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Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

February 26, 2013 2 comments

Ginger chickens have notoriously poor decision making skills.

“You’re nuts.” the Fireman’s wife is barely containing her laughter. “Completely nuts. You know what a sadist is, right?”

“I still have the bruises from last weekend.” I find her reaction oddly calming. If she thinks it’s funny, he probably will, too.

“And you’re going to say that.”

“That’s the plan.”

“To his face.”

“It’s rude to talk behind people’s backs.”

“You’re nuts.”

“I get that a lot.”

I have to wait. There’s a beautiful woman draped over him, pouring wax onto her own skin. I watch, whispering with Mr. Photoshop about electricity, making tentative plans for later. Mr. Photoshop is distracting enough that I don’t notice when the dancing and wax ends, or see the Fireman approach. I feel his body heat, though: the man is a walking radiator even when he hasn’t been playing with fire and wax for three hours straight.

“Hey,” he nods at Mr. Photoshop, then turns to me. “I’m gonna get some water, then you’re up. Ready?”

“Ready.” I take a deep breath. “Wait. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to tell you this joke for two months.”

He raises an eyebrow, silent.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Why?”

“To find a top that didn’t hit like a little girl.”

His grin turns Cheshire cat. “How hard do I have to hit you to prove my manliness?”

“I dunno. Want to see if you can make me cry?”

“Water first, crazy girl. Then we cross the road.”

He practically skips out of the room. Mr. Photoshop shakes his head, staring at me. “You’re crazy. He’s going to tear you apart.”

“You think?”

“I’ve never seen a man look so happy. You just handed a toddler a box of crayons and a blank wall.”

I grin back. “Wait ’till you see the crayons.”

I blame Peroxide, by the way. By which I mean I owe Peroxide about five pounds of chocolate for this. That scene was amazing.

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A Long, Hard Fall

February 22, 2013 Leave a comment

I could say he dropped. More accurate to say I dropped him.

I was nervous. He’s shy of electricity, and had never showed any interest in CBT before. Yet there I was, attaching electrodes while he whimpered and clutched his hands into fists underneath me. I couldn’t help laughing: “I haven’t even turned it on yet!” Of course that didn’t last long, I started shocking, biting, taunting while he tried not to cover his face. I moved his hands, too roughly, surprised that he didn’t resist at all.

“So. . . I guess I like electricity.” His voice was steady but his eyes were shy.  I’m used to seeing his face confident and almost haughty, sure that he can take control back from me any second. This vulnerability is new. The vicious part of me wants to laugh, but I force it into a toothy grin. “Oh? Then you won’t mind if we try a higher setting.” He whimpers, closes his eyes. I’m sitting on his chest, I feel him tense up even as his breathing becomes steady and slow.

“I think I need to be tied up if you’re going to keep doing this.”  I hesitate. I hate rope. I could use zip ties–but no, he’s very strong. If he fights against 1/4 inch plastic he will cut himself. I plan to make him fight. Rope it is.  I tie his wrists to the headboard with a nameless, ugly knot. He gives it a look, pulling at it, testing its strength. The knots hold but he’s dragged us both a foot up the bed. That won’t do. I drag him back down by his feet and tie his ankles. He’s looking at me, wide-eyes and silent. “You okay?” I ask. He nods. I say “good.” I think Let’s see if we can’t change that.

I can’t say what happened when. I set the TENS unit to a 15-minute cycle. After that? There was pinching, slapping, mocking. He tried to speak, turned shy instead. I told him to repeat himself and thrust my fingers into his throat when he tried. I smothered him with my body, dialed the electricity slowly higher, smacked his thighs to keep them apart. There was a moment–he said “please” and buried his face in his shoulder without finishing the thought. “Please what?” He didn’t answer. “If you’re smart, you’ll beg me not to leave you tied up here all night when I’m done with you.” He jerked so hard then that I worried my ugly knots would slip, but they held. The TENS unit read one minute left. I picked it up. “Let’s see if you can handle the highest setting.” He was thrashing, trying grab hold of me. I turned the dial. He shouted then. “Less than a minute, you can do it.” I spoke softly. I’m not sure whether he heard.

