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The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Monday, 30 April 2012

The words that make you mine

"Tell me what I am, again."

And I do.

It's the words that get him, every time. I swear that with a little more practise, a little more conditioning I could make Ganymede come by lulling him with a litany of filth. Another way that we connect, another way he operates as my mirror. He needs to hear me put him in his place, contextualise him (textualise him) frame those feelings he is experiencing in terms of what he is to me, make that building desire flood out through a stream of consciousness fantasy that is also a reflection of our reality. I talk him to orgasm.

Words bind us. Words define us. They make, take and describe us: literally make copies of ourselves in language. The words we use become our double. And the double up the impact of any sensation we as dominants might wish to create. After all, training is a learning experience and one always follows up the action with the linguistic lesson, you never just tell, you never just do. You show. So as well as what I'm doing, and I'm doing a lot as you may have guessed from the sparse amounts of blogging recently, I'm also putting a lot of work into words. 

We have contractual words. The words that make up our agreement to each other. And words for each other. There are rules for frequency and types of words - I require an email every Monday with what he is up to. There are forbidden words such as Mistress. There are even new words that slip out of our minds and into our tongues and out into the world. Words that neither of us has used in that way for anyone else before. Queen. Feed. Hello. Yes. Words that without context are silly or strange or even - dare I say it? - normal. But to us, for us, they become special. The tone and placement of these words makes them magic, language that is transformative, that flips the switch and says "this place now is a different place". Like putting a collar around his neck, I can do the same with words.  

There's method in my madness. I assure you. But madness in the method. After all, what sane person would want such a thing? What sane person would want me to do such a thing? Yet, he wants it, I want it, we want it. To turn a real, unique and wonderful human being into a toy, a pet, a sexualised automated slave. What I am doing is deep and complicated and a not-very-nice-thing. I'm programming. I'm indoctrinating (again, with the words, to fill with learning). I'm conditioning. And I'm hanging on to the fact that he has consented, that he has offered, that he wants me to do this to him as evidence that I am not entirely cruel or monstrous. 

Partly. Perhaps.

I've yet to really experience that cloud of "dominant guilt" and maybe that's a black mark on my character or maybe my own adventures as a submissive have made me more accepting of suffering in others because I know how much I liked it, needed it, wanted it. There is also another context. What I am doing, although unique to us, is not exactly unique.

Everyone trains everyone else. They just don't always call it that.

The world is full, if you choose to look, and I've looked (oh I've looked!) of all kinds of linguistic experience like this. Training through words, through a re-telling. Of times and places where people have agreed to be reshaped, to be remade. In many instances they have paid for the privilege: think of therapies such as CBT or NLP, or of self-help courses run around retraining your self-image. All kinds of experiences are, in fact, a narrative, with different terminology used to distinguish roles, carve out the insiders from the outsiders, create new ways of looking at the world by renaming. Groups are narratives. Relationships are narratives. A BDSM relationship is a narrative. The distinction is in the kind of story you are telling.

Over coffee with Majeste this weekend she referred to me as Cinderella, in my fairy-tale search for the right one. The collar fitted, I suppose, in the end. But the moment where the metal snaps shut, or the glass slipper slides onto the bare, delicate foot (something I've always found a little chilling, in more ways than one) is exactly the opposite of a Happy Ending. We are at the beginning, and the story has only just started.

In many ways I feel as if this is marking a new phase in my writing. Not only am I writing very much from the top, and with someone who is committed to a long term D/s relationship, but the type of relationship, and the types of experiences we are having are a lot more normalised. Rather than dates or affairs or hotel assignations (wonderful and hedonistic as they were) I have a partner. Not just for an hour or two, or when they have time, or in between other partners. The same has also been true of me, I've been casual with people when perhaps they wanted more. Been less-than when they wanted more. Things have been too hot, too cold and not quite right. Slippers have not fitted.

Instead I have Ganymede. I have a life, or a potential life. One where someone is always my slave. I have a boy who wants me to dominate his thoughts, to own him mind, body and soul. Sometimes the scale of it takes my breath away, because it is epic. I off-handedly referred to D/s as "like love, but harder" to a vanilla friend of mine only later realising that I truly meant it as such. 

