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.

Kinky parents

So I got this email the other day that was truly trollerific.  But it wasn’t even the entertaining kind of trolling that I can post and publicly make fun of.  It was just all a drag.

But he did ask one question and bring up one point that was valid:

Hasnt becoming a parent changed who you are as a Dominatrix?  How can you claim to be in a 24/7 relationship unless your committing child abuse?  So your either a liar or a child abuser.

M’kay, so first of all, *you’re.

Secondly, stop saying “Dominatrix.”  I’m a Dominant.  Yes, I know they’re still technically the same thing, but the mental image conjured by each word is different.

It’s like the difference between “panties” and “underwear.”  They describe the same thing, but the mental image is very different.

And thirdly (and I know I’ve mentioned this before), BDSM is a kink.  It encompasses all the insanely fun and depraved things I love doing to my boys.

I know no one who reads this thinks I’m kinky 24/7.  My sex drive is high, but it’s not that high.

On the other hand, D/s refers specifically to a relationship dynamic.  Meaning it pertains exclusively to the way partners relate to one another and interact with one another within the strictures of their relationship.

In my relationships, I am in charge.  That doesn’t change when my kid is around.  It doesn’t change when the in-laws or friends are around.  It’s not a role I play or a costume I wear, it’s literally who I am and how I relate to people.

And it’s not abnormal in the slightest, just by the way.  Women having power within a relationship is not a new or strange thing.

In my mom’s southern family, the wife is always in charge, and when Grandma speaks, everyone shuts up and listens.

And especially in the Mexican side of my family, no one ever fucks with the matriarch. You never want a Latina bitch mad at you, m’kay.  And when you’re married to one, and you live with her and she knows where you sleep, you do what the fuck you’re told.

I’ve spent enough time with my Mexican cousins.  They never discipline their kids (like, at all), but they damn sure have their husbands well-trained.

The point is that having an unbalanced power dynamic in a relationship is not “new” or “kinky.”  It’s completely mainstream for the woman in any given relationship to have more power within the relationship itself.  My relationships just take that to a slightly higher level.

But there’s this habit a lot of people not in D/s relationships tend to do, and that’s to assume that real life is the same as the Femdom porn videos you see online.

Like, do you honestly think I’m just having nonstop orgies in front of my kid, and that’s all there is to a FemDom relationship?

Uh, no.  It’s a relationship.  It, like all relationships, requires work.  Compromise.  Give and take.  Honest, open communication.

There are bills to pay.  Errands to run.  Groceries to buy.  A house to maintain.  Sometimes shit happens that interferes with my kink life.

Reality is not a porno, y’all.  I don’t make Kazander strip down to his panties and stay on all fours as soon as he gets home from work.  I don’t do anything kinky in front of my kid.

Because she’s six.

And even if she was old enough to mentally handle something like that, just ew.  I can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than my daughter being that knowledgeable about my sex life.

What I do with her father, behind closed doors, is none of anyone’s business, including hers.

But my relationship dynamic?  I don’t hide that, because there’s nothing to hide.  She knows Mommy is the one in charge.  She knows Mommy is the one who makes the decisions, and she knows not to fuck with Mommy.

She also knows that I treat Kazander with respect, and I listen when he speaks.  She knows that love and happiness are not things you have, but things you do.  It takes work.

Creating a submissive mindset

One of the things I’ve been asked most often by inexperienced Dominant women is how to create a submissive headspace in their partner.

And yeah, it can be tough.  Real life and its responsibilities can make things difficult, and put a sub’s headspace far from where it should be.

The best way, in my experience, is to appeal to the sub’s lust and desire, and combine that with surprise and humiliation.  This combination creates a firm reminder of his position in the relationship, and the surprise is to jar his head a bit, to break the hold that the real-world bullshit has on him.

Interestingly enough, I was just talking today about something I’ve done to surprise and alter my boys’ headspace, so I figured I’d do it again tonight.

Kazander’s had a rough couple of weeks at work.  Like, rough enough that he may start looking for a new job.  And rough enough that trying to achieve a submissive headspace when he gets home takes a lot of effort.

There are a number of ways to combat this.  But one of the most effective is one of the simplest.  You can’t do it often, or it’ll lose some of the effectiveness, but when it’s done right, it works wonders.

