The expectation of kink-shaming

It's sort of odd that while I am able to easily share highly personal and difficult memories, I struggle like hell to "own" the way that many of my kinks and fetishes affect me.  There is no peace inside my heart in regards to them.  I have not truly come to terms with them.  I have never learned to accept myself in this way.

A lot of this is due to the residual effects of being shamed at a young age.  It caused certain things to be taboo.  It created boatloads of guilt following desire.  Many pleasurable experiences were followed up by deep feelings of self-loathing.  I would love to say that since entering BDSM that this has gotten easier.  It hasn't.

Kink-shaming is an odd one because it ranges from overt to covert, with everything in between.  As the BDSM community as a whole is still vastly M/f, it is inevitable if you spend time in communities to hear "a real man" phrases.  A real man would do this.  A real man would never do that.  This phrase is mostly used by male dominants and the majority of its uses imply that submissive men are not real men.  I don't know if they are all that aware of what it actually says about them.  I have known a number of respectable, respectful, and intelligent male dominants and none of them would ever use a phrase like that.  Eventually you just learn to shut off the noise from that side of things but remain readily aware that at least one demographic in the scene will most likely look down at you.

Female subs are generally split on the subject.  It depends heavily if they see you as similar to how they are or if they focus on how different you are.  The ones who focus on the differences are the types to rally around the "a real man" phrases.

Dommes vary so greatly in their desires that it is rather unpredictable.  Once you get a feel for their philosophies it becomes easier to guess what type of reaction you will receive.  Often you receive the reaction before you ever make it to the philosophies.

Many of the negative reactions come from (mostly deserved) stereotypes.  e.g. If a sub is into _____, then they are likely focused only on themselves and have this ideal of a fantasy lifestyle that will never happen.  This isn't the type of philosophy that is formed out of thin air... it is built up over months of wasted time, harassment, and a whole lot of rude messages.  The worse the experiences, the stronger the feelings. 

There are also the cases where there is no perceived benefit to the Domme and/or they do not grasp how it will influence and affect dynamics in a positive way.  In some cases this can lead to a discussion.  In other cases it is written off without a second thought. 

"Your Kink is Not My Kink," aka YKINMK, can mean a spectrum of things.  In an ideal world, I believe it would always mean "I understand your kink, I'm just not into that."  In the actual world it sometimes is the politically correct form of calling you a freak.  e.g. I say this to your face, but behind closed doors I will slam you for being a perverse deviant. This happens so often in the vanilla world that it's rarely shocking.  When it happens in what is supposed to be an open-minded community, it stings twice as bad.  In case it seems like I'm slinging mud here, I am prone to doing it on occasion as well.  If someone wants to talk about shit-eating as a kink, I play the hard limit card and try to get away from the subject as quickly as possible because it grosses me out. 

Really, I don't think we expect everyone to like us.  We might wish for it, but everywhere you go there will be people that you mesh with and people that you just cannot seem to find common ground with.  We don't always need "like" for "respect and accept."  I believe what people fear the most is outright rejection. 

Many times in the kink community, people see you as your role.  They see you as your kinks.  They screen you with those factors first before seeing you as a person. 

I expect to be kink-shamed.  I expect to be shown a polite face of "your kink is not my kink," while knowing full well that they are telling their friend that I am a freak.  I expect that most male dominants won't speak to me because of my role and interests.  It's kind of strange to believe that initial judgments will happen so quickly and severely.  I see this as shaming in its own light.  Making you feel unwanted because of your role or interests is basically the same thing, isn't it?  Judging you for checklists on a page instead of who you are as a person never feels good.

This is why I dance around certain subjects and have trouble just being forthcoming with how things affect me.  I'm scared.  This is the most vulnerable and truest side of my private self.  If someone rejects it, it hurts the worst because it is the true me.  Often I will hide it and only give enough detail so that people will have to see me as a person first. 

Taking this a step farther, I have actually fetishized kink-shaming to an extent.  The caveat is that rejection is not involved.  If someone accepts me and keeps me around as a sub (or even just as a friend), I don't mind them thinking that I am perverse.  This actually fuels my submissive mental space and I never doubt the truth behind their words.  It makes me feel screwed up inside... but in a good way, because they point out everything I already fear to be true, but they keep me around instead of leaving me behind.  This is the closest that I come to finding  peace with my kinks.

Domestic Discipline as Therapy

I have memories of times like these when I was with F.  Because our contact and time we could spend together was limited we always did our best to make the most of it.  This at times was a bit tricky as extended solitude is often at the core of my demons. 

While I always wished for the best and was excited, looking forward to her next arrival there were some days where I was feeling a bit down and could not mentally prepare myself.  This was an emotional cluster-fuck as I was angry and disappointed in myself for not making the most of and appreciating the time.  I was angry and disappointed in myself for not being the best version of me for her.  I was angry and disappointed in myself for not being strong enough to keep the demons at bay.  This was good for no one.

F knew that I wanted the best for us.  She knew that it bothered me that I wasn't always in great mental condition.  After some extended discussion I made a request for her to punish me if I wasn't mentally prepared.  The night before our next meeting I would let her know my condition and if I was in bad shape, that would dictate the next day out of the gate.  This request puzzled her at first but I was able to explain that in my bad headspace I was not what I wanted to be, not what she wanted me to be, and that it made me feel doubly awful because I couldn't snap out of it when I wanted to.  Basically, I would end up feeling selfish because my own issues were "stronger" than my desires to love and serve her to the best of my abilities.

F would never shy away from reasons to hit me and this gave her an excuse on these days to unleash the sadist as soon as the door closed behind her.  After I would greet her with our rituals it was immediately over her lap where she would whup me to tears while scolding me for being selfish, ill-prepared, and failing to fulfill my promises to her.  This was usually followed by some time in the corner for "reflection on my poor attitude."  In its aftermath I was filled with remorse but earned forgiveness through penance.  My love for her was the focal point of my heart and I felt close and intimate on an extremely deep level.

While this might seem odd to those on the outside... it was very effective at bringing me to a better place.  It seems that the act supplied me with enough subspace-induced brain chemicals that it was able to over-power the chemical imbalances of my depression.  To this day it was the most effective kind of therapy I have ever had. 

Finding positives

There are times where I look back upon the events of my life and while I can't say that I feel good about the way that they happened, I can say that I do not regret the way that they happened.

It's a lot harder to appreciate things that come easily.  When we painstakingly work and suffer for a goal, the reward feels sweeter in the end.

Would I think that love is as special as it is if I hadn't been starved of it or had every attempt for my first 20+ years fall painfully unrequited?  Probably not.  Every failed attempt taught me to try harder... give more of myself... until I only give my all.  To give all of myself.  Could I have learned that within different circumstances?  Probably not.

Part of why I criticize subs taking the courting process lightly, or those that throw away the advances of a Domme is because I simply cannot picture doing that.  Being chosen is the greatest feeling I have ever had.  I felt so very lucky and grateful... the feeling that I had always wanted but never had... like the rest of my life was worthwhile because it led me to this point.

On some level this might seem excessive or obsessive.  I have been rejected in the vanilla world for this... taking my feelings too seriously... wanting for something special to blossom too quickly.  I understand that must scare some.

It seems like it is only in D/s, when a sub is asked to give more of themselves, has my approach been appreciated.  Where loving with my all is appreciated more than feared.  It's the only way I know how to go about things.  I will endure it all to show my love for her.  I will endure it all to make her smile. 

I am broken... but in just the right way... to make this work.

Talking about Sex

A recent conversation with a woman friend brought up the topic of libido.

I've always felt a bit out of place in the world since my libido isn't very strong.  I don't really crave sex.  There are times when I want to fantasize and masturbate, but I consider a certain level of horniness to be natural.

Aside from the "I wish I wasn't a virgin" days of growing up, I have never really craved intercourse.  I've always had a strong desire for intimacy, closeness, and whatever that entailed, so sex remained a desirable component, albeit not for the physical pleasure, but for the shared emotional connection with the other party.  This removed any desire for one-night stands and the like.

Somewhere around the age of 20 I began to shed certain ideals of my youth.  Sexual interaction is a necessary and healthy part of most relationships and I had ignored some of that in favor of trying to focus upon how to be emotionally supportive.  As the naivete left I began to inquire more and more about sexuality and the like.  At that time I had many close female friends who trusted me enough to speak about it openly.  They knew I wasn't trying to get into their pants.  As I lacked sexual experience the prospect actually frightened me.

Over the next few years I continued to shift and develop my philosophies on dating, love, and relationships in hope of finding a state of being that was "strong enough" to compensate for my perceived (and actual) shortcomings.  During those same times I developed a bit of an obsession about the female orgasm.  By then I was well-versed with the anatomy, ideas, and principles of the female genitalia, even if I hadn't experienced them truly first hand.

