Ten Shades & Me

“Votes are here, love,” I said, handing Master his postal vote. We vote by post for convenience reasons. Him because he typically uses public transport to get to and from work which takes up more of that polling booth opening time, and me because those dreaded places seriously exacerbate my lifelong Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

At home, I am free to read the manifestos, take the ISideWith test and make my selection without anyone outside the polling station making one last plea to encourage me to support their party. In that moment, I’m not even thinking about my submission. In that moment, I am a modern woman with the freedom and right to vote and a very important decision to make. One that could help impact the future of my country.

For me, the decision is typically more local than it is national. I placed a cross next to my local Labour MP, tucked the form into the return envelope and sealed it. Even if I never liked Jeremy Corbyn, Labour had always been good to me, locally.

“Who’d you vote for?” Master asked me as I tapped the sealed envelopes into a pile.

“Reform, you?” I said, trying my best to seem genuine.

“Ah, UKIP” he replied, playing me at my own game.

Of course, neither of us would support the Brexit Party or UKIP and are even vehemently against the idea. We’ve both long been supporters of the Labour party, even if we do question some of their policies.

My decision to vote for the Labour party is entirely my own choice and we have a golden rule that we do not discuss politics until we’ve both cast our vote. In doing so, it prevents any influence over our decision and maintains my freedom to vote as a modern-day feminist, without fear or judgement.

In this era, a lot of people wrinkle their nose at the word “feminist”, but I keep to what the ideals of what a true feminist woman should be. Women are not better than men, they are equals, and I have even taken steps to protect men in the past, as a modern-day woman.

The year was 2016, my neighbour had just been assaulted by his ex-girlfriend and now stood dishevelled and sore on my doorstep. He was timid and anxious, a far cry from the normally confident young man that I was used to seeing.

When we attended the court for her hearing, I wore a suit with trousers, heeled boots and my hair in a bun. It was my go-to “I mean serious business” look, and anyone around me knew that I meant business, too. It was in the way I conducted myself and shook hands with the other witnesses and staff; polite, but certainly assertive.

Blonde submissive woman slave with leather whip touches her chin - 30 days of submission day 24 emotions of submission

So Why Would A Feminist Woman Want

To Become Submissive?

The Control Paradox

The first thing you need to understand is that for myself and thousands of women like me, surrendering control is really subjective and incomplete. Like hypnosis, it only really happens when we allow it to happen and it only happens with whom we want it to happen – whom we want to obey. We are not owned or controlled in reality and are completely free to leave if we want to, and at any time. Although we consider ourselves as ‘owned’, this goes back to erotic literature and is in a consensual mindset only – nobody literally owns anyone!

Secondly, being a modern woman means we absolutely do have control, a lot of the time and in a lot of things. We are CEOs, line managers, doctors, judges, even right down to parents and grandparents. Being in control all the time means that one wants to switch off and surrender control eventually.

I do not consider myself to be a housewife; I am a domestic CEO. Housewives run the home according to their husband’s wishes, but my husband gets very little say unless it matters. I’ve never given him a reason to not trust my judgement and so he trusts me, but with that trust comes an awful lot of control and responsibility.

I would hate to be micro-managed in the day to day running of our home, I would hate to have every decision made for me and not to be able to use my own judgement or critical thinking. I’d probably get so fed up and bored by the end of the week that I would get up and leave!

Paradoxically though, I love some of the most deepest, darkest corners of BDSM. I love begging, I love bathroom control. I love eye contact restrictions and dehumanisation. I love bondage, sensory deprivation and humiliation. The more I lose temporary control in a safe environment and with the people I love, know and trust, the freer and happier I become. My submission to my husband is only when I choose it to be and how I choose it to be. Whether it’s asking for his input or initiating a scene, I choose to offer him control.

A Matter Of Mindset

Any Dominant worth his (or her!) salt will know that one of the first steps to owning a submissive feminist woman is to have the utmost respect for women. If you mistreat (or worse, abuse) women, we will close you down immediately. Start slow, start gently, and allow us to see that we can trust you.

Think of a submissive woman as being a bit like a porcupine. If you befriend it, it will trust you and allow you to get closer. If you threaten it, it won’t. If you respect a feminist submissive, they may allow you to get close enough to follow your lead. If you come at us with a “kneel, bitch” attitude, you’re going to experience our spines.

Final Thoughts

It’s important to understand that a feminist woman may be submissive at her core, but not all feminist women want or choose to be submissive and most certainly we have no desire to return to a life whereby our husbands have full and absolute control. Even for those who do desire to return to such a lifestyle, they did so because they chose to, entirely of their own accord.

Until next time!

Stay safe & have fun,

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One response to “Life In 24/7 BDSM: Chapter Five – Submission & Feminism”

  1. […] Jung Ji-Hoo holds a position of authority above Jung Ji-Woo, and yet he is submissive to her. As I have written before, then quite contrary to many media portrayals, people in positions of authority often prefer more […]

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