Big Brother

I have recently been in contact with a man who enjoys using true historical articles to base his roleplay scenes on. For me, there is a very important text on which I have based one of my deepest roleplay fantasies. It is not a historical text as such, but reflects the history of an alternate society. I am, of course, talking about my Orwellian fantasies. I have been thinking about these in much more detail lately.

"Another, quite different voice, a thin, cultivated voice...struck in. 'And by the way, while we are on the subject, "Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!"' "

That moment of realisation. Of fear. Of acceptance that you have been caught, and that you have no control over what happens next.



One day, I am given a set of ideals by which a society lives. They read something like the following:

Masturbation is highly frowned upon.
A good work ethic is of great value.
A healthy body is a healthy mind.
Wholesome sexual activity is the only way forwards.... and so it goes on.

I am then left to interpret the rules myself.

I live by these guidelines as best I can for a length of time. Of course, not knowing exactly what the rules are makes them very difficult to follow. I know that I must have done something wrong somewhere along the line, and I know that, if anyone has found out, that I will be punished for it. But how could anyone have found out?

One evening, I am sitting down and relaxing in front of the TV. Out of nowhere, a voice comes over the speakers: 'Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!' Suddenly, my front door bursts open. A man bursts through my door. Although I cannot see his face, I recognise his uniform. Thought Police. Ungood. FUCK.

I want to run, but I know that there is no point. He is armed, and, if I know anything of the Thought Police, it is that they won't have left anything to chance. I stand frozen on the spot. Unceremoniously, my wrists are cuffed behind my back and I am hooded and bundled into the back of a van. 

I wake up. I am in a concrete cell. There is a toilet in the corner, and the rest of the room is empty, aside from a camera in one corner and speakers in another.

Over the speakers, I hear my name. 'Stand up. Turn around. No, the other way. Face down. Arms over your head.'



The rest, I'm afraid, is private :). Of course, I may share it with a lucky few...

Burchill on Transgendered Women

A column from the Guardian (Author: Julie Burchill) this morning (13th Jan 2013). Absolutely appalling. My fiancee is a trans woman, and I would like to make it clear that this does not apply to her. As such, I have taken great offense to what Burchill has written. Further comments later (when I have time!).

"The brilliant writer Suzanne Moore and I go back a long way. I first met her when she was a young single mother living in a council flat; she took me out to interview me about my novel Ambition (republished by Corvus Books this spring, since you ask) for dear dead City Limits magazine. "I've got an entertaining budget of £12.50!" she said proudly. "Sod that, we're having lobster and champagne at Frederick's and I'm paying," I told her. Half a bottle of Bolly later, she looked at me with faraway eyes: "Ooo, I could get to like this…" And so she did.

"I have observed her rise to the forefront of this country's great polemicists with a whole lot of pride – and just a tiny bit of envy. I am godmother to her three brilliant, beautiful daughters. Though we differ on certain issues we will have each other's backs until the sacred cows come home.

"With this in mind, I was incredulous to read that my friend was being monstered on Twitter, to the extent that she had quit it, for supposedly picking on a minority – transsexuals. Though I imagine it to be something akin to being savaged by a dead sheep, as Denis Healey had it of Geoffrey Howe, I nevertheless felt indignant that a woman of such style and substance should be driven from her chosen mode of time-wasting by a bunch of dicks in chicks' clothing.

"To my mind – I have given cool-headed consideration to the matter – a gaggle of transsexuals telling Suzanne Moore how to write looks a lot like how I'd imagine the Black and White Minstrels telling Usain Bolt how to run would look. That rude and ridic.

"Here's what happened. In a book of essays called Red: The Waterstones Anthology, Suzanne contributed a piece about women's anger. She wrote that, among other things, women were angry about "not having the ideal body shape – that of a Brazilian transsexual". Rather than join her in decrying the idea that every broad should aim to look like an oven-ready porn star, the very vociferous transsexual lobby and their grim groupies picked on the messenger instead.

"I must say that my only experience of the trans lobby thus far was hearing about the vile way they have persecuted another of my friends, the veteran women's rights and anti-domestic violence activist Julie Bindel – picketing events where she is speaking about such minor issues as the rape of children and the trafficking of women just because she refuses to accept that their relationship with their phantom limb is the most pressing problem that women – real and imagined – are facing right now.
Similarly, Suzanne's original piece was about the real horror of the bigger picture – how the savagery of a few old Etonians is having real, ruinous effects on the lives of the weakest members of our society, many of whom happen to be women. The reaction of the trans lobby reminded me very much of those wretched inner-city kids who shoot another inner-city kid dead in a fast-food shop for not showing them enough "respect". Ignore the real enemy – they're strong and will need real effort and organisation to fight. How much easier to lash out at those who are conveniently close to hand!
But they'd rather argue over semantics. To be fair, after having one's nuts taken off (see what I did there?) by endless decades in academia, it's all most of them are fit to do. Educated beyond all common sense and honesty, it was a hoot to see the screaming mimis accuse Suze of white feminist privilege; it may have been this that made her finally respond in the subsequent salty language she employed to answer her Twitter critics: "People can just fuck off really. Cut their dicks off and be more feminist than me. Good for them."

"She, the other JB and I are part of the minority of women of working-class origin to make it in what used to be called Fleet Street and I think this partly contributes to the stand-off with the trannies. (I know that's a wrong word, but having recently discovered that their lot describe born women as 'Cis' – sounds like syph, cyst, cistern; all nasty stuff – they're lucky I'm not calling them shemales. Or shims.) We know that everything we have we got for ourselves. We have no family money, no safety net. And we are damned if we are going to be accused of being privileged by a bunch of bed-wetters in bad wigs.

"It's been noted before that cyberspace, though supposedly all new and shiny, is plagued by the age-old boredom of men telling women not to talk and threatening them with all kinds of nastiness if they persist in saying what they feel.

"The trans lobby is now saying that it wasn't so much the initial piece as Suzanne's refusal to apologise when told to that "made" them drive her from Twitter. Presumably she is meant to do this in the name of solidarity and the "struggle", though I find it very hard to imagine this mob struggling with anything apart from the English language and the concept of free speech.

"To have your cock cut off and then plead special privileges as women – above natural-born women, who don't know the meaning of suffering, apparently – is a bit like the old definition of chutzpah: the boy who killed his parents and then asked the jury for clemency on the grounds he was an orphan.
Shims, shemales, whatever you're calling yourselves these days – don't threaten or bully us lowly natural-born women, I warn you. We may not have as many lovely big swinging Phds as you, but we've experienced a lifetime of PMT and sexual harassment and many of us are now staring HRT and the menopause straight in the face – and still not flinching. Trust me, you ain't seen nothing yet. You really won't like us when we're angry."

