On the Ethics of Erotic Humiliation

Pathetic, beta, cuck. Piece of shit? (Really?) Pig, dog, worm, bug, and asshole. Ladies and gentlemen, I think it’s time to get real.

I like a little ribbing and loving humiliation as much as the next person, and maybe more so. I like being physically and emotionally at the feet of my Domme. I like serving and worshipping her, I like genuflecting and ingratiating myself to her power, I like relishing and basking in her glory. And I love it when she teases and bullies me. But for some, that sort of thing isn’t nearly enough.

There are people (I’m sure if you’re reading this you know what I mean), for whom submission revolves around and hinges upon but one thing: the assertion, appreciated most earnestly by themselves, that they are lowly, pathetic, servile, and in all other ways equivalent to scum.

It’s the difference between submission and masochism, and it’s the emotional component of that distinction. This is one I’ve drawn frequently in the past, and it’s one I feel should be enunciated clearly here.

The “BDSM” acronym, as my readers may well be aware, is an overlapping four letter initialism that actually refers to six things:

  • Bondage and Discipline
  • Dominance and Submission
  • Sadism and Masochism

All too often, it’s the S&M third of those six components that gets all of the recognition, attention, and press. In other words, both in pornography and in the popular appreciation, S&M often is kink, and much of what is out there caters disproportionately to that persuasion. Now I am not here to judge or condemn anyone for the way they play consensually with consenting and competent partners, but I will take the opportunity to declare categorically that it is nothing that I, as a bona fide kinky person, have an interest in.

I don’t want emotional pain and denigration and degradation and nastiness any more than I want blood and scat and needles and all of the other extreme masochistic play. So where does that leave me? Where, with a desire for the fun and enjoyment of a little playful erotic humiliation, do I go for humiliation I can trust?

To start with, let’s go over what I want (in an ultimate sense) from the people I play with. When all is said and done, and at every step along the way, I have a need to be respected and valued and appreciated and loved. I need to know, not just feel, that, regardless of the context, my partner not only cares about me and my wellbeing but holds me in high regard and high esteem. Moreover I work very hard to earn and be worthy of that status, and I certainly don’t want it to go out the window when it’s time to play.

So where, then, does humiliation come in in that context?

For one thing, it’s important to recognize that in all this sanctity and majesty and pomp there is a very real and important place for a sense of humor. An active and dynamic sense of humor is critical to what I think of as good humiliation play, and it’s conspicuously missing from what I regard as too much. When it’s degrading there’s often nothing funny about it, and if there is the sub is certainly not in on the joke.

In all humor, there is a conspicuous defiance of expectation and an interplay between what is real and what is said. What this means for humiliation play is that there is an extent to which my Domme can say “mean”, embarrassing things to me, and poke fun at me, and I’ll be able to know that she’s kidding. I’ll be able to know it’s in jest and I shouldn’t take it to heart because that’s not what she’d say if she really had to say what she felt.

In this, I can trust her, and it’s a good feeling to trust, especially when that’s pushed and stretched just a little bit. It’s almost as if her jabs are a test, and to be able to feel myself doubling down on that trust is a nice thing, and it’s something we can share. What this process grants us is a modicum of license and freedom, a release valve that assures us we’re not scrutinizing each other too harshly, that our skins our thick, and that what we’ve built together isn’t subject to misinterpretation and spontaneous unfounded accusations. It illustrates that there is room for error, and it’s a way of showing that neither of us is being too strict with the other.

Now some would say that this much is true of denigration play too, but while that may in some sense be the case I think there’s a point to be made on the subject of what promotes that kind of tacit forgiveness and willingness to be pushed.

I think what I value in humiliation play is the idea that when I’m seen for what I really am in a sexual context my partner is generous and accepting of that, even if those things are expressed in a way that relies on what I’ve described above. If she calls me a “slut”, she’s recognizing the abundance of my sexual drive; if she calls me a “dirty little footslave”, she’s recognizing the essential nature of my orientation to her feet; if she calls me her “bitch”, she’s recognizing our relationship and what I give and will accept from her.

In all of these things and more, however “mean” or bullying they may seem, I feel seen, and seen generously, and seen with love. I feel validated and accepted, and even that it’s our little secret that I’ve chosen to share with her. She’s had the opportunity to discover me, and she’s specifically rejected the opportunity to hate me for what I am. She’s decided to be generous and kind in her heart, regardless of how she expresses that or what she says.

What, then, are we to suppose one is recognized to be when it comes to degradation? When one is called by the names and associated with the things listed above? When one is equated with the things on that list? How are we to believe that the kind of love and generosity I’m describing can embrace those things?

For some people, again, I suppose that what I’m saying still holds true. But that leads me to the other point of distinction– when I arrive at that place of demonstration and exposure and being witnessed, what is it that I want myself to be?