I told him to text me when he was on his way home from work.  As soon as I got his text, I took the kid next door and left her with the SIL, who had agreed to watch her for a few minutes.

Then I grabbed my strap-on.

I was standing there, with the strap-on harness on and lube in hand, when he walked in the door.

I’ve done this to him before, but not for a long time, so he was sufficiently surprised.  After a long day, it was the last thing he expected.

Without a word, I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.  I bent him over the back of the couch and reached around to unbutton his pants.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he said.  He’d just gotten home from a long day in a warehouse with no climate control.

But honestly, I don’t care.  So what if it’s a little dirty?  There’s this new invention out, brand spanking new, just hit the market today.

It’s called soap.  And indoor plumbing.

And I felt like objectifying him just then.

“Shut up,” I told him, pulling his jeans down and exposing his ass.  And as soon as I did, his lust took over (I know, it doesn’t take much).  When he felt my hands on his thighs, he moaned softly and pushed his ass out, wanting to be fucked.

Such an eager anal slut.

I didn’t say anything as I started pounding him.  In that moment, he wasn’t a man, he wasn’t a person.  He was just a hole for me to take my enjoyment from, and I wanted to make sure he knew it.

The play didn’t last long.  It didn’t have to.  After I’d had my fill of fucking him, I pulled out, spanked him once, then just walked away and left him there with his pants around his ankles.

He sighed and pulled up his pants, his headspace firmly where I wanted it, the rough day at work forgotten.  After we’d cleaned up, he dropped to his knees behind me and asked to kiss my ass and my feet before we went to get the kid.

All in all, it lasted barely twenty minutes.  And he was in a much more relaxed and submissive state of mind the entire night.  Just twenty minutes, that’s all it took.

It’s so simple, but so effective.

King of the castle

I’m a heterosexual submissive woman who has always been simultaneously turned off and fascinated by submissive men, and I was hoping you could maybe shed some light on them, and why you’re attracted to them.

For me, I’m turned on when I see a man in all his glory, strong, powerful, and in control.  It’s so hot knowing that he has that strength in him.

And it feels so secure knowing that he has everything.  That he can handle everything.  All I need to do is trust him and do what he says and everything will be alright.

I’m a strong woman.  I love the quote “Don’t look for a princess in need of saving.  Look for a queen willing to fight by your side.”  I could never take a weak man seriously.  I need a strong man.  It takes a King to rule me.  Nothing less.

I couldn’t imagine a relationship with a man who isn’t capable of handling me.

But I’ve talked to a couple of submissive men and I’m wondering if maybe I’m way off base here and there’s like this whole element I’m missing.  Am I missing anything here?

What is it about submissive men that you find attractive?  Why do you prefer them over a good Dominant man?

Haven’t you ever just wanted to relax and let someone else take the lead?

No.

No I have not.

I’m guessing you’re a new-ish reader.  Welcome to the blog, and thank you for writing.

But I have to ask…  Did you happen to notice those tabs there on the left?  At the top of the side bar?

Does no one read anymore?

You want to know what I love about submissive men?  That link is a good start.

As turned off as you are by submissive men, multiply that by a few thousand and you’ll begin to hold a candle to a fraction of how I feel about most Dominant men.

They don’t just turn me off.  They literally repulse me.  Whenever a guy starts to get all “Domly” with me, it makes my skin crawl.  Even thinking about it makes me cringe.

Sounder once described a conversation with a Dom douchebag, who told him,”The king gets to fuck the queen, and all you get to do is lie at her feet.”

His response was, “Any weak, self-absorbed asshole can fuck someone.  But to protect and serve a queen requires actual strength and fortitude.”

Now, don’t get me wrong.  You’re into Dominant men.  What turns me off to them probably turns you on.  You and I are apparently on complete opposite sides of the spectrum.

And that’s fine.  That’s the kind of man you want, that’s the kind of relationship you want, and more power to you.  It’s all about what makes you happy.  You seem to know what makes you happy, and that’s a good thing.

But you’ll have to forgive me for raising an eyebrow or two as I read this.

