Public and private performances

Life is slowly, slowly, ever so slowly becoming something that you might call "normal". For a certain value of "normal" I suppose. I've moved house, settling into a routine with Ganymede (more on that in another post) and am beginning to find time to see friends and go to parties.

I had a lot of fun creating a small BDSM performance of the Masque Of The Red Death for Dandy's themed birthday party last weekend. What do you get the man who has everything? A hand-made slice of blood soaked, tongue in cheek (tongue in cheeks) kinky live art. I love doing stage shows, particularly those that have a storyline to them. For this one I re-wrote the story and committed sections of the original prose to memory - I liked the cadence and feel of a lot of the language and didn't want to paraphrase. I used pre-briefed friends in the audience to act as a dumb show: laying out the events in the tale whilst I spoke and then gave the whole thing a kinky twist.

Blush was a marvellous victim, upon whom I demonstrated - for the enjoyment of all - the symptoms of the Red Death. Stripped naked with red wax dripping from a lit candle onto her flesh represented the blood pouring from the skin. Dandy, crowned and led to the stage where he could sit on a throne was the Prince and I had a number of courtiers to fawn upon him. The audience were also the guests at the Masquerade and together with the courtiers we encouraged them to dance, drink and generally get into the debauched spirit of the whole thing. I was very flattered by the reception and made a mental note to add a bit more art to future performances.

In public, things have been very good. In private, perhaps less so.

Of late I've been feeling a little sub-par in my own dominance. Play with Ganymede has been patchy. Don't get me wrong, the sex is amazing and the kinky sex particularly so, especially where sexual service, bondage or sensory deprivation (or all three) is concerned. Anything involving fucking is bordering on some of the best sex I've ever had.

But "pure" play is much more miss than hit. And that's where the dominant worries come in. We've tried some things that have not quite worked or have just resulted in feelings of upset, discomfort of "meh." None of which are ideal outcomes, particularly as a dominant of a new submissive, and a new to BDSM submissive. I am responsible, for him, that's part of the power exchange. I get his service, I take on responsibility or power, if you will. I consider myself to be part mentor, part tutor, part provider of horrible, wonderful things and his enjoyment of all things kink is mediated through me. I decided what, when, how and who we play with.

So when things don't work out I often feel as if it is my fault - my fault for not knowing him well enough, for not controlling the situation enough, or for just not reading him right. I'm not worried about us, or about our relationship. We're very well matched and well connected. What I'm concerned about is whether my idea of dominance is based on my experiences as a submissive - in short, I'm delivering the dominance that I enjoyed. Which makes sense, as my goal is to give him the sort of satisfaction that I experienced when I was submissive. And I want that satisfaction for myself, as a dominant. And recently, I haven't been feeling that way. If I'm not giving "good" dominance then I feel as if I've failed.

But what have I "failed" at? We've tried things and they haven't worked. There was no real way of knowing in advance whether they would or wouldn't. Some of the things I like, he will never like because we are not the same. And replicating other relationships with new people is never a good idea. It's difficult though, because your first dominant, your first D/s relationship sets the scene, as it were. It gives you your first thrills and contexts for how to have a different sort of sexual relationship. And these ideas and actions become ingrained, with time. That's part of how D/s works, how S&M play works - we substitute for sexuality.

Logically, there are no hard and fast rules about what a D/s relationship "should" look like, or what people "should" do when they are involved in those relationships. Yet we all have in our minds an image of what a D/s relationship is, what people do. There's part of me that feels that without doing those things I'm somehow being less of a dominant to him, giving him less of the type of play that he might expect. Breaking out of these patterns is proving harder than I'd imagined, especially with someone new. I would have thought that a partner without preconceptions would be ideal, a tabula rasa on which for me to make my mark. However, I'm finding that because a lot is new to him, there's a lot to try, and a lot to fail at, because he doesn't have experience or context. And that means more for me, and more pressure I'm putting on myself, to deliver better scenes to compensate for the failed ones.

And that's without even thinking about the emotional side.

When scenes that break down because he's not enjoying himself or it's getting awkward, then I feel terrible. It's like an anti-orgasm: entirely the opposite of the kind of satisfaction, pride and confidence I get from a good stage performance. I feel annoyed, frustrated and guilty. My dominance is part of me, it feeds my sense of self. If I don't think I'm a good dominant, I feel unhappy just as if I was struggling at work, or having arguments with my friends or family.

