Revisiting Chastity

I received an interesting comment on my chastity post. There’s a lot wrong with the guy’s mindset to begin with, but he was polite and respectful in his questions, and he’s not the first guy to ask these specific questions, so I decided to answer them in a post of their own.

His comment will be heavily edited because a) it’s long, and we all know not-rambling isn’t one of my strengths, and I’m trying to condense things a bit, and b) he asks a lot of questions about someone else’s relationship, which I am not going to answer because I’m not in that relationship.

But here’s the thing with relationships that you read about online

Assume it’s all 100% bullshit.

I don’t outright lie about my relationships, because this blog is as much for me as for my readers, and also because part of my motivations for the blog are education. Educating people about the ins and outs of a Femdom relationship doesn’t work if I’m not honest about the relationship.

But I’m writing a story for strangers. I’m also protecting the identities of myself, my boys, and my family. I’ve added details that are untrue. I might reference a hair color or eye color or a tattoo that doesn’t exist. I might say something happened this week, when it happened a month ago. I might focus on certain details and gloss over others.

In other words, no one who reads this blog gets a 100% accurate picture of my relationships, even with me being committed to being truthful. Because my commitments to my boys and my daughter take priority.

Rape and murder threats are a common occurrence. You think the vermin who threaten and stalk me show restraint when it comes to extending those same threats to my 9-year-old daughter?

Hell no. This is the internet and people are crazy.

I will lie out my ass without regret.

But even without that, you’re only getting my side of things. And you’re getting the summation of the fun and exciting things that happen.

You’re not necessarily getting the hours of discussion and negotiation and talks about boundaries and limitations before the fun and exciting things happen.

The descriptions you read online are the fantasy. They’re not reality. So you have to take them with a big grain of salt.

Just because a woman comes online and describes her relationship doesn’t mean that she’s telling the whole truth. She may embellish things or change things, just like I do. She may leave out the negotiation and discussion, just like I do.

Do you have any idea how many giant wall-o-text descriptions of relationships I get in a week? It’s all fantasy. It’s not real.

Stop assuming it’s real.

So.

Let’s get in to this comment.

Someone also said chastity makes men respect women. And if a woman wears a thong, he knows not to objectify.

Respectfully if a woman wears a thong, I’m going to look at her ass. She wants me to. I’m not going to stare, or catcall, start to masturbate, or any of that nonsense.

I mean…

Mkay first of all, generalizing to this extent is problematic.

Yes, someone may have said chastity makes men respect women. I’ve heard that before, some people do say that.

Some people also say the planet is like 10,000 years old and humanity got its literal start as it’s described in the Bible.

Someone saying something doesn’t make it true.

Chastity does have an effect on a man’s mindset, especially over time

But it doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t create respect in a man who doesn’t respect women.

You can’t coerce respect out of someone. It’s one of those things that must be freely given.

Also, if I wear a thong, it’s because I want you to look at my ass?

Oh, sweetheart. That’s adorable.

Are there some women who wear revealing clothing so that men will look at them?

I mean, I assume there must be. There are a few billion of us, after all.

I’ve never met one in person though.

Because I mean, you do realize we still exist even when you’re not around, right? You think we all just stop caring about how we look when we’re only surrounded by women?

You think we only want to look sexy for you?

No, precious. We don’t give a shit about what you think.

Many of us do it for ourselves.

You want to know why I put effort into my appearance? Why I like looking sexy? I’ll tell you.

It’s so that, when I’m out somewhere, I can catch a glimpse of my reflection in a window or mirror and think to myself, “… nice.

That’s it. End of list.

If others also think I look sexy, that’s cool. If my boys think I look good, that’s a bonus. I like looking good for them because I care about what they think.

Random stranger I’ve never met? I don’t give two shits about him. He’s like lawn furniture. I don’t even see him.

And as it happens, Kazander and Sounder have both repeatedly had to tell me how people around me react to me.

I don’t notice because I don’t care.

Now of course, I’m one woman and there are a few billion of us. Not all of us look sexy for ourselves.

But most women who dress up for others still aren’t doing it for you, except in a very few specific situations (for example, I dress a specific way when I go to sex clubs and swingers clubs).

They aren’t doing it for you. They’re doing it for other women.

I mean, guys. Obviously.

Y’all can’t tell the difference between cool red and warm red. Y’all think Angelina Jolie has a “natural” look.

If I want to look good for any given man taken at random, you know what I need?

I need a low-cut shirt and tight jeans. And I probably need to have taken a shower at some point in the past week.

I mean, that’s not a particularly high bar, you know? It doesn’t exactly take effort.

Now women, on the other hand, are harder to please.

I can wear a tight, low-cut dress and a random guy will think I’m hot.

A random woman might think the dress is too short. Too tight. She might think it’s cut in a way that doesn’t flatter my body. She might think it’s too revealing, that I’ve gone from “sexy” to “trashy.”

She might think my eyeshadow is uneven, or that the color of my lipstick doesn’t match my skintone. She might think my hair is too faded, or the style doesn’t match the rest of my outfit.

You don’t see any of that. You see a thong and think she’s wearing it for you.

She doesn’t give a shit about you. She gives a shit about other women. Not you.

And this is one of my pet peeves with men, one of those cultural annoyances that haven’t died off yet.

There’s this mindset that many men (not all, again, generalities are tough when you’re talking about billions of people) have this unconscious assumption that the women around you are there for you.

That we look good for you. That we’ve dressed a specific way for you.

And dump that bullshit now. You are nothing, and we don’t care about you until you give us a reason to care about you.

Don’t like it? How about you grow a pair and start standing up to other men and start policing yourselves. Stop drowning us in your hormones every time we step out of the house.

Stop throwing yourselves at my feet and maybe your approval will mean something to me.

Maybe, if I could enjoy a drink at a bar by myself, without some random dude rubbing up on me like his dick will pay my rent, I might care about how you think I look.

But they don’t give out awards for being the 8th guy today to tell me how hot I am. And at some point, goddammit, I’m allowed to be irritated at all the adoring gerbils gathered at my feet.

I mean, think about that for a second. Here’s a visualization exercise for you.

Picture Terry Crews. The Rock. Jason Mamoa. Someone huge and muscular.

Imagine literally never being able to go to a random, regular bar by yourself without a man that size checking out your ass, or hitting on you.

Even if he immediately backs off when you turn him down, that’s not a comfortable image, is it? If it happens multiple times every time you leave the house, how long would it take before you just stop caring about literally everyone like him?

I cannot go to a bar by myself unless I’m willing to deal with that.

I’ve had a guy hit on me at like 7am, when I was walking my dog wearing the frumpiest of sweat pants and an old stretched-out Tshirt.

No. Your opinion means nothing to me.

If a guy stops me on the street to compliment my jeans, it’s because I have a pulse and a warm, wet hole that he wants to stick his dick in.

If a woman stops me on the street to compliment my jeans, it’s because I’m looking damn good in them.

So fuck off, mkay. We don’t care about you. We don’t do jack shit for you. That entitlement is stupid and we want you to knock it off.

