ABCs Of Kink

Transition and Friends

July 22, 2019 by ABCs Of Kink

From “NO SHAME”, my character Rico, at the beginning of his gender-switching striptease. Photo by Jennifer Bennett

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day who’s also nonbinary transgender. We’re both strong, resilient people who teach in our communities. Since beginning our “transition” processes, we’ve shared the experience of it becoming harder to know where to turn in moments we feel deep internal struggle. It seems people we’ve always been close with are further away, less involved, or not understanding of our current lives. It’s not clear anymore who will be safe and accepting when the need to let go and find emotional support comes around.

My friend mentioned the 2-3 year marker for feeling friend loss, which apparently happens after one starts “transition”*. I hadn’t heard that measure before, but I can say in my experience it feels true.

*I’ll get to the reason for putting quotes around the word transition later.

In this article I’ll share a number of things we spoke about and expound. If you’re trans identified yourself you may or may not resonate with what I write. If you’re an ally you may or may not have considered some of the subjects I discuss. Whether cis, trans, and/or nonbinary we all have a hard time knowing where to turn when we’re feeling down—maybe especially those of us who are good at supporting others in their times of need. I hope my thoughts will generate conversation in useful ways.

“Make new friends
But keep the old
One is silver
And the other gold…”

Old friends: I learned this song when I was a kid in Girl Scouts. It’s sung in rounds and is quite lovely. There’s nothing quite like the friends you share a long stretch of life with. You’ve logged an accumulation of years together, faced similar struggles, bonded from work passions, maybe even have childhood memories together. These people are not often wholly surprised that you’re coming out as trans, but they may be surprised that you’ve decided to engage in hormone replacement therapy or “actively transition” in some way. These people will often stick by you saying you’ve always been their friend, and identifying in a different way won’t change that. You may also watch these people become more distant in time. The ease you once had in reaching out to them dwindles as they seem to make less time for you, or offer you less opportunities to make time for them.

New friends: it’s important to befriend new people as we grow and change. We all experience this in one way or another. Whether you’ve been diagnosed with a life altering ailment, you’re processing a heavy loss, you come out, sober up, have a child, learn a new vocation… Our lives are full of reasons to make new friends who share our recent interests and experiences. These people help us through change and to learn new things. These new friends may not be people we feel safe enough to bare our souls to in moments of critical need though. The lack of history and few-points-of-connection aspect to the friendship can limit one’s intuition about whether they’d be capable of helping with our burdens when times are tough.

I wish I had more “platinum” friends in my life currently. These would be people I’ve known for a shorter yet solid amount of time and feel comfortable with. They’d be people who’ve seen me through (or been aware of) some of my hardships in that time, and shown me they care. They’d be people who have more intimate knowledge of the current struggles I’m facing as well.

I wish more of my old friends would come along with me on the journey I’m currently on. I wish my old friends still felt as reachable when times are hard. This is one of the hardest parts of going through changes—changes which ultimately make me much happier.

###

Why I put quotations on the word “Transition”: The word transition is a wonderful one. I also have some ongoing issues with what it seems to imply. These things tug at the back of my brain when I hear the word used. A common example is the question, “How long have you been “in transition””. I often feel like retorting, “My whole life?!”.

Honestly that’s not just a snappy comeback. For the entire first part of my life (childhood and onward) I was actively being transitioned away from what felt right to me. Each time I was told I had to wear a shirt outside, all the times I was not invited to wrestle or do anything else with “the boys”, when I was supposed to shave my legs and armpits and genitals to be acceptable, every time someone told me that what I was feeling was because “I was a girl”, every time someone automatically addressed me as miss or lady or anything else girl-gendered, and on and on…

It took me a long time to find myself under the depression instigated by these assorted rules and regulations. Embracing who I was internally kicked off more transition processes. Unlearning those things which make me unhappy is transitory. Figuring out alternatives to remedy my dissatisfaction for how I’m treated, or what ways I’m expected to behave is transitory. What others call “my transition” is simply me taking some medicine which aids in showing them my social dissonance. Testosterone doesn’t feel like transition, it feels like home. Bodily changes are happening all the time, like aging, but no one asks me what it’s like transitioning into older age. Telling people my name and pronouns isn’t transition, it’s just me sharing truths about myself with words which are less compromised than ones I’ve used before. I’ve already done a lot of the work of transition. By detangling and walking away from decades of instilled and practiced untruths that I was afraid I might die/never be loved again/lose everything over if I ceased to participate in was transition. I’m simply asking the world around me to accept what’s real.

