Switch v switch

I had my first play session in a while on Saturday night, and marked another first by introducing a new play partner - Dandy. He's a bi switch (been looking for one of those) who I've known for a while and we've connected after a little semi-cautious circling, both of us have had upsets on the relationship front and reasonably well-matched in terms of what we are looking for and looking to avoid out of other people and kink.

It's rare that I go into a scenario without advance planning - even if that just consists of a simple understanding that once I get into the room I'll be totally under the other person's control. I've generally found that having a general agreement about what might happen and what won't happen tends to improve play if only be eliminating possible bones of contention. This time, however, both of us were keen to see how we felt at the time, partly due to the fact that we are switches and partly due to the fact that we were new to each other and not sure what to expect. I certainly find that my sense of whether I want to be on top or on the bottom flips in the presence of the other party - I might well fancy a flogging when I wake up but whether or not I want that person to do it in the evening depends on how I feel when my pheremones touch base with theirs. I did know that what I wanted was going to be much more about "kinky sex" than "D/s" - that sort of intricate intimacy does rely on having more established parameters and a greater familiarity with the other person. In short, I wasn't really sure what was going to happen, which was exciting in and of itself. I knew I liked the look of him, and from the few interactions we'd had at group events there was a definite click, but beyond that was anyone's guess.

What we got was fun, frankly - and I'd been missing that over the past few weeks. In many ways I've gotten rather serious about my interactions and fucking around with someone else similarly inclined was probably exactly what I needed. We started off relatively slowly, almost sizing each other up. I didn't get a strong sense of either "top" or "bottom" from him and wanted to see how it might go. We interspersed lots of kissing (he's a good and keen kisser, which is a definite plus) with what is probably best termed play-fighting, in the sense that neither of us were obvious trying to really hurt the other, much. There was some rough and tumble, giggling and a lot of tickling - he has a ticking fetish, to which fact my aching ribs are now a pleasant testamonial. What we mostly did was try things out and see what worked through acts of struggle, capture and moments of mild abuse.

Moments included enjoying stripping of his top to reveal totally waxed skin and discovering how incredibly sensitive his back is - the smallest of strokes makes him shudder. I got tied down and bent over a puppy cage with a tail-butt plug whilst weights were gently attached to my piercing causing me to make little mewling sounds. Later, He found himself held down as I tapped, slapped pinched his perfectly cock and balls, his face pressed against the crook of my neck, moaning without words, his entire body held in tension after each blow. I later used a vibe to good effect on his perineum and at the point where the legs meet the curve of the bottom - I recently was told that this works on boys, and was happy to find that it really does. Eventually, tired and happy, we collapsed into bed.

I enjoyed the visceral and physical stimulation of the evening, there was a lot of laughter and a lot of, well, switching. We used toys, but very much in a rifling through the chocolate box kind of way. Most of the time it was hands, fingers and tongues, there was a lot of skin contact, stroking, touching, licking and sucking. There was no "scene" as such, nor any ongoing active / passive dynamic which was also different - each of us seemed to more take it in turns to absorb or deliver pleasure and pain (and both). It was refreshningly easy and uncomplicated.

Over coffee the next morning we had a good chat and agreed we'd both rather enjoyed getting-to-know-you exploration of each other's bodies and switchy twitches. No sides have been drawn up, and scores have not been posted. So we have arranged for a rematch, perhaps next weekend.

Glamour Armour

I'm at a kinky gathering and I'm sticking out like a sore thumb. Part of me derives some satisfaction from this, another part wonders what on earth is going on. Fair enough, I did arrive straight from work, but I could have just as easily (and have done in the past) packed something to change into. Here's the set-up. The ladies are all in dresses, lovely, beautiful tea dresses for the most part, and heels. They look very pretty and very "feminine". I am in black combat trousers, a bondage motif t-shirt and trainers. I do not look very pretty. In terms of outfit, I look remarkably like the men in the room, including Captain, who is sporting army print. We look practical, comfortable, non-revealing, somewhat military and thereby "masculine".

Later on I fell into a discussion about dominance and dress-up. It's a two pronged question really - what do you wear that makes you feel dominant and what do you wear to tell people you are dominant. Not always the same outfit, certainly not in my experience. Now, there is a school of thought that would suggest you wear exactly what you want and to hell with everyone else, but we all know that we look at one someone is wearing and make a decision on what they must be like. Clothes don't make the man (but we do draw our own conclusions). Hopefully they don't make the dominant either, but I think that conclusions are still drawn. Personally, I find there's something awkward going on in terms of outward gender/sexuality assignations and dress code.

