Under the Jungle Gym

For some reason I’m not succeeding in writing about current things in my life, little though there may be, so I shall write a memory. Sure, it may be filled in here or there, but I never claimed to have a good memory. But it is rather ingrained in my mind…

It was one of those nights where it was cold-though-not-exactly-winter. Maybe it was a February thaw, maybe it was a cold night in march. We walked, hand in hand, except when our hands broke for a grope, a kiss, a shove, a scratch… anything really. Our hands were all over each other. We walked to the playground, just to be outside, without parents. To not fuck in the car, again. We walked to the plastic playground, lit by the moon and a yellow street lamp casting shadows of trees.

Under the jungle gym, she shoved me up against the plastic tic-tac-toe, and quickly reached under my shirt. She kissed me, hard, as she twisted my nipple, hard. She didn’t do things by halves. She leaned in again, this time going for my neck, biting down and adding to my bruises there. My hands found their way under her jacket and shirt, my nails leaving red trails across her back.

But mostly I remember the moon, and her hand unzipping my jeans and without pulling them down, finding their way under my underwear and sliding inside me. I mostly remember the moon, and the feel as her other hand slid around my neck and began to squeeze.

I stopped breathing. I stopped trying to breathe. I could have still, I think, but I didn’t even try to find out.

She let go for a moment, and I took a few breaths, nodding to her to put her hand back. She squeezed harder that second time, and longer. I closed my eyes, closed myself off from the world. No sight, no breath, and everything began to fade to white as I got off.

I don’t remember the feel of her fingers inside me that night. I don’t remember how she sucked and bit my neck, or how she twisted my nipple, just that she did. I remember how her hand felt, that first time someone took my breath out of the equation.

The next day at school, no one noticed the bruises from her hand mixed in among the hickies. And that was the way I wanted it.

Review: Blue Riding Crop

The new year brings in a new post! And a determination to not disappear again.

At 26 inches, this pretty blue riding crop is quite a bit longer than the one I already had (which was more like 13.) I really enjoy riding crops, and had got S to appreciate them as well, so I was quite happy when Fascinations sent me this one.

It has a nicely textured rubber handle that helps keep a good grip, and the shaft is a really beautiful blue, which makes it easier to find admidst my black clothing, floggers, and other such things. The tip is leather, and soft enough that it won’t cause any unexpected, or unintended, damage. Also as it was longer and the shaft seemed thinner than my old crop, I figured it would be swishier (I was right.) All in all, I was ready to enjoy it, and it met my expectations exactly.

What made this crop particularly different from my previous one, is that this crop is very swishy. That swishy translated to more stingy. Now, I don’t usually like stingy toys to be used on me, but I very much enjoy using this crop on others, and have even enjoyed it on myself. It is fairly intense, though that depends in part on the way it is wielded. Also, due to the narrow head, can be used to hit very specific body parts, like a person’s nipples. This application is where I feel the crop excels. Targeting specific spots, like nipples (clamped for the sadists out there) or the clit, creates a delightful sting. I don’t usually like stingy pain but targeted on my nipples this crop caused lots of fun squirming. I couldn’t even pull of pretending to not like it for the sake of protesting, it was fun.

Like any impact toy, please practice on an object like a pillow before taking it to someone’s body. It is important to know how and where it will hit, as well as have some sense of how hard you’re hitting. Also, it’s nice to know how it will feel in your hand. Remember: broken bottom = bad top.

Roles and Growth

In high school, I was damn sure I was submissive. I remember wandering around with a friend, just hanging out, talking about how she actually had confidence, but failed at seeming confident, whereas I was good at seeming confident without actually having any. I didn’t want to have to be confident, I wanted to submit.

In college, I realized I was a switch. Pretty early on in fact, because by the end of my freshman year I was identifying as a switch, though usually with bottom tendencies. Somewhere along the way I started getting more comfortable being dominant, being toppy.

There are times when I think maybe I’m just one or the other. I’m pretty sure life enjoys reminding me exactly why that is completely false just at those moments. Any time I’m starting to wonder if I’m just one or the other, something happens. For instance, cuddling on a couch with a very scary top, who pulls my hair, controlling my head, and for those moments at last I’m finally out of my head. The relief washes over me of not deciding, not being responsible, not being careful, of not having to pay that kind of attention. Instead, I get to push through pain, through challenge, and show my strength in giving up that control… and it is a relief to let go and submit. Because I’m not any one thing and I need breaks from whichever roles I chose to take on.