Most of this is a very long-winded way of saying that what I'm doing right now is very big, and in many ways very new. Just as Ganymede is new to BDSM I am also new to him, and to the scale of what we are doing to each other, with each other. There's a lot of NRE floating around as well as that crazy, not-real sensation that good, hard D/s does to you anyway. So I'm likely to be updating less frequently. But it's worth it. Trust me.      

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Public Outings Part One

I'm running a bit of a blogging backlog at the moment, blame a combination of lack of spare time and Ganymede. The latter is keeping me very happily occupied, however, so I'm certainly not complaining.

Over Easter, a small celebration in the form of a private party for four was arranged with myself and the boy, Mr Smith and Idyll a new female friend who I met at a photoshoot. Unlike the party a few weeks ago, this was (for me at least) going to be more explicitly about play rather than sex, and about experimentation in a private setting. The recent orgy was an excuse to relax into a warm pile of bodies, amongst other things, and concentrate on pure hedonistic experience. This was going to be much more precise. There were a number of things I wanted to get out of the night. The first was to have a fun kinky time with friends, naturally, the second, less obvious one, was to give Ganymede and myself a reasonably safe environment in which we could start doing more public BDSM.

What we have is still very new and that "newness" can sometimes make me feel anxious and wary. This is a hangover from previous, unsecured relationships that always felt on the brink of falling apart (and in the end, did exactly that). We've talked about it and I'm trying to deal with it. We are defined and decided as a D/s relationship, with clear commitment on both sides and with nothing from him to indicate otherwise. However, knowing a thing is safe and always feeling it as such are two different things. One of the things I'm finding about being a dominant within a relationship is the amount of emotional concern you have towards not just your submissive, but towards the D/s relationship itself. Like any caring, loving relationship, you want the best for your partner. The overt power exchange within D/s means that things can become very intense and feelings can get very big very quickly. Emotions are amplified. I've experienced this a lot from the submissive point of view. The dominant one is no less intense but it is very different.

I'm learning to read, and to take control of, a new partner. I need to understand all his wants, to be in touch with his body so I know what those twitches and tics mean. I have a strong protective requirement within my sense of being a dominant - I need to keep my charge safe from harm - all kinds of harm, from feeling sad or lonely through to anyone causing them upset. When things happen that knock him, I get angry, especially if I was unable to prevent it.

Then there is how dominant desire is expressed sexually. You create space and opportunity for submission when you frame the relationship in initial negotiations, but the actual doing-of-it is an ongoing process. Teaching them how to please you, and how to know when they are pleasing you so they feel good about their submission, about what they are offering. Making sure they know that they are good, in the right way, of knowing just when to call them a slut and just when to call them a good boy. The sadistic streak rears up, wanting to hurt them and reconciling that strange, internal conflict of hurt/comfort. I want to do all kinds of ugly, cruel and brutal things to him. I want to hold him tight and whisper sweet filth in his ear whilst I do them. I want to keep him in delirious throes of agony and ecstasy so that he always makes that face at me. The one that looks up towards me with wide eyes and a faraway look in his dilated pupils. I want to fuck him all the time, to physically possess him in that visceral, animal fashion. And when I do take him, I want to control every single moment of that experience and pour my heart, soul and wicked thoughts into every pour of his body, every corner of his mind. And when I'm done with him, after carrying him through to the end I want to pick him up, strap him into a neat bundle and put him to bed safe. I want to do it all again, the next day.

The consequence is that there's a lot going on, there's a lot that I do, a lot to think about, even before I've picked up some rope or a toy. And keeping on top of all of that, and in control of all of that, is sometimes more than enough. Don't get me wrong, the intensity is amazing and I wouldn't be without it for the world. It's also a necessary and natural part of having a new partner. NRE, anyone? And it isn't there all the time, we have wonderful, calm, quiet moments of me drinking tea whilst he kneels at my feet. But it's there a lot, and it's often easier to do it with just the two of us.

