If You're Going to Pull Rank, You Better Pick Your Battles

Let me give you the TL;DR version of this post:
If you think being the Dom or Master in a relationship means getting to do whatever the fuck you want, you're wrong.
The end.

Too often now I'm encountering men who label themselves Doms or Masters looking for a sub or slave to start a D/s dynamic with, walking around thinking being the person on the "left side of the slash" means they are The King, they give the orders, and whoever is on the "right side of the slash" has to shut up and obey, because that's what D/s is all about.
Shut up and obey—or leave. Them's the breaks, toots.

You know what I tend to call these Domly types? Single.

I understand the desire to want that kind of relationship. I mean, this sounds awesome for the Doms, doesn't it? They get to do whatever they want—order around that sub of theirs however they want—and they don't have to worry a damn bit about her feelings or opinions.
She's a sub, man. She takes orders, she doesn't give 'em. No topping from the bottom around here; nope.

The truth is, being a Dom is hard fucking work.
(I'm not talking here about the Bedroom Dom. I'm talking about the 24/7 "let me into your heart so I can clean shit up in there" Dom. The Dom who makes plans called Sticking Around and Making Changes.)
It takes stamina. It takes tenacity. It takes self-control.
And it takes a lot of self-sacrifice.

Being a Dom means taking time to see to the needs of your sub when you'd rather be off doing other things. She may not know exactly what you meant when you gave her those orders; you'll need to show her. She may not understand what you're trying to say the first time you say it; you'll need to tell her again, and again, until she gets it. She may not always be able to handle things on her own; you'll need to be there for her.
And she will definitely not always do what's right. You'll need to correct her.

Correcting her is not going to be easy, and it sure as hell isn't going to be fun for you. (Let me be clear here: I'm not talking about "funishment." Funishment is fun. Punishment is not. Punishment is reserved for when you're disappointed in her behavior and want it to stop.)
A punishment you make her suffer through will mean suffering for you, too—or it should. It will not be as bad as what she's going through, but it will not fill you with pride or joy.

If you've spent time around kids, you'll know what I'm talking about here. Take a privilege away, like the T.V. or a trip to their favorite ice cream shop...and you're stuck listening to them whine and complain about it for hours on end (plus maybe you wanted to get some of that ice cream, too). Put them in time out? You have to sit there and make sure they fucking stay in time out.
They're crying. They feel awful. You feel awful, too.
Plus you have to deal with the guilt and the frustration and the underlying thoughts of Why do they have to keep doing this? Why can't they just GET it; why can't they just do what I say? What the hell am I doing wrong?

As a Dom, you have to take steps to provide for your sub's needs, and protect her against the things she can't handle—even when that might mean protecting her from herself.
You have to be in charge of the relationship. You have to set goals, and do your best to stick to them—even when things get rough. Even when you don't think she's giving 100% of herself.
You have to live by example, and stand by your word—even if the trust has already started to fade.

There have been times my husband has pulled rank on me, and "played the Dom card." Not often, but during some of the most stressful and life-changing times in our relationship.
Never once did I think he pulled rank for the benefit of his own needs. Every single time he pulled rank and laid down the law, it was because he thought it was for the good of the family, our relationship, or my wellbeing.
It was NEVER done for the benefit of his own selfish desires.

He has asked me to do some pretty major things—make some big fucking sacrifices. They were hard. They were painful; mentally, and sometimes physically.
He didn't feel good about asking me to make these sacrifices. It didn't make him happy. In fact, he felt pretty awful about it.
But he asked me, clarified things to me, and then finally commanded me to do these things because he had decided that's what would be best for us. Not him. Us. Our little nuclear group we call a family.

When he asked me to do these things, could I have said no? Sure. I'm an autonomous person; I always have the choice to say no, to say 'my line is drawn here.' But I knew the consequences of doing that, and the consequences were never worth it.
Saying no was not the right thing to do when, in the back of my mind, I always knew what Husband was trying to make me do was really for the best.

THAT is the hardest part of being a Dom, I think. To make your sub truly believe that what you want from her is actually the best course of action for you all.

I know some Doms and Masters out there make it look easy—and their subs make it look effortless, too. I've seen plenty of slaves gush on and on, in online groups and in person, about how obedient they are, how *slavey* they are, how they would *never* go against their Doms' wishes.

