I have a friend with a fetish that’s a good example of the case. He is a controlling guy who can’t stop feeling sexually jealous of the wife he’s been with for ten years. When she made a cake for her officemates last month, he complained that she was trying to seduce a coworker. When she flirted with a waiter once, he went into a rage at the restaurant.
In the bedroom, only one strange scenario satisfies him. He likes to be faux-humiliated–or made a cuckold in the form of play. About once a week, the couple goes online to find a woman willing to join in their specific bedroom scenario. The scene is always roughly the same: The husband tries to seduce the new woman, but she rejects him. She says she’d rather have his wife. The two women engage each other, all along verbally berating the man, calling him “cuckold,” “frat boy,” “limp dick.” The humiliation excites and satisfies the husband. But if the scenario ever loses the script–if the two women really do hit it off and stop “faux-humiliating” the husband–the husband gets angry. In that case, he is no longer being faux rejected but truly rejected. Overwhelmed, he has to stop the role play.
I’ve thought of that fetish in the same light as an obsessive-compulsive tendency. This is a man who can’t handle his baseline feelings of shame–the potential to be humiliated, to lose his woman’s love or his sense of control in real life. So he sets up tightly-orchestrated scenarios in which he can live out the “normal” human emotion of shame, to some extent. Here, he still controls the timing of the shame. He’s the one directing it. He’s the one who can turn it off. He can enter the real world through his own tightly-imposed organization.
I’ve recently heard a nice turn of phrase, which is that we do most of what we do to live within our “safety range.” We each feel safe in different activities. Some of us feel safe when we’re exercising physical power, even if that means jumping out of planes. Some of us feel safe in obedience. Some of us feel safe by maniacally compartmentalizing things that overwhelm us.
I wonder if you know of an anxiety you deal with through heightened orderliness. A friend recently gave me an example as easy as this: In graduate school, he always needed to clean his room before he started studying. He simply needed to impose some order on the external world, to make the mess of the internal world feel less like a mess.
I have some mild compartmentalizing tendencies, too: I need the gym every day as a scheduled release of anxious energy. I snack rather than indulge in big meals, controlling intake that way. I keep messy stacks of paper around the house, which I know the contents of pretty completely.
Tags: color scheme, coworker, cuckold, dominant, elevators, fetish, fetishes, freezer, humiliation, limp dick, male, new woman, obsessive compulsive disorder, obsessive-compulsive, orderliness, pencils, phobia, sex, slit, spiders, strict sense, submissive, target, tip length, two women
Topic 3: (Goddess) FROM A LISTENER: “I listen to the dungeon place podcast and think it’s great. I saw in your profile that you are independent and have to deal with that as sub. I wanted to know how you dealt with and if it helps you to be a better sub? I want to work on this cuz it’s one thing I’m dealing with and so is my partner.”
Kinky word of the day: shokushu goukan (Tentacle Rape)
FROM A LISTENER: “I listen to the dungeon place podcast and think it’s great. I saw in your profile that you are independent and have to deal with that as sub. I wanted to know how you dealt with and if it helps you to be a better sub? I want to work on this cuz it’s one thing I’m dealing with and so is my partner.”
I had my first session with my ponyboy… it went so well I even attached a video for your enjoyment. (Yes I am trying to be funny…)
This video represents how intense it made me feel.
Who says that having sex with your pony boy equates to bestiality? If you ask me… they are full of it. However, should I be concerned that he is hung like a horse?
I had to discipline him this evening. It was quite empowering to be in my 6″ heels, wielding my crop, and holding the reigns attached to his head piece harness. I think I did a good job… either that or I should look into some salt peter.
I need a name for my pony… any suggestions?
I finished the evening by fitting a CB3000 and attaching my padlock. Got to train him to be a good pony. Enjoy the video, it is pretty funny, and plus hearing Joan Collins say fuck is priceless.
More to come, we must get crackin… we have a fetish event coming up… and I would love to bring my pony with me!
Meow!
I had my first session with my ponyboy… it went so well I even attached a video for your enjoyment. … yes I am trying to be funny… this video represents how intense it was. But who says that having sex with your pony boy equates to beastiality? If you ask me… they are full of it. However, should I be concerned that he is hung like a horse?I had to discipline him this evening. It was quite empowering to be in my 6″ heels, weilding my crop, and holding the reigns in his harness. It really turned me on… I think I did a good job… either that or I should look into some salt peter.
Once you use them (or have them used on you) chances are you’ll love them.
Body Hook
Attach them to a needle, thread them through you and let them integrate?
The hook becomes a focal point for energy, control and emotion. A beautiful thing to experience.
I admit they’re a bit frightening to look at. You see one of these bastards come out of the package, realize it’s going through bits of you and there’s some fear involved! No need. It’s all good.
I’ve done the Energy Pull — an amazing experience I can’t recommend enough! Now I’m thinking about some new methods in which to use my poky friends.
Obviously…the inspiration from movies like “Hellraiser” come to mind.
Yeah, I know. The object of any scene involving hooks is not to rip your submissive’s face off. But it’s a damn cool image to use as a starting point.
