Dominant Positions That Reinforce Wife-Led Marriage

The body reads a position before the head has time to think — especially a man's, where the line between those two departments was never the fastest. Who is on top, who holds whom, who sets the pace, whose face is visible and whose is not — all of it says more about power than any words, and says it to both of you at once. So there is one rule for positions in our bed, and it is simple: there are positions he no longer has, and there are positions that are now yours alone.

His positions — the ones that were taken away

From behind, you on all fours. The most male position there is: he holds you by the hips, he decides how deep and how fast, he sees your back and not your face. It is exactly what you do to him with the strap-on — which is precisely why it never happens the other way round. One dog in the house, one leash. If you want it yourself, give the orders out loud, every movement — and his hands go anywhere except your neck and your hair. And when he does start begging — "just once, from behind, like we used to", and he will — answer evenly and without anger, because it is the plain truth:

"That isn't for you. That is how other men take me. I need you only like this — on your knees, locked, with the key on my neck."

Say it once. Then just watch him digest it — the view is worth it.

Missionary, him on top. He covers you, he leads, he comes inside you with you underneath — the classic of male possession, and his body remembers it as "normal". It is called missionary for a reason: it was brought by the same people who brought the rest of the rules about who serves whom. He comes out of that position feeling that everything has gone back to the way it was — and in the morning he will say something like "see, we can do it normally." Don't give him that feeling. "Normally" means something else in your house now. And if you do let him on top — press your legs together and keep them there: no depth for him, no range either, and instead of a man who "takes" you get a boy bouncing fussily on top like a girl. Watch him while he does it — calmly, a little bored. He will come out of that position with no feeling at all that anything has gone back.

Standing, from behind, with you braced against a table or a wall — the same as the first, except that you are "taken" in the literal sense. You on your knees in front of him standing — his gaze from above, his palm on the back of your head: that is the position of his power, and in your house it belongs to him, not to you. He can kneel as much as he likes — kneeling is simply beneath your station now.

And one rule over all positions: he never holds you by the neck or the hair, and he never sets the pace — no matter who is lying where. His hands go behind his back, behind his head, or wherever you put them.

Your positions

You on top, riding him. Depth, pace, when it ends and whether it ends at all — all yours. He lies still, hands behind his head or pinned under your knees, and looks up. The one position in which he is ever allowed to come — on that rare evening when you have decided so: even what he gets, he gets the way you want. His holiday, your schedule.

Reverse cowgirl. He doesn't even see your face — only your back and the way you use him. That is the exact formula: you are not making love to him, you are taking yours with an object that happens to be lying underneath you. A good, well-kept object — you see to that.

The amazon. He is on his back with his legs raised and spread — the way a woman lies in missionary — and you sit on top and set the rhythm yourself. A complete reversal: his body in the position he spent his life thinking of as a woman's, yours in the one he thought was his. The most humiliating for him and the most commanding for you; be warned only that his gratitude afterwards will have no end — and a grateful man, as everyone knows, does the floors. The practical part, briefly: a pillow under his lower back, his legs on your shoulders or held by the ankles, more lube than usual, and the easiest way in is from cowgirl — sitting on him, lift his legs and shift forward a little.

Facesitting. You sit on his face; he isn't doing anything — it is being done to him. He breathes when you allow it, and his tongue is simply the thing you grind against. No position says "mine" more clearly.

You on the edge of the bed, him kneeling between your legs, hands behind his back. Oral service in its purest form: you lean back, he works, and the only thing he is permitted is to try. This is always how he licks you — kneeling, his face level with your hips: his neck doesn't tire, he has no excuse to drift, and you have all of him in plain view. If he can't hold his hands there any longer, let him hold your ankles.

And if his tongue doesn't get you there — that is not a verdict, it is a syllabus. Men in this department tend to be confident and useless at the same time: twenty years of believing they know what they are doing, because nobody told them otherwise. Tell him. And put him through a training marathon: every evening, thirty or forty minutes, a week straight, no days off — the way scales are practised. You lie on the edge of the bed, he kneels, and from there you lead: "left", "slower", "don't press", "like that — keep the rhythm and don't change it until I say". He is not allowed to improvise: lose the rhythm — start over; a hand creeps in — hands behind the back; "like this?" — silence, because the answer comes from your body.

Show him what he is learning: take his fingers in your hand and move them the way it should be done — the pace, the pressure, the place; or switch on a vibrator and let him watch what the right rhythm does to you. When you come, tell him what did it. When you don't, tell him why, and tomorrow he fixes it. By the end of the week he has what he lacked for twenty years — an ear: he hears your breathing and knows where to go next without being told. The exam is simple: bring you there in as many minutes as you set, hands behind his back, without asking. Pass — and from that day it is his daily duty, like the coffee. Fail — a second week, and a stricter one.

Pegging. You behind, him on all fours, you holding him by the hips and setting the pace. The mirror image of that first position he no longer has — and for exactly that reason the most commanding of all. He wanted it from behind? Here it is — from behind. Everything just as he dreamed: from the back, by the hips, deep, in a rhythm set by whoever is on top. The only difference is who. You can even say to him, mid-stroke, the things he used to say to you — men cope remarkably badly with their own lines. The technique is in the chapter "Penetration".

