Labels and Active Exchanges
October 20th, 2012
So I was reading posts on Fearless Press, looking for ideas for today’s post. I liked a lot of the posts, and, as I said in the previous post, the idea of labels and active D/s came to mind. Well, I guess, not labels, but label – submissive, to be precise. I might get into dominant a little, too, due to the nature of the discussion. We’ll see how it goes, shall we?
Sea’s post What is a Submissive and Who’s on First? goes into the impossibility of strictly defining what a submissive IS. He suggests, rather, starting with a ballpark, and asking the specific person about their expressions of submission. Bendyogagirl‘s post If you were really submissive, you would… talks about people’s expectations and how her style of submission did not match one her previous partner’s style, and how it got to the point where it was causing her to question if she really was submissive. This, in turn, allowed her to be able to express her experience of submission. In both this post and her post titled Respect & Cherish, she explains how it is an active exchange for her. In the former, how she needs active dominance, that brings out her submission. In the latter, she also talks about how she wants her submission to be received. She respects the dominant and wishes, not to be respected in return, but cherished. She holds him in high regard, gives him authority, and wants, in return to receive the affection of being cherished.
So, what does this all mean to me? What did I get out of it?
It got me thinking about definitions, and words, expressions and active exchanges. I get caught up in labels sometimes. In my desire to feel special, to feel wanted, to feel important. To feel owned? I put a question mark there because the words were in my head, but I’m not sure what they mean to me right now. I look at M/s dynamics, at some of the 24/7 folk, and I know that isn’t what I want. But then we’re back to defining things by others’ standards. I don’t want to be a slave, well, except for in those masturbatory fantasies. But in reality, slave is not the right word for me. I like submissive, most days I like service submissive, but I’ve only ever been that to him. I’ve been told that is untrue, that my nature is to serve and assist people. But back to the question of active exchange, those “other people” are not ones I expect anything back from for my service. (Well, except my job which pays me to help people.) And maybe that’s how my expressions of service works, I do service for the joy of helping others, but I am a (service) submissive to him, because he gives back to me. I will not be submissive to someone who does not return with dominance. That does not mean that someone who tries to show me dominance automatically receives submission. I am not a door mat, I choose when to let my submission shine.
I think I went off track there, talking about service and submission. But what about that “owned” question? Perhaps “claimed” would be a better word. He once told me that he liked the fact that without outward symbols like a collar or a ring, everyone still knew I was his. I wrote recently about enjoying the word “my” from his lips. We all like to belong in society, and I also like to “belong” to my partners. We tease that sometimes his protectiveness turns into possessiveness, but sometimes, when I’m feeling lost, I like that possessiveness, too.
He and I have gone through many changes during our relationship. At one point, we were backing away from the D/s nature of things, to give ourselves time to heal from one of our biggest explosions. He was concerned that I would continue to do things for him, as was my nature, but might begin to resent the lower rate of return from him, as he worked to rebalance things. But even during the time when we had said “No D/s” at all, we never fully let it drop. We couldn’t, it is part of how we interact. It certainly changed tunes, from heavy metal down to classical piano, if you will, but it was still there, softly playing in the background. I look at FetLife labels every now and again. He and I removed our D/s labels back then, and after a while, set them to service labels. Sometimes I want those D/s labels back, some days, I really wish I had a collar. But then I look at our relationship, and I know we are still growing. I know that service is one of the biggest parts of our D/s relationship right now, and I know that there is a lot of road left to travel.
What about active exchanges? Sometimes I look at “In service to” and “Receiving service from” and I am annoyed by the passivity of the latter phrasing. Receiving can feel so one-sided, but it really isn’t, if you’re doing it right. If you are receiving a blow job, do you just sit there without moving or reacting? I hope not. If you are receiving a promotion, didn’t you work hard to get there, and now have to work harder to keep it? I hope so. If you are receiving an award, didn’t you do something to earn it? It is the same with us. Our relationship is a very active one, we both work hard to maintain it. I serve him in various ways, all of which he is sure to acknowledge and show gratitude for.
At one convention, his wife noted that when he gave me tasks, he didn’t always thank me for doing them. He replied that he wasn’t sure I wanted it. At the time, that type of verbal, immediate gratitude would have landed wrong. I would have been embarrassed to have my service publicly acknowledged. What he did do, was at the end of the weekend, catch me privately, and tell me how much he appreciated all my hard work and service to him. That made me feel so much better than twenty thank you’s scattered about throughout the weekend ever could have.