But until more recently I really hadn’t much bottomed (with regards to pain) in a long while. T has dramatically altered not just how I process pain, but the physical sensations. Pain feels different. It is really hard to describe. I’m more jumpy, though less sensitive technically. I don’t know my physical limits as well, I want to push those boundaries more and more because I like not liking the sensations. The first real time I pushed past the pain I liked into the pain I seemed to not like in a consensual, trusting manner got me incredibly turned on… and left me with wonderful bite marks all across my skin for quite some time. In a way, I really hated those bites. Because, dammit, they hurt. I told her more, not to inflict harm but to feel that hurt. I was nowhere near harm, and the pain wasn’t bad for me, it got me wetter than I had been in a long time. But that was before T. So, now bites send me writhing, whining, and twitching far more than before. I don’t know how to process this new sensation, but damn am I enjoying learning.

Also, stingy pain got a lot different, and a lot more intense.

Yet, even while I’m relearning my reactions to pain, even while part of me is seeking out chances to bottom, I pull out The New Topping Book to read. I seek out new opportunities to top, to dom, to control. After years of relationships trying to throw off the politics of owning another person, I’ve come to find how much I want someone else to be “mine” (which, me being me, has absolutely nothing to do with monogamy. Just because something would be “mine” does not mean exclusive rights…) Unless I actually feel my more submissive side reacting to someone, another person’s attempts to dominate me lead to entertaining times of wrestling and me biting them a lot. Probably biting them very hard. A certain puppy learned this the hard way. Or maybe I should say the fun way.

Hmmm… One of these days I should get a picture of someone’s bruises from my bite. They can be really pretty.

Updates and Upgrades

Recent adventures have included my computer breaking. From my battery to my logic board (yes, computers have logic boards, and when they break the computer goes illogical) I have new parts and this is the most functional my computer has been since I got it almost three years ago. They also gave me a bunch of free upgrades in programs that I’d otherwise have to pay for, which was awesome.

Other adventures include tearing through novels like I haven’t since high school, and reading books on spirituality. No computer? I read. A lot.

And now it is back. So I’m back.

T is interesting. I’ve grown a lot. My feet jumped a size, or a size and a half. I’m a lot broader now, no longer so scrawny. As in, my shirt neck size went from 13 1/2 to 15 1/2, and my sleeve length got longer as well. On the upside, this means I fit into regular shirts now. My sideburns are starting to come in. I really do need to shave more than once a week now, though much of the time I’m still lazy and only do it about once a week.

Still endlessly hungry. Still have a kicked up sex drive. I’ve adjusted to the second, but the first is being a much larger problem than it should be.

But one of the most interesting changes for me throughout transition is that my reactions to pain has changed. The way I feel pain, when S bites me (or when my friend bites my arm and leaves a bruise for a few days) is completely different than before. Not just more or less, but an actual different sensation that is really hard to explain. Stingy pain hurts so much more, as well as very different. At the same time, despite the fact that I’m processing pain differently and needing to completely relearn my limits and thus am far more sensitive than I would be if I knew how things would feel, I’m still needing the pain just as much. But I also like causing pain. About two and a half years ago I realized that I couldn’t date someone who wouldn’t give me pain, and hooking up would be difficult. About a year ago, I realized I couldn’t date someone who couldn’t take pain, and hooking up would be even more difficult than the former. I like pain. Be it the bite marks on my arm, or the scratches on someone else’s back, pain is really important for me. Which makes being so unclear about my own reactions to pain really damn frustrating.

And not frustrating in the fun way either.

Eventually, I’ll figure out how things are working with my body.

My First Floating World

Sorry for the lack of updates, been recovering/getting life in order so that I don’t accidentally end up having such large gaps in entries. But, the other weekend I attended the Floating World 2010, and had a blast. So here is my entry on it!

I don’t quite know when I started thinking about myself as a kinkster, as someone in the BDSM scene. I mean yeah, the first physical relationship I had included the obvious BDSM characteristics like a safeword, and there was definitely kinky play, like knives, choking/breath play, hitting, scratching, biting, and intentionally drawing blood. But as of FW, I had only been “in” the more public BDSM scene, the community, for like six months. I had been to one major event (the winter Fetish Flea) one play party (in NYC) and sure I talked about things at KinkForAlls, and yeah I did go to the summer Flea, I still feel very like a new comer.I know the words, the gestures, anything I could have read about the community… but being a part of that community is a new thing. So, I pushed myself. I felt uncomfortable, and pushed myself. And I’m really glad I went.

