Everybody’s Vanilla
I have an obscene relationship with food. This is nothing like what leads to pudding-glued sheets or the eternal question of how to get Reddi Whip out of silk undies. That would be far too mundane for the passions I harbor.
No, friends and neighbors, I am a food dom.
I feel mine is a position of privilege. There are those who struggle to find a good partner who will either indulge or actually enjoy the kink of their choice. I am not so burdened. On each occasion when I have met a person who claims to be of the plain-jane missionary-lights-out-only persuasion, there has been no trouble persuading them otherwise.
Perhaps this is related to modern culture’s simultaneous revulsion towards actual food, and the more natural tendency to enjoy things which are good. Alas, with the advent of New Food, Slow Food, Whole Food, Fast Food and the diet of the day, my way of life has been moved into the ‘perverse’ category.
I couldn’t be happier.
Do I get strange emails inviting me to indulge in a latex and grease party? No. Is there really a list posted by the door of folks who will be stopping by to have their asses tanned? No. Instead I get thoughtful messages from dear friends who still somehow manage to sound lecherous when they want to nibble my cookies.
It was with some trepidation that I entered a marriage intended to be straight-edged in the sexual sense. My partner is charming, adorable, loving, kind and absolutely as vanilla as the day is long. The question foremost in my mind was “Without my bag of tricks and whips and ropes and needles and lube, how in the world will I keep this person in love with me?”
Imagine my surprise and delight when I began to understand more deeply. It began with my favorite pastime, working in the kitchen. It ended in a plate of muffins. The muffins depicted here are not the muffins in question, but are artistic reproductions of the originals.
Time passed before I realized that there were many, many people who cannot or do not cook. For them, my skills are sought after and nurtured as if I were passing out free blowjobs with every brownie. While I enjoy the attention wholeheartedly, I admit I don’t quite fathom the reasons for all the flattery, cajoling and outright bribery that my kitchen skills attract.
Like many doms, I find my complete understanding is not required. I am merely called upon to accept and respect my opposites, and enjoy their attention and affection. If there’s a line between sexual arousal, and the physical arousal I often witness over food, I can’t see it. On the whole, sexual arousal seems to have less shame attached to it now than shoving one’s face directly into a bowl of Tokyo-style ramen and chowing down.
I had this principle in mind when I pitched the idea of ‘Chocolatiers on the High Winds’ to Circlet Press. I was lucky enough to attract the attention of Cecilia Tan, who writes scorching hot D/s fiction. I’m pleased to say I’m not the only one who finds the idea of guys in a steam-powered airship on an international quest for cacao beans to be a rockin’ good time.
To this end, I hope I’ve caused countless cravings today. If you’re just not able to go one minute more without something delicious to nibble: Congratulations! You’ve been food dommed.
H.B. Kurtzwilde resides in the distinctly southern portion of Florida where he is kept sane and happy by his darling partner and their pet house. Between renovation projects and Extreme Gardening missions, he writes science fiction and romance about loving queer, trans or both. He welcomes and encourages his readers to visit his Facebook Page, or email him at
