This time when Husband found me, I was already on the bed, spread on my stomach, watching T.V. He plopped himself next to me, and we talked for a while, about mundane things: how our days went, what was going on in the world, funny things we'd seen online. After a while, the conversation died down, and I realized we were both in a holding pattern, waiting.
I was waiting for him to give me some kind of sign it was time to give him a blowjob...I had no idea what he was waiting for.
Finally, after a long pause, he said: "Why don't we go downstairs?"
"Why?" I asked, confused.
"So I can drag you back up here by your underpants," he said.
My eyebrows went up a good two inches. "But I'm already here. You don't need to drag me."
"I know," he sighed, "but I like to drag you. This...this is like fishing in a bathtub. There's no hunt."
People tell me regularly Husband and I have a weird D/s dynamic. I don't act submissive all the time; I don't check my behaviors in public. And he hardly seems the stereotypical "Domly" type. I think what makes our relationship seem quirky are our heightened "Predator/Prey" drives. Husband wants me to listen, he wants me to submit....
But not quite as much as he wants me to refuse, so he can make me do what he wants.
Of course, after he said that, it was ON. I clenched my teeth, said "the hunt's not over--the prey hasn't been caught yet," and rolled off the bed. He dove right after me, and we struggled for a while. It ended when he dug his fingers into my temple and pulled my head toward his cock; I locked my jaws, but he pried them open (painfully) and lunged his prick in my mouth. And that, as they say, was that.
Ladies, you want to try to make things interesting? Don't be the fish in the bathtub.
Memaparkan catatan dengan label Basic Kink. Papar semua catatan
Memaparkan catatan dengan label Basic Kink. Papar semua catatan
Jumaat, 31 Januari 2014
Khamis, 30 Januari 2014
The D/s Relationships Nobody's Talking About
This post is (partially) in response to Sylvanus's Post, How D/s Relationships Work, and Sub Girl's post on the subject.
While I've been married for a long time, I still have single girlfriends, and a single sister, who sometime enjoy telling me their "matchmaker date" horror stories. They'll be set up with a guy through a mutual friend, and go on a blind date with him, only to find that not only did the two of them not have anything in common, but the mutual friend should have been able to realize immediately the match would never have worked.
And then they go back to the friend who set them up in the first place, and ask what the hell made them think it would be a good match. Inevitably, they get a stupid answer like this one:
"He's short, and you're short, so I thought it would be a good match."
"You're both a bit...plump? So I thought you'd go well together."
"You're both red heads, I thought you'd make such cute kids."
"You both seem so smart to me. I thought two smart people would have a lot in common."
"You're both vegetarian."
Hopefully, you're reading these answers and also rolling your eyes. After all, it's silly to think two people would be a good match simply because they have the same dietary restrictions, or look relatively the same, or have the same IQ.
But too many times, people don't recognize they're using the same over-simplistic approach when it comes to BDSM and kink. They assume if two people share the most general of fetishes (anal sex, foot fetish, etc), or have a couple basic needs that complement each other (Dom/sub, masochist/sadist), then a relationship will automatically fall into place.
This is bullshit.
BDSM is only one aspect of a relationship. Granted, how big an aspect it is depends on the couple. When Husband and I first started "getting serious," we had some pretty honest discussions about our views on religion, politics, family life, and the like. With some of those things, there was no room for negotiation: we either agreed, or we did not. Had we not, the relationship would have ended.
Even so, through time, our views have changed and adapted. That's life. But there are some things that a couple must stand united on, or the foundation of the relationship is built on sand. In the end, it will crumble.
For some people, aspects of their kinks are "non-negotiable." They are looking for someone who can fill their kinky needs. Which is fine, if they are being honest and forthcoming about what their needs are.
But that doesn't mean anyone who can fill those desires, complement their kinks, is automatically the person who can have a long-term, meaningful relationship with them. It just means there's a possibility there for a good, strong, foundation. Building a relationship takes time, and effort, and not just in the bedroom (or whatever room you use for play).
On the other hand...
Thinking that D/s relationships are somehow more doomed to fail because they are D/s relationships is silly and narrow-sighted.
BDSM is about power exchange, granted. Many D/s relationships are TPE, total power exchanges, although I don't know how anyone could fathom a guess how many BDSM relationships are also TPEs; it's not like there have been studies or statistics done on the matter.
What I can tell you is that many, MANY people out there have D/s TPE relationships and don't belong to any "scene," have never even heard of "BDSM," and frankly, don't give a righteous fuck. How do I know? Because I associate with these people every day.
Wives who give complete control to their husbands. Husbands who expect their wives to obey and submit, naturally, no questions asked. Women who are punished, one way or the other, when they refuse, argue, or talk back to their Dominant males. These are D/s relationships, whether they know it or not.
But they don't think of this as TPE, and they certainly don't define their relationships in terms of Domination, submission, power exchange, or any other words those in the BDSM world use on a regular basis. To them, this kind of relationship is completely natural, as it should be between man and wife. They don't put it in terms of kink; it just is the way it is. And if you suggested to them that maybe what they have can be put into kinky BDSM terms, they would not just be surprised, they would be affronted.
I get the feeling many people in the BDSM world think kinky people have some kind of monopoly on TPE relationships. That's hogwash. Just because others don't show themselves and advertise their lifestyles in clubs, on Fetlife, or what have you, that doesn't mean they're not out there.
And guess what? Their relationships are doing fine. Better than fine, I would argue. These are people who get married young and stay married forever. I guess one could argue that being married and staying married does not signify a healthy relationship. But then, I could argue that a divorce does not signify a failed one, either.
For instance, my grandparents got legally divorced when my grandfather had to go into a nursing home, so my grandmother wouldn't be left destitute. But they remained religiously married, and she visited him every single day in his nursing home. I would not call that a failed relationship. How many other marriages end on paper for one reason or another, while the relationship itself continues? Does anyone know for sure? Has anyone done any research? I think not.
D/s relationships are difficult, yes, but I would argue, no more or less difficult than any other type of relationship. It takes trust, and honesty, and open communication. It takes time, and work, and let's face it, it takes luck. There needs to be that certain chemistry there that no one can define, even though we all know what it is, because we've all felt it at one point or another.
For those who know that BDSM and kink will need to be an integral part of any relationship they have, looking for someone who shares their beliefs from the get-go is a good idea. But it will not automatically save a relationship doomed to fail, nor will it doom an otherwise healthy relationship. It will just be another aspect of day-to-day living the couple will have negotiate and decide for themselves.
While I've been married for a long time, I still have single girlfriends, and a single sister, who sometime enjoy telling me their "matchmaker date" horror stories. They'll be set up with a guy through a mutual friend, and go on a blind date with him, only to find that not only did the two of them not have anything in common, but the mutual friend should have been able to realize immediately the match would never have worked.
And then they go back to the friend who set them up in the first place, and ask what the hell made them think it would be a good match. Inevitably, they get a stupid answer like this one:
"He's short, and you're short, so I thought it would be a good match."
"You're both a bit...plump? So I thought you'd go well together."
"You're both red heads, I thought you'd make such cute kids."
"You both seem so smart to me. I thought two smart people would have a lot in common."
"You're both vegetarian."
Hopefully, you're reading these answers and also rolling your eyes. After all, it's silly to think two people would be a good match simply because they have the same dietary restrictions, or look relatively the same, or have the same IQ.
But too many times, people don't recognize they're using the same over-simplistic approach when it comes to BDSM and kink. They assume if two people share the most general of fetishes (anal sex, foot fetish, etc), or have a couple basic needs that complement each other (Dom/sub, masochist/sadist), then a relationship will automatically fall into place.
This is bullshit.
BDSM is only one aspect of a relationship. Granted, how big an aspect it is depends on the couple. When Husband and I first started "getting serious," we had some pretty honest discussions about our views on religion, politics, family life, and the like. With some of those things, there was no room for negotiation: we either agreed, or we did not. Had we not, the relationship would have ended.
Even so, through time, our views have changed and adapted. That's life. But there are some things that a couple must stand united on, or the foundation of the relationship is built on sand. In the end, it will crumble.
For some people, aspects of their kinks are "non-negotiable." They are looking for someone who can fill their kinky needs. Which is fine, if they are being honest and forthcoming about what their needs are.
But that doesn't mean anyone who can fill those desires, complement their kinks, is automatically the person who can have a long-term, meaningful relationship with them. It just means there's a possibility there for a good, strong, foundation. Building a relationship takes time, and effort, and not just in the bedroom (or whatever room you use for play).
On the other hand...
Thinking that D/s relationships are somehow more doomed to fail because they are D/s relationships is silly and narrow-sighted.
BDSM is about power exchange, granted. Many D/s relationships are TPE, total power exchanges, although I don't know how anyone could fathom a guess how many BDSM relationships are also TPEs; it's not like there have been studies or statistics done on the matter.
What I can tell you is that many, MANY people out there have D/s TPE relationships and don't belong to any "scene," have never even heard of "BDSM," and frankly, don't give a righteous fuck. How do I know? Because I associate with these people every day.
Wives who give complete control to their husbands. Husbands who expect their wives to obey and submit, naturally, no questions asked. Women who are punished, one way or the other, when they refuse, argue, or talk back to their Dominant males. These are D/s relationships, whether they know it or not.
But they don't think of this as TPE, and they certainly don't define their relationships in terms of Domination, submission, power exchange, or any other words those in the BDSM world use on a regular basis. To them, this kind of relationship is completely natural, as it should be between man and wife. They don't put it in terms of kink; it just is the way it is. And if you suggested to them that maybe what they have can be put into kinky BDSM terms, they would not just be surprised, they would be affronted.
I get the feeling many people in the BDSM world think kinky people have some kind of monopoly on TPE relationships. That's hogwash. Just because others don't show themselves and advertise their lifestyles in clubs, on Fetlife, or what have you, that doesn't mean they're not out there.
And guess what? Their relationships are doing fine. Better than fine, I would argue. These are people who get married young and stay married forever. I guess one could argue that being married and staying married does not signify a healthy relationship. But then, I could argue that a divorce does not signify a failed one, either.
For instance, my grandparents got legally divorced when my grandfather had to go into a nursing home, so my grandmother wouldn't be left destitute. But they remained religiously married, and she visited him every single day in his nursing home. I would not call that a failed relationship. How many other marriages end on paper for one reason or another, while the relationship itself continues? Does anyone know for sure? Has anyone done any research? I think not.
D/s relationships are difficult, yes, but I would argue, no more or less difficult than any other type of relationship. It takes trust, and honesty, and open communication. It takes time, and work, and let's face it, it takes luck. There needs to be that certain chemistry there that no one can define, even though we all know what it is, because we've all felt it at one point or another.
For those who know that BDSM and kink will need to be an integral part of any relationship they have, looking for someone who shares their beliefs from the get-go is a good idea. But it will not automatically save a relationship doomed to fail, nor will it doom an otherwise healthy relationship. It will just be another aspect of day-to-day living the couple will have negotiate and decide for themselves.
Please Force Me
Let me start with this:
I love giving Husband blowjobs.
His cock tastes divine, and while I wouldn't say it's a perfect fit for my mouth (oh God no way), I would say it's an unperfect fit in all the right ways. It's smooth. It's warm. It glides down my throat just so. It's great for sucking. It's great for just just about anything I'm in the mood for...but blowjobs are particularly nice.
I'm good at giving blowjobs. At least, Husband says so--and he's the only one who has to judge. I can deep throat him without problem; I can hold him down in my throat for long lengths of time with no problem. I can suck, lick, and pump my jaws, all at the same time. I am talented.
(One of those many talents I will never be able to openly market...but I digress.)
What it boils down to is I enjoy giving blowjobs, I'm good at it, and they make me happy.
Now here's the second thing:
I sabotage my own happiness; like, all the fucking time.
I have a feeling a lot of women do this; we just don't really open up about it. If there's something I know I should be doing, something that's good for me, something that will make me happy in the short or long term...I still try to convince myself not to do it. I don't know why. It's like a little voice inside my head says "O! This will end well! Best not do it!" And then I go on with doing something else.
So there are often times when I want to give Husband a blowjob, I know I'll enjoy it and obviously (oh how obviously) he will enjoy it, but for some reason, I won't offer to give him one, and I won't ask him if he wants one. The latter statement is more rhetorical (obviously he wants one, he wants one all the time) but it's polite to ask first before yanking a guy's pants down and start sucking on his cock. I think this falls under the heading of "common courtesy"; or maybe, in a D/s relationship, under "asking permission."
The other day I could tell these conflicting emotions were getting the better of me, so to nip it in the bud, I called Husband on his way home.
"Make me give you a blowjob tonight," I said.
"No problem!" He replied.
After all the kids had gone to bed (can I just say here, thank God for school-night bedtimes?), he came looking for me, and found me on the couch, watching television.
"Give me my blowjob," he said, staring down at me.
"Gah, I'm too tired," I said without looking away from the T.V.
"I don't care," he replied. "Give me my blowjob."
"I don't feel like it."
Giving me a penetrating look that would have pierced through lead, he turned off the television, grabbed my hand, and pulled. "Give me a blowjob," he said.
"No," I replied.
For a moment, we stared at each other. Then Husband reached into my lap, slipped his hand into the front of my pants, got a good grip on my panties...and pulled.
I jacked up off the couch, howling. My panties were now stretched taut inside my pussy, and pulling on my most sensitive parts.
It was the evil frontal wedgie.
Husband began to walk me upstairs, pulling on my panties like a leash. I could only keep up with his steps, walking on my tiptoes the whole while and whining as we went.
"When I say give me a blowjob," he growled as we walked, "I mean get up, stop whatever you're doing, get upstairs, and give me a fucking blowjob." We reached the bedroom, and he half flung me against the couch. Before I could regain my balance, he pushed me down by the shoulders and shoved me to the floor.
In one swift moment, he had his pants down and his hand behind my head, digging into my hair. He pulled my head into his crotch, and I had no choice but to take his cock in my mouth.
"There you go," he said. "Now get to work."
Of course, now that I was well positioned on the floor, his cock in my mouth, I automatically got down to work. Like I said, I take pride in my blowjobs. Once he got my over the initial struggle of fighting my own inclination, my own wants, I was fine. I gave that man a mighty fine blowjob to thank him for his troubles, and by the time he came, he had to collapse onto the nearby chair just to catch his breath.
And then it was time for one of those weird conversations you probably only hear in D/s households.
"Thank you for making me give you a blowjob, Husband," I said.
"No problem. You feel better?"
"Oh, yes."
"I didn't pull your hair too hard, did I?"
"No, I'm okay. Thanks for asking."
