Masculine Submission

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

Archive for the category “FemDom”

You don’t have to be like that

I have always loved books. I don’t remember what age I was when I learned to read, but I remember being surprised when I started school that there were kids who couldn’t. For as long as I can remember, I have read anything and everything I could get my hands on (Note: There IS a short list of books that I have tried and could not finish for one reason or another.)

Not all books are created for the same purpose, obviously. Some I read to acquire knowledge, either general or applied. Some – most – I read because it gave me pleasure to read. A very short list of books I read because they elevated my soul – they made me realize something about the ways of the world and they altered the path of my walk through life. There is a difference between Conan the Barbarian and Of Mice and Men.

Books can change the world. While Upton Sinclair never was able to convince Americans that capitalism necessarily brings out the worst in men, he was able to get some health and safety standards implemented in the meat-packing industry. Ayn Rand, whether you like her or not, continues to have an impact on American politics. Even a book like Farenheit 451 has impact on the world, if only to bring up a yardstick against which our world and our society can be measured.

The thing I’ve learned from reading so many books in so many genres is this: Everyone depends on stereotypes. Even if a character is built to specifically challenge a stereotype, it still depends upon that structure for its existence. Stereotypes are nothing more than expectations of individual behavior based on group membership. They make the world predictable, and we couldn’t function socially without them. To do so, we would have to build an understanding of every individual we meet from the ground up without reference to how other people in society behave.

The problem with stereotypes is that, because they are accepted as true and accurate, they can lead us to misjudge people. In exactly the same way, we can misjudge ourselves because we believe the stereotype to be “more of what we should be” than what we are. Stereotypes are hurtful, to other people and to our selves.

For example, I was referred to this page on “alpha male” characteristics by an acquaintance of mine on Twitter. I responded by saying that it was simply reinforcing toxic gender roles, and he explained that he thought it was still a good resource for writers to base romance characters upon. As I look over the page, I have to admit that it is the stereotypical basis for A LOT of literary characters across every genre. To that extent, my acquaintance is correct – it’s a good resource to understand how many successful characters are put together.

My point still stands, however. Taken as a whole, the characteristics add up to a stereotype of masculinity that is toxic. Conan, Tell Sackett, and Sherlock Holmes would all score highly on this scale. But they are characters in books and any problem they encounter is, almost by definition, surmountable. These are huge, heroic figures, so they can overcome challenges no one else can – but they can only do it because the author is pulling the strings behind the page.

Real life isn’t like a story book. Take, as an example, the very first characteristic of an Alpha Male:

An Alpha male is very comfortable with himself. He always radiates confidence. He does not fear anyone – and MOST IMPORTANTLY does not really care what people think of him.

It’s always good to be comfortable with yourself. But does that make someone an alpha? If there is a pecking order in society (there is, but it isn’t this clear cut); then there are people who are not on top. They must either be comfortable with it or live a life, as Thoreau said, “of quiet desperation.”

Being comfortable is not always a good thing, either. Prison is full of people who are comfortable with who they are. Call them a “jerk” or “asshole” but one of the reason people find it difficult to get along with narcissistic people is that the narcissist is fully comfortable with who they are.

Anyone who always radiates confidence is either not being challenged or a fool. I’m a very confident person. But there have been times when a whole hell of a lot was riding on the outcome of my actions. I was nervous. I accepted it and worked through it and did what I had to do anyway, but I wasn’t always confident. There is a big difference between confidence and arrogance, and a big slice of that difference is in understanding the implications of one’s actions and that almost necessitates a level of doubt.

Of course, it is possible to radiate confidence without actually being confident. I’m pretty sure that isn’t really a desirable trait in most situations.

No fear? Only if you live such a sheltered life that nothing bad could ever happen to you. My grandfather survived the Bataan Death March and when I joined the military he told me, “Be afraid of the man who has no fear. That son of a bitch will get you killed.”

Doesn’t care what anyone thinks of them? That person only lives in a state of denial. If that person were real, they would surely not be reading an article telling them how to behave so that people will think better of them. I doubt they would even write an article to tell people how to behave so that people will think better of them. I mean, if you don’t care; then you don’t care, right? To paraphrase and alter the aim of Catholic Priest and addictions specialist Father Martin, “If you didn’t care about green beans; then you’d stop talking about them.”