We clear? Still on the same page? Outstanding, next:

If a man needs chastity to “correct” some issue; not respecting women, masturbating, (perfectly healthy, by the way) or cheating, then this is a huge red flag not to do it. Chastity is a kink, nothing more.

You’re right. Chastity probably shouldn’t be used to fix anything (I hesitate to use absolutes here because, once again, generalities, billions of people, etc. Keep that in mind for every statement I make in this post, so I don’t have to keep writing it out).

There’s something here that caught my eye, though. You said chastity is a kink, nothing more.

Which may be true. For you.

It’s not true for me. For me, it’s a lifestyle. It doesn’t end when sex ends. Its nature isn’t exclusively sexual.

I am not you. I exist as a complete and whole human being, outside of your perception of the world.

My boys exist as whole and complete human beings, outside of your perception. They do not exist as reflections of you.

Presenting personal conclusions as universal truth is problematic.

But also, why did you feel you had to go out of your way to assert that masturbating is healthy?

That’s one of those flagged statements. There’s definitely some entitlement there.

Which, normally, is a great thing. If you haven’t agreed to give up that autonomy, you should feel entitled to do what you want with your body, when and how you want to do it (within reason, you can’t go out and start vigorously masturbating in the middle of Target).

But men interested in chastity have agreed to give up that autonomy. They are no longer entitled to do what they want, when they want. They’ve chosen to give that up.

If you don’t want to give up that autonomy, then don’t. Simple as that.

Also, If you insist on constant oral servitude, worship, obedience to your will, but give him nothing but frustration in return, isn’t this very unfair?

Yep. Welcome to Femdom. Moving on.

Won’t this take a normal man, or at least a stable functioning partner, and make him a slave, weakling, wimp, sissy, etc. – what I mean is less of a man. If you destroy his manhood, than when you want or need the “Man”, to work, to make love, to defend you, If there are times when some semblance of confidence or spine is needed, the “Man” won’t be there anymore.

Well, I mean, of course. We all know that working, defending, having a spine, and being a stable functioning partner are attributes exclusive to men, and what’s more, exclusive to a specific kind of Man™.

We also know that Manhood™ is defined as a narrow set of traits and behaviors and methods of expression, and if a Man™ possesses even one trait or behavior or desire that falls outside of that set, then the entirety of his Manhood™ is completely invalidated.

It’s because masculinity is fragile, and brittle, and external, you see.

Easily broken. Easily taken away.

It’s a finite, shared resource, that must be hoarded, jealously guarded, and protected. Because it’s shared, the mere existence of a slave, weakling, wimp, sissy, etc. threatens the masculinity of all men.

I mean, dude. Do you have any idea how stupid you sound? I’m asking honestly.

Manhood isn’t a concrete, finite thing, mkay. And y’all’s continued insistence that your masculinity is weak enough to be shattered by literally anything outside of your narrow definition makes you look like idiots.

So, because I’m in a good mood, I’ll help you out.

First, broaden your definition of manhood, because dear god, dude. You must know how utterly pathetic the current definition is.

I mean, a man isn’t a Real Man™ if he exhibits all the traits and behaviors you deem acceptable, but also happens to like fruity cocktails?

He’s not a Real Man™ if he is assertive, dominant, protective, and a natural provider, but also happens to like being pegged?

Well what if a man is driven, ambitious, a good provider, a great lover, and protective of his family, but isn’t very confident?

What if a man seems really aggressive and confident, but hits his wife and kids?

What if a man loves being a father and chooses not to take a big promotion because it would require long hours, and he’d rather go to his daughter’s ballet recital and watch his son’s baseball game? Is he not a Real Man™ if he doesn’t financially support his family?

I mean, want me to keep going? The existence of one thing that doesn’t fit your definition is enough to invalidate his entire identity?

Why fight to remove our chains, when we can simply compare their lengths? Why step outside the box when the box has these badass flame decals on it? We men are cigarettes; dangerous, and poisonous, and stupid.

Guante

You see that as a sign of strength?

My god, dude.

And you wonder why women don’t give a shit about you. You wonder why we literally laugh at you when you’re not around.

It’s pathetic. It’s not worthy of my respect.

And as far as making love, what? You think I want a cookie-cutter clone whose idea of “switching things up” is reverse cowgirl?

Sure, I’ll use those guys when I want that particular itch scratched, but I don’t give a shit about them. I don’t want to know anything about them. I don’t even want to know their names.

I don’t care. He’s a dildo with a pulse. I bend over and take my pleasure while he does his little-engine-that-could thing back there, and then I want him to leave.

Why?

Because it’s boring. He is boring.

I can go to any club or bar and find ten guys exactly like him. Unoriginal, interchangeable, and ultimately disposable.

There’s not a single thing he can offer me that I can’t get from a battery.

Now, take Sounder, for example.

True, he can’t bend me over and do his own little-engine-that-could thing. But holy hell, why would I want him to?

I mean, I can make a text message conversation intense enough to fluster him at work. I can change his entire headspace with a handful of sentences. I can see parts of him that no one else has ever seen.

I push him hard, and he trusts me with his body, his mind, his safety, his very identity. He chooses to follow me down paths I never thought I’d be able to explore, and he can let go and enjoy the ride because he trusts that I’ll keep him safe.

And my trust, my faith in him, is absolute. He could tell me the sky is green and I’d believe him.

And the same goes for Kazander.

Kazander is a devoted father and a loving husband. We don’t lie to each other, we have no secrets, and there is nothing we cannot talk about.

We’ve been through good times and hard times. We’ve made mistakes, we’ve hurt each other, we’ve healed each other, and we’re still here. There’s nothing I don’t know about him. There’s no part of him I haven’t seen.

That kind of intimacy, that kind of trust, means something.

Why would I want some grunting caveman when I can have Sounder tied up and trembling, his body open and vulnerable for me?

Why would I want some dudebro’s mediocre spastic thrusting when I can bring Kazander to his knees with nothing but a look, and make him beg me to hurt him?

You can’t get that from a battery.

Now, do Kazander and Sounder fit your definition of a “Real Man?”

No, they don’t.

But I have a sneaking suspicion I don’t fit your definition of a “real woman,” so it makes sense that I wouldn’t be interested in your definition of a Real Man™.

Because Real Men™ are pitiful.

I feel sorry for them. They’re scared, and lonely, and hurting, and dangerous.

But confidence is hot, dude. A man who is confident enough to drink a fruity cocktail or admit that a puppy is cute or cry in public is a hell of a lot hotter than the children running around, too terrified of what Real Men™ might think of them.

A man who can unapologetically admit that he wants to be bent over and fucked like a bitch in heat is a hell of a lot hotter than the scared, repressed… thing… who pushes those desires down beneath a mountain of warped denial, self-hatred, and resentment.

Nah, dude. That kind of emotional constipation may have been okay for our mothers, but only because they didn’t have a choice.

Hell, look at my own parents. My dad was the posterchild for Real Men™.

And because I’ve been told I have the emotional range of a goldfish, we got along, but I never knew what he actually felt for me, and because of that, I got blindsided by a pretty nasty surprise after he died.

And that’s what fatherhood means to me. Emotional emptiness, blank stoicism, and lies.

