Competitive Submission, or: A Journey Through Labels

For those just joining now, I’m celebrating #KinkMonth by writing posts inspired by Kayla Lords’ 30 Days of D/s project.

Day 3 is about labels. Today’s post is quite vulnerable and also heavily based on a stream of consciousness I splurged onto Fetlife last year. Kayla & John ask:

Beyond the basic title of Dominant or submissive, are there other titles you prefer or are interested in exploring? Are there any that turn you off or don’t seem like a good fit for you?

Some titles for Dominants may be Master, Sir, Daddy, Mistress, Lady, etc. Titles for submissives can be pet, babygirl, little one, boy, girl, etc.

A name badge style label with "submissive" crossed out and "Switch" next to it. For a post on competitive submission.

On Fetlife, you have to pick a “role” to list on your profile. There’s the usual Dominant, submissive, Master, Mistress, slave. Then there’s the slightly more specific babygirl/babyboy, Daddy, Mommy, pet, Primal. And then there’s the nondescript and vague Kinkster, Unsure, Evolving.

I’ve flip-flopped between labels over the years. For a very long time, I considered myself the most subby of the submissives. Topping was just not something I could ever see myself doing. So I listed my role as submissive.

Then, at twenty, I found myself pinning a willing submissive man to a bed and fucking him, telling him that he was Mine. And I liked it. Gradually, I explored my Dominant energy and realised I could get off on that rush of power, on reducing someone to a puddle of lust with just my hands and voice. I changed my label to Switch.

Then I realised that being young, hot and listed as a Switch brought out the worst of all kinds of men on Fetlife. The Doms were convinced their Domly dick was all I would ever need to shove myself firmly back into the box labelled “submissive”. The submissives wanted to crawl at my feet and serve me (for the value of “serve” which means “have me fulfill their every sexual fantasy”). I couldn’t be arsed with it. I switched to the vague Kinkster. Something about that nondescript label – possibly along with aging out of the coveted “18-24” age bracket – hugely diminished the number of unsolicited gunk in my inbox. But it didn’t feel like me.

In the midst of my relationship with my ex-Master, I switched (heh) back to submissive. I filled my profile with variations on, “I AM OWNED, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE”. It worked, sort of, but it still only described a fraction of the rich and complex tapestry of the Amy.

Me and Mr CK switch with each other. This has been the case since the beginning, and will most continue to be the case for as long as our lives run in parallel. We both enjoy both sides of the slash (him more “D,” me more “). So I changed my role once again to Switch, and that was that.

And then… well. There’s no way to make myself look good here. I got competitive. Jealous. Scared.

My partner started dating someone, you see, who we’ll call The Doctor. She listed herself as 100% submissive. (Having been on the receiving end of her hand spanking my ass, I respectfully disagree with that label, but people have the right to self-identify.) It was this, more than the sex or the romance or anything else, that freaked me the fuck out. My headweasels took over and convinced me absolutely, in the space of a couple of weeks, that:

One: Identifying as a submissive, instead of a Switch, made this person inherently better at submitting than me purely on the basis that they never swapped roles.

Two: Therefore, my partner would prefer playing with her to playing with me.

Three: Therefore, my partner would use all his kinky/sexy/Dominant energy on her, leaving none left for me, start taking her to all our favourite kinky events instead of me, and collar her as his 24/7 submissive despite emphatically telling me he doesn’t want that dynamic with anybody.

Four: Therefore, my relationship would be over if I couldn’t show him beyond all doubt that I was at least as good a submissive, if not better, than this other person.

The thing is, this was all in my head. Neither of them did anything to indicate to me that there was any validity to these fears whatsoever. In desperation, not knowing what else to do to fight the battle against my own mind, I changed my status back to submissive. It took a very long and tearful conversation with my partner, in which all my fears fell out of my mouth and into his lap, for me to articulate what was really going on and say “I’m scared as fuck that you’ll leave me for someone else who’s more submissive than I am.”

That was when I learned that my Switchyness, and the Switching dynamic we share, is a feature, not a bug. It’s one of the things he loves about me. It was also when I began to internalise that:

One: Submission is not a contest.

Two: Being a Switch doesn’t make my submission, when I give it, less real or authentic or beautiful.

There’s a stigma against Switches in a lot of the kink world. Much like bisexuals, we’re told that we’re greedy, that we’re confused. That we need to get off the fence and make up our damn minds.

I tend to date either Top-leaning Switches, or exclusive Tops/Doms. It’s getting much better (thanks, in part, to fabulous partners who embrace ALL of me as I am!) but on some levels I still struggle with the insecurity whispering that, as a Switch, I’m a poor second choice and a Top/Dom would always choose a 100% submissive over me and like a 100% submissive more than me. I also worry, because Mr and I hang out at a lot of fem-sub/M-Dom events, that I’ll be judged poorly or thought less of due to being a Switch.

On the flip side, sometimes I feel like a fraud for identifying as Switch because my interests are so unbalanced. It’s really hard to put a number on it and it fluctuates. At the moment my desires are probably 90% sub/bottom and 10% Dom/Top. On the occasions when I do Top, I worry that my submissive partner is just going to say, “you’re shit at this, I’m gonna go do it with a real Dom.”

So where the fuck does that leave me?

