The Nitty Gritty of Power Exchange

The Nitty Gritty of Power Exchange

So Daddy goes off to work this morning and I send him my thoughts about our little D/s moment of crisis from last night, and my epiphany on how I want to be more forcefully dominated.  More forcefully forced.  And this is what he writes me back:

Well, my suddenly rebellious teenager, you have been a bad girl haven’t you? .. So, I ask myself:  Can I be the very strong Daddy you need me to be?  Can I run roughshod over my baby girl when she gets wobbly? .. No, that’s the wrong question, .. Of course I can, .. the better question is do I want to?  A few weeks ago, I would have said, ‘no’, that’s not me, but our D/s dynamic continuously evolves and reveals and awakens, and as we peel back the layers, I am often surprised and occasionally shocked by the severity of my masculine essence, ..  I thrill at turning you over my knee and smacking your ass and cramming your face into our mattress while fucking you, .. Still, the question remains, do I want to run roughshod when you’re rebellious, when you’re reluctant?  Do I need to show you who your Daddy is in those moments?  Is that me?  As you point out, societal indoctrination to respect others is strong, .. ‘no’ means ‘no’ and all that, .. but if my cock is any indication (currently stiff), it’s definitely in my nature to impose and subdue, even when you’re unwilling, so the want is there, .. time will tell if I’m capable, I suppose.

Of course then I ask myself the next obvious question:  What if I’m not the very strong Daddy my baby girl needs?  Where does that leave us?

When I read this, which I basically interpret as, “ I guess we’ll see,” I feel very unsettled.  It’s not what I expected him to say.  I thought it would be something like, oh yeah baby, gonna use whatever dominant force necessary to keep this D/s ship sailing on smooth seas.  Or words to that effect. Instead, I hear him saying he is not sure how dominant he really is.  I don’t like it.  And so I write him back:

Oh Daddy, what a big self-deceiver I have been, and maybe you have been one too.  What in the world are we DOING?  Do we really have any idea of what dominance and submission even means?  I have been so busy focusing on the finer points of submission, and the sexual love juice of it, I never much thought about the domination side of things, only that I knew it was the more difficult side of it, the greater responsibility.  But I take that back – 

I have the more difficult side, because it is really me running this show.  You have said you don’t know if you are capable or not of being in true and literal control of me.  If I am not in the mood, or can’t find the submissive impulse, well you might not be able to insist.  So if there is no dominant on the other side, then by default, it is up to me and my will and my moods and my consent whether it works or not, and that makes ME the fucking dominant, jesus Christ, fucking AGAIN.  And I am PISSED, probably not at you, I think you are amazing brave wonderful to take on this crazy experiment with me at all.

But I am back where I was when I tried to play the dominant role with previous husband, and it slowly occurred to me that the whole thing was happening per his desires, the supposed submissive. I knew then it was all an elaborate play-acting game, and now it seems that no matter which way I turn, I cannot escape elaborate play-acting.  Seriously, how can we call it domination if it is at my pleasure not yours?  As I was pouting and shutting down last night over a stupid fucking butt plug, oh I felt I’d become so absurd, unable to manage my evermore intense desires.  I feel so lost and I don’t know where safety is. It’s supposed to be with you, in your solid sense of what is right for me, but the few times I have pushed it, I have felt your hesitance, you hold back, for what reasons I am not sure. It could be that it just takes time to be confident in a new way of relating.  But it also could be that it is an impossible task, in the real world anyway –

When I read D/s erotica stories, there is no negotiation for “safe, sane and consensual” scenes, there is always some set up in which the woman is given no choice at all, she is forced to submit, sold into marriage, or given to some man for some reason, or some other set up in which he literally owns her or has legal right to her body.  That is the female fantasy of submission, no choice, being owned, forced, that is where the peace lies.  But that is fiction.

I had assumed that submission and being dominated were the same experience, but they’re not.  Submitting by choice is wonderful and sexy, but if it is only by choice, then here comes all the noisy static of choice.  Do I want this, do I like this, am I in the mood for this, and so on.  There is no peace in choice for me.  Being dominated is a much different feel, a more wild and raw thing, and I am discovering I need that as much or even more than simple submission …

It can’t be only my responsibility to make this work, I can’t be the only one who is willing to cross the boundary of acceptability, the only one willing to take all the psychological risk – and oh there is risk.  I have been trying to turn my mind over to you in the most real way, and on some days it has been almost scary effective.  But what is the risk for you?  You smashing my face against the mattress when you know I like and want it?  What is the risk in that?