The timer ran out. I found myself sitting on his thighs thinking oy, what next? Was that too much? Not enough?  He wasn’t looking at me, and I couldn’t read anything in his face. So I asked “Do you want–” and paused, stupidly, caught between “to stop” and “to keep going.” In hindsight it’s obvious I should have called the scene as soon as I got paranoid. He crumpled visibly, twisted himself small and away from me as much as he could.

I untied him quickly, and he rolled onto his side, away from me. And I screwed up. If I did this, curled up and turned my back on him, it would mean “don’t talk to me, don’t touch me, I need stillness and silence right now.” So I started coiling rope and wire, organizing and clearing up, trying to give him space. I did this for about three minutes before he started shouting that I was worse than Hitler for not holding him.

Obviously I dropped everything and dove in to cuddle and comfort. Too late: he didn’t want me to touch him because he was too angry at me for not touching him. Two seconds later he clung to me like a koala to a tree and started crying. Thirty seconds after that he kissed me more intensely than he had in years. Then inexplicable laughter. Through the whole of this I sat bewildered, wondering what the hell was going on and when Godwin’s Law had jumped off the Internet and into my sex life.

After he’d stabilized, I tried to ask about it. Meaning I started with “Did I break you?”

“No, I think that’s what sub drop is like though. You were asking what I wanted, and it jerked me out of my mental space.” He took a deep breath. “Please don’t ever do it again.”

“Pull you out of your headspace, or hurt you?”

“The headspace thing. Hurting is good.”

It could have ended worse. I keep telling myself that. But clearly I still have a lot to learn here.

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30 Days of Kink: Days 26-29*

February 18, 2013 Leave a comment

What’s your opinion on online BDSM play?

I think it’s the natural extension of combining a long-distance relationship and the Internet. It can be intimidating (or in smaller communities simply difficult) to find a local partner with enough overlap of interest to play with. Online play comes with very little attendant risk: inexperienced partners can’t do physical damage, anonymity can be maintained, fantasy can be indulged tonight with no worry about bruises tomorrow. That said, I don’t do it. Generally I’m very tactile- and olfactory-oriented; I doubt I could properly feel like I was playing with someone whose skin I couldn’t feel or whose hair I couldn’t smell. I enjoy flirting with one lovely boy over IM, but it’s just that: flirting. It can definitely leave me swooning or vicious or full of want, which is a lovely form of torment. Still, it doesn’t feel like play so much as foreplay that can’t go anywhere unless one of us wants to fly across the Mason-Dixon line. It’s worth it, because I know this boy rather well and he’s such a delight that I’m frankly addicted, but I don’t see even that level of Internet-based play happening with anyone else.

I know there are some erotic roleplaying options such as Elliquiy out there, and I’ve considered joining. I love to write, erotically and otherwise. However I’d hate to start something and get bored by a story moving in a direction I don’t care for, or rambling on too long, or (horror of horrors) a roleplaying partner with poor spelling or grammar.

Do your non-kink interests ever find their way into your kinky activities? If so, how?

Tangentially, I suppose. Shared interests are at least as important as physical appeal in finding a partner, so things like playing board games or discussing books/science/theology/philosophy can lead to a connection. My husband and I have played board and card games with stakes: winner gets to determine the night’s kinky activities. But mainly, no, there’s not much overlap.

How do you dress for kink/BDSM play? What significance does your attire have to you?

At home I don’t. It’s underwear or nothing. I do like to dress for play parties. High heels and short skirts are typical. I can go for any look from sweet Southern girl to leather librarian depending on the impression I want to make at a given party: a leather pencil skirt and crisp blouse advertise “domme,” hair under a pageboy cap with a boyish shirt and jeans say “lesbian,” &c. It provides a hint at least to folks who might be considering approaching for play. I also adore any excuse to dress up (My Halloween costume collection is starting to look like a DC rogue gallery. It’s awesome.), so getting fancy for play parties is just fun, even if I know it’s all coming off for a scene. Attire doesn’t have any greater significance for me; I don’t have a collar or other signifier of ownership by or of anyone else.

Do you have a BDSM title (e.g. mistress, master, slut, pig, whore, princess, goddess, ma’am, sir)? What is your opinion of the use of titles in general?

I do not. I generally prefer to use my name.  The occasional well-placed “ma’am” can snap me from feeling tentatively dominant into a very focused predatory/protective state, but I imagine it would be annoying if overused. I don’t mind being called a slut or whore for a scene, but it has to be pre-negotiated or I might flip out.

