Pop culture historians know that the origin of the contemporary Furry culture were fans of “Funny Animal Comics”, but while we generally aren’t shocked that modern Furries are hecking pervy, what if I told you that the fetish fodder woven into those plush suits went all the way to the root?
Meet Beatrix Potter: Late Victorian to Edwardian era mycologist, illustrator, and generally remembered as beloved children’s book author. You probably grew up with at least some familiarity with the Tale of Peter Rabbit (all her kids books followed one animal in human clothes or another) or the other adorably named, folksy very British pastel mammals and birds. I had a complete run of her children’s works, printed hard cover with dust jackets, printed to be about the side of an adult’s hand, with a nice display box.
This isn’t a story where we talk about how she also had a second trade in making BDSM porn, like the explicitly kinky creator of Superman. Beatrix Potter’s other identity was a thwarted by sexism, but outside of her kid’s books, she was merely talented botanist who studied mushrooms (and then after a land conservationist). No, Miss Potter put her kinky themes front and centre: a fascination with authority figures seeking to punish their naughty charges; clothes being shredded, lost and torn; and captivity in tight spaces and scenarios
And there’s nowhere more blatant than “The Tale of Samuel Whiskers”
Part 2 of my trip to further claim Silver, body, mind, heart and soul. If you are looking for part 1 you can find it here.
He bought the latex sleep sack off etsy to celebrate his promotion. It’s one of those things that only exist in the realm of perverse desires and has no practical use, neck to toe swaddling, sleeves inside to hold the victim even more immobile. Etsy is a wonderland of bespoke sex toys, both as a sole shop front for many small fetish ateliers, and a never ending fetish fair artisan’s alley where you can browse established makers together and make comparisons.
The sleep sack was fairly cooperative to wrangle, thinner latex that didn’t fight too much to get him in- if I were honest he could probably have sized down, but it’s a good thing to have a bit of stretch. And hey, my lithe man is in a bulk stage of putting muscle back after covid closures carved him down into non-gym access size. It certainly was tight enough to do its job making him feel restrained.
This was only one of several purchases- he also got me the most lovely underbust corset and pencil skirt combination from libidex and an experimental pair of stockings by the same maker (and gloves, which I got distracted and forgot to put on). I made him help me into the skirt, which even if covid has given me ten pounds from lack of walking, still squeezes up nicely. Squuuuish. ^_^
If you saw me naked, you would realize I am magnificently formed around a small waist and hips that occupy the size realm of things that influence the tides. Pencil skirts, tight tailoring and things that stretch and cling are the only solution other than custom tailoring to avoid all that vanishing into my clothing. This skirt plays into my strengths completely.
So, you can imagine I occupied that nicely empowered zone of knowing I looked sexy as hell. The stockings, alas, were a miss. In the first place I have 0 idea what possessed the designer to put the seam in the front. The cuban heel reinforcement suffered what a lot of socks do and sat too low on my foot- I’m a large 9 or a small 10 and all socks seem cut for a 7 by default. Meanwhile the top band did not flatter. These were not stay ups, so they wanted to roll down, but also somehow dig into and deliver up the fat of my thighs like whipped cream busting out a piping bag.
That is to say it still looked delicious, it just also looked clumsy.
Only after I was cinched and lovingly glossed was it time to slide him into his own restraints. Feet first, then with those settled, rolled over and arms thrust into those sleeves inside, before the back zipper pulls him from naked man into a sleek grey package.
Ever actually tried to Google how to find a Mistress?
While search profiles vary, SEO spam and porn makes finding useable information on the subject surprisingly hard. As with past projects of approaching things as if I were a clueless newbie, and found a surprisingly sparse number of useful resources immediately popped up. No wonder every newbie asks how to find a mistress in my inbox or in kink groups!
So a curated list!
Although I’ve taken a stab at the question several times, I thought, rather than linking to my article on how to find a domme, I might as well so some community service and collate every good how to find a mistress, domme or femdom article I could scrape. This post may evolve as links come and go, but here’s the top 8 or so to get you started.
Find a Mistress Links
A general guide by Kate Kinsey isn’t a bad start for your search to find a Mistress.
The reddit communities r/femdomcommunity and r/bdsmcommunity are dedicated to text based discussions on kink and searching their archives will show you more answers to this question than I could count. There’s even a community called r/BDSMadvice dedicated to answering your questions.
Sidney and Logan Hart have a book on finding your domme here. If you are brave enough, but broke, ask for it via interlibrary loan.
If you are looking for a rather witty and bossy bit of advice that includes how to not have a professional ignore you, Alexandra Snow has a video on contacting a domme or mistress. This one is more pro-oriented, but trust me, even the pros are picky.
This is going to be long, and entirely true, a diary trying to fit three days into some coherent narrative. After I started writing I realized the average reader didn’t want to gobble up several thousand words in one post, so I’ve broken it into parts.
The button on his coat set itself free, and I took the sewing kit he never used, but had in stock in his usual bachelor practicality. Then, with a needle and cuss, I mended it.
I said it would take two minutes, and it was more like fifteen, but I was happy to do it all the same. My slightly more than weekend visit had been an indulgence for me, but it’s in my nature to find pleasure in the smallness of the mundane.
When this happened we were a few hours away from carting me off to the airport, and the two weeks of confinement I am enduring while I write this. The obvious response on my part, with very little time left, was to have a “what does this all mean?!” relationship conversation and follow it with a blow job. I might be a bit of a yoyo sometimes.
