Converting the vanilla boys

In my regular, working life, I am in contact with the occasional vanilla man. (I laugh that I type 'occasional' -- the world is full of too many vanilla men, really, and not enough submissive boys.) Every now and then, I meet a boy that I wish I could convert -- he seems like he'd really take to it, if he could just get his head around the whole thing. So many men are conditioned to think of themselves in such conservative terms, as these unemotional, rational, powerful creatures who need no one and take what they want. And the reality (as I experience it) is vastly different -- I find men to be much weaker and far more confused about themselves than they want to admit. Vanilla men get very threatened by what I want to do with them sexually -- especially when you mention the strap-on. Expect them to head for the door when you bring that up!

But yeah, I still try sometimes. I hint, I insinuate, sometimes I come right out and tell them I'd like to fuck them up the ass. Imagine that for a moment: a red-headed, busty girl in a bar that you're chatting up in the hopes of a quick fuck tells you, instead, that she'd really like to be the one to fuck you up the ass. Probably all submissive men are reading this, so there's much swooning going on at that idea, but you should see the looks I usually get from vanilla boys. Talk about shock and awe.

Tonight I'm here, all tucked up in bed in my very un-Domme flannel pajamas, when I get a phone call. A guy in grad school with me, who has developed a bit of ....shall we say, a flirtation with your very own Ms. Lola. He's got that all-American frat boy thing going on, and seems like the last person you'd find begging to wear my panties and be chained to my bed. And yet, he made a special point to call me to ask why I didn't come out with the rest of the students from class tonight. I did once get a little too intoxicated and tell him that, indeed, I have been known to flog a few fellows and yes, I do have a couple of silicone dildos I'd prefer to use on him, rather than myself. We laughed it off the next day and haven't talked about it since. But: he calls me sometimes. I wonder if he's hoping I have a few drinks and bring up those silicone dildos again.

I won't do it, of course. It would be too much of a power struggle with him, and that's his issue, not mine. For the moment I keep the upper hand by not giving him anything, but still being the person he unaccountably feels the urge to call when he's out with other students.

Interesting.