I don’t care about green beans, really, but I do care about toxic gender roles. I write FemDom erotica, and I do with a political purpose (this is explained here by someone much more talented than I). I want to destroy these toxic gender roles, and I try to do it one pleasurable story after another. I attack them head-on in this forum, and through the social science teaching that I do. But American society doesn’t change because someone said something that made them think – at least, it usually doesn’t.

Art, at its best, nudges society along by showing it where it is wrong. Television is the primary art form in American culture, and I don’t have access to any input in that medium. The same is true for movies. I can’t draw, paint, or dance to save my life, and most Americans are immune to fine art anyway (and confused by modern art). But I can write, and I do so with an eye on overthrowing toxic gender roles.

I don’t believe I will ever write a best-seller that makes me wealthy and opens a society-wide dialogue about masculinity. I don’t believe it is my path to change the world in such a way. I do, however, believe that I might say something in just the right way that someone’s life is changed. Perhaps that person, or perhaps that person’s son or daughter, will then change the world because there was a voice in the past who whispered, “You don’t have to be like that.”

And I’m saying you don’t have to be like that – not because it doesn’t matter what people think of you, but because it does.

Submission: The Ugly Duckling

I got into a bit of a dust-up this week with multiple people over a rather badly worded request for information from a submissive man. Basically, he identified himself as a submissive man and asked, “Where do I go to serve?” Given that this question was asked on a website that exists entirely as a social arena for those in various fetish lifestyles, and it was in a forum specifically dedicated to submissive men, the only legitimate way to interpret this statement is, as far as I’m concerned, “Where do I meet dominant women who might allow me to serve them?”

Of course, it would also be perfectly fine to have responded with something along the lines of, “You are being really unclear about what you want. Can you clarify?” Honestly, that’s pretty much a good response to anyone who asks a question that is overly broad or vague or simply worded badly. That is, in fact, the way such questions are normally answered. Instead, what was offered was along the lines of, “You should look for places to volunteer – like a soup kitchen.”

After a LOT of back and forth, I was able to get one woman to say that the reason she had given that advice was that she would be more interested in a man who was interested in his community and wanted to make the world a better place. That’s fine…if she had also said, in her original answer, “I volunteer at the homeless shelter (as an example) and there are probably other dominant women who would like to see a guy with community interest, plus there are a lot of non-kinky benefits to volunteerism.” Without that context, the exchange of “Where I can serve?” (when asked in a fetish website and a F/m forum) and “Go volunteer at the soup kitchen!” is simply dismissive and insincere.
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From the beginning

Anyone who has read very much of what I’ve written here will know that I’m not a big fan of the prevailing gender roles for men. I consider them to be a prime reason why men suffer from so many mental health issues – and an major reason why men don’t seek help for mental health issues sooner and more often. This post explores how gender roles set me back three decades in the journey to finding myself.

Socialization is simply the sum total of processes and people that teach a child how to be a member of society. Primarily, socialization is accomplished through the family. School and church also played a heavy role in my socialization. My family life varied through degrees of neglect punctuated by abuse. That meant “being a man” meant taking care of myself when no one else would and being able to withstand whatever punishment was thrown at me. In the 1970s, schools weren’t big on special services, but I was good enough at academics (and sometimes at athletics) that my odd behaviors were overlooked. We cycled through a series of uber-conservative churches – the kind where women are supposed to wear dresses and a minimum of make-up/jewelry and men keep their hair short and their voice soft, with a hint of authoritative threat.

Because television and movies were rare in my life, I missed out on the messages from those medium. However, I made up for it through voracious reading – and my favorite type of book was heroic fiction of any genre (science fiction, fantasy, mystery, romance…). I identified heavily with the outcast hero who stands against society and evil to stand victorious: Conan, John Carter, Sherlock Holmes, the Hardy boys, Tom Swift, Thomas Covenant, Frodo Baggins, William Tell Sackett, Dan Frontier, Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, Jim Lassiter (Riders of the Purple Sage) – men of action who were quick to stand up in a fight, no matter the odds. This heavily colored my idea of what it meant to be a man. How could it not? These are, after all, archetypes for masculinity in our culture. The names are damn near interchangeable. The details vary, but they stick to the tried and true hero schtick.

