Again -- my lack of writing is not for lack of wanting to. I just got back from 9 days in Iowa with my folks', and came home to 3 big candle/soap orders - YAY!

C. is due home next month - and immediately afterwards, we'll be leaving for Christmas in Wyoming and Iowa - so I don't expect to have much time to write until after the first of the year or so. Boooooooo.

And I'm about to get even busier....

Damn, I'm pissed off that I've not been able to write. Orders are flowing (holiday season), and now I'm going to be taking a trip home next week - for about 10 days.

All of your emails and comments are greatly appreciated. Hopefully I'll get back to my normal rambling soon!

Geez, talk about a busy week.

The candle orders have been rolling in. I'm tickled about that, for the business' sake, but it's left my free time - well, not free. I also had company this week for a few days, so it's been - busy.

I appreciate your comments and emails about my last posting. I haven't heard from the 'gentleman' who wrote the initial email, so perhaps he's taken a hint. That'd be nice.

I'm pouring candles and making bath bombs today, so I probably won't have a lot of time to write, but I have an entry half written, so maybe I'll get to finish it up.

I got an email from someone recently, about my "SSC" rant. I won't share the email here, but I do want to talk about its context.

Basically, what this gentleman told me, was that I have a responsibility, as one of the “louder” voices of the greater BDSM community – that I shouldn’t be saying things like I say because people look up to me. That as a ‘celebrity’ (ugh!), I have accountability to people just starting out in the community, to teach them right from wrong. He said that in writing like I have been here in my blogger, I could be giving people the wrong idea about what it is that we do (I hate that WIITWD shit, so I refuse to use it). He suggested that I delete what I’ve got here and replace it with some of my older essays from my website.

I politely told him to go fuck himself.

In the first place, what it is that HE does is not necessarily what it is that *I* do. I am not duty-bound to tell the ‘BDSM community’ anything. I tell it like it is. I am honest about *my* experiences and *my* feelings. That’s all I *can* do. That’s all *any* of us can do. And frankly, the idea that he wants me to *LIE* about my feelings for the sake of the newbies pissed me off to such a degree that I had to get up and walk away from my computer. I pointed him to the graphic at the top of this blogger (also included on my web page, and the Strictly lists), and told him in a straightforward manner that I would not be coerced into insincere writing simply because he thinks what I write about isn’t fit for newbie consumption.

I’ve said before in this blogger that I don’t feel any great responsibility to educate anyone. If my writing helps people, I’m flattered. If my essays lead people to a new way of thinking, I’m honored. But I’m not writing to educate. I’m writing because it’s what I *do*. I am not an authority on anyone’s BDSM relationship. I will not tell people they have to do SSC or RACK or any of those other phony-ass acronyms. I will not tell people how to behave. I will not put a fucking disclaimer on my blogger that says it’s not for newbies to read (as he kindly suggested).

I expect people to have at least normal intelligence. I expect people to use their common sense. If they don’t, I can’t be blamed for their immaturity or their disregard for their own safety.

He also made mention that my discussion of my ex’s punishment scene in this entry was inappropriate because it might scare new submissives off from a punishment dynamic, or scare them away all together.

I don’t know about you folks, reading this, but I can tell you something about me. I like honesty. If someone is scared off by what I’ve written about my ex, maybe they weren’t ready for BDSM in the first place. I told the gentleman e-mailer that, and added that if he’s expecting me to be cuddly and sweet and romantic, and thus lure more new submissives to the scene for him to choose from, he’s got the wrong girl.

I’m not sure why this guy’s email (I’ve gotten emails like this before – it’s nothing new) struck me the way it did, but I can guarantee you, he thought he was doing the BDSM community at large a favor by flattering me (the celebrity comment) and then telling me how wrong I was by writing what I know and feel. I dislike being censored, but even more than that, I dislike being told I should be censored because MY truth isn’t someone ELSE’S truth. I take a lot of crap for being sarcastic, for being forthright, and for being honest. And I’ll continue to take it, because I’d rather be honest and take a lot of crap from people, than be insincere and a “celebrity”.

There is very little I hate more than being sick. Somewhere along the line, I picked up a horrible cold. It doesn't seem to be getting any better (three days now) and I have so many things I want to do, but can't. It pisses me off. I can't even do soap or candles because I can't SMELL the stuff.

I'm going to try and write some today, but feeling as woozy as I do, I doubt I'll get much done. I spent most of yesterday on the couch watching TV and I hate the idea of doing that again today. At least I started the laundry.....

Keeping Busy

We're under 60 days now until C comes home. I'm trying to stay very busy so I don't think about it :) So far this week, I've made 5 dozen votive candles, 12 jar candles and 4 batches of soap *grin* More on the plate for today.

You can tell I really love you, and agreed to submit to you if…
I let you fuck my ass

(‘Let’ is not the right word, but I’m short on “right” today)

I wish I were one of those women who really get into anal sex. But I’m not.

Anal sex for me has always been about pleasing someone else. I’ve had several lovers in the past who were truly into it. (One boyfriend, in my mid twenties, preferred it to vaginal sex – which got tiresome and another took it forcefully and without my consent more than once). Even with proper lubrication and plenty of warm up, it still hurts. The best I can muster is relaxing enough so that the pain slips into the background quietly while I concentrate on my partner’s pleasure. It’s a very submissive act for me.

C doesn’t care much for anal sex (too much work, according to him *chuckle*), so I guess I got lucky there. I don’t offer it to him (who am I to push something neither of us really wants? lol), and he doesn’t bring it up. It doesn’t fit into my ‘rape’ fantasies, either. The idea of being taken anally without lubrication is – shiver – unthinkable (painwise).

So, why am I talking about it, since it’s not part of my life? Am I subconsciously wishing for it?

No. *chuckle*.

I’m talking about it, because it’s on my list of topics. If I was ‘going somewhere’ with it when I put it on the list, I don’t remember.

So that’s all I gotta say about that.

Still Here

It's been an odd week around here. Good parts, bad parts, stressful parts. The worst of it, I suppose, is now that we're almost to 2/3 down with this cruise of C's, I'm starting to count days, which is *not* helping.

I've been working on soap and candles, and not finding much energy to write. I'll be trying to rectify that over this weekend.

Spirituality
Or, why I believe what I believe

I made mention earlier of me being a pagan . I guess it’s time to explore that with y’all a little, so you don’t get the wrong idea.

I was born and raised Catholic. (That, in and of itself is enough to make one run screaming for un-organized religion, eh?). I started to have my doubts about my ‘chosen’ spiritual path (oh yea – I chose it. I chose to go so my dad wouldn’t kick my ass) in my teens, and by my early 20’s, it was all over. Eventually, I got booted out of the church (I spent way too much time on television, as our local NOW president, promoting access to family planning and the like). It was a good excuse to stop going, actually. After the age of 17, I just went to please my folks. (I didn’t find CFFC until later, but it probably wouldn’t have helped much)

I started reading tarot cards and runes around that time. I started working with candles. I started meditating (though badly). I started to seek other ‘options’.

When I moved in with C in 1995, he bought me a copy of “To Ride a Silver Broomstick” . I read it. I related to some of it. C considers (or, at least, did at the time) himself to be Wiccan. I don’t. But the paths are remarkably similar.

I still play with my tarot cards and my runes. I still work with candles quite frequently – sometimes daily – depending on what I’m trying to achieve. I studied Reiki (and had my Master attunement in Portland in 2001), and try to use it whenever I can. I’m always researching other healing paths (that seems to be where my interest lies), as well as ritual and intent.

I do believe in God. I also believe in the Goddess. I believe that there is not one singular thing at work in the universe – there are several. I believe that if you want something badly enough – and your intent is pure – you’ll receive it when you’re ready. I believe in Karma (big time). I meditate. I ask. I listen. I send out energy and hope to receive the same kind of energy in return.

I strongly dislike organized religion (though C and I were married by an old Southern Baptist at the Courthouse in Chicago because he preferred it to a judge). I strongly dislike the structure and rules (of which, most are paternalistic at best, and misogynistic at worst) of organized religion. I believe what I believe. I do not think I have to spend an hour a week in a building to prove those beliefs.

I’m not opposed to Wicca as a path. I just do not feel it fits as my path. Again, it’s formal and organized, and I just don’t feel like it fits what I accept as true. As to the question if I consider myself a witch, the answer is yes. (in more ways than one – HA!). About a year ago, I started to develop a shock of grey hair at my right temple. C calls this my “witch’s lock” It seems to come and go at will *chuckle* Sometimes, it’s very clear, and others it seems to fade into the blonde. When I work on body products, I tend to blend together essential oils that have specific purposes, and colors that translate into magickal messages. I’ve seen and felt these rituals and intents work. I believe in them.

One lesson that I’ve concentrated on recently is gratitude. If I send gratitude out into the universe – so that it’s known I’m thankful – and acknowledge the gifts of the Earth given to me, I’m able to pursue other gifts.

Okay. I think you know all you need to now *grin*.

Vive Le Resistance!
Or, Interrogation Role-play, and other reasons to resist

So, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I like role-play. I guess it appeals to the dramatic in me, as well as the escapist. Besides that, it’s just *fun*. In a small package I sent to C, I included one of the lace gloves from the “FiFi the French Maid” costume I bought (and used) before he left, and he got a big charge out of that *chuckle*.

C and I have discussed other forms of role-play. When we first got back together in Las Vegas, the one that came up (and seemed to appeal to him) was the interrogator/prisoner. I find that very telling, in light of my discussions recently about being “broken”. It occurred to me, after I finished my last post about “broken” that that particular scenario fits in quit cleverly. I’m not sure why it appeals to C. I can only speak for myself.

I love resistance. I love fighting ‘it’. C and I wrestle around a lot, although he says I always end up getting hurt *chuckle* (sometimes I do. The man doesn’t know his own strength). I like to struggle on the couch. I like to tussle in the kitchen. I like to fight in bed *evil grin*. I’ve no idea why this appeals to me like it does. Nor do I really care that much. I just know I like it.

I/P (interrogator/prisoner, I love shorthand) appeals to me for that reason. Try to *make* me tell you a secret. I dare you. Torture me all you want. I’m going to resist. Not only for the *fun* of it, but because it empowers me to do so. It’s a test of wills. I love that. Especially when I know no real harm will come to me if I keep defying him. The pomp and circumstance of being tied to something, and then tortured with whatever-means-necessary to get me to reveal some secret knowledge that I have not only satisfies the dramatist in me, it gets me incredibly *hot*.

Ain’t that why we do some of these things, anyway?

I do have a problem though. During some of our experiments with role-playing, I *laugh*. (See my post about laughing during a spanking) . It’s not something I’m real good at keeping from happening. I’m not sure why it happens. The harder I try to resist it, the more it happens. I’m happy to have such a keen sense of humor, but damn…*chuckle*. I’m afraid that, unless C is really *into* his role as “I”, I’m going to start laughing like a mad woman. And maybe that’s okay. But I’m thinking if I do, neither of us are going to get that feeling we’re trying to achieve.

The more I think about that last paragraph, the more I’m chuckling to myself as I write this. C and I are cut-ups. We laugh so much. Neither of us takes ourselves too seriously. And in most situations, that’s perfect. But in situations like this – not so much.

I guess we’ll see how it goes *grin*.

What’s up here today

I have a blogger entry started, but I’m not sure I’ll get it done today. I feel my blockage (writer’s block) coming back and I’m trying to stave it off. Hopefully, I’ll be able to.

So I spent the morning packing up a few soap and candle orders, and made a pre-wash oil recipe for my hair. It smells wonderful – we’ll see if it works (I’ll find out in 25 minutes – ha, ha). I have long hair – maybe the middle of my back – but it hasn’t seemed to have gotten any longer in the last few years, so I’m trying a few hints I read on the web. I’m also going to go get it “dusted” (barely trimmed) this week. C always said he’d be happy with the length as long as he could fully wrap it around one of his fists *chuckle* and I got there before he left, but I’d like it longer. I’ve got a lovely curlish-wave to my hair. No one else in the family has this, although my Dad had curls before his first hair cut, as did my niece. Mine, though – are here to stay. And I like that. At least it doesn’t just hang there, lifeless. I’ve been having it cut recently so it comes in towards my face a little on the sides. It’s the first real change I’ve done to my hair since high school (eeeek). I still feather the top back, though *chuckle*.

As far as my progress on my self-image/weight issues goes, I have good days and bad days. Most times, I eat low-fat or low-cal dinners and lunches (granola bar or yogurt for breakfast), and I do pretty well. Problem is, this is the time of year when that gawd-forsaken candy-corn with the brown bottom comes out (ohhhh…I love that stuff. It’s the devil’s spawn), and I’ve bought a couple bags of it. I also made fudge Friday night and drank a whole bottle of Arbor Mist (ha ha), so I can definitely tell when it’s “emotional eating” and when it’s not. So far, just being able to identify it isn’t helping me stop doing it. But I’ve started riding my exercise bike again, so I feel good about that. I keep telling myself that it took a long time for those habits to be set, it’ll take a long time for them to go away. I also ask the Universe for guidance (I’m a pagan. Have I mentioned that?). So I’m hopeful that eventually, I’ll get to a place where I’m more comfortable.

Breaking the Wall (Yes, again)
Final Conclusions

A couple entries ago, I started writing about not being given a choice. I’ve also said that I think that’s the only way that final wall is going to tumble into rubble. After I finished writing my “BDSM Community Rant” last night, I started to think back on this “wall-breaking” thing. And trying to decide why that’s so important to me right now.

This morning, I read this week’s Leather Views column by Jack Rinella, and I had to laugh. He’d written the opposite side of my masochist entry from yesterday. I felt compelled to write him and tell him of my own thoughts on this (something I rarely, if ever do). And in keeping with the spirit of what I told him “I came to a point when writing my article (which I titled "Pain Hurts. No
Really, it does"), when I had to admit "out loud" that I don't know why I like what I like. And frankly, I've spent too much time recently trying to figure those things out. I love to work with the intellectual side of myself to rationalize and expound on my thoughts, but there comes a time when it's best to say -- Fuck it. I like it. Good enough. “

I wonder if I’ve come to that point with this whole “last wall” thing, too. I’ve run it over and over in my head – 100 different ways or more – and have yet to be able to put together any kind of cohesive decision. I want it. I believe it’ll make the relationship between C and I stronger. That should be enough, right?

So rather than continue figuring out the “why” (we already know the “what”, “who” is a given, and “where and “when” are completely out of my control), I thought I’d spend some time thinking at that “how”.

I did a whole entry about bondage awhile back. One thing I said, as I was listing its virtues was this: But inside their head, they can use the experience as "not having any choice in the matter". This person - the binder - the dominant - the top - has all of the control. And I’m not talking about (necessarily) having to be tied up or down with leather or ropes or metal. Those things are nice and pretty for bondage – but not necessary. Actually, they make things way easier for the submissive. It’s when you’re told to “stay” and “don’t move” without use of any accoutrements that it gets disgustingly difficult to maintain. Sure, I like the bondage “materials”. As a matter of fact, I prefer them. But in no way are they a necessary thing.

For the most part, bondage is the illusion of “not having any control”. Thing is, though – for this purpose – the “wall-destruction” - it’s going to have to be more than an illusion to me. I’m actually going to feel like I don’t have – a choice.

The way my mind works, if I get to a “scary” place, I’m going to try to get out of it. I’m going to work real hard at looking for a loophole. It’s not that I’m going to do this consciously. I just know how my mind works. My “fight or flight” mechanism is in great working order. I can only remember one time – in nine years – that I was ‘forced’ to stay in a situation that made me uncomfortable (BDSM wise). Sometimes, I’ll do it willingly, as a matter of pride. But that time, it certainly wasn’t willing. I was coerced. It stopped long before I got to the wall, but it went on longer than I would have normally let it to go before I started trying to get out of it. This is not to say that I’m someone who “tries to get out of things” as a rule. I don’t. Most of the time, my desire to remain submissive to my dominant well over-rides any “fight or flight” feelings that may come up. Then again, to be honest, I haven’t really been pushed that hard that often. Not to say I haven’t been hurt *chuckle*, but saying that I just don’t hit the “run away! run away!” feeling very often.

(Geez, now I’ve wandered way off topic and I’m going to have a hell of a time getting back!)

(Then, I wandered WAY off into the living room and got a phone call from C *grin* so I’m wayyyy off track. But it’s all good *grin*)

Okay. Back to “not having a choice”. The reason I brought up bondage in the first place is to take away part of the “choice”. There are, of course, many ways to accomplish this whole thing (and I’m certainly not going to tell C how to do it, but you know that if I don’t offer any input he’ll be telling me to quit being so damn vague). If we’ve agreed, at the beginning, that he’s not going to take me out of any bondage – real or mental – just because I ask him or beg him to (in other words, not without a mental or medical emergency), the idea that I “can get out of it” is gone. There won’t be any struggle for me mentally with that.

And I do struggle. Mentally. A lot. Not struggle as in “can’t deal”, but struggle as in “trying to be the best person I can be, and debating between ‘what I want’ and ‘what’s best for US right that minute’”. While talking with C on the phone today, I told him that the reason this is all flowing so easily for me right now is because a) we’re not both living in this apartment as ‘overworked individuals’, and b) because I’m not afraid of him thinking that when I say “I want this” and him thinking I mean “right this minute”. That struggle, for the time being – is gone. Right now, I can freely write about and freely want anything I care to. Because we both know I ain’t getting any of it til he gets home, anyway *grin*.

That struggle is part of the reason that that wall is still standing. The struggle helped build it, and the struggle keeps it alive. Take away the struggle – take away the choice – and the wall will crumble. Bondage is one way to get that started. Pain is another. Ultimately, that decision will be out of my hands. Which is exactly what I want.

For those of you out there saying “If your Master tells you to take the wall down, that should be enough.” – And I know you’re there – let me tell you that I’ve tried that. No matter how desperately I want to please, I can’t break it. I don’t want to just breech it, or build a porthole through it. I want it destroyed.

I ain’t got that kind of wrecking ball.

BDSM Community
Rants from a Burn-out

I already made a few references to how I feel about BDSM community in some entries, so now I guess is the time to get this out.

First, I’ve only experienced a few communities in this country. Some were great experiences (San Jose/smOdyssey and Portland, Oregon’s PLA among them). Some were not so great experiences (No, I’m not going to list those). Second, a community is made up of many many people, and some of those people will be good, and some of those people will be assholes. You find that anywhere. Even in a knitting circle *grin*. My experiences, while they may be colored by a few people with bad attitudes and arrogant perceptions of right and wrong – are just that. Mine. Please don’t base your participation in any BDSM community on my opinions. Get out there and try it for yourself.

I hate politics. I hate community leaders who use SSC as a rule, not a slogan. I hate power struggles. I hate back-stabbing and free-loaders. I hate whining. I hate “black lists” (a list of “bad dominants” as prescribed by one person). I hate gossip-mongering. I hate carpet-bagging and wishy-washy-ness. I hate people who complain, but will do nothing to help a situation. And I hate people who can’t make up their minds. For these reasons, and many others, I’ve spent the last four years out of the public BDSM community. The last event I attended was KinkFest in Portland in 2001. I had a great time – hell, I even DM’d for a shift. I saw some friends. Met some new friends. But by that time, C had already left for his Navy training in Chicago, and I just wasn’t interested enough to get involved on my own. Fact is, after 4 years of organizing community in Monterey, I was burnt out. Leather leadership, for me, was over. C and I have been here since November, and I’ve been looking lately at a couple of local groups, trying to decide if I really want to get back into all that again. And I’m thinking – maybe I do. But not as a leader. My patience for that is gone.

