Anything for Love

“I would do anything for love .

I'll be there until the final act

I would do anything for love.

I'll take a vow and seal a pact”

- Lyrics by Jim Steinman, performed by Meatloaf on Bat Out of Hell: II

This song has always touched me. I was humming it the other day (it came out of the blue, triggered perhaps by some memory of passion) and I realized that the sentiment cuts to the heart of romance. Anything for love. Against love, all other powers eventually fail. All other considerations take second place. Culture, family, history, even mortality – in romance any barrier can be overcome for the sake of love.

Then I began thinking about BDSM (as I often do...) and understood that the notion had special poignancy in the world of power exchange. A true submissive will do anything for love – anything to prove her devotion to her master – no matter how painful or humiliating or challenging.

And that led me to thinking about my novella, The Understudy. Sarah is unable to stop herself from loving Geoff, even though he seems to belong to another woman. He invites her to surrender and she cannot help answering his call. She'll do anything to please him, even if it means risking her career – or her heart.

I knocked on his door precisely at midnight. This time Geoffrey answered in person.

He wore a robe of some shimmery material that looked like silk, twilight blue woven with patterns of gold. His feet were bare. His eyes were hungry.

“Come in, little one,” he purred, stepping aside so that I could pass. “You’re very punctual. I gather you’ve learnt your lesson.”

“Yes, sir.” I didn’t know what else to say. I stood in the middle of the room, eyes cast down and hands clasped in front of me like a schoolgirl about to recite. I couldn’t bear to look at him; I was sure I’d lose control and do something without his permission.

“So you don’t want another spanking?” he laughed.

A wave of heat sizzled through me like summer lightning. I wanted his hands on my flesh—I didn’t care about the pain.

“It’s your choice,” I whispered. “Spank me if you want to.”

“Not tonight,” he replied. “For tonight, I have other ideas. Look at me, Sarah.”

I raised my head. He snared me with his eyes and wouldn’t release me. As usual under his scrutiny, my nipples tightened and my pussy wept. He seated himself on the sofa, still holding my gaze, and crossed one leg over the other.

“Now strip.”

Shame overwhelmed me. I didn’t understand it. I’d been naked in his presence the night before last. He had explored my body, inside and out. Why was I blushing and sweating now?

I wanted to obey him, to please him. Truly I did. Yet I couldn’t move.

“Sarah?” he queried, impatience evident in his voice. “Is there a problem?”

Suddenly I understood my reluctance. It was all about her. I knew that I couldn’t compete. I glanced around, searching for her photo, not seeing it anywhere. Perhaps it was in the bedroom, where he could fall asleep gazing upon her beauty…

“Sarah!” His rebuke brought my eyes back to his. “If you’re not going to follow instructions, you might as well go back to your room.”

“Oh no! Please don’t send me away. I’m sorry.”

I rushed to unbutton my blouse, not caring whether I was graceful or seductive. His scowl relaxed as I bared my breasts, my eager nipples all too obviously erect. His lips shaped themselves into a half-smile as I yanked off my skirt and tossed it away. That was all it took. I hadn’t worn a bra or panties for two days.

“Good girl. Why did you hesitate?”

“I—um—I didn’t know whether you’d like me. Whether I’d please you. My breasts are so small…”

“Your breasts are just fine. Anyway, it’s not your place to worry about such things. When I tell you to do something, just do it. Don’t question, obey.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” A tiny part of me wanted to protest, to complain, to rage against him for using me to dull his desire for his true love. Then he flicked his robe open, revealing his rampant erection. Any thought of resistance vanished. I wanted to be used.

“Kneel,” he commanded. “Suck me.”

I bruised my knees in my hurry to comply.

I've been there. I know what it feels like, to be willing to push yourself to your limits and beyond, for the sake of love. I try to capture that delirious, scary feeling in my stories.

It's not all one-sided, however. The dominant offers his own gifts, a world of safety, trust, and flashes of ecstasy mingled with the pain. In the song, the woman sings:

“Will you make me some magic with your own two hands?

Will you build an emerald city with these grains of sand?

Can you give me something I can take home? ”

And her lover answers: I can do that.