My name is Zelda O’Bannon and I’m a dirty, submissive slut.
*Awkward silence. This is an AA meeting.
I love to be spanked, ordered around, forced, teased and tortured. I like the feeling of a long, hard cock all the way down my throat, my nose pressed against his pelvic bone, his balls against my chin. I love being taken and used from behind, forced to cum over and over again.
I like relentless men, violent men, dangerous men. Pretty women. Various genders and identities in between.
And yet, I’m also a big, fat, raging feminist.
This is the part where you chime in: How the fuck do you manage that? After all, female submission is all about playing up the power imbalance, right? How can someone who seeks to abolish such a thing possibly also really love getting off to it?
If that shit dropped your jaw, allow me to do you one further: I fucking love to cook. I find my zen in scrubbing bathroom floors. I would rather delicately prepare a 5-course dinner and clean up afterward than I would ever mow the lawn or change the oil or man the manly thing that only men are traditionally acknowledged for manning.
See, there’s this crazy thing about submission that nobody seems to get but is 100% part of the lifestyle’s allure: the submissive, at all times, is entirely in control.
It’s so simple that it almost doesn’t make any sense at all. Being a submissive is firstly, about acknowledging one’s power over one’s own body. I own my body. I am its master. I decide what goes in it, around it, in it again, and again, and again, and OH GOD YES, YES, PLEASE FUCK ME YES!
And it’s only after I acknowledge that power that I can relinquish it to someone else. After all, if my body isn’t my own, then its certainly not mine to give– so when I say, “Please Sir, take my tight little pussy with your big, hard rod,” I am firstly letting Sir know: this is my pussy, and I am giving it to you. I am submitting to you. These are my gifts to you: my obedience– my consent– myself.