Roleplay

I have recently been discovering the joys of roleplay with the man that the internet knows as Lord Fawcett. After our first play session back in January, I have been playing with him on a semi-regular basis for the last few months. We have now done a variety of roleplay scenes. I have been a schoolgirl twice, a prisoner once and a pupil at a Victorian reformatory once. I am finding that these characters have allowed me to submit more deeply and feel more fulfilled without having to resort to intense pain or intense violence.

Take, for example, my most recent character: Crystal 'Slippery' Rose. Upon discussing what type of roleplay we were going to try next, we came up with the idea of a prison scene. I then came up with the idea of Crystal. This is what I sent to Lord Fawcett:

"DOB: 01/05/1994

"Age: 18

"Height: 5'4''.

"Weight: 11st.

"Intelligence: MENSA top 2%.

"Description: Redhead. Aptitude for sports (e.g. running away) gives athletic build. Extremely confident and talented in storytelling.

" Crime committed: Fraud. Convicted for her part in the 'Great Botswana diamond robbery', where she used her femininity to get close to Sparky De Monte, the owner of DeCheers diamond mine. She and her team stole and exported over £2billion of what they thought were precious stones. They were apprehended by police whilst trying to dispose of £2billion pounds worth of carrots. The real diamonds are still missing, but believed to be in the hands of 'Slippery Rose'.
Also convicted for the Swiss Cheese Mine Incident (insurance fraud).

"Sentence: HMP Lowewood."

From that point on, all emails were titled 'FAO Crystal Rose', and I started to develop her character further. She allowed me to be arrogant and cocky, without ruining the play by being a brat. She allowed me to give in and accept her punishment. I had a reason for being punished. This pushed away the instinct that I have to blame myself and to subconsciously take 'play' punishments too literally. Most importantly, she gave me a way of experiencing some fantastic play without the danger of projecting the punishment onto my unrelated self confidence issues.

The play itself was truly amazing. Lord Fawcett seems to have worked out exactly how to humiliate me in the way that I like. At one point, he had me running around the garden as he whipped me. I had to wear an incredibly unflattering outfit, and underwent a strict corporal punishment routine. This was all enhanced by the small details - having my belongings placed into a cloth bag and confiscated upon my arrival, for example, or being left alone and chained into my 'cell' between punishments. I was left feeling floaty headed and fulfilled. I sense that there will be a lot more highly detail, pleasurably painful and perfectly humiliating in my future. In fact, I hope to be attending a group school roleplay event in a few weeks time. Maybe I will get around to writing that up in greater detail before it escapes my memory!

A Small Hiatus

Although I am continuing to write, much of what I produce is being kept private for the moment for personal reasons. Please do keep popping back though, as I will still write the occasional piece. Hopefully I will be able to mass publish some posts in the near future. Many apologies.

The Change.

It has been almost six months exactly since my last blog post, in which I explained why I wanted to give myself a break from kink for a while. It has been a long six months during which I have examined my motivations inside and out, and I believe that I have come out  much healthier, happier, and, most importantly, more aware person. 

I have gained some valuable knowledge about myself, and the ways in which I used to use kink because I wanted boundaries. As my depression (linked to my upbringing) got worse, my cravings got more and more desperate and I wanted more and more extreme boundaries. Eventually, I managed to convince myself that the only way to express love was through extreme pain and hurt.

I now feel that I am in a much more stable place, and, being more aware of my motives - both positive and negative - I am ready to make a controlled return to my kinky life. I get things from kink that I cannot get from anywhere else. When done correctly, it makes me feel safe and secure. It relaxes me and allows me a place to escape from my everyday life. It makes me feel special. And I have made some very close friends through the kink scene, who I miss terribly.

So, here I am. Making my slow, controlled return. If you see me out, then please say hello/come to catch up. But no spontaneous play. I am going to be much more picky (and hopefully more safe) from now on. 

Kink and Depression

Disclaimer: I do not wish to make a generalised link between BDSM and mental health in this post. Far from it. In my experience, those who engage in BDSM are far healthier than most. I am merely recounting my own experiences.

For the past five or so years (and arguably much longer) I have been suffering with chronic depression. My condition has deteriorated markedly over the past few months, and I have consequently spent four weeks in a psychiatric hospital going through some pretty intense therapy. This therapy has led me to put every aspect of my life story under scrutiny, and, from this, I have identified some major changes that I need to make if I wish to be happy. The first, and by far the easiest, is to withdraw totally from the fetish scene.

There are several reasons for this. Firstly, and most importantly, is that I need to learn to love myself. One of the damaging behavioral patterns that I have identified is that I define my identity by the success of my relationships with others. More specifically, I do not value myself as a person unless I am having a positive influence on another. I quite literally give up my sense of self for those I love. One of the many ways in which I validate this is through sexual submission. I need to recognise that it is not okay for me to put myself through what, in the past, has been significant emotional and physical hurt to make another person slightly happier with their lot. Until I have learnt this lesson, I think that it is wise for me to avoid situations that mimic this pattern.

In return for this giving of myself, I expect others to do similar for me. When I hear the words ‘I love you’, or even ‘I like you’, I hear ‘I will do anything within my power to protect you from the evils of the world.’ In truth, this is what I desperately want. For various reasons, my inner child has not been given the chance to develop and is essentially looking to be ‘re-parented’. However, as an adult, it is unrealistic to expect anyone to do this for me. Therein lies my second lesson: I need to stop putting my inner child into emotionally dangerous situations by allowing others too much access to her vulnerabilities and her desperate need for affection. I often struggle to see the difference between being dominated and being looked after, and I therefore need to unravel my adult’s feelings from my child’s feelings before I continue.

Finally, I have been forced to analyse which things in my life make me feel good and are therefore of high importance. Sexually, this means accepting that I am actually scared of sex. My inner child clings to the sense of being wanted that being fucked brings. However, I am usually left feeling empty and unloved – and I use the excuse of ‘subdrop’ to validate this feeling. I don’t want this any more.

I cannot make all of these changes overnight. It is going to take me a long time, and I have to be prepared to take baby steps. Re-reading this blogpost fills me with a horrible sense of dread. My need for sex as validation of my self worth, in particular, is something that I don’t fully understand and that is going to take a lot of re-wiring. But today, I am taking the first steps by a) writing this post and b) deleting my Twitter account.

Twitter is an engine for the social fetish scene. It is also a place on which a giant popularity contest is played out. It is where the ‘cool kids’ announce which party they are at and how outlandish it is. It is a place that people turn to for support when they are struggling and, for me, it is a place to which I turn for popular validation of my feelings and actions. I should not need this validation to quite the extent that I do. So it is time to kick the habit.

