What are we like in real life?

I have a question.  What are Dominatrixes like in real life?  Are they bossy in their everyday life and like to give orders or are they nice people?

Yes.

I mean, I usually try to be a nice person.  I volunteer with veterans, I’m going through the process of getting my rescued, rehabilitated pit bull certified as an AKC therapy dog, I donate to Toys for Tots and send care packages to deployed soldiers every Christmas, basically I try to do what I can to create the kind of world I want my daughter to live in.

I can also work well in groups.  If I’m not the one in charge, I do my part to ensure efficiency.  I can put my ego away and do what I’m told to get the job done.

However, I generally prefer being the one in charge.  When I am, I have a plan and my goal is efficiency.  If I’m your boss, hell-fucking-yes I’m comfortable giving you orders and chewing you out if you don’t follow them.

I also have a bit of a confrontational side.  If you’re a dick, all bets are off.  I can out-asshole the biggest asshole.

That’s me, though.  I’m one Domme.

And I think what you’re forgetting is that Dommes are people.  There are good ones and bad ones, nice ones and mean ones, there are as many variations in personality as there are in literally any group of people.

A good, thorough fucking

It had been awhile since I’d been able to give Sounder a real fucking.  We were both eager for that to change.

And from the very first moment I bent him over the island in his kitchen, and slid a finger in him, he was every bit the eager anal whore you’d expect a sissy to be.  Pushing back against me, humping himself on my hand, wanting to be filled up, it was really hot.

I always love watching him squirm.

It was especially hot once I got him in the bedroom and started putting toys in him.  I will never get tired of watching him fuck himself on whatever’s in him.

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I can’t wait to take a picture like this, but with a real cock inside him, instead of a toy.

At first, he was so tight.  It had been too long since I’ve really had my way with his pussy, so I was gentle.  I started small and gradually worked my way up in size.  Because I’m so totally nice like that.

All I know is that he’s going to make a man very happy when I put a real cock inside him.  And how awesome are backless panties?  The more he wears them, the more I love them.  So sexy, so convenient.

I don’t even have to undress him, all I have to do is bend him over.

When I finally switched to my strap-on, the look on his face as I filled him up was priceless.  It had been awhile since he’d had anything that big in him.

I turned him onto his back, pushed his knees up, exposing that tight, pink ass, and rammed my cock in.

He looks damn good with something in him, by the way.

I don’t think it was a full minute before he came.  And then came again.  And again.

We’ll definitely have to work on his stamina.  He starts getting exhausted and raw after about ten orgasms.  He’ll have way more than that when he’s fucked by half a dozen men.

Eventually, though, I had mercy on him, and decided to play with my clothespins, instead.  You know, because I’m nice like that.

 

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Super nice

He really is so adorable when he’s in pain.  And the best part about clothespins is that they hurt more coming off than they do going on.  Makes it easy to drag out the pain, really savor those reactions.

And he’s got a new hypnosis recording to listen to every day.  I’m going to brainwash him into a mindless sissy fucktoy.  He’s going to dream about being gangbanged, he’s going to crave men’s cocks in him.

Eventually, it will even seep into his everyday life.  He’ll be at work and see a hot guy, and an image of that guy bending him over his desk and fucking him will flash through his mind.  He’ll imagine what that man’s cock will taste like.  What it’ll feel like to have it throb in his mouth as it shoots down his throat.

Just a quick flash.  But they’ll start happening more and more, until that’s the norm, until he doesn’t remember what it feels like not to picture men fucking him.  He’ll forget what it feels like not to crave a man’s dick inside him.

It’s going to be so much fun, it really is.

Written in Stone, Part 8

Business at the symposium pulled Charis away for the entire day, and Kieran didn’t see her until after dinner.

She walked through the garage door and into the den, where Kieran, Cullen, Ilya, and Taber lounged, watching TV.

“Hi boys,” she greeted cheerfully.

“How was it?” Ilya asked.

“It was fine.  Elan could’ve handled it on his own.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“The new vendor didn’t want to talk to him.”

Ilya rolled his eyes.  “Really?”

Charis nodded, setting her purse and keys down.  “We had the same problem with the caterer too, remember?  I just needed to go in and let them know that Elan has the authority to make the necessary decisions.”

“That took all day?”

She chuckled.  “You know how it is.  Once you get there, you see a million things that need to be done.”

Sighing, she sat down beside Kieran on the couch and patted his leg affectionately.  “How was your day?” she asked him.

He blushed, averting his gaze.  “It was good, Domina.”

“Do you still want to service me?”

His eyes shot up to meet hers.  “Yes, Domina,” he answered enthusiastically.

“Good.  You can start by kissing my neck the way you did this morning.”

Kieran didn’t even hesitate, moving closer to her, eager to obey.  He kissed her neck, enjoying the way she reacted to him, enjoying the feel of her hands roaming across his body.

The more he touched her, the more he liked touching her.  He liked the way she moaned, the way she put a firm hand on the back of his neck, urging him to do more.  He loved how expressive she was, how his efforts to please her were immediately rewarded with her gasps and soft appreciative sounds, and the way she pulled him closer.

It made him feel powerful, knowing that he could please her.  For a moment, he started to understand what she meant when she had called him a man.

Was this what that felt like?  He’d felt it with Rowyn, too.  Was this what it meant to be more than someone’s property, more than a pair of holes to fuck?  To be able to please someone, to see them gasp and arch and moan, actually wanting him there, actually enjoying him, enjoying his body?

It was such an amazing feeling.  He loved it.  He wanted more of it.

And it was so odd, actually enjoying the feel of her hands on him.  He didn’t think he’d ever truly enjoyed anyone’s hands on him.  He’d certainly never enjoyed his owner’s hands on him.  But now, he found himself wanting more.

Her hand slid down his back, under his tunic, across his butt, and Kieran found himself arching his back, wanting her finger inside him again.

She chuckled at his reaction, gently pushing him away with a hand around his neck, pinning him against the couch.

He’d seen Ilya do this to Taber, after Taber had helped him learn to read in the library, and his heart had leapt in his chest.  He’d been surprised, then, at the lack of fear in Taber’s eyes.  He hadn’t been able to understand how it was possible not to be afraid.

He understood, now.  Gods, how long ago had that been?  It felt like a lifetime ago.

Had it really only been such a short time?  Less than a week?

How was it possible that his life could change so much in a week?

He looked up at her as she knelt over him, her hand around his throat, the corners of her lips turning up in a mischievous, wolfish grin that sent chills down his spine to settle in his groin.

“You’re such a good boy,” she said quietly.

Once again, his face flamed hot, and he averted his gaze, wanting to be closer to her, to melt into her.

He had stopped trying to understand why her praise had such an effect on him, how those two words could make him glow.

But she held him firm against the couch, capturing his lips with a bold, authoritative kiss.

“Come on,” she said, pulling away and reaching out to help him to his feet.  “Let’s go to my room.”

Excited at the idea of being able to service her again, or having her inside him again, he eagerly took her hand and followed her up the stairs, down the hall, to her room.

