Can I be your sexual submissive?

I’m a submissive when it comes to sex. If you’ve read any of the previous stories about my life this will not be a surprise to you. Professionally I’m in charge of a small team and make sure I keep everything on track. I can play hardball when needed to get things moving. With family and friends, I hold my own in discussions and whatever I happen to be doing. But with my man, things are different. I am a total, all the way, submissive.

I get asked sometimes how that works, how I can let another person take control of me in that sort of way. Why, when I’m a bright and confident young woman, do I let others do what they want to me? And, to be clear, I do mean whatever they want.

On top of the submissiveness, I also have a thing going on, a kink I suppose, for humiliation. With a sprinkling of degradation in there as well. The ‘why’ question I cannot answer. There was no traumatic childhood incident that left me mentally scarred in some way. As best as I can tell, once I started to become sexually aware, I was fully formed this way — although it took me a little time to realise it.

Discussing submissiveness with someone from Twitter I tried the following analogy.

Imagine an army that was set up perfectly so that each member was in the place that fitted them the best. Those that could see the overall situation work in intelligence. Those that can evaluate the state of affairs and decide what to do get command roles. Somewhere at the bottom is the Private, the squaddie, that gets told what to do.

If a General tells a Colonel what to do there may be a discussion about the task, but the Colonel would need to follow the order. If a General told a Private what to do, they would just need to get on with it with no fuss or bother.

As a soldier, I would understand that the officers would not want to waste my talents — send me into a bad situation so that I’d get killed attacking a well-defended position — but there may be tricky things for me to do for which the higher commands are less suited for.

When it comes to sexual matters, I am a Private. My lovers are all officers. I need to do what the officers tell me. There may be things that are difficult for me to deal with, but that is my role. I do the dirty tasks that the higher command is less suited for.

I don’t get to query what I’m being told. Where the soldier might be told to go and capture a hill, I might be told to strip off and get ready for a different kind of action. The soldier would follow through on their orders to the best of their ability. I will do the same.

Obviously, all analogies are less than perfect, but I hope that helps you see a little of the way my brain works. I don’t know why this is the case, but then why are any of us the way we are?

On one level, I think it is crazy that I’ll let a man — such as my boyfriend, as detailed in this story on Medium (my-other-half-a-walk-and-sex) — tie me up outside, blindfold me, and leave me alone for the free use of anyone that walked by. However, that is the way my brain is wired. I cannot change it, although I’ve tried to hold it back at times.

Once I’m in a relationship with a guy, then I’m in all the way. He gets all of me, and that includes my body. My current boyfriend (who I usually refer to as OH, for Other Half), does not understand this part of my nature. He did the acts in the story mentioned above, but he didn’t enjoy it, and it took a lot out of him emotionally. He did it for me, to fit in with my kinks, but I don’t see it happening again in the near future — if ever.

He is a decent man and would like us to act equally in most things. Whether buying a car, sorting out meals, deciding what to watch on TV or having sex, he wants us to be equal partners. Sex is good — at the least — but for me, it needs more to be classed as great. I need to serve him, to carry out his wishes.

As his wish is for me to be an equal partner, I can do that, but it doesn’t really work well for me. Especially when to get me totally fired up I like at least an element of sexual humiliation as well. I find that harder to explain and rationalise and do not usually do so.

Ideally, I don’t just want to submit to the other’s wishes. I like to either be ‘made’ to or to ‘have’ to be uncomfortable in some way as I do so. Uncomfortable in doing things I don’t like in the place where events are happening, or even in the slight possibility of an audience gathering around. I find some of these things humiliating — with good reason — but also massive turn-ons, with far fewer clear reasons!

I’ll give an example here, but please note that this was an extreme incident, used here to make a point. And that it is also one of the most salacious and obscene, to keep you reading, doesn’t hurt either! Most events in my life have not been anything like this — nor do I want them to be. If my current partner did though, then…

I lived for a time with a man that I now refer to as ‘Dom’ as that is what he was, although I didn’t know that when I started a relationship with him. He knew what I was though, and quickly led me, step by step, down a path that I didn’t know existed as previously I’d been cautiously exploring this side of my nature alone.

Within a relatively short space of time I was his toy sexually. I did not understand how I could get so damn turned on by what he was doing to me, and what he was making me do, but I couldn’t deny it. Just the thought of what he would do to me when I came home each day was enough to get me wet. My head knew this was all wrong, but my pussy loved it.

He’d strip and fuck me without even talking to me about it, no matter what I was doing. Cooking, watching TV, talking on the phone, it didn’t matter. He’d just remove as much of my clothing as he felt like, and get on with it.

When his friends came round to the house, he just touched me in front of them at first. Squeezed my boobs or stuck his hand down the front of my trousers. It wasn’t long though before he was exposing me. Then it was very clear to all that I was getting turned on by this behaviour.

Sexual acts in front of them, and then with them, followed. They came round twice a week to watch football (soccer) at his house, and I became an added attraction. They found it especially amusing to spit-roast me while watching the game and commenting on it, making me do all the work while almost ignoring me. I was being used and ignored at the same time. This fed back into my kink and, although on one level I hated them for what they were doing, I looked forward to it as well.

