It was quite an intense scene, which you can view here if you’d like. Here’s the free Youtube interview.

Diary of a Dominatrix#23: Mister P’s Gay Admirer

What kind of fuckery is this?

For one, it really does support my theory that the majority of dommes are angry feminists who have decided that men must pay — and hey, there’s a whole bunch of them out there that want this kind of abuse, so where’s the problem?

That’s the greater question. Where is the problem?

I’ll tell you one thing; when we attest that human slavery is atrocious in third world countries, but are perfectly accepting of consensual slavery without even examining its roots — Houston, we have a big problem.

Many different schools of thought exist for BDSM, and like anything academic, everyone’s certain that theirs is The One True Way. It’s becoming like a fucking religion. Oh, you’re doing it wrong — because it differs from how I do it. Yeah? Fuck you. Ever hear of tolerance? Freedom of expression? Well, look it up. Diversity of opinion and viewpoint is what keeps us from sinking into conformity and becoming myopia-drenched drones. Any group that declares that theirs is the only way to be is automatically suspect, in my book.

Ah, but did you detect the irony? It was subtle. In case you missed it, I’ll give you a chance to go back. (Don’t mention it.)

In evading ethnocentricity, i.e., proclaiming that slavery is a bad thing, we’re adopting certain worldviews held by specific societies. In our case, western civilisation, which has said that subjugating another human’s will to your own is a bad thing. Fucks people up. So, there’s a trick question inherently involved in what’s good, what’s bad, what’s acceptable, and what should be avoided. This requires claiming a particular view despite what the rest of the crowd with which you run might say, potentially being the odd one out. It traps you into making a decision, based upon your own subjective information, on a very controversial topic. I did that last year when discussing it at length with my former neighbour. (That same one, longer-time readers might recall, who owned a certain cat that was briefly in bondage. Oh, yeah. It’s worth the read.) I’d been on the fence about certain things that incited more intense reactions out of others. The super-hot buttons that can send a well-meaning debate into an ad hominem attack and, in some cases, never quite viewing that person the same way again. It involves some risk.

He and I were sharing our opinions, and, I, being the one always open to someone else’s point of view, had felt for quite some time like I was about ready to leap off the fence and make a choice regarding my take on consensual slavery, but hadn’t gotten there just yet. I mean, I knew plenty of submissives who’d been slaves that said it created the kind of bond they otherwise wouldn’t have had. There is something to be said for that kind of vulnerability and the intimacy it creates between members engaged in such precarious activities. But it seemed rather odd for me to think that consensual slavery was an okay thing while non-consensual slavery was a violation of human rights. Sure, context is everything — but what does that even have to do with it when you get down to it? Lots of teenage girls discovered that cutting was a means of making their inner emotional wounds visible to the outside world; something they could show to others and elicit real sympathy for, being that it’s tangible, not something abstract. ‘Oh, what’s that bandage for?’ is much more compelling than trying to detect another’s state of melancholy. (Especially for men.) Some of them discovered they were masochistic. The world-at-large said that pain was bad and should be avoided, but there was this subset of people that not only shared their need for pain, but wanted to cause them pain, too! Glory days! Real understanding! Empathy! Camaraderie! These people were just as (according to them) fucked up as they were! Together, they could bask in their shared fucked-upness and create a sense of community. Ahhhh.

Wait, there are some ‘G’s missing. This is not ‘Ahh’. This is ‘Agghh!’ While a sense of kinship and community is central to everyone’s need for affiliation, (y’know, that part of you that ‘has to belong’ — unless you’ve accidentally had it switched off by traumatic events in your past; for which, don’t worry — you’re hardly alone) when you’re taking something negative and then saying, ‘hey, it’s okay, because I do it, too‘ — well, you remember the old adage that two wrongs don’t make a right. They don’t. Too many people seek a sense of understanding, companionship and community in places where they’re most likely to find it. Why? Because it’s logical. But, let’s face it folks. Needle-play is not cross-stitch. Even if they do involve the same tools. Sometimes more members just add greater depth and scope to the already-present fucked-upness.

Ahem. Charles Manson, anyone?

No, I’m not likening kinksters to serial killers. Rather, just trying to drive home the point that a sense of community is not all that’s needed. The group has to have a healthy purpose to start with. Are kinksters healthy? Eh, it depends. Some people come from shitty childhoods, scared to death of the world, and find others in kind who go off and have confusing and abusive relationships where one ends up in the hospital and the other is given a restraining order as a thanks for their participation. Others end up aware that things didn’t quite go as planned in ye days of olde, find others who are equally introspective, and go on attempting to form healthy bonds — relationships and marriages alike — where they can begin the cycle again, or decide that it’s best for everyone to not go beyond themselves. (Hey, some figure that it’s just best to end it there. And, depending, sometimes it is. But very few — if any — are truly hopeless. At least, in my view. Maybe I’m still optimistic.)

