All ‘femdom relationships’ category posts

Neediness

Nov
2014
11

posted by on femdom relationships, musing, NaNoWriMo

NaBloWriMo[SubmissiveGuyComics has also done a post for our NaBloWriMo project]

 

I’ve just started reading Ann St Vincent’s blog. It’s a very personal sex and relationship blog, not femdom, but one of those wonderful blogs where the author shares themselves in such a way that you become engaged in their story.

She has recently talked about Andrew, a new man in her life (part 1, part 2 of recent developments), and in all of the angsty reflection that she is going through, she described herself as ‘needy’.

I started thinking about the idea of neediness and how it works.

I like to think of myself as ‘not needy’, but that’s not true at all. I need a whole bunch of things, and I only become ‘needy’ when I don’t get them. And that only happens if what I need is not naturally what he offers.

Neediness is less about *me* (or you or you or YOU) and more about compatibility.

I have an advantage in dealing with my needs because ‘raaawwrrr female dominant!!’ If I want something from him, I just ask for it and he is delighted to give it to me. But people are complex and while that’s perfectly fine for ‘things I want’, it doesn’t work so well for ‘how I want to feel’. I’ve written before that I do suffer from some of that terrible ‘if I have to ask for it, it’s not worth as much’ level of passive aggressive thought about some things.

Say, for example, I want him to text me every morning if he is away from me. I’ll ask for it, and he’ll do it. That works a treat. But then, let’s say I want something *sweet* from him every morning and that’s not how he normally communicates. I can ask for it and he will figure out something sweet to say every day and he’ll send it.

But here’s the thing: While he’s totally being sweet to me with his obedience in doing what I ask, it’s unclear if he is *actually* communicating sweet feelings to me. He’s being obedient. And obedience is wonderful, I kink on obedience big time, but I CANNOT (CAN NOT) get love/affection/sweetness/lust/desire/any of those things by pulling the obedience card. His feelings are not something I can demand. At its best, this kind of requirement opens him up to express himself and we have a lovely new avenue of sincere communication. At its worst, he will trawl the internet for ‘sweet things people say to each’ and throw them into a text for me and be happy that he’s done as I asked.

In short: I can get him to behave in a way that *looks* like he has certain feelings by telling him to do it, but then the line between ‘doing it because I said so’ and ‘expressing actual real feelings’ becomes very blurry.

I want to see my submissive’s feelings. I want all of the affection and love and lust and desire and everything. All of it. And then I want to control it, play with it, revel in it, deny it. But if he doesn’t feel those things or he doesn’t express those feelings in the specific way that meets my needs, I will become ‘needy’ for it.

And if that’s the case, I’m not suddenly ‘too needy’ as a person in a relationship, we’re just incompatible.

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D/s stereotypes

Oct
2014
14

posted by on femdom relationships, musing

Femdom stereotypes are rife, and they get perpetuated by both sides of the slash. It’s really frustrating to see the same thing come up over and over.

Her: I’m supposed to be a cold hard bitch
Him: You’re supposed to be a cold hard bitch
Her: ~has a bad day, cries, needs cuddles~ Oh noes, I’m not a real dom!
Him: Wow, you’re weak. You’re not a real dom!

Rinse and repeat.

It’s the curse of inexperience and fantasy and it’s so very common. And often it will take several goes at failed relationships where this expectation over-rides humanity to realise that it’s really stupid and destructive.

The result of those failures for many women is a confidence blow that has them believing that they aren’t ‘a real dom’ and they leave any idea of D/s behind them because that’s not who they are.

But it’s not who ANY of us are. It’s the realm of pros and fantasies and porn and play and every media depiction of femdom ever.

I find it horribly depressing.

Being dominant means different things to different people. For me it’s ‘I run the relationship and he follows’. That means when I’m having a shitty day and want to cry, he gives me hugs and cuddles because that’s what I want. And also because he loves me and wants me to feel better. It’s not about me hiding who I am because I’m not ‘supposed’ to be a real human being.

Reverse the above. It’s just as true for submissives.

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He believed…

Oct
2014
12

posted by on femdom relationships, First

When we were together long ago, in the distant past, he believed that I had betrayed him.

Not just ‘betrayed’, but ‘BETRAYED’ in all caps with a bright neon red, sharp and harsh, and so ugly it can barely be looked at head-on.

That betrayal impacted him deeply, coloured all of his relationships since me with a murky grey cloak of fear and self protection. Years of it.

He got over it, of course, put it behind him, carried on. Lived and loved and worked at avoiding the potential for that sort of hurt ever again. That meant putting away some pieces of himself, and keeping away from women like me.

I knew none of this. Not an inkling.

