Who does it take to be submissive? In the first of a series of articles, we ask @Sum1sub what it is like to be a submissive, how to broach the subject of trying a Ds relationship with your partner, and how he makes it work in every day life.
So, ladies and gentlemen, kinksters, enthusiasts, and the simply inquisitive (read: nosy), please may I introduce you to… @Sum1sub.
Hi. This is me. And I’m submissive.
Quite possibly the most difficult thing in the entire world is writing about oneself, at least it is for me. You see, when you’re talking, it’s dead easy to be whatever you want to be. You have tone, body language, facial expression and many other nuanced indicators to get across your message. The written word is just that – words.
The thing is though, words barely show what lies beneath, the deepest desires, the truth, and in my case the desire to be, to be, I don’t know, to be submissive I suppose.
And here we are with a word – a label – already: submissive. What does that mean – what words does that bring to mind? Subdued? Weak? Weird? How about Resourceful? Strong? Happy?
I could choose any number of adjectives to describe myself, but all would be subjective, and the ones I choose would change on a regular basis, mainly linked to how recently I’ve had pizza (double pepperoni please). So, I asked Twitter…
@Sum1Sub generous, guarded, sarcastic, complex and intelligent
— Carnal Scream 👻🎃🕷 (@TheCarnalQueen) 14 September 2016
@Sum1Sub Sensitive, Strong, Sarcastic, Self-Sacrificing, submissive
— LittleTwitchWitch🎃 (@_LittleSBitch) 18 September 2016
@Sum1Sub kind, helpful, interesting, sarcastic, hilarious
— 👻BloodRedRose🎃 (@randomredrose) 14 September 2016
@Sum1Sub Sarcastic, insecure, kind hearted teddybear 😉
— 👻 Spookarella 👻 (@ella_scandal) 14 September 2016
@Sum1Sub pizza, pizza, 🍕 , mysterious , pizza
— BarginHunta (@BarginHunta) 14 September 2016
So how did I become who I am today?
I’m from a typical 80’s family – dad worked hard, mum stayed home to referee the never ending sibling arguments between my brothers, sisters and myself. I went to school, sometimes I loved it, sometimes I hated it, but like my dad, I worked hard. Adolescence saw shellsuits, football and cider, leading into gig-going and a never-ending failure to attract girls. I went to 2 different universities, graduated one, failed one. I had a paper-round, I worked in a pub, a shop, a restaurant, in fact I’ve had so many jobs maybe I should call myself Jack.
I was never subject to abuse, emotional or physical, and had a pretty standard upbringing in all honesty. My main concern on a daily basis was whether it was beans or veg with dinner.
The transition from youth to adulthood was a tricky one, not least for the lack of success in the romance department, but that’s all water under a very well-trodden bridge now. Like many in the journey through adolescence, I undertook a voyage of self-discovery, more of which you can read in my story. I always knew I had something different about my needs and desires, but the naivety of youth didn’t know what they were.
I’m a regular bloke…
Eventually, aged 23, I found myself in adulthood. I’d moved in with my girlfriend, in a town I knew nothing of, working stupid hours for next to no money and running an 18 year-old car with more dings than miles.
The next 15 years has been an absolute whirlwind, and here I am, in the late summer of 2016, wittering on about myself. The girlfriend from 15 years ago is now my wife, known as M in my online world. We both work, we have 2 kids under the age of 7, sometimes we stress and sometimes we eat pizza.
I go to work, it pays the bills. Sometimes work is brilliant, I get my head down, I produce some great work and I adore my colleagues. Other times work is the shit – everyone’s in a bad mood, nothing’s getting done and my colleagues are arseholes. You see – we’re not so different!
…Who likes to be spanked
Or to be bound and gagged, or to have his balls squeezed, and so much more. You see, the thing is, I have a small sideline to my regular daily life. When I’m not busy avoiding awkward questions in the office, or worrying over whether the kids are having too much sugar, or adding up this month’s budget, I have the desire to submit. And I blog about it.
When the opportunity arises, we feed my need, not for pizza, but for submission. My wife, M plays Mistress and I play submissive; we partake in kinky fuckery. This is a side of us that few know about, but that is there for all to read on my blog subsmissives.com. My work requires me to fulfil certain expectations, to take the lead and to challenge, and it’s a hat I wear well. But in the comfort of home I take off that hat, replace it with a bondage hood and give myself to M. I am Hers, she becomes She, and I try to better myself under Her guidance.
So what’s next?
Over the coming months, I’ll be writing articles on BDSM & how male submission and female dominance isn’t all snarly faces and extreme pain; how it isn’t a sign of weakness. I’ll be debunking some of those myths and showing how it fits in with a healthy relationship; how you can make it fit around work and family and life in general.
So, keep your eyes on the KRG blog in October when I’ll be sharing some of our secrets…