These days, it is often done both ways. Small thank you’s throughout an event are acknowledgments that make me smile, even when he is too busy to spend individual time. And then after an event, when there is time, the private gratitude and appreciation gives one big dose of warmth and love.
You might ask, but how is showing gratitude part of a D/s exchange? How is that returning my submission with dominance? I’ll have to go with Bendyogagirl on this one, it makes me feel cherished. I thrive on affection and acknowledgment. I serve him and he values that service, and both of those things build trust between us. That trust allows us to go further, for me to serve him in more ways, and for our relationship to continue to grow.
But what about “active dominance?” What about “put you on your knees, give over complete control to him” types of D/s exchange? We have that too, in our play. It isn’t something we maintain in our day to day relationship. That is an energetic ideal, but our respective available energy and time is nowhere near the ability to maintain that anymore. Would I like a little more of that flavor in our lives? Sure, I always want more out of life and work towards that, but the first step there is figuring out what works for us. Right now, saving most of this for our scenes is what works for us.
Blossoming Submission
September 27th, 2012
I don’t think I did justice to the topic of my journey into submission in my long rambling post. Not sure I really did justice to any of the topics I covered, but this one struck me especially. I talked more about my development over the last few years, mixed with a few popular questions of the day, around the cyclical nature of D/s and how a strong woman can be submissive. All those thoughts about control came much later, when I finally got the language for it. But how, exactly, did the submissive grow within me to start with?
Early desires, and my most guilty pleasures, revolve around over the knee spankings. I don’t know why this came about, but it started as early as grade school with an unhealthy(or so I thought) enjoyment of the poem The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. And in middle school blossomed into school girl fantasies that I very much enjoy to this day. With stops along the way to incorporate a Newsie spanking fantasy or two, as well.
This is where my submissive side started. A desire to bend, or be bent by, a person of authority. I was a good girl, I didn’t like causing real trouble, never got a detention, though I came close once, only got grounded once, I don’t even remember ever being spanked as punishment, though I’m sure I was when I was very young. But in these fantasies, I would get into mild trouble, and the person punishing me wouldn’t actually be angry, they’d simply be teaching me a lesson, usually in private. Punishing me for being “bad” or “naughty,” but without the public humiliation of being paddled in front of class, or others. And after I became a bit more sexually mature, I would always thank them for this lesson.
In grade school, we had a hierarchy among my friends. The one at the top of the pyramid could still the rest of us with a look, and usually a smile. I never wanted this power, but I certainly respected it. And fantasied about it. To be quelled and cowed with just a look. It made me shiver, it aroused me. It took me years to understand why. We gave him that control, and he used it, without abusing it, so he got to keep it. He ruled our part of the playground, but he was always kind and always fair. He took care of us, so we followed him. That exchange of power, so simple on the playground, and so much more powerful in a relationship, has always thrilled me. And for those who can express it with just a look, it still makes me shiver and smile.
I comment in the long rambling piece about meeting “strong men,” but what I really meant was strong dominants. Men can be strong without being sexually/kinkily dominant. And I met a woman, as well, who fit this role. I had a few boyfriends that were tops – we played physically, the only power exchange being that I was physically submitting to having things done to me. Usually things like biting, spanking, pinching, pressure points.
Then I met a couple of friends online, who, when they were dating, adopted me in a non-kinky RPG we were all playing. I still call him Daddy, or my Aussie Daddy, to this day, though it never was kink-related. When I lived with him for a (US) summer/(Australian) winter, he preferred Sir in our play. They taught me about what power exchange really felt like. I loved it, though many will say online isn’t the real thing, it was where I was first able to explore it. And explore it I did, in role play, in cybersex chats, in long-distance telephone calls. When I went to Australia, Daddy wasn’t active in the community, but we made the best of our time together. Our kink relationship was mostly physical, but I also enjoyed the bits of D/s we tossed in here and there, as well.
It was a long while before I found that again. Hubby, a sensualist, enjoyed the physical play I asked for, but D/s was not something we managed to figure out on our own. When we found the community, our explorations took different paths, as I found two dominant men that I was drawn to, and he found his own path to kink.