I had tons of issues with my mom, but you wanna guess how many times she confided to me how lonely it was living with the emotional equivalent of a pet rock?

No emotional intimacy. No emotional vulnerability. It’s all skin-deep, nothing real, nothing true.

The only emotion I’d ever seen him show, in 30 years, was anger.

When my parents found out I wasn’t a virgin, he walked out. My mom said, “he can’t even look at you right now.”

I felt ashamed. Dirty. Like I’d lost value to him. Like I’d done something wrong.

Like I was now less, in his eyes.

My father. The first and primary example I was given of manhood.

But it’s totally exclusively my fault for having to untangle myself from my Daddy issues. Because being raised by an emotionally stunted, egotistical coward is just a totally normal thing. More than that, those lonely, terrified cowards are lauded by people like you.

You think that’s a good thing.

Ugh, no. No one wants to live like that.

But that’s not even all there is to it.

My mom didn’t agree with me being poly. She always had shit to say, until finally, I pointed something out when my daughter was a year or two old.

She kept insisting that the man must be in charge, because that’s “natural” and “right,” and monogamy was the only acceptable lifestyle.

“Mom, it just doesn’t work. Not for me.”

“It worked for me and your dad for 30 years.”

I laughed. “Wait, no, it didn’t. You know it didn’t.”

“We’re still together.” (They were both still alive at this point)

I looked at her. “So you’d want your granddaughter to have a marriage just like yours?”

Silence. And interestingly enough, she never had anything to say about my relationships again.

And I mean, she was far from the only one like her. And does that tell you anything?

My mom thought my dad was a Real Man™. But there was no one she loved more than my daughter, and what was her reaction to the idea of my daughter ending up with a Real Man™?

Even better, want to take a guess at my father-in-law’s reaction to the idea of my daughter dating a Real Man?

I even had to have a conversation with Kazander about how he is and is not allowed to react when the spawn loses her virginity. Wanna take a guess what reaction he has to hide when it comes to the idea of his daughter having sex with a Real Man?

I mean, does that tell you anything? You don’t even like Real Men. You don’t trust them. You don’t want them around. You see them as villains and thieves. You see them as a threat.

Why do you devote so much of yourselves to being something you hate?

We have never wanted that. You decided it was normal and women like my mom just didn’t know any better.

I do know better. And that expression of manhood is pathetic.

It’s small. And weak. And sad.

And lonely, not just for the women you inflict yourselves on, but for you, as well.

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to live so isolated, under all that fear. Feeling like you can’t be who you are for fear of someone thinking you’re less of a man.

No. That’s not what anyone wants.

Not even you.

Long-term chastity seems to make the woman inevitably more dominant and the man inevitably more submissive and pitiful. Is this what was wanted at the outset.

In relationships that employ long-term chastity, the woman is already the more dominant partner. Chastity doesn’t create that, it’s just another way to express it.

I won’t even enter into a relationship with a man unless he’s submissive. You think he’s pitiful, I think he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.

Different definitions, remember?

You get married with an expectation of happy equality and mutual love and reciprocity, right?

You get married with that expectation. Equality is not something anyone in a relationship with me expects. Happiness, mutual love, and reciprocity, yes. Equality, no.

I am in charge. If you don’t like it, don’t be in a relationship with me. Problem solved.

But if you enter into kink play that you imagine is safe, sane, consensual, and TEMPORARY and wind up being forced into chastity against hiw will isn’t this a breaking of the marriage contract? Is it ethical to do this to a man, even if you slowly indocrinate him into long term chastity? Shouldn’t he have a say, a safeword, a way out short of divorce?

Lying is wrong, regardless of whether you throw BDSM into the mix. Abuse is wrong regardless of whether chastity is involved.

Changing someone’s mindset or behavior is a slow, gradual process that must be discussed beforehand, and a way out, an ability to reverse the effects, must be available as long as possible. It’s also dependent on a willingness in the man.

You can’t just slap a cage on a reluctant man and expect him to willingly allow you to fuck with his head. It doesn’t really work like that. That’s fantasy, not reality.

And a Prince Albert? I hope that no woman would force it on a man, or even suggest it without a serious and honest discussion where the man has total say in the matter.

I mean, if it helps you sleep at night, go ahead and keep hoping that.

FLRs, woman as complete ruler, long tern chastity, forced feminization, cuckolding, they all strike me as cruel and very abusive unless the man really, really, likes it.

… unless the man really, really, likes it.

There you go. Congratulations, you just answered all your own questions. You took the scenic route, but you got there in the end.

I’ve never forced a man to be with me. I’ve never forced a man to do anything he didn’t want to do, outside of previously-agreed upon boundaries, and everyone I play with always has the right to tell me when something is wrong.

Every man who plays with me does it because he wants to. My boys are with me because they want to be with me. Because they really, really like what I do.

You may not like it, and that’s fine, you don’t have to. The world is big enough for us both.

But you’ve got a lot of crap you need to sort out in yourself before you can look at stuff like this with any hope of being able to grasp it.

Chastity and its effects are like calculus, while you’re operating under the assumption that 2+2=3. You’re missing a few pieces here. And you just won’t be able to understand a hefty chunk of any of this until you go back to the basics of interpersonal relationships and fix what you’ve got twisted up.

You’ve got to untangle yourself from all that crap before you can jump into something like chastity.

D/s and depression

Domina Jen

I’d first like to introduce myself, my name is (*edit, we’ll call him Jake from State Farm, because that’s what’s been stuck in my head all day, and he asked to keep his real name anonymous), and I’d like to let you know up front that I’m a male Dominant, relatively new to the scene, I’ve only been really active for a couple of years or so.

I know I’m far from your target audience but your blog is wonderful and I’ve learned a lot from reading it.  It’s quite a bit more honest and open than places like Fetlife.  If you don’t mind, I’d like your advice on a minor situation.

I’m in a relatively new full-time D/s relationship with a wonderful girl who is also a bit newer to the lifestyle.  We’re both sort of learning as we go.

I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety off and on throughout my life, was diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder about ten years ago, and have more or less managed it on my own with little or no help from a professional or medication.  I like to think I’m very self aware and I know my patterns, and the last couple of weeks or so, it has been much harder than usual to manage, and I’m worried that it’s starting to affect my relationship.

I’ve gone all this time without needing to see a doctor or take medication and I really don’t want to break that streak, but I think I might have to.

As of now, my girl doesn’t know.  We’ve only been together about four months, and I’m worried about how this will impact our relationship.  I know I need to tell her, do you have any suggestions for how that conversation should start?  And I know you’ve talked about Dominants being held to high standards, how does mental health figure into that, and should I take a break from the relationship for now?  I really care about her and don’t want to end the relationship, but I’m very worried about hurting her unintentionally.  She deserves the best of me, and I feel awful that I’m failing at giving her that.  If you’re willing, and have time, I’d be extremely grateful for any advice you might give.

Thank you in advance,

Jake

Oh hell…

Well Jake, you’ve stumbled into one of the hardest, most complicated, most convoluted, and ultimately unfair aspects of D/s relationships.

