He knocked on the bedroom door and startled me awake. I fumbled to figure out what time it was while He started to undress. 7:30 am. He said He’d come over on Sunday but didn’t say what time…and 7:30 am would not have been my first guess.

He entered me without any foreplay. “You’re wet,” He said. Maybe it was from going to bed horny; maybe it was just the act of watching Him undress; maybe it’s just when I see Him, my body responds.

My first orgasm was quite the gusher. It ran down His leg and went outside the cum blanket I like to lay down to ease the washing requirements that come with being a squirter. I care about those things when I’m doing the laundry afterwards, but I really don’t care about them with Him inside me.

It’s not unusual for me now to have several (upon several) orgasms. Master counts them. I cannot keep track after the first one or two…I have lost all executive function after that.

I am required to ask to cum. I have messed up before and cum in the heat of the moment without asking. Nevertheless, I have a pretty good track record in the asking department. “May i cum?” gets repeated over and over again. Hearing His deep voice whisper, “Yes,” in my ear sends me right over the edge.

There comes a point, though, where it is not just multiple orgasms but truly one immediately after another. When this happens, it is like being on a roller coaster and just as I come over the edge of one, my body picks up momentum for the next one, and the next one and the next one. The sensation is very surreal. It has happened before, but this time was different.

I felt the roller coaster start. My body was letting go. I wanted to let go of any thoughts, and let His rhythm dictate my pleasure. I felt not only the tingling in my body but the butterflies in my stomach. I both cursed and welcomed asking permission to cum. Having to ask intruded on the flow. Yet it did help keep me from wandering into this unknown frontier. I lingered on that blurry edge between His control and my control, conflicted about letting go.

Now my clit is pulsing as I write this, and I crave getting back to that edge. That blurry edge can be frightening, and yet all I can think about is how to get back to that edge…and to surrender.

The day after I wrote “breaking my will” to Master, He came over. We spent the afternoon together…having sex interlaced with a deep discussion of how I felt lost and stuck.

“You still can control; you just don’t want to,” He tells me. I knew deep down what He was saying was true, but it was nothing like how I was feeling at this point in time.

I had a few orgasms asking for permission to cum each time and then He told me to cum. My body responded and came – seemingly bypassing my brain again. I started to cry and lamented out loud, “What is happening to me?”

He let me cry, providing that energetic shield of love and support to allow me to fully experience the feelings.

When I calmed down, He asked, “Do you feel damaged?”

“No…I wonder if I’m being brainwashed,” I replied. As much as I desire this, the part that worries and protects me from “being tricked” has been surfacing.

He laid on top of me as He has done so many times over the years. Not once has His weight on top of me been an issue…until that day. He was fucking me, and the weight of His body started to feel like it was crushing me. I couldn’t breathe and started hyperventilating. I felt like He was sinking into me. I was letting Him in at every level – physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually – and I panicked like I was suffocating. He got off me, and I’m crying loudly and trying to catch my breath. He caressed me, and I slowly calmed down. When I’ve finally caught my breath, and I’m breathing as normally as possible, He tells me how hard my crying made Him. Hearing that comforted me because I realized I wasn’t falling apart; I was falling right into Him.

“I feel like I’m dying,” I say.

“Do you feel like you’ll go away?” He asks.

“No, I feel like a part of me is dying.” I answer.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes.”

“What will happen when that part dies?”

“Well, I don’t know if this fits your definition, but I’ll be your slave.”

He started fucking me again, and I started hyperventilating again. I asked Him not to get off me completely, although He did rise up enough not to be resting on my chest. I was trying not to push the panic away…to just let it be there.

After resting in each other’s arms for a while, we got up off the bed. He did say that once I’ve calmed down and accepted this, I’d be His slave. It was hard to believe I might be close. As much as I’ve wanted to rush the process in the past, I was getting the importance and significance of being in this moment, and my need to rush it had receded.

As He left, He told me I was now on masturbation restriction – that I would have to ask permission each and every time I wanted to masturbate. He explained how this would require forethought on my part to get permission – say before bedtime.

I smiled and for the first time in the weeks since cumming on command, I felt an inner calm.

