People outside of D/s are just as baffled when those things happen to them.

It took me far too many years to catch on the psychology of this kind of behavior. People often won’t tell you why they are dissatisfied with a relationship. They may not even tell you that they aren’t happy and fulfilled. They’d rather just retreat and hide.

Despite all the social aggression we witness most people are reluctant – afraid – to cause a fuss, endure friction or be thought a ‘negative’ person. They’d rather hide in silence, retreat behind walls.

Have you ever applied for a job only to find it nearly impossible to discover whether or not you’ve been hired? You haven’t but the person who chose someone else gets his or her stomach in a knot at the prospect of telling you. So they hide behind their secretary.

Many years back the stress that bosses felt when firing employees caused ‘dehiring’ consultants to do the dirty work for them. Corporations paid fat fees so managers wouldn’t have to look a discarded employee in the face.

It is the same weird timidity at work.

Similarly in the most conventional romance people will suddenly become unable for a date. They claim to be too busy with work or school. They’d rather invest huge amounts of time contorting themselves than admitting that something about the relationship hasn’t worked for them. And rather let it end than cope with the emotional risks of being open enough to discover if there is a solution.

Some fear appearing in a bad light. Others just want to move on if the thrill they expected wasn’t found.

A bottom may have found what he or she was experiencing boring. Boring in a way that left them without any desire to continue. While enduring ennui can be a part of submission it can just be tedious and nothing more.

Or the bottom may find some experiences uncomfortable and unsatisfying. But be trapped by that. Emotional state that leaves a bottom unwilling or unable to complain and explain. So they just give up.

Tops may feel that their authority or competence has been challenged. There are tops that feel confused or guilty about this. The ability to negotiate vanishes and they lapse into silence. While tops are mere mortals like the rest of it some find admitting that unendurable.

Unconfident, playmates and lovers would rather let a relationship die than undergo the demands of honest discussion, the challenge of emotionally naked conversation.

This is sad. The shy man or woman, rendered unwilling o speak loses a valued friend in fearful silence. And as those who can push past these fears can attest many of the best relationships are built on foundations that looked rocky at first.

It hurts to be shut out. Equally it hurts to be the one closing the door.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

Because my sexuality is fluid and mercurial I can say many different – even seemingly contradictory – things about my desires and needs that are all conditionally true.

In my online profiles I’ve tried various strategies for honestly capturing my sexual and affectional orientations. To be honest without confusing or overtaxing the reader.

A proper profile for myself as a submissive and masochistic man would need to be a small website of about twenty pages. Since my changes are slim I’ve never actually put out the effort to construct such. (Though I did create one consisting of several pages in the time shortly before Charles.)

What you may get out of my profiles is contingent on your expectations, inclinations and patience.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

Ebooks have been common in the make money the easy way online sucker market for some time. Now they are invading BDSM, at least the Femdom portion of it.

Ebooks are often written by people with no expertise in the subject they are covering, just a desire to make a buck. Often the rights to the books are sold to other people who also peddle it online.

The page count is often low and sometimes a series are sold as an online course. It is a real sucker’s market.

Don’t be fooled into buying an ebook or online course promising to teach you how to be a submissive man, turn your wife into a dominatrix or win a Mistress.

Everything that you need to know about male submission and female dominance is out here on the web. Again and again: there is no secret, no hidden lore; any promise of special techniques is sheer bunk.

Being a good submissive man is mostly about being a good man; taking a pleasure in deference, needing to surrender to control. And often – hooray for masochism! – happiness in pain.

The people you can learn from are the men and women who have forged successful female dominant relationships and share their experiences on blogs and forums. Don’t be tempted by the bogus offers you see on the web.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

Tweo that I’ve recently read have been almost archetypal instances of phony female domination: submissive men writing as dominant woman. And focus the trinity of their species: cuckoldry, sissyfication and extreme orgasm denial.

Because the author as created a virtual private universe the fake blogs have an internal consistency that can almost fool you.

One detail often gives the game away: panties.

Women who enjoy lingerie write of their attire with aestheticism and lyricism. The men I’m thinking of write mechanically.

For them panties aren’t something lovely. They are the master key to their obsession.

Not that I’m going to upbraid them for writing porn as fact. They are victims of their compulsion.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

I’ve never known anybody to say they were thrilled to get a picture of some unknown person’s penis. Billions of people have one so they aren’t special. If you are trying to meet people online you may want to offer something more distinctive. Besides good manners should tell you to wait until you think the other person expresses an interest.

And submissive straight guys – do you really think that is what dominant women spend their nights thinking about? Actually it normally makes lists like The Five Most Annoying Things Men Do When Writing Dommes. Sending her one just about guarantees her only response will be to hit the delete key.

On gay sites – where enthusiasm for penises is a given – such photos don’t appear.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

“A strong arm and a stinging paddle are the best training tools.”