But he was surprised when she stopped at Rowyn’s room.  She knocked, waited for him to answer, then opened the door, sticking her head in the room.

“Come with us,” she told him.  “We’re going to play with Kieran.”

Despite the lust that burned and twirled in Kieran’s gut, a stab of fear shot through him.  Rowyn, too?

He tried to remind himself that there was nothing to be afraid of.  By now, he knew that Charis wouldn’t hurt him.  And Rowyn had been nothing but kind and gentle to him.

Rowyn rose to his feet, following Charis out into the hall.  He flashed a charming, warm smile at Kieran, and put a friendly arm around him.

“Sounds like fun,” he commented, as the three of them made their way to Charis’ room.

Kieran’s heart raced as they walked into Charis’ bedroom and Rowyn closed the door.

Just inside the door, Charis stopped and turned, pulling the pin at Kieran’s shoulder.  He gasped as his tunic fell to the floor at his feet.

But she didn’t give him time to really register the fact that he was standing between Rowyn and Charis, naked.  Pulling him close to her, she kissed him again, reaching down and grabbing his butt with both hands.

He gasped as she pulled him up and against her, a thigh between his legs to brace him, keeping him exposed and off-balance.  It was a strange, vulnerable feeling, leaning against her, held up by her, but he decided it felt good.  He liked the feeling of her hands on him, he liked the pressure as she held him against her, as her body, as strong as it was beautiful, held him up.  But then he heard Rowyn move behind him, and his heart raced.

But to his surprise, Rowyn knelt down behind him.  A moment later, he gasped and squirmed as he felt Rowyn’s tongue on his entrance, licking slowly and steadily.  It was such a novel and strange feeling, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

After a moment, though, he decided he liked that, too.  With Rowyn’s tongue exploring his ass and Charis’ tongue exploring his mouth, all he could do was hold on to Charis, yielding to the both of them.  His head swam as Charis kissed him, his thoughts becoming muddled and fuzzy.

Then, Rowyn pushed a single, wet finger into him, and he moaned softly.  Gods, he had no idea that being penetrated could feel so good without the pain.  He pushed his butt back, wanting Rowyn deeper, bigger.

For a few moments, Rowyn alternated between licking him and fingering him, making sure to keep him wet and well-lubricated.  And the more he touched him, the more Kieran’s head swam.  His legs trembled with the effort of holding up his weight, and he leaned even harder against Charis.

When Rowyn slid a second finger in, Kieran cried out, clinging to Charis and burying his face in her hair as he was filled up.  But Rowyn was slow, and took his time, working to make sure Kieran’s body was able to adjust to him.

It was all Kieran had, just to keep himself upright, as he wrapped his arms around Charis, panting and gasping.  His entire body trembled, and he started to genuinely worry that his legs wouldn’t be able to continue supporting his weight.

Thankfully, just at that moment, Rowyn pulled away.  “I won’t be able to do any more without lube, Domina,” he said.

Nodding, Charis put her hands on Kieran’s shoulders, helping him steady himself as he stood up.  She led him to the bed while Rowyn went to the bedside table and pulled out a small bottle.

“Get on the bed, love,” she commanded softly.  “On your hands and knees.”

His breathing shaky, Kieran obeyed her, crawling onto the bed and waiting for what he knew was coming.

It was time, anyway.  Charis had been more than kind to him in the week he’d been there.  She’d been more than generous.  She’d given him so much time to relax and get comfortable.  It was time for him to start being used in earnest.

His desire fell away, leaving just the fear as he saw Rowyn pull his own tunic off, then get on the bed, kneeling behind him.

Kieran remembered how big Rowyn was.  He knew that this was going to hurt.

You’re a slave, said the bitter voice in his head.  What did you think would happen?  That you’d live here for the rest of your life, not having to service your owners?

But both Rowyn and Charis had been so kind to him.  He was sure they’d do what they could to lessen the pain.  And hopefully Rowyn wouldn’t last long.

He heard the unmistakable click of the lube bottle opening, and lowered his head, waiting to feel Rowyn start fucking him.  But instead, he felt the same two fingers again.

Rowyn fingered him for a moment, then slid a third inside.  Once again, Kieran gasped, his entire body tense, and once again, he was surprised to find that the pain was extremely manageable.  When Rowyn went slow, it hardly hurt at all.

“Kieran,” Rowyn said softly, getting his attention.  “I’m going to enter you now.  I’m going to go very slow.  Take a deep breath, and try to stay relaxed.”

Kieran whimpered, his entire body shaking, fear clutching at his heart.  He wanted, more than anything, to run away, but he stayed rooted to his place.  He cringed as he felt the tip of Rowyn’s cock against him, and the tears began falling when he felt the head ease into him.

He cried out, squirming, his hands balled into fists, panting and gasping, as he felt Rowyn slowly sink all the way into him.

But the pain he was expecting never came.

While the feeling was almost overwhelmingly intense, it wasn’t really all that painful.  He felt exposed, vulnerable, stretched to the limit and completely filled up, but it didn’t hurt.

Rowyn stayed still, giving Kieran time to get used to the size of his cock.  And after a few seconds, what little pain there was disappeared.  After a moment, it even started to feel good, being filled so completely.  Slowly, timidly, Kieran moved back, pushing against Rowyn, encouraging him to begin thrusting.

With slow, careful movements, Rowyn began moving, and Kieran was overwhelmed all over again.  As good as it had felt when Charis had fingered him, this was so much more intense.  He couldn’t control himself, he couldn’t control his body, all he could do was squirm and gasp, his hands balled into fists.  And through it all, he wanted more.

He craved more.

Charis put a gentle hand on the small of his back.  “Kieran, are you alright?” she asked softly.

Words?  She was asking him to say words right now?  Gods, he could barely put a coherent thought together.  How could he possibly manage words?

But his hesitation made Rowyn pause, and for a moment, Kieran was afraid he would pull all the way out.

“Yes,” he breathed hastily, pushing his weight back, wanting Rowyn all the way in him again.

Rowyn chuckled, obliging Kieran’s desire and sinking all the way to the hilt.  “He likes it, Domina,” he murmured.

“It would seem so,” she agreed.  “I don’t want to push it, though.  He’ll likely start getting sore quickly.  Don’t last too long.”

“Yes, Domina,” he replied, immediately speeding up the pace of his thrusting.

Kieran gasped as Rowyn pounded into him, surprised to discover that he actually liked being fucked harder.  It was a more intense feeling, it made him feel fuller, and it put more pressure on his prostate.

Good gods, was this what being fucked was supposed to be?  Was this what it was supposed to feel like?

This was nothing like what Dryas and his friends had done.  This was…  It was…

Gods, it was incredible.

When he felt an unexpected hand on his cock, he cried out in a half moan, half whimper.  On one hand, he wanted Charis’ touch, he wanted her to stroke him like she had when she’d fingered him.  He wanted to cum with Rowyn inside him.

But on the other, it was all just so intense, he didn’t know if he could handle anything else.

Charis was gentle, though, like she always was, and stroked him with long, steady, smooth strokes.

