would do almost anything to make him happy, I could not be a Dominant for him. I was carrying out his orders however subtly and he was moulding me into a play-doh Domme – it was unnatural and unsatisfying for us both. He wanted to serve me, wanted so badly to be nothing more than my personal fuck-toy but in reality I was the one serving him, playing out the role he had envisioned. Nothing about it felt easy or honest, it felt like one big lie.
For a while I rebelled against the realisation that this was all about him. I imposed strict rules and stricter punishments. I listed off the things he should be doing for me one after the other like a pouty pop star demanding her ‘rider’. I even tried to make him do my household chores, wanting him to prove his ‘submission’.
That was a disaster too, and made us both miserable. Eventually we had a talk, a huge, awake-until-3AM-in-tears-talk. He was worried because the sex had all but disappeared in our lives and was distraught that I was reacting to his touch in ways that made him feel like I was disgusted by him. I on the other hand felt exhausted because it seemed like I didn’t have it in me to satisfy him. It was clear we were both hurting, and that we needed to fix it.
Far from letting that be the end of our Power Exchange journey, I made one last determined play. “I need this on my terms.” I said, “If you really want me to be your Dominant I have to do things my own way”. I banished all the rules I had imposed, and got rid of the punishment system I’d copied from another Dom. I told him that I knew he always did what he could for me and making things he already did willingly a ‘rule’ was stupid of me.
We slipped into a dynamic that was natural to us both, he looked after me like a hand maiden looks after a princess, equal parts responsibility to serve, love, adoration and willingness to make me happy. There were no need for punishments when I knew without any doubt that when he behaved badly, or did things wrong it caused him his own sense of sadness and failure.
He lends himself to me naturally now, fetching me breakfast in bed, massaging me through my favourite films, even washing and brushing my hair on occasion. It’s these subtle acts of submission, without neediness or overtly sexual overtones that make me feel happy inside. They light a fire that burns in a slow a delicious way. Today he makes sure I have a glass of water before bed, tomorrow I’ll chain him to that bed and kiss every part of his body till he aches with frustration.
I love to feel him trembling beneath my touch, knowing its equal parts fear, anticipation and desire that’s causing his body to respond this way. There’s nothing more gratifying for me than the whimpers that slip from between his lips, like the desperate whines of a dog who’s waiting for you to throw the ball.
I like to grab him by the hair and pull his head to the side so I can whisper in his ear that he’ll always be my filthy little slut. It’s great because I never would have partaken in sex talk without cringing before being Dominant, I’ve become more confident, I feel strong… bad-ass even. When he worships me on his knees, begging to suck my toes or lick my cunt, I feel worthy of that worship. Worthy of every honorific title, Goddess, Queen, you name it, I am it, and so much more!
Our sex life is more fruitful now than it ever has been. It’s got a depth to it I’ve never experienced before and I not only love, but get madly aroused by Dominating him. We’ve taken the time and given our selves the chance to develop our D/s personas in a natural way. Ignoring the stereotypes and only partaking in kinks that are relevant to us both.
Now, when I need pain and feel like getting a spanking of my own, I don’t worry about damaging the power dynamic. It’s concrete because we have found a niche for ourselves that makes us content beyond words. He has his orders to play rough with me and although hurting me is quite alien to him he understands that it’s something I need as a sexual being. It’s fulfilling for us both because by wielding that crop he is serving my needs*.
Recently we were curled up in bed, mumbling in our sleepiness about our journey through the D/s dynamic. He spoke about his favourite moments, the ones that shaped our sex lives and the ones that replay deliciously in his head. And we found that we shared one in particular;
One night we were out at a family event, we had made our way outside into the dark with a few friends, smoking cigarettes, sipping the last of our drinks and chatting animatedly about things we wouldn’t remember in the morning. I was wearing a pair of chunky heeled black boots, my favourites, and the laces on one foot were undone. With a drink in my hand I motioned for Sam and asked him to tie my laces for me. I did so as innocently as possible and our friends carried on with their talk whilst he knelt down in front of me and wordlessly tied my shoes. It was thrilling to know what being on his knees in front of me was doing to him, knowing instinctively how subby he would feel in this moment. The desire to grab him by the hair and shove his face into my crotch was almost too much to bear. And I knew that this unspoken power dynamic, played out in front of our unknowing friends would be something we would fuck fruitfully over later, and for many years to come.
We have finally found a way to incorporate kink within our lives and its effortless. We’re both happier than ever and content in ways we didn’t even know we could be. He truly feels like he belongs to me* and I truly feel like he is submitting, wholeheartedly and with ease. It feels natural and weirdly freeing, for us to both exist like this, the power dynamic skewed in my favour for our pleasure.
*Fun fact, this is often referred to in BDSM as ‘service topping’.
*Before anyone flips their collective shit, I do not own any human being or presume to actually do so. He finds sexual gratification in feeling like he belongs to me and thats why we work that terminology into our relationship.