All those things I listed above are some of the things I hate about BDSM communities. Other things – as in the entry previous to this one – and the assumption that if you do d/s, you must also do SM. Not everyone does.

I understand, having started a community (or two or three – ugh – don’t ask) myself, is that you have to have rules. But rules that are born purely of fear are dangerous. Rules need to be born of logic, and have a solid anchoring in reality. Making up rules for the sake of hearing yourself talk is – well – stupid. But if you think people don’t do that – well, take another look.

Something else I abhor is this: I am not your babysitter. You are not paying me 2.00 an hour to keep you safe. You are not a child. If you are a mature adult (as you should be, if you’ve come out in BDSM), you need to learn to use your common-fucking-sense and be responsible. Don’t get me wrong – I think safe calls and introductory discussions are awesome for people just coming out. I think they’re necessary. But be prepared, when you do start going out there and meeting with potential partners – to make your decisions based on common sense and not hormones. I’m adamant about this. And I’ll be honest to you as to why: When I first started meeting people in a BDSM context (after C and I had met, and broken up), I did it badly – meaning – I was unsafe. I was in a hurry. I was letting the desire overtake my common sense. And you know what? No one told me different. No one said to me “Be fucking careful.” All anyone ever said was “We’ll be here to catch you if you fall.” Now, I tell people: Be fucking careful. I’ll be here for you, if you fall – once. If you don’t learn your lesson the first time, do NOT expect me to baby-sit you forever. There are too many “victims” in today’s society. If you can stand there and tell me that “submissive does not equal stupid” then be prepared to back that up. There are people involved in BDSM communities that *live* to be babysitters. They love feeling like the “group protector” and the “daddy” of all the female submissives. Fine. But if you aren’t teaching those submissives how to be their own protector, and something happens to you (or, as in one case I know personally – you get pissed off and leave the community) – you’ve ended up doing much more harm than good in the long run.

Please. Do Auntie Screamer a favor. Stop. And THINK. With your HEAD. The BIG head, not the little one. Thank you.

This is not to say that safety shouldn’t be taught; it should be. And it should be taught well.

I’ve been told in the past, that as someone who’s been doing this awhile that it’s my DUTY to teach new people the rules and safety. No, I don’t think so. It’s not that I won’t – if I’m asked, I will most certainly. But when you start telling me I *have* to, I’m going to get very pissy. People like me – people who write – either online, or in print – often get mistaken for experts. Most of us aren’t. Please remember that. Just because someone wrote a book doesn’t make them the be-all, end-all authority on anything EXCEPT their own experience. It’s okay to disagree with them. Those books aren’t bibles, after all. If you’re reading a book on BDSM and you run across something in it that doesn’t sit well with you, please don’t feel like you have to take it as *law*. You don’t. After having encountered some of these “so-called” experts in face-to-face venues, all I can tell you is – most of them aren’t anything more than people who enjoy BDSM, and have a flair for writing.

Now, having said *all* of that, let me assure you that I do think BDSM community is good over-all. I think in general it fills a space that desperately needs to be filled, and I do support many of these organizations. Groups like TES, Black Rose, Society of Janus – these guys have been around a very long time. And they’re excellent at what they do. I also think BDSM books are, by and large, great additions to your library and even better when you can read them objectively. I think events are *fun*. I think munches are *great*. And I think that the people who are leaders in all of this should be much more appreciated than they are by all of us.

My issues with community are seen through my lens. And I’ll admit that I’ve had some just purely awful experiences in and about the communities I participated in. But over-all, I wouldn’t trade one minute of it – or any of the friends I’ve made during that time.

Pain Hurts No, it really does. I’m not kidding.


I’m not a masochist.

I meditated on that long and hard for a long time, and I finally came to that conclusion. I do not get any sexual satisfaction from the feeling of pain. I cannot have orgasm simply from having pain inflicted on me, even in a BDSM sense.

I do get satisfaction from pain, in a d/s sense, however. There are several ways this can be achieved.
- The feeling of submitting to another’s will, or;
- The depth of meditative space I can get into during the scene, or;
- The feeling of accomplishment once it’s over

I used to believe that I had orgasms from pain. But it was never that. Instead, it was the use of dominance, aggression – and simply, the feeling of being submissive in a scene – bending my will to that of another.

On those occasions when I’ve bottomed to someone that I’m not submissive to, the feeling is more of the meditative space kind; where I close my eyes and concentrate on the pain itself, and allow the energy building inside me to convert any pent up antipathy/aggression/resentment inside me into energy that I can release when I release the yells/screams/cries from the pain. Single tails are great for this purpose. The sting of a whip – especially if done in a nice rhythm and with sharp impact gives a great backdrop. Thuddy things like floggers can also be good. But if the pain is too light, I get more into a dreamy space, and never quite get to the meditative space.

There is one time that I like pain, though. I like pain during sex.

I like to be bitten. I like to have vile, evil nasty things done to me. I like to be talked to meanly, to be held down and tortured with fingers, teeth and cock. I’ve mentioned before that I like rough sex, so this is no surprise to you, right? I don’t want to be treated gently. Save that for afterwards, when I’m sore. *grin*.

I want to be taken. But it’s more than that. And this following word, having been on my list of blogger topics for quite some time, is finally going to get to be explored:

Used. .

Sex is one of the times when I feel the most submissive. It’s when I want to be the most pleasing and put to the “best use”, so to speak. It may have to do with proximity, with hormones, with breathlessness and heat. I go at sex with abandon. It’s one of the few times out of a day where I can completely “let go”. I can’t really identify any one thing in particular, but something about fucking brings the submissive part of me front and center in a hurry. And I think that’s where ‘used’ comes in.

For me to feel good about being submissive, I have to be doing something pleasing or helpful. I want to feel like I’m making C’s life easier in one way or another. This is why when he first went into the Navy and was in Chicago, I kept asking him for things to do – or finding things to do and then telling him that I’d done them.

I believe that perhaps in sex – and more specifically, in sex with C – I have a healthy outlet for allowing myself to allow myself to be completely pleasing, with no ulterior motives and no concern for myself. I’m there to give him what *he* wants. And in doing so, I get exactly what *I* want. Luckily, this seems to work out well for C and I, and is probably one of the reasons we’re so innately compatible.

I’ve tried to analyze and meditate on that. On why I feel that way. And I’ve never found an answer to it. I’ve come to accept that it’s just how I’m made up – and part of what makes me – well, me.

Side note: There’s so much confusion in the online BDSM community about the delineation between d/s and SM. People *assume* that if you are in a d/s relationship, that you ‘play’. That’s not always the case. ‘Play’, in this house, is a rare thing. Our d/s contains very little use of SM or restraint – and if we do utilize those accoutrements, it’s less a part of d/s and more a part of ‘fun time’ for us. A discussion we had recently on StrictlyDs brought this to light. People who come to the ‘online community’ (I still hate that word) looking for answers about d/s are directed to whip workshops and bondage demos. And maybe that’s what they’re looking for. But it’s not always. Maybe what they’re really looking for is a seminar on ‘how to let your dominant know you’re angry with him’, or ‘how to quell a bratty submissive’. There is far less of that out there, than the demonstrations on rope work and caning. (More on the BDSM community later)

Breaking the Final Wall


I don’t want to be given a choice.

That’s not to say I’d like that all the time in my life – frankly, I’m a little too Type A for that. But when it comes to certain things, I don’t want any choices. I don’t want to feel like I can get out of something just by saying “no”. For most of my life, I’ve been able to talk my way out of things – punishment as a kid, groundings, speeding tickets. It’s been easy for me to put a smile on my face, and flirt my way out of too much. I don’t want to be able to do that all the time. There’s a certain security in knowing that there’s one person in the world that I cannot plow over.

I talked the other day about breaking that final wall down, and about how I feel about that. It’s something I want. And I think it’s something C wants, too. All his accusations about me being vague have been true, and he *knows* that’s he’s not getting “all the way in there” (meaning my twisted little mind). Without saying it in so many words, I know he wants that.

I thought about that last night, after I’d posted my little discourse on the subject. And what I thought about was this: What is it going to take to get me there? To plow through that last concrete barrier?

I don’t want to be given a choice.

(This is an incomplete thought - will return to it soon)

I haven't run away... I've just been percolating....

I started an entry that I want to finish, and I'm having trouble with it. Hopefully, I'll be able to hammer it out today.

Bent but not….
Broken. Maybe.

(*Note: I am starting this on Friday, September 26. I’m noting that, because I imagine this one will take *hours* to get through)

I want to talk about going somewhere hard. About going to that edge of a place where – if I had a safeword – I’d consider using it, if I were coherent enough. I want to talk about doing that with C.

I’ve had a couple experiences with that in my life. Both with M., and both in bad ways.

Have you ever had a full-size wooden boat oar swung at your ass with mostly full strength, without warm-up or time to mentally prepare? I have. It was one of the most unpleasant experiences of my life. It was one of the few times that I’ve “gone down” (meaning, lost my footing and/or balance). It was an emotionally ugly moment in my life, and because he did it on a “dare” (he was being goaded), I learned a valuable lesson about where his definition of dominant and my definition of dominant parted ways. Had he not left me alone at that point – if he had continued to hit me – I’d have ended the relationship on the spot – not because it hurt bad and I didn’t like it. But because it hurt bad, I didn’t like it, and his reason for doing it was childish and immature, and later – when he explained it away by saying it was his sadistic streak (he didn’t have one or, if he did, that was the only time I ever saw it in four years), I lost a lot of respect for him. It wasn’t the *act* itself that pushed me to that edge – it was adolescent behavior. While the friends who “goaded” him into it laughed after he’d done it, he laughed with them, while picking me up off the floor. I pushed him away. He was, in that moment, lost to me as a dominant, and became every vanilla boyfriend I’d ever had… showing off for his buddies.

The other time – not surprisingly, at the same house as the first – was during and after a scene that I found out just before we did (we had planned to play all weekend, but right before we did, he told me this news) was going to be a punishment, not a scene. The punishment was for what he considered to be an infraction (and I, being the “good little submissive” figured I deserved) of protocol (which we didn’t have). It was a yearly gathering of friends, and that morning, I called him a “dork” (which was his actual nickname, by the way, and something that I called him often without his disapproval – he seemed to be proud of it) in front of a dominant that he respected. I was immediately reprimanded, and – this is important here – forgiven – for the “offense” (which had never been an offense before). That night, as I was preparing to go into the “dungeon” and play, he said that he was going to be punishing me for that. I didn’t say anything about his forgiving me (I was a trusting lil thing), and I just figured it would make him feel better – so what the hell? It was the longest half hour of my life. Every minute of that scene hurt – more mentally than physically – and when he finally released me from the cuffs, I quickly picked up the toys and disappeared out of that room and back into the kitchen. I sat down at the counter and cried. And cried. And cried. Half an hour later, when he finally appeared beside me (I don’t know what he was doing. Getting pats on the back? Who knows), I wouldn’t let him touch me. I shook his hand off every time he tried, and finally went into our bedroom and shut the door to get away from him. It took me well over a week to get past that little debacle.

Both of these examples are good for showing two things:
First, consistency is essential.
And second, communication is the key.

Now, on the other hand, these are bad examples of going to “the edge”. Taking me to that “edge” was neither on his mind – nor discussed prior to these “scenes” – and after they were over, I felt broken.

I don’t want to feel broken. I want to feel like the last wall of my resistance has been broken. There’s a very big difference there.

C talks about wanting to make me cry. I think I can honestly say that I have only cried one time during a scene since I started doing this. I don’t know if that’s an internal part of me that blocks that, or if I just haven’t been pushed to the limit physically. Probably a little of both. I dislike pain. I really do. I’m not a masochist. Submitting to pain, though, is what *does it* for me. I figure, eventually, the desire to submit to it will be over-ridden by the “ouch” factor, and that’s the point where the “last wall” will come down.

It took a long time to put those walls up. And I’ll be the first to admit that a couple of them probably got thrown up by the two incidents I detailed above. That’s not C’s fault, nor is it his responsibility to *have* to tear them down. But he wants them down. And so do I. And I’m woman enough to admit that I don’t know how else to *get* them down.

C knows about the two episodes above. I don’t know if I went into as much detail when I told him as I did here, but if he gets a little more insight into the “wall building”, mores the better. I think (there I go, thinking again. Once of these days, my “supposing” and “thinking I know” how C feels about stuff is gonna get me in trouble….too bad I’m not a brat *chuckle*) that C’s very aware of the fact that I *have* been broken, and I’m pretty sure that he’s aiming at the same goal that I am. And – here I go supposing – I think he’s probably a little wary about going too far.

Thing is, I don’t *want* him to worry about that, and I’m not sure how to make him stop.

It’s rare to see C lose control. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him hurt. But I’ve never seen him lose control, which is one reason that I trust him like I do. If he does do it, it’s the exception, not the norm. Dominants have walls too. And I believe (He’ll tell me if I’m wrong. I know he will *chuckle*, if for no other reason to hear me say “I was wrong”. He loves hearing it as much as I hate saying it) that he holds a lot of himself back when we *do* get the opportunity to play. And again, I don’t want him to do that. We both want the intimacy that taking down *all* the walls would bring, but I think we both have trepidations on how we’re going to get there.
I imagine that this is going to be one of the *big* topics when he gets home. Of all that I’ve written here, this is perhaps the most unspoken and the most on-our-minds when we discuss our D/s relationship.

I’m probably not quite done with this, but I took a few notes on things to come back to. Will do them separate from this, so that I can keep the issues straight *grin*.

What a Weekend

I spent most of the day yesterday putting a Paypal shopping cart on my soap and candles site. Boy, coding webpages sure has changed. Aunt Dee's Cupboard. And yes, as a matter of fact, I *do* carry some leather scented stuff *grin* Cold-processed handmade soap (from scratch - lye and water and oils), incense and of course, candles. I had to go through several suppliers before I found a leather fragrance oil that really *smelled* like leather and not perfume. The one I use now is very true.

Today, I listed a whole pile of my "chick lit" paperbacks on Amazon to resell them. I could take them to the used book store, but ....eh. This way, I get actualy cash. I had been giving them to my friend LA, but I think I've got her buried in books right now *g* I read like a fiend.

About a year ago, I gave up on the LeStat series from Anne Rice. While I like the storylines, her.... wordiness often frustrates me. A friend suggest the Mayfair Witch series, so I bought the three books. They've been sitting there for all that time. I started on the other night. It was slow-going at first, but it's starting to pick up.

The FoodChannel is on TV, on mute. My TV is almost *always* on mute. *chuckle*.

And - obviously - I've been writing.

And I'll be writing. Some more. *g*

Humiliation is in the Eye of the …well, ME.
Or, What’s hot for you might be cold as ice to me

What’s humiliating…for you?

This has got to be one of the most discussed and least understood areas of BDSM for most people. The possibilities are endless. The “safe edges” are staggeringly diverse. And the meanings – varied and many. The difference between embarrassment, humiliation and degradation is huge. (See my essay on this for more information about how I see the differences).

The idea came up on StrictlyDs awhile back, about “is submission humiliating?” I wrote that phrase down in my list of topics for this blogger, and it’s been there for well over a month. And until today, I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to respond.

(I don’t have to say this, but I will, because invariably, someone will say “that’s not true!” about something I write here today. And I’ll say – it *is* true – FOR ME)

Submission is not humiliating – for me. Submission is my chosen way of life. I’ve selected a dominant partner to share my life that views my submission as I do: a way to live. (Course, it also helps that I’m head over heels in love with him) My submission is shameful or degrading; it’s the format in which I choose to live. It’s just *who* and *what* I am, and in it – accepting it, warts and all – is how I feel best about myself.

So that’s out. What else is there?

Humiliation is mostly verbal, although there are some physical elements of it that can be tacked in (including public “flashing”, objectification, etc). The more intense the intimacy is between two people, and the stronger the person on the receiving end is, the more humiliation can be utilized in a relationship. Not everyone in BDSM does this, nor should they. Not everyone wants this. I’m still personally undecided about how much of this I really want in my relationship with C. And because I have a hard time defining what is humiliating to me, it’s not something that’s going to get incorporated into *us* anytime soon. Frankly, I’m not sure it’s even something C is interested in exploring to any degree. I’m doing it myself now, for my own self-knowledge.

What is *not* humiliation for me: being submissive, being called a slut (hell, in one sense of the word, I am a slut (for him), and in our case, being called a slut means *that* - his slut. Not a generic, general slut), being spanked, being called other names (see my post about nicknames). For some folks, those things are humiliating. For me, they’re just part of who we are and what we do.

I think I have trouble defining what *is* humiliating to me, because we’ve not played with any of it. Something that I think at this moment *might* be humiliating, may not be coming from the man I love and trust. It might not be fun or *hot*, but it might not be embarrassing or degrading, either. I just don’t *know*.

Part of being able to incorporate a lot of humiliation into a relationship is based on the level of intimacy between the participants. Knowing each other well, knowing each others true boundaries (as opposed to just things we don’t *like*), and knowing that the person on the receiving end will be *okay* when you push that last little line off the map. It also, I believe, takes a great deal of self-esteem (which is something that’s ever evolving in me) and the ability to *not* internalize the humiliation (this I believe I have the ability to do. For instance, if someone calls me stupid, I know that I’m *not* stupid, so I can just snicker inside and roll my eyes at them). If it’s not done properly and carefully, it can be a mine field.

There’s a couple I know from the Chicago area who have this down to a science. It’s both intriguing and frightening to watch him treat her the way he does, especially if you haven’t heard her speak of it out of “scene”. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched them, my gaze glued to her face, watching her eyes and her outward reactions. But listening to her speak, away from “that part” of them, is just as intriguing. This is what she *wants*.

That couple, and other people I’ve heard talk about humiliation speak of a “loss of ego” during a particularly grueling “scene” (I don’t know what else to call it but “scene”, even though it doesn’t really fit here). About being “reduced” to someone who has no ego, no arrogance. They’ve gone on to say that this is a way of reducing inhibitions. Of releasing hang-ups. And of letting go of those last little vestiges of false pride.

A quote from Ask the Therapist Copyright © 1994 by William A. Henkin
Degradation and humiliation exist on a continuum that begins with the mildest embarrassment and proceeds through the most severe debasement. And along the way some people learn the difference between humiliation and humility – a state that can only be attained when false pride is stripped away from a posturing ego and the real strength of an individual shines forth. This can be a gift for the Top of stunning beauty.

Having said all that, I’m still not sure it’s something I’m willing to plunge right into. Maybe edge into, but certainly not dive into at the level of these folks’ I’ve watched.

And you shouldn’t either (There’s Auntie Screamer again, butting in). Moderation is they key here – moving slowly, and keeping the pace consistent.

But it’s certainly something to talk about.

Five Words
Copyright 2003, Kanthra Adaire (Screamer)
All Rights Reserved

A statement;
not really a question
even though I could have tacked a
“don’t you?” on the end
Just five little words
Spoken in the heat of the moment
When the passion had risen above capacity
When he was fucking me
filling me
hurting me with hands, teeth and cock
When an answer wasn’t needed
or asked for
but was given, just the same

I didn’t expect him to answer me
My mind was elsewhere when I said it
Somewhere dark and wet and thick
My mind could scarcely remember to breathe
And I was shocked that I had spoken at all

Five words
Innocuous, meant to tease and torment, I suppose
Meant to send this burning to a whole new degree
For myself, more than anything
I wanted to hear them come out of my mouth
The admission that I knew
Frightening and captivating at once
Meant for me as much as him
Meant to push him
further
Not knowing where he’d be once he got there
and not caring

Five words
“You like to hurt me”
breathlessly spoken
during an outward movement
when there was room inside me to think

His answer
growled, not spoken
on his inward thrust
making his point
driving it home, so to speak


Yes.