I don’t know if that is the right question, I don’t what I’m saying, or asking exactly.  I write you all my thoughts, but yours feel hidden to me.  I don’t know what was going through your mind last night.  You seemed upset at the idea of giving up being my Daddy.  You said you NEED to be my Daddy, but why do you need it?  We have agreed that a Daddy is protective and loving and all that.  But what about the domination part of it?  The ownership part of it?  What is domination to you?  What is it that makes you identify as a dominant?  What do you mean when you say you want me to belong to you?  What does that require of me?  What does it require of me if I do not feel like doing what you say, if I am having some mental shut down moment like last night?  Does it require I just go along anyway?  Then that means I become a pretender, a play actor.  That means all the responsibility is on me to make it work.

Tell me, Daddy Husband, what are we DOING?  Your phrase “time will tell” is probably the right one, it has to be allowed to unfold as it will, as we discover it.  We need time and experience to grow into it.  But still, that phrase made me want to weep. If you don’t know one way or the other, then how can you be the dominant?  Isn’t what happens supposed to be by your choice?  I know that’s not fair, I can’t allow myself the luxury of being wobbly in submission, and give you no wobble room at all.  I just know I can’t keep this up if it is essentially only a play-acting charade.  At some point we will have to face that defining moment – do you have it in you truly own me, and to be the strong Daddy I need?

Oh, I am sad you sounded so unsure.  But then, how can you not be unsure?   This is a dark and strange foreign land we have entered, nothing is as it looks on the surface …

I hit send, and then sit in turmoil for the next few hours, wondering if I am dragging us toward the edge of the D/s cliff.  I have the feeling when standing atop a hill and I can see the destination I want to get to, but I can’t see the path to get there.  Or maybe that’s not the right analogy.  Maybe it’s more like I know how to get there, but I can’t drive.  I need Daddy to drive us there.  It takes awhile, but here is what I hear back:

Well, sweet girl, what an odd twist, .. happier than ever two short days ago to full-on crisis tonight.  I’ve been a very bad Daddy, baby girl, .. “time will tell”, Jesus fuck, did I really type that phrase?  What a candy-assed thing to say.  It seemed benign enough in context, .. the D/s way of being does continue to evolve for me, but fuck, you have every right to be pissed, .. at me, not yourself.  I’ll try again in crystal clear terms:  I have an extremely masculine bent.  I prefer the ‘loving dominant’ dynamic, but I get stiff when I think about subduing you, willing or not, and I am very capable of imposing my will.  It isn’t a game or role play; it’s me being my true self, of that I’m certain.  I am the strong Daddy you need.

I close the computer, and I actually cry.  Oh, thank God.  It is only later that I realize he still hasn’t answered the most important question of all:  What exactly are we DOING?

When the D/s Dynamic Gets Slippery

When the D/s Dynamic Gets Slippery

I was a bad girl last night.  Those are the first words that came to mind as I sit down to write this while it is still early morning dark.  I don’t know if that’s literally what I was; more like imperfectly submissive.  I upset Daddy for sure.  I got myself in a mental tangle, one of those stupid things, for stupid reasons.  It is the first time that has happened like that.  I have been shaken and rattled by this dynamic before, scared by it, but I have not felt … Frozen in mind, unable to willingly surrender.  It was strange …

Daddy came home from his trip last night, and I was nervous, but I was so relieved when he walked through the door and immediately pushed me down to my knees to take his cock in my mouth.  A little later he tied me in wonderful rope, tight around my breasts, and I felt that delicious submissive spell creep up on me.  Then he said it was time for a spanking.  But instead of lying across his lap like I was told, I said, “Wait!”  And I ran into the bedroom to get the tray of butt plugs.  I planned to ask him to put one in me before he spanked me.

