Proper Instructions

I saw this at the DommePics blog, and just loved it. It's Femdom for sure, but not "mean" Femdom.

Doing Her Kink, Not Mine

This post was inspired by a post by Mistress Lilyanna (No Gay Hand Job Porn).

The point here is that a submissive is to do the kink or activity of the dominant. That's the sub's true kink. To be controlled and at the mercy of his/her Dom/me. And in fact, this is what gets me off.

It's like this with M'Lady, and it's also like this with a new person with whom I have webcammed.

With M'Lady, I love giving her oral sex and annilingus. At one point she said "but you like doing that", and I said "well, I like it because YOU like it so much. Think about the action. Would any person want to do that for no good reason? It's not exactly the most pleasant or sanitary activity, no matter how clean the body is. I do it for you, sweety". And she was quiet and seemed to think about it. My hint was that I like doing sexual things for her, and the fact that she gets off, gets ME off. In my opinion, it's the natural attitude for any man, submissive or dominant.

My new webcam friend likes to watch men desparate to pee. The more they squirm around, the better. Women too, apparently. She almost never gives permission, and also gets off on the guy peeing in his pants.

Well, for me, this is not a turn on. Not being the desparate guy, nor watching a desparate woman. In fact, it's rather uncomfortable. Who would want to hold it in? I mean, seriously. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Especially a guy. Find a bush, let 'er rip, and get back to business, just be careful not to eat yellow snow.

BUT because my webcam friend gets off on it, and because she tells me what to do (take off the shirt, then the pants, then the rest, at HER rate), THAT is a turn-on. It is similar to M. Lilyanna's forced-bi, albeit with something a bit more benign. It also helps a lot that she likes to watch a guy masturbate. No complaints from me about that one.

In one session with my webcam friend, I kind of suggested that we experiment with anal sexual activity. Now, being webcam, I've got to do the action. So, I took out some rather thin dildoes, and started in on it. Of course, it was guided by her. But this was *my* kink, not her kink. Or so I thought. Turns out it was nobody's kink. She was not really interested in it, and in the end (pun intended), all it did for me was to give me a big pain in the ass. The aspect that interests me about being on the receiving end of anal sex is that it's kind of a role reversal. The woman is now penetrating me. BUT if she is not interested in it, then she's not going to get turned on by it. And since physically for me it isn't exciting (it's only exciting psychologically), then if my partner doesn't like it, it's a bust.

So, if I'm with a Domme partner, I get off on doing HER kink, not my kink. In fact, that IS my kink. My kink is being controlled by her, having her tell me what she wants, and doing it.

Mistress Lilyanna pointed out one thing that I take issue with, though. She is of the opinion that her sub should NOT want to do what she is forcing him to do. She had mentioned that she has a new sub who had a previous Domme who was training him to like gay porn. But M. Lilyanna didn't want that, she wants her sub to *not* like forced-bi, otherwise it's not forced. She wants him to do it for HER, not because he likes it. You know what, I hear. She has a point, and a very good one, in fact. I also get off on my Domme forcing me to do something that I wouldn't otherwise do. It's a powerful indication of control.

But I'm not bothered by the fact that both parties like doing something. For instance, with my webcam friend, she likes to look at men masturbating. She likes it when the guys begs her to let him start. For the record, I, like most men, also like to masturbate. Ah, but my webcam friend throws a curve into play. She lets me start, then says "stop, don't touch your penis" (she uses only clinical words). And *that* is something I woudn't normally do. So, here we have something that the Sub likes, and the Domme likes, but it's on the Domme's terms. Maybe that's the key. The fact that I like it, is fine with my webcam friend, she enjoys watching me enjoy it.

But it's on her terms.

And that what makes it D/S, in my opinion

Nine Levels of Submission

I’ve seen this questionnaire on several sites, and I like it, so I’m re-posting it here.

Personally, I think I'm Level 5, but My Lady could push me to Level 7, maybe even Level 8.

