The inseparable nature of love and submission and the irreality of dominance

I am in love.  And I can feel myself with her even when I am not.  Like a gentle cloud caressing her, believing in her, wishing for her strength, supporting her courage, and dissolving into her in ways that feed and grow her strength and soul.

This feeling can only come when she has opened the door.  But the words she uttered almost so faintly that I couldn’t hear, but which have grown inside me like an avalanche flowing up the mountain, over the hills, across the sea to lay me at her feet, have been growing inside of me, pushing out all noise.  “I love you,” she whispered…and in the days that have passed my truth has emerged.  ‘I have always loved you.  From the very first moment I set eyes upon you.  Your beauty fed me in a heartbeat, and that has since been replaced by your deep and abiding friendship, the qualities of your character.’

One of my children told me that my soon-to-be-ex-wife believes that this woman is responsible for the breakup of our marriage.  Ex-Darling, if you are reading this, you alone are the reason for the breakup of our marriage.  You lost me a long time ago.  We went through the motions for years before that, but when I was beached on your immovable judgement, I debarked and began to walk.  

You can blame me for not telling you my intention, but it was there to see in my words all those years ago, “if you are disgusted by me, then I will never sleep with you again.”  And I meant it.  And she knew it.  And thus it was.  

In the desperation of that moment, she offered me an olive branch, “you can see a professional if you want,” but I didn’t want.  Over a decade later, I did, and in a sense, ex-Mistress selected “empty trash” and I enthusiastically consented to “are you sure you want to permanently erase the items in your bin?  This action cannot be undone.”  It is somehow fitting that ex-Mistress dumped me on the same day that my wife told me she wanted a divorce and another domme, out of the blue, wrote to me to talk about herself and her life in a very open way.  The universe speaks very clearly at all times, provided we know how to listen.

The woman I love is not responsible for anything other than being a true friend.  She has not seduced me, not attempted to woo me away.  She has simply stood by me and supported me in my transition, but earlier, at other times, she has been there.  I was going through my things as I am packing, unpacking, throwing things out, sorting my life, and there was a gift there she had given me oh, so many years ago.  And I was reminded of how much I have felt for her and for so long.

And what has happened lately, is that I have learned to shut up.  My bestie, who is not in a good place with me right now, nor I her, pointed out to me that a friend really just shuts up, doesn’t judge, and just holds space for.  A lover does this even more deeply.

To love is to love the imperfections, to love in spite of them, to not seek to change, to accept warts and all, to strive at all times to support and be there for.  I wished for that for my wife.  That is what I thought we were headed for.  A friendship until death, a companionship every step of the way.

Her anti-trans bigotry, the feelings that somehow being tied to a trans woman is humiliating for her, and the hate that has sprung forth from her and has been directed at me, has served as my liberation.  It has freed me from a bond that I would have respected to my last breath, and in that, I am like so many battered wives, woman put down, crushed, regulated by their overbearing husbands…I am free, and divorce is a passion liberation.

This person I love is a perfect companion.  I know this now having just spent a sublime vacation together.  I shall go to her soon.  Perhaps we will holiday together again.  Soon I hope.

She is not in kink.  But she knows.  She knows I am a slave.  She has not judged.  She is a strong woman.  My slavery, when pure, is the thread of my life.  Service to female strength.  As I strip away all parts of my life which have nothing to do with that, my purpose has begun to emerge.  I have written tongue-in-cheek about how all of these women in my life come to dominate me.  It isn’t kinky, or anything else, but something in me is freeing for them.

When this beautiful person leant over whilst we shopped and picked up an enormous carpet beater, a true spanking instrument, tapped her hand pensively with it, and said, “I don’t know whether to use this when you finish your manuscript or because you’re putting it off,” about a book I am writing.

“Only for good behaviour.  Really good,” I said feeling it coursing through all of me.

“Right then.  You know what to do.”

And when I speak of submission in this way, this feeling of love, this intense desire to lose myself in the folds of mutual ecstasy, in her person, they are one and the same.  But it is not a loss of self, an abnegation of what I am.  It is the opposite.  It is an embrace of my most fundamental self, an act of self-love, being brought into alignment with the service and pleasure of someone else.  It is a moment where everything else is stripped away.  A desire that is already fulfilled, not yearning, but just is.  It is quietude, love, bliss, and surrender.

It is in this state that we are most able to receive love back.  And ex-Mistress was right, it is not something I have ever done well.  She was right to observe, but wrong in the application, as she was not in the feeling with me.  What I realise, feel, is that this love is both giving and receiving.  It is the pulsing heart of connectedness.  When we are fully present, the baggage is gone.  Love is a spiritual co-mingling.

I cannot conceive of submission any other way.  And submission is a kind of seeking, of searching, a desire to place this feeling somewhere.  We call dominance the opposite of submission.  We set up a binary for everything.  Female v. male, dominant v. submissive, master v. slave.  But in yin-yang we see both mingled with each other.  That feels like truth.  They are together in existence.  A dance.  A partnership.  And both submit to each other.  Both also dominate each other.  For the common thread is love, and love is about making oneself available to the other, expressing the self in the best way that the other hears, feels, is fed by.

My submissive energy is coming out more and more clearly every day.  The number of women who walk through life denied expression of their own dominant energy is huge.  As I express myself, perhaps they feel it and find a freedom with me that society might not otherwise give them.  

With this woman, I realise that my feelings for her are that I wish to strive in service to her.  Strive for myself.  I do not wish to negate me.  To disappear in her.  I wish to make myself as great as I possibly can, to achieve as much as I possibly can, as this means I have more to give, that what I offer has more value, that my submission comes from an ever-growing base of strength.

And what does that do to me?  It asks me to ask of myself a desire and follow-through to strive.  To step into service, into listening, to emotional availability, to tuning what I am to what she is, to shifting gears from engaged and at times challenging, to one of support.  I don’t wish to spar with her as she relishes with many.  No, I wish to be there with her, in silence, in support, as steady as the earth under her feet.  And for that, I shall ask of myself to dig very, very deep.

That is how I see love.  That is how I see submission.  I am permitted to hope that this magical human will receive this, and that it will grow between us.  And my posse is the best posse there is—I mean my therapist is even helping me to fall in love, suggesting I might touch her.  It blows my mind.

P.S.  I’ve been a good girl today, hence the second post.  I ran a gruelling hill run after doing a distance run yesterday.  I’ve stayed fully within my boundaries on eating and drinking and hydrating.  I have gotten so much done.  Best of all, I got most of the last of my wife’s stuff out of the family home.  And I’m not even done yet.  I’m going to go make some money, do a bit of work, and start packing for a wonderful upcoming trip.  And, I get to do dinner at an old brothel from the 1920’s this week with someone who is learning to let out her inner domme through play with me.  I’d say it’s been a rather good day.