Chained

Sit on Santa's Lap

2009-12-08T00:25:00.000-05:00

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Toward a Historical Theory

2009-02-26T10:14:00.005-05:00

Certainly the interests and appetites of this thing we do, Cosa Nostra, as it were, have been around for some time. Shakespeare's Sonnet 57 speaks to the essence of these feelings:

Being your slave what should I do but tend
Upon the hours, and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend;
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world without end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour,
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are, how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love, that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.

The longing stems in this case from desire and vulnerability brought about by feelings of love and adoration. It was not generally thought a good thing in Shakespeare's time that love should be requited. The most violent affections were considered suspect - they tended to distract one from the practice of religion and one's social obligations. Making a socially acceptable match and being married according to law and custom was the only credible option. If the match happened to also bring affection and desire, one counted oneself as fortunate.

Indeed the institution of marriage was just one of many social constructions which had the effect of repressing sexual urges and channeling them into proper behaviors. In the Christian dogma of the late medieval and early modern eras, the body was perceived as evil, particularly the female body, and any pleasure irredeemably perverse. However, under the Catholic and Lutheran strains of Christianity we are all sinners, required to repent and beg mercy from our Lord. It was the scamp Calvin who championed perfection through self-denial, including denial of any pleasure whatsoever in the act of conceiving the children we are obligated to produce.

Still, unusual pleasures were considered worse than typical ones. Sodomy was socially unacceptable in the extreme, even though many married folks probably practiced it in secret. It was useful as a political tool for targeting one's enemies, so the Catholic church labeled it a heresy which gave them a justification for executing those found guilty.

But back to the topic of sexual repression. Scourging and other forms of penitence were used to repress sexual urges. Foucault writes eloquently about the practice of confession and how it transforms deeds into words which are then categorized and neutralized, thus producing a very effective form of social control.

At the same time, social hierarchy was the order of the day and virtually everyone was engaged in some form of Master/slave dynamic. Men dominated women, Lords dominated lesser nobility and commoners, Landlords dominated tenants, Lords, ladies and anyone who owned property dominated servants, Royalty dominated everyone and the Church dominated the parishioners, not to mention Masters who actually owned slaves. Anyone seeking to learn a trade entered into an apprenticeship with a Master, an arrangement that seems to have been borrowed heavily by the "Old Guard" leathermen of the 20th century. There is no doubt in my mind that Masters and Mistresses of all stripes in this social hierarchy elicited sexual services from underlings.

My theory, then, is that those practices that either in intent or effect repressed sexuality became fetishized. The French Libertines, with our namesake De Sade in the forefront, seized on this and developed it into an art form. Rather than finding pleasure in the thing itself they transferred no small portion of that pleasure to the act of transgression. De Sade's writings do not closely resemble kink as it is practiced today, but instead focus on the most transgressive acts possible, such as rape, bestiality and necrophilia.

The Victorian era, again with a debt to Foucault, brought an orgy of social control. Institutions sprang up like weeds and all of them carried the mandate of observing, cataloging, categorizing and disciplining the body politic. Hospitals, Prisons, Schools, Orphanages, and Poorhouses were established to contain social ills against the rising tide of personal liberty engendered by industrialization and capitalist wage labor. Schools used corporal punishment to keep students manageable, and their moral behavior was considered just as important as their studies. Children caught masturbating were severely punished. People who exhibited sexual license could be treated in hospitals and asylums for their "disorder".

Ultimately, both the methods of control and the control itself were entwined with our sexual makeup. While only a small fraction of us practice kink openly or secretly (let's say for the sake of argument that there are 3 million kinksters nationwide - that's still only 1 percent) the cultural tropes we trade in are incorporated into the vanilla sex industry, e.g., the naughty nurse, french maid, schoolgirl, farmer's daughter, cop, bunny, cat, barmaid and pirate wench are all featured in vanilla porn and stripper acts, and can be purchased as sexy lingerie.

All of this transformation from mode of repression to mode of sexual expression was facilitated by a much larger transition from scarcity to abundance. Some time around the introduction of mass production, we acquired the ability to produce far more goods than we need, and so the emphasis in society shifted from producing a disciplined workforce to consuming. Consumption is encouraged by license - go ahead, treat yourself, you deserve it. And sex is not left out of the equation. While much marketing sneaks the product in as a replacement for actual sex, the desire for sex is presumed to be constant, intense and unstoppable. This age of expression was drafted in part by Freud whose most influential idea was that the repression of healthy sexual urges results in strange behaviors and physical illnesses, the cure for which is to find the root cause of the urges and direct them into healthy, mature behavior. (According to Freud vaginal intercourse was of course healthy and mature).

Hence, we are a nation of repressed people who have been told to want sex all the time. Rather than being surprised that a few people might be kinky, I'm more surprised that our numbers are still relatively small. D/s lifestyles trace their roots back to real-life power relations. The interrogation scene draws on a fetishization of police and military force but also goes back to the Catholic sacrament of confession. Caning, flogging and whipping were all used as real forms of corporal punishment in numerous social institutions. Bondage was used for various purposes going back to ancient times, while the "damsel in distress" trope became prominent as women's sexuality was repressed to the point that it was considered not to exist at all. Women who were told that they did not possess a sexuality channeled their desires into fantasies about being abducted, tied to the tracks, raped, ravished and seduced, as these all removed the woman's volition from the equation.

There are a lot of people running around the kink community who say that it is unnatural for us to attempt to have egalitarian societies and that Dominance and submission will eventually resurface. I don't know exactly what to make of this idea, as I tend to believe in the democratic ideal of political equality - that it is the responsibility of a just government to ensure that all citizens are equal under the law and have equal opportunity to participate in their political system. That is to say, even though I submit to Dr. Faust, in theory he has no greater privilege under the law and can be held to exactly the same code of conduct as I am. Indeed, I would not want to be unequal in the eyes of the law. I enjoy voting, owning property and engaging in productive, fairly compensated labor on a voluntary basis. All of which contributes to my ability to take care of myself and enter and leave social relationships at my own discretion, hence the traditional D/s relationship engaged in by men and women is disrupted and men are no longer presumed to own their wives. The fact that I and my kinky brethren desire dominance and submission does not negate the political desirability of justice under the law, no matter how persistent the human urge to conquer, control and exploit seems to be. Indeed, it is precisely the seemingly unstoppable ferocity of this urge that necessitates justice.

Real Slavery

2009-01-04T14:47:00.003-05:00

Stripping and Sexual Liberation

2009-01-01T20:41:00.003-05:00

I knew someone who worked as an "exotic dancer" years ago. She was in college, taking 17 credits, active in the drama department and working on plays, working as a dancer, and also in ROTC. She was also a dominant and was a part of the club we briefly ran on campus. I'm not sure when she slept, and I have to wonder if she was on meth or something.

She invited me, along with my friend from the club, to her birthday party, at which a male stripper friend of hers performed for us, as her birthday present. We all brought singles to tip him. He put on a very nice show for us.

But one thing I remember is that her apartment was very bare. She made dinner, which consisted of a few sad slices of zucchini and some hastily thrown together spaghetti. She seemed to lack any kind of private or interior life. Everything she did revolved around her excessive commitments. She was also enthusiastically naive about her ability to extract favors from people on the basis that they shared an activity. She was sure that the theater department would happily throw together a banner for the club and even met me and my friend on campus to show us their set decorating workshops. It all came to nothing, which was pretty much what I expected. She never spoke a word about it again, and dropped out of the club shortly after, never to be heard from again.

Mistress Matisse writes very eloquently about her experiences working as a stripper, a prostitute and a professional dominatrix. She seems to have come through it unscathed, and knows women who have done the same. On the other end of the spectrum are the women in the documentary "Stripped", most of whom did not come out unscathed. Dr. Faust and I suspect that Matisse is an exception, and that she has maintained her sanity and dignity mostly through moving into pro dom work, which is so specialized and highly paid that one really can call all the shots. Further, she has a level of intelligence and creative talent that most women do not possess.

The women in the film express very similar litanies of problems. They have Daddy issues, low self-esteem, body-image issues and a seemingly endless supply of unexpressed creativity. They long to make a living doing something truly interesting and creative and find ordinary jobs to be stifling, underpaid and unsatisfying. Some of them, when given a chance to express themselves, really do have talent, and some, sadly, do not.

Several of the women in the film had plastic surgery. One of them went into a coma after complications with hers. One of the women in the film wrote about her experiences and subsequently went missing. All of them, after working as a stripper for a period of time, were psychologically damaged. Their attitudes about men became more harsh and their self-esteem only got worse. They described stripping as an "addiction."

The reality, in my estimation, is that strippers provide for their clients much more than a performance or a glimpse at something nice to look at. Strippers confirm the customers' most base beliefs about women; they confirm that women are whores and will provide for men's sexual needs as long as the money is good; they confirm that it is men's privilege to demand that women conform to their expectations and desires, and that men are entitled to judge women on that basis and express that judgment monetarily; they confirm that women are more highly prized for providing a sexual outlet than they are for doing legitimate, productive work; they confirm that women's livelihood is connected to their sexuality and that it is more proper for that livelihood to come directly from the men who benefit from it, rather than belonging to a woman in her own right.

Men who patronize strip clubs, according to the film, are very demanding of the performers. They hold the performers in contempt even as they patronize them. I see this reflected in the double standard held by many men that women who have casual sex are not respectable, and that the woman who doesn't put out is suitable for dating and marriage. In the long run, this is bound to turn out badly, since they will likely marry a woman whose interest in sex does not match his and will then turn to affairs, prostitutes and strip clubs to meet his needs. This is a behavior pattern based on deep-seated misogyny and male insecurity. Women who buy into it are likewise contemptuous of other women and treat their friends poorly.

Some people argue that men require these "extra" forms of sexual release. I don't begrudge them the opportunity to enjoy themselves, and as Dan Savage says, all men look at porn. Dan's assertion has been confirmed by the men I know. But I don't know men who regularly use strip clubs or other live sex workers. If they do, it's pretty much as a novelty, but to a man they assert that they don't enjoy the dynamic in those places, and find the other patrons objectionable. And being a lustful woman, if they're with me they're not likely to be undersexed. I'm not saying that to brag - I just happen to have a high sex drive, and few inhibitions. It seems to make sense to me that a man who is comfortable with a highly sexed girlfriend would also find these public displays of misogyny distasteful. I just wish more men felt that way.

I'm very bad

2009-01-01T20:39:00.005-05:00

So, I was watching a documentary about sexual abuse by priests.

I know this is already sounding bad, but please, bear with me.

There were some shots taken in a classroom in a rectory, and there were these things hanging from the ceiling. Not being Catholic, I'm not sure what they are, but to me they only looked like chains.

So now I have these very bad thoughts. I'm kind of picturing my Dom wearing a priest collar and punishing me... and maybe I could try to get out of my punishment by doing something really nice for him. Also, I'm imagining it with an old-fashioned school desk.

This is so wrong. But it feels so right. I actually mentioned it to him and asked him if he found it blasphemous. He didn't really say either way. He just asked if I wanted a nun costume. I definitely don't want a nun costume. I think the plaid skirt would work just fine.

Sigh. Just when I think I know how bad I am...

The Vampire Thing

2008-12-20T12:20:00.003-05:00

Of all the mythic creatures that have been around for centuries, if not eons, vampires seem to reappear in our consciousness a great deal. The ancient myth, it's been argued, was created to explain the existence of human killers. It does seem reasonable to assume that the psychological type inclined to kill for fun has been around longer than we've been able to solve their crimes. In fact, there are some documented cases of people in history who killed repeatedly, for no particular reason. So, in the days before police procedures, when townspeople went missing or bodies turned up bloodied and mangled, monsters were invented to explain these events.

The Victorians really took to the vampire story. Bram Stoker's Dracula was written in 1897, and draws on the true horror for its time: sex. Vampires, particularly in the early industrial period, are sexual creatures. They stalk and seduce their victims. Their attack is a sensuous experience. And those who are attacked are often turned to vampires themselves, a metaphor for being corrupted by sexual license. Anne Rice's vampires play up this aspect, as anyone who's read her other works would find unsurprising.

Vampires can also be pretty gay, and represent that other threatening form of sexual license - homosexuality. The Victorians were pretty terrified of that, too. The vampire in Dark Shadows gave off some gay vibes, and indeed, the show was campy as all hell. The secretive nature of the vampire comes in to play here, as gays can be among us and yet not known. The coffin in which the vampire sleeps comes to symbolize the closet in which the horror of the unknown other is hidden.

But, with the 20th century came a shift in priorities. Mass production brought consumerism, and as a result, the straight-laced mores of the Victorians gave way to permissiveness. Now we are presumed to want sex all the time, and practically shunned if we fail to live up to that image. Vampires and sex both came out of the closet, and latter-day monsters tend to be a lot more like regular people. The "vampires as people, too" motif came front and center with Buffy, in which the appetites of the vampire are not all that different from the appetites of the humans with which they co-exist. They are still evil, though - unless they have souls.

So I'm not entirely sure what to make of the Twilight thing. I find it interesting that the vampire has now been so normalized that the vampire who romances the human starts to look more like West Side Story than Dracula. These vampires seem to actually have souls, and choose abstinence - a parallel I find somewhat disturbing. It does seem to echo the cultural backlash against permissiveness in which abstaining from pleasure is seen as a virtue in its own right.

Still, these chaste, shiny vampires seem custom-made to appeal to very young women, and feeds their beliefs in non-threatening-yet-dangerous men who have no life outside of obsessing over their girlfriends. I don't find this a healthy dynamic at all, and the assertion that Bella "chooses" to be with Edward as a manifestation of her liberated self is kind of ludicrous. It's exactly the easiest and most dangerous road for a teenage woman to take, and hence not really that much of a choice. Choosing to live her own life, now that would take some guts.

On the other hand, one can cast it in more of the West Side Story mold, in which loving Edward is tantamount to interracial love. In that case, I guess it does take courage to choose the relationship. But I still don't agree with the abstinence part. If being with Bella means constantly fighting his most fundamental longings, then Edward is basically a kinky guy trying to be with a vanilla girl, and promotes the lie that people can actually repress their desires and still be happy.

If any twilight fans are actually reading this, let me know what you think. I'm going to stick with the vampires that actually have sex for the time being. Besides, that guy who plays Edward in the movie is not my type. He has the Frankenstein forehead, which always turns me off.

If you were a slave...

2008-12-11T18:33:00.005-05:00

I confess, I don't like the term "slave" applied to BDSM or D/s relationships. I feel that it is inevitably inaccurate, since slavery is, by definition, non-consensual. People who keep slaves in real life are doing so for economic gain, not for anyone's personal satisfaction, least of all the slaves'. They are operating outside of the law and do not have any abiding interest in their captives' well-being. Slavery is conducted in many parts of the world - women are sometimes abducted but more often lured with false promises of legitimate work, only to find that they are dependent on criminals for their livelihood and expected to earn money for them through prostitution, drug smuggling, or other illegal labor. For instance, if you were a slave...