This blog tells the story of my journey since then, for the most part. Exploring different types of D/s and the different ways to submit and serve, learning about taking and giving control. I have tripped and fallen many times. I have had high expectations, and been crushed by reality. I have lost sight of the path and been shown the way back. I have run headlong into the darkness, and survived the fall. I have been taught, guided, chided and chastised. I have been cared for, comforted, crushed and rebuilt. I have been programmed and reprogrammed. I have experienced amazing scenes, awesome service, and incredible love, trust and understanding. Submission has always been inside of me, and these last four years have made it a rich part of my life.
What’s Going On?
March 8th, 2012
So, my blogs lately have been a lot of nonsense, Modern Dungeon Quarterly and the occasional story. Life has been chaotic. Relationships have been chaotic. And I just didn’t want to put it down clearly. I haven’t even been journaling. I’ve meant to, but every time, I find something else to do. Something that won’t make me look at the words on the page. Won’t force me to stare at my thoughts laid bare. Bottling is unhealthy, I know this. I don’t usually do it. But with everything that’s been going on over the last few months, it seemed like my only option in some cases. Bottle it up until other things are sorted, and then let it out in a controlled manner. Wait til they sort things out, then tell her how I feel. Wait til I’m calmer, then tell her why it hurt. Wait til he’s had a few sessions, and then, with the doc there to help us both, say how I’ve been feeling.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Ready. Set. Go.
New relationships bring whirlwinds with them. Change, adjustment, and new energy. Adding a new relationship to a poly group will forever change that group. Now, that doesn’t have to be in a negative way. Change is neither a positive nor a negative force, it just is. Things spin for awhile, as everyone readjusts, as schedules are resorted, as priorities are reframed. In my life, let’s add in almost everyone in the group entering into new job situations, and new class schedules. And things still aren’t settled because class schedules change every quarter. And toy is still working on getting a different job. Let’s also add in bits of drama, miscommunication, misunderstanding, and two people leaving the group. Stress levels rolling like ocean waves. Storms coming and going. Clashes of personality and sensibilities.
Everything changes. But if you can ride out those waves, weather those storms, and navigate the difficulties, you come out the other side stronger than ever. And, if it’s meant to be, so do your relationships. Not every relationship survives. Not every relationship is meant to last forever. But they all add to our lives, to our selves and to our strength. It takes a lot to rebuild after a storm, whether the tornadoes to our south, or emotional explosions that send everyone spinning. Sometimes you have to remove all the debris, foundation and all, and start again from scratch. Sometimes the remains can be salvaged. And sometimes it just takes a little patching up. Regardless, it takes work.
We are in the midst of that work, trying to see what we’ve been left with. What parts are still useable, what parts have to be made anew, and what parts just don’t fit anymore. Both sides of my poly life are in this situation right now. And while I am hopeful, I am not confident that everything will turn out the way we might wish.
Hubby and I have entered a second round of counseling, this time with a professional. Cheating, broken rules, broken promises, and on top if it all, Lies. We tried a community counselor, but when things blew up a second time, he suggested we were beyond his ken. Hubby went alone a few times to sort out some things and now we are going together. We have a lot of work to do.
Doc has four areas he works with in his couples sections and it seems to me, we have trouble in at least three of them. First is work ethic in relation to the marriage. Putting in the work to have a good marriage, and in this case, to fix the marriage. Are we committed to fixing it? Are we willing to do the work? Our friend kind of asked us a similar thing. Were we there because we wanted to fix things, or because it was our last shot? I told him I wanted to fix things, I wanted to keep the marriage. This time, it kinda feels more like a last shot. I love my hubby, obviously, but I feel so broken, that I’m not as confident it can be fixed. Do I want to fix it? Yes. Do I think it can be? Hopeful, but not confident.
Second, is the all important communication. Doc addresses this in a couple ways. First, is what he calls Face Value communication. That is take what the other person says at face value. If I say, could you take out the trash on your way out the door, that’s all I’m saying. I’m not saying, you’re lazy and you never do your part. I’m just asking you to take out the trash. Second is communicating to problem resolution. Not just saying what’s wrong, or what’s bad, but being able to come to resolutions that work for both parties. And lastly, nurturing communication. Being able to support and nurture each other.
