In which we explore the advantages a man may find in being a woman’s love slave
If a man doesn’t want to be your love slave, he can avoid it; and if he doesn’t want to be any woman’s love slave, he can avoid that too. In extreme cases, the costs of refusal may be prohibitive, but extreme cases are rare. I’ve sexually enslaved a fair number of men, and my friends, among them, have enslaved a large number. Almost every one of those men made a voluntary choice to remain in a relationship where he knew he would be controlled by his partner. They stayed because of what the relationships offered them.
The advantages men find in sexual slavery are diverse, and the important ones vary from one man to another. Let’s look at some of the most common.
The most obvious advantage of sexual slavery is that it’s tremendously exciting.
After a while, a man in an ordinary relationship becomes sexually bored with his partner and comes to regard lovemaking as more duty than pleasure. If he’s not committed to the relationship, he seeks a new and therefore more exciting partner, then repeats the pattern until he makes a commitment before getting bored. When he gets bored with a partner to whom he’s committed, he stops making love. If his libido was weak to begin with, he becomes impotent. More commonly, he delivers brief, mechanical sexual performances devoid of emotion.
Many women blame themselves when this happens. Some blame their partners. In actuality, blame is inappropriate. Men are wired to lose interest in a partner who’s always available. They can’t help it. Fortunately they’re also wired to turn on to the techniques of female domination; they can’t help that either. And the power of these techniques to excite is far greater than the tendency of monogamy to bore. If your man can’t have you whenever he wants, if he gets to experience that yummy little thrill only on your terms, boredom never sets in. He remains always a bit insecure, always eager to please you, always horny for you.
A love slave spends much of his time in a state of sexual arousal. He may find this frustrating at times, but always exciting and never boring. I’ve heard of two love slaves in their seventies who were vigorously potent, and one of them had given up on sex in a conventional relationship fifteen years earlier, believing he was too old.
A particularly introspective man might appreciate this, as might a man who has been rescued from sexual boredom without a change of partner, but a man of ordinary self-awareness who is sexually enslaved early in a relationship will likely attribute his state of continuous arousal to his lover’s attractiveness alone. And so much the better for her!
Like sexual excitement, being in love is a delicious feeling. Men, control freaks that they are, rarely seek it; they seek sexual flings instead. Nevertheless men do fall in love early in their relationships and feel a loss when they assert dominion over their partners and the feeling goes away. Eventually a man reaches a point in his life where he becomes aware that he’s no longer in love with the woman he married and, unless he ends or at least risks his marriage, he’s doomed to live out his days without ever experiencing that feeling again. Grim.
Female domination saves a man from that. A love slave is, first and foremost, in love with his partner, and the feeling doesn’t go away. Many factors contribute to this, among them the same insecurity that keeps him sexually excited, her sharing of his vulnerability with respect to the Loop, and his eidetic recollections of her teasing.
As with sexual excitement, only an uncommonly experienced and introspective man will understand that his enslavement is what makes him love his partner with such enduring intensity. The average man will be aware only of being in love. Both will be emotionally committed.
Men crave intimacy but fear it. Generally fear wins. A woman who sexually enslaves her lover can tip the balance so he can enjoy being known by her.
Early in a relationship, when a man is in love, he wants to share all his thoughts, feelings, fantasies, beliefs, hopes, dreams and fears. He rehearses what he’d like to say, but typically can bring himself to voice only a small fraction of what’s inside. He’s learned to keep it all to himself, and the learning is of a sort that’s difficult to overcome.
As the relationship matures, he feels obliged to control it. The necessity of confronting his partner as an adversary when they have differences (for that’s how he sees it!) now makes self-disclosure impossible. The enemy might learn something she could use against him. This is war, and he has to win—has to expand and consolidate his control.
From her point of view, the most appealing aspects of his personality have disappeared behind an impenetrable wall. From his point of view, he’s involved in a relationship recognized as the ultimate in intimacy by his friends, colleagues, church and state, and he’s emotionally isolated.
Sexual slavery makes it easier for a man to talk openly with his partner about matters of emotional significance. It does this in several ways.
If she uses her sexual power to take control of all aspects of the relationship, making whatever decisions there are to be made, he doesn’t have to be ready for battle. There isn’t going to be a battle, so there’s no tactical disadvantage in having a history of intimacy.
