In less than 48 hours, if all goes according to plan, I'll be wearing two new rings through me. And yes, I can barely contain the slightly nervous excitement.
This has been a long time coming, more than a decade, in fact.
Until now every 'modification' I've done to my body has been in relation to me, myself. I have a previous piercing, done over the Stonewall 25 celebration in New York at the National Leather Conference, by Gauntlet New York. And that is a story unto itself. I had both done very specifically for me, and purely about me.
For a number of years, even as Sir and I were first getting together, I wore a Red Tiger's Eye bead in my pierce, and that stone was in relation to Herself. But on Sir and my first trip to San Francisco, all those years ago, the stone was given to the Pacific near the Golden Gate Bridge (in part because I had no way to return it to her at the time.)
But I'm a little ahead of myself. In San Francisco, we went to Gauntlet (SF), and had the old ring and stone taken out and replaced by a new ring with a Fire Opal captive bead- (an 'engagement ring' of sorts, though I didn't realize it at the time,) from my Sir, which I wear to this day. Then we drove up above the Golden Gate, released the tiger's eye to the Pacific, and it was then that he proposed to me. Now, going on 11 years later, we are not married, we're both deeply conflicted about the institution as such, but for us, the commitment to one another, and desire to be together was what mattered far more than whether or not a ritual was forthcoming.
So the Fire Opal ring, in my clit hood piercing holds a lot of meaning to me. That hood piercing has held symbols or tokens from two of what are arguably three of the most important people in my life. But the hole itself was about me, and was done at a particular moment in my own life.
I've never had holes put through me in relation to another person, and now that's about to change.
These two new holes and rings, will be specifically about Sir. Symbolizing his ownership and control as we move into our second decade together. For the first time in my life I chose to wear these in relation to my partner. For both of us, this is a very large step.
We've been talking about piercings and rings for more than a decade. I even have a previous set of jewelry from ten years ago, that's been sitting. I don't know if those particular rings will ever be worn or not, but our intent has been there for a long time.
I suppose you could say we had a lot of work to do before we could finally get to this point.
If all goes according to plan, these two will be the first of ten through my outer labia. Getting to all ten will take some years. We may space the piercings out even further as each pair of piercings is going to mean some 'down time' an immediate period without that form of sex, and a longer time meaning no baths! (Argh!) Healing each is going to take many months, and then of course, we're going to want some time to enjoy before we start the next pair.
So Monday marks the beginning of a long process.
On one hand I can't wait, on the other, I'm nervous, and needle phobic and no fan of pain without some real warm up first, but this is what it's going to take, and I want Sir's rings. So I'll do what I must.
After my 'Stonewall piercing' my dear friend took me out, along with a hoard of other Leatherfolk to South Street Seaport to find and share some 'flights' of excellent ports. After a rowdy and dreamy evening, we were swept along home in a taxi, across the Brooklyn Bridge under a beautiful moon, off to a brownstone in Park Slope. Getting up three flights of stairs have never felt so amazing in my life.
I know Monday I will be 'flying' too. Sir will care for me, and let me soar all the way home as we leave on our road trip not long after the appointment. All I need to do is sit quietly in the front seat, and let Sir take me home. His.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Seeing Herself
To begin with, it's sometimes funny what I consider 'personal'. I can write a post about being flogged, but when it comes to writing this, I pause. Perhaps in part because she'll be reading it, but also in that, well, in some ways, it's personal.
But this is blogging my little leather life, or so I claim, and to avoid writing this would be, well, a rather serious "sin" of omission, in no small part because it is what is a very serious part of my 'now', and in part because it's also part of my Leather 'then' as well.
I'm not going to attempt to write any version of the story of us here, at least not now. Suffice it to say, Herself (which sometimes should be more aptly written herself), is what I'll use here to refer to the womyn who was, for a time, my wife. A time that came to a close almost as soon as it began. Not by my decision, but by hers.
We've been apart for over 11 years now, and for all but the last few months, been completely out of contact. Which is its own long story that, no, I'm not going to write here either. She knows, and I know, and that's what matters here.
So we have been back in contact for less than a year now, almost entirely via e-mail, with one phone call, on her Birthday. It was the first time I had heard her voice in well, forever; lifetimes, relationships, marriages.
Clearly, we each have our own 'nows'. I, to my own surprise, have been steadfastly with Sir, and she has had her own relationships and entanglements and disentanglements with both people and the State in relation to such. I've left my beloved midwest to return to the general area near where she and I spent our years together. She on the other hand has left her beloved here to return to a place that she in some ways feels is not hers. Over time, though, my here, or more specifically Sir's here, has become such a part of me that this is my home now. He chose this place and I agreed to come to him.
So now, all these many years later, she has pined for a specific Yule gift from me- the ability to see me once again.
There is of course, much more to it than simply she and I coming to our own end. There was another person, and much pain, and much unnecessary pain, and interference that kept us from even being able to communicate, much less draw things to any kind of civilized close at the time. All of which, of course, is my far too polite way of saying bad things happened, bad things far beyond the control of the two of us. Not that she (or realy either of us) is some form of innocent party in the course of all of this, just in that many things happened that had nothing to do with anything either of us would have wanted or had any control over.
So she has asked to see me.
Naturally, this had lead to a great deal of introspection on my part.
There is the person she once was, and there is the person she is now, and there is everything in between. And there is the person I once was, the person I am now, and everything in between. Mainly though, there is time in between, and more than a decade, much of which was spent not knowing if she was alive or dead.
More than my wife, I placed my collar around her lovely neck, and called her my own.
My obligations to her, to that, did not end at the edge of our time together. A collar is a lifelong commitment for me.
So I have chewed upon this request of hers for some time now. Sir and I have spoken, and pondered, and worked through and through and through this. Oddly, it turns out he may be more comfortable with such than I am.
In the end, despite everything, or perhaps due to everything, I have come out to 'yes, but on my own terms'. That is all I can give.
Our Fetish Flea trip will, at one point take us near her, and come January, for one afternoon, she and I will finally come face to face, a culmination of so much. More than words can begin, really.
I suppose you can see now why I couldn't not at least give this its due. This is my now. And seeing her will be, well, no, not blogworthy, simply a significant, (hell, momentous) occasion, to me anyway.
I walk into this not knowing what I will do. We may cry, laugh, be awkward with one another, prattle on unceasingly, scream at each other, come around to some strange version of restoring the friendship that was there so long before we even came together, or walk out, perhaps never to see one another again. I don't know.
All I know is that in this, I can't deny her her request.
And that is all tangled in with Leather ideas of responsibility, and loyalty, and honour, along with deep sadness, betrayal, and even still smouldering anger.
Mostly, though, I've missed her.
And I'm so damn glad she's not dead.
But this is blogging my little leather life, or so I claim, and to avoid writing this would be, well, a rather serious "sin" of omission, in no small part because it is what is a very serious part of my 'now', and in part because it's also part of my Leather 'then' as well.
I'm not going to attempt to write any version of the story of us here, at least not now. Suffice it to say, Herself (which sometimes should be more aptly written herself), is what I'll use here to refer to the womyn who was, for a time, my wife. A time that came to a close almost as soon as it began. Not by my decision, but by hers.
We've been apart for over 11 years now, and for all but the last few months, been completely out of contact. Which is its own long story that, no, I'm not going to write here either. She knows, and I know, and that's what matters here.
So we have been back in contact for less than a year now, almost entirely via e-mail, with one phone call, on her Birthday. It was the first time I had heard her voice in well, forever; lifetimes, relationships, marriages.
Clearly, we each have our own 'nows'. I, to my own surprise, have been steadfastly with Sir, and she has had her own relationships and entanglements and disentanglements with both people and the State in relation to such. I've left my beloved midwest to return to the general area near where she and I spent our years together. She on the other hand has left her beloved here to return to a place that she in some ways feels is not hers. Over time, though, my here, or more specifically Sir's here, has become such a part of me that this is my home now. He chose this place and I agreed to come to him.
So now, all these many years later, she has pined for a specific Yule gift from me- the ability to see me once again.
There is of course, much more to it than simply she and I coming to our own end. There was another person, and much pain, and much unnecessary pain, and interference that kept us from even being able to communicate, much less draw things to any kind of civilized close at the time. All of which, of course, is my far too polite way of saying bad things happened, bad things far beyond the control of the two of us. Not that she (or realy either of us) is some form of innocent party in the course of all of this, just in that many things happened that had nothing to do with anything either of us would have wanted or had any control over.
So she has asked to see me.
Naturally, this had lead to a great deal of introspection on my part.
There is the person she once was, and there is the person she is now, and there is everything in between. And there is the person I once was, the person I am now, and everything in between. Mainly though, there is time in between, and more than a decade, much of which was spent not knowing if she was alive or dead.
More than my wife, I placed my collar around her lovely neck, and called her my own.
My obligations to her, to that, did not end at the edge of our time together. A collar is a lifelong commitment for me.
So I have chewed upon this request of hers for some time now. Sir and I have spoken, and pondered, and worked through and through and through this. Oddly, it turns out he may be more comfortable with such than I am.
In the end, despite everything, or perhaps due to everything, I have come out to 'yes, but on my own terms'. That is all I can give.
Our Fetish Flea trip will, at one point take us near her, and come January, for one afternoon, she and I will finally come face to face, a culmination of so much. More than words can begin, really.
I suppose you can see now why I couldn't not at least give this its due. This is my now. And seeing her will be, well, no, not blogworthy, simply a significant, (hell, momentous) occasion, to me anyway.
I walk into this not knowing what I will do. We may cry, laugh, be awkward with one another, prattle on unceasingly, scream at each other, come around to some strange version of restoring the friendship that was there so long before we even came together, or walk out, perhaps never to see one another again. I don't know.
All I know is that in this, I can't deny her her request.
And that is all tangled in with Leather ideas of responsibility, and loyalty, and honour, along with deep sadness, betrayal, and even still smouldering anger.
Mostly, though, I've missed her.
And I'm so damn glad she's not dead.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Caning
So last night.
Which actually began somewhat earlier on, as Sir slid His leather collar around my neck and locked it. This was followed by several hours of running about doing the things I ordinarily do in the course of any ordinary day.
Yes, we COULD have spent the evening decorating the Yule tree. Instead, we decided to fit in some "us" time, as the next few weeks are going to be very hectic, and we should steal away what little pockets of unhurried time we can when we can. If nothing else, "us" time is a very healthy way of mitigating holiday related stresses.
So early (for us, anyway) in the evening we headed upstairs. Not long thereafter he had me secured across the bed in a happy mesh of tools that amount to sort of human 'tinker toy' sprawl; long leather bondage 'mittens' that come up almost to my elbows locked on with shiny little chrome locks, ankle cuffs, leather tethers, spreader bars artfully placed, and a handful of caribineers and clips. Suffice it to say, by the end of his arranging, I wasn't going anywhere.
Once I was little more than a useful target, he selected a few of his favourite whips and 'had at' me. (Herein I'm afraid some of the details blur a bit, but happily so.) I do however, clearly remember the sharp cutting sting of the horsehair, and the jarring THUDs of the big black Moose flogger. Fortunately, there was little I could do other than 'take it', and enjoy it immensely.
Eventually, he set the floggers aside and I encouraged him to fetch a particular slapper/crop as marks were what he seemed intent upon, and that particular tool provides a great amount of precision and control. This led to its own fun (but regrettably, no marks the following day.)
But then, in a fit of being wildly unpredictable, his hand settled upon one of the bamboo canes. This was new. He's used artificial canes on me before, delrin, and lexan, but some of the pieces I've been picking up recently, rattan and bamboo, no, he hadn't used those on me before.
(Sure I've had bamboo and rattan close at hand for quite some time now, but recently I've been picking up some more, flexible rattan canes, and a lovely little whisk of birch, which I thank my lucky stars hadn't been soaked the half hour before, last night.)
So he let me see what I was in for, the bamboo, and I yelped, honestly, completely innocently
"But, ... those are for GIRLS!...
Oh, wait...!"
(The space between the two broken sentences was the time it took for me to come to my own frightening realization; 'I'M A GIRL! Eeeek!')
Honestly, I didn't see the connection- until of course, I did.
Ah, the many joys of being a S/switch and picking up toys for some later use, only to eep! find them used upon me when I expect it least.
Sir is nothing if not devious.
So this resulted in me being released, bent over the edge of the bed, and playing human target as Sir got the feel of new tools. (Lest anyone worry, Sir has damn good aim, and had certainly picked these up before using them upon me.) At the time, the pain was exactly the pain of a good 'first time out with a new tool' caning, the sensation so unique to caning; a sharpness, then the moments of feeling the blow moving deep under the skin, and then the pain 'blooming' slowly after each stroke.
None of the strokes were so hard as to actually leave a mark that lasted through 'til this morning, but I certainly had that tender/bruised feeling long after. Caning provides a certain sense of clarity, and being fully in the moment that few other tools give. Timing is everything, and giving each stroke the time it takes to develop and for me to process it creates a rhythm.
Eventually, we agreed to end with three solid strokes, which expanded quite happily into five.
Now for some people, these kinds of activities form a sort of foreplay, which leads into sex. For other people, doing such may be the point in and of itself, and therefore sex becomes irrelevant to such altogether.
Sometimes we find ourselves fitting under that latter category wherein the work is the work and sex just is extraneous to what we're doing. Usually, though, Sir and I do what we do, and extend that power and control and pain and ownership into our sex at some point in the course of what we're doing.
So while still very much in the state of mind I was in, Sir rubbed my (sadly more temporary than I would have liked) red marks and that lead into hard rough sex.
Later he tucked me into bed, got out some of the shall we say, more 'internal' tools (cold stainless steel to be specific), and spent a bit of time touching me before he finally left me to drift off to sleep.
I suppose this last bit is important to note in that there is a very real possibility that there will be some new piercings in the very near future, and obviously, fresh piercings require a certain gentleness that (happily) last night lacked.
This time of year for most ""visions of sugar plums dance(d) in their heads." For me? Well, I suppose you could say I'm dreaming of a pierced Yuletide.
Which actually began somewhat earlier on, as Sir slid His leather collar around my neck and locked it. This was followed by several hours of running about doing the things I ordinarily do in the course of any ordinary day.
Yes, we COULD have spent the evening decorating the Yule tree. Instead, we decided to fit in some "us" time, as the next few weeks are going to be very hectic, and we should steal away what little pockets of unhurried time we can when we can. If nothing else, "us" time is a very healthy way of mitigating holiday related stresses.
So early (for us, anyway) in the evening we headed upstairs. Not long thereafter he had me secured across the bed in a happy mesh of tools that amount to sort of human 'tinker toy' sprawl; long leather bondage 'mittens' that come up almost to my elbows locked on with shiny little chrome locks, ankle cuffs, leather tethers, spreader bars artfully placed, and a handful of caribineers and clips. Suffice it to say, by the end of his arranging, I wasn't going anywhere.
Once I was little more than a useful target, he selected a few of his favourite whips and 'had at' me. (Herein I'm afraid some of the details blur a bit, but happily so.) I do however, clearly remember the sharp cutting sting of the horsehair, and the jarring THUDs of the big black Moose flogger. Fortunately, there was little I could do other than 'take it', and enjoy it immensely.
Eventually, he set the floggers aside and I encouraged him to fetch a particular slapper/crop as marks were what he seemed intent upon, and that particular tool provides a great amount of precision and control. This led to its own fun (but regrettably, no marks the following day.)
But then, in a fit of being wildly unpredictable, his hand settled upon one of the bamboo canes. This was new. He's used artificial canes on me before, delrin, and lexan, but some of the pieces I've been picking up recently, rattan and bamboo, no, he hadn't used those on me before.
(Sure I've had bamboo and rattan close at hand for quite some time now, but recently I've been picking up some more, flexible rattan canes, and a lovely little whisk of birch, which I thank my lucky stars hadn't been soaked the half hour before, last night.)
So he let me see what I was in for, the bamboo, and I yelped, honestly, completely innocently
"But, ... those are for GIRLS!...
Oh, wait...!"
(The space between the two broken sentences was the time it took for me to come to my own frightening realization; 'I'M A GIRL! Eeeek!')
Honestly, I didn't see the connection- until of course, I did.
Ah, the many joys of being a S/switch and picking up toys for some later use, only to eep! find them used upon me when I expect it least.
Sir is nothing if not devious.
So this resulted in me being released, bent over the edge of the bed, and playing human target as Sir got the feel of new tools. (Lest anyone worry, Sir has damn good aim, and had certainly picked these up before using them upon me.) At the time, the pain was exactly the pain of a good 'first time out with a new tool' caning, the sensation so unique to caning; a sharpness, then the moments of feeling the blow moving deep under the skin, and then the pain 'blooming' slowly after each stroke.
None of the strokes were so hard as to actually leave a mark that lasted through 'til this morning, but I certainly had that tender/bruised feeling long after. Caning provides a certain sense of clarity, and being fully in the moment that few other tools give. Timing is everything, and giving each stroke the time it takes to develop and for me to process it creates a rhythm.
Eventually, we agreed to end with three solid strokes, which expanded quite happily into five.
Now for some people, these kinds of activities form a sort of foreplay, which leads into sex. For other people, doing such may be the point in and of itself, and therefore sex becomes irrelevant to such altogether.
Sometimes we find ourselves fitting under that latter category wherein the work is the work and sex just is extraneous to what we're doing. Usually, though, Sir and I do what we do, and extend that power and control and pain and ownership into our sex at some point in the course of what we're doing.
So while still very much in the state of mind I was in, Sir rubbed my (sadly more temporary than I would have liked) red marks and that lead into hard rough sex.
Later he tucked me into bed, got out some of the shall we say, more 'internal' tools (cold stainless steel to be specific), and spent a bit of time touching me before he finally left me to drift off to sleep.
I suppose this last bit is important to note in that there is a very real possibility that there will be some new piercings in the very near future, and obviously, fresh piercings require a certain gentleness that (happily) last night lacked.
This time of year for most ""visions of sugar plums dance(d) in their heads." For me? Well, I suppose you could say I'm dreaming of a pierced Yuletide.
Monday, December 17, 2007
No S/switches allowed
(I'll probably do several BRXX posts, this is one of them)
'Flashback' to Snoopy from Peanuts, confronted with a 'no dogs allowed' sign.
Yeah, like that.
Or the archetypal boys clubhouse with the 'no girls allowed' sign posted on the side.
Yeah, like that.
There are days when I'm just so sick of this shit.
No, I'm not going to be able to say all I'd like to, because much of what goes on in spaces like BRXX, even things like the schedule or who presented what are tucked behind the wall of the members area. (See the public schedule and list of presenters. This is all you got unless you registered.) But I'm going to speak somewhat generally about what I've had enough of.
In the workshops, one segment was geared towards "submissives", and another towards "switches" (apparently dominants didn't get a space of their own on the schedule.)
