To be clear, I’m not talking about Frodo, Bilbo, Gandalf, and all of those memorable characters from Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring.
The ring in question here—her ring—could be the metallic one in her victim’s nose, by which she jerks him around to her liking. Let’s hope that ring is a metaphor.
But her other ring, her ultra-intimate, flesh-formed “O,” the orifice she demands that he kiss, confronts him with stark reality. His grim destiny is to osculate her nether ring as long as she compromises his power to resist.
She is the Domme, the Vixen, the Diva—or whatever one calls the femme fatale who gets the drop on a man and becomes his Queen of the Blue Balls—and a Ball-Buster on top of that—usually juggling several slaves simultaneously to stimulate herself with the constant, gratifying gush of male submission.
Her brazen acts and condescending tyranny collide with his cluelessness in a trainwreck that grips Femdom fans—readers and writers alike—in a vise of ambivalence. Her ruthless dominance repulses us, but we cannot pry our eyes away from her virtuosa performance in annihilating her victim’s dignity.
For our part, we unconsciously form a Fellowship of Her Ring—a kinky devotion to an individual Domme or to the archetype of all dominant women. Our alliance may be as loose as a confederation or as strong as mutual visions of the same or similar female demons—sometimes real Dommes, but more often fictional characters.
Although I never met Burt Boyar in person or spoke to him by phone, he and I forged such visions of Dommes, tinged with more than a little fear of them.
After Burt favorably reviewed books I’d written, I thanked him by email. We struck up a long-distance friendship despite being separated by the continental United States. We wondered if Hollywood might venture into mainstream Femdom cinema, hoping the Male Dom Fifty Shades of Grey had pushed the gate ajar.
Alas, no luck.
Burt even fantasy-cast Nicole Kidman (presumably with a black wig) as one of my characters, Catherine Roman. Ms Kidman, coincidentally, stands 5-10, just like the fictional Catherine.
I envisioned Gina Gershon as Catherine, although she’s shorter, because she can radiate withering sarcasm with the slightest smirk, bringing submissive men to heel without speaking a word. As Catherine, though, Ms Gershon would need to sport a softer look than her role in Bound.
Kate Beckinsale would make a striking Catherine, possibly reprising some of her leather outfits from Underworld, melded with her deliciously bitchy persona from Love and Friendship. One can dream, can’t he?
Burt also spoke well of my FDC characters Gilda Cane, Bianca Nero, and Anis Rimmler, among others from Goldenrod and The Golden Screw. Burt and I were on the same wavelength concerning the appearance and behaviour of dominant women.
But, straying from the FDC philosophy, Burt and I actually hoped to meet such aggressive women in real life and surrender to them.
At this point I need to make it clear ours was not a friendship of equals. Burt achieved monumental success as a writer—reaching heights I can barely imagine, much less attain.
Burt and his first wife, Jane, toiled for years transforming lengthy tape-recorded interviews into Yes, I Can, the best-selling autobiography of Sammy Davis, Jr. Younger readers, less familiar with the multi-talented African-American, should note that a British promoter aptly dubbed Mr Davis “the greatest entertainer in the world.”
Burt and Jane also wrote about Francisco Franco’s manoeuvres to prevent Hitler from occupying Spain during World War II. Regardless of one’s opinion of Franco, allowing the Nazis direct access to the Strait of Gibraltar would have dealt a strategic blow to the Allies. Franco also gave sanctuary to tens of thousands of Jews.
The Boyars ventured further into biography and less-so into fiction, producing a number of volumes, any one of which would have established their place in literature. To me, the crowning touch was Burt’s memoir: Blessed.
When Burt tried his hand at Femdom, however, he moved cautiously. He once allowed me to peruse his unfinished manuscript about a dominant lady, And God Made Woman. I eagerly offered suggestions, such as a title change, but refrained from interfering extensively.
As a former editor, I would have appropriated his Domme, making her a girdle-clad vixen zealously spanking her slave and heaping verbal abuse on him. Despite her beauty, my rewritten femme fatale would have unleashed raunchy behaviour to humiliate her submissive—not Burt’s image of the Domme, at all.
Still, I wish I had offered more opinions, more plotting options, and more sweat equity in Burt’s project. He reached out to me, and I didn’t meet him halfway.
I regret my dearth of suggestions even more than I rue the absence of mainstream Femdom movies. But my greatest regret is that Yes, I Can has not been made into a movie yet—more than fifty years after its publication.
But it’s too late to restore those acts of omission.
After not hearing from Burt for months on end, convinced he was chafed at me for not helping more on his novel or for my own dry spell in writing new Femdom stories, I learned the real reason for his email silence.
Burton Anselm Boyar passed away in his sleep at his home in Los Angeles on April 4, 2018. He was 90.
I only knew him for four of those years, but I thoroughly enjoyed one of those rare moments when a writer connects with a reader, and vice versa. Burt went out of his way to express his appreciation for works he admired, notably the fiction of Lizbeth Dusseau.
If Burt had ever found his ideal Domme, I doubt he’d kiss her ring. And he might have hesitated to press his face to her vertical lips. But he’d allow her to lead him around by a ring in his nose, and he would have acted less her slave and more her servant: politely accommodating her wishes with flair and aplomb.
All that I’ve heard and read about Burt Boyar indicates that’s the kind of man he was—a pleasure to know.
And, for the span of a few years, he and I shared membership in the Fellowship of Her Ring.
By Wes Royal
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