Proud of Submission

What submission means to me.  I feel proud that I submit my power, sometimes, to a man I love.  When it is good to do so.  When it is time to do so.  Sometimes, because I am submissive, I notice that he is not in the mood to take control.  I watch and I pay attention.  And in those times, I take control, not because I want to, but because it is part of my submission.  I make decisions I would feel more comfortable that he makes.  But he wants them made for him, sometimes.

What submission means to me.  I feel proud that I am observant and watchful.  I feel proud that I pay attention to details.  I feel proud that I observe and keep my eyes wide open (not dulled with drink, not dulled with smoke, not dulled with medications that I do not require, not dulled with over-sated appetites).  I feel proud that, because my eyes are wide open, I can anticipate.  I can predict.  I can have patience sometimes when I might not have had patience, otherwise.

What submission means to me.  It feels as though I wear it openly like a system of restraints, obvious to anybody.  It feels like clothing to me.  It feels like a zipper I cannot reach behind me that someone else zips and unzips for me.  It feels like a thick, chunky, heavy-metal collar with no seam and no clasp: as though it was born there, on me, reminding me constantly who I am.

What submission means to me.  I am part of a club that teaches me, like I teach them, how great it is to feel like our true selves.  Our true selves.  My true self.  I look at other submissives through my camera lens, studying their beauty and self-declaration.  I study their presentation, their decisions about how the world will see them.  I look at them, and I rejoice.  I look at myself, and I rejoice.  We are, truly, our own selves.  (Thanks, E, for letting me take so many pictures of you.  I know your time is precious.)

What submission means to me.  I am not a sexual object.  I am not a tool.  I am not a doormat.  I am not stupid.  I am not gullible (because of my submission).  I am not a slave.  I do not surrender all my power at all times to all people.  I do not accept violence.  I do not accept abuse.  I do not accept other people's anger about not submitting myself to them.  I have never been obligated to.

What submission means to me.  I give a part of myself to one man that I do not give to anybody else -- not a boss, not a police officer, not a judge, not another man, not any woman, not in pretend or in fantasy.  I give a part of myself to one man with which he could do anything he wants, and I give it to him as a surrendered offering, because I would not be me if I did not give this to him.  When I deal with police and judges and bosses, I do not submit to them, and they do not dominate me.  I do what I do because I want to do it.  There is only one king of the castle for me!