Tag Archives: D/s

I called him “daddy”

4 Jun

I had confessed to the Gentleman Sadist, weeks earlier, that I was turned on by the idea of calling a partner “daddy.” I did it in a sideways, almost passive way – I didn’t call him “daddy,” or ask if I could. I just let it slip that calling a generic man “daddy” is something I fantasize about sometimes.

He just laughed and marveled fondly at the extent to which I was a little slut (which is really pretty much a term of endearment for us) and didn’t mention it again for a few weeks. I assumed that he was just not that into it and didn’t bring it up again. I didn’t get embarrassed, though, as I might have in the past. One nice thing about our rapport is that there’s no shame.

But last week, we were chatting and he told me he’d jerked off that morning, thinking about me. Well, of course that got my attention.

“What were you thinking about?” I asked.

“The sounds you’ll make the first time I make you call me ‘daddy.'”

Oh damn. My heart went into my throat and my pussy was instantly throbbing. And then he did indeed “make” me call him daddy, and I was hooked.

“Master” does nothing for me and while “sir” has its uses, it’s always felt a little bit forced on my lips – it’s hard for me to say it without the teensiest bit of a smirk or an eye-roll. But “daddy” – there’s no smirk when I say “daddy.” It lays me bare – makes me feel both vulnerable and protected at the same time. It’s a … wild feeling. I want to cry and laugh and come all at the same time.

It’s funny, because this seemed like such a taboo, for such a long time, for all the obvious reasons. And I’ll admit that part of what I enjoy about it is the dirty wrongness. So the truly amazing thing to me is that calling your lover “daddy” is a pretty mainstream thing. I mean, pop culture is full of it: 
Hey little girl, is your daddy home? … 
I love it when you call me Big Poppa ….
And of course we can’t forget Who’s your daddy? And in many Spanish-speaking countries, lovers call each other mami and papi.

To me, it feels a bit scary in an exciting way, but really it’s not that out of the ordinary.

And it does makes sense that it would be popular – is there a better archetype for the strong, male figure than “daddy”? For me, it’s not about pretending he actually is my father or that I’m a little girl (and no dig if that is your thing, it just doesn’t happen to be mine), it’s about the archetype.

But it’s still emotionally so powerful, and so taboo in a way. And yet so commonplace, despite the feeling of taboo. What an odd contradiction.

Housekeeping

6 May

First things first – I just approved a bunch of comments. Sorry about that, folks. At some point, I set comment moderation so that they would only post if I approved them, and then forgot. Oops.

Now the way it works is that, if I’ve approved a comment from you before, it will post automatically. If it’s your first time commenting, it will need to wait for me to approve it, but I’ll do so in a timely manner. This is because this blog does occasionally attract anti-feminist trolls and I’ve decided that it’s not my responsibility to provide a platform for them. Get your own blogs, trolls.

OK, now to the larger question – what am I doing with this blog? I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m still getting quite a bit of traffic (which I love!) and I have no plans to take it down any time soon. But I also have (clearly) been feeling a lot less interest in posting. I think the main thing is that there are only so many ways one can say “it’s ok to be kinky/submissive/whatever” before one starts to feel like a broken record.

Also, when I started this blog, I had just started to accept myself, and so it felt really important to get this all out there, to make friends with my monster. And I guess I can say “Mission Accomplished” because it now feels like not such a Big Deal – it’s just another fact about me, another aspect of my life. And there are a bunch of other aspects of my life that have taken more prominence lately, and so my attention has been there.

However, there are still topics I want to write about, like the fluidity of sexuality, why I find sadists so damn hot, my love/hate relationship with orgasm denial, my ambivalence about the “scene” and so on. So I’m definitely not done with this blog.

Submission, power, and sexism (and the importance of letting go)

26 Feb

A great post by one of my favorite BDSM fiction writers, Annabel Joseph (and seriously, if you’re looking for some good M/f erotic writing with great characters, look no further), recently got me thinking again about why submissives get such a bad rap in our (and by that I mean US/North American) culture. Because, really, submissives get no respect. You see it all the time: the word “submissive” is said with a sneer or a pitying shrug – it’s understood as a synonym for “subserviant” or weak, and it’s assumed that the person is acting that way because they are either oppressed (they have no choice but to be submissive), lazy (they’d rather let someone else do all the work) or stupid/ignorant (poor girl, no one ever told her about feminism!).

I really think it comes down to two things: power and sexism.

First, sexism: submission is seen as a feminine trait in our culture. Saying this gets into touchy areas. So please not that I am not saying that submission is inherently feminine, or women are inherently submissive – just that submissiveness is a trait that is assumed by culture to be feminine. And our culture does not value feminine traits or behaviors as much as masculine traits or behaviors. You can see this in the wage gap: traditional “blue collar” jobs like plumbing and auto repair are paid much better than “pink collar” jobs like child care. This is a case where you can see how the literal value of “feminine” traits are less than those of “masculine” ones.