"I just want to make sure it wasn't too hard...you know, for next time."
"Next time?"
"Next time I think you need to feel better again. You were down before, but now you're smiling. You always seem to smile more after I do this. I'll probably force you to give me a blowjob every night for the rest of the week. How does that sound?"
"You're so good to me."
I have no idea what kind of pillow talk goes on in vanilla households. I imagine, though, it's very different from ours.
I love giving Husband blowjobs.
His cock tastes divine, and while I wouldn't say it's a perfect fit for my mouth (oh God no way), I would say it's an unperfect fit in all the right ways. It's smooth. It's warm. It glides down my throat just so. It's great for sucking. It's great for just just about anything I'm in the mood for...but blowjobs are particularly nice.
I'm good at giving blowjobs. At least, Husband says so--and he's the only one who has to judge. I can deep throat him without problem; I can hold him down in my throat for long lengths of time with no problem. I can suck, lick, and pump my jaws, all at the same time. I am talented.
(One of those many talents I will never be able to openly market...but I digress.)
What it boils down to is I enjoy giving blowjobs, I'm good at it, and they make me happy.
Now here's the second thing:
I sabotage my own happiness; like, all the fucking time.
I have a feeling a lot of women do this; we just don't really open up about it. If there's something I know I should be doing, something that's good for me, something that will make me happy in the short or long term...I still try to convince myself not to do it. I don't know why. It's like a little voice inside my head says "O! This will end well! Best not do it!" And then I go on with doing something else.
So there are often times when I want to give Husband a blowjob, I know I'll enjoy it and obviously (oh how obviously) he will enjoy it, but for some reason, I won't offer to give him one, and I won't ask him if he wants one. The latter statement is more rhetorical (obviously he wants one, he wants one all the time) but it's polite to ask first before yanking a guy's pants down and start sucking on his cock. I think this falls under the heading of "common courtesy"; or maybe, in a D/s relationship, under "asking permission."
The other day I could tell these conflicting emotions were getting the better of me, so to nip it in the bud, I called Husband on his way home.
"Make me give you a blowjob tonight," I said.
"No problem!" He replied.
After all the kids had gone to bed (can I just say here, thank God for school-night bedtimes?), he came looking for me, and found me on the couch, watching television.
"Give me my blowjob," he said, staring down at me.
"Gah, I'm too tired," I said without looking away from the T.V.
"I don't care," he replied. "Give me my blowjob."
"I don't feel like it."
Giving me a penetrating look that would have pierced through lead, he turned off the television, grabbed my hand, and pulled. "Give me a blowjob," he said.
"No," I replied.
For a moment, we stared at each other. Then Husband reached into my lap, slipped his hand into the front of my pants, got a good grip on my panties...and pulled.
I jacked up off the couch, howling. My panties were now stretched taut inside my pussy, and pulling on my most sensitive parts.
It was the evil frontal wedgie.
Husband began to walk me upstairs, pulling on my panties like a leash. I could only keep up with his steps, walking on my tiptoes the whole while and whining as we went.
"When I say give me a blowjob," he growled as we walked, "I mean get up, stop whatever you're doing, get upstairs, and give me a fucking blowjob." We reached the bedroom, and he half flung me against the couch. Before I could regain my balance, he pushed me down by the shoulders and shoved me to the floor.
In one swift moment, he had his pants down and his hand behind my head, digging into my hair. He pulled my head into his crotch, and I had no choice but to take his cock in my mouth.
"There you go," he said. "Now get to work."
Of course, now that I was well positioned on the floor, his cock in my mouth, I automatically got down to work. Like I said, I take pride in my blowjobs. Once he got my over the initial struggle of fighting my own inclination, my own wants, I was fine. I gave that man a mighty fine blowjob to thank him for his troubles, and by the time he came, he had to collapse onto the nearby chair just to catch his breath.
And then it was time for one of those weird conversations you probably only hear in D/s households.
"Thank you for making me give you a blowjob, Husband," I said.
"No problem. You feel better?"
"Oh, yes."
"I didn't pull your hair too hard, did I?"
"No, I'm okay. Thanks for asking."
"I just want to make sure it wasn't too hard...you know, for next time."
"Next time?"
"Next time I think you need to feel better again. You were down before, but now you're smiling. You always seem to smile more after I do this. I'll probably force you to give me a blowjob every night for the rest of the week. How does that sound?"
"You're so good to me."
I have no idea what kind of pillow talk goes on in vanilla households. I imagine, though, it's very different from ours.
Results of the Anal Sex Poll
The question posed was thus:
Before anal sex, does the dick get lubed, or the asshole?
A whopping 75% of you voted "both".
Of those who picked one, the asshole got double the number of votes as the dick.
A handful of you voted "neither." To which I say…OW.
The reason why I asked is because Husband never lubes up his dick. I don't know why. Periodically over the years, I've asked him to, and he never does it. I think it has something to do with him not wanting to go to the trouble of rubbing his own dick when an available hole is right there, warm and inviting. But I might be wrong.
It definitely has something to do with the fact that lubing my ass can be a hit-or-miss thing, and in Husband's mind, this adds to the sadistic fun. Oftentimes, Husband's not too careful about it. He'll tip the bottle over my ass crack, let some lube slide out…and if it lands on my cringing sphincter, great! If not, I'm out of luck. He might be kind enough rub the lube around if he missed his target completely, but if the slippery stuff manages to get on one side of my ass, but not the other, Husband's mentality is usually something to the effect of Oh, well. This is gonna pinch her a little.
Tee hee.
If he's feeling magnanimous, he'll spread the lube around the sphincter area…with his dick. This is also a hit-or-miss thing. Sometimes it feels like he's spreading the goop all over my butt cheeks, everywhere but on the asshole itself. Sometimes he'll tease me with it, rubbing his dick along my crack until it feels like the lube is starting to dry, and I'm filling up with fear.
More often times he's just assuming his pumping will managed to smear the lube everywhere it needs to go—eventually, anyway—and there's no reason to hold back.
Yes, the lube gets everywhere it needs to go…eventually…usually around the time I'm trying to crawl away from him to escape the agony and he's pinning me down and ramming into me and the tears are pooling in my eyes and I'm crying and he's pulling the hair away from my face so he can see my expression of torment as he laughs in my ear.
But he knows I enjoy the pain. More importantly, he enjoys my pain—and my subjugation.
That is why he does it.
And yes, sometimes he'll use his fingers in me, sometimes he'll use a butt plug first, sometimes the anal vibrator comes out…and in those cases, I get lubed up nice and deep before his dick comes anywhere near me. But I never know when that's going to happen. I never know what kind of foreplay he has planned in his head unless he tells me, which is not very often.
And the thing is, he's not using his fingers or plug or toy to help get me lubed and relaxed. He's using them because it's fun and he feels like it.
If he doesn't feel like it? Oh well. This is gonna pinch a little. Suck it up, anal slut.
I think I might bring this poll to his attention. Look! I'll say. Most people lube both! Not just the asshole! You can lube your dick you know!
Then again, he may just choose to become one of those people who uses no lube at all.
OW. And OH. And…I'm totally getting turned on right now.
Before anal sex, does the dick get lubed, or the asshole?
A whopping 75% of you voted "both".
Of those who picked one, the asshole got double the number of votes as the dick.
A handful of you voted "neither." To which I say…OW.
The reason why I asked is because Husband never lubes up his dick. I don't know why. Periodically over the years, I've asked him to, and he never does it. I think it has something to do with him not wanting to go to the trouble of rubbing his own dick when an available hole is right there, warm and inviting. But I might be wrong.
It definitely has something to do with the fact that lubing my ass can be a hit-or-miss thing, and in Husband's mind, this adds to the sadistic fun. Oftentimes, Husband's not too careful about it. He'll tip the bottle over my ass crack, let some lube slide out…and if it lands on my cringing sphincter, great! If not, I'm out of luck. He might be kind enough rub the lube around if he missed his target completely, but if the slippery stuff manages to get on one side of my ass, but not the other, Husband's mentality is usually something to the effect of Oh, well. This is gonna pinch her a little.
Tee hee.
If he's feeling magnanimous, he'll spread the lube around the sphincter area…with his dick. This is also a hit-or-miss thing. Sometimes it feels like he's spreading the goop all over my butt cheeks, everywhere but on the asshole itself. Sometimes he'll tease me with it, rubbing his dick along my crack until it feels like the lube is starting to dry, and I'm filling up with fear.
More often times he's just assuming his pumping will managed to smear the lube everywhere it needs to go—eventually, anyway—and there's no reason to hold back.
Yes, the lube gets everywhere it needs to go…eventually…usually around the time I'm trying to crawl away from him to escape the agony and he's pinning me down and ramming into me and the tears are pooling in my eyes and I'm crying and he's pulling the hair away from my face so he can see my expression of torment as he laughs in my ear.
But he knows I enjoy the pain. More importantly, he enjoys my pain—and my subjugation.
That is why he does it.
And yes, sometimes he'll use his fingers in me, sometimes he'll use a butt plug first, sometimes the anal vibrator comes out…and in those cases, I get lubed up nice and deep before his dick comes anywhere near me. But I never know when that's going to happen. I never know what kind of foreplay he has planned in his head unless he tells me, which is not very often.
And the thing is, he's not using his fingers or plug or toy to help get me lubed and relaxed. He's using them because it's fun and he feels like it.
If he doesn't feel like it? Oh well. This is gonna pinch a little. Suck it up, anal slut.
I think I might bring this poll to his attention. Look! I'll say. Most people lube both! Not just the asshole! You can lube your dick you know!
Then again, he may just choose to become one of those people who uses no lube at all.
OW. And OH. And…I'm totally getting turned on right now.
Plans Gone Awry
Last night was supposed to be epic.
Husband I were going to try out a new toy. But it wasn't just any toy: it was a pain toy. Pain toys are a big deal because you can never be sure exactly how it's going to work out, no matter what you've read about them or how much research you've done. This is because 1. everyone's pain tolerance is different, and 2. some people have attitudes towards specific pain implements that affects their levels of pain and panic in a purely psychological way.
For instance, I love the belt. I crave the belt. Husband knows one of the easiest ways to turn me on is to look me in the eyes as he slowly pulls his belt out from the loops of his pants. So I can take a lot of pain with the belt, because on some fundamental level, I associate belt-pain with happy-pain, even though the welts going across my bottom say otherwise. When Husband punishes me with the belt, he knows he's got to really work to break through that happy-pain barrier into punishment-pain.
The power cord, on the other hand...I am terrified of the power cord. Husband loves it, loves using it for punishments, because it is quiet, sharp, and I'm usually a crying whimpering mess before he even gets it out. But by the time he's done, most of the time my ass looks just as sore and abused as when he uses the belt. The difference is, when I see my sore bottom after a session with the belt, I feel happy and satisfied. When I see my bottom after a session with the power cord, I just cringe.
New toys have to broken in slowly, because you never know what the reaction is going to be until you try it out. And the initial reaction is not always the one you stick with; it's more like a first impression. You have to really get to know the toy before you can judge its strengths and flaws. That's why Husband will never try a new pain toy during a punishment. When he is punishing me, he needs to keep control over everything that's going on and everything he's doing to me, and he just can't do that if he's not familiar enough with the implement. (Again, this is a sign of a good Dom: even when the goal is to reprimand you through pain, he will always maintain control of the measure of pain he inflicts.)
So, back to last night...we were supposed to try a new pain toy. The schedule was laid out: he would come home, and I would shower. I would not eat dinner, but drink a fruit-smoothie to keep my strength up (eating right before trying out a new pain toy is not always the best idea). After the kids went to bed, we would head up to the bedroom, where I would be under his complete control and follow orders implicitly, while he had fun experimenting with the new toy on every inch of my skin he wished and in every position he chose.
Then shit blew up. Literally.
"Mom, why does the bathroom smell so bad?" My eldest son asked. I thought maybe youngest son had used the toilet and forgot to flush, but nope.
Long story short: we were the proud owners of a broken sewer pipe.
I called the city. They said it could take two hours for a guy to show up. About an hour and a half later, someone comes, checks things out, and declares nothing can be done for the night. It would have to wait till morning.
"You can use the toilets," he says, "but don't flush."
Um, excuse me?
"And don't run the water," he continues. "And for God's sake, don't shower."
Husband and I looked at each other. We could deal with brushing our teeth in the backyard and using sanitizer wipes for our hands, but no flushing the toilet?
"Mom, I have to go the bathroom," eldest son declares.
"Me too," middle son decides.
"Can you just go in the yard, next to the tree?" Husband asks.
"Uh, no," eldest son shakes his head. "It's not that kind of bathroom trip."
"For me either," middle son says.
So I load them up in the car, drive down to a local fast-food joint, and order us some food while they go use the bathroom. It is, as my eldest son says, "a stupid situation."
I order a salad for myself, too, cause there's no way Husband and I are going to get kinky tonight. Not without running water, not without me taking a shower first, not if I can't wash off the sweat and stink and sticky stuff later.
We eat and start the drive home.
"Mom, I'm not feeling well," middle son says.
"What, you need to throw up?"
"Yeah."
"Can you wait until we're home?" And then I realize: we have no working toilets at home for him to throw up into.
"No." His face is turning pale; he looks at me in fear.
"QUICK, LOOK FOR A BAG," I yell behind me to eldest son. He looks around.
"I have a shoe box," he declares, handing it up to middle son. As soon as middle son has it, he's throwing up his entire fast-food dinner.
We get home, throw out the shoe box, bring a bowl of water outside to the backyard, and middle son washes his face and brushes his teeth as best he can. Then I get everyone ready for bed (grumbling because it's an hour before their bedtime but I don't CARE), have them go pee against the tree one last time, and send them to sleep.
Husband is waiting for me in the bedroom, looking very put-out.
"It's not happening tonight," he says.
"No," I say.
"This is pretty shitty," he says.
"Yes," I agree. Then we both start laughing.
Being in a BDSM relationship, living a kinky lifestyle, does not mean it's kink and sex and fun every night. It doesn't mean we're humping like bunnies all time. Kink and BDSM is a huge, integral part of our lives, but it is not what our family revolves around.
Sometimes life gets in the way, shit happens (literally), and you just got to deal with it as it comes and put the kink aside until the timing is right.
But if you're in a good, solid, BDSM relationship, these hiccups that life throws at you won't be a big deal. It'll be disappointing, yes, but it won't be the end of the world. You'll know there will be other nights, hopefully hundreds and hundreds of them, to give into your kinky cravings and satisfy your Dom's (or sub's) needs.
