Friday, January 24, 2014
Friday, January 17, 2014
Random Thoughts and Realizations
It's rather embarrassing how long I've been away from this blog. To issue my typical rejoinder when apologizing to kinky people: I should be flogged for it. Please. (ta-dum-dum)
My mind has been churning madly lately, and that means that both of my readers are bound to be sploodged with the kinky butter that results. So in no particular order, and with no regard to priority, here are some random thoughts from the past however-many months.
Just as penises come in many lengths, girths, and curves, there is lot of variation in the degree to which any given organ will change when erect. Some merely harden but don't grow more than a few percent from starting size. Others lengthen by four or six times their starting size. A friend once called these "showers" and "growers," respectively. Growers suffer horribly in a traditional chastity cage. Once little Dr. Banner starts to get angry, the poor cage hangs on for dear life. Castration by caged penile Hulkitude is a real possibility. I have personally never broken through (pardon the pun) that nuts-ripped-off barrier, particularly with involuntary nighttime erections.
Wearing the cage around is actually a very, very nice experience. It really does make a guy feel a sense of being controlled, a very real sexual dependence that feels simply warm and wonderful. Longer-term wear really is something that a guy can get accustomed to, but some activities make wear difficult. As a cyclist and a time trialist, I have to "lay across" the handlebars for hours at a time, my back flat and groin pressed into a very small space in the saddle. Beyond the fact that spandex shorts reveal everything down to freckles to everyone, the prospect of crushing myself into permanent falsetto is in no way erotic. I also don't want to give up a sport that is partly responsible for me being in good physical condition.
So I continue to play with short-term wear with hopes that I can share this with a wonderful partner before too long.
Oddly, fetish images -- favorites such as latex and leather and spandex -- maintained their attraction. But it was much more of an appreciation than pure lust. The fetish clothing simply amplified the resonance with the curves and the motion and the eyes and the pose.
I love that the attraction is much deeper than direct and momentary urges. I love that this feeling of helplessness to the beauty and charm of women is not just hard wired into me... it's part of my fundamental scaffolding.
I was extremely fortunate to be able to serve as a woman's maid for a short time. I would take my things over to her house, change into a simple cotton hotel maid's uniform and sensible shoes, then work for a while. With practice, I was able to vacuum her whole house efficiently, clean the kitchen, dust, and very occasionally do laundry, make beds, empty trash, and perform other chores. I enjoyed it because she was a spectacularly wonderful lady for whom I enjoyed working.
I have never bought into the traditional sissy maid fantasy, with the mincing and faux dusting and 6" heels. I particularly don't like the "forced" fantasy nor the punishment-for-minor-mistakes play. These feel selfish to me. I want to BE a servant to the Lady and her home, working for her very real comfort and leisure. I want us both to enjoy the strict power dynamic. And I want to feel the pleasure of EARNING my uniform, the privilege of wearing it, and my status as her servant.
We did experiment with more elaborate play. She held a dinner in her home with a friendly couple one night, and I was instructed to wear a more formal satin "English" style uniform. It was a tremendous success with both of us learning many lessons that evening. I am no cook, so my role was mostly serving at the table. I love that I got a rush out of serving, out of the silently dismissive thank-you glances as I re-filled glasses, being ignored in the conversation as I stood at attention in the corner, and the quiet cleaning up when everyone dropped their napkins on plate or floor and adjourned to the living room. It was later that I realized what an honor it was to be allowed to serve these good people, shamelessly displayed as a kinky decoration and treated as a servant.
My life is too busy to spend hours every week cleaning someone else's house, but I hope that I can find my way back into some sort of servant role again. The Lady has to be worth the effort, though, and she has to understand at least some of the psychology behind the kink. Some day.
Fortune piled upon fortune, the same woman who let me serve as her maid also enjoyed strap-on play. She taught me many things about hygene, preparation, and other key technical points. And the fact that she so enjoyed it made it worth learning. Up front I'm going to state that when done right, it really, really feels good.
The real benefits for me, though, were psychological. Not to revisit a refrain too many times in one post, but a strap-on can be a tool of unparalleled bonding. So many times in the popular kinky press, a strap-on is portrayed as a punishment or a humiliation to the man. Nonsense! While it does crash some gender barriers -- and good riddance to those -- it's just lovely, deep (preferably), moaning, squirming penetration. Whether it's face-down-ass-up power play or soulful eye staring while she pins your wrists to the bed, it's all a delightful change-up that mocks rigid gender differentiation. Between two people who care about each other, how can that be in any way bad.
Of the items I've discussed here so far, this one is probably the most powerful. The others are more about relating on an overall basis, while this one is a very intense and in-the-moment bonding experience. Having experienced it, I will say that it can be a wonderful expression of vulnerability and openness, and I hope it is part of any future serious sexual relationship I have.
All I have to say is... beware Hulkitude.
My mind has been churning madly lately, and that means that both of my readers are bound to be sploodged with the kinky butter that results. So in no particular order, and with no regard to priority, here are some random thoughts from the past however-many months.