Words
When Safewords aren’t Safe, and When Words Are Not Optional Equipment

I don’t have a safeword with C. Firstly, I’ve never needed one. And secondly, he’s got a good handle on when I’m *really* in trouble as opposed to when I’m resisting something. We talked about this, when we first got back together, and decided that neither of us felt like we needed “a word”.

I had a safeword with M for quite awhile. I made a big to-do about giving up my safeword with him at one point, and I’m still not really sure why I did it. I don’t feel that – even in the end – I had enough trust in him to do that.

Having said that, I think that safewords can be useful in many situations, such as casual play, play with someone other than your regular partner, or when you are in a new relationship. If either person is uncomfortable with the situation, a safeword is a great tool. I have used them on these occasions, when I’ve topped or bottomed to someone else. I can’t expect to be able to read someone I’ve only topped a few times the way I could read someone I’d known and played with for years, could I? It doesn’t work that way.

I could ramble on and on here about how communication and understanding - between two people who are playing on a level that would require a submissive to *use* a safeword if she had one – should be such that she wouldn’t need an actual word, but I’m not going to. You’ve heard it before, I’m sure. Suffice it to say that there’s a big difference in saying “I have a charlie horse in my right leg” and screaming “red!” at the top of my lungs. Firstly, if it hurts bad enough, “red” is not the first word that’ll come into my head. And secondly, “red” doesn’t really tell the dominant anything except “stop”. If you *had* a charlie horse, and you shouted “red!”, he’d stop, but you’re *still* going to have to tell him about the cramp so he can unbind you or help you move into a position where you can shake it off.

I could also ramble on and on about what I feel is an abuse of a safeword system – wherein a submissive uses a safeword to halt play simply because she doesn’t feel like playing anymore, as opposed to something being actually wrong. But I won’t yammer about that, either.

No, there’s another issue here, buried in the “Safeword” matter. And the clearest way I can spell it out for you is this:

My Dominant Can’t Read My Mind And neither can yours.

This doesn’t just go for scening, either, although when I started writing this, that’s where I was headed. The words you use to describe a problem in a scene are very important. If you don’t use a safeword – and even if you do – the more information you can give the dominant, the better off the situation will end up.

This goes for every thing, every day. If he asks you a question, don’t be coy – answer the question. (I’ve sucked at this for as long as I can remember. I have a tendency to hem and haw around an answer, if I’m not really sure of how to say what I want to say) If you’re having trouble completing a task, tell him – and then tell him *why*. If you want to try something, spit it out. If you need something more than he’s giving you, find a respectful way to spell it out for him. If you’re scening and you get a cramp, say that. Don’t say “stop”. He might take that as encouragement *g*. Tell him what. Tell him why. And tell him when. If your relationship doesn’t have a forum for that, ask courteously for one.

There are two dilemmas with this, really. First, submissives tend to see their dominants as omnipotent beings. We tend to forget that they’re human too. He’s not going to know that you want to do more bondage just by looking at you. He’s not going to know that the single-tail scene you watched at a play party last month made you insanely jealous and you’re dying to try it unless you *tell* him so. If you’re like me, and do a lot of web surfing, he’s not going to know that what you saw on that website about resistance play really turned you on, even if you send him a link for it. Show him the site. And then point out what exactly it was that got your fire cooking. You’ve read me make references to what C says about me – that I’m vague sometimes. Don’t be vague. Spell it out. C has said to me often that he is a “old country boy and needs to have things spelled out for him sometimes”, which is the equivalent of telling me that I’ve not given him nearly enough information to go on. (I’m thinking right now that he’s not saying that lately, with all this writing I’ve been doing – HA!)

The other predicament is equally troubling. There’s a delicate balance that should be achieved in dominance and submission. Submissives tend to put their needs and wants on the back burner, expecting that if what they want isn’t something the dominant wants – there’s no point in asking for it. And in some relationships, that would be the case. But really – what does it hurt to ask? To plant a seed? Maybe he *does* want it, but hasn’t approached it yet. Picture this: dominant and submissive, sitting on a couch. She wants to do an interrogation scene, but doesn’t speak about it because she feels it’s not her place to bring it up. While the whole time, he’s sitting next to her on the couch, fantasizing about that very thing, but not wanting to bring it up because he feels she may not be ready for it yet.

In both situations, the only way to clearly get there is to communicate . I know all the books say this – the vanilla relationship books as well as the d/s books – but for some reason, it doesn’t make it any easier. I’ll admit it – it’s hard to do sometimes. I am in no way good at it – yet. I still have major issues bringing things up that I’m afraid C will scowl at. I’m sure there are many submissives out there who will prove this theory wrong, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I believe that *many submissives feel intimidated about bringing up new ideas to their dominants*.
But – if your relationship allows for this – then you have to do it. Be honest.

And if you don’t *know* if your relationship allows for this, **ask**. I’m lucky in that. The more information I give C, the better my chances of getting something I ask for. I am always allowed to ask.

If you have the go-ahead, and you’re *still* having trouble, take a cue from me. Write it down. This is what I’ve been doing the last several weeks. Writing all of these entries and sending them off to C for his perusal. The first one is the hardest *g*. If you’re uncomfortable writing it this way, write a fiction story. Sit down one night and *tell* him face to face. Send an email.

But remember this: He won’t know if you don’t tell him. Your dominant can’t read your mind

I’ve come to feel that it’s my responsibility to keep him informed about what I’m feeling, how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking about.

However, (You just *knew* there would be one of those here, didn’t you?) just because you *ask* him or *tell* him what you’d like, don’t expect to *get* it. By telling him, you’ve done your job. Now let him do his, and make the decision as to what he feels will benefit you *both* in the long run. By doing that – and by not making demands or whining and throwing hissy fits, you allow for an unclouded communication channel between yourself and the dominant. Anger and fussing clouds the channel, and will likely bring about the opposite of what you really want. Even if they *do* get you what you’re asking for, are you really going to be satisfied by what you did to get it?

As I said, I’m still not perfect at this. It’s still a struggle for me to find it within myself to ask for things from C. But it’s true that the more you do it, the easier it gets. Hopefully one day, it’ll be second nature to me.

Until then, though, I just keep writing…….

The Use Of Ritual in D/s
Bringing what’s missing back, and bringing forward what’s fallen behind.


I saved this small quote from an email message: By repeating a specific pattern, you bring up a specific mental or emotional state. And it's quite powerful

To me, that’s ritual. Rituals can be used to bring about a certain mindset. To remind the people involved of a certain activity or incident. To renew the conscious decision to submit or dominate the person you are with. They create a structure in which a D/s relationship can flourish – remaining a constant safe place, or in some cases, growing to a new level of depth and understanding. They are pomp and circumstance for some people. They are security for some people.

When C and I first got together in Cheyenne, we had little rituals. Nothing major, but the one I remember most was – after dinner, and the dishes were done, he’d be in his recliner, and I’d go kneel between his legs and lay my head against his chest while he watched TV. We never talked about this – it wasn’t something that he said “do this” or I said “I want to do this.” I just started doing it. . It was a way to connect with my submission, after a long day of dominating computer programming code, and housework. It was my way of renewing that feeling on a daily basis. It was a secure time for me. We were physically and emotionally connected at that point, regardless of my job stress or his school problems – we were just what we had intended to be.

Years later –after our time apart – C and I talked about how we did a lot of things wrong when we were living together the first time. How we took a whole lot of misleading cues from our time in AOL Chat rooms (Le Chateau Dungeon, Le Chateau Serenity, Chateau Royale – circa 1994-95) as how we were supposed to be – and act – and believe. In the end, it wasn’t those things that separated us, but they definitely had a hand in setting us up for failure. I believe we’ve made conscious efforts since then to avoid the “trappings” of D/s, and to simply concentrate on our relationship, and its format.

As everyone who’s reading this knows ad naseum, C’s gone. He won’t be back now for over two months. There are a few things I wish we’d have had time to arrange before he left and a few well placed rituals is one of them.

I have a ritual. Every night before I go to sleep, I say goodnight to C and tell him I love him. That’s my thing – it’s my signal that it’s time to go to sleep (though, I often can’t. I sleep like crap these days). But it’s not a D/s ritual, and it’s got nothing to do with “that part” of our relationship. I’ll be the first to admit that I have trouble sometimes remembering that this is our chosen dynamic. It’s why we *got* together the first time, and it’s why we got *back* together. With him so far away, and so little communication between us, it falls by the wayside often. Part of the reason I’ve been writing like a fiend here the last several weeks is because I’ve made a conscious effort to reinforce that part of myself while he’s gone. As I’ve said, I’m sending them to him via the good ol’ US Mail and perhaps in reading them, it’s reinforcing the dominant part of him. And when he gets back, we’ll have time – or make time to start putting some structure in place – so that the next time he goes – I’ll have a little more solid ground to sit and wait for him on.

Thing is, C and I have never really talked about this kind of thing. The man is in the Navy, for gawd sakes – he’s got all the ritual and ceremony anyone could want. What makes me think he’s got room in his life for anymore?