First of all, if it's true, great. But I have a hard time believing they never question or argue with their Doms.
And second of all, of all these slaves who blindly follow their Masters? I have a feeling it took a lot of time and hard work to get there.

It's kind of like looking at a sexy rope bondage photo. Those things are so fucking hot—I mean, I don't enjoy rope, I'm fucking terrified of it in fact, but those photos, man, they are hot—and it looks so easy, doesn't it? Just get a bendy woman, contort her into some weird shape, tie up some rope around her, and voila, you've got yourself a good photo subject. Any old camera will do, right? Who needs to worry about good lighting.
You don't see how many hours upon hours of hard work went into that photo. You don't see the time spent exercising to get that bendy body; the blood and blisters spilled learning the rope skills; the patience and perseverance it took to make the rope itself. You don't know what it took for the people to recover from that photo, either; the aftercare involved.

24/7 D/s relationships, the ones that endure, work the same way. You might see a couple for a few hours at a munch or party: happy, intimate, sharing private energy that's pure, beautiful, and powerful.
You want some of that. You want to share that kind of energy with someone, too.

What you don't see is all the work that went into making that energy, the time it took to create that dynamic. You don't see the sacrifices they both had to make to make that relationship work.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: being a Dom or a Master isn't easy. It's more of a calling, I think. It's a choice for some, but a choice not so easily turned away from. Are there benefits? Sure. Is it often fun, and sexy, and hot as hell? Absolutely.

But if you think being a Dom or a Master in a relationship means getting to do whatever the fuck you want, you're wrong.
The end.

It's My Responsibility to Accept My Sluthood. Got It; Check

Happy Days - "All the Way" (Rare Pilot Version) by thelostreasures

Skip to 24:25

"Hey Fonzie, can I talk to you for a minute? Remember the other day I was talking to you about me and Mary Lou Milligan? Well, the fact is...we didn't do anything. I lied."

"You know, that makes me mad...seeing how you said you did, I figured you did, and she did, so I got a date with her myself this afternoon. I gotta waste a whole day...and gas..."

"She kisses real good."

"I polished my bike for a kiss?"

"I'm really sorry."

*****

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead. I know everything."

"Okay, if you know so much, tell me: can you fall in love with a girl who has a reputation?"

"Write this down, Rich: there's two kinds of girls. Those you marry, and those that got a reputation."

"What about the ones who give hickies?"

"Oh well they're okay if, uh, if you marry them before they get reputations."

*****

Classic American culture used to teach our kids a very simple lesson. There were two types of girls: those who kept their legs shut, and those who didn't. The girls who 'put out' were fun, and inevitably popular with the boys, but they weren't the girls the boys looked at when it was time to start a serious relationship.

To put it simply, girls who put out were sluts, and sluts didn't deserve respect. They were cheap goods used for sex.

It wasn't that long ago we, as a society, were teaching this to kids...and by not long ago, I mean in many places, we never stopped. Sure, we try to empower women with their own sexuality, and try to make them understand they have choices, same as men. Certainly in the kink community, we're doing our best to 'take back the word' SLUT, and give women a place to feel comfortable in their own desires. We want women to be stripped of their inhibitions, free of guilt...but free of guilt does not mean free of consequences.

There are still plenty of men out there who think a woman who 'puts out' isasking for whatever she gets. That by consenting to one thing, she's consenting to everything the guy wants from her.

Things went further than she wanted? She was asking for it.

Boundaries were crossed? She was asking for it.

Guy didn't stop when he was asked to? What can she expect, that he can just turn off like a switch? She was asking for trouble by leading him on.

She was asking for all of it by agreeing to start anything at all.

So when I see posts talking about "personal responsibility" and how these Boo-Hoo Victims are nothing but a bunch of whining crybaby females who got themselves into their own messes, what I end up reading between the lines is the old favorite standby of men everywhere:

She was asking for it.

Look, I know what some of these posts are trying to say. They're trying to say Ladies, the world is far from a perfect place—learn the dangers, so you can better assess your risks. And that is a great lesson to learn.

But when I see posts that do nothing but rant about how women everywhere are crying VICTIMHOOD as a way to deflect Regret Sex, I know what some of these authors are harboring in their heads. Those sluts knew what they were doing. They had the REP-U-TAYSHUNS. It's the poor guys are the real victims here, cause all they did was take what those sluts were offering.

