I normally identify as “bottom leaning towards submissive.” TSH and I have tried various D/s dynamics and levels but they’ve never quite worked. So, I’ve never experienced submission on all levels. A recent conversation with FLG, combined with a couple of Girl on the Net posts, got me thinking though…
Me: I’ve never explored my submissive side properly. I might be the worst one ever. I’m rubbish at doing what I’m told, impatient and brattish.
Him: I think you might make a good sub. Not all the time, that’s not you but from time to time, giving up control might be good for you.
Forced removal of control
I thought about it and wasn’t sure he was right. The idea of having control taken away from me, feeds into my darkest, horniest fantasies. The lack of choice, being told what to do, being made to do it is really hot. The central theme of years of wanking has always been the forced removal of control. And further back, further than I can remember, faceless, anonymous men have been the focus of my sexual identity.
But then, I read Girl on the Net’s post “Sex tech: you bring the gadgets and I’ll bring the filth.” It’s got geekery which is always sexy, but also this:
“I pictured lying on my back with my hands and feet restrained, naked save for a pair of soaking-wet knickers and an expression of aching desperation, as my partner sat fully-clothed in the corner of the room, whispering ‘good girl’ as he stroked his phone. The power that can sit at his fingertips, and my own writhing anger as he used it to torture rather than relieve me.”
In my head this scene grew: of course the idea of being slowly, agonisingly tortured, edged closer and closer really appeals. But in my head it’s less anonymous. Yes, I’m strapped to a bed, desperate to come while there’s a man in a suit, with the controls. He’ll come over and stroke my hair or cheek, kiss my forehead and tell me how well I’m doing, but I don’t deserve to come just yet. He’ll take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves, deliberately, watching my face as my lust pools painfully in my clit. He’ll sit back down and keep playing with me, bringing me closer, holding me back until I’m an incoherent mess.
Somehow, it’s more intimate than my other fantasies. It’s gentle, the character almost known. But at its core, I’m still having control taken away; I’ve not volunteered myself. The restraints make me helpless forcing me to give in to the process. It’s a hot scene, but it’s a scene and nothing more.
Voluntary giving up my control
Coming back to FLG’s comment, “giving up control might be good for you“, I realised there’s a difference between having it forcibly taken and giving it freely. I don’t know that I’d be able to successfully do that, whether it’s good for me or not. It’s a huge deal. And I’m impulsive and impatient. I don’t know whether I’m capable of it, which quite frankly, makes it a hotter prospect.
And I don’t know it would work for me. I’ve never had that ongoing denial, but if I am left wanting, my brain switches my clit off, so I’m not horny and impatient for orgasm throughout the day. And I’m not good at edging myself, my brain isn’t in the right place for it and again, my clit isn’t interested.
What made me clench though was Girl on the Net’s next post, in some weird way of consecutive posts getting into my head: “Guest blog: female orgasm denial.” There’s a line about what the Dominant partner gets out of orgasm control:
“There is an incredible thrill to having someone absolutely at your mercy and begging for something you have the power to give or withhold.”
(Emphasis is mine)
If I were given exact instructions, on a regular basis throughout a day or so, perhaps it might be different. The idea that I would voluntarily give up that bit of me and allow someone to take it over is interesting. Turns me on. Makes me almost want to try it…
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