They called me a cum-slut, but I wasn’t. I thought of a slut as someone that enjoyed sex with many people, although not necessarily at the same time. I didn’t. I was monogamous and always have been. I didn’t want them inside me. My man did though, and that was what mattered. I did what he wanted, and my payoff was the pleasure of serving him. Humiliation and degradation were present in large amounts and, to my shame, I got off on it.

The second most disgusting event of my life came when I’d just returned from a beer run. They’d sent me out essentially naked, with only a short coat as a covering, knowing that this would touch on my kinks and turn me on, as well as being very funny from their point of view. I came back into the flat to find the two friends waiting for me. Seconds later, I was naked and on my knees in front of one, with the other kneeling behind me getting himself ready.

As stated elsewhere, I hate deep-throating (it hurts me), but that was what happened, with all the attendant mess and such that often comes with it. His cum was across my face and hair, and the guy behind shot over my lower back. They stood and commented on my appearance. How I looked right then, my small boobs, my lack of a butt, what my friends and family would think if they could see me covered in cum after satisfying two men.

I couldn’t help it. I was wet from walking around outside buying the beer while being forced to wear so little. Getting fucked had only increased that, and having a pretty unattractive and smelly man take my face and use me as he wanted had ticked a few other boxes. I was fingering myself, lying flat on the floor in the hallway, while they spoke crudities over me and laughed as they watched. I couldn’t help it; horny Dianne was totally in play.

My man, the bloke that was supposed to be taking care of me in life, came out to see what the noise was and decided to join in. He face-fucked me in front of the other two, then took out my mobile, called my parents and handed me the phone.

While the three of them watched my fingering myself, I spoke to my mother while also sucking his cock. Covered in two men’s cum, men I barely knew, I talked about my day while blowing another. And I got off on it.

It wasn’t long after this that things got out of control, and I walked out on him. That is a story for another day. Shortly after this, I met OH, and my life turned around. Ostensibly it changed for the better. I was now with someone who respected me completely, that would treat me with honour and as a young lady should be treated.

Part of me missed the previous relationship though. Nice sex can be good sex. For me though, and I say this with a large measure of disappointment in myself, nice sex is not what I want all the time. With OH, it is pretty much all I will get, and as for humiliation and degradation, those are not things that will come up very often in this relationship — if ever.

And if I was the nice girl that family, friends, colleagues, and neighbours all think I am, then that would be perfect. I’m not though. If you were not already aware of that, you should be by now.

I’m a twisted, warped, weird, girl that wants something other than the straightforward pleasant life that seems to be what I’m heading towards. I’m a squaddie that needs a superior officer around.

I’m not sure what this all means for my long-term future. Looking at it logically, I’m in a great place right now. That isn’t how we run our lives though is it? If people only did what was sensible, then the world would be a very different place.

I think that is why I’ve been writing some of the stories I have recently. Stories where I go and meet Twitter users and we have sex together. Why I’m writing an intense (I find it to be so at least) series of short stories about meeting a woman for my first full-on bi-sexual experience.

I’ve been thinking more of that sort of thing since I started writing erotica. As I try and work through my character’s reactions to the various sex acts they complete then I think of how I would respond and write that. As my characters sometimes have sex with other women, I cannot help wondering how that would be — and so have started writing up some of my imaginings in that area.

In a way, this is all to try and get it out of my system. If I write about kinky sexual situations (and sometimes need to take a small break while writing and thinking about them), then maybe I don’t have to actually live through them myself. I can substitute writing for living them out. We will see how that works.

And that brings me to you. Male or female, young or old, beautiful or ugly, sick-minded or quite pleasant. I have no idea what you are like but will ask you all the same question. I’m in a relationship at the moment, but if I wasn’t, if we met, then what might happen?

If an attractive, short, skinny, small-boobed girl came into your life and was willing to do anything of a sexual nature you wanted, what would that be? Let’s call her Dianne for the moment.

Let’s pass over the obvious starting points that are probably similar to most of you — male or female. Strip off her clothing. Have her crawl over to you and get between your legs. Have her go down on you. Get her flat on her back on the floor and fuck her brains out.

After that comes sex in a variety of positions and then a variety of locations. At home, the car, a cinema, maybe a restaurant with Dianne dressed in skimpy clothing and possibly even getting under the table. You might want to share her with your friends, or you might not. Dianne would do as you wished, serve you, and try her best for you.

So, with the ‘usual’ things out of the way, what comes next? What is that thing lurking at the back of your head that you don’t think any partner is ever going to agree to do? That thing that is dark, dirty, twisted and maybe just plain nasty or disgusting? That thing that you look over once in a while but — outside of paying for some specialist at a sex show — is dead in the water.

Dianne would do it.

If she was with you in a permanent relationship, then she would do it. Please take a moment to leave some claps for this piece (maybe the full 50), and then… I suggest that you take a little time to yourself somewhere quiet.

Somewhere where you are not going to be interrupted. Somewhere that you can think of Dianne and that secret thought and bring the two together.

Enjoy!

I write stories about my life, including nude ‘dares’ and similar stupidities, and also write articles about writing and stories of sex, so please look at my profile for other things!

And, if you like any of them, then please leave ‘claps’ (maybe 50?) or replies so that I know!