Sadly, there isn’t a role option on Fetlife for “Basically submissive at heart but still gets a huge rush from Topping once in a while because I like the feeling of power and the reactions and the knowledge that I’m giving so much pleasure.”

So… yeah.

Switch.

Remember: a label is the beginning of a conversation, not the end.

Kinky item of the day: Collars by Kabunza. I’m not affiliated with this company in any way, but I could talk them up forever because 1) Aemilia Hawk is the most wonderful human being and I adore her. 2) their stuff is so beautiful it makes my heart sing. 3) their customer service is brilliant. 4) we should all support our friendly neighbourhood kinky businesses.

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The image featured in this post was sourced from Pixabay and edited by me. Please don’t steal my edit without express permission.

Four Times Three

I love threesomes. (I also love foursomes, moresomes and any combination of group sex you can think of – in fact, I’ve just pitched an article about why foursomes are the superior configuration in my experience.) The threesome, though… it’s often viewed as the pinnacle of sexual experience, and I’ve probably had hundreds of them. (#Explanabrag?) This post is just a few stand-out stories from a near-decade of menage et trois exploration.

Coffee beans on a surface with three hearts cut out by cookie cutters. For a post about threesome

The First

I wrap my arms around her warm body and snuggle into her shoulder. She’s littler than me, only 5’1″, but I feel so protected with her. She’s older, more experienced… and my first. I’m only eighteen and I’ve just made love to a woman for the first time.

‘Do you want to go and ask [my Boyfriend] to join us?’ she asks.

‘Are you sure?’ The question takes me aback, and not just because I’m still catching my breath.

‘Yeah, go on.’

So I throw on some clothing, still bashful, and skip downstairs with my sex hair to ask my boyfriend, happily waiting for us to finish and prepared to sleep on the couch if necessary, to come have a threesome with me and my new girlfriend.

He slides his fingers into her cunt, still wet from my earlier ministrations, and watches in awe as she comes once, twice, three times… we lose count. Then they both go to town on me, holding, fingering, kissing, caressing. I’m struggling to come, so she pulls out a vibrator and offers it to me. I use it on myself while they run their hands over my body, these two people I adore. I still don’t come – I’m too nervous – but it’s a good experience.

The Worst

I don’t know quite how it comes about that I’m going home with New Crush and his fiancee after the party. My boyfriend has pulled and is thoroughly occupied, so waves me off with a ‘have a good time.’ On the way back, they warn me that their flat is tiny. I correctly interpret this as, ‘we don’t have a guest bed, you’re sleeping with us.’

I fancy New Crush for sure. I’m pretty sure I don’t fancy his fiancee, but I like her just fine, so co-sleeping isn’t a problem for me. We’re all in bed together, at least partially clothed, and he’s kissing me and I’m into it. Then she’s kissing me and I’m not into it. He guides her hands to my wrists and instructs her to pin me down while he fingers me. I feel really uncomfortable and unsure how to gracefully extricate myself. I’m suddenly ‘very tired’ and I pretend to drift off to sleep while they fuck next to me. In the morning, I slip out quietly.

The Best

Mr CK has been seeing this girl, who we’ll call The Doctor, for a while. It’s taken me some time to get comfortable with the whole situation but I can’t deny I’m warming to her and my feelings have slipped beyond metamour friendship and into the realm of attraction.

She comes over to our place. We make food, we chat, we cuddle. It’s so easy. So chilled and genuinely affectionate. Mr CK suggests we move the cuddle to the bedroom – no pressure – and we both agree. They’re kissing. He’s kissing me. My eyes meet hers, and I dare to ask for permission to kiss her. She happily consents and her soft, soft lips meet mine. We all three tangle together, three bodies, kissing and nibbling and touching and stroking and stripping.

We introduce her to the Doxy wand. She’s scared. We offer to let her try it on a low setting, which she does – through her jeans. She comes in less than a minute, breathlessly declares ‘I’M BUYING ONE,’ and we all collapse into laughter.

The night is by turns passionate and giggly, intense and casual, sizzling hot and just plain fun. The Doctor leaves sometime after two in the morning. For the next three days, I can’t think of anything but her and him and me and this.

It happens two more times before it all ends too suddenly and it still immediately stands out whenever I think of the hottest sexual experiences of my life.

The Most Recent

This might *technically* be a cheat. There were other people in the room having sex beyond the three of us, so I’m not sure it can be classed as a threesome – but damnit, this particular part only involved us three, so I’m counting it.

I met him yesterday in a game of naked Twister (organised by – who else? – my girlfriend TwisterGirl.) The spark of attraction I felt was immediate and I tried not to glance at his sizeable cock while we were all naked and entangled on the game mat.

Tonight, this hot almost-stranger is next to us on the bed, watching as I suck Mr CK’s cock. I reach a hand out and play with his, asking first with my eyes and then out loud if it’s okay. The moan I receive tells me all I need to know.

Mr CK positions me on my knees. Tells me to suck our new friend’s cock. Slides his into me from behind and fucks me hard and deep. New Friend tells me to look at him, and our eyes lock while I come hard from the blissful sensation of being filled in two of my holes at once.

Afterwards, he kisses me. I want to do this again.

The image featured in this post was offered for usa via Creative Commons Licensing.