If she considers his needs in making her decisions—and she would be foolish not to—he’ll learn that it’s in his best interest to let her know what those needs are. He’ll learn to prioritize them honestly as well. Some things matter to him a great deal, others only a little. There are preferences he might insist upon in an ordinary relationship that aren’t his at all, but represent instead what he thinks he owes his family or what he hopes will impress his buddies. If she considers his stated needs in good faith, her decisions will suit him best if he’s been honest with her. Intimate self-disclosure thus becomes a way of getting what he needs and wants.
The Loop, by being a significant vulnerability he can’t help but share, gets him accustomed to being intimately known. Other secrets no longer seem so dark as to be worth hiding. In time, he learns his partner isn’t dangerous and he gets comfortable enough to talk openly about anything. Eventually he realizes she knows him quite well and loves him for who he is, rather than for the image he was trying to project when they met or for some utilitarian advantage. That’s a truly exhilarating high—one that the conventionally dominant man will never reach.
Because he’s in love, he wants to share his thoughts, feelings, fantasies, beliefs, hopes, dreams and fears, just as at the beginning of a conventional relationship. And the love inspired by sexual slavery lasts, so he actually has a chance of communicating it all, then going on to share the changes that come with maturity and age. Happily ever after.
Escape from responsibility
Responsibility is strenuous. Some men, particularly those in high-pressure jobs that require them to make decisions that have profound effects on the lives of others, carry far more than is good for them. Such a man often feels relieved if his woman takes control of their relationship and assumes all responsibility for the part of his life that she shares.
Permission to reject overwork
Some men, once married, spend too much of their lives working and too little at home. They do it partly because it’s a socially acceptable way to avoid the terrors of intimacy, partly because they believe their wives value the financial rewards of their industry above their companionship. A few, sadly, are right. Most are wrong but refuse to change their ways no matter how their wives beg. A woman who sexually enslaves her husband is in a position to require that he spend a reasonable amount of time at home. If she states a willingness to accept the resultant decrease in his income, he has no choice but to believe her. He’s almost always happy with the results.
By way of contrast, there are men who can’t motivate themselves as they would like; they find it useful to have their partners oversee their endeavors, spurring them on with sexual rewards and punishments. I’ve known women who used the power of their femininity to push their men through a program of weight loss, a course of study leading to a master’s degree, training for a marathon, and the completion of a book of photographic essays. The men themselves chose their respective goals and were happy for the motivational assistance their partners gave them, though they grumbled a bit along the way.
This sort of arrangement has an extreme form, considerably darker. I’ve known two women whose husbands developed gambling addictions so severe and damaging, it seemed suicide was the only way out. When each of these men hit bottom, his wife scraped him up, sexually enslaved him, and used the leverage that that gave her to pull him back to a semblance of sanity. The men seemed as happy as those who chose their own goals, if only because they weren’t abandoned to financial ruin and social disgrace when they knew they deserved it. Indeed they grumbled less about their treatment, even though it was considerably harsher and they had no real choice but to accept it. Now back among the living, they could free themselves if they wanted to, but neither has tried.
Knowing what’s expected
A man in a conventional relationship is often troubled by the feeling that his partner is unjustifiably annoyed with him—that she blames him for neglecting something important to her, for somehow failing to meet her needs. But she hasn’t actually said that, and she certainly hasn’t given him a list of things he’s neglecting. Her rule seems to be, It’s no good if I have to tell you, and he suspects that she changes the secret desideratum whenever he comes close to identifying it. He finds this frustrating.
The relationship between a dominatrix and her love slave doesn’t work that way. She tells him clearly and truthfully what she needs, wants, and expects of him. He delivers it because he loves her. She thanks him. Simple and fair. Instead of feeling frustrated he feels appreciated.
Avoidance of performance anxiety
A man in a conventional relationship often falls into the worry that his partner will be horny when he’s not, and that she’ll react unpleasantly if he’s unable to fuck her on demand. This worry kills what little desire he might have had, setting up a loop that can lead to chronic impotence.
