Tuesday, May 3, 2016

After Thoughts.

The first day, walking into the studio, my confidence level was a zero on a scale of one to ten. The women were younger, prettier, and a lot more sexy. Tara explained that an older person had more real life experiences to bring to the job, and that gave me an advantage. She also gave me tips on how to dress. As a young girl going to college in the era of short skirts, my skirts were as short as anyone's. Like most girls of my age I liked the feeling of being able to turn a man's head. I had nice, long legs. Tara encourage me to dress a little more daringly. Her establishment was not a dungeon, it was a studio where the girls were encouraged to play with the client's mind, to make fantasies come true for them. Heels were also important Tara told me. High enough to be sexy, but low enough where by you still looked like a lady rather than a tramp. After years living as a soccer mom it took me a while to find the right balance. In the studio, she explained, it was important to look like a professional person.
In her opinion men wanted to be dominated by real women rather than prostitutes who were dressing up for a part in a play.

As I shopped for a shorter skirt or two memories of college came back into my head. My friend and I would take a seat at a table in the library. All of the tables were open. We would cross our legs in a lady like fashion, but the skirts were so short back then that you had to be careful not to show more than you wanted. Once we took a seat it would seldom be long before a guy would just happen to take a seat on the table across from us so that he could peak. If the guy was cute we would 'accidently like' pull up our skirts an extra inch or two. It never failed to get a guy's attention. We didn't think about it back then, but it was a way of controlling a guy. Of course, making a guy turn his head was as much control over him as we wanted. It was never imagined that we could have used our feminine power to have some of these men clean our apartments, run errands, and even do class assignments. The world of femdom was not something that I ever imagined existed.

One of the things we did in the studio was humiliation play. Much of it, like puling a man with a dog leash was done inside the walls of the studio or in the small private patio. Sometimes though we would take them out on the street. The leashes were thin and hard to notice unless you were close. The first time I held a man's leash in public I was as embarrassed as he was. After a few times the feeling of embarrassment went away, and I simply enjoyed the feeling of empowerment that comes with the experience. You quickly learned not to speak with the guy, but simply tuged the leash when you wanted him to move in one direction or the other. It was only a few years ago that I shared these experiences with Becky. 'Mom, you really put leashes on men and took them walking around the quarter' she asked in amazement. It was at the same time that I told her about the blog. It was also the reason for the take down of the earlier part of the blog. There were things out there that she needed to know, but she needed to hear them from me, not read them on a blog.

Over a period of just a few weeks the experience gave me a certain type of confidence. When you are constantly with other women who have a lifestyle that treats men as slaves it quickly seems normal.  The expected way for a client to greet a mistress in the studio was in Command Position with his toes, knees, and elbows touching the floor. His head was supposed to be as close to the floor as possible. Some of the older, heavier men could not bend their head to the floor. It was hysterical watching them try. We would sometimes give them a little swat on the rear end to encourage them to try harder. The point of all this is that after only a few weeks, a very short time the world of the studio seemed very normal to me. In the same way my daughter now takes it as normal that her husband will kneel when she points to the floor. A couple of short years ago she would have considered this idea as totally ludicrous.

The studio experience did change my level of confidence in a couple of ways. In the past I assumed that it was normal for men to be in charge. It was normal for men to receive promotions over women.
In many ways I considered men as the privileged gender, and they were. It is only now that the world is talking about white male privilege. Working in the studio taught me that is was acceptable, even normal for women to be in charge. It was even normal for women to be in charge of men in the work place. In the sixties it would have been unheard of for a man to work under the supervision of a woman. Now it is so common that no one even things about it. The purpose of this blog is to promote the idea of men living under the authority of women in their personal relationships. In a matter of speaking this is the next frontier.

Love and Kisses,


Sunday, May 1, 2016

After Thoughts

I want to thank all of you for the heartfelt comments.

The world of flm or femdom is a different experience for most women. Almost every woman who embarks on the journey handles it differently. Some women make the decision to collar their man, some put a chastity device on him, and some do neither. I am the last person to say what is best.
What I do believe is that some men have an inborn need to surrender themselves to the control of a woman. Here to fore society has been critical of these men, and to some extent continues to be. Yet we are living in a world where to be homosexual seems almost a badge of honor, and  public debate centers on which restroom certain people should use. I can only imagine what my parents would think if they were some out teleported from the fifties to the present. Why then is the public so slow to accept the concept of a man taking his marching orders from a woman and living under her control? If anyone can answer this question please do so.

