THE REAL DEAL?

Two weeks have passed since Jenni Murray’s infamous piece in the Sunday Times on why trans women are not “real women” and passions have cooled. It may be that most people have forgotten it already. But it certainly polarised opinion at the time. Twitter is not a place for subtlety and nuance and two rival camps quickly established themselves, supporters of Murray thanking her for saying what all women felt but were afraid to say too publicly, whilst opponents shouted “TERF” and “transphobe.” I fall into neither camp, but want to say, what I, as a trans woman, think and how I see relations between cis and trans women.

To begin with, it is necessary to point out that the piece is written in more measured terms than some recent contributions to this debate and it is refreshingly free from the abuse that the likes of Bindel and  Greer seem to revel in. The argument is, in essence, one have heard radical feminist make. It goes like this: I have nothing against people who identify as transgender but they can never be real women. They do, of course, suffer prejudice and discrimination. This is wrong and I support them on their struggle to be treated with dignity and respect but their struggle is separate from the women’s struggle. Indeed attempts to link the two are actually harmful to women as the battles that women fight in terms of reproductive rights, etc can be erased by the wider struggle particularly as the trans community is made up of people who were brought up male, in other words with privilege and who carry over male attitudes and behaviour onto their new identity. Trans advocates tend to be vocal, they can be intimidating and, cis gendered women’s issues get drowned out.

To illustrate her point Murray refers to two trans women she once interviewed. One, a priest of the Church of England, had nothing to say about the institutional misogyny of the Church but was quite keen to talk about her frocks. The other, the TV presenter India Willoughby was, apparently, unable to see a problem with the sexist work dress codes that many women were rightly getting angry about a few months ago.   The inference we are expected to draw, it seems, is that trans women are shallow, concerned mainly with appearance and unwilling to understand, or engage with, significant issues that affect cis gendered women.

It is difficult to avoid thinking that she has effectively put up tow straw women to knock down here and I know from my own experience that they are not typical.

But to return to the main argument. In one sense Murray is simply defining real as having, or having had, a uterus. Real is simply a synonym of cisgendered and in this sense, that argument is trivial. Nonetheless what Murray says touches on an important issue. For it is undeniable that social and legal control of women’s bodies revolve around reproduction. Menstruation, pregnancy, childbirth, lactation and menopause are elemental physical experiences for cisgendered women, and are at the root of control, superstition and oppression that women, at various times inm history have suffered. Trans women, by definition, cannot experience these things directly.

It is, however, a leap of logic to suggest that trans women cannot understand these things or cannot support the struggles of their cisgendered sisters. And there is not, I think, a dichotomy between trans and cisgendered women’s issues, but rather continuity on a spectrum of discrimination, and overlap.  Consider the bathroom laws on some US states. These were justified as protecting cisgendered women against the threat of violence from sexual predators masquerading as trans women as if men intent on rape and sexual assault need to put on a dress and go to the ladies bathroom to find victims. In fact a number of those humiliated and forcibly removed from bathrooms have been cisgendeed women who were considered by security people not to look feminine enough. There is, therefore, a real sense in which the discrimination suffered by trans and cis women overlap and intersect. I think too that rights are indivisible. The achievement of, for example, racial equality, actually benefits white people too, just as gender equality can be liberating for cisgendered men. The same goers for trans rights.

And finally a word on my experience. I have a wide circle of cisgendered women friends, two of whom are very close friends. Most women I meet, socially or otherwise, have no difficulty in accepting me as a woman. Some of them have given me support, encouragement, advice,  and love that I have found truly humbling. And really all I want to do is to get on with my life and enjoy these friendships. I know that I will never be as a cisgendered woman in so many ways, I know too that I would never wish to privilege trans rights over, for example, reproductive rights, in the feminist movement. I know too that it doesn’t matter to me that whether particular people want to describe me as not a real woman although it is disappointing that someone I always had enormous respect for should jump on the bandwagon like this. Some points she makes are pertinent and trans people need to answer them. But too often she falls back on cliché and caricature.    At the end of it all I am who I am. And that’s fine by the people who matter to me.