It’s confusing, I get that. You weren’t there in my mind and my emotional experiences, even if you were in the room all those years.

The word “transition” also indicates that a change process is taking place, but I react to that idea by asking, “what change”? All trans people are not the same. The image the word “transition” evokes is a space existing between two points—a finite beginning and a finite end. I think most cis people (and perhaps some binary identifying trans people) have the idea that if one is “in transition” it means they haven’t reached their ultimate goal yet. The person hasn’t “fully transformed” into the butterfly or swan they will someday be… I find this concept depressing and ultimately useless.

I also find it weighted toward cis-normative values. “Passing” as a marker of “trans success” is probably the most obvious example that comes to mind. Passing is a binary concept which can’t really be detached from cis-straight (and sometimes gay and lesbian) normativity. Passing is not a queer concept, and it has no place on my queer body. Here I’ll challenge my cis-queer readers to consider the concept that queerness itself begs one to fight for (or at least recognize) queerness in all of its forms. If you cannot embrace the queer truth of my existence outside binary notions, are you honestly queer yourself?

Not all trans people care to pass as the “other” sex. “Other” is in quotations because we know that in nature (as studied in science), sex and gender are represented by way of a diverse spectrum of forms and functions. Not even remotely is it true that all examples of an organism found in nature will exist neatly within any binary. Nature loves a spectrum. Nature loves diversity.

Perhaps if people asked me how long I’ve been enjoying my spectrum I could answer more honestly. I would at least be amused instead of wanting to run away.

###

The world is transitioning more than I am: I’ve known who I am for a long time.

Due to socialization and well developed survival techniques, I have a lifelong habit of adapting myself (to some extent) to the seeming expectations of the company I keep. Until I came out as transgender to others, I struggled with the need to vocalize what was important to me. I struggled because I felt it wouldn’t be safe to share who I was with the world. In truth, many of the times I tried to I was shut down, dismissed, laughed at, ignored, broken up with, or point blank told I was wrong. It took a lot of baby steps. By the time I was ready to enunciate gender truths aloud to others while digging my heels in more firmly, I’d already broken with many specific social expectations: make-up, body shaving, playing female parts on stage, and various styles of playacting I’d cultivated in my youth—to name a few. Before coming out fully (even to myself) I’d been immersed in the work of figuring out what slices of life I was attracted to. I started moving toward them, leaving more and more not-queer communities and spaces behind. These breaks with straight and female traditions and expectations were crumbs for my friends and family to follow. Their minds needed to catch up in order to find me where I was at. It was time, and their transitions needed to begin.

More than anything, I think all those steps made up the lion’s share of my transition. Moving from an idea of who I was supposed to be, to outwardly claiming the person that I am, I’ve executed decades of self-examination, experimentation, and behavior modification. Absolutely, will I say that experimentation is a gateway drug. Through lifting the heavy weight of repression by trying new things, one finds actual knowledge—better data. One can only ignore what they know firsthand, they cannot un-know it.

I think what other people link the idea of “my transition” to is: the experience of being on HRT and watching my body change; asking for my pronouns and/or names to be respected; jumping through legal loopholes and red tape; working on my self image and outward presentation. I will state that these are more like the housekeeping of “transition”, than anything remotely structural. At this point my structure has already been planned, framed out, built, and painted. My internal mechanisms have been in place and in play for a while. What the rest of the world sees as “transition” is more equivalent to the redecorating of my dream house—now that it’s built and mine to do with as I please.

I think people who knew me prior to these decorative touches imagine, as they watch me hanging new curtains, that what they’ve witnessed is the loud rumble of a jackhammer opening earth in order to dig a foundation. They don’t realize what my house looks like. They may have been hanging out with me nearby as it was being built, but they were absent from the construction site. To me, hanging curtains can feel a lot like yelling “I’m here! I’m here! Can’t you see me?!”, “Nothing’s really changed!” and, “Is it just that you don’t like the color!?”.

I’ve witnessed fear in many cis people, fear that they’ll: do allyship wrong; offend those they care about; stumble over issues they don’t want to get wrong… Sometimes friends are aware of these fears and can speak to them, which makes getting along much easier. Sometimes fear comes out as a sudden roughness around the edges when I thought our friendship had been mostly fluid before. Sometimes there’s a partial (or complete) withdrawal from seeing one another altogether. Some people, I’m sure, just don’t want to be close with trans people—they love you while you’re passing cis, and don’t know how to shift the narrative to include you when you challenge the sisterhood/brotherhood/cishood standards they’ve always felt safe expecting when you’re around.

