Archive for the 'fetishes' Category

My staying-in shoes

January 18, 2010

I have a pair of 4-inch t-strap sandals. They are black, croc-embossed patent leather and have tiny brass studs to add subtle glimmer. They’re vixenish, impractical and absurdly flattering. I have never worn them for more than five minutes. I can handle 3-inch heels pretty well as long as I’m not indulging in too much drink. I can dance in them, even. I have 3.5-inch heels that are less comfortable, but still manageable. I am certain attempting to wear 4-inch heels for a night out would result in more than a few embarrassing falls at best, an injury at worst.

Yes, you can’t run away from a madman (or even just an ordinary jerk) in a pair of pumps. But most of us don’t find ourselves on dates with serial killers. The wrong pair of heels can hobble you, but the right pair will make you strut (perhaps even swagger), define your shape, announce your presence with a definitive click-clack. And, honestly–isn’t there something a little dangerous-looking about that long, slender heel? They don’t call them stilettos for nothing.

I made him lay down on the hard floor. I towered over him, staring down. He looked so vulnerable. I gave him my sole to taste. He’s very oral. I pushed the tip of my heel past his lips and he sucked eagerly. “You’d make a good little cocksucker, wouldn’t you?” I taunted, smiling down at him. He stared up at me, wide-eyed, still sucking. I pressed the sole of my shoe into his cheek and began fucking his mouth a little more roughly. “A good little cocksucker, that’s what you are, isn’t it? A good cocksucker?” He moaned softly.

I withdrew my foot and sat down. I rested my feet on his chest, idly traced a nipple with my heel. He moaned again. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” I did it again, but pressed down harder, eliciting a soft sound of distress. I smirked a little, “hurts, doesn’t it?” He nodded wordless, still gazing up at me. I began walking my feet up and down his body, digging my heels into his flesh. He writhed, made hurt noises. He was hard and sweating. He was helpless at my feet.

What a good little boy.

We stayed in, but I left the shoes on all night.

Contempt

October 11, 2009

“The ultimate sin of any performer is contempt for the audience.” Lester Bangs.

That disaster I met in August (who will henceforth be known as ‘Jug Ears’ because I’m an asshole) remarked off-handedly that sometimes I seem to be contemptuous of submissives. I told him it was a bad time to ask me what I think of them in general, given recent events, and we moved on.

But I’ve been thinking on and off about it. I wonder sometimes whether I do feel contempt for submissives, whether part of me looks down on them (and not in the fun, sexy way). I definitely admire the ability to endure physical and mental discomfort or torment. But there are other flavors of submission, particularly the humiliation-oriented stuff, that actively seem to invite the disdain of the dominant. I’m less certain where I stand regarding this kind of submission.

I recently came across a profile of a really, really handsome switch. Dark, well-built, slightly rugged but in an uptown, Rhett Butler-esque way. Perfect, wolfish jaw and teasing smile. Exactly the kind of masculine beauty I enjoy. I sent him a semi-flirty message complimenting him on the pictures and thought that was that.

He wrote back, though, mentioning that he likes cross dressing, specifically in women’s underwear. Wearing silky panties turns him on. He even included a pretty effed-up looking picture of his face superimposed onto a woman’s body.

Of course.

After that, he sent me a little story he wrote starring himself with me  (or a character he called by my screen name) playing a supporting role…literally. I was drawing him bubble baths and helping him put on makeup and fucking his ass with a strap-on and making him feel all pretty and feminine and desired. What the fuck? What kind of (non-pro) dominant would be interested in providing this level of service?

Being inexperienced with this kink, I don’t think I have a right to make any definitive statement about forced feminization or sissification. Is it demeaning to women? Or just an expression of some men’s deep admiration for women? Are sissies just frustrated trans girls who happen to enjoy D/s? Are they men who like being feminized? Or men who like being emasculated? Both? Neither?

Yeah, lots of questions. And I’ve never been with or known a sissy or anyone who was into gender-fucking. Jug Ears was bisexual (and kinda gross about it…checking out men right in front of me. Unacceptable.) and had a slightly femme quality, but that was it. Every other guy I’ve been with, vanilla and kinky, have been total dudes. I made the former boy put on a pair of my underwear once (plain bikini style…I have pretty boring underwear) and he hated it. He felt silly and, while it amused me, it wasn’t at all a turn-on.

I can enjoy and admire femme energy, femininity. But it doesn’t get me wet like the spiky, bristled, hard, roughness of the masculine. I’ve never been attracted to androgynous pretty boys. I like men who look like men, even if that means they’re a wee bit ugly.

There’s also something more…interesting about seeing a butch person brought to his knees. I just have no desire to dominate someone I perceive as soft or dainty, maybe because I’m not sexually drawn to soft and dainty. (Or maybe because it doesn’t seem to be as much of a challenge?) And I’d never be hot for a man wearing lipstick and lingerie, flitting about pretending to be a girl either. Like a lot of kinks I don’t understand or am into myself, it seems more ludicrous than sexy.