...you would be prevented from leaving through coercion, brainwashing, and violence
...you would not be fed adequate, nutritious food
...your captors would compel you to use harmful, addictive drugs through which they could control you by controlling the drug supply
...you would be raped by your captors
...you would not receive adequate medical care
...you would most likely be murdered by your captor as soon as you became too much trouble or were no longer profitable
...if you became pregnant, your captors would most likely take the baby away and sell it, or murder it

I think what most people refer to as a "slave" role in BDSM is actually closer to that of a servant in the service of an English or American household in the 18th - 19th centuries. The servant in this situation was kept in place by the constant threat of being dismissed and losing both their livelihood and shelter, and was expected to follow an elablorate set of rules in order to keep that position. It is still more coercive than consensual, but servants were not killed or brutalized nearly as much as slaves are. They were sometimes physically punished, and probably molested and/or raped by their employers more often than people of that era would be inclined to admit.

Now, playing at being a slave or a servant is different from claiming to actually be one. I can actually see myself really enjoying slave play in small doses and under controlled circumstances.

She doesn't take this argument to the degree that I do, but Mistress Matisse did say in one of her Control Tower articles that no matter how much you may want it not to be so, you do have the right to leave the relationship, even if you call yourself a slave, and that believing otherwise is a nice fantasy, but not reality. So I'm not the only one.

I've come to accept that people in this community use the term slave to refer to something that is not actually slavery, and I accept that this is what they want to do. I just think it would be more accurately called something else.

Gender Matters Less

2008-12-11T18:02:00.005-05:00

It doesn’t take a very detailed observation to notice that non-threatening, conventionally femme girl-on-girl sexiness is heartily approved of among straight men. Indeed, it’s a staple of the adult entertainment industry, from strip clubs to the “Girls Gone Wild” franchise. It even shows up in the weirdly incestuous “twins” theme – apparently two women making out is even sexier if they look exactly the same, never mind the fact that they have identical DNA. (I could go on at length about the challenge same-sex, intragenerational relations pose to that most ancient of social customs, the incest taboo, but not here.)

Still, it’s assumed that the ladies in these scenarios are not actually lesbians. If they were, they would, by definition, have no interest in men as sex partners. No, the assumption is that these young, attractive women would enthusiastically welcome a man into the mix. In fact, they may even be presumed to feel that the girl-on-girl fun is good for a laugh, and gets the guys turned on, but falls more under the category of drunken rowdiness or “being wild”, whatever that means. Do those girls really get off on it themselves? That seems to be beside the point.

The taboo for women, then, is not making it with other women. The taboo is not making it with men. At all. Ever. The heterosexual male world seems not to take the rejection very well, and treats actual lesbians with a fair amount of contempt, not to mention outright hostility and violence. Not only do real lesbians decline to have relations with men, they also tend to neglect the work that goes into being femme. Not having a reason to live up to the standards of attractiveness straight men go for, lesbians may very easily forego shaving, makeup, femme clothes, long, tousled hair, and so on. A certain subset of men seem to take this as a personal affront, and will enthusiastically call such women out with slurs such as “dyke” or worse.

For men, on the other hand, making it with another guy is the taboo, the big one, from which one cannot come back. While bisexual women get a big thumbs-up from most men (but not, sadly enough, most gay women), bisexual men are treated as dangerous. Women tend to shy away, out of fear that they will be a disease vector, that they are really gay and only want a woman for social approval, or just because they can’t stomach the idea of man-on-man sex. Thus, the straight/gay dichotomy holds up more solidly with men than with women. When a man comes out as gay, the assumption is he’s strictly for the fellas and no gray area at all. Bisexual men, and it’s certain that they exist, are more likely to repress and avoid bringing it up or ever experimenting with it. If they can get off with ladies, it’s just as well to stick with that and not open up such a big can of worms. Until you find him trolling Craigslist or airport bathrooms.

Perhaps the dichotomy has some connection to biology, though. I have heard of research which finds that men really are more either/or in their sexuality – either it gets them up or it doesn’t. Women, lacking such a distinctive and obvious meter for their arousal level, are more apt to try something to find out if it has any potential. Guys pretty much already know.

When it comes to BDSM, the whole situation gets even more complicated. Some of the foregoing holds true – bisexual women are quite common in the scene and ladies are quite apt to get intimate with each other to varying degrees. Many female subs are quite content to bottom for another woman, even though they are more likely to settle down with a male Dom. The poly kinky family frequently sports a male Dom and more than one female sub, an arrangement facilitated by flexibility with regards to women, sex, and gender. Men, on the other hand, tend to want either ladies or men, and not a lot of in between, at least when it comes to sex.

Still, BDSM is not always sexual, and many people are really quite firmly hetero when it comes to sex but much more flexible when it comes to straight-up BDSM play. Some go as far as to label themselves bi-kinky, because it is hard to take the sex out of it completely. Women often play together like school friends at a slumber party, and some men are perfectly content to play with other men or even have male submissives who are not their sex partners.

I’m not entirely sure what to make of this, except that BDSM is, at the same time, sexual and not sexual. Yes, one can conduct all manner of perverted fun without even exposing anyone’s genitals, much less connecting them. But at the same time, the vast majority of us do those things because it gets our motors running. It’s a very compelling reason to get into something, and many of us really need a compelling reason to do something so socially unaccepted. When these ideas start creeping into one’s head around the same time that they start getting tingly feelings down there, it doesn’t go away easily, if at all, and the connection can never truly be severed. While there are a few strange-even-for-us people who are really very asexual about it, I suspect that a lot of the “It’s not sexual” crowd are really just trying to bowdlerize it to make it seem more acceptable.

In the end, all I can really say is that clearly gender matters less to us than it does to the vanilla. It’s not a huge stretch – transgression in one area tends to bleed into others. Gender queerness is part and parcel of the scene. This is one reason why hardcore female supremacists and Gorean types turn me off; they want to codify the gender structure more strictly than even vanilla folks do. But then, a lot of us actually get off on codifying things. So perhaps I can forgive them that. D/s as the fetishization of OCD, in a sense. Still, as much as I like things organized, and rules can be very sexy, I like my gender fluidity and flexibility, too, and I think that’s because, deep down, I’m really in love with humans. I enjoy studying them and puzzling over their complicated natures, and as much as they sometimes annoy me, they are endlessly fascinating. And if both halves are fascinating, then I can’t limit sexiness to just one half.

Why Women Like Jerks

2008-11-22T22:11:00.002-05:00

When I was teaching classes on gender, the subject of women’s sexual objectification came up. I pointed to the inherent contradiction between the law, which stipulates that women under a certain age are off limits (unless their parents give them permission to marry – ew) and popular culture, which puts girls as young as 14 in revealing clothing, pushes them down catwalks, and generally promotes the ideal of the sexually available female.

One of my students very angrily insisted via her research paper that, as she had learned from a professor of evolutionary biology, the sexualization of teenaged women was perfectly natural, because it is when women become fertile, and that NOBODY was going to change her mind! Not having the time or energy to spend on one overly opinionated young lady in a class of 135, I mostly ignored her vehement argument. I could have informed her that being totally intractable and unwilling to consider alternate explanations is nothing to be proud of, no matter what the (soon to be former) president says. But I doubt it would have had an impact.

But then, in the spirit of responsible scholarship, I can’t completely reject her professor’s theory either. Although I suspect that any middle-aged man who so enthusiastically defends the idea that underage women are suitable sex objects is being at least a little self-serving (again, ew), I don’t doubt that being attracted to fertile women has its evolutionary advantages. And yet, people have all sorts of sexual urges that don’t seem to have any logical explanation. Where is the evolutionary advantage to homosexuality? And it clearly has something to do with biology, because chimps, dolphins and penguins all do it, too. And I can’t even begin to imagine what Darwin would think of foot fetishists or furries, or why being fetishized and sexualized also makes young women such prime targets for rape and murder. Some evolutionary biologists think the rape part is perfectly logical, but I’m not so sure they can explain the murder part. It doesn’t seem advantageous to me to remove a healthy, fertile young woman from the gene pool.

It all leads me to examine my own sexual proclivities. Among other things, I like mean men. Not the boorish or the bloodthirsty, but highly intelligent, sarcastic, abrasive, arrogant men. I know from talking to other women that I’m not the only one. Rock stars don’t have a reputation for being particularly sensitive or kind, and as we all know, they attract chicks like flies to dog shit. Some of them are reputed to have eaten the heads of animals and engage publicly in pyromania. Add bed-wetting, and you’ve got the serial killer triad.

I’m not so much of a masochist that I’ll let a man treat me poorly in order to get my mean-guy fix. I have actually turned away men who were interested because they were too mean, or at least not smart enough to realize that sometimes you have to be civil or people don’t want to be around you. I’m not sure if that actually makes me attracted to psychopaths or not. Regardless, a little attitude goes a long way – learning this is an important part of having social skills.

One of the hallmarks of the arrogant man is competition. Professional athletes, lawyers, politicians, CEO’s and generals all tend to enjoy competition, and wouldn’t much enjoy their work if they didn’t. Dr. House is an interesting character partly because he’s motivated by the desire to lord his superior abilities over others, rather than the altruism we expect from physicians. He’s probably closer to real doctors than we’d like to admit. I’m sure most doctors are perfectly decent people, but they can’t all be Mark Green or Jack Shepherd. Talk to a nurse for five minutes, and I’m sure you’ll hear more than enough about the arrogance of the average doctor.

To take a somewhat tired, structural-functionalist and socially Darwinist approach, competitive men are Alpha males and as such, women seek them for the protection they offer from the likewise-competitive Alpha males of their enemies. The competitive, Alpha-type man also has the hunting instinct to acquire better shelter and more goods, thus providing more comfort for his mate and children. It makes perfect sense from that perspective, and seems to be a popular approach among women. But is it really what motivates my taste in men?

At the other end of the psychological spectrum is the Freudian perspective, which states that we are all born in a state of polymorphous perversity and learn to fixate on either appropriate or inappropriate sex objects depending on our experiences. I believe Freud would consider the Alpha-type male a highly appropriate object for a woman, but he’d probably think I ought to be more afraid of them and overwhelmed with shock and awe at what they want to do with me. I’m sure a Freudian would think that my lack of a father growing up has something to do with my attraction to Alpha males. It seems to make sense, but I’m not sure that’s the case. My primary caregiver during much of my childhood, especially my earliest years, was my mother, and she has a tendency to worry and doesn’t handle crises well. Alphas, on the other hand, are calm under pressure and very useful people to have around. Still, the lack of a strong male figure in my childhood can’t really be discounted.

From a more contemporary perspective, however, adulation of the Alpha male in society is not limited to women and is a product of the institutionalized bias that maintains male privilege, as well as class and race privileges. A white male like Dr. House gets away with far more misbehavior than any woman or minority ever could. Likewise, his status as a doctor grants him extra privileges above and beyond ordinary people. In the context of his show, his misbehavior often results in the noble, but sometimes unintended, consequence of saving lives, which redeems it and provides justification for his increased privilege.

It’s always a matter of some debate whether men need to engage in some form of aggression or if they do so because they are allowed to get away with it. Indeed, men are encouraged to be aggressive through the rituals of organized sports, the prevalence of armed conflict around the globe (both state-sanctioned and otherwise), and the fetishization of the military. One sociological theory, something of a gender spin on strain theory, holds that it is the disconnect between the levels of power and permission men are raised to expect and what most men can realistically achieve that makes men aggressive.

And yet, not all men are aggressive, and there is a wide variety in the type and intensity of aggression. Many men satisfy their need by participating in ritualized violence, often vicariously. Organized sports are clearly the most common of these rituals, including the theatrics of “pro” wrestling as well as those that require actual skill. Violence is integrated into the culture through a variety of rituals, all of which involve uniforms. Military institutions, law enforcement, sports, and sadomasochism all fit the bill.

When the violence occurs without a uniform, outside of a culturally sanctioned ritual, then it carries social disapprobation, the severity of which depends on the manner and degree of the violence. Mob hits and gang warfare tend to rate as not especially problematic, since the victims are widely assumed to be fellow criminals, and this is used to explain away the undertones of racism inherent in the argument. Bar fights, jealous lovers and insurance vultures don’t frighten us too much because they seem pretty easy to avoid, by staying out of seedy bars, being faithful to one’s mate or avoiding entanglements with the greedy and unscrupulous, respectively. But in all cases, we disapprove, and reserve our strongest objections for those who prey on the helpless – children, animals, the sick and elderly.

In offender studies, it turns out that men who commit violence against women, especially their intimate partners, come in very distinct varieties. There is the “hot-blooded” offender, who has intense feelings of anger and resentment and poor impulse control. This type of person, when provoked, becomes very agitated and literally increases in body temperature. The other type, the “cold-blooded,” is not easily provoked, and offends mostly because they get enjoyment from it (and interestingly, actually displayed a lack of body heat in laboratory experiments.) This is a commonly cited feature of a set of psychological disorders, ranging from narcissistic personality disorder and malignant narcissism to antisocial personality disorder. The person suffering from antisocial personality disorder is frequently labeled a psychopath or sociopath.

The anti-social personality type, or sociopath, does not feel empathy for other people or creatures and views others largely as objects to be manipulated for personal gain or pleasure. Not all people with this condition commit violence, but it does seem to come in handy in that instance. Serial murder seems to occur when this condition is combined with a sexual interest in controlling others, which can be carried to the degree that one is sexually excited and sated by violence and murder. Curiously, a large number of serial killers also have a history of head trauma.

Could it be that some of these traits – cold, calculating, manipulative – have persisted because, sometimes, they provide some social benefit? Maybe it’s like sickle-cell anemia. The gene that causes sickle-cell provides protection against malaria when only one allele is present, but with both alleles, the person develops the disease. Maybe in some situations, a lack of extreme emotions comes in handy. Maybe it enables some people to remain calm under distress and provide leadership during a crisis. Perhaps the lack of empathy is just an unfortunate variant of this otherwise useful personality type.

Or maybe it’s just because cold, narcissistic, manipulative and sometimes aggressive behavior tends to allow the individual to survive in situations where others wouldn’t. Survival of the fittest does not always translate into a benefit for the social unit. Society has long attempted to rid itself of these traits. In earlier eras they would be called “unfeeling” or “unchristian”. Today, we recognize the danger inherent in some of these behaviors and attempt to protect our more vulnerable citizens from being harmed by them. But we never seem to make any progress.

Do we need men to be aggressive, or to believe that they are entitled to an upper level in the hierarchy, in order for our society to function? Or does this merely reproduce patterns of oppression and injustice that went unchallenged for centuries? Is it a vestigial trait left over from less civilized eras of humanity in which real, deadly violence was necessary on a daily basis? And if it’s no longer necessary, does it attract women because they retain a genetic stamp from that earlier era, or because they have likewise been trained to want it by the same institutions that create men’s behavior?

