Am I Really (Still?) Submissive?

A little background before I move on to the main premise:

As a child I was fairly submissive, eager to please, and easily cowed. I was a happy child, but it didn’t take much to have me positive bad things would happen to me if I didn’t listen to whomever gave me orders. I lived in situations where this “natural” submission was consistently abused and over-used…and as I grew older it got worse. I routinely caved to the unhealthy and downright vicious demands of some of those around me, right up until I slashed one of my constant assailants with a steak knife after being cornered in the kitchen one time too many. After a few more incidences like that I began to build a new persona; a loud-talkin’ in your face bitch who was down to scrap and didn’t take shit from anybody. I drank, I smoked, I did bad things with boys way before it was considered okay. I created some pretty fuckin’ thick walls to keep everyone out of the really soft weak spots of my brain that still looked for peace in submission. I had learned submission was nothing but a flaw, a fault to be used against me. Those walls, those protection measures, have become more fortified and dangerous with time.

Stay the fuck out. For realz. *ps: Hai!*

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On a thread on Fetlife today there was a discussion about whether property is default dominant, and also whether properties have self-protection mandates. While discussing this with some very interesting, thought-provoking people I started to feel a bit of unease. Talking to some very submissive people, discussing examples of others…I started to wonder if I am really submissive anymore.

Very few people would even accept the description of submissive when talking about me. You’ll hear bitch, cunt, loud-mouth, abrasive and weird (among other, more colorful phrases) from the folks who aren’t fond of me . To those who are close to me you’ll hear I’m tenacious, loyal, loving with a tendency to turn vicious if badly hurt.

It is that last line that fucks with my definition of submissive. I can hardly be submissive if I go through life gladly mauling (mentally or physically!) the people who trod on me, try to hurt me, or use/abuse me. I understand the whole “submissive to one, not to all” theory, and yeah, it works for me, but a long time ago I defined myself as a normally submissive person. Now, not so much, I’m just about as likely to let someone walk on me, take advantage of me, or to go out of my way to please a random stranger beyond my comfort than I am to walk naked through the corridor of an ol’ folks home. there’s a happy mental image for ya.

So I guess I am wondering if I have let my normal submissive tendencies atrophy, if they have gone into hiding, have then been narrowed into a spotlight focus on N. Or, most distressingly, was the act I put on so good at hiding my submissive nature that I have convinced myself of my non-submissive stature? Has the actress become the character?

I don’t have the answers. A new friend kindly gave me some supportive statements to chew on, but I haven’t been able to determine top and bottom, left and right in my mental maelstrom. I’ll get there the same way I always do, in typical Taurean fashion by plodding, methodical work and steady bull-headed *:)* determination.

I hate “Who are you, really?” questions. Rullyrully. :\

Spare the rod, Spoil the slave?

I have seen it often postulated here and there (read: FetLife) that a D/O/M that cherishes, protects and nurtures his slave is often too lax, too weak, not a real D/O/M. That if the D/O/M takes the time to reassure the slave how precious she is, that she is more than just another possession like the car, he will spoil her, make her soft and petulant, he will create his own pillow princess.

I used to think that too. It’s the cool thing, I guess, in many of the groups I haunt. Real mastery is being an Asshole all the time, brusquely crushing off the tears, fears and shame he creates, scoffing at the concept of love and adoration, maintaining a cold aloof presence, being a god merely tolerating the human foibles of the slave.

Whatta crocka shit. Fer Realz.

Given the last tectonic shift in the relationship between N and I, He’s been more open with how much I mean to Him. He’s caressed my hair unexpectedly, planted soft kisses on my forehead, crushed me to His chest and told me in a rumbly voice that I mean more than anything to Him. At first I was taken aback, and truthfully, I distrusted it. I thought it was a ploy to lull me back to apathy. The ol’ “Tell her she’s the best and she’ll finally stfu” that my ex always pulled.

Nope. Turns out, He means it.

And I soaked that shit up like the desert after a hard downpour. My heart blossomed like the agave after the rain. I knew going in that He wasn’t the kind of man to be sending flowers every month and declaring undying love every night. And while I don’t exact exhibit lovey-dovey behavior myself, I didn’t realize just how much I missed the occasional sweet touch/word/thought mixed amongst the pinches, names and actions.

I forgot what it was like to hear someone tell me how much they needed and loved me.

I’m a greedy bitch. I blame the Taurus in me, it makes me prone to gluttony and over-indulgence. So as long as He is willing to be a font of love and devotion, I’ll shower in it. I will dance in it, delight in it, and save it away for dry times again.

Anyway, to the premise of the post: Many D/O/Ms on FetLife would be falling over themselves to caution N that He’s spoiling me, that a slave should never know that her D/O/M needs her, loves her, cherishes her. They say it would ruin their mystique, lower themselves in her eyes, make them vulnerable to the slave. She’d never fear them anymore.

