Rules for Dominants

I’ve been dating my boyfriend for the last year. In some respects, it’s my first long-term relationship with a dominant man (at least, my first LTR where we acknowledge our dominance and submission). I searched long and hard for a dominant man. And while I was searching, I made a common mistake: I started to imagine my dream relationship, and it was perfect. Unfortunately, I met my dream man, and my fantasy relationship collided with reality. It’s easy in this internet age to read to much online. You read blogs that detail the blogger’s perfect life. You read stories where people talk about their perfect relationship. You meet someone online who tells you exactly what he’s looking for, and you imagine that it could be true.

But what you forget is that real life is never perfect. People get sick. People get mad. People have bad days at work. People take other people for granted. People get stressed out. People sneeze and poop and fart. People yell. People are inconsiderate. People have families. People have other demands on their life.

The last eight months of my relationship have been up and down. There have been a lot of fantastic times together, but there have also been a lot of tears, some harsh words for one another, and some questions about whether we are really meant to be together. Some of these tensions have been brought upon us because the outside world has interfered. But that’s life…there will always be demands from work and friends and family. You can’t avoid it. But, in our relationship, it’s caused tension. When we’re together, we’re terrific. When we’re apart, things start to unravel. Unfortunately, for reasons outside of our control (mainly work, but also elderly family members who need each of our attentions), we spend more time than we’d like apart.

I must admit that I’m often the one who starts the fights. I’m the one who is hurting and lashes out at him because I’m feeling neglected. That’s one dirty secret that blogs and the rest of the internet will never tell you: Even doms don’t always feel like having sex sometimes. Even subs get mad. Even doms make mistakes. Even subs make demands. Even doms apologize.

A dozen times I’ve asked myself, “Am I staying in this relationship because I’m submissive? (In other words, I love him, but am I too forgiving?) Is he acting the way he’s acting because he’s dominant? (In other words, does he neglect me sometimes because he thinks he can get away with it?)“I don’t have the answers. I’m fighting to make this relationship succeed, but there are times I wonder if I’m fighting too hard. When our relationship is good, it’s great. When our relationship is bad, I’m miserable.

I have certain expectations for a relationship, and if those expectations aren’t being met, then I have to seriously consider whether I want to remain in the relationship. Just today, after another phone call filled with tears, I hung up and thought to myself, “Can a submissive give her dominant partner rules that he must agree to obey?” In some ways, it’s not very different from a submissive who has a list of non-negotiables. But my non-negotiables are things like, “We have to talk every night if we’re falling asleep in separate cities,” and “Please don’t cancel plans without first talking to me about it.”

So I’m curious. For those of you who are submissive and in a long-term relationship, what spoken or unspoken expectations do you have of your dom? What bad behavior makes you say, “Stop it! That’s not fair. This is something I need out of a relationship!” Or am I just a bad sub for not silently suffering?

Time Flies By

The other day I realized that Valentine’s Day is rapidly approaching, and my mind started to wander back in time. Last year, I was going on a first date on Valentine’s Day with Guy #3, or so I thought. Then I remembered, it wasn’t one year ago, but two. Where does the time go? I thought about it some more, then realized what I was forgetting: That I’d wasted almost a year with the Dark Horse. At one point, he was the first person I thought of when I woke up in the morning and the last I thought about before falling asleep. He was also the person I talked to most frequently each day–we’d often spend hours on the phone. Now, I might trade an email or IM with him once a month or so. The last time he called, I let it go to voicemail. Isn’t it odd how people come into our lives–people who we think will be in our lives forever–and then disappear as quickly as they appeared?

Things with the BF are wonderful. Our relationship has felt very comfortable–but passionate–since the day we first met. I think one of the reasons it works so well is that we both work well together in a variety of roles. When we’re alone with one another, it’s Daddy and his little girl. When we host a dinner party, we naturally work well together as host and hostess. Recently we were in a resort destination for a board meeting he had to attend, and I was quite happy to be his intelligent, attractive arm candy–as comfortable seated next to his boss at dinner as I was talking to my BF’s subordinates and their spouses over cocktails. He knows I’ll make him proud in any of these situations, and I do my best to make him proud.

