In this wonderful world of the online BDSM community, there are a few things that seem to pass
as normal which have started to get under my skin. So I want to talk about them,
especially the things that so many in the online Dominant community seem to have established a code of conduct or
at the very list expectations. So
without further ado, here we go:
Put away your penis. I have a
news flash, your member does not
have anything to do with how good of a Dominant you are nor does it mean
you will find the right submissive because of your pretty schlong. Now
if you just want kinky sex, say that but
just because you like it “kinky” in the bedroom, kitchen or the monkey
exhibit at the zoo it does not mean you are a Dominant. It just means
you like kinky sex. There is a difference between D/s and kinky
fuckery. So don’t be a Richard, put away
your baloney pony and be forthright in
what you are seeking.
D/s is about a power exchange where the
partners in the relationship cherish and believe in each other. All those amazing, erotic gifs and images you
wank yourself silly looking at each night take a long time of relationship
building to achieve in the real world. You
are not going to have her suspended from the chandelier naked, while you spank
her with a riding crop with all of your
minions watching on a first date.
Seriously, it isn’t going to happen!
Just because you discovered BDSM seven
days ago when you saw a posting on Reddit
does not make you a Dominant. It takes
time, study, and lots of self-reflection and soul-searching
to discover if the lifestyle is truly part of who you are. Invest the time in yourself before you hit
the interwebs looking for a submissive.
Titles are earned by your words,
thoughts, and deeds. You are not a Sir,
Master or Daddy to someone until you put in the time and effort to gain the
title. Do not expect a submissive to
call you Sir because you say so. You
must earn what in the lifestyle is a very basic title.
No, the number of followers does not
have a lick to do with the title you wish to be called. It is awesome that you have 10,000 plus
people who follow your blog but that still doesn’t make you anything more than
a kinky guy with a blog. So sorry to
burst your bubble Master I-Have- More-Followers-Than-You but once again
go out and earn that title from each of your minions individually.
The
same is true with your ask box. It’s great that people send you
questions about
kink or you are so rude that you butthurt the askholes
that send malarkey. Either you are a
kinky guy who provides advice or just an asshat who is gifted with an
amazingly vulgar vocabulary that allows you to out profanity
the profane asks. No matter the case, it
still doesn’t earn you a title!
Don’t be butthurt when someone
disagrees
with that advice you dispense. Your way
is not the only way to do, live, or go about the lifestyle. There is
a myriad of choices and paths within the life and respect that your yum
is yuck for someone else. So do not be upset when someone says
there is
another way to look at things and do not explode on them like Humpty
Trumpty
belittling a disabled reporter. Show
some class because if you choose not to, you will fall off that wall and
all
your minions will not be able to put your Tumblr back together again.
This may shock all of you
Christian Grey wannabes but Fifty Shades Of Grey is a work of fiction. Fiction
means it isn’t real, yes really, it is not real. The book is nothing more than the imagination
of the author and it is NOT a how-to guide to BDSM, D/s relationships, or based
in reality. Also, no submissive is
really going to believe you that you will be offline for a few hours
because you are hopping on your jet and flying to Bora Bora for meetings. Just be honest and tell them you are jumping in
your car and running to the grocery store.
Remember this, if ‘The Shades’ were set in a trailer park, it would be
an episode of Criminal Minds rather
than an ‘erotic romance’ on the big screen.
Being a wolf doesn’t make you
a gentleman and the same with being a Dominant.
Being a gentleman is completely unrelated to anything pertaining to
kink. Yes, you can be a wolf, howl at
the moon and be a gentleman or you can also be the most serious and experienced
Master while also being a gentleman. (Speaking of that, if you are a domly
wolf, do you howl when anyone drops trou and moons you?) However, it is possible to be Joe the Vanilla
and be a gentleman as well. Gentlemanly
manners, traits, and values are completely unrelated to and certainly not
linked to kink. The lifestyle is just like the regular
vanilla world, there are sadly many more twatwaffles than gentlemen.
Being a Dominant is more than
a role you play online. D/s is about the
real world and you can not order your “submissive” around by discretely texting
them while you are loading up your fanny back for a day at the theme park with
the family. Not only will your wife
eventually catch you but the submissive you have been bossing around while your
kids boss you, will figure it out.
