30 Days of Kink: Me Too!

There’s a blog meme running around right now, which is essentially a big list of writing prompts called “30 days of kink”. It seems to originate over at Queerkink, but Rayne of Insatiable Desire has the complete list right here.

So, why the heck not? I’ll give it a shot!

Day 1: Dom, sub, switch?  What parts of BDSM interest you?  Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.

Day 2: List your kinks.

Day 3: How did you discover you were kinky?

Day 4: Any early experiences that, in retrospect, hint at your kinks?

Day 5: What was your first kinky sexual experience?  If you haven’t had one yet, talk about what you hope to have happen.

Day 6: Describe your weirdest/most interesting sexual fantasy.

Day 7: What’s your favorite toy?

Day 8: Post a kinky image you find erotic.

Day 9: Post a kink related song or music video you enjoy.

Day 10: What are your hard limits?

Day 11: What are your views on the ethics of kink?

Day 12: Tell us about a humorous BDSM/kink experience you’ve had.  If you haven’t had one, talk about aspects of kink/BDSM you find funny.

Day 13: Explain as best you can what the appeal of kink/BDSM is to you?  Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?

Day 14: How would you say real life BDSM/kink varies from fantasy BDSM/kink?  If you haven’t experienced real life BDSM/kink how do you think it might differ?

Day 15: Post a BDSM/kink activity you’re curious about and would like to try.

Day 16: What are the most difficult aspects of having a sexuality that involves kink or BDSM for you personally?

Day 17: What misconception about kinky people would you most like to clear up?

Day 18: Any kinky/BDSM pet peeves?  If so, what are they?

Day 19: Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life?  If so, what are they?

Day 20:  Talk about something within kink/bdsm that you’re curious about/don’t understand.

Day 21: Favorite BDSM related book (fiction or non-fiction)

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

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

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

Day 25: How open are you about your kinks?

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

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

Day 28: How do you dress for kink/BDSM play?  What significance does your attire have to you?

Day 29: Do you have a BDSM title (e.g. mistress, master, slut, pig, whore, princess, goddess, ma’am, sir)?  What is your opinion of the use of titles in general?

Day 30: Whatever BDSM/kink related thing you want to write about.

A General Introduction To Rape Fantasies

womanpinmancropped

He felt utterly helpless. Her hands went where they wanted, along his side, across his thigh, to his hip. She let one linger on his throat, index finger and thumb pinching, scary as she slid just the tips of two fingers past his lips, penetrating him and showing him he didn’t even have the choice to bite.

When her hand stroked over his groin, he murmured a vulnerable protest. “No…”

So yeah, about rape fantasies, both having them and playing them out…

It’s “Adult Sex Education Month” and blogger Gracie, of Sex Kitten.net, suggested that I tackle the often controversial topic of rape fantasies and the people that have them. Fair’s fair, while I’m not a professional sex educator, this thing is my shtick. My story, Catamite, for example, is fairly intense non-con and my personal life certainly swings in that direction.

If you aren’t living under a rock, you’ve probably heard the term “rape fantasy“. In brief, that’s arousal from imagining a sexual scenario that is coerced or conducted without consent of the victim. That could mean anything from fantasies of violent and entirely otherwise unpleasant sex, through to the token resistance school of sex popularly attributed to romance novels, where one participant protests at first but then begins to enjoy it.

Needless to say, despite being very, very common, rape fantasies are a very sensitive topic, because they often shade into things that squick people or carry big, well deserved trigger warnings. They also end up being a source of argument when it comes to talking about sexual desire and what people really want in bed.  Rape is considered, by most people, to be one of the most vile things you can do to a human, but some people have a certain degree of confusion on what is and isn’t okay (and some very weird gender theories) based on the sheer common to the point of banality rate that people have consent violation fantasies, both as victim and perpetrator. The result is a whole bunch of other terms and euphemisms to talk about it- ravishment and consensual non-consent being popular ways to distance the product of one’s sexual imagination from real sexual assault.

That being said, a sexual assault is simply not the same thing as a rape fantasy, and making the distinction is only worth token acknowledgement. I’m going to flat out say that nobody wants to actually be sexually assaulted no matter how elaborate and violent their fantasies are- now there might be a few self harming weirdoes out there who will talk about how they want it to be real, but it’s not a statistically significant amount. And speaking about someone who’s both experienced sexual assault and done this sort of thing as play, there is an overwhelming world of difference of how you feel around the real thing and a comfortable expression of sexuality with your partner. Kind of like stick fighting in a LARP and actually getting into a war are different concepts. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, more on how people experience them after the jump…

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Lifestyle VS Pro and The Male Sub Loot Grab

So I was recently reading the advice of the blogger Cara Sutra, on the difference between professional and lifestyle dominants. And I’m sorry, she got it wrong. Cara is an experienced and award winning sex journalist and I have nothing personally against her, but this post is rife with errors and the sort of general misinformation that is not helping anyone.

As far as what she said, initially she wasn’t too bad: one of them charges by the hour and the other one doesn’t. No big deal, right? Then she got into more detail and things went tits up.

There is a world of difference between a talented Dominant who is financially recompensed for her time and talents, and a sex worker who chooses to incorporate bondage and corporal punishment into the services she offers. Too many people make the mistake of assuming that the two are one and the same.