A long break

2008-11-22T19:06:00.002-05:00

For the two or so people who follow my blog, I've obviously been away for a while. I was without a computer for a time, and also switched jobs, so it was tough for me to find time to blog.

Dr. Faust and I are still very much together, and still D/s. These days we are more concerned about balancing our kinky life together with work, school and domestic chores. I don't do everything around the house, because that's not really part of our kink, and also because I work full-time. So we share, and he's really much better at it than most guys I've been with. Some people might interpret that as a sign of potential gayness, but really I think it's more of an "in control" thing.

Anyway, I plan to start up again as much as I can. I find it a useful outlet for my thoughts and feelings and to work through issues that come up in D/s.

Coming up in the next few weeks, I'm going to be doing some fun stuff, too. I'm probably going to do the safety talk for the local Submissive Discussion Group, and then I'll be doing a wax play demo for the local Next Generation group. Should be fun!

The Ecstacy of the Agony

2008-07-24T09:05:00.006-04:00

For the summer, Dr. Faust has been living and working at his ancestral home, which is about 2.5 hours away. He's driven up to spend the weekend together several times. Three weeks ago, he had a BIG family event to go to and couldn't make it. Two weeks ago, I went to his ancestral home and met his family. I won't talk about his family here except to say that they are very nice people, much nicer than the families of any of my previous long-term partners.

Obviously, kinky fun was not something we would be doing at his ancestral home. And last weekend, Dr. Faust had to stay there to fix his car. Therefore it has been FOUR WEEKS since we were able to actually play.

FOUR WEEKS.

Though he gave me permission to gratify myself once before I went to visit, the urges have become truly intense. He'll be here tomorrow.

Tomorrow. HUGE SIGH.

I'm not sure anticipation can even cover it. I am filled with a powerful, urgent need and can barely concentrate on anything else.

When he arrives tomorrow, I will be waiting on my knees by the door. I'll be dressed to please him and wearing my cuffs. I will have my playtime collar, with the tag that labels me as his "play slut" at hand in case he wants to put it on me right away. My second bedroom is currently empty and so I'll have it ready to use as a play room. Nothing too elaborate, as we don't own anything at that level. I'll have a chair and a table. Like an interrogation room. He can tie me to the chair if he wants and use me.

Waiting for it is so deliciously painful. Not unlike actually playing itself. And being his, all the time, makes it even worse/better. The harder it is to wait, the more delicious it becomes, and the more exciting the eventual release will surely be.

I love to feel his dominance over me. Even when it's difficult to obey, even when I feel uppity and bratty and I'm doubting my ability to submit, it turns me on. The more he requires, the more he clearly wants my obedience and submission, the hotter it is. This is something I have come to understand about myself. I realized it, not surprisingly, while watching my television boyfriend, Dr. Greg House. I've always been into dominant men. Wolverine, The Goblin King, that guy in college. Having crushes on professors, as I've done a few times, stems mostly from their authority over me. I used to joke, even, that I went into grad school mainly because I have a professor fetish. Drum majors. Mr. Rochester, for you Bronte readers. Heck, I was always way more into Scully than Mulder, because she's clearly more badass. Women don't excite this need as much as men do, but she's an exception. It's the red hair.

So, for all my hand-wringing and obsessing over the limits of this lifestyle and how we, as a social group unto ourselves, negotiate them (see previous post), it is an immutable fact. I need to be taken, and owned, and used by a Dominant partner. It can be tough sometimes for me to see myself as a submissive. I fret over the characteristics of other subs and don't much want to share some of them. Still, I gladly and willingly submit, because it meets this need. And it turns me on. And I enjoy it. But the fact that it fulfills me in this way ensures that even in those rare instances where it's not so enjoyable, I will gladly make the effort.

Oh yeah, and I want to please him. Of course I want to please him. That part barely even feels kinky to me. It just comes naturally. Sometimes there's so much I want to do for him that I'm not sure I'm able to do it all. But it doesn't worry me. He's not tough to please. He is truly a very loving Dominant, just as committed to treating me kindly and sweetly as he is to making me his obedient, horny, nasty play slut. Is it any wonder I'm crazy for this guy?

Why TPE and I don't get along

2008-07-22T15:11:00.004-04:00

Total Power Exchange. I think I kind of get why people want it. I enjoy the Sleeping Beauty books, I've read Exit to Eden (far better than the film, believe me, but still flawed). The idea of being totally under someone else's control is enticing and exciting to those of us who get off on power exchange.

But let me digress a minute here. Why do we call it power exchange? What is being exchanged? I sort of understand it on this level: you cannot have power without responsibility. Many submissives long to give up responsibility. In order to do so, they must also give up control. They gain a type of freedom in exchange for their loss of freedom. And the Dominant must accept the responsibility that comes with control.

Except, I'm not sure if that quite covers it. In the typical D/s arrangement, the submissive gives power to the Dominant. I'm not so sure if the Dominant gives power to the submissive. The submissive retains some power for his/her self - sometimes to be safe and practical, as in safewords, but also in the sense that the submissive always has the right to call it off and walk away. The Dominant does not have the right to enforce a power imbalance without the submissive's consent.

So, just for the sake of argument, let's accept the term power exchange as a way of saying Dominance and submission. What is it that makes a D/s relationship Total? I understand the concept of 24/7. Dr. Faust and I take a mixed approach. There are some things that are in effect all the time. Others can be put into effect for short periods. Others are context-dependent. The extent to which I've consented and made the promise to obey varies depending on what the rule and the situation is.

Do people really promise to obey at all times, and in all circumstances? Do people really give the Dominant blanket consent to control every aspect of their lives? What happens if the Dominant crosses a line they didn't foresee? Do they feel compelled to struggle and accept it? Or do they call a time out and renegotiate?

I guess what I don't understand is, the lovely sexiness of the fantasy notwithstanding, why someone would struggle and accept it. Yes, perhaps you made a promise. But can you really promise to let someone control every aspect of your life? And are you still obligated to fulfill that promise if the other person breaks their end of the deal?

Sometimes I think people do make that effort more because they want to fit in than because it's something they genuinely want. Like there's this idea floating around that you can't do it halfway. If you want D/s you have to do it completely. To me, this sounds like the sort of thing a manipulative shithead would say to get more control than the submissive is comfortable consenting to.

Then again, I have noticed a trend, particularly among submissive females, towards a kind of martyrdom. They struggle and strive to be as submissive as possible, and then do nothing but complain about how hard it is. When I hear this I wonder why they do it at all. I think it's really just a carryover from the conventional gender norms of vanilla society: Women are supposed to be self-sacrificing. Women who aren't are selfish and morally inferior. Sure, we can have jobs and credit cards and mortgages and all the rest, but we still have to be selfless or we're scum. And then they claim the women's movement was a complete success. Right.

I heard on the Savage Lovecast last week from a lady bemoaning the prevalence of misogyny among the local community. My heart goes out to her. I know all too well what she is talking about.

My kinky brothers and sisters, we need not be Total to be kinky. We must do what is in our hearts and our loins. Otherwise I fear we are seeking comfort for our psychic wounds in a way that may feel nice, but ultimately won't fix the problem.

I encountered a Gorean family once that proudly proclaimed, "Master never uses condoms." Master also had a stable of kajiras and, I'm sure, stuck his unwrapped tool wherever he pleased. I do not believe a psychologically healthy person would consent to that, D/s or vanilla. This isn't a mistake made in the heat of the moment, or a statistical anomaly that slipped through despite everyone's best efforts. They accepted it as a condition of the relationship. Let's just reflect on what it is they consented to. A man with known multiple partners spooging in them regularly without protection. Among other nasties, this leads to a high probability of contracting HPV, which can cause cervical cancer. They're willing to risk getting cancer in the most tender part of their bodies for this guy. And as a community, we say that's fine, because they're in a Master/slave dynamic? Would we say the same thing to a vanilla friend or relative? I really, really doubt it.

Why would someone do such a thing? My best guess is rampant insecurity. The need to feel wanted and loved. And the self-importance that comes with belonging to a very exclusive social group. Kind of like a cult. Actually, very much like a cult. And these kinds of remedies are not effective at allaying the person's psychic wounds. They behave much more like self-fulfilling prophecies. Eventually it will come to an end, and the insecure person will have yet another example of human frailty to blame for their lack of trust and self-esteem.

Just as with any relationship, we must accept that our relationships will not make us whole. That's a process we must undertake for ourselves. And I think we have to accept that though someone may give consent, they may give it for poor reasons. And if it negatively impacts other areas of their life, it's really no different from an addiction. I'm not saying I'm the authority on whether other people are in healthy relationships. But if I see my friend going down a destructive path, I'm going to say hey, what are you doing? I'm not going to just look away under the blanket assumption that because it's BDSM it's all ok and consensual. We all want to be accepted in this, but ultimately taking it to that place will harm us rather than help us.

And the meek said, "Thanks for nothing."

2008-07-18T15:31:00.003-04:00

When I first saw Return of the King, I was a soggy, crying mess for at least the last 20 minutes. Knowing how long it takes for the most epic of epic films to wind down, that's not saying much. All I know for sure is that even after repeat viewings, it started around the time Sam says "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you!" Preceded by the familiar strains of the Shire theme, and reminiscing about the comforts of home, the sweetness of that moment and the surge of strength and courage it engenders in Sam contrasts so completely with the bleakness of everything that surrounds it that I am completely disarmed.

But starting with about the second time I saw it, that wasn't the biggest tear-jerker at all. The moment when Sam and Frodo are reunited in Rivendell, now that's truly a magical one. And yet. The moment that brought me to my knees the second time through was at the coronation. When the hobbits bow to Aragorn and, with a look of profound disappointment, he corrects them. And the assembled crowd bows, instead, to the hobbits. That's the one.

That scene affects me so because it's the sort of thing we seem to want so badly, and yet can never quite seem to achieve. The meek shall inherit the earth, according to our dominant religious tradition. The kind and the charitable are to be exalted above all others. And yet. And yet. We are not kind. We are not charitable. And we insist, sometimes cruelly, that those who are meek and sensitive get tough or get run over. It's dog eat dog, and you've got to keep up because nobody is going to help you. Frodo succeeds through sheer courage and force of will. But he also succeeds because he is pure of heart, and because of Sam. Hobbits in general seem to be less affected by the Ring's power, because they are simple in their desires. They are not particularly ambitious. An ambitious hobbit is one who wants to impress the whole shire with their fantastic beets and throw the best party.

I know perfectly well that I have the ability to keep up. I'm not devoid of courage or ambition or even anger. It takes a lot to set me off, but when I go off, it can be impressive. But I feel like a hobbit sometimes. I don't want to be big and impressive. I just want to share the comforts of a good life with others. And I don't understand why we should have to be mean and scary to do that. And I want to believe that, even when we have to be strong and brave, we can accomplish what we need to with the best of ourselves, instead of the worst. That even a hobbit can change the world for the better.

And I can't stand the idea that the helpless and small should be left to fend for themselves. Because I see myself in them. I feel helpless and small, too, and it makes me deeply sad and frightened when it seems that there's no safe quarter, that the world cannot abide helplessness. At the coronation, the assembled humans of Middle Earth seem to be collectively apologizing. Aragorn's face and tone of voice seem to express a profound sense of pity and shame. As if they acknowledge that it was their failings, their inability to resist the lure of power, ambition and pride, that brought this to bear. That if Isildur had been stronger, or if Aragorn had been braver, or the people of Middle Earth had not broken their alliances, Frodo would not have had to put himself in mortal danger. If they had all been a little more like Hobbits.

I realize that other people are probably inclined to see all of this as naive. But I can no more change what is in my heart than they can. Which is to say, maybe a little, but why would I want to. I cope as best I can. Sometimes I feel like I really need to do something more with it. Maybe I'll think of something.

For Your Reading Pleasure

2008-07-16T18:03:00.003-04:00

He's sitting comfortably in a high-backed leather chair. The lights are dim, so I can't read his expression. But the air between us crackles with anticipation.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Do you know why?"

I think about it for a moment. The most likely explanation is that he knows about the cheating. Selling exams doesn't usually land one in this situation. It's the buyers who get caught. But I've never had any reason to buy them.

Still, I don't see any reason to volunteer the information.

"No, sir, I don't"

He's quiet. "And you expect me to believe that?"

"Maybe. Or maybe there's something I can do to convince you." I answer.

"Are you sure you're ready to make that offer?"

I hesitate. "I know that my offers are usually welcomed." I set my things down and begin to take off my blouse and skirt. Underneath I'm wearing a bustier and stockings with high heels. I walk towards him and lean against his desk. "Am I wrong?"

He says nothing and stands up, hovering near me. I feel flushed and a little nervous.

"Turn around and bend over the desk" he says. I comply.

He grabs my wrists and pulls them behind my back, holding them in one hand. I struggle slightly and whimper.

"Is this not what you had in mind, slut?"

I pause. He takes his free hand and slides it between my legs. "Something tells me you don't really object."

Before I can answer, he pulls a pair of cuffs out of his desk and uses them to hold my wrists together behind my back. He takes a folded cloth and gags me with it, tying it around the back of my neck. Still bending over the desk, I squirm and push back against him. I can feel his cock pressing through his pants.

"It's going to take a heck of a lot more than a plain old blow to satisfy me. And I'm going to enjoy taking it from you."

He grabs my hair in his hand and pulls my head back. He whispers in my ear, "You're mine now. Your hot little cunt is mine. Your mouth, your ass and every other part of you. You'll do as I say, come when I call and take what I give."

He jams his fingers inside me and rubs my wet slit again and again. I moan softly through the gag and roll my hips against his touch.

"I'll do this as often as I please, and I'll make you wait for it, too. Does my slut understand?"

I nod. He takes his hand away and I moan again, louder. He brings his hand down on my ass, hard. I jump slightly and try to wiggle away from it. He brings it down on me again and again.

"If you won't hold still this will get a lot worse for you."

I stop moving and breathe heavily against the gag. He pulls my hair back and looks into my eyes. "This is just the beginning. I'm going to have a lot of fun with you." He unlocks the cuffs and uties the gag.

"Get dressed. I have an appointment in ten minutes. You'll meet me at the coffee shop down the street tomorrow at 5:00. Wear these things under your regular clothes. And if you're late, you won't get your precious cunt touched at all."

To be continued...

You incomplete me

2008-07-14T15:11:00.003-04:00

This culturally ubiquitous phrase zoomed into our consciousness on a comet made of twee pretensiousness and self-righteous sentimentality. I strive not to be that person. Being associated with Tom Cruise doesn't help much either, these days.

And yet. I am an incurable romantic. That might seem odd, considering my choice of lifestyle and my kinks. But really, my bondage and captivity fetish is deeply romantic at its core. It traces its roots to fairy tales and "damsel in distress" cultural tropes. I just have no interest in being rescued from the predicament. I want the villain.

