Submission To Me


#submission

n.
1. #the action or fact of submitting. ?(Wrestling) an act of surrendering to a hold by one's opponent.
2. #a proposal or application submitted for consideration. ?(Law) a proposition or argument presented by counsel to a judge or jury.
3. #archaic humility; meekness.

#submission

submission to authority yielding, capitulation, acceptance, consent, compliance


Ok well that's the boring bit out the way. Its all well and nice to have these definitions of submission but in reality that means as much to me as getting bread from a butcher. Submission is in the soul, it's not words. It has to be part of who you are to be anything.

What is it to me?

It is everything yet the word means nothing. The emotions embrace you, they take over like a virus and trick you into allowing them to effectively infect every cell in your being. It's like a drug that turns the world into a rosy haze. Its like a love affair with Satan, you know you will go to hell for it but eternal torment is a small price to pay for such bliss. You can read about how wonderful submission is. You can talk to people and be told what submission is to them. Until I met Master I only thought it would be wonderful, I even at one point thought I was experiencing it but I soon out grew sensations. I'm not the airy fairy type. I'm not the sort to fall in love online, but as I chatted to my now Master I felt a strong feeling of being drawn to him. It even unnerved me a bit, I had never really not been in control of what was happening. When I met him I knew he was the one but I also knew it's always best to take it slowly and not jump in the deep end before u have learnt to swim.

I had already had one BDSM relationship before I met Master, it didn't work but it did teach me a lot about myself and my self worth. Some gifts no matter how much you think they need to be given cannot be given to any fool who demands it.

As I am writing this I am very aware tomorrow brings another scene. The scene in its self holds no fear, I know I am safe, but the worry for me is more my fear of the fear. I cannot think about what I am going to face. My Master is a sadist, my gifts to him are my tears and my pain but those bits are easy. I hate the pain so sobbing comes quite easily. What I find hard is not fighting, not fleeing, just moving back into position for another stroke. The cane bruises, breaks the skin, in my head it feels like it's sliced though my thighs. I sob, I beg and I am told I am a good girl - lol. I will sometimes though my tears inform Master that I really don't want to be a good girl anymore. Being a good girl doesn't help me take the next stroke or make the last stroke hurt any less. Some days are harder than others, my head tells me I must be mad or I have taken as much as I can and I almost fight it in my head. Other days I sometimes get to a point where I almost surrender to the pain. I have a safe word, it's for when something is wrong and I need to let Master know. I don't expect to need it but I also do not expect Master to be psychic, he's good but not that good - lol.

Sceneing is hard, I find the next one harder than the last, but in saying that I don't actually remember much of past scenes. I find in the process of coming back when I'm still floaty, the pain, the tears, the number of strokes fade away. All I have left is the knowledge I gave a little more of my soul.

Now from what I have already said the scene sounds like hell and it is, but I need it. It's one of those few times in ones life when you can stand before someone completely naked. No clothing, no barriers just me and my tears and my pain. Its beautiful, I can let go, surrender all the bad days and my frustrations. All those things we hold on to that build up I get to let go of. Who gives the more important gift? Me in my surrender or Master in his security and protection? I don't ever feel any less than Master, I am not below him. I see the M/s relationship more like two sides of a coin, it's worthless without the other.

I keep a record of how much I take in a scene, since I forget I ask Master to tell me how many of what. I work hard for my marks. I am proud of them, of myself. Each mark almost feels like he has written his name over my body. Every bruise cost me tears my bruises are priceless. I wear my marks as a sign of my love for my Master.


My submission, my surrender has given me an insight I have never had before. I watched the world in black and white and Master has given me colour. What I saw before in Klimt's The Kiss is no longer there, there's no reluctance in the embrace. I now see how she clings to his arms. She has been captured, she is in his possession. I see her stillness, I recognise the stillness.

I crave my Master's touch I crave how his touch quietens my soul, my turbulent oceans suddenly calm.I crave his hands round my throat and the squeeze.

My god who else could I trust with my life in their hands? 		                       

Recently I was in the train station. I stood and watch the trains go past. The noise from their engines used to scare me when I was little. Today the sound was fascinating, It's not something I need to fear anymore. My submission has made me brave. Whoever said you have nothing to fear but fear its self was right. I fear worrying so much about the pain that I actually stop my self from hurting as much as I can.

Submission, my submission teaches me a little more about myself everyday. Every day I realise something new, something so obvious that I can't understand how I ever didn't know it. This act, my submission, my surrender, is my freedom. My Master's laws don't bind me from things I can't do, they allow me to do the things I can. I am no longer bound by my own uncertainties.

I love him for who he is, I love him for reaching inside of me and opening the box where I hide all the good and the bad bits from the world. I love him enough to give him the box where I once hid all these things because with him I no longer need it. He is not all that I am but he has made me more than I ever would have been and for this freedom I thank Him.

©2004 claire

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