Author: Kate Sloan

In Defense of Wearing Socks During Sex

Kate Sloan

Recently, I asked my partner to write mini reviews of some lewd self-portraits I shot in Agent Provocateur lingerie (yep, I’m needy as fuck) and, in one of the shots, it became evident that I had teamed this very expensive, sexy ensemble with a pair of blue calf-high socks. Rather than do what most people would do and either wish they weren’t there or not even notice them, my partner noted that the socks “show me that you want to come, and they’re the only thing that will be left on you once I get my hands on you.” I giggled, blushed, and nodded. Exactly.

If you’d be mystified receiving a sext like that, let me explain. A study done in 2003 in the Netherlands, on the neural processes that contribute to orgasm, found (among numerous other things) that wearing socks increased female participants’ rate of orgasm from 50% to 80%. Innnteresting.

This makes sense to me, given what I’ve learned from sex researcher Emily Nagoski about how women can be more sensitive than men to the presence of “sexual brakes,” i.e. factors that inhibit sexual arousal both physically and psychologically. (For the record, I’m not really sure how this information relates to trans women or nonbinary people, or whether gender-non-conforming people were included in any of the relevant studies, although my past experiences reading sex research lead me to believe they probably weren’t sampled significantly or at all.) Having cold feet in the literal sense could give women cold feet in the metaphorical sense about having sex, because in some cases it’s a distraction significant enough that it prevents or slows down the arousal process – at least, for me, and seemingly for other women as well. This is likely compounded by the fact that women’s extremities, on average, run colder than men’s. (Again, I assume the research here refers only to cis people, but would be pleasantly surprised if that was not the case.)

In the many years since I first read about the socks study, I’ve cited it to multiple sexual partners when asked why I tend to keep my socks on during sex, or (in the cases of a few foot fetishists) when lustily asked to remove my socks. It’s interesting how just explaining “My feet get cold,” like I used to do before I knew about the science, was typically met with more resistance than the more recent and more airtight “Studies show wearing socks during sex helps with having orgasms.” It’s almost as if… people trust male scientists more than they trust women about women’s own bodies?! Gee, who’da thunk.

I should note here that many people have a legitimate aesthetic issue with the whole idea of socks during sex. Either they think it looks silly and weird (which is their prerogative – I know even ultra-busty pouty-lipped sex dolls would look kinda odd wearing woollen hiking socks and nothing else) or they’re turned on by feet and/or full nudity. When I fuck someone who feels this way, my partners’ orgasms may be inhibited almost as much by me wearing socks as mine would be by me not wearing socks – so I’m sometimes willing to bend my policy and work a little harder for my orgasms, knowing I can wriggle back into my nice warm socks when we’re done. I do, after all, want my partners to enjoy having sex with me!

But luckily for me, I’ve had about as many paramours who loved socks as ones who wanted to ban them from our bedroom. This, I think, can be attributed mostly to my interest in DD/lg – there are a lot of visual tropes within that fetish, and knee-high and thigh-high socks are high on the list for many kinksters. I still remember the time I settled into bed for a nice long phone-sex sesh with a daddy dom years ago: he asked me what I was wearing, I told him “a T-shirt, underwear, and some knee-high socks,” and he moaned/growled/grunted with such ferocity that I knew I had made the right choice even though he couldn’t even see my outfit.

Sometimes when I talk to other women about wearing socks during sex – and, yeah, my life is sufficiently weird that this topic does come up in conversation with friends sometimes – they seem slightly mystified by my decision to put my comfort first in a sexual scenario. I think this is sadly emblematic of our sexual culture. Mainstream porn, for example – while I adore much of it and think it is necessary and important – is full of messaging which suggests that hot sex and comfortable sex are basically mutually exclusive, especially for women (can you IMAGINE doing reverse cowgirl, while standing, for 20+ minutes straight?! I simply cannot). And indeed, there are some sex acts I enjoy greatly which could not be considered “comfortable” by any stretch of the imagination (getting paddled and getting throat-fucked come to mind), so it’s not like discomfort is incompatible with arousal for me. But for some reason, socks are one place where I draw a line. I’m rarely up for being uncomfortable in this particular way even though I’ll happily be uncomfortable in various other ways during sex from time to time.

