Pleasing the dominant

Those of us with a creative soul need to alter and adjust people and places to suit ourselves; to give birth to something in our own image. The talented hairdresser wishes to transform a woman into someone with self confidence and flair. The fashion stylist wishes to make the woman more beautiful and alluring when she wears his or her creations. Interior designers wish to create beautiful, comfortable rooms in which people can live happily and calmly; an oasis from the busy world outside. Novelists want to create a world which the reader will find so absorbing it will be difficult to put down the book. Musicians long for those evenings when the sound they create is sublime; never mind that it is just for an hour or so. They strive for perfection. They long to play better than they ever played before.

In the world of power exchange, the dominant can wish to transform a woman's mind. In order to get there he's likely to also want to transform her body. 'Owner tags', for example, are a permanent reminder that the person is 'owned'; that her body and her mind - her whole sense of happiness and fulfillment really - are at the behest of, and under the control of, the dominant member of the relationship.

It won't matter how much interaction I have with dominants. Their words cannot suffice to explain their head space such that I can explain it in my own words. I can only imagine what they might mean; what they might want. For a long time, I saw the exchange, at its most heady, as one person giving herself over to the other. By doing this, the submissive member of the exchange was giving her trust, and her love, to the other. He might want more than she wanted, more than she ever imagined she wanted, but over time his desires would naturally - by various means of persuasion - become her desires. Together, they'd experience unimaginably erotic highs.

He'd luxuriate in her ability to 'let go' and let him lead; to experience such divine eroticism. He would have created, and transformed, an average woman into a slutti, mindless, sex craved fucktoy. They'd both be unbelievably aroused and connected in the experience; the ultimate in sexual libido at its highest and pleasure in the extreme. He could wallow in her acceptance of his appetite. In the state she is hardly in a position to challenge or berate his behavior. She's just as bad; just as naughty.  Her appetite is just as voracious. Look in the mirror. Take note of the photograph. Evidence. A slut is born. This is really as far as my mind went.

I now think I see something that I had overlooked before. Some dominants cannot and will not be satiated. That is to say, enough will never be enough. An owner's tag can be heavier. A heavier ring through the nipples can hold a heavier bell or weight. A woman can be locked away, should he choose. There are chastity belts, a constant reminder of the 'owned' state. He can lock her pussy cunt; attached rings in her pussy cunt and padlock them together. He can 'request' a tattoo marking his possession, or he might want to see her in a corset, restraining her such that her waist is adorably small.

Some dominants want full control over the submissive's hair style and color, her wardrobe, her weight, her exercise regime. Other dominants might lead a woman to a new way of life; a different course of undertaking her days. 'Dom with Pen', a perfectly sane individual as far as I can tell, doesn't shy away from the fact that he wishes his girl were a housewife and not in the teaching profession.

What I am getting at is that the dominant position isn't necessarily one whereby it is about leading a woman to express and live out her own personal, unfulfilled and perhaps unexpressed desires. He wants waaaaaaaaay more than that. He wants her to do 'it' - whatever the 'it' is this time. He wants her to do  'it' because it would be pleasing to him.

I referred a few posts ago to the fact that the dominant may not accept 'no' as an acceptable answer. It's not the sort of arrangement where she can say - "I tried. I just can't." He's not going to accept that, this dominant. She needs to try harder. She needs to train more regularly. He's not whistling dixie here. He means it. He has decreed it and she will do it.

There is a persuasion of a similar kind that goes on with vanilla folk, I think. He wants the job in London and he means to have it, whether they have to uproot and she leaves behind all that she loves, or not. He wants to grow a beard and she has no choice but to accept his decision even though she much prefers him clean shaved. For some men, their will must be done. They mean to have their way - not in a selfish way, necessarily. There is a good chance that the decision is right for both of them, ultimately. But, his will will be done.

In power exchange terms, I suppose you would say that between the couple, there are no real limits and there certainly is no safe word she intends to ever use. He controls. She does his bidding. Now, not for a minute would I suggest that this situation is intended to harm or be in any way negative. In a healthy 'all or nothing' power exchange the dominant is so incredibly responsible for the submissive that he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He is the 'all mighty' ruler and as such he understands he bears responsibility if something goes wrong. He needs constant and open communication with her in order to function. He'll always listen. But, he, ultimately will decide and she, ultimately, must concede to him. Never mind that these ideas are new; radical; outside of her knowledge banks, desires and wants. His wants are, inevitably, her wants. She, at the end of the day, if not before, will be enriched; praised; adored. Enticed?

