Review: Fealty

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Not many images of thisFeatly
by Ms. Mahler

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

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

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

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

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

Other Places To Go Round Up II

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

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

….

Also, I drew a pirate femdom. :3

500 Word Friday Femdom Fiction: Pent Up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Miiiiiisssss!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Come kiss me, slut.”

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

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

Hello Miss,

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

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

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

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

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

[Name redacted]

Of course he got a reply…

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Review: Erotic Tales Of Female Domination, Tomio Hall-Black

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Erotic Tales of Female Domination is an inexpensive ebook, containing three short stories, each one a closed BDSM scene, and each takes place within the boundary of a BDSM relationship. Everything, regardless of the theme, is consensual.

Tomio also writes over at “Masculine Submission“.

The first two short stories really did nothing for me. I don’t think they were that bad, but very dialog dependent, with very little ‘story’, much more sexual vinegettes than full tales in their own right. However the last of the three… yow.

Angela Makes The Rules– Angela, a loving girlfriend, and her boyfriend Andrew are trying out one of his D/s fantasies. With her boyfriend tied spread eagled to the bed and blindfolded, her tease and denials scene is all about control, with light touches and lots of talking. Of course, Angela discovers, she likes it.

Butt… Surrender– Loving D/s Pegging. It’s focused on the feeling of being owned from strapon sex. Read it to get a warm up for talking dirty without being very vulgar.

Be My Whore – This is the last and best of the stories. I had to go retrieve my socks from where they were blown from my feet. Whether it is the sexual pacing, the fact that it’s genuinely funny, or that there’s a little edge of cruelty, which I like, a make believe role play fantasy of whore, pimp and clients made me laugh and gave me warm and fuzzies.

Category: Fiction
Rating: o~o~o~o (4/5)
How I got it: Bought it!
TL;DR: Three loving femdom stories that focus on happy couples having fun. Everything is 100% realistic and the last story is particularly good!

Dominant Cunt Maracas (And Kegels)

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So, someone decided that the best possible way to train your vaginal muscles was weighted benwa balls. Or, as the official brand name of this toy is called, Luna Beads.

They come, like many sex toys marketed to women, in non-threatening pastels. To make the experience of stuff to shove in your vadge seem classier, you get a little black box and a white silk storage bag. The actual toy is designed with a degree of customization- you have powder blue or pink balls of different weights, two with a little loop string so you won’t lose them inside yourself and then have to guddle a loose, slippery ball out of the pocket up near your cervix, and a white silicone harness that holds two balls together (see picture) in which ever colour combination you like.

The outer balls are hollow, hard plastic with heavy disclaimers in your accompanying booklet about it being the being super safe kind. The weights inside appear to be rubber covered metal ball bearings, about the size and shape that you used to find in an old track ball mouse. You use it by shoving it into your cunt until it’s past the muscle that allows a vagina to hold things in. In theory the weights are supposed to tone your vagina while the balls within balls are supposed to provide sexual stimulation.

This is not a good product for a reason I will get into. An actual set of baoding balls, which are metal hand exercisers following a similar principle, generally vibrate in a vaguely harmonious way. If you like vibrations, which I get nothing from, this could be a good thing for a no electricity route to self gratification. Luna Beads, not so much.

Clunk-clunk-rattle-clunk. The internal balls do roll around freely with every motion of your hips. However I will provide the clarification that the do so by random, not very rhythmic bonking. If having something gently but abruptly clonk you on the inside of your vagina, hurrah. And don’t let smarmy marketing copy make you think you’ll be wearing this to the bank and the gym. Theses little clonks are surprisingly loud!

The net result is essentially about as erotic as the maraca it’s going to turn you into.  I’ve tried wearing these numerous times, including during my very vigorous masturbation style, which should have made them the most stimulating with how I get myself off. Usually I like having something heavy inside me, but this was not a good idea. However, again, sounding like a four year old’s attempt at percussion does not a happy dom make. A rattly dom, but not a happy one.

As far as a pelvic floor exerciser I’m undecided. I’ve been doing kegels since childhood, and have no trouble making my vagina do lots of micro-contractions. Wearing the balls over a prolonged period, like half an hour, at the heaviest weight, appears to produce some muscle pressure. But I have to feel like the inconvenience of their rattling isn’t to the benefit and it’s not like vaginal grip strength is easy to quantify.

