The Girls of Fall - The Beautiful Cruelty of DCC - Making the Squad

Ah, the sights and sounds of fall (and here in the tropics it's still "fall" in early December the way people up north mean it): a loud, noisy stadium, the smells of frying meat and spilled beer, the green green playing field with freshly-chalked white lines, the snap and thunk of helmets and pads . . . and the neat rows of long, lean, leggy young women in boy shorts and knee-high boots on the sidelines (more about my boot fetish in future blogs).

Yes, I love football.  And in particular I love cheerleaders at football games. For the past three seasons there's been a television show about cheerleaders that has occupied a regular spot on my dvr recording list and that I've looked forward to as much I've anticipated opening kickoff, and that's "Dalls Cowboys Cheerleaders -- Making the Squad" on CMT on Friday nights. Of course it has an obvious appeal - impossibly All-American young ladies, earnest and eager and full of "Yes Ma'ams" wearing, as one girl put it, "my underwear in public." But beyond that, if you pay attention, there is much about the show that resonates in the world of BDSM.

The narrative arc is always the same, picking up with the cattle-call auditions and the frowning, sometimes incredulous director, Kelli, and choreographer, Judy, (both former cheerleaderes themselves) scanning the dense rows of hopefuls, making cryptic notes and whispering snarkily to each other like a pair of Junior League dommes.  There are a series of cuts until the group of rookies are invited to "Training Camp" where they are joined by the veterans.  And then the real fun begins because, as Kelli reminds them constantly, they've invited far more girls to camp than will make the final squad. 

So for nearly two months of episodes we watch several dozen attractive young women, physically fit, wearing their Lone Star-bedazzled jogbras – pink for the rookies, blue for the vets - and black spandex boy shorts, all toned legs, flat stomachs and bouncing hair sweating their way anxiously through dance routines, weight checks and uniform fittings. 

All of which is fine and good just right there.  But it is their palpable earnestness and desperation to please, and thereby make the squad, and the director's fierce application of strict standards, that speaks to my Dom heart.  Their efforts are literally re-evaluated every day and each class or event is another test to determine their worthiness. “To be a DCC," Kelli warns them, "you are always being judged."  That is the essence in many ways of what it is to be a submissive, to be in a state of perpetually striving to please your Dominant and having your efforts constant evaluated and being punished for failing to live up to those standards and follow those rules.

DCC pulls no punches.  In a recent episode near the end of training camp, the girls are assembled and told “a fabulous motivator is coming to teach them,” a tough-as-nails drill instructor-ish dance teacher named Kitty famous for her bluntness and whom many of the girls had already met. 

“As soon as she came through the door," says a bright-eyed blonde named Brittany, "we all knew, 'Here it comes, get ready.'”

Sure enough, as soon as Kitty makes her appearance the girls erupt into applause before lining up to begin performing. 

“Kitty is going to give the room some energy but she’s probably going to just slaughter somebody,” Kelli tells the camera ahead of time and it’s clear she’s not entirely unhappy at the prospect.  Cut to Kitty, beefy and biker-bar tough: “Hopefully we won’t slaughter too many dreams,” she tells the room in a tone of voice that lets you know that’s exactly what she’s going to do. “But stand up and let’s get started.”

 And Kitty pulls no punches as she critically scans the assemblage of perky dancers.

“Oh blondie you look like you’ve got a stick up you’re --- over here, what’s your name?“ she barks at one quaking teenager who is then drilled in front of the rest of the squad  “How’d you get this far anyway? You’re lost.” Kitty shakes her head. “This could be the night you’re walking through the parking lot bag in hand.”

Let's stop here a moment. When you realize how achingly so many of these girls want this (there is a constant chorus of "I wanted to be a Cowboys cheerleader since I was a little girl") does it take much of a leap of imagination to ponder if there is anything at all they wouldn't do to attain this goal?

And the pushing is relentless and unpitying.  One brunette pixie named Liz with huge blue eyes and glowing translucent skin had been singled out early on for being a little soft around the middle.  Not in any mortal sense, mind you, but in a Is she going to look good on the giant HD screen at Cowboys Stadium kind of way. After several weeks the DCC politburo is still not impressed.  “She looks great from the waist up," Kelli whispers, "she’s just so damn big.”

Kitty calls a break and singles her out.  “I like you, you’re a great little dancer,” she says and the girl literally beams, with a proud smile as big as Texas. Then Kitty turns to the group.  “Do we all know that because you’re a great dancer that doesn’t mean you’re going to make this squad?" Nods all around.  "We all know that, right? A lot of you are looking very soft. When you’ve got four inches of fabric covering your lower half am I going to be watching that or am I going to be watching the overflow?” With that Kitty turns back to the judging table and advises, “Just cut it and be done with it”

Every episode there are cuts and they follow the same ritual.  One by one the girls are called in to meet with Kelli and Judy individually, some to be warned and some to be told, "Tonight is your last night."  The two older women sit behind a desk and the examinee perches before them on a chair in her workout outfit awaiting judgment.  The show helpfully conducts interviews between when the girls are told they need to be seen and when they actually go in and there is nervous, sometimes tearful anxiety. Can there be a Dominant that doesn’t find that anxiety delicious, that palpable worry about having disappointed, been found lacking?

