Alpha, Dom, but not Superman?

When my second wife died nobody came around to comfort me. No one brought over meals so I didn’t have to cook, no one asked if they could do anything to help, and except for an abundance of cards with well-wishes, no personal visits at all.

Sounds rather depressing, doesn’t it? And it is. In fact, it fucking sucks! Especially since that’s not an unusual occurrence for Alphas: at least it hasn’t been in my case. Continue reading “Alpha, Dom, but not Superman?”

D/s: Risk Factor

I posed the following question to a class I taught:

A man with $10,000, a man with $100,000, and a man with $1,000,000 were asked to invest in a new venture. The first man politely declined; the second man invested $50,000; and the third man invested $100,000. Which of these men took the greatest risk?

The majority of the class claimed the second man risked the most, because it was half (50%) of what he had. One person said the third man risked the most, because $100,000 is still more than $50,000 (even if it is only 10% of what he had).

My lesson, and what I asked them to consider, was the perspective they overlooked: that the greatest risk in life is not taking one.

 

There are people that dip their proverbial toe in the D/s waters. Other people dabble in D/s on occasion, while some splash about here and there. And there are other people that dive in head first, intending to remain fully immersed.

While I prefer to remain fully immersed in a 24/7 D/s relationship, it is not the level of participation that matters most. What matters, is that the individuals that believe they have a Dominant or submissive side take the risk to explore that part of their personality. Other parts of their personality will let them know at what level or speed they will choose to explore TTWD.

If you are new to the D/s world I commend you for taking the risk. And for those of you that haven’t taken the step yet, but are considering it, I commend you for researching something that has obviously been of interest to you.

I was talking with kat recently about a study on the ten most common sexual fantasies of men and women: from society in general, not D/s practitioners. I’ve seen a variety of these studies over the years, and in every case approximately half the fantasies easily fall into the realm of D/s, and another quarter could be in or out depending upon your perspective.

Those statistics suggest some interesting possibilities when you consider they come from the vanilla world. Unfortunately, for the participants, various other statistics claim that only between a quarter to a third of the individuals will ever try to explore or fulfill their fantasies in any way.

I’ve known many couples that obviously loved each other, but their intimacy stagnated over the years. Their love life became so routine that they both lost interest, and that begins to spread into other areas of the relationship. And most of it occurred because of poor communication and the fear or unwillingness to explore other intimate options.

The D/s dynamic can truly enhance a relationship built on a solid foundation of love, respect, trust, compatibility, and open and honest communication. It can take the relationship to new heights if each partner is truly committed to the other and to the dynamic. The rewards can be staggering. But like anything else in life, if you’re afraid to take the risk you’ll never reap the rewards.

Definitely Dom, but when?

A recent post by MisterMan sparked a lot of interest. He asked what might appear to be one of the most obvious questions anyone involved in D/s might get asked: When did you know you were a Dominant or submissive?

Yes, I’ve seen the question presented many times before, usually in 30-day type lists for evaluating yourself. And I always had a standard answer ready: I’ve known I was an Alpha from an early age (though I didn’t know the terminology back then). And I left it at that. But the way MisterMan tried to pinpoint the moment and still came away unsure made me question whether I could recall the exact moment, or at least the progression from unaware to fully aware of my natural need to dominate in relationships.

So I dusted off my thinking cap—no, actually I gulped down a couple night caps—and began to ponder the possibilities of a predominant path to my present Dominant position. Whew! That’s a tongue twister after two Southern Comfort & cokes.

I’ve had four really good male role-models in my life: my grandfathers, my father, and a platoon sergeant. My paternal grandfather, after being orphaned, protected and provided for his siblings in England during WW1, then made his way to America and eventually built a successful business. My maternal grandfather had a hard life on the reservation, then was kicked off the rez’ during the so-called “New Deal,” but he worked hard and became a successful rancher. My father, a by-product of his father, taught me the same traditions of working hard and protecting and providing for your family. And somehow, in spite of my youth and rebelliousness, enough of their actions and words got through to me. And even though I fought a lot, I was the kid that protected the underdog and beat up the bullies (because if I ever became a bully my dad would kick my ass).

When I joined the military at 17, I ended up in an elite platoon that had a platoon sergeant that even the generals had to salute (because he’d been awarded the Medal of Honor). And he took me under his wing and worked my angry rebellious ass into shape, and pushed me into leadership positions. And I’ll thank all four of them till my dying day for the mentoring they provided.

But how does all that fit into a D/s relationship? Well, I was destined to be a rugged individualist from the day of my birth, when my mom shunned me and wouldn’t touch me: they didn’t talk about stuff like post-partum depression back then. And I became the kid that other kids followed; I resented authority and the screwed up system I saw in a bad section of L.A. In fact, I was the kid girls wanted to date to piss-off their parents. And yet, in spite of my “juvenile delinquent” reputation I started working at age 12 to pay my way, and had four part-time jobs simultaneously at age 16 before going into the military a year later. Unfortunately, because of my youth, immaturity, and anger issues, when it came to relationships, it was often my way or the highway (as the saying goes); which, if you think about it, is a lot like immature or wannabe Doms in the D/s world.

