Why would anyone want to sub

cleofaye's picture

Cross posted at www.cuntlove.wordpress.com

I know a lot of people don’t understand BDSM. That’s fine, you don’t have to understand (as long as you don’t judge). I didn’t get it either, until the first time I did it. I know that for me, and most of the people I know, the first question is, why would you ever want to be a sub? I thought that for a very long time, and I never thought I would be one, until I tried it. I’m going to explain it the best I can (since a lot of it can be hard to articulate) to try and explain the joys of being a bottom.

I overthink things. Everything. My mind is constantly going with a million things to worry, fret and obsess about. This has always been the case, for as long as I can remember, I’ve stayed up nights thinking and worrying and second guessing myself. Very few things quiet my brain. I learned pretty early on that one of those very few things was an intense orgasm. I would lay on the bed after a sex session, blissed out of my mind and would drift off to sleep, my brain silently floating on a cloud of endorphins. But to get there, I found myself with a whole other set of issues to worry about. Did I look sexy? Was he getting off? Was I making too much noise?

Then, came the first time I let him blindfold and dominate me. It blanked my mind in a way I’d never experienced before. I focused on my other senses… straining to hear his foot steps and reaching towards him to prolong his touch… anything to help me visualize the scene that was going on around me. Everything I insisted on worrying about just faded. I was being told what to do, as long as I complied, I was sexy, I was pleasing, I was exactly what he wanted, what could be more soothing then that?

It soon became something I wanted to do all the time.  I trusted him completely, and he knew my limits and constantly tested them, not enough to betray that trust or scare me but enough to slowly coax me into more and more elaborate and harder forms of bondage and submission. Soon I was sitting on the end of the bed, patiently waiting while being tied in a rope harness so elaborate it took ten minutes to get out of (we had safety scissors in case it needed to be quicker).

I started to feel my body respond to pain in a way I never expected. I liked it, but more than that, it was a sharp, intense way to focus all my nervous energy. I would leave his house lightly bruised, wearing my purple-ing flesh with pride. I would lay there, waiting for the next fall of his hand, or the riding crop, or the paddle, feel the impact, feel the sensation spread across my skin, and feel the heat as it started to redden. The moment he wasn’t touching me, I was waiting for the next impact. I was in the sub-space.

Being a sub taught me that I could quiet my head, once I found that quiet place, it became easier and easier to go there on my own. I learned to let go of things and to understand that sometimes I just have to accept things the way they are. I still worry, I still lay awake some nights, but being a sub calmed me a lot. It gave me a space where I could let myself be “punished” for all the things I felt guilty for (and I grew up Catholic, so trust me, there was plenty of guilt) and I could start to let those feelings go.

I haven’t subbed in years, I’ve been domming for most of that time, but whenever I feel like the world is too overwhelming, I find myself craving someone I could close my eyes, surrender myself to, and let go.

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