By Lainie Speiser

I’m a boss on the streets and a servant in the sheets, in other words— the typical sexual submissive.

I’m one of those people that likes to be in charge.  I take on more responsibility than is necessary, I’ve got a lot of opinions, and I’m not afraid to express them.  Some people have had the nerve to call me pushy and aggressive, but what kind of publicist would I be if I were shy, passive, and unassuming?  A homeless one, that’s what.  I love what I do, but admittedly it can get a little stressful.  There’s pressure.  There’s worry, I don’t feel like I can let my guard down, so when I have a hard day all I can do to relax is get on my knees and deliver the best blow job in the world.  Or be thrown over a manly, hairy lap and get spanked hard.  Or get tied up with my tights taken from the hamper and fucked hard from behind.  This is how I unwind. 

I was always like this, but I didn’t put a label on it because labels are limiting and that’s not the way I like to live.  But there’s always been this willingness when it comes to sex, and this desire to please my partner in every way I can and this joy in being servile.  A lot of strong-willed people are like this; you’d be surprised how powerful men really want to get to get into some strap-on sex action.  Not because they are gay, but because it’s the ultimate act of giving up total control.  I know these men exist because I’ve been the open-minded woman who’s said, “Sure that sounds like fun.”  But it wasn’t fun because it takes a lot of stamina to fuck a person, I discovered, and ever since have respected all of the work that men do to make us ladies happy. Also, once you open that door with a man— once he gets a taste for anal play— nothing else will do, and as I’ve said, I don’t enjoy labels.

Before you stop reading this because I’ve disgusted and offended your male sensibilities, this column isn’t about strap-on in the butt sex; it’s about me being a submissive and the good and the bad types of dominant men I’ve sampled before I decided all I wanted was a Daddy aka my husband.

It was a typical Saturday early afternoon, and my husband and I love brunch at the bar, but as we got closer to the only two empty seats left, I saw one of my former Domme lovers whom I call, “The Face Stepper” sitting there with his arm around his date with a firm fistful of her straight, brown hair.  “I don’t want to sit here. Let’s go get a table,” I said to David, grabbing his hand and leading him to the hostess station. “There’s a guy I used to know there, and he’s a total creep.” David, like most men who are in love with the wife, didn’t want to know anymore and we were lead to a table where he could still watch the hockey game.

When you’re a single submissive woman who loves sex, knows what she likes and isn’t afraid to get it, you sometimes meet some interesting people.  The Face Stepper was one of these, and I call him The Face Stepper because the last time we were 

together he came on my face, then stood over me on the bed, lifted his size 12

bare foot, and rubbed his spunk into my face with it. I’m not that kind of submissive.  I know some women and men like it when they get their face stepped on, but not me.  I don’t take things that literally. 

You see the one annoyance with dealing with men who enjoy dominating is some of them do not know when to stop.  Every time me and The Face Stepper went out for a drink or to grab a bite to eat, he couldn’t leave what we did two hours ago, on my living room floor behind.  I’m an old-fashioned lady.  What happens behind closed doors stays there for me— it’s not my entire way of life.  Just because I enjoy getting fish-hooked (this means having your mouth roughly held open my two fingers in the corner of your mouth) when getting fucked it doesn’t mean you should pull my hands behind my back while we are at a party.  It’s common sense, to me, but I guess some people need to be told what is inappropriate behavior outside of sex sessions.  I remember once someone at a restaurant, a bartender, complimenting my long hair.  The Face Stepper responded with, “Yes all of this hair makes for great handles,” he said taking a fistful on each side.  It was awkward for everyone around us but him. 

Prior to the face-stepping, this guy— an attractive, older, gentlemen who does good deeds as a public defender— was enjoying dominating me.  He enjoyed pontificating while tying me up. “You’re going to learn so much about yourself,” he said.  “You’re going to learn a lot about yourself because of me.”  I’ve never taken well to this kind of pretentious talk; it’s not sexy to me because it sounds like a lecture.  I’d rather be told I’m going to be fucked so hard your cum is going to pour out of my ears.  “Oh yeah?” I said and started laughing.  “Because I just thought you need to learn a lot more about yourself from ME!”  The laughing made him angry; I wasn’t playing along with this fantasy of the wise man breaking down the wise ass publicist.  He roughly got off me and stood in front of the bed.  “LISTEN! THIS ISN’T A JOKE! IF YOU CAN’T SHUT THE FUCK UP THEN LEAVE!”  Which made me want to laugh even harder because it’s hard to keep a serious face when you’re tied up and being yelled at by a man over 50 wearing purple bikini underpants.  “I’M SERIOUS! I’M BEING SERIOUS!  THIS IS SERIOUS TO ME!”  So, I gave him my safe word, “peanut butter” and he untied me, and I left, following orders like a good submissive should. 

Later at home, I thought maybe he wasn’t being serious.  What if this was part of the whole scene?  Yelling at me like a schoolmaster at a pupil who was passing notes and not paying attention.  As annoying as he could be, it’s also not the easiest thing, to find a man who is comfortable dominating a woman, especially in this politicall correct world we live in.  Then on second thought, it is easy to find a man who enjoys being dominant but what’s not easy is to find a man who does it right.  The men who do it best are the men who are completely secure in their masculinity and sexuality and enjoy giving and pushing their partner’s limits.  Being dominant isn’t about being angry at all: it’s about being nurturing, even paternal.  That’s why I call my husband my Daddy.  That, and his name is David and I’ve dated about five men before him named David, and I’d rather not recall any of them that often, especially The Face Stepper.


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