I want to play with him with others, to go out together and play with people, to go to clubs and also to allow him to play and fuck other people. And I want to do the same too. Better yet, other people want to play with us, and that gives us a whole new space in which to work with. It makes us an "us" for a start, which is a wonderful thing. And so, playing with a small group of friends seemed ideal.

Idyll and I have never played together before I arranged to meet up for food beforehand so that all four of us could discuss what we may and may not be interested in doing. We had some very good, frank conversations about physical and emotional needs, as well as more of a "getting to know you", which was really nice. Annoyingly, however,
the day didn't start very well. Even getting to the meet up was actually more fraught than I would have liked with a combination of minor issues such as lost cinema tickets, delays in people meeting up with each other, and lots of increasingly annoyed text messages back and forth. By the time all four of us met up I was feeling quite tense. Not the best frame of mind to be able to process other people's moods and sexual needs. Both Idyll and Ganymede were tired from a club the night before so their lack of sleep and other post-club hangovers meant that their emotional states pre-play were a major concern of mine. Another, not insignificant factor was any knock on effects and feelings that may be around with Mr Smith and myself. We've talked a lot since we split up and both of us agreed that we had a good enough relationship, and good enough chemistry that we still wanted to play, however you can never tell until you actually start.

It took a long time to get everyone, myself included, to a place where play could really kick off. Once we were all fed and back at the hotel, we all started to become less rattled. Glasses of wine and a few chemical substances helped matters. As did all being indoors, out of the unseasonably cold weather and in the same space - finally. It was actually something of a relief to manage to do that. Even as it was, we spent a lot of time simply talking before anything happened. This is often the case with play parties, even club nights, especially when people are new to each other. The British reserve is still very much in evidence. But unwind we did, and as the hours passed clothes were removed and I was able to place the silver collar around Ganymede's neck, both of us smiling as we did so.

Even now, I cannot remember exactly what kicked the evening off, at what moment my anxiety faded away. Was it starting to get undressed? Was it watching my boy kiss Idyll and feeling absolutely no jealousy whatsoever. More: feeling pleased that she was enjoying him, that he was enjoying her. Of knowing that he was still very much mine, that my need to touch him all the time (just be sure, just to check he is real) won't make me angry or upset when he touches someone else. Quite the reverse. The feeling of pride I had as his fingers slid inside her, as her face lit up at his ministrations, was overwhelming. To have him at my control, at my behest, satisfy someone like an extension of my own dominance, my own abilities and my own pleasure. A marvellously new feeling and unlike any I had ever had before. And one I was to explore all night.

Friday, 6 April 2012

On creating objects for private use

Ganymede, naked, eyes wide open, lips parted. His neck rests against my shoulder as I encircle him in my arms. I'm laid partially on top of him, fingers tracing the already reddened skin on his back. Pinch. Twist. Scratch. I watch his eyes and mouth as I hurt him. Pain sparkles for a certain type of masochist, the sensations are bright and sharp creating curious giggles of surprise and gasps of not-quite-pleasure. It hurts. But it is fun. For both of us. I am learning his specific tells, like a poker player, so I can read him without him having to utter a word. There's the difference between a "good" wince and a "bad" one, for example; his automatic responses compared to ones created deliberately. He raises his hands, as if in defence, but he's not trying to stop me - he just can't help himself. So helping myself to him seems like the most natural thing in the world.

"I want you to make me into a thing. Use me."

My words, from years ago, coming out of his mouth, now. It's a gift. To be able to take someone as you yourself once wanted to be taken, to put them in that exact same mental space which you inhabited. I know what he means when he says those things. I know the desire to be small, helpless, empty and waiting. To want to be filled up with sensation, to have thoughts removed and to bottom out into deep, dark spaces.

Better yet, I know how to do it.

