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The online diary of an ethical pervert.
"You can invent some sort of punishment, for me not doing it."
A note from Ten, via email, regarding him being a little shy over shaving around his cock and balls. A somewhat moot point, given that he has gone and done it - smooth skin is now a prerequisite for him to orgasm. It did get me thinking about punishment though, and how I think it should operate.
Punishment is an important part of training, something that I am naturally thinking of a lot these days. I want to make a very clear distinction between punishment and torture or other forms of pain play. Those things I will do anyway, I will want to do them and I will expect bottoms, cheeks and skin to be presented for such activities with eagerness. Punishment isn't a catch all term for hitting someone - I have a particular pet hate of "made up" punishments, whereby the dominant suddenly decides that the submissive is naughty or bad and needs punishment. I think that makes a mockery out of the trust between the two, and can cause a lot of unintended hurt to someone who doesn't feel they warrant a punishment, it also diminishes the severity of true punishment by making it appear whimsical and random. Now, there's nothing wrong with dishing out a bit of whimsical or random abuse, because you feel like it, or because they are just bent over like so, or because it's a day with a "y" in it. But that's not punishment. A punishment is different. It's less about the submissive offering something up to be abused in a power exchange that we both enjoy, more about me "teaching them a lesson" through something unpleasant in recompense for a misdeed.
Where it gets a little bit more complicated in my head is over the nature of the wrongdoing. It's not about, as in that original email, punishing someone for something that they flat refuse to do, ever. That doesn't sit quite right with me because I want punishment to be remedial, you give out the punishment and then do better next time. If someone is never, ever going to do something then the punishment is wasted, it won't help them change. Equally, I'm not sure you can ever call an action "bad" if it hasn't been agreed on in the first place, there is no transgression as such, simply a difference of opinion. I might hit someone because they have annoyed me, but it wouldn't be a punishment.
So, before punishment proper can happen, there needs to be rules, parameters which both parties (or which all of you, for those more multiply inclined) understand and are clear on. In my opinion, the less rules there are the better, and the simpler they are, the better. There's more to be written on protocol later, but when it comes to punishment, it needs to be very obvious when rules have been broken, and ideally, they need to be rules that it is possible (though perhaps difficult) for the submissive to keep. Rules like "always wear a red tie" are pretty clear if sartorially dull. Rules like "please me at all times" are horribly vague. There's no satisfaction in living by an unclear rule, but there is joy in living up to a coherent one. The most important part of whatever the rules are, is the agreement that if the submissive breaks these rules then they will be punished. Oftentimes, and especially with the "proud" submissive - those who derive satisfaction from being good - they will want to be punished, may even ask for it. Punishment works for the submissive because it has a cathartic element to it, a scourging away of the sin or misdemeanour so things can go back to whatever qualifies as normal in our kinky little worlds.
I like punishments that fit the crime - and being creatively nasty is one of the joys of being on top (just as being creatively abused is one of the joys of bottoming). Different punishments work well for different people and different actions. Punishments should be something the submissive does not enjoy doing, which makes their willingness to go through it an experience in and of itself and reflects well on their desire to make good. I especially like punishments that the submissive inputs into themselves, again, it's about them offering up something important and about what they are prepared to do in order to resolve the situation.
Finally, punishments don't have to hurt - physically. There's lots of ways of making people feel bad that don't involve pain, and that can often go awry especially if the submissive is a masochist. Think of all those bratty submissives who play up specifically to get cruel attention. There's little point in spanking the bottom of a naughty boy when that's what he wanted you to do all along. Putting him a corner, tied in an uncomfortable position, with a bag on his head and ignoring him for a length of time might be a different matter. It probably sounds obvious, but worth stating anyway: punishment works best when it focuses on the desires/wishes of the submissive and then thwarts them. After all, by breaking the rules, they have gone against the desires of the dominant, so it's only fair.
Met up with Captain for coffee yesterday, which was amicable, if a little tepid. I had a minor worry in the back of my mind that I might be upset or that some sort of emotional event might occur, but the whole thing was rather cool, calm and collected. It was nice to touch base again on a friendly level, and to be able to do so in a neutral capacity - I surprised my self by feeling no internal pangs at seeing him again, which confirms that the right decision was made. I feel pretty positive and comfortable with where I am now, which is certainly different to last week and the week before that. I'll admit to feeling a bit awkward watching him play with other people a few weeks ago, but thinking on how that manifested it was more like a reminder of something I had wanted rather than anything that ever really existed. We chatted, checking in on our lives and people we knew in common for an hour or so before going our separate ways.
What I especially noticed was that my not wanting to touch continues - usually I find that I want to reach out to someone, especially be able to smell them, if I'm sexually interested. Because that didn't happen and particularly because I have had that reaction to him in the past means two things - first that whatever was there is now gone, possibly owing to the second point which is that I've switched and am now tuning in to more dominant desires - which means that another dominant is fun to talk to but a dreadful sexual prospect.
My body is waking up, though, and certainly I'm getting lots of kinky thoughts and fantasies, whereas a while ago I would have been mostly blank. I think that regular exercise is helping - physically I'm in very good shape and that means I'm also more aware of myself, my body and its needs. I've been spending time by myself, just resting and processing, even taking up meditation again which I haven't done for ages, but gives me a reason to sit still and just take some time. Being able to ground myself in myself is quite new - and I'm rather enjoying the process. I'm also getting some rather pleasant kinky input from conversations with Ten who seems intent on being hoist by his own petard judging from comments he makes: "I have a high pain threshold", "I don't cry easily", "I'm scared of CBT but I trust you". All grist to the mill, which is once again starting to grind. I've always had dominant fantasies, even when in relationships when I've been the submissive one, but I'm getting them as a matter of course now and they are the go-to imagery that I use for masturbation.
I'm having two weeks off work shortly and very much looking forward to it. Attempting to book in time with friends that I haven't seen in ages, and particularly get in some decent rope practice in anticipation of tying-up-boys in the future. Tying two boys together in some ghastly, uncomfortable position would be rather nice and I've notched "mFm threesome" higher up my list of to-do activities and judging from an online conversation last night involving Majeste and Boy Wonder it's possible that a double domme session might be in the offing, although I'll have to check-in on how serious that was and how much was just part of the always entertaining pastime of making other people nervous.
I'm not getting out much. Or, to be precise, I'm not getting out to do kinky things much, or staying in to do kinky things for that matter. Not for lack of offers or invites - but because I don't really want to touch anyone, or to be touched. I especially don't want any uncontrolled touching. The type that catches you by surprise or custome dictates you must participate in. I bristle when people come near, even people I like - as opposed to the standard bristling at strangers on the tube which is entirely natural.
