Topping From All Angles (And A Bit Of How I Dom)

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Let’s talk about topping from the bottom.

Recently I did tentative discussions about stuff with someone about kinky fun times- the usual things about what happens to whom, and how. and, over the course of very gentle exploration, we discussed that there were things he liked, yes, but he didn’t want me to think he was topping from the bottom.

A bunch of people are weighing in on this particular dispute topic right now- the danger on emphasizing the negatives of that term. Snarksy blogged about it, where as over on Twitter @MsCrosswords from Beyond the Valley of the Femdoms was talking about the challenge of a partner who thought he wasn’t allowed to ask for stuff. At all. I’m old enough, in terms of participating in the online kink stuff, to remember when the term was not out of favour in the circles I run in. To be precise, “Topping from the bottom”, when I first encountered it, meant the phenomena in which the one who is receiving the topping (the bottom) or the person who is ostensibly submissive, is calling the shots in some format.

Back in the day, it was often a term used for a punishment dynamic gone wrong, where the rigidity of the rules meant that a masochist was getting rewarded for doing stuff the dom really didn’t want. It’s also was expanded to refer to the phenomena of the laundry list, something that seems mostly particular to F/m more than M/f.  In that case, it was a  series of demands based on the sub’s perception of D/s in exclusion to what the dom wanted, often with poor desire to respect boundaries. It’s good to have a term to talk about this problem, right?

So how can this go wrong?

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Post Mortum Of My Relationships To This Date

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So various things happened to me over the last month or two, which has strangled updates down to a trickle.  In the first place work decided to be a pain in the butt and then laid me off. Then stuff happened regarding Strong and other… stuff.

It makes me introspective about my life choices, especially in light of what i’m watching other people go through. I am of the philosophy that two people in a relationship both play a role in creating the dynamic you play out, which is not the same as shared culpability should one person abuse the other, but the dissolutions and breakups we have, and the errors we make are still valuable lessons.

Some people like the high school boys I dated, were just nice boys- the first one I was maturing from girl to woman still, and too loopy for a relationship, while the long term high school boyfriend was sweet, but the take away there I got was not to date anyone dumber than you, because you had to respect someone you’re with. Nocturnal was an exercise in working out what I should and shouldn’t tolerate. In hindsight, if you aren’t used to being respected, you can mistake neediness for being important.

With Strong and why we broke up: As far as my perspective on the situation, not all relationships are stable or meant to last, and I went into it with the suspicion that our gulf in ages meant that we were in different places but more to the point, his tendency to precisely box everything off to control it was going to fight our D/s connection, while his communication style didn’t allow for candid admission of failure. To be exact I was his training dom, a safe woman who wouldn’t gut him in the process of him finally getting to feel loved and wanted for his vulnerabilities.

As far as my part in our breakup, since I am, shall we say, not a fan of conflict, there was little I could do in this circumstance beyond letting it be as it would be. I’d like to think I’m still a net positive on his life. And and I forecasted, from our initial connection where I crawled into his head, that was unsustainable, and he got himself increasingly walled off to the point where, as of the end of June, I was dealing with manufacturing my own happiness again. Which is to say, a very gentle  and lucky way to find yourself breaking ties with someone.

For a brief few months before that, Strong had the rare gift of being able to have more impact on my happiness than I could have on it independently, and then I went back to making me happy. I dissolved our D/s agreement when I was no longer helping him, but also as a confirmation that I had learned some of the lessons I was supposed to learn from the Ex.

The Ex is one of those cases where it can be hard to talk about it because of how embarrassed and ashamed that sort of banal awful makes you feel when you survive it. It can be completely inexplicable- how did I let someone treat me like an idiot domestic servant, deny me sleep to the point of contributing to academic issues with my education and exacerbating my emotional health problems, while letting them so terrorize me that I completely unable to resist them? They are not, what you’d describe, as intimidating.