Yes, Dominants should be held to a very high standard.  It’s not supposed to be easy all the time.  It’s supposed to be a challenge, it’s supposed to challenge us to be the best versions of ourselves.  Our subs give us the most precious gift one human being can give another, and they deserve our best selves.  We can’t fail them.

But we’re still human.  We, like all humans, have moments of weakness.  We have moments of doubt.  We have moments where we stumble and fall.  When that happens, it’s our responsibility to make sure we don’t take our subs down with us.

It’s a delicate balance, though.  Because we can’t (and shouldn’t) shut our subs out, and we need to be as trusting of them, and allow ourselves to be as open and vulnerable with them, as we expect them to be with us (much, much easier said than done).

And yes, you do need to tell your sub.  It’s important for subs to understand that we are human, we are going to fuck up once in awhile, and we should not be placed on any sort of pedestal.

This is something I actually learned the hard way, with one of my very first adult relationships.  My primary sub at the time was a very sweet girl a year younger than I was.  She was strong, but a bit fragile and sensitive, and I was 18 or 19, and stupid, and reckless, and dumb, and about as emotionally mature and wise as you’d expect someone that age to be.  I didn’t realize that she’d started to idolize me, and put me up on this pedestal in her head (she was 17 or 18, and about as emotionally mature and wise as you’d expect someone that age to be).

Or maybe I did, but just liked the ego boost, and didn’t realize why it was a bad idea.  It was a long time ago.  I don’t remember.

And, as was inevitable, I fucked up.  I made a mistake (I was so dumb back then), I made a bad judgement call that caused her to feel like I’d let her down.

She was upset because her parents were super pissed off when they found out she was dating me (she’d only recently come out to them).  I consoled her, I supported her, and then I assumed it was over.  She turned to me for support, and I gave it, and then (I thought) we moved on.

Again, I was an idiot, in a whole lot of ways.  But I went out the next night with a bunch of friends, while she stayed home.  The next day, she was inconsolable.

It was insensitive, and cold, and self-centered, and just basically stupid and mean.  I don’t try to defend it.  Yeah, I could say I was a dumb teenager, but that’s just a cop-out.  I was an asshole.  I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her, but my intentions didn’t matter.  I’d let her down.

A vanilla relationship might’ve survived something like that.

She was crushed.  Completely devastated.  Her image of me was shattered.  And I was young and dumb, I didn’t know how to fix my mistake.  Our relationship ended because I’d let her build me up in her head, and I didn’t see it, didn’t think to adjust it, and didn’t know how to fix it.

Since then, I’ve been more careful.  Her age had a lot to do with her putting me up on a pedestal, but she’s hardly the only one, and there have been people much older than her throughout the years who have tried.  And I’m not (usually) an idiot anymore.  I know better than to ignore it, or to not do anything about it.

I’m telling you this because you’re new-ish, and your sub is new-ish, and particularly in your situation, it’s very, very important that she keep her feet on the ground and that she not put you up on a pedestal.  She needs to be very, very aware of the fact that you’re not perfect, and you’re going to make mistakes.

It’s up to you to make sure she understands that.  You’re the one responsible for setting the tone of the relationship.  It’s crucial.  Make sure she understands it, not just logically, but emotionally as well.  Because if you don’t, and her picture of you is shattered to the point that she can’t recover, that’s going to be on your shoulders.  Just as my relationship ending was on mine.

Okay, so the subject of a Dominant with a mental health issue is a slightly loaded one, at least for me, anyway.  I’m sure a lot of people won’t agree with me, but I’ve discovered that a lot of people are really, really, remarkably stupid (that’s not just one link, by the way.  Each word is a separate link to people being really, really, remarkably stupid.  Just in the past year or so).

Right, so I recognize that everyone’s brand of D/s is unique, there is no one-size-fits-all solution for anything, and a lot of this is my personal, strongly-held, based-in-facts-and-common-sense opinion.

Still opinion, though.

I don’t know you, and I have no idea what kind of relationship you have, so I’m going to do a lot of speculation, and project a lot of my own type of D/s onto your situation.  Take what you will of it, discard the rest.

Depression and anxiety are a couple of real sons of bitches, man.  They can fuck shit up pretty good on their own, and combined, they’re just fucking nasty.  And they don’t discriminate, no one is immune, it can affect anyone.

Dominants included.  Hell, even myself included.  The brain is the most complex organ in our body, and disorders of this particular organ are common across race, creed, social status, economic class, etc.  If you have a brain, you’re susceptible to disorders of the brain.  It happens.

The first step is accepting that it happens, that there’s nothing you can do at the moment to change it (well you can, but that’s not exactly what I mean, and I’ll get to that.  What I mean is you can’t just snap your fingers and not be depressed anymore), and that it doesn’t mean you’re weak, or in any way less.  Would you consider someone who has asthma, a disorder of the lungs, weak?  Fuck no, you wouldn’t.  So don’t think of yourself that way, because you have a disorder of the brain.

Does it suck?  Yeah.  Can you snap your fingers and make it go away?  No.

You really do need to accept it, accept this part of you.  You’re carrying a lot of self blame, thinking that you’re letting your sub down because you have these disorders, and that needs to stop.  Again, you set the tone for the relationship.  You’ve got to let go of that blame.

There’s just no option, you’ve got to do it.

Of course, I know that’s easier said than done, especially with depressive and anxiety disorders, but truly, there is no alternative if you want to be a Dominant in a D/s relationship.  Buckle down, grit your teeth, and get it done.  It’s not going to be easy, and you’ll backslide a bit, and it’s going to suck, but you can do it.

Now, there is a bit of a controversial edge to this subject.  Because BDSM relationships are known for being really, really intense.  Your sub is so vulnerable to you, so open to you, so yielding and accepting of everything you say and do.  With that kind of openness, that kind of vulnerability, you’ve got to be so careful.

A sub sacrifices control for freedom, and a Dom sacrifices freedom for control.  You don’t have the freedom to lose your cool.  Your influence over her is too great, the potential to hurt her is just too much.

A Dominant must, mustmust be in control of himself before taking control of someone else.  With mental health problems, that gets difficult.

Does that mean someone with mental health disorders can’t or shouldn’t be a Dominant?  Eh, that really depends on the individual, but yes, I do believe there are instances where someone is simply not mentally sound enough to take control of another human being.

I don’t think that’s the case with you, but you’re a better judge of that than I am.

The first step is figuring out how to manage it.

Again, you can’t snap your fingers and make it go away.  But you can take steps to manage and treat it to the point that it doesn’t necessarily have to impact your relationship.

*Note*  I am not a doctor, take any advice I give with a grain of salt, and talk to an actual doctor.

I know antidepressants are no joke, man.  SSRI’s are some serious shit, and come with a pretty nasty set of side effects.

But if you’re getting to the point where you can’t manage it on your own, you need to, at the very least, talk to a psychiatrist.  Maybe you don’t need SSRI’s.  Maybe you can do okay with something like 5-HTP or SAM-e (seriously, talk to a freakin’ doctor though).  Or maybe you only need a low dose SSRI for a few weeks, and then you can wean yourself off and be fine managing it on your own again.  I mean, you never know until you talk to a doctor.