Third, the one I think we actually manage, is having fun together. Enjoying each other’s company. When we’re not angry, stressed or depressed. I think we do a fairly good job of having fun together. Watching shows and movies we like. Playing games together. Having good food and times with friends. Though this last is a little more difficult, depending on the venue. I’m an odd bird when it comes to being social, and he has a difficult time in some of our circles here.
Fourth, always a tricky one for us, physical intimacy. I think with our run at counseling with our friend we tried jumping right to this one before fixing the others first. I mean, we were working on communication and such, but doing it all at once might have not been the best idea. Or maybe it was. But currently, this one will be last. I need trust back before I can even consider this step. And right now, it’s long gone.
So, a lot of work to do. A lot of hard work, to find our way back to our path together. We have help, so maybe we’ll make it. But it’s going to be a long road. If we make it through this, though, we can do anything.
The Fire in Which We Burn
February 9th, 2012
Fire. Fire and trees and running water. I’ve had a headache for almost three weeks now. I’m at the point where I just want to slam my head against solid objects to release the tension. It doesn’t work, of course, just makes the headache worse. Don’t misread, I’m not going around doing it. Though I seem to remember doing so my freshman year of college with my physics and math books. Hoping for osmosis by force, I think. I only hit that point once, a couple days ago, and he pulled me through.
I don’t release stress very well. I carry it. In my shoulders and in my forehead. He asked me the other day, how I was doing. I told him I was waiting. The problems can’t be solved Right Now. They will take time. So, I am waiting. And I’m letting the stress stay and affect me. That can’t be good.
Which brings me back to the fire. I want a fire, a big old campfire. To pour all this negative energy into and let it burn away. I miss getting lit on fire. Used to do that at the old club. Whenever I was stressed, I could get lit on fire. Made me feel better. Nothing is quite as important when you’re on fire. Folk do fire cupping now. It’s alright, good sensation, but that’s not what I want. I want alcohol on my skin and a cotton wand lighting me up. Fear and adrenaline and heat.
Feed the stress into the fire, let it go. I need release. I need it ripped out of me and thrown away. I’m not good at letting go.
Logically, I should. I can only control myself and my reactions. If I’m not in control of those things, than what good am I? But my reaction is wait and see. My reaction is to simmer. It’s my marriage, I can’t just let it go. I need to know why. I need to know how. I need to know it will never happen again. I need to know that I’m safe. I need to know trust. I need to understand.
Can I really let go of the stress with these needs unmet? It doesn’t feel that simple. And yet, I want fire. I want to let it go, I want a focus to feed it all into. I want to empty myself of the stress and the tension and the pain. I keep having small explosions – frustration and anger that turns into tears. A small valve that gives some relief.
It doesn’t have to be fire, but that’s where I always go, mentally. Not fire play, but a real burning fire. I spent many nights as a child, staring into fires. Burning papers with my worries written on them. I have a picture from just after I got married, burning my old angsty journals, of the flames forming a rising phoenix. At least to my eye.
I wonder how big a clothespin zipper it would take to rip the stress away? I wonder how long a flogging, to beat the tension free? I wonder how intense a caning? How much electricity? How much rope? How hot a fire do I need? Or do I just need a candle, burning in the darkness?
Rant Ranty Rant
January 26th, 2012
It has been a rough few weeks. Relationship and communication issues on both sides of my poly family. But I don’t really want to talk about that stuff here. So, what shall I talk about? I could rant about the importance of talking about problems. I could fume over folks encouraging deception and dishonesty. I could lament the damage to friendships caused by miscommunication. Or I could talk about how a community is a big set of dominoes. This all feels quite passive aggressive though, and that does not become us. So, what shall I write about this week?
Oh feck it, let’s be ranty. It’s my blog. If you want positive, happy thoughts, take a look at my 31 Days of Gratitude posts.
First things first. If you have a problem with someone you Care About. Tell Them. (Yes, it’s going to be a capital letter day.) If you don’t like their behavior, avoiding them won’t fix it. If you talk to them, you can help them. Or they can help you. Depending on what is needed. If you just ignore the problem, how are they supposed to know it Is a problem? We do not have the luxury of being able to observe our own behavior from the outside. Sometimes we need the insight of others to see the truth. If you love someone, share with them what you see. And be open to hear how they feel, or to hear why they are doing something. What you see may not be their truth.