First of all, regarding weak men.  There is nothing wrong with weak men.  Not everyone can be a hero.  Not everyone has that strength of spirit.  I have loved my fair share of weak men, and there’s just something so guileless and trusting and vulnerable in the way they love.  It’s unique to them, and they have their place.  They’re beautiful, their weakness is beautiful.

But I know you don’t think all submissive men are weak (or that all weak men are submissive.  I can list a terrifying number of weak “Doms”).

You’re a submissive and you claim you’re a strong person.  I believe you.  My reasons for believing you, despite the fact that I don’t know you, bear a post of their own, but for now, we’ll just simplify it and say I fully believe you are a strong person.

If you’re a submissive, and a strong person, why would you think that wouldn’t be true for a submissive man?

Have you read any of my posts describing my subs?  They’re the strongest people I’ve ever met.  The things they’ve endured, the things they’ve been through, the way they’ve come out the other side, stronger and harder, is awe-inspiring.  All three of them have impressed and astounded me.  They’re absolutely incredible, and I consider myself lucky to own them.

You talk about kings.  My subs are the kings in my world.  But they do not rule me.  I rule them.

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My world is like chess.  The king doesn’t hold the power; the queen does.  The game is won or lost by her decisions.  The king lives or dies by her choices.  She leads the army, she charges into battle, and she fiercely protects her king.

She’s brutal.  And manipulative.  And relentless.  No one questions her.  No one challenges her.

That’s my world.  And it takes a strong man to handle me, to handle what I put them through, what I make them endure.  I’m not gentle with my boys.  And there have been many who simply couldn’t handle what I wanted.

Kazander, Steel, and Sounder are strong men who can handle me, can handle being owned by me and can handle being in a relationship with me.

That asshat Dom claimed he was a king, but he was just a little boy who wanted to boss someone around.  And sadly, there are a great number of pricks like him.  I could never respect a man like that.  I could never take him seriously.

I love Sounder’s response to him.  But that Dom wasn’t a king.  Sounder is.  He deserves every bit of the respect I feel for him.  He has the strength and fortitude it takes to serve selflessly, to put someone else’s wants and needs before his own.

It’s like a conversation I had with Steel recently, about why I wasn’t actively looking to have penetrative PIV sex.  Because anyone can fuck.  But it takes a special kind of man to give me what I want, who can meet my depravity with eagerness, who can willingly follow me down that dark, twisted path.

Anyone can hold a woman down and fuck her.  Dominant men and the people who like them are fine, and have every right to have what they want, have the relationship they want.  But to me, there’s just nothing special about a Dominant man.  They’re a dime a dozen.  And I’ve only ever met one I could respect.

Submissive men are special.  They’re incredible.  They’re admirable and wonderful, and I could fill page after page with words about how much I love them.

My subs are the kings of my world, and they have the strength and fortitude necessary to serve me selflessly and follow me wholeheartedly.

The last two nights

**Notice**

This post contains a picture of needle play.

I love needle play.  The more I do of it, the more I love it.

The more I do it, the more I want to do it.

I was invited to a FemDom dinner at Sadie’s the other night, and asked her if I could grab a couple of hypodermic needles from her.  She opened up her massive box-o-sharp-shit and said, “You’re going to have to narrow it down.  What are you going to use it for?”

“Punishment.”

She grinned — a grin Kazander says he’s seen too many times on my face, and I love seeing on hers.  God, I fucking love that chick — and handed me four needles, still in their packaging.

“Oh wait,” she said, grabbing one more.  “Take this one, too.  If you really want to get your point across.”

I looked through the packaging at the needle inside and my jaw dropped.  “What the fuck is this even used for?” I asked.

“You mean medically?  I have no idea.  It’s pretty, right?”

“Fuck yes it’s pretty!”

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She gave me 4 mean needles (only 3 pictured) and one massive bitch of a needle, that I cannot wait to stick through a scrotum or cock.

So the next time I need to punish one of my boys, those things are coming out.

I had a few needles left over from Sounder’s play party, and decided it was time to try those out.

So last night, I paused the show we were watching and turned to Kazander.

“Is needle play still a hard limit?”

“It’s not a hard limit so much as a soft limit.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m willing to try it if it’ll turn you on.”

He says my whole face lit up at that point.  “It’ll turn me on!”