After I talked about hard questions, like where this is going, desire followed. Posed like a man proposing, one knee down, one up, I suck his cock into my mouth. While I do so, his hands grip the marble edge of the counter behind him. He’s holding himself exposed and vulnerable for me by instinct, and more than a little conscious commitment to the spirit of the law, if not the spoken letter. I haven’t told him to act as if he’s invisibly bound, but he adopts it as naturally as I stir need in him.
He always submits to me.
I think, given a choice, he would prefer a hand job. This blow job definitely isn’t about what he wants, more satisfying my own cravings. I like using my mouth. I’m not so skilled, but the nerve endings and the taste, from oral, are both deeply gratifying to me. So he surrenders to this, accepting his place is to be used how I feel like it.
This time, to my delight, he also makes few thrusting forays, fucking my mouth. If I was a bit more relaxed I would rub my clit and come with his cock in my mouth. I like his taste and shape, and how he feels, even after four days of exploring desire, he still gets fully hard inside me.
Unfortunately, for various reasons I am still holding an unplaced thread of anxiety, and yet, in his company he has made the pain and half body cramps of the migraine I have had for 4 weeks finally leave me. We’re in a pandemic and work (in an office, back in Canada) is bothering. A doting, beautiful submissive man in another country is a treat at the best of times, and an extravagant luxury in the current circumstances.
It’s Locktober! That’s a full month arbitrarily devoted to celebrating chastity play, and by extension, given the popularity of caging cock in femdom, a whole 31 days to be romantic about F/m dynamics.
With one week left in the month, maybe this comes on the tail of the season, but I thought I’d bang out some quick tips to celebrate locktober – because I’m trying to get back into the swing of writing regular content.
What is Locktober?
Whose idea was this perverse silliness anyway? Well, the origin point is not completely agreed upon, but while the earliest known online post about it was on a chastity forum in 2015, celebrations spread across tumblr during 2016 and 2017, finding fertile ground in the very sharable nature of the then fairly robust adult community. (Credit to Cut to the Chase for making a good try to collate the Locktober lore) The glory days of tumblr are behind it, but the holiday lives on.
I think the origin might even be a cheerful riff on the older No Nut November, with its origin in the r/nofap community on reddit, after the rather more philosophically motivated silliness of boys who don’t wanna cum to preserve their potency gave fodder to fetishists. Not surprisingly there’s also a much more tongue in cheek effort to tie December with Denial.
Regardless of the roots, while No Nut November still has one foot in weird folk beliefs about the physically detrimental effects of the male orgasm, Locktober is for chastity lovers, and ever increasingly, a playful celebration of male submission in general.
1) The traditional method
Grab your chastity cage, cram it inside, click the lock and ask a special someone to be your key holder. 31 days of denial is a marathon, so do your research and look into how to get a good fit on your chastity cage.
You really will want to do your research as you can get a cage in a plethora of materials from decorative and playful metal animal shapes, to silicone, to plastic.
2) The solo method
Not everyone can, or wants to find a partner. Although you could argue that simply not participating at all the the ultimate denial, from the more locked up side, this is actually as good an excuse as you will get to dip your toes into the fetish as more than just a fantasy.
Merits of self locking including dealing with the pesky fit issue now, and also determining if you even like the physical sensations. Have no partner? Apps like Chastikey are here to help with variable time options to practice denial.
And, if you doubt your willpower, there’s alway the old fashioned key in a block of ice, or mailing yourself the key, though with the US postal service under siege you definitely want to make sure you have a safe key for the latter.
3) Making it about your Domme
One of the biggest criticisms of Locktober comes from communities of female dominants, who have observed that there’s an ongoing issue with Male Chastity in general that it tends to be very prescriptivist for how the Top is supposed to react and treat their locked partner. If you want to avoid that, you will need to walk the very fine line between submitting to her, not the fetish- but using your fetish to celebrate her.
Dominants are going to very by how they feel about the subject, but pretty universally clear that the top killer of moods is nagging- both to get locked, and then to get out.
If you want the sexy forfeit experience for your keyholder, the best way to phrase things is a tool she can use to feel as she wishes. Avoid promising more dishes and house chores and think about contexts that make your domme feel both sexy and powerful.
Is it wearing lingerie? Being listened to as a subject matter expert? More one domme even put out the free floating locktober challenge to share your acts of service this month in compliment to the caging.
And, just like how Valentine’s day can be a couple minefield, when it comes to mismatched expectations, talk to the person with the key. And! Make it very clear that you don’t need a special month to obey for her, but it’s great to have another excuse.
4) Being new to denial (and not overdoing it)
One of the biggest pitfalls to Locktober is that prolonged chastity is an endurance sport. A lot of people buy into the fantasy of being perma-chaste, only to feel disgusted or frustrated with themselves when the cage that was supposed to be on for a month is off in an hour.
Take your time, starting with short stints of denial. It’s ok to slowly build up a tolerance to deprivation, and long term chastity fans tell me it’s quite possible to develop a whole new side to your sexuality in the process.
And do take the time to find a community of like minded folks. Denying Thumper is a particular favourite of mine, but not only are their whole online communities dedicated to this, but the best how tos and advice are going to come from your fellow locked folks.
5) Don’t feel locked (snrk) to what other people are doing
Ok, so I’ve talked about this like it’s a thing everyone is clearly doing and on board with. But, shocking reveal, you can hack locktober to work for you. I did! This month I didn’t cage up Silver for the whole thing, I banned him from touching himself with his hands.
Seriously, you can change anything up you want and still be authentic. Maybe you are feeling super pressured because you aren’t good at long term denial. Maybe you are broke in college and can’t afford a cage. Maybe you are a person without the genitals that a cage works for! As amusing as it would be on my resume, I am not the cock cage police.
