Finding a Dominant that fit my submissive needs was much the same as it was trying to find a good fit in traditional dating. I was trying to find another person with the right combination of desires and aspirations, someone who not only met my submissive needs but inspired me to be a better slave. I had people in my life who willingly helped satisfy my masochistic desires, but no one who wished to dominate me. Not in the way that I needed, and after a couple months of trying to top from the bottom (I suck at that, by the way.) I gave up searching all together.
The first time I went to LH’s office, I was told to wear my buttplug. We had agreed to meet to begin exploring a D/s relationship, one that ran along the lines of my favorite BDSM movie, Secretary. I wore a black dress and heels, and was freshly shaved and moisturized. I was ready for paperwork and secretarial duties or whatever else the man decided to do with me. I hoped his intentions for me stretched beyond my administrative skills, but I kept those expectations low. I fought not to let my hopes inch too high in case they were dashed by another incompatible Dominant.
I was standing naked in between tall shelves full of books with the scent of sandalwood seducing my nose when I had the thought that maybe what I had been searching for all this time was standing directly in front of me. His hands were warm, and they moved my body where he needed as he deftly knotted a chest harness around me. It was only the third time I had ever been bound by rope, and when he produced a pair of nipple clamps, I realized that my new experiences weren’t going to end there.
He then pulled out the toys he had brought with him that day, and I tried not to flinch when he showed me the canes. I had arrived late, and even though I assured him it wasn’t on purpose, it was still a test for him. If LH had ignored my slight twenty minute infraction, I would have known right then that he as wasn’t serious about playing with a slave as I’d hoped. I would have been disappointed but generally ok, because LH is handsome and funny and a skilled kisser. But I wasn’t disappointed, and I learned with every strike of that wicked cane that LH was seriously considering me. He showed me that I was worth the time and effort to correct, and that he was taking my submission to heart. He wanted to bend my submission to suit his will. He wanted to claim me.
I met LH at a play party last summer, and our paths crossed again in the fall when he attended a munch with one of his polyamorous partners. My girlfriend, Liri, had pointed him out before this, and they enjoyed a flirtatious relationship. After watching them together I mentally placed him in the category of “wants in my gf’s pants.” I didn’t think he had any interest in me. When he sent me an email commenting on our brunch conversation about the two of them co-topping me, I didn’t think anything about it. I thought he was being polite.
For two months we corresponded through email, and I found myself slowly and inextricably seduced by his words. He spoke candidly about his evolution with polyamory and in kink and how he was searching for his version of a Girl Friday. We traded favorite books and movies, and during the course of it, I had a revelation about what being a slave meant to me. I didn’t want the details of my life to be dictated to me in minutia, but I wanted the fantasy of Dominance and submission to stretch beyond the bedroom into reality. I poured out my slave soul in an email, and LH didn’t just respond, he affirmed my feelings. Rereading this still makes me cry:
Thank you for sharing more about what it means to you to be a slave. It is a beautiful thing to see slavery through your eyes. I admire how sacred it is to you. You are a rare and precious treasure. For the right owner you will be an exceptional slave. Please don’t give it away again too easily. Consider your suitors hard. Make your future owner EARN the right to collar you. Be patient, and your birthright will present itself at YOUR feet.
I stared at his words and told myself he couldn’t possibly be serious. He understood me, the slave me, and I had no clue what I should do about it.
On the outside I was talking to my partners about LH. He became known as the “task guy,” because every week I chose three things to accomplish. These tasks were typically things that I had been procrastinating about, ranging from personal to professional. But I wasn’t talking about our conversations in detail or how I felt about them. Even though everyone involved was poly I knew that introducing another person, especially a significant one, was going to raise sensitivities. I was afraid to tell Liri how important to me the interactions between LH and I were becoming, that she’d smile and pat my hand in a way that told me I was, once again, wishing for a Dom who wasn’t really there. I probably talked more about LH and my love of tasks to Zen than anyone else, but I was only telling half the story. On the inside I was holding my breath, waiting for LH to say, “this was a fun game. Let’s play again sometime.” I was waiting for him to back out when he realized how serious I was about D/s, so I stayed quiet when I should have been relating my fears and exhilaration to my partners.
Boy Scout openly encouraged me, reassuring me that he understood that LH was supplying something that I needed. Although I was grateful for his reassurance, I also knew that I was standing on the precipice of something deep and powerful. I knew that if our relationship was going to be as Master/slave as I expected, and desired, I knew that there would be waves made along our polyamorous connections. If I made this leap, things were going to change irrevocably. And true to my nature, I took a running leap into the arms of the unknown.
LH didn’t just catch me, he welcomed me with his whole heart. It was like two pieces came together in a way that was seamless and effortless, and my dream finally manifested into this incredible dynamic that I had almost stopped hoping for. For the first time in a long, long time, I’m looking into the eyes of a man who truly sees the slave in me and knows exactly what to do with that knowledge.
I’m still addressing the reverberations of my choice, and the fact that I didn’t fully disclose everything while it was happening. I’m talking specifics now with my partners, but things are far from settled. I’m addressing everyone’s concerns and making assurances and trying to find my footing again after the whirlwind of LH and me coming together. There are some hard conversations to come, and I’m feeling anxious about that. I don’t want anyone to feel displaced or hurt, and I’m afraid that there’s no way to avoid some of it. I love my people fiercely, and I hate knowing that I caused some major relationship stress. It’s an odd feeling to be ecstatically happy on one hand and worried in the other, but I’m working on that. All of it.