Professional Dommes are not prostitutes. Any remuneration is for her Domination skills and expertise, not for sexual contact or sex acts. Sexual contact will not be a part of any session with any Professional Dominatrix worth her salt.

No, not really- this has a problem in that it’s trying to distance the penis touchers from the people who just do hit & bossy while not considering the broader context of the differences. There are reasons why this makes sense (much like the efforts to convey that in strip clubs, there isn’t usually sex in the champagne room) but it’s a problem, which I will explain.

Sex worker is a broad continuum of people in a diverse industry, and includes everyone from porn performers to street walkers, but prodoms are part of that club. Like all people, professional dominants have their own personal comfort points and limits, but this is one of those things that’s more on a spectrum and heavily determined by your local vice laws. While professional dominants obviously focus on D/s and generally don’t do vanilla sex acts with clients (and get fed up with being offered an extra $20 for a happy ending), many also limit themselves to specific BDSM related things, for example no strapons or otherwise sexually touching the guy based either on what the local laws allow or what they feel is okay, VS professionals who are happy to snap on a glove and edge or finger clients.

But by trying to protect professionals from being asked to do things they are not comfortable with, Cara Sutra is perpetuating the idea that mixing sexual stuff with your D/s is bad, and that this is all about dom skill, when in practice, fucking your subs doesn’t make you less dominant. This is a particular sort of snobbery born out of frustration- when it comes to the pros I feel like a lot of the women with this attitude are pulling rank because claiming you are more dominant this way sounds better than explaining that the average client doesn’t get you horny, you don’t need that kind of risk in your life or that you have enough problems with the legality of your profession as it is.

But then Cara Sutra talks about lifestyle, which is where I fall, and she hits one of my pet peeves.

That is not to say that Lifestyle Domination equals “getting it for free”. The nature of FemDom shows that submissives would do well to recognise the value of their Mistress and show their appreciation of her time once accepted into her service. Not merely through obedience and submission, but regular gifts should at least be offered. If nothing else, it’s good manners and part of BDSM scene etiquette.

No. No. No. Arrgh, Fuck no. This taken for granted male sub loot grab is a marker of what I call “grey area prodoms”. These people bill themselves as ‘lifestyle’, but it’s said with palm extended, because as the reasoning goes, doms are scarce, so they decide they are worth it. It’s kink plus extras, right?

Look, I don’t care if you, in your own personal dynamic, give gifts to your lover- there are many ways to express affection. And yes, findom is a valid fetish. However, just being dominant and a woman in no way means I deserve to be compensated for my interactions with the opposite sex. Seriously, nobody tells lesbian subs to get out their wallets if they really want to show their appreciation. A male dom asking for prezzies would probably get laughed out of the dungeon. But somehow having tits and a desire to dominate means that male subs should presume gratitude by default. This is a problem because:

  1. It’s rife with exploitation, with newbie subs getting fleeced for trying to explore their kinks.
  2. It perpetuates the idea that a femdom is a service provider filling the male sub’s fantasy, rather than two or more equals coming together to do power exchange and kink for mutual satisfaction.
  3. It teaches malesubs they are worthless and opens them up to all sorts of abuse.

In discussion about this, a couple of times, the conversation has turned to the subject of how if he’s not gifting me, he’s exchanging something else, right? Like service! Like how femdom also assumes in a way that femsub doesn’t, that the sub has to bribe me for being willing to play along somehow.

Talk about being alienated from your own sexuality! While some of us are only doing it for the warm and fuzzies emotionally, I do this because it makes my cunt feel good, and I am in the majority of kinksters, not the minority. Look, seriously, this is not a rare gift I was given to play out on an audience of deserving men, this is what the fetish fairy handed me when the kinks were being given out.

When I spank Wildcard, it’s not because Wildcard drapes me in diamonds or folded all my laundry – the only compensation is his upturned ass, his willing and enthusiastic consent and his arousal. When I beat the shit out of my friend at a play party and he’s in tears, he doesn’t buy me dinner for the grace of getting a unicorn to kick him in the balls- getting to do that to him is as much a privilege as a dominant as it is a privilege as a sub to be doubled over clutching his candy. Because you know what? Without a partner, my dominance is just me, my hand and my fantasies in ForeverAloneVille. Just like a partnerless sub.

You could argue that if Wildcard walked under a bus (god forbid), the demand for femdoms is such that I could find a male sub, but the reality is that while there are certainly more men apparently identifying as male subs, he’s kinda irreplaceable. Much like how Dee over at Dumb Domme wouldn’t be so ripped up about her boy having to move, or Ferns of Domme Chronicles would not be on such a lengthy search if a good partner was something female dominants really could take for granted.

Cara Sutra is selling the idea that rather than being an inherently good match, you should expect to jump through thirty kinds of hoops, backwards with a wad of cash in your mouth. But really, this sort of blurring of lifestyle VS pro also pops up again in her advice to femdoms on how to decide which role suits you.

A good answer to the question of lifestyle VS pro is that the latter are sex workers, so you shouldn’t do it unless you are prepared to be a small business owner/independent contractor in a marginalized industry. Easy, right? Let’s see what Cara Sutra says:

Knowing whether you are a Professional or Lifestyle Mistress, or a submissive drawn to Professional or Lifestyle Domination, comes down to a number of factors. These include your understanding of and attitude to your own kink as well as your personal life circumstances.

