submission/masculinity

Why is a beautiful submissive man hiding his face?

Is it a shameful thing to be submissive?

Watch femdom porn. The men wear masks. The men have their faces turned away from the camera. The women never wear masks and you can always see their faces. Their identities aren't something they need to hide.

You know what I hear from a lot of submissive men? I can't go to a munch because of my job. People might see me. People might know who I am.

I never hear this from dominant men. I never hear this from women. I'm not saying there aren't other people out there who are worried about people finding out who they are, but I talk to a lot of kinksters.

Why is it shameful to be a submissive man?

Why is masculinity so far removed from submission in so many cultures?


Photo from redbottom83.

A domme

I often find this idea amongst primarily online male submissives; I want a domme. Any domme.

I present as a woman in my community, butch though I am, just because it's easier than talking to people about my gender and having to explain something that doesn't effect them anyway. So, when people contact me online, though my gender is not stated on certain profiles, they contact me as if I am a female dominant. Both of these things are inaccurate, as I'm a sadist with a few dominant leanings, but I generally just leave it at 'I'm a sadist'.

When male submissives (most of whom I have never met in public, and probably will never meet in public due to their belief that someone will see them with kinky people and just know that they are with kinky people, no matter how vanilla we look) approach me, oftentimes I will ask them what they are looking for in a dominant. The idea that I get from this reminds me of this picture. They want the leather and latex, the 'dominant attitude' and sex appeal of being controlled and sexually used by a powerful, stereotypically beautiful woman.

And so, when they figure out that I am a person, who does not fit the tailored fantasy clothes they have ready for their ideal domme, they back away. They stop messaging. They tell me I am not a real dominant. They accuse me of being a man. They accuse me of being a bitch, a tease, etc, etc. And I am not the only one who gets these messages.

I want a domme. Any domme will do.

As long as she can fit in my fantasy bubble of what a domme is and how she will make me happy.

Art from Dominance and submission.

On Elise Sutton's writing

Since I just posted a picture from Elise Sutton, I figured I should post my thoughts on her writing. If you haven't read any of her posts, don't worry, I'll be quoting the whole way.

This is just from the section about 'Unleashing Female Power'.

"Females have a power over men."

Hmm, more like 'Certain women have power over certain men'.

"The truth is that women are the superior gender and that once a woman unleashes her dominant power, no man will be able to stand up to her. Men become submissive and like little puppy dogs when they are confronted with a powerful woman. The good news is that you have this powerful woman on the inside and men desire to submit to her. "


Why do some people think this is okay? If someone wrote this exact phrase, but reversed the genders, they'd be a misogynist! It's too bad the word misandrist isn't as well known. I don't believe in the superiority of either gender. People are people, plain and simple. To be honest, anyone who believes that 'confronting someone with their dominance' will turn someone into a submissive gets on my nerves. I've had plenty of male dominants pull that on me and it makes me want to punch their teeth out.

"Next, begin to use your sexuality. I don't mean to be promiscuous or to flaunt it. What I am talking about is dress sexy and act sexual. Don't dress sleazy, but sophisticated and lady-like. Don't run around in baggy clothes and sweat pants."

Because no one has any physical, mental or spiritual dominance if they're in sweatpants, silly! You have to conform and submit to the whims of your man's attraction to societal views on beauty! No man will willingly submit to a woman who's fat, or ugly, or doesn't take care of herself! Don't be ridiculous!

She goes on for the next few paragraphs about how a lot of men have foot fetishes and leather fetishes, so you should wear leather and heels. Then she starts in on the dieting and looking fit so that he'll deem you desirable enough to submit to.

"use your sexuality and your dominance at the work place to get the promotions and the better paying position."

Really?

"Wear fetish outfits and use his fetish against him."

What?

"If you deny him and keep him aroused and frustrated most of the time, he will be so much more eager to serve you and to obey you."


The idea that men will only submit if you bribe them with sex... is just not positive, not for women and not for those who enjoy D/s for the sake of D/s. I realize that that sort of relationship may work for some couples. Maybe they enjoy themselves and that's all that matters to them.

But for me, I prefer that whoever is submitting does so because that's what they enjoy. It shouldn't matter if the dominant is wearing sweatpants, latex or their birthday suit. They're the dominant. The clothes they wear are not in charge of the situation. Dressing up is fun, but it doesn't make you any more or less of a dominant.

So these are my thoughts on Elise Sutton's theory of female superiority. She has some awesome photos on her site and I'm glad her kinks work for her, but they're definitely not for me. Especially if your dominance starts to fade when you start to get old and wrinkled. I intend to keep my dominance, thanks. No matter how old, fat or unkempt I might get. :)

PS - apparently, you can tell when I use sarcasm by the amount of exclamation marks I use.

Gender

So, here're my thoughts on gender. They're not original, but here's what they are: I find it very true that whenever cis people talk about alternative genders, they're always like, "Myeh, I've always been happy in my body, why aren't you?"

I've always been happy eating peanuts, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go shove them down someone's throat and give them anaphylactic shock (whoot, spelled it right on my own!). (Ok, I can think of precisely two people I would do that to. But that's not the point.)

Just because something works for, say, 90% of the population and not for 10%, does that make it ok? I'm not saying we need to get ridiculous and have dolphin bathrooms. There's only so much we can accommodate, as a society. But I think we can at least let people make individual choices, so long as they don't inconvenience everyone. As a gay person, I would be pretty fucking pissed of if some straight person came up to me (as in times passed) and said, "Look, this works for 90% of us, so it had better work for you, too." (Come to think of it, that does happen to me. But I can still go home and fuck my wife.)

Back to the peanuts: just because they work for 90% of the population, they still make 8% of the population uncomfortable and kill 2%. It's the same with gender. (No, I don't know the actual statistics of peanut allergies.) Sure, 90% of people (or whatever) are perfectly happy with their bodies (or at least their gender. Maybe this whole fat thing really -is- women trying to make themselves more like teenage boys?). Great for them! Seriously, I'm happy and I wish them the best. Being happy isn't a bad thing, and being content with who you are is great.

But then you've got another 8% who are uncomfortable with their 'gender identity'. And 2% who, if they can't change, don't find life worth living. So they should just buckle under, because they've got the other 90% telling them how happy they are?

Shouldn't we be surprised (I don't remember where I read this first, so I can't give credit, sorry) that more people aren't unhappy with a binary definition of gender? You're either pink or blue? Sorry, no purple or green or orange.

What if one day we woke up and everyone had a mark (like a My Little Pony), and this mark indicated the job you would have for the rest of your life, and there were only two: janitor and carpenter. The carpenters build everything, and the janitors clean up.

People would freak!

"Yesterday, I was a nurse and now I'm a janitor? Screw that!"

And no, you can't change and go from being a janitor to a carpenter, or vice versa. Sorry, it's done. That's what you are. One or the other.

The only reason this works for gender is that we didn't just wake up and find it this way. Everyone has already been marked janitor or carpenter from the beginning, so they just go with it.

But some people can't. Some people want to be the other job, or be a welder, or a ballerina. And what's wrong with that?

Spayed!

So, I hate my period. Not just like, 'meh, I don't like it, myeh myeh'. No. I fucking can't stand it. The thought of having it for the next fifty-odd years (even as infrequently as I actually get it) fills me with dread and disgust. I hate the smell, I hate the mess, I hate the way it makes me cramp. I'm pretty sure that most of the depression I have during my period is strictly blood-related. And the fact that I can't reconcile being a non-woman bleeding out of a hole I don't even use. Seriously. Keeping a hole in your body thats only purpose is to bleed and drive you insane? I think not.

Soooo my doctor learned that I'd never been to the gynecologist, so he made me an appointment. I was seriously freaked out. I mean, I don't like having things in there at the best of times. And I insisted on it being a woman. Illixim went to a man, and he was so super creepy perky. Totally unsettling.