Regardless of what and how you do it, with a lock and key or the honour system, the most important thing remains the enjoyment and relative safety of those involved- so, happy locking, and feel free to share your month’s adventures in the comments!
It’s Regency Femdom Week, but I am immensely busy trying to dodge a pandemic to safely meet my submissive, and don’t have the undivided attention to bang out a proper work of fiction. Instead I offer a Regency Historical Romance review by way of consolation!
“Bold Seduction” is available on Amazon here as an exclusively digital book, as well as the standard kobo, nook, etc… At the time of writing this review it’s still on sale for 99 cents, but the regular price is quite fair too. I receive no affiliate or financial benefits from my review, and the closest I am to the author is following her on Twitter.
The book, itself
The Bold Seduction (of Professor Hornsyby) by Karyn Gerrard, was something I grabbed on sale for 99 cents. The premise was unusual- a male virgin, so I was intrigued to see what she would do with it, although I had never read anything by her before.
I am very glad I did.
I keep saying the problem isn’t that femdom content isn’t out there, it’s that it is seldom flagged as femdom. This particular novel manages to hit enough points to do better than many things that call themselves thus, and with the organization of the first annual Regency Femdom Week, I would be remiss not to both review and promote this book.
Our hero, Philomena, or “Phil”, is a brothel madam who still occasionally sees clients. She’s now in her early 30s and doing very comfortably, but getting a little bit bored. Thus when she is hired by the well meaning friends of Spencer, the third son of a nobleman, to relieve him of his virginity, she takes the job herself. “Professor” Spencer is autistic, and as an austistic person (me), his portrayal is probably my favourite in fiction so far.
The book is from a short story, and now is the launch of a trilogy. I can see why she gave it a second pass and more fleshing out; it was well worth its increased length. Although it’s very much an erotic romance, there is no gratuitous sex, and an extremely slow burn story, as much about cooking and getting to know one another than bedroom romps. I usually skip the sex scenes in romances, and I never felt I needed to here.
This is not hard femdom, but (author) knows how to build a tease and denial atmosphere, replete with edging. Despite her mission, and the hero’s reluctance, our protagonist manages to reaffirm enthusiastic consent every step of the way. The convenient remote location and lack of transportation to and from the hero’s isolated house gives the characters space to get to know each other and her to respect the initial no without immediately leaving. If not strictly a Christmas romance, with the framing of New Years in the background, this is a Holiday story that holds up year round.
Content note to femdom hungry readers:
Although most of the sex is very directed and initiated by her, as Spencer starts to feel his oats, the heroine enjoys him taking a more assertive role occasionally.
It does not, however, disempower her or flip roles completely. He very innocently keeps joking about her being a queen in a way that I find is often a real life tell for a sub guy in the wild.
As a person who has done the sexual initiation thing, I generally find I appreciate knowing I have installed confidence into my target. I generally don’t code it as “dominant” in my emotional experience of his behaviour, but I enjoy Silver takes initiative and doesn’t confine himself to by the numbers submission.
This book does zero sadomasochism and manages to affirm enthusiastic content with natural regularity. There is no bondage, and no degradation. You won’t enjoy this if you are hunting harder kinks, but I found it nicely hit on the right notes for a naturally occurring FLR.
What about its success as a genre piece & romance?
There’s all the good stuff of a historical romance: Dresses. Navigating social class. Self discovery. Social ruin. The fantasy of inequality put in the service of feeling powerful. We don’t, thankfully, get a surprise extra level of enobling, but the hero is the third son of an Earl, so this isn’t strictly speaking the rare historical commoner romance.
Phil’s approach to sex work doesn’t go down quite so obnoxiously as many heroines, although this does do the “only client I actually ever was attracted to”. She is a victim of an abduction into her trade, which I was a little cautious of, and a little foreshadowing that her wicked aunt and uncle may have intentionally disposed of her into this state of social ruin. Luckily this book doesn’t assert all sex workers are victims, but touches on her colleagues having a huge scope of different experiences and relationships with what they do for a living.
Buried in all this, however, is a very lovely story about the isolation of trauma. Maybe this is particular to me, my autism exists in a space of unclear beginning/end between serious business abuse I survived. Spencer and Phil are both living in self imposed silos of isolation because of abuse, and that’s rather the connection point I can understand how they get each other.
Emotionally Avoidant People In Love
Phil and Spencer are using intense self reliance as a means to be safe, and neither is very trusting. Spencer overtly is never sure if he can trust the good intentions of anyone but his family due to very real past experiences. Phil, meanwhile, repeatedly remarks she respects, but isn’t close to her colleagues in her business, with a very obvious theme of nurturing but arms length to them. For example, a character mentioned repeatedly, but not introduced “Darius” her business’s security, is a rescue from a back alley beating, and I can bet that her “nobody cares about me” attitude never uttered self pityingly, is ruthlessly enforced.
Spencer makes her feel safe because she is so busy unpuzzling him and accommodating, that the inevitable love sneaks up and grabs her unawares. She makes him feel safe because she narrates everything she is doing with him and takes the time to explain something he’s hitherto been exposed to as something humans are supposed to automatically figure out.
Another thing I found pleasant in Gerrard’s depiction of autism was that she skipped the trope of inherent misanthropy. The hero is withdrawn, not because he can’t connect with people, but because the experience of being autistic has provided repeated trauma, both sensory processing and socially. We learn his inevitable social class fueled boarding school experience was an exercise in learning to suppress to survive. But we also see a family that, like every family tree with autism in it, has learned to accommodate.
What Spencer has, that Phil doesn’t, is a foundation of being loved by family, that he is able to share, in turn, by loving her.
