Kneel
- 2 years ago
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Kneeling free porn video
Dear Lisa,
Although we have never met, I already feel a bond with you! All I know is what my Master told me: that you and your husband (whose name I don’t know, but let me call him David) are starting to feel your way into a power transfer relationship in which he would be dominant and you submissive. That is where Master and I were six years ago. Master thought it might be useful if I sent you some of my memories and reflections about our taking that path.
I hope David mentioned this to you–a letter like this would seem awfully presumptuous coming out of the blue! Since I don’t know you or David and don’t want to make any assumptions, I can offer you only an account of our journey, Master’s and mine. Master has given me permission to share anything at all with you, specifically including anything unflattering about Him that I might feel is part of our story. He will not read this letter. Unless you choose to share it with David, which you are perfectly free to do, it will remain between you and me. You need not worry about replying. I’m writing this in happy obedience to my Master, but also because it would delight me if there is anything in it that helps you find your own destiny. I have no desire to convince you to do or not to do anything. I want only to be honest about my own experience.
Well, then, when Master and I married ten years ago we were in our mid-twenties and had little idea what we were doing. Neither of us had even seriously dated anybody else. Master was a virgin. I was not, but I wasn’t very experienced, either. (All I had learned was that sex appeared to be overrated.) Both of us came from parents who divorced when we were young, so we had little in the way of example to guide us in a stable relationship. And both of us were emotionally immature. Each assumed that the other could read minds, would know how to produce happiness, and would unfailingly do so, and we became frustrated and resentful when all that magic wasn’t forthcoming.
The first year went passably, but finished with a disturbingly tentative feel. I wondered if I was really in love at all, because living and sleeping full time with a man–a man I admired immensely–was not proving emotionally all that satisfying. He was always thoughtful and courteous, not controlling, perfectly willing to do his share and more, but He seemed to have slowly distanced Himself from me. He was more agreeable than thrilling. (In fact, at that time I really had no idea what being thrilled felt like.) I was beginning to feel angry because I missed . . . I didn’t know what, and sometimes had the most awful feeling that I had made a mistake in marrying Him.
It wasn’t long before I wasn’t keeping these feelings hidden. I doubt you would find it useful to hear the details of the next stage of our marriage–I hope you and David aren’t starting from the same place we did! It’s enough to say that my insecurity and snippiness pushed His buttons, He became resentful and would turn His back on me, and that made me even more insecure and nasty. We started exploding into arguments over the most trivial things. I’d take something He said or did as slighting, and felt that if I didn’t hit back I’d be submerged as a person. Now I recognize that as a kind of lost-little-girl panic, but then I was self-righteous in my defensiveness. In the end we’d always manage to smooth it over somehow, but that never lasted, and then it was back to the same old power struggle.
This went on for three years, sometimes better, sometimes so bad we talked about divorce. Those conversations were sad! Frustrated and angry as I was, my heart almost broke when I thought about losing Him. There was something in Him I wanted so much, but I didn’t know what it was. And I blamed Him for not knowing, either.
Then, one day, I hadn’t answered my phone for several hours because I was with girlfriends, and then busy running errands. When He asked about it, I said, ‘Am I on probation here?’ And we were off. That was a particularly drawn-out wrangle, night had fallen and there we were still standing in the kitchen, arguing, and I felt so worn down, so discouraged. Finally, just hoping the argument would end, so I said, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone. I’m sorry I snapped at you. Now can we just forget it?’
Master (of course I didn’t call Him that then) was silent for several moments. Then He said, ‘No, I won’t accept your apology. You always apologize, but your touchiness never changes. You think you can say anything, no matter how hurtful, and then expect me to forget all about it. I want an end to this, or else to our marriage.’
I just wanted so badly to go to sleep (which is how I dealt with anything upsetting in those days). I said, with more than a bit of a sneer, ‘What do I have to do, kneel to you or something?’
There was a pause. Then He said, emphatically, ‘Yes. Kneel to me and apologize, and maybe I’ll believe you’re sorry.’ Master has since told me this was completely a gut reaction. He had never before even thought about my kneeling to Him. And He certainly didn’t think I was going to comply.