Nothing in life is without a resolution, and communication is a big part of making this issue go away. Getting him to talk about his feelings is proving a bit of a challenge, but on the other hand I've never struggled talking about mine, and sharing them is a good start. I'm going to try and revisit some of our earlier, extensive emails and lists of red, amber, green activities and see if we can re-build a new dynamic that fits better with the things we now know we both enjoy and we can look to explore or expand upon other kinds of play that we might not have tried yet.

Submissive styles

A conversation with a friend of mine recently helped me understand one of my own concerns about the type and response to S&M play with Ganymede. She's a switch, like me, and talked about how she "flies" when she is submitting - we spent a while waxing lyrical over the deep joys of letting go, bottoming out, closing your eyes and just being done to - rather in the manner of women discussing cakes they had enjoyed eating. But in this case, our memories of pleasure were laced with current disappointments. Neither of us felt that we were giving our partners the same depth of submission, the same overwhelming sensations or crazy, head swimming, lost-from-the-universe jouissance.

I've used that word deliberately, more on gendered reactions to sex later, hold that thought. Kristeva theorised that jouissance is a type of writing that only women were capable of performing, which interested me in terms of gendered sexual expression in BDSM. Capitalising on previous theories about how men are not taught how to express their sexual side in the way that women are - with the knock-on effect that women are overly sexualised or only valued for their sexuality and men find it hard to express submissive desire because sexual availability is seen as "feminine". This leads us on to the worrying assumption that women are "naturally" submissive, and men are "naturally" dominant. A point which is bunk, pure and simple. However, this is a social perception, and it's also a reflection of how different gender roles are assigned. What this means is that it can often be easier for women to be sexually submissive than men and that whilst many men desire sexual submission it can trigger complications, including a difficulty in "properly" submitting as well as other thoughts on guilt, shame and their own masculinity.


Could it be that men find submission harder than women? Are there tools and techniques we can use to help get over these barriers? Conversation helps. As always. Communicate and try and understand not "what is wrong" but "what submission looks and feels like". It could well be that it's a simple case of different people having different experiences, however it could be that there is something deeper driving it. Gender aside, everyone responds to play differently and that we can't expect others to have matching responses to ours. Pleasure looks different in different bodies. Just as certain people are warmer or cooler on different toys, sensations and situations so too submission looks different in other minds.

Reassuring her helped reassure myself. We both worried that we hadn't been able to give our partners that experience of sub space we ourselves had enjoyed so much and felt like worse dominants for it. But being practical, I know that I am good at what I do, I'm very skilled and experienced in both practical and psychological techniques of control, pleasure and pain. I know my partner, we talk a lot and although we are still relatively knew, I know a lot of his buttons and the more we play, the better we get.

Yet, there is also another factor. Just as dominance is an art that needs to be learnt so is submission. The practice of relinquishing control and thereby generating sexual pleasure is not as innate as some people think. There is a huge gap between the fantasy of doing something and the reality of doing it - or to be more precise, having it done to you. Certainly the desire to do it has to be there in the first place, but a lot of these feelings - physical, mental and emotional - are strange when done for the first time and unfamiliar sensations take some getting used to. The more you do it, the better you get at it and the more deeply you are able to participate. Of course, like natural athletes there are people who are just born to BDSM, who melt under a firm touch or thrill to the feel of twitching flesh under their hands. Their minds and bodies need kink like fish need water. For most people, BDSM can be an exciting addition to their lives, and their sex lives, but it isn't a need, they can - and do - play every now and then with kinky things, but it's icing on the cake. For perverts, it's the cake. And the icing. And the box the cake came in. And the cake shop. 

Ganymede is new to BDSM and D/s relationships with their hurt / comfort equilibrium of power exchange, rules of living and sexual activities that emphasises these power roles. Although we have fallen very easily into this way of living, in many ways this is sometimes not helpful. Not everything we do will be as easy for him, or as "natural" as others. My own experience and desires are only useful to a point because all they really do is outline what I want and what I like. Similarly, because he is new, we have to accept - and anticipate - that he might not be the same kind of submissive as I am. 