I had spent some time on Fetlife earlier in the day, and saw again the submissive girls posting videos of themselves showing how much they can take in their ass, how big the toys, how they train themselves.  Or their Daddies post the videos of themselves ass fucking his sub with captions like “see what a good baby girl I have.”  It’s clearly a prized submissive skill, to take your dominant’s cock in the ass, and so of course this is what I aspire to – for that, and many other reasons, pleasure reasons, submissive mindset reasons, spiritual reasons.  And after Daddy had been gone so long, I’d thought, Damn, after all Daddy’s efforts to get my ass to open up, I am probably back to where I started, and I need to get back to some kind of training …

But as I started to open the drawer for the tray, I didn’t feel right taking it back into the living room and trying to get him do something I wanted.  It seemed it should be his idea, not mine.  And what if he wasn’t in the mood for that?  I closed the drawer, went back to couch where Daddy was waiting, and started to lie on his lap.  But then I had the thought, no I’m allowed to at least ask, and so I straddled his lap and started to talk to him about it …

But I couldn’t quite get the words out.  I felt embarrassed and stupid that it meant so much to me.  I felt I’d already made a fool of myself asking for anal training too many times, mentioning it over and over, writing about it, and leaving the stupid tray of plugs laying out on the coffee table.  I’d been hinting, hinting, but he only reached for them a few times on his own.  So I sat there facing him, frozen, unable to say what I wanted.

“What?” he demanded.  “What do you want to say?”

I could only shake my head.  I felt like a bad submissive for having my own agenda, and then I suddenly I felt upset at him.  Why did I have to keep asking (pleading) for ass training?  Why did he keep telling me he was into that if he really wasn’t?  Why did he agree it was an important thing for us to accomplish and then make so little effort to get there?  Was it because he was tired of working on my stubborn tight butthole?  Was it because it had become a chore?  It was agonizing to be spinning in such a mental circle over something like THAT.  My fear of turning him off made my mind freeze up, and then the ropes on me felt ridiculous too, I felt the urge to get them off me.  And so I asked him, please take them off …

But he said no  (oh, I did feel relief when he said no, if he’d said yes, then that would confirmed that I was indeed ridiculous).  He said I was wearing them for him, not me, and that was a relieving thought, and then he said time for spanking, and I was shaking my head, I didn’t see how I could submit to that feeling so foolish already, but he kept coaxing me, physically pushing me over his lap, and that was good, I needed that.  The spanking was good, it helped, I could feel myself moving back toward submission.  But then … there was nothing else to submit to.  He didn’t ask for anything more.  So we sat, we watched TV, and submission drifted away out of reach again, and soon I wanted the ropes off again, kept asking, please take them off.

It was a fairly miserable evening for me, and when we went to bed, he said he’d tuck me in, but I told him I didn’t want that either.  He became silent for a long while.  I lay still and cold and hard.

Finally his voice came in the dark, tinged with a note of fear:  “You don’t want to do this anymore?”

“That’s not it,” I said.  But I didn’t know how to express my own fears.  We were somehow in a moment of crisis with D/s I didn’t fully understand.

We lay there in the dark for several more long, tense minutes.  Then all at once he rolled toward me with energy and purpose, and pushed me over onto my side.

“You don’t have a choice,” he said, then shoved my leg up so that my ass was exposed to him.  I lay still, heart beating hard as I heard him open the lube.  Then he tucked me in all right, shoved his fingers up into my ass, whispering in my ear, “You’re mine, and you’ll do as you’re told.”

Oh fuck, the relief to feel dominated!  To be given no choice, to shut all those tortured thoughts off.  To just say, yes, Daddy, I am yours.  Oh, I wanted to cry with relief.

But this morning I feel regretful, very much like a bad girl.  I don’t like upsetting the D/s dynamic.  Why does it feel so fragile sometimes?  Is it just because we are so new?  Do we just need to better understand how it works?

The submissive mindset sometimes comes easy for me, sometimes it slips away, mostly when I am embarrassed or scared or feeling foolish.  But clearly, I can’t fix it all by myself.  Submission is only half the equation, there needs to be strong force of dominance on the other side.  I need a very strong Daddy, someone willing to dominate me forcefully when I am feeling wobbly in my submission.

This is not an easy thing for us to grasp firmly, we are both so indoctrinated in the respect the other person’s feelings, we have all this cultural training to look it at is wrong and immoral to do something without the other’s consent.  But when I am struggling like that, I don’t need my feelings respected, I need them overrun and shut off.  I need to be physically made to obey, put in my place.