I have some plans for play in place in the coming months which I do not intend to change – baby steps, remember – and I expect that those involved with this will understand my desire to carry them through, but also that I need to put some emotional barriers in place before I do. I do not intend to stop playing with Lilith if I get the chance, since, in terms of both emotional connection and psychological awareness, she represents a very safe space. I may well reinstate my Twitter account and return to the scene within a few weeks. I may disappear for much longer. Those who are important will know where to find me, and will be there whether I am involved in the fetish scene or not.

D/S and Love: Why I No Longer Wear My Collar

I have recently returned from a magical week in Austria with Lilith. The holiday turned out to be a bit of a turning point in my kink journey (in more ways than one – see forthcoming post entitled ‘was I raped by a hot Austrian masseur’), and indeed in my relationship with Lilith. In short, I am no longer her submissive. I have removed my collar and am a free willed kinkster once again.

This does not mean that we no longer wish to be together – far from it. Rather, it means that we have come to a realisation that we should have come to a long time ago – that Lilith does not really want to be on top, and that I don’t really want her role in my life to be as the dominant. When we fell in love, it was not because of anything kinky (although, admittedly, it was kink that threw us together in the first place). She is, and always has been, my adventure buddy, life companion, security blanket and closest friend first and my dominant second. I want to take care of her as much as she does me, and we are truly both equals in the relationship. We both have our own lives, our own universes, and they have a symbiotic relationship. They are not in competition, and one does not need to dominate the other. Being in such a relationship is somewhat new to me, and anyone who knows Lilith will realise that it isn’t exactly familiar, comfortable territory for her either. But it is infinitely better than any other kink-based relationship that I’ve ever been in. It somehow feels more substantial, more homely, more real.

Of course, we are both still kinky people and our kinky desires have not disappeared. But by finally admitting to each other that we do not fulfill those roles in each others’ lives, we are now able to explore fully without feeling tied to the other by guilt. Through admitting the truth, I feel that a huge burden has been lifted. I had been struggling to force myself into a submissive role when I could see that she didn’t really want to give back as the dominant. Now, I don’t need to. We can go off and play as two submissive girls, both together and separately.

This does somewhat change my answer to the question ‘what are you looking for?’ I truly have come full circle, and am looking for something that I had when I first started exploring six years ago. I want someone/several people with whom I can have regular, no-strings-attached play. I do not want to be forced to submit through pain or force, but rather to choose to submit. I want someone who understands that my submission will always be separate to my loving relationship (although I do understand that, in order to get what I crave, the relationship cannot be completely emotionally detached). I want to be able to go somewhere for a couple of sessions a month where I can totally lose myself in that kind of submission without feeling the need to build the relationship any further than that of friends (or even, dare I say it, of dom/sub). A big ask, perhaps, but I don’t think it is impossible. I have come across several dominants that would like the same thing from a submissive. Sadly, with these people, the timing has never been right.  But there must be more out there. I just need to find them.

So what about my play with Lilith? She is still a sadist, and I still a masochist, and we fit well in that respect. I am hoping for many happy hours spent together in our dungeon in the future, and I have a big list of things that I would still like to do with her. But this will be as, when and if we both feel like it. And it will be nothing more than play that turns us both on. Neither of us will be forced into roles that do not fit. Sexually, I am more turned on by her now than ever before. Now that I know that I am not bound by my submissive role, I somehow feel that I am entitled to wish to ravish her sometimes. I am finding that I am getting the urge to play with her body - to lick, stroke, suck and fuck - more often than ever before. I want her to lay back and enjoy it, and, without the unwritten expectation of dominance from me, I hope that she will be able to. I wish to turn her on sexually in ways that neither of us are familiar with, and for her to enjoy the journey. I also feel more able to initiate, and less rejected when I get turned down due to work/fatigue/generally not being in the mood.

I will still refer to myself as ‘owned’ and as her ‘little girl’. I feel that I am. But I also think of myself as an owner, a mother, and, most importantly, a spouse. As a submissive – and by this I mean a person who wishes to give up control of their body and mind occasionally - I am now free to see what more the big bad world has to offer. So bring it ;)

Self Domination

I often refer to myself as someone who ‘self-dominates’. I think that this is something that most driven, ambitious people must do to some extent, but am unsure as to exactly how such people go about this. I create imaginary characters that act as my dominant in various situations. These change over time, with some coming out more often than others at various stages in my life, but they have always been there. I have three primary inner dominants:

1. Nanny

My nanny was the first character that I created. I think that she has been with me since I was around 4 or 5 years old – around the same time that I started tying myself up. She is a strict Mary Poppins. She looks after my basic needs. She makes sure that I get to bed on time, that I stay in my bed and relax (of course, sometimes she ties me down), that I eat all of my dinner and that I take my medicines. She is also well versed in all medical maladies, to which she usually takes a ‘stop your complaining, you will be fine’ approach.  She believes that there is very little that cannot be cured with a brisk walk in the cold.  She is a very loving character, though she sets very rigid boundaries. Her primary form of punishment is disappointment, though she will occasionally withdraw treats too.

2. The Schoolmaster

The Schoolmaster is responsible for ensuring my continued success at work. He does not have a nice side – like my other inner dominants, he allows Nanny to issue rewards. He is a fan of micro-management and rigid structure, and often sets me tasks (such as ‘finish writing this paragraph’) with time windows as short as 10 minutes.  His favorite threats are to tie me to the desk until I finish, to withdraw internet access, and to make me work longer hours or give me a ‘detention’ if I do not do as well as I should. Sometimes, if he feels that harsher treatment is necessary, he refers me to The Sergeant for punishment.

3. The Sergeant 

The Sergeant takes care of my physical fitness, and is responsible for dishing out harsh punishments: The other characters tend to refer to him for severe offenses. He is a sadist, and loves to dish out a beasting. As he does so, he is constantly shouting encouragement in my ear and reminding me of the fact that he will make me repeat the exercise if I fail to complete it. Of course, this very rarely happens because he knows my limits and how to push them just the right amount. Once I have finished the exercise, he rarely offers any congratulations. He always expects me to finish, regardless of how much it hurts. If I am having a bad day, then he will refer me to Nanny.

There are a couple of other characters that come out every so often, including The Dietician, The Head Doctor and The Housemistress, however they are less well defined and their presence is more fleeting than the other characters. They all, however, help me to manage my life and I couldn’t be without them.

At some points during my life, the people with whom I have been in a relationship with have tried to take on some of the roles of these characters. However, the characters have always remained with me. I would like to integrate them with my submission, but, given how well my internal dominants know me, it is incredibly difficult to externalize them. Instead, the character takes on the voice of the person to whom I am submitting. Lilith, for example, makes a particularly good Schoolmaster and he often takes on her voice.

So, there we go. I have admitted it – I am a fully-grown adult with imaginary friends who regularly discipline me.  I hear voices in my head. But I don’t think there is any need to call the men in white coats just yet (well, there is, but that is for totally different reasons). It is just my way of talking myself through life. A way in which I am able to dominate myself. And a pretty successful one thus far I think.

How Do You Create Submission?

If you were directed here from my twitter feed, where I entitled this post ‘I am no longer a masochist’, I’m afraid I was lying. I am still a masochist, in that I still get these kinds of feelings from pain. However, my cravings for heavy pain/fear/other extreme play have all but disappeared.

They have been replaced by a very strong craving for a very specific feeling – that of submission. Okay, so I have been craving that feeling all along, but I think I have finally put my finger on exactly what I mean by that. I want to be able to lose myself through doing exactly what I am asked without thought. I want to be what some people call a ‘twue sub’. 

I can explain this far more clearly through example. When I first started exploring, I played regularly with a very competent dominant. There was one incident in which I made her a cup of tea with milk that had gone off. She looked at me and, with an incredibly intense tone of calm, she told me that if I expected her to drink it, it was only fair that I should drink it too. She instructed me to go to the kitchen and pour myself a half-pint sized glass of milk. I hate the taste of milk at the best of times, and sour milk is nauseating. But, without even thinking about it, I raised the glass to my lips. She stopped me just before the milk hit my tongue. I was in such a deeply submissive place that my dislike of milk was totally irrelevant. In another incident, I was playing with her and another of her submissive partners. I was desperate for a wee, and she told me that I had to hold it in until we had got dinner. She then sent the other girl and I to pick up a take-away. The girl was incredibly surprised when I didn’t go to the loo in the restaurant. I was really bursting, but the thought hadn’t occurred to me to do that. I had just accepted the instruction. I did not need to think about it, just to take it in and accept it.

As yet, I’m not sure what it is that gets me to that place, but I suspect that there are two key things. Firstly, a calm, gentle yet authoritative approach by the dominant. I don’t think that pain is the key. Of course, pain play can be part of the entire scene, but I am starting to believe that the use of pain and fear as a mechanism by which to make me feel submissive actually has the opposite effect and makes me angry. Secondly, a protocol based approach with incredibly clear instructions that leave very little open to interpretation. Such as ‘go and fetch a half pint glass of water and return to the position that you are currently in.’ Being left to work out what is expected of me when I am in that submissive state risks pulling me straight back out of it. There have been two occasions of late, with two separate people, when I have had a glimpse of the deeply submissive feeling, and both had these things in common.

So what stops the ‘rules’ being broken? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing aside from my desire to be good. To not break the magic. To be the submissive. Of course there still have to be enforced boundaries, such as those laid out in both the gone-off-milk incident and the protocol play I have previously written about. But I don’t want to push these boundaries. I want to embrace them. I no longer wish to resist. It does not lead to the happy place.

Kinky Wish List 2012

Last time I reviewed my kink desires was back in 2010. And now, having settled into a stable relationship, I am starting to think again about exactly what I want to try from this point forwards. It is interesting to note just how many of the things on my last list have now been 'ticked off', and how much more scope for exploration I still feel that there is in every single one of them. However, the further that I delve into the world of kink, the more opportunity that I find out there. So, here it is - my kinky wishlist for 2012 - built from the foundations of my previous list and the fun that followed its publication. There is, of course, a not-very-subtle tone of suggestion in this post – readers, please get in touch!

1.   A scene in which I can submit alongside Lilith, without her needing to take a dominant role. There are some very specific requirements for this scene. Most notably, I would like to feel that I can do nothing to prevent what is happening to her, whilst being kept masterfully occupied with my own torture/pleasure.

2.   To explore heavy protocol play further. To engage in play that I truly believe is not for my pleasure – I am a mere tool in a game.

3.   Roleplay. So far, this is something that I have only dabbled in. However, it featured very heavily in the fantasies of my youth and I would like to create some fairly in-depth play based around certain characters that have always formed the basis of my ability to self-dominate. Schoolgirl, prisoner, patient, child with a nanny, trainee soldier being beasted, kidnap victim… The list is many and varied. However, I would particularly like to explore the role of Tommy further.

4.   Being a big kid. I would like to explore simply being little. Making dens, building fires, playing games, dressing up. I would like to be able to feel a little less inhibited sometimes.

5.   To incorporate a little more discipline into my play. I enjoy being disciplined – I enjoy the feelings of safety that boundaries give me. However, I first need to find a set of punishments that work! I suspect that this is intrinsically linked to my mindset during play though, and may be linked to #2.

6.   To be a party piece.

7.   To indulge in much more wet and messy play. I have discovered that I have a BIG fetish for this, in all of its most disgusting forms. I would particularly like to explore this in humiliating contexts.

8.   To find out how to cry through humiliation. I desperately crave humiliation, but have very little shame. This is slightly problematic, but I remain faithful that there must be something that will work. I just need to explore some more.

9.   To indulge in more medical play. I do not do anywhere near enough of it.

10. To play outside more often. I am not sure why, but outdoor play is always more intense and reaches a deeper place within me.

11. To get tied up more often. I miss the feeling of rope wrapped tightly around my flesh.

12. To further explore the idea of being a submissive with a cock.

13. To explore all of the small, subtle things that turn me on and the variety of ways in which they can be used. A hand on my throat, a gentle stroke of a hand between my legs whilst wearing lacey knickers, a fist in my hair…

14. To make love to Lilith more often. To explore my deep, carnal urge to be inside of her. To belong totally to her, as her equal as well as her submissive.

 

I think that most of this list can be summarised by one simple desire: I wish to find new ways of letting go and losing myself in play. Ways of convincing my brain to just accept what is happening, without putting up any defensive barriers. To return to my extremely deeply submissive roots. 

Any takers?

The Mysterious Disappearance of The Brat

Approximately this time last year, I was writing a lot about my quest for submission. I wanted to be able to submit naturally to someone, without feeling that I had to be a brat. Much of this desire was based upon a play relationship that I had during my first explorations in kink back in 2009. This relationship was based largely upon protocol and rules. I have never quite been able to work out why this worked so well back then. Why was I so compliant? Why did I have to little desire to push the boundaries in the excessive way that I do now? I was, as many like to call it, the 'uber-sub'. I was well trained, obedient and proud to be that way.