First came my now rather traditional "fuck high heels" rant in which I railed against the way in which the high heeled shoe is used a symbol of female dominance despite the fact that they make doing actual domination (and remaining upright and thus believably in control) rather difficult for me. The question on the table was "what does a dominant woman wear to dress up?" I looked down at what I was wearing and said "this", but that apparently wasn't enough of an answer. I certainly was a female dominant, but I wasn't, by the group standards "dressed-up".

When we say "dressed up" we mean clothes that make a statement - the aim is to look good and to impress upon other people our power of drawing attention and being generally awesome. Clothes as signs, as armour to protect our day-to-day selves. And generally speaking, women tend to be dressier than men, particularly those looking to emphasise their femininity (usually when a man wants to assert his masculinity he will go for a look that implies he has made less effort). The clothes the woman wears tend to be revealing, the man's concealing. And so on. If the point is sexual display - and dress up is often that - then the sexuality will be on display alongside the gender.

And that's where my problems really start. I find it hard to appear as a heterosexual feminine dominant in the generally understood sense of the words. In the clothes I was wearing I certainly felt like myself (I've always been something of a tomboy), and I absolutely felt dominant. I didn't, however, feel particularly feminine and especially with all the other women dressed in a different way I felt a little outside the clan and from an outsiders point of view I was probably outside of what was considered "desirable". Regardless of whether or not you have the confidence to wear a bin-liner and flip flops one generally would still prefer to be desired and since beauty is often in the eyes of the beholder, there tends to be better outfits than others for creating the required effect.

I also felt, and this is more important, as if I was aping a certain sort of uniform, both that of the lesbian dyke dominant and particularly that of the male dominant. Now, I'm neither of those two things, but that was the "look" I was presenting. Part of the difficulty is that I do not want to be a dominant if that means being masculine and this can often be challenging because so many of the words associated with dominance, even the word itself, are generally linked to ideas of masculinity, which riles me no end and is something I'm trying to steer away from both personally and politically.

I've written before on the codes of BDSM "fashion" and certainly both traditional media and porn presents the kinky look in a very specific way - one can pretty much flick through images of female dominance and notice the only difference is the faces, and even then it can be hard to tell. I don't much want to totter around in skin tight latex on five inch heels with slicked back hair and Cruella De Ville make-up, unless someone is paying me a lot of money or I'm doing Cabaret. But that said, I don't want to cause confusion or upset by wearing clothes that tell people I'm something different to what I am.

The problem here is in finding a way of expressing sexuality without feeling as if its cribbed from someone else - no-one wants to feel unoriginal, but perhaps such a thing isn't possible? After all, the meanings of what we wear are a social construct and therefore unless we are aiming to be a true "original" (back to the bin bags and flip-flops again, and that will only work once before its been done) we fit into the pattern of what has been done/said/worn before.

I've been thinking it over and decided that the only real answer, is to say "fuck it", and accept that I will wear whatever I feel like wearing, whenever I feel like wearing it and that will have no bearing on who I am as a person, as a feminist, as a woman, as a dominant. As me. Chameleon like, I will give different messages each day to those who only look at me. I will probably not be recognisably "domme" or "sub" to a fair amount of people which means that they may have to come and talk to me and find out. I'll wear what makes me feel hot and damn the rest. This will confuse some people, no doubt. I will certainly not be consistent and certainly never give the impression of living in a 24/7 BDSM photoshoot. I'll be a dominant in a fluffy bathrobe, in drag, in a dress and in jeans and a t-shirt.

I think it will be a lot of fun.

The assembled company

I went to a small private "wine and rope" party last night which turned out to be exactly what I needed - I'd forgotten quite how much I'd missed just relaxing in kinky company and being able to chat normally without having to watch over my shoulder for who is listening and might have a problem with it. And it was the normality of the situation that was particularly pleasing. We talked a little about this over the evening, discussing our personal backgrounds, including religious leanings, and the different reactions we've had from friends and family on "coming out." One woman admitted that a friend had told her she was fine with the kink but now concerned that she was going to hell. Fortunately I haven't suffered from that reaction, but I do keep a lid on my activities when not in purely kinky company. Aside from the blog, it's not something I'm interested in getting into in any detail outside BDSM circles (because explaining ones passions can all too often end up feeling like you are justifying them), excepting the odd throwaway comment when in mixed company to remind those assembled that not everyone wants the same things out of life.

