Boy training

A commenter on this post made an excellent suggestion that someone tackle the lazies of the male persuasion. Honestly, i just love getting suggestions for posts, and couldn't pass this one up.

Without further ado:

I feel for the most part that this entire site, despite its nomenclature of "transformher", has been dedicated to the ways a man can become a better man. I speak frequently about the need for restraint. I celebrate the virtue and necessity of patience. I subscribe to the notion that what is done here, what i speak of is more than just about sex, but about finding an inner peace and connection with my partner.

But ultimately, the matter that sits at the core of my entire psyche is the unceasing creation of beauty. I know this word automatically has feminine inferences woven into it. Rare is it that someone would say "that man is beautiful" and even if they do, it is something that causes you to take express notice. Additionally, for my sake, beauty is not just physical attractiveness. In fact, we limit the power and prevalence of beauty if we only use physical characteristics as its ingredients.

How does one contribute beauty to the world? With the list of things i chose to highlight in my other post, you'd think offering something beautiful was arduous (you mean i have to wear high heels in order to contribute positively to the world?). Actually, it's quite simple. Just care. That's all you need to do. Care about other people, care about your loved ones, but most importantly, care about yourself.

I'm surrounded by men who have no problem oggling some cute thing fluttering by in her little mini skirt and wedges, all the while their potbellies pour onto the table from where they stuff their mouths with the worst, nutrient-deficient, fat-laden food on the planet. They demand that their women look a specific way - tiny, thin, attractive - yet they give no thought to how they themselves look. They dress like the clothes they own were as inconvenient a formality as the wrapper on their greasy cheeseburger. They take no pride in their appearance, whether it is how little attention they pay to their grooming habits (i have seen some collosally awful haircuts that men seem to care very little about) or how homogenized they've made their outfits (can anyone tell the difference between what a guy wore on Monday to what he wore on a Thursday?).

Let me provide a little background information to round out the context to where i'm coming from. I was raised on a ranch. My father did not wear bespoke clothing. His regular outfit was a plaid button down and some heavily-worn jeans. And that suited his vocation. However, whenever he found himself attending some public function, he made a point to be dressed as nicely and handsomely as possible. He never once was found at a social event not dressing or looking his best. Doing so spoke about the welfare of his family, but also provided other folks with a charming, dashing gentleman to occupy their visual sampling. He knew that there was a bigger purpose than all of us. And i remember giving him a great deal of grief as a boy on Sundays, when i couldn't understand his insistence that i wear my navy suit to "dumb ole church". His simple answer was stolen straight out of a J.D. Salinger story (a fact i didn't learn until years later, on my own, reading "Franny and Zooey").

"Do it for the Fat Lady."

As men, we ask a lot of our women. We ask them to be seductive co-eds. We ask them to be blushing brides. We ask them to be strong, pregnant ladies. We ask them to be diligent partners, and impeccable mothers to our children. All of this is fine and warranted, only if we ask of ourselves on magnitudes much, much higher. We are not under the same pressure that women are to look, act and dress a certain way.

But if i could slow things down, for just a moment, let me speak solely to my very, small male audience.

Do better.

Do and be better. Don't let fatigue allow you to let things slide. Don't let laziness be your calling card. Don't let busyness interrupt your ability to offer more.

If you need encouragement from a bigger force, know for certain that the world benefits when you take the time to care and acknowledge that your contribution on this day is to a much larger and spiritually fulfilling effort.

Medium well done

The media

In some ways, it's responsible for framing my approach to my kink (some might even say it's responsible for the formation of it - fine, i'll allow that). Whether it's from viewing Popeye cartoons at a young age that involved Bluto kidnapping the hapless Olive, only to offer us brief scenes of her torture, then interrupted by the hero's spinach-laden rescue or the climactic finale of Young Sherlock Holmes where the adolescent gumshoe, in the nick of time, saves a mummified damsel from her waxy entombment - my introduction to the abduction of the female as a way to interact and commute with her came from this artificial construction.