As a kid, I was entranced by the prospect of romantic love and longed for it, while simultaneously believing that it would elude me. I suppose this is a fairly typical response to the lack of a father that I experienced. The absence of male attention, according to the experts, makes a young girl feel rejected. Such girls not infrequently seek out relationships with men early and often, and are vulnerable to abusers, unwanted pregnancy and STI's.

On the Savage Lovecast, I heard from a young woman who said that growing up overweight informed her rape fantasies, because she thought that was the only way she'd ever have sex. I think that was part of my thought process, too, although I remember having fantasies not so much about rape per se but about being held captive and finding that erotic.

So for whatever reason, I wanted a romantic relationship. I'd had crushes going back to kindegarten and could only imagine the joy if any of them had been fulfilled. I struck out into the world of young love and got my heart broken and chased plenty of false leads and dead ends. And discovered that my capacity for affection is a blessing. I recognize the folly of pinning one's whole life on a relationship, in the manner of the gothic romances of the Brontes all the way up to the poor, disappointed housewives of the 50s. No, it's not the only thing worth having in life. And I'm sure I'd fall far short of the romantic ideal of pining away and dying for one's love. I'm just not that emo. But being in love is fantastic, and I'll brook no disagreements.

I'm just not sure about this "completion" thing. I feel pretty complete without a relationship. I've gone for pretty good stretches being content to seek out sex, companionship and any other needs without getting emotionally involved, because the right person wasn't around. I'd much rather say that my lover enhances me. He makes me better and finer than I was before. He makes me want to achieve more, pursue a more interesting and fulfilling life. He makes me want to strive. He makes me see possibilities for myself that I might not have believed before, things I'd like to experience in my lifetime. In that sense, it's the opposite of being completed. Being completed not only implies that the person without a partner is incomplete, it implies that once found, that's all one ever need accomplish. How dreary! Love should open us up to new worlds, not put the period on the end of the sentence.

I don't want to be completed. In fact, I'd rather say that he incompletes me.

Word Association Meme

2008-06-26T12:22:00.002-04:00

1. Beer.....
Beer Bad. Wine Good.

2. McDonalds....
AAAGGHH Greasy Pit of Death!

3. Love....
Lifts us up where we belong

4. Lust...
is FUN!

5. Power Rangers..
No idea what's going on, but cool costumes

6. Weed...
No thanks, man. My appetite is good as it is.

7. Steroids.....
I don't get the appeal.

8. Cartoons.....
Power Puff!

9. The President.....
Should eat more pretzels

10. Tupperware....
is useful. But annoying.

11. Florida.....
Never been there. Crazy lives there.

12. Santa Claus......
Nice old man with a weird job.

13. Halloween......
I wanna be Cinderella!! You have to make me a Cinderella dress!!

14. Alice....
Go ask her.

15. Grammar.....
is what separates us from people who don't know grammar.

16: Myspace....
Not as much fun as it looks.

17. Lime...
Vodka and

18. Sex...
Yes, please?

19. Paris......
Full of French people, for some reason

20. Cheese...
mmmmmm it's melty

21. Red Heads....
great on girls, not my thing on guys

22. Blondes.....
make fun friends

23. Class......
Starts at 9am. Why, God?

24. One Night Stands....
There was that one really bad one where I threw up. Funny story. Or not.

25. Sports.....
sticks and balls?

26. Neverland...
The one in California, aka EWEWEWEWEW

27. Pixie....
STICKS!!! WOOOOO!

28. Vanilla.....
Heh. Not me.

29. Hooters......
The local weatherman who demanded one of their fancy mugs for "research". Dick.

30. Pajamas.....
Who needs em?

31. Underwear.....
See #30.

32. Wet Socks.....
Get em off, get em off!

33. Your Mom......
is kinda hot.

34. Cake....
OR DEATH

It's just like what now?

2008-06-11T11:31:00.003-04:00

I was reading this entry on Snopes and just had to comment.

I really don't get how they equate sex and profanity with eating dog shit. Apparently handling and serving feces as a meal is ok, as long as you don't call it "SHIT". That's mature.

Sex that occurs off-camera is "smut"? Since when? Do we imagine that Ricky and Lucy never did it because they slept in separate beds? Was Ricky Jr. conceived by immaculate conception, or artificial insemination? Heterosexual sex is almost always implied. We're trained not to notice it. And I'd wager that the same people who think off-camera sex is "smut" also think there's nothing offensive about the content of straight porn, it's just bad because it's SEX, and any woman who consents to such things gets what's coming to her.

I can't stand this puritanical bullshit. My grandparents don't care for profanity, but I actually like my grandmother's attitude towards it. She regards it as simply a matter of taste and quality. "Anyone can use a lot of cute language," she says, "it shows a lack of creativity."

She also says, "Sex is not a spectator sport," but I have to disagree with her on that one. I have no problem with spectators, as long as they can behave themselves.

Christ on a cracker, is anyone in this society an adult? Why are we such overgrown children? "EWWWWW you said a bad word!" "Ewwwwww she's naked!"

My favored way of dealing with these things vis-a-vis children is this: adults are people who accept responsibility for taking care of themselves. They have things like bank accounts, drivers' licenses and rent or house payments. Adults can use foul language and watch graphic material. That's one of the privileges that comes with it.

Not to say that teenagers aren't naturally curious and need to explore. I'm all for teenagers having access to as much information as possible, and as much of the rest as they are ready for. My concern isn't that they'll be exposed to "smut". It's that they won't have the analytical or experiential tools necessary to differentiate between fact and fiction or functional vs. dysfunctional behavior. They could be watching nothing but Disney and still come away with some twisted, backwards messages. Dog shit indeed.

Correction

2008-06-10T09:36:00.002-04:00

Now that I think about it, the "kill their children" part probably refers to abortion. Because, you know, feminists really want to convince women in happy, financially secure families to abort perfectly healthy pregnancies. Because.. we hate children? Want to abolish the human race? There actually *are* people out there who favor the voluntary extinction of humans. I kind of see their point, but... yeah. Not down with that. Women abort pregnancies for several very good reasons: 1) They have already had all the children they want and cannot endure another pregnancy and birth while raising the existing family 2) They cannot provide for a(nother) child 3) The father is someone who should never be a father and probably the most common reason, 4) the pregnancy is too risky for the mother's health or the child has an incurable, severe, life-threatening condition.

You know, I find it not just misguided but cruel and disgusting that anyone would expect or require me to risk my life just because sperm met egg. If my doctor says it's too risky, that's it, I'm done with it. Sad, yes, but geez, come on. Likewise, if my doctor says I'm gestating a baby with no head, or some other horrible, no-chance-of-survival condition, it's over.

Given my line of work, which, at the moment is housing poor people, I think it the cruelest thing that the powers that be have convinced the impoverished that it's wrong to abort. Because they just.. have... the kids. They say they don't want any more, they can't afford them and don't have room for them in their current housing, but still, they have them. I can understand having one, or even two, if you really want them and have worked out a way to keep them fed and sheltered. But if you already have kids, and already live in Section 8 housing, another one may very well jeopardize what little you have. If having another child could make me homeless, I think I'd seriously consider other options.

Who says I can't be both?

2008-05-25T09:00:00.003-04:00

[Feminism is] a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians.

- Pat Robertson

I became a feminist as an alternative to becoming a masochist.

- Sally Kempton

He had to go and throw the child-killing in there, didn't he? I'm guessing he pretty much fails to notice that the women who tend to off their kids are usually from traditional, conservative, red-state communities, and that it was the conformity and religious dogma that drove them insane.

I took a class on the Anthropology of Reproduction, which was terrific. One article we read tried to argue that the urge to kill one's children is a normal one that some women experience, and not a sign of mental illness. But the examples that were used did not support that argument very well at all. My assessment was that it was evidence that the medical establishment fails to catch life-threatening problems before they erupt, particularly when a psych consult is what's needed. Yes, I firmly believe in the controversial assertion that the urge to kill one's own child is a sign of mental illness. Yes, mothers and fathers get frustrated and make idle threats. But when actual abuse begins, help is needed. And the people who deliberately set out to KILL do it calmly and quietly, assuring the children all the while that they're "better off." That's just creepy.

For the most part, I don't have a problem with any of the other terms. I am of the opinion that a little socialism never hurt anybody. Canada and Sweden seem to be doing ok. Witchcraft and lesbianism are just fine. I don't know about destroying capitalism, but it could stand to have a few rocks thrown at it from time to time.

"Anti-family" is one of those terms that gets used as a shorthand for "not one of us". And here it's linked with the leaving of husbands, which I think puts it in its correct context for once. Mr. Robertson (to me he is anything but reverend) means that there's one right way to have a family, and that way involves a woman doing all of the unpaid labor, with no means to achieve any sort of independence. She can't leave, though she may very well want to. But even that will be taken care of by indoctrinating her thoroughly with the belief that she is a wicked, inferior creature, that her worth as a human being depends upon dutifully filling the role of wife and mother, and that women who seek anything else in life are wretched whores who only think they're happy.

So I can see how someone would think that signing up for this type of insanity makes one a masochist. I'm fairly certain that Mr. Robertson would find any family involving consensual masochism wrong and bad. And he would fervently deny that there's anything at all soul-crushing, debasing or unjust about the life he prescribes for women. Of course he would. It's a way of relating to the world that allows him and men like him to feel powerful and righteous. Men are, in his world, entitled to authority over women, with which they elicit service, sexual access, and frequently, a blind eye to extra-marital recreation.

I've run across a few people in the BDSM world who don't seem to have ever truly confronted this reality, and allow it to continue as part of their BDSM life. In fact, I ran into a few people early in my exploits who asked me point blank, "How can you be a feminist and a female submissive?" And I've met more than a few male Dominants who don't particularly like women and think that Dominance means getting to be an asshole without consequences.

I find myself needing to ask, then, what does it mean to be a masochist? I've never fully embraced that title. In the context of BDSM it refers mainly to physical pain, and while I certainly can get kicks from it, it's not my first love. But taken to its logical conclusion, wouldn't a true masochist subject themselves to more intense horrors than spankings? Yes, there is a whole panoply of physical torture that gets used. But I'm thinking about other kinds of torture. Wouldn't the worst torture be to never realize their desires at all? Or what about spending every Saturday in line at the DMV for no good reason? I should really stop here.. people might be getting ideas.

Are the women who pursue a life of children, church and nothing else masochistic? Surely there is something sad and self-loathing about buying the line that you're the inferior of the species and fated to live a wretched life to atone for original sin. Not to mention the hysterical fear of anything to do with your lady parts, such that all female pleasure must be abolished so that sex is reserved only for keeping a man happy and giving him babies. Now THAT is masochism.

So, in that sense, my pursuit of BDSM, including the practice of submission, is anything but masochistic. It fulfills needs and excites me sexually on a level that nothing else can touch. But I could never, ever submit for a man who thinks I must do it because I have girl parts. Please. That's just dumb. Anyone who believes that all women are supposed to be submissive should meet some friends of mine. Preferably while tied up. And helpless. Come to think of it, I wouldn't have a problem messing with them myself. Of course, it would probably turn out that they secretly want to submit. Or be gay. Not that those two are at all connected. It's just how it seems to work out these days.

To sum up, there is nothing anti-feminist about a woman pursuing what she wants in life, with this caveat - we must be mindful that the system in which we live will try to convince us to do things that are not in our best interest. I have yet to discover a way in which BDSM is bad for me. Sometimes we have to be very careful, or we'll find that our dignity and humanity have been compromised. I'm as sex-positive as they come, and I still don't much care for Hooters, or Girls Gone Wild, or beauty pageants. Very little dignity involved there. But there's nothing undignified about a woman being sexual in a way that makes her feel fulfilled. It is the freedom women have far too long been denied - to be sexual in our own way, for our own pleasure.

Three Months

2008-05-14T13:31:00.002-04:00

I looked back at my vanilla blog and determined that Faust and I started "Dating" on February 18th, by my reckoning, at least. So that means that as of this Sunday, we will have been dating for three months! I've been his submissive for three months. And he's been my Dominant for three months.

And these three months have been fantastic.

It seems kind of silly to sit here and type out how I'm so in love with him. But I am. It's been a time of much change, a lot of tedious and unpleasant things have gone on. And through it all he's been there for me. He's my rock, always telling me that I'll be fine, and that I'm capable of handling it. And I am. Even when I'm freaking out over nothing, he's calm and patient and in control. Which, to me, is the best sort of Dominance.

I don't expect him to be patient beyond the limits of human capability. I'm just consistently amazed at how calm he stays even when things get trying. Even when I'm having a worryfest. He just says, "Okay." And it is.

I'm very fond of the film "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". I'd rather not spoil it here for those who haven't seen it, but the essence of it is that love is nothing more than saying "Okay." Okay to who your partner is, their weaknesses and their baggage. Okay to what the future may bring, good or bad.

It also reminds me of a passage in a book that I like very much. It's from a book called The Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson. The passage is a flashback in one of the character's lives to the time when he had his wisdom teeth removed. His wisdom teeth were so huge, so deep and so gnarly that he went from one oral surgeon to another trying to find someone who would remove them. One after another told him their insurance simply wouldn't cover an operation of that scope. Until finally he went to an oral surgeon who was known to be both very good, and something of an idiot savant. His assistants had to remind him to do things like eat lunch and sign paperwork, otherwise they simply wouldn't get done.

This oral surgeon put the x-rays up on the light box. He looked at them. And instead of the usual histrionics, like "OH GOD WHAT ARE THOSE THINGS" or "Aren't you in incredible pain?", he looked at them and said, "Okay."

The teeth were removed. It was a long, tiring procedure, for which our hero was unconscious. When he came to, his mouth was packed with gauze and the oral surgeon was splattered with blood and looked like he'd just survived a battle. He informed our hero that the charge for tooth extraction varied depending upon the difficulty of the operation, and that in this case, he would be charging the maximum for all four.

And his mouth eventually healed. And the pain and the pressure were gone. Our hero compares this to the relief he feels upon discovering the woman he loves. A subtle but persistent pressure has finally been released.

That's kind of how I feel a lot of the time. It took me long enough, but it finally happened. I'm finally doing what I've always wanted to. Getting into the lifestyle in the first place was immensely exciting. But without a partner to share it with, it was always just short of truly satisfying.

I'm still kind of amazed. Where did all this awesomeness come from? It seems like I just turned around and there it was. There he was. I think in the back of my mind I had a clue, going back to when we met almost three years ago, that we'd be good together. But we both had to come to this place by our own paths. I feel so lucky that we did.

