Allice Darke: A submissive’s story, part 2

When we last left our heroine, she was on the brink of a great self-discovery regarding her submissive tendencies. Shall we peek in and see what all of the little clues and heated moments have been leading up to? Join me on a little journey to the past, where kisses are sweet but bondage is sweeter…

Image by lipstickloriI travel for work, and there are certain elements of my job that bring me in contact with the same people multiple times, usually in very small groups. In one such group I met M. He was a gentleman, opening doors and carrying things and making sure I didn’t have to walk anywhere alone at night if I didn’t want to. He was also intelligent and keenly aware of social justice and privilege, and we had some things in common that made him an absolute joy to talk to. We spent the first night we met talking till at least 5am, but I was in a relationship still and he was married, so we lay next to each other while we talked but didn’t allow anything further. It was a short trip, and when we parted ways so soon thereafter, he insisted that we stay in touch. I didn’t expect him to follow up but he did, with sporadic short but cheerful messages to say hello just often enough that I couldn’t quite forget him.

A while passed before our next trip and, in the meantime, the relationship I had been in for a few years had ended. When M and I reconnected, it was like seeing an old friend, and we became instantly inseparable to the degree we could under the circumstances. That first day, conversation ended up veering towards the sexier side of life, and it became clear that he was quite dominant and, as the discussion progressed, that I was quite submissive. While at first it was very weird to say it out loud (to a man I barely knew, no less), given that I had not actually identified that way till that moment, once I said it I had a great feeling of relief. The truth was finally out, to me and to someone who understood.

I resigned myself to it just being talk, however, given his marital status. I cracked a joke about it in an attempt to relieve the sexual tension which was already starting to feel almost painful to me, and that’s when he told me that he and his wife were in an open marriage. I was suspicious at first (I am always surprised by how many men are suddenly in “open relationships” when they find me attractive), but, through a number of things he said and did that I won’t outline here, it rapidly seemed to be a pretty good bet that he was telling the truth. I still didn’t know what it would mean for us, but my body responded with clear intention. Every nerve I had fired up, begging for stimulation. I ached from bellybutton to thighs. I could feel his proximity to me as a crackle in the air between us.

Image via Mario Antonio Pena Zapaterķa's Flickr photostreamThe rest of the day is a floaty memory of desire, anticipation, and apprehension. That night, we again stayed up talking in my hotel room. I don’t remember how we got from chatting to my laying on my back with my shirt tugged up just enough to reveal my stomach, but my memory crystalizes at that moment with the sudden realization that every sense I had and every thought I could muster was tied around his fingers trailing up and down lightly on my skin. I thought, “I am powerless against this man. I can’t move, or think, or feel anything unless he wants me to.” I told him so and he looked and me and said he knew, and that he was in control of the situation. Everything inside me clenched, deliciously, painfully. I murmured my recognition of his control, and his voice was powerful, calm, and low with desire as he replied, “I am always in control.” My breath hitched and then became shallow, and then there was nothing but the sight of him. I couldn’t even actively want more than his hand on me and his eyes meeting mine; all I could do was stare at him and await his next words and movement, knowing that giving myself over to him was both inevitable and the culmination of something I had been waiting for a long time.

He smiled at me, and the look on his face made me feel both beautiful and completely possessed. There was an air of confidence about him that told me that his possession of me and my submitting to that possession were as natural as the air I was (barely) breathing, and that he would be in charge from that moment on. And he was.

He leaned in toward me and my vision narrowed…

To be continued.

This post was written by RWL columnist Allice Darke – Allice is a heterosexual, mostly monogamous, cis-gender woman and believes fiercely in sex-positivity for all; whether they are fabulous kinky pansexual polyamourous people or absolutely terrific and lovely transgender abstinence-practitioners, or however else they choose to identify (or not). First image by lipsticklori, second via Mario Antonio Pena Zapaterķa‘s Flickr photostream.

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