And (hooray!), he is no Rain Man. True, he is an academic, but he’s not framed as a magic savant, just a guy with a strong knack for his field of study. I also had to grin when I saw him doggedly (and implied accurately) using the medium of classical history to understand human behaviour- oops, hello me! He also isn’t a particularly successful scholar as far as achievement- his “Professor” is a courtesy title he’s chasing because he seems to be trying to leverage his talents to overcome his disability.
Spencer also wanders around being boggled Phil doesn’t send him into a meltdown, again, see me with a big Cheshire cat grin. With spectrum disorders you can come to believe your worst is normal. In reality, the severity goes up and down with how stressed you are, so a discovery of a modicum of empathy and acceptance can seem miraculous.
Although I don’t consider saying their is a HEA is a spoiler, I am going to park a more tag before I touch on the climax of the novel.
I’m writing this as a quick hot take assuming a hetero audience, and likely a lot of nodding along from the femdom side. I know that there’s no shortage of complain lists in kink, so with each point, when it comes to adding chastity to your relationship, I tried to add some alternative DOs as well. Negativity might drive clicks, but ultimately BDSM is supposed to be fun.
Nobody likes a nag, and coercion through persistence is going to deliver the least fun experience for all of you. Unless she’s specifically into grudging acquisition, nagging to be locked, or after you get locked, nagging for release, are both going to give her a headache.
Instead, take the time to understand her turn ons. She’s more likely to want you out again if she’s horny, than if you pester. Additionally, approach the topic of adding chastity to your relationship with honesty about how much of a deal breaker or not chastity is for you. This will be super hard, but wearing her down to a yes won’t be any better than getting a no up front. Do try to make a difference between understanding her reservations about the activity and pushing past her consent.
Promise her it will make you a better partner
This one is the keyholder bribe-to-play standard. Forums, porn and how to sites are full of people talking about how you will be a better partner in bed or emotionally when you are caged. I cannot stress how much this is a bad idea. Everyone wants to be a better partner, so I can understand how it can make you feel warm and fuzzy to think about being extra motivated. Nonetheless, all she is going to hear is that she needs to bribe you to get her needs met.
Instead, think about your pitch in terms of how it makes you feel. Communicate your arousal or sense of being loved. This has the additional dividend that your partner is more likely to develop the feelings along with it, than if they think this is how you will do the dishes reliably or whatever.
Dive in too fast/heavy
So she said yes! Awesome, as much as we write about this as a fantasy men provide to women, maybe she’s super into it. Maybe it’s even her idea! The mistake you can make here is huge commitments, like long term locking when you have never done it before. Chastity is an acclimation that favours you both building endurance and familiarity.
(So yes, maybe don’t so the full, hard denial Locktober if you have never done this before.)
Ignore custom fit
Not just fitting the device to you, avoid off the shelf fantasies. Don’t assume everything in chastity porn is a fait accompli. Adding chastity to your relationship isn’t a rigid, one true way activity, so assuming you are absolutely obligated to do everything in the porn is doing yourselves both a disservice.
You already know you are supposed to ease into it. While you are doing so, focus particularly on the parts that work for both of you. Porn tends to both cram every fetish it can together to maximize audience size, while depicting the fetishes as rigidly as possible
Unlike a chastity story or porn clip, your relationship only needs to appeal to the people in it. Discard or add anything that works for you.
Assume she hates your penis (or sex)
One of the biggest fuckups would be locked subs make is uncritically buying into the idea that no normal woman wants a guy’s dick. Yes, we probably grew up with the stereotype of the horny man and the frigid woman who needed wooing. This also is a perfectly valid fetish, in its own right. But, and here’s the big caveat, you don’t have to do it if you don’t need that part. By leaning only on humiliation/rejection framing, you reject a whole avenue of being possessed.
I call this stereotype out more than anything else. Along with the chastity for better relationship treatment bribe, chastity because the person finds sex with you appalling is probably the biggest sales pitch barrier.
Sometimes getting her on board is more about getting across that it’s a game of cock on demand and on her terms, not deprivation for her.
You don’t let her develop her own relationship with chastity
I mentioned the problems of assuming she doesn’t like sex, or bribing her by being a good partner. I also talked about avoiding approaching it with the assumption she finds your penis repugnant. With the practical dominance of male voices in communities dedicated to the subject, even though adding chastity to your relationship might be something you are trying to make all about her, beware of accidentally giving her an equally cramped emotional and psychological cage.
Try to be patient if she goes off script from your fantasies, but still seems into it. Be extremely mindful of resources that assume her feelings and make space for her to experiment and tell you what she feels about it. Your keyholder may very well surprise you with plans and fantasies of her own.
Fucking up your framing/introduction
Explain cock cages to the average woman and she might laugh uncomfortably and say no. This isn’t because the idea is inherently worthy of contempt, but because the information is seldom presented in pop culture or porn in a way that makes it approachable.
Your partner is a unique person with her own hopes, dreams, and so forth. You almost certainly know her better than any how to article could. But, what you can bring in common is that first opener.
Telling her that you like a physical reminder of her, and your desire for her via a cage won’t work for everyone, but it’s a definite step up over going straight to talking about your own degradation, if that wasn’t part of your dynamic already. Pitching being submissive to her is similarly more positively done by talking not about what she lacks “could you be more dominant?” but via those traditional I statements “I feel I can trust you and share my fantasy. I like that I can be vulnerable with you.”
This is not the last word on the subject, and I definitely encourage you to look at other resources. If you get one take away from all this, the paradox of selling chastity is simultaneously to give her room to have her own feelings and desires about it, but also to examine your own desires intimately enough to translate them into the terms that work for her.