In the last series, 'In the beginning' I talked about my introduction to submissive men. In a heartbeat I was transported from a quite suburban world to the mysterious environment of women who whipped, trained, and humiliated men for a living. On that first visit with Tara she made the offer for me to come work with her, to learn, and become one of her girls. By the time the car turned into the garage of my now husbandless home my heart provided an answer. That evening I made the call. 'When would you like me to start' I asked. The experience had a profound effect on me.

In a few months I learned much about the opposite sex. Who ever thought that grown men would want to be leashed, led around like little puppies, and then be made to lick the dust off women's shoes. I was taught to often use the word 'dickless' when addressing men. Tara told me that many of her clients craved humiliation of the worst kind. Why, I asked. The simple answer was she didn't know, but it was some how part of their DNA. My husband she told me was one of these men. This at first caused something of a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. After all, my husband had been my lover, my hero, and my protector for many years. How was it that I missed the fact that  he was one of the so called 'dickless' men who craved humiliation and female domination. Even today my husband craves the embarrassment of reading about himself on this blog.

The first time I slid a collar and leash on to a man's neck took all of my courage. I was embarrassed for the man. Tara told me don't worry, you will quickly get over it. Only a month or so latter a houseboy failed to meet me at a parking place on a rainy afternoon. He turned right instead of left. It was not really his fault in that the instructions got mixed up. Anyway, because of the rain my shoes got somewhat dirty with sticky wet grass.  It annoyed me. A few minutes later, after my arrival in the studio a fifty something year old houseboy came rushing in with an umbrella in his hand. I remember the terrified look on his face as he fell down to his knees in front of me. With the most disdainful voice any woman could muster, I pointed to the soiled shoes, and gave him the simple command to lick them clean. A couple of  the girls, including Tara, who were nearby came out with an almost hysterical laughter. The poor unfortunate man continued licking my shoes until I kicked him away.

The point of this story is that after having spent only a few weeks in the environment of the studio it felt completely normal to have a grown man lick my shoes and just as normal to kick him away.
The girls were not laughing at the poor man who was down on his knees, but at the transition the  new recruit had made in only a few weeks. The other point of this story is that this act of selfishness on my part actually made me feel good. In a strange way it felt so very empowering to be able to control a two hundred pound man. After kicking him away I even raised my foot so that he could lick under the under soul of my shoe. On the way home that night I though more about the incident. What had I turned into, I asked my self. It was one thing to have a man lick and suck a high heel. It was another thing to actually enjoy having a man perform that humiliating task. Had I become a bitch, I wondered to myself.

On the long drive home that evening I thought of the experiences of the day. It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't really see that houseboy, whom I kicked, as a man. In my eyes he was just a slave who was there to hold an umbrellas or lick my shoes clean. As for my feelings for he could just as well have been an imamate object. Then I though of the way some of the girls would have a male go down on all fours just so that they could use a strong back as a bench. The gentlemen in the studio was a stranger to me who came in town a few days each month to work at the studio. His wife most probably though he was working on some business deal while he was actually scrubbing toilets.
Then, I wondered if it would ever be possible to respect a man who was willing to lick the souls of my shoes on command. Would I ever be able to think of this type of a man as a husband, my husband?

Most of us are not naturally dominant. The experience taught me that working with  men, training them, and working them could arouse feelings in me that did not fit the picture of who I was as a person. This, for one thing is part of the reason that my husband is never whipped or spanked. In a sense I don't really trust my self. I could learn to like doing it too much. My daughter is much more even tempered. In many ways I have learned as much from her as she as form me.

Love and Kisses,


Thursday, April 28, 2016

For Love Of A Man

I am not really to sure about this posting.

A lot of work went into the last series, but based on the feed back and comments it had very little impact. For me it was a little disappointing.

The relationship John and I have can be described as femdom rather than simply female led. According to some of the blogs femdom means that the wife is acting for the benefit of her husband. Accordingly, the focus of a femdom  relationship is the husband rather than the wife because the wife is really catering to her guy's needs. In some blogs men, husbands, are  described as disposable. If a man doesn't cater to your needs simply throw him away, they say. In real life, in real femdom relationships women fight for the men they love. Our husbands are not disposable creatures. They are our helpmates, our lovers, and our special angels that help us through the night as well as the darkest hours of our lives. They are also the fathers of our children.

This past summer my daughter collared her husband for the first time. Was she catering to the needs of her man? Maybe. However, she also understood his need for her control. More recently she made the comment about how much work being a mistress can be. 'You know, mom, he needs supervision, he needs to know that I am watching him'. In that conversation Becky went on to talk about the stress the comes with being head of house and mistress to a man. 'Yes, of course' I answered, 'but is it worth it'. 'Yes' was her reply with a half smile. At least I told her being a mistress is less painful than childbirth. 'Not sure about that either' she replied with a laugh.

