I was once performing in an on-camera scene with my Dominant and another woman. Her punishment for some indiscretion, which I now can’t remember, was for her to watch as I took her caning for her. I knelt before my love, face forward, eyes focused ahead, arms behind my back, and took each strike with complete composure, only releasing breath and uttering a gracious “One. Thank you, Sir. Two. Thank you, Sir,” until we reached 20 strikes. The girl stared at me crying and baffled by what she had just seen; she was puzzled to witness my intense composure to such a severe whipping and the deep level of submission I demonstrated.
In my relationship with my Dominant, he is my primary partner. But during the nearly six years of our relationship, I have petitioned for sexual and kinky relationships outside our own with agreed-upon partners. I once petitioned to be lent to a queer couple, a femme and a trans guy, for submissive service including domestic chores. The femme was the alpha Dominant in the relationship (both were dominant over me, but the femme Dominant was at the top of our hierarchy). After a decadent dinner in which I followed high-protocol standards (only speaking when spoken to, fetching jackets, pulling out chairs, opening the door) and serviced the couple sexually, I was ordered to the kitchen. A huge pile of dishes sat in the sink.
The two sat down at the kitchen table, postsex and orgasm, a bit disheveled, sipping on tea in their boxers, lingerie, and robes.
“Get to work, slut,” Mistress ordered.
Naked and exhilarated in my submissive state, I got to work on the filthy dishes.
Mistress looked up drowsily from her tea and gifted me with her praise. “Such a good little submissive, slut. You are doing such a good job at those dishes. Jay, go get my whip.”
The grace and dignity with which a submissive accepts a punishment is just as important as the manner in which you conduct yourself in daily service.
Her partner returned with her whip and Mistress whipped my flesh, which was already marked from what had preceded in the bedroom that evening. As Mistress welted my skin with her whip, her fingers teasing my cunt every so often between strikes, and her partner sat at the kitchen table sipping his tea with a devilish grin, I felt absolute euphoric bliss in my service. It was one of those moments of clarity in which I feel that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, full of purpose and with an internal stillness that exists only in absolute surrender.
Submission is a gift of full surrender to another person. It’s the removal of ego and self-indulgence. When I engage in a heavy D/s scene, I picture myself as a hollow cane of bamboo: I allow energy to flow through me, keeping complete focus and attention to my surroundings on my Dominant, without drawing attention to myself. It requires being aware of the rhythm of life around me, life in my scene, and how I play into that rhythm, that cacophony of sound. For example, the sound of a key in the door cues me to remove my panties and kneel into slave position with arms folded behind my back. The sound of the shower’s running water instinctively starts me calculating how long that sound will last before Sir exits the shower and I enter with a fresh folded towel. The sound of the whistling kettle activates my anticipation to prepare Sir’s tea. The whistling kettle, the shower water, and the key in the door are just as kinky to my auditory senses as the sound of the flogger coming into impact with my grateful flesh, the whisk of a cane, the yelp of other submissives, and the cries of orgasmic pleasure that surround us in public dungeons. It is humbling to serve, to give in, without ego, mindful and focused.
But as submissives, we are human. We will make mistakes, and if we choose to disobey or act in a disrespectful manner, we will be punished. The grace and dignity with which a submissive accepts a punishment is just as important as the manner in which you conduct yourself in daily service. It may be even more important.
I remember one instance when I allowed my emotions to get the better of me during a D/s scene with my Sir. Sir told me that because of a production schedule, he would have to work late on our anniversary, which was in a few weeks. This personal matter affected me as my Sir’s lover, not as his submissive. I ran off from the scene in a huff and committed a cardinal sin in D/s: I took off my own collar. The collar is a symbol of dedication to our D/s relationship as well as a symbol of honor and respect reflecting my commitment to the BDSM community. In losing my composure and removing my collar, I was not only disrespecting my Sir but also acting as a disgrace to our community. Therefore my Sir decided that my punishment needed to be a public penance.
I treaded behind Sir in shame. I wished I could disappear and was thankful for the inviting darkness that the blindfold brought. I was led downstairs to a dungeon and placed on a suspended table; it was disorienting and difficult to balance on it without my sight. On all fours, presenting my ass, I awaited my punishment—rope biting around my chest, under my arms, pressed up against my rib cage, attempting to take over my breath and lead me into submission.
I felt floggers, paddles, hands, straps, belts, clamps, clothespins, and mouths. I gently cooed, “Thank you, Sir” and “Thank you, Ma’am.” I heard later that a line had formed; everyone wanted their turn. I changed positions, presenting my chest, my pussy, rotating to give onlookers a better view. I stood in difficult stress positions, squatting, balancing—all blindfolded. My head was spinning, chasing after the texture of voices in the room. I heard people negotiating with Sir. As he handed me over to the next participant, one politely asked me, “Could I go harder?”
“If it pleases you, Sir.”
Another said, “You seem like such a good girl. What could you possibly have done to deserve this punishment?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”
I followed the words like light, like butterflies. I let the sensation wipe through me at the hands of seasoned leathermen and Dominants and newbies who were shy and nervous. You would have thought they were the ones under the whip.
I could feel a community around me—young and old, SMers, experimenters, and swingers. Each with a different stroke, a different touch. I was polite and grateful to them for taking part in my punishment.
Sir approached, whispering in my ear. “Just one more and I’ll take you home.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
This swing was familiar. The cane struck my ass. I could feel the area of my flesh start to harden after repeated impact, and I could tell my skin had already started to bruise from hours of punishment. But I welcomed this touch. His touch.
“Count and show me you’re sorry,” he said.
“One. I’m sorry, Sir. Please, Sir, forgive me.”
“Two. Sir, I’m so very sorry, Sir, I will be more mindful of my behavior, Sir.”
“Three. Sir, I’m sorry, Sir. I will only show the greatest of respect to us and our protocol, Sir.”
I felt tired and broken. Worn down but at the same time fulfilled. I felt an unselfish pleasure from a job well done.
“You did good tonight, Maddie. I’m very proud of you. You made a lot of people very happy.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Sex-positive feminism embraces the entire range of human sexuality and is based on the idea that sexual freedom is an essential component of women’s freedom. BDSM is based on power and sensation play with a strong emphasis on communication and consent. I validate my own desires through the act of submission while simultaneously taking control of and embracing my sexuality. I have had to fight for my sexuality and identity, and I educate others around me about it. My personal has always been political. The aggressiveness with which I embrace my queer identity has translated to aggressiveness in claiming my submission.