At the end of the day, a strong pelvic floor, as well as muscular awareness, is good for both men and women. However I’m pretty sure that the defects in these rattles make them unsuitable for most people.

500 Word Friday Femdom Fiction: Slap

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He’d spent forty-five miserable minutes sitting on the couch while she paced and slammed cabinet doors harder than she needed to, and got herself under control, and now it was time for the reckoning. The anger was gone, and it its place a certain sort of stern-hurt. In some ways he preferred the anger, but she never, ever punished in those rare moments when her temper surfaced, making him wait.

“I know you’ve though about what you said, and contrite as you are, you don’t really mean to take it back. Not yet. So I’m going to punish you.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I want you to stand for this. And think about what you said to me and why it was wrong.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Now relax your jaw a bit.”

She waited, watched to see he did as bid and her palm swung out and caught his cheek. “What you said was unacceptable.”

“I’m sorr…”

“Not another fucking word, you little cunt.”

For her there was a sort of dreamlike drift, her hands batting into his face, alternating cheeks: right, pause to see his jaw and neck were alright, left, pause, right, pause, left pause.

She could see he was contrite, but still stubborn, saw the hurt in his eyes and felt the slight sting in her palm. He thought she was being kind and didn’t understand why she was insulted and hurt, “Do you even know why you are being punished?”

“Because… I said a bad thing, Mistress? I won’t do it again if it bother you.”

“If it bothers you?” She echoed. “Bothers? What was it you said? You can never be what I want? You’re a loser, that I’m so together and I know what I’m doing while you will just fuck everything up? What sort of fucking bullshit is that?” She spat the words out like they were bullets.

She saw his head was still disagreeing, that he would lie to please her and reached out. “You are special.” Slap. “And beautiful.” Slap. “And mine.” Slap. A handful of hair on the back of his head made the handle she used to drag him into the bathroom, in front of the mirror. “What do you see?”

“It’s me, Mistress?” His reflection showed back a face strained with pain, his cheeks blushing from the slaps.

“Who does that… person in the mirror belong to?”

“You, Mistress?”

“Good. And do you say shit about anything else I own in my life?”

“No, Mistress, but…”

“Who accepted your submissive self?”

“You did, mistress. I’m really grateful that you…”

Her grip on his hair tightened again and her voice got loud in the small confines of the bathroom. “I’m not running a fucking charity. I don’t own you to martyr myself. I own you because you are special and precious to me. I don’t mind humiliating you. I like it.  But don’t you ever think for one minute you’re some burden I shouldn’t have.”

He was shocked out of further speech.

“Now you listen to me. No matter how bad it gets, I’m here for you.  and if you’re really grateful to be my slave, the least you can do is respect my authority on what I do and do not want. And we’re going to train you until you can honestly say you feel as worthy as I judge you to be.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

~

This is a bit more clumsy, but sometimes in a D/s relationship it’s not just about silly bedroom fun, but about really loving the person and making it part of your communication. Different ways to say I love you for different people.

Why I Make A Big Deal About Not Being A Pro Femdom

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Last time I talked at length about how the pro femdoms are an important part of the scene and that they weren’t an inherently bad thing. This time I’m going to talk more about a problem: conflating what professional dominants and non-professional dominants are as if it were identical.

We need to stop acting like there is no difference between sex work femdom and fun femdom. And we need to stop pretending that clients are the same thing as sub boyfriends/girlfriends and husbands/wives.

Prodoms are to lifestyle as porn is to real people sex. Yes, many women who work as pros are just as much a dominant as I am. They are as capable of dominating as I am. I’m not better than them. But right now there is a serious problem between confusing the standards of their work with my dominance and it needs to stop.

Prodoms, if they’re any good, deserve their self title as experts. Many of them are good sex educators. I would turn to them in a heart beat for advice on topping techniques- and they’re a good source of how tos on safe ties and walloping people. I might, tentatively ask them about weird sub behaviour, like aftercare need variances.

But they really can’t represent me accurately any more than I can say I can speak for them as sex workers just because we both spank or fuck. And the conflation is causing problems.

