From the other side

This is a guest post written by a trans man who wishes to remain anonymous.  For purposes of discussion, he goes by Omega.

I’ll keep the history short.  We all have different stories, but at the heart of them, they’re all the same.  Our entire lives, we knew something wasn’t right.  We knew something was off.

But I’d learned to live with the Off.  I’d accepted it as part of me.  The bitterness I felt at having the wrong body was the thing I assumed all women felt.  Some hate their thighs, some hate their breasts, some hate their hips or their stomach or their calves or their shoulders.

I hated….

Well, I didn’t really hate it.  Not once I became an adult, anyway.

The woman I was outside was the Off, but she had her uses.  I’d learned how to work with her, how to use her to get what I needed.

And she’s a tough bitch.  She knew how to protect me when I needed it.  She covered me up, she built walls around me to keep out those who would hurt me.

She’s stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met.  And she’s tireless.  A warrior.

Because she’d lived in this world as a woman, and I never really understood what that meant until I set her aside and entered the world as a man.

The things she’s endured, the things she’s dealt with…

There’s honestly no way to comprehend it without living it.

I respect her.  I admire her.  I resent her for existing.  I resent the fact that I needed her for so long.  I resent the fact that I still do.

Because it wasn’t until I was able to pass as a man that I realized just how strong she was.  How strong she was forced to be.

I took advantage of her; I used her.

Because I never knew what it meant to be her.

The truth, the pure and objective truth, is that sexism is alive, and male privilege is depressingly real.

She noticed it before I did.

Because it was subtle at first.  There was so much else going on, I didn’t notice it.  I was too worried about things like going to the public restroom.  But she noticed it.

It devastated me again to realize it.

People speak to me differently than they did to her.  They look at me differently.  They react to me differently.  Cashiers, waiters, car mechanics, the postman, employers, employees, the entire world sees me differently than they saw her.

The amount of respect strangers unthinkingly show me is different than the respect they showed her.  The level of competence people assume I have is different than the level they assume she had.  The way they accommodate me is different than the way they accommodated her.

It’s not everyone, and it’s not every situation, but it’s consistent enough to be a pattern, and the pattern holds true.

I realized how hard she is.  How hard she needed to be.

I realized just how much of the anxiety and dislike of myself wasn’t due to anxiety or depression, but from the way people saw me, the way they treated me.

It’s so unfair, what she had to go through to protect me, the way the entire world shrugged her off as having less worth.  The car mechanics who scoffed at her, the computer and technical repairmen who ignored her, the plumbers and electricians who walked into her home and blatantly disrespected her, the way doctors shrugged her off, the demeaning comments from any man who disagreed with her, the way everyone subconsciously belittled her.

I never even realized it until it suddenly wasn’t there anymore.  I look back on my childhood, on my adolescence, on my young adulthood, and realize that I had been a victim of sexism all my life.

Even she didn’t know the full extent of it.  Not until she saw the difference in the way I’m treated now.

For a long time, I hated her.  I hated her because she wasn’t me, because to me, she represented every lie I had to tell, every secret I had to keep, every part of myself I couldn’t acknowledge.  She was everything about myself I hated.  She was everything about myself that was off.

Now, I realize that she’s the strongest part of me.  Because she had to be.  She had to learn to stand tall when people scoffed at her, when people shrugged her off and dismissed her, when they belittled her, when they told her she was worth less than I am.

She learned how to stand up against those who felt entitled to her body, she learned how to let go and not let their touch haunt her the way it haunted me.  She learned how to protect us from those who saw us as nothing but an object to fuck.  From those who grabbed her on the street, those who sneered at her, who leered at her, who tried to break her.  She learned how to protect us from those who wanted to pull her down and destroy her, from those who wanted to make her less than human.

She learned how to be hard, how to be defiant, how to prove them wrong.  She was everything that was off about me, but she was my protector in a world that hated me not just because I was trans, but because my voice was high and my body was feminine.

And she’s far from the only one.  So many women go through worse than I did.  So many women hurt worse than I did.  I was lucky.  And I’m lucky in that I don’t have to deal with it anymore.