Tarot Update

2008-04-24T12:36:00.005-04:00

So, I realized that I was missing a crucial element in my Tarot blogs... images of the cards - DUH. So I've added in images of the Hanson-Roberts deck, which is the one I currently own and use. I'm fond of it, as it has a medieval flavor to it but is not over-the-top. It's not a full-sized deck, though, so I hope to acquire one that is full-sized before too long. I'm not entirely sure which one to go with, though, as there are so very many to choose from. Another Hanson-Roberts would be nice, but redundant. I find the RWS decks to be a bit on the ugly side. I want something that retains a medieval/romantic feel, nothing too outlandish or newagey.

There's a deck out there called the Bright Idea Deck that was created by the guy who wrote the book I'm reading. It uses completely modern images and I find it off-putting. I don't have a problem with the modern interpretation per se, but some of the images are laughable. As in:

Yes, driving through a fence on a segway is a great substitute for the Chariot.

By boiling down the tarot to these psychology-friendly abstract concepts, I think it loses something. There's a reason tarot has resonated with so many people through the years, and I think it's because it taps into the basic archetypes.

I don't know that I believe in the existence of anything supernatural. But I'm fascinated with the idea that it might exist. I was a very enthusiastic Christian for a period of time, and I still find the message of Christ to be a very powerful and beautiful one. I think it's a shame that something so beautiful has been attached to a tradition that made such a point of denigrating the feminine. Fundamentalist and evangelical Christians still tend to be strongly patriarchal. It always makes me a little amused to see them adhere to a social order that originated with the Industrial Era and the Victorians, not, as they seem to think, the ancients. Indeed, our perception of "the way it's always been" seems to change drastically every 20 or 30 years.

The most that I can bring myself to say that I believe is that something exists in addition to our material reality. What exactly that something is, I don't know. But we humans seem to have a way of finding a tiny corner of it and perceiving that corner as being everything. I find it really unbelievable that we could ever truly perceive a non-material reality in its entirety. We are far from even understanding how this reality works. But that something is out there, I am sure.

What does this have to do with Tarot? Well, the archetypes resonate. I think that comes partly from a Freudo-Jungian fascination with ourselves and the forms humanity takes, especially our primal experiences and drives. But it's hard to even separate that from a mystical interpretation. What leads us to religion, after all, but our need to assign a reason to our existence? And our existence is predicated on the joining of mother and father, gestation and birth. It's that fundamental mystery that informs our sense of sacred and profane, right and wrong. And so we see aspects of the mystical in these archetypes. It's not for me to say whether what we see there is the Truth, but if it makes us feel connected to something, well, that's better than not seeing it.

Tarot Journey - Part 3

2008-04-12T13:39:00.006-04:00

The Empress

Card 3 is another representation of divine femininity - The Empress. Rather than the soul-mother represented by The High Priestess, she is our earthly mother. She represents fertility, abundance, and nurturing. The abundance she brings is that of life in its ever-flowing rhythms and cycles. The rush of days, the quest for sustenance, and the cyclical flowering of romance, fertility, work and rest. Those who are wise cherish these seemingly mundane rituals, for they form the heart of our lives. We moderns are unlikely to till the soil and plant crops, or spend the winters spinning and weaving. Many of us no longer mark the great occasions of our lives with a true celebratory gathering of kindred, but rather with a catered affair and a jaundiced eye to how much material gain we're due. The Empress is a reminder that the domestic is also sacred, that the simple acts of nourishing and nurturing are what cause life to be re-created and sustained.

Some unfortunate people never had a proper mother. There are many types of mothers, actually. Mine is what Dr. Estes would likely call a child-mother. She was young and inexperienced, and is still very childlike much of the time. I've been called on to take care of her long before I was able or ready. The Empress can represent a physical mother, but she can also be a call to recognize the many other mothers we may have throughout our lives. They may be blood relations or not, but if we are wise we will recognize them and cherish them.

The Emperor

The Emperor is, quite simply, the animus - the seat of masculine energy and power in the psyche. He is a paternal figure, as the Empress is maternal. He is the spark of activity and agency, without which the best laid plans of the feminine psyche will never come to fruition. He provides the direction, decisiveness and energy necessary for the ego to function.

The Bright Idea deck boils the Emperor down to Authority. Again, not wrong, but way too simple. I actually think that is a deeply masculinist interpretation - to say that masculine power rules while feminine power merely procreates. But then, I believe the historical tendency for masculine power to seek authority has a lot to do with the division of reproductive labor, both in the sense of womb envy, and also in the sense of the sometimes incapacitating effects of reproduction on women.

If it seems like gender plays a big role in my interpretation of the Tarot, that's probably because much of my knowledge of Jungian archetypes comes from Dr. Estes and her feminist take on such things. But, like a good sociologist, I feel compelled to point out that feminine energy does not belong exclusively to women, nor masculine energy to men. We all partake of both, in different amounts. Our understanding of what constitutes femininity is based on traits that tend to belong to women, and likewise with masculinity and men - except that sometimes those traits are instilled in us rather than the result of nature. It becomes somewhat recursive and convoluted. But I think that if we embrace both sides of the equation and honor what is strong and good in each, then we've done well. High heels and makeup are peripheral to femininity, not its essence. At the same time, one does not need to give birth or even menstruate to know its essence, either. It just takes a willingness to understand life from a womany point of view, and there are as many ways of doing that as there are women.

Tarot Journey - Part 2

2008-04-10T21:23:00.003-04:00

The High Priestess

Card #2 in the Tarot deck apparently began life as "The Papess", a figure that is decidedly nonsensical, there having never been a female pope, the legendary Pope Joan notwithstanding. The author of this book claims that it may have been inspired by a heretical sect that featured female priests. An interesting idea. She regularly gets associated with the Virgin Mary, which is highly logical.

When I was in high school, one of my classmates decided that he needed to pick a tarot card for each person in the class and tape it into their yearbooks. He gave me The High Priestess. No doubt this was influenced by the fact that I was a devout, newly converted Christian at the time and thoroughly enjoyed debating theology with him. He professed atheism and sang Dead Kennedys songs to me. I think I secretly liked him, but not enough to do anything about it.

The High Priestess, from the perspective of Dr. Estes, is none other than The Old Wild Mother, La Que Sabe. The Feminine Divine. She has many incarnations, from Mary to Isis to Kali. She is both creation and destruction, birth and Death. My conviction in this matter is only strengthened by Mr. McElroy's assertion that she represents intuition. Intuition is the greatest gift given to us by the Wild Mother. The ability to just know. The ability to spot bullshit and manipulation from a mile away. A healthy sense of skepticism. But at the same time, an openness to possibility. Innovation and growth cannot occur if we are too skeptical.

She's an important card, and not just to me. She's the deepest level of feminine power found in the deck. There are others, and they are important, too. But The High Priestess represents that to which we return at the most important times, when our lives are changed forever - the mysteries of birth and Death. She is the soul of womankind.

A Tarot Journey - part I

2008-04-08T20:32:00.007-04:00

Once in a while I like to do a blog project, something to provide structure. This blog is dedicated to the lifestyle, and I'll continue to blog about that. But one of my other interests is Tarot. When I read Last Call by Tim Powers I was struck by the author's use of Tarot symbolism and the connections to other mystical traditions. I also noticed that some of the archetypes found in Tarot correspond to those found in Jungian psychoanalysis. So I bought a pocket-sized deck that came with its own book and learned the basics. Recently I bought a more thorough book, and I've decided to write some meditations on the cards of the Major Arcana. This is partly in order to help myself learn the cards better, since the Major Arcana are the least familiar to me. It's also because I find the figures compelling and I want to explore my thoughts about them in more depth.

We begin, as all things do, with 0.

The Fool

In the Rider-Waite-Smith and Hanson-Roberts Tarot decks, as well as others, the fool walks merrily towards the precipice, seemingly unaware of his imminent demise.

The book I'm reading, "The Absolute Beginner's Guide to Tarot" by Mark McElroy, sums it up with the usual interpretations of "taking a leap of faith" "innocence before the fall", etc. The archetype is the Divine Madman.

I think I'm channeling my memories of Tim Powers here, but this is all way too nice. The Fool is indeed a divine madman, because he symbolizes Chaos. Corresponding to the number "0", which seems unlikely to have been in use by the Italians in the 14-mumbles when Tarot originated, The Fool is nothing. He is non-existence, oblivion... chaos. The void from which all things emanate and to which they return.

The Fool is dressed as a jester, probably corresponding to the Harelquin of the Commedia dell'arte in Italy. Because the jester rules nothing, he has complete freedom. Again, he represents the duality of being and nothingness and the false dichotomy of the two. Only by embracing nothing (walking towards the chasm) can we attain true freedom. It is this spirit of cosmic knowing that makes him so powerful. All beginnings are fraught with chaos, and yet it is the beginning, not the end, we yearn for.

Once we have begun, we require tremendous amounts of energy to maintain our journey. Which brings us to card #1:

The Magician

The Magician often holds a wand, has a cup in front of him, sometimes levitates objects before him, and has the sign of infinity hovering above or near him. He is a spirit of tremendous masculine energy. In the Jungian tradition, he is not the animus itself, but a more subtle and almost more powerful figure. He is the masculine figure that is also capable of communing with the feminine. His skill with magic indicates that he is capable of communicating with nature. He interprets the feminine for the animus, providing the instinct and dark knowing necessary to temper the energy and action of the masculine.

To interpret the magician only as being Ego, or capability, or infinite power is remarkably narrow. He wields a specific type of power. In the hierarchy of the spirit, his role is that of an adviser to the king, or animus. He represents a merging of masculine and feminine, a trait that becomes clouded when viewed through a masculinist lens.

It's that time of year again

2008-04-07T13:02:00.003-04:00

It's SPRING. Time to trade in cabin fever for Spring Fever. Joy and excitement. Sun on my shoulders. Walking to get lunch without a jacket. Today feels like beach weather - low humidity, warm in the sun and cool in the shade. I grew up on a beach, so it takes me back to my early years.

And of course, the Social Event of the Year. YAAAYYYY! I have a ticket, a hotel suite with a hot tub, and most importantly, a DATE. *GRIN* I'm wearing a formal gown this year, blue, and making it myself using an old bridesmaids' dress and some velvet I got at a steep discount due to the fabric store's imminent move.

Only problem is I got a pattern for making the bodice new, but it's the wrong size. Sigh. Stupid pattern. Why do they list the fabric requirements for all sizes on the package when it's only for 6-12? Grrr.

Before I run out and buy another pattern I'm going to try ripping up the old bodice and see what I can do with it.

Also on my list before the SEOTY: a waxing and a haircut. Of course, my schedule is already busy, but I think I can fit it all in. It's going to be fantastic.

The Ah-Ha Moment

2008-04-03T14:13:00.002-04:00

What the hell kind of play party breaks up before midnight? I'm appalled at the lameness of it. Normally I'd be perfectly fine with continuing to play as others start heading for the door, but it did seem to be almost everyone, and it was Dr. Faust's first time playing in this group.

Even though we didn't get to play that much, I had a very significant moment. When Dr. Faust asked me to say what I am, and I replied that I'm his whore, it felt different. Normally that sort of thing is just hot to me, and I enjoy it. It's especially exciting to hear it coming from him, but he likes to hear me say it, and I enjoy that too.

But this time, it felt different. It felt more like a statement of fact. I was completely in touch with the submissive side of myself, and had no doubts, no ambivalence about it. I'm his, and I'm happy to be so.

I had a second revelation today. Last night he teased me mercilessly and left me feeling very horny, which will remain in effect until Friday. I started thinking about the Sleeping Beauty books, and the blanket rule about slaves and sexual pleasure, i.e., none whatsoever unless their captors say so. And obviously, that's not just as a form of discipline. Part of the idea is that the slaves are kept in a state of constant arousal, because it makes them more fun to play with! I hope restricting my orgasms means that I am more fun for him to play with. In that sense, it lends a whole new dimension to being kept horny. It's not just pleasing to him because it torments me, but also because it ultimately brings him greater pleasure. Isn't that lovely?

Love and Death

2008-03-25T18:53:00.004-04:00

The Death nature has an old habit of surfacing in love affairs just at the time we feel we have won over a lover, just as we feel we have landed "a big fish." That's when the Life/Death/Life nature surfaces and scares everyone sideways.... Whenever love is nascent, the Life/Death/Life nature will always surface. Always.

I first read Dr. Estes' book, Women Who Run with the Wolves, in college. I remembered seeing a poster for it in the Women's Center at my first school, then picked up the paperback out of curiosity in my sophomore year. I cried many times during the first time I read it. I've come back to it time and again, and I always find it nurturing, inspiring, and true.

What is it about? Quite simply, it's about the souls of women. It's about feminine spirituality - not "feminine" in the definition of hierarchical and repressive cultures the world over, but the feminine as it truly is. Wild. Instinctively aware. Creative. Resilient. A force of nature.

But it's not all happiness and light. Nothing is, and that is the point of Skeleton Woman, the incarnation of the feminine Divine that Dr. Estes invokes in the chapter Hunting: When the Heart is a Lonely Hunter. I've been pondering the meaning of this wisdom for the last few days, as I've run into a "scared" patch in our relationship. There are many complicated feelings at work, involving the end of my last relationship, the speed at which this one is progressing, my childhood issues, and the newness of D/s for me. It's a lot to handle. I turn back to Dr. Estes, remembering what she said about love and death.

Oddly enough, I had a jolt of recognition while reading a review of "Babe: Pig in the City" on the AV Club (they consider it a largely underrated bit of sublimely surreal children's film). The "Babe" films, the AV Club points out, do not lie to children about what eventually happens to animals on farms, which is part of their appeal to adults and children who are not stupid. Most of us eat animals. Even those who refrain from eating animal flesh, as I did for nine years, sometimes use animal products. It's very difficult to avoid it completely. Every animal we eat, wear or use to stick paper together was killed. Death surrounds us.

And yet, I'm really not being morbid. Because Death in Dr. Estes' universe is not something to be feared. Death is an incarnation of the Divine that brings an end to one thing so that another can begin. Death governs not only our end, and the end of other living things, but the pain of childbirth and the endless cycles of death and rebirth that make up the universe. And in order to love, we must confront Death.

It would be a mistake to think that it takes a muscle-bound hero to accomplish this. It does not. It takes a heart that is willing to die and be born and die and be born again and again.

We must confront Death in order to love, because love requires us to face reality. No relationship founded solely on that which is fun, nice and happy will last for a lifetime. Life brings with it other things, and sharing them is essential. And love itself will wax and wane over time. It goes through its own cycles of growth, maturity and decay.

From her very flesh and blood and from the constant cycles of filling and emptying the red vase in her belly, a woman understands physically, emotionally and spiritually that zeniths fade and expire, and what is left is reborn in unexpected ways and by inspired means, only to fall back to nothing, and yet be reconceived again in full glory.

