How Miss Pearl Ended Up In The Middle Of A Findom Circle Jerk

If half the stuff strange male subs promised was true, I’d be an MP right now with a swimming pool full of money. Long term readers know, I’ve made no secret of my lack of faith in findom. As a dominant female I get a regular trickle of stupid offers, and these always come with strings, usually that they get a great deal of control on what the money involves and what you can spend it on. I feel similarly about the men who offer “free” service acts. And today was just another example of that.

Sometimes I hang out on the collarme video chat. It’s not a frequent habit because it generally involves a string of turning nice and not so nice men down, usually with very explicit requests. On the other hand, or about the same reason, the website is also a source of comedy gold.

So, this morning, I got a guy proposing that he wanted me to pimp him out as a cam sub and sexual thrall to other people. He would “suck cock” and then collect money from his humiliation to give to me. A brilliant scheme, right? As usual, I turned him down, with the usual explanation that life didn’t really work that way.

But, since he was persisting in telling me about how he wanted it to be an active benefit to me. I told hi he wanted to have a wank, but it seemed time to do an experiment. I told him if he was so serious, he should consider an alternative proposal.

Get a shitty, part time franchise job. Work it for a month and donate every penny to he earned to his local domestic violence shelter. No rewards, no sexy pics or teases. No cocks, no sissy humiliation just doing something difficult and dull, and no reward of me saying “I spent this on sexy shoes!!!” or “My hung boyfriend and I bought dinner with this!”

Of course, from first proposal, as much as he ell over himself to agree, he seemed unable to handle that the money would not go to me. I kept telling him, repeatedly, the deal was not about what he wanted, but about what I told him to do. And then he said fine and that he would do it. He’d go find a job. And I said, fairly, I’d be seriously impressed if he could actually pull that off. Maybe I was about to be proved wrong!

Two minutes later another guy is messaging me- he’ll give the guy a job. Sucking cock, of course! But he wants to give the money to me. No, I remind him, I don’t want the money. And then another guy got on board with this! Loads of strange sub men trying to give me money for sucking each other’s cocks!

The guys wanted to hire each other for sexual services, as long as they could keep pushing that they wanted the money to go to me. At this point the chat moderator told me to knock it off because they only want findom transactions to take place in private. Which was not my point, but my point had long since been discarded by any of the people, including the enterprising bloke who wanted 30 minutes alone with my feet.

But I was let feeling that my participation was completely unnecessary. After all, these guys didn’t need me to “humiliate” each other, didn’t care one bit about what I want or said. Apparently they needed my presence to kick off their little party, but once they got off and rolling, for all I know they’re still doing it.

Which gets to the crux of why I think findom is silly. I think there are a few “whales” that make it a worthwhile concept, but I’ve never actually encountered a findom who didn’t work her ass off as a fantasy fulfillment object to squeeze out every penny. There is, after all, no such thing as a free lunch.

A Femdom Cuckolding Story

Sorry guys, Friday’s fiction is being put off on account of life reasons. Instead, here’s a little short story there’s no market to publish! Yaye, Femdom cuckolding

David looked at himself in the mirror. This was his bathroom, the condo, despite housing two people, was overly gifted in the subject thanks to the current fashion in interior design to build houses with more toilets than asses in residence, giving him the second largest of three. Laura had taken the master bath for herself with a little snort of amusement, and proceeded to fill it, floor to ceiling with all the vast arsenal of femininity, plug in appliances for torturing hair; bottles with chemical lists as long as they were incomprehensible; and things with the word “spa” in the branding. This was on top of her appropriation of most of the bedroom, for a lovely little vanity table with massive mirror and yet more chemical bottles, and a full closet that displaced most of his limited wardrobe.

David, by comparison, restrained himself to cheap cans of shaving cream and semi-disposable razors, though his lack of care meant that more often than not the shaving cream with nicked from Laura, bearing the soothing suggestion of sensitive skin friendly vitamin E and squirting out of the can in an alarmingly bright violet tinted gel. When they had first engaged in the business of making a couple, cocooned into the sticky, gooey months of first love, she’d bought him a full kit, badger hair brush, mug and soap, and a straight razor, but these sat in their box, used twice and disregarded as an idea nicer in theory than practice. Foofery, even the male kind, generally was beyond David’s patience.