For instance, you may be a woman with no desire to manage a submissive outside of a set session, or a submissive who cannot commit time beyond a session to serve a Mistress on a more day to day basis. Professional Domination would suit both of these cases.

Dafuq?Hmm… uh, I guess people who aren’t 24/7 don’t exist? I’m really surprised someone with Cara Sutra’s background appears to literally not know what the fuck she is talking about. If you don’t want to do D/s outside of defined ‘scenes’ you should go pro? Reeeeally. How did we go from “pro doms are skilled professionals” to this being the better option for women doing short haul D/s?

I really hope this is a typo, but again, it’s not really good advice to male subs that if they are not into round the clock D/s (eg bedroom only) a prodom is a better choice for them either.

Then she talks about some of the challenges of trying to figure out your orientation and spits out this gem:

In order to reduce the chance of psychological, emotional and sometimes even physical hurt, it is important to determine your orientation and Domination needs as early in your kink journey as possible. Investing time and emotion into a Dominant/submissive bond which does not combine the right facets for one or both people involved is a painful event which can potentially take years to heal.

Thoughtlessly experimenting with D/s relationships is no less hurtful than toying with a person’s emotions in vanilla relationships. Ensuring you are both on the same page will mean you’re doing your best to guard against any loss of interest, feeling neglected, getting hurt or hurting someone who is investing time and emotion in you.

I’m not entirely sure what this had to do with deciding if sex work is for you, but it’s still silly. it sounds nice and considerate- after all, relationship failures suck! It’s even the subject of my last blog post, where a couple discovered they had to renegotiate their relationship after it was already established. But you know what? That’s not the same thing as being a shitty partner, that’s a normal part of human sexuality.

I don’t know how you could get physically hurt by, in effect, breaking up with someone, but if you do, you are doing something wrong. Realistically, you generally need to try stuff to confirm you like it, and claiming testing this stuff and being wrong is the equivalent of being intentionally emotionally manipulative is unreasonable.

Assuming you are a new male sub or female dom reading this, or just someone curious about some kink ideas they have, Cara Sutra’s blog post is going to actively spread misinformation. Not only does it encourage taking up being a prodom without any sort of realistic look into what that involves, but it gives a very skewwed idea of what is okay behaviour in a non-professional relationship, as well as putting way, way too much weight on getting your feelings hurt.

It’s shit like this that lowers the quality expectations for women trying to make a living doing this, while discouraging women who are personally into it from indulging their curiosity and for male subs to lead with a huge pile of promises and presents that get in the way of getting to know the guy, while reflecting the deep shame he feels for being saddled with a kink that gets treated like a burden. It’s also stuff like this why I wrote things like “why I make a big deal out of not being a pro femdom“, and part of why it took me until my early twenties before I was confident enough to call myself a dominant.

When Kink Limits Change & More Caretaking Challenges

I encountered a really tough problem recently on reddit:

My sub’s ingratitude is destroying our relationship. I took him under my wing. When I met him, he was another college drop-out with no body to speak of. Thanks to my guidance, he now has a good job, goes to gym regularly and looks his best.

Now life’s going well, suddenly I’m too controlling? He wants to challenge my rules? Rules we both agreed on BTW.

He was always shy about his fantasies. I kept at him until he opened up. He didn’t know how to apply them. As usual, I took over. I taught him how to service me. I tied him up and played with him until he was a quivering pile of ecstasy. I taught him all about the prostate and gave him the best orgasms possible. And he loved every minute.

So how does he repay me? He starts safe-wording nearly every time we play. He suddenly wants to renegotiate scenes. He says he doesn’t like some of the stuff we do. He says used to go along with it because he was scared of disappointing me. That’s crap. He loved it – he wouldn’t get off if he didn’t.

Why is he testing me like this? And how do I remind this boy exactly which of us is in charge?

lictenstein
“Why won’t he submit the way he used to?”

Ouch, that’s one sad femdom! This one resonated with me, because it’s close to a bunch of problems I had to tackle. I don’t think the problem is precisely ingratitude, but nevertheless, it’s a nasty situation to find yourself in as a dom.

Reddit mostly attacked her attitude as not taking her sub’s limits seriously enough, but it’s really hard to deal with someone whose kink limits evolve within a relationship or someone who is not consistently on board with what you want. It’s also very frustrating as a dominant, to have the urge for control stifled by someone being more interested in their fetishes and the parameters they want them expressed under, than in supporting your sense of control, while trying to balance that with your own need to meet and respect whatever limits a person asks for.

And it can be hard when you a have an expectation to push through and reach someone and do the hard work of making judgement calls for both of you, and then sometimes they need you to do that and sometimes they don’t. However…

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Friday Femdom Fiction: She Strips Her Toy and Plays With Him

She made him stand in the middle of the living room, looking him up and down. He was slightly taller than her, lanky of frame, with his neck bent to watch what she was doing, until she took his chin and fixed his gaze straight ahead at the muted brown drapes on the other side of the room.

“You’re nothing but a toy. Be a toy,” her voice was stern, but with the slightest hint of mischievous lust, something husky and playful under the strict edge.