I’d like to think that I only feel contempt for contemptible people, whatever their orientation or identity is. But now that I’ve thought about it, I’m not entirely sure that’s the case. It’s hard for me to understand how you could dress your husband or boyfriend or lover in lingerie, or put him in a diaper and stick a pacifier in his mouth and not feel some amount of contempt for him. I mean, at a certain level, isn’t that what he’s seeking? To excite scorn and perhaps even disgust? And isn’t contempt the kiss of death for relationships?

I don’t know. All I know is that I haven’t finished sorting through my feelings about this. I’m getting involved with someone who’s very into being humiliated and degraded, which is very new for me. My previous sub emphatically did not like verbal abuse and had to be constantly reassured that I liked and was attracted to him. This potential sub claims to have a thick skin, but I still feel like I’m entering what could be hazardous terrain. I already have an acerbic personality and my (socialized) inclination is to minimize the bile I spew. I don’t really know what will happen with a sub who seems to welcome it.

My initial instinct is caution, as I’m not sure how thick his skin really is, nor am I certain how I’ll react. Perhaps engaging in this variety of kink will affect my feelings about this submissive. Perhaps it won’t. We’ll see.

No good men?

August 5, 2009

Sometimes I’m asked what my ‘type’ is. I don’t have a good, pat answer. When I review my past boyfriends, etc., there’s not a lot of commonalities to point to. They were a multi-ethnic bunch, had different builds, careers, interests, etc. My taste in men is idiosyncratic.

I have some general preferences. In terms of looks, I like a good forehead, muscular forearms, strong hands, a boyish smile. Height, weight, hair/eye color, don’t matter to me (though I tend to go for brunettes). Generally, I don’t find skinniness attractive, nor androgyny. I usually prefer my dudes to have meat on their bones, to be stocky and kinda hairy and definitely butch. But I’ve dated all kinds and don’t automatically rule out someone based on some arbitrary little thing.

So I don’t have a type, but sometimes I get a craving for conventionally unattractive men, unattractive in a particular, blue-collar, third-generation kind of way, thick men with brassy voices, beer guts and fur crawling down their arms to mat the backs of their hands. I find Alec Baldwin to be more attractive now that he’s packed on a few. I have had a crush on John Belushi. I would fuck Jack Black.

Yeah, it’s kind of a weird fetish. I guess it’s just my version of wanting to dominate an alpha male.

I haven’t really acted on this impulse because such guys in real life tend to be off-putting in how they approach women. I remember standing on a train platform once and having a guy sidle up to me and ask, staring hard, “Yo, can I get yer numbah?” Just like that. I strongly considered pretending I don’t speak English, but decided to lie in the most transparent way possible instead, “Oh sorry, I have a, um, boyfriend. Yeah, a boyfriend. I’m in a relationship.”

Why did I do this?

One of my friends even bought a fake diamond ring that she’ll switch to the appropriate finger when she wants to be left alone.

Why do women feel the need to reject men gently? To give them excuses? It’s not you, it’s me/my boyfriend/my problem. You know it’s a fucked up world when mass media and corporations collude in order to tear down female egos, while we women feel obligated to preserve male egos, e.g. that classic lie, “size doesn’t matter.”

I’m rambling a little. I wrote the first half of this post weeks ago. I’m finishing this up after having read about that maniac who shot up a gym last night. The excerpts from his blog are deeply disturbing for their misogyny and racism, obsession with power and control, his obvious mental instability, and yet…and yet this guy’s complaints about being unable to find a girlfriend or get laid sound SO familiar.

He talked about women as being crucial to men’s self-confidence, but called us “hoes” too. He objectified pretty young women, describing them “edible” and “not…human” in the same sentence. For this guy, “desirable women” were things that existed for the benefit of men–to provide companionship and sex and self-actualization for men. They were not human beings with their own dreams, desires, and needs.

Sodini’s rantings remind me of those guys who pay you compliments in the street, but get angry if you ignore them or don’t respond with a smile and a “thank you, kind sir. What say you and me go make out?” I hate when this happens because it reminds me of how stacked the deck is against women (everything is lose-lose) and that tends to fuck with my mood. So I tense up slightly if I’m about to pass a guy with a working-class air about him (sorry for the blatant generalizations, but I’ve never had a yuppie-type hiss at me from a car window or try to touch me on the bus).

And I sometimes get the Sodini vibe from submissive men too. I wonder if they can clearly see me as me, and not just a dominatrix fantasy figure, someone who will fulfill their needs and desires, but is ultimately interchangeable with any other Domme.  This nagging doubt probably exacerbated what was wrong about the last relationship and has made me kind of hesitant about dating again.

So yeah, I have this fear of being used. But again and again, I end up with guys who do precisely that, which has ended up making me feel conflicted about my dominance. Like, it’s how I express myself sexually, but I don’t want to be someone’s fetish doll. I guess it’s sort of like my general dismay over the Asian fetish. Like everyone, I want to be desired and liked and loved for being me, and not fetishized for things that are just aspects of me.

I know I need to get over it. But how?

“No Good Man” – Billie Holiday.