Submission and Switching: Reality Revised

Most couldn't guess by looking at her.  In her vanilla life, friends laughed and joked at the idea of her taking orders from a significant other.  In the scene, no one had ever seen her submit.  No one had seen her top either, for that matter.  She didn't dress like the other slaves or submissives she saw at these events, seeing no reason to run around naked or hanging out of tiny lingerie.  She didn't quite understand the correlation between level of nudity and level of submission.  Under her vinyl underbust corset she wore a long sleeve, black floral pattern lace shirt, the outline of her breasts and nipples evident without being obvious.  Her fitted skirt was short enough to be slutty without showing anything unless she intended to, stopping just below where her garter straps met her stockings.  Classic black ankle strap shoes with slightly wide three inch heel gave her that sexy wiggle walk while still allowing for stability.  He was pleased with how she looked and she knew it, something that gave her a little extra boost of confidence.  

She had come prepared to play, prepared to be under His hand and whatever tools He chose to use on her.  As so often happens, things weren't going to go according to plan.  The other girl with them went first, being placed in a cage to start off the night.  He had her tease the girl for a bit until word could spread that others could come have a bit of fun if they liked.  She could feel her sadistic tendencies rising to the surface, enjoying the whimpers, moans and yelps of the other girl as she sunk her nails hard in to the girl's skin, tracing lines around her breasts.  When finally someone else wanted a turn, He took the end of the leash He had tucked in to her corset and they wandered off.  Though she had just been starting to get in to what she was doing, relief washed over her.  She was glad for a few moments alone with Him, even if they were talking with other couples.  The other girl was safely occupied on the other side of the dungeon space, and that was what mattered.

As the evening progressed, eventually the other girl was brought out of the cage and given a few minutes to rest.  Now she would certainly get her chance, and she was right, though not in the way she thought.  The other girl was bound tightly to a particularly evil piece of furniture, a spinning cross of sorts called a fetish ferris wheel.  His toys were laid out, the other girl helpless and blindfolded, waiting for whatever was to happen next.  The leash was removed.  It was then that the shock came.  He turned to her and said, 
"Do you want me to warm her up for you?"
Her eyes went wide, her brain struggling to process what He had just said.  She had topped before, but it had been years.  Sure, she had recently dug out her favorite evil little friend, a black leather flogger with four thin tails that came to a point at the tips, just to practice.  That didn't mean she was ready for this.  She knew His skill, His reputation.  Even before she had become His, she had seen Him play.  She had been on the receiving end as well.  And she was absolutely terrified of letting Him down.  She struggled to find the words to answer Him, but all she could do was shrug.  He picked up one of His matched sets of floggers, found the beat of the music that filled the space and set to work.  She stood and watched, waiting for her heartbeat to return to a normal pace, mind racing, trying to come to terms with what she now knew was coming.

For her, He could have kept going much longer.  She still wasn't entirely ready when He stopped and motioned for her to have at it.  She glanced at her little black flogger and decided against it for the time being, still too terrified to use any kind of toy in front of Him.  She stepped towards the bound girl, hoping that the shaking of her legs wasn't obvious to everyone watching her, most of all Him, and began by using something that had never failed her - her nails.  With the edge of the nail on her index finger, she pressed in to the girls back and began to drag it slowly across on the diagonal.  It left a thin white line in it's wake.  Another one parallel, then the other direction.  The object of her work cried out and a small, evil smile crept on to her face.  Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she was taking out her own frustrations at not being the one going first for the second party in a row.  She could feel her mentality changing.

She stopped contact and the bound girl wiggled in anticipation.  Without warning - because what fun would that be - she brought her hand down on the girl's left cheek, almost full force.  A pause, then the right got the same treatment. Her target yelped.  She gave an evil little giggle.  The girl had said she wanted pain, and that was exactly what she was going to get.  Perhaps more than bargained for.  One swat after another, picking up speed, with each the dominant side of her personality becoming more and more in control.  Cognitive dissonance began to build in her mind, unbeknownst to her at the time.  She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't even notice the constant connection she had to Him slipping away.  Though she was still somewhat afraid of using toys in front of Him, when her hand finally began to hurt, she gave in and picked up her flogger, cursing whoever had put together the music play list under her breath as she struggled to find the beat.