In the last posting the comment was made that John and I had drifted apart, and that femdom brought us closer together again. This also happened for Becky and husband. The intimacy associated with femdom is like a magic potion that women can't ignore. We love intimacy. We love holding hands. We love the little kisses on the back of our necks. Yes, in a way we do cater to our men.
And yes, it is worth it.

The question has comes to me is about being naturally dominant. No, I am not a natural dominant, but have learned how to manage men. Have I learned to enjoy it, I'm asked. Yes is the response.
Once again is managing a man worth the trouble. 'Yes,' if he is the right man.

With Love, Mistress Kathy

Friday, March 18, 2016

In The Beginning......

Just to let everyone know I will be away from the blog for the next few weeks. In The Beginning is a topic I can talk about forever. I learned a great deal from Tara, and the group of women she introduced to me. These are my special friends. As I have said on the blog Tara worked not only with men, she worked with couples. She introduced the women to one another. It gave these women a  place where they could talk openly about their relationships in an environment that was both safe and open as well as away from men.

One of the other things to mention is that John and I learned a great deal from each other. In many ways we had drifted apart. The sad part of this long story is that it took a Tara to bring us back together again. The experience made both John and I realize that we loved each other, and that there was a special bond between us. When John first came home the discipline was harsh. For a long time I was more of a dominatrix than a mistress wife. There was a feeling that John had to be punished for his misdeeds. When John first came home he was not allowed in our bedroom. It felt terrible being alone knowing he was locked in the next room. A mistress is not supposed to cry, but cry I did.

Looking back on things I now realize that both of us were at fault for what happened. My energy, my focus was on the children, not my husband. All along I should have encouraged him to have become open with me. What children need most is a loving home where the needs of both parents are being met. As the children were growing up John's need for female authority was not being addressed.
John saw me as a wife, but not as a mistress. She would not understand he said to himself in the same way many of you hide your submissive side from loved ones.

Femdom has a kinky side, but in and of itself being a mistress to a man is very vanilla. It is simply about being the person who is in control of a relationship. Femdom games can be fun, and can add to the value of a relationship. Tara taught me to throw a ball and have a man fetch it with his mouth.
Believe it or not men love doing this little exercise. Yes, it is kinky, but we all need a little kink in our lives. What I believe is that when a man is submissive a wife has a duty to deal with it. A woman who sweeps a husband's submissive needs under the carpet is not being a loving, dutiful wife.

The other thing that needs to be said is how proud I am of Becky for accepting her responsibly of becoming a mistress for her husband. There are things we talk about as mother and daughter and many things that are personal that neither of us feel comfortable discussing. I hope that she and her husband are both happy, and that they sometimes find the time to play some of these games. In the grand scheme of things what is wrong with occasionally having a man fetch a ball or dance for a wife's entrainment? Sometimes I believe we would all be happier if we took life a little less seriously.

Love, Kathy

Saturday, March 12, 2016

In The Beginning....

I was not going to post this morning, but did want to thank all of you for sharing. On this blog many of you have opened up for the very first time. In a lot of ways it is good to talk about things like love and feelings and things that matter to us as people. A girlfriend once told me that a blog that discusses topics such as this would not succeed as men have no interest. I am pleased to report that she was wrong. Once again we have an excellent contribution from Mistress Sandra. While I appreciate her contributions, I truly wish she would start a blog of her own.

When John first came home we didn't talk about Tara or the studio for a number of years. Both of us wanted to sweep that hurt and the past under the rug. Then, gradually we started to talk. In a sense we needed closure. During our nightly conversations I asked John questions about how he felt when serving Tara, and her assistants in the studio. So much more came out of those conversations. As we grew more confident in our assumed roles the decision was made to open up with the children. In truth it was getting difficult to hide the face that our relationship had changed. Little by little we told them about Tara, the studio experience, and the reason for the separation. Both of our children were surprised, but thought no less of us.

As I grew more confident as a mistress wife I gradually started making comments on other blogs. To my surprise people had interest in what it was I had to say. Little by little the comments expanded until the decision was made to start Femdom 101. Over the last several years I have had the experience of communicating with a number of remarkable people. Many of you are happy.
There are many of you who are stilling looking for that perfect woman to serve. There are many more of you who are not quite sure who your are as a person.