I never truly appreciated the constant battles she had to fight until I didn’t have to fight them anymore.  I never appreciated the strength it took to be her until I saw how much easier it is to be me in our society.

I’ve only been reliably passing as male for a year or so.  I’m still learning who I am outside of her.  And she’s still there to jump to my defense when I need it, because she grew up in a harder world than I live in.

I will always admire the strength it takes to be her, to be every woman.  Even they don’t realize how hard it is to be them, and that makes me angry.

These women have fought these battles every day.

Not against everyone, but against enough.

At least once a day, they are somehow, someway told that they are worth less than men.  But they keep going.  They keep fighting.  They learn how to get past it.

They don’t realize their own strength.  Just as she didn’t realize her own strength.  She didn’t realize what it took to live through a normal life as a woman until she saw how much easier it is to live a normal life as a man.

She resents that.  And so do I.  All the insecurity, all the doubt, all the pain of feeling not good enough, she thought there was something wrong with her.

But no, she was perfect.  She wasn’t me, but she was perfect.  It was society that let her down.  Not any fault or shortcoming of her own.

No man will ever understand the strength it takes to be a woman in a world where women are worth less.  No man will understand the strength it takes to be a woman in a world where no one wants to acknowledge the battles they still fight.

Where people pretend it doesn’t exist.  Where they shrug off a woman, where they brush off her battles.

Women can vote and have bank accounts.  What else could they possibly want?  Why can’t they stop whining?

It repulses me.  It makes me want to turn from the world.

But she’s not heartless.  Because, while I wanted to hate every man for what she went through, while I wanted to sneer at the little trials they thought were just so hard, she was the one who stopped me.

She reminded me that pain is not exclusive to women.  She reminded me of the good men who do fight for women.

She reminded me of the women in my life that I admire.  Women like Domina Jen, who are unbelievably strong, who will never understand the true extent of their own strength, who don’t need anyone to hold them up, but who graciously love and respect the good men in their lives.

But even that a battle in and of itself.

Domina Jen made a mistake once.  She let me see the contents of her email inbox.  And that brought on a whole new wave of bitterness.

Because I will never again have to deal with what she deals with.  The things she considers normal, the threats and the insults that she and everyone around her dismiss, the nonchalance people who love her feel at the way she’s treated, even her own simple, graceful shrug, saying, “That’s just the way it is.”

It infuriated me.  Because it’s not fair.  And who is going to stand up for her?  Who is going to fight for her?  Who is going to let her lean on them the way I could lean on her?

Who could she lean on when the weight of holding me up got to be too much?

No one.

And the internet is only one small facet, one small glimpse of what it’s like to walk through life like this.

A constant and cruel punishment for the unforgivable crime of having a high voice and feminine body.

No man fully understands what paying for that crime feels like, and how deeply it hurts to be met with the dismissive, apathetic attitude so many men exhibit.

Because they don’t want to see it.  They are uncomfortable with being confronted by it.  They are uncomfortable realizing how much harder things like going to the bank or getting your oil changed or running a business are for women.

There’s no rest for these women.  I escaped it, and seeing it from the outside made me realize how bad it really is.  But for the rest, there’s no escape.

I wanted to be angry forever.  I wanted to lose myself in my anger.  And even Domina Jen couldn’t snap me out of it.

But she could.

She was the one who reminded me what it feels like to love a good man.  She was the one to remind me what it feels like to have a good man love me.

She kept me from getting cold.  She kept me from letting the bitterness consume me.

The same way she kept me from letting the bitterness consume me when she had to be my mask.

I know that one day, I won’t need her anymore.  I’ll be able to put her in a little box, close it, and lock it forever.  I’ll be able to leave her behind and move ahead as me.

But that box will always be close to my heart.  Because she saved me, every moment of every day, and she will continue to save me right up until the moment I don’t need her anymore.

It’s isolating, seeing the world from both sides, and it’s why I have gravitated to other trans people.  Because I’m not the only one who sees it.  All trans men see this.

Trans women see the reverse, and my heart hurts for them.  Because they have no way of understanding this world they’re coming in to until they walk into it.