Stop asking women to send you
pictures of their boobies, butts, and naughty bits. Having your Tumblr inbox filled with boobies
I’m sure is very nice (hey I’m a fan of them) but if you want to be a
submissive’s leader, engage their mind and thoughts. Spanking your monkey while looking at her
rack is not going to allow you get to know anything about the person they are or
what they may blossom into with the right Dominant’s leadership. Instead, earn their trust so they will send
you pictures of their naked thoughts unfiltered and not retouched. Get to know the mind of a submissive, touch her
there before you go for the boobs, butt or bits.
Whoa, Nelly! Slow them horses down partner! A week of great conversation and even an
amazing date or two does not mean it is time to pull out your trusty rusty collar
and tell her she is yours. You have to
earn her submission, which means you cant ask for it! Go slow, build, and invest for the long term
because the instant D/s coupling is not likely to bring long-term rewards.
Okay, my rant her is complete
and I now return you to your regularly scheduled Tumblr’ing.
As with all of my writings, please see this disclaimer.
You don’t know how, but you are. What time was it? It was dark. When did you go to bed? When did you actually fall asleep? How long had you been asleep? You stir, slowly beginning to move your limbs and sigh, but quickly realize–
You can’t move. Your brow furrows with effort as you struggle to move, to do anything, and a slight sense of panic begins to settle in. You finally open your eyes with great effort, though you’re not sure it was such a good idea.
Black tendrils, wrapped around your wrists and ankles, your arms and legs. Where were they coming from? You struggle to lift your head and see but your neck is being held down as well. Your breathing becomes more labored. Your vision is swimming, the shadows in your room appearing to be more and more tendrils drawing ever closer, but you know they’re not, they’re just a dream, just a dream, until one thin coil makes its way closer to your face, caresses your cheek with a gentleness you wouldn’t have imagined.
It was cold. It was real.
You let out a frightened gasp as you tug at your restraints as hard as you can, open your mouth to scream for help, or just in terror, but the tentacles only tighten, and one shushes you by covering your mouth. The words won’t come out. Your mind is racing at a million miles per hour with scrambled thoughts and worries and fears and then-
Shh, shh, it’s okay.
What? You freeze. You feel the lightest touches, almost ticklish, on and around your ears. One tentacle circles around your inner ear. As it draws closer, you begin to hear voices, voices upon voices, whispers and thoughts. You hear…thoughts. You FEEL thoughts, almost as if your own were being altered, changed. This was dangerous. No, silly. You’re just fine.
That thought. It wasn’t yours. Yes it was. You were just psyching yourself out. No you weren’t. You jerk involuntarily as a tendril burrows a little deeper in your ear. It’s ticklish. Your breathing is just fine, no more panic and fear, even though your mouth is covered by…
…What was it covered by? Nothing. You can breathe through your mouth again. You sigh. It was safe. Your limbs are still pulled apart, frozen, but you didn’t really need them. Yes. Everything was fine. You sigh again in relief. You had gotten all panicked for nothing. Nothing was wrong. Sometimes you just get a little jittery. You are fine. This is fine. Actually, it feels a little nice to be able to let go of your fears and relax your body. Something about struggling making everything so much worse, when the best decision is to unwind and ride it out. The tentacles are still holding you down and starting to slither around your body, but it’s not a scary or bad sensation. They’re actually kind of warm and pleasant feeling. The more they cover, the more they rub against your skin, the warmer and more pleasurable it feels. It feels nice.
The tentacles in and around your head start to rock you slowly from side to side as if to soothe and relax you. So silly. You were already as relaxed as you could be. Your ears feel hot, but not in a terrible way. They throb with a dull heat for some reason and–
Ohhh, hehe. Something in your head, around your ear was… Your head feels full and heavy. Your mind is a little fuzzy. You feel a smile spread across your lips without even meaning to smile. You laugh, giggle a little. It just felt so nice. Doesn’t it feel so nice? Yes. It feels…so nice… And oh…you were wrong…you ARE more relaxed now…when you don’t have to worry or think, or struggle, and just ride it…out. And let the thoughts come to you instead… When you just rid your mind of your own pesky thoughts, and let the voices, the whispers, the thoughts, the warm feelings, come to you instead… It just feels so pleasurable.
…
..
.
You wake up with a start. You sit up in your bed and look around. What time was it? You shake your head a little, your ear feels ticklish and…off. Maybe you slept on your side weirdly. You get out of bed, and oddly, for no reason, check under the bed. Why did you do that? You laugh to yourself. Nope, no monsters under here.
You feel like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. Shame, it felt like it was an interesting dream. You shrug. No use trying to remember now. It’s better to just go with the flow. You scratch at your ear a little. Maybe you need to get someone to look at it later.
