So long Bettie Page. So long, and thanks for the memories.

Like most of the rest of the world, for me it was the photographs first. Long before I knew anything about Bettie Page the person, I knew the curl of her lip, the intense look in her eyes, the dark hair, high heels and the stockings, gloves and corsets (oh my!)

Images of Bettie like the one here to the left still to this very day, hold the power to take my breath away.

I'm not going to attempt to tell her story here, most of you already either knew it, or have spent the past day or so getting acquainted with the realities of her life.

Her life beyond the photography studios and outdoor sets took her to people and places and parts of the world far from those idealized moments captured in the images.

So in writing this, I begin how it began for me, with the images themselves and the now long lost world they came from.

Her passing is an occasion to contemplate the vast changes that have taken place in the world of fetish and BDSM in relation to communications and community.

Bettie became the icon she was due to the growth of the camera clubs and Irving Klaw's mailing list of then deeply closeted (purely for day to day survival purposes) clients. She was for all intents and purposes the first bondage supermodel to what was not so much a "community," as a matter of individuals secretly purchasing the images.

The photographs and films she starred in were not so much depictions of her own sexuality, rather they were often based upon requests from those purchasing the materials.

For me, (like many of her fans,) it was always about a certain look in her eye. Be that playing the confident, playful, or sultry Mistress, or the looks of concern or even fear at impending suffering that might lie ahead of her, depicted as the helpless beauty usually whist held captive in some form of bondage.

Her acting classes aside, the photographs capture the feeling of some of the most rare moments that Kinky people treasure; looks of apprehension and loss of control, becoming a canvas to an artist, both needing and fearing what comes next.

Or the slight smile at the corners of one's owner's mouth as she prepares to correct or discipline a girl who is clearly in need of it.

Being S/switch, I've both worn and known each of those looks myself.

I've seen similar on the faces of those I've loved.

Most of all though, I understand Bettie's frequent expressions of playfulness or triumph or of sheer joy.

We catch glimpses of these, from time to time, sometimes on the faces of others, sometimes on the faces of those we love.

We know what those moments feel like.

Perhaps that was the secret of why Bettie connected with her audience in the ways in which she did.

Yes, she was beautiful, that was clear from the start. Beautiful in an iconic idealized, unattainable way when it came to real life for most. But we could recognize in those photographs moments that we ourselves had either cherished (for those so fortunate as to actually have lived such out,) or for those at the time, much more likely merely fantasized about.

Looking through the images today, one of the more interesting aspects of them is how contemporary the tools appear. So many of the same sorts of fetish items and tools were in use back then as well; laced up hobble skirts, arm-binders, hoods, leather corsets, furs, extreme heels and thigh high boots, metal fetters and shackles, chains, and clips, spreader bars, harnesses, leather gags and blindfolds, and of course, the ever present seductive lingerie.

Plenty of everyday household items make appearances as tools as well, plenty of rope and hairbrush spankings.

Another thing I find very striking about the images is that Bettie Page taught the world that yes, real Femmes can wield whips.

In a day and age where gender roles are so frequently broken down into Butch or Masculine being equated to "Dominant", and Femme or Feminine as equated to "submissive", it's remarkably refreshing to see images of a no-doubt-about-it Femme fatale not in the roles of "Service top" to a man, but as an active Mistress in her own right, secure in her own oh so Femme skin.

Which happily brings us to the obvious. Many of these were portrayals of womyn playing with other womyn- unapologetically so. While such clearly had much to do with the inner fantasy life of the (male) clientele, the interactions still portrayed possibilities.

For Queers such as myself, who discovered Bettie during her 'cult following' resurgence, these were some of the few images of womyn training, controlling, and "correcting" one another we had available to us that provided a sense of ourselves as having a form of a pre-existing historical yet fully modern context.

"Coming to Power" was first published in 1981, but by and large any form of organized Leather was in many ways still a male domain. Straightforward images of womyn "doing THINGS" to one another along these lines while certainly practiced, had very little imagery as fodder for fantasy.

You can only imagine my happiness at having discovered images of Bettie on her knees 'in service' as a Lady's maid, or of her lovingly domineering a bound and gagged female victim.

While these may have been images created for men, certainly the Lady's maid imagery implies a fantasy relationship wherein for even just a snapshot, the world narrows down to just these two womyn, a shared intimate moment, and a smile.

These images were important, not only to me, to other kinky and Leather womyn as well. They were more than fantasy material.

For S/switch womyn they held double meaning, did we want to submit to her or feel powerful and beautiful like her when we are in control. Did we empathize with her as the bound beauty or did we long to be with, and a possess a womyn like Bettie ourselves?

These were images that related to how we envisioned structuring our relationships, not of an occasional hot date on a Saturday night.

They had to do with both womyn we dreamed of sharing our lives with and at the same time, our own self images as womyn of Leather.

Unfortunately, unlike the fantasy world of the images themselves, and the aspects of womyn's sexualities portrayed in them, Bettie's own life experiences beyond the lens had a very great deal of sadness to it.

Her "real world" actions and religiosity cast a dark cloud over the photographs which had been at the time so important to me.

In the late 50's she underwent a religious conversion experience that ultimately aligned her with the very people who sought to stamp out the very things she herself had participated in. This led to a self imposed closeting, and later life fraught with contradictions.

(For more detail on some of the following see Chapter 10 of "The Real Betty Page" by Richard Foster. The book is well, the book, but this particular chapter does give an account, with many of the names and dates being useful.)

On New Year's eve 1958, she attended a service of what has now become the Key West Baptist Temple (At the time it was the "Latin American Baptist Temple." The preacher that night was Morris, or M.O. Wright. He had gotten his start in the jesus business after killing a man in a fatal car wreck. He was sentenced to a year in jail. While there, he got religion, and got his start by preaching at cellmates. )

Having been born in Nashville, Tennessee in 1923, and lived in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Betty found herself attracted to the interracial service.

Keep in mind this was America in 1958. The Civil Rights movement was in many ways in its early years. 1958 was after the Montgomery bus boycott and Little Rock, when President Eisenhower had called up the paratroopers to escort the nine black students to Central High, but well before the Freedom Riders, James Meredith, Medgar Evers, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act, the King assassination, etc.

She went on to be described as having had a "born-again" experience when she returned to the church and participated in the altar call the following week. (Not terribly long thereafter, in 1959, the English speaking growing portion of the congregation under Wright would go on to break away from the pre-existing Cuban and Spanish speaking congregation.)