Panting and gasping, Kieran could barely register the fact that she was kneeling there, beside him.  All he was aware of was the hand on him, the cock inside him, and the ball of fire that grew in his belly.

Then, he heard her voice, her lips brushing against his ear.  “You’re going to cum for me, pet,” she whispered.

Unable to speak, all he could do was moan louder.  Gods, he was going to cum.  The pressure inside him mounted, building with each stroke, with each thrust.

“Come on,” Charis urged softly.  “Show me how much you enjoy this.  Show me how much you love being bent over and fucked.”

Her words were enough to send him over the edge, the pressure finally exploding, radiating out through his body, setting every nerve on fire.  He practically screamed, his body spasming as she milked every ounce of pleasure from him, as Rowyn fucked him even harder.

His muscles clenched around Rowyn’s cock, intensifying his orgasm, prolonging it until Kieran, too exhausted and oblivious to move, collapsed on the bed, floating and flying as Rowyn continued pumping into him.

“May I cum, Domina?” he asked breathlessly, his thrusts coming harder and faster.

“Yes, love.”

Mere seconds later, Rowyn sunk all the way into him, as far as he could go, throbbing and trembling as he shot his seed deep into Kieran’s body.

Kieran found himself mildly disappointed when Rowyn pulled out, missing the pressure of his cock in him, but was comforted when the older man collapsed on top of him.  The warmth and weight of him felt amazing, and Kieran never wanted to move again, for the rest of his life.

“Holy fuck,” Rowyn panted, kissing Kieran’s shoulder lightly.

Charis chuckled softly.  “Did it feel good?” she asked.

Rowyn laughed in response, nibbling the back of Kieran’s shoulder, a move that sent chills down Kieran’s spine.

“His ass feels just as amazing as his mouth,” Rowyn said.  He moaned softly as Charis lied down beside them on the bed, moving closer to her and pulling Kieran with him.

Kieran was more than willing to move closer to Charis, wanting to feel the length of her body just as he felt the length of Rowyn’s.  Lying between them, his entire body still throbbing, he felt warm, and safe, and protected.

Cherished.  He felt cherished.

Like he was more than a hole to cum in.  Like…

Like he was a man.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until he woke up, confused at the sunlight streaming through the window.  Surprised, he sat up to find himself alone in Charis’ room, in Charis’ bed.  He’d fallen asleep in her bed?

She’d allowed him to sleep in her bed?

“Ah, you’re awake,” she said cheerfully, startling him.  He whirled around to see her walking out of the bathroom, wearing only a robe, pinning her hair up.  “I was just coming in to wake you.  Come here, I want you to bathe me.”

Eagerly, and somewhat stiffly, Kieran rose to his feet.  He was sore, but pleasantly so, and was reminded of the night before.  It was almost as if he could still feel Rowyn inside him and Charis beside him.

He walked into the bathroom to see that the tub had already been drawn.  He took her robe and helped her into the bath, then stepped in, himself.

He liked bathing her.  It was quiet, and peaceful, and comfortable.  Such an intimate act, and it gave him the chance to really study the woman who owned him.

As his hands moved across her body, over her curves and her scars, he couldn’t help but admire her.  So strong, so powerful, so graceful.

And he marveled at how relaxed she was.  Of the many differences between her and Dryas, Kieran noticed that the biggest one was the difference in comfort they felt with themselves.

He’d never really noticed it before, but now that he was with Charis, he realized that Dryas was never particularly comfortable with himself.  Like he always had something to prove, he always had to reassert his manhood, his position as a Spartan nobleman, his position as Kieran’s owner.

There had been no quiet, comfortable moments like this because Dryas could never be comfortable with who he was.

Charis, on the other hand, was self-assured and confident, and completely comfortable with herself.  She never had anything to prove, she knew who she was.  She could sit back and relax and enjoy the presence of her slave without having to remind him that she was his owner.  She could enjoy these quiet, peaceful moments because she was at peace with herself.

It was incredible, the difference it made.  Kieran was convinced that, even though Charis was trophimi, she was ten times the Spartan his former owner would ever be.

Perhaps that’s why Dryas had been so rough with Kieran.  Perhaps it was because Dryas knew that he simply didn’t live up to the Spartan standards.  He was nowhere near as physically fit as Charis was, there wasn’t even a fitness room in his house.  He had always been loud and aggressive, but had backed down when others had been loud and aggressive back to him.

Maybe Dryas hated himself, and knew no other way to cope with that, than to hurt the one beneath him.  Maybe that’s what it took for Dryas to feel strong.

And what a sad, lonely way to live.

Kieran found himself pitying his former owner.  No wonder he needed to be cruel.  He needed to deflect the anger and disappointment in himself by channeling it into his rough treatment of Kieran.

He would buy another slave, Kieran was sure of that.  And he’d be just as cruel to him as he’d been to Kieran.  But no matter how hard he beat a slave, no matter how loudly he made the slave scream, no matter how rough he treated him, it would never be enough to give Dryas peace.  It would never be enough to make Dryas comfortable with himself.

Not the way Charis was comfortable with herself.  And she’d purchased him.  She’d saved him from Dryas.  She’d reached down and rescued him from a small, fearful, angry man.

Overcome with gratitude, he leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face against her neck.

“Hmm,” she murmured approvingly, her hand on his thigh, kissing him gently on the forehead.

He closed his eyes, simply enjoying being close to her, feeling her body against his.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from somewhere downstairs.  A moment later, Ilya’s booming voice could be heard, shouting angrily.

“What the hell?” Charis demanded, quickly rising to her feet.  “Get my robe.  Now.”

The sharpness of her voice brought back the fear that always lingered in the back of Kieran’s mind, but he reminded himself that she wasn’t angry with him.  Something was very obviously wrong, and she needed to figure out what it was.  He reminded himself that he wasn’t the cause of the sudden edge in her voice.

He helped her into her robe just as Rowyn rushed into the room.

“What?” she demanded.

“The symposiarch called, wanting to talk to you,” Rowyn explained quickly as she walked past him.  “Dominus told him that you weren’t coming to the phone, and that you’re not interested.”

“And?”

“He said something to set Dominus off.  I don’t know what.  He threw the phone through the TV.  Taber and Cullen are trying to calm him down.”

“Fucking hell,” she muttered.  “Take Kieran to your room, and stay there until I come get you.”

“Yes, Domina.”

Charis hurried down the hall, to the staircase.  She could hear Ilya shouting, and now she could make out what he was saying.

Back off!” he shouted.  “I’ll beat you both until you can’t move anymore.”

Her heart leapt, and her blood boiled.  Gods damn it, Ilya, she thought, quickening her pace.  Ilya was known to lose all rational thought when he lost his temper, but to say something like that, to Cullen

She heard a softer voice.  Taber.  But she couldn’t make out what he said.  There was another crash and more shouting.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Ilya yelled at him.  “Do you want me to beat you bloody?  Both of you, back the fuck off, or I swear on every god there is that I’ll make you fucking regret it.”