His demand should have made me more furious and more hopeless. That’s what any demand from Him usually did. But now I just gazed at Him in silence. My mind in another, unfamiliar, place. I felt like everything in me had suddenly flipped upside down. I really was completely exhausted, not just by this argument but by the whole three years of them. I had reached my limit. He was right, it had to stop. I would do whatever I had to to stop it. I had never thought about kneeling to Him, either, but for some mysterious reason at that moment it seemed not only possible but attractive. I looked right into His eyes for several seconds. He looked back steadily. Then he said softly, ‘Do it, Connie.’ As if in a dream, I knelt down on the kitchen floor, bowed my head, and said, ‘I’m truly, truly sorry for how I treat you. Please help me change.’ My anger was gone. A wave of relief crashed over me. Whatever happened now was out of my hands.
That was the beginning. The key thing on His part was suddenly daring to demand control, because He realized that if He didn’t, the marriage was over anyway. The key thing on my part was the sudden perception that His strength was not my enemy but could be my my friend and protector. That I could share His strength by giving way to it. It would then become our strength. That is the whole charter for my submission, which has become steadily more satisfying over the years.
Of course, things didn’t fall into place automatically. Neither of us had any exposure to the world of personal power transfer–we didn’t even know there was a name for it besides ‘sadomasochism.’ I wanted desperately to keep what I had felt as I knelt before Master, so the next day I told Him I wanted to kneel often, that I wanted Him to require it. He was clearly pleased but rather incredulous. It took Him a matter of months, I think, to fully accept that my desire to submit was something He could rely on. For me, there was never any doubt after that first time: it felt like a door suddenly opening, where I hadn’t even realized there was a door.
But I realized I couldn’t rush Him. Master is strong, but He’s also cautious. He didn’t want to jump into a whole new way of living together all at once. He didn’t have any trouble asserting Himself in bed (on the contrary, that was the part He got immediately). But He was put off by too many formalities in the transactions of daily life. And He worried about hurting me. (Emotionally, I mean–physical punishments were not yet on the table in those days.) I couldn’t blame Him, I remembered how snotty I was. But I longed to convince Him that the best way for me to change was to plunge into serving Him with all my heart–that the more He demanded, the better I’d like it. I knew I had to keep myself on offer, so to speak, but remain humble and accept whatever He was comfortable with. It had to be worked out slowly, day by day, cas
e by case. The first year was sometimes discouraging. But the arguing stopped and the sex got exciting, we were obviously doing something right.
Naturally, we did internet research. That was eye-widening. There is a lot of silliness, crudity and plain stupidity out there marketing itself as ‘BDSM.’ Most of it is just fantasy material for horny boys and lonely girls. Some of the personal blogs, though, are quite helpful (I can give you a list if you like). They offer intelligent observations about how the sex is just part of the knowing yourself, and the knowing yourself is just part of something much bigger–your life and the life of your partner. Discovering submission can be life-transforming (it certainly was for us), but it doesn’t, and shouldn’t, displace all the other things in your life, which remain just as valuable as they ever were. (And if you don’t have those other things, submission alone isn’t going to compensate for them.) On the contrary, improving your relationship (and, in my case, personality) should make all that other stuff work better than it did before. That’s a pretty good check on how well you’re doing as a submissive (or as a dominant): is it making all the non-D/s stuff in your life better?
You may notice I haven’t used the word ‘slave.’ That’s because Master and I don’t like it. Slavery is evil, human beings always must be treated as ends, not means. And pretend slavery is just that, a pretense. I prefer to be called a submissive, because I choose to submit to Master for my own growth and fulfillment. (And nothing fulfills me as much as knowing I’ve made Him happy.) And my submission, while extensive, isn’t total. Not only do I have so-called hard limits, but I have the right (and the duty) to be honest with Him about whatever in our relationship isn’t working for me. I call Him Master not because He ‘owns’ me, but because we agree it’s better if I don’t address Him casually. I capitalize pronouns referring to Him because it pleases me, not because He expects it.
