RealWorldDominant

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As I continue my exploration of BDSM and of myself, I am finding that I am sometimes uncomfortable with labels and titles.

There are some things that feel good and natural to me. When my SIR calls me boy, it feels good and right. When one of my boys calls me Sir it also feels good and right. It’s all very in-the-moment and heartfelt. It’s one of the elements of D/s that adds richness to the entire experience for me.

But when it comes to describing myself or being addressed by somebody I don’t know well, I get uncomfortable. By what I believe is fairly common understanding, I am currently a ‘switch’. When somebody other than one of my boys addresses me as Sir, I don’t really care for that unless it is clear to me that the usage is just one of politeness. After all, I was raised to address people I don’t know as sir or ma'am, and I still do this. But it seems somewhat fraught in the kink world! A dominant that addresses me as boy without having negotiated ahead of time for a D/s exchange between us is just asking for a cold reception on my part. :-)

Often times, when somebody I don’t know addresses me as Sir, it comes across as an unasked question, a request for me to take them in hand. Addressing me as Sir in this context bothers me. I would far rather they just directly ask for the attention they seem to be seeking in a roundabout manner. In written form, sir is just fine, but Sir is a bit… forward in that context. I’m sure others feel differently. Until we have established that there will be an exploration of a more personal nature, I’d really prefer people just address me directly by name (or alias in FetLife, Recon, etc.) or mister or friend or… you get the idea.

Admittedly, this is just a very small issue. But it is a small issue that feeds into awkwardness. This musing gives me a glimmer of understanding why social norms of protocol come into play… reducing awkwardness in social context, providing an inherent level of communciation as well as a useful substrate of sorts for further exchanges.

I feel like what matters is the understanding of whatever dynamic comes to exist between the individuals concerned. Words are inherently loaded and carry baggage, meaning and expectation with them - titles even more so. Launching straight in to their use places an immediate burden on all concerned to behave in a certain way and conform to a set of rules which haven’t even been established yet.

I came home last night to a sight which made me want to act. I’ve been there before, especially with @realworldsubmissive, where he’s positioned in such a way which would otherwise be totally innocent but makes me want to do something more.

Last night was one of those nights and I couldn’t contain myself. I’d already given him a brief reminder spanking and had him curled up on the floor during a TV show for an hour but after that was done I felt compelled to go for it. He was laying there, half curled up and looking so innocent despite all the evidence to the contrary. He was in a black jock, a collar and of course he was wearing his cage for Locktober. I was still mostly fully-dressed from a day at work.

So I stood up and lifted him bodily from the floor so that I could carry him to the bedroom and deposit him on the bed. I told him to roll on to his side so that all I could see was the curve of his spine down over his ass framed by the jock as I lay down behind him.

My finger traced the length of his spine from neck to tailbone and back up again. This always his body arch and twist under nothing more than the gentlest of pressure. I ran it back up, teasingly slowly so I could watch him react to my touch, waist twisting, shoulders contracting and his head lifting back as I played up to the back of his neck.

From the back of his neck I ran my hand, flat now, up over the side of his head and down his cheek. As it passed over the front of his throat he tensed, just for a second, in that moment of not knowing my intentions but I carried on down to his recently shaved chest and brought my hand to a stop right on his breastbone. I could feel his chest rising and falling with his breathing, his heartbeat strong and steady but quickening as my other hand ran over the waistband of his jock and down under his body.

I followed the line of the jock, around his lower back and underneath to the front of his body. My hand flat all the way around as it came to rest on his front. He was trapped now between my arms; one over his side and holding his chest and the other underneath around his waist. Trapped, vulnerable and his almost naked body close against me.

Planting a kiss to the back of my boy’s neck I whispered softly “I love you so much”…