I get so wrapped up in my little games, that I forget the simple truth that submitting makes you hap

I get so wrapped up in my little games, that I forget the simple truth that submitting makes you happy. 

I don’t need to go searching for some grander reason, some hidden meaning or ulterior motive that’s driving this. I don’t need to get into your head to see it, or force you to jump through hoops for me to prove it. The simple fact remains, bedrock under the surface, that this is what makes you happy, and this is what fulfils you. 

You like being on your knees. You like being controlled, and you love to be loved in the way that I can love you. That’s it. That’s the foundation, the structure, the pillars that everything hangs off. The rest, really, doesn’t matter all that much. It’s window dressing when you’ve got the most perfect view ready to take your breath away if you would just look. 

I don’t have to choke you. I don’t need to tie you up. You don’t need to be dressed by me, little salacious, slutty outfits meant to tease and titillate me. We don’t need labels to address one another by, and I don’t need to make you cry out of pain and humiliation. I don’t need to break you down, for that matter, just to build you up.  

But we do, because that makes us happy, too. It’s what satisfies, and excites, and builds on that single truth at the risk of obscuring it, just a little bit. But that’s ok, just so long as we get a glimpse of it now and then. 

Because it makes me happy to know it.