The 9 Levels Of Submission:

1. The outright non-submissive masochist or Kinky Sensualist:

Not into servitude, humiliation or giving up control; just pain and/or spiced-up sensuality, on the masochist's own terms and for the masochist's own direct pleasure (i.e. turned on solely/_topped by one's own bodily sensations rather than by being "used" to gratify one's partner's sadism).

2. Pseudo-submissive non-slave:

Not into even playing "slave," but into other "submissive" role-playing, e.g. schoolteacher scenes, infantilism, "forced" transvestitism. Usually into humiliation, but NOT into servitude, even in play. Dictates the scene to a large degree.

3. Pseudo-submissive play slave:

Likes to play at being a slave; likes to feel subservient; may in some cases like to feel one is being "used" to gratify partner's sadism; may even really serve the dominant in some ways, but only on the "slave's" own terms. Dictates the scene to a large degree; often fetishistic (e.g. foot worshippers).

4. True submissive non-slave:

Really gives up control (only temporarily and within agreed-upon limits), but gets her/his _top satisfaction from aspects of submission other than serving or being used by the dominant. Usually turned on by suspense, vulnerability, and/or giving up responsibility. Doesn't dictate the scene except in very general terms, but still seek _toply her/his own direct/ pleasure (rather than getting one's pleasure _toply from pleasing the dominant).

5. True submissive play slave:

Really gives up control (though only temporarily; only during brief "scenes" and within limits) and gets _top satisfaction from serving/being used by dominant-but only for FUN purposes, usually erotic. May/may not be into pain. If so, is turned on by pain indirectly, i.e. enjoys being the object of one's partner's sadism, on which the submissive places very few requirements or restrictions.

6. Uncommitted short-term but more than play semi-slave:

Really gives up control (usually within limits); wants to serve and be used by the dominant; wants to provide practical/non erotic as well as fun/erotic services; but only when the "slave" is in the mood. May even act as a full- time slave for, say, several days at a time, but is free to quit at any time (or at the end of the agreed upon several days). May or may not have long-term relationship with one's Mistress, but, either way, the "slave" has the final say over when she will serve.

7. Part-Time consensual - but real slave:

Has an ongoing commitment to an owner/slave relationship and regards oneself as the dominant's property at all times. Wants to obey and please dom(me) in all aspects of life-practical/non erotic and fun/erotic. Devotes most of time to other commitments (e.g. job) but Dom(me) has first pick of the slave's free time.

8. Full-Time live-in consensual slave:

Within no more than a few broad limits/requirements, the slave regards herself/himself as existing solely for the Dom(me)'s pleasure/well being. Slave in turn expects to be regarded as a prized possession. Not much different from the situation of the traditional housewife, except that within the S/M world the slave's position is more likely to be fully consensual, especially of the slave is male. Within the S/M world, a full time "slave" arrangement is entered into with an explicit awareness of the magnitude carefully, with more awareness of the magnitude of power that is being given up, and hence is usually entered into much more carefully, with more awareness of the possible dangers, and with much clearer and more specific agreements than usually precede the traditional marriage.

9. Consensual Total Slave with NO Limits:

A common fantasy ideal which probably doesn't exist in real life (except in authoritarian religious cults and other situations where the "consent" is induced by brainwashing and/or social or economic pressures, and hence isn't fully consensual). A few S/M purists will insist that you aren't really a slave unless you're willing to do absolutely anything for your Dom(me), with no limits at all. I've met a few people who claimed to be no-limit slaves, but in all cases I have reason to doubt the claim.

What level are you?

If you are dominant, what level do you want your submissive to be?

Comments Now Moderated

Recently, I had a few comments on the blog that got quite frankly insulting, humiliating, and beneath the standards for intelligent conversation. That, and the writer used text-speech (u no wut that is), which I find annoying in the extreme. I think the poster was miffed by my disagreeing on a certain subject, and just couldn't handle it.