In the end, I attended neither of them, partially out of being told I wasn't welcome at one, but primarily out of disgust.
(I'm at a difficulty here, as I cannot quote the program/descriptions in full, to give full context. I don't like that, but basically, by the nature of the event itself, they've made it unnecessarily difficult to write what really needs to be said here. Most events at least post a list of workshop descriptions and who will be presenting them publicly, with BRXX it was all behind the wall of paid registration. Even the dungeon rules were behind the wall of registration, which made making the decision about whether or not to even attend in the first place tricky, as you don't know what exactly you're agreeing to until after you've registered. Certainly made me raise eyebrows at their notions of 'consent'. In essence, you don't know exactly what it is you're agreeing to be bound to until AFTER you've registered.)
The S/switches roundtable was listed as discussing various issues regarding switching and "misconceptions" about switches.
The submissives roundtable on the other hand was explicitly labeled as only for those who identify as "slave, sub, or bottom only"..."Sorry no tops or switches allowed".
So let's review-
* No space set aside for Dominants
* A space dealing with the topic of switching, more a discussion about switching and dealing with misconceptions about it, open to anyone far as I could tell.
* And finally (paraphrasing here) a "submissives only" kind of space, for an internal dialog amongst those who identify as purely that end of the 'spectrum'.
This is somewhat problematic from where I sit for lots of reasons.
Among other things, it means that someone who uses the word "submissive" to self identify EVEN IF THEY DECIDED THEY WERE SUBMISSIVE LAST WEEK/EVEN IF THEY HAVE NO EXPERIENCE IN THE REAL WORLD WHATSOEVER is allowed into the sub room, even as someone like me, who has spent the past 11 years in service, collared, living our version of 24-7, and wearing a locked on 'permanent' 'collar' of sorts about my wrist for the last year and half or so can't.
In my day to day existence I self-identify most clearly as Sir's property. But apparently my 'contaminating' S/switch influence would somehow infect their submissive "safe space". Yeah, this is a problem.
This is a problem in that in much of Queer Leather culture, anyway, Sirs and Masters usually began as slaves. One usually didn't tend to spring forth fully formed, a MASTER with whip in hand, at least not if one hoped to be recognized as such by a broader community. Nope, you began in service. Learning skills, being mentored, earning your leathers, and eventually in time with the support of those around you, and with community recognition of where one was headed, you transitioned into a position at the other end of the spectrum. At least, that was the (Queer) Leather community I once knew.
So any notion of a 'safe space' set apart from any tinge of dominance- brought in either by "tops" (to use their word) or "switches" is laughable from where I sit- or at least (possibly) an extremely heterocentrist view of things.
Both of which are made all the more ironic in light of the fact that person/'presenter' running the submissives' roundtable is not het identified and has made a living off being labeled/self labeling as "Old Guard". (A term in and of itself blog worthy.) One might think that this presenter would be uniquely qualified to undermine such assumptions about everyone in a room of 'slaves' would intrinsically evermore REMAIN on the 'slave' end of things, but no. Apparently not.
Saddest part of all this? By hanging the 'no switches allowed!' sign out, they turn away a wealth of experience and to put it bluntly insight. Yes, at times some insights born of having experience both ends of the whip, which leads to it's own understandings and explorations of empathy. But also the experiences and insights of those who have lived as 'slave, sub or bottom'.
And to be sure, I can't have been the only S/switch too discouraged and disgusted to even set foot in the place. That said, how prey tell, did they intend to ensure their 'pure zone' in the first place? I mean, what, asking everyone walking in the door 'you're not a ~SWITCH!~ are you?' DNA tests? Some kink equivalent of Kinsey scales to be filled out while connected to polygraphs? The mind boggles.
The main thing I walk away from this particular incident with a feeling of sadness. Sadness that the voices of those who have 'been there' and might actually have meaningful, perhaps even useful things to say are once again shut out out of prejudice. Our years of experiences are once again swept aside out of fear that a S/switch might somehow damage the intended 'purity' of a space. And that's everyone's loss. It's a community loss.
I wrote about that community loss back here, saying
"Thus I find myself talking with two sets of friends- would be mentors bemoan their lack of ability to find someone to pass on their skills, history, traditions and knowledge to, and those young in Leather, bemoaning their inability to find voices of experience."
Prejudice, specifically in this instance against S/switches is (one example of) exactly the kind of thing keeping these two sets of people apart. And I know we as a (much broader) 'community' could do better.
On a more personal note, the other side effect of what I carry away from this whole experience? The presenter running the submissives' space was one of the swaying reasons I had decided to go to BRXX in the first place, I wanted a chance to hear said presenter speak.
Worse, due to scheduling, the submissives' roundtable, (yes, something I was actually looking forward to- until I saw I was being told get the hell out) was going to be the only chance during the weekend to actually see anything they were presenting.
Now, on the back end of it, I feel no need to go out of my way to see this particular presenter at all. At some point, if it's convenient to me, at an event I'm already at, I may sit in- somewhere I'm allowed, if only to see firsthand what the hell went this wrong.
I slept in instead of going to the switch's segment. They weren't going to be gathering a mob with pitchforks and torches, ready to storm the castle (i.e. the 'submissives only space,) and educating ME about the misconceptions about S/switches ain't exactly the problem here. (Although the presenter for the submissives' roundtable probably belonged there more than they'll ever know.)
And I wasn't allowed in the submissives' roundtable, so that was that.
I went to a good 'how to' sort of workshop instead.
As a self identified Radical Feminist, can I understand the value in 'womyn only spaces' and similar? Yes. The feminist community went through its own, yet different version of this in terms of Lesbian only spaces and the 'contaminating influences' of heterosexual womyn.
The difference here is that some S/switches do live in their day to day as submissives, slaves, and bottoms, whereas heterosexual womyn don't in their day to day lives live as those who sleep with womyn- although some of us Bisexual Womyn do. Bisexuals like S/switches go through precisely this kind of being ostracised. Being both Bi and Switch, I can't help but feel like I've been here before.
I've fought these battles before. And damn it, while we get to learn over and over and over from everyone else's mistakes, those fucking us over never seem to learn. As I said, I'm sick of it.
Unfortunately, this can't be confined to just 'oh it was one presenter'. This was systemic in terms of Black Rose allowing the creation of such a space within its event. Glancing over the other workshops, this barring of people, even people who often identify as the very group the workshop was about stands out as rather unique. (Yes, ageplay- adults acting as "littles"- spaces often bar other adults entering without a "little" with them, but the adults in this senario are not people who sometimes self identify as "littles".)
I can understand asking Dominants not to attend, (or perhaps not participate in) a discussion by submissives for submissives about submission (although in watching they could potentially learn a great deal). But to tell S/switches, many of whom live our day to day lives primarily on the submissive end of things to 'get out and stay out' is just, well, bullshit. And Black Rose OKed that.
Had I been able to go, I would not have been there to discuss 'profound observations from the handle end of the whip'- those would have been off topic and out of place, it was simply neither the time nor the place for such. As a sometimes workshop moderator myself I can understand how easy it can be for someone to sidetrack a discussion, but rather than barring us premptively as a class, instead give us the chance, and then if there's a problem deal with individual behaviour (hint, this is where moderators MODERATE! Facilitators FACILITATE, and get back on track), don't deal with such by excluding a class of people.
Had I been allowed in, I would have been there to discuss the things submissives discuss. Believe it or not, just because I'm a S/swtich that doesn't mean I'm incapable of staying on topic.
And I sure as hell would not have been there to 'scope out the subs' for later hunting purposes. Although if that was the moderator's fear, barring S/switches isn't going to do a thing about the other 'sub/slave/bottoms' in the room who decide later that they're more interested in being the Dominant/Master/Top. In short people's identity often changes through time, and no amount of prejudice against people who self identify with a certain label is going to 'protect' anyone from someone else who once sat next to them in a workshop coming back at some later date with a different self identity or a different set of realizations about their identity or experiences under the belt.
So I guess you could say part of my Black Rose XX experience was in being told in no uncertain terms, from the organizational level down that I was unwelcome in one of the very spaces I was particularly interested in going to. I don't think most other attendees had that experience.
The sad things is it's ultimately a community loss.
I'm not saying this was my primary experience of the event, just that it was an important one, and one that left an impression.
I hope other people running events in the future will keep such in mind in their own planning.
'Flashback' to Snoopy from Peanuts, confronted with a 'no dogs allowed' sign.
Yeah, like that.
Or the archetypal boys clubhouse with the 'no girls allowed' sign posted on the side.
Yeah, like that.
There are days when I'm just so sick of this shit.
No, I'm not going to be able to say all I'd like to, because much of what goes on in spaces like BRXX, even things like the schedule or who presented what are tucked behind the wall of the members area. (See the public schedule and list of presenters. This is all you got unless you registered.) But I'm going to speak somewhat generally about what I've had enough of.
In the workshops, one segment was geared towards "submissives", and another towards "switches" (apparently dominants didn't get a space of their own on the schedule.)
In the end, I attended neither of them, partially out of being told I wasn't welcome at one, but primarily out of disgust.
(I'm at a difficulty here, as I cannot quote the program/descriptions in full, to give full context. I don't like that, but basically, by the nature of the event itself, they've made it unnecessarily difficult to write what really needs to be said here. Most events at least post a list of workshop descriptions and who will be presenting them publicly, with BRXX it was all behind the wall of paid registration. Even the dungeon rules were behind the wall of registration, which made making the decision about whether or not to even attend in the first place tricky, as you don't know what exactly you're agreeing to until after you've registered. Certainly made me raise eyebrows at their notions of 'consent'. In essence, you don't know exactly what it is you're agreeing to be bound to until AFTER you've registered.)
The S/switches roundtable was listed as discussing various issues regarding switching and "misconceptions" about switches.
The submissives roundtable on the other hand was explicitly labeled as only for those who identify as "slave, sub, or bottom only"..."Sorry no tops or switches allowed".
So let's review-
* No space set aside for Dominants
* A space dealing with the topic of switching, more a discussion about switching and dealing with misconceptions about it, open to anyone far as I could tell.
* And finally (paraphrasing here) a "submissives only" kind of space, for an internal dialog amongst those who identify as purely that end of the 'spectrum'.
This is somewhat problematic from where I sit for lots of reasons.
Among other things, it means that someone who uses the word "submissive" to self identify EVEN IF THEY DECIDED THEY WERE SUBMISSIVE LAST WEEK/EVEN IF THEY HAVE NO EXPERIENCE IN THE REAL WORLD WHATSOEVER is allowed into the sub room, even as someone like me, who has spent the past 11 years in service, collared, living our version of 24-7, and wearing a locked on 'permanent' 'collar' of sorts about my wrist for the last year and half or so can't.
In my day to day existence I self-identify most clearly as Sir's property. But apparently my 'contaminating' S/switch influence would somehow infect their submissive "safe space". Yeah, this is a problem.
This is a problem in that in much of Queer Leather culture, anyway, Sirs and Masters usually began as slaves. One usually didn't tend to spring forth fully formed, a MASTER with whip in hand, at least not if one hoped to be recognized as such by a broader community. Nope, you began in service. Learning skills, being mentored, earning your leathers, and eventually in time with the support of those around you, and with community recognition of where one was headed, you transitioned into a position at the other end of the spectrum. At least, that was the (Queer) Leather community I once knew.
So any notion of a 'safe space' set apart from any tinge of dominance- brought in either by "tops" (to use their word) or "switches" is laughable from where I sit- or at least (possibly) an extremely heterocentrist view of things.
Both of which are made all the more ironic in light of the fact that person/'presenter' running the submissives' roundtable is not het identified and has made a living off being labeled/self labeling as "Old Guard". (A term in and of itself blog worthy.) One might think that this presenter would be uniquely qualified to undermine such assumptions about everyone in a room of 'slaves' would intrinsically evermore REMAIN on the 'slave' end of things, but no. Apparently not.
Saddest part of all this? By hanging the 'no switches allowed!' sign out, they turn away a wealth of experience and to put it bluntly insight. Yes, at times some insights born of having experience both ends of the whip, which leads to it's own understandings and explorations of empathy. But also the experiences and insights of those who have lived as 'slave, sub or bottom'.
And to be sure, I can't have been the only S/switch too discouraged and disgusted to even set foot in the place. That said, how prey tell, did they intend to ensure their 'pure zone' in the first place? I mean, what, asking everyone walking in the door 'you're not a ~SWITCH!~ are you?' DNA tests? Some kink equivalent of Kinsey scales to be filled out while connected to polygraphs? The mind boggles.
The main thing I walk away from this particular incident with a feeling of sadness. Sadness that the voices of those who have 'been there' and might actually have meaningful, perhaps even useful things to say are once again shut out out of prejudice. Our years of experiences are once again swept aside out of fear that a S/switch might somehow damage the intended 'purity' of a space. And that's everyone's loss. It's a community loss.
I wrote about that community loss back here, saying
"Thus I find myself talking with two sets of friends- would be mentors bemoan their lack of ability to find someone to pass on their skills, history, traditions and knowledge to, and those young in Leather, bemoaning their inability to find voices of experience."
Prejudice, specifically in this instance against S/switches is (one example of) exactly the kind of thing keeping these two sets of people apart. And I know we as a (much broader) 'community' could do better.
On a more personal note, the other side effect of what I carry away from this whole experience? The presenter running the submissives' space was one of the swaying reasons I had decided to go to BRXX in the first place, I wanted a chance to hear said presenter speak.
Worse, due to scheduling, the submissives' roundtable, (yes, something I was actually looking forward to- until I saw I was being told get the hell out) was going to be the only chance during the weekend to actually see anything they were presenting.
Now, on the back end of it, I feel no need to go out of my way to see this particular presenter at all. At some point, if it's convenient to me, at an event I'm already at, I may sit in- somewhere I'm allowed, if only to see firsthand what the hell went this wrong.
I slept in instead of going to the switch's segment. They weren't going to be gathering a mob with pitchforks and torches, ready to storm the castle (i.e. the 'submissives only space,) and educating ME about the misconceptions about S/switches ain't exactly the problem here. (Although the presenter for the submissives' roundtable probably belonged there more than they'll ever know.)
And I wasn't allowed in the submissives' roundtable, so that was that.
I went to a good 'how to' sort of workshop instead.
As a self identified Radical Feminist, can I understand the value in 'womyn only spaces' and similar? Yes. The feminist community went through its own, yet different version of this in terms of Lesbian only spaces and the 'contaminating influences' of heterosexual womyn.
The difference here is that some S/switches do live in their day to day as submissives, slaves, and bottoms, whereas heterosexual womyn don't in their day to day lives live as those who sleep with womyn- although some of us Bisexual Womyn do. Bisexuals like S/switches go through precisely this kind of being ostracised. Being both Bi and Switch, I can't help but feel like I've been here before.
I've fought these battles before. And damn it, while we get to learn over and over and over from everyone else's mistakes, those fucking us over never seem to learn. As I said, I'm sick of it.
Unfortunately, this can't be confined to just 'oh it was one presenter'. This was systemic in terms of Black Rose allowing the creation of such a space within its event. Glancing over the other workshops, this barring of people, even people who often identify as the very group the workshop was about stands out as rather unique. (Yes, ageplay- adults acting as "littles"- spaces often bar other adults entering without a "little" with them, but the adults in this senario are not people who sometimes self identify as "littles".)
I can understand asking Dominants not to attend, (or perhaps not participate in) a discussion by submissives for submissives about submission (although in watching they could potentially learn a great deal). But to tell S/switches, many of whom live our day to day lives primarily on the submissive end of things to 'get out and stay out' is just, well, bullshit. And Black Rose OKed that.
Had I been able to go, I would not have been there to discuss 'profound observations from the handle end of the whip'- those would have been off topic and out of place, it was simply neither the time nor the place for such. As a sometimes workshop moderator myself I can understand how easy it can be for someone to sidetrack a discussion, but rather than barring us premptively as a class, instead give us the chance, and then if there's a problem deal with individual behaviour (hint, this is where moderators MODERATE! Facilitators FACILITATE, and get back on track), don't deal with such by excluding a class of people.
Had I been allowed in, I would have been there to discuss the things submissives discuss. Believe it or not, just because I'm a S/swtich that doesn't mean I'm incapable of staying on topic.
And I sure as hell would not have been there to 'scope out the subs' for later hunting purposes. Although if that was the moderator's fear, barring S/switches isn't going to do a thing about the other 'sub/slave/bottoms' in the room who decide later that they're more interested in being the Dominant/Master/Top. In short people's identity often changes through time, and no amount of prejudice against people who self identify with a certain label is going to 'protect' anyone from someone else who once sat next to them in a workshop coming back at some later date with a different self identity or a different set of realizations about their identity or experiences under the belt.
So I guess you could say part of my Black Rose XX experience was in being told in no uncertain terms, from the organizational level down that I was unwelcome in one of the very spaces I was particularly interested in going to. I don't think most other attendees had that experience.
The sad things is it's ultimately a community loss.
I'm not saying this was my primary experience of the event, just that it was an important one, and one that left an impression.
I hope other people running events in the future will keep such in mind in their own planning.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Aftermath and Winter Fetish Flea
(Yeah, I know, folks want my post BRXX post or posts. I'll get there! Really, I will!)
So we're back home after BRXX, suitcases partially unpacked. Most of the tools put away. I can't believe it's almost been a week already. Midweek Sir and I were interested in going to the BESS meet and greet followed by the educational meeting, which was going to be a panel entitled "A view from the Top", but both were canceled due to the first real snow of the year. Disappointed, but hopefully, they'll reschedule.
It's only been a few days, but my shoulder has mostly healed, just three small raised red lines remain. I always feel an odd disappointment as marks fade. Sir is already contemplating scalpels for 'next times'. I like scalpels, but I also like sharp ordinary knives. They're very different effects on both the skin and the mind. Mainly, I'm just amused he's happily contemplating again/more.
So, even before BRXX, we'd been thinking about heading up to Rhode Island for the Winter Fetish Flea. Now that they no longer have to deal with some of the Mass. stupidity, it should make for a more reasonable event.
Crazy as it sounds, I've never made any of the Boston area Fetish Fleas. Never once, in all these years- despite the fannish overlaps, despite friends going for years, despite friends in Boston, I'd just never made it. Sir has tended in the past to make dismissive comments along the lines of 'Boston, in the dead of Winter?!?'. But of course, he's done New England in Winter multiple times, and knows snow is by no means the end of the world.
We intentionally put off making a final decision until after BRXX. It made hotels a bit more complicated, but in the end we got what we wanted, and have reservations set to go. Several workshops look interesting, and Midori is going to be teaching several classes. (I'm also peeking at the rest of the schedule for her New England trip, and skritching my head thoughtfully. Maybe we could work in more than just the Flea.)
