A woman writes of her lover::

A couple of folks were chatting with Philip this evening about our relationship. They were wanting him to define it for them.

Just about all he could do was assert that he wasn’t a slave, and he wasn’t owned.

We’ve never tried to define it in current yet ever changing kink terms to fit the masses. He submits to me. He can say no if he wants to. I’ll generally do what I want to do any way, and he’ll generally say…see what saying no got me?

I listen to tone of course.

I watch his eyes and for his own small signs of personal discomfort with a given situation.

I try to be reasonable, unless I’m playing SDS on him.

He’s got the option of opting out of anything at any time, all he has to do is safeout.

I say he’s mine, he says he’s mine, past that there is no set structure or protocol. It just doesn’t seem to be needed.

Nondefined structure

Since it has occurred to me that an especially moving BDSM experience with Alexandra might be called poetry or music and not scening this distinction hit me:

One of the things I’ve often noted in this sort of discussion is that there are people who speak in a poetry of romantic ambience,
about feelings and desires and emotional connections, and there are people who speak in a prose of details and obligations and contigencies (my native tongue).

M/s, history and symbolism

I am in a full time D/s based relationship now. At different times I am
his submissive, his slave, his bottom, his friend, his lover, his mate …
well, you get the idea. We are so many things to one another; I love the
complexity of our relationship.

Labels – submissives & slaves & bottoms & wenches

When I was starting out, the labels and classifications were a pretty big deal to me. It was a little overwhelming, so it was nice to have pigeonholes to put
everything into. It was comforting. It became obvious pretty quickly, though,
that there was no real concensus about these things. One person’s “slave” was
another’s “submissive”. There were lists and categories of this that or the
other thing – “Nine Levels of…” or “10 Rules For…” but they were
oversimplified, and one rarely agreed with another, and I found I didn’t
totally agree with any of them.

Labels and classifications

Labels are shortcuts for communication, and that’s their main purpose. They
can become oppressive (and, I think, a bit dangerous) when they become
avatars for some ideal state (i.e. the occasional ‘you ain’t no true slave’
crap that appears here from time to time).

Labels [mini-rant]

Labels are sometimes convenient to help us identify with a group
of people. They can also be nasty generalisations that folk use
against us.

Redefining myself

Do you mean that people attach labels like ’24/7′ and ‘lifestyle’
in order to make it seem that they are a greater Dom/sub or that there
relationship is more real, more intense than anybody else. I think that
some certainly do and this creates an impression that this has to be the
aim for everybody or else you will never be a proper Dom/sub.

You see plenty of labelling like this in personal ads, but it’s
pretty meaningless without further qualification, because it means so
many different things to different people.

Is 24/7 another way of saying “bigger is better”?

… I don’t blame a lot of the blogger’s for disappearing or hiding when the answer they give are not the answers the reader wants to hear. or they are burnt out from the derivative thoughts and opinions. And its also no wonder why there are so many fakers. I get it now you have to fit the Femdom mould in order to belong. and after all doesn’t every one want to belong. …

Will the real Femdom please stand up !!!!

We really need a special insulting term for psuedo-doms male and female. You know the type: guy’s only in it for the blowjobs, gal’s only in it to get her housework done for her? People who are users who are totally uninterested in the art and the subculture of BDSM. They don’t have years of experience: they have the same damn year over and over. How about “duminant”?

Labels

Benchmarking and labeling – The biggest problem in BDSM is the tendency, many people have, to find benchmarks and label others. Since BDSM is a very personal thing, the truth is that every relationship and every emotion is personal, hence different from others. There are no benchmarks and labels do not really help either. True dominants and submissives do not excist. In fact there probably are not even good or bad doms or subs. They are just different.

The Many Faces of the Community

Related posts:

1. Ten BDSM Crimes

Ten Quotes about Labels in BDSM
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

ProDommes & Stereotypes

I esteem a number of professional dominatrices.