Sitting Around

My first experience of face sitting wasn’t in a BDSM setting. It happened when I was 10 and a jealous older sister of a school friend. She overpowered me and sat on my face, wriggling as she did so, and made no move to get up as I screamed and beat the ground furiously as I struggled for air. She did this more than once and it was part of a pattern of seeking to humiliate me and more. This was the same girl who tied me up and locked me up in a coalscuttle and I have no doubt she really wanted to harm me. She certainly terrified me.

After that face sitting played no part in my life until two years ago when ATVOD included in their ludicrous list of banned activities in their war on porn or rather their war on sexual activities that women enjoy.  But still I felt no desire to do it.

Now I have a sub who loves having my butt, actually quite a bony in these days with all the running I do, on his face, and as I gain experience I have come to realise it is rather sensual. Maybe there is an element of humiliation for the sub. Maybe it’s the thought that my genitalia are just a tongue length away.  For me it’s the symbolism. As a form of breath play it is a powerful form of control. And the thought of my sub, directly underneath me, utterly helpless, is intoxicating.

I know that Harriet Birch hated me with a passion all those years ago but if I don’t exactly remember her with fondness I don’t feel any bitterness. I wonder whether she was one of the people I have met on my journey who helped plant seeds of kink within me? And I also wonder what she is doing now?

Double Trouble

There is, as they say, a first time for everything and Monday this week saw my first experience of double domming. There really couldn’t have been anything better to do on a day when the rain lashed down and hammered on the roof of the former industrial building where the dungeon was located. We were at the very top of the building so got the full sound effects as we put my slave through his paces. As readers of this blog will know I am still relatively new to domming myself but my partner in crime is even newer and keen to learn. And it was a huge learning experience for me too. I had planned and scripted the session and discussed it with her over lunch the day before. I had to make one or two late changes as I had originally planned a couple of activities she wasn’t yet entirely comfortable with, but from this perspective it went smoothly. I always worry about timing but this is something you can only learn from experience. Essentially, the trick is not to try to fit too much in, and I find that half a dozen activities works best. There were a couple of things I really wanted to do but which I had to defer to next time. I can’t tell you what these were as the slave will probably read this and, well, I would hate to spoil the surprise.

So I had the task of leading the session and guiding my fellow domme but without stopping her showing spontaneity. Also for a good session it was important for the chemistry to work between her and the slave. Feedback I have received suggests this happened. And also, of course, the chemistry between the two dommes.

Most importantly, it has helped to restore my confidence. I went through a real low patch recently and was starting to doubt my own abilities. Did I really want to do this? I even got as far as clicking my way towards the Delete Account on Fetlife? What, I reflected, if I just disappeared as others have before? As I reflected I knew that I couldn’t. I would have hurt too many people. It is not time for me to be gone yet, nowhere near in fact. And I have learnt something else. As a domme you want to appear strong and powerful, in control all the time but sometimes you just can’t. I have learnt that, sometimes, being open and honest about your problems with your sub can teach you a lot about them as people and no, it doesn’t have to impair your dominance over them. I really feel that my bond with my slave has been strengthened by this experience.

And double domming was a great way to get my mojo back, not least because having a third person there reduced the emotional intensity that can occur in one to one sessions and made it fun. Even my slave had a smile on his face…..at least until I took out the nipple clamps!

Better Watch Out for the Skin Deep

I  have been a regular blood donor for a quarter of a century so am used to having needles stuck in my arm. Despite this I still shiver at the thought and, when I give blood, cannot look as the needle is inserted. I turn away, should me eyes and imagine myself on a palm fringed beach.  At times I think I should just give up but, having a rare blood group, I know this wiould be selfish. So I carry on giving and, in truth, it is an excuse to have a full English breakfast before I go.

