No means no. Period, right? Except when it doesn’t. I’m a kinky person, which you know unless you have the IQ of about 25, and in a lot of ways being a kinky person has really forced me to analyze my feminist-ey views and come to terms with how being a feminist fits in with being a submissive female. The biggest and most central issue in this search was consent.
We’re taught our entire lives not to be a doormat and not to let people use and abuse us, and we shouldn’t. But there is a fine line between being a doormat and being a sub, or being an abuser and a dominant, but it’s a really clear line. It’s called consent. I don’t consent to be a doormat when I sub. I don’t consent to anything and everything under the sun. I have limits and I have dislikes and I am vocal about my limits and dislike; and beyond that things that don’t fall into either category that I’m also vocal about. I consent to submitting. I agree that I’ll say “yes,sir” to what is asked of me in scene because I am comfortable that I have communicated my limits and dislikes and that there is a bigger picture I can’t see, probably because my brain has turned to subby mush and the feisty, devious streak I normally carry with me falls to the sidelines.
I don’t love and adore every single thing that happens to me while being subby. I love most of it, but mostly, I love the nuances that come out. I love the shades of submission. I love the different atmospheres that the different shades of submission bring out. I love the different sides of people that play brings out and I reallly love being manipulated into subby goo. I love how complex it is, even though the complexity can make it difficult. I love how intricate conversations get while you’re attempting to hash out limits and terms. Ooh I got a bit rambley there. Back to my point, right. I don’t love and adore every single thing I do while being subby. I really dislike parts of it, but consent to do it for the love of submitting, because it’s absolutely worth it in the big picture.