The Value of a Male Submissive

I was reading a post by the inimitable submissive male blogger maymay, along with a post he linked to, both about the devaluation of male submission. It’s something that hurts me, deeply, because it hurts the boy deeply. And it has, as far as I can tell, for most of his kinky life. His female lovers get asked to pose for photos, while he’s shoved into the shadows. I get paid to do kinky things while he would have to pay to have a similar experience. I get annoyed at feeling like my body is constantly on display because I’m female, while he feels crushed that his body isn’t seen as an object of desire because he’s male. We are made aware, all the time, of our gender differences and how that affects community reaction to us, as a couple and as individuals. And the kinky community perpetuates this nonsense.

When the boy told me about his experience being trained for the femdom club we go to in London, I was kind of saddened, though not surprised. Half the dommes training the house slaves were prodommes, for a start- which is fine, of course, in theory (hell, I do prodomming, some of my best friends, etc.), but disappointing when female domination is so often characterized by professionals. Then add that the dommes would say things like how worthless the slaves were, how tiny their cocks were, etc, and I just feel sick. The night itself is invigorating and useful to him- the boy likes to be made useful and bustling about was good for him- but the training sounded like a perpetuation of these femdom/malesub stereotypes that I hate so much. And I see how they affect him, how lessened he feels by being a male submissive. It kills me.

I appreciate him greatly. In our time together, he has become a pretty good cook, an excellent service submissive, my delicious whipping boy, my escort. He’s learned massage, he’s learned how I like my tea, he’s learned how to make my bed, and I can trust, now, that if I ask him to put clothes away he’ll know where they go and how to fold them. He helps me throw events, even though it’s not something he considers his skill and sometimes it frustrates him- but he knows it’s important to me, and so he does it.

I can’t imagine taking that for granted, or not appreciating him, or, worse, making him feel like he was useless to me. If anything, I acutely feel the loss of him now, alone in California! He is my pillow, my submissive Daddy, my ladies valet. He offers me so much strength, support, and love.

I love my submissive- I love feeling his weight over me, watching his eyes scrunch up when I pinch his nipples, his mouth open when I bite. I love fondling his flaccid cock as we watch TV, enjoying the softness of his skin, the tenderness of the touch. I love the way the pudge around his middle comes out over his waistband, like baking bread. I love resting my head on his chest, his arm around me, his lips kissing my forehead. I could never be the sort of dominant woman who doesn’t have this kind of intimacy with her submissive. It means far too much.

Yeah, sure, I enjoy beating him, parading him around at parties, making him suck my cock, but if that was all I wanted him for we’d have split after the first argument. No, the services he provides me are more subtle and vastly more important to me than that. He offers me a shoulder to cry on, passionate arguments, endless laughter, a sense of home. He offers me willingness, openness, letting me do what I like to his body and trusting me to sculpt his mind. I adore that my queer friends embrace him as one of their own, that he is welcomed into spaces that are mostly women because he is conscious of his male privilege. He is precious to me, not interchangeable in the slightest, incredibly valuable and valued.

I can only hope that as his Sir I give him security, love, and strength in return. Because I don’t want someone worthless. I don’t want someone with no self esteem, who will do everything I say. What good is that to me? I would bore of them quickly- devotion is meaningless without a connection, a spark, something that clicks, and I want a submissive I can trust to take care of things for me, to represent me when I’m not around. Some sniveling worm would reflect poorly on me, not least because they’re no challenge.

I wish femdom clubs reflected more of that sort of relationship- less parasitism, more partners moving in symbiosis. I never wanted a Severin in my life- I wanted Jeeves. And I think that’s true a lot more often than is shown. When the boy was being trained, and on the night, a few Dommes noticed how good he was at serving, how dedicated he was to being made useful, how pleased that made him. And I couldn’t have been prouder. *That’s* what I want from my submissive- pride in service. I am always touched by how readily he says yes to the things I want to explore with him- that sort of trust is powerful.

I am flattered and proud at how much he’s developed, how willing he’s been to learn to become the submissive I wanted… and he has met that hope more than I ever could’ve wished for. What better demonstration of devotion than that- self-improvement to better yourself for your Dom? That seems to be far more reflective of a service than whinging about how small your cock is.

(Also, for the record the boy’s cock is totally perfect.)

So I hope to see more reflections of that kind of tenderness and care between two people who compliment each other in BDSM, and less of this gender stereotyped bullshit.

Let’s challenge this assumption that male submissives are useless. If female submissives went around saying half the shit that male submissives do, we would protest that their low self-esteem was an issue (and making them vulnerable), so let’s equally say that for male submissives. I really don’t see how putting submissive men down, not looking at them as sexually attractive, not displaying images of them on fetish flyers or at fetish shops, does anything but continue the idea that women are to be looked at, the product, and men are there to pay for the privilege to look.

Fuck that noise.

Kitty Stryker

Kitty Stryker is a geeky sex worker, Burner, rabid writer and feminist activist with one high-heeled boot in San Francisco, California and one in London, England. In London, Stryker worked with the TLC Trust, an online organization connecting people with disabilities with sex workers experienced with emotional or physical limitations. She is the founder of the award-winning Ladies High Tea and Pornography Society, and was nominated by the Erotic Awards as Sex Worker of the Year for her charity and activism work. Now back in the States, Stryker has been presenting Safe/Ward, a workshop on combating entitlement culture within alternative sexual communities, along with being the PR rep for the Bay Area Sex Workers Outreach Project promoting sex worker rights. She has written for Huffington Post, Filament, and Tits and Sass, built a social media strategy for Cleis Press, and consults with sex workers about their online presence. In her copious free time, she enjoys switching things up with her two hot lovers. Read more from Stryker on her personal blog, Purrversatility.

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