Interestingly, I even bristle at the mention of touching, which was pointed out by Knight of Wands whilst we were discussing our recent dating dilemmas over the weekend. Majoritively, it was his dilemmas we were talking about, I had declared mine dealt with on account of not actually going on dates.
I don't want anyone "significant" in my life, which is certainly a step-change from a few months ago, where I strongly suspect I was looking to fill the hole left by The Photographer with another person, rather than with bits of myself. A lot has happened since and I haven't really had any time to look at where I am now. And that means I am better off alone. The idea of trying to do that whilst getting off on/with other people seems messy. I know a lot of kinky friends who are big adherents of the physical stimulus school. This is the one that teaches you to just go out and get a partner, fuck like rabbits (or tie each other up, or hit each other, or insert things into each other) and you will feel better in the morning.
However, it's rarely that simple, as I learned from my experiences with Captain. Because those people are usually still there in the morning, and if it was good you want to do it again. And again. And again. And then they are part of your life, but in a way you neither anticipated nor can often manage effectively. Bodies and the attendant highs of BDSM can be addictive, and you can get to like it. Sometimes you get to liking the people they are attached to and then it gets complicated. Currently, I am very much against complication but I also don't really trust myself not to make things complicated, so I'm generally keeping my distance from any potential relationship territory. As I've done this, and seen the areas it's opened up for me to breathe, I've found I'm enjoying the spaces I've created.
Now, obviously there is a world of difference between meeting up with people for a bit of kinky fun and engaging in a serious D/s exchange. I'm finding myself in the interesting position where I am intellectually stimulated by the latter and only mildly interested in the former. For both alternatives (and everything in between) I want to be on top, so whatever it is I want to be in charge. I want to be in charge, but also, I want to keep everything at arms length, or in well spaced out doses.
Knight of Wands and I talked a little about this, and about my only current exercise in BDSM - what I'm doing with Ten and he expressed a curious mix of shock, wry amusement and slight concern over the fact that I was mediating everything via text and email. I like to think he was also a bit impressed with my amazing remote controlling skills but what came over most strongly was his surprise that I could be enjoying this sort of activity:
"No touching?"
"No, mostly email, some texts. Lots of texts."
"But what about the touching?" At this point he makes a stroking hand-gesture to demonstrate, in case it had been so long that I had forgotten what touching looks like.
The lack of touching actually has rather a power to it. I can exert control with only the assurance that following my instruction is pleasing to me. It's a very cerebral activity, and I like playing with brains - it's where the game is best played anyhow. Furthermore, working with text allows for a different, more leisurely use of time and space than working with bodies. I can send messages whenever I feel like it, pick up and reply when I am in the mood and re-read old answers at the touch of a button. I'm relying on one of my strengths - the written word, which is reassuring and precise. Allowing me to conjure up worlds of ideological perfection and not worry about making them into a reality.
I like the idea of working at one step remove. That I send these instructions and they are carried out, far away and yet under my supervision. That the idea of me and my dominance is as strong as my actual presence. Desire lives in the mind. We create our own images of people and project those personas onto the real body. This is exacerbated with distance, because there is not the frequency or immediacy of contact to contradict our thoughts. It's an idea that has clearly taken root, making an image of me that is powerful and rather different to myself and my own experience. We were discussing puppy options in a text exchange and Ten commented he could never picture me in a cage, so my dominant self certainly has a life of her own.
Of course, this does mean that come September I am likely to have a rather fierce reputation to live up to. By then, I hope I will have mustered enough internal firepower to more than meet the challenge.
This musing is brought to you from a number of conversations I've had recently around bodies and self. One with Different Drummer, who is helping me with my gym routine through a mix of traditional training and (hopefully) performance enhancing hypnosis techniques. We talked about our bodies as our "projects" and the enjoyment we got from changing them, making them stronger and "better."The other with Knight of Wands over the idea that you "grow" into your face, echoing the Orwell quote that at age fifty, every man has the face he deserves. To cap it all off, there was a discussion on the radio about a survey commissioned by QVC (a shopping channel) on a woman aged thirty-one is on average at the height of physical attractiveness. Whether this is to be believed or not is another thing, but there are some interesting implications raised here that interested me.
Let's start with the personal. My body is my site of personal study and development, particularly now I have a bit more time and space to spend on it. I've always take a keen (possibly over-keen) interest in it. I want to look after it for the long term, keep it functioning. It is the home I will live in for at least the next sixty years, all things being equal, so it makes practical sense to feather the nest. But more than that, I want it to look, and feel, good. Not simply healthy, but better in a wider sense. The terms "better" and "good" are subjective and almost certainly doesn't always mesh with other people's ideas of good. Which is fine, because it's my body not theirs.
Our bodies are the stories that we write of ourselves, they are the map of where we have come from, probably the only physical thing that we will keep with us for the whole of our lives. We are all born with them and they are blank, new. We grow into them, and they into us. This process is ongoing, with our own changes, and that's one of the reasons why I mark my body with tattoos and piercings, I note the milestones on. A memento vivi. This is not entirely my own work. How are bodies look is created and reinforced by whatever society or culture we live in, our families, friends and the environment. All of these things also help develop our selves and our idea of self, so the two are intertwined. Body politic.
What I'm interested in at the moment is less about the social aspect, although I am aware that my ideas of what a "good" body looks like is certainly informed by my own background, but on how changing my body makes me feel. My body is me, it's who I am, how I represent myself - that bit of me that lives between my ears - to the world, how I interact with the physical universe, with other people in meatspace and a source of many joys, and sorrows. So making my body "good" is also about making me good. Not just because I can feel powerful, or in control (although those things are important) but because having a body that matches my sense of self makes me feel whole and by improving my body I can improve myself. I like self-improvement.
I am currently working on changing the way my body looks, feels and behaves. I already do my best to eat a balanced diet, more recently I've stopped taking oral contraceptives. I'm interested in seeing how my body regulates itself without additional hormones. Note that this will be the first time in around ten years that I haven't taken these so in many respects I am without a reference for what my adult body feels like "naturally". I'm not expecting to experience any massive changes, my periods were never particularly irregular, heavy or painful (a major reason that many women take the pill aside from contraception), so I think its more a type of mental satisfaction, a liberation.