Aside from feeling relaxed and able to lean back with a glass of wine and discuss future rope performance with Ringmaster (and find out that he hates that nickname - though others, myself included, consider it apt) I was also able to get a feel for which bits of play I'm currently interested in having had something of a sea-change in my sexuality. I've been concerned for the past few weeks that I wasn't really "into" anything much, and have had many conversations with Knight of Wands on the subject of libidos and seemingly extinguished desires. I think that ultimately, timing and company might well be everything, because when presented with the twitching back of a beautiful woman whose shuddering gasps could be heard through the ball gag there was a twinge in my stomach. Similarly when faced with a wriggling, bratty girl who refused to apologise, something inside me needed to put her down, and put her down fast.

Both instances were about my desire to exert control and enjoy the effect of my actions, by making someone respond to what I was doing to them in a way that pleased me. I wasn't thinking about fucking them, the pleasure existed in a different place to my cunt - it was more about how I felt mentally. They both presented two different types of topping. In the former I found pleasure in her sensitivity, the smallest amount of pressure made her flex and gasp, so it was a game of building and varying the sorts of gentle impact - a pair of chopsticks were ideal for this, there's only so hard you can hit with them, they are good for drumming and have a good point. I felt connected to her in those few minutes, patiently leading her around by the sensations on her skin, concentrating on the small noises she was making, enjoying the moans of pleasure I was creating.

The latter situation there was an element of socialising going on, lots of people were watching and it became a group game rather than a one-on-one affair. Although there were people watching in the scene above, they had faded into the background once I started to play with her. This time, there was more of a circus. It all started with a refusal to apologise. I don't like bratty submissives, so couldn't allow that sort of behaviour to go on. It was fun wrestling her to the ground and pinning her, watching her helpless underneath me and her cunt semi-exposed for me to grip tightly till she apologised. It was an expression of strength and simple cruelty however and lacked the elegance of the other situation. Fighting feels less controlled, a struggle can be physically satisfying, and gets the endorphins and adrenaline going, but to the dominant bit of my brain having something offered up is more attractive.

Impenetrable

Nothing is happening, so naturally, I'm blogging about it. I haven't died, hung up my rope or moved to a Land Without Kink. In case anyone was worried. Things continue as normal with Ten - he's a good boy and follows instructions. He also does a good line in unobtrusive but pleasing texts and emails. There is a vague thought in the back of my mind that perhaps I should go on a date or two, or at least respond to the messages on various BDSM internet forums, but frankly, there's not a lot out there that takes my fancy at the moment.

The main point is my lack of sexual desire. Now when I use this phrase I usually refer to quite a broad church, so I'm going to refine it down to fucking. Hand on heart, I am totally disinterested, almost as far as to say that the idea of someone penetrating me is a little abhorrent. Being touched, as long as I can specify where and how would be fine, receiving oral sex and allowing someone to show their appreciation with a massage or other stimulation could be acceptable, but only if I'm in the mood - which mostly I'm not. And that they would go away the instant I wanted them to, without fuss, which is not really the best way to treat another person, even if you are on top.

The requirement for orgasm hasn't diminished and I continue to be a healthy two-a-day kind of girl. That said, penetrative sex has never really been a way of delivering orgasm which is why I don't associate the two in my mind. Penetrative sex gives something else, a feeling of fullness, of completion, of being taken and owned and that isn't what I want right now. I don't have the requirement, is perhaps a better way of putting it. The need for that kind of exchange doesn't exist. I don't have a space to fill. Fucking someone else, perhaps, but them inside me - not a chance.

I am still interested in play, although this too has become refined down to more isolationist pursuits that rely on little input and even less skin-to-skin contact. Sensory deprivation still holds a fascination for me, the thought of being cocooned in a bubble of plastic, perhaps with a vibrator, and just left to my own devices to float away to nothing is very attractive. Machines and devices seem to win over people every time. My current top masturbatory fantasy involves two faceless, hard bodied men in tight rubber hoods and pants (like these ones, which make me very excited - turning penises into nice, shiny dildoes) who I can use and then put away, like toys. Or watch them try to fuck each other. Dolls. Perhaps a number on their skin, like runners marked for a triathalon. Essentially I want pleasure without the hassle of returning the caress. And it does feel like a hassle, to have to engage with someone else, their emotional and physical needs. A relationship in other words, is too much like hard work.

