Femdom Life: Moving House, Moving On

Wildcard and I just signed a lease on an apartment together. Up until this point, as our relationship got serious, I had simply moved in on top of him (heh), taking my scant possessions, merging them with his: a computer, some clothes, a few personal effects and objects of sentimental value. Escaping my ex and the uncomfortable weight of my family has meant a certain paring down of the self, stripping away the non-essentials, both for the practicality of flight and the psychological comfort of not owning things.

Moving together, this way, is a big step. It means, among many things, adjusting to a life that is ‘us’ not a life that is designed to be independent. It means, for him, leaving behind a lot of physical symbols of his past, old injuries, but the complicated kind. We live with different legacies, his, all about the things unknown by others, mine, a rawness obvious to everyone but no less unavoidable at the time. So boxes of things get piled up, including one pile now much bigger than me, of things to give way to charity, and bags and bags of trash shuttled out. I like packing, and I like ruthlessly paring down our material possessions, to leave only the ones that are wanted. He watches me work away, wrapping plates, taking charge, leading. He calls me “a dynamo”, and tolerates me rousting him from relaxing after a long day, to decide on if something is to be kept or stored because dealing with it right now is important to ME. He likes me bossing about.

Meanwhile he’s pretty much been on point in the bedroom. The last play party, where I strutted and preened, lead to a very load, public screaming orgasm with him pinned beneath me.

Of course these things never happen in a simple situation. A move has to be paired with a promotion into a cluster fuck at my work place (more money, but more problems); and a little end of year contretemps when a local creeper finally exploded into public dramatics, leaving (thus far) nobody harmed, but myself having to actually shut up and not meddle, for once. The social storm is actually Wildcard’s to steer and I’m not so happily clawing the draperies in a support role. But that’s a tempest in a teapot (which, by the way, did you know we own no less than SEVEN teapots, although we drink bagged brewed in a mug most days? Extravagance!)

The new apartment has a big kitchen set up well with everything we need, light and air, a nice façade on the building- and a double living room with Grecian columns and a skylight. It begs to host parties where submissive guests wear diaphanous togas. We already plan the installation of discreet restraints, how not to damage the rental fixtures in making our home into a house of debauchery. Meanwhile my mind is less on kink, and more on making curtains and the tremendous project of turning filled cardboard boxes into a comfortable home, while trying to cram in Christmas on top. It’s chaos, but chaos I’m enjoying.

#Service4Pearl: In Which I Post An Ad For A Service Sub

So I’ve decided to explore service as a kink.

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Specifically, I’ve been thinking about a fussy kind of valet/maid scenario, more Downton Abbey than anything more explicitly fetish. Wildcard is not a service submissive, being more of a bedroom sub, or as I often put it, strictly decorative. So, after discussing the matter with him and giving it more thought than is probably even reasonable, I composed and ad and posted it up on fetlife.

I’m looking more for a shorter term arrangement, and not a secondary relationship- basically a friend who wants to experiment and not a full time sub. I have a very clear picture in my mind of what I want, and a long list of things I don’t like.

There’s a lot to unpack in this for me. In the first place, as much as I don’t mind and even enjoy Wildcard’s extracurricular activities, the idea of sharing him with him having a full time sub makes me feel slightly distressed, so similarly I don’t think it’s a good place to try to run a concurrent relationship even if he’d tolerate imbalance. On that, I worry that I’ll be offering possible people a bad deal because I can only offer a limited amount of myself.

But it might be enough, so why not try it anyway?

Before setting out on this I tried to do a lot of research particularly with Tilari, of “How Not To Suck A Service Submission“, an expert on the subject matter, and she was kind enough to tell me a bit about what makes up a good ad, and a good request. She suggested that a good thing to aim for would be to be very clear about my guidelines and what I was looking for. That means down to laying out the kind of tasks I was interested in and my expectations instead of just referencing a “service sub”.

I think this is pretty reasonable- and it also meant a good excuse to talk about what I expected to give back in explicit terms, as well as to address the sort of trade for the “exchange” part of the power exchange. For me, I find the idea of acting like a dominatrix sterotype gross, but I see the sub’s fulfillment as essential to a healthy relationship.

I’m not looking for a naked house cleaner, but neither did I want to assume that me being a dom should be enough.

You’ll see the ad I created, after the jump…

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Perils (and Pleasures) of Dating a Switch

Perils of dating a switch Wildcard is a switch

Switches get a bad rap in the BDSM scene, possibly for the same reason that some people (idiots) don’t know what to do with bisexuals. They get all the same myths and assumptions (switches need to be poly, switches MUST switch and can never be happy with a 100% dom or sub, etc…). I even had people explicitly tell me that Wildcard wouldn’t be able to make me as happy as a pure sub.

