Big Boy the Wonder Horse or Suggestions for Tops

This beautiful creature was called Big Boy. I spent a week with him on a horseback trip I took in Banff 5 years ago. We got along very well he and I. He was the biggest horse that the outfitters had in their string, at 17 hands. He had the golden Palomino coloring, and was about 23 when I knew him.

I've only ridden 9 horses, and I've spent about a 40 days of my life on horseback. I've never owned a horse or taken care of one. Not in this lifetime at least. So I can say fairly that I know diddly squat about horses. Yet. Yet I get along very well with horses. Knock on wood, I've never had any trouble, haven't been thrown, nor kicked, nor bit...well once I did my foot stepped on lightly, but no bruises or broken bones. I've ridden with people that raise horses, that own ranches, who train horses for competition in steeplechase, dressage, and western style reining and cutting. I've ridden right behind some of these people, and watched as they were thrown, and one as he was thrown and broke his left ankle. (We were in the backcountry, and boy was it ever fun trying get him back mounted from the right side of the horse, so he could travel back on logging roads to the town hospital.)

So I'm lucky. Maybe. Or maybe I ride well enough that the horses don't balk. I think it's a combination of factors: I'm calm. I don't make sudden moves and spook the horse. I pay attention to the horse and the surroundings. I've got a gentle hand with the reins, and taking a hint from the dressage riders, I use my legs and subtle shifts of my weight for slow commands. I give praise and affection. I pay attention to the sort of stroking that that particular horse likes. I also give him a few carrots and an apple a day.

After a day of riding, back at camp, sitting around the wood stove, I'd have a pipe, and read some of the horsemanship books that had been packed in for the small bookshelf. I read about the Horse Whisperer and Parelli's Natural Horse-Man Ship Technique, and that helped me feel confident about my riding style when I saw so many of the habitual riders keep tightened reins and a stiff riding position.

I've seen 8 people get thrown from a horse. It usually happens very quickly, although a I remember one pinto jerking and jumping a bit in place before tossing some poor woman. Half of those people were "experienced" and half were novices. The novices would fail to be attentive, or be too tense and apprehensive, or would just do something really annoying to their horses like choose a muddy or steep trail when a perfectly dry or more level one was right next to it. Or when reining their horse to a stop, they'd jerk back the reins quickly, instead of applying a slow gentle pressure.

You might be asking "when is he going to drop this analogy and get to the BDSM?" (You might be asking "Whatever happened to Big Boy?" He worked to 26, and was put out to pasture, and died last fall at 27 of old age - in human years he would have been around 75.)

Here's why I chose the horsemanship analogy. I'm a Top. I'm Dominant. It's natural and suitable and appropriate for me to determine what's acceptable and unacceptable from a bottom or sub. But how do I talk critically to other Tops? What am I going to say - "You're doing that wrong - here let me show you"? I don't think so. I'd rather not battle with other Tops, and if I have to battle, I'd rather pick which battles I'll fight. Matters of mortal safety - yes. Matters of mental cruelty - probably. Matters of technique or style - not so much.

Yet we do have problems in the Leather BDSM Kink community, and I don't think they're all the subs' fault. In fact, shouldn't it really be all the Tops' fault? I mean aren't we in control of the scene? Don't we set the parameters and make the rules? And if it isn't all our fault, then maybe it still remains our responsibilty to make the situation better. I've got a few ideas on how to make the situation better.

I'm a Leather fetishist, I wear boots every day, and if I can figure out a way to wear my leathers some place I'll do it. (And that's in Houston where it's hot as hell 5 months of the year.) On my horseback rides, I always wore cowboy chaps and boots and a big hat. I even had a pair of chaps custom made just for riding. Half the riders were on these trips were "dudes" and half were horsepeople. Getting to the corral on the first day in my cowboy gear, I looked more like a hand than any of the other riders. The head wrangler and the packers all got a kick out of it, and they probably spotted me a couple of "points" for knowing a bit more than I did. The other riders certainly thought I knew more than I did. My horse even thought I knew more than I did.

So my first suggestion for other Tops to make the Leather BDSM situation better is: Look the Part. Define Your part Your way, but consider using some symbolic attire that conveys Dominance. Big boots are good. Gloves are good. Consider too that aspects of Your attire might send a mixed message and dilute the appearance of Dominance. Like short pants.

Woody Allen said "Eighty percent of success is showing up." That's my second suggestion to Tops. Show up. Show yourself. Give a little hope to all the subs out there that someone like You might take an interest. If You only wear Your symbolic attire to the bar or events, consider wearing a symbol or two discreetly at other times - boots, or keys, or a thick wristband. It's a generous gesture when You do that. Even to subs that aren't Your preferred gender flavor. It'll show them - There's a strong confident person Who's true to Their nature. Maybe Someone like that will take me in hand sometime.