My teenage years were spent in semi-seclusion. We lived in West Texas, nearly a mile from our nearest neighbor (which happened to be a couple in their 70s). I saw people my age at school. Once I was able to drive, I developed some close friendships with other guys my age, but a farming accident and death left us all reeling. I don’t know if the others have regular contact with each other, but I haven’t seen or heard from any of them in years (not even on Facebook). Since I had moved around to a dozen (literally) small towns, I was constantly the outsider. I fell in love hard, and there was a window for it to bloom, but the only way I knew how to get a girl (from my books) was to rescue her from danger. There was simply no danger around, so I watched her end up with someone else.

I spent six years in the Navy. I wasn’t the roughest and toughest son-of-a-bitch, but I was badass enough to be both respected and feared. Truth be told, I was a bit of a bully, but I got the job done when others couldn’t. I turned into one of my literary heroes, in some respects – to think was to act and I would endure anything, pushing myself harder and farther than anyone around me. I raced to the brink of emotional collapse and beyond. It was my first lesson that heroics are better left for books, but it would take many more hard lessons before I began to question the masculine mythos I had grown up worshiping.

If you go back and read the books that I grew up reading and closely examine the romantic subplots; then you’ll notice that the heroes always get the girl, but they are always beaten and bruised by the time they get there. There is an implicit link between masculine sexuality and suffering – though the suffering was never at the hands of the love interest. The important thing, for me, was that this link was as attractive as any other part of heroic fiction.

Like most teens, I was fairly self-unaware. I never noticed this linkage between pain and sex/love, and therefore I never understood that this linkage is a primary part of how I experience romantic love. In my adolescent fantasies, I would fend off attackers with my fists just to get a single kiss from my latest crush. Or I would rage against the unfairness of society, fighting an entirely different kind of battle, to unite with love across boundaries of class and race. The important thing was that I ended up suffering in some manner, and the love and affection of my desired woman was the reward for that.

Even more importantly, this was not something I ever thought of consciously. It is only in retrospect that I can so clearly see what I was all along: submissive and masochistic. It wasn’t until the internet came along in my thirties that I discovered BDSM, and then it was discovered through MaleDom porn. After a period of denial, I embraced my desire for BDSM. I even started a few BDSM-based relationships with submissive women.

Anyone who hangs around BDSM folks for a while will hear the term “topping from the bottom” referring to a person who takes a submissive role while trying to direct their partner. It’s like a car telling a traffic cop when to wave his hand. For obvious reasons, this irritates Dominants and results in no small amount of derision from submissives. Well, I entered BDSM as a Dominant who was actually “bottoming from the top.” I arranged things so that what happened was exactly what my submissive partner wanted.

This is not simply “staying within boundaries.” That is, as far as I’m concerned, a basic requirement for any and every healthy BDSM relationship. Mistress Delila has never violated a single boundary with me. She has, however, withheld something I wanted at a particular time. I might want a spanking, as an example, but if she isn’t feeling it at the moment, it doesn’t happen. This is exactly how both of us want things. It is what D/s means to us. When I was playing Dominant, it didn’t really matter what I wanted – even if I didn’t want to do something, we did it.

It felt good, however. I got to associate my sexuality with suffering and pleasure. It filled all of the social mores I’d learned about men being in charge and being the one who…well, the one who metes out punishment. The problem was that it was exhausting because I was constantly feeding someone else’s needs and never really getting what I needed back.

It was a process for me to realize what was wrong. It took time. In the process, I ruined a marriage. Understand, I didn’t have to just question if I was dominant; I had to question everything I knew about masculinity – and if I was, in fact, really masculine at all. In the midst of this, I fell into a heavy spiral of depression. It was hell.

I came through it, though. And I came through with a much better understanding of who I am. I am, in fact, a pretty masculine fellow. I like being a man. I also enjoy and need a romantic partner who is both a woman and dominant over me. I need someone who will enjoy hurting me. I need someone who will push me to the point of tears and then hold me and take pleasure in every tremble of my body. I need to trust someone so fully that I can let go of everything the rest of the world wants of me and simply be a lump of clay to be molded to meet her needs. (This someone, for the record, is Mistress Delila – duh!)

Obviously, I have wants and needs and desires of my own. I have fantasies. I’m not an empty-headed buffoon who simply yes-ma’am’s his way through life. What I am is secure in the knowledge that I am ultimately safe with my lover – She will meet all of my emotional and physical needs if I simply focus on giving Her what She needs and wants. This is, in my mid-forties, the most wonderful relationship I’ve ever had. I feel loved and treasured and desired as I never have because Mistress Delila isn’t interacting with the masculine facade I built to pleasure our damned-to-hell-and-back culture. She is interacting with me as I truly am. Because I am more truly myself with Her, I can love and accept love as I never have been able to before.