What evolved in my mind was an intense desire to deliver pleasure. It extended beyond the directly sexual realm and into other parts of intimacy such as massages, contact, and even reaching it on an emotional level.  The desire to instill a positive pleasure response in a woman became the strongest form of arousal.  It surpassed my M fantasies and took on a life of it's own. 

I believe it is at this point that the "giver" role of my submission was born.  The desire to pamper, pleasure, and dote upon the one I love... turns me on way more than the thought of sexual intercourse.  Also, when I immerse into subspace from this mental framework, my desire to have an orgasm vanishes.  I am happy with who I am in that mindset... happy with what I can do for her... my heart fills with love and adoration.  I know that if I reach a certain point of sexual arousal (that requires physical contact with my genitals) that my idealized mindset will collapse and I will begin to blindly crave an orgasm.  If that moment passes without an orgasm, I feel guilty and ashamed of falling into that trap.  If it ends with an orgasm I lose the ability to channel that mindset for at least the next 12 hours.

It's an uphill battle that suppresses my desire for sex even more... while it also ramps up my desire to massage, kiss, lick, and fondle the pleasure centers of her body. Strange how any attention to my penis results in some kind of Jekyll/Hyde transformation. 

Are there any others out there that have noticed this from subs?

I do enjoy sex, I just don't crave it.  I try to view it in the same "scientific" way that I approach other forms of orgasm delivery for a woman.  Something that is strange to me is that during sex (if you are facing each other) if a male focuses on getting the most pleasurable contact on his penis and attempting to cum actually moves the penis away from the G-spot.  Similarly, if a man is attempting to hold back from cumming, this points the penis at the G-spot.  I know it's probably not the most romantic thing to envision the G-spot like a bullseye and attempt to hit it over and over again, but it can be rather effective. 

Just some random thoughts.

Pain vs. Discomfort

This one had been in the works for a while... I posted a "quickie" version of it but then deleted it.

Here is the rewritten version.

While both of these fall under the umbrella of "suffering," I've always felt that the ideas of pain and discomfort tend to reach people in entirely different ways.

Pain is often the major focus of BDSM, it's consensual nature often being simplified to:  The dominant wishes to inflict pain and the submissive wishes to receive pain.  This is a symbiotic relationship of mutual desires that make everything okay.  Wanting to inflict pain doesn't make you a sadist... just kinky.  Wanting to receive pain does make you a masochist, but that's okay too.  It's almost like pain has been compartmentalized to where it isn't really suffering.

When I interact with those from the BDSM community I frequently find that we hit communication blocks that seem to revolve around this idea.  Pain is fine.  Think about suffering as a whole... and everything goes off the track. 

To make someone suffer is seen as evil because while someone may want pain, no one truly craves suffering do they?

As a whole, I find that many dominants do not embrace their sadistic sides because of moral hangups with those views.  While I might agree that people don't truly wish for suffering... I know in my own case, I wish to be dis-empowered to the extent that I could be made to suffer.  That is part of the root nature of my subspace and what drives much of what I seek.  To submit to an authority with the power to control whether I suffer or not... if I am rewarded or punished.

I do not seek pain.

Pain in general is interesting when you view it as a concept.  Pain is temporary.  Pain can be blocked out or ignored.  An athlete may "play through the pain."  An alcoholic may "drink through the pain."  With enough force of will you can detach the mind from pain... you may sense its existence but not experience its brunt force in the same way.

I do not seek pain... but I am adept at handling pain. 

By contrast, discomfort is constant.  Discomfort goes on and on, slowing the passage of time... stretching out the experience in a bad way.  While those with extensive mental strength may be able to conquer discomfort in a similar way to overcoming pain, it's a lot more difficult with each nagging instant reminding you of it.

When a dominant seeks to inflict discomfort, I see a gateway to their sadistic nature shining through as clear as day.  Unlike pain, which can often be driven purely by the act and stops the moment the act ceases, the desire to inflict discomfort involves enjoyment of the idea that even as a passive spectator, the predicament continuously inflicts suffering.  "One small choice that doesn't affect me in the slightest and your existence will be hell for ."

This is where I definitely cannot relate to a sadistic mind.  While I can come up with ideas and methods for discomfort, I gain no enjoyment from the idea of putting someone through it.  If you think about how this pertains to real life situations, it actually gives me a lot more trust for sadistic dominants than say... a judge.  A judge makes one decision on their own that drastically affects the rest of someone's life.  Are they able to sleep at night feeling fully confident that it was a "fair" ruling?  Is it out of sight and out of mind once it's over?  Do they actually get off from having the power to do that?

At least when dealing with a sadistic Domme you never have to wonder.

I also get a little bit disturbed when decisions are made like... let's put a prison in a horrible hot and humid wasteland so that every day is horribly uncomfortable... or let's put the gulag in Siberia.  One small choice that doesn't affect them... but will make your existence hell for .  Is this actual rationale?  Or are they actually a sadist?

I do not deal well with discomfort.  If given the choice between never having another orgasm or sleeping in 100 degree 90% humidity weather without air conditioning, I'd probably give up the orgasms.

That being said, I crave to be powerless before a sadistic mind.  Those sadistic Dommes that naturally impulse that one small choice... are just beautiful. 

Shorctomings in domestic service

As a recent flood has caused our living situation into total disarray, I've found myself reflecting on a bit of the history with T and I as well as my role as a submissive within it.

When I was new to the lifestyle there were certain aspects that drew me in immediately (e.g. bondage) while others were completely foreign ideas as to why the hell someone would willingly subject themselves to them, let alone seek them out (e.g. chastity, domestic service, etc.).

As things accelerated quickly I began to adopt the mentality of "anything that makes her life easier and more pleasant is good."  Not long after it became very easy to swallow the concept of domestic service.  To put it bluntly, I hate cleaning.  I hate cleaning a lot.  There is something I hate more than cleaning: the thought of her having to clean in my place.

It wasn't long before I embraced this... and soon after (both with K and F) I began to look forward to all roles that displayed my submission, both sexual and not.  The status and interplay between a domestic servant and their Mistress is very arousing, even when thinking about it in non-sexual terms.  The servant's role is to exist for others.  They are (usually) treated as a human but not an equal... they are something less.  A servant is below a pet.  They are not lavished with attention, they are ignored unless needed.  Their thoughts and feelings are unimportant compared to the one they serve.  They enable their Mistress to live without being bogged down by the mundane.

When you think about it, outside of work, just how much time per week is spent running errands, performing chores, and tedious busywork?  For most of us, it is enough to keep our leisure time to a minimum, often choosing to relax and laze away simply to unwind from them.  If you think about the amount of motivation, ambition, and development of interests that falls by the wayside due to the mundane, it's rather disappointing.

While in most D/s situations there is some form of sharing done here, I believe most subs that are suited for lifestyle 24-7 are fine with the notion that the Domme should enjoy her time while the sub creates a situation that allows that to happen.  While sub burnout is possible, dynamics, rules, and consequences definitely help prevent that or at least slow its progress.

I won't lie though, even when T and I were practicing D/s, domestic service was something that really didn't work out for us.  A very huge part of this is her son... who, to be blunt, is quite the slob.  I don't mind cleaning up for her, but I would rather he learn to clean up after himself.

This caused a bit of friction over time, and after finding he was more comfortable tossing his dirty socks and garbage behind the couch rather than taking care of them properly, I began to protest.  Banana peels, yogurt containers, cups that had chocolate milk in them, etc. and yes, the couch was against a wall.  Too often it reminded me of that episode of the Simpsons where Marge polishes the living room to a shine, walks into the kitchen, forgets something, and back into the living room where it's trashed.  Six hours was the average before anything that I had cleaned up was in total disarray again.  After he decided it was more fun to piss into the bathtub rather than into the toilet (something he still does occasionally at age 17), I refused to clean the bathroom, citing that if he was going to do that, it should be his responsibility.  I continued to cook and clean in certain areas, but I stopped in any place that was prone to being destroyed in under a day.

It is strange that it was mostly my parental instincts that caused a breakdown in D/s on that front.  It is also something that caused me to lose some submissive pride over the years.  I'm not sure if this was reasonable on my part or one of my shortcomings, but it got to be too much to bear.

Early experiences struggling with sexuality.

Back when I was younger, before I entered the lifestyle my sexuality was a complete mess.  In the years between M and K, I was completely horrified by the fact that normal porn didn't do it for me.

When I first started touching myself, it was mostly rubbing my crotch through the top of my comforter.  It was so different from the ways people would joke about masturbating that I didn't even realize I was masturbating.  I just know that I was erect and that it felt good.  This progressed slowly over time and I would instinctively stop if I felt myself getting too excited.  I think it took a couple of years before I lost control and ejaculated.  I was always fantasizing about M, or about a scenario with an anonymous woman that partook in acts similar to what M would do with me. 