This isn’t erotica. I wrote it many years ago to give dominant women that I met online a picture of my perception of Femdom relationships. Presented as such the responses – much to my surprise – were favorable. If you aren’t comfortable with erotic power exchange (or heterosexuality) you shouldn’t read it.

My First Mistress – Part 1

When I came to her house I was a little surprised by the size. She lived alone but it was large enough for a largish family. Big yard too. Otherwise it was a plain suburban west Durham house.

When I got to the door I tightened my stomach muscles trying to tame the partying butterflies that had moved in there. As instructed I knocked three times. About half a minute later the door opened. For a split second I thought I’d faint.

She was wearing sunglasses. I couldn’t see her eyes and my feelings of intimidation took another jump. Not wanting to look like a gawking fool (probably already too late) I started to introduce yourself.

“I -.”

“I know who you are.” She sounded impatient but out of habit than actually annoyed. “Don’t speak, just nod. You saw my car as you came in.” It was under a carport. I nodded. “Go wash it. If you aren’t going to do a good job you might as well leave now. When you’re done come back and knock at the door.” She shut the door.

She’d told me I’d have to pass a few tests. I’d been expecting something more exciting. It was probably proof of my desperate need that without hesitating I went over to the car.

There was a hose, clothes car wash and wax. I don’t own a car so I was a little lost at first. But my father used to make me wash his car when I was a teen. I hated doing that with a passion. I could almost believe that, Joan – that was her name, had read my memories when she picked this chore.

I scrubbed the car twice, including the hubcaps and tag areas. It was hot and it was tiring. But waxing was even worse. I was so afraid it wouldn’t look right I kept buffing and buffing until my arms ached. Finally it was as good as I could do and I hoped good enough.

Back at the door I waited a couple of minutes until she answered my knock. She wasn’t wearing the shades so I could see her very intelligent intense looking dark eyes. She had a few worry lines etched into her forehead but they only added to her look of smart competence. She was tall probably about five inches less than my 6’3″. She was skinny, almost boney but I don’t know that her body could’ve matter I was so sucked in by her eyes.

But she was only there for a moment. “Come back tomorrow at the same time.” The door shut.

I felt like I should be disappointed but I wasn’t. But I sure hoped tomorrows test would be less strenuous.

My First Mistress – Part 2

She opened the door and put her fingers to her lips to indicate that I wasn’t to speak.

“Follow me.”

We went through mildly snazzy but pretty conventional living room to a side room that I suspected had been a breakfast room. It was completely empty.

She looked me in the eye and I felt a mild shiver pass up my spine.

“Go in the corner,” she pointed, “and get on your knees facing the corner and keep your hands at your sides.”

I complied getting very exciting wonder what she was going to do to me.

“You will stay there until told otherwise. Keep your eyes facing the corner, your arms where they are and your mouth shut. If you decide to stop before told you just leave the house and do not come back.”

I heard her leave the room.

A few minutes passed. Then several. Then I couldn’t guess how long I’d been there. Minutes started to seem awfully long. Sometimes I thought I saw the wall move. My knees were hurting and my ankles were sore.

I started to get mad. This was awfully boring. But I didn’t dare move. I’d hungered to be trained for a long time and she was the first who ever offered to do so.

I might as well have been chained there even if the chains were only in my mind and of my own making.

Finally after an eternity that I later was told was only 90 minutes she was back in the room.

“Get up and face me.” I almost fell and legs were wobbly but I was up in a flash.

Her expression was unreadable. It couldn’t decide if she looked grim, amused or maybe even mildly approving.

“Go but you may come back tomorrow at the same time.”

I left softly shutting her front door.

I’d washed her car. I’d been bored almost to tears. None of it had been even faitly erotic. I could not guess what tomorrow would bring. But looking inside myself I knew that having been forced to conform to another’s arbitrary commands had given me some satisfaction.

But I did wonder how many more tests I’d have to pass.

My First Mistress – Part 3

As I went up the walkway I wondered how she’d test me today. And what the tests proved. And when they’d end. We actually exchanged a fair amount of email before she’d agreed to see me. We shared complimentary appetites: she like to do to men what I wanted done to me (or at least I thought: since I’d never done any of it I didn’t really know).

The door opened for the third time.

“Go to the back yard and wait for me.”

As I did so I wondered if she was going to have me mow or lawn. The fear of something like that dampened my enthusiasm but I couldn’t brind myself to stop now.

She walked out. Dressed in a pullover top, cut-off jeans, and cheap rubber sandals, “flip flops” my mother used to call them. She’d always been dressed casually before but I’d been too hyped up to really notice the actual clothes.

She went over to a pick-nick table made of greenish wood.

“Sit here. Put your right hand’s palm down on the table.”

As I complied I noticed a wooden ruler in her hand.

“You are to keep your hand flat. I’m going to give you ten strokes. If that is too much for you leave and don’t come back.”

I barely had time to steel myself before the first slap hit. But it wasn’t that bad. At first. By the fifth stroke it really stung. My fingers felt like I might not be doing much with them tomorrow but it was almost over. I thought. An eleventh stroke hit me. A twelfth. With the thirteenth she turned the ruler so the edge cut into my fingers.

I yanked my hand away.

When I realized what I’d done I wanted to cry. I’d failed and would have to leave. But when I looked at her she looked pretty pleased.

“Don’t worry, you weren’t supposed to be able to take the last one. Once you got past the first ten you’d passed the test. The others were to teach you that no matter what I say I’m going to do I can still do whatever I want.”

“You have one last test. Come with me.” Shortly we were back in the room whose corner I’d knelt in. This time there was a big wicker plantation style chain in the center. She sat in it.

“Come here, may kneel in front of me. Remember you still aren’t to speak.”

So excited I was trembling I did.

“You have no idea how many men want to be where you are now. But they don’t really want it badly enough. They don’t really want to serve.

“The first day you proved you were willing to work for you place in my service. Yesterday you showed enough determination to withstand boredom which was a much harder test. Today you had your first taste of pain. I like hurting men. If you hadn’t been able to take it you wouldn’t be suitable for me. This is your last test.

“You won’t think it hard when I tell you but it will take all of your willingness work work and to keep on even if you get bored or tired.

“I am very, very slow to orgasm. Your last test is to satisfy me with your tongue. You probably think this is a big treat.” She was right about that.

“But it will take longer than you think. If you manage it we’ll do all the things we wrote to each other about. Otherwise, you won’t have made the grade.”

Standing up she pulled off her top and dropped her shorts. She sat back down. Gesturing at her cunt she said “Get to work, slave.”

She was right. It was long. It was wonderful at first. Then it took all my determination to keep going. At the end it was wonderful again. And then I was hers.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

As I’ve proven in many a weblog entry I’m essentially a sloppy romantic. But my sexuality seems to include everything (not all of it yet documented). My ancient Live Journal entry about whipping a young Sunday school teacher and having him lick my (Army) boots is long since lost. But I still have this old entry of my one experience with a dominant woman.

Very few people have any inkling of how uncommon dominant females are. That is why most of them become a ProDomme (professional dominatrix). There are easily a hundred or hundreds of masochistic heterosexual men for the sadistic heterosexual women they seek.

Malesubs almost never understand that Femdommes prefer clever, smart, capable men. They may want to control the man but the seeming paradox is that he must be a man worth controlling. Dull, wimp doormats aren’t in short supply. I don’t think this is really mirrored in the gay S&M community. Gay men having stepped outside the boundary merely buy loving other men are more open to uncommon ways of finding sexual gratification.

And I think men (gay or straight) often think more of the physical pain than the quality of attitude. Dominant women are more often drawn to sacrificial love, worship if you will than the merely whipping (not that they don’t necessarily enjoy the whole experience).

But I don’t want this to drift into some half-essay on the nature of power exchange and gender. It is just a spare account of an afternoon when a dominant woman gave me a chance to explore my heterosexual submissive side.

On Labor Day of 2000 I had must first experience as a submissive. I wish I’d written about it then rather then rather than waiting until now when I’m in a bit of a rush and distracted.

Ms. Zandra and I had chatted on Yahoo a bit and had talked on the phone the night before but this was our first meeting. It was meant just to be two friends getting together.

We chatted for awhile. I’d had hardly any sleep the night before (partly from talking with her and partly from my habitual poor sleeping). I was anything but a lively talker that day.

She asked me if I wanted to see her floggers. What could I say but sure. So she went out to her car and brought back her bag of tricks.

And offered me a rite of passage into the world of BDSM.

She put cuffs on me tied them together, blindfolded me and wrapped a collar around my neck.

She alternated rubbing me with soft things with light flogging. And she put clothespins on my nipples.

At her instruction I said “Thank you, M’am” whenever anything actually hurt. I had no problem with the strongest flogging she felt like delivering. It confirmed my suspicion that I’m a natural pain slut. The blows excited me and made me want more.

She worked my right nipple harder than the other. Twisting the clothespin gave me the strongest pain. That made me very excited.

At the end she had me get down on my hands and knees and led me to a chair where I knelt as she petted me and rubbed my head. This last was really very moving. Something very humble and peaceful. I really wanted to rub my cheek against her shoes but didn’t know what to do.

After awhile she released me and it was over.

A real elation stayed with me for a cuple of days. This was all clearly very much to my taste and left me wanting more.

I had only one subsequent experience. It was with a guy. He didn’t really have the knack for domination. It was short and he slapped me some with a riding crop and mild flogger.

Sadly he was so boring that pain never became pleasure. But it was hardly pain, just tedious.