And the ritual must be played out according to script. There are tears ("There's nothing I can do?" pudgy Liz sobs), brave smiles, weary resignation but always a thanking of Kelli and Judy and the Cowboys organization for the opportunity to try out.  And there are many multiple-year candidates.  Thank you, ma'am, may I have another?  When one girl, who had tried out three years in a row and is dismissed yet again, allows her frustration and disappointment to boil over into anger and accuses the women of not being honest and wasting her time, this defiance is met with open-mouthed astonishment.   “I was getting lectured,” Kelli says to Judy in wonderment. 

On it goes until at the end there are 48 girls in blue-and-white, a sea of big hair and flat stomachs and long legs and we are all the happier for it.  The process as it is depicted on the show is one long BDSM training session without the bondage, nudity or spanking but with louder music and better dance moves.  There is a difference, of course and that is the cheerleader tryouts have an end game: if the girls are found lacking they are dismissed whereas if my submissive disappoints in some way large or small she is punished and learns to try harder and be better the next time.”

Come to think of it, I have a better solution for the DCC.  Rather than cutting poor Liz because of her "overflow," send her to me for the summer. I'm sure we can make sure she does better.  

Pretty Things

My Kind of Girl

What does it mean to be a submissive woman?

It's a fair question and I've had inumerable discussions with vanilla friends, experienced lifestylers, fetish enthusiasts and curious newbies on this topic.  And anyone in the Life, whether as a lifestyler, fetishist or merely a fan a kinky sex, has had to work out for themselves their own definition of that phrase along with it's flip-side -- what does it mean to be a dominant man?  Because as with so many things it means different things to different people.

A submissive is not necessarily a masochist.  Nor is she by definition a sexual libertine or bi-, pan- or omni-sexual.  "Submissive" is not synonymous with "passive."  A woman who chooses to submit to her partner does not do so because she is unable to take care of herself or so lacking in self-esteem that she has no sense of self-identity (although our world is well-populated with those sad individuals, just as the ranks of would-be "dominants" are sadly riddled with abusers and misogynists).  A sexual submissive isn't the same thing as being a lifestyle submissive, just as a lifestyle submissive can be something different than a slave.  It's a big wide world out there and there's room in the tent for just about everyone.  

I believe that it is the natural state of a woman to submit to her man. She is never without choice. It is her choice whether to submit and to what degree; she picks the man. But once those parameters are set they become the bedrock principles that govern the relationship. Those parts of herself, once given freely to her Master, no longer belong to her. An “irrevocable assignment,” as a lawyer might call it. Without her Master’s subsequent consent they will not be given back and a true Dominant would think long and hard before starting down that slippery slope of “Oh, since you’ve changed your mind it’s ok.”

If she changes her mind, she is always free to leave the relationship. It is a bedrock rule that release – the ultimate safeword, if you will – is complete and when requested always given.  A true Dominant is not a stalker; that would be so . . . un-Dom-ly. 

My definition of a submissive is actually that of a woman extraordinarily self-aware of who she is and what makes her happy and confident enough to find her bliss.  She is most decidedly not a doormat.  The most genuinely submissive women I've known -- and I mean this in a lifestyle context -- have been very Type A out in the vanilla world, the type of women who get frustrated because they keep getting approached by submissive men wanting to serve.  I have an operating theory that if you scratch beneath the surface of many female executives, lawyers, judges, you will find a woman who is submissive at home.  (It's an inexact and unscientific theory, to be sure, and it's not like I spend a lot time at chamber of commerce functions seeking out "alpha" females and bending them over conference room tables; but it's a fun thought). 

Those are the submissive women that I look for.  If a woman's submission is a gift given to her Dominant (and it is) then we define the value of that gift by who she is in the vanilla world.  She is a woman with a secret and a side that she probably keeps hidden from her  family, friends and co-workers, that most people who know her would think is incompatible with the "face" that she presents to the rest of world. They see a woman who is attractive, funny and intelligent. To them she is assertive, confident, every element of her world properly ordered and in its appropriate place. A woman on top, so to speak.

But there's another part of her that they don't see; it’s who she is when she comes home and throws away her Blackberry and strips off her suit and heels. (Well, sometimes she leaves the heels on).  She has an inner knowledge that it's a woman's place to be dominated by a man, to spend her private time at His pleasure, secure in the knowledge of her place at His feet, cared for and nurtured and waiting for His touch and command.  To find the soft landing at the end of her day.  A day spent succeeding out in the world to make Him proud because that, too, is a part of what it means to be submissive. 

It is the contrast that makes the gift of her submission so valuable and the knowledge that I have the "true" girl -- naked, vulnerable, all barriers stripped away -- when she gets home