By the time I started ejaculating regularly, a few things terrified me.  First was that the type of masturbating I would do wasn't anything similar to the act of sex.  Second was that while my friends were becoming perverse horn dogs, I didn't get erect by the same types of things.

While I find a nude female figure to be very visually attractive, it wasn't just the breasts, the legs, or the ass that did it for me.  While I would play along with the "yeah, I'd hit that" or "nice tits" type of locker-room behavior, I knew deep down it was only an act.

I saw women as being a little bit intimidating.  While I was friends with many girls, I could never picture myself "ravaging" them... I respected them and wanted to care for them.  In my fantasies I never made the first move. 

This made dating very awkward as guys were supposed to make the first move.  Asking for permission to kiss them was a turn off... an attractive male would take them and kiss them.  I wasn't supposed to ask how it made her feel... or if it was the way she likes it.  I was supposed to mind read and know all of those things based upon signals.  I know much of the problems were related to the fact that deep down I couldn't believe that she would want that from me.

I really didn't have any serious sexual relations until K, so before that, it was maybe some kissing, light petting, and the like.  I always felt horrible that I didn't get an erection from kissing a girl.  The two things that "did it" for me were her smell or the fantasy that would swirl in my head.  I kept those thoughts to myself... as a buried secret that I never dreamed I would tell anyone about.

In the fantasy, she was M.  She would hold me down and have her way with me, guiding me in how she wanted me to behave.  I would love and cherish her for being there with me... noticing me... making me feel like I mattered... that I was okay... that she accepted me.

Somewhere in the midst of that internet worked its way in.  I remember early on searching for pictures of women in fur and envisioning them as M.  After I discovered NTCWeb everything went into disarray.  All of a sudden fur and Femdom were mixed... and even the pictures and stories that are read that were too extreme... I tried to ignore them... tried to pretend I never saw them.  If I collected any pictures, I would only save Femdom pictures if the Domme was wearing fur... I somehow could stomach that... "because she's in fur, and that's sexy."

My "fantasy M" evolved.  She became my whip cracking fur Goddess that did all the old things and more.  By this time, masturbating made me so ashamed that I wanted to die.  Standard porn did nothing for me.  Looking at women in bikinis did nothing sexual for me.  I felt broken... ruined... and if I managed to find a woman to love me, I would forever keep this buried secret.


I felt hopeless until I met K. 

Attempting seduction

In my shallower subspace I am a bit of a brat.  I tend to be a little bit of a tease and will occasionally attempt to turn her on and/or lose control.

This may be bad form on my part, but I've always felt if the dynamics weren't ramped up, there probably isn't any harm in letting the woman I love know that I'm attracted to her.

In regards to this, K was a bit different than F or T. 

With K, it was more of a sensual seduction.  I could rub up against her and nuzzle my face into her shoulder, gently kissing her.  If she looked at me I might make some small motions with my tongue.  If she was "into it" she would look away and pretend to ignore me, forcing my advances to get more aggressive.  At some point she might ask, "what's wrong pet?  I get the impression that you want me to put your tongue to work..." or something along those lines.  K was a bit of a voyeur, so her response was often to have me strip and tease my genitals or my nipples until I was whimpering for her attention.  That was her "warm up" process and it took a few cycles of her ordering me to do/stop doing something for her to get revved up.

F and T were similar in that the majority of what they wanted to do involved my rump.  If I was feeling adventurous I might wiggle my rump for them, "dropping things" and bending over to pick them up, and so on.

With F it was easy to see her progress.  As she would get turned on a grin would form on her face that wouldn't go away and her eyes became... predatory.  F didn't like getting too aroused when it wasn't her choice, so if I did this, I knew I was playing with fire.  This was the start of our sex though, so I will admit to being the guilty party in this.  If I tried to turn her on... she would use that to fuel her sadism... the insolent slave attempting to seduce his Mistress.  It wouldn't be long before I was writhing and squirming, sobbing and struggling within her grasp.  That was what she wanted... to make me cry out in pain and watch my tears flow.  That was her warm up.

With T, I knew that once I offered that up she would both hurt me and violate me, but unlike F, she preferred much more to violate me than to hurt me.  T required a lot less warm up than F or K.  Her arousal was often like a light switch... once it was on, it was on and things would start soon after.  It would only take her half a dozen swats to my rump before she was ready to take me.  I knew after she violated me and my tears subsided, that we would lie together and feel close and intimate. 

I know that in some situations, these attempts at seduction would be frowned upon.  I know that I could live without them but in my memories they are often quite happy times.

Some random "What ifs"

Depression has hit me full on these past couple of weeks... I will keep writing in hope that I will see some light at the end of the tunnel.

Some recent events and interactions within the kink realm have gotten me thinking about something again. They are more thoughts than serious considerations but I will go ahead and put them out there.

I have known a handful of male Doms out there that aren't naturally dominant.  They were in fact subs, but due to their enjoyment of kink and inability to attract a Domme (over the course of several years), they switched roles and reclassified themselves as Doms in order to make it easier to find a partner or partners.  This change shuffled their spot on the hierarchy and led to an almost immediate shift in their success.  Basically, they went from being one of the man to one of the few... one of the overlooked to one of the desired. 

I won't lie, at times I've felt this was a bit of a "cheap out."  Instead of working to better oneself as a submissive, to merely flip to a different role in order to make things easier... sort of like giving up the guitar in order to become a bassist or drummer simply to find a band.  My pride as a sub had never allowed me to consider that before, but as I sit here with a heavy and aching heart, what is my pride truly worth?

The other reason I am thinking about this is after hearing from a submissive friend that they discovered their Dom had been looking at a lot of Femdom porn.  I've never considered it "wrong" for a femsub to change roles and become a Domme.  In fact, I've always considered femsubs to simply be those lacking in confidence or self-esteem, and if those factors were present, I have often felt their dominant tendencies would surface quickly.  I'm not sure why I hold this sort of double-standard, feeling like male subs that become Doms are "fakers" while femsubs that become Dommes are "confident and healthy."

It has always been my pride that blocked me from anything other than "dabbling" with what it would be like if I ever switched.  I have been told by a few that they felt I would be a good Dom.  In a lot of ways, my meticulous personality and understanding of how human emotions work within an environmental system probably would make me a responsible Dom.  I doubt that I would ever leave a sub wanting for more strictness.   I am a natural tease and I know how to get into a person's head.  I also know for a fact that with the level that I care for others that I would be able to sustain an environment that could make a sub happy. 

Something that has always puzzled me is why people with strong fetishes are mostly submissive.  e.g. why does someone with a shoe fetish associate as a submissive and often alienate their partners by being drawn more to shoes than to the person?  Wouldn't it be easier for them to be a Dom and order their sub to wear the styles of shoes they fancy? 

With that in mind, would it not be easier for someone like myself to order a sub to wear fur/leather/boots/gloves that I find attractive rather than hope to find someone who enjoys wearing those things?  Probably.  I also know from conversations that most women would be horrified to dress in the way that I have been forced to, so many of the humiliation aspects would carry over. 

Why then do I choose the hard route? 

I know in my heart that this choice isn't for me.  Two major factors come into play.  The first is that I cannot physically hurt a woman, so that pain play and/or corporal punishment is off the table.  I am emotionally incapable of doing such things.  If her face shows suffering my instinct is to make her smile.  The second is that I am sexually incapable of responding from the top role.  I would not be able to perform in that way and I think that would probably be hurtful on many levels.

Beyond that, I know in my heart I do not deserve it.  I am the one who suffers.  I am the one who must earn approval and affection.  I am the one who endures, ever grateful that someone took notice of me. 

I know deep down that if I were to ever attempt a switch that I would be a faker.  I do know that I should probably stop feeling that way about others.

More from the Early Years

Well for some reason I seem to snap out of writer's block whenever I share something horribly embarrassing from my past... so here goes...

I wrote a bit about my play habits in my youth in my reflections posts and a few others.  Something I tend to keep as a buried secret but falls important into my D/s development is closely tied to the G.I. Joe toys I played with as a child.

This is my fourth attempt at writing this so I will try to skip the history lesson but I will provide a
quick summary of the two sides.


The good guys: G.I. Joe.  The heroes of the line.  All unique and highly skilled individuals capable of great things against overwhelming odds.  Diverse in race and gender. 

The bad guys: Cobra.  The villains of the line.  With the exception of a few leadership characters they are all nameless rank and file with covered faces.  While superior in numbers they are always defeated.

While this was a toy line, comic book, and cartoon series in my youth, it has haunted me a lot over the years.  I mostly played as the Cobras since I thought they "looked cooler," but deep down I know that my own sense of being treated differently for my physical appearance made the idea of having a face hidden from the world was actually appealing.

In addition to her normal bondage games, M would occasionally play with me with my G.I. figures.  She would choose to be the good guys and state openly that "the good guys always win."  She would then proceed to defeat and capture my characters and then lead them around as her prisoners.  M would tire of this (it usually took about 5 minutes to reduce things to this state) and would frequently return to the others at this point.  On a handful of occasions she would decide she wanted to play it "for real" and she would tie a scarf over my face like a mask and bind my hands so I could be her prisoner. 