We aren’t into toys, costumes, or acrobatic sexual stunts. All the important stuff happens inside us, and that’s what we concentrate on. We have enough ritual to keep our understanding always in plain view. Every morning, I kneel and ask Him to be my Master for another day. He reaffirms His love and His responsibility for me. Sometimes, He rests His hands gently on my head and we meditate for a few minutes about what we have. Those are the sweetest moments! Every evening, He sits in his favorite chair and I kneel-sit in front of Him, put my hands on His knees, and bow my head. He lifts up my chin and asks me what I’m thinking. Then I go through my day, telling Him what I feel I have done well and where I have failed, what I enjoyed and what worried me. He expects me to confess any disobedience and to be honest about any negative feelings about Him, myself, or our relationship. (He is also candid with me about what He sees as His own mistakes.) If something needs to be talked about, we talk about it–but always in the context of me trusting implicitly in my Master’s wisdom and kindness. So far, He’s never let me down. I don’t agree with every decision He makes, but He makes them for our common good, and He proves to be right most of the time. He always keeps His promise to take my concerns seriously and to put my welfare above everything else.
Master has rules for me, but they’re mostly practical ones, intended to keep our lives moving on an even keel. There is punishment if I break rules, but punishment isn’t a big part of the relationship, and by mutual agreement it’s not heavily physical. Most commonly, I’m denied something I enjoy, given an extra chore or workout, or made to stand in the corner. For something more serious I might be tied into a ‘humiliation position’ and left in the shed to think it over for a few hours. Once He made me stay naked on all fours for a whole day–try eating and drinking without using your hands or peeing into a plastic dishpan on all fours! Maximum punishment is spanking with a bath brush, which hurts like hell so I try like hell to avoid it, it’s only happened a few times. Punishments have their own ritual, which requires me to acknowledge my fault and thank Him for correcting me.
Master wants a clear distinction between punishment and play, so there’s no point my getting aroused by punishment, even though I often am. Sometimes I can tell He is, too, but He is rigid (heh) about punishment not being followed by sex. That said, some spanking and bondage are definitely part of our intimacy. I love being put over His knee and hand-spanked. I love having to hold my hands behind my back while He enjoys my mouth. I love it when He presses my face into the sheets (or the grass!) and mounts me from behind, holding my wrists in His powerful hands. Most of all, I love it when He decides to take me without a word–in the kitchen, on a walk, in the middle of the night. I am wet in two seconds when He does that. As you can probably tell, I don’t any longer think sex is overrated.
But sex isn’t the most important thing for us, not by a long shot. Clarity is. Until you’ve lived in both an emotionally chaotic relationship and an emotionally intense but orderly one, you can’t really appreciate the difference. It’s not that Master and I have all our questions answered, or don’t have our ups and downs. I’m still an insecure person, and He still sometimes drifts off into His own preoccupations. Things get in the way, all the time. But now our relationship has a definite structure: channels of communication, roles, expectations, and consequences. We have something to work with, to put effort into. If something goes badly, or just doesn’t feel right, we both know how to address it, and reassure and reward one another for having the courage to bring it up. I can’t enjoy the centeredness I feel every day without remembering that I get it from accepting His control and trying my best to please Him. That’s why every little thing that requires me to submit reassures me. He says my submission is the gift that makes Him feel strong whenever He looks me. These insights are our compass, we always return to them. And we never, ever skip our morning and evening rituals. Even when we’re apart, we do them by Skype, phone, or as a last resort, texting (and, yes, I kneel when I’m texting Him). Kneeling is how it started, and kneeling is what brings me peace now. When I’m kneeling, even in punishment, my heart always swells with pride because I’m doing it for Him, and then everything is OK.
I’d like to close this way, Lisa: one of the biggest satisfactions of being a submissive is getting to know other subs and sharing stories. It’s hard to convey the wonderful feelings of sisterhood that brings. I will dream that someday you and I will meet and share those stories and those feelings. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to offer you my story. I pray that it gives you at least a little light on this new adventure.
Connie Chatterly
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