Sometimes being in a BDSM relationship means enduring the pain...and sometimes it means enduring everything that's keeping you from it.
Husband I were going to try out a new toy. But it wasn't just any toy: it was a pain toy. Pain toys are a big deal because you can never be sure exactly how it's going to work out, no matter what you've read about them or how much research you've done. This is because 1. everyone's pain tolerance is different, and 2. some people have attitudes towards specific pain implements that affects their levels of pain and panic in a purely psychological way.
For instance, I love the belt. I crave the belt. Husband knows one of the easiest ways to turn me on is to look me in the eyes as he slowly pulls his belt out from the loops of his pants. So I can take a lot of pain with the belt, because on some fundamental level, I associate belt-pain with happy-pain, even though the welts going across my bottom say otherwise. When Husband punishes me with the belt, he knows he's got to really work to break through that happy-pain barrier into punishment-pain.
The power cord, on the other hand...I am terrified of the power cord. Husband loves it, loves using it for punishments, because it is quiet, sharp, and I'm usually a crying whimpering mess before he even gets it out. But by the time he's done, most of the time my ass looks just as sore and abused as when he uses the belt. The difference is, when I see my sore bottom after a session with the belt, I feel happy and satisfied. When I see my bottom after a session with the power cord, I just cringe.
New toys have to broken in slowly, because you never know what the reaction is going to be until you try it out. And the initial reaction is not always the one you stick with; it's more like a first impression. You have to really get to know the toy before you can judge its strengths and flaws. That's why Husband will never try a new pain toy during a punishment. When he is punishing me, he needs to keep control over everything that's going on and everything he's doing to me, and he just can't do that if he's not familiar enough with the implement. (Again, this is a sign of a good Dom: even when the goal is to reprimand you through pain, he will always maintain control of the measure of pain he inflicts.)
So, back to last night...we were supposed to try a new pain toy. The schedule was laid out: he would come home, and I would shower. I would not eat dinner, but drink a fruit-smoothie to keep my strength up (eating right before trying out a new pain toy is not always the best idea). After the kids went to bed, we would head up to the bedroom, where I would be under his complete control and follow orders implicitly, while he had fun experimenting with the new toy on every inch of my skin he wished and in every position he chose.
Then shit blew up. Literally.
"Mom, why does the bathroom smell so bad?" My eldest son asked. I thought maybe youngest son had used the toilet and forgot to flush, but nope.
Long story short: we were the proud owners of a broken sewer pipe.
I called the city. They said it could take two hours for a guy to show up. About an hour and a half later, someone comes, checks things out, and declares nothing can be done for the night. It would have to wait till morning.
"You can use the toilets," he says, "but don't flush."
Um, excuse me?
"And don't run the water," he continues. "And for God's sake, don't shower."
Husband and I looked at each other. We could deal with brushing our teeth in the backyard and using sanitizer wipes for our hands, but no flushing the toilet?
"Mom, I have to go the bathroom," eldest son declares.
"Me too," middle son decides.
"Can you just go in the yard, next to the tree?" Husband asks.
"Uh, no," eldest son shakes his head. "It's not that kind of bathroom trip."
"For me either," middle son says.
So I load them up in the car, drive down to a local fast-food joint, and order us some food while they go use the bathroom. It is, as my eldest son says, "a stupid situation."
I order a salad for myself, too, cause there's no way Husband and I are going to get kinky tonight. Not without running water, not without me taking a shower first, not if I can't wash off the sweat and stink and sticky stuff later.
We eat and start the drive home.
"Mom, I'm not feeling well," middle son says.
"What, you need to throw up?"
"Yeah."
"Can you wait until we're home?" And then I realize: we have no working toilets at home for him to throw up into.
"No." His face is turning pale; he looks at me in fear.
"QUICK, LOOK FOR A BAG," I yell behind me to eldest son. He looks around.
"I have a shoe box," he declares, handing it up to middle son. As soon as middle son has it, he's throwing up his entire fast-food dinner.
We get home, throw out the shoe box, bring a bowl of water outside to the backyard, and middle son washes his face and brushes his teeth as best he can. Then I get everyone ready for bed (grumbling because it's an hour before their bedtime but I don't CARE), have them go pee against the tree one last time, and send them to sleep.
Husband is waiting for me in the bedroom, looking very put-out.
"It's not happening tonight," he says.
"No," I say.
"This is pretty shitty," he says.
"Yes," I agree. Then we both start laughing.
Being in a BDSM relationship, living a kinky lifestyle, does not mean it's kink and sex and fun every night. It doesn't mean we're humping like bunnies all time. Kink and BDSM is a huge, integral part of our lives, but it is not what our family revolves around.
Sometimes life gets in the way, shit happens (literally), and you just got to deal with it as it comes and put the kink aside until the timing is right.
But if you're in a good, solid, BDSM relationship, these hiccups that life throws at you won't be a big deal. It'll be disappointing, yes, but it won't be the end of the world. You'll know there will be other nights, hopefully hundreds and hundreds of them, to give into your kinky cravings and satisfy your Dom's (or sub's) needs.
Sometimes being in a BDSM relationship means enduring the pain...and sometimes it means enduring everything that's keeping you from it.
Rabu, 29 Januari 2014
What I Don't Want to Hear
Husband is away, and I'm feeling kind of snarky.
So I made up a list of things I hate, and I mean hate, to hear during our "play."
A few things to keep in mind:
1. These are only my pet peeves. I'm not making generalities here. Other women might have no problem with hearing these things. Hell, they might need to hear 'em to have a satisfied ending.
2. When I say "during play," I mean when I'm already cuffed, trusted up or tied down, and Husband is getting biblical on my ass. I'm talking about when we're already deep into it. I'm in total submissive masochist mode, and he's (I hope) letting the full Dom in him take over. I'm not talking about before or after, when we might be just starting play or just ending it, but things feel light, almost jovial, and we're taking it easy.
3. I'm also not talking about when things are said sarcastically, or with a more cynical attitude to get a reaction out of me. Husband does that on an ongoing basis. He loves to get a rise out of me. Then I do something bad, and he gets to punish me all over again.
This means that something has gone wrong, not-according-to-plan. It means play might have to pause, or worse yet, maybe halted all together. It means that things were probably not well thought out beforehand, at least enough to foresee such a problem arise, and a way to handle it seamlessly. It can mean that control is lost.
As my Dom, I expect you to retain complete control. I don't want to have to worry about it. That's your job.
Alternative: Say nothing. Don't even let on there's a problem if you can get away with it. Fix the issue before there's time to notice something's off. Or act like it's all part of the plan.
"I'm sorry."
For what? Hurting me? Isn't that kind of the point?
Don't do anything during play you're sorry for. And if you do, and can't fight the need to tell me about it, then tell me you're sorry later, after the scene (and the sex) is over. I don't want to be assuaging your guilt right now. What's even more likely is that you have little, if anything, to feel guilty about. Whatever move you made you thought went too far was probably fine with me. It might even have been better than fine: It might have been exactly what I wanted.
Alternative: Use body language to determine my resistance/pain levels, and if you think you went too far, switch gears. If you think that swipe with the cane was harder than you thought it was going to be, give me a massaging rub on the butt for a quick minute before giving me the next. If you bent one of my limbs too far, bring it back and hold it for support until I look more comfortable. Don't apologize for what's already happened. Just keep going.
"Does this feel good?"
This has got to be one of my biggest pet peeves. If I've got clamps on my nipples and my ass has just been flogged and now I've got three fingers stretching my ass, what am I supposed to say, 'yes, I feel great'?
What if I say no? Does that mean the play has to stop? But I don't want it to stop! Yes, it hurts, but it's the kind of hurt I want. Feeling good means different things when you're talking about BDSM. Am I supposed to stop play and go into a long discussions about my feelings?
Alternative: Ask, instead, 'how does this feel?'
That way, I can use words like 'amazing,' 'delicious,' 'stingy,' 'burny,' etc. If the cane is stinging my butt, it hurts, but that doesn't mean I'm not enjoying it. After all, if I didn't like it, I wouldn't want it. You should absolutely know what's going on in my head, how I'm feeling. But it's up to you to decide if that's the reaction you're looking for, or if you have to change things around. Worse comes to worst, we can always rely on a "green, yellow, red" system. And remember: I've always got my safeword if I really want things to stop.
"I don't deserve you/ You're so good to me/ I'm so lucky"
Listen: If you don't think you deserve me, why should I think you deserve me?
Yes, absolutely, I want to hear those things, I love hearing those things, but later, after the play is over. While we're "in scene," I want you to be the Dom, the guy in control, requiring my complete submission. I want you full of self-assurance, pride, and conviction. (Not to be confused with disrespect, arrogance, or presumption. A good Dom will know the difference.)
Alternative: Say things like 'I'm so proud of you' or 'your submission pleases me' or 'you're working really hard, I can tell.' Things that let me know you recognize the effort I'm putting into my actions, and my hard work makes you happy.
Those are the things I can think of right now. I'm interested to know if any other subs out there have their own pet peeves to add!
So I made up a list of things I hate, and I mean hate, to hear during our "play."
A few things to keep in mind:
1. These are only my pet peeves. I'm not making generalities here. Other women might have no problem with hearing these things. Hell, they might need to hear 'em to have a satisfied ending.
2. When I say "during play," I mean when I'm already cuffed, trusted up or tied down, and Husband is getting biblical on my ass. I'm talking about when we're already deep into it. I'm in total submissive masochist mode, and he's (I hope) letting the full Dom in him take over. I'm not talking about before or after, when we might be just starting play or just ending it, but things feel light, almost jovial, and we're taking it easy.
3. I'm also not talking about when things are said sarcastically, or with a more cynical attitude to get a reaction out of me. Husband does that on an ongoing basis. He loves to get a rise out of me. Then I do something bad, and he gets to punish me all over again.
Without further ado, here is the:
List of Things I Do NOT Want to Hear During Play
"Uh-Oh."This means that something has gone wrong, not-according-to-plan. It means play might have to pause, or worse yet, maybe halted all together. It means that things were probably not well thought out beforehand, at least enough to foresee such a problem arise, and a way to handle it seamlessly. It can mean that control is lost.
As my Dom, I expect you to retain complete control. I don't want to have to worry about it. That's your job.
Alternative: Say nothing. Don't even let on there's a problem if you can get away with it. Fix the issue before there's time to notice something's off. Or act like it's all part of the plan.
"I'm sorry."
For what? Hurting me? Isn't that kind of the point?
Don't do anything during play you're sorry for. And if you do, and can't fight the need to tell me about it, then tell me you're sorry later, after the scene (and the sex) is over. I don't want to be assuaging your guilt right now. What's even more likely is that you have little, if anything, to feel guilty about. Whatever move you made you thought went too far was probably fine with me. It might even have been better than fine: It might have been exactly what I wanted.
Alternative: Use body language to determine my resistance/pain levels, and if you think you went too far, switch gears. If you think that swipe with the cane was harder than you thought it was going to be, give me a massaging rub on the butt for a quick minute before giving me the next. If you bent one of my limbs too far, bring it back and hold it for support until I look more comfortable. Don't apologize for what's already happened. Just keep going.
"Does this feel good?"
This has got to be one of my biggest pet peeves. If I've got clamps on my nipples and my ass has just been flogged and now I've got three fingers stretching my ass, what am I supposed to say, 'yes, I feel great'?
What if I say no? Does that mean the play has to stop? But I don't want it to stop! Yes, it hurts, but it's the kind of hurt I want. Feeling good means different things when you're talking about BDSM. Am I supposed to stop play and go into a long discussions about my feelings?
Alternative: Ask, instead, 'how does this feel?'
That way, I can use words like 'amazing,' 'delicious,' 'stingy,' 'burny,' etc. If the cane is stinging my butt, it hurts, but that doesn't mean I'm not enjoying it. After all, if I didn't like it, I wouldn't want it. You should absolutely know what's going on in my head, how I'm feeling. But it's up to you to decide if that's the reaction you're looking for, or if you have to change things around. Worse comes to worst, we can always rely on a "green, yellow, red" system. And remember: I've always got my safeword if I really want things to stop.
"I don't deserve you/ You're so good to me/ I'm so lucky"
Listen: If you don't think you deserve me, why should I think you deserve me?
Yes, absolutely, I want to hear those things, I love hearing those things, but later, after the play is over. While we're "in scene," I want you to be the Dom, the guy in control, requiring my complete submission. I want you full of self-assurance, pride, and conviction. (Not to be confused with disrespect, arrogance, or presumption. A good Dom will know the difference.)
Alternative: Say things like 'I'm so proud of you' or 'your submission pleases me' or 'you're working really hard, I can tell.' Things that let me know you recognize the effort I'm putting into my actions, and my hard work makes you happy.
Those are the things I can think of right now. I'm interested to know if any other subs out there have their own pet peeves to add!
Selasa, 28 Januari 2014
Advice about Anal Sex from an Anal Slut
I caught the tail end (the butt end?) of a discussion on twitter yesterday about how to introduce anal sex into a couple's repertoire. While I've been a self-proclaimed anal slut for years now, and am perfectly comfortable with the label, I do remember back when I was first getting started and facing the same fears and anxieties other women are still facing today. So these are my little bits of wisdom, many of which I wish someone had told me. I now pass them on to you lovely readers.
(The pictures, however, are probably completely unnecessary. I just love looking at them.)
The guy should be very verbal about how much the idea of putting things (not just cock) into his lovely woman's ass turns him on. He should also tell her, over and over, how much he loves her asshole in general, how much it excites him, how he sees it as something sexy, provocative, and adorable. A woman sees her asshole as something dirty; he must get her to see it his way.
Once a woman is open to the idea of something, anything, going into her ass as part of sexual play, with the right mindset and enough time the rest will happen on its own. But remember: once you claim the privilege of filling the asshole, you must also take on the responsibility of keeping it safe and feeling good!
2. The asshole is not like a pussy: it is naturally dry, and stays dry. In any kind of sex, dryness can lead to pain, and small tears in the skin; not sexy, and not what you want for that cute, adorable asshole you want to violate.
Solution: LUBE. The lube must be coated liberally on whatever is about to be pressed into the asshole. In addition, it also helps if lube can be inserted into and around the asshole directly; a finger does this job nicely. Be gentle!