My college boyfriend was kind of a jerk, in a really passive-aggressive way. But what really sealed it was when my father died. We were long-distance, and it just so happened that he was coming to visit just as, 3,000 miles away, my estranged father passed away. I was declared his next of kin, and was legally responsible for disposing of his remains. It was impossible for me to make the trip, so I had to sign, notarize and fax a document giving that right to someone else. And my boyfriend wouldn't come with me. He said he was tired from driving in and didn't want to put in his contacts.

If you can't handle it when bad things happen to other people, then clearly you haven't mastered Dr. Estes' advice. Just like Margaret Cho's boyfriend who said, "Um, you pee blood, so, bye." It indicates an acute case of immaturity. And yet, in seemingly ironic fashion, those who are more well equipped to respond to loss and crisis tend to also enjoy the rest of their lives more fully. The immature, on the other hand, get upset when someone drinks the last diet soda.

...the Life/Death/Life cycles prevail whether we wish them to or not. Yet if we live as we breathe, take in and let go, we cannot go wrong.

Take in, let go, and take in again. It's that simple. And it's that hard. But it's always wonderful.

Would you all please shut up?

2008-03-19T10:11:00.003-04:00

Last week we had to contend with the exploits of Mr. Spitzer and his incredibly over-priced call girls. And now, this.

Would you all please just shut up about it? Why am I caring about whether someone I've never met cheated on their wife? The only reason Mr. Spitzer's dumbness was at all relevant is because prostitution is illegal. I think it's ridiculous that sex work conducted between consenting adults should be illegal, but that's not the issue. He broke the law.

I find the proposition that politicians should be trustworthy in their personal lives ludicrous, given how completely untrustworthy they are in public. I admit, I had higher hopes for Spitzer. He went after big business and organized crime, two groups that are not that different from each other and similarly abusive to the public. But I think that was part of the problem for him. If he did anything shady, you can bet that there was a lot of money going into finding it out and bringing him down.

There are two groups of people that, based partly on personal experience, I wouldn't get involved with for all the tea in China: politicians and actors. As James Carville says, politics is show business for ugly people. Both groups have an insatiable need for validation and appreciation, and I think it's foolish to expect fidelity from either. If there are any faithful actors or politicians reading this, I appologize, but I think my point is still valid.

I actually got to meet Bill Clinton in 1999. I found him charming. I joked with my mother that he seemed to like full-figured gals so maybe I could get a date. It never struck me as very reasonable to suspect that Hillary expected monogamy from him, and would therefore be outraged. I'm sure it was going on for a long time, and that she knew. Again, politicians. If I was married to someone that charming and powerful, my position would be to please stick with clean, non-professional ladies of legal age, and use protection. But then, my position would also be to please share.

The guy on the radio this morning said that apparently if you're a Democrat in New York, you're getting a lot of action. I don't see any reason why that should not be true. I'm not even sure if Republicans have sex, and if they do, I don't think I want to know about it. I just wish we could collectively get over this whole "OMG he cheated!" crap. It's just so high school.

Tit for Tat

2008-03-18T12:36:00.003-04:00

This weekend there is a party and I am going come heck or high water. I have missed about 4 out of the last 5 parties due to illness and/or personal stuff and I am NOT missing this one. Unfortunately, Dr. Faust will not be able to come.

So I asked Faust if I could play at the party, meaning top someone. I have a friend who will probably come with me, and he tends to enjoy such things. Generally, I've rarely had trouble finding someone looking to get tied up and played with. And I could use some stress relief.

Dr. Faust replied that I could. But I have to get spanked, too. And since he won't be there, we found someone to do it for him.

This is going to be a fun party.

I really like the idea that he's arranging to have me taken care of in his absence. Not in the sense of taking care of my everyday life - I'm capable of doing that, however much I choose to submit to his guidance. No, he's arranging to take care of my need to be treated like the bad, slutty, dirty and bad girl I am.

I am his whore. He likes to make sure I'm reminded of it. Isn't he sweet?

Trial and Error

2008-03-17T14:40:00.004-04:00

Or, Bad Experiences I've Learned From

Right after I moved to my current town and started graduate school, I went through a phase of prolific experimentation. In some ways it was a halcyon time. I had a fellowship, 3-4 classes a term and nothing else to do. I had my own apartment, a small one-bedroom in the heart of town with no parking. Whenever I made a date with anyone, I asked them to come to my part of town, since there were plenty of places to go within walking distance. Of course, this meant that my home was within walking distance when we were through. Sometimes this was a bonus, and at other times it meant that I didn't have to worry about bringing cab fare.

Bad Experience #1 - The Psycho

He had a converted warehouse loft apartment. He built equipment in his spare time. Unfortunately, he was incredibly unstable. He disrespected my limits and eventually I safeworded during sex because he apparently got off on making me insult myself and wouldn't have sex with me unless I was calling myself a dumb c-word. Then he got upset. Can't say that I wouldn't be upset in that situation, but I think he had far more serious issues than most people in the scene. I'm not usually the type to tell people to get out of the kink pool - we're all adults here. But I don't think it was safe for him to be playing with anyone, let alone a newbie.

On the other hand, there were things we did together that I still remember as being incredibly hot. In a lot of ways it was close to my fantasies. But then, it was also an object lesson in how fantasies sometimes cannot cross over into reality - or, if they can, maybe they shouldn't.

He told me when to show up, and when I arrived, he immediately put me in cuffs and tied my hands up over my head in his doorway while he went and got his things ready. He also tied me in a chair and made me watch bondage porn. He certainly made me feel objectified and used, which is perhaps my greatest poison. But he was incapable of providing anything resembling aftercare or affection, or even friendship or concern. As much as I might fantasize about being used, the fact that I'm human and not completely messed up in the head means I have other needs, too.

Bad Experience #2 - Under the Host

You know how people make jokes about drinking so much they end up under the host?

Well, I didn't have anything to drink. Of course I didn't - it was a play party. My first, to be exact. I played at my first party, and then some.

The details aren't important. The moral of the story is that when a man says, "oh don't worry, she's cool with it," he should not be trusted.

I didn't know from D/s at the time. I knew I wanted to be tied up and played with, and that was about it. Over the following year or so I was introduced to a number of D/s practitioners and given a number of spiels about what it means and so on... and Gor. Don't talk to me about Gor unless you're ready to hear some very foul language. But this experience was an object lesson in the potential conflict between D/s and reality. If one says, "i am completely owned and He has the final say in all things," there are some things one would hope are off the menu, but ultimately, if the feeling of consensual non-consent is what makes them happy, why bother them.

Unless, of course, one is talking about the privileges of the Dominant. Does final say in all things mean the Dominant has the privilege of playing with or fucking whomever he chooses, even if the submissive does not like it? In reality, every couple should negotiate this for themselves, obviously. But I just have a hard time stomaching the self-righteous blather of submissives who claim to be completely owned, Total Power Exchange, slaves, what have you, especially when they expect monogamy. If it's not your choice, it's not. your. choice. But if it IS your choice, own that. If you're not willing to do D/s with someone who isn't monogamous, you have the right to make that exception. Just don't go around calling it TPE or lording over others how utterly submissive you are.

For my part, my position on other women has always been that I don't mind, as long as he's willing to share them with me. And yet I've tended to end up with men who don't want to avail themselves of that possibility. Such is life.

Bad Experience #3 - "I just washed these sheets"

I had a date. And I missed it, because I got lost. So I went home and ate some mac and cheese. I didn't have a cell phone. I didn't even have his number, but he had mine.

So he called me and said, what happened? I told him I got lost. He offered to try again. So I drove up to the place I was now able to locate and we had a drink.

He was nice enough, and I was frustrated by the getting lost situation, so we went back to my house and got naked.

Boy, did I regret that. He smelled SO BAD. It was really gnarly. During the act I was actually thinking, "I just washed these sheets."

After he left, I literally vomited. It might have been the mac n cheese. But I had no desire to ever see him again. So much for one night stands being fun.

The dangers of being out at work

2008-03-12T14:51:00.002-04:00

I've never been very worried about being out at work. For several years, "work" for me consisted of graduate school and then teaching, and I saw absolutely no reason to hide the lifestyle from a bunch of sociologists, especially since I had an ambition at one time to do sociology about it. I shared tidbits with my students, but only when teaching sexualities, in which case it was relevant.

At other jobs, I've kept the lifestyle under wraps for the most part. Not out of any fear of discrimination, but because I thought my co-workers would tease me and make stupid jokes. I just didn't want to hear the same old tired lines about being "tied up" instead of, say, busy.

But my current boss and I hit it off so well, I felt totally comfortable telling her. She's never been down on me about it, in fact she usually seems to think that it's really cool. It has helped to earn me the unofficial job title of "Devil Woman". She has her boundaries as far as what she wants to hear, and I've learned that partly by trial and error. But I don't feel like I'm hiding anything.

The problem only made itself apparent today, when she gave me a task to complete and I said, "yes, ma'am." I don't always say that. Sometimes I roll my eyes and sigh loudly. Sometimes I lean back in my chair and say, "noooooo I don't wannnaaaaaaaaa." Usually I say, "Ok, I'll do that in a minute, when I'm done with the three things I'm working on right now". But when she's completely stressed out, like she was today, I say, "yes, ma'am," because I don't want to make her even more pissed off.

Problem is, when I say "yes, ma'am" she seems to pick up on the fact that it's not really a neutral thing for me. She gave me a weird look. I said, "what?". I offered to say "Yes, Ms. Lastname" instead, and she was having none of it.

"It just comes out sounding dirty when I say it, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Devil Woman, it kind of does."

D'oh. An attempt at professional behavior thwarted by my kinky nature.

Fun with Locks - The Results Show

2008-03-08T17:39:00.002-05:00

I lost.

I thought I was entirely wimpy because he lied to me about how long it had been. He said it had barely been a half hour, when really it had been at least a full hour. Wicked, evil, wonderful man. I was so entirely gone on endorphins and adrenaline, there was no way for me to accurately guess the time. I think I was actually close to blacking out at one point.

My prize for losing is I have to wear an anal plug under my clothes in a public place. He seemed to indicate that I'd be wearing my remote vibrating egg as well. I suggested doing it at an upcoming scene event. He reasoned accurately that in that setting we'd be able to tell everyone that I was wearing all kinds of internal devices and offer to let them take advantage of it. Wicked, evil, wonderful... sigh.

Lucky for me, he likes all of the possible ideas I had for both losing and winning. The activity I chose for winning was to have my pubic hair shaved by him, followed by an orgasm. The one he says he likes the best is to have me be his human pet for 24 hours, and that he definitely plans to make it happen at some point.

Some others I suggested:

If I win:

A weekend away together visiting a neighboring group and their awesome playspace.

You arrange to have me "kidnapped", enlisting help from others. They come to my house and remove me (not violently), confiscate my toys, and bring me to the location (maybe Mike and Jackie's?) blindfolded - gagged and bound in the back of a van or SUV if possible. They strip me, bind me and bring me before you. You use me and allow them to watch for their entertainment.

A new toy of my choosing

A vanilla date - dinner and a movie, restaurant and movie chosen by me - followed by non-vanilla activities of your choosing

If I Lose:

I have to buy you any pain toy you choose (within budget) and you may use it on me as often as you like.

You can shave my pussy followed by as much teasing or pain as you like, but no orgasm

No orgasms for a minimum of 2 weeks.

I will come to your house and do housework for you whenever you want for up to two weeks, wearing whatever you choose, including nipple clamps, collar and cuffs.

The "lady" part.

2008-03-07T14:47:00.003-05:00

When I started this thing I really wanted the address to be just chained.blogspot.com, but that was taken. So I added "lady" in there and it was ok. Sometimes I do things like that without even really thinking about it.

I believe the reason "lady" popped in my head was because back in high school I saw a book by Piers Anthony at the local library called "Chaining the Lady."

I don't think I ever actually read this book. I think that was probably because the library's collection was kind of hodge-podge and they didn't have the first book in the series.

But for some reason, the title stuck with me. Some completely unfathomable, unearthly reason.

But what of this word, "lady"? How much of a lady am I, really?

Anyone who has played with me would know that whatever else it might mean, the connotation of a lady as a chaste woman is certainly not appropos. In fact, few things fuel my submissive fire like the words "slut", "whore", "dirty nasty fucktoy", etc. I'm not chaste, and I really enjoy being reminded of it. I love getting my sluttiness recognized and used against me.

But in another sense, I'm all about being a lady. In my mind, a lady is a grown woman who knows what she is about and has some semblance of social skill. A lady is a woman who treats others properly. She avoids indulging in rudeness, whether provoked or unprovoked. She is capable of both giving and receiving compliments, and never stoops to petty or ugly behavior, even when she's not having the greatest of days herself. In other words, she behaves herself.

I believe in etiquette. I don't practice it perfectly, by any means, but I believe in its value. Etiquette is a tool for coping with the reality of other human beings and putting aside things that would otherwise get in the way of what's important. For instance, when meeting a new person in a public place, it behooves one to focus on the other person for a minute and resist bombarding them with personal information. It also behooves one to resist prodding or provoking them with politics, religion or other inflammatory subjects. This is so that we can focus on making a new acquaintance. Ask a neutral, not-too-personal question: "Do you live nearby?" "How long have you known Mutual Acquaintance?" This is so that you can experience a small amount of conversation with them and get to know whether you would like to have more conversation. If not, just politely excuse yourself and walk away.

Miss Manners, of whom I'm quite fond, would say that it's vulgar to discuss the things I do in a public forum. But this is where she and I are just going to have to disagree. Though I believe in etiquette, I also believe in free expression. And I also believe in paying attention to time and place. Anyone who is offended is free to refrain from reading. I don't discuss the finer points of D/s with my family or in front of children or elderly people. I am aware that not everyone wants to know, and I respect that. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to stop talking about it.

There's limits to being a lady, after all.

O Ladies, Where Art Thou?

2008-03-06T17:52:00.003-05:00

In the BDSM scene, it's been said, men outnumber women. I find it to be generally true - for instance, looking at the personals sites, one sees more male profiles than female. And a few of those female profiles are fake.

Bitchy Jones has some interesting ideas on the subject. And I think she has an interesting point. The scene is not particularly woman-oriented. Even though many of the most prominent kinksters I've known were women, and they tend to be very active in running the local groups, it still very much feels like a masculine space.

Perhaps that has to do with the fact that M/f is more common than F/m. I've found that different groups - not necessarily different towns, but different social circles within those locations - tend to trend either Maledom or Femdom. And that's probably a function of people going where they are more likely to find someone they are compatible with. If a certain group is known for having several notable male Doms, it will tend to attract more female submissives, and therefore even more male Doms.

But then, within those groups, I have noticed a certain amount of peer pressure as well. I have seen some people who really didn't seem very well suited for the role they chose, and I had to wonder whether this was something they really wanted or if they had been mentored by someone who held a lot of sway.