If he had to think about his relative masculinity, which he generally tried not to, it was there in full presence in the mirror: Lantern jaw, big calves, bigger shoulders, just the touch of thinning hair. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful. Although the time in the gym was born more out of evasion of a genetic tendency to type II diabetes and the positive effect it had on his mental health, in the twenty-three hours of the day that was not devoted to his sexuality, being a big, healthy looking man was definitely preferable to not being able to shift his end of the couch, and Laura, with her time steeped in gender studies, was happy to point out the nice was the contractors working on their condo jumped when he said frog, and the clients and underlings at work expected and respected steady assertiveness from him.

For the hour a day life was about sex, more of an average than an exact description of his schedule, since he and Laura did the usual vacillations between six hour Saturday morning romps and ten minute self gratification sessions typical in any couple, David pushed a huge part of his self awareness out the window. Balls deep and knowing Laura was enjoying the sensation of fullness did not preclude bedroom talk that ran on the theme of “You piece of shit, why do you think a tootsie roll like that is going to make a woman happy? Don’t you fucking dare cum, you limp dicked fucking pansy!”

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Daily Femdom Life and My D/s Neighbour Couple & Cuckolding

I’m house sitting. It’s a welcome vacation, for a person who likes to get a change of scenery from time to time. I tell people I like travel and they think I mean exotic locations and museums, and I have a passport stamped with a dozen far flung places.

I mean I like hotels and mass transit, and airports and bus stations. And staying in the Cuckolds’ house. I talked about them before, I think, Professor Sub and his fiancée. They’re making the most of the waning summer, and seeing as we’re a close commute now, the male and sub half of the couple has given me custody of their apartment and cherished pet while they jetted off for three days holiday.

It’s nice, the normality of this. To care for their pet, and smirk at the subtext in the pictures in their hall. To come over in a bad mood and be plied with a Caesar, and break into an impromptu tutorial on face slapping. Single submissive men, life ain’t fair. My friend has two women slapping that smug look off his face.

I really am close friends a sissy cuckold and his hot wife. Although the cuckold part is being hampered, at least a little bit, by the teeny, weeny little detail that finding a “bull” is easier said than done.

They’re not the only couple with that problem in my life. The Mr Sub and Ballbuster are also looking for a bull and hitting the same wall- how do you find someone you feel safe and comfortable with, that you also feel attracted to, to make into a fuck buddy in a way that both parts of the couple can get off on it?

Strong keeps trying to encourage me to get laid for other reasons, and it again hits the same problem, although he doesn’t want me to cuckold him (or if he does he’s not admitting it) as much as a desire which borders on martyrdom to help me achieve sexual fulfillment.  There is a paucity of nice, respectful no strings men. Add that if you’re a dom woman you often don’t want the classic aggressive Bull anywhere near your bed, and you’re going to end up just like all those M/f couples looking for their unicorn-girl to finish their family.

But I guess this is also living the BDSM “lifestyle” at its best. So there’s that.

Why Feminism and BDSM Go Together Well

Oh Noes, Feminisms! Red Alert!

Bra go poof!Say feminism, and 95% of your audience battens down their hatches like you said “hurricane”, or finds something else suddenly very, very interesting. Like the carpet, or their own shoes, or that urgent appointment they just remembered to alphabetically file all the food in their pantry. At least, as a femdom, I can be openly feminist and nobody bats an eye. Of course a significant number of people will confuse this with female supremacy, which is an entirely different thing. The relationship BDSM, as a whole, has with this philosophical approach is a bit more dubious.

Much of this is because BDSM is made up of people, and people have problems with feminism. In my mind part of the problem with feminism, is that it’s a really big tent with a couple of centuries of activism and writing under its belt. There is no central board of feminism, so pretty much anyone can do it, and say whatever they like. And like any big movement, it’s  going to be in a state of constant internal argument. It’s also part of the left, which means that like all forms of left-y ism, it occasionally shades into woo (the Goddess!) or becomes way too self flogging for popular consumption (freegan-vegan!), or the lingo of the current generation of activism  makes it impenetrable to the novice (check your cis-privilege!).