That is what I was craving last night, to be forced to obey.  He figured it out eventually, he is very smart and intuitive.  But it took hours, and I wonder what will happen the next time I become frozen and reluctant.  Can he force me to submit?  What if I am even more reluctant than I was last night, could he drag me over his lap, and cram my head against the couch and spank the crap out of me until I KNOW who my Daddy is?  Could he hold me down and fuck me and show me I belong to him even if I was saying no?  How dominant is he in truth?

I suddenly feel this rebellious teenager type feeling of wanting to test our boundaries.   Find out what my Daddy is made of, find out how much he wants to own me.  I have no idea how I’d really feel if he did run roughshod over me like that.  But I can honestly say I crave to be subdued.  I don’t want to be able to control the level of dominance he exercises through my own feelings.  There is paradoxically a feeling of great safety in being shown total and complete dominance, of knowing there is no room for me to wiggle free and be left to my own mind.  I am usually miserable when left to my own mind.  I feel saved when I submit to his.

There it is, the truth.  I want to be forced, I need to be forced.  What will he say when I tell him?

Are Women “Wired” for Submission?

Are Women “Wired” for Submission?

Ah, wonderful life-affirming, marriage-enhancing, heat-producing BDSM.  After a long hiatus updating this blog while I dealt with health problems and a couple of no-fun surgeries – and feeling constrained by the whole #MeToo movement of female empowerment against unwanted sexual dominance by men – my Daddy and I have recommitted ourselves to our BDSM life with marvelous vengeance.  We are now over four years into our journey of Dominance and Submission, and oh the things we have learned.  But for now, I am going to go back and pick up our tale from where I so abruptly left off, back when we were just beginning.  This is my journal entry written a month or so into our D/s journey …

Daddy has gone away on a business trip, and over the two days he’s been gone, I’ve been caught up in work, feeling the return of independent me, not thinking too much about sex.  In fact, I’ve become so detached from the idea of sex that I feel puzzled by the intensity of the past month, maybe even a little embarrassed by my previous zeal for the Daddy Dom dynamic.

Last night, all alone, I poked around online for things to read, and ran across these unbeknownst-to-me genres of erotic literature available only in e-books that have flourished in the post-50 Shades of Grey world.  There is a whole genre of being treated as “little” by dominating men and even a sub-genre of “historical” tales – stories of poor lost orphan girls pushed into Victorian boarding schools where they are trained to be submissives to new rich Daddies.  They are splayed open and inspected by stern doctors, given enemas by stern nurses, bound to their beds, and have ginger plugs shoved up their bums when they are bad.

I ran into these books just by typing “spanking” into the Amazon search engine, and hundreds of these are available for download.  Every possible spanking configuration has a niche, the submitting to the stepfather, the schoolmaster, the moody billionaire, the doctor, the sheikh, the teenager, the child, and even “the baby” who is forced to wear diapers, suck on a bottle.  And there is of course spanking on most every page.  It amazed and astonished me, the sheer volume of output about these fantasies.  True, it is dreadfully written stuff, laughably bad.  But clearly, women respond to them in a big way.  I do.  I got hooked reading Taken by the Duke late into the night, feeling the pull of it, almost put in a spell by it.

Before long, a huge sexual longing for my Daddy hit me like an ocean wave, and engulfed me completely.  My mind was possessed by restless sexual longing the rest of the night.  As my mind turned to imagining the rope, or the spankings I suddenly wanted so badly, I felt very aware of how the sexual reward centers of my brain were lighting up, creating a loop of craving (stimulating chemicals) and a following satisfaction (tranquilizing chemicals) from the mere thought of being spanked.  It felt like I had no choice in the matter, the rush of chemicals from the initial longing and then the imagined receiving – they literally hijacked my brain, and spread throughout my body until I actually ached to submit to Daddy, to be taken.

Again, I had the feeling that as a woman with an essential feminine essence (in Deida speak),  I am somehow “wired” for submission, that there is an actual chemical pleasure reward built into the more primitive parts of my brain that, and it lights up like crazy when triggered by feelings and acts of submission.

And last night, whatever chemical flood was triggered by my fantasies of submitting to Daddy stayed with me through the night, because I had long elaborate submissive dreams as well.    I read a sub wife’s blog yesterday where she talks about the intensity of discovering submission, which came with an overwhelming desire to stay on her knees almost constantly.  She said that desire “powerfully controlled” her body.  She said, “I was besotted with submission.  Saturated.  Infused. Owned.”

