Confessions of a Submissive Pt. 01

News flash: just because things appear one way on the surface doesn't mean they're one hundred percent correct. Sure, from all outward appearances, the public version of me, the persona I live by is mostly correct. I'm not one to be fake.

But sometimes it's what's just beneath the surface, barely hidden from prying eyes that tells a different story. Sometimes that wholesome, sweet, innocent appearance is a mask for something far, far darker. And a hell of a lot more fun.

The people who know me best would fall over and have a heart attack if they knew what I really was. If they could catch a glimpse below the surface and see what happens behind closed doors.

Slut. Whore. Submissive. All words that have a negative connotation in most vocabularies. Words that we've all spouted off toward the less than desirable person we all know. Toward the woman who appears to have less than stellar morals, the barfly hanging on whatever man will buy her drinks for the evening. It's always accompanied by disproving looks, shaking heads and rolling eyes.

But oh, what joy it gives me to have a deep, dark secret. To be the naughty one. The kinky one. The one who knows the desires most of the same women secretly harbor deep inside their unknowing minds. I'm the one who gets to live the things they only dream about after working themselves into a frenzy reading their dirty little novels.

But my journey to this point in my life was not an easy one. It took a nearly a year for me to realize my calling, to realize what I truly was. Being totally submissive to another, serving without hesitation, was something I could never see myself doing. I had to be in control. Control kept me safe. Control kept me from being played with and abused. It kept me from being the broken toy that I spent most of my adult life believing I was. Being in control kept me from being made a fool. Or so I thought.

My Dom saw something he wanted within my profile picture and approached. He found a spark inside me that had been dormant for years. He resurrected my creativity, my fire, and my passion. He returned the confidence that had been stripped away by years of neglect. He shook me back to my senses and made me realize the woman I truly was. He taught me how to trust again, and how to stand up for myself.

Most people look at a submissive as an abused, broken thing. I have come to learn a submissive is a strong, beautiful thing. There is great power and great freedom to be found in submission. A power I am grateful to have been granted by my Dom. Some of my happiest, most fulfilling moments thus far have come when I have freed my mind and given up all control to Sir.

...and my journey began with a single message.

I had finally given up on my marriage. It was over. Done. Past the point of rescue. Too many years of neglect, emotional abuse and infidelity had taken its toll on me. After giving it one last try, in which my husband swore it would be different, we'd make it work this time, only to see it crash and burn yet again within a couple of weeks, I had made up my mind. I was out. Done. Divorce was happening just after the holidays.

Next year would be my year.

I had no idea how true that statement would become when I first took the initiative to put myself on a dating app.

"Upon seeing your profile produced in my matches..."

The words seemed to jump off the screen at me. Who was this eloquently worded message from? Who was the man behind this offer? The only hint offered was a shadowed profile photo. His message captivated me, and the mysterious silhouette sparked my curiosity. Curiosity is a dangerous thing when you're lost and lonely.

I had penned adult stories for years, stories that fell in the same vein as the trashy movies made from books that have captivated millions of horny housewives. I hid this in the shadows of my personality. The dusty, dark corners no one would see. Ashamed to admit that I had devious fantasies. Conditioned to feel that I was not right for being curious about things outside of the accepted norm. Scared that I would be judged if those stories ever saw the light of day and were connected to me.

But as I began to correspond with this mysterious man, I discovered that maybe I wasn't as crazy as I thought. Maybe, just maybe, I had the potential to become something greater than I had ever imagined. Someone far stronger and far more interesting than any of the female characters in my stories. Someone stronger than the helpless victims that they always seemed to play. Captured, bound, and used, unable to save themselves from their fate. Left at their captor's mercy with no chance at escape. Victimized, as I had been in the past. Left to live in fear of the monster's return.

It did not take long for the moment of truth to arrive.

While my heart was reeling from a deep personal trauma, my Dom arrived in person for the first time.

"Come outside, now."

I lied and said I needed to fetch something from my car, parked out in the driveway. Dressed in shorts and a camisole, I walked down the sidewalk, headed for the driveway.

I will never forget the way it felt to come around the corner that cold evening to see him standing there, partially hidden in the shadow of the corner of the garage door. My heart skipped a beat, my breath hitched in my throat, and a startled gasp escaped my lips. His piercing blue eyes captured me, stirring something to life deep inside.

