When I found my submissive side, I was so hooked on serving that I forgot about what I wanted from D/s. Sub frenzy made me a pot of bubbling hormones that exploded 20 times a day. I couldn’t think my way out of my own kitchen, let alone through a healthy relationship. The only thing that had rental space in my head was my dom.
Well, him and his mouth and his cock and his tongue and oh god I’m going to melt into a gooey pile of oxytocin and drown.
I had all the mental faculties of a toddler because sex was fogging up my brain every second of every day. It was delicious and debilitating all at once, but I was more interested in the tasty parts, which got their power from more submission, more frenzy, more deliriousness.
I was too ecstatic to think about limits or safe words. He insisted on them several times. I told him “no”. All hail the rationality of The New Sub™. Submission gave me a high that limits and safe words would diminish, so I threw away caution and focused on pushing our dynamic to new extremes. I was so hooked and elated I might as well have had a needle in my arm.