Sometimes, when the boy has me on my knees in broad daylight, his hands wrapped in my hair, his fly wide open, his cock in my mouth, I think:
Could we do this in reverse?
I don’t see it, somehow. I can’t imagine assuming the authority to force him to kneel in front of me, push my knickers to one side and to lick me until I scream. What would I say?
It’s not that his kink isn’t my kink. His kink is precisely my kink. I just don’t want to share it.
I asked Twitter about why I’m not comfortable with the idea of switching. Is it a body confidence thing?
I expected a resounding ‘No!’
I expected to be told that by equating dominance and submission with confidence and past experiences rather than pure choice, I was at grave risk of sliding into Fifty Shades of Grey territory. You know what I mean: all that fuss about the fact that Christian is only dominant because he has a fucked up past.
But actually, that’s not what people said. One thing that recurred a few times in conversation was that in order to top well you have to believe that you’re powerful and desirable. And that makes sense. I mean, if you don’t buy into that, why should your partner?
A couple of people said too that they worried less about how they looked when they were subbing than when they were dom. I’m not sure what the logic is here – if you’re sub, don’t you want to look good to please your partner? – but then, I was rereading the pegging chapter of Girlonthenet’s book earlier, and she says:
“I’m a reluctant dominant at the best of times, unable to fully embrace the mentality of a gleeful sadist because I’m worrying about how crap my knots are and whether my arse looks fat in this strap-on.”
So it seems that not being able to fully embrace the role is a pretty common problem. And not only that, the quote above brings me to another aspect of dominating guys that terrifies me.
Again, more Girlonthenet, but in a recent post she hit on my exact fear – that the guy wouldn’t like it, and you’d have to deal with the fall out of that. In her story, The disappointed, she owns the situation, but that’s not really my style. If he hated it, I’d hate myself – why bother risking that? The body confidence thing comes into play here too, of course. I read lines like “strapping on a dick and holding a guy’s legs up to his chest while I fuck him” and immediately start to try and figure out the logistics. Strap on how? I can’t tie the strings of my own apron. Hold his legs with which arm? It’s a genuine concern.
So by now we’ve concluded that being dominant really isn’t for me, right?
Well, almost. That was the conclusion I was reaching, and then in a DM, someone said:
I don’t dom per se, but I like to wrestle for control. I’m uncomfortable with assumed power, but if won, easier to own.
It resonated: I guess because it relates to the way I live my life more widely. Ask me to speak in a meeting? Erm, no thanks. Discussion in small groups? Yep, that’s my voice you can hear.
I feel the same about domination. I don’t want to assume the power from the start. I don’t want to wear thigh-high boots, crack a whip, or have you call me ‘Mistress.’ But if you want to fight for control in the bedroom? Now, that is interesting…