When Bettie arrived at the Latin American Baptist Temple that night it was after an argument with her then husband, Armond Walterson, one of many such arguments, that ultimately led to the end of her marriage.

A series of misfortunes had struck her in the year before, from enduring a back injury that had left her in a wheelchair for four months to financial woes that led to her being evicted from her New Jersey storage space, the owner selling all her possessions including her modeling portfolio.

In a very real sense, she had come to a place of her past being gone, and her marriage being in a very real sense over. That night as she walked down White Street, she was at a moment of openness and vulnerability.

Evangelists often prey upon those who have as they like to put it, "come to the end of themselves." And Bettie was no exception.

Though she didn't speak about her past, she was incorporated into the religious infrastructure just as many "trophy converts" are. Wright counts the infamous Betty Page among his converts.

She worked full time for the Billy Graham organization, and while at Multnomah, one of several bible school programs she was involved with, (BIOLA, the Bible Institute of Los Angles, Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, Multnomah School of the Bible, in Portland Oregon, and a christian retreat called "Bibletown" put on by the Boca Raton Community Church in Florida,) she volunteered at "The Louise Home" (a nonsectarian missionary proposition focused upon "unwed mothers".)

Also while at Multnomah she wanted to go to Africa as a missionary, but the Multnomah Mission board disqualified her for having divorced. She went on to briefly remarry her first husband, Billy Neal, which did lead to her being able to do missionary work, but that marriage was but one of her many that ended in divorce.

So why go into all this?

Well, I too have spent some long dark nights in Key West wandering down White Street towards the shore. Fortunately though, her story is most definitely not my story.

The Baptist Temple is out on Stock Island now, but it's still the local damnation awaits YOU "problem child."

They are, in short, the resident bat-shit homophobic church.

Wright can be counted onto make comments the likes of, for example, him having decided Key West's annual Halloween festival, Fantasy Fest, is "a revial of demonism and Babylonianism" and brings down the wrath of god upon Key West.

I'm not saying that Betty herself was anti-gay, merely that the preacher and church that she turned to based on her impression of its inclusiveness that was such an instrumental aspect of her conversion process, has gone on to be known for being anything but.

Betty did not talk about her former modeling career and the "naughty pictures" in her past, but clearly, if her newfound "friends" would reject her for having divorced, you can imagine what they would have thought of her had they known the full story at the time.

She embraced an identity that precluded her own history. Her quest for acceptance, while not invalidating her earlier life in any way, led to it being buried and lost to everyone except those few who perhaps having kept the pictures of the jet-haired beauty keeping memory itself alive.

A number of Bettie's later years were spent in mental hospitals under state supervision. She was finally released in 1992.

In one of the better summations of her life I've seen since her death, Peter Tupper on Beauty in Darkness: the history of BDSM described her as a "cipher," going on to explain:

"Maybe it's because she dropped out of public view before the sexual revolution really got going, and issues of sexual expression became politicized. She was an icon to a revolution that she didn't really participate in. A sex object without sexual politics, never a speaking subject."

(Although as I'll mention below Bettie herself came to be a key example of politicized sexual expression due to the Congressional hearings.)

In the end, I don't know whether or not she ever understood how much she meant to the men who hid and kept her pictures, let alone the Queer womyn who later saw in them important reflections of our sexuality, self images, and desires.

The sexual abuse and poverty she endured may have made it difficult for her to look back on parts of her modeling days.

But certainly in recent years, she has been celebrated and as new generations have found her, they too have seen in those early pictures images of beauty, or strength, of power, and a womyn not ashamed of either her actions and interactions with other womyn, nor of her body.

Klaw and thereby Bettie were subjects of the notorious Kefauver Hearings (of the United States Senate Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency.) She was called before Congress to explain the photographs but in the end was excused from testifying. Many of the negatives of the original prints were destroyed by court order.

Those that survived, survived by acts of both defiance and love.

They survived long enough for me to see myself, and the womyn I've loved in them. Long enough to provide a role model of sorts in today's kink community, that of a strong womyn of both whips and lace, a womyn whose otherwise invisible sexuality is outside of state sanction, and in relation to other womyn.

The images helped some of us see some of our desires reflected in an external culture, enacted by someone who despite her conversion experience did not feel regret over them

To quote Bettie herself, commenting on her pin-up career in a 1988 Playboy interview:

"I never thought it was shameful. I felt normal."

In feeling "normal" before the cameras, she helped some of us feel a bit more "normal" as well.

When I look at her bondage pictures now, I take them at face value, as what they were at the time. Beyond a girl earning a living, they represent a moment in time, when the " Leather community" had more to do with a bunch of gay fellas riding motorcycles who had been home from WWII for a few years.

Finding such images as close as a web search to those who lived in that climate, is an undeniable quantifiable change, (and in many ways, simply beyond comprehension.)

These were "dangerous" images that came close to being destroyed forever. Those who would if they could are still with us, many of them wearing crosses around their necks.

While remembering the history, I try to look past those whose bigotry nearly led to the destruction of these images and Bettie's own embrace of Wright, hiding her past lest she no longer be considered part of the fold, and instead, look to all that I first saw in those images.

So so long, and thanks for the memories.

Nothing can negate those.


(With special thanks to "It's just Jack"'s Bettie Page flickr photo collection and Queen of Pinups- Bettie Page)

BESS- "Shibari"

So once again we decided to head out to the Wednesday night BESS educational meeting, this time focusing on "Shibari" (kinbaku or kinbaku-bi.)

Not surprisingly, the room was packed. Makes me wonder when this area is going to get around to some kind of mid-Altantic rope group, (though I certainly haven't the time to start one.)

As I've done before, I'll cut and paste the description, more for my own benefit and memory than any other reasons,.

Oct 15th, Shibari presented by Arthur-

Shibari is the Japanese art of stylized ritualistic bondage. Arthur will undertake to demonstrate and instruct the basic methods of limb bondage, torso bondage, hand and foot bondage and to integrate them all or portions of them into a coherent whole for a scene. During the demo he will discuss the history of Shibari here and in Japan and recommend books for further reading.

Arthur: Arthur is an experienced Dominant Top with many years in the lifestyle both in NYC and Baltimore. He has taught on numerous subjects and truly enjoys the interaction of the demo and the classroom. He lives with his girl, nina and daisy, their ginormus dog. He currently makes a living as an Alternative Haberdasher as the 3 of them run PowerXchange by nina, Baltimore's Alternative Clothing Store.

(Here's the link for powerXchange by Nina .)

All in all I think it was a pretty good 101 overview. As Sir put it, perhaps the most beneficial aspect of it was simply having the luxury of someone comfortable working with rope going through the ties step by step. While we've certainly seen such before, it never ceases to inspire.