This is why I hate the gender-based messages that our culture straight-jackets us with. Playing that gender role image cost me three decades of life that I can never get back. Don’t get me wrong – there was a lot of good in those years that I wouldn’t change. But if I could have lived authentically through those years – if I’d just realized that it was possible to be both submissive and masculine – I would not have forced two women to suffer through a marriage to a man who couldn’t understand and accept himself.

Incidentally, I know that a lot – a whole lot – of women struggle with similar issues because of the gender-based restrictions society places on them. There are, however, a lot of voices calling that for what it is and forcing society to give women more space to develop in whatever direction their soul leads. As Gloria Steinem said, “We’ve begun to raise daughters more like sons… but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters.” I’m trying to find that courage, and to lend a bit to other men, too.

Subspace and consent

Over the last few weeks, I’ve seen online discussions pop up that centered on the shouldn’t-it-be-simple concept of consent. Quite honestly, a lot of it sickens me. There is a LOT of blame-the-victim stuff that is sadly reminiscent of what I heard when I assisted a licensed psychologist in his group therapy for sexual offenders. And by “sadly reminiscent” I mean “exactly the same.”

For the record, my discussion of BDSM matters, unless I specifically state otherwise, takes place in the framework of my monogamous relationship with Mistress Delila. I do not play casually, and never have. I don’t go to play parties and have no interest in doing so. I don’t care if there is a “scene” because I wouldn’t be part of it anyway.

So why should I care what scene-players are saying? Beyond the “no man is an island” thing, there is the fact that what public or semi-public players do and say impacts the way society will view me. I don’t want to be associated with rapists or psychotic abusive assholes. I want my love-style of BDSM FemDom/malesub to be understood and appreciated for what it is – the way Mistress Delila and I express our love and mutual arousal.

Consent, to me, is simple: It’s me giving permission for a person to engage with me in a particular action. It is not something that can be given for future acts, nor can it be revoked or altered retroactively. It is present-tense, ongoing, moment-by-moment.

My power-release to Mistress Delila is complete in that I surrender everything to Her that is possible to surrender. I worded that carefully, because I want to stress that there are some things it is not possible to surrender. For an extreme example, I could not surrender my life (meaning, offer to be killed). In a more realistic fashion, I cannot consent to abandon my parental duties to Her – I continue to be a father according to the best of my ability (though She is a valued partner and advisor). For my purpose here, I cannot surrender my ability to consent – and therefore to not consent – because it is an innate part of being a human in a free society.

There is, however, such a thing as “standing consent.” This is consent that is continually given until actively revoked. This is given with the understanding that Mistress Delila will behave as a sane person and not, for example, try to ass-fuck me in the middle of Piggly Wiggly…or any other supermarket. Our list of activities that are allowable mesh well together, and I know where the lines are drawn for Her and She knows where the lines are drawn for me. This is not the outcome of a single conversation or checklist, but the mutual understanding gained for a long-term and ongoing relationship.

I don’t like the term “enthusiastic consent,” though. In my mind, that would preclude entering any activity that I am not sure I would enjoy beforehand. Can I be enthusiastic about…I don’t know…making woodchuck sounds during orgasm? I’m not sure. Is it something I’d do if She wanted? Yes, without a doubt. But I couldn’t be enthusiastic about it, and I wouldn’t try to fake it.

One of the activities that Mistress truly enjoys is to roll a bit of ice over my skin. It makes Her giggle. It makes Her aroused. It is not something I am enthusiastic about. It makes me cringe to think about it. I hate the feeling of ice on my skin. Mistress does not have to ask for consent every single time, though, because it is part of the standing consent we maintain. For me, it’s kind of like if She wanted me to have dinner with a friend of Hers that I don’t like – I’m not going to enjoy it, but I’m going to do it because I love Her and want Her to enjoy it. Having been married twice, I can speak with some authority when I say that married couples make that sort of sacrifice for each other often.

It also neglects the power-arrangement of our relationship. I thoroughly enjoy getting a spanking and am generally enthusiastic about receiving one. However, early in our relationship, I violated a rule and received a spanking as punishment. I was not enthusiastic about getting it, and I didn’t enjoy it. I consented to it because it solidified and upheld the dynamic that both of us wanted to have.

