This will be long, rambling, personal and painful, but also full of pride and hope.
I recently read Laura Antinou’s “The Marketplace” for the first time. It was an entertaining novel and pretty hot at times. But one aspect of it made me feel like absolute shit.
You see, there’s a character named Sharon. She identifies herself as a “pleasure slave.” She is portrayed as greedy, egotistical, selfish, clueless, lazy, and disobedient– a silly girl who thinks slavery is all about getting fucked hard while wearing a cute tiny outfit. She spends most of the book being brutally disabused of her misconceptions, and yet never really grows as a character.
Perhaps it is a bit of absurd of me to take this personally, but it struck a nerve. You see, I identify as a sexual submissive, or, as I sometimes say, “sexually service oriented.” But I am usually kind of quiet about this, because, ever since I entered the community, I’ve been running into jokes and stereotypes at the expense of this whole idea.
“Sexual service” is seen as an oxymoron, because obviously the submissive just wants to selfishly enjoy getting fucked, right? (And it’s not service if you like it… right?)
Worse, even– maybe the self-professed “sexual submissive” is really just secretly VANILLA (gasp!) since all their so-called kinks presumably center around that most vanilla of things–sex.
REAL service is doing dishes, scrubbing bathrooms, serving elegant high tea. REAL kink involves tons and tons of pain, all the time.
Eh, not quite.
First of all, I know folks who would legitimately MUCH rather scrub a bathroom than get fucked, thank you very much. Different people enjoy different things. (GASP!)
More to the point, different service submissives find their sense of usefulness in different things. Some people feel most useful doing domestic chores. I feel most useful when I am face down, ass up, or choking on a throat full of cock.
And for the record, I will happily do the dishes, and (somewhat less happily but with good grace) scrub the damn bathroom. It’s just… more fun to do those things naked. And, if you want to see a really cool trick, you could try fucking me roughly from behind while I do your dishes, and watch me get them all perfectly clean and not break a single one. (Unf. Talk about feeling useful! I love to multitask.)
Secondly, no, it’s not about me selfishly wanting to get fucked. That could not be farther from the truth.
Over many years, I have come to know myself well. I have identified my core kink, the crux of my sexuality, and it is being used for pleasure. That means I genuinely have a hard time reaching orgasm unless I get the sense that my partner is REALLY getting off on making me squirm and feel and lose control of my body. That absent, I’d just as soon not cum. I don’t want you to do me because I did you, and it’s only polite. I want you to do me because you would find it hot and wildly entertaining, or else not do me at all.
At this point, I’d literally rather die than be service topped in bed ever again. I want to be an outlet for fierce desire. I want to be used at will by a man who is nearly insatiable, and requires a toy like me to satisfy him. And when I say I want to be used, that means I need to be useful to you. There is a huge difference between that and getting fucked by someone who is “doing me a favor.” (Spoiler: you’re not doing me a favor. Without your forceful and genuine lust, getting fucked might be a series of pleasant sensations, but for me, it won’t be erotic at all.)
A few people have service topped me in this way while pretending not to be service topping me, pretending to need me and want me and desire my service while sacrificing themselves to what was at best a boring chore for them. Inevitably, I found out. It broke my heart and caused me to develop a wide range of neuroses and trust issues which have lasted for years, and which I still cry about in therapy. It also caused me to nearly lose hope that I would ever find a match. I started to think that people who would actually appreciate my willingness, availability, endurance and passion didn’t even exist. I started to think I was just a greedy, selfish bottom who was deluding myself into thinking I was a sub. I started to hate myself.
Ultimately, the people who covertly service topped me to try to satisfy my fantasies did me a vast disservice, and tremendous damage.
(For the record, I am no longer angry or bitter towards any of these people. I share this story to illustrate a point, and to underscore the “literally rather die” bit above. I absolutely cannot take that experience again. It would break me where nothing else would.)
I don’t want it to always be easy. I want my partner/Master/lover/top/Dom/or whomever to feel free to make me gag, bleed, cry, and scream, and just keep going. I want to be used when sex wasn’t on my mind, when I am tired and don’t think I’m up to it. My ambition is to be sexually available 24/7, 365, as much as is humanly possible. And I want to be able to accommodate whatever he feels like doing to me, as much as is humanly possible– whether it’s some slow, sensual, seemingly “vanilla” sex, or a brutal beating followed by forced deep-throat and rough anal, or letting him lie back while I give him a long, deep, full-body massage with a happy ending, or an animalistic quickie in the morning where he dumps his cum in me then goes off to work, leaving me hanging.
I am very fortunate right now to be with a man whose drive is even higher than mine. I finally feel like I make sense. With previous partners, I was simply the wrong tool for the job– a hammer when you needed a screw driver. No wonder I felt useless and wrong.
Out of love and service to him, and also in a passionate drive to prove everyone wrong about sexual service and what it can be, I am on a mission of self improvement. I believe it is not sufficient to be a passive object, unless that is what is expressly desired. I believe I should be less like a blow-up doll that just lies there and takes it, and more like a highly advanced sex bot programmed with a tremendous range of skills. I believe I can and should be better.
My short term goals include mastering deep-throating, anally retraining myself, and expanding my lexicon of dirty talk. I am also putting more attention than ever into my physical appearance and health. I am keeping my entire body shaved smooth now, even my arms. I am striving to eat healthier, take my vitamins, exercise more, and continue to take excellent care of my mental health. Stretching and improving my flexibility is also important– a few days ago I had to call halt to a wonderful rough sex session because something in my back went horribly painfully wrong and I knew my boyfriend didn’t want to break his toy.
Longer term, I want to learn massage. I also want to take some classes on strip tease and erotic movement.
Other little discoveries are happening naturally. Yesterday, while running a load of cum-soaked bedding through the laundry, I realized that I really enjoy caring for the bed. It feels right for me to tend to that space, to set the stage.
It also feels right to me to tend to my lover’s body, as well as mine, in ways less explicitly sexual. I’ve mentioned massage a couple of times, but things like giving a haircut or scrubbing him down in the shower are also included in this.
Taking care of his leather also feels like a natural extension of my duties.
In fact, when I put sexual service in the center, the ripples extend out to potentially include all areas of our lives. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes, sweeping the floor, even emptying the fucking cat litter boxes– if taking care of these mundane details lets him relax, feel good, and focus on things he’d rather be doing, I am all for it.
I want my lover to feel like the rockstar, demon prince, and sex god that he is. He is a person who would much rather focus on the sensual, the magical, and the artistic than the mundane. I am the same way, but when I take care of mundane tasks for him, they no longer bore me. They themselves become sensual, magical, and a form of art.
Ultimately, I guess all of my submission becomes sexual submission. But the deep core of who we are is reached most easily when his cock is buried inside me, when he is filling me with cum. Everything else only hints at that, symbolizes that, serves as a euphemism and a metaphor for that moment.
Serving sexually is my passion, my craft, and (part of) my purpose on this earth.
And I am no longer ashamed. I am proud. I know my worth, and what I am good for.
I am going to be the best sexual submissive that I can. I will serve, I will perform, I will give and I will take it, take it, take it.