submissiveinseattle:

her-master:

I’m often asked something like “how can you tell, in public, that a girl has submissive tendencies? Are there any clues or signs?” I think the answer is usually no, you can’t. There’s no secret handshake or secret society jewelry that gives it all away, but sometimes, in some cases you can tell. Here’s a little something that happened tonight. Now, I don’t do this often—in fact, I probably have an interaction with a stranger like this less than once a year, but, so far, I don’t think I’ve ever been wrong. You don’t just go around oozing DOMINANCE all over every object and every person. No, I don’t think that’s the way to do it: you try to be kind and gentle, but when something clicks, something interesting happens. I think there’s a lot of communication that goes on just under the surface—body language, a certain smile, and maybe certain turns of language that might hold extra meaning. Anyway, here’s one way you can tell.

I was with some friends in a slightly pretentious bar tonight. You know the kind of place: $20+ cocktails that are good, almost worth the price, but not quite. Décor and attitude just a little over the top. Our waitress… hmmmm… if I have a “type” of girl she is probably it. Eastern European or maybe French (turned out, when she spoke, accent was clearly French), a figure that can best be described as lithe, a little dress that probably revealed a bit too much skin around her shoulders and neck, very pretty face, sharp cheekbones, fine, light skin, eyes as dark and liquid as a pool of India ink held in the palm of your hand and hair to match. She came to our table to make small talk and I asked where she was from. She said Lyon, and then, after a moment, clarified that it was in France… in Europe. I laughed and told her I knew exactly where it was and we discussed food and wine and great restaurants for a moment. Finally she said, “can I take your order?”

I looked at her and laughed a bit and said, “I’m a little doubtful whether you can or not…” and gave her a smile that showed I knew I was being a little bit silly. (I think not taking yourself too seriously is very important!)

She feigned frustration and said, “May I please take your order, Sir?” and loaded it with attitude: a little cock of her hip, toss of her hair, and her eyes flashed with challenge.

I said, immediately and without hesitation, the only thing that came to mind, clearly crossing a line, “Good girl. Maybe we will work on the attitude next.” At which point this girl did not stereotypically bite her bottom lip. No, she bit her bottom lip and rolled it through her teeth, then her top lip, and then sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and held it there for a few moments. Now, something had just transpired between the two of us, but, critically, everyone else at the table was unaware of it. That’s something that has surprised me in the past—people who are not in tune to the power exchange element might see the flirting, but they will miss so much.

So we drank and ate mediocre food for a while. In clearing the table she did seem to be very much in my personal space, nearly lying across my lap at one point to reach across the table. (That was unnecessary, but, I admit, appreciated.) At one point she came back and said to me, “Is my attitude acceptable, Sir?” There was nothing particularly hot about this; she was playing and just being friendly, and riffing off of our “thing” from earlier.

I said “It is… acceptable…”, but I said it in the tone of voice that implied, at least to me, that a spanking might be needed, and she seemed to receive the message loud and clear—she looked at me with the exact look… well, it’s hard to describe, but you know if you have been teasing a girl for a long, long time, and you finally, slowly, slip a finger between her legs, between her lips, and find her so wet, and then you touch that one, certain spot with such firm, excruciating pleasure—fulfillment and need wrapped in smoking, uncontrolled lust and, in that moment, you know that girl will do anything for you. Anything at all. Yes, I got a few seconds of that exact look, right there at the table, and my friends were completely unaware that anything was happening. (I think, in fairness, they were drinking a bit faster than I was. I was distracted.)

A bit later she was once again practically lying in my lap, and I’d had enough drinks that common sense was beginning to slip away, she brushed against me and I said the first thing that popped into my mind, “you smell very good.”

She froze, again stretched across the table and nearly in my lap, and said “Sir, you will make me blush. I forgot to wear perfume today.”

“I know.” (If I was writing a story I would say I spoke those words in a husky, dominant growl, but, again, we should not take ourselves so seriously!) And, in response to those words (or perhaps the way I said them) she immediately had what looked like a small seizure, actually managing to spill three glasses on the table. This, interestingly enough, was the first time my dining companions really noticed that anything was “off”.

It’s hard to put your finger on what was happening here. On one hand, it was just flirting, but I do think there’s another level of communication going on here. Was this a girl who speaks the “BDSM language” or who just naturally had some submissive tendencies? Who knows, but this is what it’s like when things click with a stranger, and it’s exceedingly rare.

When the check came, there was the usual discussion about who would take it, everyone arguing for it, but I just looked at her and held my hand out, and she obediently placed it into my hand. She walked around the table and bent down beside my chair, reaching her hand out as she did so. I held my hand out and took hers to steady her. She bent close and started to say something in my ear, but our hands were still touching and I extended my index finger and stroked the skin under her wrist once, twice, at which point she actually gasped and moaned into my ear. She recovered, said “I am done with work at midnight”, quickly composed herself, stood, and walked away. So, to answer your question, that’s one way you can tell.

If you’re wondering what my vanilla friends (and I can say that, because one of them told us once about the “strange” girl he dated who “wanted to be spanked sometimes”) noticed, one of them commented, as we left, that the girl was “hot but kinda strange.” You must pay attention. You gotta pay attention…

That’s…. pretty freakin’ hot

I finished reading this on my other blog and wanted to reblog it on here and I don’t know if this post had anything to do with it or not but it literally took me five tries to log in correctly. Five. I just kind of lost all ability to function there.

This is what I really love. The orgasm denial is fun and all, but that has nothing to do with me being submissive. That’s just me extending the pleasure because I enjoy being horny, and wanted the challenge. But this. The non-sexual stuff. The power exchange, where two people just click. This is what I really enjoy.

This is just so unbelievably hot, and so much more so because I know this exact feeling. I crave this feeling, and I miss this feeling. Perfectly explained. This honestly just casually tossed me straight into the depths of sub space