Chapter 16,
In which Ralph loses eighty pounds
Eileen and Ralph met in a bicycle club. They fell in love and decided they’d rather not have the rest of the club along when they went riding, so they became a steady twosome. They shared week after week of fun and adventure, marveled at their compatibility, married, and set about playing house.
That’s where their difficulties began—playing house. Eileen had been raised in the belief that a wife ought to feed her husband well, while Ralph had been raised to welcome her cooking as an offering of love. As often happens, they overdid their roles and Ralph started gaining weight. It wasn’t much of a problem at first because Ralph, five feet ten inches tall, was a very thin 145 pounds when they met, and he was still getting plenty of exercise, but that soon changed.
He had been working as a computer operator for a mid-sized bank and doing an outstanding job of it. His talent caught the attention of the chief systems programmer, and when Ralph and Eileen had been married three months, he was invited to move up to a world of sixty-hour weeks—system maintenance nearly every weekend, political lunches most other days, more money, and the opportunity for further advancement. Naturally he accepted. His new duties left no time for cycling, and his weight increased at an alarming rate. When he and Eileen celebrated their second wedding anniversary he weighed 217 pounds.
Ralph’s weight was a problem to Eileen. She had always been turned off by fat men, and now, if she looked at Ralph objectively, she was thoroughly grossed out. Usually she managed to avoid complete objectivity, distorting her perception so as to see him at some intermediate weight. She couldn’t do that, though, when they fucked. That was a nightmare. Ralph’s arms weren’t strong enough to support the rest of him—not for any length of time—and as he got carried away with sexual excitement, he’d relax them, crushing Eileen and making it impossible for her to breathe. By the time she realized what was happening, she often had too little air in her lungs to say anything, and she had to give Ralph a rough push, or even hit him, to get his attention. He was always duly apologetic, but Eileen couldn’t help feeling that he didn’t care about her—that he regarded her as a mere implement of sexual satisfaction rather than a human being.
On several occasions Eileen tried to avoid being crushed by getting on top, but Ralph wouldn’t let her. If her attempt was purely physical, he repositioned her. If she talked about it, he accused her, jokingly, of latent homosexuality or transsexuality, or of trying to turn him queer. Sometimes he said he just didn’t like doing it that way. Eileen found his protests difficult to believe, and when she discussed the matter with me, I explained that that was because they were less than honest.
Ralph wasn’t a homophobe, and he had too solid a sense of reality to believe that Eileen’s climbing on top was a threat to his heterosexuality or that it reflected deviance on her part. He pretended otherwise simply to keep Eileen underneath, and his reason for wanting her there was the sense of control it gave him. Some of that control was symbolic but most of it was real. Some men—and I’m sure Ralph was among them—resist being fucked from above for fear the stimulation will be too intense and they won’t be able to slow it or control their responses. It’s not that they’re afraid their partners are ingenious enough to inflict my favorite torture; they worry that they’ll be made to come too quickly and they dread the embarrassment.
Ralph’s refusal to let Eileen get on top wouldn’t have been a problem if not for his weight; being on top wasn’t one of her needs. She would have preferred that Ralph get his weight under control, and he himself said he wanted to. They went so far as to agree that Eileen would no longer cook for him so he wouldn’t feel obliged to eat. For reasons of which she was only dimly aware, it was a difficult agreement for her to accept; when Ralph proposed it, she took it as badly as some women take their husbands’ requests that they be permitted extramarital affairs. Still, the need was so clear, she had to agree. Unfortunately it did no good. Ralph’s weight soon reached 225 and Eileen could now rely on being asphyxiated every time they fucked.
Finally she decided she’d had enough and reacted with a vengeance. She bought a digital scale, weighed Ralph once, and told him the rules.
He was going to be her sex slave, and he was going to get his weight back down to the 145 pounds it had been when they met. (She was tempted to go for his original weight—about seven pounds—but she thought better of it.) When he wanted sex, she’d weigh him on her scale, hiding the reading from his view. Then she’d tie him to the bed and he’d eat her. If he hadn’t lost half a pound since the last time he’d come, that would be it; his lust wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d lost at least half a pound. If he’d lost half a pound but not a whole pound, she’d make him come by hand but she wouldn’t fuck him. If he’d lost a pound or more, she’d fuck him but he’d have to remain tied while she did; she wouldn’t let him get on top until his weight was all the way down to 145. She wouldn’t be sexually available at all during her periods, and she also warned him that he’d better not try to cheat by playing with himself or he’d be in for an unpleasant surprise.
