The Drug of Choice

Or, "Oh, My Aching Clit"

Domination and submission is like a drug. The more I get, the more I want. At first I was scared. Do I really want this? What will happen when I am called on to do something I don't want to? Will I rebel? What if I need more play, more attention, more affection than Dr. Faust is able to provide?

But the more I do it, the more I want it. I never thought of myself as enjoying service. That's probably because it's an aspect that doesn't particularly turn me on. I was raised to think that serving someone in an intimate relationship is bad - it's degrading, was the thought process. It's a gender-specific institution that cripples women by tying them to their Bendix washing machines, in the immortal words of our foremother.

Except it doesn't have to be. I enjoy being helpful to others. I always have. Is it right when I do it to be altruistic, and wrong when I do it to be affectionate? It's still not a major turn-on. But it feels nice, and compared to the things I've done for other lovers and boyfriends, I know that Dr. Faust notices and appreciates it. Five years ago I was with someone who claimed to be a submissive. He wasn't very submissive at all - or perhaps he never felt moved to submit to me. But we did play together, and on occasion I would go out of my way to find things that would excite him. I would plan for a week, come up with ideas, buy things to use on him, dress up and lavish attention on him. And when we were done? What was his response, when I asked him how he liked it?

"It was ok."

OK?? O-Kaaaaay??

Well, pardon my language, but fuck that son of a motherless goat.

For Dr. Faust, I offer service, knowing that it will be appreciated. And I like doing it.

But what lurks underneath that is far less nice. My desires are dark, and turn to kidnapping and "rape". Being treated very roughly indeed is a thought that drives me and, occasionally, consumes me. But the treatment itself is only a fraction of what the desire seeks. It calls out to be controlled, to follow orders and receive punishment. My deeper self desires to be a pet, a plaything, completely subjected to the whim of someone who takes enjoyment from my helplessness and suffering.

This is the side of me that I never thought would find expression - the side I feared to acknowledge and embrace. And now that I can express it, I find that it is an insatiable drive. Just the thought of its fulfillment, a single act of Domination, a single command is enough to arouse me. So I am aroused. Very aroused. And like a snake eating its own tail, I submit to him my arousal, and obey his wishes for my pleasure. I will happily forego self-pleasure and climax as long as he wishes, knowing that when it does come, it will be truly fulfilling on a level that physical pleasure alone can never reach.

As I have attempted to explain to those who don't get this, what one enjoys and what one consents to are not necessarily the same thing. There are things I don't want and don't consent to... amputation, for instance, play involving animals, or hoods. I just don't do hoods. But there are many things to which I am more than willing to give consent even though I don't particularly like them. I am not much of a masochist, though people who play with me tend to disagree. I don't get off on pain itself, and I feel that I've known, and beat on, submissives who do. I get off on being subjected to pain, especially if I can temporarily believe that I have no choice but to endure it. I know on some level that I always have the option to stop. I retain the right to refuse consent, otherwise consent is meaningless. And I think Dr. Faust likes for me to offer the control freely, which I do. But his desire to inflict the pain, or torment, or pleasure, or whatever he pleases - whether I like it or not - is what drives me over the edge.

And it feels... Amazing.