Because of this, I'm not really looking for new partners, because new partners are much less likely to understand me or where I'm coming from. They might want sex, for example. Or to hold hands. Perhaps a part of me has decided that now is the time for being selfish, and that is a difficult thought for me, having been brought up to believe that being selfish is bad, to take without giving. I'm trying to put that to one side for the moment because other than that I'm pretty happy just doing my own thing without anyone much to do it with.

Heavy petting

I'm doing a lot of pet play at the moment, admittedly a lot of it is long-distance with Ten. He's taken to it extremely well, or at least to the imagery and idea of it, things like fetching balls, eating from a bowl on the floor and begging for titbits have inspired strong sexual responses. He's highlighted the fact that whilst in normal life the idea of begging is abhorrent, there is a definite draw to doing it as a puppy. For me, this illustrates how the depersonification of someone and can be extremely liberating, especially to those who can find challenges with their (human) submissive selves.

Puppies, and pets in general, allow for a freer range of submissive / dependent expression without the need for rational thought or "performance anxiety" - you are able to divest yourself of the responsibilities of being a person, or even of being a human submissive, and run on instinct. There's a different sort of responsibility in being the dominant in a mistress/pet scenario than in a mistress/slave situation. Whilst the term "ownership" is just as applicable, the D/s power exchange feels more nurturing - a puppy needs to have lots of things done for them, and they need a certain amount of looking after whereas a human slave can exist to serve the desires of the dominant. Training goes hand in hand with owning a puppy, but there is a certain lightness of touch, after all puppies don't know any better and are somewhat accident prone. Behaviour that would be unpleasantly bratty in a human slave can be endearing in a puppy - which isn't to say I intend to tolerate much in the way of naughty puppies, but I do think that they naturally have more leeway, a wining puppy is sweet for longer than a wining human being.

That might just be me expressing my natural English tendency to prefer animals - especially dogs - to people.

I'm trying to work out what it is about puppies that does it for me - and they really do it for me, so much so I'm amazed that I haven't done more with them earlier. I think in part it's driven by Ten's enthusiasm, but other people as puppies also flicks my switch. They make me excited and also very happy, much like real puppies - I grin when I think about them. Sometimes I giggle. Puppy play is basically fun. Puppies are cute - well, I think that they are cute - and a lot of the activities associated with puppies naturally tend toward the playful: ball throwing, tickling, lots of stroking and petting. A good puppy is affectionate, they do a lot of licking, which is also rather cute. They also get a lot of kit - heavy, restrictive leather kit. Paws are an absolute must, and I'm leaning towards a muzzle, or at least head-harness that has the sensation of a muzzle. And, of course, collar and lead. Plus a butt plug with tail, for him to wag.

Aesthetically, I love the look of a well-turned out puppy boy (and it is mostly boys). I'm not big on furry outfits - to me the result should be very slick, a leatherclad puppy, more of a dog actually, with firm musculature, lots of flesh showing and plenty of restrictive straps that alter the shape of the body into something more animal, then going further and making something beyond the animal. The pleasure is in knowing that a human being has offered themselves up to be presented and treated this way, to be moulded into that perfect pet. I'm looking forward to taking Ten through the transformation process, starting with a good scrub down on all fours in the bath tub (or outside if there's a convenient moment) and then putting on all of the kit.

I also think it will be a good format for him to engage in group scenes in a controlled environment. I had a small but perfectly formed "puppy picnic" with Spiral and her puppy over the weekend - there should have been a few more people and puppies, but real life got in the way. I'm hoping in time to organise a regular meet up for those who are pet-play inclined, partly because I want to learn more, but also because I would like to run some scenes around pet training, including socialisation and other group animal activities. Perhaps if I'm feeling nice I might attempt to secure a bitch for Ten, if he's been good.

My rules, his body

Ten is under orgasm control. It isn't, to my mind, a particularly difficult sort of orgasm control - he's as likely as not to achieve orgasm whilst following the rules - but I don't want to do anything difficult long distance: I want to save serious deprivation and sexual control for when he is here and I can reap the benefits. For the moment, I need rules that don't require me to observe or participate - a lot of this relies on his willingness to be a Good Boy and his own self-control. Additionally our opportunities to meet up are limited and often months apart, so I wanted something that it would be relatively easy to maintain without me and by himself. Finally, I'm conscious that he is new to the scene and to BDSM so I didn't want anything too daunting - I intend to keep playing with him for a long time, so am prepared to be very patient, start small and build up. In fact, that's a lot of the fun - it's a very slow-build project.