I say all of this because I want to address the idea that it is always the responsibility of the submissive partner to use safewords and to actively withdraw consent. In short, that is a stupid idea. It totally neglects the dynamic that I want to achieve.

A big part of the ongoing consensual nature of our relationship is that She will continue to seek consent on an ongoing basis. It continues to be my responsibility to give it. But it is Her responsibility to make sure that it is given. This is not splitting hairs. It is being realistic.

I enjoy sensory deprivation and bondage. The purpose of this is two-fold. First, it allows Her complete control over what I experience and where the activities lead. Second, it takes away even modest attempts on my part to influence what She does. If I can’t even beg with my eyes; then I am truly vulnerable and She is truly in charge. It is physically impossible for me, at times, to speak or to communicate in almost any way. THAT IS THE POINT OF IT.

So how does She maintain consent? A good part of it is that She knows what my boundaries are, She knows what Her boundaries are, and She is willing to maintain control over Her own desires. She checks on me constantly – sometimes through touch, sometimes verbally, sometimes by lifting the blindfold for a moment or two. It is one of the reasons I feel comfortable with giving blanket consent to Her – I know She is not going to abuse it. I know I am safe. I know She will deprive Her desire of going further for the sake of being safe. I know that our continued loving relationship means more to Her than ANYTHING She could possibly want to do to me.

Does “subspace” change this dynamic? Well, first, I want to say that “subspace” (as I’ve heard it described – I’ve never experienced it) sounds a lot like a dissociative fugue state. I think the term gets used incorrectly a lot. I have had a dissociative episode (relating to childhood abuse), and it is not something I would ever want to repeat. I have also been so taken away with the experience of masochistic and submissive pleasure that I was blissfully non-verbal. However, I was (in my mind) very affectionate and cuddly during that time. I didn’t want it to end, and I would love to go back there.

However, Mistress Delila was uncomfortable with it. When I sensed Her distress at my non-verbal-ness, I reassured Her that I was okay. She trusted my self-awareness enough to allow me to have my bliss. She didn’t understand it, and I don’t know exactly how to explain it to Her. What’s important for this discussion, however, is that She stopped and immediately went into care-mode when I entered unfamiliar territory.

It is conceivable that persons in this situation could find a spot where the non-verbal-ness allowed things to progress to a point where consent had not been given. In that case, it is absolutely the fault of the Dominant for pushing that far – even if the activities were things they had discussed and both of them thought were hot…even if they were things they had done at other times!

Consent cannot be given – even standing consent – if it cannot be revoked. This is what Mistress Delila understood when She shifted into care-mode. I was fully conscious of what was going on, and I wanted more – but She refused to go on until She could be sure that was actually what I wanted and WHAT I WAS CAPABLE OF CONSENTING TO. It was my responsibility as Her lover, as Her submissive, and as a human being, to shake off the non-verbal blissfulness and make sure She was in a place where She could enjoy my reaction. That meant saying that I was okay and struggling for the words to explain it, even if it wasn’t a good description.

It doesn’t mean that Mistress Delila would have been a bad person to continue with things She knew I enjoyed or things I had previously consented to do. Good people can make bad decisions. A single consent violation, under the circumstances I’ve outlined here, do not throw everything into jeopardy. BUT a good person would figure out the consent violation and try to make amends – and then figure out how to make sure that consent violation didn’t happen again. Someone who blows it off as the sub’s fault for “spacing out” or being non-verbal isn’t being a good person. They are blaming their misdeeds and mistakes on someone else’s temporary state. Even then, they aren’t a “bad person” until they laugh it off, shrug it off, and set about doing it again.

This should be simple stuff. It really should. But it is something that most people don’t stop to think about because you can’t understand fully what it’s like until you are there. Contingency plans are only as good as foresight allows. I understand that. I believe in second-chances, when warranted. But I also believe permission is better than forgiveness. I believe that, when doubt sets in, it’s okay to stop and get more information. Yeah, it may “break the scene” but the people in the scene are more important than the scene itself. Broken scenes heal faster than broken people.

Today, I ache

I miss Her in every way a man can miss a woman…

…the soft touch of Her fingers on my skin.
…the sound of Her laughter in my ears.
…the gentle kisses She peppers me with.
…the way our fingers entwine as we walk.
…the way Her collar feels as She fastens it to my throat.
…the sharp pressure of Her teeth digging into my flesh.
…the sting of Her riding crop across my bare ass, thighs, back.
…the way Her eyes twinkle and shine when She edges me.
…the soft huffing sigh of Her pleasure peaking.
…the scent of Her arousal.
…the sticky heat between Her thighs as it coats my fingers.
…the complete feeling of surrender when She takes my ass.
…the feeling of rightness when She snuggles into my arms, Her head on my chest or my chest pressed against Her back.