Of late, I have been thinking a lot about those first few months. About how such a simple set of well enforced rules made me feel so submissive. About just how deep a place that form of submission touched. And I have been wanting to go back to my roots and try it again. The problem is, it is very difficult to find someone who is capable of consistently dishing out the regimented, strict routine that I was so lucky to find in those first months.

It was with some trepidation, therefore, that I sent an email to someone with whom I have been playing agreeing to do some protocol based play. However, when I received a reply asking me to bring some high heeled shoes suitable for wearing naked, my curiosity and anticipation won me over.

So, there I was, sat on a busy tube train, attempting as best as I could to follow instructions by masturbating unnoticed, my brain creating all sorts of ideas about what may happen when I stepped through the door to his house. What did happen was all very civilised – a glass of wine and cuddles. After 15 minutes or so, he looked at me and asked me to strip as he watched. Usually, I don’t feel uncomfortable doing this, but I did feel very slightly coy since it was so sudden and so out of context. One minute I was sitting drinking wine, the next I was naked (save for my high heels) and kneeling at his feet.

I remained in this position as he – extremely calmly but with an unquestionable air of authority – explained that he was going to teach me to submit. That everything that I did was going to be for no other reason than because He asked it. And that my enjoyment was going to be found simply through letting go, forgetting about myself and focussing solely on him. I was entitled to expressing only pain, want/desire and pleasure. All of my other thoughts and emotions were to be inconsequential. In order to help me feel this, he placed a play collar around my neck and instructed me that, whilst I was wearing it, I was to keep my eyes downcast at all times. A sudden twist of my nipples acted to demonstrate how I would be reminded of that rule should I forget.

To make his point absolutely clear, he quickly led me upstairs and strapped me over a bench. I was pleasantly taken aback by how well he had restrained me – and how helpless I therefore was to his ministrations. He didn’t go gently on me, but he did masterfully give me moments to catch my breath thus allowing me to take some quite intense pain without feeling too much pleasure from it. This was a demonstration of punishment and the power contained within it, and it very definitely worked. I didn’t have any space left in my overwhelmed brain to contemplate disobedience.

Back downstairs, he ran me through some basic positions: 3 on my knees, 3 standing, 2 squatting (including the ‘slaves kiss’, which turned out to be rather painful) and 3 lying down. Then a further three forms of movement. I was expected to commit them all, along with their names, to memory in a very short space of time. If I got something wrong, even the tiniest detail, then there would be a sudden burst of pain. One of the forms of movement proved particularly difficult for me – mainly because it made me feel ridiculous – and he therefore took great joy in making me repeat it over and over until I got it perfect.

When he was satisfied that I knew all of the positions, he said that I deserved a break. He instructed me to go and get a bottle of wine and a glass jug out of the fridge. Suddenly, I realised that this was the real test. A test of just how deeply I had fallen into the submissive mindframe. I poured him a glass of wine first, before pouring some of the contents of the jug of piss into my glass. Then he stopped me – his glass was fuller than mine. So I topped mine up. And I drank it. The whole thing. I have to admit that this may have been due to the promise that the nipple clamps would be removed once we had finished drinking, but he kept filling me up again until he had finished his wine. I think I ended up drinking three full glasses. But not once did the thought of disobeying cross my mind. I had really embraced the fact that I was doing it for him – it was not my place to think, just to do. And I really did get huge satisfaction from ‘just doing’ – I didn’t need to worry about his reactions, I could let go of my inhibitions.

I was thoroughly rewarded for my good work with a very hard beating and fucking (I have discovered that combining the two is a recipe for instant subspace). But, if I am honest, I didn’t really need the reward. I haven’t felt that submissive feeling for a very long time, and it was incredibly intense, satisfying and special. I think that it is time for me to let go of my brat and just let things happen. Just accept. Let myself get to that happy, uninhibited space without fear. With the right kind of constant, consistent mental stimulation (I think that that is the key), it can happen.

Tommy (And His Manhood)

What with it being a New Year, I have been putting a lot of thought recently into how my kinks have evolved over time, and what kinds of sticky scenarios I hope to find myself in over the next few months. I am sure that I will post the customary list in due course, but for now I want to focus on one very specific one - formerly referred to as 'little one'.

I have decided that my 'little one' is a boy. At least, that is what he wants everyone to think. He behaves like a boy, dresses like a boy, and refers to himself as 'him', but is missing one important part of his anatomy. He is only eight, so he doesn't really find that this bothers him too much. He is called Tommy (bonus points to anyone who can work out why). I have been craving intense humiliation as part of my play for a long time now, and I think that, through roleplay as Tommy, I may finally be able to find it. At this point I think that, as a disclaimer, I should highlight that I am talking about roleplay between consenting adults.

As Tommy, I could use forced feminisation as a form of humiliation. Tommy HATES dresses, especially pink frilly ones, and being made to dress as a girl would mortify him. Particularly the fact that his body would reveal that he is secretly enjoying it. And, of course, someone else discovering how much his body is enjoying it would be even more mortifying because he doesn’t have the anatomy that one would expect of a boy. Tommy would therefore never tell anyone anything about what may happen, and there are all sorts of naughty possibilities…

Recently, Lilith and I created a scene in which my inner little girl discovered her male tendencies. Rather than taking the parental role, Lilith became my older brother who I walked in on whilst he was trying on female underwear. We made it into a very innocent game of dress-up. I helped my brother to become a girl, and he helped me to become a boy. I found this process of transformation hugely exciting.

The thing that surprised me most was my reaction when the time came to give me a cock. We used a realistic looking strap-on, which I wore underneath my shorts. This, plus the way in which my boobs were strapped to my chest, made me fall very deeply into the role of Tommy.

The scene then progressed into something more sexual, and I consequently withdrew from being a young Tommy and reverted to being my submissive self. However, I still really enjoyed the feeling of the strap-on. People often associate strap-ons with dominance, however I found that, whilst playing with Lilith, the opposite was true. I was using it to give her pleasure, whilst at the same time engaging in my gender-bending fantasies. For a long time, I have felt an urge to truly ‘make love’ to her – to be inside her – and this may be the way forward.

Of course, nothing works perfectly the first time, and we did struggle slightly with the power dynamics within the scene. Grown up Tommy would very much like to explore the sexual side of the play more. In fact, I’m not even sure that that is Tommy – I think that may need resolving. Regardless, I would like to be a submissive with a cock sometimes.