If you want one of "his" positions yourself

It happens — you want it from behind, or you want him on top of you, and there is no need to deny yourself: a Mistress takes what she wants, including from his old repertoire. Only on her own terms — the way an owner takes a thing out of the wardrobe, not borrows it. You only need to take his power out of the position and keep the pleasure. Four things do it.

First — he cannot see. A blindfold. Half of male dominance from behind is the view of your back and the nape of your neck; without his eyes he isn't "taking" you, he is working blind to your commands. Second — he does not hold. Hands behind his back, tied or clasped; if he needs support, let him hold your ankles or brace his palms on the bed — but your neck and your hair, never. Instead of his hands on you — a leash in your hand: a collar, and you pull him in yourself when you want it deeper and ease him back when you want it lighter.

Third — the rhythm is yours, out loud. "Slow." "Deeper." "Stop." "Ten more — count them." He doesn't move without a command and freezes on "stop" at whatever depth you say, for as long as you keep him there. A man who fucks by the count and stops on "stop" is not leading. He is an instrument you are using in a position you happen to like — like a good vibrator, except this one asks permission to breathe.

Fourth — he does not come. Never in these positions. You take yours as many times as you want, then "enough" — and he pulls out, puts the cage straight back on, hands you the key and says thank you. It is the missing ending that reverses the meaning for him: he was inside you the way he always dreamed of, and walked away with nothing. After a night like that he is more grateful than after any reward — and surprisingly agreeable about the housework.

And one detail for completeness: if he is locked, "his" positions are impossible in the first place — so every such night begins with you taking out the key yourself. Let him see it. Let him understand that even from behind only happened because you unlocked it. And that you will not forget to lock it again — you never forget anything; he has learned that by now.

If he did come after all — in any position. He is flesh, not steel, and sooner or later it happens: from behind, on top, underneath you — it makes no difference. One rule. He does not pull out and leave. He goes down. You lie exactly as you were, and he gathers with his tongue everything he left in you and on you — to the last drop, without a grimace and without hurry, until you say "clean". What was his he takes back himself, with his mouth, and the cage clicks shut on an empty man. The first time will be hard — for him above all, and perhaps for you too: he will stall, you will wait. Wait it out. The second time he will go down on his own, unprompted, and within a month it will be an ordinary part of your sex — like him handing you the towel. And slips will become rare: the taste of his own seed is remembered better than any rule.

Oral for him

There is one more position that will certainly come up — usually raised by him, and usually in that special hopeful tone men use for "remember how we used to…": what about oral for him? It exists. Not the way he remembers it — but then who in this house still remembers how things used to be. Here its meaning is reversed: it is not service to him, it is an instrument of control.

Never from below. A woman on her knees in front of a standing man is the most submissive position in the entire sexual vocabulary, and his body will read it instantly whatever you happen to be thinking. A man with a woman kneeling over him remembers he is "the head of the household" within about three minutes — they are quick like that. So he lies on his back, hands behind his head or tied, and you are beside him, above him, half lying across him however suits you. You lean down to him; he does not rise over you. He doesn't move his hips — one thrust toward you and everything stops, and always at the most interesting moment; his hand never lands on your head — a hand that reaches for it spends the rest of the evening holding the headboard, which suits it better.

Tease, don't finish. Your mouth is the most precise edging tool there is: your lips feel where he is before he does, and you can hold him at the edge for as long as you like. Bring him to the brink — pull away, look him in the eye, wait, again. Around the third time he gets the expression on his face that the whole thing was for. He may come only on your word, and most of the time he may not; he has, however, learned to ask beautifully. The default ending: you pull away, and he is left with what he didn't get. Then your mouth is not a gift but a reminder of who his pleasure belongs to.

Rarely, and because you feel like it. Not at his request — he may ask; the answer is almost always no. Once a month, your mouth on him is an event he thinks about for weeks and, if asked, can recall by date; once a week, it is a duty he starts to expect and then to remind you about. You do not want him reminding you. And never as payment: for good behaviour he gets praise and permission, not you.

You are not a bonus for a washed floor. He washes the floor because the floor is dirty.

And separately — the balls. Caress them, take them into your mouth one at a time, let him moan and squirm — and then, with no transition, handle them roughly: squeezed in a fist and held until his breathing changes; pulled down and used to lead him, like a leash; slapped when he twitches at the wrong moment. His cock and his balls are a thing of the past — in the sense that they are no longer his. They are your organ: your pleasure, your toy, your training tool. He carries them around the way one carries someone else's keys, and keeps them in good order. He may still screw his eyes shut and ask you to go easier. You already know the answer to that.

And two touches that give almost everything. The first — through the cage: without unlocking, your tongue along the bars and over his balls while he moans and can do nothing — for him this is stronger than any real blowjob, because the closeness is there and the way out is not. From the outside it looks like tenderness. From the inside it is torture. Both are true. The second — talk to him while you do it: "you're mine", "you're not allowed", "hold it". Words work here as well as lips do, and he was never good at coping with those anyway.

Positions are not technique; they are a language. Once learned, it speaks by itself: the moment he lies on his back and puts his hands behind his head, everything in him already knows who is taking whom. So make no exceptions "for the mood": one night on top and his body will remember the norm you spent weeks taking out of him. He will say, of course, that "nothing has changed." He said the same about the cage in the first month.

The point: he is never on top unless you decide it, never holds you by the neck or hair, never sets the pace. Wherever the body leads, you lead.