The comments were posted by someone who styles herself as a "dominant woman", but it seems to me that she is more like a "selfish bitch". It takes finesse to be a dominant woman - she is in control of herself and she is not insulting to others, especially those who are not in her domain. The only time she stoops to insults is in a scene where it is appropriate, otherwise it is a sign of a lack of culture and control, and that is clearly not what a Lady is about.

Anyway, this caused me to change the policy on the blog so that I modify each comment. It's a shame that it has to be this way, as free-written comments encourage a lively exchange of ideas. So, no insult intended Dear Reader, it's just something that I have to do.

Going Shopping

Here's another cute incident:

As you may know from the blog here, we are a monogamous couple, I am the submissive husband, my wife is the dominant wife. I am a strong, macho, Naked Butler who loves to take care of My Lady while dressed in nothing but a leather apron. Cooking, cleaning, windows and garden work are all par for the course. Whatever she needs and whatever she desires she gets, including and especially sexually. I am *not* a sissy-slave, and certainly not a cuckold – My Lady has told me many times that I am “good in bed”. Sexually, we do whatever she wants, but I do take the lead. We finish when she says we are done, not before, and not after.

But I am much hornier than she is. Well, of course, I’m a guy. And M’Lady does like to tease me about this and take advantage of it from time to time.

One day, we were not “playing”, but instead were scheduled to go shopping in the evening. This is regular food shopping at the nearby supermarket. Nothing special, but we prefer to do it together – it’s a good couple-bonding exercise, and incidentally it helps keep our budget under control.

But this night, it seems, M’Lady had slightly different plans. I was waiting for her in the living room, dressed in my usual semi-casual clothes: button-down beige shirt, dark slacks, dark shoes. M’Lady enters the room dressed like it’s a holiday. She has a lively hat on (think Hermione Gingold in “Gigi”), a frilly dress which covers her neck, arms below the elbows and reaches below her knees. She reminded me of the “Gilbert Girls” from the nineteenth century. She also had on my favorite high-heeled sandals with sheer stockings. All-in-all, she looked like an attractive Lady who would feel comfortable in a mansion with many servants – butlers, maids, gardeners, and chauffers. It was, in fact, this latter task that she had in mind.

“Hello, Mister, we are going shopping tonight” she started . . .

“Well, OK, K --- “ and then she interrupted me.

“I beg your pardon, you are to address me as My Lady” and looked at me with the stern gaze of a school teacher. Immediately my sergeant reacted, and she glanced down. She let a small smirk peak out through her demeanor. She knows that I love it when she surprises me, and does not forewarn me we are “playing” .

“Certainly, Ma’am” I respond.

“Well, then, Mister, you will drive me to the shopping venue tonight”, she instructs me.

“Right away, M’Lady” I chime in, embracing my part enthusiastically. But then she pulls a fast one on me:

“Here, get dressed in this hat, and get the car ready for me”. Get dressed in the hat? I think to myself- how does one get dressed in a hat? You put it on, duh !!

So, I put it on and go towards the door.

“Mister!!” she stops me in my tracks.

“Did I tell you to get dressed in anything else?” She lectures me, and her eyebrows go up.

“Well, no, M’Lady . . . .”

“Then do it, Mister. Get dressed in that hat, and ONLY in that hat, with nothing else. You’ll have no need for anything except that hat, your wallet, and your cell phone. Now hop to it!” Oh, wow. That wasn’t the only thing hopping.

I look around apprehensively. We have children in the house and for them to see their daddy dressed only in a chauffer’s hat would have been, eh, a bit awkward.

“Don’t worry, Mister, don’t you remember you put the children to sleep already?”

“Oh, that’s right, M’Lady.”

“Well then, time’s a wasting, Mister – chick- chock!” our local cutesy way of saying ‘move your ass’

So, I go to the bedroom, take off my clothes (she doesn’t even look), get my wallet and cell phone, and put on the hat, and return to the living room.

“Ah, that’s more like it. Do you remember the English Leather commercial?” and gives me a smirk, because she knows I do [“all my men wear English Leather, or they wear nothing at all”].