However, the most pertinent conclusion that I came to following that scene was that I would like to enter far more deeply into the role of Tommy as a little boy. A boisterous little boy who can go and make dens and dig holes and collect frogspawn and stick insects – who can fully immerse himself into innocent childhood and forget about the adult world before coming home to his Mummy for cuddles and love. But also a little boy with a pretend cock who is horribly abused by his very own ‘wicked Uncle Ernie’ for being such.

Here’s to a gender confused 2012!

Fantasy: Tie and Tease

I am naked. Gently, she takes me in her arms. She holds me close, exploring my body. She starts with my hair, gently stroking it, Then my face, holding my cheeks and looking directly into my eyes, telling me that I am beautiful. Then her hands work slowly over my body, stroking, teasing, leaving me with goosebumps everywhere she touches. She intentionally stays well away from those parts of my anatomy that I am most desperate for her to touch.

Her hands move back up to my face again, and she lowers a blindfold over my eyes. Gently, her hands work their way down to my arms, and she slowly takes my wrists and ties them behind my back. She takes me by the hand and leads me into the unknown. I can feel that we have entered another room. It is colder, and the floor is not carpeted like the last. Suddenly, she pushes me backwards and I hit what feels like a soft, warm, cosy hammock. She maintains body contact, stroking my skin with one hand whilst she deftly moves around me, restraining all of my limbs until I am suspended and unable to move. My legs are wide open, and my head is held in place by my hair, which is tied into the swing. My hands are held high above my head, comfortable but out of the way. My head is fixed in such a way that I cannot hold avoid her glare as she removes the blindfold and looks me in the eyes: 'You know, you really are beautiful. I adore you. I want to give you something. Hold still'. She smirks. Of course I am going to hold still, what other choice do I have?

She carefully places the blindfold back over my eyes again. Then earplugs, and a ring gag. Leather mitts over my hands. A large vibrating dildo in my pussy. A smaller one in my arse. She briefly lifts the blindfold up. Her eyes have a mischievous twinkle, and she holds the poppers up to my face. I lip read as she waves and says 'goodnight, baby', before replacing the blindfold and encasing my whole head in a gas mask.

Shit. I have no idea where she is. My mind is clouded by waves of pleasure from what seems like constantly changing vibrations inside me. I suspect that there is something being fed through the gas mask, which is also making me light headed. I cannot focus on anything except for the overwhelming want for sexual contact of some kind. Desperate, desperate want. And there is nothing that I can do about it. I have no concept of time passing, but it feels like forever. I just want to be touched. I want to cry and shout because I am so desperate, but the occasional cloudy headedness is preventing even that.

Suddenly, my bonds are released. My legs are still held wide open, and my arms are still held up, but my body has hit a stone cold floor. A blow hits my side – it feels like it is from a boot. Then another. And another. Then out comes the flogger. It rains down on my flesh, focussing between my legs. It hurts. It really hurts. The continual buzzing inside me and the light-headedness make it difficult to fight back. I can't hear or see anything. I can't speak. I can't scream.

Out of nowhere, my mask is ripped off. My earplugs are torn off. A plastic cock is strapped in place through the ring gag. 'You stupid girl. You are so easy. Are you turned on?'

I can't speak through the gag. Even if I could, I am not sure that I could formulate words.

A slap across the face nearly brings me to tears. 'Are you turned on?'

I grunt in response. It is the best that I can do. Three slaps across the face.

'Look at you. Your legs are wide open. I can see everything. The wetness is everywhere. You are open to abuse. There you are, lying back like a queen, expecting to be pleasured.' She smears fluid across my face. Then, just to make the point, she spits on me. Then she hits me once, VERY hard, with the flogger, between my open legs.

'How desperate are you?'

I still can't answer. Another thwack with the flogger.

'I asked you a question. How desperate are you?'

I do my best to beg. It comes out as a whimper.

'I will take that lack of an answer to mean that you aren't. That you are such a slut that you spend your entire life this wet, just waiting to serve cock. That your shaking and back arching are not symptomatic in the slightest of you being desperate for me to hold this (she holds up the magic wand) against your clit and give you the most powerful orgasm of your life. No? Nothing to say at all?'

I let out a desperate wimper.

'I see. Well, seeing as you are incapable of giving me any clue as to what you might want, I guess I will just have to do what I want. What do you think I want?'

Now I am really scared.

'Hmmm. Let me think.' She starts pacing around the room, casting her eyes over various implements. She picks up a big kitchen knife, and looks it over. Then a scalpel. Then the crop. Eventually, she makes her decision. She picks up two sets of clover clamps, and attached one to each nipple and one to each of my labia. She pulls a latex glove over both of her hands. Then she starts to lube them up.

'There you are, lying back all comfortable, expecting me to pleasure you. Fine then, I will.' She balls her hands into fists. 'These are going in you. Both of them. At once.

She puts the mask back on. Suddenly, the cock in my mouth increases in size. I hadn't realised that it was inflatable. Now I am practically gagging on it, and I can't breathe through my mouth at all. She covers my face with a shirt – the unmistakable smell of poppers. 'That's right. You lie there, all incapacitated. Nothing you can do. No whimpering, no screaming. And if you have an orgasm from this, then that flogger will bite into your clit so hard that you won't be able to move for a week. This is not for you. I want to see you suffer.'

Starting with my pussy, she works her hand inside me. It feels amazing. My head is still all floaty, and I can't quite get enough air to be able to cope with the sensations. I begin to sob. She is relentless, pulling out only to allow her other hand into my arse. She keeps going. And going. And going. It hurts. It really hurts. I want to cum, but I know that I can't. Not without that stimulation on my clit. Or without her permission. I am in floods of tears.

Eventually, she has had enough. Unceremoniously, she unties me and leaves me in a heap on the floor. She throws the magic wand and he dildos at me. She grabs the chain between my nipples (OUCH) and pulls me up so that my face is close to hers. 'You do not stop wanking until I get back. I hope it hurts. The clamps stay on. I don't expect to hear anything from you. I don't really want to see your face right now.' She spits in my face, puts the earplugs and blindfold back on, and leaves me on the cold stone floor, legs still bound apart like a whore, unloved, silently, painfully masturbating in my pool of blood, sweat and tears.

The Vanilla Dominatrix

I originally intended to post this as a response to the comment of ourchangingviews on my last blog, but I feel that it is much better as an entry in its own right.

Her comment was as follows:

'I'm interested that you say you don't want a 24/7 relationship and yet you feel owned all the time. To me that is what 24/7 is: submission that may be called upon at any moment, although the level and protocol is dependent on the relationship.'

This is an interesting concept, because it is one which I think blurs the lines between a vanilla relationship and a d/s one. I can explain this through example.