Getting up to that neck of the woods, also comes with another possible ulterior motive, potentially seeing someone dear to me, although that part remains undecided for the moment. That's its own story, though. I also have some family I'd like to try to overlap schedules with if possible, kind of a more relaxed post holidaze get together.
So that's the deal, home from one event, blog posts as of yet unwritten, and we're already lining up the next. No this wasn't sparked by having some kind of fantastic time at BRXX, it was just something we had both talked about doing for a long time now, and this year made sense.
As if that wasn't enough, we're also wondering about maybe a short Yuletide trip back to the midwest before the end of the month to see family. I don't know whether that's a very real possibility or not at the moment, but if so, it would mean approximately two weeks, followed by trip, followed by another couple of weeks followed by the next trip- with family both in the midwest and here squeezed in between.
But we've sort of another possible reason to get out to the midwest too, which could involve a particular piercer... .
In case it's not obvious, things may be hectic right now, but they're also going pretty darn well.
So we're back home after BRXX, suitcases partially unpacked. Most of the tools put away. I can't believe it's almost been a week already. Midweek Sir and I were interested in going to the BESS meet and greet followed by the educational meeting, which was going to be a panel entitled "A view from the Top", but both were canceled due to the first real snow of the year. Disappointed, but hopefully, they'll reschedule.
It's only been a few days, but my shoulder has mostly healed, just three small raised red lines remain. I always feel an odd disappointment as marks fade. Sir is already contemplating scalpels for 'next times'. I like scalpels, but I also like sharp ordinary knives. They're very different effects on both the skin and the mind. Mainly, I'm just amused he's happily contemplating again/more.
So, even before BRXX, we'd been thinking about heading up to Rhode Island for the Winter Fetish Flea. Now that they no longer have to deal with some of the Mass. stupidity, it should make for a more reasonable event.
Crazy as it sounds, I've never made any of the Boston area Fetish Fleas. Never once, in all these years- despite the fannish overlaps, despite friends going for years, despite friends in Boston, I'd just never made it. Sir has tended in the past to make dismissive comments along the lines of 'Boston, in the dead of Winter?!?'. But of course, he's done New England in Winter multiple times, and knows snow is by no means the end of the world.
We intentionally put off making a final decision until after BRXX. It made hotels a bit more complicated, but in the end we got what we wanted, and have reservations set to go. Several workshops look interesting, and Midori is going to be teaching several classes. (I'm also peeking at the rest of the schedule for her New England trip, and skritching my head thoughtfully. Maybe we could work in more than just the Flea.)
Getting up to that neck of the woods, also comes with another possible ulterior motive, potentially seeing someone dear to me, although that part remains undecided for the moment. That's its own story, though. I also have some family I'd like to try to overlap schedules with if possible, kind of a more relaxed post holidaze get together.
So that's the deal, home from one event, blog posts as of yet unwritten, and we're already lining up the next. No this wasn't sparked by having some kind of fantastic time at BRXX, it was just something we had both talked about doing for a long time now, and this year made sense.
As if that wasn't enough, we're also wondering about maybe a short Yuletide trip back to the midwest before the end of the month to see family. I don't know whether that's a very real possibility or not at the moment, but if so, it would mean approximately two weeks, followed by trip, followed by another couple of weeks followed by the next trip- with family both in the midwest and here squeezed in between.
But we've sort of another possible reason to get out to the midwest too, which could involve a particular piercer... .
In case it's not obvious, things may be hectic right now, but they're also going pretty darn well.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Just a quickee update from BRXX
Well, there's the event itself, and then there's Sir and I and the time we're spending together. Eventually I may write about some of it (and I might even back up and write a post about the other amazing evening I alluded to here earlier.)
But for the moment, it's Sunday, the last of the workshops have ended, and all that's left is the final dungeon and party. We decided to stay the extra night, so we're still here. The event is slowly winding down, and at midnight, we'll all disappear off to our rooms to eek out whatever we can before checking out tomorrow, leaving what's left to the staff and volunteers to load and finish.
As with every event, major THANK YOUs go out to those who work so hard to make it all possible.
For us, it's mostly been a good weekend, ideas to chew on, and a real milestone; Sir cut me with a knife last night for the first time. It's not only the first time he's cut me, it's the first time he's cut anyone. My right shoulder hurts in the most wonderful of ways, and I'm wearing his marks.
In that alone, I am so happy.
(And in such a headspace!) I'm deeply honoured.
So for that alone, I'll always remember BR XX. Important things happened between us here.
Perhaps I'll try to take a stab at writing the real post later, after we're home.
But for the moment, it's Sunday, the last of the workshops have ended, and all that's left is the final dungeon and party. We decided to stay the extra night, so we're still here. The event is slowly winding down, and at midnight, we'll all disappear off to our rooms to eek out whatever we can before checking out tomorrow, leaving what's left to the staff and volunteers to load and finish.
As with every event, major THANK YOUs go out to those who work so hard to make it all possible.
For us, it's mostly been a good weekend, ideas to chew on, and a real milestone; Sir cut me with a knife last night for the first time. It's not only the first time he's cut me, it's the first time he's cut anyone. My right shoulder hurts in the most wonderful of ways, and I'm wearing his marks.
In that alone, I am so happy.
(And in such a headspace!) I'm deeply honoured.
So for that alone, I'll always remember BR XX. Important things happened between us here.
Perhaps I'll try to take a stab at writing the real post later, after we're home.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Leaving for BRXX today
So for what it's worth, we're off to Black Rose XX this evening. The packing is MOSTLY under control. I was up far too late last night trying to decide what of all the tools I didn't need to pack. Yes, we've reached the odd point of not what to pack, but of what not to pack.
Personally, I'm convinced that once we're at the hotel and settled in I'll somehow have an absolute need for something I left, that usual ONE THING I didn't know I needed, until I did. Maybe someday I'll get this down to some form of exact science, in the mean time, I'm just trying to figure out the best way to keep everything together, organized, and safe.
Oh, and how to keep crinoline from wrinkling to death. These are the life skills they never taught us in home ec, how to keep fetishwear looking fresh in an overstuffed suitcase... .
We're still at home, but already I've seen a few things that really have me wondering as to how much of this we're actually going to be able to enjoy. At this moment, I'd say we're tottering on some edge between 'deeply conflicted' and 'tell me again why we're doing this?'
But that was part of the point, to see what it looks like over there, complete with all BR's history, underlying assumptions, and 'inside the beltway-ness'. But then, me? I've never really gotten my head around the primarily 'het' end of this. Not that BR specifically is, it just seems to so often end up primarily that way.
Not in that the people themselves always identify as het, but in that history and visibility-wise that's the impression left. While there will be leather and Queers, it's not Leather, for lack of a better way of putting it (with the history and social protocols that entails,) and BR 'queerness' sometimes seems to come down to 'bi-sexual when my owner wants'- almost universally on womyn's profiles. Bi as activity not as identity.
Worse, people tend to mistake Sir and I for a 'het' couple, which annoys me. We're always more complicated than first glance impressions, but many people never get beyond such. Then again, those (who dismiss at first glance based on assumptions) may be the very people I would ultimately find myself least interested in spending time with, as well.
So it's an 'adventure'. BR is its own thing, and part of the reason we decided to go in the first place was to see exactly that.
To the extent I can I'm trying to maintain both an openness to the experience itself and willingness to take fun where I find it. Who knows, I may find myself in the midst of a better time than I anticipate. It is always possible that we'll run across some really interesting people and have a lot to talk about.
I'm actually trying to be somewhat social (despite my hide under a rock tendencies.) I'm interested in meeting other womyn at the event. Naturally, they appear to have only set one night for the womyn's only dungeon, and of course, it's relatively early on in the event, and the womyn's meet-up of sorts is the following day. Completely backwards. That would be an event scheduling pet peeve of mine, it's a structural problem. In any case, some folks will be around at the meet and mingle tonight, so we're aiming to be in for that.
Some of it will no doubt annoy the hell out of me, but if nothing else, the National Gallery of Art is nearby, there are plenty of good restaurants, and there's nothing stopping us from going up to our room, closing the door and enjoying some 'us' time.
Personally, I'm convinced that once we're at the hotel and settled in I'll somehow have an absolute need for something I left, that usual ONE THING I didn't know I needed, until I did. Maybe someday I'll get this down to some form of exact science, in the mean time, I'm just trying to figure out the best way to keep everything together, organized, and safe.
Oh, and how to keep crinoline from wrinkling to death. These are the life skills they never taught us in home ec, how to keep fetishwear looking fresh in an overstuffed suitcase... .
We're still at home, but already I've seen a few things that really have me wondering as to how much of this we're actually going to be able to enjoy. At this moment, I'd say we're tottering on some edge between 'deeply conflicted' and 'tell me again why we're doing this?'
But that was part of the point, to see what it looks like over there, complete with all BR's history, underlying assumptions, and 'inside the beltway-ness'. But then, me? I've never really gotten my head around the primarily 'het' end of this. Not that BR specifically is, it just seems to so often end up primarily that way.
Not in that the people themselves always identify as het, but in that history and visibility-wise that's the impression left. While there will be leather and Queers, it's not Leather, for lack of a better way of putting it (with the history and social protocols that entails,) and BR 'queerness' sometimes seems to come down to 'bi-sexual when my owner wants'- almost universally on womyn's profiles. Bi as activity not as identity.
Worse, people tend to mistake Sir and I for a 'het' couple, which annoys me. We're always more complicated than first glance impressions, but many people never get beyond such. Then again, those (who dismiss at first glance based on assumptions) may be the very people I would ultimately find myself least interested in spending time with, as well.
So it's an 'adventure'. BR is its own thing, and part of the reason we decided to go in the first place was to see exactly that.
To the extent I can I'm trying to maintain both an openness to the experience itself and willingness to take fun where I find it. Who knows, I may find myself in the midst of a better time than I anticipate. It is always possible that we'll run across some really interesting people and have a lot to talk about.
I'm actually trying to be somewhat social (despite my hide under a rock tendencies.) I'm interested in meeting other womyn at the event. Naturally, they appear to have only set one night for the womyn's only dungeon, and of course, it's relatively early on in the event, and the womyn's meet-up of sorts is the following day. Completely backwards. That would be an event scheduling pet peeve of mine, it's a structural problem. In any case, some folks will be around at the meet and mingle tonight, so we're aiming to be in for that.
Some of it will no doubt annoy the hell out of me, but if nothing else, the National Gallery of Art is nearby, there are plenty of good restaurants, and there's nothing stopping us from going up to our room, closing the door and enjoying some 'us' time.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Our anniversary
So as of this weekend, Sir and I have been together 11 years.
That's an accomplishment.
Not just 'together', but having done things like traveling together, overland for months at a time, over and over again, and no, not killed one another. If anything, we travel well together. We spend much more time together than most couples, and yet, it really works. Even I marvel at it sometimes. Most of the time, though, we're so in the midst of living it that we don't stop and think about it.
We came together at a 'play' party that was being held over the course of a sci-fi con 11 years ago. Although that particular weekend, I have the feeling we were both pretty much there for the party far more the con itself.
I'd known him before that, as a friend. Well, even that's somewhat complicated to explain, I suppose the simple version is we have an 'ex' in common. He was her partner for a time, and she was a dear friend of mine I had slept with. They had come to an end by the time he and I finally got together. But she was an important part of that evening that we got together. It was due to their previous relationship and her having spoken to me about their time together that I felt I could trust him.
Ironically, about the last thing I was looking for that particular evening was any kind of ongoing relationship, let alone life partner, certainly not a Sir. But of course, at the time, he didn't identify as a Sir, and that's part of what made everything possible.
In any case, our coming together is a long complicated saga unto itself, and not what I'm trying to write this evening.
What I did want to write about was Saturday morning. In the wee hours, before the sun came up, and just before the moon was full, I gave Sir a token of sorts.
As he has placed a titanium bracelet around my right wrist as a sort of 'collar' that can always be worn I wanted to give him a symbol of his ownership as well. No, not as a form of reciprocity, or as an always worn item, just as a tangible token from me to him.
This weekend does not mark the anniversary of the collar, but it marks the anniversary of our coming together, the beginning of our relationship, and it was that that I wanted to celebrate. The symbolism of the collar goes to the very core of our relationship, my submission to him and trust in him was where we began.
Deciding on precisely what tangible token would be most appropriate was somewhat difficult. Sir is not a jewelry person.
He appreciates the band I wear on many levels, one of which being its "machined" quality and the nearly seamless visual it presents to first glance. It is solid, and hinged, its locking mechanism appears as nothing more than a small black dot on the side. The cuff is smooth, and brushed metal, and 'heavy', (in as much as titanium is, anyway.)
The more I thought about it, was the more I realized that his 'not a jewelry person'-ness was part of what made a bracelet of his own (for his left wrist, naturally) the correct choice, in that he would only wear it sometimes. After searching, I found what I was looking for, a carefully milled brushed titanium piece that in some ways is a matching 'opposite' to the one I wear.
The piece I found for him is openwork, and a series of articulated links, it has a perfectly integrated clasp, easily undone. His is slightly more narrow than the symbol I wear, making it seem lighter, but still very masculine.
If what I wear could be mistaken for a piece of modern brushed metal jewelry, his could could be mistaken for a fancy watchband, sans watch of course.
So there, in the waxing moonlight, almost coming to fullness, I presented him with my small gift. Naturally, he understood it, what it meant, its importance, immediately. And perhaps a bit surprisingly, he actually liked it.
So I wear his band, at his will. I don't cognize the piece of metal about my wrist "mine". I may 'slip' and refer to the two as "mine" and his for clarity's sake, but ultimately, I view them both as his. I certainly wouldn't call the band he wears "mine" or as in any way marking him as mine. It is more a symbol of the fact that I am grateful for the honour of wearing his collar every day of my life. I take none of this for granted.
This past decade has been some of the best years of my life.
We are not married, and to be honest we are both deeply conflicted over the idea of marriage, (despite the fact that we have come to a place where it is being seriously considered) but his collar means more to me than perhaps a wedding ring would.
A wedding ring, for us, would in many ways be about State recognition of our pre-existing. The collar (which for daily purposes I wear on my right wrist) is a huge portion of that pre-existing. It is an integral part of our relationship, and thing without which I am unsure whether our relationship would be. It is about his ownership and responsibility and my relationship to that and to him.
The collar was hard won, and earned. For us, it symbolizes a lifelong commitment to one another, reguardless of whether we are together as a couple or not. I am deeply honoured and proud to be allowed to wear it.
My gift to him was just a small ways of saying so. A way of saying I never forget what it is to wear his symbol.
As for other ways of marking the anniversary, in some ways, they will have to wait. This week is a bit crazy for us, what with preparations for BRXX as well as the rest of our day to day lives, but we both know we will eventually make some real time for us. Probably some over the course of BRXX, but also some thereafter.
I have the feeling that difficult as BRXX may turn out to be for us, at least some of it will be a time and place where we close the doors, shut the outside world away, and just really enjoy being together.
I'm looking forward to that.
That's an accomplishment.
Not just 'together', but having done things like traveling together, overland for months at a time, over and over again, and no, not killed one another. If anything, we travel well together. We spend much more time together than most couples, and yet, it really works. Even I marvel at it sometimes. Most of the time, though, we're so in the midst of living it that we don't stop and think about it.
We came together at a 'play' party that was being held over the course of a sci-fi con 11 years ago. Although that particular weekend, I have the feeling we were both pretty much there for the party far more the con itself.
I'd known him before that, as a friend. Well, even that's somewhat complicated to explain, I suppose the simple version is we have an 'ex' in common. He was her partner for a time, and she was a dear friend of mine I had slept with. They had come to an end by the time he and I finally got together. But she was an important part of that evening that we got together. It was due to their previous relationship and her having spoken to me about their time together that I felt I could trust him.
Ironically, about the last thing I was looking for that particular evening was any kind of ongoing relationship, let alone life partner, certainly not a Sir. But of course, at the time, he didn't identify as a Sir, and that's part of what made everything possible.
In any case, our coming together is a long complicated saga unto itself, and not what I'm trying to write this evening.
What I did want to write about was Saturday morning. In the wee hours, before the sun came up, and just before the moon was full, I gave Sir a token of sorts.
As he has placed a titanium bracelet around my right wrist as a sort of 'collar' that can always be worn I wanted to give him a symbol of his ownership as well. No, not as a form of reciprocity, or as an always worn item, just as a tangible token from me to him.
This weekend does not mark the anniversary of the collar, but it marks the anniversary of our coming together, the beginning of our relationship, and it was that that I wanted to celebrate. The symbolism of the collar goes to the very core of our relationship, my submission to him and trust in him was where we began.
Deciding on precisely what tangible token would be most appropriate was somewhat difficult. Sir is not a jewelry person.
He appreciates the band I wear on many levels, one of which being its "machined" quality and the nearly seamless visual it presents to first glance. It is solid, and hinged, its locking mechanism appears as nothing more than a small black dot on the side. The cuff is smooth, and brushed metal, and 'heavy', (in as much as titanium is, anyway.)
The more I thought about it, was the more I realized that his 'not a jewelry person'-ness was part of what made a bracelet of his own (for his left wrist, naturally) the correct choice, in that he would only wear it sometimes. After searching, I found what I was looking for, a carefully milled brushed titanium piece that in some ways is a matching 'opposite' to the one I wear.
The piece I found for him is openwork, and a series of articulated links, it has a perfectly integrated clasp, easily undone. His is slightly more narrow than the symbol I wear, making it seem lighter, but still very masculine.
If what I wear could be mistaken for a piece of modern brushed metal jewelry, his could could be mistaken for a fancy watchband, sans watch of course.
So there, in the waxing moonlight, almost coming to fullness, I presented him with my small gift. Naturally, he understood it, what it meant, its importance, immediately. And perhaps a bit surprisingly, he actually liked it.
So I wear his band, at his will. I don't cognize the piece of metal about my wrist "mine". I may 'slip' and refer to the two as "mine" and his for clarity's sake, but ultimately, I view them both as his. I certainly wouldn't call the band he wears "mine" or as in any way marking him as mine. It is more a symbol of the fact that I am grateful for the honour of wearing his collar every day of my life. I take none of this for granted.
This past decade has been some of the best years of my life.
We are not married, and to be honest we are both deeply conflicted over the idea of marriage, (despite the fact that we have come to a place where it is being seriously considered) but his collar means more to me than perhaps a wedding ring would.
A wedding ring, for us, would in many ways be about State recognition of our pre-existing. The collar (which for daily purposes I wear on my right wrist) is a huge portion of that pre-existing. It is an integral part of our relationship, and thing without which I am unsure whether our relationship would be. It is about his ownership and responsibility and my relationship to that and to him.
The collar was hard won, and earned. For us, it symbolizes a lifelong commitment to one another, reguardless of whether we are together as a couple or not. I am deeply honoured and proud to be allowed to wear it.