“Let’s go, driver! Get the car!”

So, I go out the front door, slowly, looking first to the right, and then to the left to make sure no one is around. We live in a neighborhood where everyone knows everyone else, so if I’m seen, it will not be ignored, and will likely be a topic of conversation amongst the ladies, and even amongst the men. I’m lucky. No one is around, so I go down the driveway, open the car, and get in.

“Oh, driver! Yoo-hoo! “ I’m not used to this yet, I’m a Naked Butler, not a Naked Chauffer. MyLady is standing on the walkway and gesturing toward the rear passenger door, with her eyebrows arched. I get the message: our family car is now a limousine. So, I go around, feeling the evening air on parts of my torso that normally don’t, look around again, and open the door for M’Lady, bowing slightly and smiling. I’m searching the area constantly for anybody, and it is clear that I’m nervous. She looks at me and smiles, and walks to the car. As I said, I have embraced the role, so I say “Ma’am”, and she just nods at me and smiles. Doesn’t say a word. But it doesn’t matter anymore, because she has managed to give me a view of her legs as she sits down, and alluvasudden I don’t care WHO might be in the vicinity. Yowzer.

I quickly come out of my trance, close the door, and scamper around to the driver’s door, and get in.

“To the Super-sol, driver.” No please, just a command. I look in the rear-view mirror, and she has already taken out her compact, and is touching up her makeup. Completely ignoring me. She opens the window next to her for a breeze.  

I start the car and go, still looking around because I have no back-up here in the car. That is, no back-up clothes. If something happens, as they say, my Mom won’t have to worry about the ambulance crew seeing my dirty underwear, you know . . .

As we leave our village, she sees a friend. In our society it is common practice to offer fellow residents a ride to wherever you are going, if that is convenient for them. I have done it on many occasion, and have received rides in turn. “Driver, slow down”, and I look back for a moment, with panic in my face, but she retains her composure and aloofness. Damned if it didn’t turn me on, as if I need encouragement. I slow down, knowing that if I refuse her order, there will be hell to pay. She sees her best friend, Amanda. We are friendly with their family, and them with us. In fact, my wife helped to find a fine husband for one of their daughters, and now they have a couple of grandchildren.

“Hi, Amanda! Do you need to go to town?” Amanda approaches the car, and I break out in a cold sweat. I’ve got this silly hat on, and my birthday suit, and Amanda is coming to the car. Oh, no.

“Oh, thanks K, but I’m going the other way” as she comes right up to the open window. Man, am I glad it’s dark outside. Amanda glances inside and says “Oh, hi  S, how are you?” She is using our first names, giving this interface between our D/S scenario and vanilla life an edge.  I nod in acknowledgement “hey, nice hat there!” she remarks, and I mumble a thanks, with sweaty palms and face. I think to myself lucky the headrest obscured Amanda’s view of the fact that I have no shirt on. It would have made for uncomfortable questions.

MyLady looks at me with a smirk, chuckles a bit and says to Amanda “the kids got it for him, do you think it’s cute?” but Amanda says “well, I really can’t see, you’ll show me what you’ve got some other time, S!” and retreats from the car, looking for a ride in her direction. Show her, indeed.

“Carry on, driver” MyLady instructs me, as I feel the coolness of the air evaporating my sweat. Whew.

So, I drive out of our village and on to the supermarket. MyLady places a call to one of her girlfriends on her cell-phone, and chit-chats. Completely ignoring me.

So, I drive to the market. During the whole time, M’Lady is either reading her book, talking on her cell phone, or fooling around with her compact. About half way to the market, there is a roadblock where security forces check who is going through the area. This is standard, not a big deal, and we pass by it every time we travel along the road. But I’ve never done it with no clothes on. So, I once again break out into a cold sweat, and slow down. The person guarding is a fine-looking young gentleman recently out of the Army. Normally, they ask the driver where he or she is coming from, but this time is different. M’Lady  takes charge.

She moves over, opens the window, and says “Hello, young man!”