The talks have started, the plan is in mind.
Now it’s just time to seal it down and make it happen.
As summer heat builds it’s time to get back to the foundations of training my wife to be my submissive.
We met as Kinks. We fucked as Kinks. We’ve built a life as Kinks. Until this year, we did not live this life 24/7. We carefully segregated our time.
We still do. Our family life is key, so we’ve carefully devised a plan to blend our Kink into the daily life of time as a family. It’s subterranean around the children, they see nothing. We expose them to nothing.
Yet, it’s there. And we are conducting the training 24/7.
How? Well, I’ll go into that over time.
In the mean time, training.
DE’s resistant and independent spirit will be used to forge her into a powerful submissive and a mighty Domme.
After watching a scene, a friend of mine was putting her “toys” back into her box. There they were… a pair of Leg Irons. My feet shot out, my mouth salivated, my pulse raced. They were a birthday present from her husband. She grinned ear to ear and was all to happy to accommodate my wish. She then realized her matching wrist irons were in the car! 5 minutes later I was “in irons”, and in my mind, my own personal slice of submissive heaven. As I moved around the party, socialized and smoked, I could not help but grin ear to ear. Feeling the cold chains on my skin refreshing. Being teased, touched, and paddled a few times playfully. Is this what it feels like to “play” at a party? Why in the hell has it taken me so long? This was my 5th event, and I must say it was a night full of “Firsts” for this cat.
3 hours later, the irons were removed. I sat and pondered, as I watched a suspension scene, a flogging scene, fellow party goers showing off their toys, what am I to do next? Flogging? No, not yet. Rope? Nah, don’t have the guts to ask. Then I saw her… another friend of mine, who is well known for her imagination, sadistic streak and skill with needle play. She had this surgical stapler in her toy box, that I have been curious as hell about, but afraid to try. So I asked her, and she just grinned her beautiful hazel eyed smile.
Needless to say, I ended the evening with 16 staples and pretty yellow ribbon. I was pleasantly surprised, and loved the sensation. (especially one in each nipple allowing for my tassels) I left the staples & ribbon in for about an hour or more as I moved around the party. Relishing in each of my movements, as they tugged, pulled and strained my skin.
I am in no way a “pain slut” but this sensation and feeling of Saturday evening are ones that I will not soon forget. For those that know me, they know it was a big step for me. I gleefully claim that I crave more of these “sensations” as I move down this path. It makes me think and ponder this one question “Why did I wait so long?”
Minions – I love the sound of the word and I love the thought of having them. I like the thought of twisting it around a bit and making something new. I don’t want a “follower” (that brings up images of a brainless thing…definitely don’t want that!)
I do want someone to do (or be subject to) my bidding – but not a slave.
In the meantime I must begin training DE (oh yes…)
So, how does one go about getting a minion? Well, when I decide to bring one in…I’ll simply ask the appropriate person(s).
Pretty much seems like the best way.
minion. (2009). In Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary.
Retrieved July 21, 2009, from http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/minion
I know in the podcast I give the advice to folks new to the Scene “Run” from “Sir Lord Master Dommy Dom”. But does that mean anyone with “Sir” in front of their Scene Name is a bad thing?
Simon Blaise (a man in the BDSM world often accused of having an ego, but I can tell you from personal experience he’s a very down-to-earth guy.) replied with the following:
“beware people who are preoccupied with others’ egos a humble person wouldn’t be offended by anothers’ ego or silliness
The leather manacles bite into my wrists as I pull hard on the chain above my head. My jaw aches. my tongue burns, the bitterness of the ball gag in my mouth has me drooling. The sweet whisper of cruelties tickle my ear as I hear the swoosh, then the thwack of the paddle against my ass. The burn and sting of each blow has me writhing in painful ecstasy. Each blow transcends me higher and higher until I am adrift with only the Master’s voice to keep me grounded to this plain. Ah how sweet the ecstasy of submission, being drunk on my own endorphins cradled in the arms of my lover, safe, warm and cherished. Then the next day it hits. The drop out of sub-space into the seething snake pit of emotions commonly known as sub-drop. Sub-drop is the down-side of our play. Writhing self-pity, squirming self-doubt all churning about into a miasma of emotions that are worthy of a teenage girl on her period. Simply put journeys of such heights and depths as we traverse cannot be made without paying some toll. Simply said There Ain’t No Such Thing As Free Lunch (TANSTAFL). If you dance to the tune you must needs pay the fiddler.
So how do you keep the cost to a minimum? Here are some suggestions:
1) Keep the line of communication with your play partner open. If you aren’t living together, follow-up calls are always a good thing. A bit of reassurance and affirmation help tremendously.
2) If possible, keep an article of clothing, a shirt, pillow case or handkerchief that smells of your play partner as a momentary security blanket. His/her scent near you can trigger the good memories that are the positive part of play. Simply remembering the experience in a positive light helps tremendously.
3) Play often. The more you play keeps the sub-drop away. Our resident expert Tutivillus said so.
4) Pamper yourself.
5) Eat well, i.e., nutritiously.
6) Talk to friends
7) Journal
