Showing posts with label femdom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label femdom. Show all posts

Wednesday, 20 June 2018

Kinky Actual Bucket List: Femdom Adventures I Won't Have

Just in case you thought I was living in Femdom paradise, there are plausibly doable kinky things I'd do - or I'm fairly certain I'd do - that I won't ever get to.

Temporary Chattel Slave with No Emotional Relationship

She would have to be my type..
There was a malesub on Reddit who claimed to have spent some of college as the slave to the Lesbian couple who happened to be his roommates. I'd be so up for this. There wouldn't have to be any erotic engagement from them as long as they disciplined me and kept me chaste.  I can't think of a deeper expression of my submissive love for women than to just serve such a couple.

However, I'd also be happy being the chaste slave of just one woman who didn't really know me or care about me, but did enjoy my erotic services. She wouldn't have to be my type, or even attractive. In fact the further from my type the better. Yes, it would be titillating and exciting, and there would be a measure of participative voyeurism. However, it would also be as humble an erotic situation as I can imagine.

For added points, I'd like to be casually passed around between temporary owners. "Your flat looks like it needs a clean. Shall I lend you Giles?"

This is primarily not ever going to happen because I missed the boat. I needed to have moved in BDSM circles at college or before I got married! However, even if I had done clubs and munches, I would have had to have been extremely fortunate.

Serving More Than One Woman as House Slave

I like women.
I like women. It would be awesome to spend - say - a weekend looking after a party of women as a house slave. It wouldn't have to be sexy. It would be enough to be acknowledged as a slave and otherwise ignored, except when Xena gave orders or handed out demerits.

For added points, the punishment could take place in a shared space. (Anything beyond that starts to look like erotic fantasy, and stops being "doable".)

This won't ever happen because Xena is too private, and because we aren't part of a kinky RL circle, and because even if we were it would be hard to find interested parties.

Watching While Cuckolded by a Lesbian 

Unbelievably hot.
There's an older guy on Chastity Mansion who claims, with internal consistency, to have spent the last two decades of his married life being cuckolded by a Lesbian dominatrix while being kept chaste! (It's not an entirely happy story. His wife was probably always a lesbian, but didn't know it because it was the 1970s or whatever. So what they ended up with was a good working compromise. Unfortunately his wife's kinky partner has had to move away, leaving him high and very dry.)

I find this unbelievably hot. Watching and being denied would push my buttons, as would being superseded by a woman.

For added points, this could be in the context of one of the first two scenarios.

It's not going to happen because Xena is 100% straight, or else is unwilling to explore her bi side. Even if she was, she'd have to find a female partner willing to have a slave in attendance. Too bad.pierced and sealed into a permanent titanium cage

PA Piercing with Permanent Chastity

Pierced and sealed into a permanent titanium cage (source)
Mina's Bitch over on tumblr is (or was?) pierced and sealed into a permanent titanium cage.

I can't get the pictures out of my head!

I used to think getting  a pierced dick was extreme at best, and probably unwise. Now, since we haven't had sex for four or so years, the idea doesn't seem quite so silly and the benefits - inescapable chastity - have become attractive.

Make that chastity permanent - as in this stays on until we tire of being these people - and you've got me;  a perfect storm.

It's not going to happen because... well, I don't think I want a hole in my dick. There's also the random factor - will the thing migrate? - and the need to wait nearly two months before installing a device. And Xena would have to want it, which seems unlikely. However if she did, my objections would work against me... but that's for another post.


Learn how to how to walk the same Femdom path with your partner! 

CLICK HERE to download my Femdom Erotica (all written while chaste!)
(For ebook format, 
Lulu or iTunes.)

Thursday, 18 August 2016

Consent isn't magic because submission is addictive

The vulnerable position of submissives means that consent
is simply not a magic spell that makes everything moral and OK.
I got 45 lashes last night.

Xena was wielding our new fibreglass cane and it hurt.

Each stroke hurt all on its own in its own right.

I'd wanted the whipping, deserved the whipping what with racked up demerits. It also turned me on almost painfully (bringing with it the knowledge that I have no chance of an orgasm any time soon). However, by the end of it, I just wanted it to stop.

I could have spat out my gag, said the safe word (well what approximates to it; "Xena Jesus that hurts please stop!"), but I didn't.

That wasn't a conscious choice; withdrawing consent was simply unthinkable.

I don't mean unthinkable in some porno-Femdom captioning BS way with caps, as in, "Disobeying Her, My Goddess was Unthinkable."

I mean safe-wording out just wasn't part of my frame of reference. Even if I were bleeding or badly cramped, or having breathing difficulties, those could all be handled within the D/s framework. There's no practical reason for breaking role.

I am addicted to submission and I like it that way.

I am addicted because of two issues -- or are they features? -- with being a submissive, rather than a bottom, or somebody who enjoys acting on submissive fantasies.

The first issue is that I am submissive.

We already had a vanilla domination
and submission dynamic.
 
We already had a vanilla domination and submission dynamic. Xena has always been the designated grown-up in the relationship. (A lot of non-kinky couples are like us: one partner naturally ends up in the leadership role and the other happily and actively facilitates this.) So I would tend to want to do what Xena wants, even if it didn't suit me, especially if it didn't suit me.

Now our FLR is explicit, everything about being our lifestyle reinforces this kinkier submission.

Just repeatedly acting out a role makes it functionally real over time, and we've been doing this for over two years. Even at the beginning we weren't acting anyway. The D/s worked best when it related to real things, like real domestic service and real orgasm denial that went on for days and months.

Then there's this thing that as a submissive I like to be "forced" into things I don't like -- this is where submission shades over into masochism. So I have no real will to resist things that take me out of my comfort zone.

Worse, looking back on last night's beating turns me on. Anticipating the next one is even more exciting. The more I don't enjoy it, the more satisfying the prospect and the resulting memory, and the less will I have to resist it.

I am so glad I did not safe-word.

The second issue is that I am in a poor negotiating position. 

 ...if I burst the kinky bubble, the
kink might go away for good!

On some level I've wanted this kind of relationship for my entire life. Xena, however, came to Femdom through me. She seems to be really happy in charge, and takes pleasure in the BDSM, but I know (she thinks) she could live without it.

It follows that if I burst the kinky bubble, the kink might go away for good!

This is not blackmail on Xena's part, it's just a relationship fact. If I make her feel awkward about being dominant, she won't feel like going to that place. Withdrawing consent might come at the price of her withdrawing consent forever.

Thus I am trapped in submission by my own submissive needs... which of course is a satisfying place to be.
The more I submit, the worse I suffer, the more submissive I become, the more I need the D/s relationship, the worse my negotiating position, the more trapped I am, the more submissive I feel...
(And yes, that might read better with some "tiddly-poms".)

The upshot is, though I consent to all of this, that consent doesn't mean very much. As long as we stay within the kind of sharp-edged hard limits that are enforced by lawyers or law enforcement and repaired by therapists and hospitals, my response is always going to be "Yes, mistress," or , "If that's what you want, Xena."

Really, I'm at her mercy.
That's a hell of a lot of leeway.

Really, I'm at her mercy.

If she chose to, Xena could make me suffer well beyond what would be remotely erotic.

Last night she could have whipped me until I was weeping and I would have accepted it as my lot. The other week when we were doing deep slavery, she could have made me sleep in my cell overnight then gone to work leaving me hungry (but with water) for the day.

The effect would have been the same. I would have accepted the suffering as my lot. It would have reinforced my submission. The memory would turn me on, as would the thrill of fear in anticipation of the next time.

What if Xena wanted something more extreme?

Nobody's cutting my balls off or feeding me hormones -- and she wouldn't want to. But what about a pierced penis? Or a permanent brand? Could I say no?

I would want to say no, but I would be aware of my poor negotiating position and I would consent in order to preserve the kink. The worst of it is that that lack of power would turn me on.

I don't want to be "cuckolded by a bull".
But what about another women?
Then there's relationship stuff.

Xena enjoys my company and doesn't seem to want to call up slave mode that often. But what if work became more draining? She could reduce me to a full slave for months on end and I would be unable to resist. The bleakness, the suffering and, frankly, boredom would trap me in a state of deep submission.

No I don't want to be "cuckolded by a bull". But what about another women?

Xena isn't bi as far as I know, but what if that changed? Yes of course I like the idea of serving more than one woman, or of watching. But what if she decided she just wanted to date another woman without me present?

I'd be trapped in the same loop.

And I'd give my consent. And that would turn me on.

And if she decided to push me, I have no idea how far I would go down into the darkness.

The moral responsibility rests with
the dominant.
All this means that negotiation and communication -- those shibboleths of BDSM culture -- don't really apply. 

Xena can't meaningfully negotiate for something she wants because my submissiveness and the power imbalance work together to make me consent to anything that won't destroy one or both of us.

Where's the moral responsibility?

In D/s relationships like this -- which are not unique -- the dominant partner is the only person who can really put the brakes on.

Unfair though this is, that means that regardless of the consent given by the submissive, the moral responsibility ultimately rests with the dominant.

Sorry! The vulnerable position of submissives means that consent is simply not a magic spell that makes everything moral and OK.

The take home for submissives is not just, "Careful what you wish for!" It's also, "Careful who you give yourself to!"


Learn how to how to walk the same Femdom path with your partner! 

CLICK HERE to download my Femdom Erotica (all written while chaste!)
(For ebook format, 
Lulu or iTunes.)

Thursday, 24 March 2016

Why it's more dignified to be a bottom than a submissive

Via Femdom Artists.
Here's what mainstream culture thinks about male bottoms (right):

A bottom is a wealthy older man who can pick his painful pleasures a la carte  from a professional dominatrix (though it could be an indulgent wife, perhaps a younger one with an engaging foreign accent: "'ave you been a naughty boy cheri?").

He's rakish, boyishly gleeful, and charmingly debauched.

For all that he enjoys being whipped and chained, he's not remotely dissempowered because he's calling the shots.
...sex workers facilitating
fantasies 

It's the picture we get in modern crime dramas and comedies, and best exemplified by the film Personal Services: sex workers facilitating the fantasies of men who can afford to pay for their services.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

I mean, it's OK to be a bottom (or a top... and non-charging tops are so rarely portrayed in mainstream media) and it's a good thing pro-dommes exist.

Have you been a naughty boy?
Granted. there's something a little wrong with the picture, because tops and bottoms come from all corners of society.

However, I imagine that it's nice - empowering - to be able to point to aspirational role models.

The real problem is that all this makes it far less embarrassing to be a male bottom than a submissive.

That leads people to misidentify and - worse - get into a Sub Panic and start clinging onto the power they want to relinquish by topping from the bottom.

But then, that's what the Internet is for...


Learn how to how to walk the same Femdom path with your partner! 

CLICK HERE to download my Femdom Erotica (all written while chaste!)
(For ebook format, 
Lulu or iTunes.)

Monday, 21 December 2015

Sub Panic (like Sub Frenzy, but different): a charitable explanation for Pushy Subs and Topping from the Bottom

 ...we don't usually go about getting
our BDSM kicks without the
trappings of power exchange
I think BDSM is all about the dynamic.

One person dominates, one submits and we like it that way.

My evidence for this is the observation that most kinksters are happy to expand their range beyond specific fantasies as long as they get similar buttons pushed.

For example, when I was a youth, all I wanted was to be tied up and used. Now I'm as happy - happier - to be chaste and ordered around instead. I still have no control over my genitals, I still give pleasure, I'm still used.

(I know that there are nice physical sensations to be had from BDSM. However, we don't usually go about getting our BDSM kicks without the trappings of power exchange.)

So BDSM has to be primarily about the dynamic: D/s,

For submissives, this is a big problem.

We have this burning urge to surrender autonomy to a hypothetical stranger or to an unexplored aspect of our partner. Deep down, we know that once we start on this path there's no going back. We fear that the darkness will consume us.

The natural response is to cling onto control, to go, Dominate me but make me wear this and you must do that and then you have to say this thing and I'll do that other thing but you won't make me do that thing and...

In other words to be a "Pushy Sub" and to "Top from the Bottom".  Yes, sometimes the sub is really just trying to turn their partner into an automaton. And, yes, there are a lot of supposedly submissive men out there with a sense of entitlement and a "do me" attitude.

However, some of these Pushy Subs are just scared,

I think of this as the reverse of Sub Frenzy, so I call it "Sub Panic". The cure is to let go and explore while relying on safewords as a safety net, and to trust that we will still be the same person in the morning, only more fulfilled.

(I also suspect there's a Dom Panic as well; Look it must be OK because I got consent and here's our agreed script and I've memorised where and how I could strike him and I check in between each stroke and he can use traffic light words and now I'm doing aftercare with tea and biscuits so I must be a nice person...)

Don't resign yourself to just getting off on other people's adventures! When we started out, my wife was vanilla. Use my manuals to help you walk the same Femdom path! There's one for him, and one for her

Monday, 29 June 2015

Is Femdom a Neanderthal trait? Look at your toes.

If this is true, then I would expect, long term,
Femdom to turn out to be mostly a European thing,
People, especially poly folk, like to claim that Bonobos, being our cousins, are a better guide to ancestral human behavior than more violent patriarchal primates. Bonobos are basically furry-faced Femdom hippies:
Bonobo communities are peace-loving and egalitarian. Bonobos are considered to have a matriarchal society, meaning that females have a higher social status than males and social interactions are female-centered and female-dominated. Females have strong social bonds amongst themselves, but they do not exclude males.
One in the eye for evo-psych-touting red pill guys! It also provides a nice explanation for Femdom.

Only, alas, for most of history, most humans have not been like Bonobos. Men have mostly been nasty, war-mongering, status-obsessed, woman-beating, gay-bashing patriarchal pigs, and the woman have survived and accommodated that.

This leads to a knotty problem: Femdom seems bizarrely unlikely, because a million years of patriarchy. However, Femdom seems pretty well hardwired for some people, with practitioners often reporting an interest in D/s dynamics from an early age.

It's easy to imagine Femdom pairings happening on the quiet, despite the backdrop, but much much harder to imagine a Femdom track spontaneously evolving in humans.

And yet, it really does feel hardwired.

Where might a Femdom "gene" have come from? Not from the Bonobos! However, it turns out, humans interbred with two other species; Neanderthals and a Mystery Species tagged "Denisovans".

We already know that Neanderthal genes can affect not just our physical health, but also our propensity for nicotine addiction. Why not also our sexual orientation?

There's an old theory that Neanderthals were among other things matriarchal and that their culture has left an echo in our folklore.

So a really neat explanation - for which there is not as yet any actual evidence! - is that Femdom is a Neanderthal trait, or at least the product of a Neanderthal trait for Female dominance colliding with the Homo Sapiens trait for muddling sex and violence.

If this is true, then I would expect, long term, Femdom to turn out to be mostly a European thing, basically following a distribution like this:

A genetic explanation might explain how vanilla couples sometimes simply fall through a Femdom hole. Perhaps we Neanderthals are good at picking each other out based on scent or other clues.

Speaking of which, do you have Neanderthal genes? Allegedly, you can find out by looking at your feet. Is your second toe the same size or larger than your big toe?

Or, a better definition:
If the space between your first and second toe appears to be deeper, not wider, but deeper than the space between your second and third toes
Mine is...


If Femdom is your destiny, use my manuals to help you walk that path! There's one for him, and one for her

Sunday, 14 June 2015

Where does Femdom come from? My personal theory

Why Femdom?
Every so often, we ask ourselves, why Femdom?

Why us?

Anecdotal evidence on forums certainly supports D/S as an innate orientation. Most kinksters - like most gays and lesbians - seem to report an interest in their preferred dynamic from a pre- sexual age (see links here).

Where do female dommes come from?

...a scold looks pretty much like
an oppressed domme to me.
It does seem odd that after millennia of patriarchal gender roles - whether through nature or nurture - the human race produces a significant minority of female dommes.

When you look closely at history, this oddness is however an illusion.

Certainly in historically recorded Western culture, there has always been a sense of a battle of the sexes - e.g. you see it in legal cases in Ancient Athens, and in the punishment of "scolds" in early modern Europe, and in humorous illustrations and stories, e.g. Chaucer.

Put it this way.

You don't for instance, need a scold's bridle unless you first have a scold, and a scold looks pretty much like an oppressed domme to me.

Courtly Love
Men controlled the law and the government, had a virtual monopoly on domestic violence, and still there was a battle of the sexes.

I think this means that not only have women have been resisting oppression for a long long time, but also that sexual dominance is innate and particularly strong in some individuals regardless of the cultural context.

When the culture allows it, the Femdom comes out of the woodwork.

Examples include Roman women keeping male slaves for pleasure and more, and the Medieval ideal of Courtly Love and its Arabic equivalent - though to what extent ladies made real knights jump through hoops, serve and suffer is not clear.

Modern Femdom simply allows dommes (and subs) to be themselves, much as liberal legislation does for gays and lesbians who however have always been there.

Modern Femdom allows dommes
 to come out of the woodwork 
and be themselves
Now, if Nurture - culture and upbringing etc - doesn't explain female dommes, then we are left with Nature.

Going down the selfish-gene root, being a dominant female has obvious reproductive advantages in terms of access to protection and resources with the possibility of maintaining sexual autonomy.

We can imagine the extreme example of a pre-human female in primal times who keeps a male around to protect and help feed her and her offspring, but who tends to breed exclusively with the alpha males.

It also makes sense to regard female sexual dominance as something that can often be switched on by particular permissive circumstances, which perhaps suggests the runaway success some subs experience with formerly vanilla partners.

The real mystery, then, is where do the male subs come from?

Where do male subs come from?

...editing himself out of
the gene pool. What is
going on?
Male submissives often experience their orientation as innate. However, clearly, male submission in its most extreme form confers no direct reproductive advantage; the chaste cuckold who waves his wife off to be impregnated by her "bull" might feel totally fulfilled, but is pretty much editing himself out of the gene pool.

What is going on?

One way of looking at this is to borrow from genetic explanations for male homosexuality; the reproductive benefit applies to the gene, not the individual.  

So, scientists have observed that gay men often have very fertile sisters. The implication is that the hypothetical gay gene passes so effectively from mother to many daughters that it doesn't matter that the sons don't breed.

Similarly, there is a theory that being a little bit gay makes you very attractive to women and thus more likely to breed; in a nutshell, gay men have brothers with large families.

Perhaps being a little bit submissive 
makes you better at courtship
So, imagine there is a "male sub gene".

Perhaps male subs have hot sisters. Perhaps being a little bit submissive makes you better at courtship. It doesn't matter if one son ends up as a happy cuckold, because the daughters or other sons, depending on the theory, reproduce successfully to offset this

The link could also be totally obscure, and apply only to a lost corner of our primal history. Perhaps male subs are better at smelling the approach of sabertooth tigers?

Another - and not mutually exclusive - approach is to consider specific fetishes - cuckolding, boots, chastity, cross-dressing etc - as merely culturally-determined expressions of the desired underlying dynamic.

Perhaps, before the advent of modern contraception and chastity devices, male submission was actually an effective breeding strategy? (NB not a conscious strategy, rather something that results from instincts and urges. Anytime we talk about evolutionary psychology, we have to be careful to distinguish between personal subjective motivation and why nature "favors" a behavior.)

...when a modern young man puts
himself in the "friend zone" 
Male submission could be a good way of adding a extra reproductive years to a primal male's short life. Girls mature a few years ahead of boys. Teenage boys are fertile, but usually too weedy to stand up to the adult males or - in primal times - to win an adult female's attention through dominance display.

Perhaps submission once translated as being very agreeable and compliant in the "hope" of mating a couple of times. The years would be a reproductive write-off anyway, so there would be no real cost to hanging around laying siege to a potential mate.

young male subs are often
drawn to angry young
women.
That would explain why some men adopt vanilla submissive stances as teenagers, the classic being when a modern young man puts himself in the "friend zone" (a status almost always self inflicted by the man, by the way).

It would also explain how men acquire submissive fetishes - it's easy to imagine eroticising the experience of girls being justifiably mean to you (I certainly did), and that then becoming a fetish.

However, it does not explain how submission could be a life-long orientation identifiable in pre-sexual stages. Not all kids play at tying up!

Nor does it explain why young male subs are often drawn to angry young women.

Ultimately, what's left is that male submission is really good for pairing off with a female dominant!

Femdom roles seem innate in
some people.
If that's true, then primal proto-Femdom couples must have been at least as good as breeding as their vanilla peers.

Final thoughts

In the end, all this speculation is no more useful than any other parlor game.

It doesn't tell us how to do Femdom better, and all that's required for us to feel better about our orientations is the thought at the start of this blog entry: Femdom roles are probably innate in some people. 

Just because something is natural, doesn't mean it's good or compulsory. However, it does mean that it is a fact of life.

Since Femdom does no harm, it follows that we might as well relax and focus on how to enjoy it, rather than where it comes from.


Don't resign yourself to just getting off on other people's adventures! When we started out, my wife was vanilla. Use my manuals to help you walk the same Femdom path! There's one for him, and one for her

Monday, 20 April 2015

Growing up kinky - an old memory helps me own my submission

She wasn't there.
The slave girl wasn't there.

Not so long ago, we were in a grand old house in the North of England, winding up the staircase, and I had a sudden sense of expectation. There would be this statue of a chained slave girl.

All I found was an empty niche and a note saying she was off on loan to an art gallery.

But the memories were there and they blew away the last vestige of my "submission is just a sweet spot" narrative:
Domination and submission is one of several sweet spots in a relationship. At this moment, I feel more comfortable as a submissive.
This is really just a variation on the story I used to tell myself and lovers:
As a kid, a gymnastics class taught me the sensual joy of stretching and straining my muscles. For this reason I was drawn to non-sexual bondage fantasies and tying up games. As sexuality dawned, I wove sex into the fantasies. Submission just provided a pretext, a scenario.
In a nutshell, I had convinced myself I was just a "bottom" with vivid fantasies. I suspect an awful lot of men do this. Bottoms are heroic, licentious, rakish in their search for transgressive pleasure. Subs are... well, we don't look exactly macho, do we?

But the missing slave girl told me neither of these are true.

Staring at the empty niche, I remembered back more than a couple of decades to visiting the place on the edge of my adolescence, and being mesmerized by the slave girl.

I was surrounded by naked bronze, at least half of it
slinkily female.
She was, of course, supposed to be about the horrors of slavery. However my father detected hypocrisy at work and remarked, cynically, that some people got excited by such a thing -- and that was the first time I was made aware that other people might be kinky. (He sounded slightly contemptuous of kinky people, which was probably not helpful in the long run.)

At the time, I was guiltily aware only of erotic curiosity, of wanting to slip a hand up those tempting thighs and see whether she was anatomically correct behind the wispy kilt.

However, walking up the imposing stair some three and a half decades later, I discovered I was surrounded by naked bronze, at least half of it slinkily female.

Whatever the pubescent me thought was my motivation, my real interest in the chained Slave Girl can only have been that she was a slave girl and I have a sense that I vaguely wanted to be her.

I was always -- in my imagination
 -- the victim

Yes, she was chained, but those are not chains you could strain against. Nor do they easily fit some bondage fantasy. They are there because she is a slave. (And yes, she's a Victorian fantasy slave, carved from racism and colonialism, with a side order of misogyny; I am chronicling my youthful reactions here, only. Real slavery isn't sexy.)

So even at that age, I was more interested in the dynamic than in the bondage.

So much for being a bottom.

This was also well before the confusions and knock backs of early dating could have given me the idea that submitting might be a sweet spot if only I could find it. So I can't pretend that my interest in the dynamic was a response to experience.

So much for the sweetspot excuse.

As Xena drove us south, that evening, I revisited the memories on which I built just a bottom and sweetspot.