Of late, I have been working very hard. Harder than I probably should. I was due to go away to work this weekend, and have been getting myself very stressed about it. By the end of last week, I was so stressed that I suddenly burst into tears on one occasion. When Lilith sat me down and asked me what was going on, it became clear to her that my working patterns were becoming too much for me. She suggested that I take the weekend off, but I was incredibly reluctant too because I felt that the work was important and needed doing. I consulted a friend, and she annoyingly agreed with Lilith. I was still reluctant, so Lilith put on her dominant shoes and told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to go this weekend, and that she would help me to talk to the people concerned so that I could get out of it. She has never done anything like this before, and we have spoken about the level of control that it is appropriate for her to have over 'my' life as a separate thing to 'our' life. However, in this instance, she was acting for the sake of my health. I suspect that any vanilla partner would have done the same if they were watching their loved one slowly self destruct, and I am extremely grateful to her for doing it. Was this act of domination made easier because of the dynamics of our relationship? I suspect so. Do I see it as an act of domination in the context of this blog? No, I don't think I do.

Equality and Submission

My last post was all about the way in which I am struggling to fulfill some of my sexual needs. This post is somewhat contradictory, since it surrounds the small gestures that ensure that my submissive needs are met on a day to day basis. Regardless of whatever else is going on, it is important to me that I feel submissive and owned. 

It is important to clarify at this point exactly what I mean when I say that I wish to feel 'submissive and owned.' Unlike some, I do not want a 24/7 power exchange dynamic. I love those intimate moments where I am able to let Lilith curl up and be a little girl in my lap just as much as I love being cared for and looked after. I often secretly refer to her as 'mine', since, as much as I feel that I want her to share in and contribute to my life, I would like to share hers too. I even go so far as putting a necklace around her neck to symbolise this. This equality, however, does not preclude my belonging to her in a d/s context at all times. She is naturally the dominant one, and it is therefore she who makes the rules. Its difficult to describe how this works, since it happens naturally - we don't have a rigid set of protocols (more on rules and protocols coming soon). However, we both know that I am hers.

In the absence of strict protocol, there are some subtle gestures that we use to reinforce the sense of ownership and belonging. Perhaps the most outwardly obvious is my collar - I have recently obtained a beautiful steel necklace which locks around my neck, and which I wear nearly all of the time. It is the smaller gestures, however, that have the greatest impact. A stare directed straight through me, to which my response is to lower my eyes. A tiny tug on, or stroke of, my collar. The phrase 'good girl', or 'I'm proud'. The unwritten expectation of a morning cup of tea. The statement 'well, be better' when I have done something wrong. With the exception of the collar, none of these things are particularly premeditated, but, small as they are, these gestures maintain my submissiveness through the driest of any dry spell.

The Dry Patch

Everyone has them. I am sure. Regardless of how much kinky shit a person gets up to, I am sure that everyone goes through patches where they just can't get it right. And I am also pretty sure that it is not through lack of trying - in my case it is definitely not. Which makes it all the more frustrating.

I feel like I am not getting satisfaction out of play at the moment. I am getting play, but it just isn't right. Things just aren't as mind-blowing as I know they can be. Its not that the play isn't as intense, or that I'm not trying new things, I just don't seem to be able to get myself into the right mindset to be able to relax into the experiences. Perhaps it is because I am suddenly feeling settled and secure and therefore don't feel the need to 'push the boat out', so to speak, in terms of making the effort. This is certainly true of my social life (which I also feel some regret about neglecting). This explains the large blank spot in my blog - I am seriously lacking material!

So what is the solution? I'm not sure. When this has happened in the past, I have just ridden the storm. But this has been going on for months now, and it is getting ridiculous. I am getting incredibly frustrated, and I end up getting angry with myself. Any ideas people?

The Strength of the Submissive

On the BDSM scene, it is not uncommon to hear submissives referred to as having incredible strength for their ability to trust their dominant and allow them to take charge of what is essentially, in some cases, their life. However, it seems that, when it comes to ‘vanilla’ life, being submissive is seen as a weak personality trait. Many people strive to be the alpha, to be in direct control of any situation that may get thrown their way. Even within the scene, most submissives that I have come across pride themselves on their dominant personalities within everyday life.

I do not agree with this. I strongly believe that it takes even more strength to be submissive in a vanilla context than within the more clear-cut roles of BDSM play/relationships. To be able to take on the ideas of others, to realise that they may have equal or greater potential than your own, to embrace them and to take the hits when they are wrong, all whilst maintaining your own integrity and self belief, takes a great deal of inner strength. To do this in the face of someone with whom you have a strong emotional connection can sometimes require even more resilience.

To explain this more fully, I have a couple of examples. The first comes from my Mum, who, in my eyes, is one of the strongest people I have come across. I am very lucky to have parents who, after 30 years of marriage, are still head over heels for each other. However, I think that I can attribute a lot of this to Mum’s approach. As a blind artist with a limited ability to read the emotions of others, Dad can be extremely demanding. There have been many occasions when I have watched Mum go to help him do something really simple, like cook dinner or help with his medication, and he has ended up angry and frustrated because something wasn’t done quite right. Rather than confront him while he is angry, making him stubborn and compounding the situation, Mum puts down whatever she is doing (she usually has a VERY long list), and simply tries again to get it right. Then, when he has calmed down, she talks to him about what has happened and conveys her feelings. I know that it is incredibly difficult for her to do this at times, and I am not saying that it is a technique that always succeeds, but I admire her hugely for being able to put his needs first in such a way.

The second example is more personal. Of late, I have been living in a household with two people who are essentially both trying to be ‘alpha’ (this may be a bone of contention to both of them when they read it, partly because the truth in this statement is debatable at times). I get on extremely well with them both, but often find myself caught in the middle of the struggle to be on top. I am trying to let them both work it out between themselves, sitting back and listening both to their arguments and the times when they are really getting on well, trying to give them the space that they need to work it out. I know that my role will fall into a slot that will be defined by how their relationship works out, and I need to let them work that out for themselves. In a sense, my fate is in their hands. I often have a strong urge to protect one or other of them from arguments that I can see coming a mile off, but I know that to do so would be damaging to them, which would, in turn, be damaging to my relationships with them both. It is not that I don’t air my feelings and opinions, but, like my Mum, I wait. Sometimes the wait is long, but I feel that it is worth it. Inside, I know that I have taken care of myself and ensured that my needs are met eventually, and that I don’t have to feel that I have in some way backed down. Equally, I have done my best to ensure that their needs have also been met.

It is all very well and good feeling strong inside. But I am increasingly getting the impression that people on the outside view me as weak willed, and this is making me start to question myself. Is it okay to be viewed as weak when you feel strong inside? Would accepting their opinion make me weak merely by removing my inner unquestioning strength? How far is too far when it comes to putting myself in the firing line, albeit temporarily? Does submission really equal strength, or is it just an excuse?