She cared

I am currently half way through a novel that was chosen by a member of my new book group. I won't reveal the title and author just yet because once I finish reading it, I want to put some more extensive thoughts down here about the story.

For now, I want to ponder a little about the preoccupations of the author, a Swedish woman who is now living in New Zealand. She very clearly has an interest in memory - what our memories mean to us, how they might influence the rest of our lives and how we might repress them. She's interested in considering how we might wipe from our minds long stretches of time. "I don't remember my thirties," someone might say. At the same time, we remember minutes, even seconds of our lives in the greatest of detail. We play those important seconds over and over in our minds, sometimes remembering it differently from one time to the next; sometimes gaining a new level of insight about those few terribly important seconds.

The author is also preoccupied with those people who do not rush through their lives; who lead very quiet and sedentary lives; who are immersed in grief; who need to be alone to get over lost love. Interestingly,when two similarly hurting people find themselves in close quarters, they reveal themselves to one another. They desperately want to tell one another about what has gone on before this; what led them to this. The memories flow out just as water leaves a dyke that has incurred a hole. They cannot be stopped. They cannot be put back.

In the world of yoga, in the practices of mindfulness and meditation we are encouraged to be aware of this moment. There is only this moment, we are told. The past is the past and the future is not ours to worry about. I see the point and I benefit from the practice. Yet, it cannot be denied those extraordinary brains of ours carry our memories with us. They are stored and locked away and when the moment is right we retrieve them, consider and contemplate them and give them a value. This one is a good memory and this one is a bad memory.

It is said that we are more than clever enough to adapt memories to our own purposes. We can make them worse or make them better than they really were. Our mind is capable of forgetting what we choose to forget or remembering things differently to the way they occurred. Our memories are as we choose them to be. As is my want, I remember the times I was loved well.

Whilst my novel is a sad tale so far, I sense that these two women will heal each other and that there are lovely moments to come; that the time away from the busy world will do them much good. In fact, the writing was on the wall when the old lady knocked on the young woman's door, not having seen her for a few days. They have never spoken. It has been years since the old lady has made such a bold move in her long life but unsure if the woman has come to some harm, she feels a little life stirring in her old bones and she decides to check on her. This early chapter of the book is finished with two words that breathed life into the story and into the reader; hopefully any reader: "She cared." It is, after all, what makes us human.

Service

Around the blogs there is always talk about 'service' and by that people seem to mean that the submissive should serve the dominant. I have no issue with the fact that the submissive serves the dominant but in my life, the statement doesn't always mean that much. I've been contributing to the success and happiness and smooth running of my husband's life since the day we started going out. When our relationship became one of a 'power exchange', my mind began to think about that in new ways, but I was already doing lots and lots of tasks that I continued to do. Certainly, sexually, I thought about that service in new ways, but I assure you he was not the only recipient of the value of those new thoughts. I was serving him to be sure, but he has never stopped serving me in the bedroom either in terms of the satisfaction he brings to my life.

My point is that I provide service to him but in fact, he serves me rather well, too. He has been serving me well all my married life in a vast number of ways, and when the relationship altered to a 'power dynamic' the amount of service he provided for my benefit only increased. As the dominant in a power exchange, he was being asked to see me and the relationship in a new light and in that way he was being asked for more, not less.

In any marriage between two people, unless they just can't get it together at all, there is some sort of division of labor. One likes to cook; another is prepared to pay the bills. One takes responsibility for watering the garden whilst the other mows the grass. One can't bear ironing the shirts but is happy to change the sheets on the bed, or empty the dishwasher, or to service the car. Or, whatever. People work together to make their lives work smoothly for them, or they should.

In a power exchange relationship, the dominant is the boss. I have no argument to make about that nor would it suit me to think of it in any other way. The dominant person has the right to give commands and the submissive has the responsibility to obey. If he wants something done, or done in a particular way he will tell her, and expect her to follow through with the task done well.

There is some symbolic gesture to consider here and I recognize that some dominants rather like that a submissive pours the wine and serves him, first. Perhaps he (the dominant in this case) asks that she kneel and serves him tea. I think that all very fine and it no doubt assists the two people in their dynamic. But, the thought that my husband might never make me a cup of tea is just awful to me. It is always a lovely moment for me to awake from the occasional sleep in, to my husband standing by my side with a tray on which there is a cup of tea with a light breakfast. Everybody deserves to be pampered sometimes.

