There seems to be this image of a dominant woman as someone who is competitive, strong-willed, cut-throat, and well, mannish in her demeanor. I feel like this is the stereotypical image of a domme that we all adhere to, for lack of other examples.

Do I find the whip-weilding sadistic bitch intriguing? Yes, yes I do. Do I find it contrived in most people, and stereotypical as well? An even more resounding yes.

I feel like there is an inherent insecurity in most women who claim to be the “alpha female”.

A prisoner to lock in my cage and starve, while I tease him with a huge sushi feast that I eat right in front of him. I’ve never done this before, I feel like it would be very funny.

Cute-as-a-button forced-bi enthusiasts. Oh, how I long to make a couple of naughty little buttboys perform sordid tasks upon eachother.

New jokes! Email me with a good one!

A long, and intricate needle session. I very much want to sew a corset… on a very lucky subby’s balls!

God, I hate that song. It reminds me of Gloria Steinem, bra-burning 70’s radical black or white philosophy that most men of a certain age associate with being a feminist. But it’s a catchy title.

Anyway… I’ve been thinking about the reasons why some men have a desire to worship Dominant Women, and where this drive comes from. Is it genetic? Were these genetics influenced by some environmental circumstances?

If we presume that a desire to worship a Dominant Woman is genetic, there might be some sort of evolutionary reason for this. Meaning, most genetic traits are the result of an evolutionary trend- the result of a condition that existed for thousands of years (ex: evolutionary geneticists postulate that humans lost their hair in order to free themselves of external parasites that infest fur). My theory is similar to this in concept- that goddess worshipping cults (or religions where goddesses were an integral part of a greater pantheon) existed for tens of thousands of years before they were all but obliterated. What if this caused a evolutionary psychological “need”, or “trend” which now can only manifest itself in the worship of Dominant Women? I’m saying that, if genetics can effect our physical outcomes, why wouldn’t it also effect our psychology? To a certain extent, of course. It is analogous to scientists who claim to have found a “gay gene”. Is it possible there may be a subby man gene?

I started thinking about these things because I want to know what exactly it is that men are “worshipping” when they come to see me. I would like to think that it is some sort of abstraction of the Divine Feminine that they see reflected in me. I hate all of the “star fucker” clients who need to go to a certain Domme because they feel she is “the best”- because that implies to me that they want the literal person, whom they could not possibly ever know (at least not from a blog or website). It also implies that they have a need to associate themselves with “the best”, out of some sort of insecurity, like rooting for the best baseball team- a form of irrational jingoism (okay, maybe that’s a bit extreme). But it ignores or de-emphasizes what it is about BDSM that is really important, which is honest, empathic connection.

Are “star fucking” and connection mutually exclusive?

Do you think that genetics play a factor in one’s predisposition toward a need to submit to a Dominant Woman?

Does your brain hurt now? Lol!

xoxo.

They brought me a bottle of Veueve Clicquot, which made me aware that they meant business. Jovial business. Let’s have fun kind of business.

I slinked into my black latex dress (business casual for dommes) poured us some champagne, and we all sipped away with nervous apprehension. I was a bit nervous, I admit- I mean, there’s so much to do! I wondered what they’d be like- reserved? Scared? Demanding? Complete novices?

I asked them about their experience. Things they had done with eachother, things they had done with other providers/professionals. The woman, Mariana, explained that she had fisted him (Carlos), and that she very much enjoyed it. I eyed her response for long enough to determine that she was telling the truth. He said that he had visited a mistress in their home country, Argentina, a few times, and that she had introduced him to sounds and needles. He said he liked them very much. Wow. Delight. This was not going to be your mother’s session. Severe CBT was also something which excited him- kicking, squeezing, and even stomping.

I wanted to test Carlos’ boast that he enjoyed hard CBT, so I chained him up and grabbed him- gently at first, and then gradually increasing the pressure, with my hand while looking into his eyes. As the pressure increased, I saw not a hint of resistance or pain, only ecstacy and gratitude.

Mariana was eager to learn how to administer sounds. I showed her how to lube the tip. To run the opening of the urethra with the sound slowly and gently, as to heighten the anticipation. We started with a small gauge, and slowly worked our way up. Slipping the sound gently into the urethra, patiently watching it slide down and twist, following the spiral tube all the way. Feeling the metal inside of the penis against your hand. The shallow breathing of our patient. The slack, relaxed expression on his face inspired her to touch it softly, and he rubbed her pussy as I increased the gauge of the sounds gradually.

Some mistresses do not offer role play, because they consider it to be too submissive. Well, I say fuck that. I like role playing. Much of the time it’s really hot. Because BDSM is theater anyway, why would it seem submissive? Isn’t creating a “Domme Persona” sort of like role playing anyway?

Submissive to me is: projecting a persona that you feel your clients will like

You are not worshiping me. You are worshiping the divine feminine in me. What I represent. Not me as a person, because you don’t even know me. Perhaps you are worshiping yourself in some convoluted way. Perhaps the feminine side of yourself that is repressed, which needs expression. We could conjecture about that all day!

The first video is weird, but it was the only recording I could find that doesn’t take you to another website… It came out in 1978!! Read the lyrics below while you listen, because it’s my blog and that’s what I want you to do.

Lyrics for Out of the Wardrobe by The Kinks:

Has anybody here seen a chick called Dick
He looks real burly but he’s really hip
He’s six feet tall and his arms are all brown and hairy
Well, he married Betty Lou back in ’65 when you had to be butch to survive
But lately he’s been looking at his wife with mixed emotions
You see, he’s not a common place closet queen
He shouldn’t be hidden, he should be seen
‘cos when he puts on that dress
He looks like a princess
The day he came out of the wardrobe
Betty Lou got quite a surprise
She didn’t know whether she should get angry or not bat an eye
She really couldn’t call up her mother
Mama would positively die
Should she go or stay or should she try to get a trial separation
You see, he’s not a faggot as you might suppose
He just feels restricted in conventional clothes
‘cos when he puts on that dress, he feels like a princess
He’s not a dandy, he’s only living out a fantasy
He’s not a pansy, he’s only being what he wants to be
Now his life is rearranged and he’s grateful for the change
He’s out of the wardrobe and now he’s got no regrets
Betty Lou didn’t know what to do at first
But she’s learning how to cope at last
She’s got the best of both worlds
And she’s really in a state of elation
She says it helps their relationship
She says a change is as good as a rest
And their friends finally coming ’round to their way of thinking
She wears the trousers and smokes the pipe
And he washes up
She helps him wipe
‘Cos when he puts on that dress
He looks like a princess
He’s out of the wardrobe and he’s feeling alright
He’s out of the wardrobe and he’s feeling satisfied
Now it’s farewell to the past
The secret’s out at last
He’s out of the wardrobe and now he’s got no regrets

And another song, more familiar (I hope, for your sake), which Ray Davies claims is about one of his friends who knowingly went home with a transvestite one drunken evening…

And the lyrics to Lola (if you don’t already know them):

I met her in a club down in North Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Cherry Cola
C-O-L-A Cola.

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance.
I asked her name and in a dark brown voice she said, “Lola”
L-O-L-A Lola, lo lo lo Lola

Well, I’m not the world’s most physical guy,
But when she squeesed me tight she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Lola, lo lo lo Lola

Well, I’m not dumb but I can’t understand
Why she walks like a woman and talks like a man
Oh my Lola, lo lo lo Lola, lo lo lo Lola

Well, we drank champagne and danced all night,
Under electric candlelight,
She picked me up and sat me on her knee,
She said, “Little boy won’t you come home with me?”

Well, I’m not the world’s most passionate guy,
But when I looked in her eyes,
I almost fell for my Lola,
Lo lo lo Lola, lo lo lo Lola

I pushed her away. I walked to the door.
I fell to the floor. I got down on my knees.
I looked at her, and she at me.

Well that’s the way that I want it to stay.
I always want it to be that way for my Lola.
Lo lo lo Lola.

Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls.
It’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world,
except for Lola. Lo lo lo Lola. Lo lo lo Lola.

Well I left home just a week before,
and I never ever kissed a woman before,
Lola smiled and took me by the hand,
she said, “Little boy, gonna make you a man.”

Well I’m not the world’s most masculine man,
but I know what I am and that I’m a man,
so is Lola.
Lo lo lo Lola. Lo lo lo Lola.

And here’s the music video to Come Dancing, because I like it:

The lyrics are fun too:

They put a parking lot on a piece of land
When the supermarket used to stand
Before that they put up a bowling alley
On the site that used to be the local palais
That’s where the big bands used to come and play
My sister went there on a Saturday

Come dancing
All her boyfriends used to come and call
Why not come dancing, it’s only natural

Another Saturday, another date
She would be ready but she’d always make them wait
In the hallway, in anticipation
He didn’t know the night would end up in frustration
He’d end up blowing all his wages for the week
All for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek

Come dancing
That’s how they did it when I was just a kid
And when they said come dancing
My sister always did

My sister should have come in a midnight
And my mom would always sit up and wait
It always ended up in a big row
When my sister used to get home late

(spoken)
Out of my window I can see them in the moonlight
Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate

(sung)
The day they knocked down the palais
My sister stood and cried
The day they knocked down the palais
Part of my childhood died, just died

(instrumental)

Now I’m grown up and playing in a band
And there’s a car park where the palais used to stand
My sister’s married and she lives on an estate
Her daughters go out, now it’s her turn to wait
She knows they get away with things she never could
But if I asked her I wonder if she would

Come dancing
Come on sister, have yourself a ball
Don’t be afraid to come dancing
It’s only natural

Come dancing
Just like the palais on a Saturday
And all her friends will come dancing
Where the big bands used to play

xoxo.

She would hunt you like the innocent prey that you are! Stalking around you, smelling your scent, like you were a piece of pulsating flesh and nothing more!

I don’t normally do this, because frankly, most people’s blogs bore the fucking crap out of me. But Wynter is a true connoisseur, and a true lover of all (most?) things kink. If you’ve ever been to her house, you know. So she posted a list of Victorian-era schoolroom discipline rules- meaning, a list of possible transgressions and their consequences- which makes me want to cream myself. So here it is (for anyone here who still does not read her blog- naughty, naughty!!):

Delicious.

By the way, she does have this up on her fridge, which is very funny. Also, you need to follow her right now.

xoxo.