Each day in September, I will be posting a question about submission, along with two responses- the first written five years ago and the second from today. I welcome all who wish to join in this exercise to post your own answers in the comments, adjusting the question if necessary to suit your own roles and sensibilities.
Do you have submissive desires or fantasies that you have yet to be able to explore? Do some of your desires confuse or frighten you? Do they excite you?
2012
Yes I have fantasies. I would like to share them, but they are not very well defined yet. Or maybe they are and I’m just not ready to admit them to myself. I will share some day, they’re just not very coherent now.
And I want to share them as Kia- an alias, but not a disposable one. Semi-anonymity is a powerful thing. I love the freedom in being able to explore myself outside of my day to day life and associations, and yet still be me. I know that for this to work for me I have to be me. I have to be honest about what I am (or think I am) now, and about how that changes as I explore. I want to remember this journey, in all of its confusion.
There is a lot of confusion now. Less than there used to be, but more than I would like. There is fear and excitement too- anxiety may be a better word, as I’m not sure the fear is necessarily a bad thing. I am beginning to suspect that some level of fear is core to this for me. That my submission is somehow tied to confronting that fear. Not so much fear of pain, but fear of what the pain does. Fear of the change it brings on. Fear of looking inside of me, not being sure what I’ll find or what I’ll need to do about it.
Reading helps. Especially when you write so beautifully about things my mind had hidden from itself. Reading helps me realize that not only am I not alone, but also that this is not a bad thing. That it can be wonderful.
***
2017
True punishment remains the holy grail for me. It takes a special kind of trust – at all phases – to accept such a punishment. Trust that my partner will not scorn me for my failings. Trust that they believe I can improve, trust that they are willing to help me to do so. Trust that they will not damage me. Trust that what they do will be enough. Trust that both of us can forgive what I have done. Trust that they will support me before, during, and after. Trust that it will work.
It also takes a very patient and committed partner. Someone willing to put in the time and love to create the necessary trust, and someone willing to be firm enough to see it through. Someone also willing to take on the certain vulnerability of the disciplinarian role; once we cross the line to where this is no longer play, neither of us has the shield of an assumed role, neither of us has the joking and banter to fall back on should something go awry. The intensity of this sort of relationship both intrigues and frightens me.
I worry that this is too much to ask, I worry that one or the both of us will lessen the experience to a degree that it becomes mere play. Nothing wrong with play, but I still want something deeper.
Acknowledging Imperfection 