Her hand brushed his shoulder, feeling the comfortable knit of his light blue t-shirt, thin fabric over warm. spare flesh. Outside, the midday weekend sun poured through the gap in the curtain. Her other hand held a warm mug of milky tea, bitter and soothing as her fingers spidered down his back until she grabbed a handful of shirt hem, tugging it up,  so she exposed his stomach. She saw the slight ripple as his abs contracted and then relaxed, reacting to the proximity of her hand.

His belly had a light covering of hair that she caressed and then down, over the bronze buckle of his belt and the front fastening of his jeans. He shifted just enough to hint he noticed what she was doing, but kept his gaze fixed where she’d put him, while the seam and tuck of his jeans encouraged her to stroke her hand over his crotch, and then, spurred by her own desire, to continue to rub and touch. She knew how the fabric felt against his cock, defusing but transmitting the pressure. His reaction was the start of a swelling, and an almost imperceptible rock forwards, seeking more teasing. Sadistically, that made her stop, keeping control as she set her tea aside.

Reaching up, the tips of her fingers touched his lips. He had a full mouth, sensual and often pulled into a vulnerable pout. Now, the tips of two of her fingers slid inside, where his breath was warm and the skin was wet, past his teeth. His eyes blinked slowly, forcing himself to keep containing his reaction as she penetrated him.

“That’s a good toy. You do only what you’re posed to do. You’re just here for me to enjoy.”

And so he stayed, standing with his legs slightly apart and his arms relaxed. She began to strip him further, properly now, peeling off his t-shirt and then prying at the belt. Half limp, he let her haul his arms up with the passage of the shirt until she finished removing it, and his arms fell back into position. His chest was like his belly, male furred, but not a dark thicket, nipples a temporary distraction for her fingers before she returned to undoing his pants.

The cotton knit of his underpants was black, fitted  but cut longer in the leg. The fabric had stretched where his half erect cock was outlined, poking up and towards the right. She let his pants slide down to his ankles and then tucked her fingers into the wide elastic band that held his boxer-briefs up, making the reveal slow, first the root of his cock, and then, inch by inch, everything else until they were on the floor in a pool of fabric with his pants. He had slender, straight legs, long boned, balanced with a swell of lean muscle at the thigh and calf, narrow hipped and waisted.

His bare flesh asked for her nails, fingers hooking and dragging, leaving red streaks pulled in sets like plow marks. She reached for him pulling him so she held a handful of his hair and kissed his lips, a slight twitch as he instinctively sought to return the contact and checked himself.

“No, you’re a toy. Nothing but a fuck doll for me to play with.” She pinched him, just because she could, to remind him he was helpless, and went back to exploring his body. One hand wrapped the shaft of his cock, jerking, the other reaching around to cup his butt. Square and firm, small. Her fingers found the split, digging in, seeking and making him wonder if he’d have to submit to another kind of penetration, but then her attention moved elsewhere and she pushed him, to pose him over the coffee table.

A hairbrush was the first thing her gaze lighted on. He was propped on the wood, stiff like a ken doll, but aware of what was coming, when first her palm smacked into his ass and then the flat back of the wooden brush.

He made a noise and her hand circled his cock again. “Shhhhh…”

She didn’t make it a prolonged spanking, but she coloured him, pink, blushing almost red, angling for a reaction. He made a few noises and she saw him twitch, but never fully flinch. She smiled, wide, although he could not see, and began to massage her handiwork, before setting him upright again.

He played along with lurching steps when she pushed him towards the couch, but was unable to contain a groan as her teasing resumed, gentle fast friction just taking him to the edge, with the harsh admission, “Don’t you dare come.”

She giggled at his disappointment, rubbing her clothed body against the warm smoothness of his nudity. He felt the rasp of her sweater and the softness underneath, wishing that he could simply slide his hands up under her skirt and make her want to squirm just as much as he was feeling.

But, instead, she straddled his lap, grinding against him. “That’s a good fuck-doll.”

Everything felt better and more sensitized when she craved sex. She knew it showwed on her, just as it was writ onto his face in the way his lips were just slightly parted and his eyes half lidded. She did not undress, except to slide her panties down under her skirt, kicking the black little scrap of lace and elastic somewhere off to the side before she mounted him.

He felt the sheath of her, enveloping him, hot and wet. It was almost too much, but she was experienced enough to know to wait, hilted on him, for those important seconds it took him to scramble for self control.

“You know I come better with something inside me,” the skirt was hiked up, her hands going to her clit. “Just like fucking a dildo only better. But… don’t you dare break until I’ve come.”

When she masturbated, he could feel the reactions in her body, on top of him and engulfing him. She took her time, teasing herself as well by riding him for a few strokes, just until he was edged again and had to break character to beg her to stop.

“Uh-uh, you should control yourself better.” The same mischief that drove most of her sadistic impulses made her curl the muscles inside herself in two pulses.

“If you do that, Miss, I don’t…”

“You want to be my good toy?”

“Yes, Miss,” he whimpered. “But Miss…”

“Shhhhh…” Her fingers went back to her clit, pressing as her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes closed, just as she caught a glance of desperate anticipation from beneath her.

“Nnnngh!” The orgasm was a body jolt, roughly reached, like a vessel finally overfilling or something under pressure finally giving way. She gave three raggedy gasps before she could focus again, and saw his look of desperation.