To take a simple example, he likes verbal abuse, which I hate, he can grin and say "yes, I am a complete slut." in a way I would never have been able to do. To give a more complex one, the concept of serving me is one that he loves, wholeheartedly, especially sexual service. He is always available for me to fuck, whenever I want, for example. The physicality of this is familiar, he's had sex with people before, the difference is his ability to chose when, who and how, which is now denied to him. The denial is tempered with the fact that he wants to be used in this way. Pain, however, is still relatively unfamiliar, and not as keenly associated with desire. He doesn't have a high pain tolerance. It's something to be used sparingly, and it's something that he suffers through, because I'm a sadist...


But not that much of a sadist that I want my bottom to suffer needlessly. I'm a trainer, first and foremost and that means a reliance on the tools of carrot and stick. In order for me to enjoy what I'm doing, I need to know that he enjoying it, even if he's not enjoying all of it, or even if he is only enjoying it because of the context.
   

Playing with people

As part of the process of training Ganymede, and because (frankly) I'd missed playing with her, I invited Blush over for a BDSM threesome this weekend. Group sex is always a bit of a gamble, group kink is even more so. Not only do you need to have participants who are sexually interested in each other but they also have to by psychologically attuned. I place my bets every time I introduce Ganymede to someone else, it's not just about what affect a new body, a new person might have on him, it's about what effect my playing with that person might have and the fact that whenever you include any additional partners you always change the dynamic.

I had reasonable hopes of good odds on this one. Blush and I have a natural connection, the sadist in me matches perfectly with the masochist in her, and she is a good submissive fit for my dominance. I knew that I was using the often flawed argument of "well, I like both of them, so they must both like each other." Fortunately I was right.

The order of the evening was a long, drawn out session of co-subbing (for them) and co-ordinating wonderful, dreadful things (for me). We relaxed into it, I had all the space and time in the world and no intention of rushing. We met for dinner and drinks and then had coffee and liqueur whilst the heating went on and food was digested at the Citadel of Kink. I was whispering silent noises of happiness at the luxury of being able to do this, without worry of interruption and the level of security and control this had offered me.  It felt like civilisation.

We discussed, briefly, over dinner what people may or may not be interested in doing. Both of them trust me and neither of them wanted to ruin the surprise so I let the conversation linger briefly on what they might expect. All the better to warm up their anticipation.

Once everything else was warmed up, I moved on to play. We opened up one of the boxes of tricks, and I showed Blush all of the new kit I had acquired since we last played together. I had the remarkable fortune of being gifted a very large bag of some very high quality bondage kit, including a couple of pieces that I have only seen rarely. Her eyes widened and she made a pleasing "oooh" sound. Together with Ganymede, I stripped her down, displaying her body for him, removing stockings and suspenders and applying thick, black buckled leather wrist and ankle cuffs, designed for suspension. This set has three large straps and the wrist pieces almost resemble gauntlets or boxing gloves. She ginned widely as they went on. I set the boy to work licking her cunt whilst I blindfolded her and applied a set of clover clamps to her breasts, then used a pinwheel at the top of her cunt, just above where he was licking.

Once he was in place, I stripped him down and spanked his exposed bottom encouragingly. The game of co-subbing is about balance and contact. Keeping both submissives entertained at the right levels so that neither feels "left out" in a way that would be inappropriate - as opposed to, say, a game of abandonment, or cuckolding, or voyeurism. For a dominant, this means twice the work, in theory, but if it works well it is absolutely twice the fun. And of course, I was able to use them both as toys for the other. Hierarchy, spoken or unspoken, is one of the best ways to help frame what you might do. I knew that Blush would recoil at doing anything which was toppy or dominant, but that Ganymede might appreciate being used as a tool of violence. So that was how I arranged the situation. He was my spare pair of hands, a way of acting upon her flesh. She was my way of giving him pleasure, without having to do so myself, and I made her suck his cock whilst I smiled at him from across the room.

There is an absolute joy in making other bodies sing to your tune, to move them this way and the other, leading them on a merry dance through all kinds of pleasures and pain. I clipped them together at the neck, watching them kiss with the satisfaction of the world's greatest pornographer. Personalised sex acts, just for me. I changed their positions, putting his cock inside her and locking her wrists around his back. He fucked. I gagged him and watched his face as she, teasingly, kissed the hardened leather covering his mouth. Finally, I slid a plug inside him and, pressing in with me knee, ground him into her. 