I often have an easier time dealing with some of the spacial awareness aspects of rope than Sir, so as he said, simply watching Arthur was useful.

I also always enjoy watching a demo model with a great amount of flexibility undergo some of the more strenuous poses. Knowing that I am simply physically incapable of doing some of the stances, it's still interesting to watch those who can.

On the other hand, knowing the limitations of my body is also why I am interested in some of the more 'adaptive ropework' workshops. Kinbaku, when it is really 'successful' to my eye at least is deeply personal rather than formulaic. When ropes and body work together forming a coherent whole, (even, or perhaps especially when designed for discomfort,) is when I find the interplay most beautiful.

In any case, through the course of the evening Arthur explained a variety of ties and kept the rope moving.

I should also mention that last September was the first time we wandered into a BESS meeting, so we've been around the edges, attending the occasional meeting for slightly more than a year now.

We are not members and probably unlikely to become such as we value our GDI nature and honestly have little time.

It's an interesting mix, while there is definitely a Queer presence, it feels the way many geographically based groups do. It is likely a bit more familiar and comfortable for Sir in some ways than it is for me.

Then again, he might feel equally 'slightly out of place' at Queer centric Leather events.

Both Black Rose and BESS being some of the larger and somewhat public gateway groups in the general area, it's very much the cultural norm for what's semi local to us. While not exactly 'involved' in either, this will be our second year at a BR event and we've made it to at least a few BESS educational meetings over the past year.

It seemed important to note.

Late Summer/Early Autumn

I know, it's been a long time since I've posted. This after saying I was hoping to post more frequently. Worse, I left off on part 1 of what was to be a 3 part piece. I'll get to the rest of Floating World eventually, just not right this instant.

Sir and I have been incredibly busy as of late. I keep wanting to carve out some time to write parts 2 and 3, but ultimately other things are going by that I haven't written about out of trying to 'sit down and take the time it takes' to do those FW posts justice.

So for the moment I'm setting those aside and getting on with it, until I find time to come back to them.

Despite our hectic schedule, we did manage to attend an interesting BESS educational meeting back in August. The presentation topic was "Contracts, Collars, and Relationships." It gave us much to contemplate. I always find it interesting to hear someone who has put serious thought into how they do things and why.

The aftermath of seeing a presentation like that for us, tends to result in important discussions about our own structure and the how and why we do things the way we do, as well as how to bring further intentionality to parts of our relationship. It's probably very good for Sir to spend some time listening to others as he has seen fewer of these kinds of presentations than I have.

It's been part of my process of learning what I want and more importantly, learning how to articulate such after I figure it out. Part of good negotiations with any partner or potential partner comes down to not only knowing what you want but having the skill to speak clearly about such.

Inventories, assessments, Household protocols, petitions, contracts and other such written or verbal tools can be useful steps in finding the direction you hope to head, and refining your ability to express it to others.

Anytime I find the opportunity to look over the materials and tools others use, I usually find that time well spent. (With a few notable exceptions.)

The other major piece of news is that we've made the decision to return for Black Rose XXI at the end of the month. Several factors led to the decision, most of which, perhaps surprisingly, have little to do with Black Rose as an organization itself.

Over the Floating World, we spent most of our time in workshops relating to relationship structuring and yes to some degree workshops aimed primarily at the Master/slave dynamic.

Master and slave are not terms, nor necessarily a subculture, that resonates directly for the two of us as a way to describe our relationship. I tend to find it particularly jarring, as M/s dynamics hold very distinct Queer meanings for me, and yet I find myself in a relationship with man. I understand how so called 'het' Leather cultures utilize such (not that we consider ourselves a 'het' relationship by any stretch). But the terminology will probably always primarily hold Queer Leather associations for me, personally. Terminology aside for the moment though, Sir and I are finding many of our areas of interest overlap significantly with M/s end of things, certainly as opposed to other descriptive terminology such as D/s.

I am Sir's property/possession. We live this out our own version of 24/7. Submission is one of many components of our relationship, but not necessarily the single most important defining characteristic. Another important aspect is that we've been at this for quite some time now, long enough to settle into a relatively stable structure with set ways certain things are done.

So many of our workshop choices over FW focused less on proper singletail technique for example, and more on how we structure our lives and relationship within a Leather context.

But an events' worth of workshops focusing on such, followed by the many conversations that come in the aftermath of such sessions, over meals, late at night, etc, can lead to coming off an event somewhat emotionally exhausted if you're not careful. Fortunately, pacing ourselves was precisely what we did.

The upside has been that coming off Floating World we've been putting some intentionality towards structuring parts of our Leather Household that were a bit less defined before. Some of those conversations have also led to some good 'work' time spent together as well. Times we both treasure.

But the other side of such was that, it that led to really two things; not seeing as many workshops as we might have liked to and not seeing as many directly 'dungeon related skills' related workshops (think things along the lines of the finer details of proper skin stapling technique) as we might have liked to.

Going to BR XXI then becomes a way to attend some more 'skills-based' kinds of workshops. As it's all in one building, attending workshops or not, together or separately is certainly easy, and the dungeon is also close at hand. (I appreciate FW's arrangements for its own reasons, just as I appreciate insular events like BR for their own, they're both very different.) Finally, and perhaps most importantly it's an opportunity to spend time with others in our local community.

While we both tend to focus on our own Household, I guess I've been feeling just a little bit more social as of late, and interested in connecting with others locally. Events like BR then become a way of putting one's toe in.

Floating World II, Part 1 (Thursday and Friday)

We're back from Floating World a week now, and I'm only now settling back in enough to even begin to write about it all. We've been busy all week catching up with friends, going to meetings etc. I've spent some of this week reading what others have written about their experiences at the event. Naturally, I'm still feeling a bit 'spacey', not just from the event itself, but some of the things we did over the event, as well as some of the ways in which we're bringing parts of what we learned there and felt there home with us.

In many ways it was a really wonderful weekend for us, partially due to the event itself, and partially in that it was an important time for the two of us as well. Unlike many events where we have focused on gaining or practicing skills with tools, this ended up being a very relationship focused set of workshops for us. We didn't really make all that many of the presentation time slots offered as somewhere between eating, sleeping, and yes, fucking, we did a lot of talking and 'processing' some of what all we were seeing.

I'm not setting out to really go into great detail the about event in this as that would be a massive task, but also in that I think there are parts of the magick in the not knowing everything and every detail.