“Well, I’m done, time to clean up my toy and put him away.” She grinned, face blushed with afterglow. “Right?”

“Miss!”

I wanted to try to capture some of the feelings of power of playing with a male body that’s entirely at your mercy, and make sure I kept at the erotica writing. “She Strips her Toy” is very much drawn from life, although it does not touch on a specific session and you can decide what is (auto)biographical and what is embellishment.

Femdom Book Review: Serving the Succubus by Haleigh Cookson Clark

Serving the Succubus

Serving the Succubus by Haleigh Cookson Clark

If you are going to set out to write a character that is voraciously sexual, you can’t go wrong with “Missy”, the Succubus of this short by sweet sexual romp. It’s bossy and carnal without being scary or mean and makes a pretty good interpretation with the oft used trope of the sex demon lady.

Heleigh Cookson Clark is a prolific author, with a large collection of ebooks devoted to all things sensual and erotic. She is to be commended for tackling a fairly challenging problem in all things pornographic- making a female dominant character that feels like one could self insert into, pretty key in any erotic fantasy that’s not simply voyeuristic. In this case, the fantasy is a power fantasy of being sexual desire personified, but nonetheless fun.

Another serious point in favour of the author- the hapless victim is very much wanted by Missy, something you don’t see enough of in femdom media. Succubi in general benefit from the fact that they like sex, and the frazzled grad student hero “Ethan Banks” is likeable and convincing food to appease his top. He’s actually very much like the guys I know in real life to the point that a tiny little bit of me thinks a real Ethan Banks may be running around in the wild -or at least fragments of him are.

And it’s not usual that someone as debauched as me really feels a bit naughty after reading something, even in a femdom book.

What’s my final verdict?
Category: Ebook
Rating: o~o~o~o (4/5)
How I got it: Review copy
TL;DR: Femdom short fiction, essentially one very long sex scene with a dom who has a tail. But she likes the sub, so yaye!

15 Things I Wish I’d Known as a New Femdom

alicescanWhile I’ve always had an inclination in the direction of kinky, even before my sexuality was much of a coherent thing, for much of my life I didn’t really know how to describe what I wanted and I certainly didn’t always know how to get what I wanted. Finding out the word was “dominant” was a total light bulb moment, but after all the exploration I’ve done, there’s still a few things I wish came in the welcome package for every new femdom.

1) You are only 50% of the end product in any D/s dynamic. What you are building together, with your partner, is a feeling. This is about as tricky as say, building a sense of love or deep trust, and it’s not going to work with any random sub or switch anymore than any heterosexual man or women are automatically perfect for each other just because they’re both straight. The corollary of this is that just because he first sub identifying people you meet are not attractive to you does not mean you aren’t a dom.

2) Chuck all your assumptions on how you should act and how the other person should act out the window and actually talk about how you want things to look like together. Assumptions are like not reading the map when you embark on unknown territory. Otherwise if you’re a sadist and they’re not it could get ouchy (sorry, sorry!), or they can spend all their time sulking because they thought all doms do their particular favourite fetishes and it hasn’t occurred to you to try it.

3) Put both your fetishes into a big pot and stir them together. Dominants are not fetish fulfilment agents, but subs are not robots. Your D/s identity is only the opening line in a discussion that leads to you both getting what you want and fetishes are the extras that help you achieve that. The dynamic that works is the one that takes into account that you both have needs.

4) You may need to push a bit against people being annoying or unhelpful to get started. (Sorry, it’s probably the patriarchy.) One of the biggest things that discourages female dominants is the first time we try to assert ourselves, a partner decides to say no or make it extra difficult (particularly if said dominant is a switch), or they approached you with their desire like it was a big awful, complicated favour that has to follow the sub’s script. It is okay to say “I need you to work with me” or require things to be made simple for you. You don’t have the right to dom someone against their wishes, and everyone deserves limits, but anyone who really wants to support you should be open minded and at least ready to humour you.

5) It is not who you are, it’s what you want. You can be the most whip skilled, knot wizard girl scout with the most assertive demeanor ever, or you can be a shy and doe eyed creature who hurts yourself when spanking someone else. You can be a professional hostage negotiator, or cry when you have to ask for a raise. You can look like a fetish pinup or a soccer mom. Whatever your personality is like, what makes you dominant is the desire to dominate, and that’s also whether it is limited to your significant other once a month after church, or done all the time with a forty person harem carrying you about on a sedan chair.

6) You have to be selfish about not compromising on your core desires. This one is a toughy because nobody sets out to be intentionally selfish- but because everyone is fussy and has their own things, it’s easy to be accommodating. This ranges from putting up with partners who arbitrarily get bored with D/s, to changing up everything so you do only the things the sub finds hot on their schedule, through to dating vanilla because being alone sucks. If you do this, something will always feel a little askew and temptation to what you really want may make you resentful.

7) There is no such thing as a non-dominant sex act. You can do oral. You can be penetrated. You can cross dress, you can be tied up, beaten and made to cry in public. See #1, for the root of this and also #5- but more to the point there may also be power for you by playing with your own vulnerability and it is not a feeling of control to let custom or the judgments of other dictate what you may do. You will feel better having the sex you like rather than the sex you think you should like.