I will say, too, that this has sometimes been a litmus test of sorts for how a new partner reacts to boundary-setting or mid-bang communication. Are they really so committed to their porn-borne sexual scripts that they’re going to insist on full nudity at the expense of my comfort? Are they really going to argue with me about this perfectly reasonable boundary I have set for my own body? Or are they going to say “Huh,” shrug it off, and move on like nothing is wrong (because nothing is)?

Despite being a foot fetishist, my current partner is so devoted to and interested in my pleasure and my orgasm that they’ll often encourage me to keep my socks on during sex. And this makes it all the more delicious for both of us when – after giving me a partly socks-enabled orgasm or two – they crawl down my body, rest their hand gently on my ankle, and ask so so sweetly, “May I take these off and look at your feet?”

Respecting sexual partners’ boundaries is so, so important, even if those boundaries don’t totally make sense to you. Every time a partner respects one of my boundaries without question, it becomes easier and more fun for me later on to bend my more flexible boundaries in the name of pleasure. Heeding my “no” now is likely to get you a “yes” later, for something else. I’m glad science exists to back me up when I set this particular boundary, but the truth is, I shouldn’t need a scientific citation to state what I want and have that be respected.

So when my partner compliments the socks I’m wearing in nudes ‘n’ lewds, I know it’s more than just a compliment. It’s an affirmation that my choices are valid, my boundaries are important, and I am beautiful regardless of which clothes I do, or don’t, remove.

Review: Biird Obii

Kate Sloan

Picture yourself as Cinderella, or Snow White, or another of those Disney princesses who enlist woodland creatures to do their bidding. Picture the sun cresting over the horizon, beams of light beginning to stream into your quaint forest cottage. Picture a pink cartoon bird landing on your windowsill and chirping, “Would you like an orgasm?” That’s kind of the whole vibe (so to speak) of the adorable Biird Obii.

Made to look like a stylized little bird, the Obii is a rechargeable vibrator that also offers “pressure wave” stimulation, the technology originally developed (as far as I know) by Womanizer and later utilized by other companies like Satisfyer and Lelo. New phenomena in the realm of clitoral stimulation don’t come along too often, so it’s no surprise that so many sex toy reviewers and sex writers have effused about the wonders of pressure waves – they really are pretty cool. They work by way of a tiny panel inside the toy’s nozzle that moves back and forth to create rhythmic suction/pressure around your clit, if you can get a good enough seal. This makes the sensation essentially “touchless” in a way that vibrators are not, so some people report more intense orgasms and shorter refractory periods with this type of toy.

The control panel on the bottom of the Obii – thoughtfully labeled, with buttons that are easy to press but hard to accidentally press, hooray – allows you to flip between the toy’s 4 vibration modes (3 steady speeds + 1 pulsing pattern) and its 3 pressure-wave intensities. You can use one at a time or turn them both on if you like your clit-sucking with a side of vibration.

The problem is, the vibrations on this toy are… sad. Like, “weak” or “disappointing” are not even the right words; when I turned on the vibrations for the first time, I felt like saying out loud to the toy, “Oh, honey…” They’re meager, they’re buzzy as hell, and they’re buried so deeply in the toy that I can’t even discern where the motor is or which part of the vibe I’m supposed to press against my clit, since all positionings feel equally numbing and underwhelming. If you are looking for a vibrator – or you’re curious about pressure wave toys but want to be able to use yours as a vibrator incase it turns out you don’t like pressure waves – then definitely look elsewhere. The power and resonance of the Obii’s vibrations are literally on par with one of those single-use bullets sold alongside Trojan condoms in fluorescently-lit drugstore aisles.

But what makes the Obii interesting and remarkable isn’t the vibration, it’s the pressure waves. And those are actually pretty swell. The waves this toy creates feel stronger and, for lack of a better word, “rumblier” than those I’ve experienced from some others. While reaching orgasm is always a slow process for me with this type of toy, because it focuses so intensely on the exposed tip of my clit and thus risks overstimulating me easily, they are nonetheless very much within reach when I’m using this toy. I wish there were more than 3 settings, because my clit is a sensitive little flower and I like gradation, but the existing settings are plenty good enough to get me off. And incase you’ve never had a pressure-wave orgasm, I’ll reiterate here: they really are different from orgasms with a vibrator, or orgasms achieved via just about any other means. They’re kinda like… if your clit was a dick, and you were getting a blowjob from a robot, but the robot only knew how to suck the head of your dick and not the shaft, but it was really good at that. (Bam. Another brilliant sex toy reviewer metaphor. 😂 I’m good at my job sometimes, I swear.)