As to how he lost the weight, that was up to him. She would refrain from offering him food, but he could eat as much or as little as he chose, whenever and wherever he liked. He wasn’t to use the digital scale, and she would keep her readings secret, but he could monitor his weight on any other scale, and he could time his sexual requests any way he wanted.
She knew that Ralph would accept her rules. He found her a powerful turn-on and couldn’t possibly choose celibacy while living with her. Neither could he easily arrange an affair: he was so fat that few women would have him, his work kept him too busy to go looking, and all the women with whom he regularly came in contact knew he was married and were at least somewhat friendly with Eileen.
She gave him the rules on the first day of her period, hoping he would accumulate a full-pound loss by the time it was over. Indeed she hoped he would accumulate a full-pound loss every time she had her period, and she had set up the rules with just that in mind, because she herself always craved a good fuck right after the bleeding stopped. She understood, though, that Ralph might not cooperate, and she was determined to stick to the program regardless.
Surprisingly Ralph said okay; but in retrospect, that was only because he knew Eileen was always horny after her period and he expected that when the time came, she would conveniently forget everything she’d said. He must have figured that if he could get her to make an exception to her rules at the very beginning, the project would be completely derailed.
Sure enough, as soon as Eileen’s period was over, Ralph came on to her. It was five o’clock on a Wednesday morning, and he had just come home from working all night on an emergency. She resisted his advances and reminded him how things were going to be.
“Come on, I need you. You can’t expect us to give up sex until I lose eighty pounds.”
“No, we’ll have lots of sex; but each time, you’re going to have to lose at least half a pound to earn it.”
“Aren’t you horny?”
“Yes, but I can wait if I have to. If you want, I’ll weigh you right now. Then I’ll tie you down and you can eat me. What happens then depends on how much you weigh.”
He agreed to be weighed, then argued some more when Eileen refused to tell him what the scale said until after he’d eaten her. She wouldn’t give in though, and he wound up cooperating.
When he’d satisfied her, she gave him the bad news. He’d gained half a pound. Now he’d have to lose a whole pound just to have her bring him off by hand, or a pound and a half if he wanted to fuck. He raged at the unfairness of it all, then realized Eileen wasn’t going to untie him until he calmed down, so he got himself under control. She released him and started getting ready for work, thankful for the excuse to escape his frustration.
Ralph argued through most of Wednesday evening, Thursday morning, Thursday evening and Friday morning. Eileen found it a drag, having to hear and recite the same words over and over, but she noticed through it all that Ralph wasn’t eating—at least not so she could see—and that seemed promising.
Friday evening, instead of arguing, Ralph asked to be weighed. He’d lost the pound and a half, but Eileen refused to tell him until he’d eaten her. He resumed his arguing, but she held firm, finally pointing out that even if he had a reward coming, he wasn’t going to get it until he was tied to the bed. That convinced him and he let her tie him. She straddled his face and warmed herself up on his mouth, then straddled his cock, slid it into her pussy, and fucked him. It took just four strokes to make him come, and it was a big one.
“You were horny!”
“Yeah, it’s been too long.”
Ralph didn’t argue after that. Sunday evening, after the weekend’s work, he asked Eileen to weigh him again and she did. This time he let her tie him down without asking what the scale said. When she’d had enough of his eating her, she told him that he’d lost a whole pound and rewarded him with another fuck. This time he lasted several minutes. His orgasm, while not so overwhelming as the previous one, was obviously more intense than any he’d ever had in the missionary position.
After the initial loss of water, Ralph settled into a slow but steady pattern, shedding about a pound and a half a week. He stopped eating lunch, explaining to his colleagues that his doctor had predicted is imminent demise and put him on a crash diet. He went out with them as politics demanded, but he’d have only diet soda or mineral water. He stopped eating the pizza, subs, and chainburgers his boss ordered during their weekend work binges and kept himself going on black coffee. As far as Eileen could see, he lived on a single frozen fish fillet a day, cooked in a microwave and supplemented with enough vitamins to keep him from getting sick.
