NEW STORY! – Begging for a Blowjob

This story is now available FREE on SMUTProject.com! Click here to read the whole thing!


Synopsis: A slave gets a lesson in discipline beneath the stockinged feet of his relentlessly strict Mistress.

This F (Femdom) story features:
Tease and Denial, Foot Fetish, Orgasm Control, Discipline, and Footdom in Nylons.


I don’t know why I wanted it so badly. It’s not even usually my thing, but when she asked me I knew what the answer was.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, more in a way that demanded my honesty rather than one that demonstrated any readiness or desire to please me.

“I..,” I hesitated, not wanting to admit it, what with all the time she had spent training me to attend to her needs and her whims, her wishes and her desires. It almost felt selfish. “I want… I want a blowjob,” I finally finished.

“I see,” she replied, showing almost no reaction, turning her attention back to the book she was reading. There was a pause, a long one, while I worked up the courage to press the issue.

“Will you give me one?” I asked, and she turned the page.

“Will I give you one what?” she returned, not looking up.

“A blowjob,” I repeated.

There was another pause as she finished a paragraph. “What about it?”

I sighed. “Will you give me a blowjob?” I reiterated, just a fraction too emphatically in my budding exasperation. She looked up and set the book down in her lap.

“Of course I won’t!” she said quietly, in a way that was full of indignation and reproach. “Not when you put it like that. Of course I won’t ‘give you a blowjob.’ How utterly ridiculous. Come get under my feet for your impertinence, right now.”

(…)


© 2018

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Anything Goes?

[WARNING: This post regards some things which should be disturbing to many readers. Please proceed at your discretion.]

If you’re involved in this community for long enough, whether as a creator, a participant, or even just a simple voyeur, you will invariably come across some things that will shock you, and some that will even trouble and disturb you in a real and serious way. Things that challenge and things that truly offend. Or, as such things are known more popularly, “some real fucked up shit.”

It’s simply a function of how lumped together people of all tastes and persuasions are under the umbrella terms of “kink” and “BDSM”; there may be real distinctions between people and groups within those categories, but in a lot of ways we weirdos are stuck having to associate with each other, with even the ones to whose beliefs and behaviors we object. It’s a lot like being American, actually. A New York liberal and an Alabama good ole boy may repulse each other but they are, at least in one sense, countrymen. And believe me, the commonality is often a good deal less comfortable, and less familiar, than that.

In many cases, it’s a question of what else there is to call one thing or the other when they are most overtly joined in not being “vanilla”, which is to say, not being what can safely be called normal or usual for the majority. What do a foot fetishist and a furry have in common? Not a great deal in substance I should imagine, but they both can freak out the squares.

So unique to this “community”, to this landscape of strange and unusual sexualities, is the need to negotiate the territory with a little functional pluralism. There’s a bit of the Golden Rule in this, in a form that asserts, “Judge not the persuasions of others in the way that you would like not to be judged for your own.” I’ll return to this point in a minute, but for now it is enough to say that this sentiment is widely held among those who, by one standard or other, either are weird themselves or participate in the weirdness of others. It’s a good deal of “live and let live” with a dash of “hey, I don’t get it but good on you for being yourself.”

It’s a somewhat noble sentiment, laudable at least for its friendliness and its affability, and there’s a measure of solidarity in it too. It’s a reasonably good attitude to have, and it functions well enough in terms of preserving the dignity and humanity of our fellow human beings, at least for most of the time. Unfortunately, however, there are occasions when this sentiment is applied to a fault, and it is that which I intend to explore today.

As a kinky person you are uniquely challenged by the question of where you “draw the line”, both for yourself, in terms of what you are willing to welcome into your own sexual experience and fantasies, and, yes, though some would balk heartily at the notion, for others. What is good for people? What is safe? What is healthy? These are moral considerations, and ones which I think a great many people, despite their compassion and their sympathy, think very seriously about.

And before I get too much further into the exploration of these questions and these ideas, I should state very clearly that I believe that this moral calculus is indeed the sacred right and province of every thinking person. While I don’t believe in judgment for judgment’s sake, or in judging unfairly or unsympathetically, I do think it is important that we are willing to call some things wrong, when we are able to see true harm and exploitation. Without that, I feel that we would be every bit as lost and debauched as they say we are.