8) Your sub may come with their own baggage related to their orientation. Particularly male subs, who get very short shrift and have to deal with feeling less than masculine or unsexy. This means a lot of people who think they need to apologize for wanting you. It also means a learning curve if you two try a fetish like cuckolding, where they discover that you really are more into them than the alternatives, regardless of the flavour of your bedroom talk.

9) The porn sucks, forget the porn. The porn will make you angry or sad. Fuck the porn. Porn that works for you will probably be a cobbled together collection of broken or hacked together bits and pieces. However half the people on the sub/switch side are also making do with the best they can get. So if you find someone who really gets what you’re looking for, tell them they’re awesome, because it’s probably a lonely labour of love for them.

10) Not all people of the submissive persuasion know how to make themselves feel the way they want to feel. This one is also a tough-y, in that you will end up meeting people who either found the feeling accidentally in a past relationship, or during solo self exploration, who will then expect you to be able to bring that feeling out of them. It is not a measure of your worth as a person if you can’t make someone feel submissive.

11) Someone being submissive to you in a way that makes you feel powerful is magical, but can feel really scary too.  I’m not the first person to notice that the desire to dominate can feel incredibly vulnerable, but once again, touching on #1, being dominant means needing someone else to do their half of things. When you get used to saying “meh” about people meeting your needs, it can be a feeling of frightening dependence to learn there is more for you out there from a few rare people.

12) You can only be someone’s fantasy for a short while, but you can be someone’s reality indefinitely. Professional doms make money living up to people’s fantasies in short duration, and specialize in making it as close to perfect as possible to maximize their profit. However in an actual relationship, if there is no room for you to be human it is going to eventually crumble under the weight of improbable expectations. A dynamic may take maintenance, but you shouldn’t need to be constantly plugging gaps and bailing the boat to keep someone’s attention and respect.

13) Looking after people can feel powerful, but it’s not a substitute for dominance. As a female identifying person, caretaking is one of the few non-controversial routes you are allowed to gain and exert power- but watch out for letting it turn into you being used. Do not tie yourself to dysfunctional people to feel powerful and strong by comparison- they will either get better and fuck up your little plan, or stay bad and fail to be there for you when you need them.

14) Don’t even think of going semi-pro, and don’t tolerate being treated like the budget option. Either become a full on professional dominant and charge what they are worth, or stick to doing it for love- becoming a grey area pro is not going to help or make you happy and people trying to ‘tribute’ you can’t imagine you enjoying things for their own sake. Sex Worker is a job, and the rates they charge are also to screen out the guys who are not worth their time, as well as to deal with the headache of people with a “me first” attitude. Only play with people who are serious about you as a person, either out of respect and affection. And more to the point, becoming a grey area pro-dom is confusing if you ever plan on an actual relationship- and those “budget” clients will not see a cheaper rate as a warning not to push for more than you feel like giving.

15) The people who help you figure this out will come from all sorts of different places. They will be the sub boyfriend who is better at knots than you because he’s been tying himself up for years. They will be the snarky older woman whose blog finally makes you realize you can have fun with this, or that your secret fantasies have a name and people really live that way. They will be your mom accidentally pointing out that the reason why you’re not happy in your relationship is the lack of power, or even the high school boys who insisted on carrying your books. They will be the Disney villainess you were supposed to be scared of, and the person who is asking your for help that forces you to actually examine how things work. and you’re always going to be learning- there is no being done with that until you’re dead.

What I want in a submissive…

hands+tied+rope+I want to see your eyes wide and glassy, vulnerable, your mouth in a pout and myself loom above you. I want to feel that you feel helpless, and that however I twist and pull you, you will follow.

I want to feel your desire, like an anchor chain, a need for me that would make you crawl on your belly for me, beg me, debase yourself and fight for me.  I want to make you do all those things to prove to me what I can already tell by looking at you. I want you to fear me, just a little, as something you can never handle completely. I want there to be masochism, but balanced by both lust and a little rebellion.

I want male flesh. That means I want to feel my hand hold a solid jaw when I make you look me in the eye, and I want to feel muscles that are, by nature, stronger than mine when I push you down and make you yield and when my hands hold yours to the pillow, pushed over your head so I can loom and kiss you. I want you to be beautiful for me, to make your body into something you hope I will take as an offering, and something I will take from you. I want to see you stretched and stripped, taught to flinch when I touch you, yet crave to rest your head on my lap.

I want you to fight me, so I can break you, than take those shivering bits and pieces and put them back as strong as before. I want a tough toy that takes, claw and teeth and pain- I want a fragile toy that I can bend with a look. I want a victim- I don’t want to cosset and I don’t want to think about a “slave heart” when I strike you, nor wrangle whether you are a “natural submissive” or whether I, indeed, am True. I don’t want to be a Nice Mistress or a Goddess type role who leads you to a higher place; I want you to be outraged at the indignity and the liberty I am taking with your flesh, your mind and your self… and turned on by this. Consent is crucial, but I need you to have the imagination to feel vulnerable when you are perfectly safe with me.

And yet, as much as the resistance matters, I want you to want it so bad you admit it. Oh, I don’t mind if it’s not an easy confession, but one that has to be coaxed out of you under time or duress. But I want you to know you are mine. I want you to feel that you belong with me above all others, because I, myself can worry that I am to be found wanting.

