nikki's essay

My desire to submit surprises me. It goes against everything I've
been taught, is in stark contrast to what I've become as a woman, and
is not what I teach my daughter. Yet, it calls to me with a strength
that cannot be resisted. It reaches deep into me and touches
something essential. It is powerful and oh, so pleasurable. So, I
succumb and I give myself to the "safe" on-line Mster, my desire for
something more outweighed by my fear. Each day I am surprised, but
also fulfilled, so each tomorrow I come back for more.

My feminist credentials are unassailable. I have a degree in women's
studies. I've read Andrea Dworken, Mary Daly, Camille Paglia, and
Simone de Beauvoir. I know about false consciousness and patriarchal
culture. So I know the risks of submission, I understand the dangers.
I know that a desire to submit has led women to put themselves in
situations where they had no power, no rights, no choices. Where they
were forced to stay in relationships, stay when the submission turned
into abuse, but there was no way out.

My mother raised me to make sure I didn't fall victim to this impulse.
She insisted that I take responsibility for my own life – learn to
drive, to balance my check book, and made sure I had financial
independence. She taught me not to wait for a Prince, but to stand on
my own two feet. And it worked – I have a graduate degree in business
and run a division of a large multinational company. I make more
money than 99% of men in America. I could support my family on my own
if I needed to.

Nevertheless, the drive is there. I don't need to, but I want to
submit. I want to give myself over. I want to kneel at his feet. I
want to obey his orders. I want to have sex at his command, open my
mouth, my cunt, my asshole. I want to cum when he tells me to. I
want to do whatever he asks, no matter how gross; open my legs, spread
my ass-cheeks, pee in my own mouth, drink it, show him my dirty
tampon, anything. I want him to give me to strangers.

What does it do for me? What is the attraction?

1) It takes away responsibility. I have so much in my life –
responsible for employees, for clients, for children, for parents, for
my husband. I am the provider. The worrier. The caregiver. But not
in my "sub-space". Here I give myself over and I have nothing to
worry about.
2) It proves my desirability, and not for the things I am most
confident in. I know I'm smart, quick, verbal. But in sub-space none
of that matters, here I am just sex.
3) It puts me in the position of being cared for. Here, I am
childlike, animal, an object to be cherished and watched over.
4) It gives me the opportunity to please. In sub-space I can
demonstrate in extremely tangible ways my love and be appreciated for
it.

Being submissive gives me sexual pleasure, yes. Intense sexual
pleasure. But I get lots of pleasure from regular sex too. With
submission, I am in a constant state of arousal, the pleasure just
right below the surface, ready to bubble up and over. Beyond that it
makes me feel feminine and beautiful in a way I have never felt
beautiful before. I glow. The best part? I feel calm and at peace.
Relaxed. Comfortable. Wonderful. It feels like a warm blanket.
Like the moment when the anesthesia hits the pain. Like a shot of
tequila.

So I do it. Again and again. But in this safe way. I have a Master
with no REAL power. No economic power – he can't withhold material
comfort from me. No physical power – he can't hold me down or put a
gun to my head. No legal power – he can't get custody of my children
or rob me of my possessions. He only has the power I give him.
Symbolic power. He can move my avatar, leash me, command me. But I
can log off anytime. Shut down the computer, and it's over and I
don't ever have to come back. So it is "safe" – I can experience the
wonder without the threat.

But I want more. I let him into my life little by little. I show him
my physical manifestation, perform for him, I dress for him, report to
him. And I want even more. If I could, I would give him all of it.
I don't know how else to explain it. It just is.