But you’ve got to manage it.  If you’re a victim of that toxic masculinity bullshit, with the mindset of “real men don’t need a shrink,” ditch that shit now.

Real men handle their shit.  Real men don’t lie to themselves about what they can and cannot (or should and should not) handle on their own.  Real men aren’t too much of a pussy to ask for help.

You’ve got shit that needs to be handled.  Recognize that managing it on your own is not currently working to an acceptable degree.  Get the help you need, not just from a stranger on the internet with a blog, but from a licensed professional capable of prescribing medication (if necessary).

Hard truth time: Not managing it and being a Dominant is not acceptable.  At-mother-fucking-all.

And sure, there will be people who will disagree with me.  There will be people who think I’m being unfair and discriminatory to Dominants with mental illnesses.

Honestly, those people can suck it.  You don’t have the right to be fair when you’re the one who made the decision to take control of another human being.  If your sub opens themselves up to you, lets you in past their defenses, past their walls, and you unintentionally hurt them because of an untreated mental illness that you knew about, you’re an asshole.

And you’re an abusive asshole.  You knew better.  You knew you needed treatment.  You didn’t get it.  And because of it, you caused another human being, who trusted you, serious harm.

No, that is not, and will never be acceptable.  Dominants are better than that.  You have to be better than that.

And no, it’s not fair.  Submissives don’t necessarily have the same problem when it comes to a mental illness.  They can lean on their Dominant in a way that their Dominant may not be able to lean on them.

But submissives don’t get off easy, either.  They have their own responsibilities to meet in the relationship.  The problem is that meeting those responsibilities makes them more vulnerable to be hurt by a Dominant who is not in complete control.

A submissive must put his (or her) Dominant first.  The Dominant’s needs come first.  Period.  That’s a hell of a lot harder and a hell of a lot more complicated than it sounds.  It’s not easy to do, and in doing it, they trust that their Dominant will take care of them, and make sure their needs are met.  The ability to do that may be negatively affected in a Dominant with a mental illness.

If a submissive isn’t focusing on her needs, and her Dominant isn’t focusing on her needs, that’s a problem.

A submissive is also expected to open up for his Dominant.  Vulnerability is the name of the game.  There is no part of himself, no piece of his mind that is off-limits to his Dominant.  This is an extremely, extremely difficult thing to do.  It takes a lot of trust, a lot of courage, and a lot of strength.

And it doesn’t take a lot to irreparably shatter that trust.

You cannot be in control of someone else if you’re not in complete control of yourself, and if you’re suffering from depression and anxiety, you’re not in complete control of yourself.  You’re at the whim of the chemical imbalances, faulty mood regulation, and seratonin deficiencies in your brain that are fucking up your perception, your motivation, your mentality.  You cannot control it.

You can’t be dealing with all of that, not manage it, and be in control of someone else.  It’s unethical and dangerous.  You can cause serious mental and emotional harm not only to your sub, but to yourself.  Don’t do it.

Does that mean you need to break things off with your sub?  Not necessarily, again it depends on your situation.  If you’re taking steps to manage it and she’s aware of the situation, and aware that there’s the possibility that you may say or do things you shouldn’t, or aren’t feeling “like yourself,” and you both agree to keep things going, then great.  Go for it, I mean it.  PDD is a very treatable condition, anxiety can be worked around, it’s a very doable situation for a lot of people.

There is hope, and you’re far from the first Dominant to face this sort of situation.

I’ll say that again.  There is hope, and you’re not alone.  This can be done.

So after you decide to manage this and deal with it, you’ve got to talk to your sub.  Which won’t be an easy conversation.  It needs to happen when you’re both calm and in neutral moods (don’t start this conversation if she’s had a bad day at work), and don’t have anything on the agenda for the evening.

Sit her down, in private (don’t do this in a restaurant or at a bar or whatever), and be direct and calm.  She can handle it.  You can start off by telling her the same way you told me.

I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety off and on throughout my life, was diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder about ten years ago, and have more or less managed it on my own with little or no help from a professional or medication.  I like to think I’m very self aware and I know my patterns, and the last couple of weeks or so, it has been much harder than usual to manage, and I’m worried that it’s starting to affect [our] relationship.

You can start with that.  Write it down and read it to her if you have to.  Or write it down and have her read it while you sit next to her.  Don’t feel dumb if you have to do it that way, I have literally done that before.  I can organize my thoughts better in writing, and when I’m struggling to say something that needs to be said, writing it and just letting them read it has worked when I’ve been unable to put it in words.

Let her know that you care about her and don’t want to lose her, and you want to be the Dominant she deserves.  Let her know that you’ve got an appointment with a doctor, and you’re going to get it under control.  Ask her to be patient with you while you get it figured out.  Ask her what steps you can take to assure her that you’re there for her.  Ask her what she needs from you.  And if there’s anything you need from her, now’s the time to ask her for it.

So in summation:

Step 1: Get it under control.  Call a psychiatrist today and set an appointment.  Do this and take a concrete step forward.  Trust me, you’ll struggle to find the motivation to do it, but it’ll feel good once you’ve done it.  It’s an accomplishment, and one that will set everything else in motion.  It’ll make you feel good.  Do it.

Step 2:  Talk to your sub.  Write down what you want to say beforehand so you don’t get flustered and forget.  Keep it short and simple.  Read it to her if you have to, or have her read it.  Do whatever it takes to let her know what’s going on, because you owe it to her as her Dominant.  Answer her questions honestly, let her see your vulnerability, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Step 3:  Go to your appointment.  Tell your sub when it is.  If you’re worried about finding the motivation to go, ask her to hold you to it.  Give her the ability to withhold something from you (something that you want) if you don’t go.  Hell, have her drive you.  Just get there.  Do whatever it takes.  Because you owe it to her as your Dominant.  Let her become your motivation.  Let caring for her and being the man she deserves keep you moving forward.

Step 4:  Be honest and frank in the appointment.  You’ve been diagnosed with PDD, so I’m guessing you’re familiar with psychiatrists.  Great.  Push yourself to be as honest as possible about what you’re feeling and what you want.  Make a realistic plan for the immediate future, whether that involves drugs or other kinds of therapy, or both.

Step 5:  Follow the plan.  It’ll take time before you start seeing significant improvement, and your motivation will falter.  You’ve dealt with this for years, you know it’s not going to be easy.

But you’ve dealt with this for years, you know that you can.

D/s, BDSM, and my sexuality

So I generally don’t do two posts in a day, but I’m ready to get back to the sex stuff.

Yay, sex!

I separate the the acronyms in BDSM, and use the term BDSM to reference general kink and fun stuff.  And how each acronym fits into my life is different.

BD: Bondage and Discipline

I like bondage, but it can be time-consuming.  Mental bondage is awesome, though, because it requires my submissive to make the choice, to actively choose to allow what is being done to him to happen.  And often, that can be worse than being tied up, helpless, and not having that choice.

Discipline is important.  I discipline my subs when I need to, I condition them, I mold them, I guide and lead them.  Discipline is also what I would call “funishment.”  Rough, intense (often painful) play that serves to remind them of their place, to give them a good reboot, but still has the light-hearted feel of all of my sessions.  It’s fun.