An issue with the Obii, which some other reviewers who I deeply respect have pointed out, is that the nozzle is unusually small for a toy of this type, and that the moving panel inside the nozzle is abnormally close to the opening. What this means is that people with bigger clits will likely have a hard time using the Obii comfortably. I have asked a couple partners of mine over the years whether my clit is small, average, or large (yes, dating me is quite an adventure), and both of them said it was average or perhaps slightly larger than average, and I found this toy comfortable and inoffensive – but your mileage may vary. (It’s annoying that culturally we don’t talk about clits nearly as much as we talk about dicks, and so we don’t have an understanding of what an “average-sized” clit would look like, but also, maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. There’s already enough vagina-shame in the world; let’s not start comparing and competing with regards to clit size!)

The Obii won the Red Dot design award, and it’s easy to see why, from an aesthetic standpoint: it’s very pretty. I actually love how cute it is, and I think it would make you happy if you’re one of those people whose experience is genuinely improved when the sex toy you’re using is #AestheticGoals. It also doubles as a bedside lamp when placed on its cradle to charge; it casts a dim, warm glow that would be ideal for sexytimes (although, you know, the light would go off whenever you grabbed the Obii to use it). The silicone used all over the toy is wonderfully soft and silky in my hand, though it’s also one of the foremost lint magnets in my entire sex toy collection.

The silkiness of the silicone also poses problems during use. I can’t maintain a solid grip on the toy for long unless I squeeze it past the point of comfort (which, as someone with chronic pain in my hands and elsewhere, I’m especially disinclined to do). The ridges on the side of the toy seem like they could help with grippiness, but in practice they don’t actually help much. This also points to one of the problems with making a “design-y” sex toy: just because a shape looks pretty doesn’t mean it’ll feel good in someone’s hand or against someone’s body. While testing the Obii I often found myself reminiscing fondly on more ergonomically-shaped pressure wave toys like the Satisfyer Penguin.

All of that said, though… I can’t deny that I like pressure wave stimulation, in a “forced orgasm” kind of way, because it’s more intense and more direct than the stimulation I typically pursue – and I also can’t deny that the Biird Obii is pretty damn good at that type of stimulation. At one point while I was testing it, I watched a video on YouPorn of a domme holding a wand vibe against a penis pump in which her sub’s cock was trapped, and it occurred to me that the stimulation of pressure wave toys is similar to what I imagine that would feel like: mild and muffled vibration paired with insistent suction. It’s a very effective combo on my clit and on the clits of many other people. The Biird Obii may not be the perfect manifestation of this type of toy, but it’s cute as hell, smooth and soft, and surprisingly satisfying – so I say, as long as your clit is on the small-to-average side, have at it.

 

Thanks to Biird for sending me the Obii to try! This review was sponsored, which means that I was paid to write a fair and honest review of this product. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Sensual Sleepwear for Rhapsodic Napping

Kate Sloan
An old picture of one of my favorite sleepwear items ever, a turquoise and pink romper by Leg Avenue.

I know I just talked about loungewear recently, but now I wanna talk about sleepwear, too!

There’s a fair amount of overlap between these two categories, but there are some notable differences. Loungewear is the sort of thing I’d mostly wear around the house, but would have no reservations about sporting to the store or a local café if I needed to, or wearing on a casual Zoom call. Sleepwear, on the other hand, tends to be a little slinkier, a little skimpier, and not exactly grocery store-appropriate. It must also be comfy enough that I can toss and turn in it and not wake up a sweaty, tangled, wrinkled mess.