"This is how missionary sex works, right?"


Later, we put a leather arm sleeve on Blush, which arched her back and pressed her breasts out for more torture. I slipped the latex hood onto Ganymede and put him on his back, then made her straddle his face whilst I fucked him. I remember thinking that perhaps this was an ideal girls' night in, with both of us using him for our pleasure and me kissing her whilst I ran my nails down her back, reminding her of their sharpness and cruelty. When he came, he came hard, the orgasm shuddering through his body. Together, Blush and I, smiling, gently removed the hood and held him until he came back to the room, to the world and to himself with a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in half.


Perhaps one of the more intimate moments came later, when, natural as if it had been something we always did, we showered, turned down the bed and all went to sleep together. In the morning, Ganymede tidied, I made breakfast and coffee whilst Blush went out for croissants. We sat together on rugs and cushions and discussed the night before, agreeing to future dates, and future possibilities.

The words that make you mine

"Tell me what I am, again."

And I do.

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


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

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

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

Partly. Perhaps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On creating objects for private use

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

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

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

Better yet, I know how to do it.

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

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

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

He's ready for use.

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

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

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

Cheeky chappy

"I brought your pants back."

He hands my underwear to me across the table in the crowded cafe. I raise an eyebrow. Unwashed, I also note. Unabashed - it takes rather a lot to embarrass me and I have no intention of rising to this - I take them and put them in my bag. On the walk to the tube station I point out, in between some rather pointed nipple flicking, I explain how this is not the kind of laundry service I expect. Later, when there is an audience of kinky ladies to provide a suitable level of humiliating punishment. I regale the story with mock horror and shove the pants into his mouth with instruction to do better next time.

One of the highlights of training Mr Smith has been developing an appreciation for the distinction between cheek and brattishness, and finding pleasure in dominating a cheeky submissive. Given my previous negative thoughts on the subject of any kind of push back from submissives, it was a surprise to me to find that I actually enjoy a certain amount of cute cheekiness.

Partly, I suppose, there's an issue of definitions. One person's acceptable cheek is another's brat. To me bratting involves actually fighting back, with an element of uncertainty over the winner. The kind of submissive who kicks out, taunts and enters into determined activity to get a rise out of me. Generally, this can be interesting as a one-off session, but for a more involved, long-term D/s relationship I don't have the style of dominance that fits with someone who wants their submission to be constantly “taken” over and over again - a little fight every now and then, perhaps, but on a day-to-day basis I want them to offer themselves up to me.

Mr Smith compared his cheek to "teenage behaviour" - it's always interesting to note how people talk about their own submission, the words and phrases they use shed light on how they view themselves which can create structures for play scenes or D/s frameworks. The teenage reference is quite a useful one in his case - the brash, "look at me" element, combined with the shyness or social awkwardness when his cheek comes up against my dominance, and loses.

On some level this is a test, of course and it keeps me on my toes. It's a test of authority in the way that a child might see how far they can push their parent, to see whether they are paying attention, whether they care. In this regard there is also an element of "asking for it" - by being cheeky he is asking to be dominated. If this were a very regular occurrence, or happening in particular ways in order to receive specific actions then it would be worrying, a strong case of topping from the bottom, but I don't feel that it is, more I think it's just how he is.

I don't like a lot of cheek, mind you, and there are certainly limits, particularly along the lines of the kind of cheek given and where it occurs. My desire and interest is much more along the lines of "I like a boy with spirit" than anything else. Light banter which is easily batted aside and replaced with a blush, an apology, a bowed head. There is a dominant pleasure in having something to push against - as long as it gives in. The training process by definition requires a roughened surface to start with, something to mould and smooth down.

In training, I decide what is acceptable and what isn't. I also decide what warrants punishment and what doesn't. That includes the edges of "cheek" and "bratting". Generally speaking anything that could be considered rude or as a direct and forceful challenge to my dominance in public would be bratting and completely unacceptable. Anything that goes against good scene behaviour is also not on - and this would not be "punished" in the same amusing way as cheekiness would be, it would involve more serious conversations and a use of the dreaded (to him) phrase "I was disappointed in you."