But the truth of the matter? Most of us are fucked-up. Otherwise, we wouldn’t need this stuff to begin with. Go to any BDSM club, and it feels like kink is something that’s far more prevalent than it is.

But the numbers are somewhat surprising.

In general, there’s an overwhelming number of submissive women, and quite a few dominant men. (Though, some of my dear friends would argue — and demand I tell them where, because they’re not finding them. But more on that later.) The truth is, they’re the second largest population. After that? Submissive men. And after that — dominant women. Which may or may not be female dominants.

Okay, now I’m just getting semantical. ( … Or am I?)

A dominant male is not a male dominant. (Say, what?) For the purposes of most studies, a dominant man is a different population than a male dominant. What’s the difference? One is openly identifying as kinky. (Yeah, guess which one.) So. When you hear a bunch of talk about ‘dominant men’ just know that they may not be male dominants. (I know, I know. Fucking semantics. But here in the field of psychology, we use them to separate one potentially different population from another for the purpose of organising our data and being able to draw conclusions by mixing and matching variables. It’s great fun!) In recent times, with kink becoming much more popular since someone (probably Cosmo or Maxim) said, ‘hey, a bunch more couples are kinky than you think!’ it’s become somewhat en vogue to come out of the kink closet. (I said somewhat. Personal experience dictates that discretion should not be disregarded or caution thrown to the wind. If you decide to proclaim your kink to someone who’s strictly vanilla, well, remember that warning about someone never quite viewing you the same? Yeah.) Especially the men. Lots and lots of inwardly dommy, but not kinky, men have decided to pick up the whip in hopes it’ll get them hot chicks, and allow them to be manly. (With much chest-puffery.) But in pursuit of the bigger and better O, that in itself can lead to a whole new world of problems.

I’ve known plenty of dominant men to be domineering men; and quite a few, actually, to be embarrassed of their deep need for submission, which, of course, they deny entirely, instead embarking upon a difficult (and often dangerous) path of overcompensation and further denial. Bad for everyone involved. This is, unfortunately, where we encounter wife-batterers, chauvinists, and abusive guys in general. Not always of the (immediate) opinion that women should be pregnant-and-barefoot-in-the-kitchen, either; some may masque their need to compensate for their own general lack of self-esteem in declarations of egalitarianism. They’re about as far from a good male dominant as you can possibly get. No love here. No appreciation, respect, or affection here.

So, if the difference in semantics is presence of kink in preference of sexual activity, then submissive women aren’t necessarily looking to submit. Really, they’re more vanilla woman who enjoy a bodice-ripper every now and then, like a heavily-masculine man, want to be taken care of, and identify with more traditional feminine roles. To be chased; not to give it. Doted upon, rather than needing to dote. Less of a desire to be of service than being taken charge of with some firmness by a man who’s earned her trust. May like to be tied up, but nothing crazy. Typically, not into pain.

Female submissives, on the other hand, have a need to be of service, (as we know), may also be masochistic, and desire a strong, male dominant to whom they can belong. They’ll then go to great lengths to seek his approval, appreciation, love and affection, wishing to make him her whole world, and feeling otherwise lost if he isn’t at its centre. (Which he digs anyway, so it all works out.) If he’s sadistic, she’ll accept the pain he puts her through because it’s what he wants, and she wants what he wants. Her identity is a bit subsumed within his own, however, she’s not a slave. She can say, ‘hold up, yo,’ at any time, and he has to well, abide. In short, subs can call ‘red’ and end the proceedings. Slaves have forfeited this right. (Which will bring me back to the question of whether or not such things are even healthy. But we’ll revisit that later.)

Next in population popularity is the submissive man. Really, he may just enjoy it when his woman takes charge, may be a bit shy and unable to start things off himself, or he may actually be kinky. I know few submissive men who aren’t also male submissives. More than the prior categories, these two seem to overlap quite a bit. There’s a danger in it, too. A submissive man may marry a submissive woman, or even a dominant woman. But, as you will soon learn, a dominant woman is not necessarily a domme.

Dominant women, the smallest population, are pretty rare. Don’t quote me, but the last I heard, the ratio was something like 7 to 1 — but it’s probably more. (I love to back my statistics up, so, data to come.) In this population, I’ve noticed there are also a lot of similarities. It’s not uncommon for a dominant woman to find her a whip in her hand and contemplate the possibility of donning the leather and latex, too. She’s far more likely than a submissive woman to explore the possibilities. Some go so far as to start testing men in their immediate sphere to see if they seem more submissive or dominant. She’ll subconsciously begin topping the submissive ones, and either finding a newly felt respect for the dominant men — or just butting heads. A power struggle can emerge where there was initially none. In her rediscovering the potential depths of her own personal power, she can’t help but take it for a test-drive. Sometimes, she’ll find those of like-mind and compatible kink. Other times, she’ll just end up embroiled in a heated battle for control.