Sometimes he slipped and Eileen would leave him frustrated until he’d lost the requisite half pound. Once when that happened, she pretended to fall asleep but monitored his movements to see whether he would masturbate. She was sure he did, and in the morning she saw that his pubic hairs were glued together and a small area of the sheet was noticeably discolored and stiff. She decided it was time to subject him to her unpleasant surprise; she didn’t want him evading her beneficent influence.
She waited until he’d lost enough weight to earn his reward, and then, when he was tied in place and had already satisfied her, she confronted him with what he’d done and told him he would have to be punished. His embarrassment was so plain as to sweep away any lingering doubt of his guilt, but he tried to deny it anyway. Eileen wouldn’t be fooled though, and after some back-and-forth, he asked her what she was going to do.
She told him his punishment would consist of two parts. One would be that the next time he told her he wanted her, and it turned out that he’d lost less than a pound but more than a half, he’d have to play with himself while she watched. The other would be a surprise, and he’d find out what it was when it happened.
He tried to talk her out of it, suggesting that instead she ought to have him do something of practical value, but Eileen wouldn’t hear of it. She said he was trying to turn her into a prostitute and she refused to be corrupted by her power over him. He kept arguing, so she decided to take the opportunity to add a new dimension to his enslavement. She was going to show him he couldn’t resist her.
“All right. I’ll give you one chance to get out of the whole thing,” she began—then went on to tell him that all he had to do was keep himself from coming until eleven o’clock, twenty-two minutes away. He was still trying to figure out what to say when she went to work on his cock, and as she toyed with it she teased him about how he was going to have to come, even knowing that it would mean she’d get to watch him jerk off.
He came at 10:45 and she kept rubbing. He tried to pull away.
“Poor Ralph! You need to stop coming and I’m not letting you.”
He begged her.
“Nuh-uh! This is your surprise.” And she bent down and sucked his nipple even as she kept rubbing his cock.
He thrashed so wildly, she thought the bed would break, but he couldn’t escape. At last he gave up and, braying like a donkey, yielded to the sensory overload. Eileen kept piling it on until his cock no longer twitched, and even then she didn’t stop; she continued until it started to lose its stiffness.
“You’re going to know now to take my rules seriously, aren’t you?”
“You’re too much. I guess I’d better.”
“And you’re still going to have to let me watch you jerk off. There’s no way now you’re going to get out of that.”
“What if I lose a whole pound every time?”
“You might do that, but I doubt it.”
She untied him and they cuddled. He held her more affectionately than he had in a long time.
The next time he asked to be weighed, Ralph had indeed lost a whole pound and Eileen fucked him. As she did, she teased him. First she reminded him that she was eventually going to get to watch him masturbate; then she pointed out that if she wanted to, she could keep fucking him after he came and he’d wind up feeling just what he’s felt last time. That idea precipitated his orgasm, which in turn triggered hers. When they settled down, she teased him a bit more.
“That was an exciting thought, wasn’t it?”
“You’re trying to embarrass me.”
“And you love me for it, don’t you?”
He sputtered.
“Well, don’t you?”
She kissed him lightly.
He looked at her with just the mixture of love and embarrassment she was talking about, apparently unable to speak.
“I know you do,” she said. “And I felt how turned on you got by the idea that I might keep fucking you after you came. You’re really going to be my love slave now, even after you lose the rest of that weight. And one of the things you’re going to have to do is answer questions like the ones I just asked you. You do love me for embarrassing you, don’t you?”
“I guess I do.”
“And when I said I might keep fucking you after you came, it was such a turn-on, it made you come. Isn’t that true?”
“Yeah,” he said. He choked on it, but he said it.
If it hadn’t been for the weight-loss project, Eileen would have overstimulated and teased Ralph almost continuously from that moment on, the way I do my lovers. She understood, though, that that would be counterproductive. Ralph would wind up so horny that masturbation would become a necessity, and if he really needed to escape detection, he could. So nothing changed. Eileen continued to wait for Ralph’s requests, taking care not to get him too fired up before he was ready. Then, when he asked her to, she’d weigh him and do as the scale said.
Ralph managed to avoid having to masturbate for Eileen until he’d lost forty-two pounds. When he finally made the mistake of asking her to weigh him too soon, she told him it was time. She enjoyed the show, teased him about it, and secretly hoped that the removal of the threat wouldn’t make him haphazard about his future accomplishments. Unfortunately though, Ralph had hit something of a plateau; it started to take him twice as long to lose each pound. Two months went by before Eileen fucked him again, and during those two months he lost only six pounds.
