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.
Abandoned to his fate in inescapable rope
3 months ago