The thirtieth item was “whatever BDSM/kink related thing you want to write about.” I’m pretty sure the entirety of this blog counts as that, so I’m not going to try to come up with a mini-post for it here.

30 Days of Kink: Days 21-25

February 14, 2013 Leave a comment
  • Favorite BDSM related book(fiction or non-fiction)

Non-fiction: I’ll always have a soft spot for Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns, even though my copy was culled when we downsized the library to move after college. SM 101 met the same fate, but I’m very glad to have had it available as a beginner. These days I read a lot of BDSM related blogs, but don’t really feel the need to acquire more books on the subject.

Fiction: I don’t read much erotic fiction, BDSM or otherwise. It tends to disappoint. Seduce Me by Dahlia Schweitzer has several great erotic short stories. Some are kinky, some vanilla. She describes desire well, and reactions. There’s one story that I find intolerably creepy, but the rest are all more than good enough to make up for it. Bonus: it includes both straight and lesbian stories, and both seem to come naturally to the writer.

What do you think is important in keeping a BDSM relationship healthy? How does it differ from a vanilla relationship?

I don’t think it’s different per se. Vanilla relationships are just running Windows, and kinky ones run Linux.  We’re more customizable at the cost of ease of use.

That probably needs  unpacking. So, the relationship paradigm that we’re meant to understand as ideal based on media is all kinds of messed up. It’s something we’re shown from such a young age (think classic Disney movies and many fairy tales). It persists everywhere romance is to be seen in the mainstream, from Cosmo to Nicholas Sparks’ novels every TV drama ever. Some commonalities to this paradigm are: everyone has One True Love, communication is unnecessary or gauche at best,  men are always the sexual/romantic aggressors, it’s more useful to learn what women (or men) want generally than to ask what your partner specifically wants. It’s pre-packed with really unhelpful features and failsafes intended to stop you from accidentally crashing your system, but they do work for many people. The system says hitting is always bad, monogamy is always good, &c., and you never have to discuss when, how, or why hitting is okay or what exactly constitutes cheating now that you’re poly. To be clear, I’m not criticizing people who prefer default settings no matter how much I personally hate those settings. They’re functional.

If you’re into kink, you’ve got the advantage of having already rejected this paradigm on some level. Those of us who watched Sleeping Beauty and thought Princess Aurora was a useless moron and that there were worse thing for Prince Philip than being chained up by a pretty (if green) sorceress weren’t exactly primed to accept passive femininity. Most kinky folk understand that communication is absolutely vital, even if we’re not all stellar at actually communicating. But there are risks, extra precautions.The high degree of overlap between the kink and polyamorous communities means that many kinky people also need to think more about jealousy and issues affecting multiple relationships, partners’ relationships, &c. A healthy BDSM relationship can look like abuse. An abusive relationship can hide behind BDSM. You can set criteria for a scene or a relationship and not realize that it’s been interpreted a certain way or doesn’t cover a certain situation. You have nothing to fall back on when things go wrong but your own relationship skills. If those are sub-par, if you’re prone to tantrums and need to win every argument (we’re talking about me here, sadly) then it’s going to be a lot harder.

Since you first developed an interest in kink, have your interests/perspectives changed? How so?

God, I don’t know. I was fifteen. I’ve learned a lot, and surely still have a lot to learn, but how much of that is kink related, how much is just growing up?

I’ve gotten over the obsessive need to prove myself. I still love pushing boundaries–my own and others’–but I’m willing to say “stop, not fun anymore” instead of biting my lip and forcing myself to get through something just to prove I can.  On a related note, I’ve stopped believing that more kinky meant better kinky. I used to feel like I was being too vanilla if I didn’t try or like basically any kink activity. So even though intricate bondage bores the hell out of me, I did it. A lot. ‘Cause that’s what badass BDSM types do. (I know. Shut up.

I’ve stopped assuming that being a masochist required being submissive. I like pain. I am bossy and demand it. The more I talk about this with submissive friends, the more I realize our experiences of the same scene are completely different. I am okay with this.

I’m getting better at saying “no” and standing behind it when I’m not in the mood for something I sometimes like. I’m better at

What qualities do you look for in a partner?