The rules exist because I want him to have an ongoing reminder of our connection, and because, simply put, I get off on his submission and denial/restraint is a big thing for a self-confessed impulsive, wilful alpha male. The rules are not random, however, I've chosen them carefully. So, here are his particular rules and what we get out of them.

He can attempt to orgasm twice a day. This is the "normal" number of orgasms that he usually has, or at least, usually had before he agreed to submit to me. I wanted a number he was comfortable with and didn't initially feel would impact too much on his perception of satisfaction - yet. At all other times he must avoid touching his cock and balls except where strictly necessary, and with no more contact than is required to perform the task. This is to remind him of the rules he is under, and also to emphasise that control over his cock and the sensations it can have now belongs to me. I like taking control of an area usually associated with masculine pride and sexual power - there's a slight element of emasculation going on, naturally, but mostly I like that he is often reminded how his pleasure is under my control. He must shave his genital area, he can't masturbate unless he is nice and smooth. Now, this was originally a bone of contention because he was unwilling to loose his manly fuzz, but he has conceded the point and now rather enjoys the ritual of bathing and shaving, he also admitted that his smooth skin reminds him of mine which adds to the pleasure and provides a physical stimulus and tactile connection in my absence. Being smooth, makes him more mine, especially because it is something I want that he was uncertain about, so it is one of the things he has given to me.

That's the prep work - now the actual masturbation itself. He can only do it whilst kneeling, again, an obvious reminder of his submission, but it's also a position I want him to associate with sexual pleasure / frustration and with doing things for me. He must have a butt plug inserted before he can start - initially he was using a teeny-tiny one (I managed to find a "My First Butt Plug" on the internet and posted it to him with his first set of orgasm instructions). This was quite a big leap for him, first because anal play genuinely worried him, and because it was a move into the realm of having things "done to him". It's something that I remain most proud of him for being able to do - and his surprise at his enjoyment was a wonderful thing. I wanted a physical object, and initially thought about a ball gag then decided on a butt plug. I wanted him to "feel" submissive, and one of my drivers for submission is the sensation of being penetrated or of feeling full. I also wanted him to get pleasure from something that (to him) would be strange and unusual and possibly a bit shameful - certainly if caught. We've talked a lot about strap-on sex, because fucking his arse is something I am very keen to do, so this also acts as a reminder and warm-up to that, allowing him to get very familiar with the sensations involved. I like that he is doing this to himself, because it means he is able to take his time and explore properly.

Thus kneeling and stuffed he is almost ready to go. Except one thing. An ice-cube in his mouth. This functions as a timer, a note of unpleasantness and as a partial gag. He can masturbate for as long as the ice remains frozen - once it's gone he has to stop. I like that he must control himself - that's important for my submissive because I want obedience rather than brattishness so self-control is important, also it helps him feel proud of what he has done rather than being a passive participant in things done to him. He has a limited time for the wanking, but as much time as he likes with the plug, hopefully that will allow him to appreciate pleasure and anticipation more than release, but also recognise that release is limited, short and contingent. If he manages to orgasm he must lick it all up. The last rule has no real reason for existing beyond the fact that I find men being forced to eat their own semen hot. And that's a good enough reason, frankly. Plus it encourages tidiness.

Whether he orgasms or not, he must send me a text message to say thank you. Sometimes I ask for a follow-up email report, especially if he mentions that he had a particularly intense or difficult time. He has told me that his orgasms have been extremely powerful since being under these rules, so I'm certainly viewing that as positive: that he is responding very well to them and that they are the right rules for him - both of which makes me feel very satisfied. The only note of sadness is not being able to watch him do it, but his writing is very pleasing to read and re-read: my own personalised pornography collection.

We had an interesting exchange earlier today where he had just experienced a rather frustrating setback with his new plug (in a moment of keen excitement he asked to move up a notch, and he may have gone up a few too many in one go). This is the first time he hasn't been able to follow the rules and it was quite difficult for me as a dominant to not be near him for this. Not just because I know that if I'd been there I would have been able to help him with it and it would have gone in just fine with my "encouragement" but because he felt bad at having "failed" at the task and I wanted to be able to reassure him in person.

The perils of long-distance domination. Fortunately, the rewards continue to outweigh the difficulties.