So I pulled out the needles, gloves, and alcohol and practically tore his clothes off.

It didn’t matter that the needles were small, and it wasn’t going to cause him a lot of pain.  It didn’t matter that it was going to be short-lived, and I would take the needles back out soon.

I just wanted to shove pointy things in him.

So I did.

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And they look so pretty

And really, he handled it pretty well.  Once I had all three in, I asked him how he was doing, and he said he was fine.  It wasn’t something he enjoyed, but something he would tolerate for my enjoyment.  And he’s willing to try staples and sutures, as well.

So I’m happy with that.  That was a good night.

Then, tonight, I spent the evening with Sounder.  He wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to skip the playing and sit on the couch, watching TV and having a couple drinks instead.

And I swear, that was my full intention.

But I pulled him close and wrapped my arm around him, and just started running my fingers across his arm, shoulder, and chest.  And when I felt his nipple, nice and hard, through his shirt, I couldn’t help but hurt it.

It wasn’t even really a conscious decision.  I pulled him close because I like having him close.  There was nothing nefarious there.  It was a simple, innocent desire to cuddle.  I ran my fingers across his body because that’s a habit of mine.

Still innocent.

Even the first few seconds that I teased his nipple, it wasn’t with any sort of intention.  But then, with that first little gasp of his, the sadist in me sprang to fucking life and you’d think I hadn’t fed her in weeks.  She was starving, and the only thing that can satisfy that particular hunger is a sweet, adorable sub writhing in pain.

The more I hurt him, the more he squirmed, and the more I wanted to hurt him.  When I reached down and felt that he was hard, it only made me want to hurt him more.

I pulled him closer and bit down hard on the back of his neck, making him gasp.  I dragged my nails up and down his back, I bit him, I pinched him and dug my nails into his nipples and cock, and I loved the way he writhed in my lap.

An hour later than I intended, I finally let him up and grabbed my things to go.  As he was walking me to my car, he said, “I don’t know how you pulled that off.”

“How I pulled what off?”

“We were just sitting on the couch.  Watching TV.  Innocently.”

I grinned.  “There’s no such thing as innocent.”

I swear, y’all, I actually am capable of being completely vanilla and keeping my hands off of my toys when I need to.  I can keep control and not paw at them like pieces of meat.  I know this because I’ve been in public with my subs before.  Because I’ve had subs at family gatherings before.  Everything has been completely vanilla.

So I actually am capable of not treating Sounder like an object to amuse and entertain me.

Just not all the time, apparently.

Don’t touch me

I like to cuddle just as much as the next person.  I love lying in bed with Kazander resting his head on my shoulder, his arms and legs wrapped around me.  I love sitting on the couch with Sounder and pulling him close.  I love when Steel curls up in my lap.

It feels awesome, and I love it.

But there is one thing I love decidedly more than cuddling.  And that is sleeping.

Cuddle all you want.  But when I’m ready to roll over and go to sleep, get the fuck off me and stay on your side of the bed.

Like seriously.  Stay there.  Sleep time and cuddle time do not overlap.

I’ve been told I can be downright mean in the middle of the night if someone comes up behind me to spoon while I’m asleep.

Which, by the way, I don’t remember doing.  But multiple partners have told me that over the years, who have never met or spoken to each other, so I assume it’s true.  And I have gotten better about that.  Now, for whatever reason (maybe I’m just more aware of it) it’ll wake me up, and I’ll make sure I’m nice.

When Kazander has done that, I’ll wake up, put my hand over his, and let him spoon until I get hot or uncomfortable, then I’ll wake up again, push him off me, and go back to sleep.  No meanness.

Also, waking me up in the morning can often require a hostage-negotiator level of tact and diplomacy.  Although again, I’ve gotten better.  I don’t throw my phone at whoever is trying to wake me up anymore usually.

It’s part of my neuroses.  I like my sleep. And I am the polar opposite of a morning person.  I once lamented to Sounder that I had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn for something (ie, 8 am).

I like my sleep.  And I like my space when I sleep.

Kazander has taken that a step further.  Over the last few months, he’s started to sleep on the couch in the living room.

He’s not there every night, but definitely most.  He maybe only sleeps in bed with me once a week or so.

