Shocked, I hid the paper behind my back.
“You said in your email you didn’t understand what I meant by Dominant and submissive. So let’s start there.”
“Oh. Yes. Sounds good,” I replied, whacking my palm against my temple.
God, I’m such an ass!
Immediately he explained that he wasn’t into whips and chains and sadomasochism
His interest, he said, lay more on the “mental side” of domination, though at times, he might also include physical elements such as teasing and spanking. “Before we even went into the bedroom, I might grab you by the hair, look you straight in the eyes, and tell you that you are going to do everything I want,” he said, his voice deep and matter-of-fact in my ear. “And you would submit to me . . . Because you
me. And because you know I’m worthy.”
“Being submissive to an alpha male does not make you a weakling or a doormat,” he clarified. “Alpha females are very capable, confident, strong-minded women who normally have a dozen things on the go. But some part of them wants to relinquish control; they want a strong alpha man to take charge and challenge them, because with that comes an intensity and creative connection unlike anything they could experience in a regular or ‘vanilla’ relationship.”
“There are many men out there pretending to be Dominants or alpha men,” he went on. “But in actuality, they are ‘beta men,’ who are riddled with insecurities. They may appear successful and self-assured on the exterior, but underneath they are ‘wannabes’: Their identities are locked into their accomplishments and they live in constant fear of being exposed. I’ve sat in many meetings with these kinds of men before. They’re easy to pick out. They’re either pompous and arrogant or complete ass-suckers. It often comes out in how they talk about women: They put them down, treat them like objects. It’s disgusting. I’ve had to sit there listening to them, all the while itching to punch them out.”
“The worst thing that can happen to an alpha woman is be in a relationship with a beta man,” he said with conviction. “He will bring her down, be jealous of her accomplishments, and consistently hold her back or sabotage her efforts, often unconsciously. This beta man doesn’t deserve her—and he may or may not know it.”
“A true alpha male,” he continued, “is one whose confidence comes from within. There’s no pretending, no need to be egotistical; he knows who he is. Often, these men are very successful and wealthy, but not always. Having money is certainly not proof alone of an alpha male,” he warned. “There are lots of super rich trust-fund babies out there who are ‘pathetic little boys with hard-ons.’ Conversely, there are also many rich men out there who are so accustomed to getting what they want that they in turn feel a need
to be submissive. They want to hand over control, be humiliated, beg for sex, or whatever their fetish may be, because some part of them doesn’t want all that power.”
As I listened to Duke talk, I paced the room, the phone pressed to my ear. My mind raced to process his ideas. Some seemed overly simplistic and superficial to me. But some were alluring, and I felt my body respond to them. My brain rushed to filter my own life through his looking glass:
Am I an alpha female?
I thought about all I manage and had managed for years as a full-time mother of three young kids;
that was a CEO position if I’d ever seen one. I thought back to all the moms groups and meditation groups I had pioneered, how I’d worked full-time pre-kids, while also attending school and starting my own counseling practice. Even all the overseas travelling and moving I did in my twenties were indicative of a woman who was ferociously independent and bold. I’d just never felt comfortable with the label “Type A” or “alpha” personality. To me, being a leader meant being perceived as a bitch. I’d rather be well-liked, but seen as self-sufficient.
My thoughts shifted to Robert:
Is he an alpha male?
Without knowing it, I think I judged him to be one when I’d dated him. I thought he’d stood out as the alpha leader of his pack of friends. From the outside he was strong, rugged, handsome; he exuded what I deemed to be the quintessence of masculinity. His personality ranged from being confident and gregarious—the life of the party—to being quiet and private, a man of few words. But did he “know” himself? Was he self-aware and secure in who he was? Not at all. I’d mistaken his masculine bravado for alphaness. And consequently, I had put myself at risk, trying to forge a meaningful relationship with someone who was both afraid and intimidated by
power; all his bullying and put-downs were meant to “keep me in my place.”