Now that we’ve got that distinction sorted out, here are some sleepwear items I’ve been eying lately…

 

Remember when the word “mask” could refer to stuff that didn’t remind you of the global health crisis we’re all facing?! (Gulp.) I think silk eye masks are the best type of mask (fight me, N-95s… just kidding) and don’t know what I would do without them. One entire wall of my bedroom is a window, which ordinarily I love, but it can be tricky when I’m trying to squeeze in some mid-day zzz’s. There is just something about the pressure on my eyes, and the total blockage of light, that helps me sleep so much more easily and peacefully.

I probably already have too many masks of this sort, but this pink silk one by Emily Au is calling to me nonetheless. There’s something so delightfully meta/Dada about napping while little illustrated eyes cover your actual peepers.

This mask would be best paired with a black silk slip, pale pink striped thigh-high socks, and a white noise machine. Mmmm.

 

Excuse me, this matching pink satin robe and nightgown set is far too cute to exist. What I love about this is that it makes coordination effortless, so you can have your glamorous Cat on a Hot Tin Roof moment without needing to spend hours getting ready like Elizabeth Taylor did!

I also love that each of these items could be worn separately, depending on the situation. I can imagine falling asleep in just the nightgown and then slipping into the robe to go make breakfast and coffee in the morning… or wearing the nightgown during a hookup and then throwing the robe on to walk my date to the door. So many possibilities!

I would pair this ensemble with shiny black stiletto heels, hot pink lipstick, and big hair for an over-the-top selfie photoshoot… and then I would kick off the heels, blot the lipstick off, tie my hair back, and curl up for a nice comfy snooze, draped in stunning satin. Ah, heaven.

 

Sometimes you just wanna feel like a cartoonishly hot babe, and this cotton Lola Bunny nightgown from H&M is just the thing for those moments. It’s essentially an oversized T-shirt, which are the best thing to sleep in anyway (particularly when borrowed from a beau). I like that the design is juuust presentable enough that you could throw on some leggings underneath and maybe a denim jacket on top and you’d be fine to pop by the store or answer the door.

H&M also makes one of these bearing the NASA logo, and I love that juxtaposition. Imagine the kind of person who would own both of these. They seem like they’d be awesome to hang out with.

I’d pair sweet Lola Bunny with black cashmere socks and a pale lavender sleep mask. Bunny ears optional.

 

I’m absolutely losing my shit over everything made by Prayers and Plans, a Black-owned luxury loungewear company. However, this midnight-blue silk slip might just take the cake. The cut is so sexy yet so simple, and that color is just… va-va-voom. Silk can be so amazingly vividly hued; there’s a reason I keep gravitating toward it in this post!

I love when nightgowns are designed with actual sleeping in mind, rather than just being optimized for visual sexiness (there’s no shame in that, it’s just not what I’m after when I talk about sleepwear specifically). There’s enough looseness in this slip’s design that it seems like it’d be comfy all night long. Plus I’m pretty sure that if I had a one-night stand with someone and woke up to see them wearing this in bed the next morning, I’d have a hard time leaving…!

I’d pair this with… ideally nothing at all, honestly. And it looks like it’d actually feel fine when worn naked, unlike a lot of more lingerie-leaning slips that can scrape you with lace and poke you with seams.

 

I’ve always loved Yokoo‘s quirky collection of handmade knitwear (they made an absurdly warm raspberry cowl I’ve treasured for a few winters now) and I know from experience that these items are the best accessories for wintertime naps, especially before your landlord turns the heat on in your building (le sigh). The Pembroke Cowl is HUGE – like, almost Lenny Kravitz huge – and can be custom-made in a wide array of autumnal and wintry shades just for you. This scarf in the “warm blueberry pie” color has been calling my name for years now…

Yokoo’s scarves are also the absolute best for cold winters in general, especially if you’re someone who uses your voice professionally as a singer, podcaster, etc. (I used to have a voice teacher who insisted I should wear a scarf EVERY time I left the house, to “protect [my] throat,” and I don’t quite go that far, but…) I remember it feeling very comforting when, in winters past, I would sometimes wake up from a nap in my Yokoo cowl while sick with a cold or a flu, and head out the door immediately to go pick up medicine or soup without needing to first change my outfit.

For naptime, I’d pair this massive grey scarf with a long black modal slip dress, and (if it was really cold) black cashmere gloves. For bonus points, pull the scarf up over your eyes to act as an impromptu sleep mask!