One small detail I should mention though, is that Sir doesn't always wear the token I gave him for our anniversary but through the course of the weekend, he made a point of keeping it on, reminding himself of who and what he was, and that meant a great deal to me. It's always significant to both of us when he wears the bracelet (despite him very definitely not being a jewelry person) and his steadfast not only wearing it, but enjoyment of it, meant a great deal to me.

It's been really amazing to watch him grow into who and what he is and gain confidence in such. I'm very proud of him, and this weekend, we felt very solid in many many ways. (Perhaps I'll write on that more later.)


Thursday

At home during the day, despite our best efforts we found ourselves amidst a packing ordeal and the gravity well that home sometimes can be. It took us much longer to get out than either of us intended. (While it was both of us, in this case I readily take the blame.) It was not the start we had hoped for.

We had made a point of getting in Thursday evening so we'd have a little time to settle in. In the end, we found ourselves in actuality getting in late Thursday due to ongoing road destruction, but then avoiding as best we can getting ensnared in road destruction appears to be another Floating World tradition of ours.

We settled into the host hotel (this year we had decided to stay at the main hotel), I unpacked, wiped the boots one last time and read a little before finally turning in. Even though we were both excited we both managed to get a good night's sleep before the event was really in full swing.


Friday

The next morning we got up and headed out for a good breakfast with lots of coffee before the first workshop at 2pm. The vendor's room was not open Friday so we focused on workshops and time together instead.

The first session was a presenter I had seen last year at Black Rose XX, but Sir hadn't so we went together so as to compare notes later. I think he got a bit more out of it than I, but that was fine. I took plenty of notes and found myself settling in. The topic at hand was moving from a BDSM centered relationship to a Master/slave based relationship.

I think for a lot of people they find a starting place and after a time come to one form or another of 'there must be more than this'-ism. The coming to plateaus and trying to find new ways of living it MORE or DEEPER is something I frequently find more of in the het leather community. (Although the session presenter himself was certainly not straight.)

This may be one place where being Queer Leather sort of made it a bit easier for many of us in that we have had role models living out forms of an M/s dynamic around us almost from wherever we started. Even the brief interludes in (mainly Gay) Leather bars and clubs I managed to occasionally be accepted in, being surrounded by and having as friends day to day living breathing examples of both Masters and slaves living out their respective roles was in some ways commonplace.

It's also worth noting that I'm glad to see Sir having an opportunity to hear more Queer voices in this. It helps him understand the culture I come from, and see in living practice some of the traditions and strengths of those who having already crossed certain thresholds at times find crossing some Leather thresholds as a 'second coming out' that much the easier for it. It is very easy for me to find presenters coming at it from some variation on a male/female dynamic, it is less easy to find spaces and events wherein Sir can intentionally expose himself to Queer Leather voices and traditions.

One of the things I've come to treasure most about the Floating World events is the cross pollination between communities, presenters, and perspectives. I consider it one of the event's core strengths. It is also part of what makes it one of the more comfortable events for me personally, in that in certain ways I end up difficult to categorize, and Leather spaces that enable such, to their very core definition, can be few and far between.

The second session ended up being my mistake. Not in that the presenter was a mistake, but in that I had intended to end up at the workshop that later went on to become the focus of some external attention. I was interested in attending not in that it's my particular kink, but in that I am interested in how we as a 'community' however loosely that may be defined are handling some of the broader cultural issues involved. (Those who know what I'm talking about know what I'm talking about, those who don't, well, so be it.)

Instead we ended up in a sensory deprivation workshop, which while pretty much review for us, was probably one of the few more dungeon practical workshops we made it to all weekend. Surprisingly, we attended very little by way of dungeon tools related sessions this year. By the end of the weekend I was feeling a little annoyed in that I do go to these events to learn skills and techniques as well as about structuring relationships and interpersonal dynamics and I was beginning to feel that lack of balance in what we were attending. This is one of the reasons we are now beginning to contemplating attending Black Rose this fall, no decision has been made on that front yet though.

Missing the intended presentation was likely a result of neither of us having spent time studying the schedule in depth in advance. I had looked over the workshops and presenters and I knew what all I hoped to see, but I had not had time to study the schedule itself in advance.

I'm still kind of kicking myself, but this is perhaps the primary 'problem' I have with the Floating World, there's simply too much good stuff going on all at once. There are easily sessions where I want to be in three or even four presentations at once. When in doubt, I try to choose things I haven't seen before, presenters I haven't seen before, and topics that I hope will stretch me or provide me with new perspectives to ponder.

The other psuedo 'problem' we also run into is scheduling meals. We tend to have those deep discussions over meals during events and utilize such as time to sort of compare reactions to what we've just seen. While we could just grab something simple on site, or nearby, we find we enjoy the event more when we actually take the time to step back, get a good meal, and 'process' at least some of the details between one set of several sessions and the next. So we sometimes find ourselves sacrificing presentations or presenters we want to see to fit that food, sleep, sex and processing around such (although be sure to note, those are definitely not in order of priority!). As the Floating World often doesn't particularly schedule a meal break, we make difficult choices as to what gets sacrificed, for this year anyway. With luck we may be able to catch similar next year or at another event elsewhere.

So we spent Friday evening over a nice dinner, talking about some of how, no we aren't people who do this at only events or on weekends or sometimes, this is our lives, yet at the same time we don't utilize some of the linguistic cues others who also live as Owners and property do. Nor do we utilize the constant ritual forms, although we certainly have our own daily rituals. Our protocols are often unwritten but there none-the-less. Our life together up to this point has made much of that very complicated in that with the travel and all, we often don't have the consistency others find helps structure their relationships.

It's possible that straightforward predictable 9-5 jobs are far more conducive to these forms of structured relationships than our lives. Not that what we live is in any way 'not ok' (I certainly wouldn't trade such) but in that it takes a certain flexibility and willingness to adapt as as schedules fluctuate. It can take a great deal of intent and focus to maintain not only the symbols and actions, but more importantly the headspace to live it out.

Now all these years in, we're beginning to quantify some of what it is we're doing and formalize parts of it that before now have perhaps not been as explicit precisely due to that schedule instability. Mainly though, we're both very aware of how in so many ways we are already living out so much despite the ever changing nature of our time together. This was to become an ongoing theme for us through parts of the weekend, that yes, we are doing certain things very successfully, though it may not always feel like such at the time. And those realizations also led to some very real confidence in what we're doing and how it works for us.

So we try to make time to talk about what we're seeing together, while also trying to pace ourselves so we can enjoy a fair amount of the weekend. By the end of the event, I sometimes feel I've missed a great deal, but neither of us are really up for going full bore, I don't think we'd get as much out of the events if we did.

