It’s been a long time since I wrote anything as these days my world kind of turned on itself. But I had a crazy dream and then had inspiration to write something about a dream I had this morning.
The beauty of submission. What really is the true act of submission? Why is it so important to a little? All my yummy little secrets. And most importantly who is it for.
Let’s start off with the dream I had. I had met a man. A man who disclosed that he had a very temultuous life but needed a grounding change in the activities of his world. He was charming and different. Something about him was closed so tight within himself. But he was fast. Like he knew what he wanted and was ready to go. (Which btw can also be a red flag) our first few encounters in my dream consisted of him introducing himself as a man of means, but a man who had a very dangerous way to making his means and asking if I was willing to be open minded. I guess coming from my own past I was used to some sort of illegality. The next scene was him making an elaborate dinner and introducing me to his family which was so odd as each of his relations seemed to be in on a joke I couldn’t be a part of just yet. So the introduction was a harsh one. Me being put on the spot with a load of pressure, him facing his consequences of finding someone in his life who wasn’t approved. I had to step away ready to go home after such embarrassment only for him to reach to me and tell me “please stay, tomorrow I get you all to myself and we will discuss all there is to me and see if you will be able to handle it.” After that scene, it seemed like his home, this one beautifully renovated penthouse floor in this seemingly abandoned building, was filled with all sorts of people all one kind of dangerous to the next. And one of them I had recognized as an older uncle of mine, who had a past within 90s urban gangbanging. Who took to stealing my wallet and cash thinking I had not noticed. Calling him out about it he smiled at me graciously gave it back with my little cash purse along with it. But the Dangerous Man was no where to be found to defend me. So I made my way down the stairs to leave. As I decended floor after floor looking for the Dangerous Man to say goodbye, it seemed like the building was not so abandoned and the basement was still full of noise. I made my way through the double doors into what I can describe as a fantastic casino built into a scene from The Great Gatsby. You know what I mean, the extravagance of a party where no rules were held where every walk of life was invited and everyone was there. One one side of the floor you could see the tables, the casino the other, a giant ring. As I pushed my way into that room I saw him. The Dangerous Man, in the arena. And it seemed like he was the main attraction that evening. I saw him jab a blow at his opponent just before making eye contact with me in the crowd and all of a sudden he stopped the match. For a single moment he looked at me. A face of disappointment before he uttered a command to what seemed like a bodyguard to “take care of her” next thing I know I’m running scared I’m going to be killed and run into another uncle of mine dressed up in a fine suit and he abruptly steals me away into a dark stairway. He takes two shots with his pistol to the wall. Tells me “run, go now!” And I start going back up the stairs. I run up to an empty floor that had been an abandoned store of something that used to be there. And hid myself in one of the closets until I was brave enough to venture to safety. All this time I couldn’t stop thinking of the look the Dangerous Man had on his face when he saw me. It was so much more than disappointment, it was lonely. Like hurt, like that moment you wish for something and in another turn your wish doesn’t come true and you sit there in defeat. Then I woke up.
Why does this have any relevance to submission?
Its made me think of my own journey of submission. What it had brought me to understand. What kind of life I had been given and why well; why sometimes, I miss it. Truly miss the intimacy of letting go. How brave and beautiful it Showed through me. And how happy I had been when it was truly and fully given. How this last decade of finding myself began with the question of who I was and what finding being little was about for me.
I remember my first Daddy. And if any of you have known me in the past, my first Daddy was the pilot. What many of you don’t know, is i got to see him again a few years ago. Not for anything much but just for a visit. He’s still just as charming. Still for sure the perfect Daddy to my only sister sub. They’re still beautiful together. Enveloped in their perfect little bubble. My mom who made the visit with me was confused. Why there was such a special intimacy between the three of us. The pride the pilot had in his eyes when he saw me in years knowing how much I had grown. The bittersweet hug goodbye after having treated us to a fabulous lunch at our favorite restaurant when he used to take both of us in public to with our little secrets in ourselves the bittersweet ache of the love I had felt for the both of them. It was a perfect goodbye. An ending to my first chapter in my journey. It made me remember how much I longed for a Daddy still. To give Myself the ultimate gift of truly submitting myself to the one person who understood me and the needs I had in my own life. I will forever be grateful to my first daddy. For opening the door to the world I would grow to love and miss being in my life today.
It made me think of the professor. My second Daddy. The craziness of learning I was the one who was real. Who actually knew what I wanted and was brave enough to want it for myself. How in watching him, I came to understand that you cannot live your life in your own self pity. How much I had grown into wanting to be able to fully submit to someone when I was the one showing them how to submit to their own selves and their desires. How important it was and still is for me to learn the lesson of letting go and moving on. So that I would find myself and know what I could handle. What I didn’t want in my journey and what I was willing to accept and not. Out of respect for myself.
It made me think of the Wrestler. My last Daddy. The one who I think truly knew me. The one time I really fell. Into the beauty of what I yearned for. The way I wanted to be seen. My secret being the most beautiful thing about myself. The way that in my most true to self the proud little girl I had in me could come out to play. Somewhere where it was safe, celebrated. How for the first time in my life I felt I was beautiful because for the first time in my life I was real and didn’t have to hide who I was. He opened my eyes to see me and I loved the girl I was when I was with him. I still feel sometimes, the pull of yearning for this. I think, because of how true it was for me. For the first time I felt exactly where I was supposed to be with the kind of Daddy I had always wanted.
It made me think about my grandmother’s who taught me that submission to one’s self was beautiful that once you saw yourself for who you were and what you are capable of, the most powerful thing in life was unconditional love.
You know that scene in nymphomaniac when she meets her first Dom and he straps her down. She explains to Skarsgard that the more she relaxed the more she could release into herself. I have known that feeling. The sweet release of one’s whole self to submit and let go completely until you breathe like you haven’t breathed in air your entire life. The effervescent tingle of just letting all the emotion all the pain the hunger go. I know why it’s addicting. Because I too have felt it. In the sweet forehead kisses, in the “good Girl!” In the sweet embrace of pain and pleasure, in the enveloping sweep of comfort. This is where your physical submission exists. This is where you find grounding.
These past two years since my spiritual awakening, I’ve been finding vanilla ways to ground. For that sweet release of pressure. The pressures of your entire world on you. And I’m not going to lie they’re great. But they compare to nothing compared to that sweetpoint of submission when your entirety has given in. Your soul is aligned completely until you ascend.
I guess that’s what I miss the most. The intimate aligning of my soul. The sweet submission I give to be able to let go. It is the sweetest embrace of your existence to know you are exactly where you need to be and you know exactly what you need to let go of. So you can breathe, so you can open your eyes to the world around you. The reality of who you are inside and out and it’s beautiful. Because it’s who you are to the very core of you.
For littles, we need this because the truest part of ourselves is little. But the face we show to the world is the grown up girl. For many of us, we are Alpha Women. We don’t have packs, we are completely independent. We are consistent strong beautiful people who have the entire worlds pressure on our shoulders. We submit to our Daddy’s because we need it as much as they do. It’s not out of ego or for pleasure. It’s a perfect blend of control and submission for us. It gives us the ultimate chance to be who we are inside.
It made me think of the face I saw in my dream. The knowing that you were alone. That no one understood the need for Submission so that the loneliness of Dominance could be fulfilled. It made me really miss it. The Beauty of my own Sumbission. The beautiful crazy little world I need in my life and still hope to have in my life. The fulfillment of a need from a little to her Daddy and vice versa.
Faith Trust and Pixie Dust 