Because transitioning is awful enough, it is anxiety-inducing and depressing enough, without having to come to terms with this new reality.  Having to understand that being true to who they are means that the world will forever see them as less than their mask.

It makes me cynical, but she won’t let me lose all hope.  She stubbornly hangs on, reminding me that giving up never made anything better.

One day, it will be better.  I have faith in good people.  I have faith that good people won’t give up.

I have faith because I know that she isn’t the only fighter around.

An exercise in proper English

Lesson 1

dominant: adjective (that means it describes shit.  For example, “Brown eyes are a dominant trait.”  Or, “I have a dominant personality.”)

Dominant: noun (that means it’s a person, place, or thing.  For example, “I am a Dominant.”  Also describes a specific role within BDSM. For example, “I am a Dominant woman.”)

dominate: verb (something you do. For example, “I dominate men for fun.”)

You are not a “dominate,” goddammit.  Stop saying that.

M’kay?

Cool.  Good talk.

Babies lower libido

Jen,

You mentioned your kid having an impact on your sex life and I was wondering if you could help me with a bit of an issue with me and my wife.

We both identify as switches and our play often encompasses a wide spectrum of different kinds of power dynamics.  Most people don’t get it but we’ve been together almost five years and it’s always worked great for us.

Six months ago we had a baby.  Our first.  And I couldn’t be happier.

But my wife’s sex drive tanked after she had the baby.  It still hasn’t come back even a little bit.  And nothing I do seems to help.  I’ve been taking on more and more of a Dominant role hoping to get interest and it really hasn’t worked.  About half the time she just isn’t interested at all.  The other half she’ll engage but the play is always really short and just sort of bland.

We’re definitely in a rut.  I don’t want to pressure her or anything.  I know she has a lot on her plate but I just don’t know how best to help her.  Any advice you may have would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you in advance.

Oh, dear.

Well, I don’t know your wife, so I can only speak for myself, but you’re not going to like my answer.  Hell, even I don’t like my answer.

And the answer is…..

There ain’t shit you can do but wait it out.

After I had the kid, my libido outright disappeared.  From what I understand of other women’s experiences, that’s relatively normal.

Because think about it.  Take away the physical crap, and the fact that it takes months to feel yourself again physically, but let’s just look at the hormonal stuff.

Because hormones play a pretty big role in libido.

For months, her body was affected by the baby.  And most guys don’t really get just how much the baby affects the mother.  I mean, a lot of people have heard that if the mother is injured or sick, the fetus will send stem cells to the affected area of her body (this is horrendously oversimplified, btw, but that’s the gist of it), but that’s just one thing, and that doesn’t really affect her in the day-to-day.

She’s literally got foreign DNA in her body.  The body, as a general rule, doesn’t like foreign shit in it.  Which is why rejection is such a big deal for organs or implants or literally anything put in it that was not in it when we were born.

Of course we have progesterone to help deal with that, but the higher amounts of hormones in our bodies, coupled with the hormones produced by the fetus, is a big burden.

Over 9 months, those hormones build and fluctuate as needed.  It’s a gradual thing, and it adjusts depending on how far along the pregnancy is and a number of other things.

But then, she has the baby, and it’s the sudden absence of the baby’s hormones, plus the more or less sudden cessation of the production of her hormones, and just as it took months for the hormones to build and help her body normalize while she was pregnant, it’s going to take months for her to adjust now that the baby is born and go back to normal levels.

There’s nothing you, or she, or anyone can do about it.  There does not exist a quick pill she can pop, there does not exist a sex therapist or psychiatrist or whatever who can fix her hormones.

I know what she’s feeling right now.  Pretty much every woman who’s had a kid knows what your wife is feeling now.  It’s not great.

Because we’re not idiots, and neither is your wife.  We know that there’s something off, we know that we have no libido, we know that our partner isn’t happy with what’s going on, and we know that there’s nothing we can do about it.

What sucked sweaty, hairy rhinoceros balls was how long it took for my libido to come back.  Granted, there were a couple of other things that contributed (one or two of which I’ll get into here), but it was a good solid year, maybe even a year and a half, before my libido started getting back to normal.