I didn't know what i was seeing. In my real life, i wasn't seeing actual evidence of any kinky proclivities from the flesh and blood around me. There is no doubt that the media i encountered had a major impact on my sexuality. A certain image stimulated a part of my brain that up until that point was just agitated, an itch i couldn't scratch. But once it saw this image of a beautiful girl bound tightly by rope - ahhhhhh, relief! Suddenly, a visceral connection is made between my internal, secretive appetites and those broadcast through a wider medium of others. When i would encounter these familiar scenarios as a teen (again not in real life, but usually through a magazine or film), my mind made a pleasant association with the image before me, further reinforcing the hope that this kink of mine may someday be savored.

Because i am an animal with appetites, once i learned that there was a source for the kind of sustenance my lust required - the media - very soon, that was where i directed a great deal of my time and energy. But here is where it gets skewed. Since i was not producing any media (except for the written word, which is mostly all you encounter here), i was merely a consumer of what was available (still to this day, they have not made the erotic movie that i'd deign to make if i had the proper funds). Over time, the unabashed consumer will find their appetites and desires altered, reformed to fit the flow of consumable materials. So to was the case for me. I found myself aroused by things i never expected to be stimulated by, and after awhile, it became difficult to clearly delineate what were my own native impulses from those implanted by the media i voraciously consumed.

When i finally decided to create this site, i realized i was making an active step to participate in the very realm that forged my own internal desires. I contribute to it here by sharing my words and posting photos/videos that illustrate my point of view - but that's just it, they are just my points of view. I am just one (highly opinionated) man with a particular bent on the world that occupies a rather small corner of the kinky blogosphere. I cannot compete with the onslaught of images and stories that other high-profiled, commercially-focused and well-financed put out - nor do i ever intend to try to compete with this, but i recognize that i occupy a spot in the constant, unending stream. Even though, recently, me and my girl embarked on the exciting endeavor of actually creating media (photos specifically) of a professional nature (already, we've made it into a few publications), our transmission is a mere trifle compared to the largest and loudest voices out there.

It should also be stated that i continue to view SM media constantly, repeatedly, and emphatically. It is a daily treat for me - one in which i'm able to shut down when i realize i've wasted too much time plundering through the digital channels. One thing to note, however, is that the media is persistent and non-stop. We're under a constant barrage of imagery and motion that attempt to reinforce and stimulate deeply held fascinations of the opposite sex and the erotic theatre (for largely profitable enterprises), and it's up to us to decide what we're willing to let influence our psychology, and what we're willing to toss into the trash.

Help Wanted

The Lustful Quality is spinning off - yet again. I've got a super, secret project i'm working on and need some assistance.

Consider this a call for the first ever TransformHer internship. Throughout the existence of this site, i've never really asked much from my readers. But, now i'm appealing to you directly. I am limited in my html/graphic design skills, and need someone who has some free time and interest in helping me with this project. I have concept ideas in my head, artwork that i've produced and other things already, i just need the right skills to set it in motion.

So, if there are any of you interested, please submit an e-mail (to: dominantdeity (at) gmail) and a brief description of your skillset (don't think i need to see resumes).

Kitty's Response

One of the things I love about my man is his frankness, but sometimes it comes out the wrong way. In our relationship, I'm generally in charge of pleasantries like sending thank-you notes, remembering to bring a bottle of wine to a dinner party or offering drinks to guests the moment they enter our home. It's not that Deity is not thoughtful--I assure you, he is an incredibly generous person. But sometimes, his strong opinions trump his empathy and sensitivity.

Obviously, his last post was far from "rather benign" as he claimed in one of his responses to comments. It touched a nerve with many of you, and if I didn't know him better, it would have riled me too. For starters, he's not a woman. He doesn't walk through the world actually wearing the false eyelashes he so adores, and yes, they do take some getting used to, not to mention lots of practice. He doesn't wear a corset, walk in heels or put on makeup every morning, so from an outsider's perspective, his instructions and assertions as to how to do these things begs the question, "Where do you get off?" We do argue about this from time to time--I'm huffing and puffing up a few flights of stairs, he teases me, I shoot back with little patience that he's not the one with his ribcage forcibly compressed four and a half inches.