When I first got involved in BDSM the idea of needle play never really got on my radar. Humiliation yes, CP yes, and one or two more exotic things, but, before my first visit to the after party at The Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar I had never even heard of it, let alone seen it. So I watched. This was a most interesting experience particularly as there are one or two people on the scene in the West Midlands who are both highly skilled and highly creative with needles. As with many BDSM activities, you can stand back from the physical sensations and just admire the aesthetic. This is something I wrote about here.

Even so, this was a purely detached interest. The idea of participating myself, either as top or bottom, left me cold. I simply couldn’t see what enjoyment the participants got. This was until earlier this year when my slave and I went to a kinky house party. He has enjoyed needles for some time and told me a lot about his enjoyment. I felt that, as his domme, I really ought to find out more. I watched closely as he played with a mutual friend who then guided me as I  inserted some needles myself before later removing them, some slowly and sensually, some more quickly and painfully, which, of course, appealed to my sadistic side. But what most impressed me was the deep deep subspace my slave was in after removal of the needle and the gentle washing of his back that formed part of the aftercare.

Why, I wondered, does it have this effect and why has needle play found its sway into the world of BDSM? I think it shares with other activities the self-abandonment and freely entered vulnerability of the sub or bottom, and the trust he or she has in the top.  It is an activity of incredible intimacy and must create deep bonds between those who play regularly with each other. It is also, I think, a parody of a power relationship. Think needles and think medicine, the patient doctor dynamic, and, at the extreme, the death chambers of many US states. Inserting a needle is to exercise real power and dominance, even to be master of life and death. BDSM subverts this power dynamic by turning pain into pleasure.

I discussed needle play a few months ago, over breakfast actually, with sex writer Remittance Girl. She argued that needle play can be seen as even more transgressive than other BDSM activities because it involves an essential violation of the bodily integrity of the bottom, the penetration of the skin that forms the container of the things that make up his or her physical existence. Other things, even the harder CP essentially don’t do this.  Transgression is, surely, what we seek, it is the locus of our deepest pleasure.

Whilst I will never, I think, be a particularly hardcore player, it is something I want to explore further. It is not just metaphorically that I like to get under people’s skin.

An Afternoon of Devotion

As they say, you learn something new every day. On Sunday I learnt the Afrikaans  for “one thank You Mistress, tow thank You Mistress” and so on. My friend and I had bought a slave at the auction, a really sweet and submissive South African man, and had great fun administering a spelling test  with appropriate punishments for mistakes. He learnt a few new spellings, received a sore backside and we learnt a few words of a new language.

There is also the language of kink  and this is pretty universal. The salves on offer also included a Pole and a Spaniard. In post-referendum times we kinksters plough our own inclusive furrow.

I have always enjoyed Devotion, the quarterly femdom event held at Xstasia in West Bromwich,  but this was the best event yet. The slave auction was a new idea and a massive success. Domina Liza was a fabulous auctioneer and everyone had a good laugh as the sale progressed. And we were more than happy with our “purchase”  . But the greatest thing was that it broke the ice and enabled people to play with each other who might not otherwise even have spoken. Some of us go with our respective subs/dommes,  but many unattached kinksters go, and everyone who wants to, gets to play.

This is because it is a friendly event, and one, where, while due regard is paid to protocol, no-one takes themselves too seriously. Which is as it should be.

My slave and I had a ball and I am sure he would join me in thanking  Miss Treat, Miss Roxxy and Trample Temptress  for their respective roles in organising and running the event, Domina Liza  for being the most amazing auctioneer ever, and all of these ladies for total awesomeness. Oh and the subs too…because there can be no Devotion without them.

So, if you’re a submissive of any gender or a dominant who identifies as female, this really is an event you can’t miss. If you are in West Bromwich on 5th February 2017  Xstasia is the place to be. Oh and you get fed as well!

 

Tightly Bound

I showed my new leather over bust corset to my vanilla friend Jane.

“I’m surprised you got one” she said, “I remember you saying that that sort of thing was more for submissive women.”

And it is true that most of the corset wearing women I know on the scene identify as femsubs. Corsets are associated with restriction and restraint, the modelling of the female body to a template designed to please a dominant, privileged male. Maybe, I had thought, my slave’s eagerness to buy me a corset was a kind of sartorial topping from the bottom?