Rubber hood. No eye holes, just a space for a mouth and pinprick nostrils. Tight fitting around the face - anything around the face is more intense - pressing in on all those vital sense organs we use to orientate ourselves to the world. Remove the face, remove the person and their ability to make sense of the world. They can't see you, you can't see them. They become the object, reliant upon you for clues as to what is going on. It's comforting too. Like a blanket on a canary, silence falls and the signal to "not do" is given. Similarly, I am not being watched, the performance aspect of dominance is now based on touch, on timing, not on how I look whilst doing it. Another freedom, this time for me. The smell of rubber starts to fill the room, and I lick the side of his cheek where the black material is starting to warm up. Delicious. A word I've picked up from him, and it's apt.

The process of turning a person with thoughts and feelings into an object can be a slow, deliberate one. Give them time to settle into each layer, each stage of not-being. Then the ball gag. Permission not to speak, the removal of any kind of human communication, that feeling of being full up. The knowledge that very soon saliva will start to build in the mouth and run down the side of the face.

The final touch. A solid, steel collar. I've been eyeing one up in Liberation for around a year now and "casually" (I never do anything casually, I'm dreadfully deliberate to the point of conniving) taking people into the store to walk past it, testing reactions. Some have ignored it, others balked at the weight and the cold of the metal. Ganymede grins when I remove it from the glass case and clip it around his neck, then bites his lip. Another tell. Easy. It sits over the neck of the hood, holding it down.

He's ready for use.

I sit astride his now very hard cock and fuck him. He arches towards me, hips moving to meet me. There are noises from beneath the hood: slow, rattling moans of forced breath, the rasp of frothy saliva, a horses' whinny, small growls he won't remember even making. I can feel the change in his body as he's fucked like this, it's a difference of consistency, of tempo even. There's a physical contradiction occuring whilst he is at one and the same time more relaxed and more tense. The thinking has gone out of the process, there is no deliberation here only animal movement, it's muscle memory and something more. Like the feeling on the dance floor where something else takes control of you and the beats move through you and out of your feet, the palms of your hands and the rhythm of your heart beneath your chest. He moves like that but I call the beat. I take time with him, knowing full well he will orgasm quickly if I chose to let him. I don't. Not quite. A few times I rise up entirely, resting the edge of my clit on the tip of his cock, letting him twitch at the absence of cunt. Hold. Wait. Then press down again, fucking him a little harder than before. I'm toying with him like a cat might with a mouse and the pleasure is in my pleasure at being so free with this body beneath me.

Under the hood he might be anyone. But he is not just anyone. He is mine and there is an overwhelming pleasure in that. The sense of just possession, of absolute right in doing what I am doing and the knowledge that he will thank me for doing it later. When he comes, he comes hard, a sensation he later describes as having an orgasm pulled out of him. I leave him in the hood for a while, to give him space to come out from space. There's nothing quite as jarring as bringing someone up to quickly, you'll give them the scene equivalent of the bends. I hold him next to me, draping a leg over him as I masturbate and bring myself to orgasm, letting him feel it, but not participate.

Later, we talk. We're still trying each other out, learning things. A process I hope never to finish. Each corner of his skin, of his mind I explore in minute detail, paying close attention to what he is saying, what he isn't saying. A language entirely new, but also familiar, as our tastes are so entwined. There's a onanistic satisfaction in this too, that I know the things I like, he is likely to enjoy. Kismet, or something like it. Perfection is a life pursuit and I intend to make him, to make us, my magnum opus.

Monday, 2 April 2012

Poly Means Many: Needs and Wants

Poly Means Many: There are many aspects of polyamory. Each month six bloggers - Amanda Jones, An Open Book, One Sub's Mission, Polyamorous Parenting, Post Modern Sleaze, and Rarely Wears Lipstick - will write about their views on one of them. This month: Needs and Wants.

A well-timed post, given that Ganymede and I have just gone through what an old school kinkster might call "the negotiation phase". Other people might blanch at the level of organisation, bullet points, formalised writing and spreadsheets which are involved in kick-starting a D/s relationship with me. It's a tribute to the (sickening, sickening) level of fit between him and myself that all of this has been reassuring rather than terrifying, powerfully protective instead of creepy and detailed instead of obsessive. We've both been in and out of those "are we, aren't we?" relationships where little clarity was offered and both felt insecure and anxious as a result.

