Archive for gender roles


Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , on August 10, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Sorry about the recent lack of posts. Life has been pretty exciting recently.

Friday night I had a dinner date with B, someone I met earlier in the week. We went to dinner on Friday and he left this morning for work. It was a whirlwind romantic weekend, full of nice dinners, clubbing, lazy mornings, and sex.

D/s is more than just sex. B is chivalrous with a capital C. Manners like that make me feel comfortable and protected. There are rules laid out to follow, with appropriate levels of affection built in. When he offers his arm to me, it’s an implicit imperative that I should accept meekly and follow his lead. If he opens a door, I must walk through.

Recently there have been a lot of blog posts and discussion in the D/s community about what it means to be a Dom. Is it necessary for a Dom to treat his sub like a slave? I say absolutely not. I prefer a feather-light touch outside of the bedroom. A Dom can be courteous to his lady as long as the lady respects his authority. Of course, if the sub is acting up in public she should be severely reprimanded. I think that, in general, punishment can wait until one finds an appropriate playspace. Rudeness is not a punishment, it’s a turn-off.



Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , , on July 7, 2009 by scarlettbottom

I’ve always been fascinated by courtesans.

Merriam-Webster defines “courtesan” as “a prostitute with a courtly, wealthy, or upper-class clientele.” I don’t like this definition very much. It says nothing about the glamour associated with such a position. Prostitute is to courtesan as scullery maid is to celebrity chef.

The difference lies in the courtesan’s duties. She is the evening’s entertainment and that might include anything from philosophical debate, to hosting a party, to seduction. Her reward is a lifestyle of freedom and comfort, and not necessarily just creature comforts, but intellectual pursuits as well. Upper-class men went to courtesans because their wives were uneducated and boring. Courtesans are glamorous and interesting, good conversationalists, witty, playful, and intelligent. She’s not stuffy, and she’s not a prude.

The courtesan is also determined to be independent. She is not interested in marriage. In many cases, she already holds some sort of upper-class status. She is open and honest about her profession and relationships; in fact, being seen with a particularly popular courtesan is a status symbol. Many courtesans are actively pursued by politicians and high-status professionals.

I think the best part about the courtesan is that her patron supplies her with (almost) everything she needs; lovely clothes to flatter her figure, perhaps dancing lessons, a nice suite for entertaining, maybe a household staff, perhaps passes to academic lectures, a mani-pedi once in a while, tickets to the theater.

I see nothing wrong with using what you’ve got to get what you want. As a child you knew that being cute or throwing an embarrassing tantrum was the best way to get what you want. As an adult woman I realize that the best way to get what I want to to use my natural talents, in the best aesopian tradition. In my last post I gave an example of just how that might be done.

I’ve started seeing a gentleman. Our relationship is not well established, by any means, but he’s interesting enough to go out with once a week for a month or two perhaps. He’s not looking for anything serious, just a pretty girl to lavish with expensive dinners and spa treatments. Will this be a sexual relationship? I don’t know. He’ll have to do quite a bit of work for that; part of “using what you’ve got” is making sure that it’s known that other people want it too, so get in line.

This is new for me. I’m generally so insistent on paying my own way and not owing anyone anything. I have a friend who insists that she never pays for anything. Her date is paying for the pleasure of her company. This is a very antiquated way of thinking, in my opinion, but it seems to be a standard mode of operation for upper class men. She says, “It makes men feel good to be able to pay for things for a girl. Paying your own way is emasculating.”

If there’s anything I don’t want to do, it’s emasculate a man.

How to Attract the Attention of a Dominant Male

Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , , , , on July 5, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Social dominance is a fascinating topic. I wrote in my personal journal that I really only like to date alpha males and I got a question: what is the definition of “alpha male,” to my mind?

An alpha male is a socially dominant male, who displays the confidence and natural leadership ability associated with such a position. “Alpha” is a condition that can be natural or learned, but natural dominants are generally more successful because they have a sense of entitlement. Yes, of course they should make a lot of money. They deserve it. Yes, they should have the prettiest trophy wife. They deserve it. Yes, they should drive the conversation; they’re the only one qualified. Yes, they should pick up the check; they’re only being gracious to their many loyal followers.

It’s not enough to be aggressive and confident. One cannot come off as cocky, it has to look natural. Charismatic, not bossy. And one must make one’s friends feel like they’re basking in one’s limelight. Sort of like royalty. The courtiers (aka submissives) of Louis XIV didn’t feel put upon. They were ecstatic to be in the presence of one so majestic.