Cheek is a game, and it's a light hearted one at that, in which the submissive pushes lightly against the edges of my dominance. There is a shared joy in it, it is the gleam in their eye that reflects their personality. A submissive entirely devoid of any vim or repartee would be a doormat or completely cowed out of existence. As much as I talk about idealised pets and servants, my submissives are my friends and lovers. And pets have personality, of course - I like to see them sparkle. Cheek is a way for them to express themselves, and as long as it doesn't interfere with what I want or put me out, it can also be fun and entertaining.

For others as well as myself, as the pants incident proves.

Behind closed doors

I had actually imagined that I would arrive at Chiaroscuro's birthday, share a drink or two then be on the last train home. Why I thought such a thing is beyond me. I think the turning moment might have been when I took off my dress and threw it at a young man's head, perhaps in a very basic sort of mating ritual.

So instead of the train, I find myself (a curious yet apt turn of phrase) happily between Dandy and Boy Wonder, all of us in our underwear, all of us running newly purchased pretty knives - including a tanto that I have slightly fallen in love with - on each other's skin. There are hot bi boys everywhere, and a beautiful girl. We are all, for want of a better word, fooling around. It is wonderfully explorative, especially given that there are people here I have never played with yet with whom I click very strongly.

I clearly have no intention of leaving. Especially once Mr Smith expresses his intent to arrive. At which point things get interestingly complicated. I am pleased that my boy is coming, but also cautious.

This will be a challenge for him, he will be out of his comfort zone. This would be the first private BDSM party for him, he doesn't know many people, the balance of play and players is against him (he's straight). This will be a challenge for me because his behaviour reflects upon my skills as a dominant and trainer. It's especially important here because the group is small and well meshed. Unlike loud and busy club environments, things will go noticed. This is a very D/s environment with relationships described in those terms first and foremost. Actually, it's a very pleasurable space for me to be in, a normalised D/s space where one is able to talk clearly and freely about the sort of rules someone is under before you might kiss or touch them.

But all of this is still alien for Mr Smith for whom submission is desired, but difficult and sex is still framed in a swinging / hetero-vanilla conquest context. The sort of protocol that Chiaroscuro can expect in his own house is very similar to the kind I enjoy and hence the sort that I want my submissive to eventually deliver. Then there is the fact that I understand how things work which is probably why the play we were doing felt instinctual and natural, and so might fall into the trap of not preparing my boy well enough because things were "obvious". I also didn't want to throw lots of house rules at him in case that triggered a fit of D/s induced panic. I wanted what we all wanted: to carry on having a great party.

All in all, it wasn't going to be an easy bar for him to reach, nor for me to help him reach. As it turned out, he did make mistakes, partly down to nerves and partly down to inexperience. The mistakes themselves aren't as interesting as what happened as a consequence: punishment. Together with Chiaroscuro we discussed and agreed what should be done, then summoned him.

It wasn't a complicated thing, fortunately. But I was anxious all the same, worried it would not be done, that I might have to force it and what if I couldn't? I knew that we were playing at the very edges of all the things he was deeply uncomfortable with, particularly around perceptions of himself as a submissive male by other men.

First came the public apology on reluctantly bended knee. Eventually. With a request for a repeat due to lack of sincerity. Then came the rest. A bare-bottom beating, in full view of all. And a thank-you. Teeth were gritted, and his awkward embarrassment and nascent impotent anger were evident. The punishment was hard won. It was nowhere near as gracious nor elegant as it could have been. He is not a natural submissive, which in many respects makes this whole process more pleasing and fascinating. But it was done. And the first time such a thing was done, which marks it as special and valuable in my eyes. As I watched I both winced in empathy and swelled with a certain pride. How he took it (mostly) like the man he will become, the one I see flashes of every now and then. The submissive I will make of him. That we will make together.

Later...

The needles go in. One after another after another after another. They are cool little slices of life, tingling and sparkling as they go. They sit next to each other, chattering with a buzzing pain that isn't really pain. Yes, the MDMA is helping them along in their conversation with my skin, with my flesh, allowing the spreading warmth to mingle with the shuddering chills and wrap me up in a full metal jacket of sensation. Once they are all there I float in them, as they seem to float in me. I get up, move around and let them take me where I might go.

Eventually they come out. I rest myself down on Mr Smith's chest. Chastised, leather mitts on to prevent any more unfortunate knocks. One by one by one, Chiaroscuro takes the needles out. I feel the blood slip down my naked shoulder. My eyes are closed. His body is warm. It is one of those absolute moments of BDSM perfection that you want to go on forever.

i am basically wallowing in my own personal piece of heaven. I haven't bottomed in a long time, and tonight just felt right. Full of moments of animal pleasures from all ends of the scale from the simplicity of kissing for hours, of almost constantly being held, stroked, of holding and stroking through to the deep thrill of the taste of blood and the almost reverence with which it was offered and accepted. Everything fell into place, without formula, planning or even intent. The balance of people, the space, the way we interacted. Freeform bodies in motion. Things were done because they were desired, connections created and acted upon. I am not sure whether it was the privacy of the event, and this for me is almost the definition of private play. An intimate group of people sharing kinky desires.

Power, protocol and punishment

I slip the condom off and straddle his chest, quickly shoving it into his mouth before he can react. I press my fingers against his tongue, pushing his semen down his throat. His eyes widen from their relaxed post-orgasmic state. He makes a face, a sorrowful, confused moue.

"The next time you don't say thank-you immediately after you've come, that happens."

I surprise myself with how much force I can put behind that statement, I am genuinely cross with him and the punishemt, together with his obvious unhappiness, satisfies me. He begins to make excuses but I slap his leg and he quietens down. I lie down next to him and explain the importance of such things to me, reminding him that this is what he came to me for.

Punishment is a part of D/s training that needs to be delicately managed. I've learnt that it must happen quickly after the transgression so that the two are linked. It needs to be distinct from other parts of the relationship, clearly enshrined as a punishment: I want it to be obvious, isolated, unpleasant and cathartic. An action delivered to teach someone a lesson, ultimately it is instructive and (hopefully) constructive. My goal with my partners is to make them "better" through the training I'm delivering, they are of course marvellous and delightful already or I wouldn't play with them, but there's always room for specific tailoring to my own tastes. Reward has its place, of course, including praise and pleasure, but there must be punishment too. Enduring something unpleasant is part of submission: the ability to put distance between what the submissive wants and what the dominant wants and enforcing the latter to the detriment of the other strengthens the bond created by the power exchange.

I like punishment that is appropriate - this seemed like the obvious punishment for ungrateful orgasm. When pain is used for punishment it must be carefully contextualised, which is part of the reason why I don't often like delivering something such as a beating for punishment: it's too close to something I might want to do, whatever has happened. I don't want there to be a confusion of association because effectively I'm attempting to create reflexes and those require repeated, similar, stimulus.

Punishment reinforces and protects the rules of engagement: protocol. I love protocol because I want my relationships to be very clear in how they operate for my own piece of mind and assurance. To know who stands where and how so that each relationship I maintain is enshrined in its own little empires. I may not be the king of the world, but I will be king of that which I command. It's part of being the only X that does Y, I've got to have my particular space and protocol helps me define that space.

I don't run detailed protocol, and most of it is under the surface or private rules that will not be obvious in company. I prefer a few simple, brief rules that are "always on". Anything else can be delivered as an instruction when required. Micro-management holds little charm for me, it removes the space for the submissive to delight, surprise and please of their own initiative. I have smart, funny, capable partners - I want them to show flair in what they do.

One of the interesting training challenges with Mr Smith is overwriting the sexual behaviours from the swinging crowd, particularly the freedom to act and reversing his "naturally" dominant tendencies, particularly around women. He's very tactile, for example, which is nice but has caused a number of wandering hands incidents that needed correcting. We had a conversation in a taxi about how he had touched a submissive friend of mine and her dominant had a twinge of annoyance - I can certainly empathise with that. The act itself was relatively insignificant, and done because of casual friendliness. However, both myself and my submissive friend felt it was inappropriate. When I talked to Mr Smith about it he bristled and was annoyed that he wasn't informed at the time, because he would have liked to have been able to account for his own actions. I explained: "When you are with me, in a kink context, you represent me. You don't have authority for yourself, I do. I am responsible for your actions - how you behave reflects upon me."

The specifics of good protocol should be invisible, except to those who are aware of it and (certainly for me) it is akin to good manners, which is something I look for in submissives in general. What should be obvious is that there is a relationship of command, I love it when people comment on how "good" and "well-behaved" my submissives are. They don't need to know which rules they are following in order to appreciate the total package...