I expect those I care for to care for me too. This means that my being out as trans, taking steps to address my dysphoria, and bring my body more in line with my vision of self is an honest attempt at happiness for me. I want my friends to be excited about those things too. The world around me has a bunch to catch-up on, as do many people who are or have been close to me. It hurts feeling as though I’ve created distance between myself and loved ones by offering a more authentic, happier, version of me.

###

Feminist friction: As a trans person who is female (AFAB), I’ve noticed that I feel much safer and happier exploring and enjoying my femininity the more people physically recognize and respond to my masculinity. It feels balancing to me, and I love that. It feels safer to me, and I truly appreciate it. I can somewhat understand the feeling of betrayal some cis women, namely TERFS (Trans Exclusionary Feminist Separatists), get caught up in when they decry trans masculine people (though their treatment of trans women is nothing short of rude, selfish, incredibly short-sighted, and an abomination). I’ve heard people say, “How dare you not identify as a beautiful strong butch—we need them?!”, “Why would you want to join the other team?”, “Why do you want to be “a man”—you’re a feminist and a strong beautiful woman?”… the list goes on.

The fact is I do not want to be “a man”, that is not one of my identities—and if it was, it would be an even more inappropriate and shitty thing to hear someone say. Trans people who are more binary than I am deserve to be recognized as the types of men and women they are also. Period. Just as I deserve to hold down my truth that I am not a butch woman. I am a genderfluid transperson. I am not “switching teams” (as if there were even teams to begin with). I am happily existing in my corner of the vibrant multi-dimensional continuum that gender and sex exist in. I exist. I have a right to not play ball with those who would run over my identity in order to strengthen definitions of their own. (Also I never liked sports.)

Should I grow in time to feel differently than I do now, that will also be a part of my story and developing identity. I am many things, like we all are. Never one.

###

There’s an awkwardness to changing your hormones, your body, and your image that’s not just about rebranding, but forging new and exciting territory. It’s hard to learn how to shop in a different section of the store or find a haircut that feels right and is flattering. It’s all awkward—remember your teenage years? It’s not just the hormones making me feel like an awkward teenager again, it’s also learning the ropes of my body and figuring out how to keep adjusting towards being happy. As a kid I tried new things out all the time. Some of it worked and some of it didn’t. The biggest difference between now and then is that I was trying and failing with everyone else around me, including the somewhat guided support of my family elders. We were all in my development together, and I was far less conspicuous in that crowd (regardless of how I felt at the time).

Being an adult with a wardrobe cultivated from a lifetime of settling for what I could get away with—and I have it easy compared to most trans feminine people!—I find it painful and awkward that the things I own no longer make sense to me. I don’t really know what will work better yet though. I’m breaking down old branding and trying to find what brings me joy and confidence today. It’s as blinding a process as it was to me in puberty.

I’m not cute anymore in the same way I was (ouch). I’m not as handsome or as pretty as everyone’s used to me being (sorry?). I’m not tied up all pretty, having well-executed the acceptable ways to be (oops). I’m mostly on my own these days. I’m figuring out complicated math equations. Often I find it very lonely.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
Please help me pay rent: join Patreon, offer Support or email me directly. Thank you

Filed Under: Brain on Download Blog Tagged With: girl scouts, how important are friends after you come out, how to be friends with trans people, how to reach out to friends, my body is a house, reaching out to friends is hard, trans friend's allies, what is transition, what is transition like

Pleasure

July 17, 2019 by ABCs Of Kink

I am sitting in my writing chair at this moment, in the middle of a very busy week. It’s the first time I’ve sat here for too long. I am listening to the sounds of a new submissive-in-training vacuuming my space. Pleasure. Wholly. His service is allowing me to write this essay right now. It is a beautiful act of kindness and service from a person who I also get to fill up with care and joy. My offerings are performed in other ways…

What I require of the submissive people I train is no small list. I expect honesty, and I expect they’ll be open with me (sometimes painfully so). I expect that they will be good at what I ask them to do—or quickly take up the slack and learn to be. I expect them to be detail oriented, to ask questions when they don’t know how I want something done, and to be humble when I correct them or have them do a thing over. I expect submission and all of the grueling efforts service submission covers, and I also expect resilience and the satisfaction of knowing a good job has been done and there will be reward. I expect, especially as time moves on, a deep and meaningful connection to one another.