That takes confidence, from you, to think of yourself as the best for me. I know it’s a lot to want in a partner, much less to want in a submissive. But, I also know I want you, warts and all, even when you’re not in the mood and what I need to do right now is be a supportive person more than a dom. Or when it’s incredibly complicated. I want you to be human and real. I want the effort more so than the perfection. I suppose a lot of it is wanting my wants to be validated. And in the end, I guess that’s what everyone wants.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Experimental Purple Prose

Naked.

She pulled him hard, by a handful of hair at the back of his head, a rough yank to expose his mouth for the kiss, and her lips met his, tongue fencing tip of tongue, the same tongue that talked with sweet and sharp word and found the fountain spigot that set her cunt trickling clear and sticky. Here, now, she found his cock, and her grip cradled, clenched and pulled back and forth that the middle, just below the too sensitive head, but above the balls beneath.

Unbroken by the challenge she made, he took her by the shoulders and shoved, back onto the soft bed. His own hands found her slit, with the pads of his fingers crooked to tease and test the wet state. Fitting them inside her, and then into the mouth that had just stolen a kiss from him. Grazing her lips, then, with a glaze of her own other lips and meeting the gaze of her eyes until her frustrations and the promise of what she might do to him forced him to look away, fearing now, and feeling the rake of her nails on his broad back.

“I want this,” she hissed, finding his prick and replacing her hand, using it as if it were the lever and the bed they rolled upon was the fulcrum; the fixed point by which she could move the world. Or at least seek to make him move to her whims as she made what was erect in her grip plug the wetness that continued between her legs.

Guttural breathing, him on top, her parting herself, kissing. They fucked like snakes, more twined together, bending and wriggling, than slammed mammals. Her curved body soft at the places she swelled, but hard where bone made delicate looking hollows; him sinewy, long and lean, her legs wrapped to keep him in place and him sliding, belly to belly, back and forth. She engulfed, pleasured and trapped him twice, inside and out.

“More, more, more!” She always wanted more, whether she swallowed him into her slick gullet, teeth coyly sheathed; wrapped him in slippery hands until his semen spurt brought him back from demanding a double grip to hiding, shrunken in one hand; or like now, where her cunt muscles devoured. Her hips tilted up, lunging, her hands finding light ways to hurt and leverage to take what she wanted.

The same fingers that had probed her cunt were now tamed into helping bring about a body spasm that started inside her, shrill calling, her cunt becoming more intimately aware of the part of him it had borrowed and was using. She wanted him to stay hilted until the last shudder finished, taking in a suck of air between her teeth as the energy of her excitation defused.

And then his face was turned away from hers again, into the pillow, two exhalations and then a male cry, matched with a final surrender as he stopped pulling back, away and accepted he was helpless to hold off coming. She never felt the splash of semen at the moment, just the aftershocks that shook him gently in her arms as she held him to her, and then the seep as he stayed buried.

I wanted to get back to the spirit of Friday Femdom Fiction, which was supposed to be more spontaneous and less polished. So you’re getting something experimental this time.

Light BDSM With A Lover

“If you wanted to torment me, blindfold me and tie me to the bed and force me to have an orgasm with the (Hitachi Knockoff) vibrator, I wouldn’t mind,” the request is made as coyly and casually as he can manage, couched in terms that let him pretend he’s not asking for a very specific scenario.

He doesn’t like to ask for things- but then again, neither do I. For me, I deal with it by hinting, coaxing or just flat out taking. He’d been toying with trying to seduce me, little misbehaviours and touches for the last day or so. I’d noticed, but I’d been careful about the bait- he’s been under the weather and I’ve started to second guess myself, not sure if he’s doing this courting because he’s ready or because he feels like he should be ready because he cares about me. (Holy first world problems, Batman!)

At times like this, my body is at once throbbingly libidinal and jealously guarding that same energy. I certainly wanted sex. I’d spent the morning of that day intermittently wandering out onto the sun warmed back balcony, looking at down at where a pair of young men were pulling apart a brick patio- gloves, t-shirts and well fitted jeans on slender, muscular bodies. They didn’t seem to notice that I noticed them, the handsome one in the grey shirt, kneeling and pulling up red rectangles from the spring damp ground.

I thought about something cliche, taking him for an anonymous fuck that made him feel used, working out the logistics in my head: the condoms, the communication, the nail scratches on his work dirtied skin. Then I put these thoughts out of my head because something, beyond the challenge of the chase, is off. I don’t typically tell Wildcard about these momentary distractions because I don’t know how to convey that when given a sexual choice that doesn’t mean  either/or but also, I still want him more. The presence of attractive men makes me grumpy that they are not him, and I don’t like admitting that. Given free reign to fuck any man I want, I find myself recoiling, not even mustering up the enthusiasm to flirt. Even weirdly resentful.

But that night, after a morning of fuzzy headed domestic productivity and little in the way of writing, I’ve put those thoughts away. I feel, and dismiss, the sort of pressure that suggests a migraine is looming, a throb in my sinuses and behind my right eye. I’ve been moody again, slow moving and prone to looks of introspective sadness that leave him asking: “What’s wrong? is there anything I can do?”

