Saturday, 31 May 2008
An IM conversation with The Photographer last night which started off by talking about empathy, then reactions to dolls and the Turing test. I am convinced that there is kink potential in the idea of two subjects, one a machine, the other a human and trying to discover which was which. I was intrigued by his perspective and attitude towards this so we started a narrative whereby he had to describe his reactions to a doll he'd found. We got to a stage where he was talking about what it meant to him and how the existance of such an uncertain item affected his sense of identity. To work through this we started a question and answer session in which I tried to tease out how he felt. This turned out to be a bit of a problematic turn of phrase as he was viewing as a more intellectual endeavour - he was trying to understand what it meant, how it worked and what it was for.
The turning point in the conversation came when he was deciding what to do with it, and the decision came down to either interact with it or imitate it and he chose to imitate. As he did so and as we continued, the doll altered from being female, through to androgynous and then male. And then his copy. Identical copy. Except one is a machine and the other a man. At which point the test proper began as I was introduced into the equation, in the position of the top, in order to conduct the experiment.
We went through the pair of them fucking each other to see how the responses differed and then discovered that as both of them were dolls, admittedly with one trying to be doll, that the better plan would be for them both to please me instead. It was fun, exciting and pretty hot, but also a little odd. There was a moment where I thought I shouldn't be doing this and another where I had to work out a way to avoid injecting any pain into the proceedings because I had no idea how to realistically write about that from the "wrong" side. We had a chat about it afterwards, and it seemed to have been stimulating for both parties - "odd but good, good in an odd way"
I'd be happy to have that on my gravestone.
Friday, 30 May 2008
Thursday, 29 May 2008
There's a real physical response to this anticipation. I have an almost constant fluttering sensation in my solar plexus, bubbles of anxiety and excitement rolled into one. I haven't felt this way for a while: at the same time both focused and all over the place. Shock of the new. People keep commenting on how well I'm looking recently, which I have to smile about and bluff a little when they ask why.
I like keeping secrets, it makes the game more fun. But like standing on the edge of a high platform and resisting the urge to throw yourself off, I have to press down the desire to just tell everyone: "I'm going crazy with the anticipation of being tied up, hurt and fucked."
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Let's assume that two people agree to participate in a torture scenario. They know each other well but are not close and have discussed up-front what is acceptable. In all aspects, the game is sane, safe and consensual. The subject is genuinely hurt during the scene, although not beyond the bounds of what was agreed, and the perpetrator is the source and creator of this pain. The violence is as real as the consent. Afterwards, their relationship is altered as a direct result of this shared experience and it is not unreasonable (assuming everything went well) that they both develop an emotional connection of some sort to each other, even if it's just a secret smile when thinking about the other person in that scene.
Stockholm syndrome is sometimes explained as a defensive method for the traumatised self. The weaker personality will strive to be closer to and identify with the stronger one in order to create bonds of intimacy for protection. In the case of the submissive I would argue that whilst the closeness and intimacy does exist, it does not stem from a desire to identify with the Dominant. Rather, the submissive attempts to be complementary to the Dominant through their difference: they do not seek to be like them, but to respond to them in an attractive and desirable fashion. The tighter the bonds, the stronger you are being held.
Given that at all times, no matter how real it feels, the torture is always known to be consensual it can be argued that both parties are complicit in the violence. Certainly outside of the scene, at the point of negotiation, they are both perpetrators and the subject is entirely conceptual and does not exist. Once the scene is over, they both return to being of equal status. The subject is only present, physically and mentally, within the scene, and whilst in that moment they are still as much perpetrator as subject because at all times they could safeword and stop the scene. Because the subject is always absent at any point when the violence is not taking place, and only ever present when it is they are tied intricately to the act of violence and when it stops, so do they. The subject, as a singular and pure thing in and of itself, does not exist. There will always be an element of perpetrator.
In this way, the submissive is never able to form an Stockholm-like identification with the Dominant. Outside of the scene, they are not in the position of the subject, and even when within it, they still have control. In many respects the identification process cannot occur because it already exists: the negotiation and mutual agreement of the content of the scene has forged this beforehand.
The emotional bond that was noted in the example, is perhaps more a result of the impact of the physical activity on both parties, rather than any type of pychological identification born of that physicality. The rush of adrenaline, pain and pleasure are reasons enough to create an attachment. The bond will form on both sides with no real mental damage occuring. Whilst BDSM may ape Stockholm syndrome it thankfully does not truly recreate it.
