I always endeavor to give this blog a broad appeal, across both the gender divide and the top/bottom divide. Obviously everything I post has to be of interest to me at some level, but I try and avoid limiting it to a narrow range of activities or styles of play. I’m fortunate, or possibly cursed, with a wide range of kinks, so finding topics interesting to me is never too difficult. And anyone looking for a simple stream of hot domme images has plenty of other options.

One area that periodically pops up is edge play, involving activities that some might consider extreme. My post from yesterday would be a good example, as would some of my personal posts on butterfly boarding or suturing. I’m always careful how I present this kind of information, as I don’t want people to casually browse to my frontpage and get some enormous disturbingly graphic image shoved in their face. At the same time, I think edge play is an interesting topic to talk about and don’t want to ignore it entirely.

In that spirit, I want to talk about a type of edge play that scares the hell out of me. It makes branding or cutting look positively delightful, and I doubt I’ll ever try it, or even be in a position to. The description of it comes courtesy of a post from Em called ‘The Real Deal‘ over on Mrs, Kelly’s Playhouse. Let me quote the relevant part:

…. Scott will be totally and completely financially dependent on me. He gets a small social security check that no one could actually live off and that’s it. And though he is well-educated and smart, America hasn’t been nice to him in the job department. He’d have a really hard time making it on his own. Now that’s power.

Fortunately, for Scott, I really love him and will keep my promise to always give him a place to stay (probably the garage) no matter what happens. But when I consider how I want to wield my new — more genuine — power, whips, hoods, and cages, are not the things that come to mind.

I love all the naughty things we get up to, but I want a clean bathroom. I want laundry that is folded and put away properly. I want spotless floors and a meal on the table when I come home. I want organized files and clean counters. And I want all this without a word of complaint. No whining about time for himself.

This is actually a more interesting journey to me. We’ve had great fun but now it is not about fun, it is about what I want.

I find this fascinating to think about on a number of different levels. My immediate reaction was to recoil from the concept. I’ve been an independent and (relatively) successful person for well over a decade now. The idea that it’d be possible for me to voluntarily give-up that type of freedom is abhorrent to me. I’d always want the option to be able to walk away from a situation. But that led me thinking about what femdom mean to different people. Is it femdom to play a few hours a week with a casual play partner or a pro-domme? Or is that simply a sensation seeking physical encounter of a sexual nature? What about a lifestyle relationship where the male is the only financial provider? Even if she controls the bank account, he can walk away or change the arrangements at anytime. Does it make sense to talk about the degree of dominance as defined by the difficulty of ceasing the relationship? And at what point do issues of consent start to become relevant?

I wonder how many men out there, who purport to crave a 24/7 lifestyle relationship, would actually be happy with the kind of approach Em and Scott are exploring. I don’t think I could ever put myself in that situation. I’ve written in the past about the enjoyment I find in being pushed towards my limits. I think a lot of that enjoyment would dissipate if I didn’t have the option to step away.

Scolding the maidI found this image on Becoming Nathalie, it’s obviously originally from Nylon Jane. It’s completely unrelated to Em and Scott, but as a nice illustration of a housemaid being scolded it seemed to fit the post.