When I get to that place in humiliation, there’s something in it that invites me to look at myself through her eyes, and by proxy through the eyes of others in general. She takes the place of what the world might think of me, and together we judge those things implicitly. What, then, can I own about myself and love about myself through her eyes?

A “slut”? Hell yeah I am, and proud of it. A “footslave”? Her “bitch”? There’s nothing I’d rather be. Paradoxically then, what humiliation engenders in the ultimate sense, is a common and cooperative pride in what may otherwise, unfairly, embarrass me. It’s a way of soothing my anxieties about how I will be interpreted as a person, even if that means taking back the words and rubbing my face in them. And the fun of it is being pushed and stretched and teased into proving that that’s exactly what I am.

So why would I want that to revolve around worthlessness? Repulsiveness? Inadequacy? Abjection? Or shamefullness? What good is there in supposing myself to be these things and trying to appreciate myself in that? To whatever extent any of those things are true, in any case, it’s my duty as a human being to change them. It’s something that if I can recognize, to my sincere horror, there must be a moral onus upon me to reject them and make myself otherwise. The last thing I would want to feel if I really believed any of those things were true, is pride.

But this leads me to my real point, which is what I think to be a fair question that any sub who feels this way should ask themselves– is that what you need to be in order to glorify a woman?

In all dominance and submission there is, by definition, an imbalance between top and bottom, but the question in this case is not how far apart the two parties are relative to each other. The question is where do they stand in the world they make together?

I, for one, refuse to feel less than because I put someone else higher than myself. I refuse to imply that in order to make her great I have to lower myself as a human being. I am not a beta, I am not a cuck. I am a god among men and I want to be ruled by a goddess. I am a king who abdicates my throne to my queen, to give her that place of power and become her footstool and servant. I am great, and in order to serve her I must allow and encourage her to be greater.

This, I think, provides room for honor. Not just for me, but all the more explicitly for her. What achievement is it to dominate the lowly? What victory is it to conquer the weak? And why, if you truly believe women are wondrous, would you accuse her of only being capable of that, or fail to provide opportunities for her to do more?

I think implicit in the idea that a man has to be degraded in order to serve is the idea that without that condescension his woman would be powerless, and that is one that I reject from whole cloth. It’s a vile assertion that I refuse to accept. And I think the women we celebrate deserve better. They deserve our faith, and our trust, and they deserve to be equipped and enabled and empowered by us on their journey. The goal of submission shouldn’t be to become servile to the shallowness and mundanity of what they automatically project; it should be to embrace their potential, to elevate them to their rightful place, and to be inspired to awe by their magnificence.

You don’t love a tree by burying yourself beneath its roots; you’re meant to look up, and watch it climb into the sky. And if you’re lucky you’ll get to climb with it, using its strength for support as it takes you to vistas and ecosystems you couldn’t begin to imagine.

Like so much in kink that’s misunderstood, it’s not about the pain and the distress and the humiliation. It’s supposed to be about love.


© 2019

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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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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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SMUT Project Press!

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.

Our Fine Art Gallery is up!

We’ve been working on a fine art gallery of vintage and historical works that feature kink and fetish themes, and we’re proud to say that it is finally up on the site!

To quote from the page, “The goal of this collection is to establish and recognize the historical continuity of things that are commonly expressed today through the practice of BDSM.”

Hope you’ll enjoy checking it out!

PUBLIC PREVIEW – Crossing Kim (Our Neighbor, Part II)

This story is NOW AVAILABLE to backers on Patreon who subscribe at the $10/month level or higher.  Current subscribers can click here to read the whole thing!


Part II in The Domme Next Door series!

Synopsis: Annie and her boyfriend make the mistake of breaking Kim’s rules, and have to suffer the consequences for their indiscretion.

This F/L (Couples’ Femdom) story features:

Punishment, Edging, Cuntbusting, Cum Play, Erotic Humiliation, Orgasm Control, Sock Fetish, Strapon Play, Dildo Play, and Chastity.


[THIS STORY IS SO NAUGHTY THAT WE COULD ONLY FIND THIS TINY LITTLE EXCERPT THAT WAS SAFE FOR A PREVIEW! ENJOY!]

…loud enough that we hadn’t heard her until she was right outside our door. It was hearing her keys that snapped us out of it. I stopped suddenly as my stomach tumbled, and Annie heard it too and snapped her head around to look behind us. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I think we’re in trouble.” I could see the shadow of her heels in the space beneath the door, and I shuddered as she stood there for a moment before continuing on to her apartment.

Annie stood up and pushed me back, listening, and then she reached back and pulled me out as she turned around. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the counter and mine did in my pocket, and when we checked them we each turned them around to show what the other one said too:

Come.

Then, a moment later:

As you are. Now.

“Shit!” Annie said in an emphatic whisper. “She knows!”

(…)


© 2018

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SUBSCRIBE NOW ON PATREON for FREE ACCESS to this story and much, much more.


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SMUT Project Press!