And I know this is not true in all cases. I know some men like to come out of the woodwork with the hashtag cries of #NotALLMen and #MenAreVictimsToo. Andthis is all true.

But take a look around. Look how often women get the unsolicited demands for sex—not the requests, not the would you like to fuck me?messages, but the I am your master now, and you will do everything I say, bitch demands. Look how often these women are slandered when they refuse those demands.

Look how often posts come out from fed-up women trying to just remind everyone that being a sub-type does not make them public property. Look how often those posts make Fetlife's K&P. They make K&P because they resonate with so many.

Look how many women are talking about rape. Sexual assault. Physical assault. Physical abuse.

Look how many are afraid to talk about these things. Ask yourself why.

(Slut. Maybe try being the other type of woman. We all know you really wanted it.)

Too many still think "personal responsibility" refers only to women—and those pesky, complaining, passive-aggressive women need to own the fact that if they're into kink, they should expect to be treated a certain way. If that certain way will sometimes mean getting their boundaries crossed? Too bad. Life is full of hard lessons.

But "Personal responsibility" is not supposed to be about deflecting blame onto others, or looking for excuses. It's supposed to be about taking ownership of one's own actions.

So stop treating the issue of women's consent as some kind of joke. Stop alluding to it with a wink and a snigger. Stop pretending like there are two types of women—those who take personal responsibility for all the assholes of the world, and those who don't.

"Personal Responsibility" doesn't mean she needs to take responsibility for youbeing a dick. So stop being one.

Tools Are Good. Temperament Is Better.

I'll tell you Cats and Roosters a little secret:
As far as "Domly tools" skills go?
Husband has practically none.

He does not know how to throw a whip fluidly. He does not know how to throw a flogger with mastery. He does not know how to handle rope with the dexterity of an artist.
He knows how to handle a hairbrush, but that's about it.

He uses floggers to make me hurt. He uses rope to tie me down. He doesn't bother with whips at all—why spend the money on a whip, when there's a power cord right fucking there? 

He has a collection of canes, rulers, and sticks he loves to use on me. They are rather simple tools in that they are easy to use, and have a really good Effort:Reaction ratio.
You aim, lift, swing, drop...and the body beneath you is suddenly wailing in agony. Not bad, when you consider all the trouble you can get into with a whip; I don't know a single whip enthusiast alive who's never hit themselves with a whip. Whips are wily toys, and like snakes, they can sometimes bite their charmers.

Husband feels no great urge to learn how to use those toys, because the passion for him is not in the skill. It is in the results.
Is the wife contained? Is she subdued? Is she terrorized? Yes to all three? Then mission accomplished.

He will sometimes cuff me down to the bedpost when he knows he's embarking on a particularly difficult scene with me. I do my best to follow orders, but I'm still human, and when I'm reduced to the mindset of PREY, my instincts usually take over; and those instincts boil down to FIGHT and RUN.
Make no mistake, though, when he cuffs me down, he is doing me a favor. He is being nice, allowing me the freedom within those restraints, because it is ten times harder to control the PREY urges when I'm acting on his voice, and his orders alone.
It is hard. On the other hand, I am well trained.

But GOD there are times when I just want to beg him to put the cuffs on me.

You don't have to be proficient at this-or-that tool in order to be a Dom.
You just have to know how to dominate.

Bratty Shoelaces

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes, and she's not feeling particularly bratty, she will kneel down and tie your shoes.

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes, and she's feeling a little bit bratty, she'll say, 'No.'

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes, and she's feeling a little more bratty, she'll say 'No,' cross her arms, stick her tongue out, and wait.

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes, and she's feeling quite bratty, she'll come over, kneel down, and tie your shoelaces together.

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes, and she's feeling extra bratty, she'll come over, kneel down, and start giving you a blowjob while furtively unlacing your shoes altogether.

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes and she has a death wish, she will come over, kneel down, and spit on your shoes.

If you tell a Brat to tie your shoes and she wants her death to be slow and painful, she will spit in your face.

Now, if you are a smart Dom—and like having the Brat around to torture on a regular basis—you will not kill her. You will make her think she is going to die, but you will not kill her. You will, however, teach her a lesson she will never forget....

Until the next time.