So I get there, and it's a very tall, very mannish woman who could easily have been trans (even my grandma thought she was a lesbian, but I'll get to that). And she's totally cool with Illixim being there, and she gets that we're a couple and includes her in the discussion and asks what I'm there for. I tell her about the evil period of doom and how what I really want is for it to go away. And she's all "Have you considered a hysterectomy?"

[pause for rant. I really hate the word hysterectomy. You're not removing my hysteria. Which, c'mon, totally loaded word. It's fucking infuriating. Anyway.]

And I'm all, "Derrr...will it MAKE IT STOPPP?!!!!"

So, upshot. Yes. It will make it stop, and there are no non-surgical complications, and I got to have this whole discussion in a backless hospital gown tucked under one of those stupid sheets, which is always a great way to make Grown-up Decisions TM, but nothing got stuck inside me and I went away with hope.

[note: I tried the whole 'take birth control to minimize period' thing. I started taking it in the middle of my period. My period stopped, and then started again. Immediately. Everyone was all 'Oh, yuss, just take it for a few months and it'll settle down and maybe you won't get it." FUCK THAT NOISE! I would rather get my period every six months or so and yes, have a week of utter miserable hell, than have it settle down for a few months. Noooooo.]

So I went home with my handful of brochures and went to several semi-ridiculous sites. Ok. I get that for some women having their uterus removed is really traumatic, because they have cancer, or they want children, or whatever. But making a website where you can't use 'child related' things in your username so it won't offend anyone? Wow.

I had several people ask me about the whole having (or more to the point, not) children. And I did have a little unhappy Darwin dance in my head, I will admit, and some evolutionary guilt over opting out of the gene pool. But technically, I could still have children. They could still be my eggs, they would just need to grow somewhere else. But I would still be contributing as much to the continuation of the species as say, a man: I would be donating my genetic material in germ form. Also, I really don't want children. I hate the little fuckers. Sure, I'll hang out with them from time to time, and babies are amusing for about an hour. But I hate people. And I sure as hell hate what amount to even more ignorant people. So, no. And besides, I shouldn't have children. I would be an insanely shitty parent. I am -way- too involved in myself, my life, and my happiness to bring some attention-stealing parasite into my world. But at least I can admit it. And who would want to bring a kid into this shit world, while I'm on the subject?

At some point during this period I watched Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, and I just loved the line "I barely survived my own childhood, I don't want to be responsible for someone else's" or however it goes. Totally sums up my philosophy. So, yeah, that was a total non-issue. Again, see above re: involved in myself. I was only worried about the consequences directly involving me.

But they sounded pretty minimal. So I made another appointment and went in to say yes, I want the surgery.

[At this point, I should probably mention something else about myself. I have a medical fetish. Like, a really big one. Since I was at least five. But I've never had any major medical things, especially not voluntary ones. When I was little I had a Sesame Street book about Grover going to the hospital to get his tonsils out, and I loved it. It was like preschool porn for me. But did I ever get surgery? Nooo. Did this influence my decision...maybe. A little. Yeah. Totally.]

And then I waited. And finally, on November 16th, Louis Riel's execution day, my surgery date was set for December 22nd, the day after Winter Solstice. Very significant seeming.

So, I set my affairs in order, got a will kit, joined my grandfather's memorial society (weird, very weird. But then, I have a morbid family. I come by it honestly). Just in case. And I waited. Then the surgery got postponed to January 4th, because some woman had the gaul (is that the right kind of gaul? gall? I think it's gall. But the other one is funnier and makes me think of Asterix) to have cancer. I know, right? (No, seriously, the woman who called to let me know was super apologetic. No matter how many times I said, you know, it's alright, cancer completely trumps my elective surgery, she just kept apologizing.)