Well, the profoundly fucked up childhood I grew up with sure as heck did not help. Let’s be honest, when you learn your relationship models from a situation with abuse and enablers, it makes it much easier to ignore the what-the-fuck-are-we-doing?! feelings the insanity of an abusive dynamic engenders until you are enmeshed. That’s a hard other thing to talk about, because I don’t want sympathy for the shit that occurred at this juncture, and I’m leery of being treated like I’m dangerously crazy because I survived it- or not being taken seriously because someone hurt me.

The Ex was, to be honest about things, not all bad, but he was a horrible match for my own anxieties and vulnerabilities. If, in a love match, you can feel like you found a key for your lock, the Ex and I meshed his issues and controlling streak with my yielding , appeasing approach. Yes, while a dom (TM), generally speaking I tend to take stuff that’s not in my control and let it slide. I’m not one of those True Leaders people like to brag about being.

If you’re going to get all metaphorical about stuff, I’m a water person. I don’t make walls, I flow around stuff and find my own level. I can certainly be disturbed, but just as much as I can get all choppy and disturbed on the surface, but I can also take in and soak things pretty well.

Strong was an earth person, who put walls up absolutely everywhere, and locks people into them. The Ex? Fire, maybe? At once burning bright, but so fragile, needing to be sheltered and to consume constantly to survive. All appetites and needs, which was fascinating to my dominant/nurturing streak, but no brakes on the devouring aspect.

Wow, this is getting long. I’ll continue after the jump.

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Myself, and Moving On

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Pretty, pretty...

Let’s talk about my love life, these days, shall we?

My nails bite into his back, but he takes them, sharp as they are, and he is unbreakable. His skin in thick, the muscle underneath taut to the point of hardness. I stab and press and nothing makes him yield, but gradually, with my strength into it, I feel the start of a pliancy. He’s tough, and there’s a challenge there, beyond simply getting a reaction, to help melt away the wiry solidity into something completely supple.

I’m white as a snowdrop against the sallow-sand colour of his skin, my body soft where he is hard and rough. Our bodies slide together in a way that meets and balances, although he is taller, I can lift him without excessive effort, not just because of his lightness but because I’ve always been fairly strong for a woman. My head fits well against his chest, nestled against his shoulder, and my arms around him, seatbelt-safe. His hands, casually playing around my waist, find the exact place on my spine where the muscles and bone carry things too heavily, pressing until the always-ache I’ve learned to ignore lets go.

I lean over the foot of his bed, stretching, and watch his slender, straight legs, upside down. I like to look at the ratio between the spareness of his body and the breadth of his shoulders. I like the way his eyes are hooded and long lashed, and the delicate sculpting of his nose. I like the gravel in his voice, and the way he looks at me, sometimes wanting, sometimes with a hesitant vulnerability like he’s not sure quite what he’s doing, but most times just hard to read as he’s usually pretty closed off. That, in itself, is a challenge, since I’m used to being the one knocking reactions out of people.

We try little bedroom games, what works and what doesn’t, but just as much, we talk about all the things that tell who you are, a few pieces every time, and twine up together, in a lock-knot of limbs.

I am happy, although it’s very much a situation built on shifting silt, as mercurial as one might expect given the circumstances. It’s not a safe and stable meeting, and I don’t feel sure footed with him, at once sharing myself with as much flayed honesty as I can and on the other hand, keeping some restrictions on the impulsivity and carnal impishness that defines me. We are not sure what we are doing, not sure what I am, other than that I am there and present at this moment, where I can help.

So I make myself into the safe, accepting stillness that I learned how to be a long time ago, and I tell him that for now, I’m in charge, until the storm has passed us by. On the balance, the trade off is knowing him with nothing in the way of illusions, in the rawness of a crisis, and finding nothing lacking in him or his response to it. So there’s that.

Love Me Properly

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So Strong and I had a candid post mortum tonight about the failure of our relationship and I made sure to be honest about where life has taken me. I am in an odd dilemma, to be loved, by many, but not quite in the way that I wish.