I don’t really go out looking for partners. When there’s a rapport, when flirting comes easy and is reciprocated, when a person isn’t put off by my forwardness, my brain goes “look, potential partner. Go fix your hair.” My favorite people are the ones that make me feel predatory. If I steal more than a couple of glances, or orbit a conversation looking for a way to join, I’ve likely found someone interesting and am entering Socially Awkward Shark mode. See, I’m not really good at wordplay or sensual conversation or normal flirting. So I’ll up and say things like “I’m sorry, your cleavage is really amazing. I just want to bury my face it it.” (Yes, this has worked. More than once.)

There’s not a single “type” of person that gets me into Socially Awkward Shark mode, but there are some common factors. A little shyness is appreciated–it’s easy to get the attention and conversation of an extrovert, but an introvert has to really want to talk to you to approach. Almost everyone I’m attracted to is a nerd, but that’s partly because those are 90% of the people I meet socially. I hang out in gaming shops and the sci-fi sections of bookstores, as well as at BDSM events, which are full of nerds. Shared interests–cooking, nutrition, science, books, philosophy–help a lot.  A sense of responsibility is appreciated–members of the BDSM club who join in to help out when the play space is moving or step up when needed to organize an event or something get a lot of extra points.  Anything that’s conducive to forming a rapport is a bonus towards potential play or relationship.

As for physical type, I’m not very picky. Without regard for gender, I’m drawn to people shorter than me, gingers always preferred. Any striking feature–unusually green eyes, extremely black skin, scars–will grab my attention. I care more about how people move than how they look. Graceful movement and good posture (neither of these are features I can claim) are far more attractive than body type to me. I’ve never met a fencer I didn’t fancy. It’s the wrists. Finally, I hunt by smell. Oppressive perfume or cologne, the smell of smoke and especially marijuana are complete deal breakers. If I can’t comfortably breathe near a person, I’ll avoid being near them.

How open are you about your kinks?

It’s binary. I am completely open with:

  • people I meet via the BDSM community
  • a very few very close friends
  • my therapist and my gynecologist. If it ever seems relevant, other medical professionals will be included.
  • strangers on the Internet who don’t know who I really am (hi, y’all!)

I and completely closeted with:

  • family (my sister could become an exception to this, maybe)
  • any potential or past employers or employees (let’s be professional here.)
  • any potential or past academic connections (ditto)
  • anyone with whom I volunteer. Double extra careful when I’m working at the women’s shelter.
  • those acquaintances or friends for whom it is either irrelevant (because our association is e.g. limited to gaming, not personal) or who would most likely disapprove (the deeply religious or conservative)
  • strangers I meet in person. It’s personal.

In an ideal world kink would be something I could mention if it came up, but wouldn’t have to make a big deal out of. I’ve tried to do this in reference to bisexuality in the past: I’m not shy about telling stories that start with “my ex-girlfriend. . .” if it relates to conversation, and I refuse to let it be an issue (I respond to shock with “yes, I like women and men. Anyway. . .” but female bisexuality is a minority generally accepted, if misunderstood, by the mainstream. Non-monogamy and kink really can’t be mentioned to most people without conjuring images of cheating and abuse. In an ideal world I’d have the mental fortitude and patience to work through that with people, to educate and advocate &c, but kink is not my whole life. If I did that I would never have time to do anything else.

No One’s Laughing

February 8, 2013 2 comments

This is a kinky blog. I had never intended to mention racism here, because I assumed that kinky folks were above racism. We appear in popular culture only as a joke. We’re thought of as abusers and mad people addicted to abuse. What we do consensually is often illegal regardless of circumstance. It can lose us jobs, parental rights, social status. We’re accused of creating a haven for rapists and sociopaths, of doing irreparable psychological harm, of being sick and twisted and broken. We are an oppressed minority.

Except we’re not. Not really. Every last one of us has the ability to do what I do, to walk down the street unrecognized. We have passing privilege any time we want it. Maybe that makes it easier for some people not to think or not to care about the effects of racism within our community, while claiming that we are creating a haven for the oppressed.

I have heard a lot of people–mostly white people with mostly white social circles–try to explain that certain actions and words are not racist, and I should lighten up. Take a joke. A joke that’s only funny if it’s about a certain minority isn’t funny, it’s bigoted. If you don’t understand that, if you’ve never felt that sick drop in the pit of your stomach that comes from realizing that for some reason there are people out there who view you as less than human, you’re lucky. That’s not an attack and I hope that security is never taken from you. You should stand against bigotry anyway. Help everyone know a little more of that security. It costs nothing, requires only conscience and a few words.

