you’re a good sub

“You’re a good sub,” my girlfriend said.  “So good at saying what you need.”

Wow, we were at the rose garden to watch a play.  I must have given her a strange facial expression, because she knew I had a big reaction inside.

“What?” she asked.

“God, I love hearing that,” I said.

“That you’re a good sub?” she asked.

I smiled.

“Yeah,” I said.  “You’re going to give me a boner.”

“Oh!  Sorry!” she said.

“No, it’s good,” I said.

We laughed.

“Didn’t mean to give you a girl boner,” she said.

“No, that’s fine!” I said.

“From your facial expression, I thought I must’ve made you feel uncomfortable,” she said.

“No,” I said.  “If that’s uncomfortable, I like being uncomfortable.”


Yes, I want to be a good sub.  That sentence activates something in me.  Automatically, something in me perked up.  Yes, something in my cunt, but something in my heart also.

I want to be a good sub, a good girl, a good slut, a good dick sucker, a good person, a good lover, a good partner, a good pumpkin for sure.  I want my girlfriend to be proud of me and to like me.  Her praise felt almost magical.  Maybe it’s felt too rare.

Later I was telling my spouse about the visit with my girlfriend, as I always do.  I tell him my favorite moments, parts that confused me, parts that tie to previous conversations we’ve had about my girlfriend.  We talk about everything.

“Oh, there was this really great part.  I don’t remember how it came up.  But we were at the park, sitting there for the play, and she said, ‘You’re a good sub,’ and I was so blissed out,” I said.

“She said you’re a good sub?” he asked.

“Yeah!” I said, smiling.  “Do you see how I would really like that?”

“Yeah!” he said.  “I can see how you would really like that.”


Then we were having a date, and we were both so tired.

“Will you hit me?” I asked.  “I don’t feel up for a whole sex scene with two orgasms.  Just I would like if you hit me.  Would that be ok?”

He said yes and took off his clothes.  I was already in bed naked except for my chonies.

“Will you take the flogger and drag it around on my back, and then hit me with it?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

I sat on the edge of the bed facing my altar.  He collared me as I looked up at him.  We kissed in a lingering way, like we have all the time in the world, and we will love each other always.

My spouse needed to do something first and handed the flogger to me.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said, marveling at the flogger.  “You’re so cool you could just make this.  Other people would be studying designs.  And it would never be as pretty as this.  You’re so smart, dear.  You’re amazing.”

I was looking at the handle, how he tied it, how solid it is.

you’re a good sub

He took the flogger from me and dragged it around on my back.  I liked the light sensation, almost tickling me.  He dragged it over my bare shoulders, my middle back, my lower back where I carry so much trauma and pain.

“You’re a good sub,” he said.

Then he hit me how I wanted.  The impact helps my emotional well-being.


Yes, I am a good sub–telling the truth and asking for what I want and what I need.  Every day, I show up real.

I like myself very much; I like this Nest.  Grateful to everyone who takes all of me and helps me feel safe enough to tell the truth.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *