Hierarchy 293 – Signaling
How signaling helps us hierarchically!
SITE: https://hierarchypodcast.com/hierarchy-293-signaling/
SPOTIFY: https://open.spotify.com/show/2TqhwaNl7kdcyZXK7YL5FV?si=1Trk3AbJTH6UWx1UVRYMrw
AMAZON: https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/b09c451b-5400-481c-b69e-85463cf2e84c/the-hierarchy-podcast
APPLE: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-hierarchy-podcast/id1778739988
A friend of the site named Nick sent me an email today with a link to a fascinating video about Male signaling and how it works within Hierarchy.
I loved it so much that I downloaded it and uploaded it here. It comes from a substack titled “Men Are Good”. The direct link can be found HERE.
So much of what he says is 100% accurate, and everything I’ve studied and preached about Male interaction within Hierarchy for my entire life, It’s always breathtaking to me to hear secular, “outside” scholars, sociologists, and sex therapists discuss Hierarchy in clean scientific terms!
Hierarchy is undeniable, folks. The more you fight it, the tighter its grip becomes!
I rarely dream about being in love.
My lifetime spent in service to Alphas has largely made the possibility of being in love an impossibility. I’ve certainly been in love with a couple of my Masters, straight Alphas who could never fully return my love. And I’ve had people in love with me, mostly girls to whom I could never return affection.
Thirty years of service to Men have passed since my heart first opened like a hopeful flower in my foolish youth. They have been years filled with the wonders of discovery, of purpose and discipline. Yet they remain like cold stone sculptures in the statuary garden of my life.
But occasionally my subconscious allows a sunrise of a dream of love to warm the concrete and grow the smothering ivy choking it.
A dream of being in love, it happened last night. I want to share it with you.
I was a proper English lad in the early 20th century, maybe between the World Wars. Like all proper boys of that time, I was dapper in my crisp white shirt, black tie, and black wool slacks.
Matching me almost exactly in dress was my Alpha, William. Ah, William! He of the chiseled jaw, the confident smile, the jet black hair slicked back, his sharp, dark eyes peering like an animal from beneath his low, shadowy brow.
We were on the third floor of a cavernous English mansion, seemingly alone and safe. William sat confidently on a tall bannister that stood guard against a precipitous drop to the ballroom floor below. And I was between his legs, my head in his lap.
His large, heavy hand gently stroked my head. I’d never felt such a breathless peace before. It was like being a boy at home, wrapped in a favorite blanket while held by Mom … except there was a sort of electrical excitement quivering beneath the surface. The whole world felt alive in that moment, simultaneously infinite and intimate, and endlessly possible.
William began humming, just random notes I think, but in them I heard a song.
Excitement overwhelmed me and I popped up with a huge, child-like grin, and kissed his surprised face right on his cheek. I began spinning in a dance across the dark hardwood floor, singing the lyrics to William’s tune as they arose from my heart.
With our love in bloom,
I’m singing a tune,
That could lead careless lovers off a cliff,
And if that bloom had a scent,
Of poisoned intent,
You’ll forgive me for taking a whiff.
My dance took to a third-floor balcony overlooking a stately garden courtyard. Encircling the rear of the house were a series of closely-arranged marble columns three stories high.
In my pure, fearless joy I leaped from the balcony to land precisely on the top of the nearest column. As William protested, I jumped again to the next column, except this one was covered in vines and topped with moss. I slipped slightly, and I nearly plunged to my death.
I lowered myself and laid on my stomach on top of the column, fear gripping me as I breathlessly gazed at the concrete below.
“Are you alright?” asked William. He had leaped right to me and was standing over me. I looked up and saw his shiny black dress shoe near my face.
My William is here to rescue me! Foolish me! I thought. I instantly felt completely safe … and completely ashamed.
I carefully crawled on my belly until I could properly reach his feet, and then I tenderly kissed his shoe with all of the gratitude I could express.
“Good boy,” said William. “Good boy.”
And then I woke up.
I’m not sure why I felt the need to share this with you all. Partly it’s for the sake of my own memory, since I don’t want to lose William’s nonexistent love.
But maybe I want to share it as a kind of warning. Being a faggot and living it properly can sometimes be like trying to find the treat in a maze that has no treats and all dead ends.
That sounds more hopeless than I intended, but it’s true. We are born to a life of service to Alphas who can love us like a favorite dog (which is itself a powerful love), but it’s not like being in love.
Our Masters will most likely never be in love with us. We were born disposable, stamped with an invisible sell-by date. Every dismissal, every passing year, every new wrinkle … they all add to the weight of that eventual reality.
I’m proud to be a faggot. I’m not sad about the purpose selected for me, nor regret my enthusiastic fulfillment of that purpose.
But aside from Baby Boy, I’ve never known truly reciprocal love in my adult life.
Except when my mind, in a flash of merciful sunlight, allows me a moment to dance in it.
Always,
sam the faggot
It started off like any other night.
I had just finished cleaning the kitchen, countertops wiped down, floor spotless, everything ready for Sir Declan’s return. I thought I was done for the night.