She hurried into the living room to see Ilya against the wall.  Taber and Cullen were standing back, but had more or less cornered him, keeping him from destroying the rest of the house until Charis could get there to calm him down.

Her gaze went to Cullen, who stood with his head down, his eyes lowered, and his jaw set.  As she got closer, she saw that he was shaking.

Gods, Cullen, she thought, wanting more than anything to comfort him.  But he would be alright for a few more minutes.  She needed to deal with Ilya first.

Seeing Cullen like that infuriated her even more.  Without a word, she walked between Cullen and Taber, fearlessly approaching Ilya, who was still shouting, and slapped him across the face, hard enough to knock him back, hard enough to leave a handprint on the side of his face, and hard enough to shut him the fuck up.

The slap had the effect she’d been going for.  He held his hand to his face, staring silently at her, completely dumbfounded.

She turned abruptly to the slaves.  “Go upstairs,” she ordered.  “To Rowyn’s room.  Stay there until I come get you.”

“Yes, Domina,” Taber said hastily, casting a concerned look to Ilya before turning to obey her command.

Cullen didn’t answer, but turned to do as she said, shrugging away from Taber as the younger man tried to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Cullen, she thought, looking after him.  My Cullen.

Gods, how could Ilya have been so careless?

Once they were alone, she turned back to him with fire in her eyes.

“What the hell was that for?” he demanded angrily, still nursing his cheek.

“Do you recall what you were saying?” she returned quietly.

“Seriously, what the hell, Charis?”

“Do you?”

“That fucking hurt.  Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“What was it?”

“I told them I’d beat them.”

“Until…” she supplied, urging him to repeat the threat he’d given.

“Until what?  I don’t know.”

Think.”

He sighed.  “Until they can’t move anymore.  What’s the fucking point, Char?”

“How did we find Cullen?”

Ilya opened his mouth to answer, then suddenly stopped, his brows shooting up, all the anger immediately gone from his face as he finally realized what he had said, and the effect his words had on Cullen.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, leaning back against the wall.  He sank down to the floor, his head in his hands.  “Gods, I’m such a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah,” she agreed simply.  She knelt down next to him.  “What happened?”

Ilya hesitated, still consumed by guilt for what he’d said to Cullen.  It took a moment to pull his focus enough to answer her question.  “Coras called,” he answered finally.  “I told him we weren’t interested.  He said he’d only talk to you, not some ‘worthless neodamode.’  Then he said he’d buy me back, and proceeded to explain how he would use me for nightly entertainment in his symposium until I learned how to speak to nobility.”

Charis sighed, shaking her head.  She leaned back against the wall, pulling Ilya to her.  “Fuck him,” she murmured.  “You’re three times the man he could ever be.  You know that.”

“All I’ll ever be is a neodamode,” he groaned.  “I’m no better than a slave to them.  They’ll never see me as anything more.”

“That’s their problem.  Not yours.  You’re my husband, Ilya.  There’s no one I’d rather be married to.  There’s no one I’d rather help me run the symposium.  There’s no one else I would trust with my livelihood and my slaves.”

“Gods, the slaves,” Ilya muttered, lowering his head again.  “That’s even worse.  Have I fallen that far, that I didn’t even realize what I was doing to Cullen?  Have I really forgotten that much?”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

He shook his head.  “I should’ve known better,” he insisted.  “I should’ve seen it.  I… I failed him.  Gods, I failed all of them.”

“It can be fixed,” she assured him.  “But you need to be calm, first.”

Ilya sighed, raking a hand through his hair, then looked up to meet her gaze.  “I’m calm.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulled her close, kissing her once, then hugged her tightly.  “I’m sure.  Let’s go.  I want to apologize to them.  To Cullen.”

“It’s got to be on his time.”

“I know.”

They rose to their feet and made their way back upstairs.  Ilya went to the master bedroom to wait for Charis, and Charis walked into Rowyn’s room.  She opened the door to find the four men sitting around, waiting.  Cullen sat apart from the rest of them, on the windowsill, looking out the window and refusing to talk or acknowledge any of them.

Next, her eyes went to Rowyn.  He held her gaze, then looked pointedly at Cullen.

He didn’t speak any words, but he didn’t need to.  She could see his thoughts on his face.

He’d never seen Cullen like this, not since they first brought him home.  He was worried that all of the work she’d done, all the trust she’d built, would be shattered.

Charis nodded to him and glanced to Taber and Kieran, who sat together on the bed, talking quietly.  They stopped as she crossed the room, watching her.

But her focus was on Cullen.  Every muscle in his body was tense as he looked out the window.  She could see the anger and bitterness in his eyes, and it broke her heart.  It had been years since she’d seen that look on his face.  She’d hoped never to see it again.

She stopped just short of him, putting a tentative hand on his arm.  “Cullen,” she murmured.

It took a long moment, but he finally looked to her, and her heart broke all over again when she saw the tears in his eyes.  She extended her arms to hug him and waited, letting him decide if and when to hug her.

He hesitated, then retreated into her arms, holding her tight against him, resting his head on her shoulder, and taking a deep, trembling breath.

For a moment, they were quiet.  Then, she kissed his cheek.  “Are you ready?” she asked.

In answer to her question, Cullen pulled away and resumed his seat, looking back out the window.  Charis watched him for a moment, then sighed.  She reached out to touch his knee.  “I love you, Cullen.”

He didn’t answer, but Charis didn’t expect him to.  She turned to the others.  “Come on,” she told them.  “Give him some space.  Rowyn, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not, Domina,” Rowyn answered quickly.

They started to rise to their feet, but were stilled by the sound of Cullen’s voice.  “Wait,” he said.

Charis turned to him, watching him.  Slowly, he turned to face her.  “I’ll go with you.”

“Cullen, are you sure?” she asked.  “You don’t have to.”

“I’m sure.”

Charis hesitated.  He was still so tense, the anger and bitterness still boiling under the surface.  She walked up to him and reached for him, holding his face with both hands, studying him.  After a moment, and with a lot of effort, he let go of some of the bitterness, and his eyes softened just a little as he looked at her.

“Alright,” she said.  “Come with me.”

She turned to the others.  “You three stay here.”

“Yes, Domina,” they replied, more or less in unison.

They were all silent as they watched Charis and Cullen leave the room.  Once the door was closed, Rowyn let out a deep breath.

“Gods, what happened?” he asked Taber.

“Dominus was angry,” Taber replied.  “He threatened to beat us bloody.  Until we couldn’t move.”

Rowyn shook his head angrily.  “Fucking hell,” he muttered.  “It’s going to take more than one conversation to get over that.”

“What was so bad about it?” Kieran asked.

“You remember when I told you how we found Cullen,” Taber explained.  “How he was being tortured.  That’s something he still struggles with, and if anything brings it back up or puts him back in that headspace, he can shut down for days.”

“Which Dominus should’ve fucking known,” Rowyn growled.  “For someone who likes to talk about how compassionate he is, because he’s a helot, not much fucking occurs to him.”

