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Confessions of a 21st century Dominant in suburbia


Confessions of a 21st century Dominant in suburbia

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ward*, and I am a Dominant male.

This might surprise you as I am not (1) a billionaire and (2) I do not fly a helicopter and (3) I do not have an elaborate mansion with a red room that I use to perform deliciously explicit acts of pain on the women who choose to submit to me.

Far from it.

On the surface, I am Ward Cleaver living in Mayberry next door to Mr. Brady. I am a member of the local Rotary club, I religiously attend parent teacher conferences, I volunteer for the local public radio station and my son’s school, and spend weekends carting a suburban filled with children to hockey practice and parks and a myriad of activities.

On the surface, anyway.

Beneath the surface is something much darker.

Beneath the surface is a Dominant male who goes to bed each night with a submissive woman who is required to wear a collar and ask for permission to sleep in his bed; a Dominant male who selects his pet’s panties every day and will text her a message—often during a business meeting—directing her to exercise her cunt for him. A Dominant male who unabashedly refers to his female companion as a fucktoy, whore and slut.

It is who I am.

Just don’t tell my fellow Rotarians.

We have no red room in Mayberry, but in our bedroom where the bad things occur, there is a box of tricks I keep on my side of the closet and almost every night, I bring them out and use them on my pet. They range from spanking implements to restraints, vibrators and butt plugs, blindfolds and ball gags. They are brought out and used once the children have gone to sleep, the door is locked, and our cozy little bedroom becomes our own red room. Sometimes, my pet is too loud given the children in close vicinity, so the ball gag becomes a necessity. Or if I don’t care to get it out, her panties shoved inside of her mouth (after they are stuffed in her cunt so that they are soaking with her juices and she can taste herself) work just fine.

Bad things happen in our bedroom at night. Bad things that define me as a Dominant, her as a submissive, and bring immense pleasure and a good night’s sleep to both of us.

Morning comes, and I wake the children up and our household is oh so innocently vanilla.

No one ever knows.

She will often times text me when I get to work, to inform me of just how sore she is from the previous night, and ask me if I am proud of the bruises I left on her ass and upper thighs.

What can I say? I am a Dominant male, and thus, I am quite proud of those bruises.

My job requires me to travel, and whenever possible, I bring my pet along. This allows us to explore other aspects of our kinkiness, which, in the past year, has included a threesome in Melbourne, a visit to a swinger’s club in New Orleans, and participating in a BDSM club in Los Angeles. We have fun going out and taking things to a next level but before we go out, we always call back home and make sure the kids are in bed and settled.

That’s how we are.

I don’t quite get what the big deal is about “50 Shades of Gray.” I suppose it is because the story is so engulfed in the world of the fantasy aspect of a D/s relationship. Mine is immersed in the reality, and I am quite happy with that. We have our concerns as any regular couple do …paying bills, worrying about how the kids are doing in school, car repairs, you name it. Sometimes we are just so, well, so gosh darn NORMAL.

It seems that way, then the next moment I am directing my pet to join me in the bathroom, because it has been some time since I have treated her to a golden shower, and I have a desire to mark my territory. I don’t need a helicopter or a billion dollars (ok, that would be nice) to define me as a Dominant male. It comes from a much different place and so much of that place is based on the partner I have chosen (and who has chosen me) and the journey we have taken. It has been three years in the making, and we have detailed it quite extensively—the ups and the downs—in my blog.

It still surprises me at times, the intensity of that thing we do.

But I would not want it any other way.

I am a 21st century Dominant male in suburbia, hear me roar.

But not too loudly.

You might wake up the children, and we have a busy day tomorrow.

*name chosen to protect the innocents, and by “innocents” I mean “my children who might have teachers who read this.”

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Chronicling the kinks and desires of an everyday guy in everyday America, who just so happens to be the Dominant next door. Follow my blog on the link below.


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