Consensual Non-Consent: This Is Where The Tea Analogy Breaks Down

Inspired by this video: 

Top and bottom negotiating CNC scene over PMs:

bottom: All this talk about tea has made me want a consensual non-consent tea scene. I want you to hold me down and pour tea down my throat. Don't be gentle about it either; I want to be fucking choking on that shit.
Top: That sounds hot. I've always wanted to do a tea-choking scene; sounds like waterboarding! Yeah!
bottom: Hey now, don't make it like waterboarding. I don't want any tea up my nose.
Top: Ah; okay. I'll have to hold you down vertically somehow, then. I'll use a dental gag—
bottom: No, dental gags are a big trigger. I gotta call RED on that.
Top: Uh, okay...no problem! I'll just, um...hold your jaws open. Fuck yeah, this'll be hot! Pour that scalding hot tea down your throat—
bottom: No fucking way! I don't want scalding hot tea down my throat, are you nuts? I'll burn. Make it warm.
Top: Alright; no scalding hot tea. I'll blow on it first. But I'll make you finish that whole fucking cup...maybe even the whole set of cups—
bottom: You got a tea set?
Top: Of course; I am well prepared. Like I said, I've always wanted to do a tea-choking scene.
bottom: What color is the set?
Top:...Blue?
bottom: Ok; blue is okay. Pink would not have been okay. Pink squicks me out.
Top: Well, now that I think about it, the saucers might have pink flowers on them. But that's okay, I know someone else who has a plain blue tea set, I can borrow his—
bottom: HOLD ON THERE, BUCKO. We are not inviting someone else's tea set into our scene.
Top: I can blindfold you?
bottom: That might work. Maybe.
Top: Um...look, why don't we sit down somewhere and really go over this scene from beginning to end. You want to get together in person somewhere? Maybe have a cup of tea with me?
bottom: We're not done negotiating, and you already want to start a scene with me!
Top: No no, not a SCENE. Just two people sitting in a restaurant, having a cup of tea.
bottom: Oh. Okay then. Sounds good.

Moral of the story: Consensual Non-Consent is not like asking someone if they'd like a fucking cup of tea.

The moment you start taking your relationship for granted is the moment your relationship is doomed

Every new relationship starts off with hope and possibility. As you're just getting to know your partner, you're finding out their quirks, while they're trying to figure out yours, too; and while you're sure to step on a few land mines along the way, the hunt to find them is part of the adventure.
They don't call it "New Relationship Energy" for nothin'.

Eventually, if the relationship continues, it starts to sink into a sort of routine. You begin to make plans surrounding the other person's schedule—not just time-wise, but emotion-wise: you know if they greet you with a capturing smile, it's time to smile back; if they grin briefly then turn away, it's time to give them some personal space; if they give you an evil grin with a hint of mirth and a sparkle in their eyes...and you happen to be a sub-type...it's time to run.

You begin to understand the other person—what makes them tick, what shapes them, how everything in their history has led them up to who they are today.
And slowly, as you sink comfortably into this new routine, a new sense of security sinks in.

Which is wonderful. It may not be as exciting or titillating as the New Relationship Energy was, but it's got its own magic and appeal. There's the knowledge that you've gotten to know each other well enough, and come to care for each other deep enough, to be fairly certain that the other person will be there for you through the thick. The more memories you make together, the more certain you're likely to be.

This assurance feels great.
It can also be dangerous if you start taking your partner for granted.

You start making assumptions about their needs, their wants, their desires...what is a necessity for them in the relationship, and what your partner can live without.
Things you used to do for them, you no longer do. Sweet words of love you used to tell them, you no longer bother to say. Or maybe worse, you start saying things to them you wouldn't dream of saying to a stranger on the street.

Why are you being so rude to a person you claim to care about?

Little favors you used to do for them to make their lives better, you don't bother offering anymore...because why should you? Your partner isn't doing you favors anymore. They're just...doing what they've always done, and will always do.
Except there is no always. Not in any relationship.

I don't care what kind of relationship you have—D/s, M/s, O/p, or pure vanilla. Don't care, it's still true: people need to feel appreciated.
The moment your partner starts feeling like they are not appreciated? THAT is the moment a crack forms in the foundation of your relationship. Doesn't matter how old the relationship is, or what you've been through together, either.
A person who feels taken for granted is a person who starts slipping away.