It stands to reason that no one is actually born a submissive or a dominant. But there are patterns that present as early as childhood that may predispose one to go toward one end of the spectrum or another. And, of course, you’ve got those who enjoyed both getting tied up and then immediately tying up others. Maybe they’re just experimental — but they’re probably switches. (True switches — which are, in my opinion, an even smaller population. But I digress.) So while we’re not identifying as kinksters right out of the gate, there’s enough indication we may find ourselves at one end of the cane eventually. I’ll break it down for you.

What typically makes a dominant woman who may later identify as a domme?

* Need for power and control

* Need for organisation, order, and structure; will enforce it readily

* Bossy, domineering, sometimes flippant personality

* A tendency to better identify with male friends, colleagues, and relatives; tomboy-ishness

* Sarcastic, dry, less nonsensical or whimsical nature; more serious in youth

* Upbringing involving female-led household or prominent female figure in power

* Relationships involving submissive men or where their personality dominated their partners’

* Not very outwardly emotional; poker-faces; hard-to-read, tendency to intellectualise

* Rebellious side not-often-indulged; can lead to dramatic bursts and a need to impose her will

* May entertain mild delusions that she’s more powerful than she really is due to a need to be powerful

* Could be compensating for some issues with her own self-esteem

And what’s the basic profile for submissive man who may eventually identify as a male submissive?

* Powerful need to be controlled, guided, and influenced by an accepted, respected female figure

* Feminine-influence growing up; need to please women and have their approval and affection; mama’s boy; sisters

* Desire to be the object of affection and desire; contemplates what it’d be like to be in the female’s role, but not female

* Helpful, responsible, supportive, with a strong need for affiliation and a sense of belonging

* Less forceful, outwardly masculine | OR | secure in their sexuality with less of a need to ‘declare their masculinity’

* Easily makes friends with women, but tend to be ‘The Friend’ more than ‘The Lover’ (because they’re submissive, too)

* Less likely to be submissive in earlier years with a high-powered career; but may become submissive because of it

* May feel very uncomfortable with submission; depending upon cultural, religious, and other societal norms

* Make extremely doting daddies who are sure to end up with a Daddy’s Girl who he delightfully spoils; (he can’t say no)

* May let their needs go unmet if not under careful guidance of the dominant partner; (the stronger-willed ones won’t)

* Seeks security, to build a strong relationship, to be taken care of, and experience the more traditional female role

* Anti-boat-rockers; compliant, often yes-men

* May be masochistic with a need to punish himself for some transgression that may or may not be rational or real

- Ooh! It’s disclaimer-time! Of course, it’s important to note all of the aforementioned are personal observations I’ve made in my life, my practise, and in the scene in my experience. I’m not saying they’re necessarily valid, or that everyone fits any of the categories. These are my opinion and what I’ve personally, or second-handedly, witnessed.

So, yeah.

In the scene, however, a funky thing happens. Male submissives seem more prominent (along with female submissives, too) with male dominants being the next in popularity, and, still lastly — female dominants.

So, my friends do have a point when they bemoan the seeming lack of male doms. They do exist — like female dominants. But like female gamers, eh, they’re rarer. And they’re a hell of a lot less rare than dommes. I can’t say why, because it’s foreign to me, but for some reason, we’re just a smaller number than the rest. Which, again, baffles me. I don’t quite get it, and every time someone tells me just how rare we are, I shake my head. But, I believe it, because I have very few domme friends. And! When I asked those dommy women in my life if they were indeed dommes? … Subs! All of ‘em! I couldn’t believe it! So, yeah, the statistics are obviously credible; which is why when I find a domme I truly like and respect, I tell her. It’s a very valuable sisterhood, and there aren’t many members.

Sigh.

But, moving on.

Let’s define dominance. To me, dominance is nothing more than the ability to hold power over another. It can be stolen or gifted, depending upon the individuals involved and the circumstances. If stolen, well, it had better be consensual — which then makes it ‘stolen’, and we start getting into the bullshit realm of ‘consensual non-consent’ and ‘non-concensual consent’ — and all that nonsense. Then all kinds of definitions — generally and legally as well — become obscured and confused. What’s rape? Hell, what’s abuse? If the submissive craves violation and violence, and you grant him or her that, then what’s the boundary? Where are the lines drawn? Who the fuck draws them? The dom / me? The submissive? Both?

I’m going to go for both. The reason I have a problem with femdom as it (at least, seems to me) is currently defined and practised is because it’s so different from maledom, in that the treatment of the submissive isn’t even remotely similar. And we wonder why there’s this sudden surge of men craving ‘sensual domination’ ? It’s because they’re sick of getting whacked, treated like shit, and expected to want more! Would you like that? (Okay, not a question for the masochists. Disregard.) All the non-masochists: would you like that?

