I wouldn’t say that I am into humiliation, however, it can be (even for me) an extremely effective tool for immediately putting me into a submissive head space.
Mr. D is not usually into humiliation (that I know of) either, but when He feels he needs to pull out the big guns, the bullets they fire are usually ones that put me immediately in my place, jarringly and unequivocally.
As some of you know, our life has been a bit upside-down recently with an in-progress house sale, and as such, our D/s practices have pretty much been put on hold. I have a tendency at these times to go a little stir-crazy, finding myself spinning out of control, becoming irritable, and prioritizing many of the wrong things in lieu of those that matter most (i.e. relationships and things that make me happy). Finding my submissive mind is one of those things that can help me find my center again…so much so, that I usually focus on submission (or some facet of it) as my intention at yoga each week.
A spanking…a few words spoken in the correct voice and tone…a demand. Those things can also do it.
But recently, Mr. D did a thing that sort of sent me wobbling.
In the middle of one of my ornery “I have a million things to do and not enough time to even do two” moments, He faced me in the kitchen, right at the entrance to our bedroom door, lifted up His shirt and told me to lick His belly button.
I stopped, my face likely screwed up in a look of confusion and consternation, ready to explode into horrified laughter and dismiss the command as a joke. But He repeated it and, though He was smiling (because it WAS a ridiculous thing to ask me to do), His tone made clear that He expected cooperation.
My brain did one of those 180 flip-flops, going from “ha…you’re hilarious!” to “oh, shit…you mean it…wtf?” as He lay back on the bed waiting for me to follow His order.
I’m sure I asked…dumbfounded… “For reals?”
I’m also sure He responded, without faltering, “Yes.”
And since I don’t make a habit of telling Him no, I very uncomfortably made my way toward Him, a look of utter trepidation on my face, unsure, feeling horribly comical, swallowing hard.
I leaned over Him, looked down at His furry stomach, and licked his navel…as if it were a cold pole in the middle of winter…a silly dare.
“Lick it again…”
He explained that He wanted me to really get in there, lick all around it, mouth-fuck it.
I’m sure my cheeks were flaming crimson, as my embarrassed laughter rose to the level of tears…a few minutes felt like a fricking eternity.
But, I’ll tell you what, it reset me. It proved to Him (and me) that I would…no matter what. And it also sent that million-item to-do list into the ether.
Mr. D doesn’t use humiliation often. Sometimes He’ll call me a whore…a slut…and He loves to rub in my face all the sexual acts that make me uncomfortable, pushing me to admit that I like them even if I’m unwilling to say so. He wants to hear me say that I like it. He wants me to admit that I’m dirty (even though none of those things actually make me dirty, I’ll add – since nothing about consensual sex is dirty, in my opinion).
It’s a mental game that can and should only be used between consenting parties. If someone else, someone I didn’t trust, were to call me some of the things that Mr. D does or force me to confront parts of my sexuality that make me nervous or uncomfortable, it wouldn’t be okay. Nothing about it would be sexy or Dominant. And it wouldn’t put me in a submissive state of mind.
Trust is the ingredient that makes humiliation of any sort work. Trust is the only thing that turned my initial response of “What the fuck, you weirdo, I’m not gonna lick your belly button…” to a complete following of His order amidst tearful laughter and bewilderment, at his command AND at my willingness to follow it.