My third suggestion is "Command Respect, but don't Demand it." or "Keep Your ass in the saddle and hold Your reins lightly." To paraphrase Queen Victoria - you can do anything in the bedroom you want as long as you keep from frightening the horses. Of course there are times when for the well being of horse and Rider, there's a need to spur and to whack a flank with a riding crop. There are even other times where it's good to dismount and lead the horse by hand. Those are Your decisions.

I wish sometimes I got along with men as well as I do horses. I've always kept a "good seat" on a horse, but men have thrown me several times. That's where this analogy finally ends, because people aren't horses, and to keep a Dominant-submissive interaction flowing and going for even one night, much less a weekend or a month or a lifetime is a sometimes delicate and exhilarating endeavor.

Inviting your Angel

"The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it."
-St. Teresa of Avila

St. Teresa was writing about a spiritual experience, and her pain and ecstasy came from her vision of the Divine. But ever since this sculpture grouping by Bernini was installed in the church of Sta Maria della Vittoria in Rome, people have remarked that her attitude of bliss looks like she's experiencing an orgasm. But enough about her.

It's the Angel that interests me more. The word "angel" comes from the Greek for "messenger." What a message He's bringing! What a delivery! So calm and graceful and peaceful, so joyous and engaged, so attentive and abstracted, just before He plunges that arrow that brings exquisite torment and ecstasy. He's my Hero. That's a Top, baby! That's the One you want giving you what you - maybe - possibly - deserve.

Now Saint Teresa invited her angel probably through days of meditative prayer and fasting. You might be able to follow her example and do the same. But who has the time for that nowadays? I've got a better idea. Act and dress like the submissive, or slave, or just bottom that you wish you were, do that as much as you can and in as many places as you can, and - maybe - possibly - your Angel just might show up with an arrow of torment and ecstasy just for you!

Offering

I'm talking to a friend - the news - movies. Another man walks up slowly, stops about 6 feet away, and settles his body to face mine. His hands and mouth are empty. Nothing to drink or smoke, and no words either. He's quiet, he tries his best to stand as still as possible. He catches my eye, once. And then fixes his gaze down at my boots. He doesn't kneel, doesn't get on his hands and knees. He doesn't talk. He waits. He's impatient, he's anxious, he's afraid of being ignored or insulted by me. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. He wonders if some friend of his, slumming it at the leather bar, will try to strike up a conversation and ruin the mood.

But tonight he's lucky. No blathering chums to distract him show up. And my friend who's talking to me, takes notice, and finishes his sentence and gives me a little smile. I ask my friend to excuse me, I shake his hand, and when he's walked away, I look at this man who's here waiting. I look at him closely, I assess what persona he's showing to me. He's wearing black cowboy boots, but not anything else that describes him as a leatherman. He looks to be in his early thirties. A time in his life when he probably could afford to dress like a leatherman if he wanted to. But perhaps he's traveling or came out after dinner, or perhaps he doesn't have a leather fetish.

That's not as important to me now, because he's offering something very valuable to me - respect. He's offering me patience. He's offering me his attention. I ask him his name. He answers, he keeps his eyes down. I tell him my name, I offer my gloved hand to shake, he grasps it firmly but less firmly than I grasp his. Now we talk a bit about trivial things, I take a pull on my beer, I enjoy my cigar. I watch him, I measure what he says and how he holds his body. I want him to be a man, I want him to look strong, I don't need him on his knees, - yet - but I want him to know and feel me as dominant. He doesn't cross his arms, he doesn't cross his legs. His head is slightly inclined downwards, his weight is balanced equally on both feet, he doesn't put his hands in his pockets. His body shows me that he's not hiding his vulnerablilites, his chest faces me, his crotch faces me, he doesn't armor his torso with his arms.

Trivial talk is over. Time to command. I tell him to place his arms behind his back, and hold onto his left wrist with his right hand. I tell him to stand with his feet as wide apart as his shoulders. This lowers him an inch, it gives him a posture that's defined, no more indecision about what to do with his hands. I step forward into his space, I put one of my thighs close enough to brush his crotch, I reach around and lightly place my right hand on the back of his neck, I lean over and let my beard brush his ear, and quietly tell him what he can expect if he agrees to accompany me home. I tell him that what I do to him won't hurt his health. I tell him that what I do to him won't make him feel like less of a man. I tell him that what we do is private between us and that it's his decision whether or not he's photographed or videotaped. I ask him if he needs someone to vouch for me, to tell him that I'm trustworthy.

Then we go.