Then there's the gym. I'm three weeks into a new routine aimed at adding muscle mass and trimming fat. The results have been striking, and I've received a lot of comments already on my changed shape and tone. I find myself slipping into gendered terms when I talk about it - using the word "boyish" quite a lot. The look I'm actually striving for is something more androgynous, I think I captured it best in discussion with a friend where I said I wanted to look like a strong and beautiful person. Most noticeable in the change have been my arms, which were fairly scrawny and now have defined muscles which I am enjoying showing off at every available opportunity. Second to that is my stomach, which now has a firm layer of muscle over it. It feels hard and strong and I find myself touching it a lot, almost reassuring myself. And the reason I'm reassuring myself is because my stomach area, like my arms, is getting bigger and this is making me worry. Because in my mind "bigger" in that area equals "bad".
My stomach has always been an area of concern, it's the one bit of my body that I am rarely happy with. For a start, it fluctuates (probably not as wildly as I think, and almost certainly imperceptibly to others). One day it will be flat, the next rounded. I have invested an astronomical amount of sit-ups on my stomach and yet it has only ever had a pleasing flatness for a few days after I had been horrendously ill for two weeks and thus unable to eat or drink anything beyond salt replacement sachets in a bit of water.
It's quite worrying to me that my concept of what a "good" stomach looks like is one that is terribly, unhealthily and unsustainably altered. Furthermore, altered in a damaging capacity that left all of me feeling weak and vulnerable. Starvation is my body's enemy. It is also my own personal enemy, and whilst I am aware that my issues with food will never totally leave me, they are also a warning sign about myself. When I feel so low I stop eating, I know that I need to manage those anxieties which are causing me to exert such extreme control over my body. In many respects, exercise and body building are part of maintaining control but in a more positive way. I am trying to build rather than destroy, create something stronger rather than take away from my self. In doing so, I hope to also be able to build a better image of myself, one in which wasting away to nothing, rendering myself physically invisible, is no longer a badge of pride, but instead I can enjoy owning the space I occupy with a body strong enough to take whatever comes my way.
One of my (non-kinky) pleasures when I have some time to myself is curling up with a good book. I've promised myself a bit of BDSM downtime over summer, focusing on getting some new skills, recharging my batteries and socialising rather than doing much active play or engaging in the dreaded "r" word. I'm going to devote some time to the other "r" word - reading.
Now, I know that books they are no substitute for hands-on experience, or actually going out and meeting people, but for those of us who like to digest things in our own time, or are a bit studious, or who just want really beautiful coffee table books to perve over whilst we think about who to hit next, you can't beat books. I appreciate that there is a wealth of stuff online, with many, many good websites, but I do like having something to hold in my hand or slip in my bag.
Finding good BDSM books is actually quite hard. Or rather, finding BDSM books that I think are good is hard. Possibly because I am picky about books and about kink. In order to actually get published you have to have some sort of public readership and we're still something of an underground community. This means that a lot of BDSM books tend to centre more around the vanilla-kink end of the market, with lots of titles for beginners, and ones that were really about "spicing up" an existent sex life. Not that there's a problem with that, but it's not what I'm looking for.
Books that go into more detail on the lifestyle include a lot of memoirs and fiction, which again can be interesting background but seem targetted for the kink-curious or voyeurs. I'm interested in them, but more just as a nice read, like any other novel. The type I really prefer are "How to" books, especially ones with lots of beautifully taken pictures and handy diagrams, all the better if they are of men being tied up, or hit, or exposed in some way, though the vast majority are of women. These generally fall into two camps - the physical doing of stuff and the more psychological / philosophical areas of engaging in D/s relationships. All books will cover both, but some go into more depth and some deal with the balance better than others. I read with a shudder one, otherwise quite good, book on Shibari that had a page on "how to be tied up" which I thought was a good idea, as people don't realise that there is some input involved. Sadly, alongside useful thoughts such as stretching and going to the loo first, it advised the bottom not to ever give any negative feedback to the top, ever and to remain smiley and happy throughout, regardless. Hardly a healthy dynamic.
I've liked a lot of the books published by Greenery Press, particularly the toybag guides and basically anything by Dossie Easton and Janet W Hardy. One of the first books I ever bought was their Topping and Bottoming books and they have been a fixture of my library ever since (in fact, I'm now on copy three of each of them as I keep lending them out and not getting them back! I should perhaps learn from that).
What struck me about those books was that they were very no-nonsense, and very non-stereotypical in their attitude to sex and BDSM. I get quite annoyed by "traditional" representations, particularly ones that don't seem to add anything to anyone's enjoyment of play and just ape heteronormative assumptions - only clad in latex. These books were different, and they made me understand that the important things were what you and your partner enjoyed doing, rather than whether you were following the instructions "correctly". I want more books like this please.
Terms of address are a feature of D/s used to define and emphasise the power exchange, providing obvious and verbalised signifier of the dynamic. For some people, they are used all the time, for others only at certain points. In the latter case they create starting moments when an activity or situation becomes a scene rather than being the day to day. In a similar way they can be used to remind someone of their status - whether on top or bottom - which in turn denotes respect and recognition for the connection they share. They are magic words, lifting us up a little, bringing smiles to faces and the flush of anticipation.
And like all magic words, the key is to use the right one, which is the quandary I'm currently in. What title to use as a dominant? I accept that this is as fraught with pitfalls and indicators of identity, style and drive as deciding on a band name, although at least here the scope is narrower than the entire lexicon. At the moment, I'm place-holding with "Ms insert last name here" which was a natural follow-on from Ten's tendency to call me "Miss..." anyway. I'm not a big fan of "Miss" and it smacks a little of small children waving their hands in the air and asking to go to the bathroom. "Ms" is at least a more grown-up title, and will do for now. In the meantime, the alternatives.
I've always been a bit ambivalent to Mistress (and Master for that matter), not least because of the recent tendency of myself and others - Hedwig in particular - to pronounce it with a Gollum-like spitting tone when describing sleazy unwanted boot licks desperate to "serve". I like it because it is traditional and has an old-fashioned ring to it, someone once called me Mistress Doll which had a pleasing bawdy-house feel to it and that might be enough to swing it for me, except I don't always sit around with a giant wig, rouge, corsets and red stockings, so I might just save it for high-days and holidays. Mistress has a feminine allure to it which isn't entirely to my tastes, whilst I don't want a masculine title, neither do I want to be so overt in terms of gender and Mistress is extremely gendered, especially with it's connotations of being the "other woman", another thing I'm not particularly keen to be. Finally, Mistress is sometimes used as a synonym for (high class) prostitute and certainly as an alternative to Pro-domme and that doesn't express my identity properly.