There were massive number of classes, some of which I attended, many of which I did not simply because it was not possible. Classes began at 9:30am and went until 12:30am with breaks for lunch and dinner… but still, that is a ton of classes. Needless to say, I want to many of them.

Classes

The first class I made it to was run be the fabulous Lee Harrington, and was called “Inner Monster: Tops.” Basically, it was a chance to sit down in a room full of tops/doms/dommes/masters/etc. (and switches speaking from that perspective) and talk about all the things that we in the BDSM and kink community don’t talk about. We talked about the taboos of our little world, from not giving aftercare to nonconsensual situations. In many ways, it dramatically altered how I looked at the rest of my time at FW. I began thinking a lot more about what was being said and what was not, looking at how certain assumptions about “how things should work” existed in our quaint little isolated culture. It also began my semi-stalking of Lee Harrington for the con.

The next class I went to was by Cleo Dubois, which I went to because it seemed like it would help me with topping/doming. Instead it was a kind of bleh presentation with a power point… and then a fairly cool scene. The things I got out of it were eye contact can be a great tool, and making people reenter a space if you don’t think they are in the right mindset can also help a lot. Oh yeah, and zippers rock.

Then, after dinner and meet & greets, I went to Dov’s class on mindfucks. It was fun, though I was a bit sad that S went to that class with me simply because the whole point was mindfucks made easy… which really aren’t as easy when the person I’d be mindfucking is sitting next to me. After that, we went to the super cool class on FtM CBT. Yes, there was a class on cock and ball torture for people like me. And it was awesome. It was run by Lee Harrington and Bo Blaze, and they talked about everything from how for some people this could mean putting needles through their packer, while for some it could mean putting needles through their actual bits. S got a lot of evil ideas from this class. Apparently she got a whole list of ideas, though I have yet to see/hear/feel them. We’ll probably go over it soon.

The next day I woke up early, just to go to the “Making Leather” class. It was good. Little to say about it other than that it was exactly what I expected and wanted- an intro class on making stuff out of leather and talking a bit about the tools and leather and places to get both without paying too much money. That day also had me attending a class by Barbara Carrellas on breathing. Yes, breathing. It was a cool class, but I think to really get a lot out of it I’d need to spend a lot more time working with her on my breathing. Though I did learn that orgasms from breathing alone are actually possible, as in, Barbara has sat in an MRI machine which showed her brain registering an orgasm without stimulation besides breath. That, I thought, was awesome.

Later, I went to a fabulous class run by Mollena, who wore her “International Ms. Leather 2010″ and began the class by walking around and personally introducing herself/saying hello and shaking the hand of everyone in the room. That alone kicked ass. And then she started talking, and engaging with the ‘audience.’ It was about boundaries, about what those words mean, how people mean different things by words like “limit” or especially “hard limit.” She was fabulous. People were bringing up cool things. And again, Mollena was awesome, had great stories, and told them hilariously. Needless to say, after such a great presentation, I stayed in the room, and enjoyed another Lee Harrington class (he had been in Mo’s class as well… oops?) about energy exchange and how we focus so much on safe sex, but not on safer magickal sex. It was awesome, and I got up the nerve to actually ask a question relevent to my life. Someone had asked about how to stop attracting toxic people, and my question was what about being attracted to toxic people? Lee’s response boiled down to that’s a class (at least) by itself, here are some things to go read.

That night I played with puppies. Go read about it below.

The next day I slept in because I was a very tired xMech… and then went to a fabulous class called “Creative Disobedience: the Art of Being A Wiseass.” I liked Zac’s comment to me about this, “You needed this class why exactly?” It was so much fun, and the presenter, Laura Antoniou, was truly entertaining. There were delightful stories, there was frank honesty, and there was fabulous movie references. “I’m shocked, shocked to find cocksucking going on in here.” (props to whoever knows that movie.) Kept making me think about how often I used to quote movies in a wiseass manner, and how I really should start doing so again. Then I went to another fun workshop, this time by Scot, on Liquid Latex. It was a lot of fun. Scot is a lot of fun. And, as it turns out, is friends with my friends. But we got to watch a hot girl get covered in liquid latex, and then as it was peeled/torn off. It was fun. By that night, I was again exhausted. So, I went to low key classes, like Wendy Blackheart’s Buttsex, which I went to because Wendy is awesome, and buttsex is always fun, and I didn’t need to pay attention to the basics, just keep an ear open for things I didn’t already know. Same goes for the final class I attended, which was Dov’s class on knives. He had pretty knives. Also, I want a straight razor. Maybe I’ll even start shaving with it.

