I recently had the privilege of an audio chat with the fabulous Molly from Molly’s Daily Kiss.
We discussed blogging, D/s, labels, monogamy, confidence, stereotypes, and much more.
We also talked about my Domme Chronicles book which she describes as ‘love letters to submissive men’, plus she calls the stories ‘beautifully written’, which makes me beyond happy.
We laughed a lot. Which made the entire chat a complete delight. Plus Molly has a lovely English accent, if you like that sort of thing (c’mon, who doesn’t like that sort of thing?!).
“I want to piss off as many people as possible, that’s what I say…”
“My first love was a woman…”
“I don’t play well with others, I don’t share well with others. It’s mine, it’s mine… you can’t have any of it!”
“I loaned my last submissive to another dominant…”
“That boggles my mind!”
“I trawl my local groups every now and then, and events, because I’m like a predator…”
“These men would not heed my warning that I would destroy them…”
“I found BDSM and I went ballistic…”
“I was always too scared to hurt something, to break something in the relationship…”
“All of them drive me crazy…”
“For a young female dominant there’s a lot of power in playing to the stereotypes…”
“Young women suffer so much from having their sexuality boxed and constrained and it’s just another way that we say ‘that’s not okay for you’…”
“It gives me the shits…”
“All of that feels like a tribute to… submissive men”
“Kissing is my favourite…”
The truth is that I am harsher with men in my vanilla interactions than I am with men in my D/s ones. It’s not conscious really, it’s instinctive, but it’s absolutely true.
With submissive men that I am interested in, I trust that their heart is in the right place, that they are genuinely trying, that any issues will be easily and quietly rectified if I say a word or raise an eyebrow. Because that’s the kind of relationship that we both want. I’m also very aware of not waving my dominance over them like it’s some big stick, hyper-aware of consent, abuse, all that.
By contrast, with vanilla men that I am interested in, I come down like a sledgehammer on behaviour I don’t like because I don’t necessarily believe any of that. It feels more like I’m aggressively ‘standing my ground’ in order to cut down any hint of behaviour I don’t like before they assume it’s acceptable. I’m staking out the boundaries and defending them with clubs and hand grenades.
The tedious feeling of ‘protecting my boundaries’ in the latter scenario is a reason why I don’t seek out vanilla men any more. At best, I can do all that up-front and be done. At worst, I have to do that *every day for the rest of the relationship* in small and big ways and that’s an exercise in tedious futility and not one I’m interested in taking on.
I feel like I have written about this before, but it’s such a stark example, that I’m repeating it.
My last long term vanilla man (who I talk about all the time on Twitter because he’s still a good friend and he is completely awesome) was in my group of friends when we started dating, so we all had a familiar, jokey way of ribbing each other. Early on when we started dating, we were out at a pub. A few of us were going to a concert afterwards. Someone asked him if he was coming and he threw out a thoughtless ‘lighthearted’ response:
“No, that bitch [indicating me] didn’t get me a ticket hurr hurr…”
I gave him a look, did not crack a smile, was not going to ‘go along’ with an accepting chuckle.
“Don’t EVER call me that.”
Everyone looked at me. THAT tone. He had the grace to look embarrassed, but it wasn’t enough.
I stepped into his space, hard faced and soft voiced. “I’m going to the bathroom now. YOU HAVE A THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU JUST SAID.”
It was uncomfortable for me, for him, for all of us. I didn’t care one bit.
Either he would sincerely apologise (he did) and never do that sort of thing again (he didn’t) or he would get defensive or otherwise challenge my reaction, and we’d be done.
I did this with all of my vanilla partners in various ways before I ever ‘discovered’ D/s, and they all either stepped up, or I was done. I wasn’t at all subtle about it, and *some* version of ‘casual disrespect’ (being late, not doing what he said he would, ‘jokey’ rudeness, thoughtless dismissal etc) would come up relatively early, and I’d smack him down so fast his head would spin. The reason I don’t seek vanilla men any more is because there are generally *so many* ridiculous little power struggles day by day that I end up getting exhausted by having to constantly push up against it to carve out my space.
Had that scenario happened in a D/s context with a potential submissive, firstly I would NEVER expect that kind of statement to leave his mouth because he should already know that that kind of behaviour is unacceptable, but IF it happened, I’d expect that a pretty subtle change in my demeanour, a raised eyebrow, an ‘I beg your pardon?’ would have him falling over himself to apologise and correct himself. I wouldn’t NEED to get guns out to establish those firm boundaries.