I find myself playing with hearts, accidentally. Perhaps spurred by Strong’s instance that I look elsewhere to get my needs met, my deck is overloaded with people who I’m afraid of hurting, with one wildcard that has to play himself. Tease and denial comes easily with dominance, and yet when it comes with suitors, excessive insistence of my glory sends me scattering. I hate the idea of having victims who aren’t willingly tying themselves to the post, but are doing it for desire for something more. Maybe that’s part of what makes me deeply suspicious of acts of service, more so than I should be?

And I had my heart taken, accidentally, as if it were book picked up by error, but then the borrower had become engrossed in reading what he found. Unfortunately that’s a situation that’s providing my least favourite thing in interpersonal relationships: waiting on someone else’s will and willpower. I am not, but nature, good at that kind of patience. Trust is not a natural part of my makeup, least of all trust and faith and others (not with my independence levels), nor do I like passivity. But, regardless, the situation the gentleman has is something where if I try to intervene I’m in the wrong. I can’t lift a single finger, not to push or to beckon.

It makes me think about love as it should be, for me. I’ve never been about being impressed with expensive gifts. The Ex, the one I spent six years with, compared my needs to being that of a pet rock- I never made demands, not for jewellery, flowers or fancy dinners (I like eating, but I’m not good at taking)- and honestly, I was an expert at self sacrificing care taking for him. And yet, my way of love has been about doing on the small scale. That doesn’t really fit stereotypical D/s femdom well- my ‘tribute’ wishlist is a joke loaded with beef jerky.

And yet, I bought myself tea roses this week, my favourite. Strong charmed me with unexpected chocolates, once upon a time, and once, a boy charmed me, by passing me a cheap chocolate egg. Compliments get me blushing. Somewhere is a chink in that armour. I want the romance, I just don’t want to feel it’s a big deal.

To love my properly, it seems, takes courage, self confidence, occasional capacity to cruelty, and yet acts of kindness. I need someone who can yield to me where I want it, but stand for me and with me when I need it. If that ends in me being a spinster maiden aunt in the end, so be it.

(amendment)

Shut up Tashi. 😛

On The Single Life- Or Why I Don’t Think Online Dating Is For Me

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So things ended with Strong. Sadness documented in other posts.

We never had monogamy, but I never got further than play with friends and a spot of light molestation. It didn’t feel right, up until it was basically over with Strong, and at that point the relationship falling apart just meant I felt frustrated and neglected. And small amounts of drama occurred which I will explain later.

Somewhere along the way I acquired one of those online dating profiles. Under the general theory that I’m a tough cookie who won’t let a little setback having to break up with someone after many patient months get me down, I busily answered questions (allowing them to conclude I was much more kinky than the average, as well as independent and not very romantic, not sure how I feel about that last part) and took some flattering selfies. From there I set out to tentatively find out what exactly the boys were like out there with an eye to being open minded. My head’s a little messed up by stuff, but it couldn’t hurt, right?

For an extra oomph I seeded my profile with hints of my precise brand of kinkiness, and set about with the rating of profiles that okcupid gently nudges you to do. And lo and behold I got a message.

“Is your name [Pearl]?”

Okay. There’s no way that is going to end well. And no, it did not…

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Well, fuck. (Breakups)

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So, Strong and I broke up. No story this Friday, just a post mortum.

Leaving most personal details out of it, it just wasn’t working anymore, which makes me incredibly sad. More so since I didn’t stop caring about the poor bastard, we just lost the mutual connection. Somewhere along the way, it died.

Ferns basically has the crux of the challenge for dominants, that without submission there is nothing. You can have a relationship, but it’s a stunted one with an under current of frustration. Breaking up with him meant leaving the hope that if I was just a bit more patient he’d come back to me.

But there’s that bugger chemistry. When you feel like submission is being handed out like a cookie, and the person is too busy giving you what they think they want, you stop feeling that glow of empowerment. To describe the situation, of course, doesn’t give Strong a fair chance to defend himself. He tried to be what he thought I wanted to the best of his ability.

But the problem may also be a matter of style. Submission, for me, is seduced out or ripped out. I find I tend to be drawn to the switch-y ones, in part because of my masochism, but also because of that sense of victory. Ha. I bet I probably sound like a cliché. Every dominant likes to think they’re special and that their submissive does not fall easily.