Don’t want to wait that long?  Tough.

Well, there may be some things you can do.  But I make no promises.

First of all, stop trying to get her interested.  Stop it.  Just stop.

Sex is not a part of your life right now.  At all.  Just accept it and move on.

Why?  I’m happy to tell you why.

Because she knows that you’re unhappy, she knows that she’s letting you down, and every time you mention it, every time you come on to her and her stomach turns (because yeah, no matter how hot you are, no matter how much she loves you, that’s about the reaction), and she’s faced with the decision whether to fake it to satisfy you or to be honest and let you down again, it’s going to be a step backward, and it’s going to put her in a bad mood, and it’s going to take longer for her libido to come back.

Because right now, on a subconscious level, she sees sex as a negative thing, because of all the baggage that’s attached to it right now.  Because every time you try to engage her, she feels hugely pressured, and it’s just another reminder that she’s not herself and it’s almost like her body is betraying her.

She feels pressured to be the person she used to be, when she’s still trying to figure out how to live in her new body.  It’s an unnerving and uncomfortable experience, and it lasts months.  The more pressured she feels to be who you want her to be, the longer it’ll take for her to feel normal again.

You want to help her?  Take the pressure off of her.  Stop focusing on the sex.  It sucks that you’ll have to do without, and I get the impression that you’re monogamous, so going outside the marriage isn’t an option (*note* if you are monogamous, do NOT broach the subject of opening the marriage right now.  Yeah, she might be open to the idea, but more likely she’ll be hurt.  This is temporary.  You can go without sex for a couple months.  You’ll live, I promise).

Once she feels relief from that constant pressure and negativity associated with disappointing you, she should be able to turn her focus to herself, and figuring out her new “normal.”  The sooner she can do that, the sooner her libido will rise.

And help out around the house more.  Changing dirty diapers and waking up at 2 am to the sound of a crying hungry baby doesn’t turn anyone on, okay?

I don’t know if she works or stays home, but regardless, it’s exhausting.  And I don’t know how active you are as a parent, but just statistically speaking, mothers do most of the work.  They also do most of the housework.  If your wife is working, she’s got to do all of that with holding down her job.

If she’s not working, then most of the time she doesn’t even get to interact with another adult until you get home.  She has no escape.  She has no breaks.  She has no sick days.  She can’t ever step away.

She feels that pressure weighing down on her, and she resents the baby, she resents you, and she hates herself because a “good mother” wouldn’t feel what she feels.

I flat out hated Kazander for the first 5 or 6 months after the spawn was born.  He could get up every morning and go to work, and have discussions with grown ups, and for the first couple months I was breastfeeding, so I couldn’t drink, I couldn’t go anywhere without a pump, I couldn’t leave her with a sitter for an evening and just get out and relax, I couldn’t get a break.

And then of course I hated myself for hating him, and for resenting the spawn.  I knew I was being ridiculous for blaming him for everything (even though he’s the one who wanted her, while I was leaning toward adoption).  I knew intellectually that millions of women feel what I felt, and that it was okay, and it’s normal, and temporary, and everything would eventually be fine.

Intellectually, I knew all that.  It didn’t help me in the moment, though.

Working mothers also deal with guilt from a different place.  Because after maternity leave, they struggle with leaving the baby to go back to work.  Because if they breastfeed, they have to work pumping into their work day.  And there are a number of moms I knew who worked and breastfed, and particularly for those who had male bosses, there was always that fear that eventually the boss would decide accommodating her pump schedule was just too inconvenient.

I know a woman who works as a private secretary who would literally pump in the car, while she was driving, doing errands, so her boss wouldn’t decide it was too inconvenient.

Of course, in her case, her boss found out what she was doing and immediately put a stop to it, and firmly let her know that there was never any errand he needed her to run, there was never anything he needed her to do that could not wait twenty minutes.  She only had to pump once each shift anyway, so she had nothing to worry about.

And I’d go out on a limb and say that the vast, vast majority of male employers are the same way.  People generally aren’t assholes.  Chances are there’s nothing to worry about.  But there’s still that tiny nagging fear.