[another rant: I hate when that happens. It really angers and depresses me. Like, how many people did the poor receptionist have to talk to who honestly thought that their shit was more important than saving someone's life? Those situations, when someone is apologizing for something a) reasonable and/or b) out of their control...Fuck, I hate people.]

So I got to have Christmas not as a cripple. Yay. Then it was just more waiting until...

The hospital! Illixim was going to work, because there was no point in her freaking out rattling around the hospital (as it turns out there was, because she was just freaking out rattling around work. Oh well.) So I got a ride from a friend, but he didn't stay, so I was all alone and a little anxious. I forgot my coat in reception and had to go back down and get it. But everyone was super nice and made everything really easy.

[I just thought of another of my Weird Deciding Factors. You should read that in John Candy's voice, like from Little Shop of Horrors. He was my favorite actor as a child, mostly if not entirely because of his last name. Anyway. Illixim, being a responsible pet owner, believes that pets should be spayed or neutered. And I'm a pet. So...]

So I read my book and waited for like three hours, until they had to take my book away and shuffle me down to the surgical waiting room, where I had the only magazine (it was also really cold, so me and the patient in the little booth directly across from me were both huddled under blankets. I had been cold since the first waiting room, where the only non-nice nurse had been all "Don't touch the bed if you don't have to, someone else has to use it!" but then I was cold so I grabbed the folded blanket and tucked myself in on the chair--which I moved to a better position. I also nabbed a chair with arms in the surgical waiting room. I always think, I am a human, and I adapt my environment to suit my needs! Anyway. And she kind of glared at me when she saw me with the blanket. Weird.

So, I had the only magazine, which was great. Unfortunately, it was from ICR. And worse, it was only like three pages long. So I didn't even have any length of religious wackery (I'm not one to bash religions, but some of it is just wackery, plain and simple. Like, when someone says "reason for the season" THE ONLY thing that comes into my head is Ned Flanders) to occupy me, but then people kept showing up to talk to me, like my gynecologist, who was also my surgeon, which was nice, and she patted me on the knee, which made me feel better. She also told me I would have to take a stool softener, and I'm not sure if she told me it would be a big red pill and I absorbed the information subconsciously, or if I just psychically knew, but it is indeed a big red pill. Then they put me in the operating room and started hooking me up and putting a railway tunnel...I mean IV...in and all that. They also gave me some funny-smelling gas and I started grinning like an idiot, and the last thing I remember thinking is, jeez, why am I grinning like an idiot, I should probably stop but I can't seem to...Luckily they didn't put me in the stirrups until I was out.

Then I woke up and two women were leaning over me, and I was pretty dopey and out of it. One of the first things I remember them asking was "Why did you decide not to have children?" Honestly. I shit you not. 'cause, wow, timing. Everyone joked later that I should have said, "What?! I can't have children?! What did you people do to me?!!!" But I just grinned blearily and gave them the Don't Be Afraid of the Dark party line.

Then they wheeled me into my room. A private room would have been $120/night, so I said no, but...I got a private room anyway, as it turned out. Yay!

And then I laid there for a bit and people ambled around and I really hated my catheter. Seriously. Nothing else hurt. Just the catheter. And eventually the IV. The holes in my abdomen? Nope. The stitches in my vagina? Nosir. That would make, you know, sense.

And then Illixim and my grandma (who was a huge hit with all the nurses) showed up, and I was so happy to see them! And I felt pretty good. Illixim had found a get well card in the hospital gift shop that had a picture of a cat that looked like one of ours, but it was a religious get well card. I'm not sure how that works. "Get well, or Jesus will kill this cat"?

Eventually my grandma left and we had some food and I was still feeling good (except for the damn catheter) so they decided I could get up and walk around. I walked to the bathroom and back and was sitting back on my bed when I really, really had to puke. I told the nurse as quickly as I could, and she brought me one of those stupid, tiny kidney bean shaped dish things. Like, yes, if a bee had to puke, it would be plenty. A human being? Not so much. Yeah. I felt pretty bad. So the catheter stayed in.