Much as every time I turned around I saw another shuttle van (at the hotels at the venue, etc) we ended up taking our own vehicle back and forth if only in that it makes those trips out a little bit faster sometimes. That said, I think the shuttles are really fantastic, and had I been on my own a bit more over the weekend, I probably would have utilized them to get over to another workshop or two where Sir could have caught up with me later.

Later on Friday evening, we wandered the meet and greet just a little and I spent a little time at the Queer &LGBT meet-n-greet. There are still times and places I'm somewhat reserved in these spaces, particularly with people I don't know, but I did spend some time speaking with a very lovely couple, and there was appropriate oooooooooing and aaaaaaahing over some incredible tattoo work. In time though, I decided to head on out.

While Sir and I could have explored the Master/slave meet-n-greet, that isn't quite it either. It's not language we utilize, and not quite the way we structure our relationship, although we are finding that the M/s community is where we're most likely to find people discussing many of the issues and finer points that we end up on as well.

In the end, we went up to our room, fell into bed together and spent a little over an hour enjoying some rough sex. Sir pulled my hair and held me in place and took. It was exactly what I needed.

I don't know whether this was more a reflection of some of the conversations we had been having or more the feeling of freedom wherein in these times and spaces, being ourselves is perfectly natural. All I know is we felt close to one another and wanted each other and that at the time it was more important than anything else going on.

Later, we rushed through the shower and headed back for the final workshop session of the evening. Being late night people ourselves, the idea of a 10:30-midnight session was fine by us. I wish more events would begin to realize not everyone is all that interested at 9am sessions.

In any case, we decided on Lee Harrington's workshop on "alternative" relationship structures, and some of the language and concepts behind such. We had first seen Lee at the Ohio Leather Fest many years ago and really enjoyed the presentations. Being somewhat of a language wonk myself, I enjoyed this one as well.

One of the main points we came away from the session with, which was very much along the lines of our own thinking, is that whatever you are, however you identify, one of the important aspects of such is a form of intentionality about such. Be who you are, and know what you are, and how that lends itself to being able to better articulate what you are looking for and what your needs and wants are.

I also thought he did an excellent job of pulling apart jealousy and envy in poly relationships, and how a careful examination of the language used and why can lead to differing solutions. Saying what you really mean can help untangle some of those issues and get to the core of what it is you really need.

Afterwards we spent a little time in the massive dungeon space but decided to head back to the hotel to spend some time together instead.

Apparently I never got around to writing about it, but over last year's event, we had come back one evening and spent some time doing some beautiful and intense sensory deprivation training. It was a very important part of the event last year, to me at least, and was a memory I treasured from that first event.

This year, we came back to the room and Sir gave me another gift of an evening, hearkening back to that special memory. It was precisely the right way to begin the event, and by the time we both fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, I think we were both very glad we had decided to make the trip.

Collars of leather and a 'collar' of metal

Earlier this month, on the fifth, we celebrated our two year anniversary of Sir having placed his metal 'collar' of sorts on me. I've worn his titanium band about my right wrist for all but one afternoon of the last two years.

I've written about the band and its significance to us before, but looking back over my earlier writings here, I realize I've never written about Sir collaring me in the first place.

For some people a 'collaring' becomes a ritual, almost akin to a wedding, complete with a ceremony, and members of their community as witnesses, etc. For us, it was a very private act.

Before we had gotten together Sir had done a work related trip to San Francisco. Over the course of his time there he made a trip to Mr. S. where he purchased some tools, including cuffs and a simple leather collar. As he describes it, on the feeling that he might be needing them eventually. On that same trip he also explored other parts of the CA coastline that years later he would bring me back to.

Going to those places together, years after his trip, showing me those places special to him was very important for us. They were places he enjoyed and thought of sharing with a partner long before we came together. To finally go there with him, and see them through his eyes, was a way of getting to know him and draw closer to him.

He did not put the collar upon me the night he first whipped me, nor did he place it around my neck soon thereafter when he came out to me and we first disappeared into a hotel suite together.

It was later, after I had come home with him and stayed at his apartment for almost an unexpected month long visit. I spent my days being his, lying across his black leather couch reading books and wearing his cuffs, waiting for him to return, or dressing and going out for walks around a nearby lake. In the evenings sometimes we would go out, other times, we spent quiet evenings home, realizing slowly how well we fit together how comfortable it was being together. How we could share a small space together yet not be in one another's way.

In love and in gratitude, I did small things, making the bed, tidying the apartment, washing dishes, and most of all, learning the small ways in which I found myself his. It was a time of massive changes in both our lives, yet somehow we had found one another.

Near the end of the month, not long before I was to return to my home, an otherwise ordinary evening changed everything for us. We had decided to eat in, Sir had cooked, which was not unusual for him. As we sat down to dinner we ended up having a discussion that amounted to (to vastly oversimplify) essentially a variation on 'eat your veggies.' Particular veggies I was certainly no fan of, and had an unfortunate 'history' with in childhood, but by the end of the meal he had convinced me to reluctantly nibble.

Ordinary as such may seem, after dinner, I found myself crying, not in that he had done something I didn't want him to, but in that I realized he was at times better for me, than I was to myself. Writing it, I suppose it sounds silly, but I had come to the realization that he was very good for me.

Being Queer, finding such in Sir, particularly so soon after the relationship with my wife ended, was in many ways very confusing. At times it all felt too soon, even as it felt so right. I was very guarded, afraid of throwing myself into someone new as some form of coping mechanism to deal with my sorrow and my loss.

Yet that month together showed me that this was more than merely a matter of grasping at someone, it somehow genuinely worked, and was growing into a relationship in its own right even as I at times hesitated, and perhaps most of all, I came to understand how much Sir genuinely cared about me and my own well being.

In that time together I had come to call him Sir, even as he felt odd about it. He had never envisioned himself as a "Sir" and did not know what to make of me calling him such. I, on the other hand, recognized almost from the beginning what he was, and what he was in relation to me. Nor did we say "I love you" back then. It took a long time before we came to that point.

But that particular evening, after I came to realize that yes, he cared deeply for me and my wellfare was when we came through to collaring me. I would be leaving soon, and no doubt the impending separation had some to do with it, but we had come to the strange realization that somehow we 'worked' together.

I laid across the bed in his bedroom and he asked me if the collar was what I wanted, if I would choose to be his? I thought for a long minute. We were less than 2 1/2 months into the relationship, it was less than a year since I had been in my previous relationship, in some ways it all felt so soon, and yet, it felt right.