Many working mothers also feel guilty for leaving home.  They struggle with missing their kid, and missing such a big chunk of their kid’s day.

I mean, regardless of whether your wife works or stays home, it sucks.  She deals with all of that, all day, every day, and then she comes home and cooks, cleans, and takes care of the baby, and even without hormonal imbalances, it’s no surprise she has no libido.

So it sucks for you, in that you’ll have to just do without for awhile, but if you can suck it up and wait it out, and help alleviate some of that pressure, you’ll be able to cut down at least some of the time you’ll have to wait before her libido returns to normal.

And trust me, she’ll see the effort you’re putting in, she’ll see how you’re working to help her, and she’s not going to forget it.

Obedience revisited

So I’ve had a few conversations over the last few weeks on the concept of abuse.  And with my last story, more than one person was surprised at the level of obedience in the sub.

A fellow Domme even scoffed at the idea of a sub being that obedient when it’s something he doesn’t want to do.

… Um, what?

There are subs who don’t obey their Owners?  There are Dominants who don’t expect their subs to obey them?

Is this actually a thing?

Maybe I’m just weird, but obedience is kind of a big deal with me.  Like, that’s one of the biggest requirements I have.

I expect to be obeyed.  If I don’t have complete confidence in being obeyed, I’m not interested.

Sounder expressed similar sentiments when I told him about it.

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One of the many reasons I adore him.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I expect from my subs.  And what I think all subs who are not at this point should aspire to.

Does that mean you can’t have limits?  Of course not.  Sounder has limits.  Star has limits.  And both of their limits are absolutely respected, without question.

Does it mean you have to obey a command that is dangerous or illegal or something that you can’t or shouldn’t obey for whatever reason?  Of course not.

There’s a difference between obedience and mindless obedience.  I don’t want mindless obedience, or mindless anything.

My subs have incredible minds and wonderful personalities.  I don’t want to take that away from them.  They’re strong people, I wouldn’t be able to take that away from them if I tried.

If there’s a reason why they can’t or shouldn’t obey me, they tell me.

But “I don’t wanna” is not a good enough reason, folks.

If there’s a reason they can’t or shouldn’t obey me, they need a better reason than “I don’t feel like it.”

For example, if I show up at Sounder’s house after work tomorrow with a man, and tell him to get on his knees so the man could use his mouth, it’s pretty safe to assume he’s not going to want to do it.

But he’s going to do it.

Now, if there’s a reason why he can’t do it, or he shouldn’t do it, that’s a different story.  Maybe he just had dental surgery.  Maybe he’s had migraines all day.  Maybe he’s got the flu.  Maybe his mom is on her way over to his house to have dinner right at that moment.  Maybe he has to be at a work dinner in 30 minutes, and he just came home to change.

I mean, there are a million legitimate reasons why he can’t or shouldn’t obey that command.  And of course he should tell me if there’s anything like that.

Another example was this past Monday, when I went to his house.  I’d told him I wanted us to go to the salon and get pedicures, because he’s eventually going to go dressed as a girl, and we’ll have a girls’ day at the spa.

But because I’m nice, I told him he can wear his boy costume the first time.  And I told him we were going to go on Monday when I got there, and then we’d go back to his house, he’d get out of his boy costume, and we’d do other fun things.

And he immediately tensed up about it.  After explaining his reasons, I asked him if it was a hard limit.  He said no, it wasn’t, but with everything else happening that night, the added stress of a situation he wasn’t comfortable with, coupled with the time it takes him to get dressed up and beautiful for me, would be an edgy, negative kind of stress that could impact the evening.

Which was a really good point.  There was going to be enough else to make him anxious and nervous, and I didn’t want him tense and anxious, so I dropped it, and told him we’ll do it another night.

Easy enough.

Now tact matters.  How you say it matters.  Had Sounder just flat-out told me no, I wouldn’t have been super pleased.  He didn’t tell me no, and he didn’t tell me some version of “I don’t feel like it” or “I don’t wanna.”

He explained, clearly and respectfully, what the consequences of obeying me would be.  I agree with him, that those were not awesome consequences, so I agreed that it wouldn’t happen.