And, what makes me think that I have a right to suggest it? (Don’t fall off your chair in horror. No, Screamer hasn’t been kidnapped and replaced with a “trew submissive”. I’ll come back to that, I promise)

I did some web research (as always) about this, before I started writing tonight. 95% of what I ran across was that “be naked at home/ask permission to pee/kneel before bed” stuff that I can’t wrap my mind around. Call me jaded. But I’ve seen far too much of that stuff used cyber-ly, and far too many relationships that were supposedly built on a set of rituals that included those be tossed to the wayside when a better looking dominant – or a bigger-breasted submissive came along. I did find a few pages that seemed to use ritual and structure in a more – and I really don’t mean to offend anyone, if you do have the above rituals in your relationship (if I was trying to offend you, trust me, you’d know it) – a more realistic way. However, as usual, I was disappointed in what I found.

I suppose, to make this a worthwhile endeavor, I should come up with an example, hm? Easier said than done. However, for the sake of not being vague (sorry, private joke to C), I’ll give one.

A question, with a specific answer. He asks the question – always gets the same answer from me. Depending on the question and answer, it could take me from my typical mindset (Type A – Anal retentive – never *still*) to another mindset entirely. This is something that could be used whether he was home or not.

There are, of course, tons of other ideas out there. And if, when C gets home, he wants to discuss implementing this in our relationship (and I hope that he will), I’ll have an idea of some other examples to present to him. I don’t want us to be so structured that he feels the Military Inflexibility at home as well as at work. I *really* don’t want that. I want home for him to be – as a very good friend of mine put it to me recently – an oasis for him from that. But, at the same time, there is a certain amount of structure that *I* do need – for my own self-identity. And I’m hoping there’s a way to make it work smoothly for us both. (this is re: the And, what makes me think that I have a right to suggest it? comment. Told you I’d come back to that)

Another Fantasy Explored
Oh Right. Hurt me Hurt me.

I’ve wanted to write something for the last couple days. For some reason, I’ve been having trouble getting coherent thoughts on paper. I’m trying again, but if it turns out badly, blame my writer’s block *g*.

I’m not sure what to call this fantasy. There are several names for it – play rape, mock rape, etc. None of those really *fit* for me. Let’s, for the sake of argument, call it a force fantasies.

C and I have actually talked about this one. I’ve talked to other people who’ve done this or have done the research into it. I came away with some conclusions, which are, of course, my opinion, and not meant to be stated as fact:

For the person being “raped”, this has several possible motivations.

Firstly (and most prevalently from my research), the “victim” has no control over what’s happening. They are “forced” to have depraved, somewhat violent sex against their will. There’s no need to feel any guilt about it, because they have “no control” over the situation.

Secondly, and possibly more importantly, the person being “raped” is encouraged to like it by the “rapist” – is possibly “forced” to have an orgasm, etc.

I’ve read of some people using it to “take back control” over a real rape in their past.

Thirdly, there’s the idea that the “rapist” wants the person being “raped” so badly that they don’t “care” if the passive person wants it or not. It’s the idea that they are *so* desirable, the “rapist” has no control over their actions. The desire for this passive person over-rules everything from common sense to concern for the law or the passive person.

And then there’s my reason (some of the above which also apply to me, but not the guilt one. I have no guilt about sex.). Violent sex – rough sex(see note 1), if you will – turns me on. I want to fight back. I want to kick and hit and bite and “fight off” my attacker. Or, at least, try to. There’s aerobic sex – which is my own little catch phrase for people who do amazingly energetic and acrobatic things during sex – which releases a lot of pent up energy--- and then, there’s violent sex. They’re both burning off energy, but in completely ways. In violent sex, you’re releasing pent up aggression, anger, fear and stress. Being allowed to fight back – something that I’m not allowed to do during regular SM activities (well, ‘not allowed’ is the right way to phrase that – let’s just say it feels wrong) This reason, I’ve read and know to be true – fits both people (or, all people) in the scenario most times. The “rapist” also has this energy to burn off, and is allowed to do it in a safe environment. With proper preparation, including loads of prior communication, this “space” offers the perfect opportunity to burn off that stress in a way that allows both people to get what they need.

Now then. Switching sides for the time being – what’s in it for the “rapist”, besides what I said in the last paragraph?

Complete control, for one thing. Sex – the way the “rapist” wants it, not the way the romance books and society tells you that you “should” be having it. The satisfaction – in some cases (not all) – of *making* someone like it, whether they want to or not.

I’m sure there are others – for both sides – if you like, email me and share your thoughts with me on this subject, because frankly, it fascinates the hell out of me.

Back to me. As I said, C and I have discussed this. Not nearly as much as I’d have liked, but for some reason, every time it comes up – something more important arises that needs our attention.

One of the hang-ups, in our discussions, has been what to do if something *really* goes wrong. I don’t have a safeword. And frankly, if the scene goes the way it’s supposed to, I’m going to be beyond using a safeword by the time I need one. How the hell am I supposed to remember some dumb-ass word like “purple” with all that other stuff floating in my head? Never happen. And I can’t just say “stop” or “no”, because chances are, I’m going to be saying those anyway, and I won’t mean them – that’s part of the whole thing. Most times, C is immediately able to tell when I’m seriously in trouble – where other people would use a safeword – and knows how to react. But during something with all this intensity, neither of us is sure that that would happen. It’s a concern for C (actually, much more for him than for me), and one of the reasons we’ve not tried this. I guess the bottom line is – how can you completely let go to enjoy the fantasy if you have to be looking out for triggers and trip-ups with the other person?

Another hang-up is time. You all know that spiel already.

And yet another is what I call the “element of surprise”. The hows, whys, and wherefores of the whole thing. If it’s too rehearsed, chances are neither of us will be able to get into the headspace necessary for it. If he does it without any kind of warning, chances are he’ll plan it – and find that when he tries to do it, something intercedes.

I think he also worries that if we talk about it too much, it won’t live up to its expectations when we try it. Or, that if we talk about it too much, we’ll never be able to find that “element of surprise”. (I’m guessing here, because he’s never said, but after he reads this, I’m sure I’ll have the real answer. If I’m wrong, maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll add it to ‘the list’…hahaha)

The noise level is also an issue. We’ve talked about hotels; we’ve talked about our apartment. Neither of these, we don’t think, will work – because of the noise level.

I was disappointed when I went looking for websites about this. There really don’t seem to be much out there, but here are a few that I did find:

From Gloria Brame’s Site
Force Fantasies Website

There were a few others that offered crappy information, which I’ve excluded – but the Forced Fantasies website has an extensive list of links.

I wish there was more. I’m always looking for new insights into why I feel the way I do – want what I want – and so on. Evidently, this subject is so damn taboo that few people will even touch it. I may have to do something about that. Soon.


(Note 1): I’ll admit it. I like rough sex. I like to be bitten, slapped, and held down. I like to be taken . Not every time, of course (I’d be a mass of bruises…wait…is that a bad thing? lol), but often. I was asked recently *why* I like this. I don’t have an answer for that. But I’ll address it again, later.

Safe, Sane and Consensual
…my ass.

For something that started off as a slogan, SSC certainly gets a lot of press. It also gets written into a lot of by-laws of groups. Gets put on a lot of rule lists at play parties. Gets bandied about as if it’s a law, rather than a media explanation.

Bah. Fuck SSC.

Safe, sane and consensual (which, by the way, is a word people mis-spell too often. It drives me bats) are just *words*. Who’s to say that what I want to do is safe? Don’t the people actually doing the scene know what’s safe for them and what’s not? Certainly better than a stranger who is running an event? Sane is equally hard to define, because what I might think is nuts, you find to be your greatest pleasure. And consensual varies from couple to couple. For instance, I resist a lot. I like to do that. It works off energy. C likes it when I do resist. To an outsider? It might look non-consensual, but for the two of us, it’s what we enjoy.

Course, I don’t know that C and I have ever played in public. I have, many times, but I don’t think we have together. We’ve been to parties and munches, but never played. And that’s fine with me. I don’t like having my scenes dictated by a media catchphrase or someone who *thinks* they know what’s best for me. I’m all for keeping dungeon areas fluid-safe. But beyond that? Bah.

And even RACK (risk aware consensual kink) doesn’t work for me. I don’t want a slogan. I want a *scene*. I don’t want to be politically correct – lord knows being a female submissive in this world isn’t politically correct, either. I just want to be allowed to be who I am and do what I enjoy.

Sounds like a good reason to play at home to me.

There’s another problem with SSC, for me. It seems to be handed to newbies like a shield. People hand the phrase to new people and expect it to protect them. It doesn’t. How in the world is someone who hasn’t ever played before supposed to know what’s safe or sane? The last thing I want to give new people is a false sense of security. And that’s what this slogan does. “Everyone who does BDSM is SSC.” Or “We’re not perverts – everything we do is SSC” Oh please. When was the last time a vanilla person defined getting hit with a bullwhip as *safe* or *sane*?

Sometimes, I’m more than happy to stay in my little leather closet.

And the reality is….
That I have something like 80 or so days to go.

Been a weird couple of days here.
I’ve been doing so well with C being gone. Had a couple of “down” days here and there, but have kept busy and kept my mind off it.
Well, I’ve been busy as hell the last couple days, and my mind is anything BUT off it.

I guess I should have expected that around the half way mark, it would become infinitely more difficult, knowing that it *was* half over, and we were on the downhill slide of this thing.

I’m not a patient person.
But I’m getting there.

Fantasies…
May be better left as just that…but how do I know?

There are a couple of things I have fantasies about, but am not sure I’d feel comfortable with, were they brought to reality. Things that I’ve heard other people talk about, or things I’ve read about in books – these … activities sound hot and/or deeply interesting, but I’m not all that sure they’d work well in my reality.

I’m going to talk about all of them, but I’ll only take on one at a time, so I can devote a little better thought to them.

Fantasy #1: Golden Showers

The basics: Being peed on.
Why it sounds hot: Psychological. Not remotely physical. “Marking of territory”.
Why I don’t know if I’d like it: Might feel like humiliation. The physical aspects of it might be – weird.