I looked him in the eye and gave my assent. He placed the stiff new leather collar, a simple black band with two D rings, one at the front, and the other at the back that fit through a notch made for it around my neck. He unlocked a small padlock, slid it through the back back ring, locking the collar firmly around my throat. I slept beside him that night with his collar around my neck.

It was between the two of us, a private thing. There was no explicit detailing of what all being his would entail, to this day I think we're both still learning. But it was an absolute commitment for both of us, and I've always felt honoured to wear his collar.

The lack of 'spelling it all out' has at times been difficult, particularly for me. But whatever the hardships have been along the way, I'm still his.

After ten years together, we came to a point where it was rare for him to place the now well worn and cared for leather collar around my neck.

It can also be awkward at times. Being S/switch, it can be difficult for me to clearly signal my orientation while wearing a collar. There are times when wearing such is fully appropriate, but others when it can create confusion, not for us, but for those unfamiliar with our dynamic.

So to mark those ten years, and by way of putting a 'more permanent' collar or sorts on me, over the final Ohio Leather Fest Sir happened across the appropriate token, the locking band of titanium I now wear about my wrist. Rings on tapering fingers are removed easily by comparison. The hinged bracelet must be unlocked to be removed. I consider it a stronger commitment than a wedding ring.

Now I've worn the metal band for two years. Sir holds the key. I have an 'emergencies only' key for my own safety for when he is not present. In all, I've worn forms of his collar for close to 12 years now.

On our last trip through San Francisco, we stopped by Mr. S. and found a slightly more elaborate leather collar with a locking hasp that eventually we will have occasion for. As of yet, it waits, still unworn, for that day.

As some of you have no doubt noticed by now I often find myself writing about anniversaries and how long Sir and I have been together. I often mark the passing of time, be it the seasons, or the dates that matter only to Sir and I. Likely, it has much to do with how new all of this still is to me. I've never been in a relationship that lasted a decade before.

I sometimes see workshop presenters bios in which they remark upon having been 'in the scene' for five years or such. I can't help but feel not only the length of time I've been at this (I sometimes feel like such a dinosaur!) but also the time that Sir and I have been at this together.

Don't get me wrong, I still 'buck' plenty, and doubt, and question, and feel downright exasperated at times with some of the lack of focus or definition, but I can't imagine my life without him, and without being his. I never take that light band of metal around my wrist for granted.

Marking the anniversaries is but one way of saying I'm still aware of how special, how amazing, and how new this all is to me.

Thank you, Sir.

So Slitherings is now 1

Today is Slitherings' first blogiversary!

Yup, a whole year of sexblogging- who'd thunk? Not that I post all that often, just that it's been a year since I started on this little pet project.

So what's it all mean? Why do this?

Well, the short answer is living in a broader culture that still views so much of what I do as pathological, asserting one's own ability to self define and actually communicate with others who are likewise so often stigmatized holds value.

The ability to eeek out corners of space to assert that there is value to these aspects of my life, and actually let others see such in that process may just help them eeek out a little more space of their own to assert their own ability to be fully who they are.

I know through my time spent reading other bloggers that these acts of claiming space to speak our truths about our real lives can be a useful tool, helping others, often without even realizing they've done so. Other times we interact, bloggers and readers, and we learn from one another about the ways we each carve out our own ways of being.

Slitherings is one of many ways I claim just a little space to say that yes, womyn like me do exist. Relationships such as mine do exist.

These forms of womyn's sexuality, often so difficult to find first person voice about, most assuredly are alive and well, if you know where to look.

I recently stumbled across a quote that bears repeating,

“History that is not preserved is history that never happened.”

For that reason alone, I write.

So Happy Birthday little Slitherings, and thanks to the friends I've met along the way so far.

Most of all though, thanks to my Sir, who not only lives it all alongside me, but has also allowed me to divulge these details about him as well. I would not be able to tell my own story without exposing these aspects of both our lives, and so I'm grateful that he has been willing to set aside some of his own privacy, despite being otherwise a very private person, that I might speak these truths about my here and now.

While I at times grow shy and quiet when I find he's read these posts (quite out of character for me,) I think we both find important conversations sometimes come in the aftermath of such.

I do not view my writing here as any kind of present to my Sir, though. This blogging is more about my own process.

In the upcoming year, I'll see what I can do about posting here a bit more often.

'Til then, though spanking is definitely not my kink, I think I'm off to see about a Slitherings birthday swat.

After all, I can count to one.

It's about quality, not quantity- right?

Listening to one's body, and responsibility for safety

So this morning in the pre-dawn Sir takes me.

"Now?"

"Now."

It's the first we've been together sexually since our recent trip. All the recent medical unpleasantness is finally behind us (it's been more a long stretched out annoyance in some ways than any one thing, per se.)

We've missed one another in that way, and we're both 'hungry' for it.

We're both absolutely mid, when he pauses ever so slightly to ask how the circulation in my feet (which happen to be straight up in the air at the time, cuffed to a strap that passes behind my neck, giving me something to both push against and relax into...) are and I lose that concentration. We were close, there was a certain focus, and then he paused to check on my safety, and I can't just pick back up again.

I blurt out something like,

"fine, fine, HARDER!"

But the moment is gone.

He, on the other hand doesn't realize anything has shifted, so we fuck, and I enjoy it, (don't underestimate that, in spite of it all) and he orgasms, and we go on.

Later, I explain to him, that while yes, it's one of those right things to do, positively textbook, actually, in circumstances like that, yes, even though I am very in the moment, I'd still alert him to a problem.

Naturally, we talk about kind of the usual nonverbal 'two squeezes or taps' (he taps, I tap back) but as he points out, whether verbal or nonverbal, either can form a stepping out of the moment. It's certainly something we have done, among other nonverbal signals, but ultimately, yes even when communicating nonverbally about such things, it does take a certain presence of mind that takes me at least out of wherever it was that I was.

That doesn't mean I didn't wander around all starry-eyed, and leaning against the furniture thereafter. But up until that point I was completely in that moment, and I was sad when he accidentally took me from it.

It's a "property-brain" thing far more than any physical effect.

When I'm fully in that mindset, I don't want 'real world things' pulling me back out of that moment. If anything, though it's hardly his fault, it feels almost like an annoyance, 'of course I'm watching that!' That's part of why I speak up when I'm 'submitting'. If my hand is going to sleep, it allows me to maintain if I bring the issue to him. If things pause while he checks or such, it can become impossible to regain.