Next. If you are having a problem, you don’t have to deal with it alone. Ask for help. Tell the people who love you. Or more importantly, if they ask you, don’t lie about it. Don’t hide the problem so that when it comes out, it expands into multiple problems. Obviously, you don’t need to tell Everyone your problems, but the people you love will feel cheated and lied to if you keep important information from them.
Oh, and to all those people who think it’s okay to contribute to lying and breaking promises and then just cut and run. Fuck you. Where the hell is your respect for friends and community? For trust and communication? Take some fucking responsibility for your actions and agreements and man up when you do something wrong. Or at the very least, don’t discourage other people from doing the right thing.
And let’s all remember that we’re a pretty interconnected community. What you say to one person not only gets around to everyone else, but it can also affect everyone else. If you hurt your play partner, you’re also causing pain to all his other partners, and their partners in a nice big ripple effect. Don’t expect everything to be fine and dandy just because it wasn’t her you said things to.
Well, that was far more ranting and cursing that I usually do. Like I said, it’s been a rough couple weeks. I’m sure I could go on, but I think that is plenty for one day. Writing this did encourage me to send out a couple emails explaining my feelings to people. I’d also like to thank the communications presenter from last night, excellent points were made about positive and negative communication behaviors. I think I’ve got a couple negative behaviors in this blog post, but in the personal communications, I think I stay with positive behaviors.
Connection, Intimacy & Trust
December 30th, 2011
I need to read more Heinlein. An illustration Wednesday night included a reference to a character in Stranger in a Strange Land, who is apparently the best kisser because he completely focuses on the person he’s kissing. That kind of complete focus is something I both yearn for and strive for. I play in public a lot, so there are always other people, movement, sounds that distract either myself or my partner. In private play, life can be the distraction. Thinking about other people, or the bills, or the things I have to do today. But when all that goes away, in moments where our attention is completely focused on each other, it is amazing and powerful.
This is something hubby and I are starting to work on, as we try to build intimacy. Spending time just being with each other, focused on each other, touching each other, but not having an agenda beyond connecting. I had a hard time with it this morning. My brain kept going to my To Do list. But I kept dragging it back. Yes, I had a lot to do today, but it was more important to stay in the moment with him. Doing that, staying there, with him, opens us up to each other. Allows for letting down walls and being vulnerable with each other. We had good discussions today that we might not have ever had otherwise.
Other suggestions that were given this week were to create cues to reinforce this. Lighting, music, perhaps even clothing or a symbol to focus intent. I think candles might be good for us, we both enjoy fire and light scents. Incense sounds too heavy for me, though I know hubby likes it. Music will have to be careful about, I get distracted by words too much sometimes. But things to think about.
Another important discussion of this week has been about communication and trust. Specifically, when hubby asks me what I’m thinking, and I shrug or say nothing. I do this because I think the things that are on my mind are either unimportant, or inappropriate to the moment and in either case, I don’t share them. I found out that, to hubby, this comes across as, I don’t trust him with my thoughts. Or even further, hubby creates a list of possible thoughts, and picks the worst one as what I’m really thinking. So, I’ve agreed to work on that, and try to be more open with my thoughts.
We also talked about how open communication can lessen jealousy, fear and insecurity. When hubby watches me scene, he sometimes feels negative emotional reactions, but if I talk to him about the scene afterward, it makes him feel better. For me, I thought that seeing and hearing would create the same reaction, and so tended towards not really talking about such things. Sure I blog about them, and hubby says that helps too, but for him, verbalizing helps him process the most.
This discovery came about as I talked about my flogging on Wednesday. While hubby was doing other things, he had been randomly flogging or paddling me, but then grabbed me by the hair and tossed me up on the cross. I thought to myself, oh awesome, he’s going to beat me into a puddle of tears. The flogging started out light, nice leather mops to work me up into it. Then he moved onto rubber mops to really pound into me. At one point there was a rubber massage ball pounding at my shoulders and neck. I screamed and pounded my foot on the floor to the beating, but I was determined to stay on my feet until I simply couldn’t anymore. I wanted beaten hard and I didn’t want to give up.
So we kept going and going, until he grabbed a long rubber flogger, said Goodnight and dropped me with two strikes. I raised a hand towards the cross, but dropped it when he hit me again. He hit me a few more times with it as I sat on the floor, and then switched to a dragon’s tail. I was able get up to kneeling with those strikes, but I couldn’t stand back up, I was afraid the flogger would come back and I couldn’t stand up to it.
