Kink In Exile

I get off on hurting my boy.  I get off in that very viseral sexual way when I see him grit his teeth against the pain or watch the bruises come up, but I also get off in some other more emotional way when I know he is taking the pain because he wants to please me.  And then I feel guilty, and that’s the weird part.  I don’t feel guilty about hurting other people.  I might feel guilty if, heaven forbid, I hurt them in a bad way, or hurt them in a way they didn’t like, but I don’t feel guilty about the act of hurting — they get off on it and so do I.

But I feel guilty about hurting my boy.  It is as if my desire to protect my pet from harm extends to a desire to protect him from the pain I inflict.  I do not, mind, feel guilty if he resists, or if he teases or taunts me (all in good humor), but rather I feel guilty when he is good.  I feel guilty precisely because he is good, because he subjects himself to pain for my pleasure, and this makes him precious to me.  It’s a strange kind of guilt too.  Not the kind you are meant to feel over being mean to another human being (”what have I done” guilt), but rather that kind of pang of regret or loss you feel when you notice you’ve damaged a precious heirloom.

I feel bad for him.  Look at this lovely creature who does so much to please me and what does he get in return?  Torture.  And I know on some level he enjoys it in that strange and complicated way that BDSM allows us to enjoy the things we hate.  I know he wouldn’t allow it if he did not enjoy some part of it.  He asks me to hurt him, and I get off on hurting him and I still feel bad about huring him.  Why, pray tell, does my brain work this way and do others feel similarly?

I’m reading Domme Chronicles archives and all I can think about is how much I want to hurt him, and I wonder if I have a whip, or maybe a strap that’s the right length so that I could beat him while I fuck his pretty ass.

I always get my meanest ideas while reading others’ exploits…

I am not gentle when it comes to hurting people. In fact I have looked at the bruises the day after with horror and considered applying for a job with the Chinese riot police. I do, however, get off on getting people to where they want to be.

We hear a lot about dominance as demanding — do this because I told you. I get off on knowing that the subject of my affection craves submission. I want to hear him beg — for pain, for punishment, for ownership; what ever. I get off on that slip into head-space, but also on the gratitude. On seeing that sense of coming home in someone’s eyes especially when that someone is kneeling at my feet.

Maybe this post should be renamed “I had a good night last night and my brain is still fried.”

So I haven’t been writing much and to top it off I had this post half written and the internet ate it. You see, I’ve been busy: moving, work, wrist pain causing me to save my typing for work mostly, life.

Perhaps the most time and energy consuming thing aside from the move has been building my relationship with the new boy. ok, so 8-ish months is probably not new, but it feels that way. It feels like I am making it up as I go along.

I have never had a relationship with a submissive man before. Play dates, play relationships even, sure. Sex against brick walls in dirty alleys, I wish! But not a relationship, you know, the kind where you meet their parents and start thinking about how your art would look on their walls. This sudden combination of leather and…linen…adds a whole new layer.

Start with I don’t typically do relationships. My last relationship benefited from the 400 kilometers between my rice farming village and my partner’s refugee camp while we got to know each other. (There was no phone reception in the camp and no internet in the village to boot.) And then there is the kink…relationship first, kink second. The things you learn through trial and error! Oh, and did you know submissive men get sick, or tired, or emotional just like all humans everywhere? They do. And when they do they do not make your tea the way you are used to them making your tea and then you feel abandoned. And then there are all the archetypes of D/s that pop up and muddle how you feel about things. Take for example collars — before I could decide what a collar meant to me and if I was willing to give one I had to get over years of watching people wank about the One True Way.

I guess what I’m getting at is relationships are a lot of work and adding kink adds to that. There is this expectation that they aren’t, that if you were right for each other everything would just work, you would agree on everything before you even talk about it, and the sex will be fantastic all the time. Love concurs all, and it does so with magic. In reality love just gives you the willingness to do the work. (And in other news, the sky is blue.)