Because a significant amount of my time is spent looking at neat or sexy things and honestly if I find it interesting I might as well share. Captialism!
“Mistress” T-shirt from Ava Ex Machina
Is there anything this woman can’t do? Yes, that’s an actual picture of me, stockings and all, feeling absaloutly gorgeoud in my favourite of her designs. The Mistress shirt has the loopy femme font, the pretty crop (my favourite idiot proof toy) and just the right positioning.
The shop image does not do it justice- so I am so glad I bought it. Not your style? Consider her Vaporwave “Dream Domme” or the direct “Pay Me” hatchet.
The BS Atelier Oben 3 is simply too pretty not to have me considering the aesthetics. Either poking from a strapon harness, or held by the base, being able to get it without annoying shipping from Come as You Are is just a little bit too tempting to add to cart.
It would also fill a hole (snrk) in my toy collection as the head is much less impractically bulbous than the Tantus Silk Large. Even though I managed to buy that toy twice (I got it from pinkcherry, so much cheaper, but their stock is a lot more limited). I like the Night Sky design enough I want to get it in all three sizes and use it for Silver’s oral training.
Deadly Couture Latex Blouse
It’s the high necked vintage look and drape that lures me in. Probably good for my pocket book ($308 Canadian), this latex blouse is luckily not an easy trip and try on to determine if it would look as good on me, tucked into my corset waisted latex skirt, as it does on the model. I’m between their small and medium for tops, so even if I were handed the cash to blow on goodies I would probably be reticent to splurge. Nonetheless this definitely informs the top I will eventually acquire.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m also admiring the unique detail of the lace on that skirt too… But I think once I sort out my need for stockings this is on the next wanted list.
Definitely Not a Toy Bag
Luna Matatas, the sex educator, has cleverly realized that branded merch is a good way to get people to support her work, and tbh even though it’s just a canvas pouch with printing, it’s working way too well on me.
It’s the week before Locktober, that month when all good boys (and bad boys) hope that a somebody in the spirit of the season, will help them enjoy a little tease and denial.
Net result, a slight uptick in men wistfully publicly dreaming of a bossy lady taking charge, being the approximate equivalent of Valentine’s day for femdom. “Is there a Miss, a Mistress, a Ma’am, who would want little old me?”
And that trots out the same old wishful thinking: what if, out of the blue, a woman wanted to take charge and provide the denial role for one, or a harem of men?
And of course the usual insistence is made, that she be really, really into it and prove that by being free.
Thence comes anguish, why is easy to find femdom only for sale?
Ok, let’s unpack: Why not? What’s going on with all the sex work attached to femdom? Why charge? Why can’t straight guys easily get someone to dominate them for free?
The lazy answer I get is that there’s a ratio imbalance, and in the same breath, that femdoms are fake if they ask for any remuneration. Sites catering to such dynamics, but with a low barrier of entry rapidly clog up with a soft whine “are their any real dommes on here who don’t charge?”
While sex work has always included people who were indifferent to through to disdaining the tasks that make up its labour, I posit rather that the circumstances that make any sex work exist are largely compensations that deal with both the variable artistic quality to audience demand, and the lack of protections for promiscious/ sexually open women.
What does dominating “For Free” mean anyway?
The fantasy of “Free” is that one is so attractive that without the use of currency, one’s partner is so enamored of a person that they fixate and tend to your particular need, getting back warm and fuzzies or erotic hurrah sensations in reply.
Next door to the Free argument is that your own inherent attractiveness should be payment enough- assuming that money makes any social interaction complex and insincere. Ironically the claim is often that it cheapens things to bring money into it, placing the presence of a dollar figure as below priceless.
So, let’s unpack the Free = Authentic false belief, that anything we are passionate about we cannot receive currency over.
I mean, obviously that’s bullshit, we use giving people things including ludicrous amounts of money, as some of the most ultimate measure of someone’s worth. From the bloated salaries of corporate executives to dropping a tip into the hat of a street busker, money means you approve of a behaviour or person.
And, what about me?
I believe the prodommes who say this is their sexuality because I try to take people at their word, but also because I know my own erotic creative overlap into sex work is both a labour of love and a thing I like to get paid for.
So- I enjoy writing fiction, but I am good enough to do it for $$$ so I also do that. Selling my fiction, as well as giving my femdom stories for free, both give me warm social fuzzies.
Let’s be 100% cards on the table. I know that my fiction (and writing) causes both orgasms and emotional feelings of comfort. Both bring me positive attention, and knowing people do donations and kindle book sales to support my sexy art tells me I am special and popular and people love my stuff.
If I didn’t market myself and aggressively pursue attention, the nature of the signal to noise ratio of online content means my work (and thus my voice) would probably go unnoticed. I am loud and have confidence in my value, but more than that, I want you to notice and read my stuff.
That’s a lot closer to the reality of professional femdom.
A lot of what you are paying the pros for these days is availability, risk management and sustaining the lifestyle to do the whatever. I do caveat I ain’t a pro and the pros speak for themselves better than I could, but I am a femme human and being sexy is dangerous… and expensive.
For example, costwise, just as a sexy lady making just herself happy, I have spent about $1000 on lingerie and fetish wear in 2020, almost half of that on latex alone- that’s on top of the hair and makeup- and I’m pretty frugal for a woman who bothers to dress up. On the safety front, I also have to be paranoid and secretive- my overt presence, even an erotica writer draws both social condemnation, persistent sexual harassment, and depending on my visibility, ever increasing threats.
Death threats, boundary crossing attempts to find and force a personal relationship, you name it. Being female shaped, particularly sexually in public and pestering and wishes for violence happens, largely unchecked, except by your own actions.
