Raunchy Ramble: The Sumisa

From ships to stolen treasure, pirates really will take anything they want.

Disclaimer: This post mentions topics involving consensual sexual violence. Not suitable for individuals under eighteen years of age. Reader discretion is advised.

Growing up, I always had a fascination with roleplay. From a young age and with friends in my bedroom or the back garden, I was a sick patient, a spy or a corrupt police officer. Later on in life, I would take on the role of pink Power Ranger, leaping off of the concrete bench in the playground and often scraping my knees in the process. Whatever roles we took on, we always had fun.

Once I found the internet, roleplaying took another turn for me. I remember well my Australian friend, Michael, who I would try to be online really early for so that we could roleplay for an hour before school. Michael always took on the role of the solo explorer who had found me alone and taken me into his care. Michael made me feel happy, he made me feel safe, accepted and cared for. I spoke to a few boys online, including Joshua the seductive vampire, but Michael was always my favourite. We’ll get onto where it all went wrong for Joshua in just a moment.

In my teens, I met Reno, Tseng and the gang, a cleverly curated Final Fantasy story that I later learned was written by another girl and captured an unlikely romance with, as my character then was, an aspiring Lara Croft. I took on Lara, I personified Lara, I took on who she was, who I was and what I wanted to be. I took my fascination with becoming Lara to the extremes, eventually learning several different swim strokes just by imitating Lara, and how to change my swim stroke mid-length. I even learned how to tread water thanks to Lara, though when asked where I’d learned my water skills from, I wouldn’t confess.

In adulthood, my love for and exploration of roleplay took a turn again. I met Rob, an aspiring Dominant, who couldn’t live out half of the fantasies that he desired. Frustrated by his situation and looking for something more, he turned to erotic roleplay, or “cybering”, to explore his fantasies. I’m ashamed to say that I entertained him once or twice back then, bored and frustrated by my own limitations and hungry once again to explore the depths of my own mind. We broke up on unsavoury terms, with him simply cutting me out of his life. I blocked him from mine and haven’t given him much thought since.

I often think of roleplay a little like how some people approach video games. Compared to the many other ways that people relax and wind down, a little bit of roleplay is safe, it’s harmless, it’s creative and it’s fun. As long as you keep fantasy and reality in perspective and make sure that nobody is getting hurt, it allows you to slip into an imagined world where almost anything you can dream of becomes possible.

So when I discovered that Will too was a roleplayer, my geeky little ears went up.

For the most part, our roleplays allow us to cover the distance, they allow us to put actions and thoughts into our words when we’re not together. They allow us to build a connection and to feel a sense of closeness, at least until we can be united. Because of Will’s work, we also know that there will be long times when we can’t be together, even electronically, so we have to make the most of the moments that we’ve got. Matt knows about our roleplays so despite their sometimes nature, I don’t actually feel much guilt about them. It was an agreement we made long before anything got started.

Since early on in our relationship, one of the running jokes for Will and I was that my beloved is a pirate. Being in the Navy, he often spends time at sea, and as it stands, that man had stolen a piece of my heart. Yes, I’d decided, that man was a pirate indeed.

And for his part, Will adopted his pirate role with absolute perfection.

To be a good roleplayer, there are two core tenets that you simply must follow: Number one, know your character, build your character, know their strengths, their weaknesses, their abilities and their principles. Know who they are, what they look like and what they do. Number two, don’t be invincible. It’s boring to roleplay with somebody who can quick-heal from being on the brink of death and can teleport their ass out of all kinds of situations. To be good at roleplay and to keep people coming back, you have to keep it (at least a little bit) real.

In more recent times, my character is not that different from who I truly am. She’s married and committed to family values, but she’s also curious about life, she’s strong-willed and she’s fiery. She’s sweet and caring too, with a not-very-hidden, deeply romantic side. The only big difference, perhaps, is that fictional Helen doesn’t have crunchy or achy bits, she’s not worn down from a hard day’s grind and her arms aren’t sore and covered in scratches from a boisterous puppy dog. No, like I told you, roleplay really is a chance to escape the painful and the mundane.