There is a great comfort and reassurance to be had in the honest discussion of practicalities, and very specific practicalities in particular from protection through likely behaviour whilst in scene to rules on going to the bathroom. The latter resulted in me becoming embarrassed and insisting that whilst some things were all very well, I wasn't French, which may mean I will be the only woman in the world to safeword when not allowed to close the bathroom door. I maintain that this is no more weird than wanting to be tied up and beaten.
Another thing that was good to talk through was what we both wanted to get out of the weekend, hoped for outcomes and how we think we can get there.
Tuesday, 27 May 2008
I'm also finding that a little light IM or chatroom conversations can be pretty stimulating. I have a tendency to ignore most messages that come from people I don't know, but I did get intrigued when a male submissive dropped me a note. We shared slavery fantasies for a while, and although not everything he said was precisely to my taste, there was a lot of common ground that we had fun in. Anonymous, hot and possibly the safest sex in the world: cybersex does have a lot going for it.
It would be foolish in the extreme to expect all interactions to go so well. And they haven't. Nothing too traumatic has occured merely that which is best described as incompatabilities which I've had to steer around in order to avoid upsetting anyone's feelings. I'm doing a good line in polite "no thank-you's" The majority of these have been from either guys much older than my desired range wanting to do things I'm not interested in - age play, for example, or men whose spelling is so poor I'm not really sure what they want except a good dictionary. From this we learn that I might be coming across as both elitist and ageist, but you desire what you desire. A cunning linguist is always a turn-on. Anyway, in these cases a gently worded pushback was all that was needed.
There have been a few more difficult ones though including very nice note from Married Bloke who has a vanilla wife allegedlty happy for him to explore his kinky side. I balked at this not because of anything he wanted or said, or his photo which was nice, but because he's married. I appreciate that this must be difficult for him, yet there is no way that I am helping someone commit adultery. I'm not sure precisely how I'm mentally squaring this with my hopeful intention to go off and play with the Lovely Couple who are probably also married. I think it's because they are doing it together, and are very upfront about the fact that they are a couple who play. Then again, they haven't said they are married, so I also can't be sure. One to think about.
In a final, shaking my head with wonderment moment, I had an email from someone who complemented me on my IC profile and when I clicked on his found he had cut and pasted sections of it and used for his own. There are a lot of things I am prepared to submit to, plagiarism isn't one of them.
Monday, 26 May 2008
Narcissism is a personality disorder of self-obsession. It is characterised by supreme confidence often deriving from a belief that the sufferer has a flaw or flaws that they must disguise using a powerful front which they use to manipulate others. These feelings of strength and wretchedness form part of the psychological aspect of submission. I'm not suggesting for an instant that to be a submissive is to be a clinical narcissist, but the theory offers an interesting angle from which to view the conflicting ways in which the self-confident skin is constructed.
The submissive who looks to external sources for validation seeks satisfaction and identity in others. To have no self, to have no personality, to be punished, to be erased - these all signify that which the submissive already believes, that they have no inherent value beyond that which another gives to them. They are keenly aware of the narcissistic flaw, and cover it with the act of submission, behaving in a way that they believe fits what they are, and there is a pleasure in being proven right. There is also a pleasure in being told what to do, to no longer have to make any decisions or value judgements and to exist without thinking, which removes them from the problem of having no self-worth because they no longer have to rely on themselves. Their skin is given to them, and it changes depending on who is doing the giving, as a result they can end up with many skins, some of which might be conflicting.
A lot of these concepts are also at play within the self-confident submissive, however the root cause of the pleasure is different. Here, there is a keen awareness of the worth of what is given up, and also a thrill in letting go of oneself which is only possible if you concede that self has any value. The confident submissive is, in reality, more submissive than their counterpart. Whereas one needs to take their identity from someone else through the act of submission, the other actually submits their will to that of another. In simple terms: you can't give up what isn't there. In this case, the self-confident skin is already present, but in giving it over both physically and mentally, the submissive feels tested and challenged (and possibly changed) but eventually returned to themselves. This act of returning is represented by the end of a scene, where the control is handed back to the submissive and they then take charge of their skin once more. For the confident submissive this is a return to the norm, and they rest high on both the pleasure they have had and the pleasure in being themselves once more. For the other this is also a return to the norm but there is extreme regret in being "back to normal" and again lacking in self-worth.