(Well, actually I’m not so sure about that, since I fake ‘submissive’ really well and I do not act fighty)

But for me, a guy who is all service and obedience from the start makes me feel like I’ve been asked to scale a sheer wall of glass. When I met Strong, he was emphatically not in a submissive position. The chemistry grew up around his desire just for me and we created something that was unique to us.

And yet there’s the gulf that often comes up between expectation of how a sub should act and  what the dom wants. In his case, I think he choked, and got too focused on being the perfect boyfriend. We always had a problem that way, for example I would provide a rule I wanted to put into place and he would take it and run with it and turn it into something his. Which makes it not about me, but about doing things his way.

On the other hand some of this is normal. I may have been too demanding and distance is bloody hard. And I really need to feel like I have the person’s full attention when I want it, which may be pretty hard to pull off all the time.

Regardless, he was, in many ways, extremely good for me and I don’t regret that he was part of my life. He came in as a friend, and I hope we’ll stay that way after we’ve had a chance to lick our respective wounds.

Deranged Emails (Jeremy)

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Usually I only get spam through the contact form for this blog. However, I must be doing something right- look at the crazy person who just sent me some fanmail!

Your hypocricy

Alas, spelling is the first thing to go when the neurons start to fry.

Being a jerk and sexism are discouraged. You right stories about arrogant, pervert SEXIST scum, you have tabs highlighting male suffering and feminism and you say sexism is discouraged. How would you define sexism if not through your sick, hypocritical garbage?Submitting not for you?

Come again? Yeah, I don’t really get any emotional fulfillment from subverting myself that way. I’m a masochist but a terrible sub. What’s that got to do with sexism?

In other words, your just a typical worthless reject fuckbag wind and piss who is about as useful as a cunt on a nun.

Because the only value of a woman’s genitals is their utility as a source of sexual enjoyment to others? Okay…

Pity YOUR junk isn’t locked up, although I suspect nature gave you the best chastity device when it gave you your face. Just be glad when nature gave you a face like a dogs backside, it gave you the substance that comes out of one for a brain.

Well then, clearly this guy doesn’t like porn stories and me being supportive to a friend who is sad his $600 chastity device broke. Apparently the only purpose women have, to him, is submission or sexual gratification. I’m pretty sure he enjoys neither in real life, but hope spring eternal on his part, I guess. Also, is he trying to neg me?

No tolerance of Male led D/s at all, or are you one of those feminist pigs who try to portryay Male led, M/f/ D/s reationships as DV? That’s domestic violence in case you’re too stupid to know.

So this person really, really doesn’t like femdoms, or maybe they don’t like people who aren’t switches. Or they simply can’t understand the difference between a sexual preference. Typically speaking “feminism” is like a dog whistle for a particular brand of fighty idiot who rapidly turns vile and violent, usually in a way that makes feminism inherently self justifying.

Sadly, the guy who calls himself “Jeremy” doesn’t limit himself to just me. Alas, femdoms across the interwebs are finding his bags of flaming shit in their in boxes, apparently mostly via twitter. Thus discovered by Goddess Olivia and last year, Girls Rule, Subs Drool.

Same modus operandi- screeches of “It’s not FAIR!” with a string of incoherent insults. Same email address with a generic name. Guess the group home lets them have access to computers to keep them integrated into society?

Other Places To Go Part III

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It's been one of those months

It’s been a while since I did a link dump. Work and some emotionally confusing and exhausting life stuff have been draining my energy, including my creative output. However, I’m still keeping updating, albeit maybe a bit late.

Coming up on the writing queue is a review of one of my favourite writers of online femdom stories, who is making anthologies of his work, as well as a ebook called “How To Discipline Your Vampire”, a firmly tongue in cheek effort to cover all the book trends of the last decade other than maybe a girl rebel in a dystopia.

Now, the links!

Someone called Laura Brown at Divorce Darling made a ‘scoop-it’ page about ideas of what to do to your male submissive.

