Sunday, December 13, 2015

Yes, Virginia, kinky people can be bigots, too

It was commented to me recently that people coming into the BDSM and non-monogamy lifestyles have to learn a whole new set of mores—that the accepted modes of behavior are all just a little bit askew. I agree, to a point—yes, the sexuality is in hyper-drive and often on display—but I think that the basic ways of acting as a human being in other areas still apply regardless of the sexuality of the people involved.

It is to be expected that sexuality will be ramped up in a group of openly kinky people. It is not uncommon for me to go to a munch, for example, and have a woman whose last name I don't know kiss me, or have a man make a very sexual joke about my breasts (both with permission). These things would not happen in most other groups in which I am a member, but they are an accepted part of my particular kink culture.

On the other hand, there are things that aren’t acceptable no matter how kinky we are.

I was at a kink gathering some time ago where a cisgender, straight person made a really offensive joke about gay men. In talking with Danny about it later, we talked about mores, and he commented that the person was totally in the wrong, but that because of the nature of the group it is entirely possible that this person thought such a joke was appropriate. This is a concept I just cannot grasp—how on earth does someone not know that bigoted jokes are inappropriate?

I thought about this some more as I went to sleep, then even more when I woke up, and this is what I came to:

Yes, the mores are different, but basic humanity and participating in the world in a responsible way is not specific to non-kink situations—to suggest otherwise insults me as a thinking, kinky adult.

We are not especially enlightened human beings—we are just kinky. We are capable of being bigoted, racist, homophobic, misogynistic, and just plain ignorant and uninformed. Someone should not get a pass on that ignorance just because they like to give or receive a good ass caning.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

I want to be your totally submissive little slut (sort of)

I want to submit completely. I want to indulge in that space with a person whom I trust with both my submission and my life. I want to lower all walls, let go of societal expectations, and escape into a world where he or she is my only responsibility. I want to exist only for pleasure, to be a servant, a fuck toy. I want to give up the ability to say no with a dominant who would never do anything to make me regret that decision.

The thing is, though, I only want to be that girl for a couple of days—tops.

I could never be that girl on a regular basis. If I tried I guarantee that either the dominant would die when my need to assert myself becomes a murderous impulse that I cannot deny—or I would die from the sheer effort of trying to contain it.

I am a service-oriented person in general, but this takes that to a whole new level—a level that is both slightly terrifying and exciting as hell. There is something wonderfully freeing about not having a say in the decision making process, and in having an existence that is so clearly, and rigidly, defined. There is something ridiculously hot about that definition consisting entirely of keeping the person whose dominance excites me happy. And there is something deep, and spiritual, and magical in having my focus entirely on that person as I submit, in existing in a space that has little to do with the outside world, or reality, or anything but the connection between us.

For this to happen, I have to go away from everything I know, every reminder of every day life, because if I am going to indulge to that degree I need a clear mental and physical separation between fantasy and reality. I need to be able to leave that girl behind so that I don’t get lost in her, because as nice as that space would be to visit, I am pretty sure I would not want to live there.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

You don't need my permission to fuck my lover

...or talk to him, or have coffee/dinner/drinks with him. You need his permission--period.

Really, that is it. Granted, he and I do have strict rules about STI testing and putting one's dick in crazy, so he isn't exactly waving said dick around hoping it will land in someone, but if the conditions of our relationship are met, and all appropriate consents are in place, he can have sex with whomever he likes. He can also kiss whomever he likes, play with whomever he likes, and generally spend time with whomever he likes (all three of which are much more likely to happen than actual sex!).

I have written several times about how much it pisses me off when people ask him for permission to do anything to my body (see exhibits A and B), so it would be hypocritical of me to expect permission about his body and/or time to be asked of me.

Do we discuss time we are going to spend with others? Of course. Do we discuss any potential sex or any possible play outside of a party? Absolutely. But the reality is that we do not give each other "permission" in anything but the larger sense.

Do I want basic courtesy from anyone with whom he is involved? Yes, yes I do. They need to know I exist, and they need to be respectful of my time and relationship. But, they are not under any obligation to run anything past me.

He is the one who has to check with me, to make sure I am okay, to see if I have any reservations. He is in this relationship and so owes that to me as the other person in the relationship (as he owes it to anyone else he may be in a serious relationship with).

I generally feel the same way about anyone I am going to play with, though if their partner would like to talk to me first I certainly respect that. My basic feeling is that we are all adults, and I trust if someone is going to play with me they have whatever their version of permission is for said play.

I do tend to thank their partners after the play as a gesture of community and niceness and all-around good feeling, and I like it when someone does the same with me--but, to me, that is not the same as asking for permission. That is acknowledging that another person shared their time and energy (in the form of their lover) with me, and the openness is appreciated.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

On sex positivity in public play

Sex without pain is like food without taste~DeSade
Pain without sex just fucking hurts~LiteraryWench

Okay—there doesn’t have to be sex, but there does have to be sexual stimulation (either physical or mental) for me to indulge my masochism.

I have been doing what it is that we do for a very long time, and I happily admit that a large part of why I do it is that it gets me off. I have been to dungeons in several states and have belonged to quite a few groups—most of which had either a no penetration rule or just frowned on anyone doing anything sexual in a play space. There is this overarching theme that sex is somehow bad and that our sexuality is something of which we should be ashamed.

Fuck that—I like sex.

My masochism is most definitely tied to my sexuality—and the more you get me off, the more pain you can subject me to (this is what we refer to as a win-win). I can also get off from the pain itself, so the reality is that if I am enjoying the scene, I will most likely orgasm (especially if you use a cane—just sayin’).

I have heard many people over the years talk about how BDSM is pure if sex is not involved, and that those who engage in pain play without sexual stimulation are somehow more kinkily evolved. Sadomasochism is wonderful, and power-exchange is fantastic, but they are also very specific to the individuals involved. The person who likes pain without sexual stimulation is no better than the person who likes pain with sexual stimulation—and vice versa.

I do understand that sometimes an organization has to be governed by the laws of the particular town in which they operate—but these laws just illustrate how fucked up this society can be. Think about it—I can take a man to a dungeon, strip him, tie his cock, put clips on his balls, shove ginger in his urethra, poke needles through his shaft—and this is all perfectly okay. But—if I dare to put that cock in my mouth (after removing the needles and ginger of course!) I have somehow crossed a line.

Yep, one fairly fucked up, sex-negative society.

The problem is that many seem to have internalized this message of sexuality as evil, or at least something to keep hidden. We slut-shame the woman who says she likes sex, and we tell women that if they behave in a way that is too sexually suggestive, they deserve whatever happens. Or—we create play spaces that tell a man that he can be as sadomasochistic as fuck, but unless it is being tortured, he had damn well better keep his cock in his pants.