As I continued to secretly crave attention from M, the play style that she started became common for me in private.  The female characters in the toy line were all badasses.  While I had to keep it secret to avoid ridicule from my friends, my Cobras were all commanded by the Baroness:

It's probably no secret that this ended up developing part of my Femdom allure as I grew up... being commanded by a powerful woman in a black leather catsuit.  She would command absolute obedience but then sacrifice the others to escape when things went south. 

What complicates matters even more is another character.  I'm unable to pinpoint just exactly when the whole fur thing came in and made things even more complicated for me, but this didn't help:

I'm not really sure but this uniform just doesn't seem all that imposing.  When I would play in private, this character was me.  I would be bossed around by the Baroness until I would be captured by M:

This made me feel severely screwed up for a long, long time.  I continued to secretly play with these for several years after "I quit playing with toys."   It was a huge source of shame for me.  To make things worse, it bled in as I continued to fantasize about M over the years. 

I believe this is the source of my inner-henchman.

Broken

This is not a depression post.  I'm feeling just fine.   I'm merely throwing some thoughts and observations out there.  Over the past week or so I've been doing a lot of thinking about what type of submissive I am.  I have met two others that are like me.  Our type has no name.  You will not find us in any descriptions.  I have been trying to find where everything fits together... the edges... the pieces to the puzzle... I want to put them together.

----------------------------------------------------

I am broken.  I'm not even ashamed to say it.  I am a broken person.  I am actually proud that I can function on the level that I do without dependence on medications, drugs of abuse, or alcohol to get by.  I have achieved excellence.  I am great at what I do.  Even when I am at my worst I have no trouble holding a job or maintaining ties to my friends.  I reach out when I am in trouble.  When I'm in the pit of despair I calculate.  Am I strong enough to climb back out or do I need to find a way to pass time in a non-harmful way while I regain my strength?

I have seen people throw their lives away.  I do not do this.  While I may not have a tremendous amount of ambition, I know that my life has meaning.  When I do something, I give it my all.  When I love, I love with all of myself.  I do not shy away from intimacy or the vulnerability of the heart.  While I often feel weak, those are my strengths.  I keep it together through the darkest of nights.  I stay true to my loyalty and self-respect.  I will never be hopeless, even if I feel hopeless.  I can persevere.

I am broken.  I will never truly believe that I have worth, that I am important, or that I inherently deserve to be happy.  Those ideas were stripped away from me when I was far too young.  I have no faith except that love is the greatest feeling in the world.  I do not feel I deserve it.  I believe deep down in my heart that I can earn it by giving all of myself.  If I ever stop, it feels like it will all slip away.

The only thing I have ever needed was for someone to allow this.  Someone to allow me to love them with my all.  Someone to appreciate the depth and intensity of my heart.  Someone to love more than I love myself.

I truly believe that what others might view as my greatest weakness is actually my source of strength. I have complete confidence that I can make the one I love smile with all of her heart, even if I cannot make myself smile.  It is through the warmth on her face, the love in her eyes that I smile... that I feel complete... that it doesn't matter if I am broken.

Does it make me so bad to want to dedicate myself to making the one I love happy?  Does it make me weak to care little for myself?  I don't really know as logic and the feelings within my heart don't always work together.  What I do know is that I have seen the face of those that live only for themselves.  I have seen the face of the betrayers, the liars, the cheaters, the thieves, and the bullies.  I do not see strength. 

The doctors tell me I am broken.  That my emptiness is a flaw.  If I had to choose between myself or the one I love, is it really so bad to choose them instead?

The only confusion I have is if I should see myself as strong or weak.  When I think about myself in relation to my love, I am a rock.  I do not fail.  I am everything she asks, everything she needs.  In relation to my love I am amazing.  I cannot do it solely for myself... I feel like I am worth so little by myself that it just doesn't matter.  I can do anything and everything for her.  This happens so easily and naturally. 

I am proud of who I am through my love... through my submission.  I can be anything... I can be everything... but only for her. 

Is this good or bad?  I do not know.

I do know that it feels good to have found others like me.  To know that I am not alone on this road.   To know that I am not the only one that is broken.

I never asked to be this way but I accept that it is what I am. I feel like I should stop being ashamed and just be. 

The harder thought is if someone could magically fix me, would I let them?  I don't know if I want to let these loving feelings go.  Would I still have them if I changed?  The thought of losing the source of my strength scares me more than I care to admit.  I cannot see the world any other way. 

If I could change anything, it would be to help people understand the ways that I need help when I do reach out.  Trying to fix me only makes me feel more broken and more fucked up about being broken.  I just need to know someone is there for me when I do reach out... and accepts me in all of my broken glory.  

Submissive before being a submissive?

Things are feeling normal inside again...
I realize I have more healing to do from the distant past.

When I was in college I met an incredibly smart, funny, talented, strong, and pretty woman that endeared me to her more the more we spent time together.  I will call her C2.  This was about a year and a half before K.  As of this time I hadn't honestly pursued anyone in a very long time.  I was pretty well convinced that I was not a right fit for anyone near my age group.  I would get hit on by 40+ year old women or young effeminate gay men.

I did not dress particularly well, but I had developed a style that was uniquely my own.  I had facial piercings that tended to intimidate a bit after I moved from the coast back to the Midwest.  I went out of my way to be non-threatening in order to balance things out a bit.

As of this time I did not actively pursue romantic relationships.  I would be friendly and ended up friends with quite a few women.  I buried any sexual desires in favor of seeking friendship and companionship.  I did not wish to appear creepy so I made sure that my compliments were non-sexual in nature.  E.g. "Your personality is so vibrant, you light up the room with your energy and make everyone around you feel good."
Those were my true feelings.  I went to great lengths to de-sexualize myself.  In that age group compliments of that nature made that happen naturally.  "Nice shoes, wanna fuck?" was more effective as a pickup line.

C2 wasn't a textbook beauty.  She was a tomboy with wide hips and small breasts.  She had bad teeth.  She had man hands.  She had an amazing sense of humor that appreciated my quick-hitting dry wit and enjoyment of randomness.  She enjoyed the music and films I shared with her.  She enjoyed my poetry.  She was awesome.  She was unique.  She was beautiful.

Over the course of our friendship she became someone that I grew to trust and opened up my deeper self to.  During a period while she was between bad relationships I received a very large compliment from her:  "Being with you would be guaranteed happiness."

When I heard those words my heart that lay dormant for years sprang to life.
"What about being with me?"
She paused and thought.
"Let me think about it."

I spent a week or so, agonizing. Time was not on my side.  After about a week we met for dinner and she barely ate or spoke.  She wouldn't look me in the eye.  After a while I pried.  The answer was no. I asked if it was because I was too fat (I was carrying a little bit extra at the time) and she said no.  I asked if it was because I was too short (she was an inch taller than me) and she said no.  I asked her if she would tell me why.
"It's your face."

Something I had no control over and couldn't change.  I didn't cry.  Later that night I buried my heart. I had more work to do.

This was an echo of how I had felt for the majority of my life.  No one would love me... I was too undesirable from a physical standpoint.  This idea had been firmly implanted in me by age 17.  This was what led me to down the path of submission.

When K told me that she believed I was a natural submissive... that self... had been cultivated over many painful years of fear and failure.  For years I had been the sounding board, the shoulder to cry on, the "safe" guy.  I heard everything that a man could do to hurt a woman.  I heard about all of the insecurities women faced.  I learned the core of their self-esteem and what happens in its absence.  I understood their fears and their needs.  It's hard for me to look back on this and feel good about myself, but I know I was a mess inside and later used this information to try to overcome my inadequacies.

The first thing I learned was to be attentive.  Make them my focal point.  Listen to them and process it, what it meant emotionally, what it said about their confidence.  Do not judge.  Make them feel good.  So many times men take things for granted, e.g. "she must know she is pretty so I don't have to say it."  Everyone likes to hear things that are good about them, especially if it is something she is making an effort towards.  Let her know that you notice, that her efforts are making an impact.  Make her feel special, like she is the only one in the world that matters.  Chivalry, manners, and being considerate go a long way.  Protect her, act as her shield from harm when she needs you.  Guard and cherish her without smothering: it is about her feelings and not your own insecurity.  You don't always have to agree with her but that doesn't mean her feelings aren't valid.

This was the type of man I sought to become... to actualize this as my self.  Little did I know that this would separate me from the rest of the world.  In this process I became submissive.

A funny thing happened along the way.  I realized that what I knew women needed, they did not actually want.  I had become even more unattractive.  I had no more insecure male ego to flaunt, no false bravado and loud bark showing my teeth to the world around me.  I was not a "take charge" guy because I cared too much about the tenderness and fragile nature of the heart.  It was not enough.

