I don’t understand why I’m submissive. Not because I haven’t tried to figure it out. Quite the opposite - I’ve read more than is considered proper. I’ve kept journals, had countless conversations with those more experienced than me. And yet, none of it has ever led me to a clear, final answer that would make sense to those who ask.
Still - even after all these years on this path - I can’t seem to capture my submissiveness in a net of causes and effects. I don’t understand it. At least not in a way that would allow me to offer an answer in the form of a short, coherent, logical, and once-and-for-all convincing explanation.
My submissiveness seems to elude all definitions. It isn’t logical. It isn’t convenient. It isn’t even easy. But it is mine. Deeply rooted in my soul, like a root in the earth. My submissiveness is like an inner whisper I cannot ignore - even though it sounds indecent.
What I do know is that when I kneel before my Master, something inside me falls into place. Not just my body. Not just my thoughts. All of me. It’s as if my soul takes shape. It’s a conscious choice of a path - the only one that brings me true inner peace and happiness.
So no, I can’t fully explain why I need this kind of relationship - this dynamic where the Master stands above. But I know I need it like I need air. Maybe Aristotle understood it when he wrote that the lower longs for the higher in order to reach its fullness. I could definitely sign my name under that. Or maybe it’s the echo of Hegel’s dialectic of Master and Slave, where submission becomes the path to true self-knowledge. Or perhaps it’s simply a sense - a body that knows more than language ever could. Does it really matter that much?
There is no ego in submission. No need to shine, to win, to persuade. There is only being - pure, bare, free from the burden of who I’m "supposed" to be in the world. How many times have I tried to explain this to those who ask? Why I don’t want balance? Why I’m not looking for a man to be my "partner"? I don’t know. Maybe because the answer lies beyond language. In my body and its responses. In the tension of muscles when I hear a voice that doesn’t ask, but states, demands, commands and won’t tolerate defiance. Or maybe the answer is in a look. That particular look a Master gives, saying "you belong to Me", even when his lips remain silent.
Yes. I want to belong. Not to everyone. Not to just anyone. Not to whoever happens to want me. But to a Master. One who sees in me not just an interesting girl, not just an alluring woman - but a being. One ready to be possessed in a way that is uncompromising and complete.
Georges Bataille wrote that suffering becomes sacred when it restores man’s contact with that which transcends man. My submission is like a ritual of constantly crossing the boundary of myself. Not against myself, but in order to reach into the depths of who I am in a state of complete inner freedom.
I don’t choose submission because I feel the need to punish myself for something. Nor do I choose it because I can’t control my own life. No. The choice of this path comes from a deep, inner need of my soul. Who knows? Maybe submission is the purest form of transcendence in a world that no longer believes in anything greater than itself.
I want to give myself to my Master completely. But not as an empty doll. Rather, as a sacred offering. Submission for me is not just a form of relationship with a man. It is a metaphysical act. Because when I fully submit to him, a natural order arises. The moment I kneel before my Master is the moment the whole world around me regains its proper structure. A world that before was noise - a freedom torn, aggressive, full of conflicting signals - suddenly seems to calm down. What remains is only the rhythm of my breath and the peace of no longer having to be myself in a socially acceptable version.
Some say it’s abnormal. But I believe I am truly normal only when I am obedient. When someone reads me and sees that my "yes, Master" is not a gesture of weakness, but a choice deeper than anything else. Because I feel I become fully myself only when someone guides me. When I know whom I serve. And when I serve, I am no longer torn. I am no longer split between the social "I" and desire. I am whole.
Many see me as a strong, independent woman, even commanding, sometimes arrogant. One who likes to have the last word and get her way. And they’re right. But that’s only one layer of me. It’s my defense mechanism, a guarantee of survival in a world dominated by chaos. Beneath it trembles something else: a need to belong to someone in harmony.
One thing I know: I don’t want freedom without boundaries. I don’t want love that demands nothing. I want to belong. To be for my Master. At his command. At his gaze. At his beck and call.
Even as a teenager, I knew I wasn’t made for partnership understood as equality in every aspect of life. It wasn’t ideology. It was my inner longing. And though in many ways I’ve changed over the years, this has not changed. I don’t desire an ordinary man. I desire a Master. One who doesn’t need to ask before reaching for my heart, my body, my loyalty. One who takes - and by taking - gives meaning to my devotion. Maybe it’s a paradox. But Emil Cioran would probably say that only he who has touched the bottom of slavery knows what freedom is.
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