I have felt the same, saturated and infused, and I would guess that is what happens to me in actuality, I become saturated and infused with the stimulating/tranquilizing chemicals being churned out by my brain.  And these chemicals are wonderful and oh-my-god so addictive.  If I type “The neurobiology of BDSM” into a Google search, the first thing that comes-up is an article in Psychology Today. A relevant excerpt …

“We all know pleasure and pain can be felt simultaneously: think of the pleasures of a delicious meal laden with spicy chili peppers or the blissful ache following a long-distance run.  In the lexicon of cognitive neuroscience, both pleasure and pain indicate salience, that is, experience that is potentially important and thereby deserving of attention

How is salience built into neural pathways?  We have an evolutionarily ancient and highly interconnected pleasure circuit in our brains.  When  neurons in a brain region called the ventral tegmental area become electrically active, thereby triggering the release of dopamine in a structure called the nucleus accumbens, this evokes the feeling of pleasure …”

The article also says that only 5 to 10 percent of the population report finding pain in the context of sexual stimulation pleasurable.  But I suspect that is only the number of people who have experimented enough to discover an ability to find pleasure in pain.  A year ago I would have said that I absolutely do not find pain to be sexually gratifying.  But today, I am regularly becoming blissed-out by things like firm spankings and tight rope.  Of course, it might not be so much about the spanking or the rope, but about how efficiently those things trigger the chemical rewards of mild pain.

There is something beyond the pleasure reward that plays into submission.  While lying across Daddy’s lap getting spanked, or when he holds me down forcefully to fuck me, I get an incredibly strong sense that “I am designed for this.”  I experience it as such an overwhelmingly primal reaction, and see so much evidence of it in other women all over the internet, that I cannot help but think there could be a universal sexual submission response built into the female brain – or at least a whole lot of them.  Clearly it can be part of the male brain as well, but more many women in BDSM identify as submissive than do men. (See Fetlife breakdown of member kinks).  I know I have come to yearn for it in an urgent psychological way, a spiritual way.

For me, submission is spiritual surrender made literal through my naked body.  To be used by my Daddy feels very much like being used by life, allowing myself to be caught up in the visceral force of love – a creaturely animal force that needs the sexual union of opposites in order to create new life.  I have always had a concept of God as this life/love force, a spiritual longing to be joined in union that exists within all living things.  I can almost literally feel it within me as a longing for the infusion of the masculine polarity (spiritual being) into the feminine polarity (physical being).

I think David Deida is right, and the power exchange of dominance and submission explicitly charges up each polarity.  The more extreme the polarity, the greater the sexual charge between poles, the greater the magnetic pull and flow of energy, the greater the urge to penetrate and be penetrated, by love, and thus by God.  After all my restless spiritual wandering through different philosophies and disciplines, sexual submission to my Daddy Husband is the closest I have ever been to directly experiencing what feels like God-energy pouring into me.  All brought on by Daddy’s hand on my throat, a length of rope, his sharp smack across my bottom.

I am utterly fascinated by all this, but also outraged that I am so late to this way of being, that I only discovered this part of me, and the man able to liberate it, after a lifetime of lackluster 50/50 sex.  I am especially outraged that I have discovered it after menopause, when my sexual response is nothing like it what it was back when I had plump fertile ovaries and a working uterus.  I have a secret suspicion that the feminists who worked so hard to help women by pushing for the sexual revolution were at the same time unknowingly dragging some of us away from our true sexual nature.  Wait, that isn’t right, one has to be able to be an independent self in order to be able to offer true submission, right?  Submission can’t be forced upon a woman against her will, it must be offered willingly.  Sex that is taken without consent is criminal rape that hurts, not spiritual submission that heals.

Still, I wonder. Did cave-woman sexual surrender feel the same as submission does to me when I offer it freely to my mate?  Did 18th century submission to one’s husband lead to any version of bliss?  If it is a universal primitive response as I have been considering, or an evolutionary mechanism built within women so they would allow themselves to be fucked and impregnated – and actually want to be fucked and impregnated – then wouldn’t it work no matter when and where?  I don’t know. I just know I get lost in thinking about this, wondering at this new self of mine, this thrilling new relationship of ours.  I can’t wait for Daddy to come home, and put me across his lap, and enlighten me some more.  Whether it is because I am a woman or not, I am wired for it, I am sure.