So that was the classes I went to. The abbreviated edition. There will be entries to come inspired by thoughts from those classes. If you have any probing questions, feel free to comment/email and ask :D.

Dungeon

I was not big on the dungeon. Part of this was simply that I am uncomfortable with my own body and having my shirt and binder off in such a public space, which severely limits the ability for S to top me. The bigger issue for me was the lights and sound. The lights were really contrasty between the darkened ceiling, the bright lights, and the reflective tendencies of the floor. Also, lots of loud music. There wasn’t a quiet corner, or at least, quiet enough for my overly sensitive head. Needless to say, after the first night, I took some Excedrin from Tylerpup, and had a much better time.

However, there was a lot of really cool stuff in the dungeon. There was suspension frames, there was essentially a jungle gym looking thing, there was a play area, there was a pony area, there was a medical area, st. andrews crosses scattered about, and at one point, a ten person suspension on Zac’s 2 ton frame. That was an impressive moment. Also, I had fun walking around and seeing the little things I had done/the things I had helped build. Even though I didn’t play particularly much in the dungeon, there was an energy to the room, a feeling just from walking around, and it made me happy to be there, surrounded by fellow kinksters, perverts, and deviants.

That first night though, found me and S in the back area, where it was a bit darker, cuddling, and talking a bit. She’d have to jog my memory for me to know what we were talking about (as my memory is like swiss cheese) but I remember the mood I was in then. It was pensive, vaguely depressive, dark, relaxed, tired, pained, and analytical. Not really the best mood for public play, though common enough for my head.

The second night, however, was a blast. I had leashed S, and we went off to wander the dungeon, perhaps for inspiration. We ended up near where friends were their puppy selves, romping around on a mat, watched over by two owners. S went into kitty mode (if she wasn’t already) when it was decided we’d stay and play. After a bit, I asked her if she wanted Creature to come out, and she replied with a strong affirmative. So, I took off my shirt, and thought a moment, and started romping with puppies as Creature, in my binder. We all got a lot of “Aws” and a lot of cute responses. It was a lot of fun to play with the puppies and the kitty. There was lots of biting, some scratching. And a ton of scritches. So many scritches. And I was a happy Creature who kept getting scritches, and had adorable (and hot) puppies and a kitty to play with. And they all seemed to like my creature noises.

After that, thought it wasn’t in the dungeon, we briefly went to the pool party. As I hate being submerged in water, i just sat with my feet in the water. Lots of nudity. It was fun, and then bed.

Oh, I also got hypnotized at one point.

People

I met a lot of fabulous people. Made friends, got closer to people I had met before, things like that. Amusing moments included when a friend apparently realized/found out that I’m trans, on Saturday. So the second day of the conference, and we had hung out over the summer, and every mutual friend we have knows… somehow he didn’t actually know. Apparently he guessed, but only because I look so young for my age (I’m lucky if people think I’m 18 or 19… which is a problem when I’m buying alcohol.)

When I first checked in, we were all told to sign the release with our vanilla name, our “real” name, our legal name. For some in the BDSM scene, their real name is their scene name not their legal name. And for those like me? I mean, my “real name” is one thing, which is different from my “legal” name (as I have not yet gotten a legal name change), which is completely different from my scene and blog name (xMech.) They did not do well at specifying what name initially. Then when I got up to deal with registration, the person behind the table checking me in starting talking at me about how I could get my gender marker changed on my passport, as some family member of theirs did. I walked away thinking, “Well, you’re trying at least? But really, wtf- my legal gender marker is none of your damn business.” Also, there are complications, and yes, I did know they had recently made it easier to change on passports. Wasn’t the best impression I got at FW. On the upside, I definitely had many better.

I got lots of scritches, and some bites. I got to give quite a few bites as well.

At one point, over some meal or other, I was sitting down with some of my more newly made friends and a person I didn’t really know, and the topic ended up on anti-war activism. It was interesting, because I’m pretty sure I’d actually met the person I didn’t know before, but wasn’t up for the whole “So I was in DC at this time, at this event, where I think we met through this organization” and instead went with “So you know my friend so-and-so?” Which she did. Trust me to go to a kink convention and end up in a really engaging discussion about anti-war and peace activism and the military industrial complex. Also, we talked about food. My kind of conversation. My kind of people.

Sadly, one of the people I was sharing a hotel with got sick right before FW. Turns out, it was whooping-cough. So we were down a person in the hotel room, but even worse, Zac lost his vender’s assistant. I stepped in at one point, and held down the fort with Tylerpup to give him a break. Met some fun new people that way, also got to play around a bit with some of his stuff, which is always fun.