And I love this arrangement.  Particularly since, regardless of how big the bed is, he likes to sleep on-fucking-top of me.

It’s sweet, and I can’t be mad at him for wanting to be close, but ugh, get off me.

The couch thing didn’t start because of an argument or anything.  We can blame it on the spawn, actually.  She’s not a morning person, either (which makes me sublimely happy), but she does have the habit of coming into our room at 4 or 5 in the morning, wanting to watch TV or some water or whateverthefuckelse a 4-year-old can think of, and falling back asleep either in our bed or in her bean bag chair.

I can wake up, put on Peppa Pig (which I’m convinced was created by angry child-haters bent on getting back at all the people who reproduced.  Like, a bunch of people sat in a room and said, “All these fucking obnoxious kids are everywhere.  We hate them.  How can we get revenge on those stupid assholes who created them?  What is the absolute worst thing we could do to torture them for making all these fucking kids?”  And the answer to that was Peppa Pig.  I’m serious, it’s fucking brutal.  You cannot convince me that show was created under any other circumstances).

What was I talking about?

So I can wake up, get her whatever she needs, and fall immediately back to sleep.  Kazander cannot.  When she comes in at 3am and wakes us up, he can’t get back to sleep.  He’s up for the rest of the night.

So he took to sleeping on the couch, she leaves him alone, he gets a full night’s sleep, and I get the bed to myself and don’t have a 10,000 degree blanket wanting to get all up on me in the middle of the night.

Everyone wins.

And with nights like tonight, it’s actually kind of hot.

We were getting ready for bed, I was standing in the bedroom next to the bed, plugging my phone in, when he came up to hug me.  I smacked his ass, and when he tried his typical move of pushing me off balance so I fall onto the bed, I responded by hip-tossing him onto the bed instead  (which, due to a recent shoulder injury, is a move I’m hugely regretting right now.  Not my brightest moment.  But he wasn’t expecting it, and his reaction was hot, so it was worth it).

I held his arms down and bit his nipples and his ear, grinning when he gasped and squirmed.

Really, he squirms so pretty.

Funny how a knee placed strategically between his legs quiets that squirming, though.

He tried to adjust my grip or move my hand or something, I don’t know, so I let go of one wrist to roughly shove his head to the side and bite his neck, while rubbing his dick with my knee.

“You’re my bitch,” I whispered, gripping his balls hard enough to make him moan.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your bitch.”

“Good boy.  Now get the fuck off my bed.  Hurry up, or you’ll end up sleeping in a kennel in the closet.”

He whined once, then got off the bed, dropped to his knees, and kissed my ass like the good bitch he is before going back out to the living room for the night.

Punishment in the day-to-day

Domina Jen,

I’ve never been all that interested in D/s outside of the bedroom.  I guess you’d say I’m a bottom, rather than a sub.  But one of the biggest issues I have with a 24/7 D/s relationship, and the biggest reason I think it doesn’t work in the long run, is this idea of punishment.

You talk about respecting your subs, but how can you respect someone when you punish them?  Isn’t that treating them like children?  How does punishment and the ability to punish a sub for their mistakes fit into a healthy relationship?

Anonymous

Well…

First of all, define “long run.”  Because I have a 6-year-long relationship and two year-ish-long relationships that say you’re full of shit, bro.  Just because it may not work for you doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.

And I have to laugh whenever people claim that punishment only exists in D/s relationships.  Because it’s absolutely not true.

I’m going to quote Steel here.  You can see a sub’s point of view on it.  Now he’s never been punished by me, but this is not his first D/s relationship, and he’s familiar with the practice.

Anyone who’s suffered through a lengthy drive in silence can attest to the fact that punishments exist in conventional relationships. However, behavior is coded in faux-egalitarianism and therefore erratic and often arbitrary. In contrast, those living in a lifestyle BDSM relationship usually have an explicit binary of power and specific rules which, if broken, lead to a submissive being punished.

Punishment is not an exclusively D/s thing.  Regulated punishment is an exclusively D/s thing.

D/s relationships don’t just work, they work better (in my experience) than vanilla ones, because, in no small part, of those blue sentences up there.