 

What sleepwear are you craving these days?

Review: Tracy’s Dog Pecker

Kate Sloan

I’m back with another Tracy’s Dog review! And I’ve learned slightly more about this company since reviewing another toy of theirs last week! Namely: that the company is titled the way it is, as per TD’s marketing team, “because we are loyal and loving to our customers and we always get our customers’ backs no matter what. Always be there for them if they need anything. Also, we bring joy and pleasure to people!”

I guess I’d rather refer to my favorite vibes as “woman’s best friend” than as a “battery-operated boyfriend” as some companies insist upon doing. I do sometimes have to do a double-take when I read phrases like “Tracy’s Dog clitoral sucker,” to make sure I haven’t accidentally stumbled onto bestiality porn (yikes), but, you know, there are sex toy company names out there that I dislike more. (“Womanizer” and “I Rub My Duckie” come to mind!)

The toy I’m reviewing today is the Pecker, a new G-spot stimulator from Tracy’s Dog – so called, presumably, because it attacks your pleasure zones like a woodpecker. It’s both a vibrator and a pulsator. The vibration is plenty good enough for me – decently strong and rumbly for a $37 toy, 3 steady speeds followed by 7 patterns – but the real point of interest on this thing is the pulsation. There’s a circular panel in the tip of the toy which, much like the “Pulse Plate” on the Hot Octopuss Queen Bee, trembles visibly like the “come hither” motion of a particularly dexterous partner’s fingers. And when I first saw it do this, my G-spot started trembling too.

See, the reasons I didn’t like the pulsation of the Queen Bee were that 1) the “Pulse Plate” was too large and broad to hit a targeted spot like the clit with any precision or intensity, and 2) my clit doesn’t really like this type of pulsing, so it would seem. But my G-spot is a different beast, plus the pulsating part of the Pecker is small enough that it can actually focus on a particular spot instead of mostly pummeling the surrounding area. This feels like Tracy’s Dog employed the right technology for the right erogenous zone. Always a delight when sex toy companies manage to do that!

Image via Tracy’s Dog.

So what does the pulsation actually feel like? I have to admit that when I first inserted the toy and held down the pulsation button to turn it on, I nearly fell out of bed from the sudden intensity of it. I’d already spent several minutes watching porn and stimulating myself externally so I’d be warmed up for testing, since I know my G-spot requires a lot of foreplay, but the Pecker was still too intense for me right off the bat, even on the lowest setting. However, it was the kind of over-intensity that’s borderline-pleasurable and that can feel more enjoyable if you lean into it and accept that the slight discomfort is part of the complexity of the sensation. For me, intense G-spot stimulation is almost always accompanied by some degree of that “need to pee” feeling, a stingy edge of discomfort. It usually blossoms into pleasure when I give it time to do so, and though the Pecker was initially very jarring to my spot, it did eventually start to feel good as I continued turning myself on.

It’s interesting to compare the toy’s vibration functions and its pulsation, which you can activate either separately or together – to which I say, hallelujah, I love this function. Tracy’s Dog points out that since there are 10 vibration settings and 5 pulsation settings, there are 50 different combinations you can create thereof – and while not all of them feel noticeably different from one another, my G-spot craves the sensation of motion enough that even a small change can help ramp me up to a higher arousal level. The pulsation feels sharper, like an exacting partner pressing their fingers hard and fast into your G-spot, while the vibration feels more massage-like and stimulates the whole vagina rather than just that one spot. They both have their place, and I switch back and forth between the two a lot during use, but activating them both at the same time is usually far too much sensation for me. That said, if you’re one of those “No amount of G-spot stimulation is enough!!” people, you’d likely enjoy the onslaught of feeling that this toy provides.

As with the last Tracy’s Dog toy I reviewed, I found that this one has patterns that don’t entirely work for my body. Of the 5 pulsation settings, my favorites are the straight-‘n’-steady 5th one (why did they put the most basic one last?) and the steadily pulsing 2nd one. The others are comparatively erratic – a slow and steady up-and-down, a rumbling escalation ending in 3 strong bursts, and 3 medium taps followed by one longer and stronger buzz. While I’m sure some people would enjoy them for their teasing qualities, for me they’re too intense and all-over-the-place and usually just end up making both me and my G-spot feel jumpy and on edge.