Yeah, I wouldn’t either. Funny thing is, as much as this was always my plan, I got sidetracked. Why? Because it’s difficult (and lonely) being a pioneer. Paving a road where there isn’t one is hella rough. Much easier to follow along in others’ footsteps down the beaten path. After awhile, being so different can make one question if you’re just being so for the sake of it or if you really have a purpose. It took a good half a year, but I wasn’t actually, absolutely sure. I began to ask myself: well, fuck, if this is how the dommes do it, surely — just like stereotypes contain nougats of truth — there’s got to be something to it. Right?

Wrong.

Well, at least, in my opinion. And, y’know what? I’m not embarrassed to say that it took my own submissive, my wonderful, loving, dedicated, been-through-hell-and-worse (with others and with me, too, though hopefully not as bad) boyfriend to remind me of that simple, but oh-so-important fact.

‘Say you’re the sub,’ he began, which inwardly made me cringe. (I’m the World’s Worst Submissive — in case you didn’t know. Yeah. Title’s already gone. I won it. Deal.)

So, I’m the sub, I’m thinking. This is going to be interesting …

‘What do you want?’

Is this a trick question? I blink, and then respond. (Seems kinda obvious, but a lot of truth is.) ‘ … A … tten … tion … ?’

Ding, ding, ding! I win! ‘Attention. Exactly. You want attention. Now, look. You’re important, but clearly you’re not. Because I have this to do, and well, that to do, and well, then I can get to you.’

Ooh, fuck. I see where this is heading. But he continues.

‘So, what is it you’re getting?’

This one isn’t hard in the intellectual sense. But it hurts like hell in the emotional one. ‘ … Ignored.’

‘Yeah!’ He says, and far from happy. Really, really hurt, though, he’s trying to hide it. As best he can, which isn’t that well. I don’t blame him. ‘Ignored! And how does that make you feel?’

I knew it. The thing is, we all know it. Dommes, submissives alike. We all know it. While the female submissive is on her bazillionth orgasm, the poor, maltreated, but being a right good sport male submissive is on his zeroeth. If he’s extremely lucky, his first. For the month. While the female submissive is being coaxed and praised and massaged and pushed and prided on her courage and strength of devotion, the male submissive is being told to ‘take it, bitch’, or, if he’s of the fortunate few, it’s his turn to be the furniture. Or eat out the domme who’s just finished fucking a man with, (as she’s proclaimed ad nauseum) a much larger cock than he has. It’s his duty to clean her up. At worst, the female submissive might be getting reamed on all fronts. (But, pssst — that’s because she likes it. Just in case you weren’t aware.)

At least, that’s what all the literature, spank material, and stereotypes want you to believe. That’s why a lot of men who are new to the scene and discovering it by way of maledom get a real eye-opener when they hear what’s in store for them if they sign up. A lot of the smart ones tell the scene to fuck off. But, unfortunately, there are also plenty of smart ones for whom the craving is too strong, the need too intense, and the desire too overwhelming. They try their hand anyway, and hope they don’t end up with one hell of a bad beat story. (Yeah, pun intended.)

In my experience, they always do.

That’s why, as far as I’m concerned, in my life, my relationship, and my practise, I’m not going to tread the same road the bulk of my fellow dommes have. I don’t need any more reassurance or revelation than the one I had last night, through the most simple means of discovery of all: placing yourself in another’s shoes. I talk to male submissives everyday. I hear their woes, needs, hopes, dreams, fears, desires, and pleas for the kind of life they don’t have, and want desperately. And yet, it wasn’t enough confirmation for me to realise that I was onto something by telling this whole traditional (‘Old Guard’, if you will) femdom to fuck off, and going my own way. I had to see it in the eyes of the man I love and cherish more than anything in this stupid, confusing, yet beautiful world. But, hey. I’m stubborn like that. Indecisive, but committed. Once my mind’s made up — that’s it. Thanks for playing. Have a nice day. Show’s over.

It’s not an end. It’s a beginning. I don’t need to be some stranger’s fantasy woman acting out the twisted evolution of his own childhood psychodramas. I’m a counselor. I can help them better understand themselves, where they’re going, how to be complete with the ones they’re with, or the one for whom they’re searching, and hopefully find some happiness in the process. It’s not the destination — it’s the journey. We forget that so easily. We get swayed by what everyone else is doing. I’ve got my feminist streak, and I’m all about girl-power. But you can’t so horribly abuse that which you love. Not really. You can be sadistic and enjoy the indulgence of darker desires, but there’s a massive difference between true hatred and exercising your need for abuse — either to inflict it, or experience it yourself — in a negotiated environment with one that you love. BDSM violence — or, ‘violence’ is never done out of hate. It’s out of love.

If it’s not, it’s abuse.

Word.

(Because I can’t think of anything more profound to end this ridiculously long essay, and that aforementioned wonderful boyfriend of mine has been incredibly patient in allowing me to finish this before I fuck him silly. And hard. And maybe he’ll cry, and maybe we’ll hit a point we’ve not even hit yet, where I’ll discover frightening things in me and he’ll reach new heights of vulnerability and together, unfathomable intimacy. But one thing’s for sure — it’ll be out of love.)

