A desire for submission

I have no idea how to start this off. I suppose I’ll just write how I feel, what I think and then get it all out of my brain that’s buzzing with thoughts constantly.

Experiencing submission, to ‘come under the authority of someone, or something.’ It could be yourself, someone else, or something. Submitting to its will.

I have an instilled desire to submit, it’s been there for as long as I can remember. Not everyone has that or wants to have that. I think it’s become increasingly rare, to truly want to experience submission. And I think it’s rare because it’s scary. It’s scary to place your well-being into another’s hands. Even if you don’t do a good job at taking care of yourself, it’s easier than potentially experiencing the hurt of another person.

But the desire is still there for me. I’ve never submitted to someone, not truly. My heart longs to feel structure. Not just structure, but structure from someone who knows me inside and out, mind, body, and soul. It’s a lot to ask too. It’s why I haven’t done it, and I won’t do it until I meet a man who wants to commit his life to me, the way I’ll commit my life to his through marriage. That’s a whole other ordeal.

Structure creates peace, and order within chaos. And if anyone is chaotic it’s me. Professionally I’m perfectly put together. I work for a wonderful company, I’m climbing the ladder successfully, I love my job, and I’m good at it. My friends enjoy my company and we laugh, play, and dance together. My dating life is… limited. Between work and being in a rural area, it’s quite difficult to find a beneficial adversary. A man who could stick up to me… especially when I’m used to being the boss all the time.

The idea of coming home, and not having to worry. Just going to our room, and waiting there to relax. I tell people what to do all the time. I want to be with someone who will tell me what to do… I don’t want to be my own boss anymore.

No, this is not me looking for find a dom online, this is simply me putting my thoughts out there, my feelings and emotions, desires.

I desire to have a man. A real man. A man of structure, discipline, integrity, who I can kneel in front of and feel proud to do so. To know I’m kneeling in front of someone worthy of being knelt in front of, he’s capable of providing, patient, tactful and strategic… and has a sense of humor to his intelligence. And simply wait for instruction… I can just turn off the buzzing in my mind, the ‘what needs to be done now?’ The ‘to do’ list.

All I have to do is sit and wait for him. Technically, I’m doing it right now… I’m waiting. I’m waiting for a man who I can submit to, and refuse to settle for anyone else but him. Out of respect for him… out of respect for myself too. I’ll wait.

If that isn’t devotion, I don’t know what is.

I don’t sit and wait around looking at the clock, I bide the time. I work hard, I put effort into me, my career, my personal life, my health, my soul, my friends. I don’t meditate on the idea of submitting to this man, whoever he may be, but I do sometimes catch myself thinking about it. The idea sometimes skips across my mind, making me think of a stranger I’ve never met. A stranger I’ve never talked to. A stranger who may not exist, and that’s okay too.

There is this idea that crosses my mind though, surely this desire wouldn’t be put inside of me in vain. I know I have a fickle human heart, but surely it isn’t too unrealistic to desire submission. Kneeling in front of this mystery of a man, to feel his fingers run through my hair and tell me finally, that I can relax, that I can let go.

And as his arms wrap around me, the knowledge slowly sinking in- this man is here because he desires to be here too. He desires to provide structure for ME too. He enjoys creating structure. He enjoys giving me the list, the rules, no matter how meticulous they are- I enjoy receiving them. There’s an understanding between him and I. His masculine awakens my feminine, and it’s a primal, fun place to be. And can take the form of many dynamic different sculpts.

Whether it’s fighting for dominance, simply so I can lose, and feel true submission as we’re both sweating, using our strength- until I’m pinned down, at a true loss. There’s something peaceful and humbling about that fantasy.

Or it’s willingly following meticulous instructions. Take one step forward… lift your arm… close your eyes. Stick your tongue out. Taste and see that I provide for you. Feel the ghost of my hand on your arm… down your leg… over your chest… breathe in, and out. Slower. Don’t touch yourself, put your hands above your head, and hold on to the bed frame until I tell you that you can let go. Open your eyes. Don’t stop looking at me until I tell you to close your eyes.

Perhaps it’s not sexual at all, but feels that way. Sitting at the dinner table, and being told what to eat. How to eat it.

Small, but yet deeply significant to the aesthetic of submission. These small things that people may laugh at, are the essence of what allows you to have the whips, the chains, the gags…. And in my opinion, those who laugh at the basics, don’t understand the art of slowness. The agonizing gratification of patience.