July/August 2003
Sensuous Sadie and the Catch-22 of Looking Domme

by Sensuous Sadie

Each 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.

That 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.

Today, 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.

In 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.

At 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 me.

I 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.

Circumstances 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.

I 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.

Despite 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.

Sensuous 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.