~~

Lots of fun things happened. I’m really glad I went. Even though there were moments, like of me being exhausted, or feeling uncomfortable, where I wasn’t having a blast, I learned a lot, and pushed on my boundaries. I got a sense of where many more of my boundaries were. So that is my long overdue write up on floating world! I should be back on track to writing a lot more frequently again. Hopefully I won’t have another giant down month like August was anytime soon!

Back With Thoughts On Compliments

I haven’t written in a week and a half, which is a long absence for me, and also missed two AwaAs. I’ve been good, but busy in my own way, and decided two things. One, I’m going to force myself to write in here regardless of level of busy, and two that I’m switching AwaA to every other week.

Life is a crazy thing. Lots of updates to come on things like my relationship with S, kinky thoughts, and of course, more on transition.

Because getting cat called and honked at by passing cars is not something I am particularly used to. I was walking down the street, to a free outdoor movie, and some guys in a passing car honked, waved, and shouted at me. Now, I was confused for a moment, looked behind me to see no one there. I figured they had to be waving at someone else. Or maybe they thought they knew me? Regardless, I returned to the phone conversation I was having. Then, walking back, I was eating falafel (mm, tasty) and some random guy I passed said “Hey, hoststuff.” Again, I looked around to see who he was talking to.

I eventually realized both times the people were talking/honking/waving at me. Which was really strange. I pass, so that meant they were doing that to someone they saw as a guy? Because for a second I wondered if I just didn’t pass, and then I looked down at myself… Even to my overly critical eye, (chest sticks out too much, god why are my hips so big, etc.) I knew I passed. And if I didn’t, then I certainly wasn’t the stereotype of a “girl” to be catcalled.

Because I’m used to people shouting shit like “Are you a boy or a girl?” or “What are you, harry potter freak?” (I used to look a lot like harry potter, at least, when my hair was shaggy, I had glasses, and I wore my trench coat.) I’m used to “Faggot” or “Dyke.” I’m used to insults, to assholes trying to shit on my one-person pride parade.

But “hotstuff” ?!

Part of me is flattered. I mean, sure it is always nice to know I still look good when I pass. Hell, gay guys finding me cute? Definitely a compliment. But shouting or saying stuff at me while I’m clearly tuning out the world, as in on my cell or eating a falafel wrap, is still being an asshole. My body is not yours to objectify, unless of course we’re in a scene and I’m in a mood to be an object and give my consent to such. But yeah, getting stuff shouted to me on from a car while I’m on my cell phone? Doesn’t matter that you see me as a guy not a girl, it’s still being an asshole. Why? Because you are interrupting me.

I’m all for compliments. I like giving them, and I’ve gotten better about taking them with grace. And know what? I’d actually be perfectly welcoming of someone walking up to me, and telling me honestly that they find me attractive. I mean hell, I met C when her friend walked up to me and said, “You see that girl over there? She’s been staring at you all night.” Another time someone said “I want your cute boy butt.” Neither of these times was I offended. The first left me stammering awkwardly and eventually engaging in a conversation with C. The second lead to a hookup that night. Forwardness is not a problem. Compliments are not a problem. The main difference? Situation.

Walking down the street while on my cell phone, I’m busy in another conversation. No, I have no interest in being hit on. While I’m walking down the street, eating falafel on my way home, I’m far more interested in food than any random person I passed who feels the need to make me feel like an object without my consent. It is situational, it is tone of voice, it is thinking before doing.

It is something I honestly didn’t expect to be dealing with again. Admittedly, the only time I dealt with it before was dressed up for Rocky in high school and running a few blocks from my car to the theater, and it was directed less at me than who I was with. Part of me assumed that with our cultural fucked-up-ness being very much cismen objectifying, I didn’t expect to be the objectified when I pass as a cisman.

Maybe that is its own form of internalized sexism. My mind is still so wrapped up in battling the internalized dialogue of “I’m a freak, who could ever want me,” that I’ve let something else slide.

Because it didn’t happen like I’ve watched it happen to my female-presenting friends. The guy just walked on, didn’t even turn around to watch me walk away eating my falafel. They just drove on after honking and waving and shouting. No follow up, no more harassment. And it mostly stuck out because it happened twice in one day. I was just wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. Nothing special. So part of me thinks I should just be grateful I look good.