I need a name that works for me, whatever I'm wearing and wherever I am, not just for when I'm feeling frothy or femme. Sometimes I want to work my curves, my femininity and other times I am a more androgynous hardbody. I don't cross-dress, however, so whilst "Sir" has an appeal, because it would be a neat reversal having uttered it so many times and I do like the military and ennobling sound of it, it isn't me. I am not a man and do not want to dominate "like a man" - I don't want to dominate "like a woman" either, again, not entirely sure what that might mean and if it involves Shania Twain in any respect except as punishment I am certain I don't want to do it. I want to dominate like me. In true dominant style, therefore, I want my own road and a bag to put it in - to be special and unique.
But the fact is, there just aren't that many dominant titles to go around, male or female, and sadly the vast majority are split into those binaries. Perhaps it is my prejudices showing, but the feminine counterparts don't seem to be operating on an equal footing. Take Master and Mistress for example - the former is never anything but in charge, but the latter can be slur and a deeply sexualised one which is also disempowering - a kept woman is also a Mistress. There is no real match for the severity and simplicity of Sir as discussed above. Ma'am certainly has the military respect within it, and the formality, but it makes me feel very unsexy and either a thousand years old or the Queen. You could try Lady, and I know a number of women who like being called "my Lady" and it certainly sits well with them, but for me is too soft, too genteel for the sort of things I want to be doing and again, there is a confusion of ownership and investment of power within the social currency surrounding that term - I am not anyone's lady (I'm probably not exactly a ladylike, anyway) any more than I am their dear, their darling or their love.
I had a brief and excitable foray into more exotic terms, coming out with Maitresse - instantly rejected because it's too french and sounds like mattress. Then there was the more punchy Domina, which gave me thrills of Polly Walker as Atia in Rome, no bad thing, but decided that rather like Mistress Doll it was probably a bit too much to wear all the time. Similarly Castellana might be a wonderful term for the beautiful uber-femme in Micheal Manning's artwork, but it's not something that sits well with me when I'm drinking builders' tea and my manky converse trainers are up and resting on a puppy boy or running through a field ready to rugby tackle my hapless quarry.
Back to the drawing board.
Had someone told me a year or so ago that training a newbie submissive male using long-distance communication could be fun, I'd have probably given them a bit of a wide berth. After all, I'm a hands-on person. I like to touch and feel and smell. To see the look on someone's face, hear their moans and pants. Deliver punishment and reward. I could certainly see the intellectual value in remote teaching, and my love of words would make a "correspondence course" interesting, but I am not sure I would have ever considered it anything more than superficially erotic - like reading porn, it is essentially masturbatory with the only genuine interaction taking place in my own head.
As I said, that would have been my attitude before. I am surprising myself with quite how much I enjoy being engaged in only a very limited capacity. The relationship I have with Ten operates through emails and texts. This is to some extent a function of our lives - we don't have time to see each other with any sort of regularity, but we were both keen to keep contact and explore the new-found feelings within him.
We generally intereact each day, usually a few texts then perhaps a longer email every few days. I have set him a series of controls on how he can attain orgasm, and he sends over written reports in with how he is doing. It gives us both a lot of space: our connection is only very loose and therefore easy to manage (for me certainly, but I don't have the constant reminder of not being able to masturbate, instead I have the satisfaction that far away, someone is doing something for me - quietly in the background). Sometimes he will ask questions or seek clarification. It's a very reflective process, for both of us - I am encouraging him to develop and consider his own submission and in turn he will say things that pique my curiosity and my dominance. I am, in a certain sense, a free form teacher performing remote experiments on an unseen subject. I try and offer interesting things to do, draw him out on what he means and use his responses to decide what buttons I might like push next.
This way of behaving gives me a very particular type of control which is text and task based, focusing on him performing actions and then describing his responses. I never call him and would be rather surprised if he called me. Generally, this is how I prefer to interact with people anyway: email and text are my preferred contact methods. I hate the phone and only tend to call people for personal reasons is if it's an emergency or I am anxious to resolve a situation right then and there. I prefer things written down, especially because I can refer to them later, which feels academic - another thing I rather enjoy. I think it's only natural that my dominance is very linguistic. It is an extension of how I enjoy being normally, and when I am able to extend my own preferences in terms of interaction to someone else it is satisfying to get obedience not just in terms of what they are doing, but how they are doing it.
This situation is workable only because of a number of particular circumstances, I doubt it would be appropriate for anyone else. First, we have a longstanding connection of long distance, low input interaction which has gone on for years. Every now and then he would get in touch, a little reminder that he existed and had once occupied a space in my life. There was power even then, in knowing I was still on his mind even after so long had passed. This gives us both the kind attitude towards each other that can enjoy this situation: we have no expectations of each other, we are comfortable being far apart and mediating the situation through language only - I imagine that there are occasional moments of frustration, certainly on his side, but that adds to the satisfaction, that he is able to keep control without me being there.
This leads on to the next point, which is a vital one - I trust him to do what I ask, to follow my instructions. I sent him a little butt plug in the post (alongside lube, because I am kind) as an accessory for his masturbation - I'm building him up slowly to anal sex - and he's sent me a lovely report on the subject, which I found a serious turn on: I don't know whether it was the sensation or the knowledge that I was doing something kinky, but my cock became extremely hard at this point. I think that it is the combination of his obvious enjoyment of the process, alongside the fact that I am able to take him to these places without even being present. It makes me feel powerful, that my instructions are having such a deep and long-reaching effect and that I can extend my presence so far with so little effort and input. A shadow falling over him, nothing seen by anyone else, only remarkable when I bring it to mind, but there nonetheless. A little satellite, light blinking just for me.
A note to myself and to others: I don't think I can submit right now.
All in all, I've had a rather difficult, personally challenging few weeks and I'm still dealing with my feelings on the matter, and with my often contradictory and complex reactions within my own sexuality. I feel rather removed and a bit distanced from my place within kinkdom and have come to a natural hiatus along my journey. I've moved from being a sure and certain female submissive looking for a dominant partner, through defining as a switch with a wide palate of tastes and now I'm not really sure what I am. It's a funny place to be really, the idea of handing over power or control to someone else sets me on edge. A total change from where I was a few months back. However, I am clearly going through an alteration and therefore I need that power and control for myself, to take me where I'm going next.