Giving up the skin is a powerplay in a very obvious sense, regardless of which attitude is expressed and in reality, there should always be a balance of both ways of thinking. To be totally reliant on one's own judgement without taking into account any outside influence is as dangerous as to allow yourself to flux according to the opinions of others without any central point of judgement. The self-confident skin is something, like many aspects of identity, that is created, it does not spring into existence like pegasus from the blood of medusa: it is crafted like folded steel and can be the work of many hands.
Sunday, 25 May 2008
The Photographer switches. Whilst chatting on IM, we found out that we both shared fantasies of being one of a set or group of slaves directed by a Dom. This seemed too good an opportunity to pass up on, and within a few minutes the wonders of the internet had provided us with some likely candidates. A particularly Lovely Couple, who are both Dom(me)s seemed most appropriate in terms of fit with what we like and what they like (good overlay on the rope bondage, objectification and service front). We were certainly taken with the idea of dinner in bondage, and also being turned into beautiful pieces of modern art. Drinks are going to be arranged, soon, with any luck.
It's particularly interesting for me because this might help me explore my feelings about other women. I identify as straight, and, a few teenage and/or drunken kisses and gropes aside I've never sought, desired or fantasised about sexual satisfaction with a woman. I wonder whether this mean that I won't enjoy or be able to submit to a woman: certainly I’m not scared by women or excited by them. Another key thing for me is strength and power, neither things I can imagine a woman being able to impose on me. Finally, penetration is important to me, skin-to-skin contact. Being blunt, I want to be fucked by a bloke.
Of course, none of these problems are insurmountable, especially with another (male) slave in the picture. I’ve discussed these thoughts briefly with The Photographer who thinks this might be a good avenue to work on these. I agree.
The initially promising Young Scientist seems to be, sadly, a bit of a berk, intent on proving through snarky comments The Immense Power Of His Sexual And Intellectual Dominance, despite the fact that I haven’t actually agreed to participate in his experiment. I may have provoked this, by pointing out that he had misspelled one of the phrases he said wanted me to spell out loud during a scene. I’d be more forgiving if it wasn’t “I’m coming” (too many “m”s in his version). I’m fairly convinced that if he can’t be reasonable outside of a scene, I am not sure he can be reasonable in one. However, continuing in the vein of such reasonableness, I have apologised for any possible hurt feelings, refrained from correcting the four typoes in his email and suggested we meet to discuss whether I am actually a suitable test subject or, as I suspect, a bit too much of a smart arse.
As a nice little aside, I have started a few nice conversations with people of a similar age and roughly similar experience to me, including Manchester Boy who was simply looking for someone to talk to about all of this as he's recently taken the plunge. It's a good feeling, to be able to advise as well as to take advice.
Saturday, 24 May 2008
I was pretty nervous, even though I knew I wanted them done, I just wanted it to be done, however the lady at the piercers was very good at putting me at ease, and we chatted through the process. I stripped to the waist and she drew two dots on either side of my nipples to mark the entry and exit points, we then scrutinised these in a mirror to check they were straight. I lay down on one of those medical couches, and stared at the ceiling whilst being encouraged to breathe. Using a thin pair of foreceps with small holes in the pincer part she clamped my nipple in place, lining the holes up with the drawn on dots. I continued to stare at the ceiling. She pierced with a needle first, and then worked the ring through it, so the pain came in two stages: one very hot and intense and another that took slightly longer, was a little more wriggly and so hurt more. The process was repeated on the other breast and the whole thing took about two minutes. There was a lollipop for being brave, which was a lovely touch and the sugar helped.
Even now, only a few hours later, I'm struggling to put to mind the exact nature and depth of the pain itself. Oddly I did also feel it in the centre of my chest, and there still is a certain tightness there, like having a chest cold almost, and every now and then I need to take a large breath, possibly because I'm subconsciously breathing more shallower than usual to avoid moving my breasts much. There's no bleeding, and not much swelling. My nipples are tender and I'm very aware of them in a similar way to a burn: like a burn they also feel a little warm, but that might be my imagination.
I like the idea of transformation into order to become something, and it sits very nicely with the doll project, although unlike the doll this is relatively permanant. The doll is a mask I put on and it is easy to seperate myself from it. The piercings are part of a structural alteration to my body, like the exercise I do to keep my stomach flat. I will always know they are there, and will be able to see and touch them. They are also clearly sexualised as they don't really have any other function, except to look good, so help define me as being a sexual object.