But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea and even if being tied in by my slave seemed a bit unusual, I have always liked the look of a corset and the smell of new leather awakens my deepest and earliest fetishistic responses. So we bought the corset at the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar  last month.

Bound tightly in it I could see how it feminised my body, gave me the hourglass figure I had craved. I teamed it with a latex pencil skirt, another form of restrictive but arousing clothing and….. if a woman I think is fucking hot describes me in the same words I know it has to be right.

My slave looked at me longingly and I looked at him, at the corset wrapped tightly around me, at the skirt that I could do no more than hobble in. As I did so I felt a powerful wave of sadistic desire surge through me. My slave will be richly rewarded for his generosity…….in pain and humiliation.

 

Taking a Bathroom Break

I have, on occasions, played in hotel rooms. These are in some respects not ideal locations, there is little room to swing a whip, no play equipment as such (and I have still to find a kinky use for a Corby trouser press, still being a little nervous of the obvious!). But there is a bathroom. And the scope for humiliation and degradation play in a bathroom is great.

On one occasion, whilst changing for the session, I noticed that my play partner had left the toilet lid up (a grave sin) and not flushed  it after having a wee (a graver sin). I warned him of the possible consequences of a repeat. Next time round I was pleased to note that he had complied with my instruction. But I still wanted my fun.

I made him crawl into the bathroom.

“Is your toilet clean?” I asked.

“Yes Mistress.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Show me.”

He hesitated.

“How Mistress?”

I let him sweat for a minute or so.

“Lick it out” I ordered.

His face fell and he attempted a smile. But I wasn’t joking. I gazed at him unsmiling. He understood and stuck his head down the bowl to begin licking.

Toilet humiliation gives me a tremendous buzz. I have made subs lick out dirty toilets, made them hump toilets, kissing  them passionately as they did so. I have contemplated dressing someone up in a bridal dress (or as near as I can get) and marry the toilet, with me as a perverted registrar..

And then there is the bath, ideal for urinating over them or giving someone a freezing cold shower. Yes, there is a lot of fun to be had in a bathroom.

I have come across people on the scene who look on this kind of play with distaste, even to the extent of worrying about my own sub’s wellbeing after we gave a demonstration of bathroom play at a kinky house party. He loves this kind of paly as much as I do which has been instrumental in helping to forge a proper D/S bond between us.   I understand that this is not for everyone but it has always been a big part of my kink and I make no apologies  for saying

“Lick out that toilet slave. “

 

Taking to Task

I love setting tasks. They are a means of extending my control over my sub to the times when he is not physically present to serve me. They are also a another way to inflict various humiliations on him and this is something I love even more than a good caning. It is also a challenge to me to come up with ideas for new tasks and I like to be creative. .

And yet my slave has long had difficulty with pointless and demeaning tasks which served no purpose except to humiliate him. So I have extended the range of tasks to include things of practical benefit to him, and above all, to me. As a Mistress I really shouldn’t have to do menial but necessary tasks myself should I?

So I now set a variety of tasks which fall into four categories:

There are tasks of benefit to him, such as being ordered to inspect himself for lumps etc on a regular basis. This is an aspect of me caring for his well being.

Secondly, there are tasks of benefit to me, such as having my shoes and boots polished, my latex brought to a shine etc. I know my slave genuinely loves these tasks, because although menial, he can see a practical point to them. .

Thirdly there are punishment tasks, which are very often boring pieces of written work, lines, essays and so on. He hates these and that is the point. They are punishment and definitely not to be enjoyed.

Finally, there are the pointless and unpredictable tasks I set for my twisted amusement. Often demeaning and humiliating, these are always set with a smile on my face, if not met with a smile in return. These he has sometimes struggled with. Yet I will persist with these frequently irksome and demeaning tasks. They serve no practical purpose but challenge the sub to the core of his submissiveness. He is forced to overcome his reluctance and distaste in order to please his Mistress. He is forced to win a battle with himself and this is the way to deeper submission and, through suffering, to deep joy.