I was one of those kids who was always interested in bondage and restraint, in dungeons and tying up games and damsels in distress and the martyr stories they fed us at school. I was always -- in my imagination -- the victim.

I was also intrigued by
tales of slavery
However, I was also intrigued by tales of slavery. For example, weird thoughts about being Roman mine slave agitated my imaginings when I was supposed to be sleeping.

I even once got a friend to tape me into a robot costume -- a confection of cardboard boxes --  and then guiltily, angrily, getting rid of the thing. It made me feel vaguely dirty.

That leads to the memory of always guiltily being aware that this was a dark fascination. In hindsight it was definitely tied to my awakening sexuality. For example, felt very agitated about a SciFi inspired game I planned in which the neighborhood girls would chase boys and then tag them with stapled-shut cardboard fetters, and then recoiled from that agitation and let the idea drop.

Then, in very early teenage, there was a visit to a castle dungeon, and a there was a girl my age who loudly gloated over all the torture apparatus.

I remember a panicky sense of loss that I had no way of talking to her, let alone striking up any sort of relationship. Here was the only girl in the universe who seemed to think my way and I was too young to do anything about it. Talk about bad timing!

Here was the only girl in the universe who
seemed to think my way
I'm not sure what I thought I'd do with that relationship even if I could have it. However, had she lived on my street, perhaps I would be with her still.

So looking back, I can see now that my fantasies, pre-sexual but sensual, then sexual, were always submissive ones rather than merely bondage-orientated, and always tending to boy-girl scenarios.

I'm just glad I ended up with Xena
I can also see that none of my submissive urges came out in the rest of my life. I was often the kid who organised the others into games, was no more obedient to adults than my peers, and didn't in any way feel drawn to caring or serving professions.

It seems to me now that I have always been a sexual submissive, the way gay people will often tell you that they were always gay.

I still think Femdom and particularly male chastity is a sweetspot. However, this really is my sexuality, and it's so ingrained, I wonder whether it might be better described as an orientation.

So there I was growing up kinky without even a word to describe it, carrying with me a terrible secret while trying to be normal. I'm just glad I ended up with Xena.

I don't think that growing up sub and dom will ever become socially acceptable or even politically correct the way LGBTQ has. I really doubt even the most liberal high schools will include BDSM in their sex education, or that fellow pupils will ever rally around a teen who "comes out" as a submissive!

However, young kinksters do at least have the internet:
Hi, I’m 18, just turned in April, but I’m interested in being a submissive. I’ve been curious about it since I was fifteen, but really started wanting to experiment this year.
Go read the full question and lunaKM's response
Meanwhile, I'm left with a question.

If this is so primal, so ingrained in my personality from such an early age, where does it come from? It's one thing to suspect humans have a D&S mode. Another thing to be born with it pre-triggered.

EDIT: Interesting Reddit thread that throws context on this. I'm certainly not the only one...
And another thread here: Earliest memories that hint at your tendency towards BDSM sexuality?

And another one: What's the etiology of your interest in Femdom?

And another: When did you realize you were into BDSM?

And another with a nice opening post from a Gay submissive: Where does kink come from?

And another from a dom: Found the porn I jerked off to during my adolescence at my parents' house this weekend...

And another.. How did you discover your first kink?

Don't be alone with your Femdom urges! When we started out, my wife was vanilla. Use my manuals to help you walk the same Femdom path! There's one for him, and one for her

Monday, 13 April 2015

Sunday Night Whipping: #1 Xena in retro stockings gives me a painful whipping and more...

...suddenly she's this alien creature, this
ghost from the flapper erotica I love.

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Why do I do it? Let Xena control my orgasm? Follow her orders 24/7?

Sunday night and I'm kneeling in chains waiting for Xena. I'm naked except for my Holy Trainer 2 chastity device and a sturdy iron collar that tethers me to the radiator.

I have on-site contract work this week, so the weekend was all about spring cleaning.

No sport or socializing, so I wore my Holy Trainer except to shower -- which was pleasant, actually.

Xena took control of the demerit counter and but the demerits mounted up, not just for undusted surfaces, but for things that would once have broken her mood and ejected us from Femdom world: I broke a precious champagne glass, 3 demerits. I got grumpy over her standards, 2 demerits.

This was Xena in charge.
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This was Xena in charge.

Now, at the end of 24 hours toil, with 30 demerits outstanding, I wait for my wife to come to the bedroom. I don't expect much, frankly. We've had a dry spell this year, so the best I'm hoping for is that she'll wear something sexy while she beat me.

At last I hear her tread on the stairs. She wanders into the bedroom, potters arranging ornaments, fiddles with her mobile phone, searches out some receipts...

All the while I'm kneeling in the corner, feeling time pass, powerless, and starting to hate her. What's next? A bored flogging and sleep?

...the weekend was all
about spring cleaning.

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Finally she sits on the bed opposite me, peers at the demerit counter. "Well now Giles. Thirty demerits." There's a glint in her eye. "How many slave points have you got?"

