Male Submission Art

Art and visual erotica that depicts masculine submission.

We showcase beautiful imagery where men and other male-identified people are submissive subjects. We aim to challenge stereotypes of the "pathetic" submissive man. Learn more….

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Mon Oct 20

"How could anyone ever trust a ‘yes’ in your consent model?" Well, that’s exactly the question, isn’t it?


This is a for-real thing that was said on Twitter.


MRA CONCERN TROLL: it’s the idea that you can retroactively revoke consent to sex that is worrisome. from “Ooh baby, do it to me!” to “i didn’t consent even though I said, ‘ooh baby do it to me’ so it was rape.” how could someone ever possibly trust a “yes” in your consent model?

ME: Well, that’s exactly the question, isn’t it? The whole point is that “yes” is necessary but not sufficient for consent. How do you trust an utterance that’s made in any other context where you don’t have a contract? Certainly, no reasonable person would argue that just because a given interaction or relationship lacks an enforceable contract, nobody in that interaction can ever trust what the other person says to them.

But you develop that trust in a sexual relationship the same way you develop it in any other relationship. If someone says “ooh baby, do it to me” and *still* feels like their boundaries were violated by the way you did it to them afterwards, that suggests there are some real problems in your relationship. And those problems might be more important ones to address than whether or not you technically had permission.

Ultimately, I don’t think you’re asking the right question. People retroactively realize their boundaries were violated all the time, regardless of what we say about it. (We’re just saying it’s okay to talk about that.) So, the important question isn’t, “How can you ever have sex if you don’t trust your partner’s yes?” It’s “If you don’t trust someone’s yes, why would you ever have sex with them?”

MAYMAY: This exchange perfectly showcases what we’ve been saying. Objections to Consent-as-Felt are coming from folks who want to have sex more than they want to have even a minimally respectful relationship, even and arguably especially if that r’ship spans only one sexual encounter. Their problem is “but consent is such a *hassle*!” That’s why Consent-as-Felt is so useful right now, today. Asking ppl about it is like using a rapist detector.

(Links added.)

The full thread(s) on Twitter are epic. Start here and scroll down. And get popcorn.

Sat Oct 18
Stop trying to make me feel like I’m not a “real” Submissive if I don’t want to be raped.

How I would have coached my younger Submissive self to talk to BDSM’ers

Not wanting to be raped does not make you “vanilla.”

This needs to be said more often than it is.

(via maymay)

(Source:, via maymay)

Fri Oct 17

When describing their communities, BDSM’ers will talk about how theirs is a “safe, sane” space, “based on consent and respect and sex-positivity” as if reciting some invisible script. But there are many communities whose rhetoric or practice (or both) are based on these ideas, so it seems incomplete at best or a deliberate misdirection at worst to describe this particular subculture in that way. All of those things may be present or lacking to varying degrees and the thing that BDSM is will still be mostly unchanged.

It’s especially strange to hear them talk as if those aspects are unique characteristics when there is one very obvious thing that sets BDSM apart from other communities: a fixated sexualization of authority. Oddly, that’s also the one thing about BDSM they seem loathe to admit. I think that’s meaningful.

See also:

(via maymay)

Wed Oct 15

BDSM is fascism applied to sex; it’s the eroticization of dominance and the paternalistic idea that dominated peoples need domination to be fulfilled.

Dominance expressed sexually even has a word. That word is rape. Rape is sexual dominance. Sexual dominance is rape.

Read more:

(via maymay)

Tue Oct 14

Anonymous said: Really glad you have this blog. I've always been pretty interested in BDSM but it always bothered me. I always sort of had a little voice in my head saying "well that's sorta abuse..." but I've never really persued that thought until now out of 'kink shaming'.


Really glad you found this blog. :) And, well then, if it’s new to you, you might find reading “This One’s For The Invisible Girl" really helpful, too. An excerpt:

So. BDSM. Knowledge about BDSM has been a double-edged sword in my life. On the one hand, knowing that fantasies about violence and abuse are normal helped me survive my fantasies without believing they meant I was a terrible person of some kind. YKINMKBYKIOK did help me to not feel ashamed. And that really matters.

On the other hand, being taught that fantasies about violence and abuse are just as uncomplicated and innocuous as fantasies about, say, whipped cream or Zac Efron was incredibly destructive for me personally – because, while the fact that I was having these fantasies didn’t mean there was something wrong with me, the WAY that I was having them was a sign of something that was wrong. A sign that I ignored for years and years, because everybody kept insisting through my tears and panic attacks that “my kink was okay”. If I was struggling with it, that just meant I had hang-ups I needed to let go of.

I know they genuinely meant well but — combined with sex-positive BDSM Scene rhetoric about how everything we’re doing is totally innocuous and uncomplicated — the message I took away was that even if my kinks were rooted in trauma, I should just get over it and get used to being traumatized. Otherwise, I’d be shitting all over everybody else’s good time; and that wouldn’t be very nice.

And I believed that. I internalized it. Deep. After all, if my kinks were complicated and problematic for me, that meant other peoples’ kinks might be complicated and problematic for them too – and I didn’t want to make anyone else feel bad about what turned them on!

