Last night while T & I were in bed chatting before fucking and we were taking tests to see what sort of submissive I am. When I take tests, I’m 100% not a switch, pet, bratty, little, princess, protocol, spiritual, or object sub.
I’m a mostly a mix of a pleasure, service and pain submissive.
What does that mean exactly?
A submissive who blends pleasure, service, and pain holds a rare and deeply layered devotion—one that thrives on being useful, desired, and enduring. This combination is often breathtaking in its intensity, because their body becomes both an instrument of service and a playground of surrender. ( This is so spot on for me. ).
This submissive:
• Craves to be used—for pleasure and for suffering.
• Finds arousal in obedience, moans in usefulness, and transcendence in pain.
• Serves with hands, holes, and heart—and is proud to hurt for someone worthy.
Key Traits of a Pleasure + Service + Pain Submissive
– Erotic Obedience
• They get wet/hard from doing things right. Pleasing their Dominant’s needs—sexual or mundane—is a turn-on in itself.
– Pain as Worship
• Pain is not just a kink—it’s a gift. They endure not only because they can, but because it proves their devotion.
• They may offer themselves wordlessly, holding still or presenting willingly for a spanking.
– Sensual Service
• They might cook in a collar, plug, or with clamps on—because being useful and helpless feels divine.
– High-Arousal Submissive Headspace
• Tasks, touch, torment—they all activate deep submission.
• They may melt from a look or a command.
– Deep Emotional Loyalty
• Their submission is not casual. It is chosen, sacred, and fiercely devoted.
• They often offer everything—mind, body, spirit—to someone they trust and revere.
– Sacred Drives
• To serve with grace. Every task is an act of love.
• To please with heat. Every moan is a melody of obedience.
• To endure with pride. Every mark is a medal of worth.
Journal prompt:
Write a letter to T describing what it means to serve beautifully? To please completely? To suffer meaningfully?
For me, to you, when I serve, it’s a choice that I make fully and with my whole heart and mind.
I never serve because I have to.
I do it with my heart, mind & body because I choose to.
You make it easy to choose to offer myself, to give everything and to know I’ll never be left empty or unfulfilled.
When we are together, sexually or not, you fill me up in ways that you’ll never truly understand. When I’m near you, when I touch your skin or hear your voice, it tells me I’m safe and shows me love. You tear through my defensive walls that have been built from years of trauma with the grace of someone who was meant just for me.
You get me.
Serving you, especially sexually, is my gift to you.
When I give you pleasure and know you’re fulfilled ( or emptied in the best of ways ), I know I’ve done what I was created for.
Even when my mind tells me to run in times of stress or my emotions make me feel like I’m in danger, you hold me. You let me know that not only am I worth it but I’m treasured.
When I lay down and offer my body to you, I’m giving from a place of reverence. When you feed me with your cum, you feed my soul. I don’t care who doesn’t understand that.
It’s for me.
That’s the only part of you I’m unwilling to share with the world.
When we experiment with different levels of pain, I discover new levels of subconscious happiness.
I learn more about you and even more about me.
I hope we never stop discovering who we are, what we enjoy, what makes us fit together and ways to pleasure each other.
I will always be yours to use however you want.
I crave your touch, your commands, your desire for my body and the way you stretch me and fill me.
When I serve you I know I’m safe.
Nothing is better than that.
I need you to know what happens to me when I serve you. When I please you. When I suffer for you.
When you command me, each motion whispers, “see me, use me, keep me.”
I glow under the weight of your needs.
When you touch me—when you take from me—I melt, not because I’m weak, but because I’m finally free.
Free to be yours.
Free to stop holding myself up.
Free to be devoured.
And when you hurt me… when I offer you my pain… it is not cruelty I feel. It is proof that I’m yours.
I ache for the moments when I am naked and waiting—not because I don’t know who I am, but because I do.
I was made to hold what others cannot.
To carry your desire.
To show you true pleasure.
I don’t need permission to want this. I don’t need excuses.
I just need you.
When I am useful, aching, and marked, I am most yours.
Because every time I offer myself—my hands, my body, my pain—what I’m really offering is my need.
Not just to be used, but to be seen in my surrender.
Not just to obey, but to be undone by your control.
I want to feel your approval in the soreness between my legs.
Let me serve you while used.
Let me suffer while pleasing.
Let me give you everything and still beg for more.
There is no fear in this. Only hunger.
Because my deepest desire is not to be held—it is to be kept.
To be worked. To be opened. To be broken in the way only you know how to break me—gently, savagely, reverently.
And still, I’ll whisper: “Use me again, please.”
You don’t have to ask me if I’m ready. I’m always ready.
To serve you, please you, take you.
Let my service make you hard.
Let my obedience make you hungry.
Let my suffering make you smile.
When I kneel, when I open my mouth, I’m not just offering myself—I’m begging to be filled with you.
To earn your release. To be soaked in it. To swallow it down like praise, like purpose, like proof.
The truth is, I crave your taste more than anything.
It stays in the back of my throat like a secret I don’t ever want to lose.
I ache for it. Dream of it.
I’ve licked my lips just remembering the way you fed me last time.
When you let me wrap my lips around you, I’m not just being used. I’m being claimed.
And when you finish inside me—my mouth, my throat, anywhere you please—I’m thankful.
Because your taste tells me I did well.
That I pleased you.
That I belong.
My dearest T,
Please use me again and again.
Feed me what only you can give.
Let me earn it with every breath, every moan, every eager swallow.
Because the mess you leave on my tongue is my favorite kind of worship.
I’m yours.
Always.