I went to a "Femdom brunch" the other day. My intent was to meet new people with kinks slanting in roughly the same direction as mine. That's not a huge agenda; better to just go and see what happens, what I learn.
Eight people showed up, including me: five women and three guys. Of the five women, I'd characterize two as "trying so hard to be 'dominant' that it was all I could do to not laugh out loud," one as quiet but intense, and two were welcoming and friendly. This got me wondering about what I thought a "dominant woman" is. The two doing the "tough bitch" posturing are definitely NOT it.
Today it struck me that it's not so much "dominance" that I find initially attractive. It's more akin to leadership. That's a hard quality to nail down, but mostly in this case it means someone I WANT to follow. Out of the bazillion attributes that can make me want to follow a woman, its no surprise that trust and respect are at the top of the list. Another key ingredient for me is a true appreciation on her part for my overcoming my social training and ego in order to be her follower. I need her to WANT to lead, and to want to lead ME in particular. At that point, we have a mutual connection.
Once the dynamic is established, THEN she can use her position as leader to move me along in a direction she wants me to go. She can start to push buttons, make her role more specific, severe, exaggerated, or start pushing it into areas of life where it does not currently reside.
What amazes me about so many depictions of "female dominance" is that they focus first and sometimes exclusively on fetish and severity. These are wonderful flavors when built on a strong foundation of leadership, but are not worth a lot without that foundation. I was recently looking for internet information to share with a curious vanilla woman and found relatively little material that got quickly to that foundation that makes it all make sense.
This may all be obvious to anyone who is experienced in such relationships, but for someone looking to find his own relationship bliss, such little revelations add up over time. I'm not looking for a haughty bitch, but for a true leader who earns my trust and respect. If she earns those, then she has access to just about everything else.
QL
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
More Experience
Yes, this post is a week late. Last week was The Perfect Storm at work, and I never got away from obligations -- granted some were very nice dinners, but they were business dinners -- before 9:30. I finally dragged in yesterday (Saturday) about 6:30 and was a zombie until crashing soon after for 10 hours.
But what I wanted to talk about was my experience last weekend. Yes, I got to play. :) As per my habit, I'm not going to give a play-by-play, but I did get to experience some wonderful things in a safe environment. I experienced light caning -- heavy enough to leave bruises but really not bad. I enjoyed a flogging by a number of implements including my new items. I REALLY liked the heavy, thuddy one a lot; it makes the whole body vibrate and transfers energy in a delicious way that I think could drive me into a really great subspace. I also was nipple clamped, clipped with insidious pins on body, arms, and ears. Oh, those ears hurt! I loved it all, especially her laugh when I squirmed a little.
The tone was very playful, like we were testing new things and chatting about it all a lot. I like that for learning. I felt like we were exploring what each of us liked and what was working for us. She was interested in what was happening in my head, as opposed to last time when she started by gagging me so I'd shut up. *grin* I never dove deep into subspace, just worked through with her what was going on. It felt very much like we were preparing for heavier play later.
The only thing that really "hurt" was the caning. On a couple of strokes I could feel the pain "burrowing" into me a little, but not much. Yes, the Dragon Tail stung, but in a wonderful way that I really liked. I would like to experience a harder flogging and a single-tail at some point. The attraction to the pain is not direct, but as a path to submission. I want to walk that path some more.
The icing on the cake was getting to sit and chat a bit afterwards. It's so much easier to submit to someone I know and respect, someone I care about and enjoy talking with. She's a wonderful person, not a pain delivery system. I'm looking forward to finding the overlap of our needs, then diving deeper into that space.
Again, more experience, and more happiness with it. I am still VERY hungry to explore, and I know that my method of selecting partners carefully and progressing relentlessly is right for me. I'm REALLY enjoying this.
But what I wanted to talk about was my experience last weekend. Yes, I got to play. :) As per my habit, I'm not going to give a play-by-play, but I did get to experience some wonderful things in a safe environment. I experienced light caning -- heavy enough to leave bruises but really not bad. I enjoyed a flogging by a number of implements including my new items. I REALLY liked the heavy, thuddy one a lot; it makes the whole body vibrate and transfers energy in a delicious way that I think could drive me into a really great subspace. I also was nipple clamped, clipped with insidious pins on body, arms, and ears. Oh, those ears hurt! I loved it all, especially her laugh when I squirmed a little.
The tone was very playful, like we were testing new things and chatting about it all a lot. I like that for learning. I felt like we were exploring what each of us liked and what was working for us. She was interested in what was happening in my head, as opposed to last time when she started by gagging me so I'd shut up. *grin* I never dove deep into subspace, just worked through with her what was going on. It felt very much like we were preparing for heavier play later.
