I have no patience with definitions of what constitutes authentic submission. In a power exchange relationship whether F/m or any Gender/gender proper submission is what proves successful for both partners.

Behavior that approximates an ideal. Ideal conditions are boundaries that are rarely reached.

For me I’d say submission is deferring to the top’s wishes as best as I can. That is consistent with my emotional and physical well-being. People submit because they believe it will satisfy an internal necessity.

The key element that most men lack in offering this deference is probably in actually perceiving and understand the top’s wishes. I have plenty of good will and honest desire. But with the virtues that I can honestly attribute myself I’m forever hurt by how often I could have been more conscious of what was desired and would have made experiences better.

Like all relationships BDSM prospers given communication, attentiveness and empathy.

Related posts:

1. Real, True Male Submission
2. Image of Male Submission

What Really is Male Submission?
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

I just read a profile that says only:

looking to explore my desires to control and use.

You might expect me to mock the guy because the profile is too short.

But the words admit inexperience and make no demands. It is easy to belive that he’s willing to discuss and negotiate. His mind hasn’t been corrupted by absolutist fantasies.

And I’ve complained about tops who seem to be typing with one hand while they wank with another. Unable to distinguish between what they think they want and what they might possibly get.

People visiting this site might read some entries and think I have it in for dominant persons and sadists. Not at all. Some of my satisfaction in life comes from another person’s will and cruelty.

If you’d known me – if only virtually – to read what I’ve written over the years about sadism, masochism and consensual power exchange you’d see that I often signaled out men who describe themselves as submissive for dispraise.

Sadly regardless of power exchange orientation most men and women need to discern what they really need, discover what is possible and learn how to convey that in an online personal ad or profile.

Just so you know.

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1. Master / Mistress Please Read Your Profile
2. What U Be Wanting
3. Master Multiple Profiles

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

So much of it is genital sex. Nothing wrong with that but that isn’t what stirs me in a special way. But my head beneath a top’s boot – as I know from real life – is one of those livable symbols of submission that fills my heart with the humility that my arrogant self often craves.

From an old magazine, Butch. More to come.

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1. Money Masters, Mistresses

Under Master’s Boot
BDSM Romance - Notes on Power Exchange and S&M by an Erotically Electic Guy

Slave Master

A short while back I ran across a profile by a man who makes voluntary submission an agreement to do anything and everything though his mind. He makes agreement obey his every desire sound like a matter of morals, ethical principles.

The portion of his profile that really caught my attention:

Someone that will follow the house rules and protocols that I have set forth, it is ever expanding but with 30 pages already, I think it is a good start.

Thirty pages and growing. That makes the old list of 128 slave rules that used to provoke so much laughter almost seem sensible.

His thirty pages of rules is at least figuratively porn that he masturbates to.

This guy has already posted his second profile. It is the same except for the name. I won’t be surprised if his next profile is just a rant complaining that submissive people aren’t sincere. Aren’t real.

Related posts:

1. What U Be Wanting
2. Master & Male Bondage Slave
3. About My Profiles

Thirty Pages of Slave Rules
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

If your taking care of your family or parents, don’t tell me your looking to be a slave; too bad you assume your parents are gonna die soon. We are not here to wait for your parents to die off.

Naturally we want commitment if hoping for a serious power exchange relationship. But that these two dominants chose this wording only puts off a discerning reader.

No related posts.

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

When I original read this guy’s profile I thought it a very good example of a positive profile by a likeable top. But there was nothing that could be cleanly excerpted.

Then he wrote me:

Although some others on this site similarly indicate that is what they are looking for, most of them only want one time meetings as such or only in role playing situation.

Your Hard limits seem reasonable and mean while your soft limits seem flexible enough that I believe we might be compatible.

I want you to read my profile, and keeping in mind that although I list several interests I clearly state that none of them are mandatory.

After reading it take the time to write back to me and let me know if you agree that we MIGHT be compatible.

None of that off-putting manner by strangers who think writing “Tell SIR why you should be allowed to become His worthless scum slave property” is a way to say hello.

The guy I quote above doesn’t drive, nor do I so nothing will come of that.

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2. Master Multiple Profiles
3. Master Chickenhawk

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

A self-proclaimed – it isn’t as if there’s a licensing authority for the term – Old Guard Master shares his view of the M/s power exchange:

The distance between Master and that of Slave is greater than the Distance between Man and Ape.

The Master is African-American so given the recent media furors over the racial implications of images of primates this is an exceptionally unfortuneate metaphor.

But would be a damn silly assertion to make outside of BDSM porn anytime.

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

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.

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2. Why Alternative Profiles?
3. Of Profiles & Porn

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

In my opinion a Master is completed by his slave/pup – a successful Master is a Master who shapes his slave into reflecting his personality and brings out the features of the slave that enhances these. An owner who has the ability to be everything for his slave, who can take over the slave’s free will and make him totally submit to the slave life, that a true slave ultimately seeks: being fully owned and stripped of free will as well as not having to make any choices in his personal life.

Imagine having to be everything for someone. Only a egomaniac – or a hopelessly naïve person – could imagine achieving that status.

Hence a successful Master has embraced and acknowledged his superiority and wants to share his life with an inferior person. Such a Master will know his desired direction and means to get where he wants to go with his life. With him, in this process, make sure the slave works in the same direction, and pursues the same goals as his Master.

It is always important to remember: superiority is granted by the Department of Poetic Licenses, which are invalid in real space-time.

A slave is not a slave if not owned by a master! A successful slave is – in my opinion – a man who has willingly given up his freedom and free will, to a person who is his superior. A successful slave will go through fire and ice for his Master. He is fully obedient as he knows the Master will know best. The success in itself is not as much the submission, but the full acceptance and embracement of the mentality of the submissive within. The slave should be ready to totally submit on all levels, and give up every aspect of free will and let his Master be in charge of him with no exceptions!

Will the Master also plow through fire and ice for the slave? How is this different from any over-the-top relationship? This is what husbands and wives have been promising one another for ages. Sometimes they even do it.

A successful slave has eliminated every concept of self and embraced his Master and his Masters will totally.

Not being a Buddhist the idea of eliminating sense of self sounds disturbing. This kind of psychologically untenable expectation is just a disaster waiting to happen.

A successful Master slave relation is a relation where the Master respects the choice of the slave, and gives his slave meaning with the pursuit of becoming his object. Where the slave respects and obeys the master, and where the Master becomes more and more incorporated into the slave until the slave is no longer an individual, but has become an extension of his owner. A symbiosis, where both parts achieve the completion of what is ultimately the natural state of mind: the unification of two individual life’s into a higher state of life.

No longer an individual. Just a little slave robot with no personality. I’ve always been irked by all this higher state species of chatter. It just means the writer’s penis gets hard when he thinks of all this. And erections – like being drunk or stoned – often make men feel they are having or picturing experiences special profundity.

I don’t think the Master who wrote this is a bad person. A bit silly. And perhaps hoping for a relationship where any reason for insecurity, possibility of failure has been eliminated.

Not that I don’t understand the appeal – on both sides. But only fools forget that interpersonal entanglements are complicated, subject to capricious acts of god, health and so many other things.

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