My gift to him was just a small ways of saying so. A way of saying I never forget what it is to wear his symbol.
As for other ways of marking the anniversary, in some ways, they will have to wait. This week is a bit crazy for us, what with preparations for BRXX as well as the rest of our day to day lives, but we both know we will eventually make some real time for us. Probably some over the course of BRXX, but also some thereafter.
I have the feeling that difficult as BRXX may turn out to be for us, at least some of it will be a time and place where we close the doors, shut the outside world away, and just really enjoy being together.
I'm looking forward to that.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
My Raincheck
So, by way of 'making up for' not getting the whips out over the course of a recent event, Sir had more or less given me a 'raincheck'. Which is what we finally got around to the other morning.
Sir was up early in the morning, and after I came down he eventually headed upstairs to shower saying maybe we could get around to something thereafter. I waited downstairs and went about my morning, not sure whether to expect anything or not. Eventually he called down and told me I was to come up to him.
I came to the big bedroom (which is also sort of our 'Work' room) to find him standing inside dressed all in black with a wicked grin on his face. (Eventually, I may get to a post about the room we primarily use, but for now, it will suffice to say it's "His" room, our bedroom, and clearly his domain. I have rooms of my own as well, although they are such at his pleasure.)
I stood outside the door and undressed (as it's the room I don't wear clothing in without explicit permission, one of our few rules) then by his permission, entered.
At the foot of the bed, there's a soft black bench with low arms at each end and lots of pillows; soft golden chenille and others with a shadowed black ornate floral orchid pattern. On days such as this, it is pulled out from the end of the bed, the pillows set aside, and the bench is then covered with a soft black sheet. It's just long enough for me to lie across comfortably, my head resting on one of the arms. Four black leather straps encircled each of the bench's legs, then come up towards the left and right raised ends. Across each end, Sir had attached two of the highly polished chrome spreader bars, each the width of the bench. On the bed laid several of my favourite whips, and the four black padded leather cuffs. Without saying a word, I knew what laid in store.
He told me to come around to the bed. Then lovingly, he buckled each cuff onto my limbs, first my wrists then my ankles. He crossed the room to the toolbox compartment organizers and pulled out four of the small nickel plated padlocks, then returned to me and proceeded to lock the cuffs onto me. This little 'ritual' of sorts in and of itself is enough to get me into a mindset.
(Soft black leather and shiny polished steel is very much our aesthetic. Metal and leather. Although somewhat ironically, I have no interest in many of the metal cuffs or collars we so often see. I suppose you could say we're both rather selective about our tools.)
He kisses me, and leads me across the bench, face down. Limb by limb, he clips the cuffs onto the spreader bars leaving me unable to escape, and a ready target. He ensures I'm comfortable, then disappears over towards the rack where we keep our whips hung. I'm not blindfolded, but I'm not sure I want to know, just yet, either. So I turn my head and close my eyes, giving over to him, and what he wants.
Anyone who has ever been sensually whipped can readily identify the two primary different sensations, 'thud' and 'sting'. For me, when I'm under Sir's whips, these two have two completely different effects. 'Thuddy' makes me sink, deep into a place where I've very inarticulate, but very pliant, and welcoming suggestion. 'Stingy' on the other hand, tries to lift me off of whatever I'm securely attached to, and leaves me fighting myself, begging for it to stop, and sometimes crying. (This does NOT however mean I actually want it to stop.) Each of these are their own head (and body) trip. It takes someone with a particular sense of timing and ability to 'read' me to combine them both over the course of a brief period. Neither of these are things I entrust to people I don't know well, as both leave me very emotionally raw.
Sir is one of the few people I know who can make me change gears as it were, between the two, and still leave me in a state where I actually enjoy it. Unfortunately, it's not something I find I can do often, and it takes both of us being in a particular state of mind and comfort to actually pull it off.
In any case, without telling me that was what he was about to do, that was the state he worked me into. Working from whips that can, when used a particular way feel more akin to a good massage, on to whips that once I'm warmed up, yes I can take, even though it's a most peculiar kind of enjoyment.
Back at the Floating World, we had found a flogger made of the satin cord it seems every kinky person has worked with or made something out of at some point. Just ordinary fabric store cord carefully woven into a nicely formed handle that felt good in my hand with a bazillion purple satiny tresses. The reason it came home, though, was that each of the tips had been carefully dipped repeatedly in 'tool dip', the rubber coating for tool handles. The balance was nice, and I knew instantly that those tails would sting horribly.
Well, I was right. And THAT will teach me to pick up a tool, having it in mind for use with perhaps a pretty girl somewhere in my future. I should know better. And I should know that just as I was always taught, before you use a tool on someone else, you should have it used upon yourself, so you know, down in your bones what it's capable of. While ultimately, of course I'm fine with all of that, it being the way things are done, and it is simply to be expected, I did not however expect this particular tool this particular morning.
Which led to many cries of "I hate that whip!... Don't stop."
By the time my morning's ordeal was 'over', I was very 'floaty'. Sir released me from my bonds at the bench and let me lay across the bed. We spoke briefly, and then he very matter of factly went over to the small table in the corner and returned with several sets of adjustable clamps with which he heightened my neediness beyond excruciating.
Then he removed them, and left me unfulfilled. He allowed me the cuffs for the rest of the day (actually, I slept in them that night only taking them off the next morning.)
The lovely anguish that is being left afterwards is not something I would normally enjoy. But with him, after this in particular, it was wonderful, feeling that ache combined with the soreness from the whips earlier, it left me constantly aware of HIM as I drifted through the next day or so. It's that awareness, that feeling of being owned, posessed, taken somewhere I rarely go with anyone with trust at the core of it that I treasure above all else.
Sir was up early in the morning, and after I came down he eventually headed upstairs to shower saying maybe we could get around to something thereafter. I waited downstairs and went about my morning, not sure whether to expect anything or not. Eventually he called down and told me I was to come up to him.
I came to the big bedroom (which is also sort of our 'Work' room) to find him standing inside dressed all in black with a wicked grin on his face. (Eventually, I may get to a post about the room we primarily use, but for now, it will suffice to say it's "His" room, our bedroom, and clearly his domain. I have rooms of my own as well, although they are such at his pleasure.)
I stood outside the door and undressed (as it's the room I don't wear clothing in without explicit permission, one of our few rules) then by his permission, entered.
At the foot of the bed, there's a soft black bench with low arms at each end and lots of pillows; soft golden chenille and others with a shadowed black ornate floral orchid pattern. On days such as this, it is pulled out from the end of the bed, the pillows set aside, and the bench is then covered with a soft black sheet. It's just long enough for me to lie across comfortably, my head resting on one of the arms. Four black leather straps encircled each of the bench's legs, then come up towards the left and right raised ends. Across each end, Sir had attached two of the highly polished chrome spreader bars, each the width of the bench. On the bed laid several of my favourite whips, and the four black padded leather cuffs. Without saying a word, I knew what laid in store.
He told me to come around to the bed. Then lovingly, he buckled each cuff onto my limbs, first my wrists then my ankles. He crossed the room to the toolbox compartment organizers and pulled out four of the small nickel plated padlocks, then returned to me and proceeded to lock the cuffs onto me. This little 'ritual' of sorts in and of itself is enough to get me into a mindset.
(Soft black leather and shiny polished steel is very much our aesthetic. Metal and leather. Although somewhat ironically, I have no interest in many of the metal cuffs or collars we so often see. I suppose you could say we're both rather selective about our tools.)
He kisses me, and leads me across the bench, face down. Limb by limb, he clips the cuffs onto the spreader bars leaving me unable to escape, and a ready target. He ensures I'm comfortable, then disappears over towards the rack where we keep our whips hung. I'm not blindfolded, but I'm not sure I want to know, just yet, either. So I turn my head and close my eyes, giving over to him, and what he wants.
Anyone who has ever been sensually whipped can readily identify the two primary different sensations, 'thud' and 'sting'. For me, when I'm under Sir's whips, these two have two completely different effects. 'Thuddy' makes me sink, deep into a place where I've very inarticulate, but very pliant, and welcoming suggestion. 'Stingy' on the other hand, tries to lift me off of whatever I'm securely attached to, and leaves me fighting myself, begging for it to stop, and sometimes crying. (This does NOT however mean I actually want it to stop.) Each of these are their own head (and body) trip. It takes someone with a particular sense of timing and ability to 'read' me to combine them both over the course of a brief period. Neither of these are things I entrust to people I don't know well, as both leave me very emotionally raw.
Sir is one of the few people I know who can make me change gears as it were, between the two, and still leave me in a state where I actually enjoy it. Unfortunately, it's not something I find I can do often, and it takes both of us being in a particular state of mind and comfort to actually pull it off.
In any case, without telling me that was what he was about to do, that was the state he worked me into. Working from whips that can, when used a particular way feel more akin to a good massage, on to whips that once I'm warmed up, yes I can take, even though it's a most peculiar kind of enjoyment.
Back at the Floating World, we had found a flogger made of the satin cord it seems every kinky person has worked with or made something out of at some point. Just ordinary fabric store cord carefully woven into a nicely formed handle that felt good in my hand with a bazillion purple satiny tresses. The reason it came home, though, was that each of the tips had been carefully dipped repeatedly in 'tool dip', the rubber coating for tool handles. The balance was nice, and I knew instantly that those tails would sting horribly.
Well, I was right. And THAT will teach me to pick up a tool, having it in mind for use with perhaps a pretty girl somewhere in my future. I should know better. And I should know that just as I was always taught, before you use a tool on someone else, you should have it used upon yourself, so you know, down in your bones what it's capable of. While ultimately, of course I'm fine with all of that, it being the way things are done, and it is simply to be expected, I did not however expect this particular tool this particular morning.
Which led to many cries of "I hate that whip!... Don't stop."
By the time my morning's ordeal was 'over', I was very 'floaty'. Sir released me from my bonds at the bench and let me lay across the bed. We spoke briefly, and then he very matter of factly went over to the small table in the corner and returned with several sets of adjustable clamps with which he heightened my neediness beyond excruciating.
Then he removed them, and left me unfulfilled. He allowed me the cuffs for the rest of the day (actually, I slept in them that night only taking them off the next morning.)
The lovely anguish that is being left afterwards is not something I would normally enjoy. But with him, after this in particular, it was wonderful, feeling that ache combined with the soreness from the whips earlier, it left me constantly aware of HIM as I drifted through the next day or so. It's that awareness, that feeling of being owned, posessed, taken somewhere I rarely go with anyone with trust at the core of it that I treasure above all else.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Hallows
I'll get towards writing about this morning later, but for the moment, just a brief post about Hallows.
Being a Witch (that's another blog!) I find myself furnished a number of preexisting excuses, if you will, for Sir and I to have sex. This often gets expressed something along the lines of "it's a pagan holiday! We should fuck!" Which is only all the more amusing when he brings it up, (Sir, not being a Witch.)
All of which tends to harken back to a wonderful Beltane spent one year with Sir and 'my' girl, this being many years back.
So, it's Hallows and Sir comes downstairs, somewhat annoyed that I wasn't upstairs seeing as to how he wanted me, right then and there. This is a good thing. Spontaneity makes me happy.
But I waver for a moment, and in an extraordinarily rare bit of 'giving him lip', I make it clear I'm busy. (This is deeply out of character for me, I don't do "brat" play.) This of course, cannot stand. (Yes, if my 'not now' were a real 'no' of course he'd respect that, but this is clearly me being 'playful' and we both know it.)
And so he has me stop whatever it was I was doing at the time, kneel on the big black leather couch, and he takes me, roughly.
And I'm happy.
This has everything to do with the dynamic between us. Any real 'not now' would have been clarified, and we would have gone on about our day, getting to sex at a later point.
But knowing one another as we do, we both know I'm 'asking for it' in my own rare way (usually I'd never DREAM of giving him shit!) and what comes next, no matter how much some might mistake it for vanilla what, with the lack of tools and all, is anything but, because we're both working with power, and his Dominance, and my risking, and that's where so much of the magick of the dance is for us. (That, and the smell and touch of leather as I'm being taken from behind never hurts. I am after all, far too much of a fetishist for it to be otherwise.)
Being a Witch (that's another blog!) I find myself furnished a number of preexisting excuses, if you will, for Sir and I to have sex. This often gets expressed something along the lines of "it's a pagan holiday! We should fuck!" Which is only all the more amusing when he brings it up, (Sir, not being a Witch.)
All of which tends to harken back to a wonderful Beltane spent one year with Sir and 'my' girl, this being many years back.
So, it's Hallows and Sir comes downstairs, somewhat annoyed that I wasn't upstairs seeing as to how he wanted me, right then and there. This is a good thing. Spontaneity makes me happy.
But I waver for a moment, and in an extraordinarily rare bit of 'giving him lip', I make it clear I'm busy. (This is deeply out of character for me, I don't do "brat" play.) This of course, cannot stand. (Yes, if my 'not now' were a real 'no' of course he'd respect that, but this is clearly me being 'playful' and we both know it.)
And so he has me stop whatever it was I was doing at the time, kneel on the big black leather couch, and he takes me, roughly.
And I'm happy.
This has everything to do with the dynamic between us. Any real 'not now' would have been clarified, and we would have gone on about our day, getting to sex at a later point.
But knowing one another as we do, we both know I'm 'asking for it' in my own rare way (usually I'd never DREAM of giving him shit!) and what comes next, no matter how much some might mistake it for vanilla what, with the lack of tools and all, is anything but, because we're both working with power, and his Dominance, and my risking, and that's where so much of the magick of the dance is for us. (That, and the smell and touch of leather as I'm being taken from behind never hurts. I am after all, far too much of a fetishist for it to be otherwise.)
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Just a page that seemed worth sharing
Not a whole lot to say this morning, but I wanted to share one of the pages I've been recently daydreaming over and slowly wandering through. The Long Island Staylace Association (LISA)'s many galleries worth of corset imagery.
Plenty of old cabinet cards, advertising, drawings and paintings on through to celebrity, latex, and a variety of modern corsets. Perhaps what I find most enjoyable though, is the gallery entitled "Not So Famous Tightlacers from the Past" as it contains perfectly ordinary people, relatives and unknowns captured by the lens at a moment in time.
I find I enjoy the 'back in the day' imagery far more than most of the modern creations. I suppose it has to do with seeing a thing in its 'natural' context.
Plenty of old cabinet cards, advertising, drawings and paintings on through to celebrity, latex, and a variety of modern corsets. Perhaps what I find most enjoyable though, is the gallery entitled "Not So Famous Tightlacers from the Past" as it contains perfectly ordinary people, relatives and unknowns captured by the lens at a moment in time.
I find I enjoy the 'back in the day' imagery far more than most of the modern creations. I suppose it has to do with seeing a thing in its 'natural' context.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Some of that "relationship maintainence" which seems as second nature to us
So last night, much as I intended to make the Black Rose history panel, it wasn't to be. I was disappointed, but there was just no way it was going to happen. Apparently there may be a BR history workshop over the course of BRXX, so I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope to see something there. In the end, it was just as well we didn't go, as last night was something I would not have missed.
We spent the evening 'in', and this led to a rather intense discussion about some of where we're going with all this, some of what this 're-entry' into corners of 'the scene' is meaning for us, and a great deal of discussion about what we both want, and how to make it all work with our real day to day life. (By "intense" I do not mean 'heated', I mean very 'raw', very 'close to the bone', very 'real'.)
These are very real issues for us, for while we are both long term people in (and out of) 'the scene', (15 and 20 years, actually), we come at it from very different places with what are at times somewhat different expectations.
It's been very odd to come to groups ten years later, and see the occasional familiar face, only to realize that in ten years, they haven't changed a bit (and that's not necessarily a good thing). We, on the other hand, have changed a great deal. So it can be very jarring at times.
Most importantly, though, I think we've both pretty clear on the fact that while we may wander through 'the scene' in certain times and ways, the heart of who we are and what we do is very much something we live out here at home/with each other. Unlike so many people, who are only able to do these things, or wear these things, or be who they feel they are when they step out of their private spaces and daily lives and into 'scene' spaces, Sir and I actually live out our 'leather lifestyle' in the day to day. It's a luxury, and we understand how rare that is compared to many other people.
Nor do we compartmentalize our 'leather lives' away into something done in 'scene spaces' or events. There is no 'stepping out of role' for us, because our 'roles' are not 'roles' they are who we are. This is part of why terms like 'scening' have never worked for me, it's not something I relegate to Fridays between 7pm and 1am, or 'at clubs', or anything like that. No doubt some would then turn to us and say, oh no biggie, you 24/7. Which, while I suppose can be one way of putting it, is not how we see it. We simply are who we are. I may not use the word "Sir"except by accident when some friends or family is present, but that's out of respect for them and their comfort, not out of hiding anything. Most of my close friends know this simple fact of our relationship anyways, so hearing the occasional "Sir" to them is merely an acknowledgement of the realities of our lives.
In any case, so we sat and spoke at length last night, if only to be sure we are both on the same page coming off some of the experiences we're having and in relation to the direction(s) we both want to head.
Some people set aside one night a week to have these kinds of 'relationship' talks, for us though, it is nothing so formal. We just sometimes have an evening when we both have time and want to touch base with one another, and so we spend a few hours talking about the framework we're building together, and how we're relating to some of the shared experiences we're having.
Not surprisingly, afterwards, I went upstairs, got several tools together and Sir followed me up not long thereafter. No, this did not lead to a long hard night of whipping, nor of rough sex. Instead, it lead to being held tightly, and forced to cum repeatedly in his arms, slowly loosing control to whispered threats and promises of training/what will be done to me, soon enough.
I am exactly where I want to be.
We spent the evening 'in', and this led to a rather intense discussion about some of where we're going with all this, some of what this 're-entry' into corners of 'the scene' is meaning for us, and a great deal of discussion about what we both want, and how to make it all work with our real day to day life. (By "intense" I do not mean 'heated', I mean very 'raw', very 'close to the bone', very 'real'.)
These are very real issues for us, for while we are both long term people in (and out of) 'the scene', (15 and 20 years, actually), we come at it from very different places with what are at times somewhat different expectations.
It's been very odd to come to groups ten years later, and see the occasional familiar face, only to realize that in ten years, they haven't changed a bit (and that's not necessarily a good thing). We, on the other hand, have changed a great deal. So it can be very jarring at times.
Most importantly, though, I think we've both pretty clear on the fact that while we may wander through 'the scene' in certain times and ways, the heart of who we are and what we do is very much something we live out here at home/with each other. Unlike so many people, who are only able to do these things, or wear these things, or be who they feel they are when they step out of their private spaces and daily lives and into 'scene' spaces, Sir and I actually live out our 'leather lifestyle' in the day to day. It's a luxury, and we understand how rare that is compared to many other people.