In the evenings, it has always been our way that I clean up the kitchen whilst my husband reads the paper or watches a current affairs story or returns to his study to do some work. Frankly, I prefer it that way because I work best in the kitchen on my own. Then, I bring him a cup of his favourite tea and a little treat and that is our time together to talk about the day, or the news, or whatever. Nowadays, I do think of that bringing of the tea to him as my serving him, because it pleases me to do so, and because I can see that he feels tenderly towards me that I have done that for him; to understand that at this time of the day he needs a little pampering.

I shall come out and say it outright. I worry like hell about the dominants out there who think that their status as the dominant means that they are somehow better than their submissive; that it is all right for the submissive to be dead tired but continue to serve him whilst he sits there like King Pubah blissfully unaware of her distress, or heaven help us, enjoying that distress. It is not at all gallant to think it is all right for the submissive to be asleep on her feet but since she is the submissive she should continue to serve. That is just not gentlemanly.

Within the power exchange, each person has their responsibilities to the other and to the relationship as a whole. Our focus is not on who serves who but rather a mutual caring for one another. My husband will insist that I take my calcium with vitamin D tablet because he knows a deficiency due to lack of sunlight can cause depression. I will take him to the station rather than leave him to walk because I know he has a full and long work day ahead and I can make a contribution to his day in this way. We care for one another within the framework of the power exchange relationship.

If I were writing the book of BDSM I would not say 'The submissive serves the dominant'. I would say, 'The submissive serves the dominant and in return, he serves her right back.'

Gran Torino

We watched ‘Gran Torino’ last night. Perhaps it’s just me, but I found myself thinking about the movie this morning in the light of what I know of dominant men and submissive women.



At one point, Walt (Clint Eastwood) says that his wife, recently deceased, was the best wife a man could ever have. I would have liked to see some evidence of that; some way of demonstrating his loss other than his anger. The anger was there from the very first frame of the movie, at the funeral, and it confused me. Is that really the only emotion one would feel on that day, of all days?



No, I’m sure Walt was feeling a great many things on that day, but to the outside world, it was just expressed as anger. Certainly, we see at the time of his ‘confession’, late in the movie, that he has tried his best in life to live up to his own creed of honesty and doing the right thing. He certainly ‘dominates’ his landscape.



So, just how then, did Eastwood, who produced and directed this movie, translate to his audience that this man had compassion? We saw the compassion in spades, eventually, when he paid the ultimate price for his ‘neighbours’ with whom he came to feel closer than his own sons. But, why do we care about this grumpy old man before we begin to see him being won over with kindness?



Well, I think it is Daisy; his dog. Daisy is his girl. She’s a good girl. She stays close by him. She’s loyal and true, and in turn he is good to her. When there is no one else, there is Daisy. She rides with him in the truck, she sits by him when he sits on his chair on the porch, and she keeps a close eye on him, not leaving his side, even when he takes a bath.



I don’t remember the line exactly. But, when we see Walt lying in the bath, having a cigarette, we know it is out of character. Smoking in the bath? Eastwood gives us a second or two to absorb the inconsistency, and then he says something like,


“Don’t look at me that way, girl. Give me a break! It’s the first time a man has ever smoked in his own house.”


And, instantly we know two things.


1) We know that we have come to understand Walt. He’s let us into his world and he can’t fool us. We care about this man, whether he likes it or not.


2) Walt may be a dominant man, with a submissive girl, but she has some power over him, too. Just a look can change his mind set, have him justifying himself. He dominates her, cares for her and loves her. And, she, by simply being that good, loyal, submissive girl affects him, and everything that he does.


And, in that moment when he speaks to the dog, we come to understand what Walt would have been like as a husband, and the loss he has endured. We learn about that through Daisy.


He’s such an extraordinary actor; a producer and director of such remarkable talent. As the ‘Gran Torino’ drives away along the highway in the final shot of the movie, I wondered if we were seeing Eastwood drive away, too. It has to be his final project, doesn’t it?


If it is, he has left with great style. And, how appropriate that the ‘Gran Torino’ should be left to Thao! And, of course, that Daisy should be riding right up there beside him.