“So are you dating someone, Delaine?” the Duke was asking.
“Er—no,” I said pulling my thoughts back to the present. “I dated a hockey player a while back. But his penis was really small and well, the sex was lame.”
I can’t believe I just said that to a man!
Duke’s response caught me off guard: “Being with a lame lover disrespects you, and I don’t like anyone disrespecting you, even
I’d like to take you over my lap and spank you right now for this. I’d spank you, then grab you by the hair and look in your eyes and tell you that from now on
you let no one disrespect you
. If it happens, you have to answer to
. I don’t want you spreading your legs for ‘lame,’
“I’m not making a habit of it!” I defended, wondering why I felt aroused by his verbal reprimands. “I’ve been out with a dozen men since him and I didn’t see any of them beyond a first date.” I paused. “Actually, I
, but at the end of our date, he grabbed me, kissed me, and soaked my face.” I laughed.
“TWO things here,” he stated. I gripped the phone, waiting. “FIRST, this is the kind of guy you should have slapped or painfully squeezed his nuts. I’d give you another spanking right now if I could. Nobody
from you without your permission. Allowing this to happen was a ‘bad Delaine’ moment. Get this: You are nobody’s doormat anymore. You got that?
“SECONDLY, regarding the other eleven men, you rejected them because they aren’t good enough for you. That’s good. No one should have a piece of you who doesn’t deserve it. It’s a sin. But the problem is, you’re becoming more and more sexually frustrated in the interim. You aren’t actually happy because your pussy isn’t getting what it wants. There’s a slut in you that is not being satisfied.”
My mouth flew open in shock.
How dare he call me a slut!
“A slut,” he explained, as if hearing my thoughts, “is a woman who likes to orgasm. Look it up. The current version. And you
like to orgasm. Don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. Part of me
wished I could slap him, yet another part roused in acknowledgement; no one had ever spoken to me like this before.
Then, for reasons unknown, I told him about my rendezvous with Yummy Stranger. He wasn’t appalled or shocked like most men would be. Instead, he responded matter-of-factly: “You can choose to use boy toys as you please. You’re allowed to have sex with whomever you choose.
if you’d been smart, you’d have made him your ongoing submissive. What happens when next week you’re going stir crazy for sex again? You should have told him as he left that you would call him again when you wanted him.”
I thought to myself. I really don’t want to see Yummy Stranger again. That afternoon was a fantasy unto itself and was done
I do next weekend when I’m raging for sex again? I’m in the same boat as before.
Duke continued, “You always have three choices available to you: dominate, submit, or reject. That’s how relationships work. That’s how the world works.”
Is it really that cut and dry?
Is this something men know about, but women don’t?
I couldn’t help but think of how easily I’d been walked on by Robert and Graham. Are men thinking in terms of power while women are buried up to their eyeballs in romance novels?
“Look Duke,” I finally said, “I think that what I need to do is get more in touch with my masculine side. I’m very in tune with my feminine side, and I’m proud of that. But at this point, I don’t think being more feminine will help me. I want to be more self-assured and aggressive at times. I want to take without apology when I’m rightfully entitled. I want to be mentally, emotionally tougher. I need the masculine.”
“Your sexuality will translate into your day-to-day life,” he told me. “There really is a domino effect. So much of the world is, at its core, about power, and sexual power is the rawest way to
express that. Business is about dominance and submission, alpha and beta. Learn to appreciate your sexual power and the rest of the world comes in to better focus.”
I was fascinated to have attracted a man like The Duke into my life. Why not some regular, simple, local guy? Out of all the millions of people on the Internet, why did I attract
I don’t believe in coincidences; I believe there is a reason for everything that happens, and everyone we meet. Furthermore, I believe that “like energy” attracts “like energy,” and that energy knows no time or space; that whether we are in the Arctic or Peru, we are like powerful radars, constantly emitting our mental and emotional signals, and attracting the perfect people and situations into our lives.