Eventually, she got in to the swing of things, even becoming brave enough to use one or two of His toys when he offered.  From time to time they would switch places and He would take over for a little while.  It was nice to see things from that side, as she enjoyed watching Him work.  Given her own mentality at the time, she was seeing it in a completely different light than before.  Each time she found it a little easier to find her pace and when the scene finally needed to come to an end, she couldn't help but be a little sad.  The other girl was unbound and brought down to sit on a chair with a bottle of water with Him making sure everything was alright while she cleaned off the recently vacated piece of furniture.  All of that taken care of, the other girl dressed and recovering, He picked up the leash and sat, motioning for her to come and kneel before Him.  

It felt awkward, not natural as it had earlier in the evening.  She began to shake a little as fear set in again, the realization hitting that she didn't feel that connection she had grown to love, didn't feel her place.  She could barely look at anything but the floor, afraid of what she would see if she looked up at Him."Look at me, pet."  His words made her heart skip a beat.  She looked up at Him from under her eyelashes, forcing herself not to look down again.
"You did very well tonight, pet.  I'm proud of you."  She felt her posture straighten involuntarily, a smile playing on her lips.
He replaced the leash, the cold metal feeling almost foreign on her skin.  Then His hand was around her neck.  The look on his face changed, the tone of His voice becoming deeper, more stern.
"Who do you belong to?"
"Y..you, Master."  She stuttered, desperately wanting to look away.
"Yes, pet."  His grip on her throat increased.  "Who do you serve?"
"You, Master."  The words came more easily this time.
"Yes, you do.  What are you?"
She could feel that familiar tingle coursing through her, stronger than ever as the connection began to return. 
"Your slave.  Your whore.  Your property."
"Yes, pet, that is correct."  He released His hold on her neck, stroking her hair for a brief moment before commanding her to place her arms behind her back and gently pushing her head to the floor between His feet.  The connection returned full force and her heart soared.  She could feel Him again, feel her place.  Even when He removed His hand from her head, she had no desire to raise it.  Kneeling there before Him, forehead pressed to the cold concrete floor, she felt perfectly at peace.  Perfectly, completely His.  The rest of the world ceased to exist, nothing else mattered in that moment.  He could sense this and let her remain there a while before nudging her with His foot to sit up.  She grinned up at Him.
"Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome, pet."  He opened his arms and instantly she was in them, and everything was right with the world.  

Submission and Fear

fear

fi(ə)r/

noun

1. 1.

   an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.

Fear is a strange thing.  So are the reactions it causes in people.  These reactions have been ingrained in the human race pretty much since the beginning of time, and they aren't going anywhere any time soon.  Some people might say that experiencing fear within a relationship is a "red flag", a sign that you're in a dangerous situation.  This isn't necessarily true.  Who we are and what we have experienced in the past has a huge impact on what causes fear in us as individuals.  Instead of being a sign that we need to get away from what is causing the fear, it can simply mean that we are perceiving our current situation as similar to a negative one from our past.   Still, fear isn't always a bad thing.  Sometimes it is simply a hurdle one has to get over to reach a goal and, in doing so, find a freedom one didn't know existed.

sub·mis·sion

səbˈmiSHən/

noun

1. 1.

   the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.

Submission.  Unless we're talking about the style of wrestling, this is a "dirty" word of sorts in today's society.  We struggle and claw and fight for power, for control and if you have it, you're successful.  If you don't, you're a failure.  If you choose to give that power up?  You're an idiot.  You willingly give up that control to your significant other?  Clearly you are being abused and just can't see it.  Eeesh.  No wonder so many people spend their entire lives repressing their urges.  