As I’ve mentioned before I’ve exchanged thoughts and feelings with some on and off for years. Not as a client: I’ve never (yet) paid for an evening’s S&M.

Nor necessarily about kink. Many of these conversations predated my relationship with Alexandra or my writing about fetish. They didn’t know of my masochism. We shared some other interest or they esteemed something I’d written about sexuality (probably gender identity).

So I felt a bit uncomfortable with a remark I found on a blog:

Just because [submissive male partner] will allow me to perform some act on him, and while he may desire it, it does not mean that I should or will perform it. Besides any legal issues, it has to be done within the boundaries of my own comfort. I am not a pro-domme, nor do I seek to act like one.

(Link not given: it is irrelevant and I have no desire to spark any friction.)

The point about the dominant’s comfort is well taken. The dominant needs to remain in his or her individual comfort zone. Though typically bottoms want their tops to do just a little bit more. (We are a greedy group aren’t we.)

But I demur at the notion that a dominant woman who enjoys more colorful play is akin to a ProDomme. Look at the explorations that Alexandra and I have shared. And the Perv-O-Meter is apt to register in the higher ranges when she returns.

Just good clean risk aware physical and emotional roaming around the byways of kink seeking to share certain mutual pleasures that are a part of our love.

I’d never suggest someone is not a “true dominant” because they have limits. (One of those things too many bottoms forget.)

Alexandra’s degradation and physical punishment of me doesn’t make her a professional dominatrix. She’s my lover.

But she’s not a better person for not being a ProDomme.

Even kinky people can be manipulated by the mass media clichés about professional dominants. Sure, some of the women abet those perceptions on their sites. That is just showmanship, letting the customer know that he can live his fantasy. Dig deep enough in the site and you’ll find it clearly stated that the client’s safety is paramount and insane requests won’t be honored.

ProDommes are often bright, cheerful, smart women. Mistress Matisse is sort of the poster girl of the good ProDomme.

So many of the women are creative. They know they are performance artists.

Do you think it is easy to put on all that garb to be the glamorous and pungent realization of a man’s dream. That while they like looking sexy maybe they’d rather relax in a t-shirt and sneakers?

Resilience and resource is required to stay sane and happy when many of the clients are demanding, whiny, bent in anything but a fun way. So many different performances with men who’ll become angry should your role drop if only for a moment.

Empathy and insight is necessary to get through the day. A good professional dominatrix – I’m sure there are plenty of rotten ones – just as there are incompetent plumbers and spiteful store clerks – develops real insight into human sexuality. A rough and ready wisdom that is nothing to be despised.

I suspect able sex workers have done more for human happiness than psychiatrists with the bottles of pills who often treat their clients like experimental lab animals.

No related posts.

In Praise of Professional Dominatrices
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

Slave Conditioning

(In this I a share small slice of some of the images that have haunted my fantasy life of late. Vanity, vanity: there are no new kinks under the sun. Nor am I a writer of erotica. Caveat lector.)

We’d spent some time in emails, instant messages and over coffee learning how compatible we might be as owner and slave.

I’d had some experience with sadists but felt I had needs that had never been met. Extreme needs. You were skeptical. Finally I convinced you of my sincerity.

You agreed to give me a taste of what I said I wanted. But only if I accepted your stipulations. My vacation was coming up. If I agreed that for three days I would – with my limits honored – become your unconditional slave then you’d offer me a chance to explore my dreams. At the beginning of the fourth day you’d give me the choice of freedom or continuing until I’d spent a full week within your power.

My need aroused you but you’d heard the same story before from men who could never live up to their pledges.

Hungrily I leapt at the chance.

Friday night after work instead of driving home I went to your house. You let me in and – in accordance with the script you sent me – I dropped to my knees and bent my head down. Then you handed me a trash bag, ordered me to strip and put my clothes within it.