I'm going to sidetrack to a bit of kinky history, just for background. There are old-school ways of forming BDSM relationships, including specific types of collars and collaring processes, such as a "collar of consideration" or "training collar" where someone is given a specific collar by a dominant, usually more workmanlike and less pretty than a "real" collar. This tentative, patient movement towards a D/s relationship is a reflection of previous, formal and hierarchical arrangements where the outward appearance was often very considered and ran according to particular group protocols. I've even heard tell of BDSM subcultures where all dominants must spend a certain number of years as a submissive, regardless of their actual sexual desires in this area, in order to learn what it feels like. As a switch, I approve of this idea, if not of the actual method. Kinksters, like all nerds, have rules about what is and isn't the correct way of behaving. It creates a system where one didn't exists and therefore helps us assert our authority and our right to live the way we want to.

Over time, we have become (slowly) more accepted and (slowly) less closeted and (rapidly) more on the internet, we've become a little more relaxed about these formalities. Or perhaps we've just moved to other, electronic formats. The processes of forming BDSM relationships have changed and the idea that a particular specific set of things must be done in order to be "doing it right" has been, correctly, eroded. However, there are still stages and points in time, as well as tools, which are incredibly valuable to kinksters and I hope will never fall by the wayside.

Lets start with negotiations.
It's a great fallacy of BDSM that the dominant decides everything and the submissive has no input. Needs and wants is not, in my experience, a written-in-stone tablet that the dominant presents to the submissive. Perhaps some people do that. I don't. There are some very good negotiation spreadsheets around which are useful for all kinds of kinky encounters. They give long lists of BDSM activities, from physical play to emotional and much more, with space for notes, for colouring in red, amber or green or for detailing whether you want to try something, want to be made to try it, are nervous about it or will stab someone in the eye if they even suggest it. After a few text based exchanges I sent one of these over to Ganymede and we now have a shared document which is a wonderful "what shall I do to you tonight?" menu for me.

In our negotiations, I sent over some very specific points which outline the type of relationship I want, some notes about how I view consent, the kinds of things I like doing and
my own personal "wash and care" instructions, a few notes on how to take care of me. Regular feeding, sleeping and fucking are required, along with the ability to make gin and tonic and to only serve me decent coffee. Even if you do like having hot drinks spat in your face countermanding the latter is not encouraged.

I asked him for similar thoughts and then we looked into specifics, or picked out any areas of difference or points that needed expanding upon. We tried to cover as many potential situations as possible. As a dominant I work with rules and protocols to manage our relationship, so that we both know what is expected of each other. The less I can get away with the better, because I don't like having lots of things to remember and I like being able to react based on how we are both feeling at the time. However, there are some rules that need to be agreed upon. The way you decide you are going to approach other people is something that should be tackled as early on in the discussions as possible. Starting with the question: "do you want to be open or non-monogamous?"

For us, it was simple. We have no other partners. We are both very keen on a firm D/s commitment and we are non-monogamous in terms of sexual appetite. We're also open to the possibilities that alternative relationship set-ups might give us in the future, but are conscious of being new to each other. I am keen to keep ourselves to ourselves for a little while on an emotional level, certainly. We know that we are keen to fuck and to play with others, and have already made inroads in arranging this, we also know that another boy would be a good play addition. We're also both very happy spending an afternoon in a sunny coffee shop in Soho deciding who from the passers-by we would corrupt, and how.

For BDSM, the type of D/s relationship can vary massively, and it's good to work that out early too. Not every dominant matches every submissive - far from it. There's a terrible assumption in some circles that just because I like rope, for example, I will like being tied up by anyone. Just like the assumption by well-meaning parents or friends that because a particular chap shares certain interests with me, we would be a lovely couple. So, alongside the obvious things of how you want to spend time together, the sorts of exciting sex and kink you can have, you also need to think about what the power exchange might look and feel like.

