About this whole submission thing…

Let me forewarn you that this is probably going to get a little naughty.

50 Shades of Grey-ish.

Still here?

Good.

I am an asshole.

My mouth can be imprudent with a fearless tongue. I curse like I do not have letters behind my name. I can be uncaring and calculating, hostile and violent. Honestly, I am just not a people person.

Yes, I am an asshole. More than that, however, is I am his asshole. All of this headache is his to handle/instruct/correct. 

I dare not speak for all women, but I feel fairly confident enough to say that women are made to yield. It is my nature to submit. It is my desire to submit. I am Alpha Woman all day with everyone; I have no interest in being such with my man. He submits to God, and I submit to him.

If a man is not praying for you, he should not have the pleasure of your bed. I believe that 100%. Do I follow it 100%? No. I’m human, and I falter. Seldom but enough, my libido gets the best of me. God works in His own timing. And sometimes, I just want that good D in my timing. Yet there is always this mental block when I’m engaged in coitus with these interims*. There is no emotional attachment. I do not know him. I do not trust him. Therefore, I cannot submit. A man cannot properly appreciate what he does not accurately value. And the ways I want to employ submission require a man fully capable, able, and willing to lead.

You see…I need a beast.

All of this aggression, this assertive nature, this mouth, these curves…require a commander. I need a Sir. Someone who can curb my tongue with just a look. Someone with hands big enough to guide me through the church doors but spank me behind his bedroom doors. Someone who will kneel beside me in prayer but I kneel in front of in supplication. Someone who can pin my combative hands behind my head and swallow all the animus leaving my mouth. Someone who can give me strokes that leave me purring.

I crave power.

I want to be broken. I want to yield. I want to wait by the front door anxiously awaiting the opportunity to attend to his every need and want.

I know I probably just lost a few of my feminist sisters, and that’s okay. I stated earlier I do not speak for all women. I love my independence as thoroughly as the next woman, but for a man with the right mix of influence and respect, I will gladly volunteer as tribute.  Make me your subject, daddy.

Women are becoming the men we wanted to marry. We are basically topping from the bottom. Our name is on the mortgage. We are the CEOs or at the same table with the CEO. Hell, we fix our own cars, take out our own trash, and make our own dates. The satisfaction in all those things are momentary. Because what we want is a man equally yoked. Meet me where I am or higher. Give me something to respect.

I do not want to lead you. I want to be led. If I walk in a room, find me a seat. If I had a bad day, do something that will make it better. If my favorite musician is in town, buy the ticket. Tell me where we are going. Repair what needs to be repaired. Buy what needs to be bought. Put me where I deserve to be. LEAD.

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There is a reason 50 Shades became this phenomenon. Women want a man who can control. We want the choices taken from our hands. I consider myself equal to a man. My vote and opinions should hold equal weight. But I am not a man.

I do not want to head my household. I can, but I do not want to.

I do not want to kill my own spiders. I can, but I do not want to.

I do not want to make every decision. I can, but I do not want to.

Most importantly, I do not want to be responsible for my orgasms. I can, but I do not want to.

There are two things in this world that will safely (and legally) transport your mind, body, and soul to a higher, pleasurable Utopia. Have you engaging in praise and workshop. Leave you spent, grateful, and awed. God and sex.

I want them both. In him.

An interim cannot handle me like I need to be handled. He can’t wring every emotion, every moan, every sticky ounce from me because he does not deserve it. He cannot effectively lead me behind closed doors if he is not leading me in the rest of my life. He cannot command what he does not respect. And I cannot respect that which has no power. A dick in itself is not powerful; its power comes from the man it is attached to.

Are you achieving? Are you respected? Are you leading? Are you praying? Are your tithes paid up? Do you have character? Are you capable of fucking me relentlessly, dirtily, behind closed doors but exalting me highly outside of them? Are you qualified spiritually, financially, physically to lead me?

That is the only power to which I will yield.

I require a praying man. I require a strong leader. I require an enterprising achiever.

I require a beast.

Today’s Soundtrack: Maxwell – Silently

*interim – a man you kill time with while waiting for the one God sends

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