3. The asshole does not stretch as fast as a pussy. The skin is more fragile and tight.
Solution: stretch it slowly. The tightest part of the asshole is the internal sphincter itself; once you are past that, smooth toys will slip through easily. In fact, the body's natural reaction is to suck things in! Start with a pencil-thin anal toy, then gradually get wider. What's important here is not length, it's width; so don't bother getting a toy that's 7-9 inches long, because it won't make a difference. All that matters is dilating that internal ring of muscle. And again, lube is important. The asshole will stretch much faster if you're using enough lube. But once a toy feels comfortably in place, there's no point leaving it; you might as well take a break, or move on to a bigger size. No point leaving it in for hours at a time. In fact, if the lube gets absorbed naturally by the tissues, the toy will begin to hurt, and you won't understand why and will frighten yourself for no reason.
4. The asshole is more sensitive than the pussy. Note: I don't know if this is true for all women. I do think it's true for most anal sluts. Pain is more pronounced, but then again, so is pleasure. Every stroke and slide that hits the nerve endings just so is like a stab of pure ecstasy. But angle things the wrong way, and it's like lemon juice on a paper cut.
Solution: Go slow...and I'm sorry, but--expect some pain. If you accept that this process will take time, that there will be some discomfort, some aching, and yes, some stinging along the way, but that your partner is only trying to figure out what pleases you and is doing his best to hurt you as little as possible, then the whole "introductory" time should go a lot faster. Remember, stretching the internal sphincter is the hardest part--and the most painful. Once that's done, the pain should lessen.
Once you've had anal sex a few times, you can anticipate how bad the initial pain will be, and prepare yourself for it. And--if you get off on the pain--you'll start to look forward to it; it becomes part of the thrill. But the initial pain never really goes away. You just come to know what to expect.
5. There's only one position for anal sex: doggie style.
Solution: OH HELL NO. No, no no. Any position you can have vaginal sex in, you can have anal sex; in fact, some positions are easier when you're having anal sex!
Some advice:
(The pictures, however, are probably completely unnecessary. I just love looking at them.)
1. When it comes to anal sex, the first barrier that must be broken down is the psychological one. If a woman is squeamish about things going into her ass, or even touching her asshole, she is going to have a hard time picturing herself enjoying anal sex.
Possible solutions: get some porn videos that include a lot of anal--the ones that focus on anal sex will usually give a hint to that fact in the title. There are even porn videos out there that work like a "how to" guide for anal sex. Watch them as a couple, together. Talk about them.The guy should be very verbal about how much the idea of putting things (not just cock) into his lovely woman's ass turns him on. He should also tell her, over and over, how much he loves her asshole in general, how much it excites him, how he sees it as something sexy, provocative, and adorable. A woman sees her asshole as something dirty; he must get her to see it his way.
Once a woman is open to the idea of something, anything, going into her ass as part of sexual play, with the right mindset and enough time the rest will happen on its own. But remember: once you claim the privilege of filling the asshole, you must also take on the responsibility of keeping it safe and feeling good!
2. The asshole is not like a pussy: it is naturally dry, and stays dry. In any kind of sex, dryness can lead to pain, and small tears in the skin; not sexy, and not what you want for that cute, adorable asshole you want to violate.
Solution: LUBE. The lube must be coated liberally on whatever is about to be pressed into the asshole. In addition, it also helps if lube can be inserted into and around the asshole directly; a finger does this job nicely. Be gentle!
3. The asshole does not stretch as fast as a pussy. The skin is more fragile and tight.
Solution: stretch it slowly. The tightest part of the asshole is the internal sphincter itself; once you are past that, smooth toys will slip through easily. In fact, the body's natural reaction is to suck things in! Start with a pencil-thin anal toy, then gradually get wider. What's important here is not length, it's width; so don't bother getting a toy that's 7-9 inches long, because it won't make a difference. All that matters is dilating that internal ring of muscle. And again, lube is important. The asshole will stretch much faster if you're using enough lube. But once a toy feels comfortably in place, there's no point leaving it; you might as well take a break, or move on to a bigger size. No point leaving it in for hours at a time. In fact, if the lube gets absorbed naturally by the tissues, the toy will begin to hurt, and you won't understand why and will frighten yourself for no reason.
Solution: Go slow...and I'm sorry, but--expect some pain. If you accept that this process will take time, that there will be some discomfort, some aching, and yes, some stinging along the way, but that your partner is only trying to figure out what pleases you and is doing his best to hurt you as little as possible, then the whole "introductory" time should go a lot faster. Remember, stretching the internal sphincter is the hardest part--and the most painful. Once that's done, the pain should lessen.
Once you've had anal sex a few times, you can anticipate how bad the initial pain will be, and prepare yourself for it. And--if you get off on the pain--you'll start to look forward to it; it becomes part of the thrill. But the initial pain never really goes away. You just come to know what to expect.
5. There's only one position for anal sex: doggie style.
Solution: OH HELL NO. No, no no. Any position you can have vaginal sex in, you can have anal sex; in fact, some positions are easier when you're having anal sex!
 |
| Sometimes the weight of the man on top feels amazing. |
 |
| He can watch her play with herself this way. |
 |
| This position gives her more control. |
 |
| This picture is completely gratuitous. |
Some advice:
- Once a woman is ready to try (operative word being "try") something up her ass, do NOT move directly on to cock. Try a finger first, and slowly move on to two; and when she likes (not tolerates, but likes) that, move on to a narrow toy, preferably one that vibrates. Only when she feels very, very comfortable having other things up her ass should you move on to cock. It may help if you give her more control over what's in her ass in the beginning; turn it into a show.
- Anal toys are not like vaginal toys. They have a wider handle at the end to prevent the toy from being sucked up the ass. If you are using a regular dildo or vibrator inside the ass, for god's sake, hang onto it tight and don't lose it up there. The last thing you need is a trip to the ER because you lost track of a sex toy somewhere up your intestine.
- This is not a "vaginal or anal" scenario. You can have a toy in her ass, and your cock in her pussy; or you can have a toy in her pussy, and your cock in her ass. Or you can move your cock from her pussy to her ass, if she's lubed up enough. But--and this is a big but--DO NOT go from ass to pussy. Not with cock, and not with toys. This can lead to bacteria entering the vagina, which can cause infection. Anything that has been in the ass must be washed before it can be reintroduced to the pussy, or her poor pussy may end up feeling something like this:
- When poking something into the ass for the first time, use a blunt tip. If it's a finger, don't poke it straight in; use the finger pad to press it in first. Seduce the asshole into relaxing, and opening a bit on it's own; then press your point home. You'll see the difference, and she'll feel the difference.
- If the asshole constricts, do not pull out. Do not move while the asshole is constricting involuntarily. Wait, let the spasm pass, and then ask her what she would like you to do. Sometimes she will tell you to get out immediately--and sometimes she will tell you to continue. But if you try to pull out while she's all tight back there, you'll only hurt her. (Which may be the point later on, but not right now.)
- Once you both get a feel for what works for both of you, you can incorporate the pain into the act itself. You can tie her up, and have fun stretching her a little faster than what she's used to; or you can cuff her down, and enter her fast from behind. The possibilities are fun and endless.
So have fun, and good luck! I hope this post was of some use to you. If there's any question still lingering, don't hesitate to contact me in the comments section or via twitter, and I'll do my best to answer it.
Isnin, 27 Januari 2014
Discipline vs Punishment
As I was leaning over the bathroom counter today, receiving a harsh spanking for another lapse in judgement, I had an epiphany. It had to do with the way Husband and I approach discipline and punishment, and how we view the difference between the two.
I'm going to try to articulate it, because I think there might be others out there who subscribe to the same way of thinking, or maybe realize they do after reading this, even if they've never given it much thought before.
(I certainly didn't for a long time. After you've been in a relationship for a long enough, behaviors evolve, and it's hard to pick apart and reason out all the subtle nuances of why you do what you do.)
I make no claim to being an expert on this subject. But this is how it works for us.
Discipline
Discipline is what Husband treats me to when he's either
1. Trying to change my natural behavior
or
2. Trying to teach me to do an otherwise unnatural behavior until it becomes natural.
Let's use what happened this morning as an example. I left our bathroom a mess. Now, he has laid down a strict rule that I am NOT allowed to "take over" our bathroom. I cannot hang up my hosiery all over the shower and door hook, I cannot leave my makeup, hair supplies, and eye-care supplies all over the counter, etc. etc. You get the idea. The bathroom is shared, and I must share it.
However, this goes AGAINST my natural behavior. My natural inclination is to spread out my shit. I can't help it. I don't know if it's because I'm a woman, or what. It's just the way I am.
So every once in a while, Husband will come into the bathroom and realize every inch of counter space is again taken up with my makeup, hair dryer, perfume, lotions, etc. And he will have to discipline me as a reminder that I am supposed to control that.
Another example: I have impulse control issues. This is something I am constantly working on. Sometimes I say or do something without thinking, not because I'm trying to be bad, but because I can't help it. It's just my nature.
Husband disciplines me to help me learn how to control myself. But again, it's an ongoing lesson. I'm not "misbehaving," I'm just giving into my natural tendencies.
Punishment
Punishment, on the other hand, is reserved for times when I've strayed from my natural behavior and purposely gone out of my way to do something I know will make him angry. Punishment is for the times I've actively ( and perhaps maliciously) disobeyed.
There are probably dozens of examples for this. Refusing to do a task out of spite, yelling at him in front of the kids, "forgetting" to do his laundry when I've done everyone else's, or just basically doing anything that shows a lack of courtesy and respect, would earn a punishment. My natural inclination is to avoid hurting him. If I insult or offend him, most likely it's because I wanted to, which is bad. (Very very bad.)
Of course, sometimes it's hard for us to tell the difference between discipline and punishment, and after all these years, we don't even bother giving it thought. But I think, deep down, there's a difference in both approach, and closure.
Husband approaches discipline with more forgiveness and understanding. He knows it's hard for me to go against my character. It's a constant struggle.
With that in mind, there's no real closure, either. We both know, eventually, I'm going to screw up again. It might be a while, but it's only a matter of time.
Punishment, on the other hand, is brought forth with very little, if any, forgiveness and understanding. It's usually served with heavy doses of disappointment, frustration, and dismay.
But once the punishment is over, there is total closure, because there is no expectation I'll do the same thing again. There shouldn't have to be, if the punishment was effective.
Overlap between discipline and punishment happens when I've done something that would normally be indicative of my nature (being the smart-assed masochist that I am), but Husband thinks I should've learned better by now. Like, oh, sewing flowers on his pants, or turning the sprinkler system on when he's outside, or painting his nails while he's sleeping. After all these years, he thinks I should know better.
I'm a work in progress.
(The word he uses is "entertaining.")
(Also "crazy," but I prefer entertaining.)
I hope you've found this useful.
I'm going to try to articulate it, because I think there might be others out there who subscribe to the same way of thinking, or maybe realize they do after reading this, even if they've never given it much thought before.
(I certainly didn't for a long time. After you've been in a relationship for a long enough, behaviors evolve, and it's hard to pick apart and reason out all the subtle nuances of why you do what you do.)
I make no claim to being an expert on this subject. But this is how it works for us.
Discipline
Discipline is what Husband treats me to when he's either
1. Trying to change my natural behavior
or
2. Trying to teach me to do an otherwise unnatural behavior until it becomes natural.
Let's use what happened this morning as an example. I left our bathroom a mess. Now, he has laid down a strict rule that I am NOT allowed to "take over" our bathroom. I cannot hang up my hosiery all over the shower and door hook, I cannot leave my makeup, hair supplies, and eye-care supplies all over the counter, etc. etc. You get the idea. The bathroom is shared, and I must share it.
However, this goes AGAINST my natural behavior. My natural inclination is to spread out my shit. I can't help it. I don't know if it's because I'm a woman, or what. It's just the way I am.
So every once in a while, Husband will come into the bathroom and realize every inch of counter space is again taken up with my makeup, hair dryer, perfume, lotions, etc. And he will have to discipline me as a reminder that I am supposed to control that.
Another example: I have impulse control issues. This is something I am constantly working on. Sometimes I say or do something without thinking, not because I'm trying to be bad, but because I can't help it. It's just my nature.
Husband disciplines me to help me learn how to control myself. But again, it's an ongoing lesson. I'm not "misbehaving," I'm just giving into my natural tendencies.
Punishment
Punishment, on the other hand, is reserved for times when I've strayed from my natural behavior and purposely gone out of my way to do something I know will make him angry. Punishment is for the times I've actively ( and perhaps maliciously) disobeyed.
There are probably dozens of examples for this. Refusing to do a task out of spite, yelling at him in front of the kids, "forgetting" to do his laundry when I've done everyone else's, or just basically doing anything that shows a lack of courtesy and respect, would earn a punishment. My natural inclination is to avoid hurting him. If I insult or offend him, most likely it's because I wanted to, which is bad. (Very very bad.)
Of course, sometimes it's hard for us to tell the difference between discipline and punishment, and after all these years, we don't even bother giving it thought. But I think, deep down, there's a difference in both approach, and closure.
Husband approaches discipline with more forgiveness and understanding. He knows it's hard for me to go against my character. It's a constant struggle.
With that in mind, there's no real closure, either. We both know, eventually, I'm going to screw up again. It might be a while, but it's only a matter of time.
Punishment, on the other hand, is brought forth with very little, if any, forgiveness and understanding. It's usually served with heavy doses of disappointment, frustration, and dismay.
But once the punishment is over, there is total closure, because there is no expectation I'll do the same thing again. There shouldn't have to be, if the punishment was effective.
Overlap between discipline and punishment happens when I've done something that would normally be indicative of my nature (being the smart-assed masochist that I am), but Husband thinks I should've learned better by now. Like, oh, sewing flowers on his pants, or turning the sprinkler system on when he's outside, or painting his nails while he's sleeping. After all these years, he thinks I should know better.
I'm a work in progress.
(The word he uses is "entertaining.")
(Also "crazy," but I prefer entertaining.)
I hope you've found this useful.
What I Learned at Folsom
1. Folsom isn't so much about the clothes--it's about the attitude. So many people, so many, were walking around completely naked except for shoes and the occasional cock ring; nobody cared. Others were walking around dressed up as ponies, or puppies, or latex dolls; some were completely covered, head to toe, in leather. Some were expressing fetishes I would have no fucking clue how to describe. How do describe something like this?
But none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was that you felt great in your own skin, that you were walking around like you owned the day and didn't give a damn whatever anyone else thought.
I wore a short(ish) denim skirt and gauzy dusky-pink shirt, and when I got there, I realized I had, perhaps, dressed a tad bit too--shall we say, sophisticated? But I felt great; I was showing off my knees, which for me is a big fucking deal, and I felt sexy about it. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
2. I asked three booths if they sold tawses, and all three had no clue what I was talking about. I found this really odd. One guy actually told me he had been "doing this" for twenty years, and had never heard of a tawse--like I was making the damn thing up. What the hell?
