femdom


I’d like to write a bit about the word “Mistress.” It’s something I’ve been noodling for a while, ever since a conversation with Derek about what he should call me - and it seems an especially appropriate post right now since people are talking so much about words.

I have very ambivalent feelings about being called “Mistress.” It contains two almost diametrically opposed (in my mind) connotations. Not to mention it’s so trite and featured so prominantly in the lip-curling mainstream idea of femdom that Bitchy’s always railing about, that the word has achieved a bit of ridiculousness to me.

Usage Note: English has no shortage of terms for women whose behavior is viewed as licentious, but it is difficult to come up with a list of comparable terms used of men. One researcher, Julia Penelope, stopped counting after she reached 220 such labels for women, both current and historical, but managed to locate only 20 names for promiscuous men. Murial R. Schultz found more than 500 slang terms for prostitute but could find just 65 for the male terms whoremonger and pimp. A further imbalance appears in the connotations of many of these terms. While the terms generally applying only to women, like tramp and slut, are almost always strongly negative, corresponding terms used for men, such as stud and Casanova, often carry positive associations. · Curiously, many of the negative terms used for women derive from words that once had neutral or even positive associations. For instance, the word mistress, now mainly used to refer to a woman who is involved in an extramarital sexual relationship, originally served simply as a neutral counterpart to mister or master. The term madam, while still a respectful form of address, has had sexual connotations since the early 1700s and has been used to refer to the owner of a brothel since the early 1900s.”

Ask the average person on the street what they think of first when they hear the word “mistress,” and I almost guarantee most of them will say something along the lines of “kept woman.” That is the dominant (no pun intended) definition of the word in our world. So why the fuck would I want someone to call me that?

Ah, but if we could only escape that sleazy and insulting denotation… it could be such a beautiful title..

mistress
noun

1. the female appellation corresponding to master, a woman who has authority, ownership, etc; a woman who commands, controls or owns

2. a. A woman who owns or keeps an animal: a cat sitting in its mistress’s lap.
b. A woman who owns a slave.
c. A nation or country that has supremacy over others: Great Britain, once the mistress of the seas.

3. Something personified as female that directs or reigns: “my mistress . . . the open road” (Robert Louis Stevenson).

4.. A woman with ultimate control over something: the mistress of her own mind.

5. A woman who has mastered a skill or branch of learning: a mistress of the culinary art.

6. Mistress Used formerly as a courtesy title when speaking to or of a woman.

[Middle English maistresse, from Old French, feminine of maistre, master, from Latin magister; see master.]

When I was talking to Derek about it, he said that he sees it as a dominant term, and that calling someone “Mistress” makes him feel very submissive. I’m sure that loads of people feel that way, but it’s so hard for me to let go of the negative associations and the triteness and the image of the shiny latex-clad barbie doll of wanky fauxdomination that’s caused me, and others, so much angst (apologies to Bitchy for appropriating the links, I’m just too lazy to look this shit up myself).

So, if not Mistress, than what? The boy wants to know what to call me, and I don’t know what to tell him. Because there really doesn’t seem to be anything better. Empress, Goddess, Princess, “My Lady…” Ugh, ugh, and ugh, with a side of derisive laughter. Pretentiousness is not my style.
Ma’am is the best thing that’s been suggested so far. It’s appropriately respectful, with the hierarchical connotation that puts me above him, so to speak. But fuck, it makes me feel like a schoolmarm or something, and not in that sexy, “oh, you’ve been such a naughty boy looking up Teacher’s skirt, I’ll have to punish you” way. The last person I want to feel like during kinky fun is Professor McGonagall.

Maybe I will give “Mistress” a try the next time I’m with Derek. See if I can get past the bullshit and own it.

“Indigo’s Violent” left this in part of a comment on Bitchy Jones’ blog:

“It was clear growing up that only pretty girls had power over boys, even the kind they got from being pretty helpless little things (Ew, gross, a bug!) when I was a tomboy (Check out my millenium falcon! Check out my hotwheels!) and I wanted that power but I wasn’t pretty and I didn’t like the namby-pamby shit girls pulled about being delicate and clean and fancy all the time. “

ToniJuly 26th, 2007 at 8:42 pm
You know, Jones, I feel you talk a lot about what makes you angry, (men in panties, strap-on submissives, pretty women who earn a few bucks portraying themselves as dominatrixes and now childish language - as if the whole my sex is so important to me thing wasn’t childish enough), but I want to know what is it that makes you enjoy hurting people? Is it anger, and if so what are you angry about? OK, your a fat, red-haired bird, (you weren’t once married to a Prince of the Realm were you)? So many people have disadvantages and they don’t get turned on by hurting people, so tell us - not what makes you angry, but why you get satisfaction from seeing pain in others? I have my own opinions, but I wonder what you think .

QueSeraJuly 26th, 2007 at 9:14 pm
Speaking for myself — as a woman who has found it highly erotic to make guys uncomfortable since childhood, and who developed a sadistic streak in my late teens that made inflicting pain highly arousing — speaking for myself I say, anger has nothing to do with my sexual arousal.

When I’m angry, or feeling any other kind of negative emotion, the last thing I feel like doing is something sexy. I might rant, stomp around, even break something (small and non-valuable, of course). But start tying up my partner and smacking him with my favorite yardstick? Heavens, no.

That’s for doing when I feel good. Great, even. It’s an expression of just how good I feel. Really.
Try this: You just got nearly run off the road by some ding-dong who was too busy yakking into their cell phone to notice the light was red, and when you hollered at them on the way by, heart in your throat from the near crash, they just smiled and waved, as if to say, “Ha-ha, oops! Silly me!” At that moment your blood begins to boil. Do you instantly want to start masturbating? Does your anger make you want to go make love with your partner?

I didn’t think so. When I’m angry I don’t feel like getting jiggy, either.

Another clarification, probably unneccesary for anyone who actually does this kink thing: I don’t get turned on by seeing pain in just anyone, but only in my partner whom I love and cherish, and only the kind that is erotic for us both. I hurt when he gets bad news about a friend, or accidentally cuts himself. I am as disgusted as anyone else by seeing pain inflicted on innocents. I work with abused and disabled children, for god’s sake!

I have a very well developed sense of rightness and justice. I see no conflict with that and my drooling over a nice new paddle or flogger. (Mmmm, with little points on the end… but I digress.)

If I really knew why I kinked so hard for a bound, whimpering man with fresh stripes across his ass, I think I would have some kind of superpower key to the universe or something. I highly doubt there is a pin-down-able reason at all. I’m otherwise very ordinary, with a very typical middle class upbringing, family, job, and lifestyle. Some things are maybe just unknowable. Do you understand everything about what makes YOU tick?
~~QueSera

I finally got to use my $1000 worth of floggers. (It’s amazing the toll frustrated desire has taken on my wallet..) The new boy (who will be referred to as Derek from now on) came to my house on Monday. I’ve been wanting to write about it ever since, but it is so very hard to find the words.

The only toys I used were the floggers. And I used every single one. I didn’t follow the “rules” - I definitely didn’t warm him up properly. It was so good. I love to see his suffering, hurt him until he yells through clenched teeth and doubles over from the pain. Hit him as hard as I can, with every ounce of savage fury that is caged within my heart. Claw his back just to see the scratches blossom. See the tiny angel wings take form on his shoulder blades, born of my cruel fingers.

And know that he loves it far more than he ever thought he would.

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