Just a quick post to let you know that I’m alive and well!

Condoms, Trust and Saying No

Always Aroused Girl has made a couple posts about her experience with a trusted lover who promised her that he was using condoms with all other lovers. In time she discovered that this man had betrayed her, and was actually going condom free with several other lovers who each also believed that she was the only one with whom he was condom-free.

It got me to thinking about an incident I’ve tried to block out of my mind.

Earlier this year, I woo’ed by, then dumped by, a man I met online. He lived halfway across the country, so we spent several months getting to know one another through emails, phone calls and text messages. We discussed our expectations in anticipation of our first meeting. We talked about the best- and worst-case scenarios. (I thought) we opened our hearts to each other.

Before our first date, I warned him that I don’t sleep with men on the first date. In fact, I don’t have sex with a man until I’m sure it’s likely to become a relationship. He told me that he’d had a relationship with every woman he’s slept with. Even if no sex was involved, I told him, I hoped to spend the night sleeping wrapped in his arms. And we both agreed that in some respects it didn’t feel like a first date because we’d gotten to know each other so well. Even though we’d never met face-to-face, I felt as if a level of trust had developed between us.

That first night we went out to dinner. There was wine involved, but the quantities were relatively modest. I wasn’t drunk, and I don’t think he was, either. After dinner, we went back to his hotel room. That, in itself, wasn’t a surprise. I’d met him before dinner at his hotel. I’d even been up to his room before dinner, and he was a perfect gentleman. I wanted to go back to his hotel room.

Clothes were removed. Body parts were touched and kissed and fondled and bitten. Soon, he made it clear that he wanted to have sex, and I agreed. Get a condom, I insisted. He initially balked, but finally got one from his toiletry kit. We started to have sex. We stopped to engage in more fun that didn’t involve penetration. We started to have sex again. We stopped again. He removed the condom and we continued in our passionate ways, minus pentration. We were both having fun, and there didn’t seem to be any pressure to rush things.

I rolled onto my side, with my back to him. Suddenly he forced himself into me. “No Daddy,” I whimpered. “Please, no, stop.”

He didn’t. It lasted only a brief moment in time–maybe less than a minute–before he came inside me. “It’s OK, baby,” he said. “I’ve been tested. I’m safe. I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested 6 months ago.”

I didn’t argue. We curled up together an fell asleep.

I saw him one more before he left town. There was no sex involved. But in the back of my mind, I had a nagging feeling. Without any discussion, he’d fucked me without a condom. I hadn’t given permission. I’d asked him to stop. He didn’t. But for some reason, I found myself willing to overlook it. After all, I cared about this man. I’d fallen for him, head over heels, before we even met. And the rest of our time together–you know, except for the part where he was fucking me against my will without a condom–was magical. For whatever reason, I felt willing to forgive him for that heat-of-the-moment transgression.

He left town and we started to make plans for our next visit. Then, without warning, he disappeared as quickly as he’s appeared.

In my anger over what could have been, I also started to get angry over the sex. I was upset and bothered on a lot of levels, but I was also upset with myself, because to some extent I was willing to forgive him. Some of the things that went through my mind when dealing with the ramifications:

• I said no, and he ignored me. But in the BDSM world, when does “no” really mean “no”? We hadn’t set a safeword, so should he have listened to me when I said “no”?
• If I’d really meant it, couldn’t I have pulled away from him, gotten up and walked out the door?
• He never asked if I’d been tested, nor did he ask if I was on birth control. The irony is that he has two children under the age of 5 with two women. The younger of the kids–the one who wasn’t even a year old at the time–was an accidental pregnancy with his ex-girlfriend. Shouldn’t a man who’s recently made that mistake ensure that he takes all precautions to prevent another unplanned pregnancy?
• I have no insurance, and the cost of a full battery of STD tests costs real money. I walked into my local free clinic a month or two later, and immediately turned around and left. It was dirty. The clientele looked seedy. The wait would be hours, and they took no appointments. Eventually I broke down and got the tests from my OB-GYN. It was an expensive lesson, but fortunately the results were clean.
• This man was previously a law-enforcement officer. And not just any old small-town police officer. He worked for a federal law enforcement agency. (And, yes, it’s the one you’re probably thinking of.) He’s now an executive at a big company, where he reports to the CEO. (The kind of position where you worry about your image, and don’t do things outside of work that could tarnish your image at the office.) Aren’t these the kinds of people we should be able to trust?
• He has daughters who are close to my age. How would he feel if a man treated one of his daughters this way?
• If you agree to sex under certain conditions (with a condom) and then the conditions change (the condom is removed) and you say “no” is it date rape?
• Why was I willing to forgive him for ignoring my wishes when I thought things were going well between us, but I became so angry about the incident when things fell apart?

I’ve asked myself all of these questions, and more, over the last six months. And I don’t have the answers. Most of the time I’m able to put it out of my mind, but Always Aroused Girl’s recent post brought the memories back to me. It’s still upsetting because of what happened, and because of the way that I reacted–or didn’t react–to the situation.

Snap Judgments

Recently I “met” a guy on Alt who described himself as dominant. His photo was attractive, and he was well spoken. Based on our fetish checklists, it seemed as if we would be a good match. Then he told me what he did for a living, and my hopes were dashed. You see, when I envision myself with a dominant man, I don’t just take into consideration how he treats me. The fact is, I look at the whole package. And call me superficial, but I just can’t envision myself with a dominant many who’s an actor in a children’s theater group. It’s not that I think he’s submissive. But when he’s acting tough and in a domly mood, I fear that I’d picture him dressed up as Barney and lose all respect for him!

So that got me to thinking…Are there some professions that are inheriently more dominant than others?

Meeting Mr. P (A Year Later)

(Note: I’d partially written this post, then never finished it because things didn’t progress with Mr. P. Since this is a sex blog with very little sex, and since I met him exactly one year ago today, I thought it would be fun to finish and post this entry. FWIW, today is also the anniversary of when I first starting talking to the Dark Horse. He and I burned up the email wires that day, then I went out and fucked another man! Go figure… A couple days after the events described in this post, I had sex again with Mr. P. That’s the last time I’ve had sex. <sigh>)

Once I got past college, I was more-or-less done with the idea of sex-without-strings. I know it works for some people, but it didn’t appeal to me for a few reasons.

If I’m going to have sex with someone, I want to know them well enough to know what turns them on, and vice versa. So that eliminates your random bar hook-ups. Plus, I’d prefer to be having sex with someone I find genuinely interesting. If we can’t sit down and have a conversation about something unrelated to sex, it’s unlikely I’ll find you interesting enough to sleep with. Lastly–and this is the most difficult one–I’d rather sleep with someone repeatedly rather than having a one-time hook-up. After all, the sex is likely to get better, not worse. But if you find each other reasonably attractive and you can have an intelligent conversation with one another and you’re having sex on some kind of repeat basis, you potentially find yourself headed down a slippery slope. Assuming you’re both single (and I’m not interested in guys who are cheating on their girlfriends or wives), one of you is likely to eventually want more of a relationship than just sex.

And, let’s face it, it’s usually the woman who gets her heart broken, isn’t it?

So that’s why I was intrigued when I read Mr. P’s online personal.

Learning More About Myself

In January 2006, I was tired of going on vanilla dates with men from Match, so I started surfing around, searching for dating sites that might be a bit more “alternative.” I probably typed “bdsm & dating” into Google, and what popped up but Alt.com. I was ready to take the first big step.