I explained this to him when discussing the responses to his post, and once I pointed out how his writing can read from a female perspective, he understood that, generally, women bristle at being told how to be feminine by a man, and explained that this was not his intention. He said, "But all I'm saying is do it the right way." I said, "What's the right way?" He answered, "Whatever looks best on you. Whatever you're happy with. I just don't like sloppiness."

And that's what I think is missing from his post. Ultimately, he doesn't mean that everyone should go for a 1950s look or wear false eyelashes, a corset and heels every day. (I certainly don't. I think I would be blind and have tendonitis if I did.) What he is really railing against is women who take no pride in their personal appearance, and who forget that part of the reason for taking care of yourself is so that you feel good.

If your heels give you great pain and are making you walk uncomfortably, take them off; they're clearly not working for you. If you're not adept at putting on makeup and don't care to wear it, or practice at it, then don't. It's not you. When undressing, it is a little more fun to do this simple task in a way that makes you feel good--whether you're working it slowly or are more of a bodice-ripper type. If you're going to do something, anything, it's worth putting some effort into it to do it well and bring you happiness. As for the corset part, I think it is part of his fantasy that he knows how to do this better than me. He doesn't, because I know when it feels right, and I have years of practice. But for most people, someone else--their partner?--is the one lacing them on the special occasion that calls for a corset. (You can probably guess that that was the section which had me stop and take a deep breath for patience).

Of all the generalized, blanket statements Deity makes explicitly in his post, the implicit one that is clear to me as someone who knows him well, is that this all comes back to his belief that men and women alike should strive every day to add some beauty to the world. I feel safe saying that most people are at their best when they feel their best, and are making purposeful choices about themselves and how they act, and I know Deity agrees with me. This is the point that is lost when we, as women, read his post and hear yet another man telling us how to act. Too many women have heard that for most of their lives. By no means do I intend to suggest that those who were offended have no right to feel offended, I only wish to offer that there may have been a miscommunication. Deity's been writing this blog for years, and this one post is but an aberration from his otherwise articulate writings.

(Another point: Try not to take him so seriously. He gets off on being cheeky. Case in point: His blogger name is meant as a joke.)

--Kitty du Vert

Girl training

There are things that i should not know better how to do than women. Simply put, there is a deficit of femininity on display in this world, and i find it to be a travesty.

- Applying makeup
I should not know how to properly paint a face better than a woman. If it is your choice not to wear makeup, that is fine, but if you do - PLEASE WEAR IT IN A FLATTERING WAY. The absolute lazy way i've seen women apply makeup is atrocious. It doesn't end up accentuating their features, but draws a sharp spotlight on their impatience and lack of care in how they look. Give me five minutes with a girl, and i can show her how she can make her visage appear porcelain and flawless.

- Walking in heels
If you're going to go through the taxing experience of wearing heels, please, please i implore you, look like you enjoy wearing them. Today, i saw a woman (the impetus of this post, actually) in knee-high, black leather boots walking as if she were completely inconvenienced by her choice of footwear. There was no sway in her step. No lilty flow. No playful roll of her hips and ass. Her legs in those boots looked like lumber. If you choose to wear these exquisite items, please don't make me take you aside and provide you with a tutorial about how you "Lift, Move, Drop".

- Lacing a corset
I know that the majority of you have never worn a corset - neither have i. But why do i know how to lace one? Because i've made the plunge and gone somewhere that carries corsets (real ones, with boning and lacing) and have wrapped them around a girl's frame and gone to town. You can only get to this point of knowing how to actually tighten a corset once you take the plunge. I've said it before and i guess will continue to have to say it, but there are fewer, more elegant pleasures than witnessing a girl look at her figure for the first time in the mirror laced. She looks hungry, famished, and most importantly, powerful. Fire burns in her eyes as her hands smooth over her exaggerated, hour-glass figure. Please make this one of your "once-in-a-lifetime" goals - if you are woman, to try, if you are man, to witness.

