Secret Confessions of a Smart Girl

There are many different ways to submit.

Sometimes I’m strong. Sometimes I’m scared.

Sometimes I’m quiet.

I don’t know how I got there inside my head or why it was where I needed to go.

It may have started with the need to focus deeply inside myself, to fit more tightly inside the envelope of my skin, in order to ignore the sounds that were swirling all around me.

It may have been the weapon, a singletail, or the mood of the man I was playing with - the man I play with most often these days, a man who I suffer from an overwhelming desire to please.

It may have been the moon.

Whatever it was, however, I ended up silent.

We moved, in the middle of things, to a place to be alone. We moved at the edge of anger, and maybe that’s what kicked me over the edge. I wanted the moment together - the connection. I wanted the sense that this was all there was to think about, the only place to be, and so I ended up still.

It wasn’t about being stoic.

The whip against my skin hurt, sometimes deliciously but other times simply painful, and all I wanted to do was soak it up.

I felt grounded, like there was a deep well of acceptance in me waiting to be filled - with pain, with touch, with words, it didn’t matter. I was silent.

I stood, and I didn’t want to scream.

I didn’t need to scream.

I needed to stand.

Earlier that day I had yelled in pain, begged at the top of my lungs for him to stop, needed to be told that it was supposed to hurt because that was how he liked it, and fought to stay in the role I choose.

This time, however, whip raining tears of fire across my back, I was quiet. Not completely, but most of the times  when the pain became too much to bear I simply let it bend me over and then stood up to wait for more.

“You’re feeling deeply submissive, aren’t you?” he asked me.

I nodded and was far too content to even want to make a sound.

The beating continued, and I stood, head bowed, hands before me, and waited for each stroke to fall.

At the end of the scene, curled up on his lap, back aching, still silent, I realized there was someplace else that I wanted to be.

I slithered to the floor to kneel naked at his feet, feeling happy and still.

Still and content.

Quiet.