Reward is varied and wide-ranging in form. Time with me is often desired, body worship, a good flogging or another form of sensation play, learning to be by my side socially at kink-positive events, or being offered a place as my demo-bottom in classes that I teach. I often offer insight into personal matters, help cultivate less harmful coping strategies and practices (when that’s a thing), offer support to people who have a hard time advocating for themselves so they start speaking up, creating their own space in life, as they want or need to be. My touch is sought after, energy exchange, grounding by way of my hands, words, or perhaps a leash… the options are endless when you have a creative mind and certain sensitivities. My desire to offer is deep. When I’m near a person I care for who has clearly stated (or demonstrated) needs, I want to satiate.

This particular trainee was brought to tears during his interview because I took the time to look inside, to see and to tend to the questions he wrestles with, and perhaps release some feelings he’s had few options to do much with—other than hold onto them or hide. I offer him something he craves: ownership. A place. A world where he knows that he belongs, and his language of love (clearly service) is honored, acknowledged, desired, and valued properly.

It’s an important bond, and I must be careful not to overstep. I must not take too much away, and I must tread somewhat lightly especially in the beginning. I must at least clearly know my sub’s desires and boundaries. I’m able to write about this right now because there is a sound of a vacuum nearby, and I have the time to settle in and think. I’m working right now at two of my jobs, and I find in that reality a deep pleasure, absolutely.

I have not always been good at this. I have not vetted people well enough, for one. It is hard to train a person who doesn’t understand this particular type of exchange deeply. People stab at the idea, thinking they can just dress up and play at being maid, doing nothing at all for the actual cleanliness of my space, expecting I’ll return sexual favors (which are absolutely and purposefully missing from my list of Dominant offerings). Those are not the games I play. I’ve tried to be too much of a pleaser in the past, not knowing that what was craved was my presence and creativity. It dulls the transaction to only play in ways which check off your sub’s boxes. It makes one’s exchanges measured and less related to thoughtfulness, passion, and the unexpected adventure many seek. I have not made clear which moments of interaction were of D/s significance, and which were friendly and in passing—expectation management is core to every relationship. My list of desires for help has not been as well defined or strong, and asking apologetically for service is less than a turn-on to those who truly desire to serve and take my command. I have learned a lot, and am still very much learning.

Soon he will be done with his tasks and we will connect until he must leave. His heart raced when I set My collar around his neck, and he will probably feel things when it’s time for me to take it away, murmuring, “I release you”, in his ear, allowing him to move upward and outward into his day. Both moments are meaningful for each of us. I also feel them deeply.

What a blessing it is to serve one another. What a joy to share space and duties, skills, and consideration. What we do for one another saves our own selves from the darkness of everyday.

What a privilege is this pleasure.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
Please help me pay rent: join Patreon, offer Support or email me directly. Thank you

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: M/s relationships, pleasure, submissive training, the desire to be owned

In Defense of Professionals when what You May Actually Want is a Professional

July 12, 2019 by ABCs Of Kink

As a professional in the field of sexuality I hear the sentiment of, “I don’t want to pay for X experience“, a lot—whether the experience be a sexual one, to have a particular kink explored, or simply in effort of being Dominated by or submitted to safely and specifically. In and of itself, not paying for any particular thing is a preference—one that also begs a person be able to make the thing themselves, know people who will give it to them for free, or have a trade arrangement (which is just like paying really, let’s not pussyfoot around it). What I take issue with in these conversations are the reasons people cite for not desiring a tailored service from a person with extensive knowledge and abilities in the field of their desire. They usually go something along the lines of, “I don’t want to engage in that sort of thing” or “I want service from someone who actually likes and desires me.”

I responded to a message asking for advice about how to catch the eye of a Fem Domme recently. The writer felt he was failing at the task, and was confused because he himself was a Dom (who also switches), and he figured being a Dominant male should have made it easier to find a willing colleague to provide for him. In the course of his asking for advice he cited both of the anti-sex-worker sentiments above, and made mention that he, “only wanted one submissive experience”—as if it wasn’t a big deal, or was something someone should just easily be able to give him. He was scratching his head about why Fem Doms weren’t easy to attract.

All in all, the tone of his desire for this experience (an experience from a Dominant Woman) was exactly like that of hundreds of cis men who’ve approached me over the years with similar requests. I—and I’m sure many other cis women, genderqueer, and trans people—sense a deep lack of awareness about how they’re coming off to the women, queer, and female people they’re approaching. As this is such a common conversation, I thought I’d share my answer to him and expound a bit further for you. Related side-note: this conversation definitely intersects with race relations and people of other marginalized identities being asked for favors, friendship, and approval from more or differently privileged folk. Though it is not the same conversation as it would be for different experiences of marginalization, it’s a good thing to be aware of—especially when approaching someone whose lived experience is compounded through multiple forms of marginalization. I hope this writing inspires further consideration from people who haven’t thought about imbalance of privilege within circumstances asking for intimate connection. I hope you enjoy my words. If you’ve struggled with this yourself, perhaps you’ll find some new answers or approaches to aid in your struggle.