And then he walked away. I felt him go, I wondered for a bit if he was coming back. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t a puddle, but I was happy and inside myself. So, I let my hands fall from my chest. He still didn’t come back, he was off behind me to the left, but I couldn’t hear him. I put my hands on my thighs, knelt properly and went further inside myself. Meditated on my body and my mind and how the flogging had made me feel. I meditated on nothing but my contentment. Until the world started coming back, I started to hear his voice again, I started to feel the people around me aside from him, I came back out again. Stood up and rejoined the world.
Talking about this last night, helped hubby to understand what I had gone through. How it had made me feel. He was able to see the scene with my eyes and feel compersion for my happiness. So, I will work sharing with him more so that compersion is easier. And I will trust him to tell me when he wants more or less sharing.
It has been a very good week, with lots of good discussions, sharing and time with my loved ones. Very happy holidays indeed.
Rope Scenes
July 14th, 2011
I’ve posted a lot about rope. About why I like it, what I like about it, about scenes I’ve had with it, about buying it, about learning to tie it. There have been a lot of classes on rope lately, with more coming up, especially at COPE in September. The most recent was on Eeling. And he said he learned more about me by attending than about the subject, because he and I don’t play like that. Way back when we first met, he challenged me to get out of a tie, but not since. Our scenes are about other things that escape. So, it brought to mind today, what kinds of rope scenes are there, what kinds do I enjoy, and what do I get out of the different kinds?
Suspension is one, well, two really. There are high-flying suspensions, and there are static.
High-flying suspensions I have written about a few times, describing particular scenes or the freedom in it. The care for comfort of the tie, and the attention to detail of the rigging are very important. Swinging from a point 15-20′ in the air by thin ropes tied around the body is a feeling like no other I’ve ever experienced. We compare it to a swing set of childhood, or a roller coaster ride. But it is so much more than the first, and so much more sensual than the second. It is about trust and control. Giving it all to the person tying and flying you. One mistake and bad things could happen. But when it’s done right, with care and attention. The energy, the joy, the sense of freedom, is incredible. The dizziness from spinning well worth the feeling of the spin. The rope marks can last for days, bright red lines where the ropes lay, holding you in the sky. And for me, the scene doesn’t end when I’m back on the ground. I float as he unties, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, leaving burns with the lines. And then I sink back down to earth, surrounded by the rope, coiling it up, breathing it in. Landing mentally, only when it is all put away again.
Static suspensions share a lot of the same sensations and feelings with high-flying ones. But they tend to be more sensual for me. More about the rope touching and holding. More about the feel of him close to me, often playing with me while I’m suspended. Static lends to deeper space, less wide-eyed excitement. I sink into rope space whenever I am tied, but when left to hang in it, my mind sinks deeper into my body. Feeling everything. And floats out to him, feeling the energy and the exchange.
A similar state is achieved through floor scenes. When he ties me, not to a suspension point, but into a ball, or a hog-tie or some such, self-contained tie. These, though, have me grounded, literally, and mentally. I am not floating away, finding the freedom of being suspended. I am tied into myself, molded into the shape he wishes. I am made vulnerable in a completely different way. No longer is my life hanging by a thread, but rather, I am at his mercy. I am where and what he wants me to be. I am bound and helpless, and available for whatever he wants to do, with less safety concerns to distract. (Yes, there are always safety concerns, but not maintaining steady breathing, or a numb limb isn’t going to end a ground scene nearly as quickly as a suspension.) Floor scenes can be as simple as tying and leaving to melt, whether in a ball on the floor, or walking around with just the upper body bound. Or tying and then tormenting – whips, floggers, paddles, pinches, nipple clamps, tickling, what have you. A fully sensual and power exchange scene for me.
Coming off floor scenes, there are bed scenes. Tied down to a bed, for sex and torment. To be tied completely open and vulnerable. These have a different feel from ground scenes, for various reasons. One, obviously, if the intent is sex, is quite a bit different than the above feelings. But the other, for torment, is still different, too. Tied in a ground tie, immobilized and tormented is one thing. Often you can’t see what’s coming, or you can curl and squirm at the very least. Tied out spread eagle, unable to even pretend you can protect or defend yourself. Waiting, watching, often enduring torment that you can do nothing about. It is a similar, but uniquely delicious space. For me, there is far less sinking into the rope in these scenes. Sometimes I use pulling on the rope to process the pain, or as a focus point, but these scenes do not take me to rope space nearly as much as a ground tie.
