I once spent a week with a woman who’d contacted me because she liked my writing. But there were major differences between us. I tend to see bdsm as loving, and not at all demeanning. She liked to be demeaned. She liked to be treated like a dog, when we were doing bdsm or fucking.
I don’t mean like really fucking an actual, real dog: I’ve no experience in fucking canines. It’s not just that it’s illegal and there are ethical consent issues. I’m afraid I’ve never fancied one.
I admired my dog Elric, because he was clever. Also, he was once bullied by a huge German Shepherd, who mock-mounted him as an expression of dominance. Elric thought about it, decided he didn’t like that, and while the German Shepherd was still preening, Elric put his front paws on the Shepherd’s back and mounted him, making doggy pelvic thrusts against the Shepherd’s arsehole.
I still remember the amazed fury in the German Shepherd’s face. He couldn’t believe it, but he was as angry as a dog gets. A fight broke out that Elric would have lost, badly, if it had gone on for thirty seconds. Luckily I was wearing knee-high leather dom boots that day, and I waded in and separated them, kicking the shit out of the German Shepherd until he backed off, and occasionally booting Elric when he tried to keep the fight going. How I got out that with my skin intact, in retrospect I’ll never know.
Something protects idiots, and Elric and I were both that. But despite that, we never got round to having sex, Elric and I. So when this woman wanted to be fucked as one would fuck a dog, I really was at a loss.
But in practise it turned out to mean that I lashed her with a short single-tail whip and called it a dogwhip, and I shouted a lot of commands you’d shout at a dog: “Roll over!”, “Down, girl!”, “Sit! Stay!” and so on. Then I’d say things like, “You filthy, stinky dog! You useless mongrel bitch! You worthless carpet-pissing, slipper-chewing, lazy, should-be-spayed, stupid farting ANIMAL!”
And she would groan with arousal. I was quite proud, actually, of being verbally inventive in a genre I’d never even thought about before. But I’m a Dom who likes to please. Anyway, all human experience is good. That which does not bore us makes us strong.
Anyway, she wanted me to name her, and call her, “pigcunt” . So I did. pigcunt the dog.
Soon after, I met a girl who was much closer to my worldview and style. We became Master and slave. And she insisted that I give her a slave name. So I called her “curious oyster”
She was endlessly hungry for knowledge, which explained the ‘curious’, and she had a remarkably pretty and demanding cunt, which is what ‘oyster’ meant.
Usually I called her oyster, because it seemed sexy to me, and her, that she was named after her cunt.
The next submissive girl I really loved I called “pixie tinkerbelle”, because that reflected how I felt about her. The name was because she was full of mysterious and unexpected knowledge and skills. Also, she needed spanking at every and any given moment.
But a few days ago I was talking to a guy who’d been a switch but was wanting to slip into the submissive role because he’d met and spent some time with a dom woman. It had gone well, and they were about to enter a live-in Mistress/slave relationship. She’d ordered him to come up with a slave name. He asked me what I thought.
I thought he should indicate whether he wanted a demeaning or a loving slave name, but after that it’s a dom’s job to observe their sub or slave and give them a name based on what the dom sees in them.
I hate people who tell others in bdsm that they’re Doing It Wrong, but I sort of thought the dom woman was doing it wrong, maybe from a lack of confidence. But I suggested that he should help her find that confidence. The naming was her job.
Also goodbye Elric, my beautiful labrador-samoyed cross: I never did get round to fucking you (and wouldn’t in, oh, a million years), but I sure loved you.
(Yeah, he was named after an albino Melnibonéan prince. I was reading Moorcock a lot at the time I got him as a puppy. Late adolescence. )