I normally keep my blog fairly impersonal, preferring to concetrate on the "how-to" and education than titillate readers with my personal sexual accounts and struggles.
Soon, that might begin to change.
My partner and I are starting full-time Dominant and submissive relationship (FT D/s for short). I feel scared and nervous, like I’ve been swept along without seeing this coming. I guess I should have seen the logical destination of all this, but I did not.
My rushing river took me from kinky to kink to BDSM to D/s to CDD to full time.
How do I explain?
I know I’m being a baby. I know I shouldn’t shirk at the idea of being a full-time submissive (and with a very lenient beginning code to follow, at that!) when so many other brave men and women are already FT subs and slaves in intense ways I can imagine but could never do.
But I’m still scared.
Of course, I don’t like change. Especially change I didn’t see coming. I was terrified about the idea of getting engaged, TERRIFIED. Having freak outs, nightmares, the whole bit. Then when it happened, I subsided into a happy calm and wondered why I’d never done this before. I loved it and the security and peace it brought. This may be the same.
I’m still pretty new to BDSM. I’ve only known there was a name for my desires, and more outlets and people using them than I’d ever dreamed, about 6 months ago. In that time, my Dom and I have started a fun, happy part-time D/s relationship; that is, just in the bedroom. That means that I enjoy BDSM, love it in fact, but am still learning and growing in it. I thought we had years of happy growing and pushing our boundaries. We use it in the bedroom almost all the time, discuss it constantly, but when it came down to it, I still spent more time blogging about it than doing it.
We both agreed that we were not interested in FT. To me, those people were valid and real, certainly, but it was not for me. They lived a sort of hazy existence in a parallel reality. I had no doubt their reality was real, but I couldn’t see myself joining it. I saw them as the “real” BDSMers, the people who float along beside us on Earth at our jobs and family reunions, but who really belong to the world they’ve chosen, a world of servitude and dominance, a world of limits and pushing and growing, a world of munches and BDSM communities and FetLife and play parties.
Then I discovered CDD (Christian domestic discipline). It wasn’t BDSM, but it was similar. It was founded on the basic biblical principles of male dominance and female submission, with corporal punishment to back it up. I researched it and was oh-so-turned on. I thought it was HOT! I longed for a man to do that to me, to love me and cherish me and guide me and punish me mercilessly. I shared this with my Dom. I wrote many, many blogs on the subject, defending CDD and explaining how it was a valid way of life.
My Dom and I naturally started playing with the idea of these “spankings.” It was quite consensual. The more we talked about it, the more turned on I got. I longed to be pulled over my Dom’s knee and paddled til I screamed and cried and, at last, submitted. I longed for him to be strong and firm and demanding and gentle and kind and sadistic. I was terribly drawn to the idea, as was he.
Next thing I knew, we were idly discussing my punishments. (I deserved them.) We had a dispute over whether a certain remark was punishable or not. Being a strict lover of discipline and clear expectations, I insisted we write out a mutually-agreed upon code so I knew what to expect and he knew what to enforce. We discussed it for some time on the phone, and the next day agreed to draft up a typed copy of each of our responsibilities and rules.
Without warning, I panicked.
I could not join in this CDD, I insisted. CDD at its core is no different than D/s in BDSM. I could not be part of a FT D/s relationship! It was absurd! Not only that, it was terrifying.
My Dom was concerned over my new panic and sudden switch of thinking. He asked to know what I was feeling. Wide-eyed and panicked, like an animal trapped in a cage, I could not tell him—I could only insist I could not do this.
I hadn’t wanted it, I exclaimed wildly. We had agreed not to, I shouted. This was insane, I whined. How could we do this? I was a smart, intelligent, educated woman. We were D/s in the bedroom, equals in life. How could I obey him? I cringed at the word “obey.” How dare he request obedience from me? I wasn’t a dog! What would my mother say?, I moaned, My perfect, domineering, feminist mother?! How would my family react if they knew? I’d be going against everything I’d been raised to believe, everything they stood for. How did I know he wouldn’t abuse his power? How did I know he wouldn’t turn me into a servant and slave the moment I handed him the reins? Why did he want to punish me, anyway? I wasn’t a child! I was an adult, an adult, a full-grown, mature, intelligent, strong, capable adult! Couldn’t he just talk to me about my mistakes? And who gave him the authority to judge my mistakes, anyway?!
My Dom remained quiet, listening. He said we could wait and see. Finally, I agreed to draft up the rules. I did it, with great hesitation. He agreed to draft his rules, his responsibilities first. We did, then mine. We kept mine light and easy. We set the contract for 1 month and agreed one, either, or both of us could terminate it at the end of that time. We mutually agreed upon my rules and boundaries.
And yet I am afraid. This is a change I wouldn’t have believed possible a week ago, much less 6 months ago or a year ago. How can this be happening to me?!?
I went to college. I taught high school for two years. I traveled the world. I lived abroad alone. How can I, great post-feminism, twenty-first century, I-AM-WOMAN-HERE-ME-ROAR generation woman, agree to this? Bow to this?
And what about it made me drawn to it in the first place?
These are questions I cannot ask myself. When I think about our new arrangement, I feel anxious, worried, and sick. I cannot think about it. I have not looked at the rules. I will not see him again until Monday. Will he take them too seriously? Will he be too harsh? Will I hate this?
Why did I do this? Will he be too demanding and force me to break free and fly away? Or worse, will he be too lenient on me and lose my respect forever?
Stay tuned to find out.
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