See also:


Rolequeerness is not about sex. It’s about power. But insofar as sex is about power, then rolequeerness is simply a neologism pointing out the reality of sex as infused with inegalitarian power relations and describes one’s desire to undermine that inequity.

The idea that human relationships are infused with power imbalances is not some new insight birthed, fully-formed, from the imaginations of rolequeer people and no one else. That’s not what’s interesting about discussions of rolequeerness nor about rolequeer sex. What’s interesting about these things are the stories rolequeer people tell one another and ourselves about what we can do to sabotage our own positions as people with the ability and desire to dominate other people.

This is what distinguishes rolequeer sex from many other approaches to erotic intimacy: its core tenet that moving towards vulnerability together is a move towards safety; that submitting *with* someone else—rather than submitting to someone else—strengthens you both; that despite what we may have internalized in a pervasively abusive society, there is nothing fulfilling about dominating or about being dominated.

I spent a bit of time musing about how to describe rolequeerness succinctly, mostly spurred by unquietpirate's search for anarchist sex literature—as in literature about anarchist sex, not sex that anarchists have. This is what I came up with today.

See also:

(via maymay)

  • BDSM Scene: Fifty Shades of Grey is abuse, not BDSM.
  • Everyone else: Well, it's an abusive BDSM relationship, for sure.
  • Kink-shits: No, it's not a BDSM relationship, it's an abusive and unhealthy one.
  • Everyone else: Uhh…it's pretty obvious to pretty much everyone that Fifty Shades of Grey is a depiction of the BDSM subculture.
  • Kink-shits: That does NOT happen in real BDSM, that's a depiction of abuse!
  • Everyone else: So, what does it take for something to be "abusive" then?
  • Kink-shits: Abuse is non-consensual behavior. BDSM is consensual. There's a difference.
  • Everyone else: How is "consent" the difference between an abusive relationship and any other one? People often consent to all sorts of abusive things, like school, and jobs, and not even a "yes" is always yes regardless of the circumstance—a yes can be forced.
  • Kink-shits: Are you saying consent doesn't matter? You're a MONSTER!
  • Everyone else: No, we're saying that consenting to a thing doesn't make that thing categorically not-abuse, like if people consent to BDSM activity and were then abused.
  • Kink-shits: If they were abused what they consented to wasn't BDSM.
  • Everyone else: Um.
  • Kink-shits: They may have thought they were consenting to BDSM but they were abused because the abuser was not doing BDSM, they were abusing them.
  • Everyone else: It sounds like you're just redefining BDSM to avoid any activity experienced as abusive.
  • Kink-shits: Because BDSM is not abuse.
  • Everyone else: But that doesn't seem like it would help address consent violations that do occur in BDSM; it doesn't even offer Ana any help.
  • Kink-shits: BDSM IS CONSENSUAL.
  • Everyone else: "Consensual" encounters can still be abusive.
  • Everyone else: -_-

Consent. It’s not just for sex.



You Can Take It Back: The Bite-Sized Brownie Version


You Can Take It Back: Consent as a Felt Sense makes a two pronged argument:

#1: Saying “yes” is necessary but not sufficient for consent.

#2: There is no expiration date on realizing that your consent was violated.

Not unless you’re some kind of cartoonish MRA troll. But when we make them together — there’s no expiration date on realizing that your “yes” was not consent — we get a furor of backlash from all sides about how we’ve “gone too far.”

I just think that’s weird.

When I was 18 I had a summerjob. I worked 40 hours a week for 8 weeks in a bakery. And the owner there was cruel. He gave us 5 minutes lunch break in an 8 hour day. He made us work 10 ovens at the same time and got furious if something burned. He made us show up sick for work and threatened to fire us if we didn’t. He didn’t allow us to get medical treatment for burn wounds from the ovens because the work would go wrong if we did. 

And while I worked there, I thought he was fair and justified in his behavior. Because I didn’t have a lot of working experience. Because he reminded me every hour that he was right. Because in that moment, where this job dominated my mind, I didn’t have the peace of mind to step back and imagine a life in which I was treated with respect. Because I needed that money badly and I couldn’t accept a scenario in which I would have to stop working there. Because the situation was overwhelming. 

Only months later, looking at the scars on my arms from countless burns did I realise that he had no right to treat me that way. Only at that time did I realize that it was wrong, that it was abuse. That work didn’t have to hurt. That it wasn’t normal to cry after a day of work. That this was fucked up.  

I didn’t take legal steps against my boss. If I did, I don’t know it would accomplish anything. But I know one thing: I’ve told many people this and no one doubted that I had been misled, manipulated and abused. No one doubted that I did not want the scars. No one doubted that I had been wronged and the person who did so was cruel and abusive. 

The fact that I went to work on my own every day and didn’t quit, the fact that it took me a long time to figure this out, those things were never used against me. No one quoted legal conditions at me as ‘proof’ that my experiences were anything other than abusive.  

Why would we treat sexual experiences differently?

Consent. It’s not just for sex.

*drop the mic*