Fanmail & Celebrity

Gosh, being a teeny celebrity is nice! Recently a person who has read The Pet Gentleman sent me a nice thank you with an extra special treat. There’s them enjoying a wonderful Canadian vacation with their kindle and some amazing views.kindle2

I wanted to mention how much these sorts of things really make me smile. I’ve sincerely never expected this blog to take off as well as it has, and the love (and sales!) you guys have thrown my way make me smile on a regular basis. Like, daily. There’s few feelings more awesome than knowing that your art and ideas resonate with other folk, whether you’re here for the porn or just reading for the articles.

I sent this fan a personal response, but I want to take the time to thank each and every one of you readers. Without you this blog is me shouting at clouds and masturbating in a corner. You’re also the biggest encouragement to keep writing.

kindle1 And yeah, you guys who pop up at events and come tell me how you read my stuff aren’t being awkward, you’re being awesome. Really! My ego isn’t going to swell itself and that sort of thing is just the food my sense of self importance needs.

(The other book is a short story, Mistress Plays For Keeps. I’m pretty sure I accidentally ended up using the gorgeous Ferns of Domme Chronicles as a cover model there. Not intentionally, it just worked out that way. I guess when I told the artist that I wanted a hot blonde, but older woman that was what popped into her head. :P)

Oh yeah, this weekend, July 25-26, 2015, Selkie Shows Off is a free give away on Amazon. If you don’t have kindle, the smart device app is free, and they have a computer based reader too.
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On Femdom In Popular Culture

princessI guess one of the hardest parts of conventional heterosexual femdom is how damn disempowering it feels. Maybe some women get joy out of it in the porn and movie version, but in my perception, it takes the idea of female power and turns it into a grotesque parody, one propped up by a very narrow definition of attractive, garbed in clothes worn to thrill the audience but also reassure them that the boundaries of the dom’s power are entirely the time it takes them to wank to completion. I hate how angry and unhappy it makes us be, like we are uncomfortable in our own skin, that we deplore sex and men specifically.

I tried it as a teenager- I liked (and still like) the idea of getting power from my sexuality, liked the idea of men fawning all over me and certainly fit nicely into my dark sorceress fantasies. But in practice it was such a bother to get someone to play along- teenage boys aren’t, as an audience, adept and ready for consensual domination. The ones that are tend to have got there via porn made just for them. And if I’m good at anything its forming myself into other people’s perfect fantasy. But oh lordy was it a series of tedious tick boxes- no tension, no zing, so service-y.

I rejected femdom then as a fool’s game entirely for professionals and with nothing to offer for me. Given how it is presented, its no wonder there’s so few dominant women when people go looking!

On that line, people have occasionally found it remarkable that I refuse pro work. Wouldn’t it be perfect to be paid to be me? It’s not out of a rejection of sex work (I’ve made it abundantly clear I’m an ally, if often a clumsy one), but a distaste for the profession in particular because it is NOT me. I write, not to condemn the hundreds of women who pay the rent acting out a very specific and much beloved service- but precisely because it is next door to my vulnerabilities. For me, professional domination is taking an intimate part of myself and putting it to work for the needs of others. That’s the part of femaleness that makes me feel least powerful, the emotional shepherd part of the glorious indoctrination of girlhood.

And inversely, I don’t like that being a commanding woman is itself considered to be a niche fetish, with a special wardrobe that fits into no context except for that of the dominatrix- rule and people start cracking jokes about whips in the same way they’ll call you an aggressive bitch. People moan about the lack of clothing choices for dom men to be “fetish” wear, but a codified dom uniform for women doesn’t exactly scream inherently powerful either- maybe sore feet, sweaty and short of breath at best. I’m not saying you personally should give up your “mistress’ heels or whatever, but from my perspective if you have to wear a special outfit to be taken seriously, that awards the outfit more power than you.