This, my friends, is an example of a tawse:
And this is a tawse in use:
This is the specific tawse I was looking for, which I now know I will have to find online:
Is this just not an American thing? More of an European thing? The Israelis I know who are (ahem) familiar with BDSM (ahem) equipment know what a tawse is. So why didn't these guys know? I thought it was weird.
3. I learned something about myself: I enjoy kink, and I enjoy watching people of all genders, ages and sizes get topped. But none of that excites me like watching women get tied down, bent over, and hurt by men. I saw women get flogged, paddled, spanked, whipped...and it never got old. I could have watched that all day. It was yummy. Not because I wanted to hurt them--because I wanted to be them.
4. The people of The Citadel are really, really nice people. I've not been there yet, but lately, I've been talking/negotiating with Husband when we can go. Now I want to go more than ever.
5. Many of the women dressed up at Folsom were wearing corsets. I personally had never tried on a corset before, but seeing all the beautiful girls with hourglass figures walking around made me want to try one. There were a few booths selling corsets, and the first one I walked into fitting me with one that went up over the breasts.
The strapped me in--and I swear to God, I freaked out. You know that sound that comes out of your throat when you suck in your breath so sharply it sounds like a backwards scream? Yeah, that's the sound I made when she pulled those laces up in back. My reaction kind of scared her, too, and she immediately loosened it, but that wasn't the problem. I just felt totally trapped in that thing.
Husband and I have the Rule Of Ten--you have to be willing to try something out at least ten times before you can decide for sure whether you like it or not. You can't just give up on something after one or two times, because things can feel different depending on the night, the mood, the way you're wielding the new implement or using the new toy, etc. You have to really experiment with it before you can give up.
So I went to a different booth, and tried on another corset, this time one that fit under the breasts. I had the same reaction--and this time the man strapping me in didn't realize I was freaking out until I started yelling "RED! RED!" Everyone turned to look, but I was beading sweat at that point. He loosened the straps, but then left me in the damn thing while he went to help another customer. I could have killed him. Finally, another woman saw my red face and glassy eyes and took pity on me. She took the thing off and calmed me down.
I have no idea why I reacted the way I did to the corset. I'll for sure try it again--this time, explaining to the poor sales associate what my initial reaction is going to be--and hopefully, I'll be able to breath through the first few minutes and find a way to calm down. Who knows, I may just come to tolerate it. But I don't think I'll ever love it. Oh well.
6. Husband and I had negotiated beforehand what I was allowed to do at the fair (and what I was not). He knew I wouldn't engage in anything unsafe or beyond my hard limits, of course, so beyond that, he said, "have fun." He knew I was open to spanking others, and getting spanked, and he was fine with that.
Unfortunately, there was never an opportunity at the fair for me to spank anyone, and I realized too late I had let my opportunity to be spanked by someone I trust slip away. I came home with my bottom just as marked up as it had been before I left.
Husband's reaction to this surprised me. He asked me, "did anyone spank you?" and I said no; and his face fell in disappointment. Like he had been excited by the idea of someone else spanking me at the fair, and was now feeling let down because no one had. It was not the reaction I had been expecting. We had spoken about my behavior at the fair in terms of what I was allowed to do; he had not told me he wanted me to do anything. Maybe he had been too hesitant to tell me? Maybe I misread the signals? I don't know. I have to talk to him about that one.
I wore a short(ish) denim skirt and gauzy dusky-pink shirt, and when I got there, I realized I had, perhaps, dressed a tad bit too--shall we say, sophisticated? But I felt great; I was showing off my knees, which for me is a big fucking deal, and I felt sexy about it. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
2. I asked three booths if they sold tawses, and all three had no clue what I was talking about. I found this really odd. One guy actually told me he had been "doing this" for twenty years, and had never heard of a tawse--like I was making the damn thing up. What the hell?
This, my friends, is an example of a tawse:
3. I learned something about myself: I enjoy kink, and I enjoy watching people of all genders, ages and sizes get topped. But none of that excites me like watching women get tied down, bent over, and hurt by men. I saw women get flogged, paddled, spanked, whipped...and it never got old. I could have watched that all day. It was yummy. Not because I wanted to hurt them--because I wanted to be them.
4. The people of The Citadel are really, really nice people. I've not been there yet, but lately, I've been talking/negotiating with Husband when we can go. Now I want to go more than ever.
5. Many of the women dressed up at Folsom were wearing corsets. I personally had never tried on a corset before, but seeing all the beautiful girls with hourglass figures walking around made me want to try one. There were a few booths selling corsets, and the first one I walked into fitting me with one that went up over the breasts.
The strapped me in--and I swear to God, I freaked out. You know that sound that comes out of your throat when you suck in your breath so sharply it sounds like a backwards scream? Yeah, that's the sound I made when she pulled those laces up in back. My reaction kind of scared her, too, and she immediately loosened it, but that wasn't the problem. I just felt totally trapped in that thing.
Husband and I have the Rule Of Ten--you have to be willing to try something out at least ten times before you can decide for sure whether you like it or not. You can't just give up on something after one or two times, because things can feel different depending on the night, the mood, the way you're wielding the new implement or using the new toy, etc. You have to really experiment with it before you can give up.
So I went to a different booth, and tried on another corset, this time one that fit under the breasts. I had the same reaction--and this time the man strapping me in didn't realize I was freaking out until I started yelling "RED! RED!" Everyone turned to look, but I was beading sweat at that point. He loosened the straps, but then left me in the damn thing while he went to help another customer. I could have killed him. Finally, another woman saw my red face and glassy eyes and took pity on me. She took the thing off and calmed me down.
I have no idea why I reacted the way I did to the corset. I'll for sure try it again--this time, explaining to the poor sales associate what my initial reaction is going to be--and hopefully, I'll be able to breath through the first few minutes and find a way to calm down. Who knows, I may just come to tolerate it. But I don't think I'll ever love it. Oh well.
6. Husband and I had negotiated beforehand what I was allowed to do at the fair (and what I was not). He knew I wouldn't engage in anything unsafe or beyond my hard limits, of course, so beyond that, he said, "have fun." He knew I was open to spanking others, and getting spanked, and he was fine with that.
Unfortunately, there was never an opportunity at the fair for me to spank anyone, and I realized too late I had let my opportunity to be spanked by someone I trust slip away. I came home with my bottom just as marked up as it had been before I left.
Husband's reaction to this surprised me. He asked me, "did anyone spank you?" and I said no; and his face fell in disappointment. Like he had been excited by the idea of someone else spanking me at the fair, and was now feeling let down because no one had. It was not the reaction I had been expecting. We had spoken about my behavior at the fair in terms of what I was allowed to do; he had not told me he wanted me to do anything. Maybe he had been too hesitant to tell me? Maybe I misread the signals? I don't know. I have to talk to him about that one.
Ahad, 26 Januari 2014
SLUT
You guys know I'm something of a feminist. I'm all for women's rights, I'm pro-choice, hell, in some instances I'm pro-abortion (yeah I said it). I don't believe the mentality of being a sub comes from somehow being less than, like God made women weaker or dumber than men. I believe women are equal to men, and should be treated as such, unless and until a woman chooses to be treated differently.
Society, of course, does not agree with me. Women are held to different standards. Women face more difficult choices, and harder-to-meet expectations. Women are judged, labeled, and more often than not, punished for who they are, especially if they are not behaving the way they are "supposed" to.
This still holds true for sexual behavior, especially in the vanilla world. Women are supposed to have one partner at a time. They're supposed to get to know their partners well before deigning to sleep with them. And if the relationship ends, they're expected to mourn the loss of their partner for a certain amount of time before starting the search for a new one.
If a woman doesn't follow these edicts, she's in trouble. Her reputation crumbles. She's labeled a whore, a tramp, a slut. She's "dirty." She's "cheap." She's less than.
This might be less true in the kink world. But you know what? To a certain extent, it is still true. It's just also somehow seen as okay.
Recently I got into a discussion on Twitter about the SLUT label. See, I know most people's definition of SLUT is a woman who sleeps around with a lot of men. But my argument was that the term SLUT should be about mindset and attitude, not about number of partners. If a woman enjoys having lots of sex, if she's honest about her desires and isn't ashamed to ask for what she wants, then can't she assume the mantle of the SLUT label, regardless of how many people she's fucking at the time?
Let me put it a different way: if a woman labels herself a sub, she's trying to encapsulate her feelings on what kind of person she is: submissive. And it doesn't matter if she has a Dom at the time, or just a top who plays with her now and then for fun. She sees herself as a sub, so she calls herself a sub.
If a woman sees herself as a SLUT, does it really matter how many men she's fucking? Can't she still be a SLUT?
Then I got to thinking some more. And I started to feel ashamed for what I'd thought in the first place.
See, the label SLUT is a negative: it's used to degrade and humiliate women. It paints them as something repugnant, sleazy, and easily discarded. And kinksters like me can try to "claim back" the label, try to put a new spin on it all we want, but the fact is, there is no equal label out there for men, and there's a reason for that: men who fuck a lot of partners are not judged negatively. Women are. That's a fact. And we can rant and rail about it all we want, it's not going to make much of a difference. I'm sorry for sounding pessimistic, but it's true.
You know what a woman who likes sex and wants it all the time should be called? A WOMAN. A healthy, normal, human, WOMAN. Not a slut, whether you want to think being called a slut is good or bad. Not a tramp, not a floozy, and not any other word.
A WOMAN.
Women like sex. Sometimes it's making love, and sometimes it's animalistic fucking. Most of the time, it's somewhere between the two. It's sticky, and messy, and exciting, and fun, and sensual...it can be painful. It can be dangerous. It makes us feel good.
Why should we be labeled for liking sex? Why should we have to face that kind of judgement at all?
I am a woman. I fuck only one man. I fuck him a lot. I like fucking him, and he likes fucking me. I feel no shame in admitting it.
What that makes me is up for interpretation. I haven't decided in my own head yet what to call it. What I have decided is that the label is unimportant.
Maybe that's the best conclusion I can draw right now.
Society, of course, does not agree with me. Women are held to different standards. Women face more difficult choices, and harder-to-meet expectations. Women are judged, labeled, and more often than not, punished for who they are, especially if they are not behaving the way they are "supposed" to.
This still holds true for sexual behavior, especially in the vanilla world. Women are supposed to have one partner at a time. They're supposed to get to know their partners well before deigning to sleep with them. And if the relationship ends, they're expected to mourn the loss of their partner for a certain amount of time before starting the search for a new one.
If a woman doesn't follow these edicts, she's in trouble. Her reputation crumbles. She's labeled a whore, a tramp, a slut. She's "dirty." She's "cheap." She's less than.
This might be less true in the kink world. But you know what? To a certain extent, it is still true. It's just also somehow seen as okay.
Recently I got into a discussion on Twitter about the SLUT label. See, I know most people's definition of SLUT is a woman who sleeps around with a lot of men. But my argument was that the term SLUT should be about mindset and attitude, not about number of partners. If a woman enjoys having lots of sex, if she's honest about her desires and isn't ashamed to ask for what she wants, then can't she assume the mantle of the SLUT label, regardless of how many people she's fucking at the time?
Let me put it a different way: if a woman labels herself a sub, she's trying to encapsulate her feelings on what kind of person she is: submissive. And it doesn't matter if she has a Dom at the time, or just a top who plays with her now and then for fun. She sees herself as a sub, so she calls herself a sub.
If a woman sees herself as a SLUT, does it really matter how many men she's fucking? Can't she still be a SLUT?
Then I got to thinking some more. And I started to feel ashamed for what I'd thought in the first place.
See, the label SLUT is a negative: it's used to degrade and humiliate women. It paints them as something repugnant, sleazy, and easily discarded. And kinksters like me can try to "claim back" the label, try to put a new spin on it all we want, but the fact is, there is no equal label out there for men, and there's a reason for that: men who fuck a lot of partners are not judged negatively. Women are. That's a fact. And we can rant and rail about it all we want, it's not going to make much of a difference. I'm sorry for sounding pessimistic, but it's true.
You know what a woman who likes sex and wants it all the time should be called? A WOMAN. A healthy, normal, human, WOMAN. Not a slut, whether you want to think being called a slut is good or bad. Not a tramp, not a floozy, and not any other word.
A WOMAN.
Women like sex. Sometimes it's making love, and sometimes it's animalistic fucking. Most of the time, it's somewhere between the two. It's sticky, and messy, and exciting, and fun, and sensual...it can be painful. It can be dangerous. It makes us feel good.
Why should we be labeled for liking sex? Why should we have to face that kind of judgement at all?
I am a woman. I fuck only one man. I fuck him a lot. I like fucking him, and he likes fucking me. I feel no shame in admitting it.
What that makes me is up for interpretation. I haven't decided in my own head yet what to call it. What I have decided is that the label is unimportant.
Maybe that's the best conclusion I can draw right now.
Background Noise
When dealing with the kink community, one important thing (among oh so many) to keep in mind is this: rules of etiquette here are somewhat different than those in the vanilla world. I will not say the rules are changed completely, because it's not like you've entered Bizarro World (although sometimes it can feel that way); but the rules have definitely altered.
Things that were okay before, perhaps even expected before—a hug hello, a kiss on the cheek, even something as minor as a handshake—can no longer be taken for granted. On the other hand, big no-nos in the vanilla world—complimenting a woman on her sultry look, sending out an invitation to negotiate a little play later—are fine in Kink Land.
Things can get confusing.
It's easy to make mistakes.
And we all make mistakes. We're human, we're not perfect, right?
Some imagine people's mistakes as a secret bucket they're keeping, often hidden behind their backs. As long as their bucket doesn't get full, they're okay. But once the bucket reaches critical mass, and begins to overflow, the person now has too many mistakes in their bucket—and they are no longer worthy of your friendship.
I don't think of it like that. I think the mistakes people make—and remember, we all make them—becomes something like background noise. We all carry around our background noise with us wherever we go.
Some people's background noise is very faint, and barely noticeable. Some people's is louder, but it is not so unpleasant to take; you can still have a nice conversation over it.
And some people's background noise is so annoying, so ear-pounding, you just have to walk away.
The thing about background noise is, we all have different levels we can take, and different kinds of noises we find disturbing. What you find too troublesome to accept, completely intolerable to your own ears, your friend might not find so bad. And what they recoil away from, you may decide is not bothersome to you at all.
Keep in mind, it is the same exact noise.
The difference lies in the people hearing it.
Now, obviously there are some noises that no one can take. The human eardrum can only handle so much pressure before it pops. People who have allowed their background noise to rise to that level...I'm sorry, but you're in trouble. You're going to have to tone it down.
