Slavery exists in the real world. It’s horrific. If K were literally my master, I would do anything and everything in my power to free myself, though I would probably fail, because slavery rests on the slave having no power. If I were truly his slave — if I could not legally, or physically, or psychologically break free of him for some reason — I would despise him.
If K saw me as anything but an equal, he would not be sleeping in my bed. If he ordered me to change some part of my belief system (and I had not told him I wanted to change it), I would laugh at him until I turned blue. If he did not respect my opinion as much as he respects his own, I would not bother even having sex with him, let alone choosing him as my master. If he did not care for my happiness as much as he cares for his own happiness (sometimes more, I think), I would not entrust my happiness to him as his slave. We are equals.
Wait, how does that work? I call him my master, I call myself his slave — how can we be equals?
The dominant role is not more valuable than the submissive one. The top is not more valuable than the bottom. The traditional “masculine” role is not more valid than the traditional “feminine” one. Yang is not better than yin. K decides what I do sexually — and in some other areas — because I have granted him that power over me. Fully, freely, and trying for utter trust. He’s able to do things that allow me to surrender everything to him.
If I weren’t his equal, K wouldn’t want my submission. If I weren’t his equal, I wouldn’t be able to give it to him.