As his, it's important that I honestly let him know what's going on, and that requires I be paying attention, and 'in my own body' enough to recognize what's going on. This does not mean, however that I don't go deep into what many call "bottomspace."

Odd thing is, rather than that responsibility pulling me 'back out', I've found ways to focus on such as a way of taking myself 'deeper'.

I don't know if other 'bottoms' articulate this often, but it is a particular skill.

Letting Sir know before my hand is cramped or asleep means an ability to work longer.

It can also have to do with not wanting damage to come to something that is his. Nerve damage etc would not only get in my own way of doing what he wants, it would also mean he would not be able to enjoy use of me in the same ways, whether that be just for a time, or more permanently.

So part of this being his, is in listening to my body.

Now, do I sometimes reach that place where I'm positively non-verbal? On a good day, with a tailwind- yes, I do.

But I don't rely only on words to bring something to Sir's attention.

If we're in sync enough, I can usually express such non-verbally, and if we're not in sync enough, that alone pretty much instantly pulls me back out to a place where words can come pretty quickly. But we've been together more than a decade, now.

It probably must sound pretty odd for me to be sitting here saying 'please, no don't stop to check!' but that's precisely where I find myself.

But it's by no means a universal, it's just a dynamic the two of us in relation to one another seem to have reached.

Roughly six months

(I've been away from writing here for a bit. Some of it has been travel, some of it has been helping my Sir through some health issues. He is recovering and we can certainly see the proverbial 'light at the end of the tunnel' on it at this point, but it has taken time and attention away from as but one example, my blogging here. If I can find the words and the time, I may write a little about the experience but for now, simply understand that I have been away from this writing, but with good reasons.)

Today though, marks an important milestone. Today was roughly the 'six months after' demarcation from Sir having me pierced last winter.

Emotionally, I suppose you could say the last several months or so have certainly put us through a bit, but if anything, they have shown how committed we are to one another and how much I apparently do deserve the honour of wearing His rings. Circumstances seem to have bourne out how much this was the correct decision.

Physically, six months of course does not mean they are 'completely healed', but it does mean that most of the basic healing is behind us now.

Aesthetically, we both enjoy the look of them. It still startles me to see the metal through ME like this, though.

It's been a very odd six months for us. Mainly, it's clear how much 'us' forms the central core to everything else going on in our lives. The rings are a reflection of that.

It's a strange 'anniversary' of sorts, but it felt important to note.

Full Moon Debachery; a Why of Leathersex

Today I'm sitting here typing in a serious afterglow. Still a bit flighty, and happily still sore, but with a sense of deep contentment; precisely the way I like feeling on 'mornings after.'

This entry, both long and perhaps a bit more explicit than what I've written here to date is such for good reason. It's going to take both some space and some detail to explain what it is I'm trying to express.

Our time together last night got initially pushed back a few hours due to other circumstances, but later on the evening we finally carved out some time to experiment with the new massage table (hmmmm, I think it needs a different name in relation to how we're mainly utilizing it, I'll have to work on that.)

It was the first time in a long time that we've had to just shut the world out and spend an evening working with the tools and being together, which is the important part for me, that connection. Sir listening for sounds, watching my breathing, gauging my reactions as together we go further and further.

All the while, as his counterpart, I am fully in the moment; sometimes looking up and seeing his reactions, or seeing THAT LOOK in his eyes, or when I'm blindfolded and can only hear him making preparations for what he will do to me, yet not knowing what will come next, being in that moment of anticipation.

Sex and even 'rough sex', sex about power and control and dominance and submission is one thing, working with the tools does something else. It's a physical ordeal that I have no choice but to give over to, it pulls me out of myself into a place where time becomes irrelevant. A place where I don't question or analyze, or pause in hesitation, or try to anticipate needs, I simply obey and am owned. I don't focus on being his, I simply AM his. In that clarity is a tremendous sense of freedom.

When I go through periods of not having those times together, no amount of sex can 'make up for it'. I crave being in those time suspended moments of clarity, anticipation, and inevitable sensation, yes even pain that only 'work' seems to give me.

But I also crave what such does for Sir, what those times do for him, his confidence, his control. Time spent together doing the 'work' is so important, that confidence and clarity spills over into other parts of our lives and our life together and provides a core where we both know what's what, and how it is between us. We both need that. We need to spend time there, as it gives everything else we do in relation to one another that foundation.

They are some of the times I feel closest to him. Without that connection, the so called 'play' can't work, no amount of pushing it, or trying to make it work can overcome it.

So late in the evening we came home, I showered and dressed and waited for him in our workspace. He came in to find me kneeling, dressed in the Catherine Coatney skirt and shirt (that he decided out at the beach that he loves on me.) I wore stockings and long gloves, my hair tucked away up in two small buns with a pair of Darklocks' Diva Falls in purple and black (called "Vertigo" for those of you interested in such details) cascading down over my shoulders.

These are new, fetishy fun goodies I picked up not long after the LF&P. They go well with all that wonderful black and shiny fetishware. As I eventually get to making the metallic purple latex dress I have in mind (and materials for) these should go a long way towards completing that look.

Naturally, Sir's response was more along the lines of a cross between being puzzled and thinking they were rather silly, but that's ok, they made him smile and I suppose that was part of what I had aimed for in the first place.

Soon enough he had me naked, lying face down on the massage table, blindfolded with the soft black leather blindfold I adore. He spent a few moments running ropes around under parts of the table, then attaching panic snaps so he would be able to change my position quickly. He pulled out the large padded black cuffs and buckled them onto my limbs, a process that always induces that 'sinking' feeling in me. I get quiet, and relax as best I can in light of what I know is coming soon thereafter.

In no time, he had me 'not going anywhere', firmly attached to the table, as if a canvas for him to 'paint' upon. First came the floggers, some soft and almost massage like, starting slowly, helping me breathe and relax, then ones with a bit more 'bite' reddening my skin, making me feel white hot searing pain up to the edge of seeing stars.

I find the whips loud in the otherwise quiet house. It seems to lead to a slight nervousness on my part, perhaps due to so many years of working in spaces with neighbors upstairs, etc. Despite the fact that Sir and I have a great deal of privacy, I sometimes find it difficult to fully relax, still being on edge that somehow someone will in some way will hear or interrupt. It's a relatively irrational fear, but one that at times makes it a little difficult for me to be fully present, fully relaxed. And that tightness in my muscles is always something I 'pay for' the next morning.

