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.
Sunday, October 19, 2003
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”.
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.....
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.....
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Monday, October 13, 2003
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.
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.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
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*.
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*.
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.
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.
Sunday, October 05, 2003
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.
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.
Saturday, October 04, 2003
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.
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)
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)
Friday, October 03, 2003
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 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)
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