And the way he handled it, and every situation like it, is exactly what I want.

If he hadn’t said anything, and just done what he was told, knowing it would stress him out and impacted the rest of the night, I would’ve wondered what went wrong, and how to fix it.  I probably would’ve told him that he needs to tell me when those kinds of situations come up in the future, so we can avoid it happening again.

If he had flat-out refused, if he had responded with, “No, I’m not doing that,” I would’ve been really, really annoyed.

I’ve been told I’m just slightly unpleasant when I’m annoyed.  Most people who know me try to avoid that.

So either of those options would not have been what I wanted.  Sounder did exactly what he was supposed to do.  He didn’t mindlessly obey me, and he didn’t disrespectfully tell me no.

And yes, I am 100% confident in his obedience.  I can relax, knowing that I’m not going to have to strong-arm him into doing what I want.  I can just enjoy his presence, I can enjoy tormenting him and hurting him and degrading him and all the things I love doing to him.

In his mind, there’s no option but to obey me.  If there’s not a legitimate reason why he can’t or shouldn’t, it’s just not an option.

And that mindset frees him up to just truly experience what I do to him.  He can enjoy the nice things I do to him, and he can endure the not-so-nice things I do to him.  It feels deeper, more real, because he doesn’t have that little voice in the back of his mind urging him to tell me no.

I enjoy fucking with his mind, I enjoy taking him on these crazy mental and emotional roller coasters, I enjoy playing with emotions like fear and dread and humiliation.

And he can let go and simply enjoy the ride.

After-work quickie

Alex clenched his jaw as he drove home from work. It had been a frustrating day, and he wanted to be able to relax and get his mind off of it.

He turned the corner, onto his street, and his heart plummeted to his toes and skipped a beat when he saw his Owner’s car parked outside his house.

All thoughts of work were instantly far from his mind.

He knew what this was, he’d known it was coming, and he knew what would be expected of him.  Forcing his body to obey him, he pulled into the garage as his Owner got out of her car.

As expected, the passenger side door opened as well.  A strange man got out, and together, the two of them walked into the garage.

“Hello, slut,” his Owner said cheerfully.  His face flamed at the pet name, at her using it within earshot of someone else.  She was showing restraint, she always did when there were others around, but he knew her well enough to read the giddiness in her eyes.

“Hello, Mistress,” he replied quietly.  Her being giddy usually meant difficult and degrading things for him.

She approached him and hugged him tightly, and he could feel the excitement radiating off of her.

“My friend wants to use your mouth.  Let’s go inside.”

The casual, matter-of-fact way she said it was jarring in and of itself.  She could’ve been talking about what she had for lunch.

“I ate a club sandwich, and you’re going to eat a stranger’s cum.”

His heart was racing as he led the way into the house.  He was acutely aware of the unfamiliar presence behind him, walking beside his Owner, as they walked toward the door.

He fumbled with the keys.

“Having trouble, little girl?” she asked playfully, her hand on his lower back, sliding down and groping his ass.  “A little distracted?”

Somehow, he managed to get his door unlocked, and the three of them went inside.

He’d barely closed and locked the door before she was behind him, pushing him against it.  Quickly, she unfastened his pants and slid them down, exposing the women’s panties underneath.

“See?” she asked the man with her.  “I told you he wears them every day.  He’s such an obedient bitch.”

“His ass looks damn sexy,” the man replied.

“Doesn’t it?  It’s so perky.  Feel it.”

Alex lowered his head, his face hot with embarrassment, as he felt unfamiliar hands on him, roaming across his body, sliding underneath his panties, dipping between his legs.

But then, his Owner grabbed him by the arm and turned him around.

“Get on your knees, slut,” she ordered.

Wordlessly, he knelt down, cringing as he heard the unmistakable sound of a pants zipper.  He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look at what was in front of him.

He should’ve known better.  “Look at it,” his Owner said, lifting his head up.  “Look at what’s going in your mouth.”

Reluctantly, he forced his eyes up, his stomach tying itself in knots when he saw the hard, dripping cock only inches from his face.