Becoming Her Slave has a whole blog devoted to pondering how to get women on board with this femdom thing in a way that makes it fun and non-pushy.

Submissive Guide aims to be a resource for subs to share their thoughts. It’s mostly femsub oriented, but they try to be malesub friendly too. Their sister site is Dominant Guide.

Friday Femdom Fiction: No Marks (Tickle)

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The cuffs made the satisfying tearing noise of silk being shredded when she unwound the velcro from its coiled up shape. He was still smiling, the black silk of the blindfold across his eyes like a censor bar.

“Huh,” she set the first cuff around his wrist and considered precisely what she was about to do. The nylon weave straps ran under the mattress, beneath them, an X shape with each end terminating with a cuff. “There we go.”

A naked spread eagle gave her a chance to enjoy the view. He was slim, with the build he’d built up with daily 6:00 AM swim practices. She swung a leg over his body, straddling him.

“Mistress?”

Her fingers sought his chest, stroking in a glide over his smooth skin. He kept himself hairless, as if that could somehow help him glide through water better. She couldn’t leave marks, which was just her luck. Boyfriend with a perfect body, a high pain threshold and a hobby that meant wearing a speedo on a regular basis. But she would show him.

“What are you planning tonight, Mistress? You’re not going to spank me, you tied me face up.” His tone had a challenge. With everything they did and played with, he was always quick to hid behind his limits. She liked that edge of rebellion that never went away, even as she sought to grasp it and rip it out by the roots.

Her fingers curled as the stroke reached his shoulders, letting them brush along where the muscle connected chest to arm. She liked the way he fit together,and the way that when he lay on his back she could still see the way his back muscle extended like a wing, “Hush.”

“Mmm?” He clammed up, but there was a certain sort of seeking in the way he tested against the cuffs on his wrists, pulling on the straps.

“You talk too much Waterboy.” She leaned in close. “If you want to come, I don’t want to hear you make a sound.”

And then her fingers skittered over his ribs. He gave a gasp, getting the measure of her game instantly.

She found all the delicate, soft places, where the nerves could be teased. Armpits. Back to ribs, and along his collar bone. He shook. The more she brushed her fingers against him, the more sensitized she saw he got. She took care to change the spot, never letting him adjust.

The blindfold, being nothing harsh, had loosened itself with the way her was frantically moving his head from side to side, grimacing and giving little whistling exhalations and snorts. he looked at her accusingly.

“Don’t laugh,” she warned, in that syrup and cyanide voice. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

Then, to raise his helplessness, she ordered, “Stop smiling!”

The way a nervous mouth and a happy mouth both pull themselves shared enough similarities, that between her constant stimulation and verbal prods, that it was almost impossible for him not to grin. “….hhhhh!”

“Was that a noise?”

He shook his head briskly, with a look of panic.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, then, shall we?” She slid down his body, making sure he felt her soft nakedness against his, until she settled herself at his feet.

When she began to tickle the soles of his feet, she was thankful she’d strapped his powerful legs down. He was kicking frantically.

“Just a little bit more,” she crooned. He was at her mercy now. She knew if she pushed a little more, he’d break, and one of his chuckles would slip out. She laughed then, considering. Did he come tonight, or would he have to wait?

Reader Letter: Hurting Yourself & Tying Yourself Up

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Closer to God, or orgasm. Works for me.

Self inflicted sadomasochism is often the first ways we get to experiment with our kinks. Whether you fantasized as a kid about how your piano lessons were taking place at gunpoint, you’re looking for some you focused self gratification or you’re simply trying to understand how something works before you try it on someone else, there are many reasons you might want to try an activity on yourself. Tying yourself up is not an uncommon form of early exploration into kink and, I think solo play deserves as much love as playing with a partner.

So I got this message recently, from a reader:

Hello Miss Pearl,

I have followed your blog for quite some time and enjoy it very much. You seem to offer a sane, critical, level headed view on BDSM community that I find quite refreshing. I have recently begun taking the first step past “lurking” on fetlife to more interactive engaging. I am a switch myself so am happy as a dominant or submissive. What I am interested in , is some online torture ideas that can be preformed on me, or directed by me. I recently experienced a “session ?” with elastic bands around my quads, that I found but exhilarating and painful in equal measure.