Before I launch into talking about the subject, it’s necessary to address a number of things- first of all Straw Feminists. If you’re not familiar with the philosophical ideas, it’s quite possible that you imagine a feminist to be an angry, ugly woman who seeks to do horrible things to men. This is one of the reasons why as a femdom nobody assumes I shouldn’t be feminist (at least the angry and sadistic part) which is depressing for other reasons. If your idea of feminism is about doing mean things to men, you are doing it wrong. 

Of course, some, if not most of the shit that feminism gets flung its way is the same old tired misogyny that makes women expressing themselves be subject to attacks so vile that they functionally justify feminism.  If you think feminists are all angry scolds, you are part of a proud tradition that dates to before women were permitted to own property or vote. And you don’t know what a feminist is.

Another thing you need to take into consideration is that feminism only exists within the bounds of the same culture that everything else does. Thus there are feminists that are porn hating prudes and feminist porn stars. There are feminists who are sexist, or transphobic, and feminists who love everyone equally. Any idea within feminism can be taken to extremes just like any other idea could.

On the other hand, I’m taking it for granted that if you are this many paragraphs into this blog post you are probably sex positive, probably pretty diversity friendly and you like lots of different kinds of people. If you don’t identify as a feminist you at least think equality is a good thing (unless you are secretly or not so secretly under the impression women should rule). If you’re not, please feel free to get nice and foamy in the comments. Additionally, I’m not going to address the “Not a feminist but…” thing in this post, but save that for another time.

But, onto how feminism gets treated in kink discourse!

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Review: Silver Metal Lover by Tanith Lee

The Silver Metal Lover is what I’d describe as stealth D/s. Tanith Lee was one of those writers that spoke to me when I didn’t quite have the vocabulary to describe what I wanted in a relationship. Her lyrical, often purple prose can border on hysterical at times, with everything having an impossible loveliness and an emotional weight of a ton of bricks. That was perfect fodder for a teenage girl weaned on fantasy and sci-fi, the kind who wants to have adventures and see beautiful things.

I got so wrapped up in this book I wept. I admit it can be sentimental and overwrought to the ponit of silly, but it’s one of my favourites.

And it’s a literal owner/property relationship story about an android programmed to be perfect for his owner, and a sixteen year old rich girl, Jane. Like many of her ilk, she needs to find herself and her sense of self worth, but this incarnation of the trope is relatively well done, with just the right note of cynical self awareness to tie it together.

When we meet our heroine she’s a trembly mess living in her mother’s shadow, on a future earth where technological progress has put much of the human race out of work and left everything poisonous. Jane’s got abominable idle rich friend, and lives in a cloud castle trying to do what she’s supposed to do according to her mother’s careful plans that even change the physical shape of her body, and wanting none of it.

But, seeing Silver, for the first time in her life she wants something. Initially repulsed and unable to explain where she’s terrified by the man machine that looks like a metal troubadour, in short order she conspires to acquire Silver and run away from home.

Silver is incapable of being anything other than perfect, an amazing lover, an artist, but also naturally pleasing in whatever capacity he’s needed. He is about as inherently submissive as you can get in that regard, not embodying the doormat ideal, but the compliance and service aspect.  his makes a good foil for Jane’s development- because he is compelled to be perfect for her, they embark on just the sort of relationship Jane needs to develop as the best possible person she can be, before they have to face the challenge of Silver’s existence as an artificial being.

I do think it did an interesting version of the standard plot of self-discovery-via-love. While waiting for a man to change your life is not necessarily the most healthy approach to life, the relationship depicted is an interesting use of the trope because Silver is not written like Aladdin-with-carpet showing her the world, but rather that the need to make a nest with Silver creates a place for her to do some developing and changing- and he manages to do something a lot of F/m fiction doesn’t seem to, which is make the need for each other feel mutual. and that’s part of the romance- although Silver gives everyone what they need, Jane finds a way to reach him as a person. The story, by presenting her with a perfect submissive, drives Jane to make the changes she needs to make in herself.

That’s actually something I don’t see much of- male doms can need to be “tamed”, but by and large the only taming that seems to happen to fictional female doms is death or dis-empowerment. Case in point, what keeps happening to Irene Adler.

