I was saving this thought process for my blog but thanks to SklavinCuck pointing me to this group I will post here and then probably again in my blog if it turns out ok here.
I was always the girl who wasn't necessarily a tomboy but I naturally gravitated towards the boys. I didn't run screaming from the bug in the locker room. I calmly walked in and removed said bug from the premises so the other girls could resume being "normal" and to get them to shut the hell up from screeching like harpys.
As I grew older I realized I was the one chasing the boys I liked. I always got them but I often wondered what was wrong with me that the boys didn't want to chase me. I was never one of the girls to sit back and wait for what I wanted. Goddess knows my mother tried to instill that in me but it never took. I never did understand the idea of not calling a boy.
When I was just under the legal age a man I had been dating held me captive and raped me multiple times daily for nearly 5 months. When I was able to finally escape I spent 3 days in the woods searching for help. Only to come out and find myself pregnant. He found me and beat me nearly to death and managed to kill the baby as well. I recovered but I swore no man would ever have that kind of control over me again.
(Side note: No pity please. I mention it because it had a profound effect on how I am today and for the rest of my life.)
After the demise of my first marriage I met a man named Alan. He is a Dom through and through. I was a cocky, downright arrogant bitch with a sweet streak a mile wide in me. *laughs* I often refer to myself as my very own oxymoron. So I identify with CuckDom's thread about Discovery. (Very accurate btw and lovely to read)
So even after having another Dom friend who spent years trying to gain my submission and me just laughing to his face to tell him "good luck with that." I met Alan at a party. He stood on the outskirts watching me all night. Towards the wee hours of the morning I found myself face to face with him in a challenge stance. Nose to nose in the kitchen with me standing naked wrapped in a towel from being in the pool. In literally the blink of an eye he had me handcuffed and kneeling on the floor with my towel 5 feet away. To say I was flabbergasted would be denying the true essence of my emotional shock coursing through me.
I went home with him and we sat and talked for 2 days stopping only to eat and make love. I belonged to him in a way that has NEVER and probably will never be duplicated. Once our relationship ran its course due to my own insecurities and immature age at the time I looked and looked within myself.
I was back to being the aggressor. I love the hunt. I love the pursuit. But (identifying with another post here) I grew tired of always being the strong one. I have run through so many men in my short lifetime that I have at times fallen prey to not being myself. I have played the damsel in distress in order to find some happiness for a short period of time. And once it was over I felt a self-loathing for doing what I abhorred in other needy women.
Over time and through many other experiences I have regained my sense of strength. I have also found that it takes a man just as strong as I am to really appreciate it. Much to many men chagrin I refuse to bow down and take his stupidity. I know what I want and I know how to achieve it or to sit back and wait for it to happen.
I have also found that in my strength there is a certain release a true Man can feel. The same holds true in being a powerful woman and finding a man who can sustain her strength in order for her to regenerate as it were.
My problem is that there are so few men who can truly handle being with a strong woman. They like to think they can and they are drawn to your strength like a moth to the flame. However once they have you they realize the strength it takes on their part to deal daily with the intensity of a true Goddess. Once I have one of these men with inner weakness I lose all respect for him the second he allows me to walk all over him.
So my journey takes me in many odd directions. And sometimes CuckDom....it is a discovery to the woman herself as a constantly evolving work of art that will never be finished. For myself, I know what I want. I just don't believe it exists.
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