But back to Will here.

Not more than a few weeks into us, I began to hear what most people know as “The Pirates Of The Caribbean theme tune” in the back of my mind, a piece really called ‘He’s A Pirate!’, written by Klaus Badelt. At first, it was ironic, amusing, a personal inner joke of sorts. Today, the piece takes on a whole new life and a meaning of its own. For me, it’s become something darker, something deeper, something much more meaningful.

Also early on in us, Will and I spoke briefly about collaring ceremonies and commitment ceremonies, an idea that I still haven’t ruled out. Even in spite of the number of people who love me and who care about me and who have done little things to show that they care, Will has focused chiefly on the things that matter most and on actually helping me with them, both as my partner and my Dominant. He focuses on the really important things; on my self-care, on my mental health and on empathy. He gives me feedback on my blog, he writes stories for me to share to help me out and he sends me articles to help or inspire me, things that he knows I’ll read. I know that people love me and they care about me, but when I’m up to my eyeballs in housework and unwritten letters, a reminder that I need to do more than sit on sit on floor and throw a ball dog is the very last thing that I need. Sometimes I’m not perfect, life’s not perfect, and Will doesn’t judge me for it. Worries about me? Yes. Wants to keep me in Cornwall forever for my own welfare? Undoubtedly, but he doesn’t judge me for my shortcomings. He focuses on me and who I am, both as a person and as a submissive. We don’t have rules for my submission. “Guidelines”, he says, rules wouldn’t work with me.

Last week, I overheard “He’s A Pirate!” used on Strictly Come Dancing, at a moment, if I don’t recall, when Will and I were discussing our commitments to our relationship. The dance in question was a Pasodoble, a dance that I’d long loved for it’s strong positions, it’s chemistry and its intense, alpha male energy. If D/s commitments could have a first dance, then I’d decided, it could only ever be a Tango or a Pasodoble.

He wouldn’t, would he?, I wrinkled my nose and shook off off the idea. Nah. Two left feet, he said. He’d never go for it!

Fancy a tavern wench?, there was a photo of said costume attached, you know, for good measure. I shrugged it off. All things considered, it was probably one of Will’s milder ideas.

I do like a wench.

Of course, at this point I had two options: The option that most people would probably go for, the sensible option, is the path of de-escalation. Option two is the one of escalation, and when it comes to tormenting a sadist, I’ll take option two.


For today, I took the role of the begrudging female captive, “the prize”, as he’d dubbed me, that he now saw fit to dress as he pleases. Well, I decided, a lady of such worth (at least in his eyes), I should at least be afforded a say in how that looks for my captor, no?

Nope. Apparently not. Well that’s okay, stripped of all control is still a nice place anyway.

One of the things that I learned in my short time with business negotiations is that when it comes to people, you have to try a whole range of tactics. Confrontational works sometimes, but more often, people get defensive or hostile instead. A well-timed, perfectly executed compliment sometimes works, but more often, so too does gentle humour. Try anything. Eventually, something will stick.

Okay, so most things – I do have my limits!

In our little roleplay session last night, I complimented my captor on his magnificent ship, and for his part, he told me where she’d been captured – off of the coast of Gibraltar.

Oh, so something of a Spanish acquisition then? I mused. A wordsmith? Me? It’s well documented.

Aye, she was the “Sumisa”, he continued.

The Sumisa? Interesting, I’d never heard of her. I have a long-standing interest in shipwrecks and maritime disasters, but the “Sumisa” wasn’t one that I’d heard of. Owing to his work, I wondered if maybe he knew of one that I didn’t and so, in a quiet moment last night, I decided to look her up. I had a thirst for knowledge, and I had to get to know the Sumisa. What had been her fate? What had been her story?

Simply put, the Sumisa didn’t exist. She doesn’t exist. She’s never did have a story.

What I did find though, was a direct translation for the name – Sumisa; submissive, feminine. Translated from Spanish.

Captured her? Captured her indeed. Like a fly in a spider’s web, I was still putting up a fight, even if I’d been well and truly caught.

Holy hell, he’s good!

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