Nor do we compartmentalize our 'leather lives' away into something done in 'scene spaces' or events. There is no 'stepping out of role' for us, because our 'roles' are not 'roles' they are who we are. This is part of why terms like 'scening' have never worked for me, it's not something I relegate to Fridays between 7pm and 1am, or 'at clubs', or anything like that. No doubt some would then turn to us and say, oh no biggie, you 24/7. Which, while I suppose can be one way of putting it, is not how we see it. We simply are who we are. I may not use the word "Sir"except by accident when some friends or family is present, but that's out of respect for them and their comfort, not out of hiding anything. Most of my close friends know this simple fact of our relationship anyways, so hearing the occasional "Sir" to them is merely an acknowledgement of the realities of our lives.
In any case, so we sat and spoke at length last night, if only to be sure we are both on the same page coming off some of the experiences we're having and in relation to the direction(s) we both want to head.
Some people set aside one night a week to have these kinds of 'relationship' talks, for us though, it is nothing so formal. We just sometimes have an evening when we both have time and want to touch base with one another, and so we spend a few hours talking about the framework we're building together, and how we're relating to some of the shared experiences we're having.
Not surprisingly, afterwards, I went upstairs, got several tools together and Sir followed me up not long thereafter. No, this did not lead to a long hard night of whipping, nor of rough sex. Instead, it lead to being held tightly, and forced to cum repeatedly in his arms, slowly loosing control to whispered threats and promises of training/what will be done to me, soon enough.
I am exactly where I want to be.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
BESS- "Switch, no longer a dirty word"
So Sir and I attended Wednesday night's BESS (Baltimore Educational and Social Society) educational meeting. This week, they focused on S/switches- which despite being one myself, I despise the terminology for as it implies a binary 'on/off' dichotomy, rather than the more realistic multitude of realities that many of us live within. While I continue to search for better terminology, I tend to write the word in such as way as to imply a both/and at the same moment, "S/switch" in my own writings.
Unfortunately, false binaries plagued the presentation itself, leading to vast oversimplifications. And while the presenters acknowledged they were engaging in such, they marched boldly onward anyway- relying upon a straight line continuum betwixt 'Top/Master/etc- which jokingly got referred to as 'the dark side' and 'bottom/slave/etc' which in turn became 'the light side'. While such may work for duct tape, it rarely works for human relationships.
In any case, in very Kinsey scale fashion, there was much discussion on how most folks fall somewhere in the middle- and hence the discussion of 'switches' began.
I on the other hand, reject the false binary and instead see far more of a 50's stylized 'starburst' design (see Ace Jackalope's "Sputversary" for the definitive photo essay and description of objects similar to what I'm describing), a three dimensional object, with many continuums intersecting at various center points, although in my model the 'center points' along each line may not be even, thus creating many unequal arms.
Further, being bi, and poly, I may have one starburst for what I seek in one partner, or one partner of a particular gender, and another completely separate starburst for another partner, perhaps of another gender.
As for the lines/continuums piercing the center ball, they can be any number of things;
perhaps a pain related continuum- Sadist/masochist
an ownership related continuum- Master/slave
a gender portrayal continuum- Butch/femme
more or less a 'who leads' continuum- Dominant/submissive
a service continuum- Served/Serving
The Kinsey Queer related continuum- homo/het
Etc. Without doubt, there are many, many more.
The fact of the matter is that most of us in describing ourselves, and most of our partners or desired partners fall somewhere in the middle of each of these continuums. So we end up with starbusts, not straight lines when trying to accurately portray the realities of our real lives. And those points along each of those lines may change through time, from relationship to relationship, and partner to partner- even under one roof.
Three other quick notes, there was a strange emphasis on S/switches 'switching' in relation to "moods". For me, "mood" has nothing to do with it- the relationship to the partner determines the parameters, although when I have been in a relationship with another 'switch' while we may have partially changed roles though the course of years, we 'trended' towards one dynamic or another over the course of time, not nightly or hour to hour.
Secondly, while some may relate to "Poly, Bi, Switch" (PBS) as "greedy", I relate to it more as "PBS- and no that doesn't mean I'll sleep with you." Both Sir and I are highly selective about our partners.
And finally, remarkably, it took most of the workshop before it was finally mentioned that the way these things USED to be done was that Masters began as slaves. This was not 'switch' so much as it was earning the eventual right to call oneself "Master" it was about learning skills and earning leathers- a process most of today's Masters bypass entirely. But that 'starting at the bottom' had a great deal of value, among other things it taught a root of empathy with the things one was going to put their own slaves/bottoms/etc through.
It seems to me, "empathy" is the key word in relation to the S/switch experience. How one holds workshops without focusing upon that aspect leaves me wondering if it is perhaps so obvious as to be invisible, thus remains unidentified.
I was taught you never use a tool on someone else that had not first been used on you- and that had to do with having an intimate understanding of what the tool was capable of, what sensations it produced, and what kinds of potential reactions to expect. It had to do with earning the right to use that tool on another.
In these days of 'instant (true!) Master- just add internet!" such a process is unimaginable. Mere mention of such would be met with blank stares.
No, I'm not demanding all today's "Masters" begin at the bottom and work their way through. Some already have an innate empathy which seems to allow them to bypass the process and not be the worse for it, others, on the other hand, could use to first hand experience. It might help them understand that just because a work of fiction kept a girl naked and on her knees for 10 hour stretches, real girl's real knees aren't likely to enjoy that.
So, for my own reference, the calendar listing for the event.
October, 17th
Topic: Switch, no longer a dirty world..
With: Griffin and ann goodpet
Unfortunately, false binaries plagued the presentation itself, leading to vast oversimplifications. And while the presenters acknowledged they were engaging in such, they marched boldly onward anyway- relying upon a straight line continuum betwixt 'Top/Master/etc- which jokingly got referred to as 'the dark side' and 'bottom/slave/etc' which in turn became 'the light side'. While such may work for duct tape, it rarely works for human relationships.
In any case, in very Kinsey scale fashion, there was much discussion on how most folks fall somewhere in the middle- and hence the discussion of 'switches' began.
I on the other hand, reject the false binary and instead see far more of a 50's stylized 'starburst' design (see Ace Jackalope's "Sputversary" for the definitive photo essay and description of objects similar to what I'm describing), a three dimensional object, with many continuums intersecting at various center points, although in my model the 'center points' along each line may not be even, thus creating many unequal arms.
Further, being bi, and poly, I may have one starburst for what I seek in one partner, or one partner of a particular gender, and another completely separate starburst for another partner, perhaps of another gender.
As for the lines/continuums piercing the center ball, they can be any number of things;
perhaps a pain related continuum- Sadist/masochist
an ownership related continuum- Master/slave
a gender portrayal continuum- Butch/femme
more or less a 'who leads' continuum- Dominant/submissive
a service continuum- Served/Serving
The Kinsey Queer related continuum- homo/het
Etc. Without doubt, there are many, many more.
The fact of the matter is that most of us in describing ourselves, and most of our partners or desired partners fall somewhere in the middle of each of these continuums. So we end up with starbusts, not straight lines when trying to accurately portray the realities of our real lives. And those points along each of those lines may change through time, from relationship to relationship, and partner to partner- even under one roof.
Three other quick notes, there was a strange emphasis on S/switches 'switching' in relation to "moods". For me, "mood" has nothing to do with it- the relationship to the partner determines the parameters, although when I have been in a relationship with another 'switch' while we may have partially changed roles though the course of years, we 'trended' towards one dynamic or another over the course of time, not nightly or hour to hour.
Secondly, while some may relate to "Poly, Bi, Switch" (PBS) as "greedy", I relate to it more as "PBS- and no that doesn't mean I'll sleep with you." Both Sir and I are highly selective about our partners.
And finally, remarkably, it took most of the workshop before it was finally mentioned that the way these things USED to be done was that Masters began as slaves. This was not 'switch' so much as it was earning the eventual right to call oneself "Master" it was about learning skills and earning leathers- a process most of today's Masters bypass entirely. But that 'starting at the bottom' had a great deal of value, among other things it taught a root of empathy with the things one was going to put their own slaves/bottoms/etc through.
It seems to me, "empathy" is the key word in relation to the S/switch experience. How one holds workshops without focusing upon that aspect leaves me wondering if it is perhaps so obvious as to be invisible, thus remains unidentified.
I was taught you never use a tool on someone else that had not first been used on you- and that had to do with having an intimate understanding of what the tool was capable of, what sensations it produced, and what kinds of potential reactions to expect. It had to do with earning the right to use that tool on another.
In these days of 'instant (true!) Master- just add internet!" such a process is unimaginable. Mere mention of such would be met with blank stares.
No, I'm not demanding all today's "Masters" begin at the bottom and work their way through. Some already have an innate empathy which seems to allow them to bypass the process and not be the worse for it, others, on the other hand, could use to first hand experience. It might help them understand that just because a work of fiction kept a girl naked and on her knees for 10 hour stretches, real girl's real knees aren't likely to enjoy that.
So, for my own reference, the calendar listing for the event.
October, 17th
Topic: Switch, no longer a dirty world..
With: Griffin and ann goodpet
– Being yourself in a world that loves labels and titles. This discussion will cover the way the lifestyle view switches, the different type of switches and switching, and how to maintain relationships when one or more partners are switches. Also will covered will be types of scenes that are often avoided by non-switching Tops but are, oh, so much fun. Griffin identifies as a Master who bottoms. His slave ann is a bottom who has been known to do some service Topping.
Griffin: Griffin, has been active in the lifestyle and the DC area scene for over 10 years. He is an active pony player (watch for Him in the documentary Born in a Barn), kidnapper, presenter, and all around scene player. Griffin enjoys rough play, takedowns, and wrestling along with the lighter sensuous scenes. Although well versed in a variety of tools of the trade, and different play styles, He is often seen doing intense physical scenes without any of the traditional toy use, only using His own body as His tools. Playing on the edge, Griffin follows RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink). Griffin is an alumni of the Master Taino’s Masters Academy and a member of Black Rose and on staff at Crucible. When not at an event He can be found sailing, working on His experimental Gyro-plane, or practicing sword fighting for the SCA tournaments. He currently lives in District Heights, MD with His dog Mandy, His partner and slavemate, ann, and salve lorrie, the newest member of the Griffin Household. Griffin’s home, fondly referred to as Castle Griffin, is a service/teaching household and host several lifestyle events throughout the year, including slave retreats, formal Master Dinners, play parties, and SIGs.
Ann Goodpet: Ann Goodpet identifies as a service submissive and slavemate to Griffin and has been active in the lifestyle for over 7 years. She is has been an active member, service provider, presenter and scene player in several groups in SC, NC, and the DC area. She is a member of Black Rose and staff at the Crucible. She lives in District Heights, MD with her partner and Master, Captain Griffin, His dog Mandy and slave lorrie, the newest member of the family.. ann enjoys the M/s lifestyle and is often doing service for groups, leather families, events, and individuals, always under the approval and guidance of her Master. ann is an alumni of Master Taino’s slave Academy. In addition to lifestyle activities and event, ann enjoys sailing, camping, SCA events, and any hands-on building project.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Registered for Black Rose XX today
No huge news here, just the fact that we finally got around to registering and setting up our hotel arrangements.
I find myself having the same sort of reaction I often have in relation to Black Rose, their website, the way they relate to the broader community, etc- somewhat annoyed, and somewhat in need of a shower afterwards. (I know, not the nicest thing to say, but that is the way I end up feeling, no matter how hard or often I try to 'give it a chance'). And no, for the most part, I can't go into specifics here because some of what I'm reacting to is related to 'attendees only' aspects of the event site. In the end, it comes down to understanding some of BR's history, and having an honest disagreement with the way they do certain things.
So why are we going then? Suffice it to say, we knew, long before we decided to go, that this was in some ways sure, fun and learning, and workshops and presenters, and people and all the rest, but also part sociology, and looking at the subculture that BR has created in its corner of the Kinky universe (AND spreads beyond their own group). I suppose part of the reason we decided to go was that we felt it important to see with our own eyes.
While we will go for our own reasons, (as always when we go to any event), I feel it's important to go, and look, and listen, if for no other reason than to look closely at some of the ways in which BR influences other groups, nationally, concerning things such as 'standardization' of dungeon monitor trainings, Leather Leadership Conferences, and educational interface with non-kinky people, (police, etc.).
In the end we decided not to sign up for some of the add on special events, such as the "20th anniversary formal banquet"or other things such as the "Victorian Tea". Much as I do enjoy proper service, I'd be far more interested in a full Japanese Tea Ceremony. But that will have to wait until Shibaricon.
So all that said, while this blog is by no means private, I haven't entered it under my profile for BR either.
Sir actually has his 'party card' from a billion years ago. This being their 20th anniversary, no doubt quite a few old faces may come out of the woodwork with ancient party cards to match- or not.
I find myself having the same sort of reaction I often have in relation to Black Rose, their website, the way they relate to the broader community, etc- somewhat annoyed, and somewhat in need of a shower afterwards. (I know, not the nicest thing to say, but that is the way I end up feeling, no matter how hard or often I try to 'give it a chance'). And no, for the most part, I can't go into specifics here because some of what I'm reacting to is related to 'attendees only' aspects of the event site. In the end, it comes down to understanding some of BR's history, and having an honest disagreement with the way they do certain things.
So why are we going then? Suffice it to say, we knew, long before we decided to go, that this was in some ways sure, fun and learning, and workshops and presenters, and people and all the rest, but also part sociology, and looking at the subculture that BR has created in its corner of the Kinky universe (AND spreads beyond their own group). I suppose part of the reason we decided to go was that we felt it important to see with our own eyes.
While we will go for our own reasons, (as always when we go to any event), I feel it's important to go, and look, and listen, if for no other reason than to look closely at some of the ways in which BR influences other groups, nationally, concerning things such as 'standardization' of dungeon monitor trainings, Leather Leadership Conferences, and educational interface with non-kinky people, (police, etc.).
In the end we decided not to sign up for some of the add on special events, such as the "20th anniversary formal banquet"or other things such as the "Victorian Tea". Much as I do enjoy proper service, I'd be far more interested in a full Japanese Tea Ceremony. But that will have to wait until Shibaricon.
So all that said, while this blog is by no means private, I haven't entered it under my profile for BR either.
Sir actually has his 'party card' from a billion years ago. This being their 20th anniversary, no doubt quite a few old faces may come out of the woodwork with ancient party cards to match- or not.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Upcoming Events
As usual, I haven't 'caught up' on my writings here, but as life continues on, I'll jump back and forth narrative-wise from time to time. So, in that spirit, here's where I find myself this week;
We're preparing to have a houseguest for part of next week and that's leading to some complicated scheduling.
BESS is going to be doing a Wed night educational meeting on S/switches-S/switching, naturally the one week I may or may not be able to make it! (It's not their fault.) Still, I may try to set Wed. evening aside and go by myself or some such. We'll have to wait and see.
Saturday the 20th Black Rose is going to do a "History of Black Rose" workshop at the Crucible and I'm very interested in trying to make that.
And finally, the other major news is that Sir and I have spoken at length and finally decided (not made any reservations or anything yet, merely decided so far) to attend Black Rose XX in DC.
(The last two items on this 'laundry list' deserve a post all their own, but that will have to wait for another day.)
In short, it's the kinky busy season!
We're preparing to have a houseguest for part of next week and that's leading to some complicated scheduling.
BESS is going to be doing a Wed night educational meeting on S/switches-S/switching, naturally the one week I may or may not be able to make it! (It's not their fault.) Still, I may try to set Wed. evening aside and go by myself or some such. We'll have to wait and see.
Saturday the 20th Black Rose is going to do a "History of Black Rose" workshop at the Crucible and I'm very interested in trying to make that.
And finally, the other major news is that Sir and I have spoken at length and finally decided (not made any reservations or anything yet, merely decided so far) to attend Black Rose XX in DC.
(The last two items on this 'laundry list' deserve a post all their own, but that will have to wait for another day.)
In short, it's the kinky busy season!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
with Midori last weekend- ropes
Obviously there's a lot to write, I'm going to try to keep this relatively short, actually.
Sir and I spent last weekend in Philadelphia going to classes with Midori thanks to Passional. Much as we would have liked to make the first workshop (blowjobs) traffic made that a pipe dream. So we enjoyed an nice dinner of wonderful Cajun food instead. Afterwards, we drove into Philly, settled into our hotel, unpacked read our mail, took a quick shower, and relaxed. All in all, a far more civilized start to the weekend than rushing around would have been. Later, we settled into bed together, talked for awhile, and then one thing led to another. Suffice it to say, Sir got me into one hell of a head space, and I slept really well.
Unfortunately, we almost slept too well, and ran a little late the next morning. Everything would have been fine, had we either done room service or not had to try two different restaurants before finally getting breakfast (the first was an ugly mob scene), but in the end breakfast was a nice dinner where I could bang my coffee cup happily enough.
Since we had not done workshops at Passional before it took a little 'pulling it together' to deal with parking (hint, the nearby lot, while expensive is the best bet) and then realize the workshop was not actually at the shop, but several doors down the street where they will soon be opening a second location. But in the end we got in before the workshop began with enough time left over to catch our breath. We were certainly not the last of the stragglers to make it in, and unlike some folks, we at least had to good sense enough to turn off our cell phones before the workshop began (oh pet peeve!)
So Saturday was rope day- two rope workshops, one on basic rope bondage, the other on body harnesses. The first was a good overview and the rope scene Midori did as instruction for our deconstruction was in a word, HOT. An ongoing theme throughout the weekend would turn out to be how much those participating in the instructional scenes seemed to enjoy the idea of being tied up or flogged by Midori herself. No doubt a certain amount of author/superstardom enters into it- at least for the audience members.
Midori herself happily identifies as somewhat of a "big dork" who is somewhat awestruck that this is her actual life. I can completely understand that. But both self identification and audience perceptions aside, Midori is an educator and has a wonderful sense of humour.
In any case, the first workshop in many ways was very much review for me, although I was interested in how she taught it, and how it would provide the basis for her second workshop.
Personally, I found Lee (Brigit) Harrington's rope bondage for sex at Ohio Leather Fest a little over a year ago a bit more practical for what I do.
That said, the second workshop, body harnesses, was probably the most useful part of the weekend for me. I'm a very visual learner and someone who enjoys learning by doing, so while rope books can teach me some things, it's more constructive for me to actually be in a hands on workshop space like that.
The other rather amusing bit (in both rope workshops, actually) was that we divided the audience into partner A and partner B, first partner A worked along with Midori showing the tie, then partner B got to follow along and also do the same. What this meant in practice was that first Sir tied me up and then I got to tie him up- something I'd barely ever done before.
Doing a full body harness on him was kind of interesting, not only from the power dynamic stance, but also in that even when I'm the dominant partner, I don't tie men up. (Not my thing). So naturally one has to adjust their ropes to the topography of their intended victim, errrr model. It made for an interesting, but ultimately confirmed for me, I'm not into being dominant with men. The very being with Sir in the first place, while not a complete fluke, is not my primary personal identification.