So in the final analysis, I’m actually much more stereotypically ‘domly’ with vanilla men than I am with submissive men. A fact which is rather amusing to me, and which makes me a poor match for any submissives who might wishfully swoon over that kind of strong-arming. It just doesn’t make me happy to behave that way, so I won’t be in a relationship where I have to do it.
Peroxide over at Submissive in Seattle wrote an introspective post about polyamory for the mono-amorous where he talks about what it was like to be in a poly relationship when he’s mono-amorous. Short version: it’s tough. Long version: go read it.
I’ve been meaning to write something about non-monogamy (really, non-monoamory, but god, what an awkward word!) for a while.
Partly because my First now identifies as non-monogamous so it’s come a little closer to home. There are multiple reasons why he’s ‘complicated’, that catch-all euphemism that can mean anything, but the term covers the overall state of him well. Among the complicated things, he has a partner with whom he has an open relationship, and in our gentle explorations and mutual curiosity, that makes him a non-starter for anything significant for me. But it has had me thinking.
I identify as monogamous. Fiercely so. Not because it’s a label I’m attached to, nor because I’m particularly good at it, to be honest.
I identify that way because when I’m in, I’m ALL IN. With every fibre of my heart, body, and soul. I’m in. And that simply leaves no room for anyone else. I have no interest in anyone else. I have no time for anyone else. I have no energy for anyone else. There’s just him. And he gets everything I have to give. There’s nothing left. And I need him to be the same. I want everything, it’s mine. All of it. And if he thinks he has anything left for someone else, then he hasn’t given me enough. Because I want THAT too.
And if I can’t have that, I fall into ‘Eh, whatever…’ and obviously there’s nothing in ‘Eh, whatever’ upon which to build.
But then there have been some very few exceptions that have slipped in sideways with ‘something else’. Those where I’m not ‘all in’, but there is enough interest to fire up *something*. It happens rarely, so rarely that I don’t even consider it a thing.
But when I think back on bambi, our time together was exactly that. We thought and hoped that we were heading into ‘happily ever after’ before he came out here, but it quickly became clear that we weren’t. Not at all. And that fact would normally kill the possibility of anything for me (for him too, he said). But despite our relationship mismatch, the D/s, the play, the kissing… that all worked. Nothing ELSE worked, and normally that would be like an ‘off switch’ for attraction for me. But in his case, it wasn’t. I was still wildly attracted to him *despite* our connection outside of that bubble being pretty much nil.
There were a number of factors at play there. We’d done a lot of the emotional work to suss each other out before meeting. We genuinely liked and respected each other. We had each invested. So we had groundwork upon which we could discard the hopes for a relationship and still have the D/s, play, sex, kissing, all that. Our mutual attraction was fierce and sweet. Also it was time-boxed because he was only here for a short while. I don’t think it could have worked for longer than the few weeks that he was here.
That’s not anything to do with non-monogamy, obviously. I hark back to it because that’s pretty much EXACTLY the connection I would need to have to do some kind of non-monogamy: Where I like him enough to still be attracted and want ‘something’ with him, but there are clear reasons why my emotions won’t get further engaged, why I won’t want more. And he would have to feel the same. And wow, is that ever a tricky balance.
In theory, if bambi had had a primary partner, I’d have been fine with it. Because we didn’t fit together. And not only did I *know* that, my heart knew it, and didn’t want more. I didn’t have to work at closing that part of myself down: it just didn’t exist.
So in thinking about my First and ‘where to from here’, I’m trying to mentally map a path for myself where ‘some kind of something’ might be workable: engaging and fun and hot enough to be worthwhile, but casual enough not to have to work too hard to pull back from wanting more. There is a mutual attraction and a desire to explore, which we both acknowledge but we haven’t explicitly discussed what that means in a practical sense. Not least because I really don’t know right now.
He’s casually mentioned another visit, nothing concrete. “For the conversation,” he says. Which makes me laugh. My conversation isn’t that good. My kissing, though, is awesome.
It must have hurt like hell, but I can’t remember.
My best friend of my teen years. We were inseparable. A set. Always the two of us. Our names running together as if we were one whenever anyone talked about us, invited us anywhere, was looking for us.
“Are MariaEnSharyn coming?”
She was the funny one: social and likeable. I was the smart one: confident and caustic.