Is it any wonder that the thought of submitting to someone can be a terrifying experience?  We are programmed not to give up our control, especially of our selves, to anyone.  When you have those urges, this can make things extremely difficult.  That fear doesn't mean you should turn tail and run, though.  In fact, I have found that having someone on the other end of things who understands the fear your urges are causing and who can help you work through that fear is more productive than giving in to the fear.  It's very much like with Annie and Sean in At The Manor, Part Two.  Annie experienced something in her past that caused her to push her desire to submit so far down that she nearly forgot it all together.  She may have been willing to submit in the bedroom, but she had the safety net of still ultimately being in control when it ended.  

Then came Sean.  He stirred things in her that she hadn't felt in a very long time.  Those urges came back, causing an intense fear when she realized that it could possibly happen again.  That she wanted to be able to hand over the control and power that she had fought so hard for.  He sees her fear and her urges battling in her mind and does what he has to.  This snippet shows exactly what I am talking about.

“It's not you I'm afraid of, I swear. It's letting go, submitting again. I've been terrified of it ever since that night. Francis even cut that part of my training short, because he knew where my mind was.”

I couldn't look at him. I could barely look at anything but the carpet.

“Annie, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'd never harm ya. I dinna know what I need ta do ta prove it to ya, love, but I will prove it. To the rest of The Society, ye'll be my partner, and nothin' more. I may desire more from ya, but they never need know.” His voice was low and soothing, and I began to relax a little.

“Thank you.”

Annie, instead of letting that fear win out, puts her trust in him that he will never harm her.  Sure, she still needs a little push from him to give in to the urges, but once she does, the fear she had been experiencing due to past events turns to exhilaration and she finds a level of freedom she hadn't known existed.  Just as it is possible for a real life "Annie" to become aroused by the thought of submitting to someone, it is also possible for anyone with the urge to submit to another to overcome their pre-programmed fears and find that same freedom.  If it is in you, what good will come from suppressing it?  You can live your life in fear of the things that at your core you know you need, or you can find that someone who will see those fears and help you overcome them.  Chances are, you'll be happier in the end.

Submission and Arousal

Warning: For those who know me personally, you're likely about to find out a whole bunch of shit you never knew about me, and possibly never wanted to.  Just a heads up.

Life is a funny thing.  I spent a large portion of yesterday working on notes and outline ideas for the fifth book in The Society Series.  One thing I knew I wanted to work on including right away was Annie's training with Sean.  In At The Manor parts one and two, we see her become aroused by one simple, largely non-sexual thing - submitting to him.  Once she gets past the lingering fear she has from her past, the idea of giving over control to him is more arousing than anything he could physically do to her, and that's a level of eroticism I want to delve deeper in to.  Annie is an extremely strong, fiery, stubborn and independent woman who has made a life for herself developing and implementing slave training techniques.  She's the type to take charge in a crisis.  She specializes in dealing with difficult slaves, the kind many wouldn't give a second thought to.  And she becomes totally, completely, undeniably aroused by handing over the control she has fought so hard for to him.  Oh yeah.  I can hear you calling bullshit from here.  This has to be pure fantasy - it is, after all, from a kink erotica novel.  No way in real life would a woman like Annie go weak at the knees simply from the idea of giving over control to someone else, man or woman, no matter how good looking.

Alright.  Let's take a look at real life.  I consider myself fairly accomplished.  I've owned my own business since I was twenty-three, adding my second at twenty-eight (I'm twenty-nine now).  I teach.  I'm working on my seventh novel, with the prospect of some non-fiction pieces on the horizon as well.  I'm relatively well known in my home town, though not always by name for a number of reasons.  I'm stubborn to a fault, fiercely protective of my friends and family and not one to bite their tongue when it comes to sharing my opinion.  I have also experienced exactly what I write about there first hand.  It's rare, sure.  Very, very few men (and only one woman) have ever had the "Sean effect" on me, but when it happens, it's incredible.  One word, one look, and the crotch of my pants would be drenched.  Heaven help me if I was wearing a skirt at the time.  That look, that word?  Most commonly there is nothing sexual to it at all.  It's that look that says "I own you." or "I control you."  It's not so much what is actually said as it is the tone of voice, and the attitude of the person saying it.  It's that feeling I describe in this bit from At The Manor:

 Never had someone been able to make me feel so much by speaking only one word at a time. It was as though some unseen force had control of my limbs as I sank to my knees in the soft, dewy grass.