He feels responsible when I look that way, like he has to find out how to take me out of my head and back into the moment. It’s the sort of relationship thing you discover is important when you’re an adult. But my mood is my mood, and I don’t want to deal with that, for the moment, and so I find the wound up cloak of my aggressiveness, the thing that blankets comfortably around me when I dominate. Casually, I select a candle from where it’s resting in the clutter on his bureau and tell him to take off his shirt. White paraffin lit with a red lighter is then tipped over his bare back.

The little drops cast a shadow before they land, making it easy to guess where you’ll see a splat materialize. I test them on the back of my hand, and pepper him with wax drops. I know he likes the sharp, quick and hot pain on his skin. It’s a cheap trick, but all fetishes are cheap tricks and easy shots, the sex version of knowing where someone hides their spare key so you can rifle through their home unmolested.

His back is like leather, for whatever reason, probably just one of those genetic quirks. When we were first discovering each other’s bodies I wanted to hurt him, to see if he could deal with my level of sadism, and sunk my sharp nails next to his spine. He gave a deep sigh and relaxed, his taut shoulders loosening. For Wildcard, that was just the right amount of pressure to deal with his constant knotted state.

Watching the wax fall, it lands clear and hardens in white, fuzzy edged blots. He shifts a little, and I know he’s enjoying it. This is light BDSM, nothing terrible or complicated, no fearsome scourges or complicated rigging. He’s not even tied down at this point, although his arms are held up and well out of the way, but his head’s going to the right place. It is, as it should be.

When he drops, it’s always very subtle and achingly vulnerable. He lets the tightness of his body’s assembled parts relax and folds down, head dipping and nuzzling against me. His large eyes will half lid- decadent, his guard down. I flick and peel most of the wax off his back and make him stand to brush the rest off, and I can feel the lightest pressure of the connection I’ve just built.

If you were into woo, or magic or tantra, there would be some poetic insertion here about energy, or sacredness, or waking the goddess in me. I’m an atheist and left stumbling around with half remembered undergrad psychology lectures and the sort of inaccurate drug metaphors that hint the closest I’ve been to getting high is wrinkling my nose at someone else’s pot smoke.

Nonetheless, I feel in control, and push him back onto the bed, climbing on top, my eyes meeting his as my hands find and capture his wrists to pin him. He doesn’t like meeting my gaze when I get like this, as much as he likes the dominant part of me- it’s like looking directly into a light.

I tease him that I’ve never really hurt him, and he tells me that just my eyes are scary. He knows I can be mean, but I never force him past what he can handle, and yet the way my eyes look are a reminder that this rigidity is always there.

Wildcard’s a switch- he knows what it’s like from the other side. He’s made those eyes at me and dealt with the fact that I don’t look away and I don’t inherently find I want to, not with anyone. We navigate it as a power game. I know from experience with him that one session like this will discharge his submission and he’ll flip the other way, joking about spanking me and possibly doing his best to make that happen. I look forward to the play scraps in the future, but tonight, wriggling up against him, I can feel the hints that he’s aroused by what we’re doing and still hoping for the reward he hinted for before we started.

I tease him, threatening to not carry it out, tasting the power to say no, but I enjoy it, tying my soft red scarf over his eyes and buckling him into dark leather cuffs and clipping those above his head so his cock is mine to tease. We use slippery, cool lube from the pharmacy, Life brand “Intimate Fluid”, less viscous than ordinary KY, trickling it into my palm and in a wet glaze over his penis, pink and shiny like he’s just pulled out of my cunt or he’s breaking a world record for volume in pre-cum. I use my hand first, before I find the toy. I watch him wriggle and tell him I miss seeing his vulnerable eyes, now hidden away under the scarf and he tries to assure me I can still see his mouth.

The strong pulse of the wand works best squashed flat against the middle of his penis, my other hand curved to cup around, so I can feel the tremors and better jerk him up and down. When he comes he utters three sounds, starting with “Oh…” the two other words too garbled to make out.

When we started doing this he used to utter “Oh fuck!” just as semen started to fountain. Like he was holding a particularly awkward and fragile object that just slipped his grip, or he was startled to suddenly be aware he’d came under these circumstances, his whole body jerking forwards. I don’t know if he’s consciously decided to change what he says, but it’s the selfsame ejection of warm cum, three strings spurting, onto his furred stomach and my fingers.

I let him relax, and sort out the business of the cuffs that are holding his wrists. Kleenex blots away the evidence except for a little residue, and I wash my now slimy hands as lube and cum cool and curdle. The icky part of sex- but not a bad part. Sex is not supposed to be sterile or dignified.

He wants to be a good lover, so he does his best to try to make me come, touching and stroking my body, bringing his mouth and tongue to my nipples. He knows how to do this, but I never got rid of the migraine. Instead we talk a bit, and then my headache spikes and it’s his turn to dig into my back, massaging until the stab behind the eyes fades.

Tomorrow, he’ll help make me come, selfless about his own pleasure as the wave pattern of my own orgasm builds and my mind still carrying the lingering traces of the things I did the night before, but right now he gives me what I need in the moment and exactly what I want. The pain in my head fades and in the dimmed lights, bouyed by the warmth and the weight of the blankets, I sleep with him, in his bed, nested like lego bricks.

BDSM can be a lot of things for people: structure, an escape, release or catharsis, a way to be someone or something different. For me, it’s intimacy.