By prying into my life with questions about why I had no girlfriend, my family got wind about the person that I had become from 17-22 and I was frequently requested to talk about love with divorcees and widows from age 40-70.  I have to say this was a bit awkward.  Being put alone in our living room with a 45 year old woman when I was 22 and asked to talk about relationships.  These talks restored a bit of confidence in me... in that the obvious swoons and scents showed me that I did have a demographic that found me attractive, it was just not my demographic.  At that time I was still clinging to hope that I would find someone within 10 years of my age.

To this day I cannot tell if K chose me because she saw me as a potential submissive or if it was confronting her own mortality that had shifted her relationship priorities while still in her 20's.  Or maybe it was both?

What I do know about my philosophies then and now... they are still very much the same.  Even as I ignored the sexual impact that M had on my life, I was submissive long before I was a submissive.

Disappointment, Frustration, and Music

Disclaimer: This is pretty much a sad bastard post... a bunch of personal feelings and old experiences that have nothing to do with D/s. 

I would really love to be working on Part 45 of fs01 right now.  My sleep is all screwed up.  My head is not in a good place for it.  That last argument with T really screwed me up.  I feel like the shell over my heart that I broke down with such force in May is back.  I tried in 100 different ways to avoid this outcome... and yet I managed to fail in 99 of them.  I can feel depression working its way back into my heart.  I am angry and sad about it.  While I was able to find subspace today I still cannot get there when I want to... I feel like I'm blocked from the feelings I want to have and I don't know what to do.

As I sit through this barrage of a million thoughts it reminds me of many things.  It's like I have this mountain welling up in my heart and I don't know how to get it out there and save myself from what may be inevitable.  I will use this time to just write... and let things flow out as they come to me.

I feel like a lot of my life has been spent rebuilding.  Having my world... my identity... shattered by factors beyond my control and then spending years having to redefine myself... find new things to replace the old... that has been the standard.  The first time I can remember this happening was in my youth.

I was a very good athlete and played multiple sports at a high level.  I was fast and strong.  Very strong.  During the final two minutes of a lost-cause football game where half of our team had already given up I was badly injured.  My ankle was destroyed.  At the time they didn't have medical procedures that could do anything to help it and the doctors used an out of date method for diagnosing and treating the injury.  The end result was that it never healed properly.  Hundreds of hours of rehab and I was at best, able to get to roughly 60% of what I was.  I ended up with a limp that gradually led to other problems.  The bigger issue at hand was that I went from being one of the best... to average.  For the majority of my life sports were the only way I could win the approval of my adopted father.  I don't know if approval is the right word... sports were my way of not being ignored.  I played them for years even though I had stopped enjoying them.  They were what I did.  The lone time I tried to quit baseball I ended up being beaten until I nearly broke my collar bone and got put through a wall.  I had grown accustomed to playing through severe injuries.  A torn rotator cuff and UCL didn't mean I sat out... it meant I learned how to play left-handed for two years until my right arm was again strong enough to not be useless.  

Sports were what I did.  They were who I was.  I had no identity without them.  I was already fucked up in the head from abuse and the events I talked about in The Pains of Youth post.  This destroyed me.  I no longer had anything interesting to offer my father.  Our interactions after this reached a stalemate as I had finally grown strong enough to hold my own in a fist fight with an adult.  After a major brawl he no longer attacked me at will and he reverted to mind games to take care of that job.

Over the course of the few years leading up to that I had become a bitter husk of a person.  Full of confusion and overflowing rage I dealt with the world with hostility and sarcasm.  I had no true friends... I had earned that and deserved the outcome.  Two things would impact my life more than anything else over the next couple of years:  drugs and music.  While my battle with drugs waged on and off for a few years, music was the new constant.  It filled the void left behind by my loss of sport.  I learned to play guitar.  I started a band.  I went to as many concerts as I could (250 concerts in 3 years of high school).  I had always been interested in music but now I attacked it with all of the energy of my being.  I dug and I dug... always staying on the cutting edge of the independent music scene (1992-1997).

I used drugs to keep myself numb.  I used music to have feelings on my own terms... when I wanted them.  The only feelings I could relate to were sadness, longing, loneliness, and the other parts of darkness within the heart.  A newer genre started to emerge in the independent scene.  It's emphasis was on emotional lyrical content.  It was the soundtrack of my heart.  I embraced these songs like they were my own feelings.

As of this time I was still terrified to show anyone what was in my heart.  I knew there was a set of feelings I craved... ones that weren't sad... ones that I didn't know... I wanted to love.  At 17 I was searching for the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  The search did not go well.  My feelings were either rejected or I jumped into relationships just to experience them when opportunity provided... these usually lasted about two weeks.  I finally fell in love when I was 18 several months after I had sobered up.  I shared everything in my heart with her.  She was my angel.  We got engaged at 19 but went to colleges across the country from each other.  She started keeping secrets.  I didn't realize I had lost her until she had been cheating on me for 6 months with the same guy and she broke things off.  I remember begging her on the phone to tell me that she didn't love me.  She refused to say that.  That pain remained an open wound for several years.

The rest of college didn't bode well.  I was looking for something more serious than anyone else was.  I wanted a true connection... love... the desire to be with them forever.  College offered fleeting sex, something I had no desire for.  Depression finally crushed me and I left school to take a year off.  During that year off a car hit mine while I was stopped at a red light.  It resulted in a pair of dislocated wrists, tendon/ligament and nerve damage.  My hope of being a professional guitarist died then.

During my year off a series of suicides by old friends pried open my heart.  I had left too many things unsaid.  I would do that no longer.  I began to share my feelings openly.  Share my care and concern openly.  I left nothing unsaid.

I remained alone for several years, depression sabotaging my attempts to get my life on track.  College took longer than it should have.  The fear of life alone began to build anxiety within me that I couldn't face.  I kept changing majors/degrees in order to draw that period in my life as long as possible.  During my final 3-4 semesters is when things happened with K.

When K passed... life stopped.  Music stopped.  My CD/record collection abruptly ends with her death.

While I moved on in many aspects of my life, many things are still frozen in place.  I feel like my ambitions died with her.  I learned to exist.  The feelings in my heart have stayed strong... I have learned to appreciate every moment... but in doing so I stopped looking beyond.

Three weeks after meeting T I again injured my guitar playing hand.  It was severe... more nerve damage... muscle atrophy... scar tissue... nerve inflammation... I lost guitar completely for several years.  Even now I am a shadow of my former self in that regards.  Music still feels frozen in time. 

It's fucking weird to look back and realize that I have spent over 75% of my life with severe levels of depression.  D/s took over where music left off.  Submission through love became my everything. When it is there life feels good.  In its absence I feel the familiar pains return.  As I feel these feelings creep back into my heart... my music, frozen in time, still feels like it is the soundtrack of my heart.

As I sit here writing... knowing that I'm up way too late and surrounded by thoughts and feelings that I wish I didn't have... It's amazing that I've written so much over the years but still held so many things back.  I have maybe 50 songs that have really reached my heart on such a level that they allow me to channel feelings... they make the feelings swirling around me feel real.  The hardest part for me right now is that I know that what I'm feeling is chemical.  I have no direct reason to feel what I am feeling... it's just what I feel.  I'm frustrated with myself for not being able to keep this from happening. 

This song popped up on my ipod on random the other day and I hadn't heard it in about 12 years.  It caused my heart to stir in that familiar way.  This is something I've never done before on my blog.  Give a personal glimpse into something very dear to me that isn't just an event or an idea... This is the song that currently resonates with my heart. 

An Uncomfortable Experience

Recalling some events I remember reading about on the defunct blog Forever Hers brought up a few memories that I have never written about.  In many ways I like to envision myself as being able to "roll with anything."  I am very aware that I do have limits to my capacity to handle certain things... things that press my limits too far... where the only options are to have them stop or be broken.

K started the trend of humiliating shopping trips.  F took them farther.  T is the one that pushed my feminization the farthest and that led to some of the more difficult and intense public experiences.  When I met T, my experiences with forced fem were somewhat incomplete.  F had occasionally dressed me in a bra and panties, or the typical fur ensemble with some sweaters and skirts.  T wanted to go all the way.  She wanted to dress me like a whore and take me with a strap on.

I have a very muscular build, so finding items isn't always the easiest.  After dabbling at some mild sex shops, T ended up asking an employee where less costume-based items were available locally and they mentioned a store that was "where the local strippers shop for their clothes."  It was a small independently owned store that catered almost exclusively to women which was a bit strange since we have a large CD/TG/TV population here.

We went there because she had a vision for what she wanted.  Mini/micro skirt, stockings and garters, boots, slutty tops, and so on and the other stores didn't really have their selection and this store had a lot of spandex which would still work with my build.  We chose a day that we both had off and went earlier in the day in order to avoid a large number of customers.  T drove and I experienced my usual amounts of high anxiety as we got closer.

Upon entering the store we were the only ones there except for the employee working the counter.  The shop had a lot of items that you don't find available at most online stores.  A huge variety of brands and things that aren't available in the majority of the local shops as well.  It was clear why it was so popular among their local client base.

T and I browsed together with me pretty much glued to her arm.  My face was bright red and I was pretty much unable to speak. She tested the employee with a few questions that implied the nature of our visit, such as if there were larger sizes available, what waist size items would stretch to, how large of size did their shoes go, and so on.  It became very clear that the salesgirl wanted no part in things.  She answered reluctantly but didn't elaborate on anything and her facial expression was one of disgust.

It was around now that I felt my chest become increasingly tight and the anxiety began to take its toll.  I started feeling light-headed.  I felt like I was going to pass out.  I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry.  T continued to take her time and was a bit surprised at how agitated it made me.   She would pick out an item, hold it in front of my body like she was eyeing it up and how it would fit, and eventually she settled in on a few items.  We purchased them and I could not make eye contact with the salesgirl when we paid. 

Upon returning to the car I burst into tears.  T was quite confused by this.  I was a bit hysterical and unable to convey my thoughts clearly.  Later on when we talked about it I was still unable to grasp what pushed me over the edge in this case.  I threw up when we got home.  T felt guilty and I did my best to convince her that it was not her fault, I just had no clue how I would respond to the experience.  I think it was probably the attitude of the employee that made the experience unbearable for me.  To be fair, dragging her into our play isn't something she consented to and her attitude was understandable. 

We did manage to buy the skirt that became a key part of my "whore" outfit.  It had built in garters and its fit was such that it just barely covered my privates when standing in a natural position.  If I leaned in any way it left me completely exposed. 

T would later use these events as part of some verbal humiliation play, citing that "her disgust was how most women would feel about you if they knew your dirty little secrets."  This is a case where the fantasy aspects still turned me on but I knew the reality of it was horribly unpleasant. 

A Sea of Thoughts: Submissive Types

This post is in reference to this blog post:
https://emdimensional.wordpress.com/2016/07/13/submissive-types/

I recently read a blog posting on types of submissives.  It was a thorough list and well-written.  Reading it brought me back to my early days in the lifestyle... when everything felt new and like a discovery and also to my early blogging days when a lot of my attempts at understanding my place in this world was rooted in definitions, classifications, and putting things in order.

It's safe to say that early on in the lifestyle I more closely related to a specific sub type.  I also found in some ways there was a small divide between the submissive that I wanted to be and the submissive that I actually was.

As time has passed and my experiences have grown, I realize now that I don't even know what I would classify myself as anymore.  I can associate with many types but I tend to flow between them fairly easily, but it's not so much a hybrid of multiple roles, more like identifying with one role at a time at any given time.  It's almost like I have a primary type and a bunch of secondary types underneath that.  e.g. I would relate most closely to the slave but be able to resemble many of the other types depending upon the dynamics going on in any given situation. 

When thinking about it I've noticed a bit of a divide in how/when/where this type of situation happens.  I'm not sure if it's something unique to F/m as I don't tend to see it as often in M/f relationships.  I'm not sure if there's an inherent difference on dominance... but sometimes it feels that way. 

I state these things as observations.  They are not meant to be hard conclusions or stereotypes.  I will say they are generalizations but I do not mean them to be done in a negative way, they are simply a reflection of my experiences and the people I have known over the years both on the web and in life.

-Lifestyle Femdom seems to have a tendency to reach a point of consensual non-consent over the course of several years.  A sub may have entered as a bondage enthusiast or someone who enjoys domestic discipline... but after a while, a good number of male subs end up as some fluctuating mix of types where you fill many different roles.  Another oddity is that male subs who have gone through this process often start to identify with some roles mostly due to the D/s dynamic.  e.g. They hate scrubbing the toilet but love the idea of being forced/ordered/expected to scrub the toilet.

-To be fair, I have only known a handful of M/f couples that have been together for say 4-5+ years.  The ones that I have known (or read about) it often seems that there is a lot more common ground in the relationship.  e.g. He likes activity X, she likes activity X, their relationship was built around their shared love of activity X, and to this day they still most closely identify with X.  Basically, it seems like the Maledoms and femsubs I have known tend to relate more strongly to a certain identity over a span of years.  They may delve and explore into other activities but it doesn't seem to change the core quite as often as I see in Femdom.  To summarize the main point, I feel like it is more common in M/f relationships for a sub to retain the submissive identity they most closely relate to.  If I am completely wrong here, please let me know.

As a contrast, it just seems very different for a couple to start with a shared enjoyment of X but to later go into Y and Z regardless of how the submissive feels about them.  That trend of compromise seems to change a submissive's thought process to where it seems natural to be completely at the mercy of the Domme.  Looking back at the submissive types, it seems natural in Femdom for a Domme to push a sub to the slave state.  If this is common in M/f relationships, I don't see it documented very much and I know in groups following common BDSM rules, the idea of this is rather frowned upon.

I'm not saying that either of these is more correct than the other, I just find it a bit interesting to think about.

Any thoughts?

The Backlash of Resistance

Some recent back and forth with Watson and Lady Grey have really gotten me thinking more heavily upon the process of breaking a sub to deeper levels of subspace.  In some ways I feel like I should talk about more day to day things, but seeing as I don't have a current day to day and the lack of writing on topics like these it seems okay.

The back and forth, push and pull of sadism and the way that submission adapts to it is definitely fascinating to me.  Thinking back over the years, I probably have around 7-10 events/activities that really broke me in such a way... they expanded the deep end of my subspace pool, making it both wider and deeper.

There was one common theme among everything:  They were all things that I had a strong mental aversion to in the first place.  I don't think our reasons for wanting to avoid something are always good ones.  Some of them make total sense and most of these fall into the category of hard limits.  Not wanting to do anything illegal, nothing that involves animals, no children, nothing that could ruin your life, and so on.  These SHOULD have a strong mental resistance.  Not all of these things are quite so simple.

A lot of things that I wished to avoid were rooted in fear, pride, or confusion. With K, I did not want to be feminized.  I found it crushing and its aftermath left me a different submissive than I was before.  Why did I want to avoid this?  It would change the definition of who I was.  While she had me doing research on the BDSM lifestyle, it took me all of about five minutes to realize that there was a tremendous amount of prejudice, disgust, and disdain for "sissies."  At the time I was fine being a submissive.  I was fine being her toy.  I was fine being a lot of things.  I did not want to be a sissy.  I did not want to carry that stigma.  On some level, I think I was afraid I would like it.  The mental barrier was very strong.

Once she set her mind to it I knew she would never budge.  I resisted at first but it was soon clear that she would try to break me until I accepted it.  She knew my fears.  She felt my obedience was more important.  When it happened, the defensive barriers I had assembled were knocked down in an instant.  The fears and insecurities were now true and I hated feeling this way.  When she first put the scarf on me and the hat on my head and made me look in the mirror, it was obvious to the both of us that the depth of my submission had changed forever.  I cried at knowing that I was different now.  She drove the message home by calling me "sissy slave" instead of "pet" whenever I was wearing something she ordered me to wear.

This was my first significant D/s event over the course of my life.  The event that had the greatest impact on my subspace happened with T.

Anal play had been on my hard limits since I entered the lifestyle.  About seven years in, I had experienced almost everything I could imagine.  I had been restrained in almost every way imaginable, used as a sex toy and held to nearly impossible standards for endurance, I had spent time in chastity, I had experienced forced feminization, I had been beaten or spanked with 30+ different objects, I had been humiliated in public, restrained in public, outed to vanilla friends, used by other Dommes, spent entire days as a servant without speaking, put through extreme pain/torture, and so on.  Anything up my butt was a hard limit.  I didn't have a "good" reason except almost a PTSD level of distrust towards men and a huge aversion to anything resembling a penis entering me.

This was pretty much an insurmountable barrier.  After my relationship with T started to deteriorate and she began spending (most of her free) time with other subs so that she could peg them, I swallowed my pride and released my hard limit.  I knew that I would resist.  I knew that I would use any out possible.  We resolved this by locking a gag in my mouth, locking my wrists to my ankles, and a spreader bar.  T was gentle.  I bawled, sobbed, and screamed from behind the gag.  My tears soaked the bed.  I thrashed and bucked and fought to get away.  There was no escape.  In its aftermath I fell limp on the bed in a heap while she undid the locks.  I wept for an hour, unable to move.  She pressed her body against me and comforted me.  It broke me completely.  It was the first time that I knew I would never be able to resist her again.  The next night I asked her if she wanted to do it again.

Looking back I see that these two events affected me so profoundly since I did NOT want to do them.  I don't think they were enough to get me to want to leave the relationship, but within the relationship they were just things that I had my mind made up about... I never wanted them to happen.

I see now that the strength of my resistance affected the amount of backlash each provided.  There are things that we would rather not do, things we do not like to do, and so on.  The resistance is minor in most cases, it's easier to scrub a toilet than it is to have a disappointed Mistress.  While the thought of "I'm doing something I dislike" may help some mild subspace, there is not enough of a recoil to do anything significant. The way I see it is that the amount of resistance to the act ends being reflected in the depth of subspace it can push us to.  The more of a mental/emotional struggle we undergo, the more it changes us.  

I have a fairly vivid imagination and can "simulate" how I would probably react in subspace to many ideas and fantasies.  There aren't many activities left (outside of standard sane hard limits) that could affect me so deeply.  Thankfully many of them are of very limited appeal (scat, blood, mutilation, etc.).  The others are fairly real fears.  A brief list:
-Permanent chastity (currently a hard limit but a chance of it becoming soft)
-Cuckolding (a hard limit with men, open for Lesbian cuck)
-Forced bi (a hard limit)
-Being loaned to a Maledom (a hard limit)
-Complete humiliation outing (possibly covered under the "nothing life ruining" hard limit)
-Being branded

Another odd observation is that I have gone through many things that I thought were no big deal but often affect others profoundly.  These had little if any effect on my subspace.

It really is strange how the mind works.  The more reasons we have for not wanting to do something, the more painful it is when we actually do it.  Some of these are illusions and exist only in our mind.  Others are more serious and painful. 

Breaking Through - Letting the alpha back out

First off I wanted to say thank you to everyone that has been supportive lately.  I've written a lot of very open/exposing blog entries and some experiences with interaction that left me feeling really off.  Miss Lily and Tina (lawyer), your comments today on my sensitivity post really helped a lot for me to shake off the feelings I was having.

I realized today that, as Wendy from Billions would probably tell me, I'm listening to the wrong voice.  In an effort to suppress my alpha, I have mistakenly shed its protection and held hopes and believes for humans that I never would have had otherwise.  My alpha has 30+ years of experience and well-sharpened fangs designed to ward off adversity and hostility and keep me moving through it all.  I believe I have to find a balance in knowing when to show each face, and not letting one or the other completely take over.

So... in the voice of my alpha... I'm not sure why I got a lot of hopes up this time around.  The internet has changed.  This has happened in every forum for every hobby that I follow.  99% of people end up in one place and everywhere else is left a ghost town.  Those who remain are those who are loyal enough to tough it out.  In the flavor of the month meeting zone is where the ugliness really shines.  The current forms of social media and ways that people present themselves leads to an endless pissing contest about who can be the biggest asshole in 120 characters or less.  Who can recite the most commonly accepted snobbery and posturing... and reject anyone that dares to think differently.

I used to feel that kink generally brought people together since we are all "abnormals."  The consolidation of forces seems to have just increased the density of the lowest common denominator.  Maybe I'm just getting old.  

It dawned on me this morning that how the hell is this different from life in general?  It's not.  The majority of people are set in their beliefs. They will maintain them without basis and shut out or shun views that differ from their own.  In many ways it feels like the ugliest part of human nature.  Don't think, don't listen, don't consider ideas, just spew your own version of right and reject those that disagree.

I can't even remember when I thought the majority of the human race was inherently decent and good.  I just know when it stopped.  It was somewhere around age 4 when kids at my pre-school and in my friends' neighborhoods would call me nigger and make faces at me (I'm not even black, not that that would make it okay).  Around that time was also the episode of Diff'rent Strokes where Arnold and Dudley go over to the candy store or toy store owner's house where he showed them porno cartoons and the guy molested Dudley.  After that episode my parents had the talk about not trusting people.  Somewhere between these two life changing events I stopped believing in the "majority."  (Yes, growing up without cable meant network TV shows were life changing at that age).

I toughened my skin.  I fed my alpha.  How did I deal with these people?  Simple.  Fuck 'em.  They don't matter.  My feelings could still get hurt, but fuck 'em.  They don't matter.  When I was younger I was aggressive in my defense. You hit me, I'll fucking kill you (not literally).  As I matured I began to pick my battles.  It's not hard to spot when someone is just closed-minded.  They aren't open to conversation, they won't even consider thinking about things in any other way.  Fuck 'em.  Ignore 'em.  They don't matter.  Put forth effort when it can lead to something good.

I think I despise my alpha so much because I have to spend so much time with it.  I waited 20+ years of my life to find one person that I could truly be open with.  I finally found that with K.  That's when I realized that the "rest of the world" didn't matter.  As long as there was one person I could truly connect with, that's all I needed to feel okay.  I learned the joys of being able to bury my alpha.

The uncertainty and insecurity that have plagued me lately are because I so dearly want to connect with others.  I put myself out there, open, exposed, and honest.  I'm met with the ugliest parts of society.

Yesterday I made my first real foray onto Fetlife.  Over the years I've had a handful of people ask me if I was on there, this year I finally took the plunge.  I entered one discussion where a Domme was ranting about how pissed they were that  "all submissives want to be feminized" and they were asking why.  I spent 10 minutes typing  a reply that would try to explain the what/when/why of things.  50 replies later yielded a bunch of hateful posturing.  Talk about "true submissives," disgust towards anyone that partakes in any form of feminizing, even people stating how infuriated they were at how sexist feminization is since they equated femininity with submissive behavior.  I spent 20 minutes typing another reply, explaining how the actual root of "forced feminization" is making a sub do something they do not want to do and would not have chosen to do otherwise and that I didn't believe that was sexist at all.  After about reply #75 I realized something important.  No one there actually wanted to think about anything.  They wanted to soap box.  They wanted to posture.  They wanted to hack people down they didn't agree with.  Be an asshole in 120 characters or less.  Show your personal superiority.  Degrade those you look down on.  Out of all the hate and pissing, not a single person referenced anything that I wrote, nor was there any true discussion between posts, only knocking people down for having the "wrong" opinion.

I wrote my Sensitivity blog post somewhere between my first and second entry on that discussion.  I woke up this morning to a very kind reply from Tina and soon after another from Miss Lily.  Those comments kept my spirits up.

A little while later I realized something else.  When in the hell would I ever tolerate being around people who behaved like those people on Fetlife?  The answer... NEVER.  I would never waste my time with a bunch of assholes like that in person, so why would I give a shit about what they say on the internet?.  Fuck 'em. The same goes for bloggers who ignore me or carry a rude attitude.  Fuck 'em.  I'll save my effort for when it can lead to something good.

I'm slowly rebuilding my support system through this blog.  The connections feel meaningful and I cherish them deeply.  There's no need to rush things.

Now I just need to find a way to balance... to be able to call upon both without letting one take over.

So yeah...

Disclaimer:  the following post may paint a picture of generalizations based upon my experiences with male doms.  I have met a handful of them over the years that were positive experiences and interesting to interact with and I do not consider them a part of this pseudo-rant.

Last night something interesting happened.  Well not so much interesting but more like, "wow, that hasn't happened in a while."  I logged into messenger and got approached by a random guy.  This has happened dozens of times over the years and it's not something I appreciate all that much.  They immediately started asking me questions, including age, sex, and location.  I resisted the temptation to respond "1996, robot, AOL chat room," and did answer back.  They answered my questions as well, including if they got my messenger name from my blog or from a profile search.  It was a search (my profile is blank except for a username).

It was a male in their 40's and they immediately attempted to initiate some D/s interaction.  I made some reference that my Mistress wouldn't approve of this they paused, saying "oh, you serve a woman."  Bam, right back to exactly what they were doing.

While this was the first time this had happened in quite a while, it marked about the 50th time this scenario has happened with me.  Sometimes I see if the person will actually have a conversation but this is usually not the case so I log off.  It's like, damn, I try to build some connections and I seem to be a magnet for creeps.  This is such a contrast from when I get messaged by a Domme.  I'm usually surprised and a little bit awkward/intimidated in these cases, but they are always cordial, kind, and respectful.  Additionally, it's almost always for some conversation with clear boundaries and no expectations beyond some company and getting to know each other (aka building a friendship).

For some reason random men find it normal to open with "you like fur?  I like fur, now suck my dick."  Uhh, no?  I'd break both their arms before that would ever happen.

In my earlier days in the lifestyle I would hop into chat rooms now and then.  I almost always chose some gender neutral screen name that implied I was a sub but nothing more.  My first time in the collarme chat rooms I had 25 private conversations hit me in under a minute, all from male doms.  About 20 of them said the same thing:  "I read your profile and you seemed interesting, I want you to submit to me."  The first 3 or 4 I responded with:  "Great, then from my profile you'd know I am a heterosexual male with no interest in men."  The remaining 5 were along the lines of "Hey cutie, show me your tits and suck my dick."

A bunch of creeps.  I would guess that's partly why they are trolling the internet preying on the horny or those with no self-esteem rather than in a relationship.  I don't know many women, submissive or otherwise, that would describe their perfect man as someone who drives a windowless van with a "Free Puppies" sign on its side.  Any wonder as to why negative stereotypes develop were answered in less than 60 seconds.  If people actually go for that garbage they are just as guilty.

Just because I'm into kink doesn't mean I don't appreciate some decency, courtesy, and tact.  Does this shit actually work on people?  Once I actually explained to one that this wasn't the best way to approach a stranger.  I could hear their jaw hitting the floor from across the country.  They listened intently as I explained that you start with small talk and pleasantries, build a conversation on mutual interests, and slowly press onward if there's a connection.  It felt a lot like explaining to a 10 year old about pulling pigtails on the playground.  I know subs are known to lose their mind when they approach Dommes, but apparently it's most men that lose their minds when kink is involved.

I don't know if I should find this as mind-boggling as I do, but... really? 

It's not that I avoid chatting with men, just please do not come at me like some horny animal demanding that I submit.

I'd get into my real world experiences being around male doms but then this would become a full-on rant post and I'm trying to avoid those.

The Scariest Thing in all of D/s

Recently I've come into contact with a sub that has been branching out in their local community.

I've been thinking a lot about random things lately and this felt like a suitable post.  I'm sure I'm going to piss at least one person off while reading this, but it's not intentional, I just don't feel like pulling punches and it will probably be a more entertaining read if I do not.

The scariest thing imaginable in all of D/s is not trust.  It's not being willing to open your heart and expose your innermost thoughts and feelings.  The scariest thing is not worrying about rough play, limits, or anything like that.

The scariest thing that exists in all of D/s is being a single submissive male seeking a long term D/s relationship.

In many ways it feels like climbing a mountain while hoping to win the lottery.  The odds are just so stacked against you.  That's not to say it's impossible, it's just very difficult and it's easy to fall into desperation.

There are basically 3 ways to go about finding a Domme if you are a sub.
1. Social networking/dating sites.
2. Getting involved in your local BDSM community.
3. Converting your current vanilla partner into a Domme.

I'll ignore 3 for now since it doesn't apply to being single but it is also a long-shot and doesn't make things any easier to think about.

Social networking/dating sites
A few posts ago I talked about the ratio of subs seeking Dommes vs. Dommes seeking subs in my local area.  It was approximately 120,000 male subs to about 80 Dommes and maybe 3-4 switches who identified themselves more as Dommes than as subs.

The numbers are so bleak for a few reasons.  To be absolutely blunt, most male subs are wankers and don't deserve the time of day.  The Domme factor is limited since they don't have to look far to find a sub, so most Dommes just aren't looking.  In fact, many have multiple subs because they can, usually in the form of a main sub (often their husband) and a few others that fill roles in their life (money, housework, certain play, etc.).

A Domme could have a 3rd leg that in the vanilla world would probably make her fairly self-conscious.  If she posts on a kinky dating site, she'll have 1,000 subs line up within the first hour that are already fantasizing about being trampled by that leg, worshipping a 3rd foot, or having a 3rd shoe to wank to.  No matter what, a woman will have her share of suitors no matter what she looks like, what she's into, and so on.

That isn't to say it's easy for a Domme to find a quality sub that they will fall in love with, but her chances are far better.  If you are a male sub, you put your pebble into her bucket.  You shined it, tried to make it look as perfect as possible and stand out.  You're still just a pebble in the bucket.  It's better to be the one who owns the bucket and can pick and choose, even if it takes time to find a pebble that you like.

As a sub, you face enormous obstacles.  If you find yourself in this position, there's a very good chance you weren't that popular guy who was confident that he could go out and get any girl he wanted.  You are more likely the guy who struggled and couldn't imagine doing something like that.  You are probably average in a lot of ways.  Overall, unless you are extremely good looking, rich, etc. it's going to be a difficult climb.

You create your profile.  You want to sell yourself but not make it sound like you are lying at a job interview.  Sell your strengths.  Share your ideas.  Maybe reveal a little about kink but not so much that you look like a wanker.  You browse the profiles.  You find ones that sound like they might work.  There's a good chance every single one of them involves some large compromise on your part, but hey, you work with what is there and make the best of it.  You find that best Domme that you would like to try to win favor with.  You take your time, really read her words and try to get a feeling for who she is.  You type up a respectful contact, citing what you liked about her profile.  You try to give a little bit about yourself as to how you think you might fit.  You hit send.  You wait.

Be prepared to repeat this process.  I would usually give 4 days without a response to figure she had no interest, especially if she logged in within that 4 days' time.  I actually got a response about 40% of the time.  I've been told that's a very high percentage.  If that happens, you start a dialogue back and forth via message.  Each of you reveal bits about yourself.  You hope.  You pray.  You realize you are one of the kabillion people also courting her.  Be polite.  Be interesting.  Be funny.  Be dedicated.  It's almost sad  how desperate this feels.

If you are lucky, it moves on to email/messenger/phone.  Repeat.  Elaborate.  Grow.  Be the best version of you.  Keep going.  Try your hardest.   If you're lucky, this escalates to a meet up.  This feels worse than a blind date.  You do your best.  You talk.  You try to read her body language.  If you do well, it continues, if you don't, you start over.

It always feels terrible to search for anything except perfect love.  In this type of courting you are almost always faced with major compromises.  The lifestyle Domme of your dreams has been married 10+ years and is living happily with her submissive husband.  You are hoping for the best with the ones that aren't. Chances are the available Dommes are either newbies, dabblers, looking for play, looking for money, or broken.

On the rare occasion that a Domme actually writes to you, treat this like it's the greatest honor in the world, because it really is.  She may not be serious about you, but still... it means you did something right in your profile and how you presented yourself.

Quite honestly, this is one of the most miserable things I've ever had to go through.  It's hard not to be desperate when it feels desperate.  I always approached it like I have to be twice as good to be considered half as good.  It kept me trying hard but still sucked.

Getting involved with local BDSM
I will be honest here and say that my experiences have been pretty negative trying this.  Some positive things did happen, but I will never do it again.

Most metro areas will have 1 or more BDSM social groups.  These groups generally have a few people leading events, the most common of which is known as a "munch."  This is basically a code word for meeting up for food and drinks at a bar or restaurant with others.  Most public outings groups have limits upon how people can act and dress.  Don't expect people prancing around in black leather whipping each other.

Attending a munch will most likely feel like going to an acquaintance's barbecue where you don't know anyone.  Everyone will have their own friends already and probably spend their time catching up with them.  Unless you are excessively good looking or rich, expect to blend in like a wallflower.  In these cases, it's up to a handful of people who will go out of their way to meet you, introduce you to others, and get you integrated socially.  This doesn't always happen.  It's a plus if it does.

A tip I give to people going to a munch for the first time:  never expect to actually find a Domme looking for a sub at one of these.  That just doesn't really happen.  You may meet someone, but expect it to take several munches to get to talking enough to even consider it happening.  The best I usually tell people to hope for is to meet someone who might be able to introduce you to others or chat with you about things.  Basically, make friends with someone who you have no plans on doing anything BDSM-wise with.  It's always good to have friends, and friends have friends, and so on.  It will also make you feel less isolated at munches.  If you become a regular at the group, they may end up hosting play parties.  This may end up being productive, but it's usually better not to expect anything.

Another note about munches, and I'm sure I will offend someone here, but the brutal truth is that the average munch will be ,mostly female subs, male Doms, and other male subs.  Expect lots of posturing from the younger members, e.g. the handsome 24-year old leather clad man with an abundance of guyliner will have his harem of (potential) subs vying for his attention.  Expect him to be trying very hard to look cool, and his (potential) subs trying to look cute/sexy.  The rest of the people will likely be a handful of very single male subs that no one has wanted in the years they have attempted to enter the lifestyle, and a bunch of married couples.

Most of the married couples will be male Dom.  A couple may be Femdom.  There will be no opening for you directly.  However, if you impress a Femdom couple she may have a friend that is looking but doesn't attend the munches.  Every so often you will stumble across a Domme that is big on posturing.  She'll have a bunch of slaves and be always open to adding more.  The keys to look for here are too much makeup and a wrinkle on her forehead from scowling a lot.  If you want a romantic relationship involving love, stay away.

Yeah, I've been there
Early on I wrote all kinds of tips and recommendations for approaching Dommes.  They were based on experience as well as the feedback that I got later.  I met F at a munch after having poor luck with sites (Reflections part 3).  I met T on a site (end of Refl 4 and 5).

When T was looking to add a sub girl for some play, she had me write the add and she showed me her inbox and responses.  1200 messages a day, every day.  400 a day when her status was set as "not looking."  Make sure you aren't a douche and you'll likely pass the first screening test: "first contact was not a dick pick."  After that it's on you.

I know it's daunting as hell, but steering the course and seeking what you want is better than giving up and wallowing.