But regardless, M/f is more socially acceptable. Let's face the facts. We live in a phallocentric culture with a serious issue regarding repressed male homoeroticism. So when Bitchy says that even in a F/m situation, it's still all about the penis, I tend to believe her. And how ironic is it, then, that so many Femdoms don't have sex with submissives? It's about the penis, but it's not about penetration.

And it's not about penetration because women have yet to reclaim that act as a sex act that matters to us. Women's sexuality is focused on the clit, on vibrators and dildos and aromatherapy. I recall one of the great "ah-ha!" moments of my upbringing. I was in Santa Barbara, CA at a college program for high school students. In the women's restroom on campus there was a flier, and the headline said, "Don't call my clitoris a vagina." What on earth could they mean? I thought. And what is a clitoris? I was 17 years old and hadn't a clue about the clitoris. There was a diagram, though, to help me. You mean, I thought, orgasm comes from there and not in there?

I was flabbergasted. What does this mean? It meant that the act I'd learned was the most important, the sine qua non of sex, was not the act most likely to give me the greatest pleasure.

Sadly, too many women still don't embrace this concept. Too many women and men refuse to see the good old-fashioned in-out as just one possible act among many. It's still treated as the standard, the normal thing to do, the main course in a meal with little else.

Which means those of us who know the clitoris and vagina are two different things end up sounding like we pooh-pooh the old in-out. Please, that old thing? How boring. Women who claim to get off on it are faking, deluded or just ignorant. Or maybe those of us who don't haven't had it done right. I'm willing to concede the possibility.

But that's all far too simplistic. No, I don't orgasm from vaginal penetration alone. That doesn't mean I don't like it. In fact, that doesn't mean I don't love it, crave it and thoroughly enjoy it. I like fucking. I like it not just because it feels good, but because it involves mutual pleasure. The intertwining and interlocking of bodies; the urgent, sweaty need to feel each other, completely and right now. Good fucking is fantastic, orgasm or no.

Admitting to that is not in any way a renunciation of my understanding of the clit and its importance to my sexuality. And yes, fucking, in all its glory, is not something that can be pulled off in quite the same way without a live penis involved, so lesbians are, to some extent, left out. But I believe my sapphic sisters are doing quite well without it, thank you very much. I mean, four breasts. How can that be bad? And not every bi/hetero woman, bi/hetero man and gay man is going to like it as much as I do.

I think the problem is that too many women privilege fucking above other acts not because they like it, but because they are sure that it's what men want, and they want more than anything to be wanted by men. Our culture demands that men have sex, while women merely be sexy.

It's hard for me to see a woman who hasn't woken up to some of these issues being comfortable in the scene, especially on the Domme side. I'm sure there are some women out there who remain uneducated on the issue of the clitoris who feel submissive and seek out relationships with Dominant men. I hope they do not remain uneducated, though. And I hope they do not seek D/s as a way to avoid being a whole, competent person. Just because I love fucking does not mean I am ready to give up everything else and have only that. Even in D/s.

If a woman can't admit that she likes sex, or can only admit to liking a vibrator, then it stands to reason that she wouldn't be comfortable letting a submissive fuck her. Because she probably still defines penetration in her mind as necessarily Dominant. Penetration can be an act of D/s, but it doesn't have to be. That's one of the things we kinksters are so good at - pointing out the arbitrariness of cultural rules.

It means what you want it to mean - nothing less, nothing more.

Fun with Locks

2008-03-04T11:12:00.002-05:00

On Saturday, I presented Dr. Faust with a brand new ball gag, as well as keys to my apartment, attached to a key ring with the keys to all of my padlocks. He likes locks.

In keeping with that theme, he's come up with a delicious plan for us. I am to obtain a small box with a lockable latch and a padlock. Into the box will go two pieces of paper. On one piece will be written something I do not want but agree to in the event that I lose. On the other is something I want and will get if I win. I lose by giving up the combination, and win by not telling it. He gets to come up with ways to convince me to tell, and he'll have a certain amount of time within which to do it.

Coming up with ideas for the winning and losing activities is really quite difficult. I have tons of ideas for the winning one - but which one to pick? Should I be ambitious? Go for something he might otherwise be less than enthused with? If it's something he would certainly approve if I asked, does that make it a less attractive choice? But then, do I really want to choose something he would not choose himself?

This is shaping up to be a valuable thought exercise.

The losing activity is even tougher. Having to volunteer something that works as a disincentive is not easy. Many of the things that are hard limits for me are hard limits for him, as well, so those are all out. Things that are not hard limits are often things I really enjoy, so how much of a disincentive would that be? Similarly, if it's something I would readily give him whenever he asked, it's not very effective.

It speaks to some of the dilemmas at the core of D/s. Is it in the nature of D/s for the submissive's desire to please the Dominant to surpass all other desires? Is it in the nature of D/s for the submissive to eliminate those desires that are incommensurate with the Dominant's wishes? Some would say that is a doormat and not a submissive. I would add also that if the submissive has no desires that conflict with the Dominant's wishes, what is the point of submission? I feel it appropriate for D/s to involve a conscious act of submission - a choice. But then, why do we make that choice? Unless we are truly codependent or otherwise emotionally damaged, we choose it because it fulfills us in some way. We gain something we would not gain by simply acting on our own desires.

I would enjoy making myself climax as often as I please, I'm sure. There have been times in my life when it was nearly a daily thing. But in submitting that choice to Dr. Faust, I gain something much greater. Does that gain negate the act of submission? Or is the choice in and of itself the fact that matters, and not the consequences?

At any rate, this is shaping up to be quite fun, and thought-provoking.

The event itself is sure to involve some resistance and force, which I find quite thrilling. It's a very different headspace for me, so I am a bit nervous and unsure how I will behave in that situation. It's something of an opportunity for me to let the inner SAM have her day of fun - being "bad" to provoke a greater response, more restraint, more rough treatment. But it's always hard to say how it will unfold in reality. Dr. Faust is, as usual, committed to thorough discussion beforehand and being safe, both physically and mentally.

So this is how it feels...

2008-03-02T14:34:00.003-05:00

to be alive.

Everything is perfect. Everything I see is beautiful. Every song on the radio is a glorious anthem to life, full of sex and adventure and fun. I want to do everything, taste everything and feel everything.

I am the most bad-assed creation under the sun. I am an INVINCIBLE force of nature and a microcosm of the power and glory of womankind. I am woman, hear me moan.

And all this power, all this beauty and all this life, needs only his voice, his hand, a single gesture. And it's all his.

It is not a loss, in any way. The more my power belongs to him, the greater it becomes. My life, in his hands, is increased.

I thought I knew before what I wanted. I had no idea it would feel like this. Nothing will ever be the same.

Origins, Continued

2008-02-29T11:52:00.004-05:00

Although I was still a small child and didn't listen to much of it until I was older, I maintain an unironic love for the music of the early to mid-80's. If I had a soundtrack for my life, it would most certainly include some post-punk gems like Blondie and Elvis Costello. The sad parts would unfold to Joy Division (or maybe New Order) and The Smiths. Moments of triumph would go to Dexy's Midnight Runners and the falling-in-love montage would be be set to the Go-Go's.

To me that music speaks to one of my fondest childhood longings: the carefree excitement of young adulthood. My family are good people, but I was more than a little stifled and sheltered, and I longed for the opportunity to prove that I could handle a little freedom. And the music inspired me because it was the music my older cousin worshipped. Her bedroom walls were a collage of Fine Young Cannibals, Echo and the Bunnymen and Depeche Mode posters and album covers. When I heard it, I imagined living like I imagined the singers did: in the city, surrounded by friends, being incredibly hip and interesting. I wanted to be that way, too.

Much could be said here about the erotic possibilities of Depeche Mode. But I didn't see much of them on MTV, which was what I watched religiously once my family finally figured out that we were already paying for cable but needed a decent set to get more than 13 channels.

One of the videos that popped up frequently, though, was this one:

Those clean-cut preppies hanging out in exotic locations like proverbial White Hunters were just so attractive. And the location called to mind another 80s icon that has already had some screen time on my blog: the indomitable Dr. Jones. In fact, those of you who love him as much as I do might remember that those scenes in the cafe in Cairo, where Indiana sits with Belloq and have delicious arch-enemy dialoge. Belloq, a lovely villain almost as much fun as Indy himself, utters a line I absolutely LOVE to imitate: "Ah am a shahdowy reflahction of yooo!"

I can't say I identified much with the statuesque lady in war paint in the video. But it fueled my fantasies for years.

And then there's Sting, back before he became an insufferable twit:

In this one it's all about the lyrics, although a sweaty, black-and-white Sting making love with his guitar sure didn't hurt. I wanted someone to look at me like that and sing a song about putting barbed wire around my heart - metaphorical barbed wire, of course. I don't do blood.

Um... do what now?

2008-02-26T14:01:00.005-05:00

This article was also discussed on Mistress Matisse's blog, and I have to say I agree with her 100%.

I'm 31 years old. I haven't given up the idea that I may have a child or two someday, but it's not the highest priority in my life. I will absolutely never, ever subject any child of mine to what I went through, namely, a truly terrible father and a mother who concealed the truth about him for years. I have always sworn that the children I bear, if any, will have a good father. And I am sticking to that.

But while childbearing comes with time limits, I believe that finding love is less constricted. Those of us who seek more specialized types of relationships have an even smaller pool to choose from. Nonetheless, I've known plenty of people my age and older who have found wonderful kinky relationships. Those women who hit 35 and say there are no men left are ignoring several important factors: 1) if you are only interested in older men, you are fighting an uphill battle, 2) women who are sexually interesting have a huge advantage, and 3) divorcees should not be discounted automatically, although a divorcee with no insight into why they are divorced is a problem.

I have never been married. But I did spend five years in a relationship that had some serious drawbacks. We lived together long enough that, on a practical level, we were fairly close to a married couple. But he was not kinky. And the more he tried to make the leap, the more I realized that it would never happen. Not really. If someone is going to discover their kinky side, I think it will be more of an "ah-ha!" moment than a laborious process that takes years. Coming to terms with it and learning what to do with it will take time, sure, but it's either there or it isn't.

There's a certain knowing that a truly kinky person has with another. It's the presence of an evil mind, and the ability to express it in deliciously subtle, or not so subtle, ways. A kinky person will say something, and another kinky person will pick up a meaning in what they say immediately, while a vanilla person just won't get it. This is the connection that cannot be faked, and for the vast majority of people, it cannot be learned.

So, why did I stay for so long? Well, in a lot of ways, I liked him. He's a good, kind decent person, and he treated me well. He has loads of personality and is often a lot of fun to be around. And I thought that I would never find someone with those qualities AND a kinky nature. It's too good to be true, right?

Then I ran into someone. It wasn't Dr. Faust, not yet anyway. It was a submissive. I thought that I could indulge my kinky nature by stretching the Top muscle and finding a sub of my own. After all, it does come with benefits. Someone to drive me to events in other states and carry my things, mostly. The trouble was, I found someone I could actually see myself in a romantic relationship with. That outcome wasn't in the cards. But it opened my eyes to the possibilities.

Now, I'm absolutely crazy about Dr. Faust. He's just what I want in so many ways. And I know that I can never again settle for anyone who doesn't share my kinky nature. Life is much too short for that. I'm well aware that there is no such thing as the perfect person or perfect relationship. Everything worth having is worth some effort. But to settle for someone who doesn't excite you, just for the sake of being married? How incredibly awful.

To live without hope of having your fondest desires fulfilled seems like a sad imitation of life, at best. And for what? Social approval? A bigger house? Not being alone? I don't claim to have a lock on emotional health, but to cling to something unsatisfying for the sake of not being alone is exactly what I have learned never to do again. And to stay with someone unsatisfying to have children is doubly wrong. To bring children into a loveless family is unfair to both the parents and the children, and will give them a horrible example that will warp them for life.

I don't share in the hoopla that surrounds being married. Being a non-working sociologist, I have tons of ideas and information about both the benefits and flaws of the institution, its history and functions. But what I don't share is the urge to do it, and to do it before it's "too late". It's never too late. I think what a woman means when she says "too late" is that it will be too late for her to claim the spotlight. The Bride is a social construction that implies a young adult woman, looking forward to a lifetime of wedded bliss, fertile and ready to procreate. She's a necessary element of the social order - through the institution of marriage and family, the social forms are recreated and passed on to the next generation. As such, women who play The Bride are celebrated and indulged. They are considered beautiful by default, and are lavished with attention and gifts.

Who wouldn't want to be The Bride? Me, for one. Not that it doesn't seem like fun. But I'm tormented by these unpleasant things called ideas and conscience. The social conventions inherent in the celebration of The Bride are obsolete at best, and obnoxious at worst. If I should be blessed with a partner in life who wishes to form a permanent union, I would prefer to be married in red, not white, without many of the frills or insanity. Just let me throw a big, rowdy party with plenty of alcohol for my loving, insane family (they're more fun with a little sauce), and let it be for love. Anything else is a hollow sham, and never, ever worth it.

The Drug of Choice

2008-02-25T12:58:00.006-05:00

Or, "Oh, My Aching Clit"

Domination and submission is like a drug. The more I get, the more I want. At first I was scared. Do I really want this? What will happen when I am called on to do something I don't want to? Will I rebel? What if I need more play, more attention, more affection than Dr. Faust is able to provide?

But the more I do it, the more I want it. I never thought of myself as enjoying service. That's probably because it's an aspect that doesn't particularly turn me on. I was raised to think that serving someone in an intimate relationship is bad - it's degrading, was the thought process. It's a gender-specific institution that cripples women by tying them to their Bendix washing machines, in the immortal words of our foremother.

Except it doesn't have to be. I enjoy being helpful to others. I always have. Is it right when I do it to be altruistic, and wrong when I do it to be affectionate? It's still not a major turn-on. But it feels nice, and compared to the things I've done for other lovers and boyfriends, I know that Dr. Faust notices and appreciates it. Five years ago I was with someone who claimed to be a submissive. He wasn't very submissive at all - or perhaps he never felt moved to submit to me. But we did play together, and on occasion I would go out of my way to find things that would excite him. I would plan for a week, come up with ideas, buy things to use on him, dress up and lavish attention on him. And when we were done? What was his response, when I asked him how he liked it?

"It was ok."

OK?? O-Kaaaaay??

Well, pardon my language, but fuck that son of a motherless goat.

For Dr. Faust, I offer service, knowing that it will be appreciated. And I like doing it.

But what lurks underneath that is far less nice. My desires are dark, and turn to kidnapping and "rape". Being treated very roughly indeed is a thought that drives me and, occasionally, consumes me. But the treatment itself is only a fraction of what the desire seeks. It calls out to be controlled, to follow orders and receive punishment. My deeper self desires to be a pet, a plaything, completely subjected to the whim of someone who takes enjoyment from my helplessness and suffering.

