Masculine Submission

No greater love has a man than to live his life for the one he loves

Archive for the month “October, 2013”

You don’t HAVE to be out

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.

Cleaning privileges

*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?

Guilt, shame, and submission

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.

Building blocks

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.

No butts about it

My first wife once brought up the idea of using a dildo on my ass. I flipped out, and not in a good way. My ass, I told her, was for exit only. Anyone putting anything in there would get a black eye…or worse.

It’s a shame that I had that reaction, but cause I really love having a woman fuck my ass. I mean: I REALLY love it. I beg for it…but Mistress likes it enough that I don’t usually have to beg long. (YAY!)

To understand how I got from there to here, it’s important to understand WHY I was there in the first place. I grew up in the land of the “man’s man.” Men weren’t just grown up boys, they were rough and tough and didn’t take shit from anyone. My grandfather once got a job running a construction crew because he fought better than anyone in town. My uncle cut the tip off his finger at work, continued working for over an hour with a red rag wrapped around it, drove himself over forty miles to the hospital, and then filled out the insurance paperwork – with the injured hand. Get the idea?

Anything that hinted at weakness had to be purged from a boy so he could be a man. Without a doubt, one of the things that made a man a man is that he loved women. Homosexuality wasn’t just a crime against God’s Law, it was an admission that a guy just wasn’t really a man. In fact, anything that hinted at homosexuality was probably best ridiculed…like touching another man in any way other than a hand-shake.

The idea that a guy would derive pleasure from anything going into his anus was OBVIOUSLY an admission of homosexuality. It meant he wasn’t a man. He was some sort of weird sissy-boy who just…well, he was a bit throwed-off.

So I couldn’t even contemplate the idea of enjoying my own ass in any sexual manner.

I have, since that time, evolved a more enlightened concept of manhood. I no longer fear homosexuality, not in myself and not in others. I understand that some people just like other people with the same sexual equipment, just like some guys like women with big butts and some like women with tiny breasts. It isn’t even worthy of noting, honestly.

My first step away from that extreme point was the discovery of my prostate. I don’t really remember where I heard about prostate play, but it must have made it sound REALLY good. I found objects around the house that would reach and found that it was an amazing feeling. I want to stress – this was incredibly unsafe, and with the easy availability of sex toys today, there is no reason someone would do something so stupid.

I still kept that hidden from my first wife. A big part of it was that I didn’t want her to think I was gay. Ultimately, I simply didn’t trust her enough to make myself vulnerable. She never cracked through the hard shell I had built around my innermost sense of manhood. For that matter, neither did I.

My second wife and I discussed it. We were actually pretty close to trying it once, but something about the way she talked about it spooked me. I just wasn’t self-aware enough to talk to her about what I needed – and I was just realizing that I needed a dominant sexual partner. She was never dominant, so we never came to an arrangement on the anal sex.

I began to experiment, though. I ordered sex-toys on-line (DO THIS!!!). I tried a small plug, then worked up to a medium plug. I got a prostate vibrator…which is pretty damned good. But I never had what I really craved. I never had a woman who would strapon a dildo and fuck my ass.

Until, that is, I met Mistress Delila.

When I first started talking to Mistress about handing my sexuality over to Her – and that was all I was willing to do at first – I needed two things. I needed orgasm control and I needed to be taken anally. The first one was easily establish over the phone. The latter…it took a bit more.

The first time Mistress took my ass, I was terrified. Every possible outcome scared me. I was scared She wouldn’t like it. I was scared She would. I was scared that I would like it. I was scared I would hate it. I was scared it wouldn’t feel good. I was scared that I would love the way it felt. Frankly, I don’t know how I managed to relax enough for Her to do it.

That remains the single most-transformative experience of my life. She took me with such gentleness and tenderness…and not only did I enjoy it, but I could see on Her face that She liked it. Most importantly, She let me know that it was okay for me to enjoy it. She let me know that She still respected my manliness, even during and after that first time She took my ass.

Everything about being taken anally is wonderful to me. When I lie on my back, I can look up into Her face and see what wondrous love She has for me. When I’m on my belly, it’s purely about Her Domination over me. I love the feeling of the first thrust when my body is forced open. I love the feeling of Her hips smacking against my body (and the sound of it). I love the wet, silky feeling of Her girl-cock sliding in and out of my anus. It drives me wild when She angles it so that it hits my prostate and I end up dripping fluid. She has brought me to tears by singing me love songs while taking me. She has made me fully orgasm (not the same as prostate milking). She has made me feel beautiful and loved and treasured. She has made me feel wonderfully slutty and dirty and completely possessed.

Most of all, I love the incredible experience of being totally vulnerable with someone I trust even more than I trust myself. That feeling is so sweet that it is very nearly addictive.

THAT is what I want everyone to know.

I’ve read enough psychobabble to know that there are some who claim that this is a sort of bi-sexuality. Or it is a way for me to experience homosexual pleasures without admitting what they are. Or it is “being in touch with my feminine side.” Or it is simply about the prostate being stimulated. Or it is something like this or that or the other thing.

Well, it could be any or all of that for any given guy who does it. For me, it is none of that. I’m not feminine when I give up my ass. I’m not bi-sexual or gay (I’ve never felt any sexual attraction to any man on earth). It doesn’t matter if She hits my prostate or not.

For me, it is being manly enough to make myself vulnerable. It’s being secure enough in my masculinity to humble (not humiliate) myself by turning over to Her the one thing that I have hidden from everyone but Her. It is trusting Her to make the experience just as transcendent every single time She enters me. It is the manliest thing I can do, because it is revealing the man who resides behind every facade I erect to keep the world at bay.

Yes, there is an aspect of being a man that is reflected in being tough – and I know, without a doubt, I can hold my own under pressure. But the bigger measure of a man, I have always thought, is the measure of love he is willing to give away. I surrender my ass to Mistress Delila because I love Her, and I gave away ownership of secret desires and hidden pleasures when She claimed me as Her property.

This is not to say that every guy will love being assfucked. I am entirely sure that there are many who would not. That’s fine. But it’s time we moved beyond labeling individual sex acts as indicative of masculinity and started looking at the man engaged in the activity. If he’s vulnerable – physically or emotionally – then he is engaged in a masculine activity, because he is revealing his masculine self. If he is not vulnerable; then it is merely sex and he is just using someone else to masturbate.

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