I lick my lips. "About half a dozen."

She smiles. "What would you like me to wear?"

"Stockings," I managed. "And that nice dress with the animal print."

She strides over to the wardrobe and strips down to her underwear.

I feast my eyes on her honeyed skin. The gulf between us -- her an elegant woman in her bedroom, me a chaste slave in an iron collar... it's like watching a stranger. My cock rears up against its prison.

She turns and throws me my key. "You might as well help...!"

I fumble with the key, get the padlock unlocked. "Shall I lose the collar, mistress?"

"No," she says casually. "Leave it on. Now hurry up."

I scurry around the bed and there she is all bare flesh and undies.

She hands me a stocking and stretches a long muscular leg. "Put it on."

These are warm woolen stockings, soft and cozy, not like my hard iron dungeon collar. I roll on the first, then the second, smoothing the wool over her curves, and suddenly she's this alien creature, this ghost from the flapper erotica I love.

She pulls on the dress then smiles down on me. "What do you think?"

I whimper, but I have slave points to spend. "I don't think panties are part of the costume."

Xena giggles -- so much like a flapper my cock twitches in its prison -- "They might come off later. Now help me on with my shoes." High-heeled brogues, more period style. At last she snatches up the riding whip and becomes... commanding.  "Now secure yourself."

I don't enjoy the whipping.
What a shame!
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It takes me just a couple of minutes. Velcro cuffs on wrist and ankle. Then clip chains to attachment points on the bed frame. In no time, I'm chained across the foot of the bed.

Whack!

I squeal and buck against my restraints.

"One..." counts Xena.

I don't enjoy the whipping.

In erotica, whippings often look sexy, sensual, as if those welts were drawn on with red lipstick. And you'd expect the pain to blur into a sexy haze.

But, even with my cock hard in its device, each blow hurts, there's no blurring, just squirming and yelping.

No I don't enjoy this, but I could no more tell her to stop or twist free of the cuffs than I could -- say -- stand up at a business meeting and explain that my wife keeps me in chastity. It's just not in the lexicon.

But this helplessness, that is a turn on just to contemplate now as I type this. I like living in fear of the lash, love the way this helplessness makes my slavery real.

And the beating is cathartic for both of us. Xena works off all the niggles, irritations, dissatisfaction and I take my punishment gladly; being whipped is better than being nagged or moaned at, and I genuinely do better as a husband and housekeeper with this threat over my head.

And Xena reaches ten.

She is my perfect flapper.
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She yawns and rolls onto the bed, still wearing her shoes -- they're new, so this is OK. She rests her heels on my smarting back and starts to read.

I twist to look over my shoulder. She has her knees bent. Her leopard pattern dress furls around her thighs, revealing her stocking tops above woolen clad curves. She is my perfect flapper.

Now the pain does blur with the lust. I squirm futilely. Even if my hands were free, there is a tube locked around my hard cock. This is an itch I cannot scratch.

"Help me out of my shoes," says Xena. She stretches a long leg so I can reach her laces and free her feet of first one then the next shoes. The brogues fall to the floor where I can stare at them, enjoying the way the tight feminine curve of the instep contrasts with the blocky heels.

Something prickles my spine. I flinch.

Xena giggles. "What's that?"

"Um." I genuinely don't know. Has she bought some new punishment instrument? A pinwheel perhaps.

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She giggles again. "A vibrator, silly." She rolls back, puts her wool-clad heels on my back and I hear the device buzz.

I do a mental calculation. I'm in an office Tuesday to next Monday. Tomorrow is my only window to masturbate for a week! 

The vibrator buzzes and slurps. My groin ripples in sympathy. I might just come spontaneously, and THAT would be a disaster. Otherwise, if I don't watch and she comes, my own orgasm still defers to a week Tuesday! If I do watch...

"Oh God," I blurt. "If I look then I have to wait a week and a half to come."

Xena emits a sensual sigh. "Don't look then."

I strain against my bonds and look over my shoulder...

Keep an eye out for the next installment. I make no promises. Typing this out while hopelessly chaste is exquisite torment! In the mean time, you might like this episode that happened to us last year.

UPDATE: And here's the next installment of our Femdom adventure.

Don't resign yourself to just getting off on other people's adventures! When we started out, my wife was vanilla. Use my manuals to help you walk the same Femdom path! There's one for him, and one for her

Friday, 5 September 2014

Xena crosses a line with demerits (I'm not complaining)

"You never actually finish a room when
you clean it! Five demerits."
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Last week Xena comes home from work, storms around the house, and declares, "You never actually finish a room when you clean it! Five demerits."

"Oh."

I'm more surprised than turned on.

Xena obviously likes the control the demerit system gives her, enjoys dishing out the resulting beating, but still has some difficulty owning her half of the relationship outside specifically kinky time. But here she is promising me five painful strokes with a riding whip.