For me, this is very animalistic (And that’s something – getting the basest level – that appeals to me). There really isn’t any better description for it than “marking of territory”, in my mind. I know that people use it as humiliation, and maybe I’d feel that way, if we were to do it, but I don’t get that “vibe” from it. While it’s a physical activity, the mental aspect of it would be the most prevalent --- in my mind . I can say that, never having actually done it. I’ve written about it, and I’ve fantasized about it, but without first hand knowledge, I really don’t know how I’d react to it. And probably never will, because C is diametrically opposed to it. I think the “gross-out” factor gets to him – and – who knows; maybe it would to me, too.

The other part of this is that it appears to be just so damn intimate . That, in and of itself, is a big appeal for me. As I’m working toward taking down walls in my life (as previously mentioned), the idea of being closer to C is a big plus for me.

M and I did try this, in the reverse. For some reason, he got a wild hair up his ass one day, and wanted me to pee on him. (*M and I “switched” a lot). We got into the shower and try as I might, I couldn’t do it. I think the expectation of it just shut me down. That or maybe I never really did get into the mindset of switching with him (probably more accurate), or maybe I didn’t feel intimate enough with him to share it with him (probably also accurate). Either way, it didn’t work out, and I didn’t find myself remotely disappointed, because that’s not the end of the stream I wanted to be on, anyway.

I’ve discussed this with other people – some who’ve done it, some who are opposed to it – and I’ve yet to come to any solid conclusions about how I’d actually react, were C to decide to include this in our life.

And until I do, it’s one of those things that probably better left for my fiction writing.

** As I was getting ready to post this, it occurred to me that I have had some experience with this. I’ve spoken before of being in an abusive relationship in my early 20’s.(I had had a dominant partner before that, though we didn’t call it d/s or sm. He was considerably older and into spanking and bondage mostly, and it was to him that I’d lost my virginity. R was for the most part, my first dominant, and who I was looking for a replacement for when I found the abuser. I wanted another dominant man. What I got was a twisted human being who enjoyed using me as a puppet, and seeing how far he could push me) Most of those memories, I’ve shuffled away and left in some deep forgotten place of my mind - which is why I didn’t think of this as I was writing. I don’t have any anger about it anymore (Geez, it was 17 years ago. I’m over it) , and I certainly don’t feel like I have any loose ends there, but having been through counseling for it, and having put the son-of-a-bitch in prison where he belonged, I just left it behind. L, the abuser, made a game of seeing how bad he could make me feel, and what he could make me do. It was like a contest with him, to see what his threats of violence would accomplish. One day, after sex, he had to pee, but was too lazy to get up. He told me to pick up a coffee cup and bring it to him. When I told him no, he threatened to hit me, so I brought him the cup. He made me hold it while he peed in it, then pushed it away and let the last of the pee fall on my hand. He laughed for a good twenty minutes about that, while I ran for the bathroom. Let me emphasize – again – that the SOB was an abusive piece of trailer-trash and that in no way, shape or form was what he did anything remotely related to BDSM. For him, he wanted to see my fear – my degradation – and my tears. He was continually testing to see how far he could push me. By the way – he found out one night, when he pushed me a little too far, and his ass ended up behind bars.

Reading over that, I guess it’s possible that one of the reasons I have an interest in trying this (maybe) is because I want to re-write that piece of my life into something intimate and positive. I haven’t really found myself wanting that with any other activity, but I guess it is possible.

And let me emphasize this, before y’all go telling me that I need help, and to get counseling. I had 2 years of counseling for this six-month relationship. Been there, done that, got a clean bill of mental-health.

Testing…Testing….1..2..3..4…
Or, why I need to know I can’t win

One thing I’ve discovered over my years of exploring BDSM is that submission takes a great deal of trust. Not only to know that your partner won’t harm you – that’s only one small part of it.

For me to feel safe, and completely surrender myself to someone, I also have to feel some other things.
- I need to know that he means what he says. That he won’t back down. I need to know that he won’t stop just because I whine a little. If I am in any way, shape or form in control of what’s happening, I won’t be at all satisfied with what I’m doing, and frankly, it’ll feel like a waste of energy.
- I need to know that he’s at peace with what he’s doing.

I only want to deal with one of those things right now, but actually, all three bear some looking into.

This is the important one for this entry: I need to know that he means what he says. That he won’t back down.

For me to be able to submit to someone body and soul – in a completely surrendered way – I have to feel that I’m safe. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. If I can get my way – if he backs down because I complain or whine – if he doesn’t do something that he feels he wants to do, because he doesn’t know how I’m going to feel about it – I don’t feel safe. I feel bad. I feel like I’m “topping from the bottom”. I feel like I’m manipulating him. I feel that for some reason, he has to hold himself back from me – and then I start to do the same.

I’m the kind of person who tests boundaries. I poke at something until I feel completely sure that it’s iron-clad. Once I find it is, I’m at peace with it, and it becomes part of me. If I find that it isn’t, I start to feel like maybe none of the boundaries are, and I start to poke at all of them as well. I don’t do this maliciously or sometimes even consciously. But it’s a behavior pattern that I recognize within myself.

To be completely vulnerable to someone, I have to believe each thing they say. Thus, if they say something – I expect them to follow through. If they don’t, I become less vulnerable to them. To be completely open to someone, I have to know, without a doubt, that they’re strong enough to handle their end of the bargain. If you give me a safe place to be open and exposed to you, I need to know that you have enough courage in your convictions to keep it that way.

Don’t get me wrong, I am able to submit to someone without all that. But to me, that submission comes with limits (not your garden variety BDSM limits – personal boundaries). I wouldn’t be completely open and vulnerable to someone in that situation. I would be submissive, but it, for me, would not be a complete surrender of my “walls”. There would always be pieces of myself that would hang back, waiting to see what he did next, and if he stuck by his word. I had a couple of relationships like this. They were satisfying for a time, but they never got me completely to where I wanted to be with my submission. I never felt completely exposed, nor did I feel completely safe. Happy, yes. Vulnerable? No.

I don’t think you can achieve this overnight. I believe that a relationship like I describe above takes years of work from the people involved. Trust like that is not built in a day.

Nor do I think it’s a goal that all submissives subscribe to, nor should they. Not everyone wants that kind of vulnerability in their lives. It’s not a goal to work towards for every submissive. It’s a current personal preference of *mine*, and one that I continue to work on daily.
--

Over the last several weeks, I’ve been doing a lot of writing – about D/s and about my self-image and my weight. When I spoke to C last, he made mention of the fact that he’d learned quite a few things about me that I hadn’t shared with him before. He had gained some insight into why I feel the way I do about certain issues. The reason for this is two-fold. First, it’s an “act of good faith” on my part to begin unraveling who and what I am, so that he can see beyond the walls I’ve erected around myself, and second – it’s so that *I* can see around them as well.

Over the years, for one reason or another, I’ve set many parts of myself aside. While I was with M, it was because I was more focused on *his* problems than my own. And with C, it’s of course been the Navy that’s taken first priority in our home (and will continue to, I’m sure. The Military has a way of doing that *chuckle*). But it seems to be time for me now to start taking a look at those parts of myself that I’ve shut down, or put away until “later”, so that I can get a good clear picture of what the rest of my life needs to be. Taking down those walls, one at a time, is hard work. I’ve taken y’all along with me on this journey, and I thank you for your comments and e-mails along the way. I don’t think when I started this blogger, that that was my intention. But for whatever reason, here I am.

If you’re angry and you know it, slap my ass!
….I think

BDSM Politically Correct Law #953: Never play when you’re angry.

(You already know by now that I usually spit in the face of the politically correct, right?)

Awhile back, when C’s boat was getting ready for deployment, they were working very long days. 12 hours, and beyond. Weekends, too, when needed. There was no downtime. Because he’s technically new to the boat (under a year), he’s still working on qualifying to get his “Dolphins”. This is added stress. I did my best to keep the house running smoothly and to make sure he had everything he needed, when he needed it. But I didn’t feel like I was doing enough. He would come home, and the frustration of his day would show right through his gorgeous brown eyes, and no matter how hard he tried to keep that from me, he couldn’t. All I could do was feed him, clothe him, and comfort him. It just didn’t feel like enough, though.

I offered to let him work his frustrations out on me. His aggravation, his dissatisfaction, and yes – his anger. (Somebody quick! Call the BDSM Police! Screamer’s broken another fucking rule!)

Well, put your citizen-arrest cuffs away. He didn’t take me up on it.

I felt safe making the offer. I knew he probably wouldn’t take me up on it, but even if he had, I’d have gone through it.

Why?

Because I trust him.

I, personally, don’t see anything wrong with one committed partner taking out some of their frustrations on the other – provided the following things are apparent:

- Both parties are made aware, from the beginning, of the anger, and that it’s discussed beforehand.
- The angry partner has a well-defined sense of self, and self-control.
- The passive partner (the non-angry one) can separate himself/herself from the anger that the other person is feeling, and not take it personally. (This is key. Really)
- If you don’t have a safeword in place in your relationship (we don’t), then make sure the angry partner knows that if you say “stop” you mean stop. Make sure the angry person is able to HEAR that, and ADHERE to that, or you’re likely heading for trouble.

In a controlled environment, working that anger off with a physical activity can do wonders. It wouldn’t necessarily have to be a beating. Some people are able to expend that negative energy – and turn it into something else entirely – during sex. When I’m angry, I pace. I have been known, upon a very serious occasion, to smack my hand on a wall as well (I don’t punch walls. I did that once. It hurt like a …well, you know what it felt like, and I wouldn’t ever do it again. I also don’t hit people in anger. Having been hit in anger myself, I know that I could never do that to someone I professed to love.) Some people run. Some work on a punching bag, or a…shit, I can’t remember the name of it, but they use it in martial arts and C used to have one in the backyard.
Regardless, what I’m doing during the pacing or wall-smacking is expending energy. It helps. Physically-exhausting sex, or a good old fashioned flogging can expend that energy as well – and – can make the passive partner feel like they’re helping out in some way. I have a pretty light flogger that can sail through the air fast and hard, and makes a satisfying noise, without doing much in the way of pain. I offered it to C. Like I said, he refused, but I’m not averse to offering it again.

