What I Imagine ... Is What I Control by Justine

It was easy when I dreamed it as a child.
It is easy when I dream it now.
I succumb to a strong man's power.
Maybe he enslaves my body.
Maybe he enslaves my heart.
Maybe I've been captured, or tormented, or marked, or displayed, or sold.
Whatever plight I imagine, there is only one way out.
It beckons relentlessly.
I resist.
Then at last, inevitably, resistance crumbles.

I surrender.

Always, in that glorious moment, I burst free –
free of my self! –
confessing:
I submit!
This is what I crave, what I need, what I am!
I am who he says I am.
Now and always.

Owned.

Home.

                        ~       ~       ~       ~       ~      

So... why doesn't real life pack the same punch?

                        ~       ~       ~       ~       ~      

I know why. And it's the strange irony of the whole thing.

When I imagine it, I control it. It's my story. I craft it as I navigate it. I take myself to the edge... and beyond. I take myself into danger... then into the safety of submission. I lose myself... to a world I've created. I plunge in, revel in it, and emerge. I get on with my day. I'm still me. I'm in control. I've submitted to myself. I know exactly how to steer my fantasy for maximum thrills.

Every day is a new adventure, when I make my own adventures.

In real life... "It's a set-up," he says. "You have these scripts you want me to follow. I tell you what I want you to do, and you don't do it. You say you want to submit, but you don't submit." It's hard work. It's frustrating. The story keeps on going... and I haven't fully submitted yet. I'm still resisting.

I escape to the world of my own making, where submission is glorious. I return to the world we make together and wonder if I'll ever arrive at the place where I am his, where he writes the story and I am happy to live it. I wonder if I'm really submissive or if I only love submitting to myself. I wonder if the problem is the man who doesn't know how to lead or the woman who doesn't know how to follow. I wonder if I can train him to do it the right way. I know that's all backwards. I just don't know how to live it, moving forward.

I know what I need... or what I think I need. But I know I need to let go of my own expectations if I want to submit fully to his. I don't know if I trust him enough to put myself in his hands. In my fantasies, I don't choose to submit; I must submit. It's so much easier in my fantasies, when I give myself no choice. In real life, there will always be a choice. In real life, every day I must reaffirm my choice to submit.

In my fantasies, I imagine I relinquish control – but I actually have total control. In real life, I imagine I relinquish control – but I actually have a bit of control, enough to keep it consensual, enough to dampen the thrill.

In real life, I have a tug-of-war inside myself. I don't know yet who will win.

Moving from fantasy to reality means submitting to practicalities... feet first.