L has lamented (chuckled at?) – or is it lamented (chuckled at?) – my “flock of tweeties.” Currently, there are exactly three women with whom I regularly exchange sexy e-mail. One, I’ve been doing it with for about a year. To the best of my knowledge, she doesn’t know about the blog (although she may – she’s a follower of my Tumblr, which links here, but we’ve never mentioned it). The other two are direct results of the blog. One is laconic, purely sexual. The other, verbose, thoughtful, intellectual. And purely sexual, too.
The latter and I have been engaged in a discussion about precisely what it is that she gets, that I get, out of a relationship such as ours. We don’t know one another’s names (though actually, I know hers. I think.). We know next to nothing about one another. (Well, she knows a lot about me, because she’s read my blog.) We’ll likely never meet. And yet… somehow, it’s exciting for both of us to trade pictures, words, movies.
Last night, she sent me a gorgeous shot of her arm across her breasts. I gazed at it for a moment, and typed: “You know what I want now? Precisely this same shot, only first in a bra, and then topless…. Please?”
And then, today, she sent them to me. Precisely as requested. (Well, not precisely the same shot, but hell – close enough.) And they’re unbelievably hot, in that totally generic way that pictures of a faceless body can only be to a person for whom they have a unique, special meaning.
Why do I want to direct her, to tell her how to pose, to receive her pictures? Why does she want to comply?
I have tried to answer for myself: compliance, to me, is exquisite. When a woman – a woman whom I have come to know, even virtually, does as I wish, responds to my desires with appreciation, compliance, WETNESS…. that medicates some deep, dark wound of mine. It makes me feel a delicious, redemptive pleasure. When she sends me whatever I ask – whether what I ask for is something I’ve asked for dozens of times before (from her, from others – like her orgasm, produced for me, recorded for me) or something I’ve never asked (as in the case of the troika of photos I asked my distant buddy of last night for) – when she sends it to me, when I receive it, it gets me hard not just in my cock, but in my brain, and my heart.
I have an infinite, insatiable appetite for such compliance.
And for her? I don’t know. I’ve asked. She’s ruminative. Pondering. “You make me think,” she writes. “You make me wet.” She asks me how long these relationships “typically” last. I tell her: none has ever ended. Except one. She seems skeptical that I really can mean it when I effuse over the latest gift she has sent: how can I really be so excited about photo #126 of her ass? But I do mean it. I am so excited.
But is she excited? She knows she likes it, but she isn’t sure she likes that she likes it. Maybe she’s scared that she likes it, how much she likes it. She keeps telling me she doesn’t care about, isn’t interested in, the fact that I have done this, or something like it, with others. But she keeps asking me what they get out of it. As if she might find her answer in theirs.
Whatever, I don’t care. I’ve long since stopped doubting, questioning, my desires (though I do like to understand them). I want her to send me pictures, movies, recordings. I want her to produce orgasms thinking of me. I want her to do things for me, to wear things for me.
I want her to want me.
Um, I’m thinking maybe “clucked” is the right word.
Is you is or is you ain’t my tweetie?
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Well… I don’t tweet (unless you do me right) but I imagine I’ll always be your Tweetie nonetheless.
I find this really interesting for a myriad of reasons.
The simplest way to look at it is that we all want to be wanted and desired, and the more powerfully the better. At least part of it is about ego and self validation, and I don’t mean those negatively either… as you mentioned in a previous post, often we even want *those we don’t want* to want us.
For a man, I imagine that this sort of compliance from a woman is a concrete way of *showing* how much she wants you, she will even do *this* for you, this thing, which is by normal social standards, is risqué and unacceptable.
The reason I find it so interesting is that as a female dominant, the compliance I seek, enjoy and value in that same wet-making way is *so very different* because I can get any man anywhere who shows the slightest bit of interest to wank over me, to send me rude pics, to do sexy things I ask. It doesn’t resonate in any way with me because, meh, it’s too easy. He would probably do that for Stupid McIdiot over there also if they even hinted at it, it’s so much less discriminatory. It’s then not about *me* at all, it’s about them finding a random target for what they wanted to do anyway. Very different thing.
So the principle for me is the same: compliance, eagerness to please as a display of desire is fucking hot, that they will do *this* for me, oh my god, HOT!
It’s just that your ‘this’ is so very different from mine.
Give me reluctant boys who shyly refuse to do anything of the sort, who would never conceive of it, who I have to work on to convince them that they want to do this just for *me*… Then we have something.
Great post.