I am glad of the process - it was painful, I wouldn't chose to experience that pain without a reward for it. Which these are, like marks of pride, badges of honour. They are also a definition of what I want to be and how I hope to become, rather than getting them as part of a body modification project or for aesthetic values (though I think they are very pretty) they are here to be used
Friday, 23 May 2008
Also considering a new tattoo, potentially the hebrew letters GZY which form the phrase "This Too Shall Pass" - sterling advice for both myself and for any Dom who sees it. Location is now my main issue. I'd normally pick a location that could be easily covered, but for some reason I like the idea of being able to see this one and for others to see it too, in a more accessible fashion than my current one (small of my back). I'm toying with the inside of my wrist at the moment. We'll see.
Reward and punishment is often a very physical in-the-moment thing: behave badly you get beaten, behave well you get to come, or eat, or not be beaten. And that's fine because training is about altering instinct so you need something in place quickly to modify those responses. Whilst the conditioning itself will probably take place over a long time, each individual act of chastisement or generosity is done there and then, based on the level of good or bad behaviour. I now know what he wants and I change what I'm doing accordingly.
Scoring on a chart, against others, is much more of an intellectual exercise and is also abstract and fluctuating. None of these things make it better or worse than on-the-spot correction, but it does make it a distinctly different method. It's both intellectual and abstract because you need to assign numbers to sensations; it's not fixed because with every additonal new partner the scale must neccesarily shift because the scores of all the entrants are based on each other.
Both systems are comparative, but the former concentrates on changing an individual from one state to another, the latter on fixed individuals within changing states. With behavioural training I will change, and hopefully advance. On a scorechart I will always be fixed.
It also got me thinking whether I would rather be judged by my Dom according to how I perform in and of myself or against the other people he's tied up and fucked. Of course, I can't actually control how other people perceive me, but feedback is King and it's good to know how that feedback is contextualised. Now, for my own personal development it's probably best I'm rated against myself to find out whether I'm improving, but would knowing where I stood (knelt) in relation to others inspire me to greatness, make me disappointed in myself or demoralise me - and how would that affect my play?
Thursday, 22 May 2008
Whilst activity with both The Photographer and Cute Top remains in IM limbo pending diaries and trains working, I should hopefully be meeting up with Ethical Hedonist at some point over the Bank Holiday Weekend. We have worked through a number of key courtship stages including exchange of real names, photographs and are now going to attempt to Have A Coffee.
I've also managed to add another two to the list, which at least means we've got enough for a dinner party. I had an amusing memo from Offensive Charmer in direct response to my profile on IC. He started off by having a bit of a rant about how I'd described myself ("tall and beautiful - why don't you add dark to that as well?!") and then later admitted that my confident manner had got his dander up. Being fond of getting people's dander up and fond of anyone who fights back we've had some nice chats so will be shortly at the Coffee stage, potentially Tuesday.
Finally, an intriguing message from Young Scientist who is, if profiles on the internet are to be believed, around my age and looking for a "submissive female to take part in a psychology experiment". There is a rather formalised application procedure, which could be fun in and of itself. Given that he contacted me directly, and also given that I think I would look rather fetching in a straitjacket, this is one I'm rather excited about.
Oh, and for the record, I'm making all these names up myself, to protect the guilty. I'll be inviting them to read this, as and when, and if they so chose. Which should add to the jollity.
To want to be treated as a thing, a woman-shaped space devoid of personality, choice or self-authorisation could be considered a little contradictory: I desire to be an object without desire. For a plaything, sex is a mechanical process, it's not connected with love, need or even passion. Whilst I might be really rather enjoying (or hating) whatever is being done to me when I'm a doll, I can't or shouldn't, show it. That type of self-restraint, of pyschological bondage is exciting to me even just as a physical challenge - to stay still, to not make any noise, to only move in smooth, mechanical gestures.
As with most roleplay, I choose to put on this mask of identity, both physically in the way I look and behave and also emotionally. The doll doesn't worry, or get excited, it has no memory and no forethought. I get to totally disconnect from day-to-day existence even to the point of having a relationship with myself. I stop being me, and more to the point I stop being a "she". I become an it, and part of the pleasure is in letting go and becoming that wanted thing that has no wants in and of itself.
