I received this post by a reader who wanted to share her thoughts about Protocol for the Kink of the Week, but wished to remain anonymous.
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My Sir requires me to kneel each morning and offer myself to him in a protocol of worship and ritual. It is a time of connection, especially important as he lives far away. This is my attempt to describe to him what it feels like.
Every morning it starts anew. I rise and go downstairs and kneel on the wood floor and make my obeisance. I have only done it in the dark. And cliche will say that’s the time to do such a thing but it’s wrong. I long to do it in the light, in the sun, in the air outside, under the sky.
But every morning, it starts anew and soon the sun will travel far enough north that it will wake me through my window and then I can kneel for you in the broad light of day.
For now it is dark and I am alone with my thoughts and my submission in those first few minutes. The house is silent and so I feel I have to whisper, even though no one would hear me if I spoke with my real voice.
I kneel on wood because it is hard against my knees. I am tall there for a second, on my knees but straight and proud, my head high.
But then I lay my forearms on the floor and press my body down and think of you and the weight of it pulls my neck down further until my forehead presses against the floor and my breath is deep and slow.
And then I kiss the floor.
I say the words. And when I do, it binds me tighter every time.
I kiss the floor and say the words and it hits me like a fist how utterly and completely you hold me in your power. I feel it in my gut and in my mind. I may clench my eyes shut against the truth when I say the words aloud but it doesn’t make them any less true. I thank you, yes, please Sir, please may I please you, please, please, thank you.
There is beauty there. When I do this thing each day it makes me feel joyous and whole and content — which is not so say I feel those things any less in my real life, only that I feel extraordinarily lucky to be able to experience both of these parts of me, and neither diminished by the other’s presence. Nothing I do for you lessens or cheapens my real life, which is rich and full of love.
But what I do for you each morning is special to me. When I go to bed at night I’m so glad because I know the first thing I will get to do is this devotion. And when I wake up I do so happily because my next act will be for you. It is so comforting to give that moment to you, as if in that moment, for as long as I kneel for you, I can do no wrong, I am serving a purpose, serving you. I am yours for just a little moment in time. And in that moment I don’t want to be anywhere else.
So. I kiss the floor. I say the words. I feel the crush of obedience, then I kiss the floor again and lay my cheek down and just … am.
And every morning it starts anew, a new chance to make you happy and in so doing scratch that itch deep inside me that compels me to do this.
Sometimes when I am anxious, I want to do it again. I have to fight the urge to drop to my knees and lay my head down again and say the words again as if I didn’t do it well enough in the morning, as if the act of kissing the floor and thanking again you would make me feel like a good girl.
I have resisted this so far, but sometimes the desire to do it burns inside of me.
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