I think the one criticism I might make is that initially it’s hard to spend long periods of time with Jane as a person because she’s so fragile and sad, but I think it’s part of what makes it a better example of dominant love- doms are not, for the most part, captains of industry or nobility. They have sad days and worry about things. This is very much a candi-floss book for the emotional. On the other hand it’s also what I’d describe of as the Twilight for the anti-Twilight but overly romantic girl.

So expect a heroine who waxes lyrical about how amazing her love is, expect that she will be derpy and feel alienated from her friends, but for once be relieved that the romance demands she learn to rule herself and her love and the ending cares about her being self actualized as a person.

Category: Sci-fi YA novel
Rating: o~o~o~o~o (5/5)
How I got it: Library
TL;DR: D/s without the fetish or the sadism, sweet and appropriate for a sensitive reader who doesn’t want to be submissive while they’re overcome with love.

Friday Femdom Fiction: That Extra Shove

“I don’t know, Boss, I don’t think it can fit.” His eyes had widened when she pulled the plastic package out of the plain red shopping bag. The company that made the toy was know for its reliable quality and ethical manufacturing- but like everything of that nature bore the warning that it was “for novelty purposes only”, at least if you bought it in those states that gave you a criminal record for doing the naughty with an object explicitly designed for that reason.

This was Canada, so she’d bought the big black butt plug with complete impunity, and talked with the clerk for a good fifteen minutes about anal sex first. Broaching the edge of the plastic bubble pack with a pair of scissors, she sawed and crunched.

“I would work better if you used the can opener,  Boss.”

“Shut up, Sweetpea,” she said affectionately, prying the plastic apart like a stubborn clamshell. The hard edges bit at her fingers, but she persisted until she wriggled out the entire, solid and heavy black silicone plug and thumped it dramatically, flared bad down, on the table.

He looked at the heft of it, and tried to imagine it inside him. “I still think it’s a bad idea, Boss.”

“It was on sale!”

“Yeah, for how much?” It’s not that she couldn’t afford it, but she was always trying to downplay the effort when she got him a gift. He thought it was cute.

“Fifty bucks. Down from sixty,” she looked pleased and a bit defensive. “I consider it a goal for you. Besides, it’s only a smidgen bigger than my fist.”

He made a hand waving gesture over his shoulders, “You’re the Boss…”

“Don’t you forget it, Sweetpea.”

She did try the toy, over the weekend, but found that he got hung up on the widest point. Not one to be perturbed by a challenge, she gave him a break, until presently he forgot about it, the toy living in its own ziplock bag. They played with other things, over the weeks, fucking and fisting and strapon sex, and other normal couple things until one Saturday night, cozied up together, she decided it was time…

The swishy, latex dipped, double bamboo cane was another acquisition from the same sex shop, bought several months ago at a post Valentine’s clearance event. She loved how easy it was, and he loved to hate it- it hurt like a bitch, and was just on the cusp of too much in one go, but of course a part of him craved the excessiveness. This feeling of horrible-wonderful was of course only helped along by the fact that his nuts were now connected, via well wrapped rope, to a little metal hook in one of the big heavy ceiling beams, something she had attached, through the loop, to his big toe, so he was standing like a particularly uncomfortable flamingo. On a piece of plastic waffle mesh that was ever so slowly imprinting his other foot with grooves.

To make things more interesting, from time to time the cane would zip down against calf, or thigh, or worse, his upturned sole. She was looking for the misery point, herding him there.

“I can’t Boss, I c-can’t…”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“Yes,” he said, small voiced.

“Okay, you need to wait for another minute.” She loved that quiet admission that she had broken him, but she wanted done with him. “I’ll count it off for you.”

He whimpered and nodded, and she made sure he could hear her run from sixty, letting him see she wouldn’t cheat. When she unhitched him, he sagged like a puppet with cut strings, limping on his tenderized feet.

“Com’ere Sweetpea, time to sit down and get the weight off.”

And then he saw the chair set up, with the plug sat in the middle of it.

“Oh, fuck no, Boss…” he said, weakly.