Perhaps Internet dating is the most brilliant example of that energy at work. We refer to cyberspace as being but an “electronic domain,” but maybe it’s more real and intuitive than we think.
I imagined emails—the thoughts and feelings of millions of people—zooming above the planet, searching, scanning, and connecting perfectly with those of others. I thought about all the different men I’d attracted thus far from cyberspace: hockey fighter Cal and all my serial dates. I then imagined my emails, my energy, traveling across Canada and the United States and locking onto The Duke’s like an electromagnetic coupling.
Yes, attracting Duke was no accident. But I was kind of scared of him too. What if he really was a highly intelligent sociopath?
I laughed at myself:
He lives far away, Delaine. It was a harmless phone call.
Besides, even if he is trying to brainwash me, I’m a smart lady. I’m wiser and more mistrustful than I’ve ever been in my life.
RED LIGHT MEANS GO
MIDWEEK, HALI PHONED TO SAY she was going to check out a new lingerie shop that just opened, and would I like to join her? My knee-jerk response was to say no. I
be spending that time at home with my daughter and cleaning the house, as per usual.
Bah! Live a little, Delaine
, I suddenly thought. The floors could wait and Jenna could have a playdate at her friend’s house.
An hour later, Hali and I met in front of Miss Chiff’s Closet. I could tell by the mannequins in the window that this wasn’t Victoria’s Secret: On display were leather dresses and whips, a sexy maid costume, and high heels that even Barbie would gape at.
Problem was, the front doors were locked. The sign said it opened at 10:00 AM, and it was already ten after. Since Teah was asleep in her car seat and there was a coffee shop close by, we decided to grab a quick tea.
“So I’m a little surprised at this,” I said, after we’d settled in at a table with steaming mugs. “What made you want to check this place out?”
Hali smiled without an ounce of timidity, and shrugged. “I just checked out their website and it seemed very empowering to women, like it caters to the woman’s imagination and pleasure, not just the guy’s. And the lingerie is higher-end, too.” Hali paused
to take a sip of her tea, while I casually eyeballed the café to see if anyone might be listening in; the only other patron, a woman in a business suit and glasses, appeared fully engrossed in her book. I leaned over the table eagerly, prodding her. “Well what else?”
She smiled and leaned in to, dropping her voice a bit. “They also offer stripping classes for women—not professional stripping classes, just techniques on how to strip for your man,” she said, adding with a mischievous grin, “I might take a class.”
I smiled back. I was half in awe of this new side of her. All these years, I’d viewed her as reserved, very prim and proper. She’d always kept her hair cut short, and her dress style was conservative but elegant, mainly because of her male-dominated career in financial planning. I’d always felt like a bit of a flower child next to her. Certainly, I could dress up when called for, but day in, day out, I was a faded blue jeans, T-shirt, and handmade jewelry kind of girl. Side by side, we were like Sheryl Crow and the Prime Minister’s wife.
Now as I looked at her across the table, with her sexy, longer hairstyle and more fashionable attire, I realized her blossoming sexuality was transforming her from the inside out. Even though her life was in chaos, I could sense a new power about her.
“Are you planning to strip for Josh?” I asked.
“No!” she replied firmly. “There’s no doubt that he helps me feel good about my body. But this is more about
sexuality. I want to explore it. Maybe it’s because I’m approaching forty, or maybe it’s because of what I’ve been through.” She sat back and took another sip of tea. “I know the sex is exciting right now because it’s with someone new. But I really think it’s more than that. I’m trying new things in bed, I’m becoming less inhibited, I want to learn how to be a better lover—not for them, but for me.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice even more. “All these years, I’ve never enjoyed giving blow jobs—not because I
hated it, but because I didn’t think I was any good at it. I was talking to Patty the other day, and she said she found a video online that gives step-by-step instructions on how to give
best blow job. She said it was amazing and even she had being doing things wrong.”