Saturday, May 28, 2016

Why Dommes Should Stop Complain Being an Object of Interest

Grown men suffer more, so much more. Mistress where are thou. Please set me free.

Before (she discovers nipple clamps): Tower of power. The writing is on the wall. Just wait until she finds out about the dark side. Now tell me again, what choice do we men have? (Image credits: unknown)

All men are into femdom. Most of us just never realize. Nor does their significant other. One more cosmic joke. We all look for a compatible partner, one that makes us happy. When we do, we discover nothing matters more than making them happy. Even if their happiness is not necessarily ours. And yes for dommes that spells the difference between mere suffering and happy suffering. Now try to explain that E. L. James.

Yes there are twenty men for each prospective domme. Now assume you are man and plain vanilla. You also are over 25 or 30. As a kid the main reason your 16 year old self hated secondary school was the girl you fancied had an 18 year old boyfriend who owned a car. Only two more years...

Around the time you enter university, you don’t realize it yet, but it is where assortative mating begins. First prospective doctors of both sexes are carted off, never to be seen again. Everybody else enjoys their newfound freedom and sleeps around as much as possible. Slowly a pattern emerges. Just like any other area of life, the women decide. Not that we men have any clue, the superior sex always outsmarts us. Women inevitable make you believe, it was you who initiated things and worked hard to get their attention. Guess honesty in relationships is overvalued. Or perhaps it is human nature.

I’ve always known I was into femdom. As a student I worked in bars, where I excelled at serving the superior species. Obeying their every wish, including serving them with the beverage of their choice. Open all hours. Obviously my servitude came with a smile. A big one. The tips were pretty good too.

The real world
A few years later, as people start their professional careers, most couples have formed. More interestingly a large minority of couples split up when graduation day nears. Usually because the women have decided they maxed out the fun with pretty boy. It’s time to get serious – get that leftover winner before the competition does - so they abandon ship. Winner by then usually means some poor boy who thinks university is hard work for two reasons: study hard and experience hardship, aka a prolonged dry spell. Still don’t understand why. But hey, it works differently for everyone.

A few years later you finally go for drinks with your old buddies. You haven’t seen them in ages. It hits you the moment they walk in: all guys are owned, no exception. The women guard their property jeaulously. Told you so, all men are into femdom. Born this way, yet most of us will never know. Doesn’t mean you cannot be happy. At the same time you feel a chill running down your spine. If all we men are, is a woman’s slave, better have it out in the open.

Some of us are true daredevils and stay single a little longer. Once a man turns 25 or 30, the rules of the game change. No card in the mail. Still it is glaring obvious, you cannot help but notice. You are no longer the hunter – not that you ever were – you have become the prey. All of a sudden condoms on the first date are completely unneccesary. Silly boy! Sex on the other hand is compulsory. Not that I’m complaining. I live to serve. And yes I forgot to include the word “almost”. Add at your own peril. Over time women become more and more aggresive to get their hands on us men.

Remember that co-worker standing in front of you saying “oops, me so clumsy” as she moves her formidable cleavage out of sight – slowly, very slowly. Or the one who accidently bumps into you discussing the numbers on-screen one night, as she looks over your shoulder. Obviously it is nine pm and just the two of you in the office. Still don’t know how they get away with it every single time. It is a mysterious quality, only women posses.

The next day you are still baffled by how such devinely and perfect creatures manage to get their clothes all messed up. Rather absently you visit the DIY store. Some lady asks you about the right type of oil for her car.
“Why me?”
“You look like the kind of guy who knows.”
Don’t worry, by then you know better than to say you have to see her car first. [I think]

Waiting for the subway, you cannot help but overhear two girls talking.
“He is with her now. She is pregnant with his baby.
I want his baby too. Next time he comes over, I’ll bite a hole in his condom when i put it on”
“He’ll be mine”
A real life story about two girls, both of them some twenty years old.

Embarrased by what you’ve just heard, you listen to the radio. Talk radio is torture for many reasons. Sometimes even because what people say on air:

“A real woman can steal almost any man”
“Even if they are together for a long time?”
“Most certainly. More work, but the result is just the same”
“And if they bought a house together?”
“Why not, it is just a house”
“Married?” 
“Same thing as the house. Let me add that being married and owning a house is more difficult, but still doable. With the right skills...
Only when they have kids, well that would prove to be difficult.”

The carnage doesn’t stop there. What if some woman – married of course – asks:

“Would you tell, if you saw me with another man?”

Of course it is a hypothetical question. Why else does she look at you like that?

After (she discovers nipple clamps): My bad, she prefers gags. Still, in the end, little difference. She's in charge, more stylized and with her plaything choking on some toy. Love the white dress though. (Image credits: unknown)

To obey now is to disobey later
These are all stories my friends told me. Everybody knows I live in the basement. I don't envy them. Except for that one friend who is a DJ. Not that I believe a word of what he says.

I know very well that when the day comes and mistress finally decides to collar and own me for all time, I have to pay for my sins past. It gets worse by the day, no control whatsover. My life is so hard. So incredibily difficult. So mistress, rescue me. Own me. Now please and hurry up! I cannot take one more vanilla minute of it. I also always tell the truth.

So stop complaining how hard your life as a dominant woman is. Nothing compares to being a single guy. Take it from a deeply submissive guy, who strongly believes women are born superior: life out there is brutal for us lambs. It is nothing short of a never-ending massacre. It is a struggle to survive each and every single day. However because I am the perfect slave – I live to serve – I will never ever complain. But it is hard out there. Unless mistress rescues me, my suffering will never end.


Notes
If you think my life is demanding, spare a thought for my friends, all of them who are rich and handsome. I feel for them, I really do. Unfortunately I haven’t spoken to them in ages, it never seems to be the right time when I get her on the phone. If only I knew why. Still I wish I was rich and handsome, my life would be so much better.
Good thing then, I hide in the basement, away from the temptations of life, waiting for mistress to find me.

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