Body harnesses, though, are great fun. (And yes, when done right, they can look all 'domly' too, don't get me wrong!)
I once wore a lovely Hishi Karada (diamond pattern [rope] body [harness]) at a party after playing 'demo model'. This may not sound all that special, but at the time, the technique wasn't all over the place, it wasn't in easily accessed books, it wasn't as nearby at the net, there was no shibaricon, and simply put, it was something completely different, and it felt incredible. I was very honoured. At the time, here on the east coast, these techniques were in the hands of people who had learned them (sometimes out on the west coast, sometimes in other parties, etc) and they in turn taught them to other friends in spaces like private parties. Looking back, I'm realizing what a different time that was, and how special it was to actually have been running around that party back then in that harness.
It was also one of my first brushes with people at a party paying attention to me not for me as myself, but to me as an example of an artist's technique. Under normal circumstances, I'm not a party attention slut, but I don't mind that kind of attention at all- that being a living work of someone else's artistry.
So working through some of the harnesses, and some of the harnesses in Midori's book ("The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage") was very helpful. The illustrations came to life under my own fingers and ropes, and the end result (yes even on Sir!) was very gratifying.
I've decided to actually break apart the weekend into several posts, but I will add on last thing here on the "ropes" post. I'd been really interested in looking into Midori's 'Rope Dojo' (http://www.ropedojo.com/) despite the expense. (I understand it, I just don't know if I personally am willing.) So I thought these two rope workshops with her this weekend would be sort of a nice getting my feel wet. I'd see what I thought of her as an instructor, see whether or not I was enjoying the rope workshops, and whether or not I'd like to try to align my schedule and travel to someday spend a weekend doing the Dojo. If anything, I was a little disappointed I was missing her NY Dojo this Fall.
Well, it now having been a week since our Philly workshops, I'm very seriously considering the Dojo, and there's a very real possibility that one is coming to our area soon- knock wood.
I've also told Sir to pencil in Shibaricon in Chicago next year. It would make a nice birthday present- and we have many other reasons to get to Chicago, not the least of which being the Leather Archives and Museum.
Sir and I spent last weekend in Philadelphia going to classes with Midori thanks to Passional. Much as we would have liked to make the first workshop (blowjobs) traffic made that a pipe dream. So we enjoyed an nice dinner of wonderful Cajun food instead. Afterwards, we drove into Philly, settled into our hotel, unpacked read our mail, took a quick shower, and relaxed. All in all, a far more civilized start to the weekend than rushing around would have been. Later, we settled into bed together, talked for awhile, and then one thing led to another. Suffice it to say, Sir got me into one hell of a head space, and I slept really well.
Unfortunately, we almost slept too well, and ran a little late the next morning. Everything would have been fine, had we either done room service or not had to try two different restaurants before finally getting breakfast (the first was an ugly mob scene), but in the end breakfast was a nice dinner where I could bang my coffee cup happily enough.
Since we had not done workshops at Passional before it took a little 'pulling it together' to deal with parking (hint, the nearby lot, while expensive is the best bet) and then realize the workshop was not actually at the shop, but several doors down the street where they will soon be opening a second location. But in the end we got in before the workshop began with enough time left over to catch our breath. We were certainly not the last of the stragglers to make it in, and unlike some folks, we at least had to good sense enough to turn off our cell phones before the workshop began (oh pet peeve!)
So Saturday was rope day- two rope workshops, one on basic rope bondage, the other on body harnesses. The first was a good overview and the rope scene Midori did as instruction for our deconstruction was in a word, HOT. An ongoing theme throughout the weekend would turn out to be how much those participating in the instructional scenes seemed to enjoy the idea of being tied up or flogged by Midori herself. No doubt a certain amount of author/superstardom enters into it- at least for the audience members.
Midori herself happily identifies as somewhat of a "big dork" who is somewhat awestruck that this is her actual life. I can completely understand that. But both self identification and audience perceptions aside, Midori is an educator and has a wonderful sense of humour.
In any case, the first workshop in many ways was very much review for me, although I was interested in how she taught it, and how it would provide the basis for her second workshop.
Personally, I found Lee (Brigit) Harrington's rope bondage for sex at Ohio Leather Fest a little over a year ago a bit more practical for what I do.
That said, the second workshop, body harnesses, was probably the most useful part of the weekend for me. I'm a very visual learner and someone who enjoys learning by doing, so while rope books can teach me some things, it's more constructive for me to actually be in a hands on workshop space like that.
The other rather amusing bit (in both rope workshops, actually) was that we divided the audience into partner A and partner B, first partner A worked along with Midori showing the tie, then partner B got to follow along and also do the same. What this meant in practice was that first Sir tied me up and then I got to tie him up- something I'd barely ever done before.
Doing a full body harness on him was kind of interesting, not only from the power dynamic stance, but also in that even when I'm the dominant partner, I don't tie men up. (Not my thing). So naturally one has to adjust their ropes to the topography of their intended victim, errrr model. It made for an interesting, but ultimately confirmed for me, I'm not into being dominant with men. The very being with Sir in the first place, while not a complete fluke, is not my primary personal identification.
Body harnesses, though, are great fun. (And yes, when done right, they can look all 'domly' too, don't get me wrong!)
I once wore a lovely Hishi Karada (diamond pattern [rope] body [harness]) at a party after playing 'demo model'. This may not sound all that special, but at the time, the technique wasn't all over the place, it wasn't in easily accessed books, it wasn't as nearby at the net, there was no shibaricon, and simply put, it was something completely different, and it felt incredible. I was very honoured. At the time, here on the east coast, these techniques were in the hands of people who had learned them (sometimes out on the west coast, sometimes in other parties, etc) and they in turn taught them to other friends in spaces like private parties. Looking back, I'm realizing what a different time that was, and how special it was to actually have been running around that party back then in that harness.
It was also one of my first brushes with people at a party paying attention to me not for me as myself, but to me as an example of an artist's technique. Under normal circumstances, I'm not a party attention slut, but I don't mind that kind of attention at all- that being a living work of someone else's artistry.
So working through some of the harnesses, and some of the harnesses in Midori's book ("The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage") was very helpful. The illustrations came to life under my own fingers and ropes, and the end result (yes even on Sir!) was very gratifying.
I've decided to actually break apart the weekend into several posts, but I will add on last thing here on the "ropes" post. I'd been really interested in looking into Midori's 'Rope Dojo' (http://www.ropedojo.com/) despite the expense. (I understand it, I just don't know if I personally am willing.) So I thought these two rope workshops with her this weekend would be sort of a nice getting my feel wet. I'd see what I thought of her as an instructor, see whether or not I was enjoying the rope workshops, and whether or not I'd like to try to align my schedule and travel to someday spend a weekend doing the Dojo. If anything, I was a little disappointed I was missing her NY Dojo this Fall.
Well, it now having been a week since our Philly workshops, I'm very seriously considering the Dojo, and there's a very real possibility that one is coming to our area soon- knock wood.
I've also told Sir to pencil in Shibaricon in Chicago next year. It would make a nice birthday present- and we have many other reasons to get to Chicago, not the least of which being the Leather Archives and Museum.
Friday, September 21, 2007
BESS - Knifeplay 201
Wednesday night Sir and I finally made it to a BESS (Baltimore Educational and Social Society) meeting and munch afterwards. They had a large turn out, apparently due to the topic- Knifeplay 2o1. Lots of pretty sharpee pointee things that go 'skrit' or 'chitink' in the night. Nice.
Turns out it was Sas's first workshop presentation. I thought he did a really good job, showing both humour and genuine love of the subject at hand. When someone speaks from the heart, it shows, and it was clear that despite the nervousness he claimed, he not only knew his material, but the trust between him and with womyn (plural) he did the demo with, as well as his genuine love of the subject was obvious.
As for BESS itself, we'd been meaning to take a look for quite some time now, but our schedules hadn't cooperated. It was a very comfortable and familiaresque crowd- depsite us not knowing anyone. The kind of folks who one is apt to see at Ren Faires, or any given (Sci-Fi) con, and all very Balwmer-hon (said with the affection one can only fathom having once lived in Baltimore myself.)
While it seems a bit odd to find the bimonthly educational gathering meeting in a rented hotel room (a la Black Rose down in DC, but a very different class of hotel), it did not seem unnatural, just different. Maybe it's because the idea of teaching knifework and bloodplay under the florescent lights of a suburban hotel is somehow completely at odds with the normal settings for such things- then again, it certainly makes seeing the cuts much easier.
While we did not join BESS, we did decide to come back when another topic catches our fancy and perhaps go through their little orientation session then. We overheard someone else getting the kind of overview/welcome orientation. Nothing a good read over the website wasn't going to tell you, really. So for the moment, anyway, we came to neither a yes or a no, just a hmmmm, well perhaps at some future date.
Afterwards, a caravan of cars made its way over to a local Pizza joint (oh so very Maryland) and took over one long table stretching from one end of the restaurant to the other. While not exactly conducive to in depth conversations, it certainly led to amusing jumbles of half heard bits and pieces of conversations that wove together into a tapestry- the quiet hum of happy folks out for an evening with friends.
After the evening ended and we returned home, we talked a lot about community and isolation. Somewhere, in the pre-dawn hours, this led to very, very late night sex.
Turns out it was Sas's first workshop presentation. I thought he did a really good job, showing both humour and genuine love of the subject at hand. When someone speaks from the heart, it shows, and it was clear that despite the nervousness he claimed, he not only knew his material, but the trust between him and with womyn (plural) he did the demo with, as well as his genuine love of the subject was obvious.
As for BESS itself, we'd been meaning to take a look for quite some time now, but our schedules hadn't cooperated. It was a very comfortable and familiaresque crowd- depsite us not knowing anyone. The kind of folks who one is apt to see at Ren Faires, or any given (Sci-Fi) con, and all very Balwmer-hon (said with the affection one can only fathom having once lived in Baltimore myself.)
While it seems a bit odd to find the bimonthly educational gathering meeting in a rented hotel room (a la Black Rose down in DC, but a very different class of hotel), it did not seem unnatural, just different. Maybe it's because the idea of teaching knifework and bloodplay under the florescent lights of a suburban hotel is somehow completely at odds with the normal settings for such things- then again, it certainly makes seeing the cuts much easier.
While we did not join BESS, we did decide to come back when another topic catches our fancy and perhaps go through their little orientation session then. We overheard someone else getting the kind of overview/welcome orientation. Nothing a good read over the website wasn't going to tell you, really. So for the moment, anyway, we came to neither a yes or a no, just a hmmmm, well perhaps at some future date.
Afterwards, a caravan of cars made its way over to a local Pizza joint (oh so very Maryland) and took over one long table stretching from one end of the restaurant to the other. While not exactly conducive to in depth conversations, it certainly led to amusing jumbles of half heard bits and pieces of conversations that wove together into a tapestry- the quiet hum of happy folks out for an evening with friends.
After the evening ended and we returned home, we talked a lot about community and isolation. Somewhere, in the pre-dawn hours, this led to very, very late night sex.
Monday, September 17, 2007
A weekend with Midori
After much procrastination and indecision, Sir and I have decided to go to Philadelphia next weekend for a weekend's worth of four workshops Passional is presenting with Midori (there was a discount to attend the full weekend, so we decided what the hell). As to whether they'll be basic 101 'refresher courses' for us, or actually cover some new territory remains to be seen, but I usually tend to pick up at least a few new details no matter how many times I've seen similar material as each presenter tends to have a few bits and pieces unique to the way they teach.
In any case, the details-
* Sept 21, 7-9PM JoyStick Secrets: How To Please Your Man
Learn how to make him moan and writhe in unbelievable pleasure. Join internationally-acclaimed sex educator Midori for this in-depth training on orally pleasuring your guy. Using delicious practice props (think fruit!) you¹ll learn all about the sucks, licks, swirls, strokes and touch secrets that will blow his mind. She¹ll even cover tips on how to reduce discomforts or gag reflexes. What better gift is there than to show him your new techniques that very night?
* Saturday Sept 22, 1-3PM Hands-On Rope Bondage
Rope bondage can be simple, elegant, effective and sensual, but if you don't know how to do it right, it can be dangerous. Midori will teach you how to use this versatile bondage tool to maximize fun and minimize risks. Learn basic techniques including two-column restraint, body harnesses and creative positions. Midori is the author of The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage, and is an expert in safe and effective Japanese inspired rope bondage. Wear comfortable clothing and bring a minimum of 2 lengths of 15 feet and 2 of 25 feet of rope.
*Saturday Sept 22, 4-6PM Hands-on Rope Body Harness
Body harnesses are fantastic for creating beautiful, effective, and sexy bondage for all types of bodies and many different sorts of scenes. You can use a harness for very secure rigging. Or you can make a pretty rope outfit. Create intense harnesses for pain sluts. How about sensual breast bondage? Midori will show you at least 6 different varieties of body harnesses. You can choose the ones you want to practice with attentive supervision from Midori. Dress & Supplies: Wear comfortable clothing that allows freedom of movement. Bring a large towel or yoga mat if you¹d like to use the floor. And, of course, bring rope - the more, the merrier! (Suggested minimum: 3 or 4 pieces of 30 to 35 foot lengths, one piece of 50 to 75 foot length. If the rope is for a smaller person, bring the shorter lengths. For a larger person, bring the longer lengths.)
* Class_Sept. 23 1-3PM:The Sensual Whip: A Hands-on Workshop
Ah the flogger. It's often what comes to mind when we think of kinky sex, but picking one out and learning to use it can be quite a challenge. If you'd like to learn the skills of using floggers and get some tips on finding one that works for you, come join Midori for a hands-on evening full of useful tips. You'll learn how to find the toys that will create the sensations that you want and that will work for your body, as well as how to use them to deliver powerful sensations without fatigue. If you have a flogger, please bring it. Midori will bring plenty to try out so you can experiment with different types. Exercises will focus on motion and techniques. Think ³air flogging² and fun games to improve precision!
Addendum- Here's an article in Passional Magazine about this weekend with an interview
In any case, the details-
* Sept 21, 7-9PM JoyStick Secrets: How To Please Your Man
Learn how to make him moan and writhe in unbelievable pleasure. Join internationally-acclaimed sex educator Midori for this in-depth training on orally pleasuring your guy. Using delicious practice props (think fruit!) you¹ll learn all about the sucks, licks, swirls, strokes and touch secrets that will blow his mind. She¹ll even cover tips on how to reduce discomforts or gag reflexes. What better gift is there than to show him your new techniques that very night?
* Saturday Sept 22, 1-3PM Hands-On Rope Bondage
Rope bondage can be simple, elegant, effective and sensual, but if you don't know how to do it right, it can be dangerous. Midori will teach you how to use this versatile bondage tool to maximize fun and minimize risks. Learn basic techniques including two-column restraint, body harnesses and creative positions. Midori is the author of The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage, and is an expert in safe and effective Japanese inspired rope bondage. Wear comfortable clothing and bring a minimum of 2 lengths of 15 feet and 2 of 25 feet of rope.
*Saturday Sept 22, 4-6PM Hands-on Rope Body Harness
Body harnesses are fantastic for creating beautiful, effective, and sexy bondage for all types of bodies and many different sorts of scenes. You can use a harness for very secure rigging. Or you can make a pretty rope outfit. Create intense harnesses for pain sluts. How about sensual breast bondage? Midori will show you at least 6 different varieties of body harnesses. You can choose the ones you want to practice with attentive supervision from Midori. Dress & Supplies: Wear comfortable clothing that allows freedom of movement. Bring a large towel or yoga mat if you¹d like to use the floor. And, of course, bring rope - the more, the merrier! (Suggested minimum: 3 or 4 pieces of 30 to 35 foot lengths, one piece of 50 to 75 foot length. If the rope is for a smaller person, bring the shorter lengths. For a larger person, bring the longer lengths.)
* Class_Sept. 23 1-3PM:The Sensual Whip: A Hands-on Workshop
Ah the flogger. It's often what comes to mind when we think of kinky sex, but picking one out and learning to use it can be quite a challenge. If you'd like to learn the skills of using floggers and get some tips on finding one that works for you, come join Midori for a hands-on evening full of useful tips. You'll learn how to find the toys that will create the sensations that you want and that will work for your body, as well as how to use them to deliver powerful sensations without fatigue. If you have a flogger, please bring it. Midori will bring plenty to try out so you can experiment with different types. Exercises will focus on motion and techniques. Think ³air flogging² and fun games to improve precision!
Addendum- Here's an article in Passional Magazine about this weekend with an interview
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Corsetry
So to backtrack a bit, finally, as I mentioned, after we attended the Floating World we went to Philadelphia for an afternoon for some corset shopping at Passional, (as their specialty is corsets.) It was our first time actually visiting the shop, despite the fact that over a year ago at the Ohio Leather Fest we had found several treasures from them. One being a lovely black satin waist cincher, the other being the piece I wear ever minute of every day, the titanium band locked around my wrist, that I wear as a form of 'collar'.
When last we were out in San Francisco, we had wanted to try to set a custom corset fitting at Romantasy, but in the end our timing didn't work out. Eventually, we hope to have a custom piece created, made to my curves, but for now, we decided to look into what would or would not work in terms of a prefabricated piece. So we spent some of our afternoon trying on a variety of leather corsets, until we were certain we had found exactly the right one.
It is described, thusly on their website-
"Underbust Corset- Black 100% genuine calfskin leather. Constructed with 26 flexible spiral steel stays, a steel busk, 4 steel bars in the back to support the grommets and 2 steel bars adjacent to the busk in the front. The outer fabric is laminated to a cotton twill fabric and then lined again with a cotton fabric. Laced with black shoe lace and includes garter belt loops."
Simply put, it's lovely. And it feels exquisite.
Since returning home, we have been slowly 'breaking it in', letting it adjust to my shape and letting me adjust to it. In time, we will begin to lace it more tightly. Yet even without the tight lacing, the compression and change in posture feels wonderful.
All of which, I suppose has been the background leading up to the lovely afternoon we spent two days ago. Sir and I enjoyed an early afternoon up in our room; talking and holding one another, then lacing me into the leather corset, toying with me on black satin sheets, working a cold steel tool into me, and finally making love to me.
An uninformed onlooker might mistake such as not that far from 'vanilla' sex, but I assure you, this had as much to do with what was happening between my ears as what was happening between my legs.
Corsets are not fashion to me, they have everything to do with fetish, and only so much more so for being constructed of the soft black kidskin. I don't consider this leather I have earned, but it is leather my Sir places upon me, and I wear with pride and pleasure.