So is it any surprise that submissiveness would be devalued, sneered at, pitied? Of course, this makes it sting all the more when that disdain comes from a fellow feminist. But of course, feminism is never going to be totally separate from the culture that made it, so these subtle ideas about value creep in.

It can be particularly insidiuous, too, because most modern third-wave (or are we now on the fourth wave?) feminists will not explicitly shun consensual BDSM play. If directly challenged, most will say “well, of course you have the right to do whatever you want with your partner, go on with your bad self!” And they will mean it! I think most feminists I know would agree that consensual BDSM is just fine.

But once you get outside the realm of once-in-a-while-for-some-spice dominance and submission, things get hairier, and I think that’s where power comes in. It seems like, whenever I discuss relationships with my friends, it always comes down to power. It’s good to have it, and bad to not.

Which, again, is a reflection of our larger culture. We value the “winners” – the ones who beat everyone else, shout the loudest, make the most money. The measure of success is how much power you have – so no wonder those who would give up power willingly to someone else are disdained.

You even see the devaluing of submissives and submission in the BDSM community. There’s been a lot of good stuff written about this subject, but one of the best is this essay about domism. And one phenomenon that always amused me is how submissives – on fetlife, in blogs, in real life – will trip over themselves to insist that they are not submissive in their day-to-day lives. And really, with that sort of cultural baggage, can you blame them? I’ve been guilty of it myself.

One thing I recently realized was that I came to accept my own submissiveness around the same time that my career started really taking off, after literally years of struggle, false starts and frustration. At the time, I thought it was because I was feeling more successful and confident that I was able to indulge my submissive side. And I think that was part of it.

But the ironic thing is that my career only really started taking off when I relaxed about it. Someday I hope to write more about this process, but it’s a long story and this blog post is already getting long enough as it is. Let’s just say that, after years of perfectionism and holding myself to impossible standards, I finally had a breakthrough moment where I had to accept my “imperfections.”

That was when things in my career started to fall into place, and when I started to accept my submissiveness. And I think part of the problem was that I had so internalized all those cultural messages about submission – that it meant I was weak, that no smart, feminist man would ever respect a woman who wanted to submit. But once I was finally able to accept that I was never going to be this ideal self I had in mind – and that that ideal self was kind of a bullshit, no fun, obnoxious person anyway! – I was able to think more clearly about what I actually wanted, and open up to the idea of living out my fantasies.

So I’m just going to say this straight out: if you are a feminist, please stop dismissing or otherwise shaming people who choose to be submissive. Because when you do so, you are reinforcing sexist, patriarchal ideas, and that is not cool.

More on objectifying language

16 Jan

Funnily enough, my internet friend Discerning Dom posted a piece on almost exactly the same time last night on the same topic as I did, objectifying language (although he phrased it in terms of “insults). His post is a great take from the other side of the coin – you should go read it.

It reminded me of a few points I meant to make in yesterday’s post. First, I’ve realized that I really only like this talk when it refers to sexual things. “Dirty, perverted whore”? Yes please. “Ugly, worthless, stupid whore”? Hell no, and get out of my house. I understand that some people do like the latter, and I can intellectually understand the appeal: having someone call you things you’re afraid of being called, and seeing that the sky doesn’t fall, that they’re still there. Lifting the rock and seeing what lies under there.

But for me, it just doesn’t work. Worthless? In most areas of my life, but especially in sex, I like to please, I like to be put to good use. Stupid? Well, that just makes me roll my eyes – I’ve always been The Smart Girl. I’m insecure on a lot of fronts, but my intelligence is not one of them. Ugly? Well, like 99.99% of women, I’ve struggled with my body image over the years, so I can’t say I’m totally secure there – but I don’t want to feel, even in play, that my partner thinks I’m ugly and is there anyway. I want to feel sexy and beautiful and desired.

Second, I don’t actually receive words like “slut” as insults. I think this is partly to do with my upbringing. I really was raised to feel that there was nothing wrong with a woman having lots of partners, or enjoying sex. Yes, there was a gap there, because I thought the kind of sex I liked was “wrong.” But the word “slut” has never really had much of a hold on me. If anything, I felt not sexual enough for most of my life. I wanted to be a sexual person, but there was a disconnect – I didn’t seem to be “into” sex in the way that other sexually liberated people seemed to be.

So to be called a slut, now that I have embraced my submissive sexuality, is actually very liberating. It’s a sign that I do now own my sexuality, and that my partner is celebrating it.

Objectifying language

15 Jan

Slut.

Whore.

Cunt.

These are all “bad” words, doubly so for a feminist. Not only are they insults, but they are insults based on sexist ideas about what women should be, what gives a woman her value as a person.

And yet, I love hearing them used to describe me, by the right person, in the right context. I love it. I also love having my partner “remind” me that I’m just there for him to use, or that only his enjoyment matters. Nothing sends me into that submissive headspace (which is a very happy, very aroused space for me) quicker than some good, objectifying dirty talk.