You walked into anther room. I crawled behind you. Stopping you turned and sat. I remained on all fours waiting. Probably you sat silently in front of me for only a few minutes, though it seemed as if my arms would fail me before you spoke.

At last you told me to surrender or leave.

Then I recited the ceremony of surrender memorized from an email you sent me. Almost legalistically I promised my obedience and begged to give my mind and body to you.

You made a sound I couldn’t quite make out but I thought you were laughing quietly to yourself.

You ordered me to close my eyes and lift my head. I felt you pull a hood over me. When you told me I could open my eyes there was nothing but blackness. The hood had no slits for the eyes.

Rising at your command I followed as you led me by the hand. I almost fell as we walked down stair. Again I wondered if I heard a laugh.

Pushing me down you ordered me to kneel. I heard the metallic clanking of chain and felt a collar wrapped around my neck. A lock snapped in place.

Telling me to feel free to do whatever I wished you bid me goodnight.

Goodnight? It was still very early in the evening.

It had been early evening when I’d been chained by a collar. Being bid goodnight and left alone took me aback. Surely you – my new owner – would be back shortly.

As I sat there the world invisible on the other side of the hood I registered that the floor was covered with a thick carpet of straw. Feeling about I seemed to be in a small room but the walls were only a few feet high.

Wondering about my place of confinement kept me from becoming bored. Then, true to my hopes I heard footsteps. What if it were some stranger? Then I heard you reminding me that I’d promised to never speak without being invited.

Off came the hood and I found myself in what appeared to be a stall like you might keep a horse in. I started to look up but you lightly backhanded me and bent my head back down.

This you told me would be both my bedroom and toilet and that I would be expected to clean it every day. Then telling me you’d see me in the morning you left.

A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling shed harsh light all around. The room was so stark and unfinished that couldn’t tell if I was in a basement, garage or barn. The collar’s chain was attached to the back wall, just long enough to let me reach the opening of my stall.

Hurt, confused, strongly aroused I didn’t know what to do. For a time I made an attempt to curl up on the straw but it made me itch and didn’t really soften the floor.

Needing to piss I realized I had no choice and crawled to a rear corner. Relieved I leaned against a wall as far away as possible.

The light and discomfort made deep sleep impossible. I’d nod off only to wake up startled by hallucinations of punishment.

Trying to make peace with getting what I asked for there was nothing to do but wait for the night to pass.

Sustained sleep finally found me that first night, I awoke to the pressure of your boots on my crotch.

When you asked me if I were hungry my stomach began to growl and I admitted that I was. My food would have to be earned you said.

From a box you handed me an ankle cuff. Then cuffs for my other leg and my arms. Chains and locks followed linking my wrists and legs to each other and together. Unlocking the chain from my collar you bid me follow. I stood up. A swift kick sent me back to my knees.

On the other side of the door was a large, completely enclosed backyard. My prison was a garage.

Taking me to a corner you showed me a pile of rocks. My morning task was to pick each carrying them one at a time to another corner. You stretched out in a lawn chair in the shade of a tree. My labor was your entertainment.

As I began to tote the rocks pity for myself was my main emotion. Last night was boring. This was worse than boring. But I’d agreed to it. My natural passivity and not a little fear kept me from rebelling. Quietly I carried rocks.

After a time, weary and hungry, I started to stumble. Coming to where I was you told me to drop down and follow. We went back in the garage. Back in my stall you relocked my collar to the chain.

From a cabinet you took out a bag. Putting your hand in you scooped out something then told me to open my mouth and eat. It was soft cat food. After a moment’s shock I realized I was too hungry to care. I was grateful.

After several handfuls you closed the bag. I heard the sound of running water. You brought me a small bowl and told me to lap it up. It was the most delicious water I’d ever drunk.

Telling me to rest for my afternoon chores you left.

Thankful to have been fed and watered,weary I curled up on the floor and nodded off.

I awoke before your return. When you removed the chain from my collar I didn’t need to be told to crawl after you.