I have written before about the need to separate, in the popular imagination, what is kinky from what is pathological (such as authentic sexual sadism that conscripts the unwilling and the ineligible), but as I reflect on what I have seen this week, and what I have encountered not altogether rarely in the past, I feel compelled to illustrate this same need for those within the community to do likewise.

The case in point involves a young man [for discretion’s sake, all parties involved will be kept anonymous] whose kink seems to revolve around being a “homework slave” for young women in college; he writes their essays, does their assignments, and so on, for which he asks nothing in return.

The academic dishonesty of it aside, let’s suppose that this much is reasonably harmless, at least as affects himself. Let’s say he feels good about this role and enjoys seeking out the means to fulfill it, and in so doing he provides some measure of benefit to the “partner” with whom he engages. Even this much is certainly more complicated than that, but the purpose of bringing up this young man is not to analyze him or to put him and his desires under the microscope. What matters, is to look at what happened next.

[NOTE: The details here are a little fuzzy, due to their discovery revolving around an exchange of messages and Tweets on Twitter, some of which were deleted. The parties involved either could not be reached or declined to clarify.]

Apparently, the young man was unable to complete a particular assignment for a particular young woman and, overcome by shame at this, he decided he was deserving of some form of punishment. For a BDSM submissive, this in itself is not particularly unusual; punishment and so-called “funishment” often play a significant role in a healthy D/s relationship.

However, in his desire to correct the balance of his transgression, he elected a very extreme behavior which he wanted to be induced to perform: his suggestion was to boil a portion of oatmeal and pour the mixture over his face.

Now, I am not a squeamish man. But it seems it should be apparent to anyone that this is something which any person who wants to should in all attempts be prevented from doing, and that the motives to do so must be investigated because they imply a serious degree of mental pathology. If you yourself are unconvinced, let’s take another moment with it shall we?

Boiling water, so employed, would be bad enough, and certain to cause burns. The mixture, however, would render the substance not only gooey, but sticky, and this means that instead of the majority of it mercifully splashing away it would cling, almost certainly causing serious and permanent damage. This, again, could be bad enough if it were done to an appendage or some less fragile part of the body, but applied to the face we are now talking about disfigurement, and if it were to affect the eyes could potentially cause blindness. [TO BE PERFECTLY CLEAR, this is highly extreme behavior which would fail to dismay only a small proportion of those who practice kink and D/s.]

So we must, to begin with, try to see his perspective, and ask ourselves what it would take in order for that punishment to fit the crime. In any case, no matter what we might think of that would cause us to think of this as appropriate for anything, the things that would, in any world, balance that scale are orders of magnitude more grave than failing to give a coed the means to skate through her education. In short, this person’s means to evaluate these things were so distorted that they contributed the worst thing they could think of in order to square what they could only have imagined to be the worst possible thing they could have done.

It certainly qualifies as cruel and unusual, and if it had been at someone else’s behest we could safely consider them a psychopath. To go so far beyond the pale, to so exceed any reasonable boundaries with regard for safety and wellbeing, and to inflict such a terrible degree of harm is self-evidently pathological, and if it were done to someone else it would be abhorrent. But sadly, the tale of a dangerous desire is not where this story ends.

Apparently, out of contact with and unable to receive the reprisal of his choice from the young woman to whom he had given this perceived injustice, he went in search of someone willing to administer the same. Imagine it; again, so out of whack and so distorted was this person’s reality that he was approaching strangers (online) in order to get them to induce him to commit this grievous act of harm against himself. And, I am sorry to say, he found one, who reportedly was willing to pocket $100 of his money for her troubles.

Now, personally, I am deeply dismayed and disheartened by this. It reflects poorly on sex workers and their clients, it reflects poorly on the kinky, it reflects poorly on young women… It troubles and sickens me that such a thing would take place, that this person would be unable to get the psychiatric help that they need and would find not only a venue for a terrible extension of their illness but would be indulged in it by someone who took time enough to profit from it before laughing all the way to the bank. It is nasty, it is twisted, it is wicked, it is evil. But I’m sorry to say, ladies and gentlemen, it does get worse from there.

What is supposed to have happened next is that, among those in this woman’s circle, another young woman in the community objected to this, it made the rounds with many who felt likewise, a backlash ensued from friends and supporters of the first one and then…?

We don’t know. At the time of this writing the young man’s account has been silent since before the incident. We have backtracking and apologies from the whistleblower to the profiteer, and after a bit of gloating from the latter party both of their feeds have gone back to normal. And now what? Now I sit, writing this article.

