month when I stood on the chair to make announcements at Rose
& Thorn events, I displayed my Diva self, the part of me
which is outgoing, an entertainer. Since my nametag clearly
said "Sadie, submissive," I got harassed a fair bit.
For the record, my predominant sexual orientation is submissive,
some 85% perhaps. But, since I'm not in the bedroom most of
the time, it's hard for a crowd to witness that. Besides, it's
darn difficult to host a party and be submissive at the same
time. So, I laugh along and remind those who persist in only
seeing only the surface of things to get over it.
out of the way, what I really want to talk about is my explorations
into the other 15% of myself, my Dominant side. After a few
brief and largely superficial forays into the Dominant "thang,"
I came to be with Moby, who was not only my submissive, but
the love of my life. When I first met him I thought of him mostly
as a boy toy, someone to amuse myself with. He had silky red
hair cascading down his back, a brilliant mind, and a temperate
disposition. My opinion of Moby was transformed when he came
to dinner at my home for the first time, a dinner which was
really a seduction in disguise. I had blindfolded him and was
feeding him strawberries, ripe and rich with summer sunshine.
I kissed him, and felt him open up like a flower. He allowed
the walls to fall away, and gave me the gift of his radiant,
vulnerable self. I had never before been given this gift, and
it was, perhaps, at that precise moment when I fell irrevocably,
hopelessly, in love.
I am some time away from having separated from him, fate having
intervened in her capricious way. Perhaps it is that no person
can sustain such vulnerability for long, for I hadn't even become
used to his gift before it was gone, like a clam snapping shut
with a sharp "click." The loss of what might have
been has been the greatest loss I have known. I have nearly
given up on ever retrieving it.
this time of grieving and recovery, I have had a number of relationships,
none of which even approached that one. But even if such a thing
were laid on my plate, I could probably not even taste it; my
heart is still encased in a shield as hard as the one around
the Tin Man, not impenetrable but tightly drawn. Nevertheless,
there was one moment this year which touched me nearly as much
as the moment of Moby's submission. This past January, I was
working at a conference at a big hotel here in town. One morning
I was setting up my modem with the able assistance of one of
the hotel people, Sione (see-ohn). I don't know if he was into
the BDSM lifestyle, but his submission came off him in gentle
waves, a cologne whispering to you when you stand just close
enough. Sione's nature was to serve, and he did so without reservation,
with none of the self-consciousness one might expect in a man.
one point while I was fussing with access numbers, I could feel
his quiet presence behind me. I turned and looked at him, and
I could see he felt totally and completely right in his position
of waiting and serving. His eyes were steady and present, reflecting
an absolute acceptance of who he was. Sione was waiting for
decided I wanted to see if all this was a bit of stray lust
on my part, so I chatted with him as I casually peeled a clementine
and dropped the peels on the table in a small heap. He could
have ignored this, or offered me a wastebasket, or any number
of other things. But I was betting he would clear the peels
for me. After a long moment of silence where I pretended to
be otherwise engaged, he did indeed pick up the peels and throw
them away. I turned to him, looked him in the eye, and tossed
him a clementine to express my recognition and appreciation
of his gift. I knew then, without a doubt, that his nature cried
out to be held by a strong woman, and I in turn yearned to feel
him open up to me again. I wanted to lay him down and taste
his soul, to take him there, to take him.
intervened, and I didn't, in fact, take him anywhere. In a year
of meaningless flirtations and connections missed, this is the
one moment that resonates. I felt like he had offered me a jewel,
one so precious that he was afraid to drop it and yet afraid
to let go entirely, for he knew this would, change everything.
am moved by this gift in a submissive. I believe that serving
is one of the true callings of my own submission. It is not
so much about Sione and what he is, but rather about me. My
soul cannot help but respond when I bear witness to a naked
presence in another.
these forays, I still hope that the Dominant of my dreams will
come along. While I am drawn to submissive men, and undoubtedly
they to me, I believe my Dominant streak is insufficient to
maintain a long term relationship. Yet when I have these experiences,
I cannot help but recognize the magic they bring into my life.
There may be no easy answers, certainly not as easy as breaking
out my orientation into 15% and 85% chunks. But for those of
you who still don't believe in my submissive side, my last two
Dominants have agreed to vouch for me, and I can only say to
those of you who don't believe: Get over it.
Sadie is a BDSM columnist and edits SCENEsubmissions, a free
e-newsletter for the New England area and beyond. She is the
founder and leader (1999 - 2001) of Rose & Thorn, Vermont's
first BDSM group. Comments, compliments and complaints, as well
as requests for reprinting can be addressed to her at SensuousSadie@aol.com
or visit her website at www.sensuoussadie.com. Sadie believes
the universe is abundant, and that sharing information freely
is part of this abundance, so she allows reprints of her writing
in most venues. Copyright 2002.