IN ADDENDUM …

You guys be interested in a Podcast on this subject? Then quit being a lazy fucker; write me and let me know. I’m not fucking psychic. (Well, not always.)

In short, total-power-exchange relationships don’t work.

Now anyone who grew up in a female-led household (such as myself) is going to balk at that and remain sceptical. I was, too. But remember, this isn’t just about what’s possible — it’s also about what’s healthy. Regardless of sex or gender, a total power exchange relationship quickly becomes fertile ground for abuse. That understanding lies in the very foundation of what makes one mature versus immature. Most traits and behaviours can be classified according to whether they are synonymous with adult accountability or juvenile dependency. Paradoxically, the stereotypical female dominant expresses more juvenile-dependent traits and behaviours — rivalling those of most children! Self-entitlement, required assistance, no accountability, emotional manipulation to have own way, irresponsibility, recklessness, enablement, ignoring social etiquette, self-centredness, arrogance, refusal to share or compromise, use of others’ resources, and dependent upon another for most things.

It really baffled me. Conceptually, the female dominant is in charge, which allows the male submissive to be youthful, child-like and at her mercy. But in reality, practical application seems to fly in the face of theory and the abstract representation of what femdom should be. Over time, it becomes perplexing — and misleading — as to just what real femdom is — or even should be. If the male subs are the ones doing all of the work, providing a framework in which the domme can even function, then the members of that dynamic are seriously fooling themselves as to which direction the power is flowing.

To further my point, a bit of developmental psychology. And a lot of metaphor. Of course, to avoid it being too dry, there will be pirates. (You like pirates, right? Who doesn’t like pirates?)

In order to thrive in the world, we need a stable point from which we can launch ourselves. This is known as the secure base. Children who grow up feeling safe and provided for, whose natural sense of and need for independence is not stifled, but nurtured, will develop an equally healthy need to explore their world — but from a secure vantage. It acts as an emotional tether throughout childhood and young adulthood, allowing them to branch out on their own, but to never feel aimless and drifting. The stability and assurance of home gives them the motivation and drive to tackle new vistas and carve out their niche in the world — no matter how physically far from their homebase they end up. The foundation was solid, which is all that truly matters.

Most of us didn’t have that — especially if we’re kinky. We suffered abuses of power, or confusing lessons about where our boundaries were versus those of others. For many, those boundaries were violated, with the backlash of betrayal haunting us throughout our adulthood. But for most, we were launched without a tether — or a very weak one. So, we said to hell with it all and struck out on our own. (Told you there’d be pirates.) If we ended up with any sort of map at all, it didn’t help us get anywhere we wanted to go. The rigid routes laid down for us by our parents to be followed without question may have sent us so far off course, we’re not even sure how to get back once we realise it, years later. Those of us that sail without a compass, a useless map and a busted rudder are destined to drift through life, being pushed in whatever direction external forces take us, without direction or aim. Not surprisingly, a lot of us end up wrecked, and those that do arrive, are decades later than those who knew where they were headed.

It’s not all doom and gloom. Those of us that are wise catch other ships passing in the night and make alliances, or consolidate resources and travel together, putting faith in the safety of numbers. It may be awhile to that next port of call, so quite a few decide to go poly. But even those undergo mutiny and distress; though, there are those that can work rather swimmingly together for many years. Of course, they tend to have a lot of travelling under their belt, having decided this is best for them personally. But for the purpose of this exercise, we’ll concentrate on those two-person vessels adventuring on the high seas, since a committed monogamous relationship is a lot like sailing the deep blue with no one else but your partner — regardless of whether or not it’s an actual marriage.

Let’s say, like my boyfriend and myself (and hundreds of other kinksters), you were given crap for a map, and it’s taken years to either sever a tether that should’ve been cut years ago, or you’re just now trying to make contact again with dry land in hopes for a (somewhat) pleasant reunion. Either apply, since the bottom line is simple: you’re out there, by yourselves, on some kind of (hopefully) seafaring vessel, with no set destination, and the only thing separating you and the murky depths being the boards beneath your feet. Whether or not they’re sturdy becomes of increasing importance, as you can imagine. In our case, we work to further strengthen our foundation a little bit each day — which isn’t an easy task, when you’ve little to go on. It becomes even more complicated then when the question of who’s in charge is raised. In a female-led relationship, it’s pretty obvious that it’s being captained by the woman; however, the last thing she — or it — needs is a secretly resentful, and angry first mate.