Barring the even more twisted possibility that all of this is an elaborate “mindfuck” on us all, a hoax of some kind, presumably the young man is in a burn ward or (hopefully, at least) a psych ward right now, having to explain how he got this way, as he probably will have to for the rest of his life. The profiteer is back to being her usual self and not only feeling good but smug about it. The whistleblower has been embarassed into silence. And the catalyzing tweets were deleted, sweeping the whole thing under the rug.

So, supposing that nothing new comes to light, where does that leave us? What do we make of all this? What can we learn?

The first thing that must be said in response is that, as in the rest of society, mental illness, and in particular untreated or extreme mental illness, has to be addressed more clearly in the kink community. For all the dreck that you hear about kink being like or better than therapy, and for all that it is authentically therapeutic for the right people, the entire world of BDSM is not a substitute for mental health treatment and care. If anything, this example illustrates clearly how dangerous these things can be in the wrong hands, and when explored without conscious care and support, in isolation, without the connection to and engagement with loving and protective partners, all of which are conditions that apply in spades to those who are profoundly mentally ill. They are uniquely subject and vulnerable to versions of these things which are not just unhealthy or strange but which will cause them serious harm. You may as well send someone who is crippled and drunk to run with the bulls.

And those of us who struggle with mental health issues as a disability, who have the upper hand when it comes to managing it, we need to call it like we see it and encourage others into care when we see someone who is unwell, who is hurting themselves. We can’t let these social media tools become just television, with nothing but advertising, programming, and self-congratulation. Imagine the kinky social media universe being your only point of connection to other people and ask yourself what it would be like if no one just treated you like a real human being, and looked out for you when you were ill and confused.

The second thing to say is that we have to stop perpetuating the idea that this is all just a game, by which I mean that’s it’s just amoral playtime that exists in a vacuum. Kink affects people very deeply and very seriously at all kinds of levels and in all different ways, and you are playing with fire if you don’t have respect for that. We have to start saying that, along with consent and aftercare and all the other things we preach about so endlessly, what is inherent and indispensable in kink is at the very least a decent human respect and care for those with whom you engage.

And the third is to recognize that the InstaDomme mentality, which neglects in its entirety the whole of what I’ve just said, is more than just the offensive nuisance we’ve all come to live with it as. It used to be that a prostitute (because that used to be the only kind of sex worker there was) had to live in a town or a city and had to cultivate relationships with the people she worked with and with the environment in which she lived. It used to be we had to live with each other, and those who provided a service had to see and interact with their clients as human beings.

The good ones still do this today– they provide their services, they build a reputation, they participate in the community, they contribute to the welfare and the ecology of their worlds; they are upstanding people who care about what they do and what they put out there, and about how that reflects and feeds back on them as professionals and as people. But this modern incarnation, which is only achievable through the distance and disposability made possible by the Internet, is opportunistic, it’s shallow, and it treats the world like fast food customers; like hunger, that is just waiting to be turned into dollars.

And by the way, if you’re thinking that what they do doesn’t really have anything to do with the so-called “Real Thing” and that it’s not important enough for you to worry about, you’re wrong. Content creators and sex workers, whether you like it or employ them or not, are at the center of kinky identity and culture, and if you don’t think that feeds back on real people and especially the younger generation, you’re wrong.

What’s at stake isn’t just the fate of the lost ones, like the young man in this story. It isn’t just the “paypigs” and their money. The risk is that kink moves from this generation into the next as nothing more than another way to make a quick and dirty buck, that people use like a bad drug, with an attitude that makes it all just masturbation.

Please, whether you’re a creator, a provider, a consumer, or just a participant, please take kink and your kinky practice seriously. Don’t take it as a license to stop asking yourself if what you’re doing is good, or ethical, or real. Don’t use it as an excuse to stop being human, and to stop letting others be it too. If we don’t remember that what we do as kinky people matters, and if we don’t remind each other, then we’ll never be able to reconcile what we do with who we are, and we’ll never become what we’re truly meant to be.


[UPDATE: Apparently a third domme has been implicated and much of the confusion has revolved around the involvement of the domme who was originally blamed. Further bulletins as events warrant.]


© 2018

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NEW HALLOWEEN STORY – Trick or Treat…

Because we’re feeling festive, this story is NOW AVAILABLE for FREE on SMUTProject.com until Nov. 1. Click here to read the whole thing!