Eileen didn’t try to tell Ralph how to lose weight faster, or even ask about his efforts; she just enforced her rules. Ralph himself figured out that since he was lighter, his usual activities took fewer calories; if he wanted the pounds to come off at the rate they’d been, he’d have to exercise. Difficult as it was in his decrepit state, he resurrected his bicycle and started riding again. He still had no time for it, but now he was motivated. Often Eileen rode with him, and though Ralph couldn’t go as fast nor as far as he used to, they both enjoyed it. He found other ways to exercise too: he walked to the mailbox and the convenience store instead of driving, and sometimes he even did push-ups.
The push-ups were Eileen’s idea. She suggested them once when Ralph was lamenting the impossibility of exercising in the rain. She knew push-ups couldn’t take off much weight, but someday she would again have to let him fuck her in the missionary position, if only to celebrate the completion of their project, and she’d developed a real fear of being crushed. She wanted him to strengthen his arms so that when his weight reached 145 pounds, she wouldn’t have to carry it all on her ribs.
Somehow the idea took hold and a month later, when Eileen attended an office party at the bank, Ralph’s boss remarked on his new habit of doing push-ups on the computer room floor while waiting for the machine to do its work.
“It must be the programming,” he said. “Every programmer I’ve ever known is crazy, even me.”
Whatever its effect on his image, the exercise was just what Ralph needed to start the pounds melting away again. As soon as he got back into riding, his weight resumed its previous dive. At the same time, Eileen’s teasing had a comparably beneficial effect on their love life. During each sexual encounter, she teased Ralph at least a little, and she could see in his eyes that he really did love her for it. He didn’t leave the feeling in bed, either. Between times, much more often than before, he offered her the little spontaneous displays of affection every woman needs. He’d tell her he loved her, run his hand through her hair, pat her, give her a kiss or a hug. He was treating her as affectionately as he had before they were married.
As Ralph struggled with his last fifteen pounds, Eileen put a heroic effort into the continued enforcement of her rules. She never let Ralph know, but he turned her on so much with his again sexy body and his affectionate ways that she wanted to fuck him all the time. Finally, after fifteen months, the ordeal ended. Ralph asked to be weighed one Saturday morning when he didn’t have to work, and Eileen obliged.
“You did it!”
“I lost a whole pound?”
“No, just seven tenths, but it says 144.9.”
“At last! I thought I was getting down there. Does that mean we can stop all this nonsense?”
“No, it means I make up a new set of rules where I get to decide when and how we make love, instead of always letting you decide when and the scale decide how.”
“Can’t we make love like a normal couple again, like we used to?”
“We can do it like missionaries if you want, but we’ll never be a normal couple. You’ll always be my love slave, no matter how we position our bodies, and you’ll always know it—even more than before, because I’ve been taking care not to turn you on too much, so you wouldn’t be frustrated all the time. Now I don’t have to worry about that, so I can keep you naked when we’re home, and I can look at that sexy body, and I can rub my pussy in your face and see what it does to your cock, and I can do it all as often as I want.
“See?” she pointed, “All I have to do is talk about sexually dominating you and it gives you a hard-on. Would you like to put it in my pussy this once without being tied down?”
In just a few seconds he was fucking her, and they did it twice more that day. She had a very pleasant time and enjoyed rediscovering how easy, relaxing, and downright sexy the missionary position can be when one isn’t being crushed. Ralph was thin again, and his arms were stronger than when Eileen first met him, and it was the most enjoyable Saturday she’d had in three years.
Soon she gave him her new rules. She’d make all the decisions about their lovemaking and he’d do whatever she said. She’d continue to weigh him every few days, and she wouldn’t fuck him if he let his weight go above 148 pounds, and he wouldn’t be permitted to come at all if it went over 150.
For as long as I stayed in contact with Eileen, Ralph’s weight never again became a problem, but neither did she relinquish control over their lovemaking. She varied their play imaginatively and impulsively, only rarely allowing Ralph to get on top when they fucked. It was still his favorite way of making love, but he didn’t try to insist on it anymore. Part of the reason was undoubtedly that he knew it wouldn’t do any good; but also, he’d learned he didn’t need the control the missionary position gave him. If he was being fucked from above and he came after an embarrassingly short time (which happened exactly as often as Eileen wanted), the consequence would be some affectionate teasing, not the rejection that men in conventional relationships dread. Ralph was in paradise, or as close to it as a man can come while working in a bank, and he knew it was Eileen who had brought him there. He repaid her with all the loyalty and devotion she deserved.