After our relationship ended, our separate lives went on, we lost touch.

Recently he contacted me. We talked.

Between that post and this one, he brought up the betrayal: the pain, the bitterness, the anger, even hatred that my betrayal had caused him as a young man. There was no blame in it. He laid it out as a mature man looking back at his history and laying some of it at my feet, to shed light on it. Although it seemed like an ancient artefact, the remnants of all of those awful feelings were clear: Ragged, chewed up, spat out, hardly recognisable, but still being afforded breath there in the back of his mind. Or somewhere in his heart. Wherever these harsh experiences of life continue to live long after they are past.

The thing is: the betrayal never happened.

It was a misunderstanding, an unfortunate happenstance, easily cleared up in a single email. I wrote that email immediately in reply, banging it out in a kind of head-spun disbelief that he had believed such a thing to be true.

Both of us reeling that this lie had festered as a truth in his mind for years. His shock to discover that this thing that had caused him such terrible pain had never actually existed. My shock that he had carried such a hurtful untruth around with him for so many years and I never knew.

The truth came out easily, but unravelling the consequences has been a little more complex. I have been almost morbidly curious to understand the impact of learning the truth for him: it is a kind of rewriting of history because of the way it coloured his view of me, of the relationship, of his place in it. I can’t imagine it, really, and I think he has handled it with much more grace and maturity than I would have.

He has shared snippets of where it has taken him, glimpses which I find fascinating and for which I am grateful. He sees a kind of rueful humour in it, skipped past the what-ifs, and moved on to a sense of relief at being able to let those tattered negativities go into the ether. It is closure of the kind you hear about.

As for me, I have apologised profusely for his hurt, but what I am *really* apologising for is the fact that I created a relationship where my young submissive didn’t feel safe enough to come to me at the time and ask “What’s this?” so that the misunderstanding could have been avoided in the first place.

For that, I’m deeply sorry.

___

I’m going to pre-emptively ask commenters to please not play the ‘blame game’ here. I expect my regular readers wouldn’t dream of going there, but I’ve seen too much of it lately and I want to give fair warning that I won’t hear a word of it.

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posted by on femdom relationships, musing, random memories, tom

It had never occurred to me that I might be someone’s ‘relationship from hell’.

I have spoken about my own at times: in my mid-twenties, a relationship with a man who would not give an inch of ground on anything ever and into which I threw a level of rage I’d not have thought I had in me. A relationship that felt like a war zone into which I ran every day with guns blazing, wearing a deep and abiding unhappiness under my clothes, and wondering why I didn’t leave already.

It feels, almost, like a rite of passage, at least one relationship that you look back on with a kind of horror, painting it in a dull matt black when in truth there were always flashes of colour and light in it.

When you are young and searching for a match, you necessarily make mistakes. Those mistakes are how you learn what doesn’t work for you. And after you learn from them, you do something slightly differently next time, and in that slow slog, you do the painful work to figure out what you DO want from all of the times you run up against what you don’t.

And while I acknowledge out loud that I was (and am) a selfish person, I think in my younger years, I was also capable of a terrifying lack of care. Or perhaps it was a lack of empathy. Something I can’t quite articulate, but it was a combination that held the potential for a kind of cold indifference.

And yet, even knowing that, it still somehow had never occurred to me that I might well be someone’s ‘relationship from hell’. That someone might look back on their time with me and shudder, tell the story of the woman who brought out the worst in them, wonder why they stayed for so long, remembering me as the harshest lesson they ever learnt.

On that note, last week I heard from the first submissive with whom I had a serious D/s relationship. It had apparently been 15 years and 2 days since our last contact, 18 years since we were together. A lifetime ago. His second note spoke of hurt, a matter of factual history, and suddenly and for the first time I wondered if I was his ‘relationship from hell': an unhappy and cruel lesson learnt. It was a terrifying thought and I started picking at the edges of my memory to determine if it might be true.

Which got me thinking about other relationships and brought me to the sudden and awful revelation that perhaps in one of THOSE, I was the ‘relationship from hell’. It sent me spinning down this road, trying to dissect the bodies of relationships long past, pulling the insides out to see if I had left something awful in my wake.

I like to think not, of course. I like to think of myself as someone who brought a blinding flash of hot-awesome-happiness into the lives of people I have been close to, even if they were short-lived and ultimately superficial. If I’m honest, my ego wants some of them never to be quite as crazily happy as that ever again (I mentioned ‘selfish’, right?). I also like to think of myself as someone who would see hell if it was right in front of my face, but I have to acknowledge that when we are IN something, we often don’t see it clearly. Mostly we do the best that we can to deal and manage and navigate it, and of course we are all flawed in that.