###

First of all cut the anti-sex-worker crap. It does not make anyone sound superior when they say they don’t want to pay for something because they view it as “prostitution”, (and IMHO Dommes aren’t looking for “superior” subs anyways). What it does sound like is controlling and bigoted and just a little bit whiny. (I say this with a caring tone, not harshness, so you might understand a new perspective.)

Being female and being male in this society are just not the same thing (says the nonbinary trans person who experiences aspects of both). Being a male Dom does not carry with it the same feelings, trials, tribulations, considerations, experiences, or perspectives as being a female one, for the most part. Males submitting to females is not the same game as females submitting to males, or queers, or other combinations of traditional and very not traditional power play… There’s a lot to unpack in each gendered and sexed situation, and each combination of archetypes are not unpacking the same things.

For you, a cis male, to submit to a female and/or woman, you must seek to understand and revere the female and the female’s place in our society; allow yourself to revere that person, recognize them for their strengths and resilience, place yourself beneath that female or woman person. Allow yourself to actually give in ways you might not understand, yet are being told by that person that what they ask for is what they actually need/want/desire… to attract the Domme of your dreams you must want to give meaningfully.

If you don’t respect females and women of all stripes in this society, especially those who take power exactly as they desire to and/or need to from within their disenfranchised lives, perhaps you’re coming off a bit like a do-me sub. You may be declining to offer this Domme-of-your-dreams what that Domme would like to have in order to positively notice you. Whether it’s money or something else entirely is every individual’s fetish/fantasy/empowering key to desire, and they’re all different. They all count equally. It’s fine not to want to hire a professional, but don’t pretend you’re getting a better connection from someone who is not one, when honestly that’s your preference and it isn’t the truth—it’s your feeling, and your feeling is wrapped in judgment, not an understanding of the actual way of the world.

Being anti-consensual/passionate/loving/kickass/career-oriented sex-worker is extremely similar to being anti-feminist, and Dommes are a pretty feminist bunch, when you get down to it. Change your tune and you might attract a strong, kind, intelligent, interesting, skilled, incredible Domme or two who know themselves well enough to tell you exactly what they want—be it respect in monetary form as tribute for their time and attentions, your sex, simply to hogtie you exactly as they wish, or whatever else their very individual right-to-their-own-desires might be.

Though my words are strong, they’re meant openly and honestly. Not to hurt, but to round out a limited perspective and to educate. Take it as you may. All of these things are connected.

###

In addition to what I’ve written, I want to examine the fact that every successful relationship is predicated on a positive give and take. Even in longterm monogamous vanilla relationships there will always be negotiation about whose job it is to do the dishes and whether or not to have sex when one partner has a headache. We humans relate to one another because we want to and need to, and some of that wanting and needing is governed by knowing we’ll get something of value back when we are open to giving.

What professional sex workers have going really strongly for them is that they are people who have dedicated a portion of their active and conscious lives to sexuality in its many shapes and forms. This includes: reading people; developing ways to maintain personal safety at work; learning a LOT about what turns individual people on and off; navigating negotiations so that everyone is getting what they need out of a meeting; learning (and relearning, and adjusting over time) their boundaries and advocating for them responsibly; communicating really well about things most people have a hard time talking openly about; learning how to sustain health physically, emotionally, psychologically, and energetically in an industry which regularly causes the stimulation, draining, and potential triggering of each of these things; tuning into self-worth and personal values, and advocating terms surrounding these things for sustainability… Practice absolutely does make perfect, and when someone has a hard time finding the sexual/sensual situation of their fantasies, sex workers understand how to make those things happen for you! It’s literally our job to, if we take the job.