I got to enjoy a few days in the Big Apple for the first time last weekend. It was a fantastic, though short, experience, and one I hope to repeat — for longer — at some point in the future. But there’s something about the east coast — especially the northeastern US that just energises me. D.C., and evidently New England as well. Despite feeling like hell from being sick while I was there, I felt very directed, driven, and calm. But my tolerance for bullshit was extremely low — lower than usual. I was very no-nonsense and didn’t have time, nor patience, for games, manipulations, or anything less than efficiency and productivity. I get that way when I travel anyway, but here, it was taken to the extreme. So, it prompted me to engage in another level of the experiment: the relational aspect. Whether or not the female dominant truly can do, be, and feel however she wants — even to the detriment of the relationship or her partner. After all, so many do. They carry on with little concern as to how their behaviour affects others to the point where it doesn’t register with them before long they’re even being anti-social. Similarly, I reacted in kind by provoking an argument and seeing where it led us. Nowhere good, is the short answer.

My boyfriend and I enjoy a good relationship together; more importantly, we know how to fight. It sounds simple enough, but it isn’t. Very few people actually know how to fight with their partner, and many more avoid confrontation altogether, labouring under the belief that any kind of negativity indicates a relationship isn’t working. The opposite is closer to the truth; all relationships have problems. If they’re not being addressed and aired, they’re being shoved under the rug until the moment when they can all make a very inconvenient, tumultuous reappearance. They never simply disappear; they’re only misplaced for the time being. At first, he was rather surprised — and concerned — by my uncharacteristically provocative, apathetic, and overall inconsiderate demeanour. Then, before long, he confronted me with it. Rather than reacting in kind and addressing the issues as we would normally, I engaged him in a nasty argument, which quickly devolved into a fight, complete with hurling insults with the introduction of emotionally abusive language and behaviours. (In other words, exactly the opposite means of fighting effectively and healthfully with a partner.) It didn’t last long, however. He was able to pinpoint the bizarreness of it all, and I told him soon enough that it had been a blind experiment, and had I informed him ahead of time, well, it wouldn’t've been — which would have greatly reduced its efficacy. He quickly understood, and we were able to return — almost immediately — to normal.

My conclusion had been equally simple: ‘a true female-led relationship, where she has all of the power and leeway to be as childish, rude, inconsiderate, and irresponsible as she feels according to her mood or whim, is not a viable model of relating.’ He blinked, and responded with a kind of commonsensical obviousness: ‘Of course, it doesn’t,’ he said. ‘That’s why it’s fantasy.’

Ahhh, that‘s why it’s fantasy.

I think that’s the key here. In my line of work, we have too much blurring of the line between what is reality, what can be brought into it, fantasy, and what should never be. In fact, many fantasies lose their power once being introduced into reality. Their hold was directly linked to their being forbidden; once that’s removed, their influence diminishes. It’s interesting. Especially when doing phone domination, my mind will occasionally trip up at their need to role-play at the get-go, rather than acknowledge what’s reality and then step into fantasy. Or they’ll ask things which, according to my logical, rational mind, I know — and, quite frankly, they do, too — aren’t even possible. They love to ask if they can do things to me. Of course, my first inclination is to remind them they’re over the phone, and furthermore, we have no relationship. That’s when I have to remember that I’m currently in the role of an object of fantasy. I’m no longer me, and they’re no longer themselves. In removing each other from ourselves, we’ve disowned the things which hold us back. But, as a counselor, I know that’s not always healthy. It can lead to denial patterns, and disowning so much of ourselves that we’re leading fragmented lives. (The very thing I avoid so much in my practise.) So I oftentimes find myself at some odds with that part of my occupation.

But I’ve seen the dangers of fantasy taken to extremes, and brought into reality. There’s an even more fine of a line regarding that and abuse. In the context of non-BDSM and a conventional environment, most things acceptable in BDSM terms are seen as instantly abusive. It’s the lens through which we view everything. It can be tricky, and in some cases, dangerous, to take such a general stance. It has to be case-by-case, or we’ll miss something. And that’s not to say plenty of BDSM practitioners aren’t also horribly abusive. Back to our couples in a total-power-exchange, they’re an excellent case-in-point.

There’s great responsibility and accountability associated with being a dominant, regardless of sex or gender. It’s the submissive that has delivered him or herself into the hands of the capable, willing dominant. It’s his power that’s been given over to the domme; not the other way around. For her to then pretend as if she’s the one who’s doing everything of her own volition is a sham — and somewhat offensive to the submissive. A relationship has to be a team. You have to do things together, in tandem. Make joint decisions, and plan individual things in your life together out as a unit. Where one gets to take the reins and the other is supposed to follow has to be fully negotiated ahead of time with the boundaries set – and respected. For my relationship, money and our business is one of those things that isn’t to be trifled with. We’ve both put a lot into our relationship, and are respectful of each other’s money and earnings. Neither of us, then, can suddenly up and make significant monetary decisions without the other’s knowledge. It’s rude, and breaking an agreed-upon tenet. Now, I know for some men, the thought of their wives spending their hard-earned cash willy-nilly is just the hottest thing ever, but I suggest they read a few paragraphs back regarding fantasy versus reality. Not to mention the few posts I’ve made already regarding the psychological dynamics (and impracticality) of financial domination.