DS: Dominance and submission

This actually has absolutely nothing to do with my sexuality.  This is a relationship dynamic, and the only kind of relationship that has ever worked for me.

Although, to be fair, that’s not something that’s unique to me.  Studies have shown that relationships in which one partner is the more dominant tend to be more successful than relationships in which power is more balanced and equal.

And while the kink may ebb and flow as real life presents opportunities and obstacles, the relationship and the way I interact with my partners doesn’t change.  I run my relationships, and while my boys know they’re respected, they have a voice, and they have the right to have their voice heard, and their input genuinely considered, they also know that the final say of pretty much any decision is mine.

Is that fair?  No, not really.  But my boys are strong men.  They won’t suffer a relationship where they’re taken advantage of.  It’s on me to make sure they feel respected and heard.  I owe it to them as their Dominant, and I owe it to myself as a human being.

Granted, there are aspects of this dynamic that are very sexually charged, and send a happy little chill down my spine.  I like bringing my strong, assertive boys to heel.  It’s such a turn on bringing them to their knees and imposing my will on them.

The thrill I get from that is very sexual.  But in general, D/s isn’t inherently sexual for me.

I have had drops in my libido in the past, and I’m sure I’ll have them again.  Once in a great while, I’ll have a phase where I’m just not all that horny for a couple of weeks, or maybe even a couple of months.  It happens.  But when it does happen, the D/s doesn’t go away.  It’s not influenced by my libido at all.

SM: Sadomasochism

Oooh, the fun stuff.  Sadism is a very, very big part of my sexuality.

But it’s important to note that, in the scope of BDSM, anyway, sadism is not limited to physical pain.

Sounder can attest to that.  I haven’t seen him in awhile (that dry spell is ending tonight, thank fucking God), and he’s spent the last few days getting very well acquainted with the evil, sadistic, twisted bitch in me.

I haven’t touched him, and very little that I’ve said to him involves physical pain.  But “sadistic” is a pretty accurate descriptor of the mindfuckery I’ve put him through.

And it’s also worth noting that humiliation stimulates the same parts of the brain as physical pain.  So on a physiological level, it’s damn near the same.

Having Sounder gangbanged by six men, having each one finish on his face, then having them all stand around him and rinse their cum off his face by pissing on him, for example, wouldn’t cause physical pain.  But I would certainly call that sadistic.  I have a sneaking suspicion Sounder would agree with me.

Don’t get me wrong.  I thoroughly enjoy causing physical pain.  It’s all kinds of fun, and just as big a part of my sexuality.  But my sadism isn’t limited to the physical.

I think, if I had to pick one word to describe my sexuality, my sexual identity, and the way I relate to my partners in a sexual capacity, it would be sadistic.  

Hell, even when I give pleasure, it could possibly be described as sadistic.  Sounder doesn’t beg often, but when I pleasure his cock, he’s begging me to stop, begging me to hurt him, after a few minutes.

Which, of course, is massively entertaining.

Different kinds of dick pics

I’m a student (22) in NY and I’m still living with my strict aunty (42) in a common household. She keeps a teight reign over me – for any mistakes by my side – she still beats me up with the whip on my naked ass! After corporal punishment I have to bow down in front of her feet, removing her pumps and licking her smelly nylon cladded feet for mercy. It’s so humiliating for me – but my aunty says that worshipping ladies feet is the normalest men’s duty I have to learn for the future. On sunday afternoon she often gives a hen party – then I’m forced to crawl under the table to serve the ladies feet as an obedient foot slave! That’s good for my behaviour – my aunty says – really?

Dude…

I’ve got eight of these sitting in my inbox right now.  Sent within 24 hours of each other.

And this one, left as a comment.

………. Are you all fucking serious?  What the fuck is wrong with you?

Did you honestly think I wouldn’t see through this bullshit?  And I’ll direct that question, also, to all the men who have sent/are considering sending me something like this.

No, really.  How stupid do you think I am?

What is the thought process here?  I’m serious, I actually want to know.  I want to know the linear process that starts at Point A and leads to the conclusion that sending something like this is a good idea, and something I’d react well to.

I mean, you do realize this is the kinky equivalent of an unsolicited dick pic, right?  Has an unsolicited dick pic ever worked out well for any man, in the history of ever?

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Or in this case, an unsolicited, bad quality fetish fantasy.

Like seriously, I wish I had half the confidence a man does when he sends me something like this, so damn sure I’ll be totally interested in it.

No, if there was a way to bottle that confidence, I’d be a billionaire and self-esteem issues would literally become an obsolete concept.  We’d be old and gray, sitting in a rocking chair, telling our grandkids about how back in the day, people use to struggle with their self image.  And those kids would stare at us, slackjawed, completely unable to even remotely grasp the concept.

Seriously.  I wish I had just a little bit of that confidence.

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This, this right here.  How do I get that?

Growing up, we had cats that often went outside for hours each day.  One in particular loved to bring us back “presents.”

Translation: Dead or half-dead rodents.

And he’d be so proud of himself, waiting for us to pet him and tell him what a good boy he is.

And my thought when reading something like this, or opening messages filled with dick pics (I didn’t ask for) belonging to complete strangers, is identical to the thought I had when he’d drop his gifts at my feet:

“I can see you’re proud of yourself, but it’s disgusting and I’m not touching it, and I guess I can’t really expect anything better from such an unevolved creature with an inferior brain.”

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*Mimics explosion sounds, because obviously at least a few hundred men’s minds are being blown right now.*

Literally, do men even know how much time women spend rolling their eyes at them?

Do me a favor, gentlemen.  A little visualization exercise, if you will.

You know those obnoxious kiosk vendors at the mall, right?  The ones that you awkwardly smile and nod at, and try to edge your way past while they get all up in your space, trying their damndest to push their shitty product on you?

M’kay, now imagine that’s your whole life.  Everywhere you go.  Not just the mall.  Grocery shopping.  Dropping your car off at the shop.  The DMV.  The fucking bank.  And God forbid you go to a bar by yourself and just want to be left the fuck alone.  No matter where you go, there are kiosk vendors following you around, wanting you to see how awesome their product is, and how it’s so much better than anything else you’ll find anywhere else.

That is what it’s like to be a woman.

Except the product is always the same.  It’s always dick.  Before I got with Kazander, I took to wearing a ring on my left ring finger, just so men would see it and leave me alone.  But that only works maybe 75% of the time.  I literally once told a particularly persistent man I had a penis, just to get him to fuck off.

Every time I open a message or email from someone I don’t know, I’m expecting him to be a douchebag sending me a dick pic, a douchebag asking to “serve me” despite the fact that he lives in Tibet or some shit and knows nothing about me (and I know nothing about him), or some douchebag using the “Ask Me Anything” page here to share their kinks and their fantasies, pretending to “ask a question,” assuming that I’m not intelligent enough to see exactly what they’re doing.

I do like the use of the “really?” there in that message.  So this one was at least intelligent enough to incorporate an actual interrogative sentence (fragment).

Side note:  Holy shit, bro.  Whatever college you’re going to is ripping you off.

