When I agreed to completely submit to Him, I think Daddy was more than a little shocked. You see, the face I showed the world was that of a take-no-prisoners, my way or the highway, “New York BITCH” (I’m from a tiny dot on the map in the Midwest, but you get what I’m saying). The path from there to here is a little complicated but I promise, the journey is worth it.
The woman (girl really) that He fell in love with so many years ago was sweet, funny, (a little) snarky & sarcastic, and a strange mix of innocence and experience.
The woman he came back to a year later was chaos incarnate. Loud, angry, up/down, never staying in one place (or one mood) for more than 5 minutes. I was, in a word, broken.
He spent years trying to save me from myself. And I spent years counting on Him to always be there to do it. No matter how hard (or how many times) I pushed Him away.
Until one day, I pushed too far. When I turned around He was gone.
Suddenly I found myself someplace I had never been before. Having to fend for myself was a completely new experience, and for a while I flailed around like I was drowning. And like the drowning man does, I latched on to the first person who came along.
Unfortunately for both of us, she was drowning too.
But being needed gave me a purpose. A reason to pull myself out of the water. To get stronger.
Over the years, He popped in (and out) of my life. Each time He did, all those old feelings came back to life. That spark reignited and nearly burned my relationship to the ground. For the sake of keeping the peace, I pushed Him back out of my life as quickly as I had let Him in.
Eventually I became someone even I didn’t recognize. And didn’t like very much. I was tired of ALWAYS having to be in charge. Of making ALL the decisions (even the little ones). I was constantly stressed out. And the stress was taking its toll. I was sick, and none of my doctors could figure out what was wrong.
The same relationship that had once saved my life was now slowly killing me. So I ended it. But still couldn’t quite let go all the way.
Middle age arrived. And with it, that old longing for someone to take care of ME. To make ME their priority. To take the weight of the world off MY shoulders (or at least to share it’s weight).
One night, out of the blue, she told me that He sent a message. Nothing special, or even very exciting. Just a “hey how are you?” It might have been sent to her, but it was meant for me. As soon as I read it, I got that feeling, you know the one, it starts as butterflies in your stomach & spreads to…hey, I might be His dirty girl, but I’m a good girl at heart.
Our conversations picked up right where they had left off. Moving quickly from a tame “hey how you been” to more intimate topics.
Those conversations caused HUGE problems at home. Because while I considered us to be over and done, she still held a sliver of hope that things could go back to the way they were once upon a time.
As He and I grew closers, she and I grew further apart. Once again I had some hard decisions to make.
But this time things were different. This time I didn’t have to make them alone. He was there every step of the way. Not physically, at least not very often, but mentally, emotionally. He listen without judgement as I struggled to make the choice that was best for ME. And to stay the course once I had. He took the weight off my shoulders every time He opened His arms.
When the day came that she walked out that door for the last time, He moved Heaven and He’ll (and a few places in between) be there when I needed Him. To suspend my reality, give me a soft landing. No pressure, no expectations. Just His arms around me, and His shoulder to cry on.
The time we had together was never long enough or often enough for either of us. But yet the relationship kept growing. Deeper and more intimate every day. Distance forced us to find other ways to be affectionate.
I have always had really bad self-esteem. After spending much of my life as a “fat girl” (at one point hitting almost 400lbs) I had spent much of the last few years wearing single-digit sizes. Even getting down as low as 130-something. But I did it in really unhealthy ways. I’ve always tried my best to escape reality. If it was mood or mind-altering, it was for me. He hated that part of me.
Anyway, I’m getting off track. One of the things He asked me to do was send Him sexy pictures. The sight of myself naked (or half naked) embarrassed me. I HATED my body! But I sent the pictures. And every time I did, He told me how beautiful and sexy I was. How much I turned Him on. Slowly I started to believe him (though I still blush & cover my face every time). Distance made us talk about our wants and needs.
I believed Him when He said He loved me, that he wanted to take care of me. I have ALWAYS trusted Him. I had started doing some research on my own about D/s relationships and DD/lg in particular. Thank goddess for the Internet, because I could do it from the relative anonymity of my own bedroom.
One blog led me to another, and another. In each one I saw pieces of myself that I had shoved so far down that I barely recognized them.
When He finally asked the question, ‘could you give yourself to me and be completely submissive to me in all aspects?’. I had to stop myself from just saying “YES!!!”
He wasn’t talking about just in the bedroom. Or when I felt like it. What He was asking is if I could do this 24/7 for the rest of our lives. Before I said yes, I needed more information about what this was going to look like. I needed Him to answer a few questions.
Q: Just how much of my snarky, sarcastic sense of humor would I have to suppress? Was I going to end up biting off my tounge to stop my smart mouth?
A: None. He likes bratty, snarky me. But when bratty turns to bitchy then I’ve crossed the line.
Q: What about the decisions that need to get made when He’s not here to help? Especially the medical ones that could have an impact on our relationship?
A: All He wants is for me to talk them over with him. To include Him in the decision-making process.
Being submissive isn’t about losing myself. It’s about finding myself. About knowing that no matter what the ‘Anxiety Monster ‘ in my head says to me, or how sick I get, He’s there, with open arms, making sure I don’t fall apart.