The open-ish bit in our relationship makes whether or not switches *need* to be poly a moot point. There are no shortage of cute little things wanting spankings to keep Wildcard happily satiated if switching was some sort of dual meter that needed to be filled. But it doesn’t really work that way because D/s orientations seldom fit into neat boxes to begin with.

Take any group of doms and there will be such a broad expression of how they do what they do and what lifts their luggage, that dominant is just a vague starting point. For example Ferns abhors brats, while Dee would like a sub who can second guess her with panache. Me, I’m a sadomasochist. “Aha!” a fool in the audience pipes up. “Clearly you just need a guy to show you how to submit properly, like all so called lady doms!” Well, no, sit down fool, and I’ll explain.

I’ve said this before. I like my violent bedroom romps, but I can’t sub properly. It rustles my jimmies. Its not been for lack of trying, but the closest I ever got was power-behind-the-throne style scenarios.

Nonetheless I seem to have a history of dating switch-y men. That is to say that for me, I prefer fighty, fiesty, etc… I like a dynamic that’s all high drama plotting and scheming- although in my day to day life I like cozy and simple, my erotic imagination demands flirting sword fights. That’s one of the things that first attracted me to my Gentleman, other than his good looks and well wound charm. So we romp and play in all sorts of ways.

On the other hand, Wildcard also expresses his switching on the binary. He can be all masterful domly dom; or he can be helpless and whimpering and craving being told what to do. Its all the same to him, really. For him, it’s therefore been an occasional challenge to deal with the fact that I can signal all quivery and whimpery, but my brain just doesn’t go to happy sub land. some of this fits into the psychological dominance thing- I like controlling guys with dom urges with seemingly vulnerable behaviours. I already told you about what I did to the Swede- finding it more erotic to “force” him to explore his dominance than trod the well traveled ground of his submission.

The peril, though, is not that the switch or the dom is not enough in the relationship, its that dominance is a really vulnerable state, and with Wildcard the biggest challenge has been unhorsing him mid-ride, knocking him into the metaphorical mud. Its a challenge for him to work with the fact that I don’t bend in the way a sub is supposed to. You know, you apply the right sot of pressure and it melts into yum.

Early on in our relationship, Wildcard discovered my ability to remove myself from the moment and take control again. This is not a dominance pissing contest about which one of us is more inherently dominant, its more the reality that I don’t think I’m inherently capable of releasing control anymore than I’m capable of finding fridges erotic. So one night, he was playing with my body, trying to get a rise out of me, and met the clamp of my control – laughter, carefully planned to bounce the pain of the game away from myself and stand, indomitable.

You can mark a change in his behaviour from that point on- I think its were he became aware for serious about the dom thing with me. For him beating a girl is a means to creating a reaction in her that he wants, and I don’t think he’d really cottoned onto the idea of using his needs for my own sake or even that the door that he thought led one place just connected him through to the same stairs as the other route we took. For me, whatever I’m doing, its about Me. He already noted that when he met me, I was refreshingly different in my reactions. On the other hand, his dominance is a real thing.

I’m not entirely sure how he thinks about my imperfect switching. For a while he would make jokes about it “no, collar YOU! heeheehee…” I sometimes feel that he half gets it- he understands not wanting to to be not dominant, but not so much my dogged instance that switch doesn’t feel right as a label. In any case its something that I think he internalizes as “Pearl’s odd but important limits” in the same category of not putting a wet finger in my ear- he doesn’t need to understand it to respect it.

But as far as the urges I can’t fill, that’s just part of the way the game is structured- we’ve both discovered that there’s things I like (eg face slapping) that feel very wrong for him. I don’t feel that his switching in any way is different than a sub partner that doesn’t want to do whatever their limits are or has fetishes you don’t share.

I guess the biggest “peril” is not the odd consensual spank, but rather working with his dominance in such a way as I can hijack it to get my kicks, without devaluing it to him. Nonetheless, dating a switch is still the best way to get the sort of behaviors I want to hijack in the first place, and that part is the pleasure part.

Femdom Life: Happy 2015

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Whee! January already, how did that happen?

I’m celebrating the new year with a new website look- a blue colour pallet that takes this site from the 2010 default template and into something at least a little bit contemporary. Last year was pretty big for the site- I increased general traffic by about 300%, from a trickle to a  steady flow. I also dabbled a bit in ebooks (Mistress Plays For Keeps) and it appears to be pretty popular for something I have put no effort into selling other than throwing it on Amazon. I made $7. Wooo! That wouldn’t be possible without you guys coming by here.

On the femdom life (and general life) front, Wildcard and I are co-habing it up in a lovely inexpensive apartment with a Victorian look, which is pleasing my Lady fantasies. For reasons unrelated to my relationship, it was a rocky summer, with an unexpected illness sapping my productivity. Although I’ve shown definite improvement. still, I’m very much looking forward to this year with renewed health.