But I think 98% of the people in our community are not like that. Yes, we have predators, rapists, people whom we cannot and should not tolerate in our community, whose background noise is simply too dangerous to the rest of us...but most of us are not like that, at all. We are just people, making mistakes, creating our own background noise.
I guess, my point is, the issue is not so black and white.
So before you go judging how much background noise your friends can take, consider this: how much background noise are you making? And how grateful are you that your friends are willing to accept it?
Things that were okay before, perhaps even expected before—a hug hello, a kiss on the cheek, even something as minor as a handshake—can no longer be taken for granted. On the other hand, big no-nos in the vanilla world—complimenting a woman on her sultry look, sending out an invitation to negotiate a little play later—are fine in Kink Land.
Things can get confusing.
It's easy to make mistakes.
And we all make mistakes. We're human, we're not perfect, right?
Some imagine people's mistakes as a secret bucket they're keeping, often hidden behind their backs. As long as their bucket doesn't get full, they're okay. But once the bucket reaches critical mass, and begins to overflow, the person now has too many mistakes in their bucket—and they are no longer worthy of your friendship.
I don't think of it like that. I think the mistakes people make—and remember, we all make them—becomes something like background noise. We all carry around our background noise with us wherever we go.
Some people's background noise is very faint, and barely noticeable. Some people's is louder, but it is not so unpleasant to take; you can still have a nice conversation over it.
And some people's background noise is so annoying, so ear-pounding, you just have to walk away.
The thing about background noise is, we all have different levels we can take, and different kinds of noises we find disturbing. What you find too troublesome to accept, completely intolerable to your own ears, your friend might not find so bad. And what they recoil away from, you may decide is not bothersome to you at all.
Keep in mind, it is the same exact noise.
The difference lies in the people hearing it.
Now, obviously there are some noises that no one can take. The human eardrum can only handle so much pressure before it pops. People who have allowed their background noise to rise to that level...I'm sorry, but you're in trouble. You're going to have to tone it down.
But I think 98% of the people in our community are not like that. Yes, we have predators, rapists, people whom we cannot and should not tolerate in our community, whose background noise is simply too dangerous to the rest of us...but most of us are not like that, at all. We are just people, making mistakes, creating our own background noise.
I guess, my point is, the issue is not so black and white.
So before you go judging how much background noise your friends can take, consider this: how much background noise are you making? And how grateful are you that your friends are willing to accept it?
Sabtu, 25 Januari 2014
Jumaat, 24 Januari 2014
Your Turn to Teach Me Something
This is not a statement, and this is not a rant. This is an honest-to-God question. I'm hoping to start some discussion here, or at least, having some people enlighten me. Really, I'm trying to understand.
Some backdrop: I was having a discussion with some local veteran community members the other day. One of them, a Dom and Sadist, happened to make a comment about the "kinds" of subs he likes to Top. I'm paraphrasing here, but basically the conversation went something like this:
Him: I would never play with a sub who tells me she has no limits.
Me: Why not?
Him: Because every sub has limits. If she doesn't know what hers are yet, that's fine, but I don't want to find out the hard way. If she's so new she can't even give me one limit, then I step back and say 'sweetie, come back to me when you discover a limit or two, and then we'll play.'
Me: But what if she really has no limit? What if she'd let you do anything you want?
Him: Then she's mentally unstable, and I don't want to play with her anyway. I don't play with crazy.
At this point, a lot (I won't say everyone, but a lot) of the people in the room started nodding their heads, like, yes, he's right, a sub with no limits is crazy.
So there seems to be this prevalent notion that subs, if they have any self-respect at all, if they're mentally sane, have to have some limits. Because not everything should go; a Top should not be allowed to do whatever he wants. That's foolish and dangerous. That could lead to disaster.
So here's my question: How come this rule doesn't apply to the kink community as a whole?
We're fed this belief that in our community of Sadists and masochists, debauchers and hedonists, everything goes. We repeat the mantra 'your kink is not my kink, and that is okay.' We're expected to erase judgement from our minds, treat it like a dirty little crime, never talk about it except with an air of disgust, a tone of contempt.
(As if we all could erase it from our minds. People judge other people. That's what we do. We can try to curb it, keep it down to a minimum, but we can never "evolve" ourselves past it.)
But if we have a community that accepts everything, and deplores nothing, refuses to entertain the idea that some things should just not be abided...
Don't we end up with a community full of crazies?
I really want to know why people seem to have this belief "a community without limits is a good kinky community." How is it good? How does it help the strength and growth of the community? I understand you want to protect it from the kind of discrimination and prejudice you find in the vanilla world. But surely, going to the opposite extreme of Anything Goes can't be healthy, either.
Can it?
Some backdrop: I was having a discussion with some local veteran community members the other day. One of them, a Dom and Sadist, happened to make a comment about the "kinds" of subs he likes to Top. I'm paraphrasing here, but basically the conversation went something like this:
Him: I would never play with a sub who tells me she has no limits.
Me: Why not?
Him: Because every sub has limits. If she doesn't know what hers are yet, that's fine, but I don't want to find out the hard way. If she's so new she can't even give me one limit, then I step back and say 'sweetie, come back to me when you discover a limit or two, and then we'll play.'
Me: But what if she really has no limit? What if she'd let you do anything you want?
Him: Then she's mentally unstable, and I don't want to play with her anyway. I don't play with crazy.
At this point, a lot (I won't say everyone, but a lot) of the people in the room started nodding their heads, like, yes, he's right, a sub with no limits is crazy.
So there seems to be this prevalent notion that subs, if they have any self-respect at all, if they're mentally sane, have to have some limits. Because not everything should go; a Top should not be allowed to do whatever he wants. That's foolish and dangerous. That could lead to disaster.
So here's my question: How come this rule doesn't apply to the kink community as a whole?
We're fed this belief that in our community of Sadists and masochists, debauchers and hedonists, everything goes. We repeat the mantra 'your kink is not my kink, and that is okay.' We're expected to erase judgement from our minds, treat it like a dirty little crime, never talk about it except with an air of disgust, a tone of contempt.
(As if we all could erase it from our minds. People judge other people. That's what we do. We can try to curb it, keep it down to a minimum, but we can never "evolve" ourselves past it.)
But if we have a community that accepts everything, and deplores nothing, refuses to entertain the idea that some things should just not be abided...
Don't we end up with a community full of crazies?
I really want to know why people seem to have this belief "a community without limits is a good kinky community." How is it good? How does it help the strength and growth of the community? I understand you want to protect it from the kind of discrimination and prejudice you find in the vanilla world. But surely, going to the opposite extreme of Anything Goes can't be healthy, either.
Can it?
Selasa, 21 Januari 2014
Mosers in the Kink Community
This post is pure philosophical thinking (mental vomiting, really) on my part. WELCOME TO MY BRAIN. Don't forget your 3D glasses; you'll need them.
In the Jewish world, we have our set of set of words and vocabulary to delineate things that sometimes have no concept in the secular world. One of those words we have is moser.
A moser is a Jewish person who, to put it simply, snitches on another Jew to secular authorities. It stems from Talmudic times, back when Jews were living under Roman law, and were being killed for behaving Jewishly in any way. Any Jew with a gripe could report his/her fellow Jew, and watch the Romans solve the "problem" for them.
According to the Talmud, a moser is considered someone evil and wicked. Sometimes, being a moser is punishable by death.
The problem is, today, at least in Western society, Jews are not being rounded up and killed for being Jewish. Yes, we do face antisemitism, but we face it by those breaking the law, not by those defending it. Yet the concept of moser has undergone a strange, and in my opinion, horrifying blossoming.
Today, the word moser if often used to describe someone who has reported molesters and abusers to the authorities. It has become an epithet to silence and ostracize those who try to publicize horrible wrongs going on within a Jewish community.
Those who have come forward as victims of child molestation are being called mosers. Those who are revealing wide-spread fraud and money laundering by prominent Rabbis are being called mosers. Those who are working with secular authorities to stop rampant child abuse are being called mosers.
I am probably being a moser right now, by bringing this up.
The reason why I'm bringing this up now is because recently, on FL, another woman has come forward to publicize her assault. Her consent was violated in a dangerous, and what could have been lethal, way.
What was more, the guy who did this to her has admitted it.
Yet what am I seeing?
People telling her it was her own fault this happened, because she had given him consent prior, so she was asking for it. That this was all a "misunderstanding." That she should accept his apology and move on. That by publicizing what happened to her, she's creating "drama."
That, basically, she should shut the fuck up.
I get it that the kink community faces a lot of discrimination and condemnation from the vanilla world. I get it that we sometimes have to work twice as hard to earn an ounce of respect, to show people that what we do is not abuse, and should not land us in jail.
But does this mean we need to silence those in the community who have been violated, assaulted, abused, even raped? In our quest to seem so communal and benign to the vanilla world, must we quiet the voices who have every right to speak up, who only wish to rid us of the very kind of predatory behavior vanilla society reprehends? Shouldn't we repudiate it just as much, if not more?
Is "drama" the new kinky slang word for "moser"?
I am scared by what I'm seeing. I don't want my kink community to turn into a group of people afraid to speak out when a problem arises that can be fixed, should be fixed, because they are afraid of being labeled and ostracized; where people think the best way to handle a serious problem is to silence those who would speak of it.
I don't want to be part of a community where consent violators run free, while the people who are shunned are the "mosers."
I don't know the solution to this. It's an ongoing problem. But it's terrible to see.
In the Jewish world, we have our set of set of words and vocabulary to delineate things that sometimes have no concept in the secular world. One of those words we have is moser.
A moser is a Jewish person who, to put it simply, snitches on another Jew to secular authorities. It stems from Talmudic times, back when Jews were living under Roman law, and were being killed for behaving Jewishly in any way. Any Jew with a gripe could report his/her fellow Jew, and watch the Romans solve the "problem" for them.
According to the Talmud, a moser is considered someone evil and wicked. Sometimes, being a moser is punishable by death.
The problem is, today, at least in Western society, Jews are not being rounded up and killed for being Jewish. Yes, we do face antisemitism, but we face it by those breaking the law, not by those defending it. Yet the concept of moser has undergone a strange, and in my opinion, horrifying blossoming.
Today, the word moser if often used to describe someone who has reported molesters and abusers to the authorities. It has become an epithet to silence and ostracize those who try to publicize horrible wrongs going on within a Jewish community.
Those who have come forward as victims of child molestation are being called mosers. Those who are revealing wide-spread fraud and money laundering by prominent Rabbis are being called mosers. Those who are working with secular authorities to stop rampant child abuse are being called mosers.
I am probably being a moser right now, by bringing this up.
The reason why I'm bringing this up now is because recently, on FL, another woman has come forward to publicize her assault. Her consent was violated in a dangerous, and what could have been lethal, way.
What was more, the guy who did this to her has admitted it.
Yet what am I seeing?
People telling her it was her own fault this happened, because she had given him consent prior, so she was asking for it. That this was all a "misunderstanding." That she should accept his apology and move on. That by publicizing what happened to her, she's creating "drama."
That, basically, she should shut the fuck up.
I get it that the kink community faces a lot of discrimination and condemnation from the vanilla world. I get it that we sometimes have to work twice as hard to earn an ounce of respect, to show people that what we do is not abuse, and should not land us in jail.
But does this mean we need to silence those in the community who have been violated, assaulted, abused, even raped? In our quest to seem so communal and benign to the vanilla world, must we quiet the voices who have every right to speak up, who only wish to rid us of the very kind of predatory behavior vanilla society reprehends? Shouldn't we repudiate it just as much, if not more?
Is "drama" the new kinky slang word for "moser"?
I am scared by what I'm seeing. I don't want my kink community to turn into a group of people afraid to speak out when a problem arises that can be fixed, should be fixed, because they are afraid of being labeled and ostracized; where people think the best way to handle a serious problem is to silence those who would speak of it.
I don't want to be part of a community where consent violators run free, while the people who are shunned are the "mosers."
I don't know the solution to this. It's an ongoing problem. But it's terrible to see.
A Spoof on Aftercare
Let us say now you followed all the rules. You found a woman, the two of you got to talking, maybe even watched each other's play technique with other people; you started negotiations, decided on a scene, and it all went really well. So well, in fact, that now you feel like James Fucking Bond, Agent of Tophood, Masterdom, and All That Is Sadistic, and your play partner is sacked out where you left her, looking like her brains have been shaken, not stirred. The world is awesome.
TIME FOR AFTERCARE.
Oh, but wait! You two didn't negotiate aftercare! You didn't realize it was necessary! Well, that's ok. See, unlike the scene the two of you just hashed out, aftercare has nothing to do with what she wants. Hell, she doesn't know what she wants anymore. Look at her; her eyeballs are rolling around her head like a pair of googly-eyes on a cookie monster doll. It's up to you now to know what she needs. Be the Top! Treat her the way she needs to be treated! She may not thank you now, but she'll be grateful in the long run, believe me.
(And I must know what I'm talking about, cause I'm taking the time to write a whole fucking post on aftercare, and these posts are always chock full of awesome goodness, aren't they?)
1. Set her down somewhere in a dark, quiet corner to relax. It should be dark enough that she can fall asleep if she wants to. Hell, it should be dark enough she can't see one foot in front of the other, cause why should she? It's not like she's going anywhere. In fact, it might be a good idea to put some legos on the floor, so you know if tries to get up and walk around; her hollers will warn you in a hurry, so you can put her right back where she belongs. If her friends think it's weird you're hiding her away where nobody can see her, snub your noses at them. This is aftercare, baby.
2. Make sure she has a nice, cozy blanket around her. Her arms should be good and snug by her sides, so she can't flail them around and accidentally hurt herself. Remember, she's got about as much sense now as a newborn babe; in her state, she might do some real damage to her face. In fact, it might be a good idea to go ahead and get out the nail clippers--blunt those nails down. Now's not the time to worry about her manicure. THIS IS HER SAFETY WE'RE TALKING ABOUT.
If you don't have a blanket, a straitjacket will do. The important thing is to make her feel secure, protected, and cared for. As you're fastening the straitjacket, you can whisper sweet words in her ear about how she's not going anywhere, and you've got her under your complete control. Let her feel the love.
3. Put some cream on those bruises. Arnica cream is awesome for this; petals from the Calendula Officinalis plant are good, too, and what's better, you can make a tea out of them! Just stick a funnel in her mouth and pour it down her throat. Remember, she needs to be rehydrated, and it's your job to see to her needs!