In some ways talking with John caused more hurt. One of the things I came to realize was that John had developed strong feelings for not only Tara, but for one of the young women who worked for her. Like Tara had this young mistress worked in the studio as a way of paying her way through college.  She was bright, attractive, and articulate. While working in the studio I actually got to know her, but at the time had no idea of the special connection she had with John. She brought John to her apartment where he cleaned and served  her and a roommate as their personal slave. In a way I blame her more than him. John, like most men does not have the strength to resist the will of a strong, confident woman. This is part of why the activities of most men should be monitored by  wives. I tell my daughter that even though you trust him you need to know what he is doing and whom he is doing it with. Every so often give him a face time call and have him show you his immediate environment. If not supervised most men will eventually find a way to get into touble.

Mistress Sandra gave us an excellent comment regarding the reasons men have for visiting a professional dominatrix. Mistress Tara taught me a great deal. For one things she cared enough for her clients to give them something of a real experience. A few clients who had the time and the money were selected to become houseboys in the studio. These houseboys had the opportunity to truly serve the everyday needs of a mistress. These houseboys cleaned her toilets, moped floors, ran all kinds of errands for the mistresses, and paid for the privilege. My baby was one of these houseboys. He learned a great deal about himself by serving in this capacity. One of the things he realized was that he loved being at the beck and call of a confident woman who was willing to rule  him. Back then he did not see me as that person. John, like many of you enjoyed the feeling of being told to fetch a drink, run an errand, or simply kneel as a man does before his mistress.
In a sense he truly enjoyed being a slave to a female owner. What I have learned is that John's submissive nature is not a negative. It is a positive. Submissive men are treasurers to have and to hold. They are the rough diamonds that need to be cut and polished to a shine. There are too few women willing to take on this challenge.

Aside from single men Tara worked with couples. In some ways this sounds very kinky, but she taught wives and girlfriends things about their men that they never would have known.
Like the Conquer Him blog she put the women together in a small group where they could learn and grow from one another. As I learned more from the studio experience she put me in touch with that group of women. Years later a few of these Tara graduates have become some of my closes friends.

One of the comments that I really appreciated was the one by Charlie. His ideas are a little different from most of the men who comment. This is fine and is appreciated. There needs to more places where men, ordinary submissive men, can learn to serve ordinary women with ordinary lives. Every marriage is based on love. Not every femdom relationships needs to be a marriage, nor does every femdom relationship need to be based on love. Many men need the experience of serving women in ordinary life. Often times I believe this type of experience would be good preparation for married life.

Love, Kathy

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

In The Beginning...

For the drive home that evening Tara had given me much to think about. We had spoken for hours.
Once, toward the end of the conversation she called the house boy back into the room where we were sitting. She pointed to the floor in front of her feet. The slave, as she referred to him went down on all fours. She then proceeded to use this poor man's back as a foot rest. When she was tired of having her feet in that position she simply used her foot to push him away. This men, well into his fifties understood the correct position to immediately assume as his head, elbows, and knees quickly went to the floor. I looked on both of their faces for some hint of embarrassment, but there was none. Later, while working in the studio I learned that it was quite routine for a woman to use a man's back as a  resting place. What I believe she wanted with the exercise was to impress upon me the power that a dominant woman has with a submissive man. On another visit to the studio, weeks later, she had a man urinate in a toilet and then pressed his face into the yellowish water while she flushed it all down. There were things that discussed me about her practices. There were also things that caught my attention in a positive way.

One of the things Tara understood was that there were differences between her dominatrix studio and  real life in a femdom marriage. Her own husband, a former client, she described as a slave husband.
As she used the term slave husband I had to think about what she meant. Many men need only the authority of a female she told me. Other men need discipline, things like humiliation, and even pain she said. Siting there in her living room I could not help but think of my own husband who must have spent many hours working for her in that same apartment. I wondered what he needed. Whatever it was I wondered if I could give it to him.  Above all there was a big question mark in my mind. Could we ever live together again as husband and wife I asked myself. At that moment on that day I didn't know the answer to the question. Tara did tell me that John was a very submissive man who could not be happy living in a strictly vanilla style of home. What bothered me was that this stranger seemed to know so much more about my husband than I did. John and I had been married for many years, raised a family, and here she is telling me about him. It was a very awkward feeling.

During the conversation Tara asked if I would like to learn more about male submissive behavior.
Without really answering the question Tara invited me back to the studio. She wanted me to come back when clients were present to observe, and if I liked to participate in their training process.
Although she asked the question, she didn't press me for an answer. She told me to think about it for a couple of days. The message Tara gave to me was that she didn't want to be the cause of a marriage breaking up. John, my husband, came to her because he needed something that he couldn't get at home. It wasn't that he didn't love me, she said, it was just that he had this ever present powerful need that was beyond his control. A need that had been repressed for many years.