Then I turned around.
He was standing there.
Before I could even say a word, I was pushed up against the wall. His hand pressed against my back, firm and steady, while the other grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back. The sharp sound of zip ties tightening filled the room.
Once he had full control, he didn’t say a word.
He led me to the couch, each step reminding me that I wasn’t in charge of anything anymore. He shoved me down into the cushions, adjusting me exactly how he wanted, bent forward, exposed, completely vulnerable. My shorts and underwear were yanked down in one motion. I could feel his breath close behind me.
The first smack landed hard.
Then another. And another. Each one heavier than the last until the heat on my ass turned into a deep, stinging burn. I could barely stay still, but the zip ties kept me from moving too much. When he was finally satisfied, he ran his hand over my skin, feeling the warmth and redness he caused.
But it wasn’t over.
He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and dragged me to the bedroom. The cage door clanged open, zip ties cut and before I could even get a word out, he shoved me inside. My wrists were cuffed behind my back now, the cold steel replacing the zip ties. Then came the heavy collar, a solid steel band locked tight around my neck.
A padlock clicked, then another.
A chain ran from the top of the cage to my collar, locking me into a kneeling position. I could barely shift my weight without hearing the rattle of metal. My head hung low, my body trembling, the marks on my ass still throbbing.
I had no idea how long I’d be there.
Minutes felt like hours. Every sound in the house made me wonder if he was coming back or if he was just watching.
Thirty minutes later, I finally heard the keys.
The locks opened one by one. My wrists were freed. The collar came off. I was exhausted, red, and still shaking.
All I knew was that my ass had been punished and Sir Declan had gotten exactly what he wanted.
X/🦋: @jktoronto11
🎁 Declan’s Throne:
throne.com/jktoronto11
The following post is part of a thread chronicling the thoughts and experiences of a young straight Alpha who goes by the name Red Archivist (@RedObservers) on X. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
One of the more intriguing Alpha accounts on X is that of @RedObservers, otherwise known as Red Archivist. He’s a young (unsure of his age) straight Alpha who has already come to learn about hierarchical truth and has taken ownership of faggots both personal as well as online. When he’s not at school, gaming, or creating excellent digital art, he’s banging girls and draining faggots.
His account is interesting to me because, in-between the graphics and typical cashmaster stuff, Red Archivist adds more introspective, post-length ruminations about various topics. He’s thoughtful in that way.
Yesterday he wrote a post about an observation he had regarding the origins of his Alphahood and how it was revealed through others around him. He wrote this:
A little anecdote from the past where I was exposed by a friend.
A few years ago, I was in a duo with a friend of mine. We were playing 5v5, but one of our team members disconnected. My friend and I continued playing, and alone we were so strong that we were winning the match, even with four players. For those who’ve seen me play, you know I’m usually pissed off with my teammates because they’re always so bad, but in that match there was someone who, despite being terrible and having even picked a completely useless champion, I liked him so much that at the end of the match I even invited him to join my team. My friend was confused and asked me why I wanted him on my team if he was absolutely crap. At that moment, I responded completely instinctively and said, “I like him because he keeps complimenting us.” Throughout the game, he kept writing, “Wow, gg, you guys are so good” and stuff like that, and I liked having someone fawning over me so much that I even wanted to invite him to play again, haha. My friend then started laughing and making fun of me because he said I liked “ass kissers”. And I do. But normal people don’t, especially if these ass kissers sucks. And it wasn’t the first time it happened either. I often played with a friend who was much worse than me, and I would intentionally boost him just because he kept complimenting me while we played. I hated that we lost games because he was useless, but I loved getting my ass kissed too much so I kept playing with him. I was a kid and I still didn’t know anything about being a master and stuff, I just liked having weaklings around complimenting me. It felt so damn good.
Nowdays I just play with my bros, so these things doesn’t happen anymore. But few weeks ago a random dude dropped me his gun during a final match in Valorant, because I didn’t had the money to buy the gun for myself, and told me: “it’s better if you have it, I’m bad”. I heard my bro (who’s was playing with me) giggling and then he said: “I know you liked it”(referring to the fact that all my friends now know that I love being flattered) And I was “I just came bro” haha. I love forcing and showing my superiority over randoms, it’s basically the only reason i play certain games.
This is yet another example of what I’ve always said: our place within hierarchy is determined from birth. As we grow, our experiences help to bring out those natural inclinations and encourage their development. In the case of Red Archivist, the attention his Alphahood attracted made him feel powerful, which in turn pushed him to further embrace that power over others.
His story closely mirrors 15-year-old Alpha Lucas I covered last year. In both cases, these young Alphas learned early that they can (and should) be worshiped by inferiors. I’m sure that is a heady concept for any young Man or Alpha, but all they know is that it just feels right.
So if you’re a young person out there reading this site and wondering if these feelings you have are normal, just know they are, There are many young Alphas and faggots discovering the same truth you are. So don’t be afraid. As Red Archivist has learned, this is not something to fear, but rather to embrace.
Only then can it make your life into what nature intended!