It is, however, a vehicle for someone else's lust, which can be powerfully erotic for someone who likes to be controlled, and there's nothing difficult about the concept of wanting to be wanted. The doll is an ongoing experiment for me, to become that exquisite item or that throwaway toy, to be a perfect object of desire, if only for a moment.
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
We are in a terribly post-marxist position of the item given (my time) being inseperably linked to both the means and the method of production. All three of which are me, effectively. In this way, we really understand and are very close to the true value of what is being offered. However, the item given, the example we used was jewellry, is actually totally removed from either its producer and its cash worth.
This cash worth in and of itself doesn't have any particular meaning because it's not a true business transaction. I don't care about the money. However, it does signify one and as such the value depends on the meaning given to it by both parties. A collar, for example, probably has more inherent meaning than dinner. Even though the latter could potentially cost more cash. So the "value" of the item is not necessarily linked to the money spent on it. The item given is totally devoid of any link to how it was made, and by who, it is a token, invested in alternative meaning.
So we have, in essence, a fetishised item (in the marxist sense) exchanged for a fetishised item (in the bdsm sense).
What makes it even more interesting is that the value of both items is in flux because they are based on what we agree that they are worth. The time purchased is based on my worth / worthiness, which comes from the buyer's perception, a perception that will change over time and experience. Stocks may fall as well as rise. The item given is, in turn, based on my perception of its value - how much I like the piece of jewellry for example. It therefore becomes a symbolic exchange based on the link on the value/meaning of the item itself versus the worth of me/my time to you. Neither of which are fixed.
The collar circumscribes behaviour as it does flesh. When worn it allows for control of movement via leads and chains whilst also giving a mental attitude of submission, servitutde and slavery. The two modes of control are really one and the same: I move both because you make me move, and because you asked me to do so. In reality, then, there are two collars. The one you can see - the physical collar that grabs me round the throat and the invisible collar of expectations that lives under my skin in exactly the same place.
The collar is a tool of ritual: a physical reminder of an agreement and the seal on the deal. A physical mark of What Is and What Is Not. Putting it on, or allowing it to be put on signals my aquiescence to whatever follows, and its removal ends the game. It is a clear demarcation of where rights and priviledge start and stop and in whose hands their bestowment lies. I like to think I'd look different when wearing one, some sort of physical change enforced by the feel of its weight around my neck. Would I stand taller, or shrink, look straight ahead or drop my eyes to the ground? Of course, you can use it to put me in the place you want, to make me stand or kneel. Your direction comes from manipulating the collar and my reactions will stem from the physical pressure exerted.
However, my behaviour will also be based the agreements and discussions we've had which will bear upon me via the invisible collar. This too, makes me move and flex in accordance with your wishes, but in a different way. We won't have negotiated everything in advance, because it's impossible to plan something so complex and so reliant on human response to such a precise extent. The invisible collar is flexible and creative, it works my brain. Unlike the physical collar which has no give or room to change, the invisible collar moves and grows with each unexpected action. Its original form alters based on my on-the-spot inferrences and instinct, unless corrected of course, in which case another shape is created.
They work together then, the physical and the invisible - each one reminding me in different ways just how you want me to be. There's also a further pull and push going on here, just as I wear the collar and act in the proscribed manner, so you make me wear it and respond to me in kind. We've both agreed to wear the invisible collar, the mutual decisions that circle us.
There's an art to establishing whether or not you want the same things, I suppose in vanilla terms this would be some sort of hobby-led smoker/non smoker compatability. Here, there is more room for flexibility, after all, I know there are some things I could be persuaded to like. Yet I'd never want a smoker. I've found it's best to be honest and very up front with what I want and to avoid the coyness and well-if-you-want-it-ness that girls can often find themselves cursed with. I'm working with a very useful red, amber, green system at the moment. Red for stuff I won't touch with yours, Amber for that which I am interested in but nervous about and green for go-for-your-life, needless to say this is a moveable feast but it's worked out thus far in negotiations. Chatting via email is nice because you get a feel for how someone composes their thoughts, also you can proof for spelling and brains. IM has been a bit hit and miss, it seems to work better with those that I know, especially if it veers off into (more) sexual territory, as you have more of a feel for tone and humour.