Either way, the very definition of coupledom is teamwork, and if that isn’t at the root of it, you don’t have anything more than an exchange agreement. One partner will grow to abuse their power and the other will feel resentful and long to leave the arrangement as a result. It does not bode for happy times. Now, having come to this conclusion, we were best trying to determine then how to get my needs met as a dominant who enjoys and thrives on having control, as well as his as a submissive craving to be controlled. That led to further negotiation and the laying down of certain new boundaries and the lessening of older ones. It can be fluid, too. Just because things are a certain way at present doesn’t mean they can’t change over time as circumstances do. But for now, being in charge of our life here at home, and the dynamics of the sexual relationship is a good place to start. Just be forewarned, from my own experience, that to cross those lines, and push those boundaries will likely bring about discontent. That is, if the submissive is anything like my boyfriend. Just because a man’s submissive doesn’t at all mean he has to be a pushover or a pussy. Part of the reason why I respect him as I do is for his backbone, strong sense of self, and refusal to be controlled. Well, except by me. Paradoxical, isn’t it? He loves being dominated and controlled by me, but if someone else attempts to do so — they’ll have serious hell to pay. Probably why those who meet him are flabbergasted to learn that he’s actually submissive. He seems almost the opposite. Of course, I, and those who know him well, can’t imagine him as anything but. But that’s neither here nor there.

In summary? Sure, a female-led relationship is possible, but it has to be fully negotiated and its boundaries respected. Underneath it all, the foundation has to be egalitarian with mutual respect and admiration — or it just won’t work. A relationship can’t be only on the terms of one partner. That’s just an exchange arrangement — not a communal relationship, which will, in the end, invite abuse of power and breed resentment. Stereotypically, however, dommes seem to be under the impression that they have a right to use and abuse their submissive partner. They seem to’ve forgotten the origins of the power they wield so casually, and are only snapped back into reality once their partner reclaims it and threatens to end the relationship. Given that these women tended to grow up without a secure base and have severe attachment issues, they’re really stuck in mourning the loss of their idyllic childhood and refuse to grow up and be adults. So they become spoiled princess types and begin relationships with submissive men with deep esteem issues who need to be used and abused by someone. Toxic relationships are formed which can be very damaging to both parties, though it’s most often the submissive that seeks help. It’s not surprising then that these women tend to be those engaging in total power exchange relationships, which, as we’ve already determined, don’t work.

So, if you want to be in a femdom relationship, make sure that its elements are negotiated and there’s mutual respect between both partners underneath it all — or you’ll both be gearing up for the therapist’s couch. Marital, and otherwise. And that’s not counting the domestic violence disputes and potential hours spent in court. Why not bypass the whole depressing thing and do it right?

More on that to come in future blogs.

It’s not easy.

I also marvel at some days when I wake up and think how the hell I even got here. When I was a little girl, I dreamt of being all kinds of things: Vampire Queenes, powerful sorceresses weaving spells under whom many a hapless prince fell before long, daring super-spies — capable of death-defying feats, but their ultrapowers of seduction being the best weapon in their arsenal; when I got a bit older and decided I still liked the foreign (or domestic) intelligence agent / investigator route, I figured I could satisfy the other cravings by simply taking the stage and being an actress. I subsequently spent several years there in theatre, but really longed to run the show myself: writing, directing, producing, and performing — the whole nine yards. That became a goal I’ve yet to solidly keep on the back-burner. No matter how I try, it’s always coming back to the forefront — as deep passions tend to do. So, how does a retail wench, office coordinator, administrative assistant, service industry professional — none of which ever really utilise her education in Psychology — and especially not Forensic Psychology — end up a dominatrix? Well, not that dramatically, to be honest. Combine a down economy with a move to a bustling new city full of an entirely different demographic, add more than a sprinkle of distaste for being anyone’s employee, a dash of the thrill of self-employment, heat on high with a strong business model — and away you go! Viola! Dominatrix a la mode. (Though, if you really want to hear something funny, ask me or headslave about ‘dildo stew.’)

Which brings us to … headslave.

Really, I think because I’m so new to this in a professional sense, (but not the scene in general) I unintentionally give people the wrong idea at times, not quite yet sure where the boundaries are and what’s status quo. I thought, honestly, that when a domina explained that she has a ‘personal slave’ it’s enough to get those who would otherwise be seeking a personal relationship with her to understand she’s just not available; or not doing that. Either way. Ohhh, little did I know. Namely, because the social dynamics of the BDSM community tend to crisscross and overlap with many other relational dynamics and sexual orientation; to wit, the bisexual, polyamourous and other-such groups — for which I have affinity, simply because I know individuals from all walks of life, and am friends with just about anyone. (Well, maybe not mass-murdering fuckheads. I tend to take issue with them. Luckily, I’ve not met any yet. If and when I do — well, that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we get there, I suppose.)

