A changing dynamic with my reflexologist and the dominant female

Gradually, more and more of the women in my life are dominating me.  It seems to be a natural evolution as we gain comfort with one another. It is a special treat, and is a language and interaction that was not previously accessible to me, either for some fault of my own, or for some form of self-expression, or because this rare and beautiful trait is not shown to everyone she meets.

Feminine energy and beauty come from a different place than male beauty…it is one of seduction, invitation, curiosity, playfulness…not at all like male beauty. If it is shown to you, it is a rare gift, a treat, but needs to be handled with care and respect and warmth. And in my case, the love language that didn’t make it into the book of the same name: submission.

And thus it is with the increasing number of women in my life who are showing their dominance to me. Along with the dominance is coming an ease of being with me. People, men and women both, have always talked to me. Openly. About themselves. Deep sharing. I don’t think I ever asked for it, or pried, it just came. Perhaps just being non-judging explains it…how can I judge when I’m just a baby?

And that level of openness is a gift, and one which I cherish. I would defend it if asked to do so, and in general, would feel compelled to do so.

I went for a walk recently with one of the most beautiful women I know. She was resplendent. I wore a gown slit up to my waist and very high heels–the ballerina giraffe on the streets of London out for a walk with my Queen. As we walked a man came up to ask her who she was and what we were doing…and my instinct to protect and ignore kicked in…but she was all charm and told him exactly what was up, and it was so instructive to see the grace with which she handled a male advance. And how comfortable she was with who she is. It made me proud to be on her arm. A few yards later a photographer stopped and knelt before us–I didn’t even see him, but she did, stopped, smiled, and he looked at us and shaking his head in disbelief and open-mouthed wonder, “beautiful.”

My reflexologist is becoming an increasingly important person in my life. I see her often not to receive reflexology, but to learn how to do it.  I am receiving private lessons in how to take care of a woman’s feet.  It is in depth, fascinating, and something fun for me to do that allows me to give in session, and perhaps someday in my vanilla life.  Two classes with her each week and the world of body therapy through feet, hands, and face is opening to me.

She most definitely gave me what are known as “footgasms”. Most of her clientele are people with health problems. I don’t consider what I am experiencing a problem, but rather a series of ever-expanding joys.

But what is curious is that as we have moved from practitioner/recipient to teacher/pupil, she has come to assert herself and to be dominant towards me.  It is emerging in small ways. Of course, for her to decide that what I “needed” the first time I saw her was to experience sexual pleasure, was in itself a very dominant act.

But now it is coming out into the open. It began with homework assignments.  It now has morphed into what we learn, when, and whether I am allowed to speak, to ask questions, when, what notes I must take, and so on.  She also sits above me. I sit on a low chair whilst she sits on the table, her feet just before me. I’m not allowed to touch them, but she puts them very near me as she shows me, and then makes me practice on my own feet. I rather like this new dynamic.  She senses it.  She steps into it more and more.

I am hopelessly attracted to her. I’d like to cook for her.  Hmm.

My best friend said to me that the universe will take care of me when I step into my genuine self.  I am not submissive.  I am a slave.  I am not ashamed of it…and my life increasingly seems to allow for an expression of this. I am discovering what this kind of slavery can mean.

I’ve always believed that life is not random.  There is meaning in everything.  That we are all here for a reason, not some random chance.  The reason need not be important or grand.  It is not a “plan” as in, “I was sent to do such and such”.  That would be rather self-important. Instead, it is that our purpose is to be true to our essence, and to work to raise our level of energetic vibration, or karma.  Being who we are is the first step.

As I settle into myself for the first time in my life, I realise that life is more delicious than I ever imagined…not for the things I have, or achieve, or anything else…it is simply the delicious sense of feeling.  

And the people in my life are treating me so differently…with the exception of my wife of course.  And it is a beautiful thing to experience.  When a woman knows me as transgender, in almost every case, how she relates to me changes.  It is softer, gentler, more open, caring, and intimate.  And this applies to people even that I have just met.  It’s wonderful.  Gone are the days where I might think, “but I’m not like other men.  It’s safe to be with me.”  Gone are the days when a woman who saw me on a street at night might be fearful for her safety.  One even said to me recently, “do you mind if I walk with you for a while,” and then asked where I was going…and we walked to the underground together.  I am a big girl after all.

But also, their sense of play with me is more open.  There is more “flirt” than before, because it can happen without fear.

My reflexologist said to me, “there are some things that I did to you, that I wouldn’t do to a man.”

“I had meant to ask, but didn’t know how to say it, but did you stimulate me sexually?”  Her smile told me the answer.

“You need to experience pleasure,” she said.  “It would not be safe for me to do that to a man.  It would only cause problems.”

“It was beautiful,” I said.

“As your body changes, how you experience pleasure will change.”  She gave me some therapies she wants me to do each day.

My reflexologist is not the only person who is revealing herself to me as dominant. There are women in my life who know that I am a slave.  Instead of seeming weird or bothering them, they appear to be cultivating it in small ways.  And I respond. It might manifest itself in just being attentive.  In just choosing to go where they want to, to eat where they want to eat, do what they want to do.  I’m no wet noodle, it is not a case of indecisiveness.  They appear to like it. One even boasted about it to a friend of hers…and how I tended to her when I was with her. She’s a very good friend.  And I wonder if it is just because society doesn’t typically work this way…and that a once-upon-a-man offers a safe space for them to assert themselves.  I don’t know what it is, but I love it.  

Therein lies my calling.  How we are is the most important aspect of our passage on this earth.  It is something I have only begun to learn, and which shall become increasingly central to my path.  Being a slave seems to get the best out of me.

A therapist of mine who has been very important to me, and about whom I have never written, simply said, “good” when I first told her that I was a slave. She too has drawn me in.

I do know this…the path isn’t about going somewhere, it is not about a destination…it is simply the way.  And the way is what matters in the here and now…and it is the here and now that is the essence of life.

I am blessed in life that the women around me are strong and are expressing their strength.

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