The last type, I want to talk about is what sparked this post. Eeling. Getting out of the rope you were put in. I used to do this type of scene with the other a lot, or folks on the crew, just playing around when we were bored. See how long it took to escape a particular tie. Or tie myself up so the other could watch me escape. Or be tied up and left to escape on my own. Or one particular friend like to keep adding rope as I would untie the first few. These were interesting scenes for me. Scenes of challenge. I like challenges, challenging myself, being challenged. The ties were puzzles to be solved. And learned from. I love learning, too. I started learning suspension ties by untying them. I learned a lot about floor and bed ties by untying myself. There was discussion about what about eeling turns eels on, and about the rollercoaster that eeling scenes can be. For me – the joy of being tied, the thrill of the challenge set before me, the frustration of a difficult (or improbable to escape) tie, the thrill of getting a knot undone or getting some slack, the frustration that it did no good, continuing on to either end with the satisfaction of escaping, or the arousal of surrender. These scenes can be very tricky. The frustration can overwhelm, or the eel can cause themselves physical injury, or panic can set in (especially when combined with abandonment). But if the balance can be maintained, the frustration can be channeled and the panic controlled, and injury avoided, I enjoy these scenes very much if it is what the top is also after. I am not one to get out of any rope put on me just to see if I can. I like being in it far too much for that.
Are there any other types you enjoy? Do you have a favorite? What about the different types do you like?
Trust Your Body, Trust Yourself
April 21st, 2011
A friend wrote last month how she is finally learning to trust her body, through kink. I have been at odds with my body since I was sixteen, almost half my life now. I fight it, I ignore it, I push it. But to trust it? I’d rather challenge it and defy it. She wrote she is no longer a mind in a body but a mind that is a body. I like that idea, and so I’m going to start a rambling exploration of my mind and body tonight.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few years in bondage, and in rope suspension. One of the first things he taught me was that I have to listen to my body. That I have to communicate to him what it is telling me. Where there was pain, pinching or discomfort. His suspensions were not meant to be painful, the ropes were there to support, not to hurt. This was a bit of a mind switch for me, because the other’s bondage was often painful, was often part of our sado-masochistic play. I had to listen to my body and trust what it told me. I had to be able to judge when I was done, tell him when I needed to come down. I could push myself only so far. And yes, I often tested those limits, pushed myself just a little further than I maybe should have, challenged myself to just one more swing, or just one more spin. I had to trust my body, but I also put trust in my mind’s ability to recover when I pushed just a little more.
If it hurts, don’t do it. It hurts when I do this. Don’t do that. Pain is the body’s way of telling us something is wrong. But I’m a masochist. I enjoy the intense sensation of pain and the effects it has on the body and mind, when it is pain I am choosing to experience. I kneel for half an hour in meditation, some days it hurts, but I usually ignore the pain and push through. I ignore the body’s cry for relief. I play in ways that cause pain, that cause a fight or flight response, and I ignore the body’s protests. My mind overrules my body. My pleasure overrides my pain. But isn’t this trusting, too? Trusting that even though my nerves scream, my body can take it. Trusting that after, I’ll be okay. I ignore the usual signals, and trust that real damage is not occurring, that my body is not as fragile as some might think.
Is it trust? Or just defiance?
I trust my mind within this body. I trust myself to know my limits. I trust myself to judge when it is too much. I trust myself to beg off or say no. I trust myself to know my body. And I trust my partners enough to crumble and fall.
I trust my mind, but do I truly trust my body? I listen to it, I respond to what it tells me. But I often feel like a mind trapped in a body, unable to feel the way I want to feel, unable to do everything I want to do. I trust that it will not break. I push it and challenge it, and I hope that it will not fail me. And sometimes it does, but more often than not, it doesn’t. In kink, anyway. It fails me, day to day, simple things like opening and reaching, but it rarely fails me in play. It limits me in play, for sure, depending on the day, but when I choose an appropriate activity, it holds up, it withstands, it survives, usually as long as I want and need it to.