Put a face picture out there, and the abuse and negative attention increases exponentially. Sorry, that’s the breaks, not only might people try to shame and hurt me for having my sexuality, but for not hiding it well enough.
I also spend a couple of hundred dollars a year on web hosting for my blog- although not as active as it was, traffic isn’t free for me. Living, itself, isn’t free, and I am compelled to occupy myself working some way or another to pay for everything.
The Economics of Being a Slut
Sex work tends to exist in the overlapping area of being on the edge or past mainstream acceptability, and significantly limits your options for most women if you are found out. That being said, it isn’t the easy industry the average misogynist seems to think it is. As much as you see a sea of lingerie clad “fakes” doing drive by insults, the economics of sites like OF is that most of these women are losing money.
No really, unless you are very good at marketing yourself, sex work isn’t just real work, it’s got a very poor pay off prospect. This goes to conventional old school porn, where being an actress meant neither controlling any part of the copyright or distribution (much less royalties), to the realities of things like stripping, or even the so called full service sex work.
Leaving aside discrimination on the basis of looks, and the usual ugly age/race/gender biases in paying porn… Payment takes both luck, sales talent and a number of factors otherwise typical of any other business.
If you add up marketing effort and work out their hourly, for most OF models, it’s actually a significantly worse take home than grabbing a few hours at McDonalds or similar. They are, in effect, giving a product partially for the feeling it gives to them in pursuing the dream and maybe a pay off.
Ok, but prodommes?
Domination-for-pay has this factor too. You are managing a client base, advertising, etc… probably trying to juggle complimentary revenue streams (eg clips, phone sex, etc…). It’s likely that you are renting a dungeon by an hour, if that’s expected (although some obviously own their own space), buying and maintaining gear, etc…
None of this is required to be a dominant, however. But, it is required if you have any hope of making a consistent amount of money. And the money pool is small- only a slice of guys can afford either occasional or regular by the hour “sessions”.
Prices go down, ironically not scaling with the actual work or risk. Indeed there’s a certain unfairness that the people in the highest prestige positions in sex work are likely to get the treatment of the most legitimacy and ease in crossing into work that isn’t stigmatized.
I don’t think adult content consumers realize this.
A lot of guys assume that because there are many pros they can see advertising that they are a licence to print money- its not. For a minority of women you can make a decent middle class living (or even be wealthy), but like vanilla modeling or being an instagram influencer, it’s not exactly the most reliable pay off.
Sexist idiots, in particular, labour under the idea that all women enjoy a sort of sexually motivated UBI. I don’t think I need to spend much time combating the delusions of misogynists with detailed facts and citations, but I do think it does help to look at the ingredients on the salami even if we don’t tour the sausage production facility.
The other sad truth is that the encouragement to go pro can sometimes be a form of self defence. To be a sexually out there woman means wrangling all the same creeps, and putting a price sticker on it can simply be a means to sustain a literal lifestyle that’s incompatible with being perceived as socially acceptable.
For example being doxxed won’t go any better/worse for my lack of official sex work. I’m still the nasty slutty pervert lady. Femdoms exist in a perfect storm of representing a certain phobic projection to a certain kind of man, while getting smacked with the “whore” stigma, is it any wonder that real or not, they charge?
So why don’t you go pro, Miss Pearl?
In my case I don’t do prodom work, but that’s partly because I don’t have the attraction to the scenario that would involve. Am I asked to? Frequently.
The overlap between dominatrix as a viable commercial archetype, and my sexuality is not close enough to justify it. I don’t dislike all of it!
For example as a writer, even in erotica, the hot thing is incest. I could write incest porn and more people would like my work better. But… I dun wanna.
I got out of vanilla copywriting because the pay to effort was shit. I don’t write incest porn because my personal perception of it being gross (victim of real life incest) isn’t worth the uptick in happy readers.
For me, the other askew is I don’t personally like the two conditionals of pro-domme work, both the necessity of certain conformity, and an availability that makes me squick hard.
Conformity isn’t falseness.
I am overdue to write about the other femdom audience. It’s a whole essay on its own, that we exclude women in conversations about our own physical and aesthetic presentation… even though we are actually the (snrk) dominant voice by dint of the whole nature of contemporary gender roles.
To put it on a napkin: although the economics make male patronage favour certain modes and aesthetics, whether designing, assembling or performing the aesthetic, fashion is a woman’s language. It is so female coded that men existing in our spaces as creators and taste makers cannot escape at least the presumption of queerness.
Nailing that down, it hits the artists dilemma: what sells is nessarily pragmatic. Just as the technically submissive enjoy more real power in a BDSM sex act by virtue of the fact that that their submission isn’t passive, he who pays the pegger picks the pipe.
Where we go wrong is saying that he composes the entire scenario. It is possible that clients can create it as a form of vanity theatre, the Sun King (or Sun Kink, if you will) in the centre of his ballet of courtiers. But, again, composers, costumers, set designers, advisors, etc… all express various points of agency.
I am no baroque ballerina, but that is a lot more personal pathos than a dislike of every bit of dance. Supposed social structures and group participation in a whole, to me are fundamentally a reminder of my being broken. Trauma or Autism, I cannot hear the beats that everyone else seem to.
I mean, this makes me a unique kind of fraud, because I pass pretty well as a relatable rebel. Only once you spin out the #fuzzyslippers and #pyjamadomme to its extreme, I fall out of step with the chorus.
I am correct that the monopoly that the current structure has on defining femdom (looking at you Annie Nomis, you Academic Elise Sutton) is hot garbage, but “Real Femdom” is just another trap of limited definition. I am not going to be any more happy if the entirety of my sexual performance is directed by that norm set more so than the Dominatrix one.