I loved her with an obsessive love that only teenage girls can really understand. Where all day every day still wasn’t enough to share all the things that we wanted to share.
When I think back on it, it seems like it was no big deal to let her go. That can’t be true of course, but the pain of it is nowhere in my memory.
She had a boyfriend in our senior year, a tight-fisted jerk who I hated, and who she invited along every time I wanted to spend time with her. I was exploring my sexuality with my first girlfriend, it made her uncomfortable. The cracks were appearing, slowly getting wider. I wanted to fix what was wrong, we arranged some time away together. Just us, we agreed.
He turned up on the first day.
I saw clearly then that she wasn’t interested enough to repair what was going wrong with us. I should have been heartbroken. I think I probably was. But I guess the cracks were big enough by then that the inevitability of it made it hurt less.
We spent that week together at the beach: her, me, him, some others. The feeling of loss and simmering resentment a vague memory now. When we left, I knew we were done, like you know it with partners and lovers. It was the end of school, a natural way to end it. I figured I’d outgrown her, or she me. I’m not sure which.
I never saw her again.
I watched this clip this morning, it made me smile: We were just like that. It still amazes me how fragile it was despite feeling as solid as a rock for so many years.
There are those relationships whose influence lasts long after they are over and often for longer than they were alive. Intensity, unfathomable joy, bright starbursts, out-of-control fireworks, terrible pain. Remnants that are still sharp if I pay attention. The tail of the comet is often brighter than the flare of its reality.
He wrote. Words about me. Always his words: strange, and powerful, skirting around the edges of his wild imagination, some truth at their core. He used to tell me about the quality of light where he was. The pleasure I got from his word pictures was far beyond what was on the page, they warmed me from the inside, their intensity sometimes made me feel sick with want.
He would throw them at me, dense and amazing and full of his madness and depth, and I would see him in it . Really SEE him. And his delight every time I did was a revelation. He told me, in that grand manner that boys in love do, that every word he had ever written was for me. He just didn’t know it yet. And that every word he wrote while we were together was for me. All of it was mine.
That is distant now, of course: he will have written more and lots and put his new heart into it all. I wonder what the result will be. I am restless, too eager, and so very curious to see if the capital M Mark I made on him has survived, has been immortalised, lives on in him in the same way it does in me.
I will wait for his newest book, which the internet tells me will be out soon. I will look out for it, buy it immediately, I will scour it. I will believe that every word is for me, still. Even if I don’t really believe it.
But if I see myself clearly in it, I mean for real, and not just in my own imaginings, I will recognise it in an instant. And I know it will still break my heart and I will love it and I will want to send him a note that says ‘I see you, boy’ and I suspect I will cry.
Because I am like that over these boys who leave footprints on my heart.
Alexandra is a young dominant from Greece who sent me this very sweet story of meeting and exploring BDSM with her boyfriend. I love that she has found someone she trusts to explore this with.
It makes me smile: it’s truly lovely.
I’ll admit that I, too, am one of those little girls who read Fifty Shades of Grey and suddenly got into BDSM and all that. But actually after reading this book I started looking for sites about BDSM and found out it’s nothing like the movies or books or even porn. It’s so much better because it’s real!
Anyway last summer I moved town. I went at a small rock concert at a local cafe with a guy my age I just met and we’re friends now. There I met John, a nice boy, kinda shy but witty. Even though he didn’t talk much he knew the right things to say at the right time. We started to flirt somehow and I was very enthusiastic cause it was my first time. We continued hanging out for days, weeks and when schools started (we go to the same school yay!).
Not officially in a relationship because we were both shy to do the first move I guess. After some months we discovered that we were both interested in BDSM, he a submissive and I was a Dominant. After that it was so easier to start dating.
We take it slow and we come up with something new every time. He’s actually never seen me fully naked but I’ve seen him. All we do for now is light bondage and spanking and he calls me Mistress or Goddess when we’re alone. No one knows about this.
I really love everything about him, the way he moves and talks, that he trusts me with his insecurities and he knows mine and has won my trust, that he respects me, his lack of ego and tolerance of mine, his hesitation and shyness, anything!
And it really works although it’s only been half a year, but it’s because we’re not in a hurry and we wait until we’re both ready.
I hope I didn’t bore you. Also please forgive some mistakes :)
Have a great day <3
This post is part of an ongoing project to share happy, positive femdom relationship stories. If you have a story and are willing to share it, please email it to me (ferns AT domme-chronicles DOT com).