Friday, November 10, 2006

The dominant submissive

So here’s the thing:

I am no blushing wallflower, no coy flirt, I am nobody’s pushover. I argue like its my raison d’etre, I spare no breath in telling perfect strangers they're wrong, I laugh louder than most think is necessary. Yet I’m submissive.

Nothing does it for me more than being overpowered, but you have to prove it to me first. You have to show yourself a worthy opponent, for if I were to bend to the will of a being less powerful than I… Well really, where’s the fun in that? Its like oohing and aahing at the strength of someone you could bench press.

And while I will let you take my body, tie my down, mark me red, blue, and bruised, pound me till I can barely take it… I won’t give up my pride. That’s mine, I earned that.

Call me a whore (please), grab me roughly, throw me down and fuck me like you don’t care, but tell me to crawl and you’ll get no more than a raised eyebrow and a sneer. Slap my face and you remind me of my mother. Disrespect me, give me no consideration, and I’ll find my shoes and the door.

(© Alice Ginsberg)

1 comment:

Lil_Bit said...

My God!! You are my twin! That is IT exactly.