Granted a lot of the other stereotypical female power things don’t help either. Step away from Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS’s angry, black clad sisters and its all about The Goddess. Not any specific goddess, mind you, just middle class white folk’s idea of the primitive feminine- and that trip traps into sacred motherhood, where all I am goes from being the bedevilment of men, to the state of my womb. This is not an improvement.

Maiden, Mother, Crone… even with religions that are not some sort of cargo cult constructed to summon a hypothetical ancient tradition that’s more wishful thinking than a part of anyone’s heritage, religious history gives you shitty options. At the very best, you get a goddess who’s some sort of primal force, while the real women of the culture are getting their faces rubbed in the dirt, same as everywhere else and the religious women who get respect are paragons of self denial and chastity. Among the Christian saints, someone’s mother or someone who died a virgin are about your only options of your own personal halo. That puts the feminine-as-a-power-source as an awkward place for a barren woman to try to be. By choice, over about half my life, I’ve stopped up my womb with the best medical science can offer, with no plans to stop. The thing between my legs is strictly an organ of pleasure with an excretion mechanism piped through it. Making it so is my aberration and my actual expression of power over myself- being maiden/mother/crone by default is a profoundly anti-choice. Respecting women as the generative sex, and making that respect’s primary root, treats childbearing as the spontaneous reality for every woman.

Continue Reading →

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30 Day of Kink: BDSM Fantasy VS Real Life

30 Days of Kink Continues, as the blogging exercise draws to a close!

These aren’t questions that I think that deserve their own blog post, but as this exercise is almost done I thought I’d wrap them all up in one shot.

Day 25: How open are you about your kinks?

Pretty open actually, allowing for good taste. I don’t consider my kinks particularly unusual, and for my immediate social group, they aren’t.

I generally see there being a separation between general interests and details. Knowing I’m active in the BDSM scene is a volunteering sexual health thingee. Knowing the particulars of my sex life is not something anyone who is not actively seeking it out (blog readers) or involved in my sex life needs to know. So my vanilla friend might know I’m a community organizer and my parents might know I publish saucy books- but I’m not going to offer my employer a review copy and when I need to make it clear I’m not available some night at work I’m vague about my volunteering.

I think I’m able to be unusually open with my family because both parents can’t keep their mouths shut. Needless to say I don’t think the apple falls far from the tree.

I think that leash play in front of the vanillas runs the range of playful to obnoxious, and the line you need to draw is whether you are dragging random people into your dynamic or whether you are just being silly happy romantic people.

Day 26: What’s your opinion on online BDSM play?

Cybersex is a lot of fun, and one of my favourite activities. Beyond that, since BDSM is an emotional/social thing, I don’t see it as being a bad thing. I do think that online relationships let many people gloss over an idealize things, but sometimes, like pornography, there’s a time and place for everything.

Obviously typing about whipping is not the same as really whipping people, so online play will never build your technical skills, but I wouldn’t be half the pornographer I am now without all the hours of naughty chats of my misspent youth. And on the flip side, online make believe lets us play out things that would neither be safe nor sensible.

Day 27: Do your non-kink interests ever find their way into your kinky activities? If so, how?

Define kinky activities vs non-kinked ones. If you mean this blog, yep, I might bring feminism into it or whatever. And my caretaking streak transcends my sexuality as well as suffuses it. And my particular sort of dramatic romantic fantasies certainly color what I perceive of as being a good idea. I also might use kink to “force” a partner into doing something good for them.

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Femdom Spanking Practice

Wildcard and I have a more or less weekly thing, Punish Tuesdays, set up to make sure we have some sort of anchor for our dynamic. Last Tuesday was spanking practice, a well needed session for me as well as him. He’s been complaining lately that I still have a habit of going from 0 to 100, warm up or not. What better way than a lesson for both of us, lots of practice for me and an extra long hand and belt spanking for him.

I started by having him strip absolutely naked, not even a collar, and lie face down on the bed. I started bare hand, alternating right and left, building up an even blotch of pink. It didn’t take too long to get the area toasty, but rather than switching straight to heavier toys I decided to go for an endurance run.