Anyone could be hypnotized, he told her. It was just a matter of finding the right focus.
She didn’t believe him, of course. Lots of men told her that, sometimes with a twinkle in their eyes, sometimes with an arrogant sneer. She welcomed their every attempt–something about the idea of being blank and obedient made her so horny that she usually wound up in bed with them anyway. But spirals just bored her, and sparkly pendants never caught her attention for very long. She usually wound up playing with herself, or with them, and before more than a few minutes had passed they found better things to do.
A few of them tried metronomes, thinking that perhaps the slow, rhythmic ticking would lull her into trance. But the sound annoyed her more than anything else. She would sit there, watching the little arm swing back and forth and getting snapped out of whatever relaxation she was feeling by the loud, repetitive noises, until they got bored and decided that it was just as much fun to tell her what they would make her do if she was hypnotized. It wasn’t, but it was usually close enough to get her in the mood.
And then one day, she talked to him. And he told her that she could be hypnotized. She only laughed at first, but he explained that she just needed the right focus. Everyone processed information differently, he said, and she wasn’t a visual learner. She wasn’t going to drift off to a pretty spiral. She wasn’t auditory, either. No, he said. He knew just how to hypnotize her. She needed a focus she could feel.
She didn’t believe him, but he sure knew how to get her worked up. They wound up in his bedroom, with his fingers in her pussy and her mouth on his cock, going up and down, and up and down. She really got into it, as he told her how good it felt to think of nothing but his cock filling her mouth. Her head bobbed in a slow, automatic rhythm, a steady pace that seemed to soothe her mind and body into a dreamy arousal. Up and down. In and out. Over and over.
Her eyes slipped shut so that she could focus, really focus on the way his cock slid in and out. The heat in her pussy became distant, a steady pulse of arousal that only heightened the warm and relaxing feeling of allowing him to slowly, evenly, mechanically fuck her face. It was so nice. She felt like she could lie there and suck forever. Time lost meaning. His words lost meaning. All she was, all she wanted to be, was a warm mouth around a hard cock.
“Good girl,” he said. She didn’t listen. She didn’t think. But she came nonetheless.
When I was 10, my mom made me wear a bra and it felt like a punishment for being different.
When I was 10, I took the bra off when changing for gymnastics and accidentally dropped it in the school hallway. A teacher picked it up and said, “Oh, this must belong to you” and handed it back to me in front of everyone. I quit gymnastics.
When I was 11, I thought maybe the boobs would be okay so long as they didn’t get any bigger than would fit in my hand, so I kept measuring it, but they did.
When I was 12, I started wearing two or three sports bras to smush them down, until one day a classmate said, “Are you wearing two bras?!” while laughing.
When I was 13, a boy told me he wanted to squeeze my boobs “until they popped.”
When I was 14, I got cast in a play as an older character and a classmate told me I got the role because I had boobs.
When I was 17, my mom told me to return a swimsuit because it would be too distracting for my boyfriend’s father.
When I was 21, I got properly fitted for a bra and everyone felt the need to tell me how much better my boobs looked.
When I was 26, I got pregnant and my immediate fear was that my boobs would get bigger.
When I was 28, I got shamed for trying to feed my screaming baby in public without a cover.
When I was 28, people asked me “why are you bothering to use a breastfeeding cover?”
When I was 30, people gave me weird looks that I wasn’t yelling at my kid for putting their hand on my boob.
When I was 31, I avoided going to the beach or pool because I didn’t want to have to deal with boobs in a swimsuit.
When I was 32, I got asked, again, “why don’t you get a breast reduction?”
When I was 33, I watched a 5yo girl get shamed for running around in sweltering heat without a shirt on and had to reprimand a bunch of tween boys who thought it was okay to shame her for doing something they do all the time.
When I was 34, my kid kept patting my breast and saying “Mommy’s squishy breast!!” They will never see me express any shame about tits, because I want them to have a different mindset than I had. Yes, boobs are nice! They’re squishy! They’re fun! That’s the end of that.
I’m 35 and no longer give a fuck. I don’t care anymore. As a teenager my tits were covered in stretch marks. They’ve been engorged with milk. My nipple changed shape with pregnancy. Give it another couple decades and my breasts will probably be all wrinkly. It’s sexual when I’m using it sexually. I don’t fucking care, and I won’t be ashamed anymore.
Every time a policy or cultural hangup treats people with breasts differently, it fucks us over.