Anyways…

I consider all three things listed above to be nothing more than different versions of dick pics.

But I’m yes, every time I get communication from someone new, that’s what I’m expecting it to be.

Why do I think that?  Because 19 out of 20 messages from new people are one of those three things (and that’s an incredibly generous ratio, by the way).  And I’m usually polite when I reject them and tell them I’m not interested.  And more often than not, that rejection is met with being called a disgusting bitch, or (the really fun ones) threats to rape and/or murder me and/or my family.

I’m serious.  100% of the time that I see a new commenter, email from a new address, or fetlife message from an unfamiliar name, that’s what I’m expecting.  If you’ve ever contacted me, I want you to understand that I saw the new email or message, saw that I didn’t recognize the name, and rolled my eyes, thinking “Great, what does this douchebag want?”

Sometimes, I’m proven wrong, and the writer of the message is, in fact, not a douchebag.  Sometimes, it’s a reader asking for advice or asking some other question.  Sometimes, it’s a gentleman reaching out to tell me how much he loves my blog.  Sometimes it’s something constructive and something I enjoy reading.

But that is rare.  The vast majority of the time, it’s one version or another of a dick pic.

No, I’m actually serious.  What is the thought process behind sending me (or any woman) shit like this?  I want someone to take me through it.  Step by step.  What makes a man decide to do that?

Well, for future reference, to any readers who may be itching to send me some bullshit like this (whether an actual or metaphorical dick pic), I made this useful flowchart to help you out.

Dick pics - Page 1Okay, now that that’s out of the way…

There is an infinitesimally small chance that the writer of this comment is actually telling the truth.  I mean, he’s not, but I know for a fact that people like his “aunty” and situations like his actually exist, so let’s pretend that this scenario is real, and we’ll pretend he’s not an insensitive, indescribably colossal asshole for bragging writing about this right fucking after the big, huge “abuse” debate.

Because let’s face it, given the tone and unique choice of words in multiple places, even if this is true, his only reason for writing about it is to brag about it.  He’s not asking for advice, he’s not asking for help getting out of this situation, he’s not asking anything.

So what were you expecting, dude?  You want my opinion?  Sure…

If this is something you consent to, then good for you.  I’m glad you enjoy it.  Knock yourself out.  But I honestly don’t give two shits about what you and your relatives do.  I don’t know you, I don’t care about you, and I’m not interested in discussing your fetishes with you, and I think you’re a douchebag.

If your use of the word “force” is genuine, and you truly don’t want to be in that situation, I can help you, and have a number of resources I can share with you.  I can help you find the support system you need to get out.  If that’s the case, and you actually need help, then email me privately and we can talk about it.

And any readers who are considering contacting me in the future, I urge you to refer to the flowchart above before hitting the Send button.

 

Sounds like Jesse

Alright, cat’s out of the bag.  Sounder’s name (the name I call him, anyway, and his real name, as far as I’m concerned) is Jessica.  For convenience and to keep it discreet in public, I shorten it to Jesse.

About a week ago, I gave him an assignment.  Part of his training is to gradually lose his privilege of privacy.  That includes emotional and mental privacy, too.  I want to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.  I want to know what he wants, what he craves, his hopes, his fears, memories of the past and dreams for the future, literally everything.

Steel can attest to this desire to know everything, and he knows just how serious I am about it.

Jesse is no different.  If I could get a constant feed of every thought he has, every day of the week, including images and running synopses of his dreams at night, that would be almost enough to satisfy me.

So…

How does one go about opening up a man who is very much not used to opening up?

Well, slowly.

Here’s the thing about training pretty much any submissive, particularly when you want to go as deep as I do.

They’re grown ass men.

They’re used to doing basically what they want, when they want.  They’re used to handling their shit, living their lives, all that stuff.  They have egos, they have autonomy, they have the ability to live their lives successfully without (or with minimal) interference.

They have a need, and they know how to meet it on their own.  Independence.  Autonomy.  Free will.  Whatnot.

So when you start taking away their rights and privileges, and start taking away their ability to meet their needs on their own, it forces them to confront the idea that they are no longer in control of having their own basic needs met, and must depend on their Owner for that.  The Owner gets to decide when (or if) and how those needs are met.

The thing is that being confronted with this type of loss of control, particularly when it comes to needs or privileges that are extremely important to that particular submissive, often creates a level of discomfort and anxiety in the submissive.  There’s usually an amount of pushback at first, and it’s natural.  Basic human psychology and all that.

Over time, as the trust deepens, and the submissive realizes that he will be taken care of, his needs will be met, and he has nothing to worry about, that anxiety is replaced with freedom and peace.  He doesn’t have to worry about all that bullshit anymore.

Still, it can be scary at first.

And, since I occasionally try to be a nice person, I do what I can to minimize the anxiety.  There are a couple of ways I do this.

First, I wait until the relationship is well-established, I’ve proven to the sub that he can trust me implicitly, and that I will put his needs above my desires and whims.  A great deal of trust has already been established.  So the sub doesn’t immediately freak the fuck out when I start taking stuff away.

Another thing I do is the exact opposite of what I’ve seen some Dominants do.

It is apparently relatively common to threaten to end the relationship, or discard the sub, if he doesn’t continue performing to the best of his abilities.

This idea is pure and utter bullshit, and people who play this kind of game are insecure children who are obviously not in control of themselves, and should therefore never be allowed to control another person.

Fear is a primitive emotion, and using it as a primary tool to control someone is ineffective as fuck.  Aside from needlessly stressing your sub the fuck out for literally no reason whatsoever, and dealing a pretty fucking heavy, damaging, long-lasting blow to their psyche (yeah, that’s a great way to take care of another human being), power gained through fear is not real power.

That power disappears as soon as the fear disappears.  So Dominants who engage in this type of relationship must find new ways to keep that fear alive, and foster that negative emotion.

But even then, the power rests with the partner who is most willing to walk away.  That isn’t always the Dominant.  And then, what happens when the Dominant finds herself (or himself) dependent on the submissive for one reason or another?

That power is gone, and the dynamic dissolves.

And on top of that, they’re denying a sub’s basic need from being met.  Every sub needs to feel secure with his Owner, and in his relationship, in order to give up his inner self, and expose that vulnerability.  They need to know that they’re loved, and cherished, and won’t be abandoned.  They need to know that their needs are being met, and will continue to be met, no matter what.

Power given through love and respect, rather than fear, is real power.  A sub who follows out of love and respect will always be happier, more loyal, more faithful, more eager to serve, more fulfilled, and more at peace than a sub who follows out of fear of abandonment or punishment.

So I don’t ever threaten to leave or abandon my boys.  I assure them, loudly and often, that they’re mine, and I’m going to take care of them, and I’m not going anywhere.  This security allows them to take a breath and get their bearings when that anxiety kicks in.  They know that I’m here for them, and I will continue being here for them.

The other thing I do is take things slowly, and give them time to adjust to each new thing I take away.  And it starts small.  For Sounder, it started with taking away his ability to wear men’s underwear.  Something relatively minor, in the grand scheme of things.  But it was a lot for him at first.