He felt his Owner’s lips on his ear as she crouched behind him, firmly holding his wrists behind his back.

“Open your mouth, little girl,” she murmured.  “He’s going to fuck it.  And when he cums, you will not swallow until I say you can.”

His body almost seemed to act on its own, obeying her command as the cock was pushed into his mouth.

The man wasn’t gentle.  But then, Alex hadn’t expected him to be.  He held Alex’s head with both hands, thrusting deep and hard into his mouth.  Even when Alex gagged, he didn’t stop.  And his Owner kept a tight grip on his hands, keeping him from struggling.

Thankfully, the man didn’t last long.  His thrusts became more frenzied, his grunts more animalistic, until he plunged his cock into Alex’s mouth, as deep as it would go, moaning as his cock pumped Alex’s mouth full of cum.

Alex wanted nothing more than to be allowed to swallow, but obediently waited, hoping she’d be merciful and wouldn’t make him wait long.

“How does it taste?” she asked.  She moved closer, whispering into his ear, only loud enough for him to hear.  “You’re a cum dumpster,” she told him, the softness and gentleness of her tone a stark contrast to the words she said.  “Nothing but a pair of holes for real men to fuck.  Get used to the taste of cum, little girl.  This is the first of many.”

Her hands roamed across his chest, pulling him back against her.  “Swallow,” she commanded.

Relieved, he obeyed her, shutting his eyes tight as he forced his body to comply.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered approvingly.  She held him against her a moment longer, her arms wrapped around him, then suddenly released him and pushed him hard.  He fell forward, onto his hands and knees, as she rose to her feet.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said to her companion.

And they left, without another word to him.

Topping from the bottom

I realize that topping from the bottom is frowned upon. But why? I know everyone is different. But ultimately the goal  is the sub has to get what he wants. Yes I know that the domina is in charge and is responsible but is the sub always supposed to be silent about what’s happening?  I would think some subs get off just on being submissive,, but I think most like certain things.  Is this one of those bdsm philosophy things,. Or is it something  else?

Alright, so those not familiar with BDSM and D/s relationship dynamics may not know what “Topping from the bottom” is, or why it’s one of the biggest relationship killers out there.

But before I get into that, there is a slight issue with semantics.  Because there are occasionally specific situations in which something is discussed and agreed upon beforehand.  This is usually called “bottoming from the Top,” but different people say different things.

Generally speaking, “Topping from the bottom” is when a sub uses manipulative, deceitful, or passive aggressive methods to get what he wants.

Why is that bad?

Well let’s use a vanilla equivalent.  You’re married.  Your wife makes dinner every night. It’s something she likes to do, and with your work schedules, it makes sense, so she does it.

But she makes pork every night.  Without fail.  And you actually don’t like pork very much.  The first week or so, you just dealt with it because it’s what she wanted.  But as time goes on, it’s becoming a problem.

You have three options:

1.  Stay silent forever, while resentment slowly builds and turns to anger, and before long, you despise her and hate your life.

2.  Say, “I love your cooking, but I’m actually not a huge fan of pork.  Could we try chicken at some point this week?  Or maybe steak?  Whichever you’d prefer, really.  I’d be happy to help if you’re not sure how to make it.”

3.  Say, “Great.  Pork again.  What a surprise, since that’s apparently all you know how to cook.  And since it apparently never occurred to you to ask what I want.  You know, ever.  How about branching out, huh?  Or does your culinary prowess not extend to birds or cows?”

I’ll just come out and say it; Option 1 is unacceptable, and there’s not a whole hell of a lot out there that will piss me off more, or piss me off faster, than discovering my partner has had an ongoing issue they chose not to tell me about.  So we’re just going to throw that one out.

Technically, both 2 and 3 will solve the pork-every-night problem.  One solves the problem in a constructive, mature way, and the other is selfish, disrespectful, demeaning, makes your partner angry and defensive, and causes a great deal more problems down the line.

Topping from the bottom is Option 3.  It’s a childish, selfish, immature way to handle any given situation.

But there is this comment, which caught my eye.

But ultimately the goal is the sub has to get what he wants.