I’m talking about this. The Portland Eagle booked an act that consisted of blackface. I only learned about it today, because I live in the South (and under a rock, let’s be honest) and only keep an eye on local events. This is a problem anywhere. It requires a response everywhere. As a community we exist to explore our sexuality and have fun free from oppression. If we wish to continue to exist with this expectation, we have a responsibility to ensure that the community provides freedom from oppression for all of its members, not just the white or straight or cisgendered or M/f oriented or young or attractive. All. So no mocking, no standing up for racism (or domism or homophobia or any other damn bigotry), and no looking away and mumbling about the right to a different opinion, either. This is important. It is harmful. We are better than this.

Now go read Mollena’s bit about it. She says it better than I could here: http://www.mollena.com/2013/02/blackface-still-racist-yall/

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30 Days of Kink: Days 16-20

February 7, 2013 2 comments

What are the most difficult aspects of having a sexuality that involves kink or BDSM for you personally?

It’s not easy living in a society where sexual repression is the norm, and being kinky, non-heterosexual, or non-monogamous are so deeply misunderstood that even fairly open-minded folks come with a truckload of misconceptions all of which have to be disassembled before a real discussion can start. I’d love to be able to say “my girlfriend feels unappreciated, what do I do?” or “My husband is out with this boy he likes and said boy’s girlfriend and I’m lonely.” when I call my mother, because she gives very sound relationship advice and I like involving her in my life. But since she’s amazed that I “let” my husband have female friends without supervision, I sense that conversation is off the table.

I don’t like being in the closet. It’s not that I think everyone needs to know about my sex life, but people do ask about bruises or joke about my “dominatrix shoes.” I’m really bad at lying, though less particular about telling the truth. . . from a certain point of view. This means that I say things like “oh, I’m getting into boxing. Turns out my partner is great at MMA. He sort of uses me as a human punching bag.” All of those sentences are true, but the phrasing implies a completely vanilla sparring match, not me holding on to a cross while getting beaten for an hour.

Being kinky isn’t particularly difficult or stressful for me other than that, though. I think having kink from my very earliest relationship prevented a lot of the emotional issues that seem to crop up for some people. I have emotional issues, of course, just none that obviously spring from BDSM.

What misconception about kinky people would you most like to clear up?

People are not defined by their roles. Within the community, I’ve heard people express shock that someone identifying as submissive could organize events or provide useful advice. (It’s almost as though they can think just like people!). I watched a man shake his head and say a couple obviously doesn’t have a “real” D/s relationship because when the sub asked for a drink, her dom brought one to her. Your identity is what you make it. Your relationship likewise. I’m not saying people are bad at kink if they fit neatly in a certain prepackaged definition of BDSM, but if they think that their way is the only way, they suck. They also suck if they don’t understand that no identity or relationship should ever be dehumanizing. (yes, I know people kink on that. There’s a difference between objectifying someone consensually for a scene and not respecting him as a person at all. The first is kinky. The second is sociopathic.) There are many assumptions and preconceptions that seem awfully common in the scene. I’ll get to that in the next question.

Outside the community, there’s the idea that we’re freaks. Maybe that’s true. We like some freaky things. We desire and indulge in the stuff of nightmares. But we aren’t evil or broken (at least, not in any greater proportion than the general population). We’re different, and difficult to categorize, and worth getting to know.

Any kinky/BDSM pet peeves? If so, what are they?

Oh, so many. So, so many.

The assumption that switch=confused or in denial. Stop it. Just stop it. Yes, that guy just beat on me for an hour. No, that doesn’t prove I’m a “good little sub.” Keep grinning when I roll my eyes and I will prove it by kicking you so hard you can’t say “safeword.”

The default assumption that male=dom, female=sub. See above. I will hurt you. It will not be sexy.

The default assumption that top=dom and bottom=sub. Sometimes these correlate. Sometimes not. Stop assuming already.

The assumption that sub=your sub. Even if you correctly identify a submissive person, you don’t get to just start being Mr. Domly Dom at them. This is just as insane and creepy as assuming that you can walk up to a girl at a bar and just start being her girlfriend with no conversation, building of rapport, flirting, seducing, or. . . oh darn, what was that last one? Oh, right: consent.