I’m in no rush.  I’ve got all the time in the world.  So I waited a year to start pushing him hard.

And even that is going to be taken slowly.  For example, talking about his feelings is not one of his strongest points, and he can be a difficult person to read.  This is something that will become an obstacle if I take him much deeper.  So the first big thing I want to take away from him is privacy.  I want to know what he’s thinking.  I want to know what’s in his head.

So I told him to start an online journal or blog.  Something I could read.  The subject matter was completely up to him, but I expected at least 2 entries in any given 7-day period, at least 500 words each.

He, being the obedient sissy that he is, quickly had the blog set up and his first entry written.

I gave him the option of keeping the blog private, if he wanted it, and at first, he did.  But he’s been in an oddly agreeable, slutty mood lately, so he made it public.

It can be found here (I’m also putting a link to it, as well as Steel’s blog, in the side bar on the left).  I’m sure the kinky masses will love it as much as I do.

Coining!!

What happens when you combine a regular, unassuming coin with some tiger balm?

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This fucking awesomeness, right here.

I went to Sadie’s tonight, and she had just heard about an ancient Chinese healing technique called “coining.”

She’d never heard of it before, but she researched it and, being the sadist she is, fell in love.

Hearing her talk about it made me, the sadist that I am, fall in love.

So after a class on abrasion play (my shopping list just quadrupled in size, btw) she handed me a big, fancy Chinese coin.

Coining is actually a legitimate healing technique that is said to release toxins from the body, just like fire cupping. And as you can see, it leaves fantastic marks, that supposedly stay for days.

Kazander is not a masochist. But even he said there was very little pain involved, and the pain he did experience was minor.

But to look at his back, you’d think I wailed on him. That picture was taken about 20 minutes after I’d finished, and really the picture doesn’t do it justice (I couldn’t get the color to look accurate in my camera).

It’s soooo pretty. And soooo much fun to look at.

If you’re interested in learning how, I definitely recommend finding a professional to teach you. But as far as edgy BDSM play goes, this is on the safer side. All you do is rub tiger balm (or icy hot, or whatever) on a sub’s back, and then use repeated firm downward strokes along the back, moving away from the heart. There are youtube videos of it everywhere. One professional assured a vlogger that it’s safe for pregnant women, elderly, and children (although in the US, people have been reported for child abuse after seeing the marks. I’m not kidding, the picture doesn’t do it justice. If I saw that on a little kid and had no idea it was a relatively painless ancient healing technique, I’d call the police immediately).

It’s often used in conjunction with fire cupping, and Kazander said it was rather relaxing, and felt like a massage. Sure some areas began to hurt after a minute, but he was completely stunned when I showed him the pictures of his back, and he realized how dark the marks are.

He said, “It didn’t feel like you were doing anything.”

So coining. Lots of awesomeness. Yet another technique to add to my arsenal.

 

Pretty little housewife

With scheduling conflicts and illnesses making for annoying obstacles, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to spend some time with Sounder.  Tonight, that changed.

And man, I was feeling sadistic, the poor boy.

After a glass of wine, I told him to take his clothes off, and noticed that his chest was red.  He explained that he’d waxed earlier, and didn’t expect it to react that much.

It’s only the second time he’s ever been waxed, so the reaction wasn’t surprising.  Still, I need to get a new wax kit of my own here soon, and I’ll look and see if I can find anything for sensitive skin.  Maybe that’ll help.

The really fun part, though, was just how sensitive the whole area was.  I reached out to touch him super softly, and he flinched away.

That hurts?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

I grinned.  Oooh, this would be fun.

Oh, and as it turns out, my nails, which I usually keep short, were much longer than usual.  So running my nails across his chest was a lot of fun, and his reactions were so cute.  He squirmed and gasped so nicely.

I love bending him over the island in his kitchen and groping him.  It’s a lot of fun, and he makes the most adorable sounds.  Some pleasure, mixed with some pain, and he’s basically (to quote him) a puppy dressed as a baby duck.  It’s that cute.

We went upstairs, and I saw his new dress lying on the bed.  He hadn’t tried it on yet, and I was so excited to see it on him.

And he looks awesome in it.  It’s a lovely retro, pin-up style dress, pink with black polka dots with a halter top.  It’s so cute, and he looks so good in it.  I think I like it even more than the sexy black bodycon dress he has.

After putting the dress on, I told him to put his makeup on, and we both noticed that the makeup looked off.

“I look like Skeletor,” he said.

“You’ve been out in the sun, haven’t you?”

“Well, it is 130 degrees out.”

Pfft.  I don’t even think it cracked 110 today.  But he’s gotten tan.  The foundation is too pale for him.

So I know what shade he needs, and I’ll pick that up.  But we made do with what we had, and he continued putting it on, while I lifted up the dress and set about seeing how well he could keep his focus while being teased, stroked, and fingered.

His reactions were beyond adorable, and as it turns out, fingering him is enough to shatter his focus.  Which, of course, is one of those incredibly useful bits of information that you just store away for some particular scenario that may or may not happen in the future.

No, there’s nothing ominous about that at all.

I made him wear a wig earlier in the day, and he mentioned how hot it was, so I let him go without.  He looked cute enough without it.

But here’s the thing.  I’ve always loved pin-up clothes, makeup, and hair.  Whenever I go out, that’s my own preferred style.  And I think Sounder would look amazing with that style.

He mentioned wanting to cook me dinner, and that’s immediately where my mind went.  He would look so cute in the kitchen, wearing that dress with a retro, frilly apron, with the full pin-up hair and makeup.  Just like a 50’s housewife.

My darling little housewife.  He’d cook for me, and then I’d bend him over the sink while he’s doing the dishes and fuck him raw.  That’s a fabulous idea.

Speaking of fucking him raw, I sure did that tonight.  The poor boy hasn’t been fucked in so long, and his pussy was so tight, I could barely get my cock inside him.  He’ll make whatever man I give/sell his virginity to very happy.

But really, it was the pain I was the most interested in.  And I love how hard he gets whenever I hurt him, I love how he squirms, how he gasps, I love his facial expressions when I hurt him, I love making him scream.

So I backed him into the corner and turned my attention to his nipples and his chest, and I think it’s safe to assume he’s not a fan of me having long nails, particularly when his skin is red and irritated.

Oh, but it was sooo much fun.

Then I told him to lie down.  I took out my wand, plugged it in, and held it against his clit, stroking it, teasing it until it was ultra sensitive, then torturing him with it.

Which is always fun.  And he’s so cute when he begs me to stop.  Really, lots of cuteness all around.

I had to laugh, though.  When I finally stopped with the wand, after, I dunno, maybe half an hour (he still can’t cum like a man), I started pinching and twisting his dick, and didn’t get a reaction.

“Really?” I asked.  “Nothing?”

“Oh, that is so much better,” he replied.  I had to laugh.  He prefers being hurt to being pleasured.  He was completely soft almost the entire time I pleasured him, but it sprang to life when I started hurting it.

So between that, and not being able to cum, vanilla sex is pretty much out of the question.

Oh darn, poor thing.  I guess he’ll just have to get his pleasure from being fucked like the little bitch he is.  Like a pretty little housewife.