I find it a bit hard to swallow. I know full well N loves me deeply, cares for me passionately. This doesn’t make me adore Him less, fear Him less, it doesn’t devalue Him in my mind.

It actually make me strive harder to be found pleasing, to serve Him, to be at the top of my game. I have to be found worthy of such an Owner, to deserve the honor of serving and being owned by Him. Anything else would not be good enough for such a Man who found the time and bother to own me!

I think it is easier for me to being completely devoted to Him, to adore Him, to worship Him, if I know that He loves me and cares for me, appreciates the struggles and pain I go through to make myself what He wants from me.

It’s a blancing act, and I think we have found it. Good example:

Last night N wrapped me in some tight rope bondage and facedfucked me in various restricted positions before propping me up on my knees and directing me by my ponytail. I gagged, I drooled, I cried, I slumped and stiffened and panted. At one point He pulled my mouth off of His cock and I heaved, hard. It was obvious I had thrown up a little in my mouth and I swallowed rapidly to force it all back down. As soon as I had it back under some control I willingly opened my mouth and forced His cock back down my throat.

He yanked my head back hard and I flinched, expecting a slap or some harsh action.

Instead he planted a quick kiss on my forehead and murmured “Good girl, for going back down deep after that.” I think I was glowing bright enough to light the room. I wanted nothing more than to make Him happy and pleased with me.

Then He shoved my face back into His crotch until I gagged again.

True love, I’m tellin’ ya.

A Stainless Steel Writer’s Block

Comes in size medium, costs about 75 dollars. Well used.

 

Since having the Njoy consistently shoved into my ass since the day after it came here, I’ve had some mental fall out to deal with. Nothing life-shattering, but its uncomfy and hard to talk about.

The Njoy knocked a huge breach into one of my last surviving walls. I felt raw and wounded from having this last scrap of illusion ripped from me. N was just as surprised as I was to my venomous reaction to having to wear the Njoy all day.

N has me wear the Njoy during the day at all times, only allowed to come out for exercise and toilet use. Any other time has to be asked for via voice. He has called for this be a constant reminder of my place. To reinforce that I am subject to His whims, that nothing sacred is really mine. Not even my body, nor the functions it performs. It isn’t all negative, though. He cared enough about my underlying fear of abandonment of the relationship that He spent 75 dollars and an obscene amount of patience and time to come up with a reminder of His commitment to me, and I to Him.

The first day I had to wear it most of the day really was a hard day. He was trying so hard to check in with me, to find out my thought process, my physical comfort. Unfortunately, earlier in this relationship He had spent most of the days after a “scene” fake-solicitously asking how I felt, was I sore, while mangling the sore bits. So when He was being sincere and looking for solid input, I became hostile and defensive from feeling like He was constantly mocking my new-found awkwardness.

Than night, as I knelt before Him, waiting to say my devotion, it all came out.

The worst thing I said, the hardest thing to say, was “I don’t trust you to not make fun of me.”

I didn’t. For so long He had teased me and mocked me after doing something humiliating or painful to me, that I was unable to see when He was being serious and genuine. It isn’t that I don’t like the teasing…it is all fun when in the original context. But when something as emotionally explosive as long-term butt plug wearing is on the table, it isn’t funny anymore. I feel violated, raw, debased and angry.

It took Him aback when I said I couldn’t trust Him to not mock me. We both weren’t real sure what the hell we were saying anymore. He patiently explained to me that He had seen a consistent fear in me of Him abandoning the O/p relationship basis. He felt that a constant reminder of my status would help allay those fears a bit. He chose the plug because it was something that would keep me slightly off-beat, something discreet and something that pleased Him. He does not normally spend money on me for the sheer fuck of it, so I know that He really put thought into this. He related to me how He had read voraciously, weighing the pros and cons from people in the Njoy group, reading the comments made by my FL friends about their Njoy joys and trials.

I was mortified that I had accused Him of mocking me and not taking my emotional strain seriously. He was unhappy to realize that He had (unwittingly) trained me to not take Him seriously.

So we cautiously came around. I apologized for being such a defensive, ungrateful hag and He vowed to make it more clear when He wants tangible feedback and isn’t just yanking my chains.

I’ll discuss the actual effect the Njoy has on my mental state in a later post.