As you're applying the cream to her skin, rub it in like you're preparing a nice, juicy steak for the grill. It might hurt her, but hey, that's what S and M are all about. While you're rubbing, you can sing a little song to lighten the mood, like "It rubs the lotion on Its skin." The funny looks she'll give you will be those of admiration and respect.
If some of her skin has been cut, take heed: you don't want those cuts to get infected! It's time to pour on the alcohol. She'll scream with pleasure.
4. Give her some food. Have some ready, whatever you think you'll be in the mood for, since you know you'll be noshing on it, too, and she won't really care anyway. Don't worry now about any allergies she might suffer from; the important thing is to get her energy levels and endorphins back up. Chocolate is the best thing for this. If she refuses to eat the chocolate (for some stupid reason like she's on a diet or it has peanuts), pretend like you're in the Harry Potter universe and she's just been attacked by Dementors: GET THAT CHOCOLATE IN HER BELLEH. It's for her own good. If she continues to balk, pretend like you're a real wizard, get your wand out, and start yelling expecto patronum! around the room. A little cosplay never hurt anybody.
5. Give her time. Again, she's not going anywhere until you decide she's safe and ready to go. It could be hours; it could be minutes, if your ride's waiting for you and they've already got the engine idling. The important thing is to make sure she gets to her next destination safely. If you can't do this, ask a couple of your friends to watch over her. It doesn't matter if she knows them or not; she needs to trust in you now, to make the best decisions for her. And those "friends" you just made at the bar, who are eyeing her like she's fresh-baked bread? They will take awesome care of her while you move on to your next scene. (No, you don't need their last names or phone numbers, and it's impolite of you to ask. Confidentiality is key here.)
6. Check in on her the next day to make sure she's ok. If she doesn't accept your phone calls, keep trying; she might just be processing the lovely scene you two shared. If she starts yelling and screaming at you over the phone to leave her the fuck alone, don't take it personally--she's just going through subdrop. In fact, if she is going through subdrop, it might be a good idea to show up at her place unannounced just to let her know how pleased you are with her and how you'd love to play with her again sometime...like, maybe, right now? Don't take it personally if she calls the cops. Again, this is normal subdrop behavior. She'll get over it, and once she does, she'll be fine, ready, and raring to go!
TIME FOR AFTERCARE.
Oh, but wait! You two didn't negotiate aftercare! You didn't realize it was necessary! Well, that's ok. See, unlike the scene the two of you just hashed out, aftercare has nothing to do with what she wants. Hell, she doesn't know what she wants anymore. Look at her; her eyeballs are rolling around her head like a pair of googly-eyes on a cookie monster doll. It's up to you now to know what she needs. Be the Top! Treat her the way she needs to be treated! She may not thank you now, but she'll be grateful in the long run, believe me.
(And I must know what I'm talking about, cause I'm taking the time to write a whole fucking post on aftercare, and these posts are always chock full of awesome goodness, aren't they?)
1. Set her down somewhere in a dark, quiet corner to relax. It should be dark enough that she can fall asleep if she wants to. Hell, it should be dark enough she can't see one foot in front of the other, cause why should she? It's not like she's going anywhere. In fact, it might be a good idea to put some legos on the floor, so you know if tries to get up and walk around; her hollers will warn you in a hurry, so you can put her right back where she belongs. If her friends think it's weird you're hiding her away where nobody can see her, snub your noses at them. This is aftercare, baby.
2. Make sure she has a nice, cozy blanket around her. Her arms should be good and snug by her sides, so she can't flail them around and accidentally hurt herself. Remember, she's got about as much sense now as a newborn babe; in her state, she might do some real damage to her face. In fact, it might be a good idea to go ahead and get out the nail clippers--blunt those nails down. Now's not the time to worry about her manicure. THIS IS HER SAFETY WE'RE TALKING ABOUT.
If you don't have a blanket, a straitjacket will do. The important thing is to make her feel secure, protected, and cared for. As you're fastening the straitjacket, you can whisper sweet words in her ear about how she's not going anywhere, and you've got her under your complete control. Let her feel the love.
3. Put some cream on those bruises. Arnica cream is awesome for this; petals from the Calendula Officinalis plant are good, too, and what's better, you can make a tea out of them! Just stick a funnel in her mouth and pour it down her throat. Remember, she needs to be rehydrated, and it's your job to see to her needs!
As you're applying the cream to her skin, rub it in like you're preparing a nice, juicy steak for the grill. It might hurt her, but hey, that's what S and M are all about. While you're rubbing, you can sing a little song to lighten the mood, like "It rubs the lotion on Its skin." The funny looks she'll give you will be those of admiration and respect.
If some of her skin has been cut, take heed: you don't want those cuts to get infected! It's time to pour on the alcohol. She'll scream with pleasure.
4. Give her some food. Have some ready, whatever you think you'll be in the mood for, since you know you'll be noshing on it, too, and she won't really care anyway. Don't worry now about any allergies she might suffer from; the important thing is to get her energy levels and endorphins back up. Chocolate is the best thing for this. If she refuses to eat the chocolate (for some stupid reason like she's on a diet or it has peanuts), pretend like you're in the Harry Potter universe and she's just been attacked by Dementors: GET THAT CHOCOLATE IN HER BELLEH. It's for her own good. If she continues to balk, pretend like you're a real wizard, get your wand out, and start yelling expecto patronum! around the room. A little cosplay never hurt anybody.
5. Give her time. Again, she's not going anywhere until you decide she's safe and ready to go. It could be hours; it could be minutes, if your ride's waiting for you and they've already got the engine idling. The important thing is to make sure she gets to her next destination safely. If you can't do this, ask a couple of your friends to watch over her. It doesn't matter if she knows them or not; she needs to trust in you now, to make the best decisions for her. And those "friends" you just made at the bar, who are eyeing her like she's fresh-baked bread? They will take awesome care of her while you move on to your next scene. (No, you don't need their last names or phone numbers, and it's impolite of you to ask. Confidentiality is key here.)
6. Check in on her the next day to make sure she's ok. If she doesn't accept your phone calls, keep trying; she might just be processing the lovely scene you two shared. If she starts yelling and screaming at you over the phone to leave her the fuck alone, don't take it personally--she's just going through subdrop. In fact, if she is going through subdrop, it might be a good idea to show up at her place unannounced just to let her know how pleased you are with her and how you'd love to play with her again sometime...like, maybe, right now? Don't take it personally if she calls the cops. Again, this is normal subdrop behavior. She'll get over it, and once she does, she'll be fine, ready, and raring to go!
So there you have it. A guide to aftercare. Remember, it's all up to you now.
She's bloody and loopy, but don't despair! She just needs some aftercare!
(*In all seriousness, I do not understand why so few couples negotiate aftercare before they start a heavy scene. But if this happens to you, the most important thing is to follow the bottom's cues, do whatever is right for her/him, and don't blindly follow any piece of advice you read in a BDSM post just because it was written by some "expert." You didn't play with the "expert," you played with the bottom in front of you. Their wishes, and their safety, is most important.)
Isnin, 20 Januari 2014
Why We Need Consent Culture
By now I'm sure you've heard about the ridiculous comments Missouri Republican candidate Todd Akin said regarding abortion, and when, if ever, it should be allowed in cases of rape. His sentiment is/was, and I quote:
"First of all, from what I understand from doctors, that's really rare [for a woman to get pregnant as a result of rape]...If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down."
He goes on to say how, even in the cases of "legitimate rape," the rapist should be punished, and not the "child."
Now here's where things go from bad to worse. Akin has apologized for his comments...kinda. He said he "misspoke." He said he shouldn't have used the term "legitimate rape," because what he meant was "forcible rape."
This is why we need consent culture, people. Because no matter how nit-picky people can be get about it sometimes, no matter how annoying and frustrating and headache-inducing the whole issue can be, sometimes, we need to brush all our differences aside, stand up as one, and yell:
"First of all, from what I understand from doctors, that's really rare [for a woman to get pregnant as a result of rape]...If it's a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down."
He goes on to say how, even in the cases of "legitimate rape," the rapist should be punished, and not the "child."
Now here's where things go from bad to worse. Akin has apologized for his comments...kinda. He said he "misspoke." He said he shouldn't have used the term "legitimate rape," because what he meant was "forcible rape."
This is why we need consent culture, people. Because no matter how nit-picky people can be get about it sometimes, no matter how annoying and frustrating and headache-inducing the whole issue can be, sometimes, we need to brush all our differences aside, stand up as one, and yell:
NOTHING CAN BE DEEMED CONSENSUAL WITHOUT CONSENT. IT'S THAT SIMPLE.
According to many people out there, including the people representing us in government, (including many people in the kink community, I think) there is still such a thing as "grey-area rape." Meaning-- well, she said no, but...she really wanted it. She knew what she was getting herself into. By what she was wearing, by what she was doing, she was asking for it. She needs to take responsibility for what happened, too.
In other words? It wasn't really rape.
Now, big surprise, we learn that Akin, along with his Republic cohorts, including Vice-President hopeful Paul Ryan, wanted to pass a bill that would have redefined the definition of rape. Their definition of rape would have excluded teenagers impregnated by older men; incest victims; basically, anyone under legal age; any woman who is drugged, drunk, or is mentally disabled.
Akin is perfectly able to say, with a straight face, that he thinks rape is abhorrent. He thinks rapists are the lowest of the low.
But who is a rapist, according to him?
Not the guy who takes advantage of a sixteen-year-old. Not the guy who slips a pill in a woman's drink at a bar to 'loosen her up a little.' No; unless there are obvious signs of force, it wasn't rape at all.
It is this mentality we are still fighting in this day and age. It is this mentality which consent culture tries so hard to expose, to battle, and hopefully, to eradicate. And as long as there are people like Akin out there, I will be out there too, calling myself a proud feminist, a member of consent culture, fighting back as much as I can.
Care to join me?
Spankings, Rated by Pain*
*As in, my pain.
Look, everyone has a different pain scale. And everyone (I mean everyone who has ever been spanked by their Dom, hollering in pain, while also thinking more! more! in their heads) (which clearly would not include most vanilla people, and would also not include my sister, who I have come to learn now reads this blog, HELLO, SISTER! Thanks for stopping by!) (Wait. Where was I? Oh yes, everyone who is a kinky sub and likes to get spanked) has certain tools that excites them, and certain tools that just scare the crap out of them. And there are lots and lots of variations of toys and tools, so this really depends on the device being implemented, and, you know, where it's being applied. So, all that being said, here is my list, a countdown to what hurts the most:
1. The hand. It's intimate, and personal, and can vary widely in effect and intensity. It's also hard to anticipate the next slap when the hand has a tendency to caress every once in a while--which feels nice, but makes it difficult to sink into the pain acceptance and subspace.
2. The belt. Now we're talking stinging pain. The belt can whap, or it can snap, or it can just smack you around, depending on the belt itself. But that thing is going to hurt, and it's only going to get worse the longer the spanking goes on. Looping the belt can alter the feel of it; shorter belts tend to have a stingier snap to them. Beware the silver-tipped belt! I love the belt, simply because I love the idea of being spanked by something that's been around Husband's waist all day. I love watching him unbuckle the belt, pull it from the loops, loop it in his hand as he tells me to bend over...oh man, next to the hand, the belt is best.
3. The paddle. It's wide, and somehow, that actually distributes the pain more evenly, which doesn't give me that "stinging cut" feeling. It's just kind of a general, warm slap. It hurts, but once a good rhythm is established, it's all good.
4. The flogger. I guess a lot depends on the type of flogger; like many point out, a heavier, thicker flogger will feel more like a "thud," while a lighter flogger with thinner ribbons will be more "stingy." But what's true for both of them is the longer you use it, the more painful it gets. But the intensity escalates gradually, which can lengthen the time of the spanking session.
5. The crop. The blow of the crop can be softened, depending on how it's being wielded, but there's no way to make it feel good. It just fucking hurts. In this house, it's a pretty serious punishment implement. It's also not one of my favorites because I don't like the look of the welts it raises on my skin.
6. The hairbrush. For me, this is the worst of the worst. The pain goes from zero to ten in one smack, and it doesn't have to be a hard smack, either. It doesn't take any time at all before I'm crying in agony with the hairbrush. On the other hand, there are times when I ask for the hairbrush, because I love the bruises it raises on my skin. They are a beautiful blue, blotchy and round, and stay for quite a few days before slowly fading. And let's be honest, sometimes a sub is just in a mood to get marked up.
7. The power cord. I'm adding this to the end, because it's Husband's favorite. It's quiet, so any noise Husband hears is coming from me. It's vicious, so Husband knows he doesn't have to bother with a long warm-up. And believe it or not, it's easy for him to aim and control this thing (don't ask me how), so he can have fun aiming his stripes. I hate the power cord. Not as much as the hairbrush, but it's up there on my list. It does make some nicer stripes on my skin than the crop, though.
Keep in mind, this is just a general list, and does not include a lot of other spanking implements like rulers, tawses, canes, etc. And there's a lot of variation between the same types of implements, depending on size, material, how it's made, etc.
But I never claimed to be a spanking expert. I just call 'em how I feel 'em.
Now go get spanked.
Look, everyone has a different pain scale. And everyone (I mean everyone who has ever been spanked by their Dom, hollering in pain, while also thinking more! more! in their heads) (which clearly would not include most vanilla people, and would also not include my sister, who I have come to learn now reads this blog, HELLO, SISTER! Thanks for stopping by!) (Wait. Where was I? Oh yes, everyone who is a kinky sub and likes to get spanked) has certain tools that excites them, and certain tools that just scare the crap out of them. And there are lots and lots of variations of toys and tools, so this really depends on the device being implemented, and, you know, where it's being applied. So, all that being said, here is my list, a countdown to what hurts the most:
1. The hand. It's intimate, and personal, and can vary widely in effect and intensity. It's also hard to anticipate the next slap when the hand has a tendency to caress every once in a while--which feels nice, but makes it difficult to sink into the pain acceptance and subspace.
2. The belt. Now we're talking stinging pain. The belt can whap, or it can snap, or it can just smack you around, depending on the belt itself. But that thing is going to hurt, and it's only going to get worse the longer the spanking goes on. Looping the belt can alter the feel of it; shorter belts tend to have a stingier snap to them. Beware the silver-tipped belt! I love the belt, simply because I love the idea of being spanked by something that's been around Husband's waist all day. I love watching him unbuckle the belt, pull it from the loops, loop it in his hand as he tells me to bend over...oh man, next to the hand, the belt is best.
3. The paddle. It's wide, and somehow, that actually distributes the pain more evenly, which doesn't give me that "stinging cut" feeling. It's just kind of a general, warm slap. It hurts, but once a good rhythm is established, it's all good.