“He was angry,” Taber repeated.  “You know he’d never act on that.  You know he’d never hurt Cullen.  Or any of us.  Cullen knows it, too.”

Rowyn waved his hand dismissively, pacing the room.  His reaction, his anger at their Dominus, struck Kieran as strange.  He remembered that the two of them had served Domina together before Ilya had been freed.

He couldn’t help but wonder if there was some history there.

“Come on, Rowyn,” Taber pressed.  “Regardless of what he says when he’s angry, do you honestly think he’d actually hurt us?  I mean, truly.”

“It’s not the point,” Rowyn snapped.

“It is the point.  Dominus says things when he’s angry.  We all know that he doesn’t mean them.”

“He shouldn’t have fucking said it.”

“No, he shouldn’t have.  But at the same time, you know, just as I know, just as Cullen knows, that he would never dream of acting on that threat.  He loves us.  He protects us.  You know he does.”

Rowyn sighed, reluctantly accepting the truth in Taber’s words.

Kieran watched them silently, stunned by the interaction.  Taber seemed to have an uncanny ability to calm everyone around him.

He remembered his first day there, when Charis had showed him the training room.  When he had begun to panic, it wasn’t her slave she had called, but Taber.  And Taber had calmed him in the library, too.

But when he saw Rowyn rake his hand through his hair and slump down on the foot of the bed, it pulled his attention from Taber.

The older man was obviously agitated.  And it seemed like there was more to it than just what Ilya had said to Cullen.  There had to be some history there.  Some cause for that agitation.

He wondered what it could be.

Facials are fun

So I’ve had the worst luck with electronics lately.  For the last two weeks, I’ve been without a computer.  But it finally got in, yay!

And there’s a lot to be happy about.

In two weeks, I’ll get to see Southern again.  It’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen him, so I’m looking forward to that.

And, for those of you who check out Jessie’s blog (and all of you really should), you may have noticed a fun little game I played with him, where he had to send a text to Kazander, asking him to cum in his mouth.

Fun stuff, it really is.

So he sent the message, and a few days later, Kazander and I pulled up to the house.

I was beaming from the moment we walked through the door.

Jessica was dressed in her gorgeous corset, backless panties, stockings, heels, her hair and makeup done.  She looked sexy as hell.

Her face looked so pretty, I just had to stick a penis in it.

And Kazander is quite the Top, as it turns out.  When we’d talk about how we wanted the evening to go, I often had to remind him that we could push Jessie, we could have all sorts of fun fucking with him, but we had to exercise some restraint, as well.

We had to toe the line between intense and too intense, but we couldn’t violently shove him into the deep end with no warning.

“Dear, if we break our toy, we won’t be able to play with her anymore.”

You know, balance.

But as I’ve said before, I’d much rather have to hold him back than try to pull enthusiasm out of someone who’s just not feeling it.  The fact that he’s sort of taken this and run with it is a million kinds of freakin’ awesome.

And he has the benefit of having been my sub for 7 years now, so he knows me, he knows the kinds of mindfucks I like, and he knows the general flow of how I like having sessions go.  His biggest kink is humiliation, so he’s very experienced in the field of receiving it.  Since he’s got the switchy tendencies, he can take what he finds hot when he’s in the submissive headspace and turn it around when we’re with Jessie.

So now I have someone to help me utterly humiliate and degrade my sissy.  Which is a huge, massive bonus for me.

We sat down on the couch, and I had Jessie get on all fours at our feet.  Only a moment later, Kazander’s cock was in her mouth.

I was determined to make it last longer than last time, though.  I wanted to really savor the experience.  I wanted to draw it out a bit, and let all three of us enjoy it.

Well, let two of us enjoy it, anyway.

That morning, and the previous night, I’d had Kazander cum.  Normally, I enjoy keeping him chaste and denied, so he doesn’t last very long when I do let him cum.

Last time, that (combined with Jessica’s exceptional cock-sucking skills) resulted in him cumming too quickly.  I made sure to prepare so that didn’t happen this time.

It was so hot watching Jessie suck Kazander’s cock, watching her head bob up and down as she deepthroated him.  She’s definitely been practicing.

After a moment, I knelt down on the floor next to her and reached behind her, rubbing her clit.  Her p-spot has always been so sensitive, and I wanted to see if rubbing it would have an effect on her cock-sucking.

You know, for science.

She started squirming, arching her back, pushing her ass out against my hand, very literally humping my hand while she sucked his cock.

I grinned and looked up to Kazander when I heard a soft moan come from her.  “Does this make a difference?” I asked him.

“Oh yeah,” he replied.  “Whatever you’re doing, she likes it.”

My hypothesis was confirmed.  Gotta love science.

It was so hot watching her, squirming and writhing and moaning, her moans muffled by Kazander’s cock.

One of the things Kazander had suggested earlier was giving Jessie a facial, and cumming on her face, instead of in her mouth.  I was intrigued by the idea, but didn’t really think much of it.  We’d already settled on making Jessie swallow his load.  I didn’t see a reason to change the plan.

But when Kazander told me he was getting close, I suddenly changed my mind.

“Stop,” I told her.  “Lie down on your back.  He’s going to cum on your face.”

So she did, obediently lying underneath Kazander, her head between his legs, her eyes closed, while Kazander jerked off onto her face.

And she looked so pretty with his cum all over her face.  But then again, she’s a sissy, it’s pretty common knowledge that they always look good drenched in real men’s cum.

She wasn’t done, though.  Before she could move, I reached down and rubbed it all over her face, then put a cum-covered finger against her lips.

“Open,” I said.

Reluctantly, she obeyed, and I pushed my finger into her mouth.

“Suck it clean, that’s a good girl.”

Kazander went to get himself cleaned up, and I had Jessie sit at my feet, rubbing Kazander’s cum all over her face and making her suck it off my fingers.

The awesome thing was after a few seconds, that reluctance disappeared, and she leaned against me, enthusiastically sucking and licking my fingers clean.

Like a good little cumslut.

And honestly, that was my favorite part of the whole thing.  Just the way she completely embraced that sissy mindset, the way she eagerly sucked the cum off my fingers, it was just so damn fucking hot.

My precious sissy whore.

After Kazander left, I let Jessie come up and sit next to me on the couch, and rubbed her clit some more.  She came again and again, with Kazander’s cum drying on her face, and the taste of it in her mouth.

There was a funny moment, though.  We all know she can’t cum like a man anymore, she doesn’t even squirt.

Every time she came, she looked down to Tammi Lynn, tucked away in her panties.

“Are you checking to see if you squirted?” I asked after the third-ish time.

“Hoping I had,” she answered.

“Hoping you’d squirted?  Why?”

“Because then at least there’d be something to get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Oh, you mean the taste of another man’s cum?  Was that what you meant?”

“How’d you guess?”

And naturally, I found that just wildly entertaining.

My sissy bitch was hoping she could cum like a man, so that I would feed it to her, to get the taste of Kazander’s cum out of her mouth.

That’s where her mind went.  That’s the solution she came up with for how to get the taste out of her mouth — using her own cum to do it.

