Note from my future self: The following is an entry from my Submission Journal, written in 2015. Later, I would join a BDSM community, and learn the concept of Consensual Non-Consent, or CNC, and would be very excited to discover the name for my consistent longing to be forced to obey. Many in the community define CNC as “rape play,” and insist that consent and safewords are still necessary. But rape roleplay would be more accurately described as “resistance play,” not CNC. Consensual Non-Consent is a submissive giving his or her Dominant permission to not require consent, to agree to being forced against one’s will if deemed necessary by the Dominant. This is, of course, a controversial position to take in a community that continually stresses consent in all things. But many submissives long to give up the power of consent to their Doms. Very early on, I knew that was what I wanted, and here I was trying to understand why it was so important to me, why it excited me …
Ever since Daddy manhandled me so thoroughly the other night, I’ve been on the edge of excruciating excitement. The rougher our sex gets, the more it drifts toward force, the more I am caught up in waves of restless wanting. I don’t know if it is coming from my mind or my body or my heart, but I am literally squirming as I write this. I feel about to burst into tears or laugh or dance. What IS this?
Many women (as many as 57 percent, according to a University of North Texas study) are turned on by the idea of forceful sex, as un-PC as it might be.” And in Psychology Today, “A recent analysis of 20 studies over 30 years indicates that between 31% and 57% of women have rape fantasies.”
I think this is the feel of my delight that Daddy is willing to force me to submit. He is willing to shove aside all the cultural conditioning that keeps men and women in their careful separate 50/50 corners. This threat of force is the key to what I had felt was missing. I knew how gratified I felt by the IDEA of being owned, but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was not our true and real situation. I knew if I said a strong enough “No!” it would all evaporate. I knew that my submission was always by my choice, a choice that has been easy almost always, but a choice nonetheless. When I could pretend deeply enough that I didn’t have a choice, I would feel peace, no noisy static. But then the reality of the choice would intrude itself, loud static, upsetting static. But –
To be forced to submit, no matter what, no trauma of choice, real ownership of my body. When he made that proclamation, “I will force you,” I felt a turning sensation within me, my body rearranging to accommodate that reality, and oh it was so fucking perfect, deep-in-my core sweet. I don’t know why. Does it even matter why? Yes, it matters to me. I need to understand, why this excitement?
Maybe part of it is gratitude that he is finally accepting my “gift” of submission, accepting that I want to submit to him in a total and permanent way no matter what my mind might be doing in the moment. So far he has looked at that gift, sampled it, tried it out, enjoyed many parts of it. But I don’t think ever fully accepted it until now, until this promise to give me the gift of real and true domination.
But probably the bigger part of it is the release of tension I’d been carrying since the beginning. I often feel a great deal of tension over how to keep a submissive mindset in place, how to cultivate it so that it can’t be easily lost, so I can ignore the inconvenient truth of choice as much as possible. Now I don’t have to police myself or play complicated mind games with myself. I don’t have to get hypnotized into it, I don’t have to stress and worry about how to keep this going. And I especially don’t have to torture myself with wondering if this is a game underneath it all. He will take from me what he wants, no matter my mood. I don’t even have to TRY to submit, dominance and submission will just happen, and oh my fucking GOD, how stunningly generous of him to do that for me. What a kindness, to relieve me of all that tension. And when tension is released, sexual warmth and love rushes in.
I am also enthralled by the level of trust it implies. The depth of trust I need to feel in him to be able to know that even if he forces my body to submit against my mental will, I will still feel it as an act of love being done to me for my own good. And the level of trust he needs to feel in me, that I will recognize it as an act of love afterward and not turn against him. That is extraordinary trust. And where there is trust, sexual warmth and love rushes in.