In my experience, it's been very much this way.  Sure, there has been that little voice in my head yelling "what the fuck are you doing!", especially in the beginning.  But in those moments there is nothing I can do but obey.  Not because of any threat, spoken or otherwise, nor any agreement.  It was for no other reason than because he said so.  Yes.  It's that simple.  It's hard to explain it any further, though I wish I could.  The feeling goes from head to toe, engulfing the entire body.  It's an electric tension, radiating and causing you to feel your heartbeat in places you either didn't know you could or hadn't in ages.  Since that first taste of it when I was eighteen, I've been hooked.  I can't help it, and I don't want to.  As I've grown, my desire to submit has grown right along with me.  Now, here's the twist - I'm a switch.  I've had two of my own submissives in the past, one male and one female.  I'm pretty sure I can still make him twitch and turn red with just two little words.  He was a large man, resembling a football player, and a good bit older than me, and that didn't matter.  He knew who he answered to.  I'll never forget, at least two years after we parted ways, getting a phone call from him out the blue.  He was calling to thank me for something I had taught him, as it had just played a part in landing him a major promotion at work.  I couldn't have been more proud.

Too many people confuse the desire to submit with willing to submit to anyone.  I've been at parties before where I was wearing a collar - sometimes given to me by my Dom, other times just an accessory - and had some asshat wannabe dominant come over to me and try to tell me what to do.  My reactions have ranged from laughing and walking away to looking strait at the man and saying, "Do you see your collar around my neck?  I don't think so."  I've been told I can't "really" or "truly" submit because I'm also able to be (and quite enjoy being) the dominant partner at times.  It has been only for the sake of good manners that I haven't told these close minded idiots off on the spot.  I'm just as capable of fully submitting as one who's never been on the wielding end of a whip.  If I want to.  I've been told I just haven't met the right guy that can make me "really" submit.  Oh, I beg to differ.  I've had my Sean, more than once.  Most people only ever see my dominant side.  Friends have laughed and cracked jokes at the thought of me being told what to do by my significant other.  I just smile and let them keep thinking that.  Those who have found themselves with the ability to control me on this level have taken great pleasure in having someone like me willing to submit to them.

I digress, however.  Submission and sex are frequently linked.  They don't have to be, but it does add a degree of fun.  In my experience (I know, I know, I keep saying that), submission and arousal are almost always linked.  Let's take a little trip back in time for another real life example.  I'm eighteen.  I've been hanging out in a hot tub with the man who would become my first Master (though we are nothing more than friends at this point), and become a bit over heated, so I'm sitting on the steps going up in to it.  He doesn't ask if I can walk.  Doesn't ask if I need anything.  He gets out behind me, hands me a towel and says two little words.  Don't move.  In the few minutes I am alone while he gets me water, I barely even blink.  In the back of my mind, I'm wondering why.  I'm also trying to figure out the sudden non-hot tub related wetness between my legs.  It wouldn't be until several weeks later that I would even begin to have an answer to that, and for years I've tried to figure out why it does what it does to me.  As the years passed, I got to the point where the mere idea of submitting to the right person, being totally in their control - if only for a little while - drives me wild.  I'll even admit that one of them is Sean.  I totally have a crush on my own character.  All the rest, as few as they are, happen to be real people.

It does happen.  A strong woman can find complete bliss in submitting to the person of her choosing, and once she does, the control she is used to having over her life is gone.  Sure, she may frequently make her own decisions, but that person's control is always there, and she knows it.  A woman who is dominant in her everyday life can become inexplicably aroused by the delicate chain collar around her neck, right in the middle of a meeting.  A powerful woman's happy place can be kneeling at the feet of the One who controls her as they watch television in the evening.  And it is totally and completely possible to become aroused to the point of inability to walk or speak or think clearly just by having that person completely strip away the power and control you have during your every day life.