So, all that being said — who am I? What am I about? Well, you can find me places that contain that information, actually — CollarMe, FetLife, even KinkySpace — but for ease of convenience, I’ll put it here, too. Just in case people haven’t seen my profiles there, or read my biographical page here. Ready? Here we go …

I’m straight, monogamous, and very happy that way.

Now, I’m not saying that I don’t have an affection for my friends, or enjoy the warmth that can come from such friendships; but they remain friendships for me. I don’t play outside of my primary relationship. I’ve never really found a need, or even a curious nagging, to do so. I receive offers by the dozens from submissive men all over the place who wish to be my ‘personal, live-in slave’, or do my housework, or have a personal relationship with me. I’m just not interested. I don’t need a personal slave; I have an incredible — and I do mean incredible — boyfriend who plays so many roles, that anything else is just superfluous. I’m one of those very lucky few dommes whose boyfriend is also their submissive, best friend, and even business partner. Seriously. Oh, and he doesn’t shy from his half of the housework, either. In fact, he doesn’t pay much attention to who’s done what, when, or why. He just helps out where it’s needed. And then some. Like a now good friend of mine since DomCon LA has said of him, he’s quite impressive. Not only quite the model of what I think a submissive man should be, (likewise of Sea, the aforementioned friend from DomCon) but a strong man in his own right not seeking to be saved, and, through some work we’ve done together in our relationship, understanding that it isn’t healthy to try and save, either. (An affliction we’ve both admittedly suffered at certain points in our lives, but are ‘recovering’ from.) Which is likely why I’m a big fan of helping my clients to help themselves. It’s the whole teach-a-man-to-fish thing. In the end, they’re less likely to starve. Plus, that feeling of having some control over your own destiny is deeply comforting to me.

So, now you know. Don’t want, nor need, any slaves. Want to keep the other submissive men in my life as clients, and, in very, very rare circumstances — as friends. How rare, you ask? If you’re a client, or were a client, or we met in such a capacity, it’s unlikely I’m going to be able to re-categorise you into a non-professional context for quite sometime, since I keep my social / personal and professional spheres separate.

Now, the meat of what this post is REALLY about …

Strap-on play.

Say, what? That’s right. The real impetus for my even writing this post was the continuous stream of requests I get for strap-on play. First of all, there are two reasons I don’t do it — that’s right: I do not do it. And here they are, easily broken down, once again:

1. It’s illegal to do so professionally in the state of California.

Yep. Believe it or not, those ‘pro-dommes’ who offer strap-on play in California? … Not pro-dommes. If … you catch my drift … (I’m sure you do.) And, hey — if that’s your thing, then you go at your own risk, pal. (Because it most certainly is a risk.) I can’t speak to other states, at this point. I’ve just not researched it. But I do know the laws of the state in which I’m operating. While that’s not my only reason for saying ‘no’ to professional employment of the dildo, it is a pretty good one, despite personal preference. Which is what’s coming next …

2. It’s an intensely personal thing for me, and not something I desire to share with anyone but my boyfriend. Period.

People have cited this particular post as being a ‘testimonial’ of my professional services as a dominatrix, and subsequently, something they can treat like an item off of a menu. And it makes me sick. Physically, and emotionally ill. I won’t dare name names — and I know that some of them were not at all intentional, but the effects are the same. I’m left going: what the fuck? How could someone take what is a powerfully intimate experience from my life and treat it as if it’s something I’d ever imagine doing with them? How? It’s absolutely fucking baffling to me. Absolutely.

So. While I appreciated more than words that headslave, AKA my boyfriend, (as you now know, and won’t forget — right?) wrote that beautiful vignette about how he felt about our experience — our little shared moment in time — I had no idea it would be so misconstrued by the world-at-large. But, such is life. I’d never remove it from my site, because it’s in my journal. Not on my Services page. What I offer as services is on my Services page. What I talk about from my life, or theories I have, or anything having to do with me — that isn’t indicated to be the professional me — is in my journal. So, now that you know, please-please-please — stop asking. In fact, let’s just pretend you never did and call it a day. Okay? I’m willing to do that. Be glad that I am. Because you’ve otherwise no idea the level of fury and sadness that such (likely harmless, but nonetheless nonchalant) requests bring out in me. It’s a great way to instantly get off on the wrong foot.

Now. As for what I do enjoy? What I do offer — outside of what’s written of in my Services? Well, that’s to be explored another day. I plan to write a post for each of my personae and what I enjoy to do in those roles — yes, professionally, as well. So, stay tuned for that. In the meanwhile … you know what I’m about. And I feel better now that you do.

Hope you’re not too disappointed. I’m not. Live authentically, or not at all. That’s my new motto. I’m finding that it’s a pretty good one.