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subapplicant -> Why i am a submissive (4/6/2006 11:40:39 AM)
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A letter written to a Dominant Woman, with my own personal answer to the question....
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I don't know.
But I'll give it a try. My earliest erotic memory occured before I was an adolescent. I remembered watching vampire movies - and being frightened of them. Especially the point where the vampire bites the neck of the victim.
I was scared - but also fascinated. something about watching the moment repelled and attracted me.
There was just something about the look to the female victim as the vampire sinks his teeth. The fluttering of the eyelids, the parting of the lips, the bend in the knee.
I was frightened - not just what was happening on the screen, but also what was happening inside me. I identified with the female victim. Not in a gender way. But the look on her face - it just seemed like - ecstasy - to me.
Over the years, I felt that push/pull again.
As I began to explore my sexuality I (like all young boys) read Playboy and Penthouse. Occasionally you would stumble across an image of tall, statuesque, strong woman dressed in leather boots and corset, carrying a whip and an angry sneer. Very occassionally, I might add - fetish had not seeped into the culture like it had now.
I would feel strange, and disgusted at the image, and quickly move on. But as I reread my collection, I found that the images that I lingered on were the leather clad dominatrices.
At first I couldn't imagine the appeal. But I kept wondering...
And I would feel that push/pull. If I came upon an image of a guy licking the boots of domina, I would be absolutely disgusted. But over time I would begin to question why someone would do it. And then imagine what it felt like.
And then nothing in the world could feel better than the taste of a leather boot on my tongue, the gleaming, the harsh stilletto heel, knowing that a bitch goddess was towering above me.
So it was with the collar. The idea just didn't appeal to me. But then I began to imagine the leash in her hands, the tug, the humiliation at being collared like an animal.
And now the idea of wearing a collar is one of my most treasured desires.
Or a riding crop. I REALLY couldn't see the pleasure in being whipped. The idea of pain just did not appeal to me. Though - I did like the way a woman looked when she held one. And - I could imagine that it would feel great rubbed seductively, menacingly overe my body. And of course - would adore at least the THREAT of her whipping me...
...And then I crossed the edge, and began wanting to feel the lash against my ass.
So after the images came together, and began to tell a story. Perhaps the one image that summarizes it is: a beautiful, strong, fit woman wearing thigh-high boots with long stilletto heels, a leather corset, gloves, a leather Master's cap.
She is sitting on a wooden chair with a lot of room at her feet, the boots out front.
I am naked and kneeling, my arms bound behind my back.
A collar is around my throat. I feel the chain, the tug of her hand.
She holds a riding crop in the other.
I am bowing, scraping, placing my lips against her boot, licking and kissing, groveling at her feet, while she whips my upturned ass.
Why am I submissive? Hell if I know. If I tried to put into words perhaps one explanation is the the total awe of being in a strong, powerful, confident presence. Perhaps it is the full release - the exchange of power - that is so freeing. Perhaps it is being in the presence of a total, full woman erotic woman who shares my interests.
Or maybe I'm trying to feel that ecstasy I saw as I child in the movies, and I experience it in real life.
That's my best explanantion.
As the elements came together and the dominant icon grew, I began to search out all I could find on female domination, fetish, and S/M. First in books, magazines, movies...
...and then I began to act out my fantasies in real life.
If you desire, Goddess Raquel, I will tell you about them someday.
slave steven
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