You had me returne to the rocks. Now was to tote to their original location. Tired from the morning this took longer.

Finished I crawled over to you and bowed my head. You ordered me back to my stall.

Back in the barn you gave me a shovel and bag to clean up the space I soiled.

Then handfed and watered me again. Deep hunger made me thankful to eat. And I was thankful for your attention.

Bring out a short chain you put it on my wrist cuffs running it behind my back. Then you locked my collar chain back in place.

Since it was even earlier than the prior day I was disheartened when you said you were finished with me for the day and left. Without you left all I’d have was myself.

With my arms behind my back I couldn’t find a comfortable position on the floor. Leaning against a wall I felt sorrier than ever for myself, wondering what madness had led me to agree to be treated this way.

If nothing else I could pass the time by masturbating. Then I realized I couldn’t touch my own penis. Now I knew why you’d locked my hands behind me. My inability to stroke myself aroused me leaving me even more avid to. Momentarily I thrilled to my loss of fredom. And was able to relax.

Tired from slave labor, from a bad night’s rest I nodded off. Sleep was fitful but each time I awoke I forced myself to fall back asleep.

The second day was identical to the first. Except my muscles were sore. Being fed and watered were the high points of my day.

Locked in place I rehearsed telling you on the fourth day to return my freedom. I must’ve been crazy. Some would be surprised that I didn’t beg or demand release. You’d made it very clear that I’d be held to the letter of our contract. And made to regret any plea to cancel it. And my natural passivity took hold of me.

On the third morning I woke very early. Uncomfortable and restless I waited for you. Even carrying rocks for no reason was better than sitting doing nothing. Your presence was all I had to look forward to.

On the third morning you gave me food and water immediately. Eating from young fingers had become to feel natural. You left for a bit.

Returning I saw a cane and a stool in your hand. Sitting on the stool you told me to get up on my knees and look in your eyes.

As you told me that I had adapted well to being worked. You stroked my head. Acknowledgement and contact made me even more grateful than the food.

Carrying rocks you told me was a lesson. That as a slave my goal in life was fulfilling your desires even if they served no purpose.

You told me that you could tell how appreciative I was to eat from your hands. I was learning, you said, that if I wished to serve you then I must accept total dependence.

Leaving me alone was to teach me that the greatest punishment I might know was to be forgotten and ignored.

This was all so true that my Goosebumps slalomed up and down every part of my body.

Holding the whip in front of me you told me that today I would learn about pain. Pain you would inflict only for the joy of watching me suffer. It would be a long day and I would come to know many devices and toys.

If when I awoke tomorrow with welts, bruises and cuts I still wished to remain then there might be a permanent place for me in your life.

Afterword

When my inner movie house shows this feature it has many variations. A small cage instead of a stall or one of those chain link pet confinement areas and I’m kept outside.

Naturally it is all embellished with hesitations and failures that require correction.

But I didn’t want to tax my circumscribed powers anymore than I already did. And wanted to keep the sequence away from typical male slave written S&M porn (nothing wrong with that, but there’s a host of it out there).

(It was split into sections because I was chatting with Alexandra while typing it up and the divisions made it easier for me.)

To focus on the training was my goal.

Learning to accept orders that have no point other than to be obeyed.

Coming to feel grateful for even the food and water allowed.

Using loneliness to make the owner’s mere presence fulfilling in itself.

A spare scenario of emotional conditioning.

One trusting reader asked me how long ago all of the above had happened.

No related posts.

Attitude Adjustment
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

(From over three years ago. I remember Bitchy Jones liked the mashed potatoes.)

A week or so ago I was back at the Nifty Archive looking for nasty ideas to make my own. A story opened with a guy being forced to stay naked on the back porch. Oh, yes, I thought how many times have I …

Oh damn, it is cold and it makes him slightly ill. I can’t go there. I have to be very careful about the cold. Under certain circumstances I become very ill for anywhere from two to five days from cold air and moisture. (Been true since I was eighteen. My doctor can’t see any cause.)