What I have been doing, over the past few weeks, is sticking my head in the sand over this. Partly because I had a lot of other things going on which distracted me and sucked out my energy reserves. Another part was that I didn't want to deal with it, so hoped it would blow over and that I would be able to re-engage and once again slot my desire against my will. I have realised that not only is it a bad way of living (it is) but it's also liable to cause some damage to others, which isn't fair.
And in the midst of all that, there was a desire to bottom to Majeste. It's been a long time since I've been a doll and there was a part of me that had certainly missed those deep, dark waters of cool space. Lying on my back, breathing slowly and blinking with the controlled, measured pace of an object, whilst Majeste poured bead after bead of a pearl necklace into my open mouth. If I run my tongue around the insides of my mouth I can almost taste the lacquer. I am almost certain that my mood right now - particularly the calm I'm experiencing - is a result of those few hours of being scratched, whipped, bitten and fucked (the latter with an inflatable dildo that expanded to approximately the size of a marrow). I needed it. I wanted it. I feel better because of it.
But what I was able to give and what I really should have given were two different things. And I'm sad about that at the same time as I am aware I couldn't have done anything else and that I really enjoyed what I did do. In the moment I was an empty toy, devoid of will and simply "there" to be done to, to be taken and enjoyed. I was a bottom, not a submissive. I gave nothing and in fact, I rather greedily took. Superficially, it's hard to see the difference, but we could both feel it. I was almost lazy: content to be passively receptive, rather than actively seeking to fulfill the desire and wants of my partner.
Part of it is my own inner coldness. I don't feel particularly warm or affectionate at the moment and I'm not responding very readily for requests for affection. The idea of romance, of developing that kind of emotional interdependence leaves a funny taste in my mouth. Submission requires feelings, and I don't really have any to give. I can be friendly, and I can be caring, in a way. But I am much keener to dominate, so my friendliness is about reassuring a skittish submissive, my care is about good grooming and training. My dominance is at arms-length: I am happy to maintain aloof distance, to control from afar or, if the option of having someone for a few hours or the night came along, it's likely that there would be no skin sex.
At the bottom of the doll, then, is more doll: a cool and empty space from which play can be controlled and manipulated. When I started The Doll Project, I imagined that it would be a submissive experiment, but it appears that some of those parameters will carry over into this next stage. It's made me think a lot more about labels and the difficulties of being able to negotiate what it is we want, how we want it and who we want it with. There is also a space between how we see ourselves and how we really are, the gap between image and reality. Each time I come to a change within my life, that gap needs re-negotiating as I work out which bits of me are actually there and which bits I only think are there.
Bear with me.
Power is nothing without control. Strength without direction is just brutish force, intellect without context is cold and uninteresting, emotions running amok are terrifying. I'm a control freak. You can see this clearly in my day-to-day life, outwith BDSM: I like things to be clean and tidy, I keep a well-ordered desk, notebook and diary, I manage my weight and my body through diet and exercise. Self-control is an important part of my own identity - that I am seen as strong, as competent and as "in-control". I dislike losing my cool or having to raise my voice in anger or annoyance.
I'm big on time-keeping, I get stressed and unhappy when people don't meet deadlines or show up late. I don't like "wasting" time or energy and find sitting still doing nothing rather difficult. I keep lists and make plans; I am famously poor at spontanaeity and dislike taking risks. I like to know where I stand with different areas of my life and where I intend to be in a few months, a few years. Pride is derived in part from being able to tick off against my own mental checklist achievements measured in units of control. Whether I have done what I set out to do, in a manner that I consider appropriate. Control freakery begins at home. I manage myself first, then others. It starts by knowing myself and what I want, then by knowing how to go out, get it and keep it.
Then it goes out to play and the fun really begins. Being obsessed with control doesn't mean that I need to be in control at all times: whether I top or bottom, it's all about the detail within the power exchange: who is able to do what to whom, how much can be given or taken. At the moment, I'm more about having control than giving it, which has made me think a lot about the ways in which I enjoy it. Control comes in many forms and it is not the same thing as micro-management, if there is one form of D/s I detest it is the type that requires control of the entire minutae of life. Small rules every now and then are interesting, especially when they vary, but part of the joy of control is in allowing people the room to be controlled, to come up with ways in which they can fall under your aegesis and a broader brief gives more scope for that, and also more challenge. One of the things I am extremely happy about with Ten is his ability to act by himself in ways that are very pleasing - then tell me all about them. He's currrently under orgasm control (he can masturbate twice a day, maximum, on his knees with a cube of ice in his mouth, if he hasn't come by the time it's melted, too bad). He automatically inferred that I'd want him to lick any resulting fluid up.
And that is where the heart of my desire for control rests. I like control to be offered up, I don't want to have to bully it or force it out of someone. Whilst I might like to hurt them or fight them or be violent within a scene the decision to be in that place and to give themselves over to me must be theirs alone. Obviously, there are moments when I might feel different, but in broad brushstrokes I don't want to walk across a room and pull someone out by their hair. I want them to crawl over to me and beg me to do so. This focus on the offering up rather than the taking puts the onus on the submissive to think and decide a bit more. I want them to be a part of their own submission, and to input into the creativity of play. Yes, a big part is about me being able to do what I want, but part of my pleasure is in taking them places, especially places they might have secretly desired and feared, because then I've reached a deeper part of them. Usually I'll ask for an email list and then I can start the work of getting into their heads.
I want to exert control over something worthwhile, which means I don't want a doormat. I don't want someone who rolls over and exposes their stomach to everyone. My preferred submissives are outwardly somewhat "alpha" and certainly they are well-rounded and self-aware gentlemen (they are usually men) with much to recommend them. They might have a history of making women go weak at the knees. So much the better. I like it when they are stronger, physically, than me. It makes the power exchange more meaningful. Those I have recently encountered have found their submission something of a surprise, and helping them through the newness of it is rather a pleasure - in the same way that I enjoy chatting to new people at a munch or club, a new submissive partner is rather lovely. I benefit from being the experienced one, which adds to my sense of dominance, but also they are a blank slate with no-one else's desires or wishes imprinted on them. I can do things to them first, and from then on that moment in time will forever belong to me.
