Friday, January 22, 2010

A Quote From Elise Sutton

If there ever was a well-said opinion this is it from Elise Sutton:
“Lets take a step back and look at the purpose of a FemDom relationship. It is about your husband meeting your needs. It is not about you becoming the fulfillment of his fantasies.”
I regret that I don’t have the source of the quote, but I assure you that it is from her. I used to be an avid reader of hers.

If all males and females involved in an FLR were to abide by this, many such relationships would fizzle, others would transform in major ways. I am not saying that I have this rule that you must follow. Just that, there is a definition on which we could agree, for example, “Female leads, she makes the rules, male follows.” Sure, you can impose your own nuances on that, and no sane person would object as long as the basic rule is followed. Otherwise it is not an FLR, but yours or your wife’s fantasy. Somewhat like, “On Saturdays you wear the pink panties and …” I hope you know what I mean. Nothing wrong with that, and you could wear purple for all that anyone cares. But that is just between you and your partner, and does not change what E. Sutton said. She did not mention finances, house cleaning, oral service, or chastity in this statement. All she said of essence was that you [female] have your needs met. Period! The rest is up to the two of you.

I hope you enjoy!

Haunted By Ill-Placed Empathy

I walk from my car to the store. Near the entrance a middle-aged man moves in my direction. His unkempt, ill-fitting clothes emanate an odor of many days’ sweat. His face may be handsome but the dark suntan under the unshaved skin conveys a neglect that is consistent with his persona. He is muttering something unintelligible as he steps off the curb into the path of oncoming traffic. I am within a couple of steps, so I lunge outward and pull him to safety by the back of his loose short coat. He lands on his bottom on the sidewalk. He ignores me.

She moves slowly on the sidewalk in an exaggerated rolling gait. She is pushing a shopping cart piled with items that most of us leave in dumpsters. Her clothes may have seen many previous owners. Layers of pants and shirts cover her to the extent that only part of her face is visible. Her hands are covered with gloves of filth. Her hair hangs below the cap on her head. The thick matted mess would resist combing with a rake. She stops every few steps and seems to count things in her mind using her fingers, then resumes her slow ambling. At the traffic signal she pauses, then turns her shopping cart around the way she came, and continues her trip. The passer-bys, the traffic, the noise of the street don’t seem to be in her realm.

These are two people not in my social acquaintance, unlikely to encounter again. They appear people who have lost contact with those who may have cared about them. Two people whom I may one day have to take into protective custody.

It was the evening of a holiday. Most of the drunken parties have taken place on the eve before, so we had little to do. No calls for our services were made, drivers behaved decently. We were getting sleepy. As I drove at traffic-speed my partner said, “We could serve some warrants.” He was always looking ahead, and as usual, had a handful of printed warrants to serve as an option.

“Come on, this is a holiday. Even a scumbag deserves a rest from time to time,” I suggested.

“Well then, let’s stop at the intersection. The intersection was where we usually bagged traffic offenders within a couple of minutes of observation. I drove there and stopped just off the road on a vacant lot, positioning the car so that we could see traffic from four directions. Just as we stopped an SUV slowed at the intersection, and made a left turn without stopping. With four-way stop signs that was cause for us to intercept. As I switched on the strobe we received a call to proceed to an address up in the foothills to see about a domestic dispute. The address was in the direction that I have taken already after the SUV. The driver of the SUV lucked out. We sped by her on the way.

Even with the emergency response it took about ten minutes, and by the time we got there, the dispute was over. We were satisfied. Nobody was seriously hurt, no charges were pressed, and we were asked to leave by both parties.

My partner said, “As long as we are here, we could see this guy.” He handed me the warrant for the arrest of a person with an address in the neigborhood. Charges: possession and sale of drugs in this state, escape from a psychiatric institution while under observation for domestic violence and lewd behavior in another state, etc. We are not judges, but we make some judgments. He seemed to be a person to arrest even on a holiday; besides, he was unlikely to be stupid enough to stay at his home address after that.

In the darkness of the night we looked for the address among trailer homes of the neighborhood. We found the place after several passes. A woman in her twenties answered the door. She was devastatingly beautiful and sexy. I tried to remain functional. The subject was asleep in the trailer, and had to be rousted to come along. My partner handled the arrest with his usual skill without incident while I watched the woman and her little boy who were standing outside within a few feet of me. The subject was a short, stocky man in his late twenties. His face emanated hatred and instability. Still wearing only shorts of some jersey material he was shirtless. We stuffed him into the back of the car with hands cuffed behind him. I asked the woman whether we could take some clothes along so that he could dress when the opportunity arose. She nodded, and then walked up the two steps into the trailer. In a minute she returned with a paper bag with some of his clothes, which I tossed, into the trunk of our car.

After we dropped off the subject at the jail I relaxed a bit while reflecting on the actors involved. Here I was, doing this mostly for fun. There was my partner, doing it for making a living. There was the subject doing it because at some point he though it was the best thing he could do. There was the woman who could have been in a better place just about anywhere, but she was doing it because she was protecting her son, an adorable five-year old.

It has been years ago that this took place, but I am still not over it. The danger that the man’s face projected was more than I would want to impose on a young woman and her child. Yet, as bad as I felt about the woman and her child, I felt worse about the man. He was obviously not fully functional in his mental capacity. He had to be contained, for he was dangerous. But he was some mother’s son. Some mother, who had lost the fight to protect him, as he grew away from her in age and involvement with bad people. The lovable five-year old that I remember from the incident may be following the same path, breaking the heart of his beautiful mom.