But it seems unlikely now that it’s on my mind that I wasn’t someone’s idea of hell. That there isn’t someone who looks back and wonders at how horribly unhappy they were, incredulous that they stayed so long with me. I prefer to think that if it’s there, it’s a one-off, perhaps reciprocal with the man who was MY hell. It doesn’t seem far-fetched to think that I was his also.

A few emails later with the sweet boy who was my first, and it seems I wasn’t his relationship from hell, though I suspect that after it ended the hurt made it seem like I was for a time. My relief at that was palpable: Not just because it would be such an awful thing, but also because I wasn’t sure how to own my part in it if it was true, and I was well aware that it was mine to own. The very fact that I thought it might be possible says some things about me of which I’m not proud.

Either way, I’m so very glad.

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posted by on femdom relationships, happy femdom

A few months ago I got a really lovely email from a reader and he mentioned that he had been inspired by the happy femdom stories that people have shared here.

He said that he wasn’t sure if his story would fit because he and his wife started their life together as a vanilla couple and their D/s relationship evolved from there. Well of COURSE it fits (we have had two others with similar stories)!

It’s a wonderful story that is still unfolding. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Author: greg

Following our path

When I reached puberty, the fantasies I mostly had involved being seduced or captured by women who then did various things to me, controlling me in some fashion. I didn’t know anything about kinks, BDSM, or D/s at that point, barely knew what sex was about. And there were no resources available to me at that time; no internet, no personal computers, nothing except magazines and books, none which did more than lightly suggest anything on this topic.

As I got older, occasionally I would come across a magazine that included kinky things, and I was always deeply drawn to the topic of women in control. But it was just wank fodder, as far as I could tell, I never even thought about sharing that with anyone.

So my dating and developing relationships did not involve that aspect at all. It was not part of searching for a partner, merely something that was fun to fantasize about when masturbating. And I gradually tried some self bondage and other things as my fantasies inspired me.

Eventually, I found someone that seemed a wonderful fit for me and we got married. And as with all couples, we had lots to get used to about each other.

As we explored sex to see what we both liked, my strong desire to feel submissive came out at times. Occasionally I would spice things up and suggest trying something like tying me up to see how that worked for us both. And we would discuss how these spicy additions, or supplements, worked for us. For the most part, while she was willing to try them, she was not turned on by them, and would have been fine dropping them if left to her own devices. But as we explored she found that my reactions to what she did was turning her on. And she found that she enjoyed eliciting these reactions from me. I, on the other hand found them compelling and wanted to experience more. So I kept suggesting new things to try, sometimes obtaining new things to use such as dog collars to use as wrist and ankle cuffs.

As we slowly explored and gained more experience, the internet and other resources started to come on-line. This allowed me to better understand my desires and realize that I was not alone. And find new things to try, of course. One day, while searching the internet, I came upon chastity devices for men, the CB2000 specifically. This really captivated my mind and I could not stop reading for an hour or so. I was compelled to obtain one and began wearing it, trying to engage my wife in this, to me, very hot idea.

True to form, she did not find it compelling, but worked with me sometimes and enjoyed my reaction to some extent. After 6 months of so of trying this out, I came to an epiphany while she was out of town. I realized that a device was not needed (yes, I can be slow at times) and that what really turned me on was giving her control over my pleasure.

Have you ever had your mind racing so much you could not sleep as you kept turning a critical decision over and over in your mind? That was me until she returned from the trip.

As soon as she returned, I hesitatingly brought this new idea up and promised her that I would never play with myself again, unless she gave me explicit instructions to do so. She paused, pondering what I had just promised, and then said that was a long time to commit to. I quickly agreed, with some relief actually, and suggested maybe a trial run for 6 months would be smarter.

Immediately she responded, saying, “Too late, you already promised,” with a smile on her face. My heart melted at those words and it was like giving her my marriage vows all over again.

For me that was the moment that I realized I wanted to submit and have a D/s dynamic in our relationship. True, at this point it was all focused on sex. But this crystallized for me that what I really wanted was to be submissive. And I realized that the tools were not what was important.

Ropes, whips, chastity devices, etc were just the tools. What I craved and needed was to submit and be under a woman’s control. Not just as something to spice up our sex life, not just an occasional scene to do, but instead for it to be a real and permanent part of our relationship.

As time went on, we explored what this new arrangement meant and how it worked. Not so easy while raising kids and having busy lives, but slowly we progressed. My wife really enjoyed her ability to control my sexual responses, and I found that this feeling of being controlled or submitting was really important to me.

As I read more and discussed more about this with my wife and others on line, I gradually came to understand that my need to submit and be controlled was a core element of my sexuality, not just wank fodder. I wanted to feel this aspect more intensely. So we experimented, as she felt intrigued with various ideas I would gently suggest that turned me on.