I have read what I can find online, which involve, chopsticks, ginger, clothes pegs etc. Yet nothing real jumps out at me. I was wondering do you have any ideas/knowledge of where to best look to get more informed on the subject ?? Thanks for taking the time to read,, and for maintaining such a quality blog.

Best,

4playfiend

Dear 4playfiend:

Sadomasochism is not always a couples activity, as many people have discovered. However, doing it by yourself obviously presents some challenges. For one thing, some bondage scenarios are just a little difficult when you can’t reach the knots and it may not feel quite the same way to do things to yourself. On the other hand, for one reason or another, for example a long distance relationship or happy fun time at home, you may want to engage in a little erotic self mortification.

But first, three pieces of safety advice for all you masturbatory enthusiasts reading.

  1. No breath play without a reliable partner. Breath play is already fucking dangerous without someone there to provide supervision and solo choking and smothering has claimed many people.  Don’t put things around your neck or plastic bags on your head.
  2. No vacbeds. Even on a timer, or set up in a way that you think you can get out of. Again, people have died this way, even people who were as close to vacbed experts as it gets.
  3. Don’t restrain yourself in a non-foolproof way. Use the baby handcuffs with the safety release switches and don’t just rely on “eventually I can wiggle free!”. As fun as freezing keys in an ice block sounds, you want something a bit more easy to deal with if your house catches on fire or you otherwise need to get out fast.

Everyone’s fetishes are a little different, so what you will find enjoyable is probably going to vary from one person to the next. Functionally speaking the number of ways that you can harmlessly give those nerve endings a hard time is as infinite as your imagination.  But if you’re really stumped, here’s a leaping off place:

Figging, icy hot, hot sauce, etc…  Some people like this sort of thing applied to a mucus membrane. Remember that ginger, the source of figging, has an unreliable level of spiciness, and what goes on may be more intense than you intended. As with eating spicy foods, oils are better for removing stinging burning oils and for gods sake, test that stuff slowly- do not randomly enema yourself with undiluted Ghost Pepper juice.

Clips, clamps and ties. Clothes pins are just one staple of this school of superficial but fun discomfort. You can get all sorts of pinchy grippy things, from clover clamps from the hardware store, to various hair clips (the metal ones tend to be a gentle, non-skin breaking chance for something spikey. Attach weights or not, as you prefer. You can also do “Zippers“, which for solo purposes, you can attach to a fixed point.

Non-binding harnesses, etc… As well as very, very light restraints of the kind that can be easily escaped from, those of you into the fine art of sexual macrame otherwise known as shibari, will discover that with patience there’s all sorts of chafe-y and tight ways to wind yourself up. for example this harness doesn’t need two people. Just cinch it nice and tight.

Kneeling on rice/dried peas/legoes. As well as something mean to do to your subs, it’s an easily reversible thing to do to yourself. This can be a bother to clean up. The trick here, if you want to surrender control, is probably a regular kitchen timer.

Exercise. It’s good for you and gets the endorphins flowing. And certain things like wall sits, planks and squats are uncomfortable and difficult. And, if you like externally applied attention, a simple exercise podcast can also help you trance out into the realm of pushing your body. Again, a timer is a harsh mistress/master that cannot be reasoned with.

Getting people superficially involved. If you’re really having trouble getting into the head state without at least some oversight, try something like fapdeciders at reddit. As well as giving you ideas, it’s an explicit community devoted to light, long distance attention.

Self bondage. There are 63 groups on fetlife devoted to tying yourself up. I suck at bondage but in my experience someone with a subbie streak and time on their hands is a fiend when it comes to elaborate but eventually escapable hogties and predicaments.

That’s only a superficial look at the subject matter, and leaves aside things like inflatable toys on timers, using dice to decide self punishments, and another other possibilities.

Hey readers, I’m not and expert and there’s a hundred of you or so stopping by every day. What’s your favourite selfie?