The only thing that really "hurt" was the caning. On a couple of strokes I could feel the pain "burrowing" into me a little, but not much. Yes, the Dragon Tail stung, but in a wonderful way that I really liked. I would like to experience a harder flogging and a single-tail at some point. The attraction to the pain is not direct, but as a path to submission. I want to walk that path some more.
The icing on the cake was getting to sit and chat a bit afterwards. It's so much easier to submit to someone I know and respect, someone I care about and enjoy talking with. She's a wonderful person, not a pain delivery system. I'm looking forward to finding the overlap of our needs, then diving deeper into that space.
Again, more experience, and more happiness with it. I am still VERY hungry to explore, and I know that my method of selecting partners carefully and progressing relentlessly is right for me. I'm REALLY enjoying this.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Comments
Work continues to be a challenge, with too many people working too hard and a customer that individually only tangentially understands what we are doing on their behalf. The team hangs together and leans on each other quite well now, with some cracks occasionally showing; nothing major. It's easy to start to think of these folks as my friends. We're friendly and we care about each other.
Today something happened that made me "wake up" and think about how close I can really be with work at all. Somehow somebody brought up the case of a guy he had worked with years ago who got caught wearing one of his wife's dresses. You'd think he had murdered in cold blood, the disbelief and universal disgust that came over the group. Granted this is the "programmed" reaction that society so thoughtlessly imposes on almost everyone. And it was all in good fun to laugh at someone who wasn't there.
"Some men just have an... urge," said one guy in mock seriousness. Then laughter erupted in the room. I had been buried in a detailed task and had not been a part of the conversation for quite some time, so I just kept to what I was doing and ignored it all. But it made me feel vulnerable, frightened to ever be "found out."
The funny thing is that the afternoon before, Nikita had asked me to please wear heels because she liked what they did for my legs. She said I had nicer legs than many women and that heels suited me. She said I was hot, and I don't think she was just saying that.
So I know who my real friends are, and I know who wants me for me. The interesting thing is that this brings my job into clear focus, trims it to it's rightful place in my life. It's not my life, it's one component in the tapestry. The people I know there are nice folks, but they are not my friends.
Today something happened that made me "wake up" and think about how close I can really be with work at all. Somehow somebody brought up the case of a guy he had worked with years ago who got caught wearing one of his wife's dresses. You'd think he had murdered in cold blood, the disbelief and universal disgust that came over the group. Granted this is the "programmed" reaction that society so thoughtlessly imposes on almost everyone. And it was all in good fun to laugh at someone who wasn't there.
"Some men just have an... urge," said one guy in mock seriousness. Then laughter erupted in the room. I had been buried in a detailed task and had not been a part of the conversation for quite some time, so I just kept to what I was doing and ignored it all. But it made me feel vulnerable, frightened to ever be "found out."
The funny thing is that the afternoon before, Nikita had asked me to please wear heels because she liked what they did for my legs. She said I had nicer legs than many women and that heels suited me. She said I was hot, and I don't think she was just saying that.
So I know who my real friends are, and I know who wants me for me. The interesting thing is that this brings my job into clear focus, trims it to it's rightful place in my life. It's not my life, it's one component in the tapestry. The people I know there are nice folks, but they are not my friends.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Hair
What has this to do with sex? Only that I shaved myself below the eyebrows on New Year's Eve as a way to kick off a kinky 2011. I planned to keep mostly hairless and wear more feminine fashions. But I'm finding that this doesn't work as well in reality as it did in my twisted and plotting mind. I knew it would take maintenance, but within eight hours I had stubble everywhere. Three days after my last full-body, perfectly-smooth, hour-to-get-everywhere denuding, I've generated a short mat of stubble that's between 1/8 inch and 1/4 inch. I haven't shaved my head in two days and now sport what I call my "hippy look."
Blah, blah, blah. What's all this about hair? Well, I had a fantasy in my head that I could entertain more feminine pursuits on occasion if I was smooth. I was willing to work at it. But I'm not willing to work this hard. This is an hour-a-day exercise and it simply isn't worth that. Nor is it worth going through this *scratch* conversion from *scratch* no hair to *scratch* full hair on a regular basis. This is a simple case of fantasy not living up to reality. More accurately, it's a case of fantasy being too expensive to maintain in reality.
Now that I have that equation in my head, I'll think about that fantasy more realistically. And as I approach other fantasies I'll be one experience closer to having reasonably accurate expectations about how it may translate into reality. That's not cynicism, that's pure mechanics. It will eventually help me break down barriers that I don't know how to break today.
But boy am I glad I gave it a go!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Heat...
I went to a lovely party on Saturday night. It was hosted by a local group of rope aficionados, the Knotley Crewe. A dear friend is a member, and I never would have forgiven myself if I had missed the chance to see her and get a huge hug. So I put on the closest approximation I have to fetish wear -- spandex cycling leggings and a turtle-neck tight technical shirt with my Doc Martens, all in black -- and headed down.