4. The flogger. I guess a lot depends on the type of flogger; like many point out, a heavier, thicker flogger will feel more like a "thud," while a lighter flogger with thinner ribbons will be more "stingy." But what's true for both of them is the longer you use it, the more painful it gets. But the intensity escalates gradually, which can lengthen the time of the spanking session.
5. The crop. The blow of the crop can be softened, depending on how it's being wielded, but there's no way to make it feel good. It just fucking hurts. In this house, it's a pretty serious punishment implement. It's also not one of my favorites because I don't like the look of the welts it raises on my skin.
 |
| I realize this is not a power cord, but I could not find a sexy picture of a power cord, so this will have to do. |
7. The power cord. I'm adding this to the end, because it's Husband's favorite. It's quiet, so any noise Husband hears is coming from me. It's vicious, so Husband knows he doesn't have to bother with a long warm-up. And believe it or not, it's easy for him to aim and control this thing (don't ask me how), so he can have fun aiming his stripes. I hate the power cord. Not as much as the hairbrush, but it's up there on my list. It does make some nicer stripes on my skin than the crop, though.
Keep in mind, this is just a general list, and does not include a lot of other spanking implements like rulers, tawses, canes, etc. And there's a lot of variation between the same types of implements, depending on size, material, how it's made, etc.
But I never claimed to be a spanking expert. I just call 'em how I feel 'em.
Now go get spanked.
Relinquishment
When a couple is in a D/s relationship, it is taken for granted the sub is going to have to relinquish a lot of things to her Dom. Power, control, choices, options, time, money, lifestyle, day-to-day living...a thousand different things in a thousand different ways the sub has to "give up" to her Dom. If she is a true sub, and happy with the arrangement, she will do so willingly.
I think, in our society as a whole, the idea of "giving up" anything is seen as something vile and abhorrent. I just don't know why.
Think about it. Women are told all the time, "you don't have to choose between career and family. You can have it all. You don't have to give anything up." Men are told, "you need to look strong and wealthy and secure at all times. Don't look weak, and don't give up." Children are told, "you can get into whatever college you want, get any job you want, as long as you work hard enough. So don't give up."
We shouldn't have to "give up" on that brand-new car, even if we can't afford it. We shouldn't "give up" our dreams of being a professional sports player, even though we suck. We shouldn't have to "give up" our goal of looking young and beautiful forever, even though we know it's just not possible.
We are made to think "giving up" is weak. "Giving up" is disgraceful. "Giving up" is pathetic. "Giving up" means we weren't good enough.
I don't think this was always the mentality of our society. At many points in history, it was considered honorable to give things up, because it meant you were trying to contribute to the greater good. During the Great Depression, when food was scarce, families shared resources to help each other out. During WWII, women gave up their jewelry to help make artillery. Until fairly recently, giving up unnecessary things was considered good for your character, good for the community, and good for America.
Now all that's changed. If you give up your career to raise your kids, you're anti-feminist. If you try to live within your means, you're called "unAmerican" by Republican politicians. (Which explains the economic horrors going on in our country right there, folks.) If you give up on some impossible dreams and reach instead for attainable ones, you're a failure.
There is no way to put a positive spin on "giving up" anymore. I think it's a shame.
My life, at this point, is all about giving things up so that this house runs smoothly and this family is a happy one. I give up my "rights" and many of my choices to Husband, who wields authority with respect and care. And don't be fooled: he gave things up when he married me, too. When I relinquished my "rights" by becoming his wife and sub, he relinquished his right to do anything that might jeopardize his role as Husband and Dom. I know his responsibilities wear on him. This lifestyle we have is not always rainbows and marshmallows for him, either. It's a heavy burden to bear.
But we "give up" the things we do because it's not a sign of weakness or inferiority. It's beautiful. It gives us power to do things we thought were beyond us. We are constantly reaching new heights, him as a Dom, me as a sub, us as a couple, and we as a family. We are more powerful and more secure because of the things He, and I, are willing to "give up."
Giving up is a wonderful thing. I only wish I could get more people to realize that.
I think, in our society as a whole, the idea of "giving up" anything is seen as something vile and abhorrent. I just don't know why.
Think about it. Women are told all the time, "you don't have to choose between career and family. You can have it all. You don't have to give anything up." Men are told, "you need to look strong and wealthy and secure at all times. Don't look weak, and don't give up." Children are told, "you can get into whatever college you want, get any job you want, as long as you work hard enough. So don't give up."
We shouldn't have to "give up" on that brand-new car, even if we can't afford it. We shouldn't "give up" our dreams of being a professional sports player, even though we suck. We shouldn't have to "give up" our goal of looking young and beautiful forever, even though we know it's just not possible.
We are made to think "giving up" is weak. "Giving up" is disgraceful. "Giving up" is pathetic. "Giving up" means we weren't good enough.
I don't think this was always the mentality of our society. At many points in history, it was considered honorable to give things up, because it meant you were trying to contribute to the greater good. During the Great Depression, when food was scarce, families shared resources to help each other out. During WWII, women gave up their jewelry to help make artillery. Until fairly recently, giving up unnecessary things was considered good for your character, good for the community, and good for America.
Now all that's changed. If you give up your career to raise your kids, you're anti-feminist. If you try to live within your means, you're called "unAmerican" by Republican politicians. (Which explains the economic horrors going on in our country right there, folks.) If you give up on some impossible dreams and reach instead for attainable ones, you're a failure.
There is no way to put a positive spin on "giving up" anymore. I think it's a shame.
My life, at this point, is all about giving things up so that this house runs smoothly and this family is a happy one. I give up my "rights" and many of my choices to Husband, who wields authority with respect and care. And don't be fooled: he gave things up when he married me, too. When I relinquished my "rights" by becoming his wife and sub, he relinquished his right to do anything that might jeopardize his role as Husband and Dom. I know his responsibilities wear on him. This lifestyle we have is not always rainbows and marshmallows for him, either. It's a heavy burden to bear.
But we "give up" the things we do because it's not a sign of weakness or inferiority. It's beautiful. It gives us power to do things we thought were beyond us. We are constantly reaching new heights, him as a Dom, me as a sub, us as a couple, and we as a family. We are more powerful and more secure because of the things He, and I, are willing to "give up."
Giving up is a wonderful thing. I only wish I could get more people to realize that.
Ahad, 19 Januari 2014
Sabtu, 18 Januari 2014
The Top Five Excuses
This post was inspired by The Kamamama, who sent out a general question on twitter: what is the difference between discipline and punishment in a D/s relationship.
I can only answer this from the viewpoint of my own private relationship with Husband. Someone else might have an entirely different answer. Hell, even Husband might have an entirely different answer. And we've been together for so long, breaking down the tiny differences and nuances in the "reasons" he has to spank me might be difficult to explain. But I'll give it a shot.
Rule of Ten
We are trying a new toy/implement for (one of) the first ten times.
I think I've stated before, Husband and I follow the "rule of ten," meaning we do our best to try out a toy/implement at least ten times before we decide if we like it or not, and if we do, under what circumstances. It's kind of like the way you treat little kids with new foods: you make them try it out at least ten times before you let them say for sure they don't like it, because (if you're a parent you know this), by the sixth or seventh time, often the same food the kid said he hated before has now become his favorite one. Toys are the same, sometimes.
The first few times we try something new, the whole point is just to get a feel for the thing. Ongoing communication is vital. I am obligated to be as honest as I can in my feelings, say everything I'm experiencing with it even if it doesn't seem important at the time, pain, pleasure, fear, everything. Husband is also supposed to tell me what he's feeling as we go, if it's getting heavy in his hand, if he doesn't like the positioning, if it's tricky to aim it right, etc.
After a few times with it, we can try different techniques, different styles, use it in conjunction with different toys, etc. But getting to know a new toy, bondage, or torture implement is vital so the sub (and Dom) doesn't get hurt accidentally.
Punishment
I have done something I knew I was not okay to do, but I did it anyway. Or I was told to do something, had every opportunity to do it, but chose not to do it anyway.
Husband does not usually give me a specific request, but when he does, and I agree to it (and this part is vital--if I do not agree, he cannot assume I will do it the way he expects), then he considers the matter closed. If he finds I did not carry through on my commitment, then a punishment is in order, and rightly so.
Punishments are typically harsh to ensure they are effective. The point is to ensure the lesson is learned, so the behavior is not repeated. An ineffective punishment is an unfair punishment, both for the sub, and the Dom.
Discipline
I need to be "reminded" of my place, my responsibilities, and the dynamics of our D/s relationship.
Let's get real here, I am a sub in a D.D. lifestyle, but I am also a self-proclaimed Smart-Assed Masochist. I mouth off, I get snippy and snarky, I do things I'm not supposed to do...I get playful. Sometimes Husband just lets it go. Other times, he feels the need to discipline me.
Discipline sessions are not typically as bad as punishments. There's no one specific thing I'm being punished for; I'm just being reminded not to be a brat. Often, the intensity and rigor of the discipline is up to me: if I submit quickly, it's over. But if I continue with my bratty behavior, the discipline grows harsher. Usually, unlike a punishment, we both "play by ear" with discipline scenes in the bedroom. My stubbornness is a huge factor--and I can get very stubborn.
Whipping Post Time
Husband has had a bad day and needs to take it out on me.
These sessions are typically quick, to the point, and brutal, but once done with, over for good. Husband gets his stress out, and we both walk away satisfied. I love being his whipping post, not just because I like the pain of it, but because I like being of service to him in this way.
However, these sessions are not always quick, and some bad days are worse than others. I usually have very little warning when I can expect to be used as a whipping post; sometimes a phone call from his car when he's five minutes away home is all I get. These keep me on my toes to be sure.
You needed to be Dominated/I needed to Dom you
The need strikes, and that's all there is to it.
We would not be in this kind of relationship if we didn't both have the kinky need for it. Sometimes He just needs to dominate me physically, and sometimes I just need to be physically dominated.
These times might be some of the hardest to define, because there's an element to this in every time he takes ownership of my body. If I feel the need to be spanked/belted/ordered to submit, I might just ask him. But I also might get smart-mouthed and bratty, just to piss him off and make him discipline me. Or he may feel the need to spank me, but for whatever reason, not want to come out and say so; in those cases, he'll try to trip me up, get me to misbehave, so he has a "valid" reason to spank me. In other words, he'll get playful. And as I've said before, a playful Dom is a dangerous Dom, but my playful Dom knows I love the game.
So there you have it; the basic top five reasons I get turned into a sniveling, begging, crying, sweating ball of delicious submissiveness once in a while.
All the photos in the post were taken from The Monster in the Basement. Go enjoy.
I can only answer this from the viewpoint of my own private relationship with Husband. Someone else might have an entirely different answer. Hell, even Husband might have an entirely different answer. And we've been together for so long, breaking down the tiny differences and nuances in the "reasons" he has to spank me might be difficult to explain. But I'll give it a shot.
We are trying a new toy/implement for (one of) the first ten times.
I think I've stated before, Husband and I follow the "rule of ten," meaning we do our best to try out a toy/implement at least ten times before we decide if we like it or not, and if we do, under what circumstances. It's kind of like the way you treat little kids with new foods: you make them try it out at least ten times before you let them say for sure they don't like it, because (if you're a parent you know this), by the sixth or seventh time, often the same food the kid said he hated before has now become his favorite one. Toys are the same, sometimes.
The first few times we try something new, the whole point is just to get a feel for the thing. Ongoing communication is vital. I am obligated to be as honest as I can in my feelings, say everything I'm experiencing with it even if it doesn't seem important at the time, pain, pleasure, fear, everything. Husband is also supposed to tell me what he's feeling as we go, if it's getting heavy in his hand, if he doesn't like the positioning, if it's tricky to aim it right, etc.
After a few times with it, we can try different techniques, different styles, use it in conjunction with different toys, etc. But getting to know a new toy, bondage, or torture implement is vital so the sub (and Dom) doesn't get hurt accidentally.
I have done something I knew I was not okay to do, but I did it anyway. Or I was told to do something, had every opportunity to do it, but chose not to do it anyway.
Husband does not usually give me a specific request, but when he does, and I agree to it (and this part is vital--if I do not agree, he cannot assume I will do it the way he expects), then he considers the matter closed. If he finds I did not carry through on my commitment, then a punishment is in order, and rightly so.
Punishments are typically harsh to ensure they are effective. The point is to ensure the lesson is learned, so the behavior is not repeated. An ineffective punishment is an unfair punishment, both for the sub, and the Dom.
I need to be "reminded" of my place, my responsibilities, and the dynamics of our D/s relationship.
Let's get real here, I am a sub in a D.D. lifestyle, but I am also a self-proclaimed Smart-Assed Masochist. I mouth off, I get snippy and snarky, I do things I'm not supposed to do...I get playful. Sometimes Husband just lets it go. Other times, he feels the need to discipline me.
Discipline sessions are not typically as bad as punishments. There's no one specific thing I'm being punished for; I'm just being reminded not to be a brat. Often, the intensity and rigor of the discipline is up to me: if I submit quickly, it's over. But if I continue with my bratty behavior, the discipline grows harsher. Usually, unlike a punishment, we both "play by ear" with discipline scenes in the bedroom. My stubbornness is a huge factor--and I can get very stubborn.
Husband has had a bad day and needs to take it out on me.
These sessions are typically quick, to the point, and brutal, but once done with, over for good. Husband gets his stress out, and we both walk away satisfied. I love being his whipping post, not just because I like the pain of it, but because I like being of service to him in this way.
However, these sessions are not always quick, and some bad days are worse than others. I usually have very little warning when I can expect to be used as a whipping post; sometimes a phone call from his car when he's five minutes away home is all I get. These keep me on my toes to be sure.
The need strikes, and that's all there is to it.
We would not be in this kind of relationship if we didn't both have the kinky need for it. Sometimes He just needs to dominate me physically, and sometimes I just need to be physically dominated.
These times might be some of the hardest to define, because there's an element to this in every time he takes ownership of my body. If I feel the need to be spanked/belted/ordered to submit, I might just ask him. But I also might get smart-mouthed and bratty, just to piss him off and make him discipline me. Or he may feel the need to spank me, but for whatever reason, not want to come out and say so; in those cases, he'll try to trip me up, get me to misbehave, so he has a "valid" reason to spank me. In other words, he'll get playful. And as I've said before, a playful Dom is a dangerous Dom, but my playful Dom knows I love the game.
So there you have it; the basic top five reasons I get turned into a sniveling, begging, crying, sweating ball of delicious submissiveness once in a while.
All the photos in the post were taken from The Monster in the Basement. Go enjoy.
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