Posts Tagged ‘submissive’

Inside the mind of a submissive man

January 9, 2008

I just came across a slew of new (to me) submissive male/dominant woman blogs, and some of the writing there just blows me away. It’s so raw and real and intense, and having just had a pretty intensely kinky week myself (more on that later), I am grateful when I see others talking about their kinks and what it means to them. This may be my bias or misperception, but sometimes I feel like kink is often so showy; it’s about impressing someone, whether it’s your top or the people in your local scene, or the internet, with how much you can take, or what you look like doing it. And in my opinion, yes, sometimes showing off or being somehow public with your kinkiness can be part of the fetish, but I’m much more interested in the inner transformations people go through, in what they think they’re capable of and what they actually are. I think this blogger, Under the Boot, expresses that push/pull so well – the desire for pain, and the acknowledgement that yes, it’s actually painful. That in the moment, we may long for it to stop, but we really don’t want it to.

Me, I’ve been on both sides of that, and of late have discovered my capacity for cruelty. Well, within a BDSM context. I’m discovering that when I’m with a submissive partner, as I was recently, I want to inflict pain on him, but not just for his sake. There is something so carnal and powerful and exciting, not to mention arousing, about taking someone to that place, about getting off on their pain and squeals, about making them, literally, submit to your will. And I actually believe that both players, or sides, in BDSM, have much in common in terms of the transformative aspects of kink. I went to a wonderful exhibit while I was in London called Seduced at the Barbican and came across this quote from Paul Schmidt about Mapplethorpe’s work:

“We drag ourselves through darkness and hope to come out into light, no longer the same, but OTHER.”

I thought it was quite, quite apt.

From the blog Under the Boot:

I want to be hurt. More than that, I want to be taken to my limits. Hell, I want to find those limits and watch — no, feel — her dance past them a bit. Show me I’m stronger than I think. I want her to hit me and hit me and get me to the point where I want to use the safeword.

I’m simultaneously aroused and ashamed to say I want her to bring tears to my eyes.

I want to be clamped and struck and slapped and have my hair pulled and I want her to hit my cock with a riding crop and bite me. I want her to scratch her name into my back. Over and over again. I want marks and stripes and I’m okay with blood.

She…the last time I was up there, she took these big clips and clamped them on my nipples. And then she started trying to whip them off with the crop and then the flogger. The problem is, I suspect that trick works better with clothespins. So she sat there for five minutes, hitting and hitting and hitting and those fucking clamps never budged, and it hurt, so fucking much, worse than anything she’s ever done to me. I didn’t tell her how bad it hurt because I loved it. I didn’t want her to hold back in the future. My nipples were so sore the rest of the weekend, and so every time she twisted them or bit them or hit them, it fucking hurt so much worse than normal, because of this one session.

But I loved it. I loved it so much, I can’t even express how it felt to have her standing over me with that flogger and just swinging and for my chest to feel like one big glowing sun of pain. I could see her face, normally when she strikes me, when I’m on my hands and knees or on my belly, I can’t see her, and I could watch her as she did it, and she looked so peaceful and angry and thoughtful at the same time.

“Am I a Masochist?”

January 1, 2008

Blogger Unsepeakable Axe, who describes himself as “A New York submissive, masochist and romantic, “wookin’ pa nub” and trying to have fun along the way..,” asks “Am I A Masochist?”

Some define a masochist as someone who can take a lot of pain, others say its someone who can have an orgasm from it.

I’ll say, from my limited experience with caning, that I’m more of the former. But then again, I’ve never been caned by someone I was really into.

One of the hottest experiences in my life was when I was out on a date with someone, we were making out and she dug her fingernails deep into my side (so deep I had marks in my side for months and months afterwards).

I was in heaven. She whispered in my ear “I love that you’re a pain-slut”. It wad one of the sexiest things anyone has ever said to me. Sadly that was as far as it went with her.

I do know that, when it comes to caning, I can usually take a lot of pain. I friggin’ love it. I love taking it for that person, feeling their power and….ok I guess I am getting turned on by it.

