As I stand with my hands, right over left, dangling above my head, gripped at the wrist by the binds I so hate to love, I feel vulnerable and insecure. Brazenly naked, legs spread by the bar, head tipped back again the door behind me, my chin defiantly thrust forward, eyes blindfolded – I take a deep breath and let Sub in.
For all my fears of how I imagine I look, I know that right now, all he sees, is perfection. In all my delicate innocence and naivety for what is to come, I stand before him as the most powerful woman he has ever seen. I feel sub take hold and push my shoulders back a little more proudly. I feel myself metaphorically rearing up in anticipation whilst the simultaneous desire to kneel at his feet takes me back down a beat – I take a moment to consider who I am, where I am and with whom I am in the presence of.
My mind is now following to where my body has already carried it. Taking the time to feel myself dropping into the headspace of submissive is something which rarely happens without my noticing. He can instruct me to get into position or complete a task for him, but it is usually not until I am within the space of completing said instruction that I feel that wonderful sensation settling.
It is what leads me to put myself in his power over and over again… without question.
The chance to feel this sensual vulnerability, this release of the mind and body to the one person I trust more than life itself, this sense of moving away from the Self whilst simultaneously feeling as though I have never been more attuned to My needs and desires. Submissive tendencies appear in all forms, each as unique as the lucky soul who discovers them. Mine are a tumbling, swirling uninhibited, unconstrained mass of contentment.
As I stand there with time stretching out blissfully before me – silent, still – my skin burns to be touched, whilst also fearing what sensations it shall be subjected to and blessed with tonight. Submissiveness for me is a state of perfect contradiction. The controlled and organised state with which I live my life contrasting with the running wild, free fall with which I exist as sub. The pain which generates both fear and desire, pleasure and pain.
The stripping away of clothing and choice which gives rise to the most powerful vulnerability which I cannot get enough of.
The biggest contradiction of course being that despite the shackles and the gags, the binding and the pain – when done within the correct boundaries, the submissive holds all the power. Why would anyone not just want to be in pain, but actually yearn for it, desire, need it…especially when they can specifically choose not to partake in it. For whatever reason, the submissive holds the cards not just to their own desires, but their Dominant’s also. It is hard to find another person in this world who ticks the boxes for us at the best of times, but add into that the Dominant’s need to control, possess, inflict pain upon, love, adore, teach and protect and you are looking at an increasingly small pool of fish. This coming together of two people who accept what the other needs and wants and is willing to give it wholeheartedly is a blessing. And sometimes, when the pain is so intense it burns and the tears flow down your cheeks and you’re praying it will end soon, it is a curse.
But as I stand there bare, open, ready to be completely possessed and silently begging for my release to start, I can sense in him, his breath warming my face as his lips move ever closer, the power which my submissive state affords him.
The pleasure and release he gets from my body being bound for him.
Blindfolded…lust zig-zags its way from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, creating havoc half way between the two as he leans in and whispers:
“Are you ready Little one?”
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