So, do I trust my body? I do. It frustrates me and I defy it, but ultimately, I trust it. What other choice do I have? It’s my body and it gives me such pleasure to balance out the pain. It does what I need it to do, if not always what I want it to do. And the better I treat it, the better it does. RA is not who I am, just a thing I am dealing with. Trust is earned and my body has put in the work.
The Writing on My Thighs
March 17th, 2011
What’s really there is that I have an awesome boyfriend who loves me, who trusts me, and who wants to continue our journey together, in life and in kink.
What’s really there is several new paths we are taking, one including an awesome woman who has decided to be our toy.
What’s really there is stressful work and health situations that are not who we are, but simply things we are doing and dealing with.
What’s really there is drama in our worlds and families that we need to deal with and solve together, supporting each other.
What’s really there is amazing opportunities for love and companionship and play and fun together, that I never would have thought possible five years ago.
These sentences are currently written on my thighs. I wrote them in a chat yesterday, and we decided I ought to write them on myself for a little while. “Until the message sinks in,” you might say. I need practice focusing on the positive. I need to not let the negative build up and build up, because “it’s just a little thing,” until it becomes a whirlwind of fear, doubt and crazy. I’m a writer, a good thing, but also bad. I write stories in my head, make assumptions, fill in the blanks. I live inside my head a little too much. I need to remember there are other people out there, often right beside me, who have the real answers, the actual truth of the matter, and sometimes, a far better grip on reality than the tangled mess I sometimes get myself into. Speculative fiction is awesome to write and sell and share, but reality is strange enough without me getting creative on it.
So, lesson of the week: Communicate!
How many times have I written about communication? And yet…
Things are far easier to deal with and discount and conquer when they are small. And nothing is too small to mention. A grain of sand creates a pearl, but a fleck of metal can blind you and a single spark can burn down a forest. He is good at noticing when something is wrong or off, but I am not always so good at realizing he is right. So, communication. Don’t dismiss it when he questions, really look and try to shake loose the thought that is keeping me off balance by hiding in the corner. Life is always crazy and busy and stressful, but letting things bottle and build up is only going to make things worse. Explosions are far more damaging than a firecracker. Just don’t hang on too tight, toss it up in the air and see what it looks like in the light.
I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am worthy.
Letting Go
February 12th, 2011
An interesting week. Sorry for the late post, hopefully Monday’s tided you over until today. Last weekend was great, and I was happy to share my joy. This week has been about letting go, for me. As in relaxing, as in accepting uncertainty, as in moving forward instead of holding onto the past.
We have a toy. I have never had a toy before, someone I am responsible for and to, and who wants to please me, and us, from a bottom type role. I have also never had a trio relationship. Three of us in one relationship. She is Our Toy. Pleasing us, playing with us, trusting and trusted by us. It is a new situation to all.
So, full honesty here, because what good is a blog without occasional soul baring, I freaked out this week. I was going on all good and solid and just asking questions and trying to get clear answers, and feeling good about it all, if concerned. Then, I missed a bus… and in chasing after it, I got run over. At least I realized it, and asked for help, this time.
I started getting worried about the future. I started becoming afraid of the risk. I imagined all sorts of bad. I became terrified of emotional pain and hurt and loss. I wanted to try having a toy. I knew it was risky. But I got stuck on the question of accepting that risk.
He helped me. He let me talk and cry while he poked and asked pointed questions. He let me calm down while he said out loud what I was not listening to in my own head. Everyone gets hurt, we all hurt each other, life is risky, but it is worth it. It is fun. It is the way we grow. He even offered to stop it if I could not accept the risk. This is for Us, and if I’m not happy, then it won’t work.
So, I grabbed his hand and pulled myself up off the road. Invited her over, explained my fear and accepted the uncertainty and the risk. We still have a lot to figure out, as we move forward, but we all know it and accept it, so we Can move forward.
I had a couple other bits of letting go and moving forward this week, as well. They say that those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it, but there is a difference between remembering the past and clinging to it. Remembering mistakes of the past to learn from them is good. Remembering past pain and trying to avoid it again at all costs is bad. Trying to recover something purposefully lost or destroyed is bad. Building with the rubble to a better future is good, but I think that might be the topic of another blog.
So, let me end with the paragraphs echoing in my mind. I will not over think. I will not cast doubt in myself. I will not allow fear to consume me.