Synopsis: Bridget throws an impromptu Halloween get together for her friends, and gives them a naughty demonstration of her witchy feminine powers.

This F+ (Multiple Mistress Femdom) story features:
Foot Fetish, Edging, Orgasm Control, Spanking, Erotic Humiliation, Footdom in Socks, Nylons and Sandals, Trampling and Cum Play.


It wasn’t actually quite Halloween just yet, it was the day before, but as I approached the house, of course, you couldn’t have told the difference. There were glowing three jack o’ lanterns on the steps, each with their own cartoonish, exaggerated expressions, there were spider web decorations on the porch and in the trees, and there were green, orange, and purple lights along the side of the house, pointing upwards and making it look like the “spook factory” that I knew that Bridget delighted in having it be.

In fact, the house had looked like that for close to two weeks, an overeager Bridget having decorated as soon as she had the time, and I smiled as I walked past the skeletons “crawling out of” the yard. What could I say? It was her favorite holiday, and I liked seeing her go a little overboard. I liked seeing the glee and the scheming and the planning. I liked that she put so much effort in and paid so much attention to all the little details, crafting the world that most suited her for the one time of year in which it was suitable to do so.

It was cold, and a thin layer of icy snow crusted the lawn, with its skeletons and foamcore gravestones. She had said it was her ambition to be the scariest house on the block, and as I glanced up and down the street I saw that she had certainly achieved it. I smiled to myself, proud of her I suppose, and stepped up onto the porch.

A big, veiny eyeball stared at me as I rang the doorbell and searched my coat quickly for the stray blonde hairs of my dog, and shuddered a little in the cold. I didn’t know what I had to be nervous about. She had told me that it was just going to be a trial run for tomorrow, hanging out with some of her friends while we all made sure our costumes were perfect, and watched a couple of movies. I guess it was Samantha and Vanessa if I’m honest. We had never had problems or anything, it was just that when Bridget got around them her sense of humor took on an aspect that I never quite knew how to make sense of. It was still fairly early in our relationship, and while I loved her very much I never quite knew what to expect from her. I guess, if I’m honest again, that was one of the things I loved the most.

(…)


© 2018

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On the Power of Things: Sexual Fetishism

Sexual fetishes are among the strangest things for those who don’t possess them. It’s often simply a non sequitur for most people. Why feet? Why leather? Why balloons?

The word “fetish” was originally coined in the early 17th century to describe the amulets and charms of religious significance worn by West African tribespeople, objects to which they assigned great significance and power. This was observed earliest by the Portuguese, who called such an object a feitiço, from the Latin facticius (artificial) and facere (to make).

In its original sense a fetish was, like sexual fetishes today, a curiousity to those who viewed them from the outside. Why, those who studied them must have wondered, should so much significance and psychological value be bound up in these tiny stone carvings?

Over time it was put forward that many distinct objects of mystical or religious significance, and indeed the so-called “fetishization” of these objects, were to be found in religions throughout the world. The Christian cross for example, while often merely symbolic and representative, could be seen as a fetish object when it is shown by an exorcist to the supposedly possessed, or when in fiction it is used to combat a vampire; in order to affect or ward away anything it must be imagined that the object has a power unto itself.

Naturally, of course, this led to some disagreement within the church and among religious scholars as to whether religious fetishism indicated some form of heresy, i.e., that worship of or focus on the object was detracting from one’s connection to the godhead. This is a question to which we will return. Indeed, it is something I’m sure nearly every sexual fetishist has heard at one point or another over the course of their relationships; I feel like you’re more interested in my _____ than you are in me…

The modern interpretation of fetish theory, which takes note of its sexual manifestations, began with Sigmund Freud in 1927. To Freud the essential qualities of any sexually fetishized object were ultimately irrelevant because they were universally, quelle suprise, mere phallic substitutes, an idea which can only be explained through the mental acrobatics required to appreciate his castration theory, which is and are of no use to us here.

These days, the conception of a sexual fetish is reliant on our appreciation and understanding of parasexuality, which is to say that body of behaviors, interactions, and preferences of a semi-sexual nature which are distinct from formal genital copulation. In short, these are turn-ons that are not specifically acts of sex but which are at some level either sexually arousing or which engage specific emotions related to sex. Each of us has a unique relationship to our own parasexuality, and for some this relationship is more robust than others.

While the realm of sensual is not entirely lost on all but a few of us (many are those who may enjoy and have specific preferences regarding things like temperature, amount of light, presence or absence of music, and so on), there are some for whom parasexuality is as important or more important than formal copulation to their overall sexual experience, which can involve not only elements of sensuality, such as those referred to above, but also relational elements between themselves and their partner(s), which include relationships of power and circumstance as well as the way in which those things manifest through acts and experiences. These are the so-called “kinky people”.

What this means is that, for people who are highly parasexual, what others often do to “get in the mood” is an end unto itself. From instance to instance these things may or may not lead to sex, during which these themes and experiences may or may not be carried on, and when all is said and done the parasexual experience may or may not conclude. Sex itself may be a destination or a stopover in the sexual experience of someone like this, or in some cases passing it by altogether can be part of what’s involved.

In any case, among those so persuaded, the aspects of parasexuality can comfortably be divided into two categories: kinks, which describe acts and sensory experiences which one enjoys as an element of that sexual context, of which one may have many and any of which one could usually take or leave as the situation allows, and fetishes, which are either essential or semi-essential in the pursuit of the overall sexual experience. Put simply, kinks are the seasonings and fetishes are the meat.

Naturally, of course, man does not live by meat alone, and everything else on our metaphorical “plate” certainly matters a great deal, as does what’s on our metaphorical “table” and all that’s involved in our metaphorical “meal”, but a fetishist is one for whom a certain degree of participation in their particular fixation is what makes it all make sense.

To put it another way, for someone with a fetish, while many other things may or may not take place during a sexual experience, the fetish is that thing without which the experience would be incomplete. In many ways it’s the soliloquy in Hamlet; whatever the stage setup, props, lighting, and so on (the kinks), the play is simply not the play without “To be or not to be…”

But to continue with that metaphor for a moment, it must be said that, for those who remember, the soliloquy in Hamlet is not the climax of the play, and for many fetishists engagement with their fetish need not be the main event of the experience. In similar fashion to how the text is performed, though, if one is to condense the exhibition at all, the “To be or not to be” speech is quite unlikely to be cut, it exists satisfactorily on its own, and if it is done without it certainly remains, at the very least peripherally, in the minds of those involved.

So what are we to make then of fetishism, now that we understand what it is and how it relates to a person’s sexuality? What is its form? What is its nature? What is its relationship to those through whom it is experienced?

To begin answering these questions, we have to become more specific in our analysis, and to first make clear a number of salient points. In order to do this I must concede, as your author, that I myself am possessed of a fetish of my own which involves the feet and footwear of the object of my affections.

To start with, for myself (and I believe for most fetishists), the fetish object does not exist in isolation. Whether neutral or even aversive in its alternatives, it is only powerful as it relates to the person with whom I am enamoured. Specifically, while the feet, underclothes, and to some extent shoes of my partner are powerful indeed, a shoe or a sock or a stocking is as much an inanimate object to me as it is to anyone else until it is associated with her.

A pile of shoes is just that to me. A pair that belongs to her is significant. A pair that belongs to a man is repugnant. A pair that belongs to a child or an infant is inert, as are most shoes from earlier times or from different cultures. The only way that I respond to these things in the absence of someone to associate them with is when I can associate categorically; shoes that are made for women, socks I would like to see her wear, and so on.

From these examples it should be clear that, even for someone who possesses the ability to be moved powerfully by an object, it matters a great deal to whom and in what capacity that object relates. I don’t just “like shoes” or socks or even feet. I like the ones that go with those to whom I am attracted.

And yet, even within this the objects are not entirely equal. I may prefer her sneakers to her flats, I may prefer her new sneakers to her old ones (or vice versa), I may be especially excited when she wears one pair or another from her collection and almost nonplussed when she wears another. It all relies on the appreciation of a number of different factors that relate both to my own experience of these things and to the objective variations within them.

But even within these preferences there is more going on. There’s also the extent to which she relates to them temporally. The ones she’s just been wearing are much more attractive than ones she’s had sitting for months in her closet, regardless of whether I may prefer the others abstractly. There’s a freshness to her connection with the object that dies away within a fairly short span. This much indicates that, again, it isn’t so much the object as it is that object’s connection to her.

Which leads us back to the question of worship through an object and worship of an object. I believe I have made clear that worship of an object is only marginally at play, but we are still left with the question of why, then, if the object itself is not particularly important, should it be important to engage with the object?

For this we must suppose that while my appreciation for my partner is vast it is also broad and multifaceted; when I like someone I like everything about them in lots of different ways, and when we focus our attention entirely upon each other as takes place within sexual congress my awareness of these things, even at a subconscious level, becomes more and more heightened. I like and am attuned to so many things about her at the same time that a fetish provides a welcome relief in that I can, not isolate one thing to like, but collapse all that attention into a single thing. A fetishistic persuasion, then, provides a focal point to which all that energy can be devoted.

In short, I don’t have to be internally conflicted by trying to like her hair and her face and her eyes and her neck and her collarbone, etc., etc., etc., all the way down, a little bit each, all at the same time. Instead, I can turn my attention to her feet and like that one part of her body a ton as a way of liking everything I like about her, all in one place.

But not only is this true of her physicality, what goes along with that is the ability to like the intangible things about her at the same time. How do you make love to a person’s generosity, or their sense of humor, or any of the other things that make them who they are without being able to fit it in within that same collapsing of attention? That’s why it’s so intense and overwhelming, why it’s so powerful, because everything that attracts you to that person gets bundled and focused into that one singular experience.

And how, once it’s all in one place, does one explore that kind of love and attraction, in a way that leads one to orgasm?

It should be noted here that the fetish experience, as I have alluded to above is not a static and isolated thing. Once I have the feet of a beautiful woman for whom I have this love in front of me, and my genitals are being stimulated, it’s not as though I want her to keep still and leave me alone with them. In fact that’s the last thing I’d want. It’s the way she moves, it’s what she says and how she says it, it’s whether I can tell that she’s reciting a script or speaking from the heart, all this incredible minutiae to which I remain alert while being flooded by that emotion, and the tug of war between those two things is what pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

And that, in a nutshell, is kink. That is what the parasexual experience is about. It’s toying with attention and involving both oneself and one’s partner in both mitigating and exacerbating one’s tendency to become overwhelmed, exploiting the patterns and preferences by which one navigates that territory, and indulging the emotions that go along with it all.

I hope this explains a thing or two to those who were formerly confused by those with sexual fetishes. Obviously I cannot speak for fetishes with which I am not as intimately familiar, or for fetishists whose experience differs from mine, but I am willing to believe that I am a reasonably representative example, and that there are parallels and common ground in spite of the differences.

As strange and as odd as we may seem to many, even most of those who are not like us, there is nothing unusual about what we go through and experience in the course of our indulgence, except to whatever extent it is stronger, more powerful, and more profound. If you are one so constructed, consider yourself lucky. I do.


© 2018

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InstaDomme: FemDom and Kink on Social Media

It’s not infrequently that I browse the “FemDom” and related hashtags, particularly on Twitter because that’s where we at the SMUT Project feel there is the most to be done when it comes to connecting with those who think seriously about the topic. I look for things to share, thoughts and content to promote, things that inspire me or with which I feel a sense of common cause, things I feel connected with or represented by in a positive and meaningful way.

But more reliably than anything like that, what I find in much greater proportion is a slew of what is, in essence, merely advertising. Not for prodommes, not for pornography, but for a special breed of person that I only became unpleasantly aware of in the last couple of years, and which I’m fairly comfortable in believing not just did not but could not have existed until sometime around then: the “InstaDomme”.

She is, in short, at least as defines the typical case, a very young woman (I should say most often in the range of 18-22), with a relatively new account that has a relatively low number of posts, the sole purpose of which is to provide herself with 1) an income stream under the guise of what is called “financial domination”, and 2) an outlet for her distinct and abundant immaturity.

A typical feed reads as follows (quotes taken anonymously from actual tweets):

  • “Your just a looser #findom #femdom”
  • “Where are my #LittleDick losers? I know you’re lonely and feeling vulnerable. Come to me, weakling.”
  • “bow down to your superior and start $ending cucks”
  • “i’ll humiliate you, spit on you, take all the money you have in your wallet, then make you crawl to the ATM like the pig you are to give me the amount I deserve. and you’ll be begging me for more #findom”
  • “RT Game. $2/$2/$2. 1 Comment per 15 min. Drain this fucking loser #findom”
  • “makeups expensive. New foundation costs me £45. #reimburse me for it losers. #reimbursement #findom #paypig”
  • “money makes me so horny”

And make no mistake, there are accounts like these by the hundreds, even by the thousands.