Had Eileen wanted to, she could easily have done to Ralph what Linda did to Stephan. The first time she fucked him from above, when he came after only four strokes, she could have teased him about it, played up his embarrassment, and given him a hypnotic suggestion that he’d always come immediately upon entering her; and yea, it would have been so. That’s not what she wanted though, so she handled it differently: she supplied an excuse for Ralph’s loss of control, and the duration of their next fuck was normal. Still, there were times, much later, when she wanted to make him come in just a few seconds and she wanted to tease him about it. And she could.
If your man is horny and you turn him on, not only can you make him come, but usually you can make him come as fast as you want. Just subject him to a form of physical stimulation he can’t resist, teasing him at the same time about how embarrassed he’ll be if he can’t delay his orgasm at all, and it happens. Unlike what Linda did, this is a one-time thing; you do it when you want and the effect doesn’t carry over.
Linda fixed Stephan for good. That’s what she intended. That’s the way her suggestion was worded. Still, if Eileen had given Ralph the same suggestion, not at her first opportunity, but three months after he’d lost the last of his excess weight, it would have had no effect. By then, Ralph had learned he could usually control himself, even if sometimes he couldn’t, and his expectation of control would be difficult to overcome permanently, regardless of how quickly he could be brought to orgasm on any one occasion.
If Eileen wanted to turn Ralph into a chronic premature ejaculator, the time to do it was the first time she tied him down. Ralph was disoriented then, both by the novelty of the situation and by having been made to come so quickly, and his disorientation made him especially suggestible. More important, he had no accumulated experience that would lead him to doubt a suggestion that his loss of control was permanent. He would believe it. That belief would add to the embarrassment he already felt, especially if Eileen went beyond simple suggestion and piled on some heavy teasing. The resulting Loop would play in his mind every time he felt his cock enter her pussy, making him come immediately.
Women have a diversity of attitudes toward this. A few want their men to suffer chronic premature ejaculation so they can tease them about it, or to discourage affairs, or both. Linda started with no preference; she destroyed Stephan’s control because the opportunity presented itself and she understood how strongly it would bond him to her. Most women want to be able to fuck at least occasionally. If you’re among the majority and you’re going to enslave your man, take care not to dial Linda’s magic combination by accident.
Ralph’s decline into obesity was no mere misfortune. It was required by the script that had been engraved in his unconscious, however unintentionally, by his parents during his early years. (Many people live by such scripts, and several books have been written on the subject of scripting.) Ralph’s script required that he follow in his father’s footsteps, and his father had been a moderately successful drudge of grotesque physical proportions.
Obesity would serve the same purposes in Ralph’s life as in his father’s. It would prove he was successful. If he weren’t, he couldn’t afford to overfeed himself. It would prevent him from pursuing distractions, be they extramarital affairs or frivolous activities requiring exertion. And it would distance him from his wife, protecting him both figuratively and literally from the common male bugaboo of being swallowed up by her love.
Though his father had passed along a vague dread of intimacy as leading to emotional and even physical engulfment, Ralph still had to have a wife, and an attractive one at that. The old man had a wife, so marriage was part of the script. A good-looking wife would serve as a highly visible emblem of success, and a good-looking wife who remained loyal to a grotesquely obese husband would be conclusive proof of success. And script or no, fear of engulfment or no, Ralph had the usual human needs for love, sex and companionship.
He had to get the wife before he put on the weight. Once he was fat, attracting a good-looking partner would be nearly impossible. And even if he could find one who was interested, courtship (at least among the young) involves a degree of physical activity that’s difficult for an obese person to manage.
That’s not to say that Ralph laid a trap for Eileen. If a trap was laid at all, it was laid by the script, which can be seen as a kind of evil spirit with a life of its own, out to ensnare Ralph and Eileen both. A script—at least a destructive one—will keep itself hidden during courtship because if it didn’t, it would frighten away any potential partner who became aware of it. Even the bearer would take evasive action. Ralph, the 145-pound cyclist, would have been horrified to think he’d wind up with his father’s girth, but once he was married and the script took hold, he did everything necessary to make it happen, and he did it without becoming conscious of the script. Eileen, who fell in love with a 145-pound cyclist, would have been equally horrified—she found fat men repulsive—but she too wound up doing her part.