I catch myself starting to think, oh this is a dark desire, this is a shadowy thing, this giving up my right to choice over my body. I am all but begging him to take away my choice, to the point of fucking me against my will, to the point of raping me, let’s be honest. What twisted thing in me makes me want that? I almost feel obligated to shame myself for it. But shame does not feel right. I don’t feel like I am descending into darkness, I feel like I am being swallowed by glorious light and heat and goodness and peace and love. It is hard to reconcile.
Or maybe not. Rape fantasies are known to be common. I read this on a women’s magazine site: “Many women (as many as 57 percent, according to a University of North Texas study) are turned on by the idea of forceful sex, as un-PC as it might be.” And in Psychology Today, “A recent analysis of 20 studies over the last 30 years indicates that between 31% and 57% of women have rape fantasies.” And again, on a university website: “Results indicated that 62% of women have had a rape fantasy … Women who are more erotophilic, open to fantasy, and higher in self-esteem tended to have more frequent and erotic rape fantasies than other women.”
So, I am in large company. But of course, I am not talking about fantasy. I truly want to be forced. Then again, it can’t really be rape if I am wanting it, asking for it. The better word might be ravishment, although that is not really what I’m talking about either. Ravishment suggests passionate, urgent sex, with a forceful feel maybe, but still a mutual meeting of wills. I am wanting something else, something Daddy and I have only brushed against, not fully touched yet. I want sex that is dominating and forceful and rough and yet not cruel. Sex in which my will is wholly absent, swallowed by his. Sex that isn’t about any submission at all, but total domination; sex that involves the pain of meeting up hard against his will and yet the pain doesn’t damage me. Is there really such a thing?
I believe there is. Those few times he has truly manhandled me, smacked my ass so hard there was no pleasure in the pain, or grabbed my neck so tight I am just at the edge of fear, or pushed me down or pushed me over his lap so that I lose my balance and don’t have any leverage to resist… It’s like the rug is jerked out from under me, I am tumbled free from any sense of my own volitional self. I have no control at all, I am overpowered and grabbed up by something bigger than me, by him, his passion. My heart takes a wild leap, I become so enthralled by him, fall so hard in love.
In the end, I feel the need to be “broken,” like a horse is broken, tamed like any animal can be tamed. All kinds of mammals are compelled to belong to an alpha, submit to a master, and once they know who their owner is, they are contented creatures. Everyone understands and accepts and enjoys how animals turn themselves over to their owner and become souls of devotion. Am I not evolved from animals? Science tells me I am literally a primate, with animal instincts still intact, all that sexual animal wiring creating animal longings, as designed by nature.
We forget this, we live so much in our heads, outside our bodies. I feel like I have only been half a human being for most of my life, all the head half, the thinking half, the remote-from-real-life half. The rope, the spankings, the clamps, the anal breaches – they are all ways Daddy has broken through the hard shell of cultural conditioning that makes me forget my animal self and leaves me trapped in my mind. He has given me my body back, brought my sexual body roaring to life, with all its animal needs and longings. He has made me wholly human, inhabiting my body for the first time. I keep telling myself I am getting lost in this D/s dynamic, but no, no, I am sure I am being saved by it. His domination of me has possessed me, and satisfied me, like nothing else in my life. And I want more …
Final Note from my Future Self: For those who worry that a CNC agreement will inevitably lead to abuse, it is much more challenging than one might think for a competent Dom to need to use force with a devoted submissive. In my own six years of a D/s relationship, it has only happened only rarely. I am so well-trained to submission that it genuinely never occurs to me to resist or say no to the desires of my Dominant. Every part of me agrees that it is his right to take what he wants from me no matter how I’m feeling at the moment. On the rare occasions I do ask to be released from a command, it is usually for a compelling health reason that he, being a decent human being who wants to take care of his property, is going to respect. The few times he has forced me despite my resistance were stunning and dramatic, and left me fairly shaken in spite of myself. I have learned the meaning of “be careful what you wish for;” I’ve also learned why aftercare is so important! But I also felt well and truly conquered, and glad to be reminded who has the real power in our sexual relationship.