And why not? Can you imagine the perverse simplicity of it? Imagine being that age and coming across the idea that instead of working hard, whether to produce content or cultivate relationships or even just to interact in a healthy and productive way with those around you, instead of suffering from the pressures that life puts on us all, instead of letting that pressure subject you to the pains of growing into a stronger and better human being, all you had to do to achieve success and provide yourself with cash is to create a couple of social media accounts and accounts on sites to process payment, give yourself a title like “Princess” or “Goddess” or “Queen”, fill your feed with bile, and wait for your rewards to come pouring in.

And oh, do those rewards ever floweth. It’s not just the evidence they post, in the form of screenshots declaring their account has received another $100 or $200 or more, the trophies of their “tributes”. It’s not just that they persist in a way that clearly indicates that it’s working for them. It’s the flood of dozens to hundreds of engagements with what they post; the likes, the retweets, the encouraging and prostrating comments, and followers, followers, followers.

A great many of these accounts have followings from the hundreds well into the several thousands, and the phenomenon is within itself a little subculture. There are promotional accounts solely devoted to circulating this kind of dreck, there are similarly devoted “slaves” who do likewise. The little communities play “retweet games” where their “finsub” or “paypig” has pledged a certain amount of cash for each engagement, and over a certain period of time the girl will delight as notification after notification signals the growth of her payoff.

Supposedly this is an outgrowth of BDSM. It’s a kink, we are meant to believe, and surely, the whole ridiculous sham wouldn’t perpetuate itself without a lot of people somewhere jerking off to it in earnest. But to someone who grew up before and in the early days of the Internet, someone who is old enough to know any different, and someone who knows the kinky persuasion to have the capability of being profound and sacred and deep (namely myself), this characterization reads as both cheap and abundantly cynical.

Calling findom a kink asks us to believe that, for all time, there have been people with a quiet desperation to walk up to a stranger, be spewed upon, give them money, and call it a day. While I find that hard to believe, I find it even harder to believe that the procedural aspects of the practice make any sense before the combined existence of the Internet, social media, cashless finance, and the ability for both parties to be isolated in the exchange. It’s true that we don’t have another word yet for something that arouses a person sexually without some relationship to formal sex (one that while making that distinction could further distinguish something like this from that which corresponds to real BDSM), and I don’t dispute that the whole thing revolves around being a turn-on for people. I’ll even go so far as to recognize that the roles and power dynamics at play bear some resemblance to the practice of kink. But to whatever extent it is an authentic extension of D/s, it’s one that, in my estimation, completely misses the point.

Let’s concede for a moment the assumption that at the heart of all of this lies a true appreciation of something and a deep desire to glorify, adore, and promote it. Let’s suppose that that drive animates the whole process, and that at the end of it all both parties are satisfied and fulfilled in their true and essential nature. What, then, can we say that this particular process hinges upon? What, if we even broaden the idea to include the whole “brat” persona, can we say is really being set on the altar of worship? In answer, I can only find some of the most hollow, vacuous, and ultimately contemptible things.

I feel we must take as read the self-evident proposition that these attitudes and behaviors are not things that most of us would honestly support or encourage in real life and in the real world. I think most of us, even the tolerant ones, would say that these things are reprehensible in and of themselves, and that they are really only tolerable to the extent that they represent a phase through which we all must pass. These are things for which we forgive our loved ones because for a time they are incapable of knowing any better. But instead of waiting politely and sympathetically while they grow out of it while enforcing the social discipline that they need in order to learn that that mentality is not a suitable or appropriate one for dealing with other human beings, this so-called kink thrusts it into the spotlight, showers it with praise and both tangible and intangible benefits, and then prostrates itself before it and presents it with the most essential biological approval.

“And so what?” you may say. “They’re just playing. Why can’t they just be left alone with their kink?”

But kink is supposed to be a mutual thing, an exploration of two or more parties’ selves that lead them all to be in touch with the way that they best are able to be, and there is no way for her to participate in this kink without lowering and debasing herself until she is petulant and abusive and exploitative and divorced from her sensitivity, her care, and her love. The practice is, on its face, one-sided, but it is as though we are looking at it through a mirror; the imbalance doesn’t favor her simply because she is in receipt of something as pathetically hollow as money. No, in fact it is the other way around; it enables a man to pay her to get her to be her worst self.