This is an e-mail I sent to Master sharing with him my internal struggles about cumming on command…

~~~~~~~~~~

I shared that I had a tough time last weekend, and you asked me why it was so tough. It’s hard for me to pinpoint. I know that during the weekend my attitude was, “Fuck it!” and I just proceeded to do what I thought I wanted. Of course, I didn’t feel good at the end.

It seems cliche to say I was grabbing for control (although eating disorders have a lot to do with that). I have felt lost since cumming on command. Actually, I’ve felt schizophrenic. On one hand, I am calm and fine; on the other, I am panicking. At any one moment, I can be feeling one or the other. I feel like I’ve been teetering on the line of two worlds…with the question, “Which one am I going to choose?

The part of me that panics is not worried about the idea of cumming on command, but the experience was totally different than what I expected. It was so…automatic. My brain was thinking, “I’m not ready yet,” and my body said differently. In some ways, it felt like I wasn’t even there…but it was me…and it just ends up being so confusing.

It’s easy to get caught up in the romantic notions of surrendering…”my will is His will.” Even in the vanilla world, mushy notions of being one with your partner is the stuff of wedding vows and Hallmark cards. Yet now – having had a taste of truly surrendering my will – I shake my head a bit that people (including me) don’t seem to understand the depth of what they are asking for when they say that. Don’t get me wrong, the idea is no less beautiful or no less desired – it is just one thing to think you want to be One with someone and another to experience it.

On other slave blogs or posts to groups on FetLife there is talk about ideas like, “Am I really a slave?” These conversations often center around the fact that in our society, a person cannot be legally owned by another. So really, if a slave decided, “This is it. I don’t want to play anymore” there is nothing legally binding a person to stay. What strikes me about these conversations is that it seems wonderful to create a world where your will becomes another’s but really…isn’t this just a world we create that is separate from reality?

I’ve been happily going down this path toward slavery, and I do so badly want my will to be broken. Yet, I realize now that I always thought that my choice would still be involved. I thought that breaking my will would involve me somehow aligning my choices with yours but – that as much as we could fantasize about me being owned by You – that as a human in a free society my brain would still have to make the conscious choice to do as You say or be as You want me to be. You could command me to do certain things, but – in the end – I would still have to make the choice to follow.

So when my body obeyed and my mind seemed to be bypassed, I was stunned. And then when I masturbated and couldn’t cum or just had weak orgasms, I really panicked. My brain is thinking one thing, and my body is doing another. It’s scary…and it’s nothing like how I thought breaking my will would look like.

I got my haircut last week. I’ve been not-quite-completely-happy with the style for a while now. The past three times I’ve gone to get it cut, I’ve consulted  Master on his thoughts about my hair. He’s given his opinion, but he’s more fine with the style than I have been. I think I’ve also been driving him a little bit crazy with the details of how to change it. Ultimately, I know what he wants: shoulder length for easy grabbing, no bangs and overall flattering.

It’s fun for me to send him a pic after my haircuts. I find it playful…everything from me doing many takes trying to get a good self-portrait of myself with the cell phone to getting his response.

When I sent a picture this time, it was – of course – only of my face. We had, however, discussed the length of the back of my hair. When he replied, he said, “Hmmm….I want to see the back now ” Master will be directive – even commanding – when he wants to be, but his style of dominance is more along the lines of stating his preferences or desires and me being aware enough to act to fulfill his desires. So, even though he didn’t say, “Take a picture of the back,” I knew this is what I must do.

I have to admit, though, my instinctive, first response was, “He’ll have to come to my house to see it” – not in defiance but more because taking a picture of my face with the cell phone is hard enough let alone one of the back of my head! But, I also knew that is not what he was saying. He knew he could come by. He even knew it would be difficult for me take a picture of the back of my head. Yet for all those complications, his desire was simple and clear.

So, into the bathroom I go where I used a hand mirror and the sink mirror to take a picture of the back of my head. It was indeed awkward to hold the mirror just right and then hold the cell phone to take a picture of the hand mirror…but it worked! I sent the picture off to Master. I admitted my first reaction to him, but said I knew he wouldn’t appreciate a smart mouth saying, “you’ll need to come over and see it” and so I just figured out a way to take the picture.

He called me shortly after receiving the pic and said my reaction was exactly like he’d expected…that I’d balk at first but then just do it. We laughed, and he said I’d done well.

I felt happy that I’d pleased him, but I also reflect on my reaction and realize there is a part of me that still “fights.” This interaction about my hair was lighthearted but that “fight” also appears in our more serious discussions.

It’s hard for me to imagine outright defying him but there are these moments of resistance – and depending on the subject or aspect of my life – the resistance is deeper than I admit to myself. It seems so ironic since my desire is to be owned and to be owned by Him runs so deep…but ultimately I guess resistance is just human nature shining through. The emphasis on our individuality is so rooted in our culture and even in our primal instincts. As if that’s not hard enough to overcome, though, we also have warped senses of individuality. Our identities get so wrapped up in the way we see ourselves and are complicated by the beliefs we adopt based on past experiences. As much as I may know those warped views of myself are not me and I say I want to let those mis-beliefs go, there is that part of me that holds on because it is the only identity I have really ever known.

Every time I serve my Master – no matter how big or small the task – I feel that old identity breaking down and my true essence shining through. I’ve chipped away – even blasted through – many walls of resistance and mis-beliefs about myself in my quest to be who I AM. Yet as I get closer and closer to the core, the fight and the panic seems to get bigger and more overhwhelming. I hold onto the old even though the only comfort it brings me is familiarity. I fear my deepest desire because I only have glimpses of how I will be. Sometimes when it seems so overwhelming, I question the path…and sometimes I even question Master (even if I do so politely).

