Letting Myself Be Submissive

I spend my days being in charge. At work, I lead meetings, make decisions, correct people, and tell grown men what to do. I wear confidence like armor, and most days I don’t even notice how heavy it feels… until I’m finally alone.

Lately, I’ve been feeling intensely aroused by the thought of letting all of that go. Of not having to lead. Of not having to decide. The idea of being submissive — of listening instead of directing — makes my body warm and my thoughts slow down.

There’s something deeply sensual about imagining a dominant presence guiding me. Not harshly… but deliberately. A calm authority that notices how sensitive I am, how pregnancy has made me more receptive, more eager to soften and respond.

Submitting feels freeing to me. After spending so much time controlling everything, being able to surrender — to follow, to trust, to let someone else take the lead — feels like relief washing through my body.

I crave a dynamic where I can relax into obedience, where dominance and submission feel intimate and mutual. Where I don’t have to be strong… because I’m allowed to be guided instead.