Disclaimer: This post mentions topics involving sexual activity and consensual sexual violence. Not suitable for individuals under eighteen years of age. Reader discretion is advised.
Contains some strong language.
I’ve never been the most patient person, or at least, not since the age of about fourteen. I was always quiet and shy as a child, but once I developed my voice, I flew. I stopped saying yes and started saying no, I learned how to ask for what I wanted without being loud or aggressive and I learned how manners can usually get you what you want, and don’t mean anything less of your worth if you use them. Over time, my new skills became a core part of who I was, and I became more confident at using them. I started taking risks, asking for things that I might not get, but saw no harm in asking for. I learned to set time limits on things and to respect my own time, too. “If you want X, I want it done by Y”, those were some of the words that I never thought I’d say. The stuff that I gave away for free on recycling platforms had to be gone within the next day or two, and certainly not some time next week or ridiculously late at night. I set my own red lines, and mostly, people respected them.
When I entered the BDSM scene, I already knew what those red lines were about. They were the foundations of my rules, the rules that I would set for my submissive partners, as a Dominant. As a submissive, you are not entitled to my time or my attention, it is something that is given to you if I want to. As is true with anyone in life, nobody owes you anything. If you want, it’s up to you to prove yourself and your worth.
This sounds harsh to say, but what I found was that it worked well to weed out the “weaklings”, the ones who were convinced that they were unworthy of my time. Of course I had no problem belittling them in the name of their role and genuinely I did believe that they (as is anyone) absolutely were worthy of my time, it’s just that really, we weren’t compatible in our views. The partners that I played with knew what they were worth and they knew their potential – the humiliation roleplay was just a part of what we did. As a Dominant, I don’t want to pull you down, I want to (and will, if my partner’s consent) belittle you and bully you and I want you to prove me wrong. Speaking from experience, I know that no amount of “you can do it” will work to help you achieve your goals. If you can do it, that voice and will to achieve has to come from within.
As a leader, nothing satisfies me more than seeing other people achieve. Matt recently got awards in Maths and English through his work and, even if it doesn’t sound like a big deal, for him, these certificates are huge. Matt completely flunked at his GCSE exams, largely owing to a lack of paternal support, so for him to be able to apply himself and pass is a big deal. He seems pretty unphased by them, but to me, it’s a sign that he can, it’s a sign that he’s improved from where he was when I first met him and of that, I am immensely proud.
But in all of this leading and asserting myself, it doesn’t make for a very patient submissive.
As a submissive, I challenge rules.
As a submissive, I question and I ask “why?”.
For me, my submission is not just a willingness to submit, it involves scrutiny and hot debate. I can’t submit to anyone who wills me to do so. As an alpha submissive, my submission is earned and given to those that I hold with utmost respect. If I don’t respect you, you can’t dominate me, plain and simple.
In the Daddy Dom dynamic, one of the things that I found about myself (and was my reason for hating it) was that I became demanding and I became entitled, a version of me that I didn’t wish to be. I knew that I was bratty and I was even encouraged to be a brat, but bratty me became manipulative. Early on, I realised that this wasn’t good and this wasn’t healthy for us. I didn’t mind being naughty, cheeky and playful, but not manipulative, never manipulative. I needed my kink to be as simple and grown-up but also as playful and silly as kink could be.
Unfortunately, this demanding, sometimes whiny behaviour hasn’t gone away. Once encouraged, demanding, childish behaviour became sort of acceptable.
Once I became demanding, it was something that I became used to doing. “Soon” was never good enough, “now” was the only option.
But a few days ago, when I wanted his attention, Matt just calmly carried on with what he was doing.
And instead of demanding, I just sat, watching, waiting, hoping for his attention.
Is he doing this intentionally? And moreover, why do I not mind it? What IS this?
This morning, as the sun streamed in through our pale cream curtains, I knew exactly what the drill was. Today was his other day off, today we’d stay in bed until late, today, things would happen. I tried to act innocent and naive: It’s always good not to assume.
But after four or five days of waiting, he had had his sweet relief, and for my part, I hadn’t. I lay in bed for a while, frustrated, hurt and confused.
Why this? Why me? Why did he…?
Doesn’t he care?
A pulled myself out of bed and skulked off to the bathroom for a wash. I returned to bed for a while and curled up into a ball.
As a kink blogger, moments like these can sometimes feel sort of extra hard. It’s hard enough not to have anyone to talk to about these problems, but it’s harder still when they feel like a core part of your identity is in question, and a harder again when you know countless people rely on you to speak for them, to educate and teach.
Maybe kinky isn’t for me? I concluded, maybe I’m not meant to be submissive?
Truthfully, then maybe in part, this may have been my own doing.
Not so long ago, I talked about allowing for him to use me, I talked about allowing for my pleasure to be second to his own and I talked about my orgasms being of little significance compared to his. In the heat of the moment, this was probably little more than dirty talk, little of which I meant. In the light of day though then waiting several days just to be left frustrated was a hard blow, and one that had knocked me for six.
“I feel like a fucking prostitute” I said darkly. I did, I felt… used.
“You kind of encouraged me” Matt said softly.
“Your choice of words”, I smiled. Granted, I had a way with words, a way with words that typically yields… results.
“It’s not my fault?” I offered, Matt raised an eyebrow at me. Okay, so it’s very much was my fault.
“Sometimes it’s good to mix things up, it doesn’t always have to be a particularly way” Matt explained. I sighed and stared at him. I’m all up for mixing things up, just not mixing them up in that way.
“I wasn’t going to leave you, anyway, if you had been a bit patient with me”. Oh, patience. There’s that ‘patience’ thing again.
To his credit, Matt did resolve my frustrations and to my discredit, then for the first few times, I did try and stop him. I didn’t want to be an afterthought, or a second thought, or a chore that needs completing. I’m too damn busy running your home to be waiting around for your shenanigans, I concluded. I deserve to be a priority.