She had the pharmacy brand KY in her hand now, “How much of this I let you use is entirely determined by how much shit you give me, Sweetpea.”

“Yes, Boss.” He caught the lube clumsily, made sure to use as much of it as he thought he could get away with. Usually he was lucky if she let him have a pea sized dollop, which meant she was serious. Still a little pain drunk, he sat down.

The blunt tipped wedge of the plug opened him, like a foot in the door or her fingers on the plastic package, pushing and hurting, but also have a certain pleasurable intensity. Gravity and his own efforts forced it in further, and despite the lube slickness, pulled wet tears up in the corners of his eyes.

It was easier, at least, than before, but he still stuck at the widest point. He whimpered.

“Now Sweetpea, I want to see your butt touch the chair,” Her voice was all fake stern, her face lit with a sadist’s empathy.

“Boss!”

“I know you can do it. I’ve seen you take more, you greedy little slut!”

“Bosssss…” He was crying properly now as the widest point slipped in, giving him incredible fullness. She took a step back, watching him.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? It’s nice.”

—-

This particular piece is stitched together from my own and other people’s experience. Let’s just say I have cool friends.

Review: Fealty

Not many images of thisFeatly
by Ms. Mahler

It’s an often unreasonable criticism of something to accuse it of resembling a romance novel. Actually this is one of Fealty’s core strengths as a short  story. It’s free too!

Fealty works for me because it’s basically one of my fantasies, albeit treated much more nicely. The Baroness of the story, finding herself widowed and free to marry whom she likes, intercedes in the life of her true love when he swears an unbreakable bond of fealty to the wrong lord, an enemy to herself and their lands. Holding her knight captive through magic, she keeps herself entertained while holding him prisoner. He, in turn must reconcile honour with his love for the lady who is holding him.

I compare it to a romance novel positively, and it has a lot of the core strengths of the genre. As I’ve talked about before, romance novels are female achievement stories- and there also tends to be a focus on hearth and home that has the practicalities of a chatelaine. Since so many femdom stories focus on a male audience first, it’s a nice change of pace to have a by-women-for-women approach that otherwise characterizes romance as a genre. Much like the genre it’s very sweet about the sex- the language is circumspect even when she’s literally riding his cock- lots of wetness and rubbing, less vulgar. I am a filthy mouthed bawd and it’s nice to see someone be a hell of a lot more subtle without losing the point- and I can believe Baroness Myrtle is getting off.

Particularly worth note is the deliberate non-inclusion of rape in it. Although magic/fantasy stories allow for plenty of scenarios of beguilement, the female lead makes scrupulously sure that, prisoner or not, her captive knight wants all the sex. I generally shade a lot darker- but I appreciate the relevancy to a broader audience.

Category: Short Fiction
Rating: o~o~o~o (4/5)
How I got it: Free!
TL;DR: Short and sweet, more tender than mean. Captivity with consent, with a very fantasy romance flavour.

Other Places To Go Round Up II

Probably the one of the biggest repositories of of all things femdom is the truly massive Femdom Resource. With links to images, erotica and other femdom bloggers, it’s a good way to track down artists and writers. The audience it’s aimed at is mostly people who are attracted to femdoms, not femdoms, but the thoughtful blog is definitely worth a read. And, the commitment the creator has to the task is truly commendable.

On a smaller but more focused scale, Femmedom Book Reviews is more concerned with pleasing femdoms than the people who like femdoms. One challenge about the kink is that it is often done very badly- for example heroines sold as dominant who end up doing more submitting than ruling and Femmedom Book reviews is there to be your canary to help try things before you but them and then end up hurling the book across the room.

….

Also, I drew a pirate femdom. :3

500 Word Friday Femdom Fiction: Pent Up

When they went to the couch, he automatically took a place with his head in her lap, his favourite spot. And her fingers combed through his hair, before setting in a curl that rubbed the sensitive spot at his hairline. In the kitchen, the dishwasher swooshed and squirted, cozy evening noises after dinner.

He was naked, but she was not, and he scrubbed his face happily into the velvety corduroy ribs of her pants. His cock was spending a lot of time erect this week, but the thickness had resolved itself at half mast after dinner’s teasing session.