This is the side of me that I never thought would find expression - the side I feared to acknowledge and embrace. And now that I can express it, I find that it is an insatiable drive. Just the thought of its fulfillment, a single act of Domination, a single command is enough to arouse me. So I am aroused. Very aroused. And like a snake eating its own tail, I submit to him my arousal, and obey his wishes for my pleasure. I will happily forego self-pleasure and climax as long as he wishes, knowing that when it does come, it will be truly fulfilling on a level that physical pleasure alone can never reach.

As I have attempted to explain to those who don't get this, what one enjoys and what one consents to are not necessarily the same thing. There are things I don't want and don't consent to... amputation, for instance, play involving animals, or hoods. I just don't do hoods. But there are many things to which I am more than willing to give consent even though I don't particularly like them. I am not much of a masochist, though people who play with me tend to disagree. I don't get off on pain itself, and I feel that I've known, and beat on, submissives who do. I get off on being subjected to pain, especially if I can temporarily believe that I have no choice but to endure it. I know on some level that I always have the option to stop. I retain the right to refuse consent, otherwise consent is meaningless. And I think Dr. Faust likes for me to offer the control freely, which I do. But his desire to inflict the pain, or torment, or pleasure, or whatever he pleases - whether I like it or not - is what drives me over the edge.

And it feels... Amazing.

Origins

2008-02-24T11:23:00.007-05:00

I don't know where kinkiness comes from. But I do have some theories.

One theory is that we are normal and everyone else is just repressed. These are primal urges - to inflict pain, to control. We are not born civilized, but savage. Only by learning to empathize with the victim do we learn not to take pleasure in the suffering of others. I have a good friend who is currently raising two boys, and my phone conversations with her are a good indicator of this. When the conversation is interrupted by the phrase, "We do not hit people in the head with airplanes!", to me that seems a fairly strong support of this theory.

But then, we are civilized. Our lifestyle would not be possible without elaborate social rules and the capacity to adhere to limitations. If we routinely crossed the boundaries of consensuality and safety - say, by landing one another in the emergency room on a regular basis - we'd never survive as a community. Another theory suggests that masochism and submission are the products of civilization. We are all taught to submit to others - our parents, teachers, government and society - but only some of us find submission personally fulfilling and/or erotically charged. Perhaps we are, again, the normal ones, in that taking enjoyment in submission is part of the subtext of the culture, but we take the subtext and make it overt.

I think that it is entirely plausible that fetishes, like phobias, can be traced back to early childhood experiences. My most powerful fetish is for restraint. I would say bondage, but people tend to associate bondage with rope, whereas I prefer other methods. Being restrained is immensely erotic for me, and has been so ever since I can remember. But it is not merely the physical sensation - it is the social dynamic of captivity. It must be someone's intent to hold me "against my will" and to make me helpless in order for me enjoy it to the fullest.

My mother tells me that when I was a small toddler, I was hospitalized for a severe flu. I don't remember any of it. But she tells me that the doctors had to restrain me in order to give me IV fluids and medication. I have a strong suspicion that this incident is the source of my fetish for restraint. From a very early age I loved playing games that would result in being tied up. I even invented some of my own and demanded that other children play them with me. I remember seeing scenes in movies and on TV that fascinated me, and until I was older, I couldn't really tell you why.

This isn't the scene I remember from You Can't Do That On Television, but it's a good one. The quality is poor, but I think you'll get the gist:

Then there's this scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Don't even get me started on the fact that the whole movie is about a guy with a whip.

No. You don't hate to do it. Just admit it. Who would hate to do that? Only a crazy person would hate to do that.

Over the years I went on to fantasize about David Bowie's character in Labyrinth, among other things. Not like there's no D/s overtones in THAT relationship, now are there.

By the way, the game I invented was called "catch the princess". I was the princess. The other children had to catch me and pretend to chain me to a wall. I knew that this was something the grownups should not know about, but I couldn't say why, exactly. And this was definitely going on before Labyrinth came out. My fantasies always had a fairy-tale tinge to begin with. My stuffed animals got tied up, too. The "bad" stuffed animals always had a villain, a loyal assistant and a dumb assistant, and one of them would invariably end up suspended from a bookshelf.

So, was it the hospital stay? Or was I just born like this? Who can say.

I do tend to think there's something to the idea that we are the sane ones in an insane world. Power is everywhere. We operate within complex power structures on a daily basis, and they function more efficiently the less we are aware of them. Kink is an expression of awareness of power, a drawing back of the veil over modern life. We make overt what others repress. In that way, it is incredibly subversive. And the subversion is part of what makes it fun.

A Haiku For Dr. Faust

2008-02-23T18:39:00.002-05:00

You picked the lock on
my box of toys. Soon you will
own the rest of me.

My BDSM Commandments

2008-02-22T11:12:00.003-05:00

1. Do No Harm

I know it seems kind of obvious, but this lifestyle isn't about damaging each other. You're free to disagree all you want, and I know some do, but if you are willing to consent to be harmed or damaged, either physically or mentally, you need professional help. Dominants are charged with the responsibility to leave their submissives better than they found them. Tearing someone down instead of building them up is Bad Dominance, IMO.

2. Never Strike in Anger

Now, it's true that wailing on someone is great stress relief, and can do a lot for your everyday frustrations. But if you are passionately upset with someone, for the Love of Pete, talk to them about it before you commence with the hitting. Violating number 2 can quickly lead to number 1.

3. No Cavemen Allowed

Of course you're entitled to your beliefs. But if you are a bigot or a misogynist, you need to leave that junk at the door before you get freaky. Women in the scene are hard enough to come by, do you really think you're going to win them over with sexism? We're all here to do what floats our boats, and women are going to do that however they please, with or without your approval. Deal with it.

4. Real Slavery is Illegal and Immoral

Some people like to do Total Power Exchange, 24/7 D/s, or what have you. Some people call themselves Master and slave. And that's fine. But real life will always intrude. And real slavery is BAD. Trying to approximate it as closely as possible is dangerous and immoral, no matter how badly both parties want it. Let Master-and-slaveitude be a little pretend - I'm pretty sure it will still be hot.

5. Don't Drink and Drive

One beer is probably not an issue. But alcohol slows your reaction time and impairs your judgment. If you're doing anything more intense than spanking, I recommend holding back on the sauce. If you are doing any kind of bondage, don't get drunk. Bondage can lead to accidental injury or death much more quickly than a wooden paddle.

The same standard applies for other intoxicants. If you are on legal meds that might make you fuzzy, make sure everyone involved is aware of it, and try to adjust your activities accordingly. If you are into the illegal kind, mixing it with the lifestyle is a risk, period. And DON'T bring anything illegal into the scene. Nobody wants it, and you'll be lucky if they only throw you out. Leathermen have gotten very bold - if you bring Crystal Meth onto their turf they will call the police. And I say good for them. There's no reason we should have to forego the right to be protected from crankheads and crank dealers. I'll go on the record as saying that pot is pretty harmless as drugs go, but meth is some nasty shit.

On Being Selfish and Having No Boundaries

2008-02-22T09:13:00.007-05:00

Two ostensibly self-deprecating notions have followed me around for a long time:

The first originates with others and gets brought up every once in a while on message boards in the kink community. It says, "Switches are selfish and greedy... they just want to play with everyone." The same is often said about bisexuals.

Being both switch and bisexual, this idea intrigues me. It's easy enough for me to assert that I most certainly do not want to play with everyone, just as I am far from being sexually attracted to everyone I meet. But am I greedy? Perhaps. I have strong appetites, and I'm fond of filling them. On the other hand, like most people, I have many urges that I don't act on. I recognize the limitations of social interaction and even have some inhibitions of my own. Would it be fun for a casual play session with friends to turn into group sex? I'm pretty sure it would. But it's not a good idea for many reasons.

I wonder where the idea that those of us who are flexible are also selfish comes from. I think perhaps it has something to do with the distinction between roles and behavior. A role is a clearly defined set of behaviors that coincides with an identity. One says, "I am a mother" or "he's the mayor", and we all have a socially constructed notion of that person's behavior and lifestyle, and even their thoughts and feelings. Behaviors are just that... behaviors. One can easily exhibit maternal behavior without taking on the role of "mother".

For all that alternative lifestyles require us to discard some of the socially constructed roles we're handed, kinksters have created new ones. And "switch" is a role defined primarily by variety and inconsistency. People worry about us. What happens if you are scening with someone and feel like switching in the middle of it? How can you have a stable relationship? The first question has never happened to me. Yes, I've played top and bottom in the same night, but not in the same scene. The second question assumes that varied desires necessarily lead to equally varied behavior, which is not the case.

The second notion has to do with boundaries. I've noticed that, compared to others, I somewhat lack them. "TMI Chick" is a label that could be applied. I feel the urge to share everything, especially about myself, and especially about sex. I've learned to be more careful about repeating other peoples' information, mainly by meeting with the mortification such behavior can cause. And I have a pretty good sense of what NOT to share in order to maintain safety.

It just rarely crosses my mind that people don't want to know about sex. From an early age, I felt the social taboo on sex talk was silly and unnecessary. By middle school, I was dealing in raunchy stuff on a regular basis. At one point my best friend and I had written a letter to the boy we tormented, and were tormented by, detailing exactly what we thought he had been doing when he claimed to be home sick. Among other things, we suggested that he had hired a prostitute and paid "$500.00 per hump." We were about thirteen years old.

Well, poetic justice struck, and before I knew it, I came down with the flu. Through a bizarre confluence of events, the cat threw up on my three-ring binder and my grandmother found the letter while cleaning it up. Our little friend had declared us to be "sick" and gave the letter back. So my grandmother berated me for my foul language and precocious sexuality while I was lying in bed suffering with the flu.

That boy with whom we engaged in sexual harassment ended up being my first kiss. We met behind the old middle school campus on a wooded hiking trail and made out. Unfortunately for me, I was his experimental girl and he was pretty clearly gay within a few years. He declared my breasts to be "ugly", which somewhat traumatized me.

Still, for all my big talk and furtive adventures, it would be six more years before I would have sexual intercourse. In the meantime, I harbored elaborate crushes on smart, dark, brooding, musical types and made out with the strange boys, drama geeks and drum majors who were so inclined to participate. But I never stopped wanting to talk about sex. I was reproached frequently to get my "mind out of the gutter" by my more prudish peers.

The vanilla world's imperative to confine sex, intimacy and sex talk to specific spaces and times never much appealed to me. And one thing I discovered is that vanilla life presumes two discrete categories: Friends, and Intimates. Once the line has been crossed between friend and intimate, it can never be un-crossed. Friends don't snuggle, or play with boobs, or tie each other up for fun.

In BDSM, there is a range of intimacy levels. Friends can play and remain friends. Friends can snuggle without presuming that it will lead to sex. Switches can be submissive with one person and not submissive with others. It's all a question of mutual consent and enjoyment.

It's always been one of my favorite things to say in favor of BDSM - that we discard what is useless in the cultural understanding of sex and relationships and build our own way of doing things. But we're not immune from building new structures that end up being just as repressive and useless as the ones we discarded. It requires regular self-scrutiny and analysis to keep ourselves on course. Fortunately, some of us are both happy to oblige, and have no boundaries to get in the way.

The First Post - The Final Frontier

2008-02-21T12:31:00.006-05:00

1999. That was the year I moved to a new state, started grad school, broke up with my college boyfriend, and embarked on the ever-expanding journey that is BDSM.

My first encounter was with a doctor who cooked dinner for me and, now that I think about it, wasn't really all that kinky, and probably thought young, impressionable women into kink would be good conquests. But we did have a good time together.

But actually, that wasn't my first experience. The first experience happened several years earlier, in college, with a young man who turned out to be incredibly bad news. But he did tie me to that horrible metal dormitory bed. He did a fine job of it, too, using nothing but some old scarves I'd been saving up. Then he performed oral sex. My head nearly exploded.

But I'm skipping over some really good stories to get to the important one. In 2000, the local BDSM club was planning what would become their first major annual event. In January of that year I had gone to Boston with some friends for NELA's Fetish Fair and Fleamarket. I met someone there, at the weekend-long house party where we were staying. Little did I know at the time, he had come with someone else, and I was branded a Dom-stealing hussy.

I know it seems strange to say about someone I'm not sure if I had sex with that first night, but he was a gentleman. He owned his own tech consulting business, and listened to interesting, obscure music. I liked him a lot. We carried on long-distance for a while, visiting each other several times. We played. He made a mini-video of himself flogging me. During that time, he gently influenced me by making healthy meals for me and taking me out for walks. He also sent me flowers and shaved my privates for me.

I never thought of it as D/s. I just liked what we did. He was planning to visit me for the local club's big annual event. We had a costume picked out... he was going to be a devil in a nice suit, and I would be his angel on a leash. I was so excited.

Then the call came. His kid needed him, and his ex-wife and kid lived in another country. He had to go, and didn't know when he would be back.

I was brokenhearted. I went to the event by myself and managed to have a good time. But it was a long time before I would consider being anyone's submissive. And in time, I despaired of finding any Dominant I could live with. I met people and played, but there was always a problem, especially with Dominants. Too many were misogynists, or dull, insipid men with no sense of humor. Or, if they were decent people at heart, we had nothing in common besides our interest in BDSM. I began to think that the person who turned me on and the person I could stand to live with would never be the same.

I fulfilled a lot of my kinky nature by switching. I played with submissives and co-topped at parties. I discovered the unbridled fun of teaming up with other women to torment a hapless bottom. I had fun. But I ended up looking outside the scene for romantic relationships, dropped out of the scene, and eventually came back. I had begun to have panic attacks, and decided that I needed kink for the release.

D/s vs. Protocol: My dilemma unraveled

"I don't do D/s". That was my catchphrase. What I am now realizing is that much of what I thought of as D/s was actually protocol. Sit like this, stand like that, call me Grand Poobah, always stand on my left side at a 45-degree angle and never, ever begin eating until Grand Poobah is served. A lot of my early exposure to D/s was through Goreans. They were fond of saying things like, "Master never does anything for himself." And, frighteningly, "Master never uses condoms." I sincerely hope most Goreans do not follow that last one. It gave me a bad impression. I thought, I never want to do that, if it means putting up with such nonsense.

Dr. Faust is not a big fan of protocol. He wants to have control over me - not squeeze me into a tightly defined role, or a purple-cape experience, as the charming people at Submission and Coffee would say. You'll never see me write, "i" or "Y/you" or anything like that. I tend to capitalize "Dominant", and Dr. Faust gets capital letters, but that's about it. There may be some small things that would be fun to try, but that's not the point. Also not the point is making me less than what I am. I'm a full person, not a slave, and not a sub-unit of his life. I have my life, and the point of D/s is to make it richer and fuller.

After eight years, I feel I've come full circle. And after hearing about what the lifestyle is and isn't from so many people, I know full well that D/s is what Dr. Faust and I want it to be. As I offer him control over myself in increasingly significant ways, I plunge into the lifestyle in a way I haven't done before. The final frontier. I could not be more excited.