Finally, I like need. Their need. Their desire to be controlled, their desire for me and what I can do to them because of that desire. There is a certain level of belle dame sans merci going on, which is a look and attitude I enjoy because, naturally, it makes me feel powerful as well as desired. I enjoy withholding. I like the pained look on people's faces, or the solemn resignation. It is likely that if I know something is really, really wanted I will keep the supply of it limited, produced as a reward or only achieved in a way that is difficult. I like satisfying the need also, because part of being good at control is knowing how long you can string them out before the tension becomes unbearable. The ideal is to wind them up to just beyond where they think they can go, before allowing release. And release is very important, it keeps them coming back for more, like a bird on a lure, but because they need to trust that I will give them release - eventually - and the more they trust the more control they will cede to me, or rather, the more that control will become a natural, unthinking part of their existence.
Release is also important because the scene needs to end. I might keep little tabs on them, such as I'm doing with Ten, but only if it seems to be working for both of us, and nothing that would interfere overtly in their lives. I am not interested in a heavy 24/7 TPE situation, I don't want that responsibility, commitment or intimacy (frankly, I'm not interested in it from either a top or a bottom position). I also want multiple partners and I'm not sure I have the time for anything that requires that sort of depth. Control needs to be given back, in whole or in part and they need to go off and be themselves again, think things over and return if they are ready to do it again.
Clearly, the hottest day of the year thus far is the perfect night to go out dancing in rubber. Which isn't actually as silly as it sounds - I hate the cold and the latex chills are colder than cold in Winter. Sure, in the heat of a club on the dance floor you start to get slick very fast and sweat runs down your bare skin - but I never really saw a problem in that. I'm grateful to Offensive Charmer who persuaded me to actually go out to Torture Garden which is never a pick for a play club, but the dancing (and the eye candy) was pretty good. Bonus points for being able to meet up with Hedwig and her evil latex nun outfit. We danced for a while then settled into the play room with a small bevvy of other known perverts.
Offensive Charmer and I had a good chat about the continuing closing-down of kink over in New York, he's rapidly coming to the conclusion that London is the world's capital of kink. We also chatted about different sorts of clubs, both here and across the pond. What people would wear and do. Apparently "dressing up" is not seen as especially important in the states, particularly for men, out of a desire not to be seen to be trying too hard, which seems a shame as a well-dressed man always goes down well. The vast majority of activity at TG was couples either fucking or fondling. What seemed strange to me was the amount of straight sex on display, penetration as well as oral, which you would be a lot less likely to get in a more kink orientated club. The very limited play, majoritively orchestrated by our small group alongside Esinem, drew a crowd, which was to be expected and quite flattering, but most people seemed content to grind against their partner in a dark corner.
I sometimes get a little annoyed with the behaviour of people in clubs, and it's one of the reasons I generally don't go out dancing to vanilla clubs in particular. The whole "chatting up" thing, complete with unnecessary touches to my body is deeply offputting. I go out to dance, to play and to chat to people. I don't go out to look for someone to go home with. Whilst compliments are flattering and can be charming, they can also just be an opener to being pestered. Particularly annoying is when they are followed up with the natural assumption that either: I am alone so I want to go and do something with them; or that the man standing near to me must be my boyfriend so I don't want to go and do something with them. The fact that I might just want to do my own thing clearly doesn't enter into it. There is a world of difference between someone being friendly and saying hello, maybe spending a while talking or dancing - which I like, and basically being sleazed on, which I don't like. I especially don't like people I don't know pawing at me - certainly not without asking first - and you tend to get a lot of touching without asking at non-play clubs.
I had a few welcome surprise over the course of the night, aside from the usual crass and unwanted propositions. A pretty girl strained against her lead to be closer to me as I leant against the wall watching the dancing. I pulled her hair and pressed my rubber gloves against her face, wondering what it would be like to make her lick me until shiny. Tight torso muscle boys danced in the neon, getting sweaty and up-close to each other. I got to play tour-guide to a cute vanilla couple who had come out for their first fetish night. I met her in the bathroom whilst I was lubing up my dress and applying layers of black don't-fucking-think-about-kissing-me lipstick. She was nervous about her outfit, which she needn't have been because she was tall, blonde and beautiful. Clearly my ladies' touch is still firmly in place as she came to find me later to hurt her boyfriend and show her a few things. I didn't have any kit - I didn't even have any pockets - so was limited to a bit of basic chat and spanking, which demonstrated pretty quickly that the pair of them had a high pain tolerance. There's a limit to what one can do with a leopard print paddle borrowed from a rather stuffy looking Dom whose old-fashioned outfit (leather trousers and streetwear shirt, not really inspiring) matched his old-fashioned values and he naturally assumed that as a woman I didn't know what I was doing. Ahem. A few sharp words later and I was sat down with Hedwig watching practically everyone in the club line up to wallop her boyfriend's arse with a variety of implements. Which went from pink to deep scarlet and all without him even making much of a sound. It was quite funny, and sweet. I wish them both well.
Actually, I wish they were both with me and perhaps some of The Ladies' Who for an afternoon in Captain's studio, but that's for another day.
Like letters to the editor, only with less direction or clarity, the messages I receive on dating sites seem to be making more of a statement about the person who sends them than about anything really to do with me. I've been lazy of late and not checking in so when I finally did, it was to be weighed down by a barrage of noise. I thought I'd group them into some frequently read memos.
I know you asked for Y but... Ah. This old chestnut. I get any number of these, and they can range from "I know you asked for photos but..." or "I know you aren't looking for a partner but..." The rejoinder is, naturally, but what? There is a reason I've written a profile and listed the things I'm interested in. It's because that's what I want. There is no conspiracy, no difficulty, no reading between the lines. I want to do these things, or to meet these people. If that's not you, or not what you are into, then don't message me. Find someone who is interested in you or what you are into. This is by far and away the most frustrating sort of message to get because it's a little like watching someone smack their head against a brick wall. And then complain to me about how I am unfair or unreasonable and that I would really enjoy X or Y (where X or Y usually is "them" and "what they are into") and that I'm cutting down on my options or otherwise ruining my life by not doing so. I've managed thus far. I think I'll cope.
Insert name here I can spot a copy / paste message at a hundred paces. Not just because often they have left the name of the previous person in the body text, but because it doesn't actually seem to connect with anything to do with me. Messages like this tend to appear as a list of things the sender would like to do to / for some random faceless person in latex. Being a random faceless person in latex in the context of a scene is one thing, feeling like you are just the 500th caller on the list is quite another. People generally like to feel a little special. Rather than spam
recipients. I don't know why these messages exist - perhaps like genuine spam (ah, the irony) they secure only one fruitful response per thousands of messages but the eventual quality is enough to make it worth it? They seem a futile gesture in terms of securing an appropriate partner, unless there is a desire to find someone else who gets off on spam and settling down to happily send generic messages to each other for all time.