The assumption that doms>subs. This one just. . . grr. I wish all the Subby Subs would just up and disappear for a bit so the Domly Doms would have to realize that they need someone to be the dom of.

The assumption that males>females. This comes out in odd ways. Like forced feminization and sissification. I’m sorry, but you want to show how sick, worthless, objectifiable, submissive, or sub-human you are by dressing or acting the way I do every day? See the problem yet?

The assumption that het male subs<everyone else. Guys? There are dominant women out there who want to do wonderful, terrible things to you. I promise.

The assumption that female doms=male sub fantasy delivery services. Guys? I know you’re excited, but if you want a woman to be Ms. Domly Domme for you, could you maybe not start by burying her under a fetish list, calling her “mistress” when she hasn’t asked you to, or cheerfully announcing your worthlessness? As an alternative–and I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out–start by finding out what she wants.

The assumption (not kink-specific) that no=maybe, later, keep asking, keep asking some more, maybe try whining next, etc. Seriously, stop it. It’s creepy. If I tell a man I’m not up for beating him at a party because it conflicts with a scene I planned a week before, he has a few choices. He can say “okay,” and move on. This is a good choice. He can say “but you could do something real quick right now, your scene hasn’t started yet.” I will take a deep breath and say “no,” again, because he’s really new, but it’s a not-so-good choice. Then he can go around the party and whine to everyone who will listen that I’m a mean meanie head who won’t play with him. This is a bad choice, unless the desired result is to be added to the mental list of people I will never, ever play with.

The (related) assumption that anyone with the correct kink orientation who is single or poly is obligated to play with you. Yes, I did cane Midas Boy. No, I won’t cane you. Maybe I’m not in the mood, or don’t find you attractive, or think you’re a snotty, whiny child because of the way you acted last time I said no. Maybe I got put off when we tried to negotiate and you said you’d do anything. Maybe you just plain creep me out because of that thing you said about your wife. Maybe I just left the canes at home tonight. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to play with you if I don’t want to, and I don’t owe you an explanation either. Go away. I’ll respect you more if you’re graceful about it; it’s pretty much the only way to improve your odds next time.

The assumption that kink events have to be all kink all the time. Some people get this. It’s fun to hang out in the social area of a play party and talk recipes or linguistics or board games. Some people think this is weird and want to interrupt by shouting “why are you talking about peanut butter? Look over there, that girl is on fire!” Yeah, we know she’s on fire. She was on fire last time, and the time before. It’s kind of her thing. These cookies are new to party repertoire. Also, interrupting is rude.
Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life? If so, what are they?

Er…no? I mean, I like kink, doing kinky stuff makes me happy, therefore my life is improved. That’s not so unexpected. It’s not like I exercise more or better to improve my kinky skills (I should, but I don’t), or have more confidence outside of a kink context because of it. This is a strange question.

Talk about something within kink/bdsm that you’re curious about/don’t understand.

Two questions in one! Whee! I am really quite curious about fire play. I’d like to learn to do it. Not sure there will be an opportunity any time soon, but I’ve told the fire top I know that I’d be interested if he has the time.

I don’t understand quite a few things. CNC–consensual non-consent–outside of certain intense roleplaying scenarios just freaks me out. I’ve read about an intense CNC Nazi torture scene, and witnessed a kind of cute Salem witch trial one. I get that. I can’t imagine doing it, but I get it. That isn’t a dom pretending to rape a sub, that’s a group of people acting, a semi-improv theater of torture that ends with things being okay because the tormentor is not really an evil Nazi. The role is discarded and both parties know that the things that were said and done in the scene are gone with it. CNC without that element of roleplaying just scares me. How can someone want to even pretend that his partner’s consent doesn’t matter? Why would either party want to? How at the end of things can either of them be sure how much of that was real? It’s just too frightening for me to think about.

30 Days of kink: Days 12-15

February 1, 2013 Leave a comment

I’m going to knock a few of these out at a go here.

Tell us about a humorous BDSM/kink experience you’ve had. If you haven’t had one, talk about aspects of kink/BDSM you find funny.

I’m a switch married to a switch. Sometimes this works out perfectly, when he feels sadistic and I want pain or vice versa. Others, less well. Mostly when this happens it’s because we both want to top. We have various ways of deciding in these situations, from grappling to playing board games with stakes. And then there was last time. Which is only funny if you play D&D. This conversation occurred in D&D 3.5.