I mean, how awesome is that?

My precious sissy is growing up.

Entitlement and liberation

First, thank you to everyone who has reached out to me in the last couple days.  I’m alright, we were at home when the shooting happened, all of my family and friends are alright.

I received this comment on my last post.

Thanks for this excellent reply.

I think many men -myself included- thought: “So women got the right to vote, the right to have a career, even the right to join the military. And what did we get?

I honestly feel jealous at women for being able to behave both feminine and masculine and being accepted both ways, while men aren’t.

And that’s the reason why many men have chosen toxic hypermasculinity. For women there was a clear idea or direction, what they should become i.e. pursuing the same career paths and hobbies as men did. Men on the other hand lacked a new direction and felt confused and insecure about their identity, so they chose the path of “masculinity at all costs” which gave them a clear cut direction or ideal, even though it had some pretty negative consequences.

Feminists have made a mistake, when they believed, they could just improve womens position completely isolated from men and then neglect mens issues within the patriarchy.

So this begs the question: “What’s the alternative for men?”

I thought maybe it’s time for some sort of “mens liberation” from the outdated ideas of what it means to be a men.

But as for the “How?”, I can only think of two things, where men and society as a whole could work on:

1. Working on mens ability to express and deal with their emotions.

This would be one of the most important points and ease a lot of mens issues, like suicide and violent crime.

2. Improving mens ability to be a father.

However currently the laws on paternity and divorce, as well as the working conditions in many parts of the western world aren’t exactly encouraging men to be a father and spend more time with their children.

What do you think?

Sincerely,

Ambidexter.

I can totally understand where you’re coming from, and agree with most of what you’ve said. But quick thing…

I think many men -myself included- thought: “So women got the right to vote, the right to have a career, even the right to join the military. And what did we get?”

Um, literally all of that?

Why do you think you’re entitled to something for finally treating other human beings as huiman beings?  You don’t deserve a cookie for allowing other humans to be equal to you.

You say we got those rights like we should be grateful.  Like it’s something special to be allowed to vote or serve our country.

… even the right to join the military.

Ho… ly… shit, dude.  That is so not the way to endear yourself to women.

No, we are not grateful for these rights that should have been ours from the dawn of time.  We’re resentful that men of past generations denied them to us for so long.  And we’re pissed that we’re still having to fight for it.

And here’s the thing about men being accepted for expressing themselves in both ways.  I get that you resent that women can do it.  I’d resent it too, if I was a guy.

I mentioned Bill Burr, how he resented women for it.

But ask yourself what’s stopping you from feminine or sensitive behaviors?  Think about that for a minute.  Honestly, what’s stopping you from having the same freedom women do?

Literally nothing but your fear of being made fun of.  That’s fucking it.

No I’m serious, I want you to take a minute and let that sink in.  The only thing stopping Bill Burr in his routine was he was worried about what his friends would think.  He was literally saying that his friends’ opinions were more important than his own mental and physical health.  That the reason men drop dead at 55 is because they’re that worried about what other people think of them.

I’m serious, take a minute and just let that sink in.

Women don’t and didn’t have that same fear.  When women were ridiculed and ostracized, by both men and other women, for things like wearing pants, getting a job, or divorcing an abusive husband, they didn’t care.  Their position of powerlessness conditioned them with the strength to stand up for themselves, despite what society thought of them.

Men as a whole have never had that same struggle.  They’ve never had to fight to be heard, they’ve never had to work to be seen as human.  So they’ve never developed that specific kind of courage.

And you’re right, feminists don’t focus on men’s issues often (although it’s interesting to see reactions on social media when stories of men or boys being raped by women break.  It’s primarily feminists who speak out in support of the victim, while the majority of male commenters say he should’ve enjoyed it. Also, when I posted about female on male abuse, it was exclusively men who argued with me, saying that female on male abuse is impossible, and I’m trivializing female abuse victims).

But here’s the thing: it’s feminism. You don’t get angry at the ASPCA for not doing enough to end world hunger.  You don’t blame the Salvation Army for not doing anything about global warming.

Feminism focuses on feminist issues.  Just like Black Lives Matter focuses on issues that black people face in this country.  And Pinktober, as fucking stupid as it is, focuses on breast cancer.

Does that mean that men have no problems?  Of course not, and I’ve detailed on this blog a number of problems men face that I could never imagine.  Toxic masculinity, lack of resources and support available to male abuse and sexual assault victims, and general attitudes toward men, and the steps they have to take to avoid being seen as a threat are specific examples I’ve spoken about in the last year or so.

That’s a significant problem with the masculinist and feminist crowds.  They’re locked in this battle of who has it worse, and resent each other to the point that trying to make any kind of forward progress on either side is almost impossible.

But they are not mutually exclusive.  I’m a feminist and a masculinist.  Lots of people are.  I think most sane people are.

But expecting feminists to work on men’s issues is unrealistic.  That means I need to bombard Men’s Movement and the National Coalition for Men with hate mail because they’ve done nothing to help women gain affordable access to birth control.

This entitlement that some people feel is genuinely harmful.  I would like to reiterate: women owe men nothing for the rights we have as human beings and as American citizens.  Literally nothing.

We should have always had them.  The fact that we had to fight for them at all really doesn’t paint the male gender in a fantastic light.

Men of the past were fucking idiots and small-minded assholes with tiny egos and were intimidated by women.  You don’t get an award for not being a dick.  It’s just kind of expected.

Just like white people didn’t deserve an award for freeing slaves.  And the fact that so many white people were so against freeing them, they started a war and  were willing to kill American citizens for it, really doesn’t paint us in a fantastic light.

The ones who owned slaves were straight up assholes.  No one gets a cookie for not being an asshole.  My mom’s family is from the south.  My ancestors owned slaves (and on my dad’s side, my grandmother’s first husband was a Nazi.  Fabulous family history).  Do I deserve a medal because I’m not a racist fucktard like my direct ancestors?

No.  It’s just kind of expected of me as a human being.

Also, why does improving women’s position within society (you know, to the point that they are seen as human) threaten men?  Why do we need to compensate men for having basic human rights?  I’m honestly asking, I want to know.  What is it, exactly, that you think we owe you?

As for your question about men’s liberation and encouraging positive relationships with their emotions, I 100% agree with you.  Luckily, things are slowly changing, but it’s still widely looked down on for a man to show any emotion outside of anger.  Men aren’t encouraged to experience and process their emotions.  They’re not encouraged to seek professional help when they need it.

Which is why things like depression go undiagnosed and untreated, and result in men committing suicide three times more than women.

It’s tragic, but the more we talk about it, the more we pound it into people’s heads that men are human, with human brains and human emotions, and they need healthy emotional outlets, because that’s how human brains work, the more society will continue to shift to be more accepting of that.

And ugh, don’t get me started on how badly fathers are shafted when it comes to parental law.  We had our own little minor run-in with that when the spawn was born.

Kazander and I weren’t married.  In the state of Nevada, if the parents are not married, the father must waive his right to a paternity test in order to be acknowledged as the father on the birth certificate.