Of course at their deepest levels, Eileen and Ralph both knew what was coming. Ralph was the bearer of the script and couldn’t help sneaking a peek. Eileen had been introduced to the script in the form of Ralph’s parents, and the subconscious understands these things. She went along because she had been prepared for her role by her own parents. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the day-to-day reality of Ralph’s obesity.
If Eileen hadn’t been exposed to the techniques of female domination, she and Ralph, like Ralph’s parents, would have gone through five or six years of bickering over hubby’s weight, followed by a lifetime of unhappy resignation. It might have been a brief lifetime, because the more weight a man carries around, the less time he’s obliged to carry it; but as it happened, Eileen did get the opportunity to learn about female domination and she used its techniques to defeat the script, saving Ralph from premature burial in a piano crate.
Not every script can be defeated as easily as Ralph’s. Scripting is powerful and female domination has its limitations. If you become a proficient dominatrix, you can use your skills to bring out the best in a man, but you can’t make him over from scratch. It just doesn’t work.
There are two reasons Ralph was able to lose eighty pounds with Eileen’s help. First, on a conscious level both Eileen and Ralph wanted it. Eileen wanted Ralph slim, and she wanted him slim more than she wanted to cook for him. Ralph had felt better—more alive—before he put on the weight. Part of him remembered that feeling and wanted it back. He even cared, though he seemed not to, about the quality of experience he was creating for Eileen; he can’t have felt good about crushing her.
The program would have failed had Eileen’s need to feed Ralph been stronger, or had she feared that if Ralph were attractive she might lose him to another woman. It would also have failed had Ralph been pathologically afraid of starving, like some survivors of famine.
The second factor that made it possible for Eileen and Ralph to succeed is that Ralph knew how to weigh 145 pounds. He’d done it before. His body knew what kind of food and exercise it needed, and how much. All he had to do was dust off the pieces, reassemble the machine, and plug it in. If he had never been slim, the process would have been much more difficult, perhaps impossible.
The story of Eileen and Ralph exemplifies the use of female domination to motivate a man toward a goal. It falls midway between two extremes. At one extreme, we find compulsive gamblers who need to be stopped. At the other, we find men who have no real problems, but who could use some motivational assistance to see them through ordinary projects, and want their wives to use the power of their femininity to provide it.
If your marriage is conventional and your husband is attempting to earn an academic degree while working full time, and he’s finding it difficult to focus on his studies, you probably aren’t going to enslave him for the purpose of giving him motivational assistance. Even I, fanatic that I am, wouldn’t advise it. Enslave him, yes! But don’t use your power to motivate him unless you’re sure he’ll welcome your efforts. He’ll very likely resent your intrusion into a part of his life that’s properly his alone, and you could easily do your marriage more harm than good. His goal, unlike Ralph’s, isn’t worth the risk.
When you’ve already enslaved your husband, things are different. If he wants you to help motivate him, you’ll know it. He’ll tell you—if not on his own, then in response to your questions about his fantasies. And if he does want your help, you’ll know how to go about it; women in this situation rarely make mistakes.
Most men don’t need motivational assistance and prefer to run their own lives, and as long as they keep themselves a couple of inches back from the edge of disaster, they should be allowed to. I’ve taken charge of every one of my relationships since Steve (except the two that ended because of my partners’ refusal), but after Corbett, I’ve always chosen to limit my exercise of control. I control my partner’s sexuality and whatever else is naturally shared between us, but I don’t go beyond that core. I’m more comfortable that way, and since I’ve remained single, I’ve never felt obliged to rescue a partner who started making self-destructive choices. I could leave instead. If you’re married, that’s neither a practical option nor a decent one, at least until you’ve exhausted all the others, and one of the others is female domination.
Later, when we consider the story of a compulsive gambler—or even now, focusing on Ralph—it may seem that the primary value of female domination lies in its potential for dealing with difficult and ugly problems. Not so. The primary value of female domination is its ability to sustain a loving, happy and intimate relationship, and the best time to enslave your man is when he’s in love with you and there’s no need. That’s when it’s easiest; that’s when it’s most fun; that’s when those difficult and ugly problems can still be prevented instead of solved. If you wait, you may accomplish wonders; but whatever wonders you accomplish, it would have been better to avoid the necessity. Sexual slavery always plays best as play.