But what’s worse than that, supposing that we can imagine that these things do not take place solely within the ejaculatory vacuum and that it actually has an effect on this young woman’s life, how can she ever grow and develop into an authentic, self-actualized, profound human being who is in touch with and in control of her highest and best self when the world specifically rewards her for doing the opposite? Does the supposedly unassailable right of her counterparts’ exuberance come at the cost of her future, and of the quality of her life and relationships? Does the willingness to idolize her adolescent misapprehension of the means by which to assign value to herself and her world arrest her development into adulthood? I think these are fair questions, and worth asking.

Women shouldn’t be celebrated for being brats any more than they should be celebrated for being bimbos, or bitches, or any of the other things that are less than their most engaged, fulfilled, and powerful selves, that’s why this species of what is called findom has no relationship to the practice of FemDom, despite the supposed interchangeability of their hashtags.

The women who can rightly call themselves Goddesses or Princesses or Queens, the ones who are truly worthy of the adoration and worship they receive, are inspiring. They’re something to be proud of, something to be admired because of what they have achieved in themselves. They have a glory and a majesty that isn’t free, and that you don’t get for nothing just by being female. But if we teach these young women that it’s only because of their anatomies and their gender, they will never know that that level is theirs to pursue.

In all of these accounts and these personas there is a common thread that the domme should be worshipped for what she is rather than who she is, and we have to let FemDom be about more than that.

A woman’s true divinity is something that is explored, and developed, and nurtured, and earned. It’s what elevates her beyond the mundane, the pedantic, and the cheap, and submission is supposed to be about getting in touch with that, both for her and for the sub. But if we continue to let young women believe they can have it for nothing, and keep paying to convince them it is so, the only thing we will buy is that the real thing will be rarer, and all the fewer will be those who possess it.


NOTE: It is true that some men also participate in the practice of financial domination, in a fashion almost entirely similar to what I have described here. I don’t know how this relates to members of the gay or bisexual communities, but I expect there are adequate parallels. The whole thing reeks to me of a similarly exploitative charlatanism and nonsense, but I haven’t begun to explore the dynamics there, nor am I inclined to personally.


© 2018

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SMUT Erotic Books

We are proud to announce that The SMUT Project has opened a virtual bookstore!

In continued pursuit of our mission, “to elevate erotic expression in the literary and artistic worlds and to connect the curious to quality works that inspire, delight, and enrich,” we have begun seeking out (and establishing the means to distribute) quality works of scholarship and creativity.

We believe the best solutions to today’s sex-related problems, as well as the best methods for enhancing our sexual lives and experiences, are education and curiosity, and we’re hoping that this new venture will be a way of promoting that.

At the moment we have over 80 titles listed, including:

  • Vintage Pulps
  • Guides & Handbooks
  • Erotica
  • History
  • Science
  • Poetry
  • Literature
  • Biography & Memoir
  • Art & Photography
  • Humor

…and more!

So if you’re a Sexual Intellectual and you’re looking to get your sexy read on, please visit the SMUT Erotic Books eBay store and see what we have available!

As with the rest of the project, we are kink, fetish, and LGBT friendly.

NEW STORY! – Busted by Brenda

This story is NOW AVAILABLE for FREE on SMUTProject.com. Click here to read the whole thing!


Synopsis: A willing slave takes some harsh but sensual treatment from his Mistress, and succumbs to her vicious control.

This F (Femdom) story features:
Ballbusting, Footdom, and Cum Play.


“P-please,” I stammered, my lip trembling, just at the last moment, feeling her hand on the back of my neck. “Please. Be gentle.”

She looked into my eyes softly, kindly, and clicked her tongue. “Aw,” she said. “Of course I will.” And she snapped her knee into my crotch.

The shock hit me instantly and I flinched hard, and I felt my face screw up, felt my balls retract and the ache flow into my guts, but I was actually surprised that it wasn’t worse. I felt an odd delight in knowing I could take another, and I could feel this mixing in with the bleak, submissive blend of comfort and fear as she squeezed my hip with her other hand. My fingers gripped against each other, interlocked behind her waist, and I put my head against hers as I braced myself again.

(…)


© 2018

Look for this story soon on Amazon, Smashwords, and Goodreads!


Click here for more sexy short stories from
SMUT Project Press!