I also love the emotional release. I’ve only had one really really good beating and I ended up crying because of it (and because while in deep subspace I thought heard the voice of the woman I was desperate for at the time).

read the whole post

Watch Rachel read from She’s on Top

December 26, 2007

Soon I’ll have much more audio and video erotica for you, but for now, here’s me reading part of my She’s on Top story “His Just Rewards,” about a man who truly gets what’s coming to him!

Domme vs. Santa

December 23, 2007

Love this! From Flickr user Jean-Luc Diabolique

And may I remind you that She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission makes a perfect holiday gift for that special submissive man or loving domme in your life?

And guess what I’m doing this weekend? Proofreading Yes, Ma’am so it can be sent off to the printers!

Here’s a little snippet of Chris Cooper’s story “Exhibit A” from Yes, Ma’am for you:

I snap back to the present as a waiter clad in only a pair of Speedo-tight pants comes by with flutes of champagne. I, of course, don’t even think of taking one, but the hostess does, her long, red nails clinking against the skinny glass. She’s the belle of the kinky ball, dressed in a stunning silver latex gown that hugs every gorgeous curve of her tall, generous body. Once again, I see my mistress across the room, also elegant in a black silk dress loosely draped against her, blood-red shoes raising her several inches off the ground. Save for that brief ocular warning, she seems to be studiously ignoring me while I stand shackled here, unable even to lightly stroke my dick. The torment is both agony and fantasy fulfillment at once. The hostess peers around the room, surveying her shining sea of dommes, smiling slightly to herself as she takes a small sip of champagne. My cock is going wild as I slyly steal glances at her. Her home is everything mine isn’t, not only separated by a borough—hers on Central Park West, mine deep in the bowels of Brooklyn—but by class, taste, comfort. Hers is elegance personified and I wonder what her husband (because there’s got to be one behind this whole setup) knows or thinks about her little soiree.

My staring must have subtly alerted her attention because she turns around and beams her all-seeing eyes into me. She penetrates me with her gaze until I look down, properly reverential. Mistress Karen has told me to do what any woman here asks of me; my orders from her are to treat these women, every last one, as my dommes for the day. My cock is theirs, no questions asked. She told me this earlier while fucking my face with a huge black dildo, her melodic voice drifting down to my ears as I dutifully swallowed the massive toy, feeling my dick jerk each time its head scraped the back of my tongue, so I may have missed some of the subtleties of what she was imparting.

I swallow hard, vowing to be everything she wants me to be, to live up to her standards and impress her friends. I’m not sure if they are all serious players like us, or professionals, or women who just want to capture a little of the power their husbands wield with the snap of their fingers. These are women who trade in fur coats, fancy lunches, and fast fucks in high-end hotels, who travel in a world of luxury I can only vaguely imagine. The thought of being Mistress Karen’s full-time slave has passed through my mind before, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that, or if she is. I spend most of my free time with her when she’ll have me, but sometimes I need to retreat to my crash pad, my old futon and comforter slapped against the corner of a stark room, my meager belongings putting me back into the world I’ve always known.

The next thing I know, the hostess is standing before me, her gaze landing at my chin. She’s in shiny black heels and sheer black stockings in addition to the dazzling dress, the first things I see from my view with my head down. I’m grateful Mistress Karen has secured my arms over my head, because they’re already getting tired. Hostess steps closer so the latex of her dress is almost touching the extended hairs on my legs. “You make a nice piece of artwork on my wall, kind of a living sculpture,” she mused, trailing a long red nail from my hip up my flat stomach toward one erect nipple. She rakes her pointy talon over my bud, causing an exhalation of breath. “It’s too bad you look so lonely over here,” she says, now pinching my nipple between two fingers, tugging on it. I glance upward enough to see her lips curving into a smile that gets bigger the harder she pulls on my nipple. I don’t wince, even though my body quivers where she’s touching me.

“I enjoy it, Ma’am. I want to be accessible to all the women here, just like Mistress Karen told me to be.”

“Forget about Mistress Karen,” she says, twisting my nipple even more fiercely. Before I even sneak a peek toward the rest of the room, I know they’re all watching us curiously. Their chatter has quieted down from its previous din as they wait to see what she’ll do to me.

A teaser from Yes, Ma’am – “Secretary’s Day” by Rachel Kramer Bussel

December 8, 2007

A little teaser to pique your interest in Yes, Ma’am – well, more than the cover and introduction have. From my story – you’ll have to wait for the book for the rest!

