Thursday, May 3, 2007

Libertas Per Submissio

I just watched Secretary again tonight- it reminded me of so much of what I want.
There's these two parts of me, the dominant and the submissive. They are simultaneously at odds with each other, and one and the same.
The submissive is the big one, the one I came to terms with first. I want to be cherished and loved and taken care of and polished and adored, and in return I want to serve and adore and obey. Is it so wrong that I want these things? It took me a long time to determine that, for me, the answer is “No, it’s not wrong.” After all, it's just a more extreme version of what people tell their kids: "If you're a good little girl and do what you're told, then we'll take care of you and you'll be safe." Really, who doesn’t occasionally wish for a return to simpler times?
But for years I was told that was not love, that was a dysfunctional relationship. And truth be told, to have a relationship like that without the communication and honesty that comes with admitting it’s a kink, it is. The difference comes down to consent. IF you go into it knowing what you’re getting into, then it’s no different than any other relationship expectation, be it “Please call me if you’re going to be late”, or “Please don’t sleep with random strangers.”
More truth be told, before I figured out that last part, it did get me into more than one dysfunctional relationship. I took on more than my fair share of the work, expecting my unwitting partners to step into the dom spot, and all the responsibilities that entailed. I acted like a doormat, so they treated me like one. My bad.
I want to take into account the little eccentricities of my Master, remember just how he likes his (or her) drinks served, what time I should bring them their coffee in the morning, how they like their clothes put away, what they do and do not like to eat. I want to be told what I can eat, what I will wear, what I will do that day in exacting detail. I want to know that all I have to do is follow the rules, and I’ll be fine. I want to not be responsible for myself, to become an extension of someone better then I, more knowledgeable, more confident. Someone who isn't so clueless about this world. I want to have that safety.
I’m so terribly tired of being independent. It’s wearying. The constant uphill battle with the world, trying to obtain some ethereal “meaning” to my life, but at the same time, fighting tooth and nail to keep a roof over my head and food in my cupboards, because I’m supposed to be able to do all this myself, but nobody is telling me how.
I want to be able to adore someone unabashedly, to put some one on a pedestal and have them stay there, simply because that's where they belong, the pedestal so many before them have taken spectacular swan dives off of. Perhaps I really am too trusting and na├»ve. The person I spend the rest of my life with, or really, any part of my life with, is supposed to be a Prince Charming, right? That’s what I was told. Hans Christian Anderson has a helluva lawsuit coming, that’s all I’ve got to say. He never mentioned that everyone I’ve ever met (including me) has flaws that run so deep, and are so glaring that I cannot trust them to handle their own lives, much less help me with mine.
But that’s still what I want. I want to clean their house, have them dole out my cigarettes as a reward, have me help them with whatever it is that needs to be done. I want them to guide me. I want to know I’m safe. I want to know that someone will catch me if I fall. I want that so badly, I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

I think the dominant side of me knows so well what I as a submissive wants, that I want to give that to someone else. The ultimate act of submission, I guess. I want to have a prized possession that is mine, and mine alone. I want to reward them when they are good, and punish them when they are bad. I want to keep them in line, improve them until they are exactly what they need to be. Of course, this side of me also has the natural, more acceptable human instinct for power- this is the part of me that, when I contemplate serving someone forever, screams and cries and shakes the bars and says "But what about you??" What about me? I'm not that impressive, and if I am, I'm certainly not capable of using that potential fully. It would take capable, careful hands to mold me correctly.

I think I find service more satisfying than sex. I remember one of the first times M and I were "rough" in bed. My favorite part, the part that I remember clearly, is when we were done, he told me, "I am going to lie down on the bed, and you are going to rub my back until I say you can stop." I was so happy at that moment, perversely, ecstatically happy.

How on earth am I ever going to reconcile this with...everything that I'm supposed to be? I know that it's healthy when it's done right, and I'm so sick of "Masters" that think that having a slave is just like having a really lifelike sex toy. If you are one of these, I can't stand you- you have no ideas of the responsibilities it takes to be a good top, it is so much work...The dominant has to extend their concern for themselves over the submissive, and protect them just as they would themselves, even placing the submissive’s needs above their own. Like when you’re poor and can barely eat, the cat gets fed first. It’s your fault they went hungry in the first place, but they love you anyway. This person has given themselves up to you, placed themselves entirely in your hands- you owe them nothing less than the same devotion, albeit in different ways. I’m not sure I could handle that responsibility. I can barely manage my own life.

PS-For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, read a Jay Wiseman book. It is not the stuff of music videos and bad porn. And if you insist on keeping a closeminded view, do us all a favor, and keep it to yourself.


ScHitZo kIDs (renee) said...

ok i must say this actually kinda made me realize stuff or atleast from your perspective put it together. i mean in easy word in "bed" i'm a bit of a "freak" when im comfortable enough with the person to let them know my desires anmd let them take control becaus of this ridicule its recieved. freaky girls are fun right bbut whats too freaky?? and you relating it to life makes it make some sense and makes me feel just a hint better. i keep asking myself what the fuck is wrong with me..i'm not that freaky, but um....its not just for a bit to explain and the world just might want me to stop typing but you might be so right on about how everything relates, thamks..i feel a little less gfreaky, but who knows..

belledame222 said...

hey, welcome to blog O'sphere from a bentfemme who's probably been the one asking for "little blue plastic thingies" on at least one occasion.

since i discovered other uses for hardware, though, the general subject's become at least a -bit- less intimidating and more...compelling.

MissAlethea said...

Renee- glad to help, it's a fun thing once you lay the smackdown on irrational guilt.

Belledame- Thanks for the welcome, and don't worry too much about the blue plastic thingies- as long as you can narrow it down between "electrical" and "hanging stuff on the wall", its no biggie. As far as compelling goes, that's why I took the job in the first place! :)