“Where are you coming from?” he asks in a very no-nonsense tone, looking at me.

M’Lady continues, and tells the fellow what village we are from, and, realizing who is in charge, turns to her, and smiles. M’Lady beams at him and says “That’s a nice pin you have there, where is it from?”, taking him off guard. But the poor guy just can’t ignore such an innocent question from such a good-looking woman, and says “from the recent operation in the south”. Now, I’m already out of the service, so I’m starting to stew here, and M’Lady sees this, and milks it a bit. “Good job, lads!”,  and the ‘lad’ smiles back at her, but then realizes that there is a line of cars, and he’s got to get back to work. He waves us on by. Whew. Another obstacle passed, more sweat and damned if I’m not even more erect than I was before.

We continue uneventfully to the supermarket, and I drive in to the parking lot.

“Driver, drop me off at the entrance. When I need you, I’ll call you. Don’t go too far.”

“Yes, M’Lady”, and I drop her off. I’m getting used to this.

“Unless you would like to come in and help me, you know. I would be a nice gesture.” Of course, she knows my state, so there is no chance this is happening.

“Well . … “

“Very well, driver, you are just a driver, not a porter. I’ll be back.  And oh, driver … “ She opens her hand and gestures it to me. I don’t quite understand what she wants, but then she points to her open palm with her other finger, and says “your credit card. “ An order. No query, no question. So, I take out my wallet, and give her my credit card.

I’m getting used to being nude here in the car, so I don’t even look around for anybody. I watch her go inside, with those very nice legs and high-heels, carrying MY credit card, spending MY money, and wonder for a moment how in the world she’s going to shop with heels on.

So, I go try to find a place to park in the meantime. I feel like the dog who was left in the car, while the owners go someplace. It’s a strangely pleasant feeling, and I’ll have to revisit this thought some time later. But I immediately realize that I have a problem. What if I need to go to the bathroom? What am I going to do then? I can’t just take out the spare tire and wrap it around my torso, you know.

After driving around for a few minutes, I find a place not illuminated by street lamps, and park. But it’s still almost in the middle of the parking lot. A lady comes by and asks me if I’m leaving, and does a double-take at my exposed chest. She backs away a few steps and does not wait for my answer. I turn on the radio to pass the time, and listen to some talk show about recent events. The moderators and callers are rather active, and before I know it, almost an hour has passed.

And then my phone rings. It’s M’Lady. “Hello, M’Lady”

“Driver, go to the side parking area, and wait for me, I’m done”  the *side* ?! What is going on? But  I know better than to second-guess M’Lady. So, I drive on over to the side parking area and wait.

Not a moment later, M’Lady comes walking toward me, with no shopping cart at all, and I’m confused . . . . until I see a shopping cart a bit behind her, pushed by a teenage box-boy, who could be Brad Pitt minus twenty years, plus a few zits. Poor fella looks a bit cowed, as if he had no choice but to do her bidding, poor chap. I know the feeling, and to tell the truth, I kind of like it.  AND I notice a slight bulge in his pants, he he – he likes it, too ! M’Lady is walking in her heels, with an air of dignity, and instructs the box-boy to bring the cart right next to the car. Hey, kid, get out of here I think. Doesn’t help. M’Lady is powerful, but she’s not telepathic. “That will be all, boy, here” and gives him a tip, he taps his head, and turns around to leave .

“Oh, driver, come empty this cart!” WHAT !? Doesn’t she know I’m naked?  I hesitate, as  the boxboy isn’t out of range yet.  “Driver, do I need to repeat myself?”, so I slowly get out of the car, and look around, and see the boxboy glance back at me. He does a double-take, but continues back to the store. I am so nervous and worried that I am no longer erect. Fortunately, we are parked so that the trunk of the car  is facing the fence of the lot, and there is not too much of a chance that someone will see us. Well, OK, there’s a slight chance. I slowly proceed to unload the cart. M’Lady is standing there with her hands crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face, tapping her shoes. “Very nice, driver, keep it up” , oh I’m keeping it up, all right. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she didn’t only refer to my unloading skills, as my back was toward her. I pick up my pace, and am soon finished. I close the trunk, and turn to go back to the driver’s door. M’Lady clears her throat, and I glance back, and realize that I was amiss. She raises her eyebrows once again, and I go over to her door, and open it for her. The whole time my sergeant is wagging back and forth in front of me. She nods her head, says nothing, stares right at me, glances down, and gives me a little whack on the tush.  I am taken aback, but before I can do or say anything, she sits down in her seat, and I close the door. Woah. Erection is now flaming.