But after getting a handle on my anger during my early twenties (and subsequent years of psychology education and experience), I realized I still felt the need to be in control in relationships but the emphasis was now more traditional. There was a stronger urge to place my mate’s wants and needs above my own. And while fulfilling their wants and needs, to still provide for and protect them.

As for the original question: I cannot recall the exact moment I consciously knew I was a Dom. But it appears that from the moment of my birth I was destined to be a rugged individualist. And my subsequent life experiences have only solidified my Alpha or Dominant personality. All that remained was to find the right mate…and include the kink. But that’s a whole different story.

Total Eclipse vs Solar Fuck Fest

“Come one, come all,” I’ve heard all year

See the total eclipse of the sun

And you live in a place to see it well

You’ll have oodles and boodles of fun

 

You’ll have people come to town

That have never been here before

Perhaps a quarter-of-a-million folks

And some say maybe more

 

NASA has already sent a team

Months ahead for preparation

To tell of the Solar Fest

It’s more fun than masturbation

 

And have you heard how properties

Up for sale in these three counties

Have been bought by greedy bastards

In order to charge exorbitant bounties

 

And all the local establishments

Are hawking Solar Fest fare

Like cheap ass glasses to scorch your eyes

You forgot “buyer beware”

 

And because of the looky loos a comin’

The rainbow crowd has come to roost

Not to brighten the festivities

But they sure give our crime stats a boost

 

I know exactly where I’ll be

During the total solar eclipse

Watching kat’s sexy ass moon the sun

Shading me as I lick her pussy lips

 

And while all the millions stare at the sun

Some that will even risk going blind

I’ll gladly send kat to sub-space

While butt-fucking her from behind

 

So go on and enjoy your total eclipse

If that’s really the best you can do

I’ll spend it with kat who’s eclipsed my heart with hers

Cuz’ my folks didn’t raise no fool

 

And when you go to tell your tale

About how you enjoyed Solar Fest

Standing like an idiot staring at the sun

I’ll speak of a tale concerning kat’s tail

And know that it’s I who was truly blest

And wisely enjoyed the greater fun

 

eclipse 13

A Bloody Lesson

[This is not our usual type of post, and if talking about blood gets you queasy, please skip this post.]

I’m going to talk about something from the male perspective, but I found out that something similar can occur to females as well.

I went through something recently that, although I’m middle-aged, I had never heard or read about, and it was rather a rude awakening. And it is for that reason I’m telling the embarrassing tale. I truly hope it doesn’t happen to any of you, but just in case it does maybe by hearing about it before it does from someone who has gone through it might ease your mind. Just remember the key words: don’t panic.

While showering I noticed a simple spot just off-center on the head of my penis. It was very small, and looked like either a mole or the beginning of a pimple (which I thought was really weird, since I’d never even developed pimples during adolescence). And upon further investigation there were no other visible symptoms.

Having never encountered this before, and not wanting oddities popping up where I didn’t want them, I decided to rub it clean or pick it off.

Big mistake!

As soon as the tiny spot popped off blood began to pour out…and I do mean pour! In just seconds blood was pooling in the tub and both my hands were a bloody mess—which made it a bit difficult to grip things that needed to be gripped and grab things that needed to be grabbed in an effort to stop the flow.

I will spare you all the bloody details of my various attempts to squelch the flow, except to tell you that I finally accomplished the task with the medical equivalent of choking the chicken. But by the time I stopped the bleeding the place looked like a slaughter house. After all, that part of the anatomy ebbs and flows (is soft or hard) based on blood circulation. And along with the bathtub, the floor, toilet, wastebasket, and a couple towels were soaked or splattered with blood. And, of course, along with my hands I was splattered from the waist down and needed another shower.

Now you have to understand that I’ve seen a lot of violence and bloodshed in my life, so I don’t get flustered easily. I didn’t yell out or try to call anyone: no, not even kat. I simply focused my energy on stopping the blood. However, as soon as it was stopped I recall thinking the following:

“I’ve survived the barrio, military wounds, years of investigations and being shot at, along with a lifetime of seeking adrenaline rushes in activities like skydiving, scuba diving, mountain climbing, etc, and here I almost died from a pimple on my pecker.”

Well, as it turned out it wasn’t a pimple, it was similar to a blood blister, and the blood filled up inside instead of near the surface. That’s why I couldn’t see it.

I found out that males and females can develop these around their genitalia, and they can look like pimples, moles, blackheads, and even age spots. But, heaven forbid, if you ever get one please learn from my embarrassing mistake… don’t rub, scratch, or pick it.

[Please see MisterMan’s comment below for another possible explanation.]