The Dog Cage
He wanted me to put him in the dog cage...
He wanted me to put him in the dog cage. A tall, bearded, Turkish-French man I’d met on Feeld, an app for kinky people. It was one of his biggest fantasies, he said.
It was 3 am. I was in his apartment. It had views of the river and was in a sleepy co-op building for retired people in Manhattan. The dim lights of the East River Park and the water beyond glowed in the distance. I stood there in my underwear in his living room. I looked at the cage.
It had a black grate. It was about 4ft long, 3ft wide, and 3ft deep, with a black plastic tray covering the base. A grown man could fit in there, I considered to myself. Most recently, it had belonged to the Corgi-Pitbull mix he had been fostering during the pandemic. Who knew someone could make a mutt out of such polar opposite dog breeds? I was more confused about what that dog looked like than about this full-grown man’s desire for submission. Nothing about that dog’s existence made sense to me.
I laughed awkwardly. I hoped he could not sense how helplessly underprepared I felt. I usually listen to my partner’s innermost desires with an open mind. Most of the time, I’m honest with people about the weird Feeld dates I’ve been on, my sexual preferences, and the types of things I’ve done for my more sensitive male partners, like pegging my boyfriend. But this time, it was different. I had never met a man who was this enraptured by the idea of being dominated by a woman, who so deeply wanted a woman to control him. To grab him by the balls and physically hurt him. Was there something wrong with him wanting this? Was he walking off a cliff into a sea of sin? Why, to him, did pain mix so well with pleasure? Well, now that I thought about it, it didn't surprise me. I like to mix pleasure with pain, also. Then why, in my mind, was he not allowed to want this?
My ex was like this too to some extent. I am sure this is not the case with everyone, but the controlling French mothers that I’ve come across have a way of molding their sons. Their sons are handsome, kind-hearted, and attentive listeners, but inherently soft. They want a mistress who is actually their master. They want you to cuddle them up in your chest and stroke their hair as they obsess over your boobs, and you tell them that they’re a good boy, and if they’re extra good, you’ll punish them later. How had I suddenly acquired so much power behind closed doors, in the place where I wanted to feel powerless? Why was I not afforded this power in my real life, out in the real world? With all the money and career success I dreamed of, running a company with thousands of men working below me and owning a grand apartment that towered over Central Park?
That was the inherent problem with it all. It was our insurmountable incompatibility. Both this Turkish-French boy and I were switch-leaning submissives. Both of us wanted to be held. Both of us wanted to be taken care of. Both of us wanted to be controlled and slapped in a sexy yet painful yet exciting kind of way. Long-term compatibility was totally off the cards. So, I figured I’d make do. I would try my hand at a night of interesting exploration, or what was left of it.
He didn’t end up in the dog cage. Not this time. As we discussed it, the temporary nature of our time together hung like a heavy lump in the back of my throat. I knew I would never come back to this apartment. I knew our adventures together wouldn’t last long enough to let me see him in that cage. I knew I would probably never speak to him again. Deep down, I knew I didn’t care to see him in there either; it wouldn’t turn me on.
So I cut my losses. I let him tie me up on his bed and spank me.
💌 ✍️
To discover another weird and wonderful story of a man I met on Feeld, click here. Or to read more about my sexual preferences, click here and here.
som really brave writing here.