- Putting on false eyelashes
It's almost comical how easy this is for me, and yet i'm the one, not her, that gets to relish the outcome all night long. My girl has only begun to put her own false eyelashes on. These are somewhat similar to wearing a corset - you can only know their power once you've tried it. And good thing is, false eyelashes are available cheaply and more abundantly than corsets (try your local drugstore). My biggest piece of advice is: patience. It takes time to get it right, but when you do...WOW

- Taking OFF your clothes
Gals do you not know how much power you hold over the men in your life simply by the way you take off all the basic undergarments you've chosen to wear throughout the day? Please, please, please tease him when you de-robe. Take your time, tantalize him. Go slow. Look at him, let him know that you are aware how much this drives him crazy. You are his candy. Don't just rip off the wrapper. Take your time revealing the delicious girl underneath.

The number of times i've had to spend time teaching a girl these (and more) secrets of accentuating their femininity is really heart-breaking. Everything i mention above should be met with excitement and fun. None of it should be seen as work. And yet, i continue to see example after example of women who half-ass their look, when with just a few steps, they could have men eating out of their hand.

I think i should open an academy, but what would i call it?

you are safe

there is nothing in my hands
there is something in my hands
there is nothing in my hands
there is something in my hands
there is nothing in my hands
there is something in my hands
lay your head close to mine
lay your head
lay your head close to mine
lay your head
dangle
dangle that beautiful hair
dangle it
dangle
dangle that beautiful hair
across my lips
as i nap
as you watch me nap
from above
brush me with your beauty
pour over me with your eyes
safe
you are safe
for were i awake
i would
topple
you

The Dungeon

Eyes Wide Shut - Banned Orgy

We had to descend several spiralling staircases that carried us from the Burlesque Showcase room, through the Dance floor/Couples Room, to an external staircase that exited the old cathedral for a moment, finally delivering us to the bottom level - the cellar. Immediately, upon penetrating the low-lit chamber called "the Dungeon", you heard the song from the ritual scene in Eyes Wide Shut floating in from speakers throughout the level.

I walked arm and arm with my girl as we took a tour around the room. To our right several lounge chaise lined the wall, above them hung lanterns that sprayed the wall with stars of light. Following the cocktail bar against the far left side, we ventured into the area where the play equipment resided. As we progressed further, the rhythmic sounds of someone being flogged met our ears before the image of the naked girl with her outstretched, bound limbs greeted our eyes. A group of people had gathered to watch this corporal feast, as they gobbled up the moans and cries from the sweating submissive which sang into the air. We stayed for a moment, watching her Top switch between leather whips and hard wooden paddles, producing a gorgeous red tint to her upper thighs and buttocks.

There were many delicious visual feasts for our eyes to munch on, but seeing as she'd been standing on 6-inch heels for over three hours, my girl requested we sit to rest her feet. We resituated ourselves in the first chamber we'd visited in the Dungeon, finding a comfortable couch in the corner. There were others sitting in this area, and we soon found ourselves in polite conversation. While we were talking, a handsome blond man approached my girl.

"Madam, you are so stunning. May i please worship your feet?"

She looked over at me, subtly indicating our roles. He clued in very quickly and turned to me.

"Forgive me. Would you allow me to worship her feet?"

I nodded, and waved my hand in my girl's direction. He knelt at the base of her legs and very gingerly lifted and rested her right leg on top of his bended knee. With equal amounts of delicacy, he carefully undid the ankle straps to her shoes, and gently removed her custom-made patent leather heels. He wrapped his hands around her latex stocking-clad ankles, then slowly began to massage her fatigued tissue beneath the rubbery layer. With methodical movement, he kneaded her foot, every once in awhile bringing it to his mouth where he would softly kiss her toes. My girl relished the adoration, letting her head fall backwards in stimulated bliss. The entire time he paid her attention, he kept whispering to her how beautiful her feet and legs were, and how grateful he was to be able to worship them.