Most sex workers I know are personable, pretty non-judgmental (at least with sexuality related issues), interesting, intelligent, resilient-as-fuck, and care both about their clients and about paying their rent and feeding themselves and their families. There is absolutely nothing wrong with these things. Therapists, Doctors, and CEOs are not told they are less valuable because they may or may not really emotionally “care” about their clients and employees—as long as they do a great job at what they do and keep those people relatively happy. So true with sex workers. Am I going to fall in love with a client and start a primary relationship with them? No, probably not (though this is not unheard of in all of history). However, I will say that I care deeply for my regulars, and I share my life with them, as they share theirs with me. We are, after all, engaged in a relationship regardless of whether money is involved or not—and if you think hard enough about it, money is involved in almost every single ongoing relationship. Sex workers simply tend to be better-than-average at navigating emotional boundaries resulting from sensual connections. Here I point to necessity, professionalism, and the ongoing practice of connection and detachment as reason for this developed muscle group. It stands to obvious reason.

Do I know sex workers who are angry, impatient, and/or not that great at what they do? Of course I do. As in every industry, consensual-and-survival sex work is made up of a variety of workers, and workers are people, and people come in a wide range of personalities and diverse backgrounds. What I’ve mostly observed is that people who don’t really enjoy some aspect of sex work, won’t last long doing it (again, I would point out this is the norm in every industry). People who moonlight doing sex work get out of the game when it becomes “work”, or they struggle to find clients that pander to their own fantasies of what sex work should be like. Sex work is very much work, and it is complicated. To paint the canvas of sex work with one color so you don’t have to actually look at any details within it, or to sweep the pieces of sex work that you don’t understand under the rug (out of sight, out of mind), is not only potentially cutting one’s nose off to spite their face, but harmful to the workers—the people—who are endeavoring to make a living in a society stacked against them.

Have you noticed that the group of people who are involved in sex work as providers are almost all women, queer people, trans people, people of color, disabled people, and immigrants? Have you noticed that most clients of sex workers are men and frequently white? These are important facts to look squarely in the face when you decide it’s acceptable to degrade sex workers as lesser than for getting your own particular sexual/sensual needs met. It is no marginalized person’s job to feed your fantasies, and if you can’t find someone who’s not a sex worker to play with, I have a hard time finding a reason you wouldn’t hire a professional in order to get the job done safely, energetically, and with an eye toward your specific desires—especially if you’re only looking for a one-time thing, NSA, or ongoing FWB that won’t develop past your own emotional or committal limitations.

If you decide to hire someone for their time and skills to help you experience a fantasy/urge/desire/need, it’s important for you to vet your provider. If you care, as a client, about how your connection with your provider goes, then do your research when you seek the services of a sex worker. You are definitely being vetted yourself, in some manner. Sex workers who don’t offer what you’re looking for, or who don’t feel you’d be a good match for them will sometimes give you a referral for someone they think will be a better match, or they’ll generally politely decline an appointment with you. Sex workers are not available to do all things for all people all the time. That would make them robots, and sex worker people are not robots (unless they’re roleplaying one for you).

Nowhere else in personal or business worlds (that I can think of outside outright bigotry) do we so bitterly eschew potential happiness in favor of lesser skill, “settling”, or simply going without. For example: if I can’t find someone to make me vegan cookies, you’d better bet I’m heading out to a bakery. I probably have a favorite bakery or two as well, because I’m picky and know what I like in a cookie. While looking for cookies, I take the time to discover whether the bakery I’ve been told about actually makes vegan options, and whether their cookie flavors are ones I enjoy. I don’t bother visiting the bakeries I know won’t cater to my needs, nor do I plead for those bakeries to start baking vegan cookies simply for me—though I might request to see if they’re into the idea. In no way do I believe all bakeries owe me vegan cookies baked in my three favorite flavors—that’s insanity. This is true in all commerce and in all industries, everywhere. Hence our entire capitalist system.

It’s important to do a little research to make sure you’re getting what you ask for. It’s important to care about whether the boss is abusing their workers (if you’re not hiring someone who works independently). It’s important to pay attention to the needs of the providers you approach. If you’re going to be a client, be a good one. It will work out better for all parties in the end, I can guarantee it.

Those of us who are good at some aspect of sex work and venture to make a living from it deserve to be paid for our skills, our time, our considerations of our clients, and our constantly evolving expertise. You, the client, reap those rewards. This shouldn’t be a novel concept just because we’re speaking of sensuality and sexuality. I challenge you to consider what shame, what repression, what judgement, even what bigotry you your self are holding onto the next time you feel the need to put down and degrade those who are making their way in the world utilizing sex work as a chosen profession.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
Please help me pay rent: join Patreon, offer Support or email me directly. Thank you

Filed Under: Perspectives on Kink Blog Tagged With: are doms and domes the same, cis males talking to women, how to attract a domme, how to be a good sex worker client, how to serve a domme, respect sex workers, sex work is work