Yes, Ma'am cover

Secretary’s Day
by Rachel Kramer Bussel

The day of my interview with one of the top law firms in New York City, I’m sweating through my brand-new designer suit, desperately mopping at my brow as I try to look composed. I’m fresh out of Rutgers, making my way through round after round of Manhattan office buildings, steep high-rises filled with bankers, lawyers, editors, and businessmen. Being a male applying for a job as an administrative assistant in the year 2007 is no easy task, let me tell you. Sure, we’ve said that we’re all about equal opportunity, but to the minds of most bosses, the job is still that of a secretary, and she should be wearing a suit, heels and pearls. I’ve done plenty of temp work, can type one hundred words per minute, and am prompt and efficient, not to mention having edited the school paper, but so-so grades and a major in American studies have landed me here today.

Well, that and the fact that women in suits make my cock hard. Unbearably hard. So hard it’s almost painful. Women with power, the power to tower over me, to snap their fingers and make me obey; women who need their phones answered, need coffee brought to them, need a man “ready for anything,” as the classic David Allen business book advises. The kind of woman who’s got so much going on, who’s turbo-charged and needs someone to keep her action-packed, meeting-filled day running smoothly, those are the ones I dream about.

I’ve never told anyone about these fantasies, but I’ve had them for as long as I can remember. While my buddies went for the hot cheerleader types or the sweet girls-next-door, I was after the valedictorian, Audrey Hayden (and occasionally fantasized about our very prim and proper English teacher, who was actually British). With Audrey, I loved the way she raised her hand so knowingly in class, the smug look on her face when she finished a test, and, most especially, seeing her in her interview suits. She looked so efficient, so strong, like she could take over the world, become president or an ambassador. Power wasn’t something she questioned, but something she owned, and rather than wanting power of my own, I wanted her power unleashed on me. With Audrey, I never got up the courage to tell her how I felt, just looked longingly at her from afar.

Aside from my fetish, the fact is, if I want to move out of my parents’ house in Hackensack, I need to get a job fast. I’ve been grilled about my background, ambitions, and educational history, usually by creaky older guys who look like they could barely get it up in the sack, let alone submit to a woman if they were smart enough to know how exciting it would be. Or could be, I guess I should say, since I’ve never actually realized these fantasies. I’m just starting to drift off into my go-to jerk-off material, where I’m down on all fours getting my ass inspected by a woman with sharp, spiky heels, bright red lipstick, and a voice that could cut glass, when I hear my name called…by a woman who looks like she’s walked straight out of my naughty daydreams…

This one’s not out until March (but I promise it’s worth the wait), but what is out now is She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission:

She's on Top cover

Yes, Ma’am: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance will be out in March 2008!

December 7, 2007

Yes, Ma’am: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, will be published by Cleis Press in March 2008. Below you’ll find the cover (HOT!), publisher’s blurb, table of contents, and my introduction.

I’ll post more about it as it gets closer, and this blog will pertain to the book as well as the general topic of female dominance. Feel free to send any info/tips/questions to yesantho at gmail.com and thanks for reading! If this cover/topic intrigue you, you’ll probably enjoy She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission. You can read some excerpts from She’s on Top on my website. And while nothing’s finalized, if these do well, I’d love to do more kinky books just like this! I’ll also have Yes, Ma’am postcards in a few months, so stay tuned.

Yes, Ma'am cover

What makes a man cower before a powerful woman? Find out as you experience the thrill of submission to the woman who dominates you day and night. In this collection, naughty boys get what’s coming to them from wicked wives and stern mistresses. From a naked party plaything at the mercy of a room full of powerful women to being tied up and shown how to truly please the woman of your dreams, these men get fully teased and taunted, receiving the punishments they truly deserve and crave. Yes, Ma’am gives a whole new meaning to the term “mean girls,” one that will be sure to delight and arouse you.