He had just finished his devotion when a gorgeous Italian girl tapped me on my shoulder. Through her pouty, sensuous lips, she asked me if i would allow her to also worship my girl's legs. Out of the corner of my eye, in a small little alcove off to my right, a couple was quietly, but hungrily fucking. I watched their undulating bodies for a moment, then returned my attention to the beautiful raven-haired signora, offering her my consent. Her method was different than the blond gentleman's. Where his touch was thorough and concentrated, her's was sensual and graceful. She brushed her fingers up and down my girl's shiny rubber thighs, barely applying any pressure. Each stroke traced a path that reached further and further up my girl's leg. The worshiping femme nuzzled her cheeks against her goddess' gams, closing her eyes in ecstasy, kissing their entirety. I adored watching her lavish attention on my latex doll. I've always found the idea of a girl servicing my submissive bottom in this fashion incredibly erotic, knowing that it wouldn't go any further than this.

I thanked her for her homage, and helped her to her feet, then dismissed her. I had an urge to turn the evening in a different direction. Earlier, in our tour of the space, i caught sight of a stripper's pole in the middle of the play area. With this in mind, when my girl returned from a brief trip to the rubbergirls' room, i rose, preventing her from taking a seat. I wrapped my arms around her, lavished her neck with miniature kisses, and then tapped upon, with purpose, her rubberized tush three times.

"Are you going to spank me?"

As a sign of confirmation, i walked in front of her, holding her hand, leading her to the pole. We weaved in and out of voyeuristic groups gathered around various devious activities. It was perfect, i thought to myself, because my girl had taken several dance classes, and one of her favorites was her pole dancing class. She excelled at seductively negotiating a floor to ceiling pole in 6-inch heels.

I gathered her in my arms, as we stood looking at the shiny, brass bar, and whispered into her ear,"I want you to give me a slow, enticing dance. Make me want to tear you down from that pole."

She stepped up to the pole, grabbed it with her hand, then took a slow revolution around it - the entire time she kept her bright eyes affixed on me. Swinging her legs around, she slowly lowered her body down the pole, straddling it the length of the descent. The longer she danced, the more spectators she attracted. But despite the growing numbers, her eyes never left mine.

I could barely contain myself. The crowd looking on, her fiery movement, the intensity of her concentration - all of it pushed my arousal to a peak. Without hesitation, i broke the barrier between performer and audience by approaching her as she swayed up there on the platform. I positioned my hands on either side of her hips, holding her still, both of us not moving at all.

I mouthed to her, "Turn around."

She complied.

I stepped closer, right against the pole.

"Grab the pole with both hands, and bend over. Point your ass out to all of those people watching you."

I moved behind her as she grasped her hands around the brass rod. Pushing her legs outward, i positioned her feet exactly where i wanted them. Her shiny backside beckoned me, but i tried to hold on as long as possible, letting this scene get as much maturity as possible. My hand flattened into a paddle shape. In my peripheral vision, i could see that several people had stopped to watch. This reality gave my hand a tremendous momentum as i swung it through the air and landed it on her rubbery cheeks.

"PHWAP!!"

She emitted a tiny "oof". I was immediately taken by how different it felt to spank her ass while it was tightly constricted under a thick layer of shiny latex. When i hit just one of her cheeks, the impact seemed to resonate throughout the entire area. It felt foreign. It felt artificial. It felt incredibly, incredibly erotic. I continued to spank her through the rubber, every once in awhile gazing out to the onlookers. I wanted to see if anyone felt a desire to give her a few swats of their own. Too timid perhaps, no one accepted my non-verbal invitation. Unfazed, i continued to shred into my girl's buttocks, enjoying the recoil her whole backside offered after each slap.

Slowly, as if the lights in the surrounding room were being extinguished, the background dimmed in my eyes. I no longer noticed those gathering. My hunger to inflict upon my girl had sky rocketed. I reached down at the bottom hem of her latex dress, and pulled it up, revealing her pale, sweat-soaked flesh. The aroma from her now freed arousal incited me. My hands acted without thought. They pinched, they clawed at the mounds of meat hovering before me. I spanked her repeatedly, skin to skin, while she clung to the pole. And then, abruptly, i stopped.

I had to. The next step would need to take place back in our hotel room. Over many, many hours.