The place was hopping to the extent that I had to park on the street, a first for me. When I entered, I found a lot of people I knew, but an unusual number of people in street wear. Not sure what that was about, but... whatever. I watched some folks doing a suspension scene, grabbed a cookie, and floated around a bit.
I found Nikita in the back room with a victi... um... girl suspended except for a few toes. They were both smiling and having a wonderful time, so I quietly took a couch and watched. They moved to floor work for a while, and the girl seemed to fly for a bit. Then they started to untie everything and nearly hugged the space heater nearby. Other friends popped in and out, and I got my hug. :)
There was a "mass suspension" around 12:30, 13 people (including one rigger) flying from a purpose-built structure called The Cube. Nikita's fingerprints were all over that, and it was amazing to watch. The riggers and riggees received a round of applause while everyone was airborne. Nice.
The following night I had dinner with the woman who really introduced me first hand to true BDSM. She and her boyfriend had invited four people, but I was the only one who showed up. (I chalk that up to the predicted bad weather.) It was a wonderful meal, and I felt very at home, pampered.
Today I was milling around in my head about the differences between the experiences. The public play was overwhelming, impersonal, but full of opportunity to meet new people. The dinner was much more relaxed, comfortable, and open, but I already knew everyone there. My sense is that the hard work of finding what I want will come from sifting through the people at the public venue, figuring out who I click with, and working towards the personal dinner.
BDSM is extremely personal to me. It's not about getting hit by things or getting tied up. It IS about deep connection and trust and a kind of bonding that most of the world's population will never know. There are a lot of people who fake that, strike or get struck, get tied up or say "Yes, Sir." But how much richer that experience must be with people you have taken the time to get to know.
I'm trying to figure out where I want to go next in my journey. The things that have really gripped me emotionally so far are the D/s aspects. The pain was very, very interesting and the endurance athlete in me wants to go far, far deeper into that, but not senselessly. Mostly the experience was enjoyable because it was attached to the act of submitting to someone I care about and respect in scene and out. I want heavier play, much heavier. But I want it to be heavy emotionally as well as physically. That bond is beyond magic.
I want to play with fire... a candle now, campfire before long, bonfire when I'm ready, and eventually -- many, many years from now -- a pyre. I'm willing to get singed in the learning, but the warmth is irresistible and the alternative is too cold to even contemplate.
As I drove home from that wonderfully intimate dinner, the sleet was beginning to fall in earnest, the promised chill pressing in around me and making my path uncertain. I began to feel the weeks since I last played as a burden, a drain on my reserves. Winter survival is sometimes decided by a willingness to share body heat, and emotional survival for a sadomasochist can be decided by the very same thing: sharing the heat.
QL
The place was hopping to the extent that I had to park on the street, a first for me. When I entered, I found a lot of people I knew, but an unusual number of people in street wear. Not sure what that was about, but... whatever. I watched some folks doing a suspension scene, grabbed a cookie, and floated around a bit.
I found Nikita in the back room with a victi... um... girl suspended except for a few toes. They were both smiling and having a wonderful time, so I quietly took a couch and watched. They moved to floor work for a while, and the girl seemed to fly for a bit. Then they started to untie everything and nearly hugged the space heater nearby. Other friends popped in and out, and I got my hug. :)
There was a "mass suspension" around 12:30, 13 people (including one rigger) flying from a purpose-built structure called The Cube. Nikita's fingerprints were all over that, and it was amazing to watch. The riggers and riggees received a round of applause while everyone was airborne. Nice.
The following night I had dinner with the woman who really introduced me first hand to true BDSM. She and her boyfriend had invited four people, but I was the only one who showed up. (I chalk that up to the predicted bad weather.) It was a wonderful meal, and I felt very at home, pampered.
Today I was milling around in my head about the differences between the experiences. The public play was overwhelming, impersonal, but full of opportunity to meet new people. The dinner was much more relaxed, comfortable, and open, but I already knew everyone there. My sense is that the hard work of finding what I want will come from sifting through the people at the public venue, figuring out who I click with, and working towards the personal dinner.
BDSM is extremely personal to me. It's not about getting hit by things or getting tied up. It IS about deep connection and trust and a kind of bonding that most of the world's population will never know. There are a lot of people who fake that, strike or get struck, get tied up or say "Yes, Sir." But how much richer that experience must be with people you have taken the time to get to know.
I'm trying to figure out where I want to go next in my journey. The things that have really gripped me emotionally so far are the D/s aspects. The pain was very, very interesting and the endurance athlete in me wants to go far, far deeper into that, but not senselessly. Mostly the experience was enjoyable because it was attached to the act of submitting to someone I care about and respect in scene and out. I want heavier play, much heavier. But I want it to be heavy emotionally as well as physically. That bond is beyond magic.