I miss Her in every way a man can miss a woman.

I ache.

The false dichotomy behind a “natural” dominant/submissive

I want to thank Dumb Domme for this post because it gives me a source I enjoy linking to in order to launch into a discussion that doensn’t immediately fit what she has written. Also, it is my apparent mission in life to separate good science from bad (because I consider myself a scientist and believe science is the inherently beneficial effort to improve the human experience).

When you get into the car, do you put on your seatbelt? I don’t care if you do or not, I want you to consider that the answer you give might have its foundations (but not its complete answer) in your genetic makeup. Go ahead and be skeptical, because I am generally skeptical about such claims. However, after looking at the work of Guang Guo at UNC, I’ve tried to enrich my understanding of that idea.

Prof. Guo (and his colleagues) has found a statistically significant link to whether or not a male wears a seatbelt and a specific iteration (9r/9r) of the DAT1 dopamine transporter gene. In general terms, this specific genetic iteration provides a protective effect against males developing risky patterns, even when controls for social characteristics are implemented. What this does not mean is that whether a man wears his seatbelt or not depends on having the 9r/9r DAT1 iteration. It means that having it, or not, influences whether he does – and at what age he begins to do so (potentially).

I’ll leave that hanging and look at genetics from a different point of view. I have my Grandma’s mouth – the lips and shape are unmistakably passed along from her. I have the body hair pattern of one maternal grandfather and the thinning hair of another. My voice is, at times, very much like my father’s. The point is that physical attributes are passed along genetically. This is undeniably true, and hardly needs even the introduction that I have given it.

If the structure of my hands or of my mouth can be influenced by genetics, then is it not also possible that the structures within my brain are also influenced by genetics? I don’t know if there is a definitive answer, but the answer seems likely to be affirmative. Since different brain structures control different behaviors and thought patterns, we could then infer that some preferences and behaviors could follow lines of inheritance.

For example, schizophrenia is often seen to run in families. So is depression. Is it possible that sexual submissiveness or dominance is also influenced by genetics? This is where I point out that there is a genetic link, through the 9r/9r DAT1 genotype’s protective effect against dopamine, to whether or not a man wears a seatbelt or not. If seatbelt wearing is linked to a specific gene; then why not wanting to control or be controlled in a sexual encounter?

I want to be clear that I am not arguing that there absolutely IS a genetic component to BDSM. I am saying that it is possible that there is a link. Then I am asking: So, what if there is? Does it make any difference?

Let me leave that question hanging while I talk about Michael Shanahan’s study linking genes to school dropout rates. This study is important to me because it finds two things. First, there is a specific genetic iteration that correlates to academic achievement (through disruptive behaviors – not through innate intelligence). Second, it found that the extra risk this genetic iteration poses towards academic success can be overcome with the right environmental controls. This, put simply, means that we are not slaves to our genes.

Back to the previous question: What does a (possible/probable) genetic link to F/m (because that’s what this blog focuses on) mean? It simply means that there are people for whom dominance and submission is a natural state in an intimate relationship. Shanahan’s study shows that these natural tendencies can be defeated. (What it doesn’t show is if these kids whose environment overcame their disruptive genes ever enjoyed going to school – so we can’t extrapolate as to whether a genetically disposed submissive who is pushed into a non-submissive role is happy about it. Based on my experience, the answer is no (because I believe I’m someone whose genetics orient them towards submission in intimate relationships).

But if environment has the power to overwhelm genetic tendencies; then it surely has the power to shape them. The sum of my life experience has led me to express my submissiveness towards Mistress Delila in specific ways – for example, kneeling in supplication or putting my head in Her lap. What’s more, I am, to some extent, in control of my environment. I can expose myself to various stimuli or cut them out of my life entirely (with limitations, of course). This means I am constantly becoming submissive, even while I am now, and always have been, a submissive man.

This is a sort of reasoning way to get to what Carl Rogers deduced in the 1960s:
This process of the good life is not, I am convinced, a life for the faint-hearted. It involves the stretching and growing of becoming more and more of one’s potentialities. It involves the courage to be. It means launching oneself fully into the stream of life.