Of course, naughty boy that he is, Wildcard started humping the blanket under him, all furtive. I don’t think he thinks I noticed him wiggling just a little.

Some times when I spank him, I have him on all fours and reach around to milk his cock with my free hand. I like the sensation of control and how velvety soft he is under my smack-warmed hand. Other time he goes over my lap and I trap his package between my thighs. There’s no hiding when he starts to hump then!

I think I set a record for longest warm up yet, but after I’d maxed out the weight and hit of palm strikes I still wasn’t done abusing his poor bottom and it was time to get some serious swatting practice in on his bare behind. I selected his more supple belt, the thick one without the extra ridge, because although its gentler last play party the main problem I had was the belt twisting during swing.

This time there weren’t any edge strikes, just a merciless rain down on his cheeks. I was feeling extra cruel, so I couldn’t resist lightly striping his thighs as well. Every time I struck, he kicked, but he knew he was helpless to whatever I decided to do. I’m the boss, after all. >:)

We have a rule that I instituted: If you miss, you have to give it another shot. Since Wildcard and I are both of unusually nervous dispositions, it helps to have a re-enforcement to get you to be confident enough to try again when you inevitably do a wrap around strike or pop them somewhere unintentional but tender. A couple of miss-strikes on his tail bone got me thinking and I grabbed a pack of washable markers and started documented the stroke count on his back… and drew a heart shaped pattern on his lower back to identify the nono zone.

I didn’t stop hitting until I was confident that I’d gotten in all the practice I could that day. After his behind was a deep shade of red- but no bruises, shows what a good warm up can do. He squirmed around a lot and then looked at me with big, hopeful eyes. Could he get a reward?

Sweet almond oil is my lube of choice for handling him, but no sooner had I stroked him into a proper erection but he was begging for more. A slim little plug for his extremely tight ass, lubed up and shoved home. Yum. Stuffed and hard, that didn’t feel like enough, so I brought out the hitachi for extra omph. Pressed up against him, I took my time with his cock until he was screaming and swearing when he came. Someone gets quite the naughty mouth when it’s good.

After, he was just sprawled out, totally drained, while I snapped a few pictures of him for my private gallery: body flopped, sweaty, plug still in his ass and his cock still thick and fat on his belly in a puddle of cum.

We finished up Tueday with bath time, putting him in the tub and using the shower hose to wash him all clean, soaping and scrubbing until we were ready to snuggle up under the covers and sleep. Me, I can’t wait until next spanking practice session. What do you think guys, more quality time with the belt, or shall I work on my riding crop?

3

Play Party Hijinks

“Take off your clothes.” He was talking innocently to a couple when I interrupted. We’d taken enough time to get into the groove of the party and I had decided it was time to play. His collar was already on by his own initiation, but that wasn’t enough for me. Everything had to come off post haste: shirt, shorts, the contents of his pockets all stashed in my arms, given over with grudging but absolute obedience. I shoved them all off safely with the coats and got back to find him balking in his black boxer briefs.

He’d looked shocked at my abruptness and his shoulders were hunched submissively, but his face was petulant, making this his sticking point, showing a little bit of his will. I forced him with another quick command to strip down to skin, enjoying the hesitated humiliation in his behaviour. By taking him this way, I’d yanked him straight out of performer mode. Only moments ago, he was working his charm on the newbies, and now I’d made sure they could see who was boss. Past history had told me the female half of the pair had probably been added to the long list of women angling for a spanking from him- or at least he hoped it would be so, and I got a little, edge play style frisson of being truly naughty by taking that away. No. You’re mine.

Stripped down, I ordered a cup of ice from the juice bar, and had him on all fours. I’d selected a whippy leather belt from the toy bag, a long, tan strap I doubled over in my fist to make a handle. I made him, from charming social butterfly into nothing but a table, ass in the air, head down with everyone watching and set the cup on his tailbone. No more rakish flirting, he was a pure object to be used now.