Kneel, bitch Whether rude, aggressive, stomach-turning or a combination of all three, these are messages sent by dominant males - and it has always been men in my experience - who think that calling someone a slut-whore-cunt and demanding they come over and suck their mighty cock is the most erotic experience a submissive woman can get. For the record, it really, really isn't. At best, it is a bit of a joke. At worst it can be quite hurtful. The challenge for me comes when it becomes clear that not only are they serious, but that they get genuinely angry when you politely tell them to stop talking to you like that. It's a problem of the Internet, of course, people typing what they would never say in public and ignoring the manners their mothers should have taught them. There is often a lot of repressed anger and indignation, when turned down - however politely - I have often received huffy responses on how I wouldn't have been "submissive" enough for them anyway and would have cowered at the sight of their mastery. For me, these represent the very worst of BDSM, combining a total lack of consent with an assumption of the "automatic" (male) dominant right to abuse from the get-go someone who happens to mention that they are a (female) submissive. Or that they are basically fantasists who have consumed too much GOR. Fortunately, I'm getting less and less of these as time goes on. I still get them every now and then and mentally file them under the category of "troll", given that I suspect these messages are only sent out to provoke an angry response. I sometimes wonder if this activity is a fetish, to be in front of the computer imagining the indignant faces on the recipient's face. Which is why I tend to send one reply, berating their rudeness, then block them. I like having the last word.
Hello. That's it. Nothing else. One word messages, usually "hi" or similar. No pre-amble, certainly no amble or even post-amble. Sometimes they stretch to an entire phrase, perhaps as well-wrought as "free to chat?" or "do you like?" or similar. I suppose it's meant to be tantalising, all of those blank pixels. Or perhaps an enigmatic mystery that I will be unable to resist following through to conclusion. They are like little hands, waving up and down, asking to be noticed, but not really stating what it is I should notice or why I might want to. Mostly, however, they look like the sender doesn't have anything to say about themselves or what they want. There's a lazy "trickery" in operation here - the requirement for me to chase them makes me engage in conversation rendering it a half-hearted seduction mechanism.
U R hot! can I spk 2 u? Text speak. Grammar failures. Incomprehensible messages. I'm a word nerd, I like language and I appreciate the ability to communicate not just clearly but well. I don't mind the odd typo - it's bound to happen every now and then. But using text speak when you are neither curtailed by a word count nor by a mechanism that will not let you draft full sentences is a strange decision, in my mind. This is probably a personal prejudice, perhaps there are other internet users who would consider it perfectly fine to be messaged or even to converse in this fashion. Not me. I love my words too much. There's a certain childishness about it, which strikes the wrong tone, and whilst I am willing to accept that I might just be old fashioned, I am unlikely to be moved by a piece of writing more at home on a retro IM box than in my inbox.
It's been a while since I've indulged and bought some new kit. Now that I've got at least one ongoing submissive partner it seems a good time to examine what might be a nice addition to my collection. One of the things I really like doing it going to fetish shops with a new partner, walking through what is on sale and using it as an object lesson in what might be fun to do or play with. It's something that I was able to do over Captain's shoulder looking at the internet assisting him in his quest to become the man who has everything (kinky). This time round, with Ten, I'm more in the driving seat, which has led me to think more on what I want to do and what I might need to do it with. The purist might argue that one does not need kit to do BDSM and whilst that is true, and I would certainly agree that you don't have to have kit, but it does widen the options.
There are some basics that I need to stock up on, having not had to purchase them for a while: condoms, lube, even more padlocks and chain, latex gloves. Then there are other, more specific things. I certainly need more rubber in my life. A smooth, encasing rubber hood for him with mouth and pinprick nose holes, perhaps an option for eye holes but I don't want him to always be able to see. A rubber dress for me: I like the idea of letting him polish it for me, whilst kneeling at my feet. A serious leather blindfold, possibly with head harness - he's mentionned that he enjoys being a voyeur so cutting down on his ability to see what goes on in a club is on my list. A new ball gag - I think it's nice to get a specific gag for a new partner, it will help him feel a sense of belonging, also I want him to select it himself so he only has himself to blame. A set of mitts will come in handy - I'm undecided on whether I want the leather ones or the inflatable thick rubber ones. I do know that I want to restrict his ability to touch either himself or me and I want him to be very conscious of that restriction.
I also need to increase my range of insertables (rubber and glass, I imagine) as well as impact toys - a set of soft, thuddy floggers certainly. And naturally, a strap-on. The latter is probably going to be the most difficult to select and purchase, given I've only used them rarely. I know that I'd prefer the kind where I can select different sized dildoes - again, I like the submissive to select the tool of punishment - and that the harness needs to be very comfortable but beyond that I'm not really sure. I expect there might be a little bit of shopping around, perhaps a good opportunity to call on the collective wisdom of the Ladies Who... for a rather different version of a "girls shopping trip".
Skip lightly over this one, if you prefer kinky tales of BDSM derring-do, this post is an interlude, a hiatus in my adventures. Every now and then, I am reminded that I have a broken heart which is still not mended. Strange and odd moments, that cannot always be predicted and catch me like suddenly losing breath. I like to think that I've done very well, in the aftermath of The Photographer, getting back on the kinky horse quickly enough to not feel too much of an absence there (and to sate my physical desires, which is a drive not to be taken lightly). "Keeping busy" is a bit of a cliche, but when there is nothing else that can heal but time and you aren't a patient person, it has been my mainstay. Having a broken heart is not the same as being depressed or miserable or suffering from issues of self-worth. I am not unhappy most of the time, I do not feel bad about myself, though occasionally annoyed at the unfairness of the universe. It is simply that, every now and then, my heart aches.
And it does hurt. I've commented before on my surprise at finding that heartbreak produces an actual pain in the chest. The pain is a lot less sharp than it once was, instead it feels cold and a little empty. I had a conversation with Knight of Wands on the subject not long ago, about how I felt emotionally deflated like a balloon, and without the desire to expend the effort to do much about it. Which is a good analogy - I do have a missing bit, but I haven't recharged fully enough to be ready or strong enough to re-fill it with anything like what was there before. Love, is a long way off yet and that makes me sad at the same time as it makes me feel a little relieved.
Lust remains. The want for companionship. The push to explore and to feel new sensations, re-examine old ones. My need for kink, it appears, like my need for food and drink, has not been taken away, but it has changed.