...almost as much as I do.

Dog

The lovely Chiaroscuro sent me this link on puppy play and negotiations. We met for a coffee a few weeks back to discuss all things boy-shaped-yet-also-canine. It is to my detriment that I have yet to set a date to actually play with him, my diary is descending once more into chaos and for certain people, such as The Ladies Who... for example it has been almost six months since I last met for more than a drink and a wink across the bar. But, my own planning aside, it's time to seriously consider the puppy and what he is made of beyond the fact that they are fun and make me smile.

The term of address "puppy" is a charming condescension - full of warmth and acceptance of foibles and foolishness, demeaning but not cruel or unkind. The puppy is not a person, but unlike other dehumanising power exchanges this isn't necessarily a bad thing, certainly not when puppy play is desired from the submissive (I can imagine that it would be a key tool in humiliation scenes if someone found it embarrassing to be turned into an animal). For the moment I'll discuss my play with Dandy who wants to be a puppy, who find it a comfortable, pleasant and safe space to be in.

There's two main areas of discussion, the first is how I view him in relation to myself and the second is the activities we partake in (and my thoughts on future activities). More than a puppy, I think of him as my dog. The age is relevant and has a knock-on effect on the sort of training and situations that work well. He's a smart dog, well groomed, honed and completely house trained. He is also a strong animal, loyal and with well developed protective instincts. In my mind he is an Alsatian, perhaps a police dog, muscular, a little aggressive and able to rip the throat out of anyone who upsets me. I've probably been watching too much True Blood (is there such a thing?) but I'm also thinking Werewolf - I absolutely derive a thrill from submission by those physically stronger and more powerful than me, whose power I can either turn against them or use to do my bidding. I think he sees himself more of a Labrador, but we're both working within a tolerable range of dog-types.

For myself, I am certainly his owner, and probably his trainer, though he is quite well behaved and his own desire to please means that I don't require much in the way of choke leads or rolled up newspaper - just as well as that sort of thing done too often would become quite tiresome I imagine - "forced" submission is not high on my list of things I enjoy.

Our play has generally more puppy-flavoured than being pure bred animal only play. We don't use a lot of kit or do much in the way of puppy dress up. There is a butt plug with a lovely wolfish tail that I like to use on him when I can - the physical shape and pressure it creates is a sign of my ownership - I can stroke and play with it and he'll feel the vibrations. On one rather memorable moment he started to whimper because I was leaning on his tail. Also, it just looks damn hot against his naked bottom. Hoods are a bit of a difficulty, which is unfortunate because I quite like them, so I'm considering some sort of muzzle that isn't as enclosing but creates the right shape. Similarly, paws.

In terms of how the dog looks he will be mostly naked and always on all fours - we do a lot of work on posture - how he holds himself, sits etc and I tend to move him around by placing a hand on the scruff of his neck. He will waggle his bottom when happy and licks my face when excited. He even has certain puppyish characteristics when not strictly in role. He will happily sit at my feet, makes tiny growls of pleasure if his neck is scratched and says "ruff" every now and then - the frequency of his doing these things is often a good indication of how submissive he is feeling.

Play involves a lot of stroking, general fuss and just having him around as a dog - it's quite light because he's well behaved and doesn't require much punishment plus even I find it a challenge to be cruel to a dog for no reason. Even giving him a wash in the shower on all fours or grooming with an epilator caused a lot of unhappy looks and whimpers that made me feel mean, and not in a good way. I generally stick to light taps around the cock and balls area when I feel like delivering something harder. I'm quite keep to employ electricity in future sessions, but the violet wand seems like the wrong tool - remote control pads would be better. I also want to do some more longer term play where he's in dog mode for an entire evening, and then perhaps take him out to a club or to do some socialising classes with other dogs.

Easy come, easy go?

After a couple of email exchanges in which we realised that any and all meet ups were going to be both ad-hoc and not any time soon I've decided to stop play with Ten. Long distance orgasm denial, masturbation management and chastity rules are fine as long as there are regular hands-on sessions to provide reinforcement and filthy memories to look back upon fondly. Training needs contact time. Which we didn't have.