Back to the point at hand, however, that norms, themselves, help us bridge the gap of communication with the unique selves. Costume, title, tool- all are overlays onto bridging the isolated self into the other.
I am reticent to admit but one of the places I am most able to connect to others is through my sexuality. The intensity of the moment, a free ability to suddenly lose the bewildering metaphorical wall of noise that most people are and just be merged as the self overlaps over my victim is a sensation of joy beyond my body.
Some sort of conclusion
When you pay a sex worker, they are no more or less fake than anyone you interact with. What you are paying for is the risk and the effort involved to make themselves work for you, outside of the pure creative work.
Being upset people ask for payment is being unaware you exist in a world that largely caters to your desire and asking for people to make it even easier for you- there would be more out there lifestyle femdoms… if you dealt with that pesky sexism problem.
Sunday, we played casual over webcam, myself in a clingy leather look mini dress but also wrapped in a loose black cardigan, and him no collar or other symbols except the hidden presence of a moderately sized butt plug.
I did not plan, let my mood decide where things went. As I am prone to I let a riff about my future desire to lay out belated birthday spankings with a hard backed hair brush pull us into that intimate state of focus on eachother, and the theme of the day became discipline.
Discipline is not a common activity for us. I don’t like the sensation of not receiving compliance and correcting it, most of the time, and have a hard time eroticizing not getting what I asked for. But it serves a purpose, and I ventured there: had he been bad?
He, squirming and enjoying the penitent vulnerability, confessed to missing three days of daily edging. Technically within compliance- as with most of my orders it was and if/then. If he is not sufficiently stressed by life, then edge and tell me about it.
But I had given him the option that if he acquired guilt he could purge it in scouring. I am attracted to anxious people, and understand a fair amount about their psychology, one part being the painful state of feeling insecure about disappointing long after the disappointed party has gotten over it. And I know any anxious person go into a guilt spiral when they contemplate the comfort of being told something they feel they caused is still pricking them.
Punishment here is an act of reassurance. I mean, ultimately it’s makeup sex for kinky people, something we mutually enjoy to turn off the scumbag brain going NoNoNoBad
I can’t, with distance and Covid19, obviously do pain play the usual ways, but while I am not a fan of the self spanking (I think I could get into literal self flagelation with a knotted rope scourge, but we don’t have one), we have the pavloc and the relative safety of stress positions.
Although pushing a button to make a zap, wince and erection throb will never get old, I like stress positions in particular, for Silver, because he is in meticulous physical shape (my cute little gym bunny!) and is the sort of person to whom if you said “fuck yourself until you are tired” he would do so not until his arm was sore, but until he was a weakly twitching heap on the carpet.
Summoning my disciplinarian voice, which for the record, is still in the territory of “croon”, but conveys a slight edge to ratchet tension, I ordered him to strip. This, he did so, shucking off clothes with wild abandon.
So I made him stop, remember to fold everything neatly. I enjoyed the enthusiasm he peeled off with, don’t get me wrong. There’s an erotic thrill in the strip and toss, but the Aesthetic is a dominant’s most useful weapon in maintaining a unified mood.
Chastened by my observation of his flattering but accidentally disobedient display of eagerness, everything else was removed and duly folded, then piled in a tidy stack and held, fancy waiter style, on a flat palm with arm extended.
He edged for me and I corrected him accordingly, reminding him I would never discourage him from being excited, but he still needed to remember for the sake of remembering, and finding satisfaction, we moved on.
I made him hold the stress position called “motorcycle” which is basically a wall sit sans wall and with your arms up, and edge the three times he said he missed. During that he had to repeat several times, the first because he forgot to count out loud (to be fair I didn’t tell him to) and the next few times because his legs had enough.
Anguished, exhausted, vulnerable. I stressed that not doing wasn’t the failure as much as not telling me. And that I didn’t mind him collapsing and trying over and over again.
As much as he endured for me, I also layered on cooing, encouragement, reassurance. I am a sadist with a soft heart. I love his suffering and making him so makes me gooey inside. My physical arousal at each desperate groan when is strength gave out was matched with a certain sympathy.
Good boy. In the aftermath of his punishment the topic turned to the erotic, asking him when he did have free permission to cum (basically before me). What moment in fantasy was his release?
We all have our triggers. Mine is usually when the text hits a climax demonstration of some symbolic extreme loss of agency. Not shockingly I tend to read a lot of modification, brainwashing and captivity stories. And, as I mentioned these are often vile, physically impossible nonsense, and most definitely the sort of stuff we firmly call “cnc” to separate the barrier between really wanting to keep someone in your basement and imaging elaborate scenarios where this might be possible but no real persons are harmed.
His trip, more often than not, is the moment when the victim-protagonist succumbs to the control, hypnotic or otherwise, usually a symptom there of being their own orgasm.
So thus, I pushed, no orgasm until I take something from him permanently, only endless edging. He could either wait until I take his virginity in October (mine now!), or come up with something else.
Right hand continuously stroking a rather immensely thick erection, he thought for a moment and daringly suggested his twitter user name.
“You have a twitter account?”
Yes, lurking to follow points of interest, including a quiet follow when I first propositioned him back in November 2019 (American Thanksgiving), after I gave him my various and sundry online details so he could get to know my sexuality. Unlike Ferns, I treat my body of work so important to my core self that I do not want sexual or romantic contact with someone who has no interest in it.
Also of course, predating me, Silver quietly follows other content makers and dommes, either past service providers or persons of interest- this being the actual revelation. I actually am not sure what to do with that information since while I am a big believer in healthy relationships when practical with exes and in trust that it’s fine to think your friends, or other people are hot, I am not sure I want to pry into what feels like their intimacies.