If you liked this please check out the other posts on this subject at Kink of the Week by clicking on the lips

One of These Days

These boots are going to walk all over you sang Nancy Sinatra fifty years ago and there’s a clip of her performing this on YouTube which is a boot fetishist’s delight. I have been a boot fetishist since childhood and love the outset of autumn for the riot of boots that will hit the streets, including, of course, my own. And, like my most of my fetishes, I have carried this over into my BDSM play. Most of the submissives I have played with have enjoyed boot worship and my slave regards it as a great privilege to be ordered to clean my boots. I have recently extended foot and boot play to foot massage and foot worship. Until recently, however, I had never considered trampling.

I was aware of it as a kink activity and have a scene friend who specialises in it. I have, on a number of occasions, watched her trample her sub at public play events and wondered if it was for me. The difficulty I could see was that, being transgender, I had a different build to the lady dommes I knew and was significantly heavier, this despite a year of successful dieting and 10k runs and half marathons. I am a bit squeamish too (really!) and had visions of major organs being crushed under my feet.

So it was a little trepidation that I accompanied my slave to a recent Underfoot play event. My trampling friend was there as was a lady I had met the week before at a femdom event who had come to demonstrate. And I had a go. You can trample from a sitting position, trample supporting yourself on frames and bars, trample to your heart’s content without ever putting more than a fraction of the bodyweight on your human doormat. You can make it sensual, you can mess with the head and, best of all, you can make it hurt. I quickly found out how enjoyable it can be to use my heels to play with my victim’s nipples.

You can combine it too with related forms of play such as objectification and human furniture. Well, a lady does need to rest her feet after a spot of trampling and a human footstool is just the thing. As for my slave, he is still getting used to it and, yes, it does hurt.  We will be doing this again.

NOT THE GOLF CLUB….PLEASE

I have never had the slightest interest in golf, that is apart from the time some Frenchman called Van der Velde threw away the British Open on the final afternoon after getting stuck in a stream where it was canalised in a concrete trough and dropped a dozen shots as he hacked away like an amateur. Cue laughter and schadenfreude oh and a little anger at the crass misogyny of Peter Alliss who apparently thinks the sole function of any woman in his life is to make his tea. But I digress…..

One of the reasons golf has never really appealed is that most golfers belong to clubs, which are expensive to join, have bars full of back slapping self-satisfied white men and that, if these things weren’t off-putting enough , you have to be proposed and seconded by existing members if you want to join yourself. I have never been a fan of anything that required you to be approved by somebody else before joining.

I am concerned, therefore, to see that Fetlife is now effectively an invitation only club. New people can only sign up if invited by an existing member. Just like the golf club, really, but without the G and Ts and the Pringle sweaters……unless that’s a particularly esoteric fetish that has passed me by.

I can see why they might have done this. In my early days on the scene I got to know a man who was banned from Fetlife for stalking and harassment of one particular lady and kept rejoining under new IDs and I know, too, if only anecdotally that abuse, trolling, and general dickheadery are not uncommon. I have had to block a couple of people because of the latter. But the new rules will not necessarily deal with these issues. What, for example, is to stop a troll inviting him or herself under new names to have an account ready for when they are banned? And what about those who are simply blocked and ignored but never reported and remain on Fetlife to seek out new victims?

For those not yet in the scene this is a disaster. I, and no doubt many of you reading this, struggled for years alone with my fetishes and fantasies, unaware of the scene, unaware that there were so many like-minded people living within five miles of me. Joining Fetlife opened up to me a world of munches and play events, and led to me meeting a number of lovely people who helped me to love myself as I am and were influential, often in ways they might not realise, in making me the person I am today.

So, Fetlife, please think again. Think of those who don’t know anyone on the scene who have no-one to invite them and, because they cannot join, have no way of finding out about the munches and play events where they can meet kinky people. You have left them isolated in a vicious circle and made it impossible for us, as a community, to reach out and welcome them. Do not deny them the opportunities we all had.