When Amy first told me “I am for you,” I didn’t get it.
I heard what she was saying, and she explained the concept to me, but what I missed was what she really meant by that.
I’d known too many “submissive” women before.
I’d seen them on bdsm dating sites, laying out what they were looking for in a mate, what they wanted him to do for them, what they wanted to do for him, what they wanted to do for play, etc.
Quite frankly, I didn’t see them as submissive. I saw them, or at least their needs, as what would be dominant in a relationship.
I’d dabbled in Gor. But Gorean behavior had too many conceits and rules. You had to talk a certain way, behave a certain way, socialize a certain way. There were codes of behavior, codes of honor, rules for how your slave was supposed to greet people. Codes about how to capitalize a master’s name, and how to lower case a slave’s. Rules about how to discipline your girl, rules about how to train her, how to give her tasks to better herself, yadda yadda yadda.
I’m not so much for following someone else’s rules.
Before I met Amy, I did some hard looking at myself and what I wanted in my life. I’d always adapted to my partner, and made sure their needs were met, even if it meant suppressing my own. Classic enabling behavior. I came to the conclusion that I would rather have no partner, than be in a relationship where I had to change who I was for anyone else. I could see past relationships that had not worked, and I could see that changing myself and denying what I wanted would ultimately destroy that relationship.
I decided I didn’t want a primary relationship.
I wasn’t closed to the idea, I just figured I’d never find that perfect match, the woman who wanted what I wanted. I figured they would all come with preconceptions and needs that they would expect me to adjust myself, to compromise, to meet those needs. And I was done with that.
Now, this was an exciting realization for me. I could be totally open and free about what I liked, I didn’t need to impress anyone with anything. I didn’t have to be “Domly” or sensitive, or anything. I could just be myself, say what I thought when I thought it, and move forward in my life. It gave me a natural, unforced dominance that didn’t depend on anyone else.
I wasn’t even looking for a partner.
Then Amy came along. God. Like a tractor beam. OK, so maybe not an appropriate Star Trek analogy, but Star Wars anyway. Close enough. It’s all spacey spacey themed, anyway.
Yeah, Amy attracted me, powerfully so. Smart, funny, very comfortable with herself. Not to mention gorgeous.
We IM’d, we phoned, we talked about bdsm and D/s and all sorts of topics. We both knew one thing, we didn’t want 24.7 D/s. I didn’t want a slave I had to micromanage, and Amy didn’t want to be dominated outside the bedroom.
Or so we thought.
I’m a simple man. I wanted a woman I could throw to the ground, kick her thighs open, and fuck. I’m not much for anything elaborate. And I’m not much for routine, or rules, or protocols. Catch her, throw her down, fuck her.
I didn’t want to be all focused on her needs, wondering if she is enjoying sex, if she is satisfied, if she feels good. I wanted a woman I could use. One I could force. One that could say “No”, sure, but that “no,” wasn’t going to get a whole lot of attention. Well, none.
I didn’t want a “brat,” either. A woman who misbehaves to get attention.
Nor did I want one who needed to be spanked, disciplined or hurt in anyway. I like hurting. I just want to do it when I feel like hurting her, and not when she feels like being hurt.
Amy repeated to me a few times, the “I am for you,” idea.
Like an idiot, I kept blowing it off.
Then I got it.
I realized that what Amy liked was to be whatever her partner wanted. This wasn’t just words, typical slavespeak, etc. This was a vanilla woman, only the slightest acquaintance with D/s, and yet she knew that sher wanted to be whatever her partner wanted. Her needs were met by meeting his needs.
Let me emphasize that.
Her needs are met by meeting his needs.
I told Amy she was dangerous. That a man could destroy himself with a woman like that. She didn’t understand that. She still doesn’t. She sees herself as the most innocuous little creature. I think she’s fucking dangerous.
But she spoke the truth about herself.
I use her, I make her masturbate, I force her to cum, I hurt her, I take away her air, I put hurty clampy things on her, I tie her up. I call her a slut, I ass fuck her. I do stuff that she likes, and that I like. I do stuff that she doesn’t like, but that I like. I do stuff she hates and dreads, but that I like.
I use her.
And I adore her. Did I need to mention that? She gets insecure only when she thinks she isn’t meeting my needs. I have no doubt she would do anything she could do for me if I asked her. She gives me absolute power. Fortunately, I am already absolutely corrupted, so no changes there.
She’s a woman I didn’t have to change myself for, one who loved me for what I am, Sadist, bad man, whatever it is that I am, she loves. And obeys.
Her needs are met by meeting mine.
My perfect mate.