Then they gave me some Gravol, which made me really, really sleepy, and then Illixim had to go, so I read, but then I was awake, so I made them give me more--not because I was queasy, but because it had put me so wonderfully to sleep and I was feeling sorry for myself.

Of course, they kept taking my temperature/blood pressure/oxygen-finger-clampy thing all night, and it was bright, and there were crazy old ladies across the hall, so I didn't sleep -well-, but...the light string that attaches to the pillow is brilliant.

Of course, when I woke up in the morning, the catheter wasn't bothering me, and I had cream of wheat, which I've never had before, and now I know why. Because it's lumpy phlegm. But that's ok.

And then Illixim showed up again, and I was so happy. And then we signed my release and she wheeled me out and I found out about how our bank had fucked up, so my grandparents got my prescriptions, and then I went home.

And I've felt, overall, better than I do during my period. And now I won't get it. So, rad. Totally in favour. Everyone should go get one. I've been moving a little slow, but it's been rare for me to be in pain. Mostly it's just discomfort, which is totally worth it. And I can (I mean, have to) rest for six weeks. Which reminds me of Stupid Internface. So in the morning this guy shows up, literally two minutes after they took out my catheter, and the nurse is still standing there from having taken it out, and he goes, "Have you been up to pee yet?" Nurse: "We just took out the catheter." Internface: "Oh. Ok." Then he talked at me some more, told me I should just rest for two weeks, making me want to remove one of his organs and tell him that, and then asked if I had been up to pee yet. Nurse: "We JUST took out the catheter." And, you know, I've been laying here this whole time. In your view. Not peeing. Or walking. *facepalm*

Oh yes. I also wanted to email Adam Corolla and tell him I'm suing him for tearing the stitches in my vagina, because his book is freaking hilarious. Except that I hear it in the voice of Spanky Ham. Which doesn't seem to be entirely inaccurate.

Feminism

Art from Little Fetish Kitten.

I still have my own issues about bdsm and feminism. I do consider myself a feminist, even if I don't consider myself female. I believe that all genders should have equal rights; no matter the shape of their genitals, wether they can become pregnant or wether they can impregnate their partners and no matter what hormones their bodies produce.

I believe in equality for people in general. I also believe that a healthy Ds relationship is an equal partnership. However, my brain can't seem to reconcile that with the images and ideas I grew up with when I see certain pictures or encounter certain situations. Which, since I'm big on the bdsm and am often seeking out these pictures and situations, isn't exactly uncommon.

It seems to be engrained in me that women shouldn't submit to men, even willingly. Women are working hard to be seen as equals, why would any sane woman submit her will to a man?

I have bottomed for two men, before I started to think about my gender as being other than female and I find it hard to look back on myself bottoming to men fondly.

The first was time with someone who seriously abused my trust, my boy's trust and the trust his two female partners. He left me with a very nasty taste in my mouth concerning the men in the bdsm world. It was probably the worst night involving bdsm that I'd ever experienced. That night left scars on all of us and I'm ashamed that I didn't step up and do what was necessary to care for my friend and stop the scene.

The second was with the man I trust most, my mentor. We didn't play, but I acted as a stunt bottom for him in public, during Taboo. I let him teach someone how to spank, using me as a model. He didn't hit me hard and we were not playing. I wasn't in that headspace. I have a lot of padding and I enjoy some serious percussion play when I do bottom, so he was on a very low end of my pain scale. However, there were certain tops watching that I feel very iffy about and I really despise having them twist the image I have of myself as a butch, sadistic top into their image of me as a submissive woman.

So the first time was traumatic, the second was unfortunate due to the audience.

My thoughts seem to trend towards this: I see nothing wrong with being a submissive woman. I despise certain people's idea of what a submissive woman is.