New partners have been welcome, and not just to scratch an itch, but as genuine moments of fun, happiness and filth. I hope that I have treated them well, although I know I am currently unpredictable and difficult to deal with - another good reason for avoiding romance. Some have helped me more than others, some have hindered me through no fault of their own. Every one of them has been welcome, and special to me, not because they make me feel better - though they do - but because I enjoy them and their company in and of itself. Friends, kinky and vanilla, have been supportive although possibly confused by my preference to write about things on the internet, anonymously and with time to correct each word, than sit and dissect at length over bottles of wine. There's a method behind this, and it has in part to do with my hatred of boring people to death with my woes, or being "that girl" who constantly, tearfully, brings up the subject of her ex-lover, no matter what the conversation is actually about. There's also desire to manage the process of getting better in my own way, which has turned into a curiously lonely procedure - I need a lot of space to myself to think things through and have been keeping people at arms' length a little.
What it does mean is that what I want, how I feel and how I want to interact is different to how it might have been a year or so ago. I feel a lot like Goldilocks, needing things to be "just right" or they won't work at all, the reaction of wanting to control, manage or somehow be incredibly clear on the way in which I am relating to my sex partners is perfectly natural - I want to be sure of the outcome, to know what I am getting myself into. I've always been rather risk-averse and now I am more so. I've become more picky about who I want to do things with, where and how. In the past few weeks I've certainly been doing a lot less, although I have almost certainly produced volumes of text via email or SMS. Again, the desire to clarify, to create certainty and to make sure. That I have just enough, but not too much.
Ten and I are in negotiations. Technically, we're probably past negotiations and into actual play, given that he's just been relieved from his 48hrs of no cock-touching - which went very well and has highlighted a lot of personality points about him that I was hoping I could riff off. More on that later. For now, a sticking point that means he isn't currently chained to my bed.
Hair. Specifically body hair. I hate it. I hate my own and other people's is far, far worse. I've always been repulsed by male fuzziness (and women's too, I just have seen a lot less of that). Initially, this was one of the points that made me think I might be gay - the little "yuk" I got from seeing a man undressing and all that unkempt, ugly brillo pad curliness spilling everywhere. Hairy shoulders, chest, genitals, bottom. I shudder at the thought of it. Too much fur and not enough smooth skin, which for me, means sex. To be waxed is to be properly naked and revealed in all your glory. I'll admit to a personal preference. I'm sure there are those who want the hair and can reel off hundreds of reasons for it being sexy. I can't. Mentally I'm reaching for the scissors. Frankly, I don't even like long hair on a man. Strangely, it's got nothing to do with whether I'm top or bottom. From both perspectives I crave that bareness, that access: I find myself wondering how am I mean to have a decent CBT session or give good head if I'm constantly pushing pubes out of the way.
I find myself therefore at an impasse. Ten has refused to be shaved. And not in a "chase me chase me" way, but in a foot-down, this is unacceptable and makes me really unhappy way. He explained himself very well, in a long apologetic note. For him, the hair is his masculinity, and he would not feel himself without it, not sexual, not a man. And in part, that's kind of the point. There is a strength inherent in the fur of maleness. Like Samson, it's a sign of virility, of masculinity and with that the "caveman" sense of dominance, and this sits badly (for me) with being dominated. Not only is it something I particularly want which he cannot give to me, which is a crying shame given our other levels of connection, but also it is something which marks him out, to me, as still emulating the alpha male stereotype.
I want to tear that down. Not because I want to make him less of a man, rather I want to make him feel more, but different. I want the sensation of disempowerment, of symbolic sapping of strength.To physically alter him with a minor (to me, major to him, really) body-shock that will let him look at himself anew. Yes, it will be a power-exchange, I fully intend to bring him down so that I can build him up. Most of all, because I just want to run my fingers over bare skin. I like the androgyny of it as well as the obvious transformation - the fact that he wouldn't be a bog-standard fuzzy male, but a beautiful and smooth sex object. I also like that we would match. Both of us would be perfectly smooth. Which makes me wet just thinking about it - for anyone who has not had completely bare, waxed down to the epidermis sex I advise you to go and do it now.
I'll admit to being torn. Obviously, the standard dominant response is that it's my way or the highway. There's also a part of me that knows because it's something he's obviously got strong feelings about it is therefore a big red button that I want to push and feel unhappy that I can't. I could just walk away. But that doesn't mesh exactly with my own feelings for him or of how I want my D/s to operate. People should feel able to say "no", because otherwise I'm playing with doormats, which is boring; or people who can't speak up for themselves, which is dangerous. I want my submissives to be able to talk about their concerns and worries and know that I will listen and respect their boundaries. I also don't want to tread to heavily on his own sense of self or self-worth, that's not something I'm interested in eroding or harming, far from it. And I know that body-image is a big part of that. There's another aspect of my dominance which wants things to be offered up, rather than having to force them from someone. I'm keen to help people down paths that they are scared to tread, but keen to try. I don't actually want to make them do anything they really, really don't want to. I'd rather carefully peel back the layers one at a time. Just one more stroke of the crop, one hour longer without orgasm and so on. A helping hand that pushes you farther down. Taking just a little bit more than you thought you could give, because you are better, stronger and more beautiful than you had thought. And then, you will be grateful.
Being a switch means I can mentally turn the tables - I know how I'd feel if someone asked me to grow body hair (blech). I'd hate it, I'd feel ugly and unsexual and grumpy, to say the least. I can therefore empathise. I still don't have to like it. And I don't. Which takes me into what I desire and how not getting exactly what I want sits with my feelings on dominance. There's a couple of personal worries on the Domme front with this. The first is, whether I'm being a "proper" dominant if I accept something I don't like in order to get other things I do. This seems like compromise. I can probably brush this off in the knowledge that I've been called not-a-proper-submissive enough times to deal with it from the other sides. And anyhow. I'm a switch. The second is whether we have now made it into a bigger deal than it should be: me by wanting it, him by refusing. Yes, I prefer my men smooth, however he isn't unattractive to me in his current state - he'd just be nicer de-fuzzed. That's harder to sound out. Finally, I'm never keen on making ultimatums as I have a tendency to come out of them empty handed, which is odd as I usually end up making them, but rarely over something like this.
Being calculating about it, I know that currently it's the only serious thing in the "con" column of continuing to engage with him. He's got promise, and then some, clearly there's a terrible pervert in there longing to be taken out - which is very attractive. And that's before I've taken into account his attentiveness and skills at bringing me to orgasm. I'm thinking it over.
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