In the stillness and the quiet, I take a step back from the panic and realize that I will never reach my heart’s desire if I try to fight every time I meet my own resistance. I will just be forever slaying demons that way. Instead, I know what I want…and I know what He wants…and I surrender.

I am a slave. Whether I ever met you or not, I believe that would be true. My destiny – in short – is then defined as finding my Owner and then living up to our fullest potentials – individually and as One.

I was worried you’d find my message about my need to be owned impersonal. I specifically didn’t mention you or wanting to be yours because while I felt relief at hearing the term “submissive” so many years ago, it did take me a while to embrace this part of me. So moving from accepting my submissive nature to saying, “I am a slave,” I thought deserved its own contemplation and expression. I’m hoping that in starting with how deeply and completely I see how I am a slave that these words have even more dimension:

I want to be Your slave.

When you had me register for my slave number and then shared with me the stages of ownership I would go through, I felt a wave of contentment inside me. Moving from sub to slave to property just feels so right inside.

I’ve been excited and trying to imagine life as your slave. What is most interesting to me about this is that I have very few pre-conceived notions of what slavery will look like with you. In some ways, it is hard for me to imagine exactly what life would look like. At first, I wondered if this was a bad thing, but I’ve concluded it is not. I’m glad I’m not creating specific fantasies of how you’ll be or how I’ll be. To me, that shows that I’m not clinging to some ideal of how things will be and having expectations of our relationship that may lead to disappointment. Instead, I’m excited at the prospect of allowing the innate beauty of what we share between us to grow and blossom in ways that we can both imagine and not imagine.

That said, I do wonder what things you’ll have me do. Will you have me dress a certain way? Will you have me address you differently than I do now? Will you have rituals for me to perform to show my devotion to you on a regular basis? Will I show that I am yours through things beyond the bedroom like bathing you, massaging you, cooking for you, running errands for you, etc. (although I chuckle at this, because I’d love to do some of these things for you, but I also wonder if you’d allow me to hire help in some areas!)? What will my training involve? What skills do you want me to develop? So many questions, and I smile whenever I think of one because I know that whatever the answers are you see my potential in everything you’ll require of me and know that my desire to please you will drive me to the heights I’m meant to reach. And what I love the most is that every time I please you I also satisfy the deep need you have to own me and that you’ll also be attaining the heights you’re meant to reach. We’ll be fueling each other in ways that most people only dream, and we’ll have a connection and a passionate love between us that never dies.

As excited as I get about being your slave, I do sometimes feel vulnerable and scared – and yes even sometimes panicky. I’m scared that in our exploration I’ll reach a limit I cannot cross or that you’ll ask me to serve you in a way that I cannot. It is hard for me not to imagine the end of our relationship in such a case and that petrifies me. In these moments I try to soothe myself by knowing that you always have and always will have my best interests at heart and that you want our exploration to be fun and to push my limits in a way that they can truly be expanded and not forced. These thoughts do give me comfort but moments of vulnerability and fright still surface.

You’ve always seen the best in me. You’ve never accepted my “story” as the truth of who I am. If we never took this path toward your full and complete ownership of me, I would still count you as the single most important person in my life because you have given me the gift of permission to be who I am. I’ve never questioned that I would stay on the path to release my demons and transform my body so that it is in alignment with who I am. But it has been very hard to imagine walking that path and not ending up in your arms…which really wouldn’t be the end but the beginning…

I am forever Yours.

The funny thing about the journey of self-discovery is that we search and struggle to find the words to describe what we already are.

When we first slept together years ago, you casually yet deliberately talked about BDSM and used a word I’d never really associated with myself: submissiveness. As I’ve told you many times, I can’t even explain the relief I felt at finally having a name for the feelings I had inside. It’s not that I’d never heard the word before, but I finally had a context…and a connection to something profound inside me.

It seems an injustice to sum up the years since that “a-ha” moment in a few words. The struggle to untangle the mixed messages, the suppressed feelings and the beliefs I adopted to make sense of the world I grew up in has not – as you are well aware – been an easy road. Through it all, I’ve unearthed more and more of my true nature and discovered the clues that have pointed to who I am all along.

When I reflect on my life standing on the crest of self-awareness I now have, I recognize that it is not just that I have a submissive nature. My desire to please and my longing to serve run deep inside me. I’m not sure exactly when I identified it, but I do remember realizing some time ago that I am not just a bedroom submissive. My submissiveness is not something I turn on or off. And even though I’ve learned along the way that submitting is not something I do with everyone (or just anyone), encounters where I did submit only left me yearning not just for more but for a fuller expression of who I am. My submissive nature makes me capable of submitting to various Dominants; yet individual acts (or a string of them) cannot and will not satisfy my innate desires.

My heart, my body, my mind, my soul crave to be owned. I want to entrust the raw essence of who I am to the one person who can not only dominate me but possess me. I want my protection, safety and well-being to be a given so that the choice to submit vanishes. I want to follow His voice into what now seems like the unknown, exploring the territory I’ve only imagined in my dreams…a place where limits are few or non-existent and the freedom to be who I am…who He is…and who we are is truly unbounded. I want Him to mold and shape my essence into the form that serves Him, pleases Him and lets His true essence shine through. I want to be His property, His prized possession and a living testimony to all that is possible when we are who we are meant to be.

I am a slave.