I cannot reconcile these two parts to female submission. I have a lot of friends who are female bottoms. Wether they be kinksters, fetishists, submissives or masochists, they have strong personalities, they are amazing and wonderful people. They don't submit because they're slutty, brainless doormats. They submit because it's something they love, or because it gets them off in the best way, or because those fuzzy endorphins are the best thing ever. If it makes their partner happy, that's just icing on the kinky cake, but I don't think I know a single female bottom who bottoms because her partner is a top. All of the ones I know are either with a top because they found one to suit their needs or because they showed their partner how amazing kink could be.

And yet my brain can't put what I know of female submissive type people together with society's image of submissive women.

Oh brain, why can't you realize that society's brainwashing is awful and wrong and you should ignore it? You've dealt with your fat-phobic issues, your gender misconceptions and a lot of your bdsm ones... this one is next!

Height and dominance

One of the myths I've heard about kink is 'How can women be dominant if their partners could physically dominate them since the men are taller/stronger/etc?'

It's quite simple: Willing submission.

Just because this man could take control of whatever scene they're in the middle of, just because he could wrestle her and win, just because he is stronger, faster, fitter, taller, musclier, 'manlier', etc... doesn't mean he wants to be on top.

Yes, sometimes it's fun to wrestle and sometimes it's fun to turn the tables (if it's pre-negotiated, otherwise feelings can get hurt) but if you're a male submissive, you don't have to find an Amazon woman to dominate you. You can find a tiny woman to do that just as well. I understand why people may like their dominants to be taller, etc, since I think height difference is quite sexy, but contrary to what I was taught by Invader Zim, being taller does not make you superior.

Anyhow, I adore this photo. She has great attitude and my smoking fetish is quite happy. He's just standing straight, totally naked except for his collar. It's a great photo and I found it on i Honor Her.

GF

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Some gender thoughts

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my gender.

I’ve been labeled as female my entire life. I was ridiculed when I was younger for being masculine, for having body hair, for not acting the way girls ‘should act’. My school life was hell when I was young and I withdrew. For a few years I hyper feminized, wore tight clothes to show off my body, wore stereotypically feminine colors, dated boys… still, I was treated like one of the boys with my closest friends (who were at the time almost all boys).

I was envious of my best friend, who was leggy and pale and looked like a model. At the same time, I was envious of the boys, because no one really seemed to give a shit if they were pretty and I really didn’t want people to care if I was pretty. Unfortunately society wants women to care and I’m still trying to shake loose the ideas that seem to be planted in my brain about beauty as well as gender.

Anyway, I’ve been realizing lately that I am not a woman. I’ve tried to label myself that, I’ve tried lots of different labels. I finally came out, but calling myself a lesbian didn’t work either. And I was still attracted to men, but they didn’t find me attractive because I was a man, or because I was the one in charge or for being intelligent and interesting or for any of the reasons I wanted to be found attractive. They found me attractive because I was girl-shaped.

The women that I started to date when I came out found me attractive because of who I was and what I had to offer (besides and including my body). With the exception of one of them, who was experimenting and didn’t care who she slept with. The person I’m married to wasn’t attracted to me because I was girl-shaped, she fell in love with me because of who I was and how compatible we were.

The best part about me starting to understand my gender is that my wife and I have both started realizing that we’re attracted to each other as men. 

I don’t know if I want to take hormones yet, I don’t know if that decision can be made for a few years. I’m pretty sure I don’t want or need surgery. I still like my body. Sometimes my breasts drive me crazy and I wish they would disappear, but chest binding helps with that and so does a bra. Though other times the bra or chest binder makes it worse and then I feel like some horrible freak of nature. Is that what gender dysphoria feels like?

Sometimes I wish I could have a penis besides my strap-on, but I have a phantom cock and I can feel that fine.

I’m not sure what I should call myself, or even if that’s important. Both my wife and I identify as male, or at least mostly male.  Yes, I’ll call him/her my wife even if he/she does end up transitioning fully and wants me to start using male pronouns. I wouldn’t find it hard to switch over, I already call her my man, my boy. Whenever we’re together privately we’re both male.