Three pies, a cake and a batch of cookies — tonight.  I have an awesome kitchen but I can’t help but wonder if it is wrong to ask your sugar daddy for a kitchen with two ovens.  Perhaps if I had a sugar daddy I would ask.  It would be only a matter of time until I asked for a second set of the nice wooden spoons so I can have some by the stove and some by the bed.  Certainly a stand mixer or an account with the French restaurant supply store would win my heart.

One day I will be rich and famous and I will design my own kitchen.  I would keep my lovely 5 burner stove and pot rack suspended on chains.  I’d keep the brushed steel look too, but I’d make it bigger with an island in the middle so that I could bend the lucky bastard over the black granite counter tops between batches of meringues and beat him with the teak wood spoons.

Has anyone else noticed that the makers of BDSM toys have abysmal websites? I mean high contrast graphical backgrounds, frames that don’t load clearly or resize well, animated gifs? Good lord I made websites better than this in ‘98 and that seems to be the last time they updated too!

I don’t get it. I especially don’t get it in light of how many kinky geeks I know. I’m wondering if I can barter graphic design and web work for sex toys, or should we be above good interface design cause kink is more important?

In other news I was at Mr. S for an art opening last night, and happened to ask about rattan canes since I’m in the market. Turns out they no longer sell unfinished rattan ’cause it’s porous and they would like to protect people from themselves. Um, ok. So yes, you should in fact be careful when using unfinished rattan because it is in fact porous and as such can cross contaminate. This is why I wanted one specifically for the person I’m planning to use it on — except they will sell me things with which to mummify people and limit their oxygen supply but not raw rattan. Very good, but where do I get rattan?

If you’re about to say the internet, I tried. I looked through a few websites that were so disorganized and slow to load I didn’t stick around long enough to figure out if they could help me. So, in San Francisco, where do I get a good old fashioned unfinished rattan cane. With a normal dipped handle is fine.

Here is another one of those toys that I just melt over — the Fetish Fantasy studded Ace of Spades paddle. The heavy leather paddle is rimmed with metal studs and has the cutest heart shaped cutout in the middle. These are lovely decorative elements but they also serve a practical purpose — the cutout lowers air resistance making this toy easier to swing for harder blows (it also leaves cute, heart shaped, welts). The metal studs leave little round welts when you hit just right, and I am told by the object of my affection that the cold studs are a nice tactile contrast especially on hot bruised skin. I can’t seem to find this specific toy on Sextoy.com (maybe Domina can help me?!), but this toy looks very similar.

To be sure this toy is mean. The heart shape is a cruel tease…like so many of my favorite toys, it lulls you into a false sense of security before showing its true nature and making you beg and plead for mercy.

If you are looking for something a little less intense try the fantasy patent paddle by Fetish Fantasy. This stylish vinyl paddle lacks the weight to cause real damage but it’s still stingy enough to leave you smarting. It had a comfortably shaped handle, and a cute two-tone design. The lighter more flexible materials puts this toy squarely in the stingy category. It’s a great warm up toy too if you’re working your way up to something heavier like the Ace of Spades above.

Check out these toys as well as other fetish and BDSM toys on the Sex Toys page!

Ever wanted to surprise a partner with something kinky? Or take some shared secret you know would drive him or her crazy with you to lunch? The bondage belt I just got from Sextoy.com is just that. It’s a thick leather belt with strategically placed metal rings, well metal squares actually. You can loop the belt through itself to create a pair of quick and dirty handcuffs. The internets seem to think that this is a cowboy innovation from the wild west, but I have a hard time picturing a herd of cattle in black leather bondage.

In any case, I wore this belt for the first time when I was planning to use it, and my partner in crime recognized the style right away, however, to the untrained eye it looks like a normal if somewhat butch belt. I’ve worn it as a belt to hold my pants up, and no one seemed to know the difference. And as a bondage device, it served it’s purpose. It is pretty easy to convert from belt to handcuffs, adjusts well to various wrist sizes and you get the benefit of that swoosh of leather through belt loops, which I love hearing. The major perk of a bondage belt over other restraints however, is that when you’re not using it for bondage you can use it to hit people with. The bondage belt is made of a nice thick leather, which makes a great snapping noise when it hits skin and the pointy belt tip leaves nice triangular welts.

