One of the things I am pondering mightily is the reality of submission as it is lived vs. the hot & horny fantasy of d/s. A time ago, I went to the Center for Sex & Culture to see Laura Antoniou talk about stuff. Not many people beside myself were there, because jaded-ass San Francisco is like that. It was great for me, though, because I got to have pretty much a one-on-one conversation with someone I respect. One of the things she said about submission being put to the test when it is difficult to obey really struck a nerve. I had been struggling for a bit with my own submission, with being newly released after requesting the dissolution of a 2-year relationship, and felt like perhaps I wasn’t actually cut out for this slavery thing.
She spoke of submission not really being much of an achievement when one is only doing the stuff they wanted to do and would have done anyway even without the imperative of consensual subjugation. Is it truly an act of submission if you take thirty lashes from a whip when you are an inveterate masochist who enjoys every blow? Or is the submission more profound when pain is not erotic for you , and yet you endure it for the love or joy or pleasure or whim of your dominant?