I’ve been thinking about this lately for a few reasons. One, the sadistic gentleman I’ve been playing with has quite a way with the dirty words, and I’ve been marveling at how just a few minutes of that can get me so worked up.

And then a reader that I’ve been emailing back and forth with expressed surprise at how I could be so glib about my love of objectifying language. After all, isn’t that anathema to feminism?

I responded by pointing out that the difference, to my mind is context – and, specifically, consent and specificity. I used a vanilla example to explain: if my (hypothetical at the moment) boyfriend grabbed my ass, I’d probably grin and grab his back, because I would view it as a cute, flirty move. If some guy on the street grabbed my ass, it would be assault. What’s the difference? The guy on the street knows nothing about me and certainly does not have my consent. My boyfriend knows I like that sort of thing and obviously has my consent.

As for objectifying dirty talk, to me, it’s the difference between me being his sex object because I’m female and women are supposed to be sex objects for men – and being his sex object because it’s a shared fantasy that we both find really hot. Gender may inform the choice of words, but it’s not why we play like this – if our genders were reversed, or we were the same gender, we would still play that way.

So that’s why I don’t find this kind of play unfeminist. But why do I find it hot?

Now, when I ask why, I don’t mean, “what made me this way?” I think that’s an unanswerable and fairly useless question.

What I mean is “what does this do for me?” I think it comes down to being in the moment. In my day-to-day life, I’m a bit of a perfectionist and an over-thinker. I think that, in a strange way, being cast into this role is a wonderful way of releasing myself to be present in the moment – to at least come closer to being a totally sexual being for a little while.

It’s also exciting to feel like my partner is losing his everyday persona for a while as well. To have a normally respectful, intelligent nice guy let loose with a barrage of vulgar terms like that – well, it makes me feel perversely powerful and extremely sexy.

What about you? Do you like this kind of language – why or why not?

Oh, Amazon.com, you know me better than I know myself …

15 Dec

I was just placing some orders on Amazon.com. Nothing kinky or sexual, just some DVDs I’m buying for a family member.

When I noticed that Amazon has a new “Pay Phrase” function. I’m not entirely clear on how it works, but it seems to allow you to have things billed and sent to you without having to go through a bunch of steps.

But that’s not the interesting part. The interesting part? The default phrase they created for me:

“[My name]’s controlling assertion.”

I almost fell over laughing.

Maybe it doesn’t have to do with all the BDSM erotica I’ve purchased on Amazon over the last year – but I really kind of hope it does.

 

(In other news, my libido seems to have picked back up again, and I’ve found a deliciously evil and sadistic online play partner [yes, I know I said never again, but I’ve got needs] and I think I’m going to start dating again after the holidays. So I’m expecting to have more things to blog about again soon.)

Feminism is not a personality trait

18 Sep

(Or, Reconciling my Feminism, Part II)

In the early days of my blog, I posted an entry entitled “Reconciling my feminism, Part I” in which I talked about my early process of, well, reconciling my feminist identity with my submissive desires.

I eventually intended to write a follow-up post in which I went further, expanding on my ideas about sex-positive feminism. But I’d like to do something different, instead. I’d like to talk about the idea of feminism as a personality trait, and why it’s so problematic.

Recently I was talking with a fellow, a thoughtful guy exploring his own dominant desires. He’s also single but lives far away and neither of us is looking for something long-distance, so it’s been a good opportunity to talk to someone with no romantic or sexual intentions.

I’d asked him for his thoughts on my fetlife profile, and he ventured, cautiously, that I might want to avoid referring to myself as a feminist, in said profile. Because most people hear “feminist” and think “strong woman” – and that runs counter to what people will expect from a submissive woman.

Let’s leave aside, for a moment, the idea that a submissive can’t or shouldn’t be strong (I don’t think that’s what he was trying to say, and anyway I think I’ve made my thoughts about that idea pretty clear). Let’s talk about the idea that “feminist” means “strong.”

One thing that’s happened as feminism has become more mainstream is that it’s gotten depoliticized a bit. So that feminism, in the popular imagination, is not simply about equality between men and women, or about critiquing gender-based privilege, or male privilege, but about being a “strong woman.”

I think that’s a problem, for a number of reasons. But mostly, as I say in the title of this post, feminism is not a personality trait. It’s a point of view, a philosophy, an ideology, a social/political movement. 

A feminist can be shy or outgoing, feminine or masculine, analytical or emotional, driven or lazy. What makes a feminist is not their (because men can be feminists too) personality, but their beliefs. And yes, how they live those beliefs is important, but I don’t believe anyone should have to change their personality to be called a feminist – because feminism is not a personality trait.

So that’s how I can be both feminist and submissive. Because neither explains the whole of my being. Feminism is part of my worldview and political belief system; submission is a part of how I interact with certain people.

For some deeper thoughts on feminism and personality, with an excellent Jungian analysis, check out this post by Sady Doyle. It’s not about BDSM, but it’s highly relevant and gave me the catalyst to write this post.