But I know that isn’t right. Backhanded compliment of asshole-ness is not something I should be thankful for. Things I should be thankful for? Friends in the area who are awesome and invite me to stuff and thus make me be social. A really great and healthy relationship with S. Good phone calls with Q. Having my brother back safe from Israel. Somehow, being objectified without my consent just isn’t on that list.

Also, I am going to be on KinkOnTap tomorrow! Come join us in live at 8pm. There is a fabulous chatroom too, so it isn’t just listening, but interacting as well.

On Why I Currently Don’t Have A Safeword

The short reason is easy: I’ve been doing things where yes means yes, and no means no.

The longer version is a bit more complicated. First of all, I have not been playing with people besides S very much recently, which means I don’t need to think about as many interpretations of reactions and words. It is just us. I don’t need to shift my speech patterns because there is only one set of dynamics I am engaging, namely the set of dynamics between S and myself. We have not been playing with scenes where “no,” “stop,” “don’t,” or “Ow!” means anything besides no, stop, don’t, or ow that hurts (admittedly, ow does not necessarily mean no, stop, or don’t.) Thus, we don’t need a code.

We have briefly talked about what we’ll do when (not if) we start playing with scenes where “No, please don’t!” could mean “Holy shit, whatever you do, don’t stop!” In that case, we’re probably going to use the traffic light system. Rather than a single word for “halt this scene right now,” there is a bit more of a graduated system. Red means “halt this scene right now,” while yellow can have a few meanings, such as “no harder,” “I don’t want to stop but something isn’t working,” etc. Green, a fabulous part of this that doesn’t get used enough, means “Hell fucking yes,” or… just yes. It’s useful for checking in quickly, to make sure everyone involved is still in a good place for the scene.

But I haven’t actually set out a safeword with someone since high school, because that was the last time that no might not mean no. Not everyone needs a safeword. Not every situation needs a safeword, but if you are going to have one listen to it. If you aren’t going to have one, then you need to listen to when the person says, “no.”

Maybe me saying this seems like common sense, but common sense isn’t so common.  Said relationship where we had established a safeword, neither the safeword nor the word “no” was ever respected. On the rare occasions I was brave enough to attempt to turn the person down, and held my ground with it, I was guilt tripped. When that didn’t work, the person turned to further emotional and psychological abuse. Not exactly a healthy relationship, I’m well aware. Consent is a major thing, not listening to a safeword, or the word “No” in non-safeword specific contexts, is an explicitly nonconsensual interaction. Moreover, unless there is pre-given explicit consent, then there is no reason to think the person has given consent. What I mean by that is either asking explicitly “Is this okay?” and not continuing until the person has said yes, nodded their head, or otherwise given a clear-cut answer, or preferably getting clear-cut consent before the action occurs.

I have generally found people in a BDSM/kink/fetish social context to be the best about general consent. They ask before touching me, and will even apologize for accidently bumping into me. They ask before rubbing my head. With a community so focused on maintaining things like “Risk Aware Consensual Kink” or “Safe, Sane, and Consensual,” the social interactions tend to be very good about consensual touch. Yes, I said tend, and specified social interactions. I haven’t played all that much outside relationships, and those few times I have it was almost never outside pre-established friendships, so it has come up less for me than for others.

And as I had previously mentioned: checking in is awesome too. Bottoms/subs/recievers/slaves/etc often don’t safeword. Maybe it’s out of pride, or eagerness to plese, but checking in really helps to keep things going right and keep them safe. Also, for the record, tops/doms/ommes/masters/etc. might well need to safeword. Needing to stop is not just for bottoms! (Also, for an extended version of these sorts of thoughts, go check out this.)

So no, I don’t have a safeword at the moment. I haven’t needed one for years. Not because I’m a bad kinkster, not because I don’t respect safewords, not because I’m not obsessive about consent, but because I have only been in situations where “no” means “no.” And know what? It’s been fucking hot.

Key Terms:
safeword- a word used in a situation in place of “no” to bring an immediate halt to the actions occurring.
playing- engaging in sexual, kinky, BDSM, and/or fetishized activities: I enjoy power play. I want to play with you.
scene- a specific period of time during which persons are playing: Our scene lasted two hours last night. (can also refer to the BDSM/kink/fetish community as a whole.)

Also, tomorrow’s AwaA will be answering one of those “awkward questions” that I have previously written about. As usual, if you have a question you would like answered, feel free to comment/email me and let me know!

Six Months on T

And what do I have to show for it?