In a D/s relationship, expectations are hammered out in agonizing detail, rules are set and agreed upon, and the dynamic is given quite a bit more attention than in your average conventional relationship.  Partners are expected to talk about their needs/wants/desires/fantasies, sexual or otherwise.  The level of communication required for a successful D/s relationship far surpasses that for a vanilla one.

There are things I know about the men I’ve owned for a year or less that my friends don’t know about the husbands they’ve been married to for a decade or more.  And when you suggest they talk to their husbands, the answer is always the same.  They’re too nervous or scared to say what they want.  They don’t feel comfortable talking about sex.  It’s too taboo.

So when you have a relationship where neither partner feels comfortable enough to talk, how can expectations be hashed out with any degree of clarity?  And when one partner falls short of those unspoken expectations, there’s no telling what kind of behavior that will cause.

In my relationships, if a sub falls short of my expectations, they know exactly what will happen.  I may be angry, sure, or disappointed.  But there won’t be any cold shoulders, pouting, foot-stomping, or passive-aggressive remarks.

There will be a single punishment, with a clear beginning and a clear end, and then life goes on.  There’s no need to bring it up again in two weeks or two months or two years down the line.  And there’s no need for them to continue beating themselves up for a mistake.  It’s handled, it’s over, and we both move on with no fighting or arguing.

Sometimes, of course, a discussion needs to be had about what caused the behavior, and if there are any adjustments that should be made to the relationship.

But if there’s a problem with the dynamic, or if a need isn’t being met, then fuck yes I’m going to punish them for acting out instead of talking to me about it long before it got to that point.  I’m not an unreasonable person, and my subs are not children.  They have a voice.  And they’ve been with me long enough to know that I expect them to tell me when there’s a problem, and that they can expect me to listen patiently, and with compassion and understanding.

If I don’t know something’s wrong, I can’t fix it.  And I take no responsibility for failing to fix a problem I didn’t know existed.  They’re grown-ass men, and I expect them to have the balls to talk to me like an adult instead of acting out like children.  Fuck yes, I will punish them for that 100% of the time.

Still, they have a voice, even in punishment.  Not a loud one, but again, I’m not unreasonable.  If there’s something wrong in a relationship, my goal is to find out what it is and fix it.  But they know what I expect of them.

Now it’s important to note that I have expectations I need to meet, too.  Every Dominant does.  And my subs know that they can always talk to me about those expectations.  I don’t pretend to be perfect.  I know I’m going to fuck up at some point.

Should I fall short of those expectations, do they have the power to punish me?  Hell no.  And should there be a lengthy drive in silence, cold shoulders, or passive aggressive remarks, I know how to remind them of their place and get to the root of the problem.

So no, they cannot punish me.  They aren’t even given the opportunity to do it by more “conventional” methods.  Is that unfair?  Perhaps, but it goes right back to the very first lesson my mentor taught me.

A submissive gives up control for freedom.  A Dominant gives up freedom for control.  I don’t have the freedom to lose my temper or get petty or do any of that bullshit.  I’ve always got to be aware of that.

Do I fuck up sometimes?  Sure.  But I expect my boys to tell me when it happens and help me get back on track.

I actually fucked up just recently, with Kazander.  We’ve been dealing with a shitload of problems with his family (and depending how things go when his parents get home, we might actually be in the market for a new place to live, it’s gotten that fucking bad) and up until recently, I’ve been handling it all.

Weeks of that wears a person down, and I’ll admit, I’d been grouchy all that evening.  And I was unintentionally taking it out on Kazander, snapping at him for no real reason.  Finally, he said:

“I know you’re stressed.  But remember, you’re pissed at them, not at me.”

I immediately realized what I’d been doing.  “Fuck, you’re right.  I’m sorry.”

And things went back to normal after that.  I realized that I was falling short of my expectations of myself, and I was falling short of Kazander’s expectations of me.  And he deserves better than that.  All three of my boys deserve better than that.

Had he been the one snapping at me, I would have spanked him or done some other punishment.  He doesn’t have the power to do that to me, and he never will.

Is that unfair?  Yes, I suppose so.  But a D/s dynamic is an inherently unfair one.  I call the shots.  He doesn’t.  Steel doesn’t.  Sounder doesn’t.  No man or woman I ever own will.

That’s why my relationships work.