For example, I enjoyed him sharing a few past scene photos providers had snapped of him, but in these cases the “she” wasn’t in the photo and I could admire her work more abstractly.
Providers aren’t exes, but they add the desire in me to treat them with the same respect and accommodation. Although I find the “true love waits” purity of a one partner only rhetoric alarming, I see the concept that intimacy and romance change a person, paid or otherwise, as a feature not a bug.
But, obviously providers don’t want some civie patiently slotting them into the same category I do of former members of my kid brother’s polycule, which is to say a distant sense of positive obligation that they have remotely plausible chance to turn up and be given a cup of tea.
So I get ridiculously British concerned about manners over it, a sort of fumbling divide by zero where I am feeling awkward because I am imagining a dominatrix bothering to reach out to a former, fairly casual client to catch up because she is in town or whatever. I project that role onto a hypothetical *them* and then immediately feel wildly embarrassed about daring to presume. Because obviously that isn’t plausible.
You can add a third meta hypothetical of said poor dominatrix standing in my kitchen patiently looking perplexed while my overly fussy brain steams out the ears harder than the kettle I am making her tea with.
Back to the moment (and erection) at hand
It’s not the first time Silver’s told me something relationship related mid-edge. Last time I ordered him to confess I learned, while pumping his cock, that he had politely sent his former dominatrix a letter cancelling her (er, his?) services and told his parents I existed.
I think it’s kind of endearing that unless he’s come recently, my presence tends to cause the urge to furiously masturbate.
I teased him about being “sneaky”, and I admit to a little spur of sharpness, even though contextually it was something that made the most practical sense, mostly because I assumed he did not have one after he mentioned not wanting to participate in the hurly burly of the barely moderated social sphere.
But, I also reassured, enjoying the bit of fight and the vulnerability of having a secret pocket he compulsively had withheld.
I leaned into this, pushing for more, asking what else, and he offered out handing over previously stashed erotica and porn (not to deny by my preference, rather as intimate data).
Yes, but I knew he had those. What else?
He had a pause here, a mental barrel scrape, and I observed something very true but very difficult.
With every relationship, within 1 to 6 months, that person’s core structure become self evident, non-negotiables that I accept. Silver is an intensely private person. He will omit to mention things you would think were normal- not just a sort of grey rock, but affecting a river tumbled smoothness.
He would never give you his opinion on politics or share the latest documentary he is listening to. He wouldn’t mention an event he attended and spare any show of temper, blanketed under the most careful bland patience, withdrawing from the hint of social drama.
I had previously accepted pieces of him will surface in their own time. We might be ancient and well wizened decades from now, only for me to discover that every day he takes ten minutes to do an act of anonymous charity, or that he is a huge fan of 90s EuroPop sensation Aqua.
But, without thinking it would be hurtful, I teased about his tendency to lie by omission. I had meant to underline the known contrast that Silver is deeply submissive and immensely independent and individualistic. It did not carry that.
This isn’t the first time I have played with the real. The other week I did a mind fuck, narrating that his (normal) anxieties about the relationship were actually his real self asserting over my seductive hypnosis, producing extremely aroused shivers of fear from him.
This time he visibly shrank back a bit and his eyes took on a hurt cast, small an vulnerable. I could not and would not eroticize that. His penis, previously rock hard, gently curled towards the left.
Silver did not cry off, but after a moment of reading his expression I did, breaking tone. There’s a difference in the way I use my voice, and had I been there in person it would be my arms that held him.
I do have to be careful, for me what is a reasonable right to privacy, is not necessarily a part of the self everyone is proud of. I told him that I loved the whole him, that I didn’t need all truths just for the sake of collecting them and preferred him to keep his space and secrets.
Even these blog posts are run through him first, catching anything, in description of his life or our shared intimacy, that is too much and too raw to feed to the world.
Me keeping a blog is non-negotiable, me treating his own story with care is reasonable.
He told me that it was a hard moment where he thought he might safeword but he also thought I was really upset. And obviously, in his mind, he couldn’t safeword out of my raw feelings?
I told him he very well could. It is ok to take a break on a heated or difficult discussion, to make some things off limits, even to someone who loves you.
Obviously there are practicals, but ultimately short of trying to shut down “aaaugh you are literally on fire” a safeword is BDSM’s best contribution to interpersonal relationships.
We talked a bit until the raw feelings dissipated, in in the way that we do my words began to arouse him again, drawing his cock back up skyward and him restored. And I took back that purr of presence, by gesture and word telling him I was forcing him to come for me.
Swift, hard, and with a complex sort of regret. Tease and denial versus making a man come is a bit of wanting to have my cake and eat it too. I want that rapt attention and desperation, but also I want him to have that mind blanking sensation of release.
And then cozy discussion after, the usual routine, cupped palm to avoid anointing the carpet with thwarted biological imperative, rinse, towel around his middle. Chatting about the week ahead, we pretend covid and the US political situation wasn’t ominously intervening on the earnestness of our longings.
Parting ways a tiny bit of sad quirked, and he picked up on it and asked if something was wrong. I explained that I was just labile after, and it wasn’t his place to need to reassure me for something that was a bit of echo sad for finding a boundary. I told him, honestly, it would dissipate on it’s own.
By the next day it’s mostly gone, and fits into my knowledge that my ability to deserve trust as a dominant is not born of telepathy but testing, and proof that I won’t mangle things when tenderness is needed.
I discussed this with Silver a bit more than his usual read through because it deals so much with his vulnerability. I do ask you treat the privilege of his consent to share with the same respect I do.