I really like the portability and “pervertible” factor of this toy. Though one thing I will warn you about is that the metal rings make it wider than the average belt so if you’re wearing girly skinny jeans it might be too big for your belt loops. It worked for most of my pants though, so I still like it.

You can find the Bondage Belt on the sextoys page, or feel free to look at the whole collection of BDSM and fetish items.

Also, my sexuality is not a political statement. I have seen too many blogs in recent weeks about how all women are superior to all men. Matriarchy is the salvation of humanity and I must immediately demand the gentleman behind me a the grocery checkout fall to his knees and lick my boots while we both await the pimply kid behind the register.

To borrow a line from Sarah Jones — your revolution will not happen between these thighs.

What all of these ideas of female domination lack is respect for my desires. I’m going to say this again because it’s really important: if in seeking do submit to women you refuse to acknowledge the fact that not all women want to dominate you you have missed a really huge point. If you refuse to acknowledge the fact that some women get off on submission to men you have shown blatant disrespect for female sexuality. If you insist on calling me mistress despite the fact that I do not enjoy the title you have missed the point. If you are, in fact, unaware of the amount of effort and energy that I invest into the scenes I top then you are taking me for granted and have not moved one inch past the women as no-sex class issues endemic to patriarchy.

If you read this and didn’t understand, if you’re still going “but all I want is to serve you Mistress” tell me and I will try again.

Do you ever get that feeling when you have so many things you’d like to write about you don’t know where to start? yeah, that’s where I’m at…

Fantasy:
I have been going crazy recently with an old fantasy that’s resurfaced. I’ve had this evolving prostitution fantasy for a while, and as I’ve been writing some fiction along that theme it’s on my mind of late. I’ve written about this before, but the wonderful thing about fantasies is that you can always spin them differently, add some details, change a perspective, and you have a whole new story. The funny thing about my prostitution fantasy is that actual prostitution doesn’t help. I can fantasize about pro-domming, and I can work as a pro-domme and the latter doesn’t preclude the former. Tragic isn’t it?

My latest fantasy plays the line between lover and client…kind of a pampered pet idea Advochasty has written about in his post Pro vs. Pampered Lifestyler. I’m not making a business arrangement with a stranger but the money is still an important part of what makes it hot. Being a switch I can see this played out from either side of the coin…I can be at the mercy of a man too powerful for my own good; pampered and yet ultimately at his mercy. I can also play the ice queen dominatrix allowing a man the privilege of serving me, sending him on wild goose chases on a whim, expecting him to pamper me because that is a role he is desperate to assume.

Perhaps this is the last taboo — money is the one thing I never got permission to sexualize. Perhaps, as I told a lover just this morning, it is a result of the fact that I have always had the things I wanted and no one has ever been mean to me — not in a way that mattered.

Origin of power:
This morning I remarked to Censorydep that he was incredibly good at service for someone who walks through the world as though he owned it. This, naturally, lead to a conversation about owning the world. Now I must say that the idea of powerful men being good submissives is not entirely surprising, and is in fact a familiar refrain especially vis-a-vis professional BDSM relationships. What I do find striking, however, is the difference between people who assume power and people who struggle for it. I don’t know what circumstances have to come together to create a person who is unshakably confidant in the power they wield, but I suspect it starts at a very early age. On the other hand people who have had to fight for power, or “fake it till you make it” or employ some other conscious strategy are, in my mind, dangerous. It’s one of those things my mother taught me long before I was ready to understand “insecure men are dangerous. If he’s nice to you and mean to the waitress, leave.” Of course the flip side is that I have demonstrated an often uncontrollable and inexplicable attraction to arrogant bastards, but that might be something for a different post. Temporary insanity on my part not withstanding, however, it seems that submission, or at least submission as I like it, comes from a base of power. Not surprising, but gave me food for thought this morning.