Tears

It’s been about a year since I decided that I needed to make D/s a top priority in my dating life. I know it was the right decision–I’d been searching for it for years, and just not finding it in vanilla relationships–but at some level it’s been one of the more painful decisions I’ve made.

I’m lonely. I miss the intimacy that comes with being in a relationship. (Right now I feel as if I’d give anything to just fall sleep in someone’s arms.) I get frustrated and wonder if I’ve made an impossible decision. I beat myself up because I live in a city where that’s huge, but the number of people seeking a BDSM-flavoried relationship seems inexplicably small. I question whether all of the pieces will ever fall into place. I see that the clock is ticking on other things I’d like to accomplish in life–a husband, children, the whole shebang–and wonder if I’ve made it harder to attain those things. I’ve spent most of the last two hours in tears.

I think of myself as an optimistic person. I’m upbeat, and hope for the best. But sometimes life just gets me down. I hate this feeling, because it hurts and it feels hopeless.

That Shook My Memories

Over the last year, I’ve become much more interested and in touch with my submissive side. It’s something I only became cognizant of in the last six or seven years (though I did little to pursue it), and before that time, I would have described myself as dominant. (And I still think I have a dominant personality in a lot of other areas of my life.)

As I’ve recently spent more time thinking about submission, I’ve realized that my submissive side has always existed, and I had submissive interactions for years before I “knew” I was submissive. Some of my earliest sexual fantasies were submissive in nature, and when I flirted with boys in high school and college, I was usually attracted to the dominant ones.

Why I Love a Mark

Caitlin’s recent post about marks reminded me that I’d been wanting to blog on a similar topic.

I’ll admit that I’m a relative newbie when it comes to marks and bruises. While I probably fall on the conservative side of the black & blue scale, I’m quickly learning to love marks.

Almost every time I’ve seen the Dark Horse, he’s left me with a mark. He does it deliberately, so I can have something to remember him by, so I can feel a little bit owned. He also tries to put it in a spot where it can be easily covered with clothing, but with a short skirt or deep neckline, someone vanilla might spot it.

In all honesty, the idea of someone spotting a mark isn’t much of a turnon for me. I’ve always been one who bruises easily, so I’m used to have black & blue marks (mainly on my legs, but also on my arms) from being a klutz and bumping into things. (Right now I even have black & blue toenails!) So for all of my years, I’ve been accustomed to having a few self-inflicted marks, and I’ve never paid much attention to whether other people notice them.

But when I have one of his marks, I love to trace my finges over it. I press lightly and feel the ache. I slide my fingers over the skin to see if there’s a welt. And for as long as the bruise lasts, I feel close to him. (Not that I don’t feel close at other times, but it’s another way to feel closer.)

The first guy who gave me bruises marked my breasts through a combination of clamps and a vaccuum pump. I’ve always had sensitive skin, and within a day I noticed marks. The skin on the tips of my nipples turned from soft and smooth to dull, dry and peeling. (I told you my skin is sensitive!) Although I wouldn’t necessarily choose to have dry, flaking skin, I smiled every time I noticed it and remembered the cause.

The next man who gave me bruises marked my ass, leaving a handful of finger prints from a particularly energetic fucking.

Then I met the Dark Horse. He told me early into our conversations that he wanted me to wear his mark (in the form of a bruise). And now I look forward to it. He usually marks me through a combination of sucking and biting. He’ll work on a spot until he gets distracted (usually by my moans and squirms), then he’ll come back to it again and again, building up the mark with layers of attention, until I’m left with a mark that can easily last three weeks.

Red to purple to blue to brown to green to yellow…it seems to pass through a rainbow of colors as it fades. And all the while, I smile every time I see it.

Ups and Downs

With the year ending in less than two weeks, I realized that my sex life this year has been a mixed bag.