 

Let’s settle this.

 

Me- “Of course I get to be in charge. I’m charming.”

Him- “So? I’m charming too.”

“Nah. I have like 18 charisma. You’re just cute.”

“I don’t think you can be the domme of me just because you have a high Cha. Unless you’re trying to use Bluff?”

“Maybe I’m a sorcerer with a school specialization in Enchantment. I cast Dominate Person!”

“Well maybe I’m a dwarf and have a +2 racial bonus on saves against spells.”

“You’re too tall to be a dwarf. Anyway, your wedding ring is actually a cursed item that gives you a -5 penalty to resisting me.”

“What? I thought we looked at the crafting rules when you were making your sea witch and couldn’t find any for cursed items.”

“That’s your objection?”

“Also you shouldn’t give your husband cursed items or be casting mind affecting spells on me.”

“Well if you’d just let me be on top I wouldn’t have to.”

“Hang on, I think we need to roll and see if you can do this.”

I’d say this was an anomaly, but really we talk like this pretty often. So yeah, hi, my name is Nicole and I’m a giant nerd…

 
Explain as best you can what the appeal of kink/BDSM is to you? Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?

I hate this question. The appeal is that it gets me off, from the fact that I can literally orgasm from pain alone to the amazing sexual rush of bringing someone to his/her knees. No one would ask “but why do you like redheads so much?” or “what’s the appeal of New Mexican cuisine?” because these are fairly common things to like. BDSM is less socially accepted, so people feel the need to explain it and have it explained. Sure, you could probably get into a variety of psychological bases for the appeal, but unless someone is just using BSDM as some sort of therapy it’s really not a useful thing to do. I’m drawn to it because it’s fun and exciting and sexy as hell. End of story.

How would you say real life BDSM/kink varies from fantasy BDSM/kink? If you haven’t experienced real life BDSM/kink how do you think it might differ?

Nothing goes wrong in a fantasy. No one ties a knot that cuts off circulation or lands a hit too hard or two inches to the right of where they meant to. No one misinterprets a word or a gesture, hardcore non-negotiated rape fantasies can be played out with zero risk of crossing an actual line. Fantasy is completely safe.

No one touches you in a fantasy. There’s no hot breath on the back of your neck, no sting of leather on skin. In a fantasy two people don’t close off the rest of the world and open up to each other, and can’t kick off that exquisite feedback loop of trust and arousal and connection. Fantasy can’t anticipate the unexpected, not just things gone wrong but little moments, a chuckle under someone’s breath, the tingling taste of a hard kiss, the shiver when your partner says “I want–” and you don’t know yet what’s coming next.

I’ll take real life every time.

Post a BDSM/kink activity you’re curious about and would like to try.

Oy. Do you know how many different activities are out there? It’s insane. No really, look. So much kinky kinkiness! I’ve tried a substantial chunk of the landscape, cordoned off a number of areas to never ever try, and then yes, of course there are some things that look interesting but who knows. At the moment I’m looking for a really heavy impact scene. I play pretty heavy with impact already, so this may seem like cheating. The difference is, I’d like to do some limit testing. I want to get beaten until I have to safeword. Not because I want to be punished or badly hurt, but because I want to know where my pain limits are and want to end a scene without the mild frustration of thinking “I could have kept going.” There’s something delightful about being completely tapped out.

There are some considerations that make this difficult. First of all I can take a pretty heavy beating, so the top would have to be quite strong and have a lot of stamina. Second is trust. This goes both ways: obviously I need a partner I can trust to play safely and stay within other limits even while trying to break this one, but my partner also needs to know that doing this wouldn’t be a problem later. I don’t see using a safeword as necessarily meaning a scene has gone wrong (though obviously sometimes it does) but not everyone sees it that way. Third, noise. This can’t be done at home. There will be screaming, cursing, crying, and audible impact. Neighbors would call the police if they’re even halfway responsible people. So it’s a scene that would have to happen at the club and should probably include a heads-up to the DM. Fourth, I volunteer with battered women. Yes, really. Location of bruises is going to become more restrictive as the weather gets warmer.  It can–and likely will–happen, but the planning will have to be more careful and more heavily negotiated than usual.