However, the combination of the steady pulsation mode with a vibration pattern? Blissful. Sometimes I’m using the vibration function for a while, and then I get close to orgasm but don’t necessarily want to change the vibration pattern, lest I ruin my own orgasm. Turning on the pulsator at this point is often enough to push me over the edge – though, just as often, it becomes overwhelming and I have to backpedal a bit. (My G-spot is a fickle bitch, it’s true.)

I’m usually thrusting when I use this toy, which significantly improves how it feels for me. Hyperfocusing on just one area of my G-spot is a good way to overstimulate me in short order; I appreciate being able to move the toy in and out to stimulate both the shallower and deeper parts of my G-spot. Thankfully and thoughtfully, the toy has a looped handle which makes thrusting a whole lot easier than it otherwise would be, both for me and for any partners who might fuck me with this toy in the future. I also appreciate that the Pecker is on the longer side for a G-spot toy (about 8″ total or 6″ insertable), so I can massage all areas of my G-spot even as it swells from arousal. Tracy’s Dog made this toy long-ish because they wanted it to also be able to hit the A-spot or the prostate; however, for me, the tip isn’t quite narrow enough to slide up into my A-spot, and I would hesitate to use this toy anally because the base isn’t flared enough and the pulsating plate seems difficult to clean as effectively as anal bacteria requires. To me this is 100% a G-spot toy and it serves that function very well.

I wish the Pecker’s pulsator had some lower/less intense settings instead of starting at “WHAT THE FUCK” levels, but truth be told, I’d rather a toy be too strong than too weak. And it’s not even that this vibe is too strong (as my clit can attest from when I’ve held the Pecker on it, where it just registers as a middling vibrator) – it’s that it’s simultaneously strong and very focused on my G-spot. I can always dial back the sensation by angling the toy so it presses less directly against my spot until I’m ready for it; when a G-spot vibrator is too weak, there’s not much you can do to fix the situation.

I’m quite surprised by how much I like the Tracy’s Dog Pecker, especially since its name contains the phrase “dog pecker.” It just does what I want a G-spot toy to do. Whether I turn on the vibrations, the pulsation, both at the same time, or even neither, it gives me more than enough G-spot stimulation (with a little added thrusting) to create profound and surprising blended orgasms while I’m using another vibe on my clit. I could also see this toy mixing well with oral sex, since the looped handle would make it easy for a partner to hold and thrust while going down on me. If you like a LOT of G-spot stimulation, I think you’ll dig this one – so long as you can get over the name.

 

Thanks to Tracy’s Dog for providing this toy for me to review! This post was sponsored, meaning that I was paid by Tracy’s Dog to write a fair and honest review of their toy. As always, all words and opinions are my own.

You Are Not a Bad Submissive

Kate Sloan

Being a loudly and proudly submissive woman on the internet, I get a lot of questions in my various inboxes from other submissives, seeking affirmation and advice. Sadly, the subtext (ha!) of all too many messages in this vein is: “Am I a bad submissive because I don’t [do xyz thing that someone told me submissives do]?”

You can fill in that “xyz” with just about any kinky activity. Service. Masochism. Being tied up. Being “forced” to orgasm. Giving oral sex. Being a brat. Being obedient. Being “hot enough” or “pretty enough” or “kinky enough” or just… enough. There are so many areas where submissives doubt themselves and their ability to do certain things they feel are expected of submissives, whether due to physical limitations or psychological baggage or just… not liking certain acts.

Thinking you’re a “bad submissive” because you can’t do, or don’t like doing, certain things is like thinking you’re “bad at sex” for the same reasons. Sure, there are some overarching attributes and behaviors that are likely to make you a good submissive, or good at sex, no matter who you’re fucking: on-point communication skills, well-attuned self-knowledge, generosity of spirit. But it would be erroneous to assume that you’re universally bad at being submissive, or at having sex, just because your tastes and style don’t align perfectly with those of everyone you encounter in your sex life. Sure, yeah, maybe you had a dom once who craved good obedient service and your idea of sexy-fun submission is more like brash brattiness. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad submissive. It just means you’re not compatible with that dom in that way.