That was the first time I was ordered to kiss him. The first time I was given the privilege of fondling him to bring him pleasure. My first lesson in serving and obeying him.

A brief moment later, he sent me back inside and vanished into the night. I couldn't stop shaking. My mind was reeling. What new world had I just stepped into? What was I doing? Had I lost my mind?

In that moment, he captured me. My life would never be the same. It would only be a matter of time before I became his completely. Before he claimed me, owned me and bound me to his side forever. Before I learned the true meaning of pure devotion. Before I would smile when being called a whore, wearing the name like a badge of honor.

Even though I had been captured, I still struggled. My normally headstrong demeanor and stubborn soul made it more difficult for my Dom to seize the control he wanted. But he still set to the task right away.

Less than 24 hours later, I had my first session. I guess you could call it an "intro session." I learned the first thing that I would need to know as a submissive. Presentation. I learned how it can make or break a session, and how it is imperative to master this skill. When Sir advised me of his imminent arrival, I was to be in position. Failure to do so would result in punishment.

Our session was spur-of-the moment, without any prep time for either of us. But as I waited as instructed that night with my back to the door, hands at my sides, I felt the pangs of insecurity in what I had gotten myself into. It was met with an equal measure of anticipation of what was to come. The sound of the door opening brought a rush of excitement. The sound of his voice sent a shiver through me, and electricity my entire body as he touched me.

In that moment, I knew there was no turning back.

My Dom pushed my limits that very first evening by ordering me to use my mouth to pleasure him, knowing I had long felt inadequate in this area. My hands were bound by his belt. My body bared for his exploration and use, which was limited. He taught me that the same object can inflict several different sensations based on the way it was used, and the intent behind it. Sometimes an object would be used for pleasure. Sometimes for discipline. Other times, to cause pain. Whatever his desires may be at a given moment.

Even though it felt as if we covered so much, our time was limited. As he once again vanished into the night, I found myself anticipating our next session.

These days, it's easy to be in constant contact with someone through text, instant messages, video chats, and email. Sir and I were no different. He soon became the first message of my morning, and the last message before I went to sleep. Not long after that, he requested that I begin sending multiple photos each morning. The more I felt his influence, the more my mind started to race.

I tried my best to make myself available on a moment's notice if need be. One Sunday morning, I hastily arranged to be out of the house when he would be nearby just to steal a few moments of contact.

"Park your car and move to the passenger seat."

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I waited for him. Soon, the door opened, and my Dom slid into the driver's seat.

"Keys."

As he started the car and pulled away, he spoke. "For the purposes of our encounter this morning, the lines were long."

"Yes Sir," I replied.

He drove my car out of sight of the general public, hidden in an out-of-the way parking lot. I was ordered to use my mouth on him, to bring him pleasure. I did as I was told.

Soon, Sir decided it was time he reaffirmed his ownership, grabbing my hair, pulling me in so we were face to face. His steel blue eyes pierced into mine and felt as if they were staring into my very soul.

"I own your ass." He stated; his voice low.

"Yes Sir."

He ordered me to bring myself to orgasm before him, in the front seat of my car. Even though I was nervous about doing such a personal thing in front of him, I obeyed.

"Cum for me. Now."

The release rushed through me as I leaned back against the seat, eyes half-closed. The feeling was liberating. Sir opened the door and exited my car, walking around to my door. As he opened it, he ordered me out. After a brief kiss, he ordered me to my knees. More adrenaline surged through me as he instructed me to once again use my mouth on his cock, outside in the open where we could be discovered by a passerby.

After that, he took me back to our meeting place, and disappeared.

That afternoon, while I was working in the garage, he stopped by for a kiss. He exercised his control over me yet again, while my soon-to-be ex-husband lounged inside. The gesture resonated into my soul. Sir owned me. I was his sub. My pending divorce was only an obstacle that slowed down my progression on this journey.

Sir would occasionally stop by my office on Saturday mornings. I worked alone that morning, so it was easy to slip to the back room to offer my Dom a quick moment of pleasure. During the week, I would often smirk a bit as I walked through while reliving the moment. Oh, if they only knew... I'd probably have been fired, but I would never refuse to serve my Dom.

I wanted to do my absolute best to please this man, to eagerly serve my Dom. But as a person who still felt she needed to be in control, I found myself struggling to always be submissive. Let me tell you, these are not qualities a Dominant wants in his sub. Some spirit, some feistiness, yes. But stubbornness, bordering on unruliness... that will get you the belt. I know from experience.