When last we were out in San Francisco, we had wanted to try to set a custom corset fitting at Romantasy, but in the end our timing didn't work out. Eventually, we hope to have a custom piece created, made to my curves, but for now, we decided to look into what would or would not work in terms of a prefabricated piece. So we spent some of our afternoon trying on a variety of leather corsets, until we were certain we had found exactly the right one.
It is described, thusly on their website-
"Underbust Corset- Black 100% genuine calfskin leather. Constructed with 26 flexible spiral steel stays, a steel busk, 4 steel bars in the back to support the grommets and 2 steel bars adjacent to the busk in the front. The outer fabric is laminated to a cotton twill fabric and then lined again with a cotton fabric. Laced with black shoe lace and includes garter belt loops."
Simply put, it's lovely. And it feels exquisite.
Since returning home, we have been slowly 'breaking it in', letting it adjust to my shape and letting me adjust to it. In time, we will begin to lace it more tightly. Yet even without the tight lacing, the compression and change in posture feels wonderful.
All of which, I suppose has been the background leading up to the lovely afternoon we spent two days ago. Sir and I enjoyed an early afternoon up in our room; talking and holding one another, then lacing me into the leather corset, toying with me on black satin sheets, working a cold steel tool into me, and finally making love to me.
An uninformed onlooker might mistake such as not that far from 'vanilla' sex, but I assure you, this had as much to do with what was happening between my ears as what was happening between my legs.
Corsets are not fashion to me, they have everything to do with fetish, and only so much more so for being constructed of the soft black kidskin. I don't consider this leather I have earned, but it is leather my Sir places upon me, and I wear with pride and pleasure.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
"Elephant Pee"
So today, Sir and I headed down to the "Leather Flea and Play" or LF&P, (which yes, gets transmogrified into "Elephant Pee") at the Crucible in DC. They throw this little shopping expedition and playtime twice a year. Sir and I, this time around anyway, decided to stick with the shopping. Maybe, if we knew a few more folks or some as of yet indeterminate 'something', come next march we might consider getting a nice hotel in the area and yeah, staying for the "play" (Oh how I LOATHE that term in this context). This time out though, we made just a small trip of it.
We saw all of two people we recognized, and no, I don't think either recognized us. In the decade or so we've been away from some of what grew in DC lots of people have moved on- not surprising, but interesting, in that there are so FEW left.
I spent the night before polishing Sir's boots to a nice shine, so he woke up to them in the morning. It seemed to make him happy. For me, on some level, it's just what I do, but on another level, I take a certain pride in doing these things and doing them well for him. It sort of occurred to me at some point, as I was working with the saddle soap, that even were another girl come into our household and become an ongoing part of our lives, I'm not sure I want anyone other than myself working on Sir's boots. An odd thought really.
In any case, shopping at the elephant pee wasn't particularly interesting. The only high quality whips I had any interest in were at Passional's area, and honestly, were too similar to pieces we already had, and seemed "too light" to my hand. I'm really starting to wonder who's still making good solid quality whips, and whether or not they make public appearances on this coast? I'd still like to 'finish out' Sir's set, but I haven't found anyone I'd trust to get it right.
But, we found some micro panic snaps, which, size-wise struck us both as perhaps useful. I picked up an extremely basic little knife and many, many yards of "Raspberry" MFP rope, and finally some in the thinner diameter, too. We picked up more of the black pallet wrap and a couple of rolls of purple vetrap, just on good measure- replenishing supplies after the Floating World, so to speak.
So we had a nice afternoon; we wandered, we half-heartedly watched a girl experience a suckee bed for the first time, and we talked a little with the 'newcomer' volunteer with BESS, the Baltimore Education and Social Society. BESS is a little too "SSC" for my taste, but it looks like we're finally going to at least wander into a meeting and see what we make of it. It always weirds me out when someone asks "which mailing list did you hear about us on?" because, of course, that's not how I learned about the group. Turns out they're 6 years along now. They fall squarely into that time after I had left Baltimore.
Sir and I had already decided to attend their meeting on the 19th, when they are doing their 1/2 hour newcomer orientation followed by a "knifeplay 201" workshop. So I guess we'll see what we see.
One of the main things about the LF&P that struck us both? How young the crowd was. And in my case, well, how Het the crowd was- some exceptions, but not enough.
We saw all of two people we recognized, and no, I don't think either recognized us. In the decade or so we've been away from some of what grew in DC lots of people have moved on- not surprising, but interesting, in that there are so FEW left.
I spent the night before polishing Sir's boots to a nice shine, so he woke up to them in the morning. It seemed to make him happy. For me, on some level, it's just what I do, but on another level, I take a certain pride in doing these things and doing them well for him. It sort of occurred to me at some point, as I was working with the saddle soap, that even were another girl come into our household and become an ongoing part of our lives, I'm not sure I want anyone other than myself working on Sir's boots. An odd thought really.
In any case, shopping at the elephant pee wasn't particularly interesting. The only high quality whips I had any interest in were at Passional's area, and honestly, were too similar to pieces we already had, and seemed "too light" to my hand. I'm really starting to wonder who's still making good solid quality whips, and whether or not they make public appearances on this coast? I'd still like to 'finish out' Sir's set, but I haven't found anyone I'd trust to get it right.
But, we found some micro panic snaps, which, size-wise struck us both as perhaps useful. I picked up an extremely basic little knife and many, many yards of "Raspberry" MFP rope, and finally some in the thinner diameter, too. We picked up more of the black pallet wrap and a couple of rolls of purple vetrap, just on good measure- replenishing supplies after the Floating World, so to speak.
So we had a nice afternoon; we wandered, we half-heartedly watched a girl experience a suckee bed for the first time, and we talked a little with the 'newcomer' volunteer with BESS, the Baltimore Education and Social Society. BESS is a little too "SSC" for my taste, but it looks like we're finally going to at least wander into a meeting and see what we make of it. It always weirds me out when someone asks "which mailing list did you hear about us on?" because, of course, that's not how I learned about the group. Turns out they're 6 years along now. They fall squarely into that time after I had left Baltimore.
Sir and I had already decided to attend their meeting on the 19th, when they are doing their 1/2 hour newcomer orientation followed by a "knifeplay 201" workshop. So I guess we'll see what we see.
One of the main things about the LF&P that struck us both? How young the crowd was. And in my case, well, how Het the crowd was- some exceptions, but not enough.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Rosemont Manor/ Our House on the Hill, W.VA
Once again, Joe Gallagher's LEATHERPAGE (http://www.leatherpage.com/) hooks me up.
Steve Lenius, writing in Lavender, ("Minnesota's GLBT magazine") has done a follow up on what's been happening to Rosemont Manor, a Kink/swinger/Leather/nudist/Queer friendly B&B and venue in West Virginia. No, not WVA down near VA, this is up in the panhandle, right along the Ohio river, almost due west of Pittsburgh, PA.
I know the area, and boy, do I ever know the media in that area. Steubenville, Ohio, by the way, is home not only to Dean Martin, but also one hell of a nest of Catholics, not the least of which being Franciscan University- a focal point in the Catholic Charismatic renewal movement.
Rosemont Manor has been forced to remove its website marketing to 'alternative communities', "our house on the hill" (OHOTH), but it's regular B&B site still remains active- http://www.rosemontmanor.com/
Anyhow, here are his two pieces on the ongoing hell Rosemont is being put through-
“Not in My Neighborhood!”
Small Town or Big City, Alternate Lifestyles Face Hostility from the Neighbors
-Steve Lenius, Lavender Magazine
http://www.lavendermagazine.com/archives/308/article_3966.php
Return to Rosemont Manor: Look, Ma! I’m a Zoning Violation!
-Steve Lenius, Lavender Magazine
http://www.lavendermagazine.com/artman/publish/article_4830.php
The National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (http://www.ncsfreedom.org/)has also included OHOTH in their media updates.
To get a feel for how twilight zone this begins to feel, though, you simply must turn to articles from the West Virgina Record, such as this- http://www.wvrecord.com/news/198090-judge-orders-stop-to-adult-activities-at-weirton-mansion
which is perhaps best summerized by a sentence fragment found within- "how to apply zoning law to a kinky Web site".
Steve Lenius, writing in Lavender, ("Minnesota's GLBT magazine") has done a follow up on what's been happening to Rosemont Manor, a Kink/swinger/Leather/nudist/Queer friendly B&B and venue in West Virginia. No, not WVA down near VA, this is up in the panhandle, right along the Ohio river, almost due west of Pittsburgh, PA.
I know the area, and boy, do I ever know the media in that area. Steubenville, Ohio, by the way, is home not only to Dean Martin, but also one hell of a nest of Catholics, not the least of which being Franciscan University- a focal point in the Catholic Charismatic renewal movement.
Rosemont Manor has been forced to remove its website marketing to 'alternative communities', "our house on the hill" (OHOTH), but it's regular B&B site still remains active- http://www.rosemontmanor.com/
Anyhow, here are his two pieces on the ongoing hell Rosemont is being put through-
“Not in My Neighborhood!”
Small Town or Big City, Alternate Lifestyles Face Hostility from the Neighbors
-Steve Lenius, Lavender Magazine
http://www.lavendermagazine.com/archives/308/article_3966.php
Return to Rosemont Manor: Look, Ma! I’m a Zoning Violation!
-Steve Lenius, Lavender Magazine
http://www.lavendermagazine.com/artman/publish/article_4830.php
The National Coalition for Sexual Freedom (http://www.ncsfreedom.org/)has also included OHOTH in their media updates.
To get a feel for how twilight zone this begins to feel, though, you simply must turn to articles from the West Virgina Record, such as this- http://www.wvrecord.com/news/198090-judge-orders-stop-to-adult-activities-at-weirton-mansion
which is perhaps best summerized by a sentence fragment found within- "how to apply zoning law to a kinky Web site".
Monday, September 3, 2007
Life goes on
Well, despite the fact that I haven't found time this week to really write about all the Floating World experiences, life has been going on, and other things have been happening. So I'll eventually come back and do a FW recap, but for now I'm just going to fill in a few other bits.
Sir and I have been nesting here in the aftermath. The first few days home my shoulders and behind were sore, and he was taking a fair amount of pleasure merely in giving me a back rub or the occasional swat. It's a good event when the 'afterglow' lasts well into the week. There are also slightly less pleasant 'aftermaths' such as trying to get white face powder off the nice black leather blindfold. Good thing I got a nice big tub of saddle soap.
Monday evening, we got out the corset from Passional (yes, I am ahead of myself, I will go back and tell the story later), and I got to run about for part of the evening with it on, but not tightened down, not the first few times anyway, it needs time to adjust to my body and the wearing. But it was wonderful.
The room is finally back together, all the whips are rehung, tools cleaned and neatly put away. Other than the neatly folded basket of Sir's laundry that needs to be put away, everything is back in order there.
So we spent part of the week getting back together, and part of the week yearning for some alone time. I was spacey and flighty for much of the early part of the week, and clearly the event carried over for Sir as well.
Two new 'rules' were also made this week- one about when he's out of the house, the other being he finally gave me a place to put my hands while I await his attention- if he's programming, or reading, or such. They may seem small things, perhaps long overdue, but I think he's beginning to realize some of these particular small things matter.
Finally, Saturday night we went upstairs and made some time for training. We got out some of the leathers and let me lie quietly with my own thoughts, or not. Across the room, Sir read for a bit, then came over and tormented me. It was both a rather quiet evening, and full of intensity. I'm very content.
The last 24 hours I've felt very calm and happy.
Sir and I have been nesting here in the aftermath. The first few days home my shoulders and behind were sore, and he was taking a fair amount of pleasure merely in giving me a back rub or the occasional swat. It's a good event when the 'afterglow' lasts well into the week. There are also slightly less pleasant 'aftermaths' such as trying to get white face powder off the nice black leather blindfold. Good thing I got a nice big tub of saddle soap.
Monday evening, we got out the corset from Passional (yes, I am ahead of myself, I will go back and tell the story later), and I got to run about for part of the evening with it on, but not tightened down, not the first few times anyway, it needs time to adjust to my body and the wearing. But it was wonderful.
The room is finally back together, all the whips are rehung, tools cleaned and neatly put away. Other than the neatly folded basket of Sir's laundry that needs to be put away, everything is back in order there.
So we spent part of the week getting back together, and part of the week yearning for some alone time. I was spacey and flighty for much of the early part of the week, and clearly the event carried over for Sir as well.
Two new 'rules' were also made this week- one about when he's out of the house, the other being he finally gave me a place to put my hands while I await his attention- if he's programming, or reading, or such. They may seem small things, perhaps long overdue, but I think he's beginning to realize some of these particular small things matter.
Finally, Saturday night we went upstairs and made some time for training. We got out some of the leathers and let me lie quietly with my own thoughts, or not. Across the room, Sir read for a bit, then came over and tormented me. It was both a rather quiet evening, and full of intensity. I'm very content.
The last 24 hours I've felt very calm and happy.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Home from the Floating World
My head is spinning with all that this last weekend was. At the moment, I'm exhausted, but also very excited and hopeful. We had a very good weekend!
Sir and I finally got to some of the conversations and some of the particular 'doing' we've been working toward for a long time now. We didn't make very many of the (WAY overscheduled!) workshops, but I must say, the ones we missed, we usually missed for all the right reasons.
On the way back home from the Floating World, we made a stop in Philadelphia at Passional, and that is a story in and of itself, although right now, it has to be a story for another day.
So yes, LOTS of writing to do. At the moment, though, I'll just leave it at our safe return home and the fact that I would write more, but I'm simply too tired.
Sir and I finally got to some of the conversations and some of the particular 'doing' we've been working toward for a long time now. We didn't make very many of the (WAY overscheduled!) workshops, but I must say, the ones we missed, we usually missed for all the right reasons.
On the way back home from the Floating World, we made a stop in Philadelphia at Passional, and that is a story in and of itself, although right now, it has to be a story for another day.
So yes, LOTS of writing to do. At the moment, though, I'll just leave it at our safe return home and the fact that I would write more, but I'm simply too tired.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Morning after
We're still at the Floating World, today is the kinky Ren Faire and the dog and pony show :)
I'm feeling wonderful right this moment. I ache. We spent some time in a nice dark corner of the dungeon last night, and I have happy marks.
But the real news is that yes, one of the kimono came out last night, and I seem to have made some people happy. As I mentioned to Sir, the event was starting to become all talk, no Geisha, so we had to remedy that. (Although, I'm guessing we'll be seeing some kimonos today at the Ren Faire.)
In any case, I need to get moving, but things are going well on this end.
I'm feeling wonderful right this moment. I ache. We spent some time in a nice dark corner of the dungeon last night, and I have happy marks.
But the real news is that yes, one of the kimono came out last night, and I seem to have made some people happy. As I mentioned to Sir, the event was starting to become all talk, no Geisha, so we had to remedy that. (Although, I'm guessing we'll be seeing some kimonos today at the Ren Faire.)
In any case, I need to get moving, but things are going well on this end.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Presentation of Leathers and final preparations
Much has been going on this last week.
Last night Sir and I finally made some time for ourselves. I'm really glad we were able to find time for that before we left for the event.
There is lots of other news, first and foremost being my gift to Sir made it here before the event, so to mark our ten years together I presented him the wide black belt two nights ago. It looks really good- just I knew it would. As I've said, Sir isn't much into 'the look', he has his own style, but just catching a glimpse of him running around in his boots makes me happy.
My own 'replacement' jacket has also come in, so two nights ago Sir helped me into the jacket, and then the new vest (which will be set aside until I've earned it). It feels so very odd to have new, unbroken in leathers going into this event, but that's ok. I know that there's actually a decade of jacket behind this new one, and that's all that really matters. Last night, in the afterglow, Sir placed the new jacket around my shoulders and I felt very 'at peace'.
The cards are finally all completed, and I'm up to doing last minute laundry. Tonight's task will be carefully packing and loading all the odds and ends into luggage and then into the truck. If there is time, I'm still working out a particular playlist on my iPod, but I don't know that I'll get that far.
Sir seems so much more relaxed about all this than I do, but other than the packing frenzy, we're both completely on the same page about this event. It feels really good to know that we're not pulling opposite directions on this. I have no idea if the workshops will actually be useful, or if they'll merely piss me off, but I'm willing to try, walking in completely open to the possibility of this being a REALLY good event.
After last night, I'm already kind of 'floating'. Today, I'm in a really good mood and I feel like I can tackle all that needs to be done between now and when we leave. I woke up early and just jumped right into the day.
Last night Sir and I finally made some time for ourselves. I'm really glad we were able to find time for that before we left for the event.
There is lots of other news, first and foremost being my gift to Sir made it here before the event, so to mark our ten years together I presented him the wide black belt two nights ago. It looks really good- just I knew it would. As I've said, Sir isn't much into 'the look', he has his own style, but just catching a glimpse of him running around in his boots makes me happy.
My own 'replacement' jacket has also come in, so two nights ago Sir helped me into the jacket, and then the new vest (which will be set aside until I've earned it). It feels so very odd to have new, unbroken in leathers going into this event, but that's ok. I know that there's actually a decade of jacket behind this new one, and that's all that really matters. Last night, in the afterglow, Sir placed the new jacket around my shoulders and I felt very 'at peace'.
The cards are finally all completed, and I'm up to doing last minute laundry. Tonight's task will be carefully packing and loading all the odds and ends into luggage and then into the truck. If there is time, I'm still working out a particular playlist on my iPod, but I don't know that I'll get that far.
Sir seems so much more relaxed about all this than I do, but other than the packing frenzy, we're both completely on the same page about this event. It feels really good to know that we're not pulling opposite directions on this. I have no idea if the workshops will actually be useful, or if they'll merely piss me off, but I'm willing to try, walking in completely open to the possibility of this being a REALLY good event.
After last night, I'm already kind of 'floating'. Today, I'm in a really good mood and I feel like I can tackle all that needs to be done between now and when we leave. I woke up early and just jumped right into the day.
A rant that covers a lot of ground- getting things out of the way
This is another, older diary entry, from May '06;
Ok, so maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm a freak.
I'm intentionally not posting the source for what's got me railing this morning, as it seems a common enough attitude amongst SOME of the modern leather people I keep stumbling across. No need to publicly shame the women interviewed or who wrote the piece that's got me all riled up, (let's face it, the interviewee in question is doing the best she can to find her own way, and has found her own measure of happiness, I don't begrudge her that.) So I’ll dispense with the descriptions, other than to say the woman who expressed sentiments similar to the following self identifies as a Het leather person, a submissive who was interviewed by another self described "leather chick", "leader" who writes a webpage some other pages syndicate from time to time. Thus I stumbled across the comments I’m about to paraphrase.
When a 'submissive' someone or other makes a statement along the lines of-
"In the mornings I get up and make coffee for (Dom's first name), prepare His breakfast, and serve Him. Once that's out of the way..."
Again, maybe I'm just a fossil, but am I missing something?