I dated a dude once who was way kinkier than me by every measure I can think of: he had more kinks than I do, felt more strongly about them, and could find ways to eroticize things that sometimes seemed pretty random and odd to me (in the best way). When we first started dating, I was nervous that I wouldn’t be able to live up to his expectations – that he would look at me, tied up and squirming on his massage table, and wish he was throat-fucking me instead, or caning my calves, or encasing me in saran wrap from head to toe.

However, in our numerous detailed kink negotiations, I learned that he didn’t think that way at all. He wasn’t sizing me up, putting together a wishlist of things he wanted to do to me, regardless of my opinions on the matter – he wanted us to figure out together what would be fulfilling for us to do. This is the basis of how every good dom approaches their dynamics, in my opinion. Sure, sometimes it can be fun to invite a partner to try an activity they’ve never tried before, to see if they’ll be into it – but if the answer is no, any dom worth their salt will accept that completely and unequivocally. If it’s a dealbreaker for them – like if they have one primary fetish and their sexual relationships just aren’t complete without it – they have the right to communicate that, so the two of you can make decisions accordingly. But they should never make you feel pressured to participate, and moreover, you are not a bad submissive if you can’t or won’t get onboard with what they’re proposing. It just means you may not be compatible and should likely go your separate ways.

If anyone ever tells you you’re a bad submissive, a) they’re an asshole and b) they probably just mean you’re not a well-suited submissive for them. This is every bit as weird and shitty as telling someone they have bad taste in food just because you don’t like their favorite dish. Like, first of all, who asked you? And secondly, why are you under the impression that your highly subjective opinion is objectively correct?!

To continue the food metaphor, the list of activities dominants and submissives can explore together is a colossal buffet, and you don’t have to like every dish on the menu. In fact, it’s pretty unlikely that you will. Just skip over the ones you don’t like!

Beware of any dom who, when you mention that you don’t like [x], gets huffy or argumentative. Yes, sometimes it can be disappointing to hear that the hot new person you’re into doesn’t like doing your favorite thing, and yes, sometimes a dom might be a little sad upon hearing that news. But any attempt to sway your answer is edging into manipulation territory, and that’s just not cool. I think saying “You’re a bad submissive” is often a last-ditch attempt to shame someone into doing certain things, and it should be seen as such: an abusive falsehood, not a damning proclamation.

When you think about dominants you’ve known, I bet you don’t mentally sort them into “good doms” and “bad doms” based solely on what they did and didn’t like. Maybe that guy who adored chain bondage or that goddess who loved cake-sitting didn’t turn your crank, but that doesn’t mean they were bad doms. The same is true for you: your boundaries are valid, you don’t owe anyone explanations about your preferred palette of kink activities, and your incompatibility with certain people is not a statement about your overall value.

I spent years feeling like a shitty submissive because I didn’t make pretty-enough faces while getting whipped, or couldn’t hold certain positions for long periods of time, or sometimes spaced and forgot to do the kinds of pre-emptive service my doms may have preferred. But in my current dynamic, my partner makes me feel every day like I’m the best submissive in the world – or, more importantly, the best submissive for them. We play to each other’s strengths, and don’t push each other’s boundaries (except in the fun, consensual way!). Just as they make me feel like a stellar submissive, I work hard to let them know that they’re an incredible dominant – not just in general, but for me. That’s what matters in a D/s dynamic, and anyone who tells you otherwise probably isn’t fun to play with anyway.

Submissive babes, I love you, I see you, and I want you to be happy. And an important part of that journey is recognizing that you’re a good submissive, for somebody, even if that somebody isn’t currently in your life. The more you accept and broadcast the unique fingerprint of your yeses and no’s, the closer you’ll get to meeting someone whose list matches yours. And then you’ll get to feel like the very, very good submissive that you are. 💖

But also? You’re a good submissive even if you don’t have a partner. You’re a good submissive even if you never have a partner. You’re a good submissive because, just by virtue of identifying as a submissive, you’ve taken the time to figure out who you are and what you want, to some extent. Your self-knowledge is beautiful, and inspirational, and revelatory, and – guess what? – good.