Lying in bed next to Mannequin, arms wrapped around her, pulling her slight frame into mine and pressing my thigh between her legs. I want to fuck her, to be able to take her, penetrate her with a part of myself.
What I absolutely did not want to do was have to leave the nice warm girl in the nice warm bed, wander around in the dark until I found the strap-on harness, put it on, find a dildo, put it in the harness and then get back into bed. That would, as one might put it, rather ruin the moment. I want to slide inside her, seamless, perfect, without pause or reflection. To casually reach over and have what is mine as easily as picking up a glass and lifting it to your lips to savour the taste of wine within.
It's not, let's be clear here, penis envy. Either in the psycho-sexual or practical realms. I don't want flesh as such, or to swap this body for a boy's (well, maybe for a day...). It was very much about the impromptu desire, the need to do it there and then without recourse to kit. I don't want a cock as a permanent fixture it just would have been handy right then. And neither do I want one as a demonstration or emblem of power: as a dominant, I already have the power that freudian analysis attributes to that oft over-inflated member.
As I thought about this more, it became muddier. Because I also felt that this need was "masculine", yet I feel the same kind of drive towards my male submissives - if anything, the desire expresses itself as more aggressive, less seductive, more forceful and certainly more violently physical. How did that work? After all I don't perceive them as "feminine" in fact they are very masculine men. To compound this, I realised that when my dominance is in full flight and I'm seeing the world through dom-space, I do not view Mannequin as the feminine (although she is a very beautiful woman) receiver to this "masculine" desire to penetrate.
They are my submissives. They are amazing bodies that I own and want to express that ownership in a very, very physical way. Thus the tropes of masculinity that I am sensing are the hangovers of a society that conflates masculine with dominance. Those particular elements within the sensations and desires that I am experiencing feel "masculine" because in my mind all the words around the act of penetration are associated with masculinity: force, power, thrust, take. I spent a lot of my submissive journey trying to unpick the associations of femininity and submission and how that sat with my tomboyish self. I expect that there is a similar reconciliation to be done here with dominance and gender.
As an addendum, and flirting in the same territory, I played a trick on Mr Smith over the weekend, lying on my back and coyly encouraging him to fuck me, missionary style. He couldn't. Poor thing. Arms around my shoulders, cock inside me but he knew something wasn't right and his body responded accordingly. He became tense and awkward as the mixed signals competed for attention. Even as I made him describe how it felt, made him think about things that were in deliberate contrast to his desire to submit, I could feel him slip away. There was a look of relief and (eventually, when I'd had enough) release after I'd pushed him onto his back to ride him.
Fucking him in both positions gave me the sensation of "penetration" even though, technically, he was penetrating me. The precise physicality of fucking doesn't seem to matter. Context is everything. Because he associated missionary style, boy-on-top with a more powerful mode of behaviour, for him, it didn't work. His penetration of me did not make him dominant towards me, but my dominant feelings towards him meant that I could still feel that way even with him on top, because I was in control. All the more so because he was struggling with the situation.
When we fuck, the connection created by our bodies is a channel through which runs the power exchange. Like electricity through wire. Making everything light up. It is the D/s balance I have between myself and my partners that mediates the way the fucking feels: the push and pull of owner and owned. It isn't about who behaves like a boy and who behaves like a girl, although those are certainly masks we can wear. It's about who takes and who gives.
Deep down, this has been something I've known for a long, long time. Even right back when I was in vanilla relationships it was always the (kinky) images and ideas of control in my mind that informed my experience of sexual pleasure. Now I have the power to make those fantasies of into realities, whilst wearing whatever attributes of any gender I choose.