Why Do I Let A Guy Dominate Me?

I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Possibly because someone asked me to explain why I like being submissive, particularly because it’s so opposite from how I am in my everyday life. But before I do, I want to clarify just what kind of submission I’m into and I also want to address this article that was in The Guardian this week – because it asks us all to examine ourselves and why we might be into BDSM. I do note though that it mostly asks women to consider why they like being dominated by men, glossing over or ignoring the equally numerous men who like to be dominated by women.

What I am not going to do is go into any detail about the case that prompted The Guardian piece. I don’t want to feed into it and I feel the media frenzy around it has been slightly disgusting; I was told today that nearly all the Irish papers had pull out sections last weekend focusing on it? And even though I am not trying to sell papers I still don’t want to give it any more inches or use it for my own purposes. It’s easy enough to find elsewhere if you want more on it or in fact are not aware of what I’m referring to.

 

I am not a qualified psychologist but I did do a year of psychology in college and I am fascinated by why people do what they do and what motivates them to do it. And I of course try to turn this on myself, and understand why I like things a certain way and why I get such deep pleasure from things being the way I want them. I have no big answers but I have some guesses that I’m pretty happy to accept.

 

I like submission when I know I am surrendering control to someone else, when I know that they are in charge, they are directing things and they are responsible for both of our pleasures. That gets me off, the surrendering of control. It’s such a release and such a relief. I love knowing that I’m not responsible that I don’t have to think. If I just do as I’m told then everything will come to me. Only in this instance do I enjoy the not knowing what’s going to happen to me. Because I hate it everywhere else.

But why do I like this?

 

think I know.

But I will just repeat that I am not a professional and these are the musings of someone who has read too much but has no qualifications in the matter.

I am an independent person, I live in my own house, by myself. I pay all my bills and I get help from no one. (not that I should need any) but all decisions in my life; from fixing the boiler to will I go for that new job are all things I have to deal with myself. In fact I have been doing that since I was 18 and moved out. But I’d probably been looking after myself long before that. I’m not at all suggesting that I was neglected but my parents had a hands off approach to parenting. They’re great people but they’re so wholly unorganised I just can’t believe they function. Things would get promised and then never happen – they wouldn’t think about booking ahead or factoring in something and the thing we were supposed to do wouldn’t happen. They were, and are, fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants kind of people. And what this bred into me somewhat was a need for planning and organisation and the understanding that if you don’t plan and organise things just won’t happen. This is very stressful for a kid, I could never feel sure that they had remembered to get the items for the costume for the school play. Or the ingredients for cooking class. They did sometimes, probably most times, but not always and the times when it was forgotten were just so mortifying.

So as an adult I am a bit of a control freak, I just don’t believe that anyone is going to do anything that I ask them, sadly I also think that they’ll say no. And so to avoid the disappointment of being let down or the shame of being declined I don’t ask. Or I rarely ask. It makes me an awful delegator at work, I just can’t do it. I am over simplifying this but you see where I’m connecting the dots.

 

But what has this to do with submission? Well, because I am so loath to release control, if someone can make me give it to them then it is actual bliss. If I can trust you to take over, trust you to know what I want then it is the sweetest, most delicious thing. I can just let go and not think… for once. It is physically, mentally and sexually exquisite. It makes me feel looked after, cared for. Letting someone in, allowing them take care of me. That’s what surrendering feels like. And that’s very hard for me to do.

 

It probably helps that I do absolutely love a cock in my mouth and am very happy to be told what to do there or even forced to do it. Also probably doesn’t hurt that I adore being fucked from behind, again a position that can be considered somewhat submissive or derogatory, something I personally don’t understand.

And of course I don’t mind having my arse tanned a little.

 

What I don’t want is to be in any real pain. A few bruises across my arse cheeks are ok, but not many. I really don’t like to be slapped hard, pain is not a turn on for me and nor is the anticipation of pain. It’s a fine line isn’t it? And you certainly need to be very clear with your partner about what is and isn’t ok. I detest calling him sir, I rail against it with every fibre of my being, but I will say it because it’s all part of the game and what we’ve discussed is ok. There are so many nuances but essentially I know I’m topping from the bottom in the sense that I’ve told him what I like, what turns me on, I’ve given him parameters and anything within them is what I want.

 

 

What I never want is any kind of humiliation. I can see why some people might be into it, but for me I don’t ever want a facial. I just don’t want someone to wank into my face. I’ll get on my knees and you can wank into my mouth, or you can fuck my face… but finishing there is just not to my taste. I don’t want to be peed on either – I could pee on you if you wanted? But that’s where it starts and ends. But in the interest of being thorough, I’ll be delighted if you came on my tits. See, these things are just so personal and you don’t ever know what’s ok unless it’s discussed.

 

I also don’t want to be verbally humiliated – I don’t even have an example? I’m fine with being called your ‘whore’, or your ‘fucktoy’ or ‘dirty bitch’ all of these are welcome. I’m not so totally sure that I’m fine with ‘slut’ and I can’t fully say why? And of course the ever troublesome yet cunt tightening ‘Good Girl’. I hate this more than having to say Sir  – and yet, I love it. I love it because I hate it. There is something so condescending and proprietary about it that the sub in me loves. Maybe because it reminds me to rail a bit against the dom? Who knows, I can only tell you what it does to me.