An ordinary job, for example, being a clerk in a store, can be challenging, but does not take much except perseverance. He can go home in the evening and detach himself from the next day’s challenges of dealing with peers, customers, promotions, and maybe looking for another job. Law enforcement, on the other hand, is not just a job. It is a twenty-four hour a day responsibility. One does not just go home in the evening and be done with it until the next day: after a while things turn around. An ordinary person has a life, and, "oh by the way", he has a job. A law enforcement officer out on the streets has his profession, and, "oh by the way", he may have a life, but don’t count on it. He tries, but it often fails.

Empathy with or intense dislike of the subjects comes up repeatedly. It becomes very difficult to continue being subjective and be able to make quick decisions between victim and perpetrator especially when they are indistinguishable. Trusting subjects can and will be the cause of lives lost. Empathy misplaced takes its toll. It is difficult not to become jaded, but empathy not given also haunts us. I remember incidents when I could have trusted …

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Some Women

I have been reading comments on a blog, and made some replies to the original posting. There is a person who appears to be female who has also commented. As usual, we, the readers make good-natured responses based on the posting and also on comments made by readers. Sometimes readers take offense, and we end up in verbal free-for-all unless the owner of the blog or one of us calls an end.

This time I ended up responding to one commenter who said,

“As soon as a male needs training, he's already out of my book.
As soon as a male claims he wants to be trained, he's trying to top from the bottom
As soon as a woman believes a male needs training, she's wasting her time.
As soon as a female wants to train a male, she's not a femdom in my book.
And then, “Why should i care if a sub (as u call them), wants to please me or not? I crave danger.“”
My comment to her was, “You are destined to be one lonely woman.”

Well, the stuff hit the fan at that point, and she became offensive. After I reflected on the events I posted a comment in an attempt to defuse the situation, “I meant no offense. Let’s just get over it.” Those were not exactly my words, but I don’t want to get too sappy in showing all. After my comment was posted she made more snide remarks of no discernible value. Seeing her response I decided to remove my comment Her response to the removal was, "…removed his ‘peace offer’. Well, how about that! Males. U can't trust them, hehehe.”

At this point I will say this: As much as I love women, I have my limits. When I wrote my “peace offer” I thought that she had some redeeming qualities, and she and I could come to a reasonable relationship of somewhat opposing views. Silly me. No redeeming qualities there. Aside from her grammatically challenged writing and virulent opinion, such as,

“I'm not monogamous.
I'm not married, never will be, nor am i interested in married men.
Few males turn me on. Genuine slaves do.
I share my home with 4 other women, and have sex with all of them.
I believe that men who cheat on their women, should be put up for castration.
The concept of superiority/inferiority was removed from my life a long time ago, and is alien to me.
Femdom shouldn't find its roots in patriarchal cultures, or be based on male fantasies.
The assumption u could, for whatever reason, eat me for breakfast, could leave u with a major food poisoning.“

I think that she will indeed end up as a very lonely woman. She imparts no love or care, and expects explicit slaves. As I said to another such woman, “good luck”. It may work for a while, but wait until you run out of funds, youth, and stupid slaves.

I don’t think she has enough to give for someone to care. The one-dimensional male that she wants in her life is like a slice through reality: there is nothing there. She will wish that she had had the wisdom to give some all along. But by then it will be too late.

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Female Superior Position

God, I love to serve a woman. In my case it is my wife. She is a deserving person of my love, admiration, and servitude. I also love to serve other women. I love them just because they are female, and feel protective and supportive toward them. I also have the hots for them, but that is not to be satisfied. At the same time I admit that my devotion to females is not universal. Each such person must be worthy of my attention. That is what separates me from wimps, would-be-slaves, and useless creatures who claim to be sub human.

There is a blog by John. He posts provocative ideas. We don't know whether he is in his seventies with a fertile imagination and no cock, or a young man who has no real personality. His blog is all based on rhetoric without evidence of reality. I have been following it, and tried to remain supportive, but it has been a challenge. In the last one Female Superior Position he asks questions, such as, “Who should be on top, and whether a submissive male should be allowed intercourse.” Ok, they are just questions, so I should not get riled. But even questions can be inappropriate. It is his blog, and there were many people responding including me. But that is the reason for my post this time. By his questions he drew people into a discussion that is so broad that any of the specific topics could not be covered in satisfaction: responses ranged from here to infinity.

My assessment of his blog is that he is a frustrated male in his forties who has no access to what he really needs: a strong woman to whip his ass. He advocates female supremacy, which is the opposite of male supremacy. If I interpret his writing correctly, he is willing to submit to anything as long as it is female. By his assumption a female cannot be wrong, misguided, stupid, idiotic, or psychotic. Therefore, females should be in charge of everything, and males should be serving all who need serving. Males should be subjugated, mistreated, kept in mental and physical bondage by all females.

If you have read my posts, you will understand that I have a real problem with this interpretation. I have gone through wars and revolutions to depose tyranny. Female supremacy is tyranny, just as male supremacy is. In a fantasy world one can submit to slavery, but we are in a real world, and slavery is not one to prescribe to all of us by some schmuck who thinks it is cool. I will say again, female supremacy is as bad as male supremacy.

A person, regardless of gender, should rise to his intellectual level in life. He should not be prevented from excelling in any field that is constructive and helpful to the species. I may have prejudices based on experience, but I truly believe in allowing the member of any race or gender to attain what they are capable of attaining. If they succeed, fine. If they fail, hey, they are just like the rest of us.

This idea of supremacy based on being female is just crap. It is created in the fertile imagination of some who like to rattle our chains but have nothing to offer. I am a firm supporter of women’s rights. The whole idea should not be an issue. Women are human, and must have human rights no less, and no more than men have. As for who is in charge, let the best person be.

When it comes to partners in life, anything goes as long as you don’t try to impose your silly rules on others. I might like your lifestyle, and would try to copy it, but I don’t feel compelled to follow it.