Discomfort I think was the final refinement of my dirty dreams of this kind of extended power exchange. Discomfort isn’t really the right term but noncomfort isn’t a word. Call it the absence of comfort.

In my fantasies the top doesn’t often have much to say, nor do I: lack of imagination. The exception is in explaining what they are about to do to me and why. She or he seemed delighted to offer a clinical exposition technique and process. Preambles that induce trepidation in advance of the experience.

Like a contented mad scientist anticipating his or her destruction of the world I am told:

That I will no longer sleep on a bed. My collar will be chained to the bathroom wall and I will rest on the cold, damp floor. Maybe the light will be left on to render whatever sleep I manage even less satisfying. The bathroom is chosen because it is cramped and access to the toilet will keep me from making a mess. (Alternate take: a pole in the backyard.)

No more use of furniture. Unless needed I will be kept in designated spaces in prescribed postures. Often muzzled, blindfolded and ear plugged: limited self-expression, my mind turned on itself.

My food will be at best boring, perhaps even distasteful. Cold instant mashed potatoes and boiled liver for example. Pissed on dog food should my behavior be found wanting. Should I hesitate to eat what is offered I will go without food.

And piss or other unpleasant things will be all I ever drink.

Orgasms? Rare: only often enough to remind me of what I’m missing.

In this the dominant’s goal isn’t pain. It is the absence of certain kind of stimuli. So that pleasing the top becomes my primary – only – pleasure.

As I’ve noted before these fantasies seemed to accompany an increasing desire to be submissive. For me deepest submission creates the illusion of a loss of self and consuming focus on, responsiveness to the person controlling me.

There’s nothing rare in any of this except perhaps my ability to coolly appraise it.

The negation of comfort – given an aware and compatible partner – is probably within the realm of possibility. That is rare among the weird and silly ideas guys like me have.

I actually wrote this all up once. But it is so over the top even I would be embarrassed to publish it.

Original post with comments: Discomfort.

No related posts.

Diminishment
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

(I got a note saying that someone on Informed Consent swiped this without credit. Rereading it I find I still enjoy it and thought I’d repost the list here on BDSM Romance.

Individuality – we each express who we are without regard to the bogus conventions, sham rules and kindred nonsense that is often propounded as truths on the web.

Erotic Beauty – Ordinary people they say have fifteen minutes of sex a few times a week. Pneumatic action followed by sleep. In our power exchange “sex” can last for hours and the afterglow for days. (Yeah, this is two words.)

Pet – I’m in love and on my knees. Resting my head on her knee and waiting for her hand to brush the back of my neck is one of the happiest spaces I can go to.

Creature – (Not really explored. But I want ten.) Less than human object. Existing to be used: inarticulate, obedient without thought.

Slave – My will vanishes. There seems to be an invisible wire that leads from her brain to mine. My brain becomes quiet, if I think it is only to make sure I obey.

Helpless – How odd it is to be a man who must struggle to reach these states. Thankfully chains and cuffs can help me find my way there.

Pain – I almost laugh as I type that word. My mind harks back to being bound at the dining room entry as she hit me. Would that next blog of the quirt be too much or not enough? Before she comes back I will go to my rose garden and cut a thick stem.

Suffering – As she hurts me it feels as if she is eating my heart like it is a rare delicacy. There is more than mere physical suffering to be explored.

Surrender – I prefer this word to submission. (And despise “sub” and “subbie.”) Doing what I’m told or really merely asked meshes deeply with my needs.

Worship – this is where the surrender is purest, becomes beatific. When this overcomes me I wish I were telepathic. There are no words, is no action with which I can really let her feel what is flowing through my heart.

Your words?

No related posts.

Consensual Erotic Sadomasochism: Words of Joy
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

Punishe me please!