I want to play with fire... a candle now, campfire before long, bonfire when I'm ready, and eventually -- many, many years from now -- a pyre. I'm willing to get singed in the learning, but the warmth is irresistible and the alternative is too cold to even contemplate.
As I drove home from that wonderfully intimate dinner, the sleet was beginning to fall in earnest, the promised chill pressing in around me and making my path uncertain. I began to feel the weeks since I last played as a burden, a drain on my reserves. Winter survival is sometimes decided by a willingness to share body heat, and emotional survival for a sadomasochist can be decided by the very same thing: sharing the heat.
QL
Sunday, December 12, 2010
New Toys!!!
I own toys.
Really. Real ones.
Yesterday I went to Twisted Toyland, a local event attended by kinky people and vendors of fun stuff. Fun stuff like floggers, and rope.
Yep, I bought two floggers: a buffalo-hide warmup and a heavier leather beast that feels like it could actually hurt. *giggle* A very good Domme friend was kind enough to hit me a few times with each (plus one she bought) but nothing hard. I'm looking forward to a chance to use it... or have it used on me... or something.
I also bought two 30-foot and one 40-foot lengths of blue-dyed jute. It's beautiful just laying there.
It is odd owning Implements of Destruction like these. ;) But I'm enjoying the idea. I have a toy bag in mind that would fit my personality: a tool bag; black or grey and strong enough to carry ANYTHING. Mwahahahaha.
Now I need to find hands that fit handles, arms that can swing, and hearts that can love while the strikes land.
QL
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Finally
It took months of knowing her, talking with her, checking on her through those who knew her play and her greater life before I was ready to enter the play space with her. I'm keeping the details of the play private, between the two of us. I'm still madly processing it all, and I am going through quite the arc of emotions.
I left a relationship because I thought I needed something on the sexual side that I would never get there. My worry was that I would get to the reality of it and not really enjoy it in the way I did in fantasy. I was correct that fantasy and reality are very different. But I wasn't prepared to have my identity shifted over the course of an hour or so, to find out that more than my fantasy-filled mind is wrapped up in bondage, submission, and masochism. My heart is, too.
I'm kinky. I'm submissive. It's in my bones and in my heart, and I can never deny it again.
So now that my lens on the world has been swapped out for something far more clear, I'm trying to figure out what to do next. The spark has touched and the smoldering has begun, but what to do with the heat? How long do I have before it gets unbearable?
The sounds of the flogger striking my skin echo in my ears at work when I'm trying to be productive. The little rectangular bruise she intentionally left on my butt cheek makes me smile as I get dressed in the morning. I can feel her hand slapping me, probing my musculature possessively, smacking my ass. I can hear the growl that came out of me from I-don't-know-where when she increased the pace and intensity of her flogger strokes. I can hear her commands, the "Yes, Ma'am" that came joyfully from the deepest parts of my submissive mind in response.
I need to go back there. Not want to... need to.
And far from being ashamed, I'm proud. I can be proud because she didn't do anything to me, we shared it together. We fed off of each other and made each other whole for a while.
"Is your heart happy?" she asked oh-so-gently after curling me on a blanket and laying beside me, my hand in hers.
"Yes," I said, squeezing her hand. "My heart is happy."
Quietlisten
Submissive Sadomasochist
I left a relationship because I thought I needed something on the sexual side that I would never get there. My worry was that I would get to the reality of it and not really enjoy it in the way I did in fantasy. I was correct that fantasy and reality are very different. But I wasn't prepared to have my identity shifted over the course of an hour or so, to find out that more than my fantasy-filled mind is wrapped up in bondage, submission, and masochism. My heart is, too.
I'm kinky. I'm submissive. It's in my bones and in my heart, and I can never deny it again.
So now that my lens on the world has been swapped out for something far more clear, I'm trying to figure out what to do next. The spark has touched and the smoldering has begun, but what to do with the heat? How long do I have before it gets unbearable?
The sounds of the flogger striking my skin echo in my ears at work when I'm trying to be productive. The little rectangular bruise she intentionally left on my butt cheek makes me smile as I get dressed in the morning. I can feel her hand slapping me, probing my musculature possessively, smacking my ass. I can hear the growl that came out of me from I-don't-know-where when she increased the pace and intensity of her flogger strokes. I can hear her commands, the "Yes, Ma'am" that came joyfully from the deepest parts of my submissive mind in response.
I need to go back there. Not want to... need to.
And far from being ashamed, I'm proud. I can be proud because she didn't do anything to me, we shared it together. We fed off of each other and made each other whole for a while.
"Is your heart happy?" she asked oh-so-gently after curling me on a blanket and laying beside me, my hand in hers.
"Yes," I said, squeezing her hand. "My heart is happy."
Quietlisten
Submissive Sadomasochist
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