Tumblr’s new policy makes an active choice to participate in this culture of shame. By classifying “female-presenting nipples” as explicit material, Tumblr has taken a stance that any chest or breast that differs from a male default is worthy of shame and unavoidably sexual. The idea that breasts are shameful and unavoidably sexual is exactly what fucked me up for so much of my life.
I started on Tumblr soon after it was created with a vanilla blog. Since then, hardly a day has gone by that Tumblr wasn’t a part of my life. I have made excellent friends on Tumblr over the years. In fact, MOST of my friends came from relationships I made via Tumblr. The precious, bubbly cupcake that is in my bed? Tumblr. So you can imagine how painful Tumblr’s announcement has been for me.
I love seeing the marginalized communities that are shunned elsewhere on Planet Earth have a safe place to exist and be themselves. It always made me smile when I see a Tumblr blogger ease out of their shells, steadfastly into the world.
Well, that shit is no more.
As some of you may have noticed I started a community effort to rescue these communities. I want everyone involved because it will be our garden, our club, our safe space to be ourselves.
And the new site (name to be withheld until we have something to show) is not just for kinksters, I want vanillas too; artists, witches, horror writers, brewmeisters, budtenders, book sluts, fandoms of all types, beat poets, wilderness photographers, Burners, vampire hunters, Dungeons and Dragons players, and rocket scientists. Hell, I want people who just want to blog about cats and cabins in the woods.
What we won’t tolerate are bullies, minors, Nazis (and their fucked up allies), abusers or trolls. They can fuck right off to a cesspool of their choice.
I am putting up the cash to get this started PLUS I am making this a community effort, that is why I am being so transparent about the process with our Discord planning group. Yes, it is chaos. We have taken on an INSANE project to get done in less than 2 weeks. Well, 9 days now.
This isn’t my first rodeo. I am actively trying to keep my anonymity as long as I can, but I know it will soon be spugged out in due order soon. You will then see what I have done in the past and learn about a very vanilla project that has been near and dear to my heart. You have probably heard of it and maybe even participated!
The beta site will not be perfect. It will be good but not perfect. Hell, we have been suffering with “far from perfect” with Tumblr now for years. It is my hope that our community can put up with our rough edges for a little while.
Where we are tonight is pretty good. We have selected a host, got our software loaded, installed the Linux packages required and are now getting those packages to play nice with one another. We had it working for a bit until a small issue with the registration page required some elbow work.
I am working on the branding and marketing with a bunch of really smart pervs in our Discord group. I am really proud of all of our volunteers and want to thank them all.
If you want to volunteer or simply eat popcorn and watch the porn riots, please use this invite link: https://discord.gg/jVempgb
Remember, Discord is just the site we are using for planning, not the actual site we are moving to.
Many of you have asked about the Library For Kinksters, it will be archived and placed on the now site.
We plan to allow you to import your Tumblr blog over to our new site but Tumblr may have other ideas. Other services have been using Tumblr’s API for exporting and now Tumblr now seems to be shutting down that API functionality.
That is all for now. Keep your heads held high and remember you are ALL FUCKING AMAZING PEOPLE!
– Dominant Life
P.S. Please reblog the shit out of this. Santa may drop a slutty elf off at your house for Christmas!
P.P.S. Oh and pirates. I really want pirates on the site too!
ᵉᴠᴱ❧
Bumping the crap out of this!!!!! Very excited for the new site!!!! ~♡♡♡
🖤
♂♐️
Reblogging because I’m sort of hoping Santa will kidnap me and drop me off at a few houses. You know, in the spirit of slutty elfiness.
May the spirit of slutty elfiness be upon you this holiday season!
Good luck with the site building, I’ll be happy to see it!
Be adviced, as of yesterday I created an account on BDSMLR with the same name – dirtythingsthatturnmeonposts.
Click like if you’ve read this message. Click reblog if you’ve done the same and add your account name. If we’re mutuals on here, I’ll add you there as well.
This does not mean I’ll be giving up on Tumblr, far from it. But, in the event Tumblr should go down we can build a new community over there.
OH HELL YEAH! If you just want to post foodie recipes and add a bit of female presenting nipples to your dash, we are OK with that.
And the pirates are ok with that too!
(As are the ninjas, but they are invisible.)
Because I love the mix that Tumblr is of recipes and news and artwork and stories and inspirational quotes and porn, I’m glad to hear someone’s trying to make that type of atmosphere again.
Dirty Mind Working Overtime 