Do you want to be punished but hate deserving it?

Do you reject the idea of just punishment in a loving relationship?

There are more possible responses to that than you may suspect but I’m going to ignore Loving Domestic Discipline, Head of Household and other modalities that have nothing to do with my life with Alexandra.

Alexandra and I were lovers, equals. Where does punishment fit into that?

She is also the woman who – if only at times – owns me and I’m the man who finds joy in being her slave.

My slavish needs are far too strong for me to ever intentionally earn punishment. Nonetheless at times I melt at the thought of her chastisement. I want her to strictly train me to please her in every way. To never fail but to be corrected for each and every failing.

When I am her slave she can torment me whenever she wishes: for her mere amusement. It is my nature to relish – if only after the fact – being tormented, perhaps mockingly, at her whim.

Punishment is probably only possible between us within a formal construct. Certainly one of values of protocol play. Rules can serve the purpose of shaping my slave behavior to match her wishes. They also increase the likelihood that I will fail: memory, tardiness, sloppiness may leave me at fault.

I want her control, to never be displeasing and – yet – her chastisement.

Sometimes I’ve numbered these among my “dark” desires. They aren’t dark in a bad way. I’m lost in the darkness of the back caverns of my mind. And can trust Alexandra to lead me back to the safety of daylight.

So I do indeed wish to grovel in awe of her wrath. And my only possible legitimate reason is in hoping that gives her the pleasures of authority and sadism.

No, not all the time. There are even periods when these feelings startle even me and I almost shy away from admitting them.

But when the right moods match it is another part of mutual fulfillment.

(After finishing this I read a smart woman say that she believed in discipline but punishment. Offhand I’m not sure of the substance of that distinction. But maybe it’ll inspire some future note.)

No related posts.

Punishment
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

(From about two years ago.)

Humanity, Empathy and Clarity

1. Generification. Treating personal preference and prejudice is the root of much of what follows. Many people develop theories of BDSM that reflect nothing more than what is local to their own minds. They think that what applies to them – at least they imagine it does – reflects universal truths. This is a source of foolish formulae and ridiculous rules.
2. True Submissive [Person]. Unattached submissive people ( – men? – ) are woefully annoying with their lists of what submissive people must and must not do. Their clownish criteria better fits caricatures and not flesh and blood people. Change the word to slave and many tops are just as wrongheaded.
3. Real Master or Mistress. This is really too complex a topic for this kind of list. But I have noticed submissive people unwittingly pressuring – almost blackmailing tops to maintain an almost impossible level of control. To be too unforgiving, unrelenting, never relaxing. This can cause tops to feel inadequate even guilty for merely being human and having good sense. I can’t help but wonder how often sane tops let their more aggressive peers distort their code of conduct.
4. Too Many Rules. The most famous set of D/s rules is a classic instance of someone turning their preferences into a master plan of behavior. While heavy and complex protocol enhances masturbation it makes the rest of life impossibly burdensome for both parties.
5. Projection. Many assume their cravings will match another’s complementary desires. Because of the bias of my sample population this is often masochistic men with shopping lists of what they expect a woman to do to them. The guys don’t stop to wonder how many might. Or why they would select him. They imagine there mere desire appealing in itself.
6. Objectification. Not the fun kind. Masochists forget they are interacting with a person and just see Dominatrix Mark IX (With Enhanced Torture Module). And sadists can be eually guilty, expecting the bottom accept being made miserable in bad way.
7. Unrealistic Expectations. BDSM play doesn’t eliminate working for a living, getting sleep, having health problems, not being in the mood or having enough free time.
8. Fantasy vs. Reality. Just because you read it in a story doesn’t mean you should do it.
9. Lack of Craft. My second experience as BDSM bottom was with a man who didn’t even know how to use a plastic riding crop. Particularly he didn’t know to avoid my kidneys. There was no possibility of pleasure or desire to see him again. Any sadist who doesn’t take the time to learn about risk is to be avoided.
10. Lack of Communication. If someone doesn’t want to talk about themselves, learn about you or negotiate drop him or her. If you are playing with someone never hesitate to share your feelings. Do your best to encourage their self-expression. Don’t let notions of role make you silent. (Uncommunicative bottoms and tops can easily induce paranoia and guilt in their partners.)

