Turning around to take a seat I am shocked to find you kneeling submissively before me. My heart leaps into my throat as your position and posture communicate more than any words ever could. I am nearly moved to tears as you present yourself to me in a most respectful and submissive manner. It is all I can do but to reach out and embrace you and tell you everything will be OK, and we will be OK, and that you are indeed my cherished little one. But you have asked to speak with me, and with all the resolve I can muster I sit silently down to listen to what you have to say.
“Sir,” you begin, eyes cast down at the floor, face hidden behind your beautiful long hair. “I have been thinking long and hard about the nature of my submission as you directed me to do. And I admit that I am deeply conflicted over certain elements of our relationship and the role that I play in it.”
As you speak, the fear that you may indeed leave me rises anew.
“I am indeed struggling with the service element of our relationship and have a very difficult time submitting to your will when you direct me to serve you domestically or in other ways that feel even remotely demeaning or menial,” you continue. “I am trying to understand why this is because in my heart I want to submit to you and no one but you. I want to please you and serve you and give myself and my life over to you. It does please me very much to do so and I crave my release of control and your leadership and control of me.”
I make to speak but then decide to bite my tongue and just listen.
“I want to surrender to you entirely and serve you as you see fit. I feel complete and whole when I am able to do so without reservation. But there is this part of me that is clinging to my old self, the person that I molded for all those years before we met. That independent and willful person who determined her own destiny and took orders from no one unless there was a paycheck involved.”
“To be the person you want me to be and are working so hard to mold me into being, I have to let go of that other me. The past me. And it is like dying in one sense and being reborn in another. Even though I know that my rebirth is like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, the caterpillar has to let go of the life it knew first. It is that life that I am struggling to let go of. And when I struggle with letting go, it manifests itself in the form of defiance of your will and desires for me.”
Caption © For the Love of A Submissive, 2012