Push me back and get ready to please
Please never forget the importance of the tease
Tease and toy with the idea of dominance
Dominance is never dictated by the position
The night was only beginning and she had already started to show the signs of losing control…..
Jade had come home in a bad mood. She was still fuming about the argument they had that morning. The texts that had been sent back and forth hadn’t helped anything. She was determined to assert her position and force me to back down. She was a monster of my own making though.
Lately, I was the one who apologized. The one who took the blame for things, no matter what the problem was or who’s fault it really was. I thought that this would be the best thing to help her get through her situation. Apparently, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“You still won’t apologize for what you said about my mother?”
“Why should I apologize? She was the one who disrespected us. Nobody told her that she had to come. She could have stayed home for all I cared.”
“I’m sorry. I thought that you were going to take us somewhere decent, not a run down hole-in-the-wall.”
There goes that sarcastic tone that she knows I hate. “That hole-in-the-wall happens to be one of my favorite places to eat. The outside may be unassuming, but the food there is gourmet quality. If you and your mother hadn’t been so uptight, you might have realized that and had a good time.”
“Uptight? The place looked like it was falling apart.”
She started moving closer now. I could tell she was starting to work herself up to get in my face. Typically, when she started to get in my face like this, I would simply apologize and walk away. That way, I didn’t lose control of my emotions and make an already bad situation any worse by getting into a shouting match.
As she took her slow, but obviously agitated steps across the bedroom, I reigned in my own anger. I calmed myself and came up with a plan. This was the moment I decided to show her that I wasn’t a pushover. This time I would make it crystal clear that I was still the man she met 6 years ago underneath it all.
Instead of letting her get into her usual pace, I walked across and met her. The confusion over this was evident in her face. I met her by the bathroom and pushed her against the door.
“What are you…”
I pressed my lips to hers to shut her up. I held her there for just a moment, but in those few seconds I could feel her calming down under me.
“Shut it and listen to me. Ever since you took that class and started this celibacy thing, you’ve been taking out all your extra energy on me and I’m tired of it. Every night you press yourself up against me and expect me to respect your little pledge.”
I took a step back and let her go. She still stood where I had held her.
After a few more seconds, she turned and went into the bathroom. I just sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out what to do, what I wanted to say when she came back out. She didn’t come back out. Instead I heard her get into the shower.
I heard the shower turn off and her feet hit the floor. I only had a few more seconds to decide what to do. Do I back off and try logic one more time or do I just go with what I had already started and…
She stepped out of the bathroom dripping wet, in only her towel. I completely lost my train of thought. All I could think of now was how undeniably sexy she was. As soon as she took her first steps out the doorway, I was already up on my feet. In that split second, I had decided what I wanted and needed to say.
“Back inside.”
Show me a face that you’ve never shown anyone else. Let that guard down and see where I can take you. The heavy hand is one that controls. At times this is who I am, but not today. This time, I’ll show you what the light touch is capable of. Just a light brush up the spine…
Eventually, my hand shall meet your hair and the pace will shift. You’ll be reminded of who I really am. Until then, enjoy the bitter-sweet torture of threshold sensations.
The day comes
And you put on the mask
Washing away the night before
The thoughts are pushed back
A new dress is put on
The old one discarded in the corner
Placed in the same pile
As the lust that took over
No longer do the fires burn
Now replaced with cool waters
You walk out hte door
I wait for the night to come again
Because as the sun sets
So does the mask come down
And as the moon rises
The old feelings return
Pressed up against the wall
Hands search
Fingers explore
Lips embrace the familiar
An itoxicatiing scent fills the air
Pure inhibition
The hair comes down
The dress with it
Finally the fingers stop
Finding the desired treasure
Like an island lost at sea
The waters swell all around
Slowly
Deliberately
Deeper they search
Until all at once
The world shakes
Hair soaked
Sweat starts to form
Looking over at the window
We see the sun rising once again
With that
We go our separate ways
But I know
When the sun sets
She is mine to explore
One more time
How does it feel
Holding it in
Fighting the release
All day you feel
All night you squirm
Just let me tame it
Let loose the desire
Let the flame burn freely
Submerge the flame in the water
The deeper it goes
The more the water flows
Surrounding
Heating up
Making the flame one
With one breath
The waters are blown away
With three words
The flood comes
Soaking the ground
Preparing for the next
How does it feel
Allow yourself to get lost in it
Just let the sensations wash over us
Let your hips move to the beat of the music
Let your body shake in time with mine
Allow me to reintroduce you
To that piece of yourself you lost
The one you swore no one would ever touch
Allow me to get lost in it
Break free from the daily confines
Seek shelter in your embrace
Just let the troubles wash away
With the flood of passion and list
Allow yourself to get lost in it
Dig your nails into my life
Anchor yourself in my soul
Dig deep and uncover all my secrets
Allow me to get lost in it
Give me all your pain and suffering
Shoulder the regret and the tears
Hold only the joy and the laughter
Get lost in the strength of my will
Cover me with the warmth of your love
Stand firm with the knowledge of my support
Challenge me with the power of your intellect
The moment the two become one
The significant becomes a drop in the ocean
The insignificant becomes the air we breathe
The painful becomes our strength
The strength becomes our truth
Some submissives do not wish to release or submerge their egos through voluntary submission instead desiring to shift responsibility for their submission to a forcible or non-voluntary IMPOSITION of submission upon them thereby allowing them to save ‘face’ and shift the BLAME of their submission to the person who had IMPOSED that condition or state upon them.
Submission CANNOT be imposed. Control CAN be imposed or FORCED. Often through tools of intimidation, fear, pain, guilt or shame. We call this IMPOSITION of FORCE - ABUSE! This is a non-consensual action.
A submissive cannot escape personal responsibility for their submission. They must overcome the societal implications of perceived weakness of character and perverse or corrupt moral standards on their own. A submissive must overcome their feelings of shame and guilt for taking direct voluntary actions against the ‘accepted’ role of the ‘independent successful human adult’ as defined by the standards of outer society. It is important to consider that shame and guilt are tools used by religions, governments and communities to impose censure and through that censure CONTROL members of the community who no longer believe or follow the often rigid and limiting acceptable path of an adult within that community.
The submissive is simultaneously the canvas and the brush. That the Dominant is the painter is no question, but while there’s a temptation to peg the submissive as a passive workspace is there, it’s a false one.
D/s is a creative process, certainly, but it’s a collaborative one. The artist has to work with the brush, know its strengths, its weaknesses, and how it will bend and curl depending on where the pressure is applied. He has to know when to be forceful to get those broad, strong strokes, and when the pull back, to fill in the details.
The submissive isn’t really a brush.
They’re a person, and I’m not really sure any metaphor can fully contain them, just imperfectly capture the odd facet.
