Submission isn't a Gift but a Trade

Bobbalicious the Princely Hound once developed a case of kennel cough. Over 30 hours, he was jabbed with syringes, poked with vet fingers, and stuck on scales. Through it all, he sat quietly conjuring up stillness. He didn’t bark. He didn’t growl. He didn’t try to walk away. His doggo brain had no idea why we were hurting him, but somehow, he trusted me enough to wait out the nastiness.

I’ve been wondering why, and maybe I have an answer. When he was hungry, I fed him. When he was thirsty, I gave him water. When it was raining, I brought him inside. When he was dying to get out, I walked him, and when he needed belly rubs, I gave them to him. He knew I loved him. I preempted his needs, so he knew I had his best interests at heart.

Love and trust.

Dominance and submission?

Let’s look at this in a different way. Bobby Dog had kennel cough. Over 30 hours, I was his servant, carrying treats, sneaking around while he napped, taking him to vets, and making sure he had extra happy things. He took me for walks, rolled over for belly rubs, and squealed when he wanted to go here or do that.

Love and service. Submission and dominance. Was he in control of me? Or was I in control of him? There’s no telling who’s the dominant part of this pair. Dogs have spent thousands of years evolving to manipulate their humans spectacularly. They mimic our smiles, so we serve their dinner. They give us hugs so we brush their fur. We put a roof over their heads. In return they adore us.

And that makes us go gooey inside like a big, barbecued marshmallow.

We spend a lot of time speaking about who the true gatekeepers in D/s relationships are. Subs, they say, have all the power. If we say no, it’s no, but dominants have precisely the same rights. A D-type with distaste for blood gets to take it off the table just as we do. As for subs, we don’t submit until it’s earned, but dominance is earned just as well. If you want to call submission a gift, you must call dominance one, too.

So who is in control? Is it the one giving the human equivalent of belly rubs and treats? Or the one insisting we must go to the “vet” when we have kennel cough?

We call this power exchange because we exchange power. We do not give it in one massive bundle called “submission.” The power is like a metal ball rolling down a spiral between dominant and submissive. It’s a spiral that gets narrower and narrower. Add love. Add trust. Add safety and love, and we end with absolute submission; absolute control, absolute power.

It's not a gift, but a mutually-beneficial trade.