If any part of one's 'service', whether that's making and 'serving' breakfast, or the more general morning 'service' one performs to one's (collared in this case) Top/Dom/whatever is merely a thing to "Get out of the way" I guess I’ve got some serious questions.
Any form of 'service' as merely something to get done and over with? Phew- yeek! When did that happen? I must have missed the memo.
As a self described (S/)switch myself, let me be the first to assure all within ‘earshot’, if I'm serving my Sir (I'd never refer to him by his First name in that context!) or any other partner, I'm fully present in the moment, and not looking forward to 'getting that over with'. I'm not suffering through, looking forward to 'me time' at the other end of this crap I have to endure. I’m right there, in that moment, in that doing, and no matter whether it be ‘shit work’ or the most pleasurable duties imaginable, I’m not biding my time. And that is EXACTLY where I wish to be.
Furthermore, as a S/(s)witch, coming at it from the Domme side, if any 'submissive' comes to my life and my space with that kind of outlook, they've no business being mine. Period.
It’s the Leather equivalent of the vanilla, “Beige, I think I’m paint the ceiling beige” whist lying upon one’s back and ‘thinking of England’.
As should be clear by now, I'm not in any way saying this kind of ‘get it over and done with’ attitude is unique to the Het leather scene, just that that's where I've found much much more of it. I can only assume that perhaps some of the rigors of Queer Leather life, and some of the risks we face (by our mere existence) as Leather Queers shape us a bit differently. Our rare spaces are all the more valuable in that they are rare. Incredibly so for Leatherwomyn. Our ability to sexually be who we are is a hard fought battle, not something to try on for size, or 'play' with.
When I came to Leather, it was the 'work', Tools, not toys. As there was always risk not merely involved, but at the forefront of our minds, this was nothing one took lightly. Perhaps we came to our Leather identities despite the risks, as we could no longer live in ways that denied our deepest selves, it was compelling to live out that truth, and was not confined to bedroom behaviours, it was who and what we were. Certainly some in the Het scene live this too, but for others, I grow concerned. Drive, Passion, and the demand to let our truth live out our lives sometimes seems absent. And yes, that absence can also be apparent in the Queer crowd.
Still, it takes a certain something to find the hidden places on the bad side of town, show that you are worthy of an invite, and show that willingness to learn, and can and will behave properly when you finally reach that dimly lit Shangri-la. These are acts of need, and it is a vetting process of sorts, something unimaginable to those who look for the next munch on the local leather calendar and show up having read ‘the books’ and thinking they know, and thus don’t need to sit quietly and watch. ‘Net know’ is worlds apart from knowing. Knowing comes borne of risk and threat, and trust and honour. Consequences were always just around the next corner. And in an age when communications were so incredibly different, finding a kindred spirit was a rare and wondrous thing, never to be taken for granted.
Yeah, and no doubt we walked uphill both ways through a foot of snow to and from the Leatherspace.
Well some did, but they did so before my time, so I was fortunate enough to be able to walk in their footprints. Some in today's 'scene' deny there ever were footprints, much less that there could possibly be any value or worth in following such. For all the lip service the Leather Archives gets in Het-land, I don't see the same understanding of it from Het Leatherpeople.
So here I sit, a Bi, S/(s)witch Leatherwomyn, collared to her Sir. Confused yet? I'm not. I know exactly where I stand.
Unfortunately, where I stand is outside many structures, and with this further devaluing (my judgement, my journal, my opinion- deal) I keep running across, I feel distant and often repulsed by what passes for today's Leatherculture. And I'm not the only one. Other folks who have been around for a while, some may notice, are not 'around' so much anymore. And that's a damn shame, considering that as this devaluing continues to slide, people who remember ways it 'used to be' are in many ways more in demand than ever. The constant drumbeat for 'leaders' for 'mentors' and this odd fascination with romanticized notions and mythologies of 'old guard' are all just expressions of yearning. Yearning to be a part of a tradition, to know you're not alone, others have tread this path before, and that yes, since S/m has many genuine risks to it, both technical and societal, you're not completely alone out there working 'without a net'. To both good and ill, this then gains expression through both institutionalization and shared notions of 'common rules' which in some cases were never intended to be such.
Take, for example, a (somewhat changing) set of rules that were scrawled off for play parties at science fiction conventions (back in the day). These were specifically designed for the kinds of venues they would be used in, and among that particular subset of the broader 'scene' for the duration of certain specific events- cons. Yet over time, as many Het couples got their first in person introduction to the scene by way of those parties, when they began throwing their own parties, the rules migrated along with them. Few revisions were made to suit the new venues and subsets of the community, instead, the hastily scrawled off rules became regarded as community norms. It's not dissimilar to a game of telephone, played out in fetishwear. The 'rules' which were never THE RULES, became THE RULES to the exclusion of all else. What people miss is that THE RULES were jotted down, perhaps on something as simple as a napkin back over a meal with friends. They were written by people looking at a situation- one which had certain legal parameters.
The idea of other people coming up with other guidelines that more aptly fit their circumstances has become verboten, as now messing with the 'sacred texts' has become tantamount to stepping beyond the parameters of community standards. It's weird as hell to watch recent marketing slogans that we aimed at external, non-kinky culture like "safe, sane, and consensual" become not only THE LAW, but also something many now demand we hold one another, internal to Leatherculture to- always forgetting that some of us were Leatherfolk, tormenting pretty girls long before their precious LAW had even been dreamed up.
So what does this all have to do with little miss 'once that's over with'? Something's getting lost. Or maybe it already got lost.
Call it gut, but something has been lost, when I now watch people writing online about how you must NEVER play with anyone who 'manipulates you', or makes you feel 'out of control'. I don't even recognize this new 'leather' scene. Some of us just find such notions outright laughable. Feeling, ‘manipulated’ or ‘out of control’ may not merely be the hottest and wettest for some people, it may well be THE POINT!
So the 'mentors' new Leather craves so desperately just stop showing up to events. In part, because we don't need flogging 101 for the 150th time. But also for the deeper reasons, we simply have no idea how to function in a world where 'submissives' expect their 'Dommes' to e-mail them a week before the 'date' with an outline, detailing every aspect of what a 'scene' will look like, so the 'subbie' in question can shop around to get exactly what they want. (Real example here folks.)
Another reason some of us are disappearing is a simple logistical one. I may be collared by a man, but that does not mean we are a Het couple, and when I choose to be with a womyn, I'm immediately written off as being contaminated by the man in my life. There are few spaces that accept the realities of the fluidity of some of our sexualities. Simplistic breakdowns by gender or by what sex or gender one's partner may be, or may be playing don't work for some of us. And we need spaces that reflect those realities.
As an artist, I sometimes talk about ‘art that needs an manual’, if it takes 300 pages to explain it to the average person, mostly written in ‘art-speak-ese’, my guess is the piece has failed to communicate. (Hah! Get a load of the length of this diary!) Venues for Leather communities can likewise, fail under the weight of the manuals required to sort out the who’s who and who’s doing what, and what do we think of that? This is some of why many elders have retreated into Leather families, Leather houses, and private clubs, most Leather scene-sters will never even realize are there. We don’t want manuals or to have to ask permission to love who and how we do, not from the outside world, and doubly so from whatever passes for our chosen ‘community’.
The stark realities of pre-net and post-net Leatherpeople and our cultural ‘norms’, sometimes feel insurmountable. Ultimately, it’s a loss to both, those recent, and those elders. Despite the divisions, both real and artificial, we need one another. That is the real travesty here. To people like myself “Leather service” alongside “once that's out of the way..." are simply unimaginable. But my guess is, the Leatherworld I inhabit may be equally unfathomable to the woman in question. Yes we each have found our happinesses. But when the interweave of generations in a shared culture (if we still have one) is torn, the loss is great. Thus I find myself talking with two sets of friends- would be mentors bemoan their lack of ability to find someone to pass on their skills, history, traditions and knowledge to, and those young in Leather, bemoaning their inability to find voices of experience.
To restore some of our voices to the 'community' the 'bad' news (for some) is that some venues (not all) are going to have be a bit more complicated- places where you won't be able to tell what's going on by merely looking as visual cues like gender or even preconceptions. 'Scorecards' may practically become 'necessary', (as if they weren’t already? Fear not, I'm only joking, most of already have our hands quite full, thank you!)The 'good' news, though, is that if there are spaces in which we can be ourselves, I'm guessing some folks would gladly come back. We too feel a desire to pass on our knowledge, Some feel drawn to being ‘voices of the old ways’, yet feel stifled by rigid compartmentalized subsets of 'community' in terms of spaces and what they feel they can comfortably say and do. No I’m not talking merely spaces friendly to genders in different arrangements, I’m talking about spaces in which not adhering to the magic incantation ‘safe sane and consensual’ is not grounds for gathering up the villagers, lighting torches, and a mob making its way up toward the strange dark house on the hill where the ‘monster’ lives.
The other good news, is that for some of us, this is Leather is our lives, it's damn real, and we don't live anywhere where getting any of this, even a single moment of it 'out of the way' ever crosses our minds, mid-service or otherwise.
Getting some dirty laundry "out of the way"
Ok, so maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm a freak.
I'm intentionally not posting the source for what's got me railing this morning, as it seems a common enough attitude amongst SOME of the modern leather people I keep stumbling across. No need to publicly shame the women interviewed or who wrote the piece that's got me all riled up, (let's face it, the interviewee in question is doing the best she can to find her own way, and has found her own measure of happiness, I don't begrudge her that.) So I’ll dispense with the descriptions, other than to say the woman who expressed sentiments similar to the following self identifies as a Het leather person, a submissive who was interviewed by another self described "leather chick", "leader" who writes a webpage some other pages syndicate from time to time. Thus I stumbled across the comments I’m about to paraphrase.
When a 'submissive' someone or other makes a statement along the lines of-
"In the mornings I get up and make coffee for (Dom's first name), prepare His breakfast, and serve Him. Once that's out of the way..."
Again, maybe I'm just a fossil, but am I missing something?
If any part of one's 'service', whether that's making and 'serving' breakfast, or the more general morning 'service' one performs to one's (collared in this case) Top/Dom/whatever is merely a thing to "Get out of the way" I guess I’ve got some serious questions.
Any form of 'service' as merely something to get done and over with? Phew- yeek! When did that happen? I must have missed the memo.
As a self described (S/)switch myself, let me be the first to assure all within ‘earshot’, if I'm serving my Sir (I'd never refer to him by his First name in that context!) or any other partner, I'm fully present in the moment, and not looking forward to 'getting that over with'. I'm not suffering through, looking forward to 'me time' at the other end of this crap I have to endure. I’m right there, in that moment, in that doing, and no matter whether it be ‘shit work’ or the most pleasurable duties imaginable, I’m not biding my time. And that is EXACTLY where I wish to be.
Furthermore, as a S/(s)witch, coming at it from the Domme side, if any 'submissive' comes to my life and my space with that kind of outlook, they've no business being mine. Period.
It’s the Leather equivalent of the vanilla, “Beige, I think I’m paint the ceiling beige” whist lying upon one’s back and ‘thinking of England’.
As should be clear by now, I'm not in any way saying this kind of ‘get it over and done with’ attitude is unique to the Het leather scene, just that that's where I've found much much more of it. I can only assume that perhaps some of the rigors of Queer Leather life, and some of the risks we face (by our mere existence) as Leather Queers shape us a bit differently. Our rare spaces are all the more valuable in that they are rare. Incredibly so for Leatherwomyn. Our ability to sexually be who we are is a hard fought battle, not something to try on for size, or 'play' with.
When I came to Leather, it was the 'work', Tools, not toys. As there was always risk not merely involved, but at the forefront of our minds, this was nothing one took lightly. Perhaps we came to our Leather identities despite the risks, as we could no longer live in ways that denied our deepest selves, it was compelling to live out that truth, and was not confined to bedroom behaviours, it was who and what we were. Certainly some in the Het scene live this too, but for others, I grow concerned. Drive, Passion, and the demand to let our truth live out our lives sometimes seems absent. And yes, that absence can also be apparent in the Queer crowd.
Still, it takes a certain something to find the hidden places on the bad side of town, show that you are worthy of an invite, and show that willingness to learn, and can and will behave properly when you finally reach that dimly lit Shangri-la. These are acts of need, and it is a vetting process of sorts, something unimaginable to those who look for the next munch on the local leather calendar and show up having read ‘the books’ and thinking they know, and thus don’t need to sit quietly and watch. ‘Net know’ is worlds apart from knowing. Knowing comes borne of risk and threat, and trust and honour. Consequences were always just around the next corner. And in an age when communications were so incredibly different, finding a kindred spirit was a rare and wondrous thing, never to be taken for granted.
Yeah, and no doubt we walked uphill both ways through a foot of snow to and from the Leatherspace.
Well some did, but they did so before my time, so I was fortunate enough to be able to walk in their footprints. Some in today's 'scene' deny there ever were footprints, much less that there could possibly be any value or worth in following such. For all the lip service the Leather Archives gets in Het-land, I don't see the same understanding of it from Het Leatherpeople.
So here I sit, a Bi, S/(s)witch Leatherwomyn, collared to her Sir. Confused yet? I'm not. I know exactly where I stand.
Unfortunately, where I stand is outside many structures, and with this further devaluing (my judgement, my journal, my opinion- deal) I keep running across, I feel distant and often repulsed by what passes for today's Leatherculture. And I'm not the only one. Other folks who have been around for a while, some may notice, are not 'around' so much anymore. And that's a damn shame, considering that as this devaluing continues to slide, people who remember ways it 'used to be' are in many ways more in demand than ever. The constant drumbeat for 'leaders' for 'mentors' and this odd fascination with romanticized notions and mythologies of 'old guard' are all just expressions of yearning. Yearning to be a part of a tradition, to know you're not alone, others have tread this path before, and that yes, since S/m has many genuine risks to it, both technical and societal, you're not completely alone out there working 'without a net'. To both good and ill, this then gains expression through both institutionalization and shared notions of 'common rules' which in some cases were never intended to be such.
Take, for example, a (somewhat changing) set of rules that were scrawled off for play parties at science fiction conventions (back in the day). These were specifically designed for the kinds of venues they would be used in, and among that particular subset of the broader 'scene' for the duration of certain specific events- cons. Yet over time, as many Het couples got their first in person introduction to the scene by way of those parties, when they began throwing their own parties, the rules migrated along with them. Few revisions were made to suit the new venues and subsets of the community, instead, the hastily scrawled off rules became regarded as community norms. It's not dissimilar to a game of telephone, played out in fetishwear. The 'rules' which were never THE RULES, became THE RULES to the exclusion of all else. What people miss is that THE RULES were jotted down, perhaps on something as simple as a napkin back over a meal with friends. They were written by people looking at a situation- one which had certain legal parameters.
The idea of other people coming up with other guidelines that more aptly fit their circumstances has become verboten, as now messing with the 'sacred texts' has become tantamount to stepping beyond the parameters of community standards. It's weird as hell to watch recent marketing slogans that we aimed at external, non-kinky culture like "safe, sane, and consensual" become not only THE LAW, but also something many now demand we hold one another, internal to Leatherculture to- always forgetting that some of us were Leatherfolk, tormenting pretty girls long before their precious LAW had even been dreamed up.
So what does this all have to do with little miss 'once that's over with'? Something's getting lost. Or maybe it already got lost.
Call it gut, but something has been lost, when I now watch people writing online about how you must NEVER play with anyone who 'manipulates you', or makes you feel 'out of control'. I don't even recognize this new 'leather' scene. Some of us just find such notions outright laughable. Feeling, ‘manipulated’ or ‘out of control’ may not merely be the hottest and wettest for some people, it may well be THE POINT!
So the 'mentors' new Leather craves so desperately just stop showing up to events. In part, because we don't need flogging 101 for the 150th time. But also for the deeper reasons, we simply have no idea how to function in a world where 'submissives' expect their 'Dommes' to e-mail them a week before the 'date' with an outline, detailing every aspect of what a 'scene' will look like, so the 'subbie' in question can shop around to get exactly what they want. (Real example here folks.)
Another reason some of us are disappearing is a simple logistical one. I may be collared by a man, but that does not mean we are a Het couple, and when I choose to be with a womyn, I'm immediately written off as being contaminated by the man in my life. There are few spaces that accept the realities of the fluidity of some of our sexualities. Simplistic breakdowns by gender or by what sex or gender one's partner may be, or may be playing don't work for some of us. And we need spaces that reflect those realities.
As an artist, I sometimes talk about ‘art that needs an manual’, if it takes 300 pages to explain it to the average person, mostly written in ‘art-speak-ese’, my guess is the piece has failed to communicate. (Hah! Get a load of the length of this diary!) Venues for Leather communities can likewise, fail under the weight of the manuals required to sort out the who’s who and who’s doing what, and what do we think of that? This is some of why many elders have retreated into Leather families, Leather houses, and private clubs, most Leather scene-sters will never even realize are there. We don’t want manuals or to have to ask permission to love who and how we do, not from the outside world, and doubly so from whatever passes for our chosen ‘community’.
The stark realities of pre-net and post-net Leatherpeople and our cultural ‘norms’, sometimes feel insurmountable. Ultimately, it’s a loss to both, those recent, and those elders. Despite the divisions, both real and artificial, we need one another. That is the real travesty here. To people like myself “Leather service” alongside “once that's out of the way..." are simply unimaginable. But my guess is, the Leatherworld I inhabit may be equally unfathomable to the woman in question. Yes we each have found our happinesses. But when the interweave of generations in a shared culture (if we still have one) is torn, the loss is great. Thus I find myself talking with two sets of friends- would be mentors bemoan their lack of ability to find someone to pass on their skills, history, traditions and knowledge to, and those young in Leather, bemoaning their inability to find voices of experience.
To restore some of our voices to the 'community' the 'bad' news (for some) is that some venues (not all) are going to have be a bit more complicated- places where you won't be able to tell what's going on by merely looking as visual cues like gender or even preconceptions. 'Scorecards' may practically become 'necessary', (as if they weren’t already? Fear not, I'm only joking, most of already have our hands quite full, thank you!)The 'good' news, though, is that if there are spaces in which we can be ourselves, I'm guessing some folks would gladly come back. We too feel a desire to pass on our knowledge, Some feel drawn to being ‘voices of the old ways’, yet feel stifled by rigid compartmentalized subsets of 'community' in terms of spaces and what they feel they can comfortably say and do. No I’m not talking merely spaces friendly to genders in different arrangements, I’m talking about spaces in which not adhering to the magic incantation ‘safe sane and consensual’ is not grounds for gathering up the villagers, lighting torches, and a mob making its way up toward the strange dark house on the hill where the ‘monster’ lives.
The other good news, is that for some of us, this is Leather is our lives, it's damn real, and we don't live anywhere where getting any of this, even a single moment of it 'out of the way' ever crosses our minds, mid-service or otherwise.
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