"How Do You Make a pet/sub/slave Feel Completely Owned?"

"Mme. - i am wondering how you make pets to feel owned? i am wondering for a long time how Women make men feel safe and [like] property."

After a bit of Tweeting back and forth last night, I received the above question in my inbox.

To begin, I applaud the phrasing and joint expression of safety and feeling like property.
To many (I'd imagine the majority) of men, it must seem like a contradiction in terms to feel safe BECAUSE you are property.
So many males will never know the security and peace afforded by letting go of the control to which they cling throughout the work day.
For submissive men, those who are enlightened and privy to the ecstatic release and calm bliss that accompanies being owned, this post may seem like one big "Duh!" moment.

Read it anyway: new perspective should never be ignored.

It is not considered acceptable in much of modern global society for men to feel the security enjoyed by women who are homemakers, stay at home wives, or stay at home mothers - that sense of security and being provided for by the person they happen to adore and trust with their daily well-being as they live productive lives within safe and secure walls.
(I do not, in any way, propose that the means to making pets feel owned is by throwing money at them and inviting them into your home to live with you.)

What I am proposing is that the same sense of security enjoyed by stay-at-home women can be achieved through routine, non-sexual interaction, and creature comforts delivered in a manner that allow male slaves/pets/subs to access that sense of being provided for outside of the standard (and glorious) sexualized aspects of power-exchange.

Yes, sexual play feeds the pleasure centers of men's (and women's) brains and endears their bodies and minds to us, their Dommes.
Yes, orgasms are one of the surest ways to bind one being to another.
However, we CANNOT discount the great comfort of food and drink and bodily care, and the incorporation of it into our routines with our submissives.
The way to a man's true comfort and safety, to securing his devotion, enthrallment, and willing abandonment of power, is by encompassing all bodily comfort during play and daily routines.

Let's begin with grooming - the simple act of bathing a pet and of soothing the mind and body through warm water and soap.
How simple.
How innate a desire to give and receive such treatment.
How human.
We are giving our submissives permission to be human, around us:
not their job titles, not their macho-vanilla-world facades - just human;
naked, washed, clean, cleansed, and part of a routine that affords both exposure and security in the same act.

Moving on to eating and drinking: what simpler way could there be to provide?
It's certainly the most basic of needs - the need for water during a long and intense session.
Filling my own mouth with cold water and kissing a blindfolded submissive provides intense relief and total ownership.
I have become life, beyond metaphor and romantic notion, in providing the water necessary to keep my submissive lucid and hydrated while he is in restraints.
In the same manner, feeding small bits of pretzels covered in dark chocolate keeps the blood sugar levels stable if I am putting a sub through his/her paces. There is no room for depletion - and there is no room for weakness, physically.
A session must leave both the Domme and sub invigorated. Subspace imparting stunned bliss and relaxation, Dommespace providing the electric high that can be ridden for hours.

Food, especially full meals, can be incorporated into sessions as a way of gently and unflinchingly showing the submissive that he is no longer in control of any aspect regarding his body.
You, the Dominant, are going to provide, possibly hand feed, and ensure that nourishment of the body happens internally before you provide sensory, emotional, and mental nourishment through a session.

Through this total and holistic approach, ownership is made complete.
Pets are given security above and beyond sexual fulfillment - they are given permission to submit to their Mistress without reservation.

What Happens in L.A. Needs to Happen Everywhere

When a Dominatrix born and bred in the Midwest takes a cross continental flight from Buffalo to L.A.,
she realizes her potential.

I showed up in L.A. ready to go to a wedding and do a little teaching with a fantastic Domina who is finding her feet in the shaky ground of D/s. I figured it would be a few long naps, an intense double session, a wonderful wedding/reception, and then home again home again, jiggty jig.

Instead, it turned into a journey that focused, primarily, on healing.

I got to the hotel around 9 pm. I was on Century Blvd. I didn't know where to park. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I needed a cigarette.

So, I smoked, I got my luggage, and walked through the barb-wired, barred-windowed, slightly more than sketchy neighborhood that housed the Adventurer.
True story, that was the name of the hotel.

I wasn't even supposed to be there.
I'd tried to make plans to stay with a friend of the bride.
They fell through the same day as I flew out.
So there I was, walking up to the doors and wondering what in thunderfuck I'd do for three nights in a Hostel in LA.

It turns out, I'd been sent on a mission, both by Serendipity and Bacchus. I hear those two have a pretty torrid thing going on. The ripple effect is outstanding.

Without turning this story into the full screenplay it deserves I will summarize:

I flogged men in public with a martini in hand, laughing at the top of my lungs while Van Morrison played dreamily in the background.

I waxed poetic after a touch too much green; I looked fantasy fully in the face.

I  discussed why we all must learn as much as we can before purporting to be Dominant.

I  groomed a man who was lost; I gave him permission to accept care.

I sang to a bride and groom while they sat and fed one another; I incited silliness and joy.