Contingency, exceptional circumstances and special conditions cheerfully acknowledged.

Related posts:

1. Ten Great Things About D/s & S&M

Ten BDSM Crimes
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

Bitchy Jones noted a dozen words that give her a “buzz.” In this note I offer ten.

Individuality – we each express who we are without regard to the bogus conventions, sham rules and kindred nonsense that is often propounded as truths on the web.

Erotic Beauty – Ordinary people they say have fifteen minutes of sex a few times a week. Pneumatic action followed by sleep. In our power exchange “sex” can last for hours and the afterglow for days. (Yeah, this is two words.)

Pet – I’m in love and on my knees. Resting my head on her knee and waiting for her hand to brush the back of my neck is one of the happiest spaces I can go to.

Creature – (Not really explored. But I want ten.) Less than human object. Existing to be used: inarticulate, obedient without thought.

Slave – My will vanishes. There seems to be an invisible wire that leads from her brain to mine. My brain becomes quiet, if I think it is only to make sure I obey.

Helpless – How odd it is to be a man who must struggle to reach these states. Thankfully chains and cuffs can help me find my way there.

Pain – I almost laugh as I type that word. My mind harks back to being bound at the dining room entry as she hit me. Would that next blog of the quirt be too much or not enough? Before she comes back I will go to my rose garden and cut a thick stem.

Suffering – As she hurts me it feels as if she is eating my heart like it is a rare delicacy. There is more than mere physical suffering to be explored.

Surrender – I prefer this word to submission. (And despise “sub” and “subbie.”) Doing what I’m told or really merely asked meshes deeply with my needs.

Worship – this is where the surrender is purest, becomes beatific. When this overcomes me I wish I were telepathic. There are no words, is no action with which I can really let her feel what is flowing through my heart.

No related posts.

Eleven
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

Stop sex! Stop it now!

21st Century Femdom

That is the name of this MS Word document.

After coming up with the title I started typing sentences. Isn’t it just plain annoying that you have to do that when you want to write? If only the damned things would just write themselves.

It having been a reasonable while since I composed a list making up, say, 10 Things About 21st Century Femdom would be an easy way out.

After a few notes on gender – the subject that I most often wrote in the days before starting Down On My Knees – my aphorisms (nothing like flipping through Oscar Wilde to push your imagination in that direction) applied to BDSM in general.

What is “Femdom” if not D/s and S&M with a certain arrangement of pronouns?

The list grew to twenty. Could’ve been seventeen but our fingers have left us with a prejudice favoring multiples of five.

Herewith a list of things for fetish folk to meditate on. Disagreement is as always invited.