Naturally, when I found this out, I lost my shit.

Like, are you fucking serious?

So in order for a father to get his parental rights, he has to sign away one of his parental rights.

Kazander actually wasn’t as pissed about it as I was.  He signed the paper, he was put on her birth certificate as her father, and life went on.  And in the big scheme of things, it doesn’t matter.  She’s his kid, beyond a shadow of a doubt.  It was just the principle of the thing, you know?  If I was a guy, and a father, I’d be furious.

That’s a much harder thing to fix than men’s acceptable range of gender expression.  All a guy has to do for gender expression is tell his friends to fuck off.  Fathers’ rights and the way they’re fucked by the legal system doesn’t have a simple answer like that.

Because the reason it got this way in the first place is because child-rearing was traditionally seen as a mother’s job, and men didn’t (and often still don’t) participate much in their kids’ lives.

To quote my daughter when she was… 4, I think, “Daddies don’t keep babies company.  Daddies go to work.  It’s the mommy’s job to keep the baby company.”

Naturally, after this, Kazander and I had a long conversation about how he needs to act once he gets home, and how he needs to play a bigger role in her life.  Because I’ll be damned if she’s going to grow up thinking that’s what a father is.

For the longest time, though, that was the norm.  Fathers just didn’t participate in kids’ lives.

So when the parents split, is the court going to give the kids to an absentee parent who supports them financially, or are they going to give the kids to the more present parent and demand that the father still support them financially?

The answer is an obvious one, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right one.  We need to continue changing the way men see fatherhood.  And it’s slowly happening.  Go on Facebook or YouTube and you see tons of adorable viral videos of fathers and their young children.  There’s some good momentum there, but we need to keep it going for a long time before we start seeing changes in the legal system.

Because as men’s rights groups and society as a whole continue to encourage men to take a more active role as fathers, I think it will begin to change the way courts see fathers, as well.

So I think that men are going to continue gaining more and more freedom as time goes on, but we can’t be afraid of talking about it.  And we can’t allow resentment or an “us versus them” mentality to take root.  Men and women are not enemies; feminists and masculinists are not enemies.  We’re simply attacking the same problem from different angles.  And the sooner we can stop competing with one another and start working together, the faster progress will be.

I think the best thing men can do right now, something they can implement in their lives today, that will help combat toxic masculinity, is to simply push themselves to show just a little sensitivity or vulnerability every day.  It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, just step a toe out of that comfort zone.

Just one thing a day.  Say the puppy on the street is adorable.  When your coworker gets flowers from her boyfriend, say they look nice.  Tell people that you loved that new sappy romantic movie that came out.  Acknowledge a cloud that looks like a bunny.  I don’t care, something.

And what’ll happen is that, over time, it’ll condition men to develop a better relationship with their own masculinity.  They won’t feel their masculinity threatened by femininity or vulnerability or emotion.

And as a side effect, things like sensitivity and vulnerability will stop being gender-specific traits (they never should have been gender-specific traits in the first place, because again, humans literally don’t work that way).  So men will begin to feel more comfortable and secure in their masculinity, and won’t constantly feel the need to prove how manly they are.

Which will make them happier and healthier all the way around.

Sexism and forced feminization

I received this comment on my Why Idiots are Idiots post:

Dear Jen,

I would really like to know your opinion regarding forced feminization.

You see, forced feminization means that a male submissive is being degraded and humiliated by training and transforming him into a more feminine role and body. Does this imply that the femininity is somehow inferior to masculinity? I’m honestly confused about this.

Also, I find it interesting that there is no counterpart “forced masculinization”, where a maledom for example cuts his subs hair short, binds her breasts back and makes her fix his car.

Alright, I’ll be honest, this isn’t the first time I’ve been asked this question, and of course I’ve seen all the articles and angry blog posts talking about how forced feminization is sexist because it reinforces the idea that feminizing a man makes him less, because femininity is less.  Usually, I just roll my eyes, shake my head, and ignore it.  For many reasons, and I’ll get into a couple here.  However, since you were polite in your comment, I’ll take the time to answer.

But before I get into all that, there’s one thing I want to point out, because this mindset pervades many different kinks and fetishes.

The BBW fetish demeans plus size women. Femdom porn demeans women because it’s unrealistic and puts women in overly sexual outfits.  Being into blondes or Asians or petite women is demeaning because it fetishizes their appearance.  With basically every fetish out there, you have people who say it’s demeaning.

Here’s the thing, though.

I don’t fucking care.

I don’t care whether my fetishes are politically correct or not.  I’m not watching porn or feminizing Jessie for social commentary.  I’m literally just trying to get off.

It’s what I do, in private, with consenting adults, that doesn’t affect anyone else outside of the people right there with me.  It affects literally no one else.

It’s just a fetish.  People have some pretty fucked up ones.  As long as mentally sound adults consent to the fetish and it doesn’t cause unreasonable damage (No, I’m not castrating a man in my living room because he has a castration fetish), who cares?  It’s literally just a fetish.

It’s not like a sexual fetish is going to determine one’s vote.

And sure, maybe the BBW fetish is demeaning.  Maybe the only reason some men have been into me was because they fetishized my body.

But quick, guess who still got off on those guys.  So why do I care?

So that’s the quick answer.  But as far as forced feminization goes, it’s not the right answer.

The seemingly popular idea that forced feminization is sexist or implies that femininity is inferior is just plain wrong.

Why?

The answer is laughably complicated, and yeah, some of it has origins in toxic masculinity, but mostly it has to do with one’s identity.  My last post touched on the subject of identity, and the brain’s habit of desperately clinging to that identity.

For most men today, masculinity has been put up on this pedestal and heralded as the end-all, be-all of manhood, to the point that anything feminine, any show of sensitivity or softness or vulnerability leaves a man open to ridicule.

It is a massive part of what it means to be a man.  It’s a huge part of manhood as an identity.

And it’s sad, it really is, because it cheapens manhood as a whole.  It makes manhood shallow, nothing more than a collection of behaviors and attitudes current society has deemed masculine.

Back in the day, the epitome of manhood was being considered a gentleman.  And culturally, what was a gentleman?  He was kind, polite, responsible, and protective of those around him, quick to sacrifice his own comfort for the comfort of others.  He took care of his responsibilities, he did what was best for those who depended on him, he had the balls to admit when he needed help, and vulnerability or sensitivity were part of his identity.

A gentleman was not an unfeeling dudebro who could outdrink his buddies.  His identity as a man was not wrapped up in how masculine he was.

Of course, society back then was very, very far from perfect, so don’t think I’m putting that type of man on a pedestal.  I’m simply pointing out that society had a better relationship with masculinity back then.

This hyper masculinity is a relatively recent thing.  I’ve read it speculated that it has to do with the rise of women’s rights and feminism being seen as threatening to men of that time, who in turn clung to their masculinity and created the toxic relationship with it that they then pounded into their sons and grandsons and so on until it became a societal norm, something expected from all men.

Whether that’s true or not isn’t the point.  The point is that we as a culture have developed an extremely unhealthy relationship with masculinity and masculine behaviors.