Thanks Ms. Zandra, it was very kind of you.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

When I first encountered the subcultures of femdom and heterosexual male submission it was almost as if I’d fallen into a parallel dimension. I started to say time machine but while some of the underlying assumptions made me think of 1950s TV sitcom gender roles it was all too askew to hark back to Donna Reed or Ward and June Cleaver.

It was all so damnably sexist. You see I don’t have friends who begin sentences with “women are … ” or “men are … ” Not a one. Most of the past decades have been spent without a television set. I don’t buy slick magazines. Foolish me I thought this had all gone the way of cars with tail fins and McCarthyism.

Foolish me indeed. Femdom caused me to become aware of Dr. John Gray, a thinker on the same lofty plane as Elise Sutton. Rendering the normal majority invisible is a nice thing but can leave you vastly ignorant of your fellow man. Female executives and feminist theory haven’t actually dispelled gender stereotyping.

Eventually I got over feeling as if I’d stepped in something icky and began to see. Really I repeated an extension of, if not empathy, understanding that followed my discovery that I found some transvestites sexually alluring. Many crossdressers – being born male – have (dated) conventional male clichéd image of what being female implies. Femininity means pleasing the male, being subservient. Most transvestites are submissive; many are masochists.

Similarly I found that many closeted bisexual men who lived as heterosexuals – mostly married – wanted to bottom. Not just in the physical sense of surrendering their sphincter muscle. There was usually a subtle – or vivid – wish to be dominated. To be rendered less masculine.

Reading bogus blogs and fantasies presented as fact it seemed to me that many submissive men are unacknowledged transvestites and bisexuals. That is why they want the woman to ‘force’ them to wear panties. And cuckold fantasies often feature the man servicing the wife’s bull.

I can’t see any value in judging these men. Not to deny that I often find their emotional gymnastics distasteful. Watching someone fib to themselves is always ugly. But fairness requires that we admit that struggling to face up to certain truths about ourselves can be a struggle.

I think it very important that these men become able to perceive and accept their transvestitism and bisexuality. That is a necessary initial step in becoming less painfully incoherent.

Self-awareness should enable them to better cope with their needs. To find women willing to help them realize their desires.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

Dominant women often employ extensive vetting and screening in selecting guys to meet. Any sane person who uses the web to search for hookups and romance does likewise. That will never prove completely foolproof. Flakes and fools will always manage to slip past the most carefully conceived filters.

Why would a man invest time and energy in currying the interest of a dominant woman, achieve it and then fail to meet her.

He’s married or partnered or whatever the right term is for someone in a committed relationship with another person. That he not be is probably the first criterion: on the web nobody knows you are phony At least until.

Fears of being caught cheating or the lack of resources with which to cheat successfully stop many men from taking the final step. In a way the women are lucky. Becoming involved with him and then discovering his falsity would be worse than sipping coffee alone.

Just plain fear: this I suspect covers the majority of no shows. Fear of:

• Exposure: of blackmail maybe but mostly of by some mysterious means that others will learn of their submissive sexuality. They fear being laughed at or damaging their career.
• Fear of you, the woman. Whatever they may have written in the back of their minds an image of dominant women as pitiless, cruel creatures. They cultivate horrific fantasies that no one could really endure.
• Fear of being found inadequate. Like so much to do with fetish and kink this is universal to all social-sexual interaction. Even though they may dream of a top mocking them as worthless that isn’t the same as meeting someone and being found literally and objectively not worth knowing.

There may also be men for whom negotiating and making the date is all they ‘need.’ Those acts are sufficiently sexually gratifying. Cynically they never plan to meet. But I think them rare.

How many men I wonder make the date, approach the location only to freeze and retreat. Maybe they watch for you across the street. Or just as they start to open the door to the restaurant selected for the appointed rendezvous stop and run away.

This isn’t to excuse their incivility. At the very least they could follow-up with an email admitting that they don’t want it takes to translate their desires into reality.

If a man has pissed you off by making a date and failing to arrive for it perhaps you can find vengeful comfort in this thought:

For perhaps the rest of his life the guy will regret that he wasn’t brave enough to meet you. And he’ll spend many nights wondering what might have been.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture

Okay, first things first regarding me doing your housework. I have no problem with this, but let’s face it, everyone wants me to do their housework. Every Dominant person in the country wants a slave to do their housework for them. So what’s so special about you, right? Let’s talk about the rest of the deal.

Hooray for him! (His ad overall is forthright and appealing.)

There’s no doubt that some tops think a D/s title or power exchange roles is far more of an entitlement than it is.

This isn’t a criticism of this kind of service submission. Just don’t be so desperate that you let people take advantage of you or use you in he wrong way. While it should be obvious it doesn’t hurt to state that bottoms, submissive persons and slaves are people.

Fetish Meme | Fetish Pop Culture