"I'm sorry," says Xena sounding defensive. "But I really need to come home to a tidy house and this seems the only way."

"No. I've been rubbish. That's what demerits are for." And it's true. I felt guilty, redeemed, and hopelessly turned on.

This is how I like it. Without demerits I'm just a henpecked husband whose wife lets him wear a chastity device as long as he doesn't fuss. More importantly than that, demerits are a way to stop her from being irritated with me. If I get something wrong, she can give me a demerit and the issue is closed as long as I take her seriously, which I do.

So when we started out earlier this year, I got into the habit of coaching her. Whenever she said anything that required an apology from me, I'd say, "I suppose that was another demerit?" It usually was. Sometimes it was more. But that meant she could say that being whipped was my idea, which I also hate.

Back to last week.

On Friday, I take a gamble and tell her I'm going to stop suggesting demerits. If she wants the benefits of a slave, then she has to treat me like one.

I realize she's crossed a line
with those three demerits.
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I expect to have to bite my lip and let potential demerits slide, but they arrive one after the other, day by day. Then last night I make my report. I've met all my targets -- erotica word count, diet, cleaning.

"Very good," she says and I know she means it. She likes being in charge. 

"Was everything else the way you like it?" I ask.

She wrinkles her brow. "Yes."

"So no demerits," I say with a real sense of relief. I'm already at 35 demerits and though the prospect excites me, I know that that's a lot of strokes to take. I'm not going to enjoy that beating.

"Wait," says Xena. "Earlier on you talked over my dialogue--"

It's true. She was watching TV and I interrupted to ask how long the show lasted so I could decide whether to settle to an activity or go to bed with a book. I obviously chose the wrong moment and she growled at me.

"--so give yourself three demerits."

Even in vanilla time, I'm now
living under the shadow of the whip.
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"Yes mistress," I say and go to kneel in the corner.

She quickly calls me back to give her a foot and leg massage that lasts just under an hour. No conversation, just me mutely serving. Very much the slave.

I lavish attention on her curves. There's nowhere to go with this, no chance of an orgasm, no benefit in yearning to creep further up to her thighs and pussy but that's fine. It's like being a teenager again -- OMG I'm touching a woman's leg! Running my hands over it! I would be a walking--kneeling-- horn, except that the Holy Trainer 2 keeps my cock pointing down.

And as I rub and thumb and stroke, I realize she's crossed a line with those three demerits.

Up until now, demerits outside kinky space have always been about my duties and our shared domestic  life. Did I clean up after myself? Did I complete my tasks? Did I break some crockery? Even the time I cost us money by missing a special offer on some jewelry related to something she'd asked me to do.

These new demerits were about a pretty mundane husband-wife interaction. I'd talked over her TV show, she'd got cross with me. It's a subtle thing, but it's definitely a new development. She's started to use demerits as leverage in our day-to-day relationship!

Even in vanilla time, I'm now living under the shadow of the whip.

That thought tips me over the edge and I'm leaking by the time she tells me to come to bed.

"That's a lot of demerits to administer," I say.

"Oh," she says with a smile. "I'll manage."


Don't resign yourself to just getting off on other people's adventures! When we started out, my wife was vanilla. Use my manuals to help you walk the same Femdom path! There's one for him, and one for her

Tuesday, 2 September 2014

Calling my wife "Mistress"

"That's yes, mistress."
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"And the lawn needs mowing tomorrow," says my wife.

I'm tidying away whips, restraints and dildos before sleep. I'm still hard inside my chastity device. My back is prickly from the beating she just gave me. My mouth is full of her aftertaste. however, xena is sated and thinking of other things.

 "Yes Xena," I mumble. "The lawn."

"That's yes, mistress," corrects Xena.

"Oh." She's surprised me. It always felt too cheesy, too melodramatic to call her that. "You want me to call you mistress, mistress?"

Xena nods. "Yes... but not all the time."

"Just in the bedroom, mistress?"

"Exactly."

"Yes, mistress."

Last night she fell asleep over her book
leaving me kneeling in the corner.
Find out how to get some of this in your life!
And that's how it's been for the last month. Our bedtime routine is as before. I kneel in the corner waiting orders. She has me run errands, tidy up around her. Usually she wants a foot rub. Sometimes something more happens. Then it's back to the corner. Finally, when she's ready to sleep, she lets me come to bed.

Except before, there would be a little chatter. Sometimes I'd initiate it. Often I'd get it wrong. Now the word "mistress" hangs between us like a barrier, and for those precious couple of hours she's as distant from me as a Roman domina from her slave.

Last night she fell asleep over her book leaving me kneeling in the corner.

I knelt there, wrapped in the scary, sexy knowledge that she takes my slavery utterly for granted. It's no big thing for her to have me kneeling in the corner. That's just what slaves do.

That thought was enough to make my chastity device tightened and my mouth run dry.

Ten minutes later, Xena woke up and went back to her book. She didn't even glance my way.


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