Obviously that’s the problem with toxic masculinity, and one of the many effects it has had on many men is that it influences their identity greatly.  Masculinity is a huge part of the average guy’s identity.  Whether or not that’s a good or bad thing is a different conversation, trust me, this will be long enough.  The result is still the same.  It’s a big part of who they are.

And what happens when you force someone to give up such a big part of their identity?

It’s uncomfortable, even painful, and, depending on the context, deeply humiliating.

Just as with pretty much anything else, there is a group of people who have fetishized that discomfort and pain, and when performed in a consensual relationship with clearly-defined boundaries and limitations, those people can enjoy the discomfort the same way physical masochists enjoy the pain of being hit.

And it’s true not just with masculinity and femininity, but with anything an individual holds as a major part of their identity.

For example, Kazander and I used to switch for his birthday.  My longtime readers are very much aware of how much I dreaded and disliked it, how unnatural and uncomfortable it was for me, how it took days to literally shut off portions of my personality, and even that wasn’t enough to make me a “good” sub.  And yes, it was often humiliating.  Unfortunately for him (and me), I don’t fetishize receiving that humiliation, and it annoyed me more than anything else.

It was humiliating because my Dominance is such an integral part of who I am, and switching runs so deeply counter to that, it was a constant struggle for me.

But does the fact that I found it humiliating mean that I see submission as inferior to Dominance?  No.

For example, you don’t have to be a longtime reader to know how much I respect and admire Jessie.  And as it happens, I asked him how he would feel about switching.

20170928_005612

Needless to say, he was not a fan of the idea.  It would be so deeply uncomfortable for him, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.  Because that is far outside the boundaries and limitations of what becomes fetishized in his brain.

Because that’s just not who he is.  That’s not how he relates to someone in a sexual capacity.  That’s not how he and I relate to each other.

Trying to force him to be my Dominant in a session would be far more uncomfortable than putting him in a dress, or even forcing him to take a man’s cock in his ass.  The fact that it would create so much nervousness and anxiety in him would absolutely manifest as humiliation.

Does that mean that Dominance is inferior to submission, because he would find it humiliating?  No.  It’s just counter to who he is.

Have you noticed how effeminate men, or men who don’t have masculinity as such a big part of their identity, don’t feel the same discomfort or humiliation at being feminized?  Forced feminization as a tool to humiliate and degrade only works if masculinity plays a central role in who a man is.

As it happens, it’s a societal norm for masculinity to play that big a role in a man’s identity, so it is humiliating and degrading for most men in today’s society.

And yes, toxic masculinity is responsible for the sheer number of men who hold their masculinity as such a big part of who they are.  But it’s not any more sexist to fetishize that than it is to fetishize a skin color or hair color or height or weight or literally anything else.

You don’t see forced masculinization because women don’t have that same problem.  We don’t hold our femininity as such a huge part of our identity.  We have more cultural freedom, so we’re all over the gender expression spectrum.  We aren’t particularly attached to one or the other the way men are.

So we don’t feel the humiliation, but we can still feel that discomfort.

Like me, for example.  I don’t like sliding too far to either side of that spectrum.  Sure, I can dress up and be uber ultra feminine, but I have to be able to move back to the masculine side.  You mention a Dom forcing a female sub to fix his car.  I can change my body language and speech patterns and be just as masculine as any guy, and talk cars with the best of them, but I have to be able to move back to the feminine side.

Too far in either direction doesn’t cause the same humiliation that it causes in most men, because gender is not as big a part of my identity, but it’s not pleasant, because it’s not who I am.

So I mean, this idea that forced feminization is sexist or implies that femininity is inferior to masculinity just doesn’t hold up under close scrutiny.  It doesn’t work.

You’re either XX or XY

Are you, though?  I mean, are you really?

I’ve had two different people say this exact thing to me over the last week, using middle school biology to try to justify their transphobia.

So I, armed with the power of Google, decided to somewhat-condescendingly (condescendingly? Who, me?) explain why they’re wrong.

And I figured I’d explain it here, too.

M’kay, so in humans, you can be female because you have an X and Y chromosome, but are insensitive to androgens, so you have a male body.

You can be female because you have an X and a Y chromosome, but your Y chromosome is missing the SRY gene, so you have a female body.

You can be male because you have two X chromosomes, but one of them has an SRY gene, so you have a male body.

You can be male because you were born female, but have a 5-alphareductase deficiency so you grew a penis at puberty.

“Okay but that’s still XX or XY.”

Funny that you mention that.

You can be male because you have two X chromosomes and a Y.

You can be female because you only have one X chromosome at all.

So before we try to claim that there are only two genders, we should probably acknowledge that there are more than two physical and biological sexes.

And then we should acknowledge that the human brain is something we still only have a limited understanding of.  We are learning that the brain does not function in terms of absolutes, but that everything is perceived on a spectrum.

You’re not gay, straight, or bi.  Your brain doesn’t work by fitting into neat little boxes.  Your sexuality falls on a spectrum.  Maybe its position is fixed.  Maybe it slides around.

Your gender is on a spectrum, too.  You are not either masculine or feminine.  Literally no one is.

The most macho, masculine, in-your-face manly guy out there will at some point exhibit a behavior or mindset or form of expression deemed by current societal trends to be feminine.

It is literally impossible for a sane, functioning human brain to fit an entire identity into one box.  Because psychology, m’kay.

So that machismo guy who insists that he’s never done anything feminine is either lying to you, lying to himself, or literally brain-damaged.

You cannot be all masculine or all feminine.  It’s impossible.  The brain simply doesn’t work that way.

And what happens when you’re forced into a mode of expression that doesn’t fit with your identity?  What happens when a liberal is placed in a room full of conservatives, and must try to fit in?  What happens when you hang with a crowd 30 years younger or older than you are, and must try to fit in?

It makes you uncomfortable as fuck, that’s what happens.

And it’s the same with gender identity.  Because with all facets of one identity, the brain treats it as if it’s precious.  Our identity is the most important thing to our brains, and anything that challenges that identity causes extreme stress.

I mean, just try asking a devout conservative Christian (which is an oxymoron, by the way.  Conservatives are literally the single greatest threat to modern Christianity) how he feels about the fact that science has proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that homosexuality is genetic.

Their “Christian” beliefs (although, funny enough, that particular belief is about as anti-Christian as you can get.  Don’t take my word for it.  That’s according to fucking Christ, Himself, m’kay) are such an integral part of their identity, anything that challenges it is met with immediate and irrational defensiveness.

Gender identity is the same way.  Our brains want to protect it.  And forcing it to fit into one of two boxes is just as painful as it is for a 45-year-old to have to fit in with a group of 15-year-olds.

Do you want to spend the next few years surrounded by 15-year-olds who you must cater and adapt to?  Do you want to spend the next few years being forced to submit to who they think you should be?  No?

Then why would you force that same discomfort on someone else, simply because it’s outside your current understanding of psychology and the human brain?

Education is literally a ten-second Google search away, y’all.