Fundamentally, I believe that since I am making a conscious decision to take this submissive approach, I am not weak willed. It is when I feel forced into taking such a stance (which has happened to me in the past) that submission becomes a weakness. Like many things, this is basically an extension of my kinky life – it is easy to sit back and let someone beat the shit out of you, but to choose to hand over that power to them to do whatever they will takes a huge amount of courage, self worth, personal integrity. Herein lies the strength of the submissive.

More on Being Little

More and more, I am finding that I want to regress into my newly discovered childish state. However, this is becoming less and less linked to sex/BDSM play. Instead, I find that I slip into this state when relaxed - it is a way of enabling me not to have to think or worry about any of the boring grown up stuff. A slightly unconventional form of stress relief, but one that I am keen to explore further.

A few weeks ago, I had a friend 'over to play'. That is exactly what we did. We simply let our inner children out. We coloured in, Mummy cooked us chicken nuggets and alphabetti spagetti and helped us to make chocolate brownies, and we make a den. Then we both curled up in Mummy's arms with our dummies and watched a film. The next day, I felt relaxed, recharged and ready for anything. 

Having allowed myself to do this once, I now feel able to let myself slip into little girl mode more often. In the past, I have felt guilty about landing all of the responsible stuff onto others and have stopped myself from regressing. However, I am now learning that, when the time is right, I don't need to feel guilty about it. I also am starting to worry less about having a responsible figure around. I am realising that it is okay to curl up on Lilith's lap and suck my thumb when she just wants to relax and watch TV. I don't need Mummy around to be little. In fact, recently, she and I were curled up by the fire on a blanket. As I regressed, I started sucking my thumb and realised that, in that moment, I would really like her join me in her little state. I have to admit, this confused me slightly as I definitely do not want to surrender my place as her little girl. But maybe, just maybe, we can work out how to do both?

Using roleplay in this manner (i.e. not in a sexual capacity) is something that never really occurred to me before. Indeed, I have come across very few people on the kink scene who openly broadcast that they do this kind of thing. But I hope that it can, and will, play a very valuable part of my everyday life from now on. There are not many people who are lucky enough to have found a way of excluding all thoughts of responsibility from their mind completely for an hour or two. 

There is a secondary motive behind all of this. One that negates all that I have said above. If I can learn to slip into a genuinely innocent childlike state, it will make the virgin sacrifice scene all the more fun ;)

***AN ADDITION***

Now that I think about it, I am not sure that I am a little girl. I was either a little boy or very tomboyish. Cue forthcoming post on genderbending ageplay...

West Of The Moon, East Of The Sun

The road goes ever on and on,

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the road has gone

And I must follow if I can...

Pursuing it with eager feet until it joins some larger way,

And whither then? I cannot say.

Still 'round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate;

And though I oft' have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the moon, east of the sun.

J.R Tolkein.

It is now. A new feeling of security allows a new start. I am far more than I am allowing myself to be. Time to explore...

Ultraviolence

'Ultraviolence' is a term that seems to be banded about with increasing frequency within the scene. I have heard people say that it is becoming the 'fashionable' way to play - and not always without distain. More often than not, when ultraviolence is mentioned, my name is soon to follow. I do enjoy pain, and I love the fear and adrenaline that is associated with a vicious, bare-knuckled beating. Lilith plays on this, often appearing slightly maniacal. Very Clockwork Orange.  I have never referred to the way I play as ultraviolence myself. I feel that this description is a little narrow, and creates the impression of a one way interaction wherein the victim is helpless and weak, unable to contribute to the way in which the scene plays out. However, that is an aside. What is important here is that when people see Lilith and I play, quiet at one moment and teeth, fists, sticks, tears and blood flying at the next, it would not be unreasonable for them to compare it to 'the old UV'.

Following a recent event at which Lilith and I played, an observer (not formerly known to us) posted a blog on our play. They raised some interesting questions around our style of play, including: How did I, as the submissive, know that I wasn't being abused? How could she, as an observer, know whether it was OK and whether I was enjoying it or not? Is UV appropriate within a public play space?  The blog became quite widely read, and both Lilith and I posted our own responses to it. Rarely for such forums, it turned into a well balanced, informative debate. The organisers of the event therefore decided to invite Lilith and I to talk at a public forum on the topic of ultraviolence and public play, and to answer for ourselves some of the questions that were raised in the forum. 

The first thing that became obvious to me (and that I have suspected for a while) is that, as a 'hardcore masochist', I am a surprisingly rare breed. I have described the feelings that I get from pain before; the way it spreads across my entire body, rendering me incapable of thinking about anything else, hitting in waves that can sometimes be akin to orgasm. As I explained this, there were a few people nodding along and understanding. But there were far more who seemed not to understand how I could compare pain and pleasure this directly. In fact, it seemed that the level of pain that I had taken was one of the more controversial aspects of the play that was in question. This surprised me. 

The exhibitionism side of the play seemed much more widely understood by the crowd. Again, this surprised me. Until that point, I thought that I had encountered far more masochists than exhibitionists. The idea that the maniacal grin could excite me and add to the scene, although clearly not some peoples' 'thing', was accepted without much question.

The topic of abuse got people talking, particularly the question 'how do we, as a collective, define abuse?' It seemed that, having heard Lilith and I speak, people were ready to accept (and even to defend) the fact that, however abusive our play looks, it is actually a very precious part of a loving relationship. We also both pointed out that we both have experience of abusive relationships which, from the outside, probably looked very loving and caring. As an outsider, it is incredibly difficult to tell how a relationship works just by watching play. So what should one do if one suspects that the play that they are witnessing is abusive? The general consensus was that one should leave the players alone but talk to the DMs, who can then make a judgement based upon how well they know the players concerned. On one hand, I agree. I would be incredibly annoyed if someone tried to interrupt my play without good cause and without getting their facts straight first. I also feel that people should be trusted to look out for themselves - everyone has a brain that they are perfectly capable of using. On the other side, I know how easy it is to be manipulated. I wish that someone could have told me just how abusive my ex was when I was with him. 

One of the best things about the debate was the support that I felt we had from a wide range of people, regardless of whether or not they felt that 'our kink was their kink' or not. In general, people felt that, if they were to see us playing again, they would feel at ease that we were able to play in a public space, with all of the extra safety nets that that affords should something go wrong. Many said that they would probably leave the room, but others said that they couldn't wait to watch us play later in the evening. Which we did, with great gusto :)

A job well done by the kink community methinks.