My voice dropped into nice, low, masculine ranges. My neck sized increased, which greatly affected the shape of my face, even more than the more subtle changes on my face itself. My clit increased size, my sex drive shot up, shot up again, and then dropped a hair to a nice, steady place. I’m hungry all the time, but figuring out how to handle it, and making sure I eat at least mostly healthy food.

I’m in a surprisingly healthy relationship. Surprising because healthy relationships have been so rare for me, and it has been a really pleasant surprise. She sees me for who I am, not for my body, but also does an amazing job at being careful about what I want with my body, how I exist within my body… and how in many ways it isn’t mine.

My clothes don’t quite fit right anymore, I need to go shopping. In the last six months, I’ve moved, gotten a new job, met some amazing people, and found some awesome things. I lost friends, and found friends in places I had not even thought about.

I’ve been heartsick, and crushing. I’ve been freezing and melting into a pile of liquid xMech from the scorching heat.

I’ve stretched my comfort zone, gone to play parties and allowed penetrative sex. Hell, I’ve started asking for it more than ever. I’ve broken down mental barriers, and brought myself to the point where I can slap S… though still not on the face. I’ve marked her again and again, bites, bruises, hickies, handprints, and been marked in return. I’ve entered male bathrooms and confronted some of my ableist tendencies and language. I started relooking into religion, pushing myself past the “I don’t want to do this, I can’t examine this” and into books and articles on Judaism, Buddhism, Neo-Paganism and all kinds of alternative spiritualities. I’ve accepted that I can’t keep friends forever, and strove to rebuild my own mind.

But what do I have to show for it all?

No matter what I do, for me it will never be enough. Part of me loves that, loves that I always want more from myself, never to be static, always growing, looking for new connections to help me grow and change. I’m a person of becoming, not being, and I love it. But no matter how I contemplate Nietzsche, I am tired of never being enough for myself.

Years ago I realized I couldn’t keep a promise I made to myself, so instead I completely reoriented my life. I started to strive to become the person others saw me to be, to become the person my friends, family, lovers, and teachers saw in me, or at least saw that I could become. And it is never enough. Not because they tell me that, in fact they usually tell me the exact opposite, but I see how awesome they are, how much they deserve…

and after all these changes in the last six months, or six years… I still wonder what do I have to show for it?

A few whiskers and ill-fitting clothes just don’t quite seem to cut it. About only one thing does: I’m genuinely happy. And that is more than enough to show for anything. Just need to manage to get my mind around the concept.

Keeping it Light…

My mind shivered at the feel of the rope in my hands. Sliding it through to get the right length for tying her hands together; nothing elaborate I have to remind myself. My mind shivered, but I could not let her see, instead I smirked keeping control.

After over a week’s aftercare being done in one shot that same day, I agreed to play on one condition: we kept it light.

If you want me to dom, then submit. You have to be willing to give up that control… and as I moved her head, turning it however I would, I saw surrender in her eyes and I thought “I love her.” So, I leaned in and bit her hard, digging deep into her muscle, her traps, loving the feel of her between my teeth, of her tensing, then slowly relaxing into me, submitting. I pull back and look at the mark before slowly licking around those enticing indentations…

I had her pinned down, ropes laying across her chest held by my hands, enough pressure for her to know there was no point in fighting me. Black rope, blue sheets, white skin, light from the windows reflected into an ambient glow by the white walls, she glowed under the rope. I pulled back to watch, pinning her down with the rope pressed into her skin. Keep it light, just some rope, just some power, add a dash of teeth…

Curled around her after, aftercare was no issue this time. We had talked about the last two times, finally talked, and she was trusting me again. Wrapped around her, I let go. I let myself open up in return. It wasn’t make up sex from the night before, it wasn’t “just” anything, because no matter how “light” it seemed it reached both of us as we needed it too. I don’t know quite what opened up for me the last few times… but I want to keep finding out.

Answers with an Agenda 6- Introducing BDSM

You’ve met someone. Or someone(s). Maybe you took things slow, maybe you dived right in, head first, but suddenly you realize there is a bit of a discrepancy. You have this whole background and interest in BDSM, and your new partner… has never engaged in such things before, either physically or mentally.

How do I get my partner interested in BDSM?

Some people like it, know they like it, and will be upfront about it. Some people are either embarrassed, or never thought about it before. And it is definitely possible for partners, with vastly different backgrounds, tastes, and experiences to find a happy common ground for them to play.

disclaimer I am not advocating lying, duplicity, or anything like that. I am giving suggestions for ways to ease a partner into BDSM, enabling them to think about it/engage in activities in a healthy manner rather than with fear or shame.