I am, again, transfixed for a few moments, and don’t notice a car driving past, looking for a spot. After about 50 feet, it stops, and starts to back up, and it is at this point that I realize that they saw what’s going on. I run over to the driver’s side, and get in, just in time. The car slowly drives by, and the people inside slow down and point and stare, but then they just move aside, and we now pull out.

MyLady is once again sitting in the back, and says “home, Driver”. She sits back, seems to be a bit tired. I think I should offer her a foot rub when we get home, but I’m afraid to offer this now as I’m the “Driver”.

We arrive at home with no incidents, but I do have a problem – I have to go to the bathroom! I couldn’t get out anywhere without risking getting arrested, but now if I’m going to relieve myself, I’m going to have to run the gauntlet of getting back in to the house with no one seeing me again. I feel like a streaker from the 1970’s, and realize that I like the feeling. But nature is calling, so I hop out, take a quick look around, and start for the house. “Driver !!” She calls. Oh, not again !! I turn around, and kind of bend down and cross my legs, making it clear that I’ve go to go, “Driver, get back here and unload the car! That is the third time I have had to repeat myself this evening, and it won’t go unpunished!” That threat, combined with her attitude and exciting attire made me forget my fullness, and I quickly make my way back to the car and start to unload.

She doesn’t help at all, just stands aside and watches. “Quickly, Driver, quickly !” and after a few minutes, the car is unloaded, my sphincter is about to explode, and MyLady is smiling. All in all, an interesting situation indeed. I approach her and am barely able to blurt out “Will that be all, M’Lady?” And she looks at me with the air of a Queen, waits a moment or two for effect (I know she’s doing this on purpose), seems to be breathing a bit deeply (is she enjoying this, too, I wonder?) and responds “Yes, Driver, you may go now. Go inside and get in the punishment position.” Ooooh, I thought she forgot about those few infractions before. Silly me.  “Thank you, Madame”, and I run into the house, straight to the bathroom, where I solve my problem.

After a few minutes, I hear a knock on the door. It’s my wife now, not acting as “M’Lady”,  and she says “S, are you going to be long?” Uhhh,   “no”, I say. “Well, make sure you clean yourself out well. I’ll be waiting for you. “ I’m sure she is.

And the rest of the story is pretty vanilla (except for the punishment swats), but suffice to say that my wife was very wet, very horny, and very happy. AND she appreciated the foot rub.

Wow, I could sure do this one again.

My View on Cuckolding and D/S In General

I’ve seen a lot on Femdom sites about “cuckolding”.

Cuckolding is the act or condition, wherein the main man does not get intercourse from his wife or girlfriend, and instead she chooses a different man, who is usually well-endowed, with which to have sex. She teases her husband about this, and he quite often is required to prepare her for a date, or even accompany her in the sexual tryst. Her husband – a submissive man – is supposed to like this, or like the humiliation of it. There are no lack of sites about this, and no lack of stories about this activity. I do find the stories strangely erotic and compelling. But when I try to imagine myself in this situation, I always go cold.

Now, I consider myself a submissive husband, but in the Knight vs. Queen aspect. That is, Her Majesty the Queen does indeed need her Knight, and her Knight is her loyal subject. But he is her special subject. The Three Musketeers belong to the Queen of France, but the relationship is mutual.