On the other hand, I’ve made an increased commitment to what I do in the offline/in person BDSM scene- reserving the 18-35 munches until June (hey are you in Montreal, young and kinky? I can hook you up!) as well as taking the time to get outside my bubble and see a bit more of the older person scene.

This is connected to the organizer of the Montreal Fetish Weekend, who asked me to pop into some of his events and consult. That’s been incredibly interesting, and surprisingly challenging. Giving useful feedback that takes into account the limits of a small business means really getting a feel for how something like this gets off the ground and its clear the organizer works his butt off to see it happen.

In Which Domestic Servitude Didn’t Happen

spring-53-servantsRecently I experimented with interviewing a service sub.

Wildcard, bless him, responds to the constant trickle of male attention I get by being amused through to delighted. For the most part the attempts to scale Fortress Pearl tend to be alarmingly unfortunate- bad spelling and bigger egos demanding dynamics with me NOW before first names are even exchanged, much less confirmed.

Wildcard, who is as I describe to others, purely decorative, likes to read my fetlife messages, chortling at every unsolicited Goddess or presumptuous Mistress plz.  Recently, following a conversation focused on upgrading our cheap apartment, I attracted a service oriented sub. And he at least was a cut above the usual nonsense.

I like domestically fussy things. I have multiple pinterest boards devoted to that sort of foof, and Wildcard woo’ed me on my birthday with the gift of an Imperial Red Kitchenaid. But honestly, I’m very disorganized. You would think, given this fact and my orientation, I’d be awash in nice men scrubbing and polishing, but I’ve always shied away from domestic servitude.

I have never been able to put my finger on precisely why- maybe it’s being. Or maybe it’s because every hint of the experience has ended like so:

Enter “Servile” via a fetlife message. Other than a surprising devotion to misuse of ellipsis, he seems sincere enough. I make myself honest in my response- my profiles are not set to looking and this is not a fetish I’ve had any experience with outside of that one guy who did my dishes and tried to give me a Clocky.

And, I stressed the importance Wildcard had in my life, how he mattered to me and so on. This was all very well and good by Servile. He just wanted to serve, and according to him, served married women in the past. He was the cliche, high powered business dude who just wanted to let it all go on his hands and knees.

After a couple of weeks of banal back and forth in which I was bombarded with enthusiasm and he attempted to indicate if I ever wanted my feet seen to it would be pedicure city. Not my thing- I prefer to leave the pedicures to the professionals, but whatever…

A few things bugged me- first of all I didn’t like that he jumped straight into dynamic city, nor that he didn’t stop dropping his phone number, even though I had no intention of giving a stranger mine. He conveniently did not address my observation that such an experienced sub should have references.

But exeriences are meant to be had, so I suggested that we meet for tea at a local tea room far enough from my house to be safe, where upon a guy who looked nothing like his profile picture (a headless set of defined abs turned into a sort of brick shaped guy in a Ralph Lauren shirt) shyly attempted to kiss my hand. This resulted in a sour retraction of said limb- I do NOT do hand smootches from people trying to indicate they want to have a valet fantasy with me. The valet does NOT kiss the mistress.

Servile’s story included being the publisher of a fetish magazine with 3000 visits a day. Curious, I asked the name of such a popular publication- never heard of it, but I was willing to look it up. I admit a certain degree of pleasure in being able to waltz in like I owned the place.

We talked for a bit, mostly about him- conversation varying from him being a Very Important Business Man and the usual ‘ZOMG so pretty and imperious!’ I’m not going to lie, when nature gives you skin that makes A4 printer paper look sallow and tanned, inky hair, and a face with a nose that should have a carved naked wooden lady on it, I ain’t ever going to pull off girl next door. So it’s nice my body fits who I am.

Then the subject of references came up, something he seemed flabber ghasted by. He eventually dropped a few names I recognized, before producing the zinger that he was such a catch that obviously doms wouldn’t want to give him a reference. Because you know true doms won’t, right? For example [prodom] wouldn’t say nice thing about him because she wants his service. I happen to know [prodom], I’m relatively well connected, so this did not bode well.

Turns out the magazine is a facebook page with 3000 likes TOTAL. I contacted [prodom], who more than anything else, was confused as hell. So, nope. No valet for me. sorry Servile, your story has too many holes.

Femdom Life Update: Health, Body Image and All That Stuff

So to complicate matters, I’ve been suffering from some health problems lately. This can be very frustrating: as well as interfering with work, it’s hard to get your dom on when you are taking extensive naps.

It’s not fun, and most of my mental energy’s being spent on getting better. My body has taken to this via shedding weight at a rate now leading to people announcing how tiny I am. This has meant a surprising amount of reconciling myself to new, reduced flesh.

