Essay: Some thoughts on submission

NOTE: I have very complex feelings about this blog post, which was written back in 2020. I may end up unpublishing it, as feel very differently now and this is a reminder of an emotionally difficult time and some problematic people.

For years I only ever understood the pain, the impact; both giving and receiving. I knew all too well how the physical sensations worked, but not the more emotional ones. Basically, I understood SM but not D/s. My metamour tried to explain it to me once, and that's when I first realised that I was absolutely not submissive. I perfectly understood what she was saying, I just didn't feel it myself. I don't know if it needed the right time in my life or the right person, but this year I properly felt it for the first time.

We'd known each other on social media for a couple of years, but B and I only started chatting properly in December last year. It was all so very innocent at first, with lots of small talk and getting-to-know-you stuff, before moving on to deep chats about all sorts of subjects. While discussing creative writing one day in January, I somehow felt the time was right to drop in that I'd been writing erotica, to see how he'd react. It wasn't long before our conversations took an extremely filthy turn.

I've had sex from a distance before, back when I dated a woman who was living hundreds of miles away from me, but had never done it purely via text before. B and I would chat via WhatsApp about what we wanted to do when we met in person, and it would often descend into extremely hot sexual fantasies where we'd exchange nudes and voice notes. I'd sometimes record short videos of me masturbating, or of my face as I came to the words and images he'd sent me. It was wonderfully erotic and, rather strangely, considering we had never touched, some of the best sex I've ever had.

I don't remember how the D/s started, but after I told B about some of my sexual exploits and adventures in kink, it quickly became clear that this was very much his thing. He'd only indulged in a bit of spanking and fisting but wanted to explore more, and clearly had a very strong desire to dominate. When he told me he wanted to break me, have me covered in tears, spit, cum and bruises, I was far more turned on than I ever thought I would be by that idea. I completely trusted him to push me to the edges of what I thought I was capable of, probably because I knew he was an extremely kind man and I would be safe with him.

We discussed what I would call him (Sir) and what he would call me (his slut), how he would hurt me and what my reward would be if I took everything without complaint. Our co-created fantasies became ever more elaborate and we enjoyed taking things further than we might dare to do in real life, imagining long complex dungeon scenes and him filming me taking a heavy beating and/or ass fucking so he could watch them back whenever he wanted. So he could have a record of how good his slut was.

All of this excited me more than I can possibly express in words right now and I was convinced that this would be an ongoing thing. The close bond that I'd formed with him through my submission had me wanting to please him in every possible way, so I became frustrated when he stopped talking to me. He had explained, back when we started chatting, that his mental and physical health was poor and so I knew that doing all we'd discussed was extremely unlikely to happen in person, but I was so sure that it would continue in this format. How could it not when we had formed this astonishing connection?

Sadly, those intense feelings turned out to be nowhere near as mutual as I'd hoped. When I told him how much the D/s meant to me, B didn't seem to fully understand, and the silences in between our conversations grew longer. Eventually I realised that, this time, the silence meant it was over. Months later, I'm still hurt by how things ended, especially that the D/s clearly didn't mean as much to him as it did to me, but I'm grateful that I experienced it and that I learnt so much about myself from it. I experienced a connection that I never thought I would; a connection which goes beyond the physical sensations.

Recently my lover* sent me a photo which made me feel that way again. A photo that took my breath away and made me want to fall on my knees at his feet and beg him to use me. It was a response to a discussion about seemingly ordinary photographs of clothing that could seem incredibly filthy to those who are inclined towards the kinkier things in life. I'm not sure he intended it to be quite as powerful as it was. He was fully clothed and the image showed what would be my point of view if I was kneeling before him, waiting for him to choke me with those gloved hands and unbuckle that leather belt to beat me and then fuck me.

I often wonder why it took all these years for me to begin to understand submission. Was it just that I hadn't met anyone who I felt comfortable submitting to? Did I have to become completely secure in myself before I could be comfortable giving up control to someone else? I'm lucky to have always been in control of the sex that I've had, so perhaps I now desire submission (only to someone who is worthy of that gift) purely because this is the one thing that I have not yet tried. It's a fuck where I don't already know the outcome.

*I wonder if I should call him that when the pandemic means we've never even touched. However, our friendship has such a strong element of casual yet intense desire that it seems like the ideal descriptor.