(Based on Sophie Morgan’s Diary Of a Submissive. Contents of this post are entirely fictional.)
If you know me personally, you’d have been surprised I did eight posts without talking about sex. Well, today’s your lucky day. The first thing to say is I’m not a pervert. No more than everyone else. And my definition of submission is limited to myself. Ask another submissive about her expectations and turn ons and you’d get a whole different blog post.
Looking back on it now, my submissive tendencies began quite young. Although I wouldn’t have called them that then. I just knew there were certain things that made me tingle and I’d come faster rubbing it off to anything but lovey dovey vanilla Mills and Boon. I wasn’t one of the popular kids in Junior High, that gave me a lot of alone time with my Best friend, Hannah. And when I was running around looking for trouble with her, my nose was buried in some Jackie Collins novel ridiculing virgins and vanilla sex.
Ironically, I was kind of a late bloomer. Had my first kiss in the school parking lot at fifteen. It was Hannah’s friend who was heading off to Senior High a week later. There was no anticlimax, pun intended. More of a five second clash of teeth before he said “well then”.
Fast forward, the day I finished my last WASSCE paper, a good friend gave me a present and asked me not to open it before I got home. I finally got home after the three hour Cape Coast-Accra drive and after a long conversation with my parents, some fufu and a long shower, I got in bed and settled to open my gift.
“Fifty shades of Grey , EL James”, soon enough I got to Christian paddling Anastasia’s arse and stuff. My breath was heavy, slow and deep. At first I thought it was the idea of a rich young bachelor ramming you. But as I read further I realized there was more to it. I couldn’t sleep that night so I lay awake tossing and turning till I decided to rub one out.
I put my hand between my legs and started to focus on one boy I had a crush on. Nothing. I tried to think about him as a rich man and everything Christian Grey was. Still. Nothing. Then I closed my eyes and imagined him hitting me. Dripping hot wax on me, forbidding me to come as he rubbed my clit. Only allowing me to call him sir. My feet curled so hard my toes gripped the sheets. My back arched so deep my neck was starting to hurt. The pain in my neck added to the sensation, the humiliation and the filth of it all, I came thinking of it. I shuddered and fell asleep my hand still on my crotch, enjoying the heat and the wetness.
Over the years, it was hard finding someone who understood submissiveness well enough to be in a dom/sub relationship. Not to even mention the awkwardness of telling your boyfriend you wanted him to flog your arse red and fuck you against the bruises till you came, only with his permission of course. So it’s to absolutely no surprise I say my needs remained unfulfilled fantasies, despite the occasional failed attempts and the one time I was almost raped because I told someone I was a submissive (that’s a story for another day.) I met someone and I haven’t been able to think straight since.
It was a regular hook up, date, drinks, drunken sex… or so I thought. We had been seeing each other about two weeks when I told him I was a submissive but I hadn’t really had any real experiences. He just smiled as he drove and held my hand. We got to his house and after a few drinks and a roll, I got in bed and prepared my mind for some mind blowing however vanilla sex. But baby boy had other plans. He held my hand and helped me to my feet, blindfolded me and walked me to the edge of the bed, he kissed me deeply, then pushed me onto the bed, had me sitting on the edge, then he began to kiss me, in the same meandering way he had plundered my mouth minutes before, and I shuffled along the bed edging myself closer as he made me writhe with his licks, alternating between light and teasing and more firm and forceful. My orgasm rose, abated, rose again, and finally, as he nipped my clit with his teeth and sucked it forcefully I came loudly, fulsomely, and with such force that I saw the stars.
He continued to fuck me senseless and I was only allowed an orgasm when he pleased. And when he whispered “come for me” in my ear it was almost as if my body could hear him. I’d writhe and come at his command. But I spoke. I spoke when I wasn’t spoken to. He hit me. On my breasts. It hurt. I bit my lip a little. He hit me again. “Do you understand you will not speak unless spoken to?” My mouth quivered. He hit me again. “Y… ” I started “Are you saying something? I can’t hear you” he said, his voice deeper than usual, firmer. “Yes” he hit me again. “Yes what?”he glared at me. I closed my eyes and started to cry. Sobbing shaking under him. He slammed inside me, I gasped, and with a hard deep stroke on every word he said “Ivy…. yes…. what?” In tears, I answered him sheepishly “yes yes please, yes sir” I continued to sob. He slowed down and kissed my forehead “good girl, now come for me” those three words. And before I knew it another orgasm swept over me. I was shaking, I think I passed out even a little. He came with me. And soon I was curled up on his chest.
I woke up in a pool of my own drool. On his thigh. Classy. He must have thought I was a complete nut job, all things considered. In a split second everything that had come before flashed through my mind and I was horrified. I couldn’t remember the last time I had made such a complete twat of myself and I felt stupid and embarrassed and tearful and sick. I wanted to fling on my clothes and run away and not ever look at him again, but doing that would have involved moving and that would have involved speaking and having him look at me. So I lay very still, he asked if I was awake,”No” I muttered . “No sir huh, surely.” He grinned. I shuffled to try to sit up and clear things up before he had any ideas, “Shhhh it’s okay it’s okay go back to bed” he said as he stroked my hair. I put my head on his chest, and went back to sleep.
It was in that moment I started to fall in love with him.