A pattering of spanks gave him a warm up and made his cheeks blush. The belt was hard and mean, its wrapping edge making it crueler than it looked. Very soon he broke his good posture and there were ice chips everywhere.

To punish him, after he’d cleaned up, I made him stand in front of the giant mirror over the grey stone fireplace. He could have his back to everyone and see the room watching him. I laid into him with the belt some more before trying out one of the dungeon’s fixtures, a spanking bench shaped almost like an ironing board, with a sensibly posed slot to fit dangling male genitalia. It left his ass deliciously exposed for more vicious cropping.

I teased him about having to ask the women for permission to come until he found one that would be merciful, and made him stand, while I swabbed down the bench, pulling his cock erect for everyone to see. We went for a little walk around the loft room so there were no illusions about how completely exposed he was, no way he could pretend nobody noticed.

As a finally I parked him in the big bondage chair at the back of the room, a throne that let me restrain his wrists and chest so he was sitting helpess, waiting for me to decide my next move.

Seeing his erection, it proved too tempting not to play. Me and an hitachi enjoyed making him squirm- at theis point he had no idea if he was going to come that night, had to hold himself together as best he could, wriggling and moaning in his seat until I told him he had no choice, he was going to come, now.

Like a cork out of a champagne bottle, I ended up sprayed down from hair to waist, all over me, my arm and my pretty white summer dress. There was nothing left but to join him in nakedness, so off it came. Oh, and cute girl from earlier? She sent him a blushing PM about how she totally wanted me to do all those terrible things to *her*. We might have a play date coming up.

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Finding Miss Pearl

Hey there! With an active presence all around the web, I thought I’d do a post about other places you can find me:

As well as this blog, I’m pretty active on twitter as @omisspearl. Lots of daily life updates and sneak peeks of what I’m up to. and pics. I also have a facebook page – that’s more for book announcements and advance info about upcoming book releases. Both feeds give you regular alerts when a new post is live, as I know a lot of you like to know when it happens, instead of checking back every day.

I’m also active on fetlife, because of my role organizing events in Montreal. I *usually* accept friend requests, but hit me up with a PM, so I know who you are. You can see the earliest version of “The Pet Gentleman” in my writing section in all its typo’d rough draft glory, and old stuff that’s not published here.

Speaking of which – there’s a kindle author page, and my page on smashwords. Buying a book is the best way you can support the site. Because server space ain’t free.

I’m also active on reddit, more so than I’d like to admit. i might have a bad habit of getting into arguments on the internet. i’m a volunteer spam deleter on /r/femdom and /r/femdomcommunity.

On an unrelated note, I found a comic too good to not share…

whatispower1

whatispower2

whatispower3What is power? – from cute*blue

I think it looks like me trying (and failing) to sub. 😛

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Femdom Review: Roar of Thunder

redmaskRoar of Thunder by Gia Dawn

Roar of Thunder is what I’d describe as a Switch Romance- a story where both characters are competing to dominate the other. From my personal perspective I like a little competition in my dynamic and I don’t mind the idea of mutual thwacking. Switches are also extremely under-served.

And goodness, is this couple fighty and switchy. I emphasize this is a romance novel because the couple, Grace and Ty, do stuff that only makes sense in the weird rules of the genre- for example in the book, shoving someone and shouting “get out!” sans context of consent being simply high drama, not reason to call everything all off and see therapists. Grace and Ty roll around together on the pages like a pair of razor clawed roosters in a cock fighting ring, each trying to take big bloody slashes out of the other. That is, when you don’t have heavy dose of romance novel derp- where the hero inevitably has to talk to his best guy buddy because he doesn’t know how to talk to women, while his sister in playing cupid with the female lead.