Okay, not I’m pulling yet another string into this tangled mess. This comes from something I wrote a while back. As a summary, I’ll say that the point is that we (men) are immersed in social pressure to be “manly.” (Women face their own set of social pressures.) It begins before we are born and it hits us from nearly all directions at nearly all times. We cannot say that it has no impact. We can only recognize the impact and act to counter-balance it when we believe it is wrong. As I said just up the page a bit, we can have (limited) power over our environment and how it influences us.

Now, I’ve said all of this so I can address DD’s central question: Are Dominants born or made? Then answer, I believe is: The evidence is inconclusive. There is probably a genetic predisposition. However, a person’s life will decide whether that genetic predisposition is activated or not. Just like you may have a genetic predisposition to lung cancer, but if you never smoke it never gets activated. What exact environmental factors activate, promote, and influence sexual domination are unclear, and likely will vary widely across a very large population. More to the point of the question: IT DOESN’T MATTER.

People talk about “natural” dominance and submission, inferring a genetic component, as if it were somehow better than dominance or submission learned through social interaction. It isn’t! In fact, given the fact that humans are inherently social creatures, and immediately set up societies everywhere they go, social influences are just as natural as genetic influences! This is especially true when you consider the multi-generational arch where gene influence behavior which in turn influences gene which influences other behaviors, etc., etc.

Even if someone “has always known” their sensual power orientation (did I just invent a term?) their memory doesn’t include some portion of their life. I have a very good memory, and can vaguely remember some big and scary events that happened when I was three years old, but I can’t remember a lot more than I can. Just because you remember always being one way doesn’t mean that it is because of genetic predisposition. You, too, were subjected to a world’s worth of socialization before you knew what it was.

To me, if we strip it down to its bare essence, sensual power orientation is about control or be controlled. Other kinks may be involved, but the heart of it would appear to be who is in charge. That is best understood, in my mind, as an orientation. As DD says, it is not immutable – it is flowing, changing direction, evolving. For some, it may even switch directions. But for a large number of us, it points in a single direction – though not as deeply in that direction for any two people.

We are all captains of our own life-ship. Our parents laid the basic hull structure of that ship with their own biological material. Then life added rooms and knocked down walls. We floated aimlessly for a while. We went the direction we were told we should go. But the nose of the ship kept turning a certain way. Is it nature or nurture? Who cares? I doubt any thinking individual can swear that it is entirely one way or the other.

Just like the captain of a ship is responsible for its actions, we are responsible for what we do. I don’t care how deeply you’ve sailed into the Sea of Dominance, you better damn well know your ropes if you expect to come alongside my ship – because this ship is the only thing between me and the deep, blue sea and I’m not going under for anyone! The responsibility of knowing what you are doing only deepens if you represent yourself as an old salt when your partner is still green around the gills.

In other words, it’s a damned sight more important that a dominant knows the skills necessary to pull off what they are attempting than it is to know if she has specific genes or just a kinky life. F/m covers a lot of territory, so learn the specific risks and safety precautions you need so that it is rewarding for everyone involved. If you aren’t an expert, start slow and build slow. You can always come back to push a little further – unless you are dead, in which case it doesn’t matter.

I want to revise and extend a specific statement from DD as way to close by way of example: DD wrote: The idea that ‘you have it or you don’t’ doesn’t support a culture where dominants are encouraged to ask questions, admit mistakes, or use caution — and that’s dangerous. It doesn’t promote honesty — I suspect that’s why many dominants lie about their experience — out of fear of not being ‘true’ enough or ‘natural’ enough to be a ‘real dominant.’

My example:
In the history of the NFL, there are few running backs who had more impact that Walter Payton. I heard an interview with him after he had retired a bit and he was asked why he remained at the top of his game for so long. His answer went something along the lines of this:
When I began, I didn’t care about technique. I went out there and I ran. I was fast enough and big enough to do the job. But I made myself a student of my position, and as my physical talents leveled off, I was able to improve my technique. I became a better running back because I worked at being a better running back.

New Book Teaser – Emily Watson

I’ve been working on a book length work of fiction – my first. It is now done with editing and I’m starting the writing part of my second. But I wanted to provide just a glimpse of what is coming along, as soon as I get a publisher’s green light.

Click through to read a teaser.