I think we just can’t come out yet. This is much more nerve-wracking than when I came out as gay.  I don’t even feel I can tell our closest friends. They’re pro-trans, pro-gay, pro-everything, but I don’t know if they’d get non-op gender reversal. They mean well, but they still have some transphobia engrained in their minds. They still consider passing to be very important. I get that it’s important to some transfolk, but honestly, I still feel comfortable being called ‘her’ and ‘she’. 

Though I do love it when people in stores or restaurants mistake me for male and call me ‘sir’.

I just needed to get this off my chest. I don’t know what to do or say, even what to think. Sometimes I wish gender was as simple as people love to believe it is. 

Strange's gender meme

I am evolving.

Stunning

I'm quite fond of this one. I don't always appreciate 'feminization' or cross-dressing in kink, but that's probably because so many people do it for reasons that I don't understand or agree with. For example because men cannot submit, therefore they have to be more feminine. Or because being more feminine or more like a woman is degrading or humiliating. Or because men aren't pretty or beautiful unless they're dressed in a feminine way.

The person who submitted this to Male submission secrets has the right idea. This is why I enjoy cross-dressing, not 'feminization'. It's because a man can be masculine and butch and stubbly and muscular and all those wonderful things, and he can also look absolutely drop dead gorgeous in heels and stockings. And the best part is, wearing those heels don't make him 'feminine'. He can be totally butch in those heels and lingerie. He can be a big strong man in lace petticoats.

And that is what makes 'cross-dressing' really sexy to me.

Really, I wish it wasn't cross-dressing. I wish that men could dress in skirts and heels and have it be as normal as women wearing pants. That's just the world we live in, for now.

Relatable

Is it strange that I look at this photo and I think 'aww, cute couple'? I want to see more female dominants in action.

For some reason, our city is mostly made up of male tops and bottoms of both genders (at least the kinksters that come out to events and munches). I only see one other female top with any regularity. Though thankfully I see at least twice weekly, so if I have a question or opinion, I always have her to bounce it off.

I don't always identify as a female dominant. I don't even identify as female all the time, but I am dominant to my boy and I am female sometimes. And I find I don't relate terribly well to a lot of the male tops. Perhaps in a bigger city, I'd find someone more relatable. Maybe I'd relate better to gay male tops, or trans male tops. Cis male tops don't have the same experience and don't seem to be coming from the same place.

Maybe I'm just more of a sadist, haha.

Photo from My Darker Sides.

vintage spanking

A cute pic from Fetish popculture. Cute faggy boy spanking a femme lady. And such cute undies too!

Enthusiasm

Some adorable and enthusiastic play between a genderqueer trans-womyn and a genderqueer trans man. I love when everyone's happy during a good session. And that grin around a makeshift gag is perfectly sweet. I want to take this adorable bottom home with me! The wavy pink hair! *squee*

From Kinky Tea Party.

genderfucked

A lovely genderfuck from Miss Rat. Gorgeous art style! I'm feeling envious.

Women's liberation

Though I believe in equal rights for women, this is still very sexy to me. Because I come from the BDSM perspective and not from the perspective of this being a non-consensual enslavement of one gender or the other, it is quite lovely. A partially nude woman in jeans cleaning the boots of a man in a nazi uniform while he smokes? Rawr. This would be a great scene.

Especially since the sexy little blond looks a lot like my wife, haha.

gay bottom

I like this. That she doesn't have to be fucking him with the strap-on in order for her to wear it during sex. Rawr

This gorgeous picture is from Syd Blakovich.

shearing

A shepherd's crook, metal wrist cuffs, bloody scissors, blindfold, strange farmer's wife sort of outfit....

Wonderfully twisted.

By frog.

cock under a skirt

So cute and feminine.

Tension and dominance

I love the tension between these two. The 'femme' one seems to be more dominant... maybe it's the crossed arms? It's interesting how images get across ideas.