Absolutely not.  At all.

This is a mindset surprisingly common among male submissives (I have yet to meet a female sub with this mindset) and now seems as good a time as any to set the record straight.

No, the ultimate goal of a Femdom is not to have the sub’s wants and desires met.  Not even a little bit.

I’m serious.  That cannot be even remotely a priority in his mind.  At-fucking-all.

And I cannot stress this enough.  It’s something that is so hugely instrumental to the success of a Femdom relationship, and it’s something that a depressingly high number of submissive men just don’t get.

And this mindset kills relationships faster than anything else I’ve seen.  Even I can’t save a relationship from this mindset.

Now, I specifically look for it, and will not even enter into a relationship with a man who thinks this way.

Why?  Because when the sub’s focus is on his wants, his desires, his comfort, his happiness, then his focus cannot be on his Dominant.  What’s more, it stains and tarnishes everything he does.

Because every effort he makes to serve her is with the expectation of, and entitlement to, a reward.  His kinks and desires are forefront in his mind, and pleasing his Domme is merely a means to an end.

It’s a selfish kind of service, contingent upon what he wants, his moods, his libido.  It’s done at his convenience, on his time.

No.  God, no.

His focus cannot be on himself.  At all.  That’s not the way a D/s relationship works.

Now, does that mean he must stay silent?  Of course not.  In fact, I expect my subs to speak up, and am annoyed and irritated (if not flat-out angry) if they don’t.

Subs are people.  They have wants and desires.  They have their kinks, they have their likes and dislikes.  A responsible Domme knows what her subs like, what they want, and makes sure they are fulfilled.  It’s a relationship.  It’s give-and-take.  She can’t neglect her subs.

But she’s human.  She’s going to fuck up.  When she does, it’s the sub’s responsibility to tell her.  And it’s the sub’s responsibility to be tactful, polite, and constructive when he does.  Whether she’s neglecting a kink he loves, or focusing on something he hates, or an act causes an unexpectedly strong reaction, anything.  It’s his job to tell her.

Of course, if he tells her, and she doesn’t adjust, then that’s on her, not him.  That’s not something he can control, and it may be time to consider leaving the relationship if his needs aren’t being met.

But his job is to serve her.  Period.  End of story.  That must be his goal for any relationship with me (I obviously can’t speak for every Domme, but for the life of me, I can’t think of a single 24/7 dynamic where that would work), if it’s going to last.

It goes back to my favorite quote:

A sub sacrifices control for freedom, and a Dominant sacrifices freedom for control.

The whole point of a Femdom relationship is that he serves her, putting her needs unequivocally above his own, trusting that she’s going to take care of him.  That’s why it’s so important that the Domme be held to high standards, and that she be in complete control of herself, because if he’s not focusing on his needs, and she’s not focusing on his needs, there’s a problem.

And he puts the ability to meet his needs and his wants in her hands, understanding that sometimes, she’ll meet every desire, and sometimes, she’ll withhold it all.  Accommodating his desires is completely at her discretion, and she is under no obligation to tell him if/when/how she will accommodate his desires.  And should she decide to withhold them, she is under no obligation to tell him why, for how long, or what she’s working toward.

Should he start getting concerned, of course he’s welcome to discuss it with her in a constructive and polite manner, rather than topping from the bottom, and then it will be her responsibility to reassure him, comfort him, and remind him that she will take care of him.  But even then, she’s under no obligation to tell him anything about what she’s thinking.  Because that’s not the point.

He’s supposed to trust her even when he doesn’t understand why.  He’s supposed to serve her with the understanding that she could spend an entire weekend accommodating his every desire or fantasy if she wants to, or she could lock him in a dog kennel and leave him there the entire weekend, completely ignoring him.  It’s completely up to her.  Responsible Dommes understand that there needs to be a balance, and that every relationship is give-and-take, but that’s her job, that’s her focus. Not his.

That’s the ultimate goal in a Femdom relationship.  For the sub to serve the Domme, meet her needs, put her wants and desires about his own.

Because a well-served Dominant is happy Dominant, and a happy Dominant is an attentive Dominant.