Read more…

Male submission is not a Greek fraternity

I have been seeing a lot of kerfluffle in certain places lately concerning the “alpha male” in regards to male submission – i.e., can an alpha male be submissive? It is something that grates on my nerves. Sometimes I just roll my eyes, but sometimes I get upset. It’s a stupid trope, and I’d love to see it die. I don’t think it will, though, for several reasons – or because it has several usages.

The first thing to start with is to try and nail down what is meant by “alpha male.” The place to start with that is to break it down even further. “Male” is simply a biological designation of sex. By itself, it has no connotative value. All the stuff that we tie to it is not about being male, but about being men, and “man” is about gender, which means its about gender roles and how society tells us who we should be based on whether we have a vagina or penis.

The designation of “alpha” is from the field of ethology, which purports to study “natural” animal behavior. It is perfectly fine to study the natural behavior of, for example, white-tailed deer – because they can and do live (somewhat) independent of human beings. However, it is impossible to do the same with human beings. I would think it would be self-evident why that is impossible, but I will get back to that later.

For now, let’s look at what “alpha” means in relation to animal behavior. Simply put, it is the animal, male or female, that holds the highest social station. Other animals show deference – chimpanzees bow to the alpha, most birds perch lower than the alpha – each species shows deference in its own way. If one rule is generalizable – and it is dubious to generalize across the entire animal kingdom – it would be that the alpha gets preferential access to food. There is absolutely NO generalizable rule for sexual activity with alphas – even if we limit ourselves only to primates.

I don’t have data to show this, but I’m willing to be that most people who talk about “alpha males” are talking about the outdated understanding of wolves that was gained by observing captive packs. In an unnatural setting, unnatural behaviors evolved.

In nature, a wolf pack consists of a mated pair and their offspring. When the young wolves approach sexual maturity, they leave and find a mate of their own to start a new pack. The lack of non-alpha males breeding isn’t due to dominance, but because they are likely not yet sexually mature. Oh, and by the way, homosexual behavior is fairly common in wolves when the alpha female comes into heat. I don’t know enough to say that every wolf takes a turn in the barrel, so to speak, but it isn’t as easy and cut-and-dried as the BDSM’ers who spout alpha-nonsense would have us believe.

This is where I say that all the stuff that comes before doesn’t matter. It only matters that those who defend the alpha-nonsense want to use the animal kingdom as defense of their nonsense. But the biology-in-comparison argument simply fails due to overwhelming facts to the contrary.

But it doesn’t matter because humans are not chimpanzees or lions or ants or any other social animal. We are humans. If the alpha-nonsense breaks down in comparison to other animals, it could still be true for humans. So if we are going to look at humans, specifically, then we are talking “alpha man.”

An alpha man, if the meaning is preserved, is a guy who is at the peak of society. I don’t know who that is, but it isn’t the vast majority of guys who bandy the term about. Let’s argue that there is a class of alpha males – they would be contained in what C. Wright Mills refers to as “the power elite.” Again, we are excluding the vast majority of men, manly or not.

In other words, the phrase CANNOT be used as it is intended, and that is my point. Stripped of its intended meaning, it has come to be a lazy crutch for people to prop themselves up with when it comes to justifying outdated gender roles. The meaning has been perverted to become a defense for a caricature of manhood. It is an amalgamation of bad stereotypes twisted in the defense of an image of manhood that never truly existed. It is the demon of “real man” that our society has created to keep men captive inside a box.

In a way, the term “alpha male” is fitting because it refers to all of the misbehaviors and bad attitudes that have become linked to Greek fraternities in American colleges. It also bears as little resemblance to reality as those institutions manage to do at their worst.

It’s time to expose this vacuous trope for what it is – a mockery of manhood created by people who were afraid of what they would find if they looked inside of themselves. Can a guy be an “alpha man” and be submissive? Hell, I’m not sure a guy can be an “alpha man” and be an adult.

What I know is this – because of the whole “alpha man” bullshit, too many men are scared of their submissive desires. And far too many (but far from all) dominant men are assholes because they believe they are the only “real” men out there. Beyond that, I told someone else earlier tonight that “When private things are used to shame and shackle men, it’s time for men to speak up.”

An elephant is eaten one bite at a time. A damaging trope is killed one voice at a time. This is my bite.

New story for sale

Ravenous Romance has graciously included my story “Her Dirty Valentine” in the new anthology: My Kinky Valentine. Many thanks to everyone there, and especially F. Leonora Solomon, for being a delight to work with.

Is there an ideal scene?

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.

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