But if you’re like me, and you like things turgid and non-con, as well as liking a comforting HEA, the formulaic structure works well with the contents, providing reassuring grounding to something that otherwise shoots my eyebrows up to my hairline as far as unsafe behaviour, while the foofy aspect is balanced by the nasty to avoid being unreadable. This is not a SSC book, indeed its barely RACK, even if it does use the setting of a BDSM club, with all the vocabulary and expectations that go with it. If you don’t like inappropriately pushy people, this is not for you. If, like me, negotiating the boundaries of it being acceptable for your sub to take a swing at you seems like it could lead to sexy results, you might actually have fun.

Now, about the story: Ty, the hero, is your bog standard ex soldier with a troubled mind waiting around to be soothed. Our heroine, Grace, had started as a sub, had a horrifically abusive relationship and couldn’t handle subbing, but her internal monologue makes it unclear if, indeed she’s suffering from “haven’t met the right man yet” syndrome. Grace, and all the various people in Ty’s life, get the idea that what Ty really needs is a dominant to cure his erectile dysfunction and deep seated PTSD problems. I was bracing myself for Grace doing the tumble into submission that so many romance novel heroines do, but I was pleasantly rewarded that all her dominance was most definitely not just for show. Its part of a “Red Mask” series, but you really don’t need the other books to know what’s going on.

You probably aren’t reading this for the plot though, so regarding the sex: When Gia Dawn found out I was doing a review, claimed to lack experience with the real thing (maybe she meant as a dom?). Honestly, it doesn’t show. She likes her butt stuff on the side of chaff-y and painful, but the beating and bondage are erotically constructed into something fun and ouchy. Grace is a caretaker, and her scene control is fun to observe. One thing I wish the author had explored more- Grace was an abuse survivor and decided that subbing didn’t make her feel safe. Ty in no way acted safe, leaping in with full bore jealous/controlling tantrums- I wasn’t sure if enough weight was put into her transition to acknowledge why Ty made her feel comfortable.

Still, about the only critical point I might make is a few “WTF” moments- the characters are supposed to be French, and Ty is mentioned as being ex French Foreign Legion. I think the author meant to place him in the Commandement des Opérations Spéciales (French Special Forces), the Legion not being for wealthy natives of France, but exclusively for non-natives. As a person living in French speaking Canada the French injections into both character’s dialogue felt a bit forced- but honestly, its not her fault her fetish sultry French stereotype fell flat with me- us quasi bilingual readers are not heavy on the ground.

All in all, a solid bit of erotica, whose best quality is the sex. And, if something fairly mainstream friendly makes femdom look hot as she managed, I only hope Gia Dawn writes more.

Category: Erotic romance
Rating: o~o~o~o (4/5)
How I got it: Bought it!
TL;DR: Switches Ty and Grace try to get over their issues by her dominating him.

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Friday Femdom Fiction: Meeting Her Slave

She hit the cafe a full half hour early, despite walking from two bus stops away in heels after she’d gotten distracted and over shot where she was supposed to get off. She realized, as she slipped inside and scanned the room, that she was giddy.  Among the patrons: some students with a pile of notes on their table, and older man with a book and a young woman pecking something out on a white macbook, nobody met the description she expected or matched the picture she looked at on her phone.

[I want to be your slave. Oh, I know, I want to get to know better your first, and obviously that’s a big thing to ask of you, but, I wanted to make my intentions clear. And, if you’re not interested I respect that.

I just haven’t met someone quiet like you before. You’re clever, and funny and mean.]

He was smiling, the picture, a kind of goofy, self conscious grin, but a real smile that half closed his almond eyes. His black hair stood up a little stiffly- he’d taken the photo this morning and was holding a sign with a picture of a hand drawn penguin on it and one word: “SOON”

She knew he worked somewhere near by, admitted it when she picked the venue. The cafe was nice enough, nothing particularly

She ordered a mint tea, trying to pick were to sit. Near the window? She suppressed the urge to bounce on the spot like an impatient child. The cafe chairs were dark varnished and vinyl seats- choosing one so her back was to the wall, she self consciously fiddled with her skirt hem and the clip of her garter on her stocking through her fabric. Was it dishonest to dress this way? It turned her on to know under her dark blue cotton summer dress, everything was soft lace and secret elastic. She told herself the extra confidence couldn’t hurt.

It had happened in a whirlwind month. An offhand positive remark on his part, a polite thank you, a conversation that had spun from teasing into cybersex. They’d crawled off the fetish website, where their pictures were both anonymous headless torsos, his bare with nipples like brown thumb prints, hers corseted in severe black silk, and onto instant messaging, where suddenly seeing a cartoon penguin avatar with a green circle next to it made her heart skip a beat.

If he was truthful, on her online orders, he’d come three times that month, once of his own volition after their first session- her pushing as far as she could as a ‘wicked priestess’, him the explorer who’d stumbled into her secret temple.

*i feel the hard stone slab beneath my back, wonder how many men have perished, tied to the altar this way. i pull hard against the roeps*

(ropes)

*The Priestess holds the dagger high for another moment, teasing your with your helplessness before she brings it down to strink, but stops short of your heart. Instead the razor sharp obsedian point is moved to hook under your collar and slit you shirt open, then moving lower to slash away at your clothes until you are completely naked.* “The Goddess Demands a Different Kind of Sacrifice.”

(arrrgh!, strike, obsidian) 

She never worried before that much about her typos. And yet for all her fretting she was not found wanting. She had been the one to shyly ask him if he wanted to take this offline. And his enthusiastic affirmation at once tied her stomach into knots and made her skip about her apartment like a maniac, singing and drumming on the counter tops until her normally tolerant roommate was rolling her eyes.

Now her phone bleeped with a friendly alert. She thumbed the picture away, checked the text- her roommate and say call: [Any sign of lover boy?]

[Too early!!!!! :P] She thumbed back.

Her tea was too hot to drink and taking forever to steep. She tried to distract herself in a book. Every five minutes she checked her phone. A message

[on my way! might by a minute or two late] It was still five minutes early. She took a nervous sip of her tea. Every time someone came through the door she would perk up and then feel a little stab of disappointment when it wasn’t him.

Oh. There he was. Her tongue took that moment to faint in her mouth as he stepped through the door.

He was wearing a loose green polo and slacks, office clothes, as she’d been told to expect. A cross body strap from his bag put a diagonal bisection against his torso. There was a small stuffed penguin under his arm.

She giggled, remembering a webcam session that had started erotic, and then by afterglow had taken a turn for the adorable. “Is that from your bed?”

He lit up with a wide smile when he saw her.

“Mr. Pepperton wouldn’t let me leave him behind this morning.”

She found her words. All the sensible thoughts she’d had about sitting down and talking practical things went out the window when she spoke in the *voice*.

“Well then, let’s take a look at you.” She let her head roam from his cowlick to the laced brown leather shoes on his feet. He’d stopped abruptly, with a tension that showed even his breath had slowwed. She could tell he was nervous, guessed what he was thinking. “Oh, no, we’re in public. I wouldn’t.”

“Sorry… “

“Go get yourself something.” She pointed at the counter.

“Okay. Would you like…”

“N-Yes. Another mint tea.” She slid her mug forward. Yes, yes this was going to work very well.

~~~

This is what it looks like in real life, folks. Giddy, silly and happy- and more than a little be awkward

 

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30 Days of Kink: BDSM Relationships?

Day 22: What do you think is important in keeping a BDSM relationship healthy?  How does it differ from a vanilla relationship?

Although ‘vanilla’ relationships are already hampered by problems like differing base expectations, kinky relationships don’t even have the weight of cultural tradition to turn to. Pretty much all the established tropes and cliches in BDSM are both incredibly regional and incredibly fuzzy in their precise meaning. What, for example, does a collar mean, anyway?

I think BDSM relationships are particularly guilty of escalating quickly and are more likely to fall under the influence of an unhealthy scarcity mentality. There’s a joke about lesbians moving in together on the first date that applies here– and as well as over commitment, lot of people seem to enter into kinky relationships with stronger expectations than normal. Kink forums reflect the result in an endless stream of questions about why it isn’t working, where the problems are generally just that both people never really looked beyond the fact that they shared roughly similar fantasies.

On the other hand, if you’re kinked in vanilla land, you may have compromised on your sexuality and decided getting your way just wasn’t that important to you or perfection just didn’t . For me, a guy who actually gets me going properly is such a rare bird that he’s liable to get the full weight of my attention. I worry about labels later.

And the meat-and-potatoes (or legume and potatoes for vegetarians) is going to be those day to day things. I don’t subscribe to the idea that BDSM takes extra, extra communication or something- all relationships succeed and fail on respect and gloopy brain chemistry. My sex is no more or less fancy than anyone else’s. There’s so many ways to do vanilla properly its hubris to expect only my sex life takes additional instruction.

Day 23: Since you first developed an interest in kink, have your interests/perspectives changed?  How so?

Well, I discovered I was a femdom! I mean, I always knew I was kinked, but trying to put a finger on the role that felt most comfortable has always been challenging. Is it bad to say I don’t think I evolved much from my starting place? My approach to relationships have gotten more mature, but that’s more a thing about self esteem that would apply even if I was a trigendered otherkin leopard or vanilla as cheap soft serve.

BDSM relationships, I admit, are always something that I think have to come secondary to human relationships. For example a gay couple are humans first and gay second. On the fetish front, I don’t think I’ve been particularly inconsistent- but as I’ve talked about the inherent challenges of femdom identity VS femdom stereotype extensively elsewhere, suffice to say my primary evolution is just ruling out things I’ve tried that I don’t like- but this in no way has meant I’ve run out of new things to try or old things to try in new ways.

Day 24: What qualities do you look for in a partner?

Playfulness and open minded- strong communication skills. Being flippant, I like my men sensitive, nerdy and needy, but I have a preference for ‘wound’. In a world of people drooling over Captain Jack Sparrow I’m more of a Norrington person. I also tend to like my men on the switch-y side, and like 99% of dominant women seem to, the mating call of “I’m the MOST pathetic!” does not do anything for me. Ironically I find a guy’s need to get into your head for counter insurgency more attentive than a guy delivering up ready-to-serve fantasies.

Physically, I like a lean build, longer limbs and consumptive poet-esque aesthetics. However I’m more likely to over look the physical for good intellectual chemistry. Cybersex is one of the quickest ways to dampen my knickers. One of the social characteristics that most attracts me to a guy is homeliness- a certain ability to make things feel like a proper nest. Guys who cook and understand the need to be comfortable gel well.

With Wildcard, one of the things I particularly like is how seriously he takes me. It goes beyond submission, and into considering even my foibles and particulars interesting and important.

If my tastes have a flaw, its that I like to tidy and improve a man’s life. This is mostly an outlet for my controlling streak and I’d never pretend otherwise.

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The Things You Cannot Have

No, you can’t have my photo. If I don’t feel compelled for you to have it, there’s no reason I would want you to.

No, I’m not going to tell you, personally, in intimate detail, what I do with my partners. If I don’t put it on the blog, I wasn’t planning on sharing.

No, I won’t write you a custom story for free.

No, I will not look at these unsolicited naked pics of you. Nor did I want them.

No, I will not re-blog your press release. If you want advertising, pay for it. and I won’t reblog your stupid UK based twaddle- NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR CELEBRITY DIET.

No, I am not looking for a slave assistant.

No, I’m not looking for an online slave.

No, I don’t want to promote your new sex toy that I’m never going to get to try.

No, you may not have my Skype.

No, I’m not looking to co-author a story with a stranger, no matter how cool you think your idea is.

No, I will not train you how to be submissive. It is within you or it is not.

I hope that clears a few things up. 😉

 

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