Yes, Ma’am Table of Contents

Introduction: Giving It Up: Letting Her Rule

Zero Sum Game by Alex Mendra
Secret Desires by Ellen Tevault
Tea for Three by Lee Ash
Exhibit A by Chris Cooper
A Different Kind of Reality Show by D. L. King
Secretary’s Day by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Wedding Night by Dominic Santi
Flash by Alison Tyler
It’s Cold Outside by Stephen Elliott
An Invitation to the Dance by Sylvane Alistair
Sticking with You by L. E. Bland
i 1t u 2 do sumfin 4 me by George Cross
Rope Burn by A. D. R. Forte
His Lady’s Manservant by Andrea Dale
Taming the Unruly by Debra Hyde
The Big What by Michael Hemmingson
The Mean Girl by Teresa Noelle Roberts
Connection by Kristina Wright

Introduction
Giving It Up: Letting Her Rule

“What makes a man cower before a powerful woman?” I asked in my call for submissions for this book. What you’ll find here are numerous answers to that question, though surely there are infinitely more waiting to be written. Men are the ones gifted with all sorts of power in our society, but our dirty little secret is that so many of them long to strip themselves of this power, to be tied down, gagged, spanked, taken, owned. They want to be made to do a woman’s bidding, whether that means being ordered into a threesome or put on full, naked display, as you will read about here. They want to ease the burdens of manliness, if only for a little while, to be “ordered” to do all the naughty things they’ve dreamed of.

Submissive men are some of the most misunderstood, and invisible, sexual creatures around. Their voices simply aren’t heard in popular culture, though you’ll find them in plenty of bedrooms, in the blogosphere, and in fetish clubs. After putting together the anthologies He’s on Top and She’s on Top, I wanted to look at BDSM from the bottom’s perspective. Why would a man want to give up control? What does he get out of such an arrangement? These stories show you some of the tantalizing possibilities out there for sniveling men and the women who love them.

Men who crave the company of a dominant woman find her with wives, girlfriends, and dominatrices, sometimes bringing out the kinky tendencies of their partners, other times tapping into what’s already well developed, yet we rarely hear their authentic voices telling us what makes them shiver with fear and excitement. There’s still a taboo element to our leaders—in business, government, and the home—voluntarily relinquishing the top spot. Men are taught to be the hunters, not the hunted, and when the tables are turned, many are all too thrilled to be treated like scum. The flipside is that any woman who can lure a submissive man into her lair knows just how valuable a prize she’s gotten and will surely want to keep him happy, even if this means putting her foot down, literally, upon him, as the boss in “Secretary’s Day” does to her new hire.

“Masturbation without permission was strictly forbidden. This was the most difficult for me because I got so worked up being Rikka’s little whore that I desperately needed to jerk off,” writes Alex Mendra in “Zero Sum Game.” He describes his setup with the commanding Rikka as “perfection,” striving to be everything she desires, but delighting in each form of punishment she cooks up, whether a firm spanking across his ass or the sudsy scene she cooks up for him.

In Stephen Elliott’s “It’s Cold Outside,” the element of realism he so beautifully captures takes us far beyond the clichéd Catwoman fantasy into the stuff of real life, where a woman commandeers the body of the narrator while her boyfriend is asleep. She leaves him tied up, helpless—and horny, and he takes her marks with him, literally and figuratively, when they part.

In “The Mean Girl,” Teresa Noelle Roberts writes of a man reminiscing about his first fantasy domme, now embodied by his real-life Cruella. “I tasted every humiliation I’d ever faced in my hopeless pursuit of Muffy Spaulding—made new and fresh and delicious because now it was coming from Heather, whom I loved. Whom I really did worship, kinky games aside.”

There’s also plenty of humor here. In “A Different Kind of Reality Show” by D. L. King, the author takes us behind the TV screen, where a man is controlled by a cacophony of women’s voices, each taking more delight than the next in ordering him to humiliate himself for their pleasure.

Debra Hyde encapsulates perfectly why the “unruly” man doesn’t just wish to be tamed, but needs to be. “Fear no longer dominates; submission does. I am vessel and vassal—tool and toy, the means to her pleasure. I am hers.” If those words resonate with you, making you long for a woman to come along and grab you by the scruff of your neck, or order you to your knees, or simply control you with one fierce, all-knowing look, then this is the book for you. Go ahead, say the words out loud: “Yes, Ma’am.” Wherever your domme is, she’ll hear you.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City


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