I'm not crying into my coffee (black, no sugar) over it, though I was initially a little saddened because I'd been doing some planning for his arrival. I'm a great believer in only doing things - and people - if you can do them properly. We were getting to the point where the ritual around how and when he could masturbate had become unfulfilling for both of us. The impetus was lost and with that can came a sense of diminished intimacy and responsibility to each other and to the power exchange. In short, we were flagging and I hate the sensation of not doing well enough, either as a top or a bottom.

We've known each other for long enough to both accept when things aren't working, so there was very little fuss, just a footnote that we'll keep in touch. We've managed for ten years, let's see what happens next decade.

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.

You have been a very naughty boy

"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.

Canes

I'm scared of canes. Before I even knew what they felt like, I was scared of them because everyone told me how much they hurt. They are my own personal bogey man, the thing under my bed. I now know that they do hurt an awful lot, and the knowledge has not made me any less afraid. But for the first time in my life, I actually want to be hit with a cane.

This all stems from Monday night. I can still feel the three stripes on my thighs from the "light taps" I received from Captain, and I'm trying to bring the sensation that caused them to mind. As always, I know that it hurt a lot, that it was intense, but the exact amount of pain is hard to say. It's always more than I remember and always unpleasant and delivers nothing but pain, taking my breath away and forcing out a cry. It's a clean and sharp pain, a hot cut that slashes the skin and pushes deep into the muscles. A bright pain too, I almost always see stars behind my closed eyelids. It almost always makes me cry.

Tied face down to a leather padded bench. Rope criss-crossing me and pulled tight like a net from the tips of my toes all the way up to my head. I was relaxed, lying sweet and comfortable, setting into the nest of tense rope that holds me in like a comfort blanket. That was before Captain went over to get the canes. I saw them earlier, all laid out, as he sprayed them with water to keep them supple, so I was already partly aware of possible intentions. We'd been playing with some shibari positions, working out which ties could be slipped easily, which were actually secure, what felt "right" and what pulled awkwardly. I'd happily been moved around into different positions, a content and supple doll for rope practice. Now, upon hearing the swish of a cane cut through the air I went tense, an attempt at readiness that can never be realised.

The first few blows were taps, and the relief I felt was balanced out by the knowledge that the cane was going to be used, not just a noise to surprise or shock me. When the first stronger blow came I cried out, there's no control or resistance when I'm being hit with a cane, it's just pure aversion response. I can't keep quiet and keeping still is hard. The rope took care of the latter. A few taps and another blow later and I was in floods of tears. Being frightened makes me cry, being in pain makes me cry. But more than that it was the sadness at being so vulnerable, so unable to take what is perceived as such light and little blows. Unhappiness at my own weakness, at the speed at which I gave in and cried. Added to that, the uncertainty of not knowing how long this would go on for, whether the blows would get harder.

The tears were cathartic, crying is energising in a way, allowing those horrible thoughts and feelings to bubble out and disperse - pushing them away from my mind and body. There is something satisfying in having a good cry, and having a reason to do so. The same with canes. Which is why when he leant over me, so I could feel how hard he was and how much he was enjoying himself I felt better, happier. He asked me whether I would take more, for him and I replied "yes, Sir" instantly, naturally. Because that helped me. Knowing that I was doing it for him, that it was pleasing him and having that connection. The thing I was giving up. The thing he was taking. As the words left my mouth I wondered at the pleasure in saying yes like that. In acquiescing to something I was scared of, something that hurt. It's wrong to say I got no pleasure from it. There was the thrill in being brave, in saying yes, certainly there was the knowledge that I was pleasing him (of course) but there was also power in consent.

Which brings me to the strange realisation that I do want more. To give myself over and to endure. I have a strong suspicion that when it comes to it, I will not want it, but now, removed, I do. I want the pain and the fear not for themselves, but to have someone take me through them, beyond my own personal barriers and aversions and into a place where the pain can become something beyond the pain itself. I want to be able to take more than I currently can, so in a way it is part of a personal challenge. I want the cane to be in context, to be part of something that is meaningful. I also want to be able to inhabit the pain in a way that I can do for other sensations - flogging, needles and spanking spring clearly to mind. They all give me something else, deep spaced out sensations or high as a kite giggling. I'm sure that there must be some equivalent with canes rather than just short, sharp shocks of pure punishment.