1. Female superiority and supremacy may make hot fantasies. Some like to play plantation slave and concentration camp victim. None are part of a sane reality.
2. Gender is fluid – biologically, socially, personally. The only gender rules or roles anyone adopts should be those they enjoy.
3. Genders don’t have inherent social behaviors. Women are not necessarily X nor men necessarily Y. Some are Q. Others are z1nMn3pR.
4. Gender can be playful self-expression with components that can be manipulated blurred or blended.
5. Clichés can be sexy and fun. One person’s stereotype is another’s archetype.
6. The only rules are those agreed upon by two people who are at least trying to be sensible.
7. Never be Dommelier (or slavier) than thou shall be the whole of the law.
8. Pleasure is individual to each person’s nervous system: your greatest thrill may do nothing for someone else.
9. Never try to convince a man that his wife can surely enjoy dominating him unless you are willing to pay his legal fees for a divorce.
10. BDSM maybe entertaining, enriching, fulfilling: it isn’t a morality play.
11. If anyone tells you that a real something or someone must be such-and-such warn them that you may be compelled to report them to the Society for the Suppression of Boredom.
12. Other fetishists’ experiences are invaluable. Others ways of performing BDSM aren’t necessarily yours.
13. Risk is always there. If you can’t accept this don’t cross the street. You probably shouldn’t even leave your house.
14. Never be ashamed to admit you want or need a safeword or stop words.
15. Don’t confuse letting yourself become miserable and unhappy with topping from the bottom.
16. You may enjoy feeling like a slave but your slavery isn’t a legal, political or social actuality. Sorry.
17. Porn – for better or worse – is not reality: understand what real life people are saying not what you want to hear. Then you can enjoy both porn and reality.
18. Any BDSM relationship may embrace multiple levels of play from the most intense to the lightest.
19. Never to be neglected in any century: honesty, communication, clarity, respect and empathy.
20. TLAs – three letter acronyms – are much worse than four letter words.

It could’ve been twenty-one maxims. Or thirty-nine. Have one to add? Is there one you feel I should retract?

Hmmm. Maybe I should have cut this back to ten. 10 Best Things About BDSM seems a better list.

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20 Dicta About D/s & S&M in the 21st Century
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

People love these ten best sorts of lists. I don’t know why, suggesting that you fit in ten anything is confessing that you are generic. But as someone who did market research for many years I know that unconscious involuntary conformity is even truer than I thought as an angry teen.

1) Finding the ideal complement, partner. (Kink was much of the grease and certainly is part of the glue. There’s much else besides but without the matched desires we might have never discovered how we can bond.)

2) Achieving ecstatic experiences. Sex, of course, is swell. There’s an old cliché about baseball that it is 50% mental, the other 90% is physical. (And if I’ve botched the citation I don’t care.) While S&M is of course very physical the real power is in the heart and mind. People ruin their lives chasing intoxicants that they hope will give them the pleasure that I’ve found at Alexandra’s feet.

3) Living fantasies. For the mundane masses of men that is probably getting to bed a famous star or playmate. Given their sexual capacity that is – what – fifteen minutes at best: then they are probably left hungry for the next famous hottie on their list. With Alexandra it has been a couple of hours on a few lucky nights. And rapture from the experience recollected in tranquility glowed warmly for days, weeks and months afterwards. And I know longer wonder what the experiences would be like: I’ve lived them.

4) Self-knowledge. One of the ways in which I feel disconnected from the majority is that learning about themselves doesn’t seem wonderful in itself. Maybe they are the shallow people Oscar Wilde spoke of. Once you’ve lived through a fresh experience how can you not know yourself just a bit more?

5) Growth. Not only do I know myself better but I’ve adapted to some of that knowledge.

6) Freedom. As your fantasies are lived and you come to see yourself more clearly you mind isn’t bound by cravings. Sure there are as yet unsatisfied longings but you have a reasonable expectation of having them satiated.

7) Peace. Even if every possible libidinous itch isn’t scratched they no longer nag at you. Or if you are still wishing to have some special wicked act performed upon your person you have it in perspective and know that your life will be complete without it. (Please, please do it anyway he whimpers.)

Community. Your kink may not be my kink but we can still stand at the borders and talk. Everybody has to find her or his way to erotic nirvana. Differences need not put us apart.

9) Sharing. As I’ve learned about what men with needs and desires similar to mind are hoping to find I’ve created pages and entire websites to help them find it.

10) Self-expression. On this site alone I’ve crafted almost one thousand pages. My real audience is myself. Alexandra is second. I know that seems to violate the laws of BDSM. But as long as what I write is transparently from within it can only be good for her. Even if she doesn’t read the words the expression is part of the self-discovery that enables me to be as honest as possible.

No related posts.

Ten Great Things About D/s & S&M
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy