For a while now I have been trying to figure out what I want to say about shaving. On the one hand, it seems to be a rather odd topic because (I would guess that) the vast majority of adults in America shave one part of their body or another. So why would they want to hear anything about what I have to say on the matter? On the other hand, I’ve learned a lot about shaving because I shave more than one part of my body on a regular basis. Not all shaving is the same, but there are some (I think) interesting things that can make a chore easier or get it done better.
Beyond that, most of the shaving I do is stuff that has nothing to do with BDSM. It is either for purposes of hygiene or appearance. At a point, however, both hygiene and appearance become part of making myself appealing to Mistress Delila – so they become part of my submissive…routine(?). So mostly it is beyond the topic of this blog, and where it touches, it is only tangential. But I guess it is enough because here we are – or at least, I am.
The first thing I’m going to say about shaving is that not everything I say about my experiences with shaving will be true for you. You have different hair and skin combinations than I do. So if something I say doesn’t sound right to you; then feel free to disregard it. Skip along to something that makes more sense.
One of my favorite kinky bloggers, Stabbity, has a post describing the perfect kinky scene. While I generally like the suggested improvements, it made me realize something. I really don’t care what “the scene” looks like, I don’t want to be part of it.
What would be perfect for me would be a world where no one cares about FemDom/malesub dynamics or specifics. It would be a world where my relationship with Mistress Delila would be as uninteresting and uninspiring as any random “traditional” form of relationship. At very least, it would be common and accepted enough that no one thought we should try to forge friendships around things that we have no intention of ever sharing with someone else.
I’m not anti-social, but I have relatively low social needs. I’m generally happy spending time with my immediate family and a very small circle of friends (I’m talking fewer than ten people, and maybe actually half that number or less).* Even when I do belong to larger social groups, I tend to separate out of them. For example, I belong to a church – but it is a small church, and if the attendance grew much; then I’d be uncomfortable (and I avoid the services where attendance is overflowing). Even when a normal attendance of two dozen (or fewer) are there, I only interact with maybe half a dozen at any level, and only two or three with any level of closeness.
This is perfectly normal for me and trying to interact with more people than that is immensely exhausting for me and not very satisfying. It also explains why the whole “go to a munch” thing bothers me so deeply. It assumes things that I know to be completely false.
First, it assumes that the only place I can possibly meet someone who shares my particular kink is to schlep into some amorphous group of strangers whose membership includes anyone and everyone who identifies in some way as “kinky.” I serve as a glaring reminder that it is possible to be involved in a kinky relationship without ever going to a kinky event. Consider this myth busted because attendance at kinky events is simply not necessary. Beyond that, the membership of every single kinky group out there would have to be infinite to ensure that every kinky person could find someone compatible. It just isn’t true.
Second, it assumes that if you put two people with similar interests in close proximity that they will: 1) recognize each other; 2) feel comfortable discussing said interests; and 3) hit it off enough to make the whole thing worthwhile. In the absence of some sort of mystical vibe that allows people to magically identify each other, then the only way to identify another person’s interest is to talk to them. If there are ten people in the group and it takes three minutes to discover that any two are incompatible; then it would take twenty-seven minutes for a person to check in with all nine potential partners. This is, of course, assuming that everyone is perfectly willing to tell a stranger things like, “I enjoy having Icy-Hot rubbed on my genitalia while balancing on a strap-on dildo that is mounted on a yoga ball and inserted into my rectum while reciting classical Romanesque poetry as boiling hot coffee is dribbled over the nipple clamps that are driving a needle through my flesh.” Good luck with that.
Third, it assumes that there is no one out there like myself who simply doesn’t want to be involved in any group of people larger than half a dozen or so. At the very least, it assumes that people like myself are really fundamentally wrong about how we understand our selves and how we relate to the world. Or maybe we will be willing to pretend to be something and someone we are not in order to dupe a partner into entering a relationship with us under false pretenses – and that relationship will be rewarding and happy even though it was entered into under false pretenses and one partner may have vastly different social needs than the other and will not feel betrayed by the fact that they were misled.
Fourth, it assumes that if I do happen to meet someone who shares an interest in a particular kink, that I will like them. Here’s my reality: I don’t honestly like many people (for the record, I don’t dislike people – I’m just ambivalent towards most people…I’ll be friendly with them, but they aren’t my friends). Even people who share a lot of common ground in interests with me are often not people I’d like to spend time with.
As an example, I like to watch professional football on television – but I don’t like to watch college football at all. I don’t want to watch pro football with anyone who has a favorite team, because they tend to get upset when “their team” loses, and that’s just stupid to me. I also don’t like to hear people yell at the players, the refs, the announcers, or anyone else who is so far away they can only be viewed through an electronic device. I also don’t like to hear people talk about the game itself, other than to occasionally (maybe three times per game) remark on how exceptional a play was. (In other words, if you like to watch football; then I am sure I wouldn’t enjoy watching the game with you. Unless you like to turn the sound down, talk about literature, and eat some non-salty snacks…in which case, I’m only merely suspicious that I wouldn’t like to watch football with you.)
There are a few people I know of who are interested in F/m that I wouldn’t mind spending some time with – but that is because I find them to be interesting people without any regard to the F/m dynamics in their lives. In general, I interact with these people on Twitter and we usually talk about things like our health regiment and/or medical issues, recipes, our families, what we last read, and other such things. While I read their blogs (the ones that blog), and find their thoughts on F/m interesting (and sometimes worthy of comment – and, in fact, linked to one at the beginning of this piece), our collective friendliness isn’t about F/m. In some ways, it is the least interesting thing that we share and even though the “F/m umbrella” covers us all, there are very few similarities around which we could build actual friendships on that aspect of our lives…if any of us were actually looking to do that (which we aren’t, as far as I can tell).
In my perfect world, the scene exists for people who are interested in hanging out at clubs or restaurants or wherever and doing whatever it is they do there without anyone being violated or threatened or excluded for anything other than behavior. But in that world, I could wear a collar instead of a wedding band when I walk around town and never worry about some small minded individual saying something hurtful to the people I love because of it. I wouldn’t have to time the more painful sessions of love-making around visits to the doctor because I don’t want the office to suspect spousal abuse. I wouldn’t have to be pressured to be in a closet or to come out of it. I would be free to live an open and transparent life about those things I want to share and no one would give a damn about those things I don’t share.
Perfect isn’t going to happen, though. So I will settle for a world where my boys can grow up to be men who find their sexuality to be fulfilling and affirming. No one would ever challenge them and they would never feel any shame for whatever leads them into a lifelong loving relationship. At very least, I will settle for a world where that is the message they receive from their father, and when they run into problems, they will know that there is always someone they can turn to who will love them for exactly the persons they are, and who they are always becoming.
*This doesn’t include family reunion type events like holidays where a ton of people may show up. Those are fine for three or four times per year – you know, special occasions.
I just wanted to let everyone know that I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth. I’ve been working on some writing projects, and that has taken my focus off of this page.
If you haven’t already, take a look at the Erotica for Sale page. That will give you some idea of what I’ve been doing. And it’s cheap!
I recently came across an online discussion that started with the question “Why don’t male subs attend events?” It had actually started two years ago, run its course, and stopped. It received a bit of attention here and there, but a few days ago it became active again.
That question has as many answers as there are guys who don’t go to events. The reason really doesn’t matter. What bothers me is the response that guys get when they give a reason for not going to public events – because the vast majority of them were along the lines of, “There is no valid reason for not going to events. You are a sad loser who deserves to be a sad loser if you don’t go to events. So shut up, you sad loser, or go to an event.”
I called the group on developing a bully mentality. Of course, this was immediately met by a chorus of denials. “We aren’t bullying people. We are just trying to force them to do something we want. If it is something that scares them or might damage their professional life; then they just need to man up. What matters is that they do what we want.”
How is that not being a bully?
The original question seemed to be asking for an honest answer. Perhaps enough honest answers from submales about why they are staying away in droves would provide event organizers with some ideas on how to attract them. However, when honest answers (or what appear to be honest answers) are offered; then what happens is someone – or a chorus of someones – seems to feel the need to tear apart the reasons that have been offered. Exactly how does this promote communication?
The answer is that it doesn’t.
From my limited sample of reading other submissive guys’ answers, it seems that a lot of them don’t go to events because they PERCEIVE that they will be treated as second-class citizens. Even if those perceptions are totally false, they are going to use them as a gauge because that is all they have. Simply telling them that their perceptions are wrong is not going to really convince them. Telling them that they are wrong and pointing out that they are a sad, strange little man who is very lonely will only make them feel attacked, and they will clam up.
The fact is that there is a very vocal group of BDSM’ers who seem to believe that the proper answer to every question is: “Just go to a munch!” They say this based on their history, and it’s valid beyond impeachment for them. But they either can’t or won’t see that their history, and their current life, isn’t what some people want or need.
Let’s pretend there are two types of people in the world. Joiners like to go to social events, like munches, because they like being around people and meeting people and they can almost always find someone who is interesting and fun to talk to. Shunners are people who don’t like to go to social events, like munches, because they don’t like being around people, especially people they don’t know, and who usually find being in groups to be hard work and anxiety-inducing and they rarely, if ever, find someone who is fun and exciting to talk to.
If you call them “introverts” and “extroverts” it probably makes more sense, but I don’t like those terms for reasons that don’t belong in this post. For now, there are two kinds of people.
Joiners generally have no problem getting their social needs met, as should be obvious. Shunners, on the other hand, have major problems. Rather than berating Shunners for not being Joiners, or at least not behaving like Joiners every so often, why don’t we ask Shunners what would make them feel more comfortable in joining a group that shares an interest with them?
Or, better yet, why not drop this insistence that everyone become part of a group in the first place? BDSM activities are very personal for a lot of people, and they have no desire to associate with other people based solely on BDSM. It doesn’t matter why they don’t want to. It’s THEIR LIFE. They get to choose if they are out or not.
We have to quit trying to force everyone to conform to what works for us. I love submitting to Mistress Delila, and I think that the F/m dynamic we have is wonderful and amazing and it makes both of us feel loved and appreciated and unique. But I wouldn’t suggest that EVERYONE try it. It’s a shoe that doesn’t fit on everyone. Even within the subgroup that practices F/m lifestyles, very few people would feel comfortable with the exact level that we have found. That’s why it’s so wonderful that the two of us found each other – or why any two people who are in love discover each other.
In the end, a closet is simply a compartment. Living in a compartment built by someone else is stifling and hurtful. But living in a compartment that allows a person to have a peaceful and fulfilling life is, by definition, peaceful and fulfilling.
Kink in Exile has a truly beautifully written post concerning a disagreement she had with a loved-one about her concern with being raped and his concern with being falsely accused of rape. I love it because it goes beyond the simple “yes/no” dichotomy of whether or not someone does or doesn’t support a means of anonymously reporting rape and rapists in the hope that it will prevent the further victimization of innocent people (and I say “people” instead of “women” because men can also be the victim of rape). I love it because she is unyielding in her beliefs, while allowing herself to feel the pain of seeing the issue from the other viewpoint.
I also love it because she is right when she concludes, “…we can talk about your fear, we can honor that and we can work through it, but your fear does not trump mine. It certainly doesn’t trump my safety.” Safety is vital, both for individuals and society. Psychologist Abraham Maslow put it as the second only to physiological needs (food, water, breathing, excretion) as a fundamental building block of everything humans need and do.
The issue of safety and rape are intrinsically intertwined, because (as should be obvious) it is impossible to be safe when one is afraid of being raped. It is all too easy for men to joke about rape because they, in general, do not feel the threat that women do. We don’t get cat-called walking down the street. We don’t have people rubbing against us in the subway. Rape is a legitimate threat for both sexes, but it is far and away a bigger threat to women.
This is an issue that hits extremely close to my heart. My mother has suffered her entire life from repeated rapes when she was a teenager. My brother and I were both raped as children (“molested” is just a clinical way to say “rape). A few years ago, my adult daughter called from Florida to tell me that she had been raped the night before. Rape is not something that is merely theoretical to me. It is personal.
The answer to stopping rape is to teach boys (because men account for 99% of rapists) that it is never okay to force their sexuality on someone. It shouldn’t matter if a woman does an erotic strip-tease – until and unless she indicates that she is available as sexual partner, she isn’t. Even then, she is only available in the ways that she wants to be available. As soon as she says it’s done; it’s done, with no questions asked.
The reason I am bringing this up is that I was accused, point blank, of being “no different than rapists” because I defended the F/m dynamic that Mistress Delila and I have. Yes, I said that Mistress Delila has the right to order me to take out the garbage, perform car maintenance, and wash dishes (those are the precise examples I used) even if I don’t enjoy it – and that means that She is a rapist.
It should be pointed out that the person making these claims is also a person who is providing a way for people to anonymously report that they were raped or coerced into having sex. This is a person who has argued, most vociferously, that false accusations of rape happen so rarely that they are not ever a legitimate reason to oppose what he is doing. Yet here he is, in effect, making a false accusation of rape against the woman I love for doing precisely what I have provided enthusiastic consent for her to do.
There is a saying that, “Where you stand in life determines where you stand on the issues.” Well, today I stand accused of having the mindset of a rapist and being in love with a female rapist. I now have a reason to oppose the anonymous database of sex offenders because it now threatens my safety.
It is no secret that law enforcement agencies are not exactly enthusiastic supporters of civil rights with regards to BDSM relationships. In recent years – THANKFULLY – reports of domestic abuse have become impossible for the police to ignore. By accusing Mistress Delila of being a rapist, and accusing me of holding that exact mindset, we have been put at legitimate risk for interference in our personal life by local law enforcement agencies. Exactly how much of a threat it is depends only on the ability and determination for a very tech-savvy person to track us down and alert the authorities to an on-going criminal activity (because rape is a crime, and by this person’s own words, if you aren’t doing everything possible to stop it; then you are actively condoning it).
This is not just an idle threat, it is the active and intentionally attempt to bully us into silence. Why? Because we dare to live our lives according to the dictates of our own hearts and according to the agreements that we have reached together over what is and is not allowed to happen within our relationship. We do not live up to someone else’s definition of what is “right” so we are rapists. We are criminals.
Let me be EXTREMELY clear on this: There is no rape that occurs in our relationship. Neither of us would condone or tolerate such an action, or even the consideration of such an action. Neither of us have even the slightest attraction to the “consensual non-consent” stuff. We don’t have a safeword (which is only as effective as the Dominant partner’s commitment to observing it) because we both believe that it isn’t needed when I can simply say, “Stop!” or “No more!” or any of a thousand other verbal and non-verbal cues that would tell Her that things have gone too far.
When we first began our relationship, we were challenged on what we meant when we said “TOTAL control.” My reply is that it means anything and everything we want it to mean. Since we are both sane individuals, it does not cover things that are patently insane or so fantastical that they would never happen. We live in a real world, and our fantasies are built around the things we enjoy and the pleasure we give each other. There is no need to build contingency plans for things that are impossible. I was very careful to pick someone who is not sociopathic before I pledged my unyielding obedience and unflinching service.
By the way, we have discussed what would happen if the impossible happened. We agree that either of us creeping into any dangerous territory would be enough to insist on a complete medical and psychological examination. So not only do we have multiple safeguards in place – including an incredible level of communication, the likes of which I’ve never experienced with anyone – but we have as much of a plan for the impossible as can be done.
Safety is paramount for every human being. No one person’s safety trumps another’s. Yes, we must do everything we can to prevent rape. But it has just been demonstrated how easy it is to threaten someone with anonymous accusations. So, I won’t ask forgiveness for insisting that due process of law be afforded to those who are accused.
That is where I stand.
*Standard kink disclaimer: This is how I do and think of things. If it’s different for you, and if you enjoy it; then you are doing it right. Variety is the spice of life, and it’s a spicy world.*
In my last post, I made an extended reference to eating semen, and I promised I would come back (no pun intended) to discuss it at length. I didn’t really think it would be this quickly, but an online discussion led me to think about it, and I do my best thinking while writing. So here goes.
First of all, the actual “proper” name for it is “felching” – which is an ugly sounding word. But felching is a completely made-up word, so I feel no compulsion to use it. I call it “eating my own cum” or simply “cleaning up after myself.” I called it “cleaning privileges” in the title of this post because I honestly feel like it is a privilege to do this for Mistress Delila.
It isn’t humiliating. It isn’t disgusting. It’s just…a very intimate and personal service. Look, I don’t know about any other guy, but my semen doesn’t magically disappear. If I am allowed to cum inside of Mistress Delila, it will leak out and (if I weren’t cleaning it up) then She would either lay there with an uncomfortable gel drying on Her thighs or dripping onto the sheets, where it would form a wet spot that just isn’t sexy. The alternative is that She would get out of bed, breaking the wonderful post-coital connection we share, and go to the bathroom to clean Herself. Or She could keep Kleenex (or baby wipes) by the bed, and still have to get up to throw it away (because She is not going to leave it to dry on the bed-side table).
So I know, without having to be told, that I am expected to render this cleaning service. I do, however, ask permission, because I am not allowed to initiate sexual activity of any kind without Her permission. What would be either a slightly uncomfortable mess or a break of intimacy becomes an extension of our love-making. In part, because I have to have permission, it is also a reaffirmation of our dynamic.
For me, it is a treat because I love to have my mouth between Her legs. I love everything about cunnilingus. I love Her scent. I love Her wetness. I love the feeling of Her against my lips and tongue. I love that I can give Her pleasure as long as She wants me to do so. Cleaning Her after our love-making is a special treat, because I can taste the mingling flavors of our bodies, of our love. I must admit, I often hope She will keep me down there until She orgasms…but that’s pretty much true at any moment of the day.
I do it because She enjoys it. I’m not privy to Her thoughts on the matter, and it really doesn’t matter, ultimately. She likes it; so I do it. That’s the way things are between us.
There are times, however, when Mistress grants me an orgasm and I am not inside of Her. The mess is either on my hands and belly, or on my belly and her hands, or sometimes on Her leg (I am a bit of a leg hound…like, a LOT). To some extent, the same thing about not breaking the moment we are sharing holds true. It’s just a privilege to be allowed to clean up and still maintain intimate contact.
There is an aspect to it in this example that is not present in the previous one, and it is especially true when the mess is limited to my body. For a man to eat his own cum, or to be fed it on the fingers of a woman, is taboo for Western Civilization (there are some societies where it isn’t a big deal for a man to eat cum, and some where it is considered the only manly thing to do). There is the feeling that I am, in my own words, a “filthy little slut.” This is not a bad thing for me, and I think Mistress enjoys that fact.
When I am being a filthy little slut, I am showing Her that I have given up all pride and status for Her, and for Her, alone. It would be wrong to say that I don’t care that I am breaking a taboo, or that I am violating the standard definition of what is masculine or manly. I do care. It is precisely the fact that those ideas exist that allow it to be an act of submission, and since my submission comes from my intense love for Her, it becomes an act of love. It would not be precisely correct, however, to say that I am overcome with love when She is feeding me cum, or when I lick it off my fingers. The love is there, but the reason I like it is that I feel dirty and slutty. I feel wanton in the deepest form of sexuality possible.
It is a deeply satisfying and affirming action for me. I get to relieve a potential problem, enhance and prolong the intimate moments with Mistress Delila, and find a wonderful head-space of submission all in one simple action. What could possibly be better?
I understand shame. I was taught it at a very young age, and I internalized it so well that it can still sometimes send a tendril from the depths of my psyche and threaten to pull me under and drown me. Fortunately, I have taught myself to recognize its voice, and I know that it shrinks from reason.
Understand, first, that shame and guilt, while related, are not the same thing. Guilt is the internal message, “I have done something wrong. My behavior violated my values. I am sorry for what I have done.” Shame is the internal message, “I am something bad. Only a bad thing could do the things I do. I am beyond saving. I deserve to suffer for being such a bad thing.”
The natural reaction to guilt is to seek out the person who has been wronged, and apologize. Forgiveness is not necessary to move on – you cannot force someone to accept an apology – but forgiveness can virtually erase the incident from collective history. The natural reaction to shame is to hide and avoid anyone who might know and understand it. Forgiveness only makes shame worse, because shame whispers that forgiveness is only given because the forgiver doesn’t understand what you are.
Guilt is incident based and fleeting. Shame is a way of life, because the person’s sense of self rests upon a foundation of worthlessness. The more you look at guilt and shame, the more you realize that guilt is healthy, and shame is not. Typically, guilt walks hand-in-hand with sorrow; whereas shame rides a horse named humiliation.
I’m not talking about humiliation as a kink that people honestly enjoy. I don’t understand that particular kink, but I don’t judge people by the yardstick of my life. I don’t have to understand it to give those who enjoy humiliation all the space they need to enjoy their predilections. I do understand enough to know that there is a way for some guys to be humiliated that actually makes them feel good about who they are.
But there are some men for whom the act of submission is humiliating. Perhaps it is because they don’t measure up to society’s stereotypes of manhood. Perhaps it is because they don’t enjoy the gender roles that are forced upon them. Perhaps it is because they have internalized these things to the point where their personal sense of manhood is threatened by the very things that arouse them. For whatever reason, putting themselves under the thumb (or heel!) of a woman is both heaven and hell, wrapped into one ball of furiously competing senses of revulsion and satisfaction.
For example, there is is the act of eating one’s own semen after ejaculation. Since Mistress Delila took ownership of me, there have been very few times when She hasn’t insisted that I “clean up” in this fashion. I have never once felt humiliated when doing this*, or when I think about it afterwards. I don’t believe She wants me to be humiliated, and would likely stop doing it if I suddenly developed that reaction. At the very least, She would expect me to get over it, even if it required therapy and medication.
When I first heard guys discussing how humiliating this is, I was honestly confused. As I thought it through, and paid close attention to how they spoke of it, I realized that this was a form of self-punishment for the pleasure of having an orgasm while experiencing something they “shouldn’t enjoy” (as they define it). It wasn’t just the act of eating semen that was humiliating – it was the entire behavioral chain.
Maybe it is something as simple as having to ask permission to have an orgasm. I as mentioned in an earlier post, Conventional Wisdom says that this is an unmanly thing to do. If a guy buys into that Conventional Wisdom (instead of rejecting it as I do); then he has to either find a way to be okay with being less of a man for what he wants; or he has to punish himself for what he enjoys.
I believe guilt is the result of a man finding a way to be okay with being less of a man. After all, by being submissive (and even more so, by deriving pleasure from it), he has violated his idea of what a man should be like. He has violated his values. He may feel sorry for doing this, but the reward is worth the guilt. And anyways, if he doesn’t let himself think about the guilt; then it isn’t so bad. Just focus on the good, and it will be okay. Mostly.
Shame, however, comes when a man cannot come to grips with his desires. A man is supposed to be in control, and he isn’t. Therefore, he is not a man. The logic is straightforward and iron-clad. The answer, of course, is to find a way to purge that non-manliness from his psyche. Maybe he simply refuses to indulge those desires – making himself suffer through denial of pleasure (and perhaps, denial of ALL pleasures). Maybe he finds a way to make the source of his pleasure so unmanly that it can’t possibly appeal to him.
From this perspective, what could be more unmanly that eating one’s own semen? That is, after all, something that women and gay men do (in the macho-stereotypical view, there is no class of humans less masculine that women and gay men), and this semen was produced by doing something unmanly, anyway. So he consumes his semen, surrendering his manhood, to pay for the pleasure he has allowed himself.
How can this not be humiliating? How can someone who seeks that much humiliation not be filled with shame? Isn’t a man who actively tries to not be a man a bad thing?
First, let’s start by tossing out that “man’s man” crap. I’ve met some gay men who are pretty damned masculine (and, actually, some women are, too). There is nothing about desiring and enjoying another man that reduces masculinity. It’s like saying that you must be a chicken if you like to eat eggs. It just doesn’t work.
Beyond that, a man is not defined by what makes his dick hard. A man is simply a boy who has grown up, and a significant part of growing up is to put away the thoughts of fancy and simplistic ideas of reality. So you aren’t John Wayne. Big deal. Neither was John Wayne! He was a fucking actor whose name was really Marion Robert Morrison!
An erection is the result of mental and physical arousal – which is, as far as I can ascertain, entirely outside of the control of most men. If having to ask permission to cum makes your dick hard; then you can no more control that than you can control if you get hard from looking at a woman’s breast or buttocks or a man’s biceps. It’s a fact of life for you. It isn’t a reflection of your character, it’s a reflection of what turns you on. Period. Nothing further.
What is it in semen that would make eating it unmanly?. Up to 75% of human semen is simply amino acids, enzymes, and fructose. Fructose is a kind of sugar. Amino acids are building blocks of proteins. Enzymes are simply a catalyst cell used to turn one thing into another – an no, it doesn’t turn straight guys into gay guys. If it did; then you’d only get once chance in life to masturbate.
Feel free to substitute other actions for the one’s I’ve used as examples. It isn’t, after all, the action that is inherently shameful or guilt-inducing. It is how a person feels about that action, and how they feel about themselves for enjoying it.
For those of you who might recognize yourself in my description, know that my heart aches for your suffering. I was there once. I understand, first-hand, how it feels to hate yourself for what you are. I also understand that it is possible to move beyond that hate, to accept what you are and who you are, and to find someone who loves you for it, not despite it. You should realize, as well, that when you punish yourself, you are also punishing those around you. No man, after all, is an island.
Even if it feels like you are.
*I will talk about what this means to me another time. Doing so now would simply derail the conversation I want to have.
Under the agreement that guides my relationship with Mistress, I am not allowed to masturbate, except under Her direction. Since we only get to see each other physically once a month or so, this means that She often directs my actions by phone. Because our lives are busy, I sometimes go several days (or weeks) without touching myself. I have learned to love these times of hunger building within me. While I have never been one to have erotic dreams, as my hunger grows, I often have erotic dreams about Her (and I have never dreamed of any other woman). For obvious reasons, I enjoy these.
This was the first part of our agreement, which has grown and evolved over time. It is, in my eyes, the foremost building block of what we have. I love every part of the…dance of this type of play. Often, but not always, I must beg for Her permission to stroke myself. She will always stop me several times at various stages of arousal. As anyone who has engaged in edging will affirm, the closer to orgasm I am when She stops me, the harder it is to stop…but it also makes it more intense and more meaningful. When She stops me, I will beg permission to continue, unless She forbids it. She often allows me to orgasm, because She enjoys hearing it (I tend to be a bit noisy…). But I love it just as much when She does not.
Every part of this flies in the face of stereotypical masculinity stereotypes. Even monogamous men in Western cultures are generally accepted to be in control – and especially in control of their sexual pleasure. Conventional Wisdom says that a man CANNOT control his actions during sexuality activity. He just loses control and pounds away until he’s done. Then he goes to sleep.
Beyond that, the idea that a grown man would beg is nearly anathema to the Western concept of manhood. That he would voluntarily enter a relationship with a woman who would not only make him beg, but enjoy it, would seem insane (and, in fact, it is only recently that BDSM activities ceased to be de facto markers of mental illness – like in that last decade).
Conventional Wisdom is wrong. Period.
Before I met Mistress Delila, I was pretty much at the mercy of my sexual desires. I spent considerable time (sometimes multiple hours per day) watching BDSM themed porn and masturbating. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but it caused problems in my life. It helped ruin two marriages and it impacted my ability to get enough sleep so I could work effectively.
What I needed, of course, was a Dominant Woman to impose some control over me. Mistress Delila did this, and She slowly brought me from needing multiple orgasms per day to the point where I have gone longer than a month without any release. I suppose the fact that I was able to do this with Her constant supervision, and no physical restraint, indicates that I always had the capacity to control myself, but was lacking a reason. Mistress Delila, and Her love, as demonstrated through Her control of my sexuality, was that reason. Submitting to Her control granted me freedom from the chaos of my sexual urges. In other terms, I needed to be SUBMISSIVE to be a MAN and control my sexuality for the woman I love.
It is difficult for me to put into words what this means to me. When I met Mistress Delila, I had spent close to quarter of a century trying, and failing, to control my sexuality. I felt enslaved to my desires. I had begun to fear that I could never experience true intimacy because my most satisfying experience was with pixelated videos in the middle of the night. I had lost hope. When She told me that I would do what She wanted because She was better than porn, I just couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t have said that, I told myself, if She really knew me.
But She was right, and She continues to be right.
It is difficult to have an adult-oriented online presence and not be exposed to pornography, but (somewhat surprisingly) it doesn’t tempt me. I see it, from time to time, but I do not consume it. I would rather remain hungry for months (gulp! did I really say that?) than to waste even one stroke of my cock without Her approval and to have that empty feeling of aloneness after doing so without Her.
I beg for other things from Her, but there is nothing that means as much to me as when I beg for permission to enjoy my body. For one thing, there is the implicit trust from Her that I have not cheated on our dynamic. Beyond that, it is an extremely vulnerable form of communication. It’s that stripping away of the facade and baring my deepest self to Her decisions. It is that I trust Her to decide what is best for me, and to be strong enough to resist the urge to simply give in because She loves me and I want something. It is putting myself into Her hands and under Her control as fully as I possibly can at that moment.
The edging shows my commitment to our dynamic. It shows that, even at the peak of physical pleasure – and, believe me, it is sometimes at the peak – I am strong enough to bend my will into obedience. It is the most personal and intimate sacrifice that I can make at that moment when I deny my body the release it so desperately wants and lie there panting and pleading for Her to just not stop…
She is teaching me that I do not need to get frantic about approaching my edge. If I can push down the physical urge to orgasm; then I can also let Her experience the passion in my voice that She loves so much and still remain in control of all of my behavior (thrashing legs, for example).
I look back at the above paragraph on Conventional Wisdom, and I just can’t believe how wrong it is. How could a man be stronger than to give everything because of love? How can he be more manly than when he reveals himself at his most vulnerable? How can a man even be a man if he cannot control the very sexuality that is gifted with his gender?
Submitting to Mistress Delila in this specific fashion has made me a stronger man, and it has built the most amazing love that I have ever given or received. If that isn’t masculine; then masculinity isn’t worth pursuing. Fortunately, I believe that it is worth pursuing and this is how I do it with the woman I love.