I had sex four times this year. That is, real sex–Bill Clinton sex–with another human being. Vibrators don’t count. That’s twice with J2 and twice with Mr. P.

Love of the Cock

(Yes, I realize I’ve been MIA. I’ll try to post more this month, I promise!)

Lately I’ve been thinking about all things oral. If given a choice, I’d much prefer to give a blow job than receive oral sex. Truthfully, I find 69 to be somewhat distracting, and I’ll admit (somewhat reluctantly) that I’ve never cum from a guy going down on me. But I have cum (many times!) while worshipping a man’s cock. There’s just something about it that’s an enormous turn-on.

The Dark Horse

It’s been nearly three weeks since our second date, and the Dark Horse and I are finally about to go out again. Vacations, work, out-of-town visitors and family obligations have forced us to cool our heels while waiting for our third date (though we’ve had some steamy phone calls), so needless to say, I’m very excited about seeing him again, and I think it’s safe to say that he feels the same way.

At the risk of sounding head over heels…if I had to make a list of my ideal qualities in a mate/dom/boyfriend, he’d stack up pretty well (based on what I’ve learned about him so far).

Beneath This Conservative Exterior…

If you saw me in a business meeting, I’d be comfortably talking to corporate executives. I’m dressed in a classically tailored business suit, nothing too loud or garish. It’s one of a dozen in my closet. Maybe it’s navy, or a black pinstripe, or a beige, or the three-piece knit suit that everyone mistakes for a St. John. Beneath my suit jacket, I’m likely to be wearing a sweater camisole, or a silk cami, but nothing too revealing. Lace trim isn’t appropriate in the business setting where I work. I might be wearing a single strand of pearls and matching earrings, or a simple gold choker. I adore shoes, and my footwear is likely to hint at the sexy edge that lies beneath my conservative exterior.

Guy #3 (This is Where Things Start to Get Hot)

My first date with Guy #3 almost never happened…but I’m glad it did. Our correspondence was drawn-out, and intermittent. Work, life and personal obligations kept us both busy and distracted, and threatened to kill whatever momentum we might have had on email. Our start-and-stop emails continued for a few weeks until we finally made a date.

And then I almost didn’t go through with it.

My journey, part 1

If you’d asked me in college, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you what D/s or BDSM meant. I’d heard of S&M, of course. (I was in college in the late 80s…vanilla kids talked about S&M. Maybe they still do.) As in…”He’s in to whips and chains and S&M.” But I never fully understood the context and meaning of it, other than knowing it had something to do with pain. I certainly didn’t understand how closely pain and pleasure were linked, nor the power dynamic in which it usually operates. Nor did I have any inkling that it was often closely linked of Domination and submission. I can’t imagine I’d ever heard those words, though I’m sure my friends and I joked about being “sex slaves” for guys we had crushes on. Though even our ideas of being a sex slave were a little different than M/s relationships.

But when I think back to my college relationships (and let’s not fool anyone, they were really regular college hookups), there was one guy–let’s call him A–where some subtle hints of BDSM came into play. We had a good-natured relationship with one another, and didn’t take each other too seriously. I can remember wrestling during foreplay–he’d pin me, then I’d pin him. We called each other names in bed (bitch, asshole…and it was done under the guise of joking around), and we’d otherwise talk dirty to each other. If only I’d realized why I was enjoying it! (It’s only years later that I’m putting two and two together, and understanding why I’ve considered him to be my favorite guy from college.)

Immediately after college I had a long relationship with another guy, let’s call him A2. It was a relationship that lasted too long, and toward the end we were driving each other crazy. He refused to make decisions, but hated every decision I made. And our sex life was ho-hum. When we split up, I tried to figure out what mistakes I’d made, and what I should be looking for in a new boyfriend. I realized that although A2 wasn’t sexually submissive, he had a passive-aggressive personality. I’d always thought of myself as having a strong personality, so I decided I needed to meet a submissive guy who’d be happy to have me take the lead, or I needed to find a strong-willed guy and we could just go head to head, figure out who would be in charge in different parts of the relationship, and we’d make things work. Interestingly, I still wasn’t aware of the world of BDSM, and I was still strictly thinking of submission and dominance in terms of interpersonal relationships…nothing kinky.