Like I mentioned, socially dominant males can be made, too. These are non-dominant males, who, through a stroke of genius or luck, have either acquired the trappings of dominance (a nice car, a pretty girl, a high-paying job), have stumbled into a social group that has no dominant, or a group that has somehow lost their dominant (usually through a power struggle).

Now it’s a little different for a socially dominant female. Socially dominant females gather their own social subs also, but they also gather dominant males. They do this by being attractive as a trophy (being pretty, or equally high-status) or by being the most interesting item around (being funny, or stylish, or super intelligent). As Styrn often points out to me, I lack a lot of the “typical” female behavior of standing around looking pretty and hoping for the time of day.

I am a socially dominant female.

The other night I went to a bondage/dance club. It’s a regular club here in the city. I was watching the bondage pit; there wasn’t much going on initially, but as I watched for a while, it started to fill up and get more interesting. Finally, I got up the nerve to try to get the fellow’s attention who was running everything. He’s a prime example of a dominant.

How was I going to manage getting his attention? He was obviously so busy. Without a plan, I stood in the entrance to the pit. Some serious drama was going to be necessary to stand out from the crowd of admirers. He approached the place where I was standing, totally unaware of my presence. He glanced at me- here’s my chance- and I dropped to my knees. My full skirt billowed out around me. (Got him!) He held out his hand to me; I placed my hand in his without rising. “What is your name?”

“Scarlett.” (A whisper from the onlookers: *gasp* “Like Scarlett O’Hara!”)

A feminine blush. “I wondered if you’d dom me?” Look down, look up.

“I’d love to, but I don’t have time right now. Are you going to the club on Friday?” He lifts me to my feet.

He wrote me a free pass with his phone number and email.

Putting his arm around my waist, he asked me about what I’d like, what sort of play I’m interested in. “I’d love to see you Friday. if I don’t have time, I’ll definitely make sure you’re taken care of. I’ve seen a lot of inexperienced girls get hurt, and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen to you.” He hands me the pass with a run-along motion. This guy is a smooth talker. He knows all the right moves.


Posted in Fiction with tags , , , on June 30, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Many of the bdsm blogs that I read are written by people who are in “lifestyle” bdsm relationships. They live their (dominant or submissive) role 24/7, and very likely they live with their partner. I think a relationship like that sounds idyllic. I would love to be a stay-at-home wife/sub.

The primary thing that appeals to me about that situation is the extremely structured gender roles. Now, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a biologically male person filling the masculine role and vice versa, but regardless of the sex of the individuals involved, the hard and fast gender rules are still in place.

Styrn suggested we have a game night. Like inviting a bunch of people over to play cards and serving little snacks. Maybe have a movie on in the background. I immediately thought, “That sounds like something out of Mad Men” and a serious throwback to the 1950s/early 60s. The little wife in the kitchen making tiny, perfect little morsels and pouring drinks, serving them to her husband’s guests. Maybe the card players are smoking cigarettes. They probably ignore the wife after a thank you and a nod. Sitting around the table, I imagine that the testosterone is palpable, and as pervasive as the cigarette smoke.

This scene reminds me of a story I read a very long time ago. I think the “little girl” comparison is pretty inevitable when it comes to female submissives. In this story, Baby comes down the stairs to find her daddy; he’s playing poker with his buddies. Daddy’s friends fuck Baby on the poker table, sweeping chips out of the way, cards scattered everywhere. I find the chaos of the scene utterly romantic.

So does the wife sit on her husband’s knee while he plays? Does he shoo her out of the room? Does she eavesdrop? Maybe she waits on her knees for her next command, or maybe her elbows are bound behind her back and all she can do is hold the serving tray…

Endangered Species

Posted in Nonfiction with tags , , on June 29, 2009 by scarlettbottom

This last weekend was Pride here, as it was all around the world. I spent a good part of yesterday looking at all of the many many photos of happy couples and angry revolutionaries around the world with tears in my eyes.

I didn’t go to the parade, but I did go to the Dykes on Bikes the day before, all dolled up, looking for a cute butch lesbian. I was heavily disappointed (I knew they were a dying breed). There was one exception.

While walking the route behind the (very sexy) motorcyles, I popped into a liquor store to buy a soda. I opened the glass door of the refrigerator, took what I wanted, and as I was about the close the door, what should I see through it? A perfect vision. Dressed in slacks, a white undershirt, and suspenders, she noticed my surprise and tipped her hat. Then her femme appeared behind her.

All the good ones are taken.