Restless Insecurity

Things have been going okay here. No sudden meltdowns on my end, no baffling withdrawals on His. i’m still trying to feel around in my head, trying to sort out all the mixed signals i’m getting from my own brain. Emotional eating has resurfaced, but i haven’t been able to identify why. This is hugely frustrating to me. If i can’t even identify any anxiety or resentment, i can’t neutralize it and end the emotional eating.

i know something in my head is off. Everything seems slightly off-kilter now. i used to have a grand ol’ time pointing out cute chicks for Him to ogle. Now, i see Him appraise one and i squelch a sudden urge to drag her by her hair to the parking lot and rearrange her face, then come in and claw my name on His forehead so He can’t forget who He is with.  i’m not generally one for jealously and violent insecurity. Hell, i’ve shared partners in the past without much in the way of issues. So what is it now, that makes me getting all tetchy and anxious when He appreciates other girls? Why can’t i appreciate what i have with Him? Part of me thinks it’s territorial. i’ve struggled long and hard to find comfort and peace at His feet, and i don’t want to have to give it up or even share it with some new plaything. Which is darkly hilarious, given my penchant for threesomes and the fading hope of finding a sister for me. Another part of my rage regarding Him seeing other girls is the fact that i often don’t feel fully nourished or cared for at the moment, a hazard of the job of living with Him. It would infuriate me to be left at home, hungry for Him and lonely beyond belief, thinking of Him charming another girl, touching her like He used to touch me… but even more than the infuriating, i would be crushed. Possibly beyond much repair.

Why can’t i take Him at His word?

Part of me wonders if it isn’t residue from the complete uncunting i had a while ago. He did minimal repairs, and i appear to be up and running fine, but there is a little part of me that doesn’t wholly want to submit to Him again. This niggling part of my brain that finds glee in running amok, whispering sweet nothings in my ear like “What happens when you are too old to serve Him?” or “How’s He going to want you once the kids are grown?” or my ever favorite “Just wait until He finds a lil hawt thing with perky tits and a defined waist that *likes* being facefucked…won’t you feel stupid for handing yourself on a silver platter?!”

i didn’t have trust issues a year ago. i didn’t come uncunted like this a year ago. i didn’t want to hit Him over the head with a Corel serving platter a year ago. So what changed? Was it being isolated by neccessity, with only a complete airhead as my only r/l friend? Having had to squash my desires and some of my wants for so long that i’m disillusioned? Having had my life vanilla-fied to the point of whitewash?

i find myself avoiding talking to Him about these things lately. For once, i’m not doing it out of some fear of exposure on my part. i’m avoiding it because He’s stressed, He’s tired, and feels more than a bit like a failure. i don’t want to be a part of His worries. i don’t want to make Him feel like more of a failure, which is certainly how He’d interpret it if i went to Him tonight and blurted my fears out.

What’s more, i hate myself on many levels for limiting Him with my stupid emotional bullshit. Of course He should be able to ogle any woman He wants. He should also be able to do it without having to slip xanax in my soda afterward. i hate that i sound like an ungrateful whiny bitch. i hate myself for not being able to live with what i have.

i hate myself for having so many flaws and not enough stamina to fix them.

i have a two track mind right now…something i perfected in elementary school. On the surface, i’m fairly at ease, i’m coping well, i smile and laugh, i love and appreciate life.  Go any deeper and you’ll find a deep and murky river, full of fear and resentment, pain and aching love, confusion and longing and an absurd need to protect Him from myself.

It’s draining the river and putting up dams and baffles that is the exhausting work.

Oh, You noticed that?(06-10-2010)

He thinks of me much more than I realize. And He sees a lot more of my emotional turmoil than I give Him credit for.

Last night we were discussing O/p theology while showering. It had spun off of an  entry I was trying to puzzle out for Insatiable Desire,  about active ownership, whether it was a phase, a personality flaw or something I was doomed/destined to repeat. In fleshing this out, we discussed the various nuclear meltdowns I suffered over the past year, all tied in one way or another from my perceived abandonment of the O/p by Him. Out of the blue He hit me with this gem that made me stop and reasses Him on a whole new level:

“You freak out because you assume that each time I get lazy or have to withdraw from the O/p I’m never coming back to it.”

I never thought He was interested in discovering the whats and whys  regarding my breakdowns. He’s normally a results-orientated kinda guy, less concerned with why I’m doing something and more concerned that I am doing it and in His parameters.  So when He saw right through me like that, in a manner that I hadn’t even addressed yet, (hell, I hadn’t even fully formed the idea that I was afraid of abandonment until maybe a month ago) totally brought me up short.

Now I find myself wondering what else He’s grokked on me without letting me know. How far ahead of me is He? And a little bit of me wonders if He doesn’t laugh at me when I running around chasing my tail, totally freaked out and clueless as to why, and He knows exactly what my problem is and enjoys watching me lose a year or two of my life panicking over the sky falling in. But an Owner would never do such a thing, would they? *snickers*

Oddly enough, I find this kinda comforting. It’s nice to know He isn’t as oblivious to my inner workings as I initially believed. There was just no reason for Him to let me on that He isn’t clueless. I believe it probably gives Him an edge in keeping me in place when I get uppity.

I haz a warm fuzzy, because He never stops leaving me surprised and at least one step behind.