The Gift of D/s?

One of the most-argued topics in bdsm is whether or not submission is a gift.  I posit that, like dominance and love, it is both a gift and something larger than that.

On a closely related note, some say that the sub is the one who really holds the power in the relationship since they have the power to leave at any time.

The sub freely gives submission to the dom.  Likewise, the domme also gives dominance to the sub.  It flows in both directions.  Either person can stop giving what they give at any time.  Either person can walk away.  Because of this, both people have just as much power when it comes to ending things.  This is not slavery in the sense of human trafficking; that kind of slavery genuinely does have one person holding all the power.  But bdsm slavery is different.  It’s a totally separate sense of the word.  In any d/s relationship, no matter how intense, either person can walk away at any time.  The “slave contracts” some people are so fond of would never hold up in court.  Both people have the power in reality.  It’s shared.  The power in “power exchange” comes from giving one’s personal power over certain aspects of life, certain choices.  It does not consist of giving total power over every single aspect of one’s being irrevocably for all eternity.  If you want to feel this type of slavery, go sailing around Africa where pirates roam the seas.  I guarantee it won’t be nearly as glamorous as the bdsm novels would have you believe.

It all comes down to the fact that the d/s relationship is still a relationship at it’s core.  Neither person owes the other dominance or submission.  It’s a choice to give that.  Like most others, I can’t give that to just anyone; it’s got to be someone special.  In my opinion, that qualifies as a gift.


Yesterday, T made me eat my cum three different times throughout the day.  I’ve been made to do this before, but it doesn’t get any easier.  What surprised me is that something has been stuck in my head since then.

I mentioned a while back that I had a mild curiosity about being made to eat other men’s cum from T’s soles or pussy, or even snowballing it.  This has been sort of a back-burner curiosity, not something I’ve been actively pursuing.  But after eating cum three times yesterday, I’m having second thoughts.  I’d forgotten just how nasty cum is to eat.

A small part of me hopes that she’ll just move on from the idea and not go through with it.  But realistically, I know that isn’t likely to happen.  She’s been occasionally reminding me  that she wants to do this, and she’ll sometimes drop hints that it’ll be worse than I’m expecting.  She’s stopping just short of taunting me about it.  A few times, she’s intimated that she intends to have multiple guys’ loads involved at some point.  I had trouble with three yesterday, so I don’t know how I’d handle something like that.  The reality of this idea is really hitting home, and I think I’m starting to panic a little.

This is turning into much more of a d/s situation than I expected.  It’s going to take a lot of effort on my part to make this work if she decides to do it.

Strength and Submission

Frequently,  submissive men (especially those newer to d/s) stumble with strength and masculinity.  Many I’ve talked with have had trouble balancing these traits with their submission.

In our society, there is constant pressure on men to be overly aggressive, arrogant, sexual conquistadors.  Anything less and we’re looked down on or even openly ridiculed.  This indoctrination starts from an early age, and it’s difficult (but not impossible) to break oneself of this way of thinking.  After years or decades of dealing with this, is it any wonder that some men struggle with their submissive desires?

Even in some bdsm groups, submissive men are looked down on as being somehow “less” than the other members of the community.  All this goes on while members of the community pat themselves on the back for being open-minded and accepting.  Thankfully not all groups are like this.

Part of the problem stems from people equating submission with weakness.  They don’t think it’s possible for a strong person to submit.  It’s an old fallacy that refuses to be thrown out.

Submission is a valuable thing.  It’s not something I give to just anyone.  Yet it’s not uncommon to see guys online throwing their submission at anyone who’ll take it.  If you don’t appreciate your submission, why would anyone else?  Realizing the importance and value of your submission  is vital.  Do you think Mistress Right would like to have a spineless worm on a leash?  Or would she rather have a solid, confident lion on the end of that tether?  There’s a graceful air about the thought of a lion, capable of tearing off heads, on a leash and gently going where she leads him.

Being submissive doesn’t mean we can abdicate our responsibilities in the relationship.  It doesn’t mean the domme will take over our obligations and decisions.  We still have to own those and deal with whatever comes our way.  We still have to have our lives in order.  Both people have weight to pull in the relationship as well as in their own lives.

You can be a man and still kneel at a woman’s feet.  No one is going to revoke your man card for it.  Your penis will not fall off overnight.  You can kiss her feet and still hold your head high.  You can continue be the man that the world already knows.  Submission does not contradict your masculinity or strength in any way.  Make it yours.

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Wobbly from a Wicked Weekend

T and I took a trip for the weekend.  We went to Winter Wickedness, an event I’ve been going to for a few years now.  It was her first time there.  Two nights of play parties, vendors, classes, socializing with like-minded pervs, and free chocolate in the social area.

We may not have played in public much, but we did a lot of private play, which I much prefer anyway; no time limit for how long you can play, no need for immediate clean-up, no worries over people giving you enough space, no restrictions on types of play allowed, etc.

Saturday morning, my breakfast consisted of T’s rather sizable cock in my ass.  We woke up and started milling around.  Then she told me to bend over the edge of the bed and proceeded to violate me.  Afterward, she went into the bathroom to get cleaned up.  She came out and said, “Darling, I hope you’re thirsty” and handed me a water bottle with a smirk on her face.  However, this water was rather yellow.  And warm.  First piss of the day.  Gack.  My stomach shot up into my throat and I thought, “Oh, fuck, please no…”  But she made me drink it all, and afterward we went downstairs to catch one of the classes.  We ended up being 5-10 minutes late for the class, but it wasn’t an issue.

Halfway through the class, one of the people teaching the class said that in spite of all his time in the bdsm community, he was still learning new things.  He said he just recently found out what pegging meant.  Then he smiled, looked at me, and remarked, “You know what pegging is, don’t you, guy in the collar?”  (T had me wearing a collar all weekend.)  We both got a good laugh out of that comment because pegging is the very reason we were late for that class.

She ended up sodomizing me six times that day.  Or maybe it was seven.  She fucked me senseless, so I don’t remember the exact number.  And for most of those fuck-fests, she used the larger cock.  She fucked me until I was begging her to stop.  But she didn’t stop.  She kept going despite my sincere pleas.  That really brought the power she has to the forefront.  The last time that she fucked me that night, it was in public, in one of the larger side rooms.  And we were drawing quite a crowd by the end of it; we were the only ones playing in this room at the time, but there were 12-15 people sitting or standing around the perimeter to watch by the time we were done.  Strap-on sex isn’t something you see very often in public events.

All day Saturday, every time I was in our hotel room’s bathroom, I saw that empty water bottle on the counter, staring at me.  Why didn’t she throw it away?  Was she planning on doing it again?  That thought hung out in the back of my mind all day.  Sunday morning before check-out, she threw it away.  She had left it there intentionally as a mindfuck.  And it worked.  Rather well.

T had been keeping me locked in chastity for a long time, and she set a new record for denying my orgasms- two months and three weeks.  No one has ever taken my orgasms for that long.  And she made sure I was thoroughly teased every chance she got.  But she finally let me orgasm Saturday night.  As we were laying in bed that night, she told me she wanted me to cum, so I didn’t waste any time in working toward that end.  She brought her bare foot up to my face, and I started to kiss it.  She’d been wearing leather boots all night, and her foot was only in my face for a few seconds before I had an earth-shattering orgasm.  Now I know what it feels like to have an artillery brigade in my groin.