This past spring/summer, a number of things seemed to come together for me and pushed me to a new level of submission. Over the last few years, we had explored confining me by chaining me to the toilet or laundry room sink. This was very compelling to me, but there was no reason to do it other than to arouse me, so we rarely did it. Independent of this, I had been sorting out how to better manage our occasional disagreements, and realized that I had trouble being analytical (my go-to strategy in that situation) when she was letting her emotions play out, which she needed to do. I recognized that when we paused and I could be introspective, we could resolve things a lot better later, after re-engaging. Finally, I happened upon Ferns blog and most of the things Ferns said not only resonated strongly with me, but in fact crystallized my thoughts.

First, I realized a powerful tool that could be used in disagreements would be for her to give me a time out, as it allowed her emotions to play out and forced a separation that helped me, and changed the power dynamic. This was the first time I internally realized I wanted control in more areas of my life than sex. Of course, the thing that allows this to be carried out is partly the sexual turn on, but the desire for her to be able to control the disagreement process was strikingly strong in me.

I realized that I wanted her to be confident that I would do as she said, that she could have the feeling that she was could tell me to do anything and I would do it. And if not, then we had some work to do to sort out why I did not obey her, and how to fix that so I will do better in the future. Ferns ability to conceptualize what makes this dynamic work and how to keep it going were particularly important for me, with her posts on a vulnerability, making D/s work, and punishment resonating strongly.

We are just beginning this phase of our relationship. And, while we do not know where we will end up, I have always looked at life as a journey. Where my destination is not clear, but the journey is what is important, not the destination. I hope everyone can enjoy the journey as much as we have!

___

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).

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Come whisper in my ear...

Hello Ma’am

Nov
2013
12

posted by on femdom relationships, musing, my boy, snowflake

SGC of the wonderful Submissive Guy Comics tumblr recently posted this really sad comic.

He knew things were really ending when she used her real name to sign off email.

He knew things were really ending when she used her real name to sign off email.

When I saw it, it brought back a rush of memories. My memories are usually packed away and mostly inaccessible without concerted effort, but they are sitting close to the surface for me at the moment because of my anniversary post. When I was thinking about what to write, I looked back on old posts and personal writings to find something that seemed a fitting topic, so quite a few things that are normally hidden away are floating right there in my peripheral vision.

When I am in a relationship, I have my submissive call me ‘Ma’am’. It seems a little odd at first, but it soon becomes a habit, a sweetness, a petting. In day to day life, really, we don’t use people’s names so much, so it’s not something that causes a problem in public, and it’s something that signals so much between us. His saying ‘Hello Ma’am’ and ‘Yes, Ma’am’ becomes ‘normal’ for us, and each time I hear it, I *feel* it. It hums between us like something tangible.

When snowflake and I broke up, it was not simple, as these things often aren’t. We were talking, trying to sort things out. Without going into all the detail of what happened, one thing sticks out clearly for me: The moment that he logged into IM in the morning as he always did and then this appeared on my screen:

“Hello MyFirstName

The impact of it was immediate and terrible: A huge thump right into my solar plexus, a terrible sinking horribleness, a dread… all of those things.

The power of it was shocking. It signalled the end more clearly than anything we had said to each other up to that point.

By contrast, my boy continued to address me as ‘Ma’am’ even after we broke up, and even when he wrote me the email confirming that it was truly over he started it with “Hello Ma’am”. I knew, really, that I should tell him to stop doing it, and he would have, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask that of him, and I gleaned some small comfort from the fact that he continued to address me that way.

Words have power, and it still sometimes surprises me just how much.

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Because I’m happy

Nov
2013
01

posted by on femdom relationships, my boy, random memories

It was a weekend, I took him out for lunch to a pub that sits on a point overlooking the bay. A beautiful spot on a hill, the islands in the distance.

It was warm, sunny.

He got us drinks, ordered the food, and came back to me.

We were sitting side by side in chairs on the lawn looking out over the water, talking softly and laughing about nothing in particular. I had one leg draped over his, his hand rested on my thigh.

I grabbed his head and pulled it to me and bit it, not his ear, his head. Because. Just because. It made us both laugh and he shook like a dog afterwards.

He said he wished that he could take this moment right now and write it down exactly how it was, to capture and keep it. He touched parts of me that he wanted to describe in detail to preserve them. My bare arm with light coloured hairs catching some sun, my knee curved over him, the weight of my leg against his thigh, my foot swinging gently, me smiling at him, us laughing together. All the corny things.

I asked him, “Why this moment?”

And he said, “Because I’m happy.”

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