Like, for example, prodoms face industry competition of errm, full service sex workers (generally sneered at as “hookers with whips”) who dilute their brand and encourage customers who want sex and dominance to demand both, or who offer less competent ‘budget’ approaches to dominance and fetish. They tend to have a degree of professional interest in protecting the parameters of what is and isn’t dominance. For example, as sex workers, the Gordian loops of the law in many areas often allow for fetishism, but smack down on people who move into more common sexual practices. And prodoms are very particular about minimal price controls- this is their livelihoods and they feel about their right to a salary the same as any working person. But this conversation is extremely alienating to non-pros. You see I’m kind of everything they talk about despising in a dominant.

I fuck, suck, snuggle and do things at the cost of a man’s love and submission, basically a price they can’t beat. I want dominance to be indistinguishable from fucking, because for me, it is. And I don’t want to be an expert. I don’t want to spend thousands of dollars on tools and equipment and for men to want me because I am teh expert. I don’t want to have subs expect me to know them in an instant and decide my dominance based on that (are you fucking kidding me?).  They are supposed to love me because I am Pearl, not just because I am Miss. But being a professional is about convincing people to pay you by the skill under which you embody being the Mistress. You might put your own spin on it- you could even be a hairy legged, queer femdom and there’s a niche for male pros who generally serve male clients. But at the end of the day, even if the person also does it at a hobby, it’s a job.

And It’s incredibly hurtful and tone deaf to be told that my sexuality exists to give subs fuzzy feelings, and I’m good if I can and am fucking up if I’m anything other than dominance embodied. Not as in “good lover”, but the whole of my sexuality has been hijacked into something that gets men off and measured in terms of how much a (random) man will pay for it and my skill in opening up a random dude’s head. It’s been so tainted with the expectations of being a good pro that it kept me from self IDing as a dominant until my early 20s. Because I can be a fantasy object,  but that’s uh… the sort of shit you’d have to pay me to do, and not really a job I want anymore than I want to be client support at a call centre. Because pro-dom client pleasing has zero to do with my sexuality.

And the typical guys, even the polite ones, trying to send out client requests to me also have zero to do with my sexuality.

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The ProDom Problem Thing

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Or: In which Miss Pearl opines on what she knows not.

Disclaimer: I am not a sex worker. I do not speak for sex workers. I really hope this is not patronizing and this is me trying to think about what I’m bombarded with. Tell me why I am wrong in the comments if you would like.

Professional female dominants are such an integral part of BDSM communities it’s functionally impossible to imagine the scene without them, but they are also one of the groups people get pissed off at most. Amateurs hate the fact that it turns sex into a job (especially non-pro femdom, where there is a decided difference between beating men because it makes you horny and beating men because you get paid, so the fact that news outlets generally are obligated to quote one pro per article on kink-in-real-life really colours things) or encourages judgment on performance standards. Male subs complain about getting spammed with business solicitations, or hand wring about the vulnerable and the naive being preyed on by wicked fraudsters. All these things suck.

But, in their defence, prodoms generally own the dungeons we play in, they make a reasonable deal of the porn we enjoy, and they tend to end up as sex educators and active contributing community members.

There’s more reasons…

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The Secret of Being the Best Submissive

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being the best submissive

I will punch you if you suggest there’s something wrong with my sub because he’s not a domestic slave.

Okay, it will be a no contact punch, delivered with my mind through making my eyes very narrow and growling at you, probably miles away, over the internet. I never claimed to be effectual about my anger management problems.

Any yet, it’s not unusual to make a big deal about being the best at BDSM. Both dominants and submissives worry about what makes them good at being their orientation. No online kink community is complete without a couple ongoing discussion threads to that line. Of course, regardless of the kink being catered to, the usual conclusion is that people want a sane person who can look after themselves. Which, unsurprisingly, is what all the Vanillas generally say they want too. We are not so different!

However, once you leave the territory of minimum obligations for healthy human relationships, that’s when people start getting picky, and you start getting the anxiety and the whining. And the posturing. And the fantasies. The top two things that seem to come up, time and time again when it comes to sub hunting, is male doms wanking about not wanting a doormat because it reaffirms their masculinity/dominance or something, and female doms and subs talking about how they don’t want another sexually objectifying asshole. And of course the male subs would please like to stop being treated like they need to pay to breathe and the femsubs are getting tired of being asked to relocate to Utter Pradesh after doing a naked webcam show for a man old enough to be their grandfather or young enough to be their son. Both doms and subs get pressed to be “true” and role conform.

But, I feel like submissives deal with a lot more silly assumptions on what they must do as subs, and how things are supposed to work. And it’s also a self inflicted thing as well as an external thing.

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