Should C beat me if he’s angry at me? I can’t see that happening, mainly because if he’s angry at me, the last person he wants to be around is me . That’s not really an issue here. Should your dominant beat you when he/she is angry at you? That’s not my call. It’s yours. But it’s not something I’d personally advise someone to partake in. Everyone’s relationships are different, though, and only you really know the answer to that.

Why am I writing this? For a couple reasons, actually. First, to share that experience. Second, to say that a strict rule like “Never play when you’re angry” isn’t written in concrete for everyone. As with any rule that’s written for the quote-BDSM Community-unquote, there are exceptions. I don’t take anyone’s rules very seriously – except C’s.

Write your own rules, folks. Write them from your self-knowledge, your relationship-knowledge, and your common sense.

Dieting and Security Or, why I can lose weight alone

During my 49 hours without power, I had a lot of time to think. Besides reading, what the hell else am I going to do? (I had candles – duh – and an oil lamp, and was able to read and take notes about what I was thinking about at night. That’s probably the only thing that saved my sanity, actually).

I thought about a lot of things. I pre-wrote the beginning of two stories. I thought a lot about my inner-conflict about my weight and self-image. I thought about other little things that tend to nag on my brain.

But what I want to write about right now is dieting and weight.

I discovered something, while I was trying to think back on my dieting pattern: I don’t diet when I feel secure.

For instance: I dieted a LOT while I was with M. I went from a size 20 to a size 12. I never felt secure in that relationship, and I realize now that I was dieting, looking for that security. I always believed (don’t laugh, I’m serious here), that if I looked better and was more sexy (and yes, I did believe that to be sexy, you had to be thin. Part of me still believes that. I’m working on that), he would treat me better. Obviously, that didn’t happen. I did eventually stop dieting, when the insecurity rose to such a peak level that I was having anxiety attacks. I used food to self-medicate. Food was comfort. Food made me happy for the moment. I had horrible guilt attacks after I ate, and swore to myself that I wouldn’t do it again, but I did. Over and over. Once he and I broke it off, I started dieting again, and got myself back to a 14 before I went to see C in Las Vegas (the weekend we got back together). I felt secure with C almost immediately, and the dieting fell by the wayside – again.

For instance: When C signed up for the Navy and initially left, he and I’s relationship was at something of a crossroads. We’d nearly broken up before he signed up to go (This was my problem – I was stressed out from work, and he wasn’t working and it was making me nuts), and when he left, we didn’t really have any solid ground. We weren’t “dating” or “going steady” or anything. We left it as a “we’ll see what happens”, and I knew that I wanted him, but I didn’t know how it would play out. I went from a size 22 to a size 16 before he asked me to marry him, and stayed there until we decided that I was going to move to Connecticut (where he was). It seemed that overnight, the weight started to come back.

For instance: In Connecticut, when things started to get tough between us (his stress about school, my stress about working two contracts. Neither of us had a minute to spare, it seemed, and we stopped having sex. I relate the amount of sex you have to how the relationship is progressing. I know that’s wrong, and I’m working on fixing that, but currently, that’s how I think. Well, not right now, since C’s gone, but normally), I started dieting again. A month or so later when things got back to normal, I quit.

For instance: When he was preparing to leave for this six month cruise, I was preparing to diet. I knew that there would be times that I would be lonely here, and would feel down, and if I was dieting, I would have something to focus on, and be proud of. And I did start, too. But when my grandfather died, and I went home – on the drive back from there, I started really thinking about my motivations for losing weight (and if you’ve read the archives of this blogger back in August, you’ll see the turning point for that), and decided that I wasn’t going to “diet”. I was going to just watch what I ate, and see what happens.

Beginning to see the pattern? I knew you would.

It shocked me, when I put those pieces together. I’m not really sure what to do with all that information. I guess I could read that a few ways: First, I base entirely too much of my self-image on someone else. That’s probably quite true, and not an easy thing to admit. Second, I’m not as unhappy being overweight as I believe myself to be – if I were, my security wouldn’t really have anything to do with when I diet and when I don’t. And third – I made a dandy fucking choice when I got back together with C in 2000.

Nicknames
The Good, The Bad, The…Just plain weird

(With Isabel out of the way, the power back on, and my apartment back to semi-normal, I can zip through some of the things I was thinking about when the lights were out)

I have a nickname. Screamer (well, duh.). I added the “girl” myself a couple years ago, when I was trying to distance myself from…something.

C. gave me the nickname Screamer back in 1995. It means exactly what you think it means, someone who lets out a …loud noise during orgasm. There. Mystery solved.

I’ve had some other nicknames through the years. Peaches (high school). Princess (an ex). Kiki (another ex, and no, I don’t know where that came from). Kittie (ex-husband). All of these names meant something at some point in my life (even Kiki, and I don’t know what that meant). C. calls me “baby” most of the time. It’s not really a nickname, more a term of endearment. He also calls me “babycakes”.

There are other nicknames though, in the d/s sense. Some that I’ve had used for me, some that I’ve heard others use for their partners. Some of them disturb me; some of them flip some kind of switch in me. Sometimes, it’s a combination of both.

I wanted to explore these, and see what I come up with. Some of these aren’t really nicknames, I guess – they’re more along the lines of “baby” – terms of endearment.

I want to make it clear first that I’m not talking about using any of these words in anger, or in a derogatory sense. The exploration of the names/words below for me is in a d/s sense only.

Pet: Can be a nice change from baby. Has a little more d/s relevancy (not the right word, but I’m stuck for a word so it’ll do), I guess, and implies a more in charge-kinda relationship. I do hear non-d/s people use it, as an affectionate term, so I’m guessing as far as terms of endearment go, it’s pretty benign.

Slut: Okay, now we’re cookin’. I hear this one used a LOT in BDSM circles. This word bugged the hell out of me several years ago, until I finally had to “own” it for myself. C likes to use this word. And frankly, now, I like to *hear* this word. It’s difficult for me to say (as in, he wants me to repeat it back to him), but it’s pretty tingly on the ears in the right circumstances. I think this word – term of endearment – whatever – if popular with the BDSM crowd because it allows us to take ownership of our needs. I didn’t used to be very good at that, which is probably why the word bugged me so badly. I have a friend in the Bay Area who I refer to as a “cane slut”. There’s really no other word for her. She likes canes. She can’t get enough of the cane. She is – a cane *slut*.

Bitch: I own my inner bitch. She’s expensive, but she’s worth it. Seriously, though – I call myself a bitch from time to time, because for me, it has a definite meaning. I don’t take any shit from anyone. If you don’t like something I say, tough. If it wasn’t said to hurt your feelings (and chances are, it wasn’t), then I’m not going to apologize for my feelings and beliefs. That said, hearing C call me a bitch – in a non-derogatory, d/s kinda way – is different. It evokes more of that “bitch in heat” meaning sometimes – and others – if we’re ‘playing’ or such – it adds to the excitement of the moment. I mean, come on. The man doesn’t really believe I’m a bitch (the every-day meaning of the word). If he did, he wouldn’t have married me. This word does have some deep effect on me when scening, and if its use is well-timed, the effect becomes profound. It “feels” like anger from him, even though I know deep down, it’s really not. But the “feeling” of it makes what would be a quick little spanking or wrestling around infinitely more … hot.

And frankly, that’s why we do this, isn’t it?

Whore: This is a word C has never used with me. M did, once, I think. It’s a word I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking on – I use it when I’m writing, etc. It’s not one I’m opposed to. It doesn’t any deep-seated hatred in me, because its dictionary meaning (a person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain) doesn’t have anything to do with me. When I use it in my writing, it’s hot. And I think it would be equally hot if C used it occasionally with me, but I don’t think he’s too crazy about it, for some reason. In a d/s sense, in my warped little universe, would be someone who says “I’d give any for X” (Where X is a beating, a good sound fucking, etc) and means it. For instance, saying “I’d beg like a dog for your cock” could be considered whorish and submissive. I think there is a difference between “whore” and “slut”, though – and using my above example sentence, the difference would be that a slut wouldn’t beg. She’d just go find it somewhere else *snicker*.

There’s one left on my list. And it’s a word that people have *very* strong reactions to. I know that when C and I were together in 1995, I could not SAY this word, and did not want to hear him say this word. Since then, the word has taken on a less hostile meaning for me (in other words, I got the fuck over it).

Cunt: People either love this word, or hate this word. There are two very distinct ways to use it – it’s either a body part, or a person. I’ve gotten used to hearing it – and saying it – when it’s used as a body part (although, saying it still isn’t as easy as saying – say – tomato – lol.) I did start using it to refer to a person (namely my sister) because it was the only word that fit at the time. Having it used to refer to me – I haven’t experienced. But to me, it brings to mind anger – like “bitch” above – and I can see that being *very* hot under the right circumstances.

What someone calls you is a personal decision. But if someone is calling you something that *hurts* you – or *isn’t* calling you something that makes you hot – it’s up to you to explain that to your partner. Find your hot buttons and use them wisely.

As I write this, I realize I have yet another topic to add to the list – anger in a scene. I’ll do that later. But there’s a difference – and if I didn’t make it clear, please allow me to do so – between playing “rough” in a scene (being “mean” or “angry”) and actually BEING angry or mean. The above examples are used in the “quotation mark” way, not the other. That’s a big distinction, and I hope I’ve made it clear. If not, send me an email and I’ll clear it up for you.

Regardless, words are important in relationships. Moreso in D/s? Probably not. But the words are different in D/s, and the way they’re used is different. Words that in a vanilla relationship might get a person slapped actually have quite the opposite effect in d/s.

Vive Le Difference!