A love slave doesn’t have that problem—not unless his partner is foolish enough to demand sexual arousal from him. Instead he has the opposite problem—that he’ll be embarrassed by his inability to keep his arousal under control—and that mind-set precludes performance anxiety.
If she finds herself in desperate need of sexual satisfaction when he’s absolutely incapable of arousal, she can always have him eat her or finger her, warning him beforehand what he’s in for if he lets his cock get hard. Afterward she can congratulate him on his rare self control. I don’t recommend this because it gets him used to the possibility of sexual contact without arousal, but it does get her needs met without inducing performance anxiety.
Since time immemorial, we humans have tried to gain a perspective on our own nature and our role in the larger scheme of things. In pursuit of this goal, we’ve sought ways to escape ordinary reality, retaining just a vantage point from which to observe what happens to us—who we become—when the world goes weird. The aids most commonly employed to achieve such alteration of consciousness are botanicals such as marijuana and hashish, iboga and ayahuasca, peyote and magic mushrooms. Some people get comparable results from yoga or fasting; others from such pursuits as skiing, hang gliding, rock climbing or sailing.
Sexual slavery can do it too. It splits the personality the same way, into the objective observer and the kid taking the trip on the ragged edge of the impossible. The kid on the trip is out of control, can’t say no to his partner, can’t help turning on, can’t help loving her. The observer looks on in wonder. Wow! Is this really me? I never would have imagined it possible!
Dave was a man with whom I went climbing in Yosemite a few times one summer. He liked to lead, while I preferred the relative safety of seconding, and we were comfortable with climbs of the same length and difficulty, so we made a well-matched team. He said that what he liked about climbing was that the alien environment, the exertion and the risk brought back the person he used to be before he grew up—the boy exploring the world for the first time, the simple human being who had been born and who would some day die. We developed a strong mutual affection and a sexual relationship that expressed that affection.
Since we always had ropes and webbing at hand, our lovemaking was kinky from the start, and I quickly discovered that once Dave had been drained of come, his cock would go into that wonderful state of sensitivity I’m so fond of. Just as quickly, Dave discovered how much I enjoy playing with that sensitivity, and what a tease I am. One evening, a couple of weeks after we had first made love, I tied him down in my usual fashion and wondered aloud whether, if I kept playing with him long enough, he’d get past the sensitivity and come a second time. He told me he wouldn’t, that it would just hurt, and I told him I intended to find out. He pleaded with me not to, so I said that if it was going to be so terrible for him, he should just not let himself come the first time and I’d quit trying after about twenty minutes; but if he came once—and I told him I knew he would—I was going to try for twice. Actually I didn’t expect to be able to make him come twice; I wasn’t even going to make a genuine attempt. I just wanted to show him he couldn’t resist me and then make him squirm long enough so he’d make a serious effort to resist again next time.
I used both hands on his cock and occasionally bent down to suck his nipple. Soon he was at the edge of orgasm, looking into my eyes with an expression that begged me to stop.
“Georgeann, you’re really doing it to me!”
I felt his cock stiffen. I was about to say something, but—
His hips lifted into the air and the first spurt went flying before he had quite finished his protest. He was still looking into my eyes. I couldn’t look away even to watch my toy.
“Georgeann, that’s me you’re seeing! O, my! That’s all me! You know me!”
It was all happening at once. He said it as he came, and he started to cry as he said it.
I started to cry too.
“It’s okay,” I said.
I continued stroking his cock for as long as I knew he really wanted it.
I let go.
“It’s okay,” I repeated.
Still crying, both of us.
I untied him as quickly as I could and we lay together and talked. He told me what I already knew: I had revealed, to Dave and to myself together, the same person he sought to know through his climbing—the real Dave, who had been born, who would die, who held on to life in the form of a little nubbin of rock when holding on was impossible but there was no alternative. By motivating him to resist his sexual responses, I drove a wedge between those aspects of his adult personality that thought they were capable of such resistance, and the real Dave, who wasn’t.
When he came, everything in him that had been trying to resist was swept away. All that was left was the male human being who couldn’t help but want to come all the way, couldn’t help but want to be completely known by the female human being who was making him happen. What made him cry wasn’t fear, wasn’t even embarrassment; it was just the beauty of the trip we were sharing, and the intensity of the sharing itself.