In various conversations, I’ve pointed out that there isn’t a clear line when people cross over into the realms of BDSM. When does running your nails down someone’s back, or biting their neck, cross into pain play? When does pinning someone down during sex become power play? How often do people buy their partners pink fuzzy handcuffs?

How much less scary is this ↑ as opposed to this ↓ ?

The line between so-called vanilla sex and BDSM is fuzzier than those handcuffs. And it is through that blurriness that it becomes much easier to introduce a person to things they might enjoy, like that flogger, without throwing them into the middle of a play party dungeon. Some people might be thrown in, and thrive. Many others would be scared off… potentially forever. And that is sad for them, sad for their partner, but also sad for us as a community for inadvertently creating someone who fears us.

Some partners have the kind of communication where one person can sit down and just say, “You know how I like when you suck and nibble on my neck? Would you be okay with biting down harder?” If you are in a place where you feel comfortable sitting down and talking to your partner… DO IT! I mean, ideally we should all be able to sit down and have frank conversations with a person we’re fucking, sucking, touching, etc. But not everyone is good at that kind of interaction (myself included.) The trick is letting it in slowly, as a part of informed consent. If they don’t know what they are, or are not, consenting to then it is much harder to have a frank discussion, because they do not have the very important “informed” part of the equation. That is why I think the slowly bringing it in before having the discussion is a really good way to go. It gives the other person more information to work with.

1. Before anything else, talk about hard boundaries and/or triggers: It is important to talk about stuff before you try easing into BDSM. Find out any major triggers or hard boundaries. If someone has a hard boundary or trigger that boils down to “don’t come anywhere near my ass,” spanking would probably be a truly terrible idea for easing someone into BDSM. The only way you will know that, is if you talk first. Know what else? These conversations are usually important for any relationship, no matter how kinky, vanilla, straight, queer, etc.
2. Start with what you know: If you have never used a cane before, this is not the time to start. Stick with your already present skills, because that should give you more control over what you are doing. But even more so, start with what you know about the other person. If they don’t like pain, don’t start digging your nails in deep… but maybe they enjoy using their nails on you. Encourage them to do it more, from giving non-explicit positive feedback (moans, gasps, back arching, etc.) to explicit feedback (harder, more, etc.) You don’t have to mention it as “I like pain play” or “I like pain,” try “I like how sharp your nails are.” More specific to the person, and less immediately scary language. Maybe you’ve pinned them down before, and they’ve liked it, but you want to see if you can get them to dom a bit more. One trick here is to flip them on top, and if their hands happen to be on your wrists at one point, put them over your head. Their hands will follow, and many people will start making the connection.
3. Listen to both yes and no: Not everything you try is going to work, some things you may try and just get no response to. Other things you will get an incredibly strong response, either positive or negative. None of these things are bad, as long as you listen. A very strong response, you may want to should check in with your partner about whether or not it was a good or bad thing. Even if the reason seemed bad, it could be about intensity or shock even if the action was good. Similarly, a very positive response could lead to at another time them saying “hey, on second thought, not that.” But if you get just one very loud scream, is that a good thing or a bad thing? Well, it depends. If they are screaming “YES, OH GOD!” my guess is that it is a good thing. But this is the important part- what makes so much of BDSM different from abuse is consent. Consent is hot, it is amazing, and it requires continual observation to make sure it stays consensual.
4. Go slow and be adaptable: Maybe you desperately want to do a role-play scene (as in, with 2+ adults’ informed consent) involving incest and rape. That is not something to dive right into, but maybe start off playing with reluctance. Find a way to take your kinks, fetishes, and interests and let

Getting someone started into BDSM and kink tends to be a long process. Not because it necessarily takes a long time for a person to be okay with (and very into) tying up, slapping, humiliation, pet play, orgasm control, hypnosis, flogging, or any number of other things, but because once someone starts going down that path, they often find more things they are interested in.

Once upon a time, I had zero interest in anyone so much as touching my ass. It was not just a hard boundary, but a massive trigger. Years later, I’m pressed against a bathroom wall at some club with a dick slowly pushing its way in (in fairness, it did have a person associated with it.) Six years ago, someone doing that would have sent me into a massive, multiple month long hell hole. That change came about with a lot of patience on my end, and slowly adapting to the styles and presence of various partners over the years.

So, if it doesn’t happen immediately, don’t be surprised. If they end up not interested in it, that happens to. On the other hand, you may create a BDSM-obsessed kinkster… but its worth finding out! Be ready to accept whatever their response.