As the words come out of my mind to write this posting I can't help but wonder about the readers of femdom 101. How many of you have repressed your submissive need, and for how long, and how much happier many of you would be living under the firm domination of a loving wife. Becoming a mistress wife has made my daughter's marriage stronger. It has also made her a more confident woman who is not afraid to take control of her relationship. This blog is not about embarrassing men or suggesting that women are some how superior. It is about tolerance for a life that is slightly different from the norm. Above all it is about love and understanding between a couples.

A few of you have been given email assignments to write essays concerning femdom for my Gmail account. These are due by Friday morning. From the rest of you I want clear, well thought out responses in the comment section. What does femdom marriage or female authority mean to you. What effect had it had on your life. Has it been a positive, a negative, or what. Often it helps to put your thoughts into words.

Love, Kathy

Monday, March 7, 2016

In The Begining..

It was not so long ago that I talked about my first visit to the dominatrix studio, but it may me well to talk about it once more. Each time I talk about this first meeting different thoughts tend to come out. The drive from my suburban home to the city consumed most of an hour. During that long drive there  many conflicting thoughts going through my head. Do I really want to do this, I thought. Will any good come out of it, I wondered. At each turn of the road the answer came back to me. I needed to understand what this submissive thing was all about. I needed to understand for myself the power this strange person by the name of Tara had over my husband.

The drive from my nice, neat suburban home to the studio in the Marigny was a journey not only of miles, but of one culture to another. The suburban home where John and I raised our children was a land of soccer moms and fast food. The Marigny was very different. It was a neighborhood of small restaurants and cafes, of music clubs and bars all with a bohemian feel. On the streets women could be seen holding hands with other women, and men with their arms around other men.
It was one of those neighborhoods where good suburban women like me felt out of place. Standing at the entrance waiting for the door to be opened took only a few seconds, but felt like an hour. I felt physically safe, but mentally apprehensive.

After a few seconds the front door was swung open my an older man wearing only panties with a collar around his neck. Attached to the collar was a small bell that jingled as he walked. It was not loud, but just enough to send a signal that he was there. As he bowed his head he performed a slight curtsey. In my experience curtseys were only done by European women or children in dance classes. That was the first time in my life that a man curtseyed to me. It was a strange feeling.
His words were also strange. He said something like please come in ma'am, mistress is expecting you. Who is mistress, I wondered. In my world a mistress was a woman who slept with a married man.

The mistress, who went my the name of Tara, welcomed me with a smile. I was happy that she didn't choose to greet me with a hug as woman often do with one another. I was not in the mood for a hug from the woman who had stolen the affections of my husband. She offered me a place to sit on a comfortable chair across from her. We were close enough for conversation, but she was careful to keep a distance between us. I am sure that she sensed my hurt, and my discomfort in being with her in this very strange place.

As I set down Tara offered a cup of coffee, a glass of wine, or simply something to drink. The half naked man who opened the door stood there with his head bowed as if he was afraid to look at us. I would later learn that that is part of the training for males in the studio. In the presence of women they are expected to look down, never at them.  And yes, Tara referred to them as males rather than men. This is where I picked up the habit. I believe women react to nudity in a different way from men. When men see a half naked woman their eyes are drawn to her. When confronted with a half naked man women tend to avert their eyes as I did when entering the studio. It was only when this man was standing just in front of us waiting for instructions that I realized the panties were lacy and ruffled. They were  the kind of underwear that would normally be worn my a small child, but here was this older man simply standing there looking ridiculous in a grown up version of little girl's showy under pants. If the sight of this man wasn't so ridiculous it would have been funny.

Siting in the living room Tara and I spoke for what seemed like most of an afternoon. The monster I was expecting turned out to be a very articulate bright young lady. What attracted my attention the most was her age. She appeared to be in her mid twenties. However, as we talked she seemed to have a knowledge of the male of our species that was very foreign to me. She talked about  men, or males, having the basic need to surrender themselves to female rule and service. Once again, the things we talked about, the ideas were strange concepts to me. When I expressed concern she told me straight away that there are worse things in life than having a husband who is submissive. At least you know it is a lot better than having a husband who is an ax murderer. She, of course, was trying to make a point.

That afternoon was very first introduction into the world of dominance and submission. What amazed me was how respectful these older men were to this younger lady. If they spoke at all it was only when spoken to, and the words usually consisted of a 'yes mistress'. In didn't take long to figure out that in this strange world the word mistress was a title of respect for a woman of authority. On the drive home that day the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This woman whom I spent the afternoon with was my husband's mistress. I was only his wife.

Love, Kathy