During my early days, I struggled with falling into place before my Dom. At times, I was deliberately rude and disobedient, I acted without regard to my Dom's feelings. It earned me instant, swift discipline, including a time out, consisting of several days of no contact. It also included a round of discipline from the black braided leather belt, and a list of things I would willingly give in order for me to earn the privilege of staying in his service.

On the night my disciplinary session was to be held, my mind raced all evening. I placed an insane amount of pressure on myself to execute every order perfectly. There was no room for failure. I had already disappointed my Dom enough. The thought of adding to it tormented me.

I desperately tried to hide the shiver that coursed through my body as I heard the door open. My heart began to race, pounding so hard I could hear it ringing in my ears. I was not to make a sound, to move, look up at Sir, or acknowledge him in any way. When he arrived, he expected to see me in position, waiting to receive my punishment. If I made one mistake, he would leave, the session would end, and he would be gone. I could not risk losing him. I gave every ounce of focus I had to that moment.

He instructed me to rise from my place by the door and move to stand in front of my couch, remove my pants, and bend at the waist to wait for my punishment. I forced myself to stay still as I heard him remove his belt. Then... silence.

The anticipation of waiting for punishment was killing me. I felt a strong mix of fear, pain... and need. I needed to submit to this and repent for my wrongdoing. I needed to endure this to prove myself, and my devotion. My own stupid insecurities caused me to lash out at Sir, and it almost cost me everything.

"You have made me work far harder for my pleasure than I should have to."

I felt his gaze lingering. I knew the look. The intense stare, those steel blue eyes focused on me, cold, revealing without speaking a word that I was in for it. I felt the pain before the belt even touched me.

The tense silence was broken as the belt moved through the air, cracking as it found the soft, pale skin of my ass. I willed myself not to move or make a sound as the pain washed over me. What first started as a biting sting would turn into a burning, raging fire by the time he finished. He was reprimanding me, taking me to task for my defiance. Sir would not stop until he felt the punishment was sufficient.

The type of strike was different - and it momentarily caught me off guard as My mind went back to my first lesson, remembering that the same item in the same hands could inflict such different levels of pain. A strike that found an already sensitive area at on the back of my right leg, caused me to cry out in pain, but I gritted my teeth as the tears burned in my eyes. I refused to let them fall. I would endure every single lash without protest, to show my repentance. Each one went straight to my heart.

I tried to contain the fact that I was trembling in response to the pain, but I knew that it was futile. He knew me well enough to see the pain before I thought to hide it. He could read me like a book.

"Stand up."

Sir's voice was stern, but gentle. He knew that I was in pain. He wrapped his arms around me, holding my back to his chest. I loved the way I seemed to fit so perfectly in his embrace. I felt safe. Even though I knew he was unhappy with me, I knew he still cared.

"This was for discipline, sub. But sometimes, this will be for pleasure."

His hand ventured down, and I tensed. I held back a whimper as he slowly caressed and soothed scarlet, welted flesh.

"Remember sub, you are my treasure, my prized possession."

"Yes Sir."

I didn't hesitate to acknowledge this. The first time he gave me a taste of what I would be in for, his belt stung as it touched me, and I enjoyed it. I accepted the pain and found the pleasure in it. I enjoyed knowing it turned Sir on as well. If it pleased him, it pleased me.

It had not taken him long to find the darkest fantasies crawling around, hiding in the corners of my filthy little mind, and I willingly handed those fantasies to him, so he may bring them to light. He was my Dom. The only Dom I would ever serve.

I wanted to be his sub. His whore. His slut. I vowed to never make the same mistakes again. I shivered again as his hand grasped the hair at the back of my neck, turning my head so that he could stare into my eyes.

"I own your ass. Remember that."

"Yes Sir."

That night changed something deep inside me. I found myself wanting to do everything possible to deepen my submission. I wanted to become his greatest sub. I wanted to fulfill every fantasy and pass every test Sir had for me.

Our next session was special. Sir collared me. No, not a traditional collar, or even a daily one that would give away that I was an owned submissive. But it is something I wear daily, and always for sessions. That moment held so much significance for me.

It gave me the strength to keep enduring and keep hoping for my future as a sub when my Dom and I went through a dark period.