The internet was just emerging, I had my first computer, and I placed a personal ad on Netscape’s personals service. Among the guys I met was a guy who wrote to me using funny upper and lowercase pronouns. (“i am a submissive man and You sound wonderful!”) I wasn’t sure what to make of him, but flatter will get you everywhere, and I’d been cooped up with a passive-aggressive guy for too many years. We started to trade emails, I started to do Internet searches about–well, I’m not sure I even know what keywords to search for at the time. We went out for a drink, I talked to one or two of my kinky gay friends, we went out for lunch, I bought SM101, I did more internet research, we went on a few more dates. I like to say that I discovered submissive men bore me (or exerting my Domme side on submissive men bores me) but I got a few good foot rubs out of it.

After about a year of casual dating, I ran into a man who I’d periodically flirted with while A2 and I dated. J2 worked for a company that did business with my company, and we’d see each other at business functions a couple times a year. We both knew there was chemistry between us, and while socialize at cocktail parties or trade shows over the years, we’d check in with one and ask, “Are you single?” Finally, we both were single. Although J2 has lived in the US for 20+ years, he was born in a culture that is considered to be somewhat misogynistic and raises men with a bit of machisimo. (Coincidentally, I spent a few years living in the same part of the world and I’ve always been attracted to men from this culture.) Because he’s lived in the US for many years, he is a very mild example of his culture, but he’s still what you’d probably call a “natural dominant.” (I laugh when I read personals of men who describe themselves that way. Aren’t those of us in D/s all involved in this because it feels natural and right?)

As J2 and I developed a relationship, I quickly realized that he was the dominant personality I was looking for when A2 and I ended out relationship. And as I suspected, we did negotiate areas of the relationship where I called the shots and areas where he called the shots, but I quickly discovered, that I was very happy having him in control of most areas of the relationship. It felt right, it felt comfortable, it felt secure. Yes, there were areas where I was in charge, but even in those areas I usually checked in with him to get his OK, and that was fine with me. We were still partners, but we just brought different things to the table. And *grin* we had a great sex life. After a very ho-hum sex life with A2 and four years of college sex with inexperienced college boys, J2 was mindblowing because he was experienced and we had similar kinks. (I had my first orgasm during sex with him. Prior to that I’d faked it or just hadn’t cum.) I remember asking him one day, “You like to be in charge in the bedroom, don’t you?” and he said something like, “Yup. If you want to be in charge in other areas, I’ll consider it, but I’m in charge in the bedroom.”

Although I’d read and researched a lot about BDSM while dabbling in it with the sub guy, I never really put a D/s label on my relationship with J2. And we didn’t follow a lot of the D/s protocol.

When my relationship with J2 ended, I went back to my vanilla ways of meeting men. But with every guy I met, I hoped he’d have a dominant side to his personality. There’s nothing more deflating than getting into a relationship with a guy, asking him his deepest, darkest sexual secrets, and hearing him say, “I’d really like you to dominate me.” *sigh*

For the last five or six years, I’ve grinned and beared it. I’ve been in two serious relationships with vanilla guys. Neither was dominant. At times I hoped each might be the man I’d marry. Fortunately, I didn’t walk down that road with either one. One of the best things I do when I relationship ends is a thorough self-examination. And when my last vanilla relationship ended, I finally faced the facts…I need to make a relationship with a dominant guy a higher priority in my dating life. I just can’t cross my fingers and hope it happens. So I’m searching. I’ve cancelled my Match profile and put one up on Alt.com. (And on Collarme.com, too.) It’s a big step forward for me. But it’s also really exciting.