 

What I mostly want, along with the cock in my mouth, is to feel wanted to feel desired. Part of my kind of submission is wanting you to tease the everliving fuck out of me just to watch my reactions. I love this more than anything. I want someone who is eating me because they want to, for their own gratification at seeing what they can make my body do, at the power they can wield over me, controlling my pleasure. Teasing me, giving me little bits, not letting me have what I want until they decide.

 

Sometimes I have to ask for this, I have to ask very specifically, which is what I mean by topping from the bottom. I asked recently and this is how it went.

We’re lying in bed kissing, properly getting fully at it. ‘You really get turned on by kissing, don’t you!’ he says, somewhat bemused. I do, and I don’t care, I know what I want and I’m miraculously about to ask. ‘I think I know what I want right now’ I pull myself away to say. ‘Well tell me and maybe I’ll give it to you’ I’m not thrilled with this but I know I am going to ask. ‘I want you to eat me’ I manage to say but am stalled when he says back ‘well climb on then, I’d love you to sit on my face’. This isn’t what I want though, I don’t want to be in control of it, I need him to be and I’m going to have to clarify that. Damn. It’ll be worth it, I know. But I’m faltering and I know my issues with asking are rising. I’m going to have to say this now before I lose my nerve and any arousal I had. I think he picks up on this and I am encouraged, something he says, something in his demeanour? I’m not sure but I’m reassured. ‘No, I don’t want to be on top. I want you between my legs. I want you to take ages before you even touch the lips. Kiss all over that freshly waxed mound. Make me beg. Oh, and you probably need to leave my arse alone, it’s out of action after what we got up to last night’

‘Duly noted!’ he laughs. But as he climbs over me to scooch down between my legs, I catch him, he is between my legs but still at head height, I have my arms around him and we start kissing again. I can feel his hard-on catch on the outside of my lips and I move my hips up to catch it more. He knows what I’m doing, he’s no fool and he lets me but then pulls away. As I push up to meet him he controls whether he’ll let my now glistening lips part further. I am excited now, swollen and wet from the kissing and breathless from the teasing jabs I’ve had of his cock. I pull him in tight to me, trying to get him in – I think I’m just going to lose control and just have sex. But he knows better. He lets me think that’s what’s happening, he plunges into me once, for a millisecond, then out, then in again, for less time and when he pulls out he swings down so he’s flat on his chest with his head between my thighs. I am gasping and out of control.

That can’t have been easy for him.

I am squirming and I want something but it’s too late, I’ve already set the rules and he’s going to abide by them. He starts with the crease that joins my thigh to my cunt. He works one side then the other. Never even glancing off my lips. He licks and kisses and then blows on it. This feels nice but when he blows on the lips, the only attention he gives them I moan and hold myself back from a begging ‘Please’. He moves over the mound with his lips and tongue, again blowing where he’s made it wet. But all this does is serve to make me want it on the lips – which is the whole point. These areas feel good but they are not what I want, their niceness only amplifies my need to feel it elsewhere. He repeats and I do then start to beg. ‘Oh god….. please. Please’. But nothing. He keeps away and all he will give me is the occasional blow on them. I start to raise my hips up to him, I am pushing my cunt into his face but he’s still not going to give it to me, I can barely contain myself, I want his tongue in me, I want him to part my lips with it and to suck my clit so hard then work it steadily with his tongue.

He pushes me back down and tells me to behave. And I try to tolerate some more. He repeats the actions, kissing the crease of my thighs and all across the mound until he eventually plants a tiny kiss on the lips. I nearly explode. Then a lick to part the lips, I’m ecstatic. He pulls back again and I think I’m going to cry but he can’t maintain it. He starts to lick and eat me properly. He could have the worst technique in the world (he doesn’t) and I might have come anyway. He eats me gently and slowly, controlling it, no wild abandon just yet, this is precision performed to elicit the responses he wants and a drawn out orgasm.

I am bucking underneath him now and raising my hips up and trying to pull him on to me. I give up and surrender to it, it’s perfect anyway. I am going to come no matter what and I know it! Is there any better feeling? I notice him lick his fingers but I don’t feel them go in. I don’t know what he’s doing but I can feel its benefit, I can feel it starting to build and then it shatters all through me a huge orgasm that sends me into spasms. I am owned. Utterly.

That. That is what I want. I want someone to own my orgasm. I want them to be in control of it.

That kind of ownership makes me feel desired. Makes me feel a connection and a trust. It’s not possible with just anyone. Not for me.

I have to trust you to be able to let you do this. That is the key here. I can only let this happen because I know it’s not a reality anywhere else but the bedroom. I can only enjoy this because I know I am his equal outside the bedroom. This is by admission my own tastes and my own personal mental release as I enjoy them and may not be to anybody else’s. It’s my idea of being cared about.

I’ve explained what it is I think drives that, I may be wrong but I suspect I’m not far off. It’s how I like to have sex when I’m lucky enough to find the right person I feel I can trust.

Things are not set out blow by blow, that would ruin it. But parameters are discussed. He doesn’t want to genuinely hurt me, I don’t want to be walloped. And it doesn’t have to be like this every time. I don’t need this to get off I can happily get there loads of ways and they can also be very vanilla.

 

I’m sure that’s not the end of what I have to say on the matter. Desires are not static, my tastes could change but what I hope is that I keep an open mind but more than than I hope to have a like minded partner I can trust these to.

 

 

*I would just like to clarify that my parents are great people; liberal, open minded, generous, kind people. And I most certainly got any good traits that I possibly possess from them and their outlook.

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