Ferns
Replying to myself here because I assume your comment up there was aimed at me, and the comments threading is fubar.
“But for me, it’s so fused with sex, with sexuality, that the idea of getting to do something that’s not sexual, that’s not *also *a turn-on for me – and not *just* because of the power dynamic, feels completely unappealing.
What’s the point of intersection between power and sex in your dominance, then?”
*laugh* For me, it’s all about sex, even if it seems like it’s not. I don’t generally say that out loud, though, because it carries with it a whole bunch of assumptions about what that means.
Broad strokes: Telling him to do non-sexual things and having him do them is a whispered sweetness between us, it’s affection, it’s petting, all that, so it’s *all* part of a sexual exchange. It’s not explicitly foreplay, but it’s akin to your vanilla partner being sweet with you, which makes you want to jump on them and rip their clothes off, so there’s that context if you talk about ‘non sexual’ power.
But if we are talking explicit sexual stuff, what I want is his rawness and vulnerability, things he finds difficult offered up to me. Men taking off their clothes, taking photos of their junk, talking dirty, for *most* men, those are not things that make them feel vulnerable. A gross generalisation, but really, most men will do that stuff at the drop of a hat for a woman they are the slightest bit interested in.
As a concrete example of what I mean by that – audio porn. Like you, I adore audio-porn. OMG hot! But it *has* to be done under my direction and he has to not be ‘audio porn guy’ who runs around doing this all the time because it gets him off. If that’s the case, I’m just not interested because then it’s not about vulnerability, and it’s certainly not about me, it’s just about him wanking and, well, that’s not sexy.
So the intersection between power and sex for me is in the fact that the power is what allows me to push to get to his vulnerability and that is pure sex for me, it makes me aggressively and sexually violent, like a shark smelling blood in the water. That’s what I find so hot I can barely stand it.
Physical BDSM play is the simplest example of this. Firstly there is the trust and implicit vulnerability of the play itself, but then if I fill up all of his senses just right, his entire emotional, physical, mental capacities get maxed out dealing with it and it strips him of artifice because he just can’t keep his game face on. When I get him to that point, he can no longer hide anything. Fucking crazy hot.
Ferns
Yeah, you’re right. My comment got misplaced. Not sure if I can fix it (or if I care – you read it, that’s what counts). I find all this fascinating, not least because, of course, I’m one of those guys you describe (except for the part where I’m a sub). There’s just no part of me that gets off on the idea of being made to do things I wouldn’t otherwise do. Now… getting a woman to do things she wouldn’t otherwise do? That’s hot.
And on audio porn, you and I are the same. I have no interest in listening to some random chick cum on tape. But if she cums for me – if she masturbates when I ask, how I ask, thinking of what I ask, knowing that I’ll be listening? Well, then that’s what I find so hot I barely can stand it.
Thanks for your thoughtful thoughts. Keep writing. I like how you think.
interesting.something to think about for sure.
hard cock i believe.
it does something to your heart?
really? ( severely dubious look on my face)
And great comment. Thanks! I’ve never really known a female domme, and I’m really not submissive (though I occasionally fantasize about it – http://mydissolutelife.com/2012/02/to-submit-or-not-to-submit-that-is-the-question/. But I find the point you’re making fascinating. You’re right: it’s all about power, about getting someone to do something they *wouldn’t* do for another. But for me, it’s so fused with sex, with sexuality, that the idea of getting to do something that’s not sexual, that’s not *also *a turn-on for me – and not *just* because of the power dynamic, feels completely unappealing.
What’s the point of intersection between power and sex in your dominance, then?
A severe dubious look on my face.
ha. It does something to your ego and your cock. If you know nothing about them I highly doubt it does anything besides that.
My ego, definitely. But yes, also my heart. Not in a “love” way, but I genuinely feel affection for a woman who does as I ask, who sends me pictures and videos of her in intimate situations, who shares herself with me. Yes, my heart. Sorry….
Interesting post. I am in a similar “e-lationship” with someone, and i honestly wonder why I am doing these things myself. It sure is a turn on, and i find myself offering myself up in ways that I don’t understand to someone I have never met. He is very receptive and appreciative. I suppose on my side it’s an experiment, a test of how far i will go, a reaction to a place I am in my life that I am not particularly happy with, and also a fascination with this particular person. I know I am not the sort who would do that with just anyone. Or perhaps I just tell myself that. Perhaps I just want him to want me.
I should add, I want him too……
I should add the same thing, if it wasn’t clear.