I've seen marriages fall apart because of this; Master/slave dynamics crumble like wet sand, often leaving one partner staring at the receding back of the other, wondering what the hell just happened.
I thought we were fine, I sometimes hear. I thought we would last.
They stopped seeing their partner as a blessing, and started seeing them as something they would forever have—and deserve—no matter what.

People who've been in long term relationships can tell you, things don't work that way.

Let me be clear, I'm not talking about 'the-chips-are-down-extenuating-circumstances' situations here. When one of you gets sick, or loses a job, or suffers a death in the family...hell yes, you should be able to rely on your partner to be there for you. (At least, as much as they can be.)

But to take your partner's help for granted, and not consider once what their help is costing them? That rings out the cloister bell of doom right there.

Always remember, your partner's contributions to the relationship need to be acknowledged. They need to know they hold value in your life.

(Unless they don't. In which case, your relationship is doomed anyway.)

Your Consent Doesn't Mean Shit to Me: A Guest Post by Master_James_

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You Need a Utility Belt

Being a Master/Dom/Toppy type does not mean every scene you do has to be full of SERIOUS TERROR and ALTERED STATE. Sometimes it's just about being fun and silly. Case in point, my time last night:

Him: (whispering gruffly in my ear behind me) Take off your shirt.

Me: (giggling) You sound funny.

Him: I do?

Me: Yes, you sound like Batman.

Him: (Back to gruff voice) That's because I am Batman. Now take off your shirt.

Me: You're silly.

Him: I'm silly, and I'm Batman. Now take off your pants.

Me: I can't have sex with Batman. This is crazy!

Him: You can have sex with Batman if Batman says so. Hold your legs open. Wait for me—don't move! I'm going to get some toys.

Me: Toys?

Him: Batman has aaaalll the toys. Don't move.

(Comes back a few minutes later while I'm stuck with my legs open, laughing on the bed)

Him: Toys.

Me: If you're going to use that thing on me, you'd better use lube.

Him: It's Batlube. And I'll use it if you're good.

Me: This is nuts!

Him: I'm Batman. Spread your ass—ah, good.

Me: It hurts!

Him: Too bad. I'm Batman.

Me: (laughing so hard I can barely speak) I can't relax when I'm laughing this hard!

Him: Not my problem. Batman is working now.

Me: Ow ow ow! What the hell are you doing?

Him: Well I'm not getting lost in a mall. Ray-chel!

Me: Wait, didn't Rachel die at the end of that movie?

Him: You won't die. I promise, and I'm Batman.

Me: You're crazy!

Him: I know, and you love it.

Sexy In His Eyes

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The Voice I Obey

I try very hard to hold my shit together online. Put up a good front, my mother used to say. Fake it till you make it.
For the most part, I think I succeed. Yes, once in a while I will rant, especially during certain times of the month; but overall, I think—these days at least—I keep my personal issues off the screen.
This does not mean I don't have my own personal issues to deal with; my own mental demons.

We all have them, some worse than others. While I know many who can write freely about their demons—often with great eloquence—I am not one of them. It is hard for me to let strangers that deep into my head. Personally, I have never had any good come of it.

Being a submissive in a D/s relationship does not somehow magically heal all my personal issues. The anxiety is still there, the depression, the Voice of Defeat whispering to me that I am not enough, that I will never be enough.

What being a submissive in a D/s relationship means is that my behavior is under someone else's scrutiny and control. I cannot let the Voice of Defeat dictate my actions; I cannot comply when it tells me to give up, don't bother, there's no point, I'll never do it right anyway.

That Voice of Defeat is pretty fucking powerful. Sometimes it doesn't talk at all: sometimes it just screams inside my head.
(Sometimes I think I scream inside the dungeon not out of fear, or pain, but out of triumph: to show myself and the world I can, at the most sublimely painful moments, still hold my own voice, and scream louder than that Other.)

The voice of my Master, while not louder, is always stronger. It always wins.

So while I sometimes want nothing more than to disappear into my own personal cave, I cannot. I am not allowed to. I may still lay low, keep to myself, and maintain a low profile...but I am still acting as a functional human being. Meanwhile, I am getting my shit together, kicking that Voice of Defeat in the larynx and telling it to shut the fuck up while I fake it till I make it.

And you know, sometimes that's the best you can do.