Under the table, her feet had wandered, bare and squirmy, into his lap and she’d rubbed and teased just enough to get his attention. It was a particular kind of torture because he wasn’t allowed to talk about it. No begging, not even a thank you, not since Monday. It was Sunday now and she’d been keeping him from coming all week long.

It wasn’t the first time they’d done denial games, and even when he was free to touch and rub himself as much as he liked, she loved to find ways to tease him. She knew he loved the look of her in cotton panties, so she was always finding reasons for him to see up her skirt, sliding his hand up there or even, memorably on Thursday night, leaving a pair at the bottom of the lunch she made him for work, neatly ziplocked in their own bag under the snacking cucumber and ham sandwich on rye. And he hadn’t even been allowed to take them into the bathroom and edge himself to almost there. Or even text her the frantic feelings that had popped up as surely as his cock had started shoving against his khakis.

She brought a novel to the couch, but although she opened it to her place from last time, “Hard to believe that it’s been a week, hasn’t it?”

“Mmm?” He pressed his lips together, remembering how firmly she had told him not to comment. She told him she’d liked watching the struggle in his face.

“You may talk about how much you want it.” She laughed, “It’s printed in your eyes. But you know, I almost sort of miss seeing the way you usually grope and touch yourself. So, stand up!”

The instruction was punctuated with a nudge from her thigh, hinting he needed to get off the couch. He was up and in front of her, hands hesitating, his whole posture begging to touch. He hadn’t been allowed to for any reason but hygiene, and since they showered together a lot of the time it meant she’d been taking over even the opportunity for something furtive had turned into another tease from her he had to moan and squirm his way through without saying a word

But now her hands reached out, cupped his balls, balls that had ached to empty, and looped her index finger and thumb around the root of his cock’s shaft. After many months of cohabitation fuelled sex romps, she’d gotten really good, stroking and tugging in ways that could stretch the delicious torture out until his voice was pushed high up out of its normal range in desperation.

“Miiiiiisssss!”

She liked the velvety feel of his cock in her hand, liked the man-musk-smell, clean but deep and heady, and loved the slippery precum that beaded up. There’d been a lot of precum this week. Her smile widened, giving that little wrists twist that she knew he liked, letting the hood of his foreskin slide, slippery against the head of his cock.

“Miss! Miss! Please! Miss!” He was getting increasingly more incoherent, no longer able to keep his knees unbent.

“That’s it, kneel down, slut,” she said with mean-affection wrapping her voice into a purr. To get closer to her work, she was off the couch now, novel somewhere on the floor. “Go on, come for me!”

The hoarse burst of a thank you marked the end of coherence, as her hand tightened just enough to drive him over the edge and past the point of no return.

Hot cum, pent up, milky, half clear and half opaque, in glistening ropes shot up. It struck her chin and startled, she did react more than to turn her head as the second pulse landed half on the corner of her mouth and half above it. She laughed.

“Come kiss me, slut.”

NonExpert Advice: Can I be a sub and an ‘Alpha’?

I get a trickle of questions, much to my general bafflement. However, when they’re not strange men asking for training, I do my best to answer them. Like this person, who kindly allowed me to reprint their question. The wanted an answer to the age old question of if they got to be a sub without giving up the rest of their personalities.

Hello Miss,

I was wondering if you would have some time on your hands to help me understand the lifestyle and myself a little better. The reason I ask is because I find that you are aware of many things and I would love to hear your opinions and views on certain areas.

I have my view about the lifestyle but I think it’s time i begin my journey but there are certain things I need to know first. Also there are certain things I need to overcome first before I can say that I am ready to get involved in the scene.

I understand if you are busy but I would really appreciate any help you can offer as I have been struggling with this side of me for a very long time now and so far I have been doing it alone all this time. I know that there are monthly munches but to be honest it’s not really something that I am interested in.

I might sound like I’m all over the place and that’s because I am. Honestly I don’t know where to even begin and not to mention I suck at expressing myself so if there is anything that needs to be clarified please ask.

I think of myself living two lives. One of them is the so called vanilla lifestyle where I am the alpha male and the alternative lifestyle of submission to a female dominant. Can both worlds actually exists or am I being too greedy?

[Name redacted]

Of course he got a reply…

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