Perfect D/s video is perfect. There is literally not a single thing about this that I didn’t like, except for the fact that it was too short.
(Source: sinlikeyoumeanit)
Hello, my name is ———-, and I am submissive.
I used to think the way I felt about sex was wrong. Sure, I had girly thoughts of romantic love making with slow kisses and lover’s whispers. Who doesn’t? But most of the time, that appealed to me less than having sex with my ancient math teacher from Freshman year. No, it always seemed that I what I wanted had nothing to do with gentle touching and tender words.
I wanted to be owned.
I didn’t want it so much as my body craved it. I longed to have my hands tied behind my back and connected to a rope around my throat. I needed to be bent over the kitchen counter and fucked until I was screaming from an orgasm. I wanted to be pulled across his lap and spanked until my ass was burning from his hand and I wept that I would be a good girl from now on.
Trust me, I’ve met plenty of men who thought they could give this to me. Men who thought they were better than me. Men who thought they were macho enough to own me. I mean, c’mon. It seems like it’s a generic male fantasy: the willing slave girl who will take any punishment and still have an intense desire to please her Master. Bless their poor little hearts, they tried. They thought they were masters of the sexual craft, and that their hands could shape me into the perfect sub just because they wanted to. They assumed that just because they wanted the little slave all to themselves, that they could have me whenever they wanted in whatever way they wanted me.
Well, they were wrong. They would pull my hair and I would wince. They would spank me and I would roll my eyes. They never got to restrain me, because I didn’t trust them enough with that much control over me. I complained of headaches and stomachaches and heartaches; anything to not have to do the deed with them and have them try to top me with their ‘you’re such a bad girl, now suck my dick’ attitudes. At one point, I remember thinking that there must just be something wrong with me, and I would never be able to find a man who could please me in bed. I knew what I needed, but I just couldn’t figure out why they couldn’t understand. And then the summer after I graduated from high school, I met him: the man who would be my Master.
We fucked the day after we met. I’ve always hated that; I felt so easy by giving in so soon. He kissed like a dream, his touch made my skin tingle. He didn’t even tie me up or anything exciting like that. He just fucked me. I guess ‘just fucked’ is an understatement. He fucked me. It was seriously an experience. Never in my life have I had sex like that first time with him. I came with a partner for the first time in my illustrious and long list of sexual encounters. The rest is history.
We’ve learned each other well in the past few years. He knows my limits, and I know fun places to have sex in public. We have slow days, where the kisses are long and the sex is slow. We have reverse days, where I’m the one in charge. We have normal days where we don’t have sex at all.
He isn’t my Master just because he knows how to top a woman correctly. He is my Master because he doesn’t take my service for granted. He thanks me and rewards me well for what I do for him. It’s not like those movies that portray the D/s relationship: he’s not mean, he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t smack me around when he’s mad at something I’ve done. The reason I allow him to top me is because he respects me. He praises me for what a strong and independent lady I am. He thinks I’m beautiful, and tells me often. He snuggles me into oblivion after he’s fucked me into it. He values me as a woman; he encourages me to get out and accomplish the things I want to do with my life. He compels me to be better than I am today. I used to feel like women who gave themselves to a man and lived to please him were weak and stupid. But I know now that I am not his because he has any sort of ownership over me. I am his because I choose to give myself to him. I am his because I trust him to take care of me. I am his because I love pleasing him. I am his because he is my love and my lover. I am his purely because I enjoy being so.
So, to any girls that think that being a slave is to lose yourself in service to a man, you’re wrong. Your service should enhance who you are. Your Master shouldn’t stifle you, he should encourage you. There is nothing wrong with being a slave to your man. I wish somebody had told me that sooner.
So now I can proudly say, hello. My name is ———-, and I am a submissive.