Self image-wise, I’ve always been blessed that I wasn’t bothered by my weight- and never got particular pressure to be a particular size. The bone structure I inherited is very rangy, maybe gangly if I wasn’t of average height. Puberty gave me an ass, and even finding myself going all disordered eating seems not to shift that, even as I start to see the notched bones between my breasts, and my dress size has plummeted, something that’s supposed to make one happy, but mostly pisses me off because now my underpants don’t fit.

At the start of the summer, Wildcard and I went co-hab, me moving in over top of him to the official designation of “Sexy Roommates”, a fairly straight forward process that took about two car loads and merged our kitchenware, as well as necessitating the purchase of a place to cram my clothing into. It also means going from living out of a drawer and a bit of a mess, to sort of soaking into an already existing structure.

Summer isn’t my favourite set of months, and even less so to Wildcard, who belongs in tweed and wool on a moor somewhere- despite many references on his part to his Arabic heritage as part of his identity, he has climate temperament of a Brit, and a Northern one at that. Summer is one long migraine broken up by rare rain, not helped by weather in Montreal that decided that this year storm clouds were going to perpetually sit over the city with about the same utility as Tantalus’s grapes.

So add one less than happy partner plus me dealing with not being in top form and I’d describe the whole thing as one long stress test. This is not to say we’ve stopped doing kink- on the contrariwise we’ve started a weekly session on Tuesdays that we’ve both been finding very satisfying, but I wouldn’t exactly say it’s been an easy time for either of us. Certainly we’re both anticipating the fall with a certain degree of enthusiasm.

Meanwhile I’ve stepped up the aggressiveness to which I am making sure people are aware of my side trade in freelance writing. The derpy banner add is an experiment of sorts, to see where that goes.

Femdom Life: Spanking Him On Camera

showcase_MPThe last couple of weeks have been rough as far as health problems that have seen Wildcard and I both hitting clinics within short days of each other. While neither one of us is dying, we both aren’t helped by the summer humidity either.

Friday evening, after yet another stress filled day, I went for my thrice weekly run, leaving Wildcard all by his lonesome. Stress seriously cuts down on sex time, as does being under the weather, and with him starting to feel a bit better he was hinting a certain interest.

After putting in my usual time and distance in sneakers, I came back to find him with laptop on his lap, gently stroking his half hard cock while chatting with a room full of strangers. He perked up and suggested that I could join in, tie him up and tease him, to which I gave him one of my patented looks. I am not a big fan of dominance on demand. with me you don’t call the shots and set the script. You can suggest sexy ideas, but it isn’t going to fly if you try to put my urges and control on rails.

He didn’t end up tied up to the bed, but he did end up edging himself and then bent over my knee for a mean, hard spanking while everyone he’d been entertaining earlier continued to watch. Hand was soon switched up for a belt, probably my favourite of his to use, a big thick piece of supple brown leather.

I had him on all fours, facing the camera and reaching underneath himself to keep his cock hard- and his facial reactions showed me that he was experiencing some intense sensations from the leather striping his cheeks, while the colour changed to a bright pink, blossoming from the blush of his warm up to a good ruddy rose of a proper bare skin spanking.

The reactions are the best part for me, watching the intensity in his face as I made him count off loud so everyone of the people in the chat room could hear. It’s not the first time I ended up spanking him on camera for anyone to watch, but Wildcard is a horny little exhibitionist who get both extremely turned on and extremely humiliated with an audience. As well as the usual horny guys drooling over me, we got a couple of ladies getting into seeing him paddled, gratifying since I like it better when he doesn’t get treated like he doesn’t exist. And I knew that kind of attention is Wildcard’s big weakness, so you can bet he was feeling extra vulnerable and submissive to whatever sadistic cruelty I intended. Spanking him on camera for women to watch is a huge fetish for him!

He was the one who noticed the little wet patch under me, a mark on the sheet where I’d been resting, but it was me who told him that he had to fuck me without coming- as long as he could manage, stretching it out as his thick cock filled me up. We started with me astride, riding him, but pretty soon he tipped me back and made himself take his time while I teased him by gripping his cock with the muscles of my cunt.

He took a long time just like I ordered, waiting a minute after I gave him permission before finally cumming with a loud muffled groan into my neck. We ended up spooned up after that, with various audience members indicating their appreciation.

The problem with a live crowd, of course, is that you don’t control them, so it’s no wonder that sometimes the questions get a bit weird. I’ve been compared to people’s stepdaughters. and we often get bombarded with requests for butt stuff. This time we got asked: So, is he the biggest guy you’ve ever fucked?

The girthiest. Even super turned on as I was, he’s a tight fit.