That means that for me, I am submissive BUT I need to be the source of sexual pleasure for my wife. I don’t want anyone else to be the source of sexual pleasure for my wife. I’m willing to do many things for my wife to give her sexual pleasure, whether it be vanilla romantic gestures (nice restaurant, ice cream, flowers, a good hug, a good listener, a good book), to more submissive gestures (a foot rub, giving her a bath, pedicure/manicure), financial (give her all my money),  to sexual gestures (I’m a good kisser, oral sex, annilingus, breast play), to BDSM-type activities (I’ll let her tie me down and whip me, chastity play, removal of hair, intense bondage, golden showers, etc.), to very intense things (branding, removal of organs, etc.).

BUT I would draw the line at her getting any sexual pleasure from another man, especially if I’m out of the loop. I just don’t understand it that other guys like this.

Now, if I were to be OK with this, the only thing I *might* be willing to do would allow her to be a type of “hot wife”, who does have other men, but I would have to be involved, and I would have to be the main man. I would not agree to her going out on her own. I might be OK if she were to get involved with another woman, but certainly not another man. And certainly not if she were to leave me. I would be devastated.

Is that “un” submissive of me? Is that selfish? Maybe it is. But you know, even in the D/S dynamic, I think both partners need to get something out of it. The Dom/me needs to call the shots, but in my opinion, the Sub needs to be valued and cherished, and get recognition that the Dom/me wants the Sub to submit, and that the Dom/me likes this submission. The Dom/me should “get off” on the Sub submitting.

So, OK, I’ll submit gladly, but I need feedback, Ma’am, otherwise all I’m doing is virtual masturbating – I’m all alone, and what’s the point in that? I need to serve a person, and I need to know that the person likes it. You can compare the D/S dynamic to owning a dog. The dog is valued, you love the dog. The dog gives you attention and gratitude, the dog is a watchdog and protects you, but you take care of the dog, you pet the dog, you say “good boy”. You don’t abandon the dog. You don’t humiliate the dog, you don’t consider the dog to be a “worm” or worthless. So too, a Submissive. Heck, some Subs literally like to be collared and taken for a walk (me, too, btw). You can also compare the dynamic to an Employer/Employee relationship. The Employer is the Boss, makes the decisions. But the Employee is there under his/her own free will, and freely “submits” to the decisions of the Boss. The Employee has certain tasks that he/she needs to do, and in return the Boss gives something to the Employee. In this case, it’s money, but in the case of a D/S relationship between two people, it’s love, recognition, sensuality, sexuality, and sex (to the extent of the definition of the relationship).

There is no humiliation involved here. There can’t be humiliation involved here, it’s impossible. As far as I’m concerned, if my wife were to tell me “you know, it would be soooooo hot were you to take a walk with me naked” or some such craziness, I would do it, and not be humiliated at all. “Why are you doing that?” people ask. “Well, my wife likes it when I do this.” So, presto! It’s alluvasudden “vanilla”.  Of course, my wife would never ask me to take a walk with her naked, but she has put, say, tampons on the shopping list. So, I get tampons. I have read stories where the husband is “humiliated” when buying tampons, and I say WTF?! Your wife asked you to get some, then get some, what’s the big deal?

So, with a cuckold or hotwife relationship, if it’s the wife that wants it (it usually is not), then if it’s within the definition of the relationship, there cannot be any humiliation involved. Say, a husband has a wife who says that he’s a great guy, provides for her, gives good oral sex (for example), and is even a great lay most of the time, but now and then she needs a taller guy with a large member. This submissive husband is then like an employee who takes care of the shop, but now and then the manager of the shop needs to bring in a specialist to, say, do deliveries, or add a room to the plant. Something like that. Or even in a pure cuckold relationship, it’s like an employee whose job definition has changed with the times. He used to do the books, but now it’s automated, or now it’s more efficient for him to design the production line as opposed to actually working on the production line. Is that humiliating? Certainly not! Same with a cuckold/or hotwife relationship. At least as far as I can see. So I don’t get the “humiliation” of it.

