Watching A as she deepens and grows as a submissive is filled for me with moments of learning, growth, and wonder. The lampposts along her journey illuminate my own.
Background you need … Well, A and I had a short, loving, kinky, relationship and then I had to end it because I’d messed up. One day maybe I’ll write about it here. We have an intimate, trusting, love-friendship at this point. We counsel one another. And from the vantage point of trust, I observe her journey.
So time passes, and A falls madly in love with N and R. The two of them are extremely charismatic, and careful with their energies. I’ve been very impressed with their sincerity and deliberation. They seem to me to be conscious, considerate, and connected. And within their orbit they’re slowly defining space for A and her submission.
So one day I got a text at five-thirty a.m.–A time when I’m driving to work and A is normally snoring:
“Shit. Call when you can.”
It seemed as though a condition was being placed on the–Well “relationship” doesn’t really sum it up. Privately, I think of it as an Isosceles: A triangle with two, and only two, equal sides.
The condition appeared to be: No sex. No promise of sex. A would and will simply serve N and R, without expectation. No negotiation. No options: Serve or do not serve; there is no try.
This was a crisis point for A, as her submission has always had a strong sexual component. And the prospect of indefinite servitude under a look-but-don’t-touch restriction rocked her to the core.
There was an intense flurry of communication. Finally we were talking by phone:
“I don’t get it,” said A plaintively, “Her tone has turned … harsh.”
I pointed out that tone is entirely a Dom’s prerogative, as are the rules of the Isoceles as well. I felt deep down that this wasn’t pique on N’s part. It was something else: Something conscious and considered. But I had no way to know, and my focus was on supporting A:
“Alright,” I said finally, “She’s standing in front of you. You’re on your knees before her. What do you want to say to her?”
“I’m scared. But I’m yours,” A half-whispered.
After the ten-second silence that followed that declaration, I cleared my throat and said:
“So … Write that.”
“I just sent it to her.” Her voice was devoid of the anxiety of mere seconds before.
Time passed, as it does. And another morning I received a text:
“It was a test. And I passed. 🙂 ”
A found her centre. The quiet, calm spot at the whirling centre of the hurricane of desire, emotionality, and need. Where she puts her self aside to serve another with joy and gratitude, in the face of fear. And in that space, that sacrifice of desire and expectation, she has found her true self.
I am, as always, joyful that my love-friend is happy. And for myself, I learn anew what I want to inspire and am instructed in how it may be built.
A’s account of that day refers to “scripts”: Our ways and means of behaviour, inculcated since birth and laid down in deep layers inside us by our parents, friends, lovers, and the contexts within which we interact. My scripts, as a Dom, have already shifted.
“I’m scared. But I’m yours.” This is what I want to bring forth from a submissive. The total abandon of self, of desire, of anything save the will to be a useful and pleasing person, and to find meaning and satisfaction in that and only that.
And here is paradox: To inspire a girl to give up her desires and want nothing more than to satisfy mine, I think I must first give up my own. Modify the script I’ve been working from.
This may change my style completely. I’ve tended to enthusiastic rough play and painful intimacies, and early on. Like many kinky people, I’ve progressed from finding satisfaction in a bag of tools and happy, mutually-agreed-upon, violence to ritual and protocol as expressions of shared meaning in D/s. And now I find myself watching a careful coupling, a joining of … spirit? Minds? Hearts? All three? But a deeper connection than I’ve experienced directly.
When I next form a connection with a submissive, it seems it will be a long, slow process. I will try to bring her forth from herself until one day she stops and looks back along the path she has travelled and sees her empty armour lying in the dust behind her, and finds herself standing free in only the chains she chooses to wear.
A shed some of her armour the other day.
I am still rebuilding my trust in myself. I find myself hesitant and uncertain at times. But I’ve had glimpses of this–Moments where I’ve watched a submissive struggle with her own will and win.
I want more of it. And perhaps if I can only put that desire aside awhile, I improve my chances of securing it.