When E and I turned our vanilla fling into a D/s relationship, we both wanted to find BDSM’s hottest core. I woke up thinking about sex, and I went to bed dreaming about it. In the beginning, so did he. I was his marionette and he was my puppet master. He pulled my strings more exactingly than even seemed possible to me. I was baffled by his impossible power over me, and he was enthralled by my response to it. In those days, he made demands and I responded.
When I saw his sadism, all wrapped up in barbed wire and diamonds, I was hooked. I wanted it now. I wanted it later. I wanted it yesterday and on all of my tomorrows. That’s when I cut my puppet strings and tied them to his limbs. That’s when I took back control. I was a super sub, after all. I could totally demand that he demand things of me.
If you need to read that sentence again, I’ll wait. <taps foot>
I wanted his control too damned much to let him control how much of it I got.
Maybe you should read that sentence again, too…
And so I begged and pleaded for more of his demands. I tried everything I could think of (other than going back to being the sub that compelled his dominance in the first place, obviously. That would have been too practical a solution.) I turned us into a game of musical chairs, only he didn’t seem to know the rules. When I turned on the music, the dom in him was supposed to dance, but instead, he only became more and more vanilla.
I sucked out every ounce of our dynamic.
like Icarus, I wanted to fly too damned much to consider the make up of my wings.
This thing we do is dark and cryptic and impossible to understand, especially when you stop moving towards your dominant and begin chasing the sun instead. When I flew, it stopped being to solve the mystery of E, but of the sun. I went so high that we couldn’t see each other anymore.
The wings fell apart. Of course they did. I had fallen in love with our dynamic and stopped loving the man who’d created it. Back then, he seemed so powerful that I forgot he had needs. I was so obsessed with my need for submission that I overlooked the fact that he needed something too: dominance, yes, but also love.
Of course we broke. I broke us.
In this community, we have a million things to say about the gift of submission. Dominance? Well, that’s not a gift at all, is it? What we give is far more precious, and so, with eyes to the sun, we fly towards an impossible sky, ever forgetting the dominants who built our wings.