Seeing eye to eye
I won't know if I want to be fucked by you until I can see you, hear your voice, look at your hands. The neutral meeting in a sensible public place is the cornerstone of establishing trust and guaging what you are really like in person which will help me get a sense of what you will be like to play with. The spark of interest sometimes just doesn't happen, not matter how excitable the emails got (the anonymity of the internet allows us all to build up mental pictures that are often better than life). And the reverse is also true, an average note writer might come into his own in person. There is, of course, another motive to the meeting. I want to know if you've lied. If you said you're tall, dark and handsome and you arrive short, fair and plain, we are not off to a good start. Your level of self-awareness is important to me as it expresses confidence and cool-headed judgement. I want these things in a Dom, more so than I want tall, dark and handsome. Of course, I'd like both, but I'd also like Sean Bean, wielding a crop and wearing a military jacket open at the waist. I'll take honest and real over a cringing fabulist any day.
The first scene, first fuck, first kiss, first grope even, are all litmus tests. We connected by text, chatted in person but what happened when your skin met mine? There's a lot of waffle about "fireworks" and "electricity" yet nevertheless there is a certain physical frisson that either happens, or doesn't. How does your body respond to my touch, how do I move when you put your hand from my shoulder to my waist, when you push me lightly, then harder? From here, we could go anywhere, and I hope you will take me somewhere nice, a bit new, a bit frightening.
At each stage, the failure or success seems to be down to personal eccentricities of happenstance: my hormones like your hormones, my fingers don't like your fingers. I expect there is some science behind this, and perhaps I'll look into it someday. The key thing is: it's no-one's fault and it's ok to say no. This isn't a marriage with kids, where we have to Make It Work, no matter the emotional or pyschological cost. This is an agreement between adults for mutual pleasure. Keep that in mind.
The Photographer and I have been chatting via IM and more recently in person at a lovely dinner about potential play. We like roleplay, slavery and abuse. He's decided I would look lovely in a collar, I've decided that his cruel creativity via text message is exciting enough to warrant taking my clothes off. We're working through logistics, and also an interesting conversation about barter, which I'll post more on later. It's looking likely that he'll be the first Dom I'll post about on here, given that we know each other and have got that oh-so-important trust level sorted. Again, post to follow on trust. Next step: First scene.
Cute Top currently lives in Wales, but again, is a friend of mine, so we can get the ball rolling without The Intricate Dance of BDSM play (yes, another post about this later in the theory section). I've always thought he would be fun in bed, even though he is somewhat younger than me, so this was really an opportunity waiting to happen. I suspect this will be much more of a physical knock-about sporting endeavour than with The Photographer but it will be good to mix things up a little. Next step: First scene.
Ethical Hedonist is a Dom who I've been exchanging messages via the internets. Of all the notes I've received thus far (and there have been a fair few, preen, preen) he is top of the pops. At least textually. Funny, witty, knows what he wants and on a voyage of self-discovery and improvement much like myself. Oh, and if the profile pic is to be believed, he's good looking. Next step: Face-to-face meeting.
I have also had innumerable offers of Being Spanked By Men Old Enough To Be My Dad, a guy who wanted to put me in 6 inch heels and a corset, a very polite enquiry to see if I fancied being trained alongside his girl (I don't think I do) and some lovely notes from people looking for friends to chat with who I shall meet for coffee.
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
- Piercings - definately nipples, possibly elsewhere
- Threesomes and more - absolutely with two blokes, not so fussed about another girl
- 24/7 relationship - might not be easy to achieve, but I'd like at least a weekend of it
- Caning - I hear tell it hurts but is quite an experience, best to find out first hand
- Anal sex - see above
- Objectification and humiliation - sounds both wonderfully exciting and mortifying. So obviously got to do that
- Fun and excitement
- Pleasure, or perhaps, sensation
- New friends and interesting people (seriously)
- Better understanding of me, how my body and brain ticks
And for the record, whilst I'm in the mood for lists, some things I'm worried about:
- STDs and pregnancy
- Getting hurt in a way I don't want to - physically and emotionally
- Being stalked by a total nutjob
- The possibility of having to "come out" to my parents
I'm a woman in my mid-twenties finally biting the bullet and, after much flirtations and not-quite-achieved experiments over the years, actually entering the BDSM world proper.
I'm aiming a good mix of the theory and the practical, alongside the general musings, hopes, dreams and (they are going to happen) disappointments. I'm also going to be honest, and that's an important enough promise by itself.