I am not a submissive.
I used to think I was. People told me I was because of my choice of role within kink, and I believed it. I feel like I am submissive when you force me to be, and I sincerely enjoy that experience. It takes the responsibility out of my hands and puts it in yours. It takes a lot for me to get there, because I have so little control over my life anyway, that I struggle to give up the little bit that I have left.
When I told you the other day you were the best Dom I’ve ever had–and you are–I now realize you are also theonlyDom I’ve ever had. Particularly based on this book, none of my other relationships were founded on the basic principles of BDSM. They were founded on pleasure, pain, manipulation, and coping mechanisms.
I have told you before that you deserve someone better than me. Simple, straightforward, with no games, no bratting, no bullshit, and no sabotage, who wants to serve you because you deserve it. I know you still want that. I hope you understand that you will never get that with me. Ever. I will never change. I can’t. I wish I could, but statistics are not on my side. My brain is fucked up and there is only so much I can do to fix it. I don’t know if I can ever learn to actually choose to submit to you. I know that is important to you... I know it’s the thing you live for. You love it. You need it. And I am afraid I can’t meet that need.
However, as much as I hope you’ll ask me to pack my bags and be out of the house by nine o’clock tomorrow morning, I also hope you will punish the hell out of me for even considering leaving. Because the other side to hating your guts on a regular basis is being completely and utterly obsessed with you. I care about you more than I should considering how long we’ve been together. I think about you literally all the time. I dream about you sometimes. I love what you do to me, and I love how you play with me, and I love the darkness inside you that swallows us both up. You are my rock and my shelter and my medicine. You are not only the best Dom I’ve ever had, but the best person I’ve ever known.
And that will probably change by tomorrow. It won’t... but it will feel like it.
The worst part is, even though I want you to kick me out, I think if you did, our best bet is for you to drop me off at a mental hospital, because I will probably try to drive my car into a tree or something. I don’t say that to make you feel guilty or try to sway your actions, but I’m supposed to be open and honest about things, so there it is.
I trust that you’re a smart enough man to make the right decision about our dynamic, and hope that no matter what your decision is, that you will find some level of grace in your heart to forgive me. I don’t deserve it... but I still desperately hope.
My water long forgotten, I stared down at the pages in shock. This was not just a book report. Alice had gone above and beyond, and written me a heartfelt confession and apology letter, practically proclaiming her love for me. There were tear stains on the last page.
I folded the letter and set it aside, then leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees as I studied her, standing a little way away from me. She had indeed finished her glass of water and was squeezing the glass too hard, her knuckles white, her eyes bloodshot.
She really, truly believed she was hopeless, that she couldn’t be enough for me, that I might actually send her away. All of this stemming from the fact that I had been good to her, and then made a confession to her that I liked her enough to keep her around.
“Alice... baby, come here.” I tried to make my voice as kind as possible.
She looked up at me with desperate hope and set her glass on the coffee table. One step at a time, she forced herself to approach me, standing in front of me with her fists clenched just like she had the first night she’d arrived.
“This is the sweetest letter I have ever received.”
She bit her lip and covered her face with her hands, struggling to breathe. After a moment, she sniffed and straightened, letting her hands fall away from her face.
“Is there anything I can do to convince you that I’m not going to kick you out or send you away?”
She pursed her lips, thinking hard for a few minutes. “Not really. Unless you want to tell me that you don’t hate me every fifteen minutes for the rest of my life.”
She was trying to break the tension between us, but it wasn’t working, because I was the one creating it right now. Between finally beginning to scratch the surface of the constant emotional and physical turmoil she was under, and the new understanding of how she felt about our relationship that she refused to call a relationship, I was struggling to figure out what the hell I was going to do.
“I think... I owe you an apology. I haven’t done a good job of trying to understand you, your disorder, or your needs. I made assumptions about you, mainly that your attitude and bratting was about refusal to face your feelings, and I no longer believe that’s the case. This is the second time I’ve made that mistake, and I’m embarrassed that I’ve done the same thing twice now.”
She was shaking her head by the time I was finished.“P-please... please don’t be nice to me right now, I can’t take it.”
“You want me to be cruel to you?”
She nodded, scrubbing at her face.
“Why? So you can hate me? Or so you can hate yourself even harder than you already do?”
At that, Alice collapsed onto the floor in a heap and wrapped her arms around my leg, sobbing.
What the hell am I going to do with her?I felt completely useless. Not only did I not know how to help her, it seemed that no matter what I did or said, she still ended up distraught and crying at the end of the day.
“No,” I said, leaning down and helping her up and into my arms. “Little girls don’t sit on the floor.”
She shook her head again. “I’m not a little girl. I’m a monster.”
I pursed my lips. I needed to give her some nicer nicknames. Calling her roadkill probably wasn’t helping her self-hatred.
“Not all monsters are bad,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “I like this one.” She squirmed and tried to pull away but I didn’t let her. I just held onto her tighter. She gave up and laid her head against my chest, her fingers in my shirt like she was clinging on for dear life. I cradled her like a baby, smoothing her hair off her face and petting her head.
“So you’re not breaking up with me?”