If I push myself further than I can realistically cope with as a submissive, it won’t be long before I lose the desire to serve. I tend to hide my efforts to go above and beyond the call of duty, so the only thing that’s obvious in those moments is the fact that I ran out of service steam. When the bigger picture is invisible, that looks like nothing more than defiance. Bad sub. Said ‘no’. Needs punishment.
People pleasing is a sub’s fastest track towards a vanilla relationship because when the desire to serve is lost, the dominoes of your dynamic begin to fall. I know only one cure for this: communication.
It’s easy for submissives to exhaust themselves without showing the first sign that we’re running out of resources. All but the most evolved among us will trip over our own feet to make our dominants happy. D-types tend to make their desires known often. How else would they dominate?
Subs? Not so much. Many of us put our own desires on the backburner, especially if we’re codependent, and dominants aren’t mind readers. I need to feel I can speak up as a sub or our dynamic will evaporate faster than it takes for you to get that belt off. I must feel heard, but even if my Dominant gets that 150% right, it can’t make up for my inability to take my own needs seriously.
There are few things in this word that I hate more than body hair. Every day is an all-out war against the horrors of the constantly-functioning hair follicle. Depilation isn’t a form of maintenance for me. It’s an art. My routine is complex enough to deserve a Nobel Prize. Wait for the centimetre of regrowth you need for a wax? Are you fucking insane? Deal with post-shave stubble? Not a chance. Twice a week you’ll find me in a million different contortions, Epilady in hand, hunting down the three hairs that have managed to sprout since the last expedition. You could call me obsessed, and you wouldn’t be wrong.
It’s often said that a bald mound is nothing more than a porn trope—a trend that evolved to make sure as much vagina was visible on film as possible. I’m not so easily influenced by fashion or peer pressure. Comfort and great sex, on the other hand, are non-negotiables. Why would I wear something on my body that got between my skin and his? I want to feel every last ridge and texture variation, and pubic hair just gets in the way.
The first dominant I considered getting involved with from Fetlife led me to write a panicked letter. It included this excerpt:
I’ve been told the right to consent doesn’t belong to a sub. I submit because I choose to. What I’ve seen in the community has looked more like narcissistic manipulation and control than dominance. My future, if done the Fetlife way, would be an epic mistake.
Part of the reply went something like this:
I think you actually have a very rational and accurate view of dominance and submission. No two dominants and no two submissives are exactly alike because we are all unique individuals shaped by our own distinctive set of life experiences. Manipulation, force or coercion should never be used to secure submission because it violates free will and literally falls within the realm of abuse, which should never occur in a D/s relationship.
So you’re telling me that I, as a noob, am allowed to choose how I manage my D/s relationships? That morals mean the same thing inside the BDSM community as outside it?
My relief was palpable. “Hey, everyone. Noobs are allowed to apply the principles they use outside Fetlife to their D/s relationships. Noobs aren’t stupid. Noobs know a few things about consent. They might not know everything, but if they stick to their guns and keep learning, they’ll do far better than if they distrust themselves.”
Dominants get the short end of the stick far too often in our community. We discuss consent as though submissives hold final sway. We’re seen as the most powerful half of our partnerships because we ultimately decide what’s included in a scene and when play is ended with a safe word. I call bullshit on that attitude because it puts dominants at risk. It takes away power that’s rightfully theirs.
The left side of the slash is not made of carbon steel. D-types are prone to harm, too, and we speak about that so rarely that I think we skew the meaning of risk aware consensual kink.
I don’t like to have the power to give and retract consent for every tiny thing. I don’t like knowing what’s around the corner so I lean more towards CNC. That’s my preference, and that’s risky. For a rape survivor, it’s very risky because it opens me up to seventy twelve potential trauma triggers. Thinking that my trauma during a scene affects me alone is selfish at best, narcissistic at worst. An empathic top is profoundly affected by a traumatised sub. I know—I’ve been there. I will not go there again without getting the consent of my top.
I’m the ultimate blowjob connoisseur. I have a hundred kinks related to oral sex from face fucking to throating to my top three favourite positions. Feeling him get harder against my tongue every time his belt connects with my skin? Fucking priceless. I could wax lyrical for pages over giving head. I love it more than life itself. No, really.
When it comes to sex, senses are more important than sensation to me. I’m an aural creature, and I’m empathic enough to take more pleasure out of your sensations than my own. Every gasp, every choked-back breath, every shiver sets me on edge. I’ve yet to find a way to amp up that experience more than by giving head. I’m a blowjob fetishist, vanilla as that may be. When I find out a partner is as into them as I am, I do a happy dance for days.
Not submissive enough. Now there’s a concept that makes me want to leave black-and-blue marks on a dominant’s ass. Here’s one that makes me want to take to their hides with a blunt blade:
<cue Jaws music>
Topping from the bottom.
God help the submissive who does power exchange their way or has noncompliant moments. If you’re not 100% subly 100% of the time, submissive is a misnomer—or so saith The House of Twue, anyway.
I’ve written about the cultish aspects of this community enough times to erase all twuism from my bones, and yet I’m still affected by it. I struggle with the fact that I sometimes have a rebellious streak. I struggle with the fact that my personality is built out of SpanishRed bricks, not submissive bricks. I have to remind myself constantly that that’s okay. I am a person, not a label, and the only D-type who’s worthy of me wants to experience me in all my fucked-up awesomeness, noncompliant moments and all.
Hypocrisy is rife in The House of Twue:
“An unsubmissive sub is a failed sub, but an undomly dominant has better things to do with their time than inspire submission. Subs must arrive in a relationship with all submission intact but Twue Dominants have been doing this kink thing for far too long to have to earn it.” –Textbook of Twue, page 56, paragraph three.
Oh, look! A sexy Facebook! This is going to be awesome!
What the fuck does a photo of a man carrying a chicken have to do with sex? Oh, wait…is this one of those taboo sites? Ermaghard. I had no idea people who fucked chickens could be that hawt. I had no idea you could really fuck a chicken.
Feminism, feminism, more feminism. What does wimminz lib have to do with sex? Are all feminists kinky? Are all kinky people feminists?
Oh, look! Ass jewellery. Well, that’s cute. What do you have to pierce to wear one of those things? Waaaiiit… are you telling me you put that inside your ass? Ew! Naw! I’m not gay.
Now there’s something I can support: blowjobs. I don’t mind watching a bit of BJ porn. Did you know that there are unkinky people in the world who give blowjobs? Oh, hellz, no. Is that cock going all the way down? What the actual fuck? That just isn’t right. You people are obviously using Industrial Light and Magic to make your videos. I can spot special effects from a mile off, andobviously nobody can fit a cock all the way down their throat. It’s anatomically impossible, and I’m checking Snopes for evidence as soon as I’m done here.