Chastity
I still love the idea of chastity, but there are some caveats and issues to be addressed. First among these is the focus and purpose of the exercise. I see chastity play as an extension of an intimate relationship, a deepening of a caring bond. It's a way for bondage and sexual power dynamics to wander out into the "real world." The difficulties mostly revolve around the the male body and the device meant to entrap a particular part of that body.Just as penises come in many lengths, girths, and curves, there is lot of variation in the degree to which any given organ will change when erect. Some merely harden but don't grow more than a few percent from starting size. Others lengthen by four or six times their starting size. A friend once called these "showers" and "growers," respectively. Growers suffer horribly in a traditional chastity cage. Once little Dr. Banner starts to get angry, the poor cage hangs on for dear life. Castration by caged penile Hulkitude is a real possibility. I have personally never broken through (pardon the pun) that nuts-ripped-off barrier, particularly with involuntary nighttime erections.
Wearing the cage around is actually a very, very nice experience. It really does make a guy feel a sense of being controlled, a very real sexual dependence that feels simply warm and wonderful. Longer-term wear really is something that a guy can get accustomed to, but some activities make wear difficult. As a cyclist and a time trialist, I have to "lay across" the handlebars for hours at a time, my back flat and groin pressed into a very small space in the saddle. Beyond the fact that spandex shorts reveal everything down to freckles to everyone, the prospect of crushing myself into permanent falsetto is in no way erotic. I also don't want to give up a sport that is partly responsible for me being in good physical condition.
So I continue to play with short-term wear with hopes that I can share this with a wonderful partner before too long.
Femininity and The Female Form
Nothing in the universe is more attractive than the female form. Nothing. I used to think that this was a purely sexual drive, that it arose out of the short-term chemical-induced madness known as lust. But I had an experience that changed my viewpoint. A series of non-emergency medical tests over six months increased and decreased my testosterone levels several times. I went from monster to zero interest in any form of sex, then cycled again. (I'm at neither extreme now. Thank you for asking.) But even when I was at my lowest levels, I had an absolute fascination with the female form and feminine beauty. Curves and motion and eyes and pose still jumped out at me, resonating in my bones, not just in regions I'm accustomed to feeling such things.Oddly, fetish images -- favorites such as latex and leather and spandex -- maintained their attraction. But it was much more of an appreciation than pure lust. The fetish clothing simply amplified the resonance with the curves and the motion and the eyes and the pose.
I love that the attraction is much deeper than direct and momentary urges. I love that this feeling of helplessness to the beauty and charm of women is not just hard wired into me... it's part of my fundamental scaffolding.
Maid Service
I was extremely fortunate to be able to serve as a woman's maid for a short time. I would take my things over to her house, change into a simple cotton hotel maid's uniform and sensible shoes, then work for a while. With practice, I was able to vacuum her whole house efficiently, clean the kitchen, dust, and very occasionally do laundry, make beds, empty trash, and perform other chores. I enjoyed it because she was a spectacularly wonderful lady for whom I enjoyed working.
I have never bought into the traditional sissy maid fantasy, with the mincing and faux dusting and 6" heels. I particularly don't like the "forced" fantasy nor the punishment-for-minor-mistakes play. These feel selfish to me. I want to BE a servant to the Lady and her home, working for her very real comfort and leisure. I want us both to enjoy the strict power dynamic. And I want to feel the pleasure of EARNING my uniform, the privilege of wearing it, and my status as her servant.
We did experiment with more elaborate play. She held a dinner in her home with a friendly couple one night, and I was instructed to wear a more formal satin "English" style uniform. It was a tremendous success with both of us learning many lessons that evening. I am no cook, so my role was mostly serving at the table. I love that I got a rush out of serving, out of the silently dismissive thank-you glances as I re-filled glasses, being ignored in the conversation as I stood at attention in the corner, and the quiet cleaning up when everyone dropped their napkins on plate or floor and adjourned to the living room. It was later that I realized what an honor it was to be allowed to serve these good people, shamelessly displayed as a kinky decoration and treated as a servant.
My life is too busy to spend hours every week cleaning someone else's house, but I hope that I can find my way back into some sort of servant role again. The Lady has to be worth the effort, though, and she has to understand at least some of the psychology behind the kink. Some day.
Strap-on Play
Fortune piled upon fortune, the same woman who let me serve as her maid also enjoyed strap-on play. She taught me many things about hygene, preparation, and other key technical points. And the fact that she so enjoyed it made it worth learning. Up front I'm going to state that when done right, it really, really feels good.
The real benefits for me, though, were psychological. Not to revisit a refrain too many times in one post, but a strap-on can be a tool of unparalleled bonding. So many times in the popular kinky press, a strap-on is portrayed as a punishment or a humiliation to the man. Nonsense! While it does crash some gender barriers -- and good riddance to those -- it's just lovely, deep (preferably), moaning, squirming penetration. Whether it's face-down-ass-up power play or soulful eye staring while she pins your wrists to the bed, it's all a delightful change-up that mocks rigid gender differentiation. Between two people who care about each other, how can that be in any way bad.
Of the items I've discussed here so far, this one is probably the most powerful. The others are more about relating on an overall basis, while this one is a very intense and in-the-moment bonding experience. Having experienced it, I will say that it can be a wonderful expression of vulnerability and openness, and I hope it is part of any future serious sexual relationship I have.
Onward
I'm not sure if I'll get fully back into "the BDSM community" again. It had a very High School feel to it, and I never liked High School. But I have been feeling like it's time to connect with key people again, and to expand my circle of kinky acquaintances. It's not a hobby, it's part of who I am. And as busy and distracted as I've been the past months, I need to make room for this part of me.All I have to say is... beware Hulkitude.
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