I trick myself into believing I am ‘ a submissive’, just like I trick myself into believing I am ‘a woman’. I have been doing it for years. It comes naturally to me now.
But sometimes the mask slips, the trick gets more difficult to pull off. The conjuror loses her grip on the spell.
Once I held all the power. I can still see his puppy-dog eyes, looking up at me, expectant. I remember the rush of adrenalin through my body, the thrill of it all. I only had to look at him a certain way and he’d be down on his knees. I would pull his head into my cunt and hold it there. I would lie down and he’d know what to do. I see an image of his face in my mind’s eye, looking up at me from between my legs, desperate for praise, for my orgasm to tell him ‘good boy’.
I know all too well, though sometimes I pretend I don’t, that feeling of inadequacy that comes with power. I knew even then I would only let him down, fail to live up to his expectations, refuse to give hjm all the reassurance he required. His desire was insatiable. I only had so much to give. I remember feeling my cruelty like a whip across my own ass.
Dominance lies dormant inside me. I am scared I could let her loose once more, on a poor unsuspecting boy.
What would I do with all that power? How could I control it so it didn’t overwhelm us both?
Will I ever let myself be looked up to again, as I demand so often, and so ridiculously, to look up to you?