One of the best ways I've ever heard of describing a D/s relationship was through the use of avatars to elucidate the type of person you want to be. For me, my dominance is styled around being a "trainer" - I develop submissives into something even better. I'm caring, but firm and I use a lot of small, ongoing behaviour modifications to refine my darlings.
I'm also a "Daddy" figure, authoritarian but proud of my charges and loving. When I'm in darker, filthier moods I'm also a "groomer" and a "torturer" I coax and force them into doing all kinds of things. My wants in this is to be a powerful figure within their life who provides support, stability and is served or attended to in turn.

For Ganymede, we are using words like "toy", "object", "pet", "slave" and "boy" - all his words, naturally. From those I'm able to pick up on what he is interested in, the specific sorts of control and ownership that turns him on and makes him happy.

After you've done the negotiations, you create the contract.
A solid D/s contract can be many things. At its most basic it gives both (or all, though in this case we are two) parties the opportunity to highlight what they want from the relationship. Needs and wants. What you are looking for, what you can give, what you can't give. This covers a lot of things, time spent with each other, who you want to be for each other, future plans, sexual preferences. BDSM codifies a lot of these in the form of a contract, and some people do indeed write up and sign documents.

My contract is simple, it's designed to be "always on" so not matter what else happens, this basic statement covers who and what we mean to each other. It's also flexible in terms of what it could potentially include, easy to understand and, importantly positive.

You are mine: you will serve and obey me; I will train and look after you
It starts when you accept, it ends when we decide it ends
We will make each other's lives better

The email thread includes all the negotiation emails we've sent backwards and forwards, with the requirement that certain key points are replied to with an agreement or acceptance. One of the reason why I like contracts is the sense of rigor and permanence, which a casual pillow-talk conversation does not, no matter how sleepy and seductive. Things get forgotten, or if half-murmured whilst fucking can be cast as in-the-moment cries of passion, signifying nothing.

The final thing I want to touch on, briefly, is collars. These, or other pieces of significant jewellery, "seal the deal" in many ways. Signs and symbols are important to all kinds of human interactions, and contracts can sometimes seem like words or pixels. A physical reminder of what you have agreed, of what you mean to each other is very potent. The gift, in and of itself, is powerful, it is an endowment, a very solid reflection of what has been agreed. A collar need not be a collar. Ganymede now has a fetching silver chain coiled around his neck. Discrete, but of a solid weave. Given once all the agreements have been made, and representative of them. A little light touch of me upon his neck, glistening in the sun.

Whether or not you are kinky, the important thing about all of this is that genuine, honest conversations have been had and decisions have been made. Together. To my mind, the best relationships are ones in which this negotiation process is never finished, where the conversations about who we are and where we can go continue forever, always learning and always exploring.

I've had situations where it has not been quite so simple, not quite so neat as I'm making out. Either because the conversation never really happened, such as with The Photographer where there was no negotiation, the situation was a done deal and my inexperience didn't prepare me for what was actually being said. That has led me to perhaps be more careful, more clear in my own dealings with people. No bad thing. I've been in situations where I've tried to have conversations and felt ignored or given lip service, where the desire for what I offered was greater than the actual ability to deliver it. I know that my reliance on email can cause confusion for people who are not used to thinking strategically or tactically about relationships, sex and emotions. And situations where the requirement to make time to even have the conversation in the first place was a battle, where documentation was ignored or the entire process caused upset - a failure on all sides.

I've learnt a lot. About myself, about people I have loved and lost. Not everyone will be keen to have these kinds of conversations, not everyone will want to be in a D/s or an open or polyamorous situation. Part of the point of outlining needs and wants is that you are clear in yourself what you want and can explain it to others. The perfect goal is that everyone gets what they want, but an outcome you should steel yourself for is that you do not get what you want but that people are not misled or hurt by the process.

Sounds business-like and transactional? Well, yes. A bit of business nouse goes a long way in creating a bedrock you can benefit from. It doesn't mean that you have to then set up weekly, minuted board meetings for your relationship - although if one party was interested in wearing a pencil skirt and taking dictation that could work for everyone's benefit. What it does give you is a written document - in our case, series of emails and a googledoc spreadsheet - that you have both created together which defines and outlines the edges of your relationship.

Where you go from there, is up to you. But at least things are a lot clearer.