But again, for us, we are monogamous, so this is out of bounds for us.

Cute Little Questionnaire

Cute Little Questionnaire

Saw this cute little dumb questionnaire on one of the blogs I follow, so I decided to post it here, too, with my own answers:

1. Height?

5’7”

2. Have you ever smoked heroin?

No.

3. Do you own a gun?

No.

4. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?

Not at all. I actually get ready to ask all sorts of questions. It’s a wonderful opportunity to learn.

5. What do you think of hot dogs?

I have worked in a hot dog factory, and if you knew what went in to them, you would refrain from eating them just like I do.

6. What's your favorite Christmas song?

Don’t have one. Why would I? I’m Jewish.

Ask me what’s my favorite Jewish singer: Either Udi Davidi or Mishpachat Vach.

8. Can you do push ups?

Yes. Of course. 30 or so, maybe more, depending on who’s motivating me, dahlink.

9. Is your bathroom clean?

Yes, THEY are, and I make a maximum effort to keep them that way.

10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?

Cute, feminine earrings. To be clear, I like to see my wife wear them, and – eh – nothing else.

11. Do you like painkillers?

Sure. Silly question

12. Do you have A.D.D.?

No.

13. ??????????????

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

14. Middle Name?

Marcus. No, I’m not a Roman Emperor re-incarnated.

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment?

Air Conditioning, running, writing.

16. Name the last 3 things you have bought?

Outside lamp, sheer stockings (for my wife, not for me, silly … well, maybe that *is* for me in the end . . . ), and ice cream (yes, it’s for her, I’m not an ice cream man)

17.Name 3 drinks you regularly drink:

Water, coffee,  Diet Sprite.

20. What happened to 18 and 19 ?????????? Went looking for 7. Either that, or they are in the Army. They are thinking about signing up for Keva. If you don’t know what that is, email me.

21. Current worry?Actually, I’ll have to think about that.

22. Current hate?Israel haters, and non-tolerant people.

23. Favorite place to be? Home.

24. How did you bring in the New Year?

The Chinese one? The Gregorgian one, or the Jewish one? 7. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee.

1: Got a dollar, 2: Don’t remember, 3: Synagogue

25. Where would you like to go?

A cool forest.

26. Do you own slippers?

Yes.

27. What shirt are you wearing?

Buttoned down beige.

28. Do you tan or burn?

Burn. Gotta be careful, I’s a white boi.

29. Favorite color(s)?

Indigo, Wavelength =~ 460nm

30. Would you be a pirate?

I actually am, depending on how you define “pirate”.

31. What songs do you sing in the shower?

Sinatra. Perfect shower music.

32. What did you fear that was going to get you at night as a child?

Nothing.

33. What's in your pockets right now?

Wallet, keys, office card.

34. Last thing that made you laugh?

This questionnaire.

35. Best bed sheets as a child?

There was a very nice blanket. I have replaced it with a very nice wife. Big improvement, IMO.

36.Worst injury you've ever had?

Pulled a groin muscle playing catcher.

37. How many TVs do you have in your house?

I am proud to be in a TV-free house. Now, ask me how many computers I have connected to the internet . . . .

38. Who is your loudest friend?

My friends are not usually loud, it’s me who usually makes the noise. Although my kids have a large potential for volume.

39. Who is your most silent friend?

The one(s) i had to bury. I’ve had the unfortunate “luck” to take part in the burial of at least three friends.

40. Does someone have a crush on you?

Sure. I wish she would be a bit more kinky, though; we could do a lot of fun things.

41. Do u wish on shooting stars?

Never.

42. What is your favorite book?

Anything by Ed McBain or Mary Roach. Either that or an Encyclopedia.

43. What song do/did you want played at your wedding?

A whole bunch of Jewish songs. The band, btw, is still going strong 24 years later.

44. What song do you want played at your funeral?

”He’s Alive”

45. What were you doing @ 12 AM last night?

Reading a very weird book: The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet.

46. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?

Oh, bother, another boner . . . . .