His aim was dead on. The table made a very comfortable height to work at, and allowed him to get in close to see the way I was reacting. He later told me that despite being blindfolded and face down, the sounds I was making and the slight movements of my body provided him lots of feedback. From time to time he would set the whip aside and run our 'empty rabbit' a rabbit skin across the deeply coloured areas he had just worked. The contrast between the two, the whips and the soft skin is immense. It's the slight variations that keep a flogging flowing, and keep me off balance.

At some point, he turned to the rattan canes, which so long as they're handled with timing and at times a gentle hand (alongside other times when they're NOT) I've come to love. His skilled hand uses them in many different ways; sometimes gently tapping, other times slowly increasing the intensity, and other times giving me strokes of pure fire that bloom and make me cry out.

I want to spend more time with the canes, slowly increasing my pain tolerance. In some ways I feel very out of practice at the moment.

Fortunately, as Sir was kind enough to point out, caning me gets him hard as well, so he released my hands, let me sit up slowly and he used my mouth a bit. By then I was well into that headspace that makes me both quiescent and obedient.

I've lost track of exactly how the evening unfolded, but at some point, perhaps prior to the canes he asked what I needed. I urged him towards doing some 'detail work', maybe some marks. Whenever it was, I was still blindfolded when I heard him working with something that made strange sounds I couldn't identify. The next thing I knew he was using the Chinese cupping set, with points on me. Having the cups on my just flogged back while being flogged on the ass is an acute awareness. My head couldn't get around it. It's just another of those sensations that can be used to bifurcate attention and set me out of my own control. Perplexing, but in a good way.

Afterwards he asked how I was doing and I told him I would need to change positions soon. Being the sadist he is, he had me lying on my freshly flogged backside. The result was a wonderful slowly burning anguish. So he worked over my front a bit, utilizing small clothespins, the snake bite 'suckers', and finally the vicious small round braided whip, everywhere on my breasts and thighs.

He held my head and slapped my face, first one side, then the other. He took me to that place where I get inarticulate, shuddering, and at that point where both 'stop' and 'don't stop' meld into one. It's a place where I prefer to simply be, and let him make decisions, anything else is just beyond my grasp.

So that was the point at which he decided to 'use' me. As he's getting ready, he turns to me and says "are you going to be blogging this?" and we both have a good hard laugh. (We later realized that for both of us, his comment related to Lolita's t-shirt we'd seen her in at events: "I'm blogging this." which is both brilliant, AND fits her and the writing she does at her site perfectly) At the time, though, blogging was about the furthest thing from my mind, it was something fully forgotten until he mentioned it.

Which is a good thing. I'm not experiencing these things with an 'eye towards' bragging about them online later, I'm experiencing them fully in the moment.

I come to write here after the fact, by way of recording our history, but also by way of journaling my own impressions and reasons and reactions to it. That may be of use to someone at some point, (it might even be of use for non-Leather people to gain some understanding of what Leathersex is about for me at least), but for me, the blogging is a very separate act from the living of it at the time. That is the action, this is the recording and analysis of the action, done after the fact, not in the moment of or at the time of the actions themselves.

Speculation about 'Slitherings' and how or even if what happened last night could end up here has become somewhat of an oddity for both of us. After all, sleeping with someone who sex-blogs is well, a bit different than not sleeping with a sex-blogger. Sir reads this, and we'll no doubt discuss what I've written here, which seems to lead on around the cycle to its own set of realizations, no doubt similar to how many Owners use journaling.

Sex-blogging aside, back to the sex;

He rearranged me down to the edge of the table, slid a strap around my ankles and then behind my neck, giving me something to push back against while keeping my legs up in the air, and he took me, roughly.

Blogging or not, I don't find words really work at this point.

It was just, well, that kind of sex I live for. My back and ass ached, both sore and pushed down against the table, giving me additional layer of pain that provided a backdrop to what was happening to me. Sir absolutely in that moment, both of us exactly where we wanted to be. That place where for him control and taking what he wants, that place where for me, it's both pain and simply having no other possibility other than giving him what he wants, and how much that gets me off, it's why we do this.

Afterwards, there's putting me to bed, leaving the cuffs on and putting the steel tool into me and him holding me, forcing me to orgasm, taking it from me. Leaving me completely incoherent and happy. So happy.

Lying in his arms, aftercare, exhaustion, and feeling so close to him, feeling so His.

That is what this is about for me.

It's what Leathersex is that even the roughest of ordinary sex isn't. It's about reaching that point where I have no choice other than to give myself over to him, while being fully aware he'll be there to catch me, to protect me, to do what's best for me when I don't have enough control of my faculties to even know what that might be. It ceases to be a giving, as that implies far too much control on my part, it simply is, I'm His, and he takes.

It's about trust and surrender and being fully both connected to and at times dependent upon the person I've chosen to entrust myself to.

***

This morning, I awoke to thunder; sore, aching, penetrated, marked, wrung out, used. Yet feeling so content, so languid, so where I want to be.

All of this, this is why I do these things. This is why I am with Sir.

Later, he examined and brushed his fingertips lightly across the lingering evidence of his work from the night before. Outside, rain pelted the windows. He held me, and kissed me.

I can't imagine being with a partner who is not Leather.

Travel and household notes

It's been a bit since I last posted. I've been quite busy.

Sir and I are just back from three days out at the Shore, a micro vacation of sorts. Days of lazily enjoying the beach, nights of rather intense lovemaking. All in all, I've come home very relaxed and happy, that post good sex glow that seems to leave me floating through the day or days after.

We had originally intended to spend some time out at the beach working with some rope. Books to study and be inspired by and hemp were packed, all set. But we never quite got around to it. No doubt we'll find some time to 'practice' before Shibaricon, it's just these particular days had a different flavour to them- more spontaneous.

That said, several potentially rope related good things have finally come together here around the household. The first being some years ago we had purchased a cast iron bed frame with the original intent being that it would be for a bedroom area off a 'dungeon' sort of area. Well, that part of the house got 'commandeered' for other projects so to this day, we are rather 'dungeonless'. The bed frame sat, still in boxes for years, (in no small part probably due to the fact that the other beds around the house are four posters.)

Instead of waiting for everything to come together the way I wanted, I finally simply decided I'd rather have it up than in boxes, so the bed frame has now been added to a bed already in a spare bedroom. Why all the fuss? Tie points/anchor points. The bed frame is rock solid and a perfect 'canvas' to do rope work with.

While it may not be up in its final home, (wherever that will turn out to be,) it is a small step towards 'not waiting anymore'. That feels good.

The second potentially rope related bit of furniture has just arrived. After Floating World last year Sir and I sort of had an ongoing discussion about furniture, frames, structures, etc. As our primary work space is a bedroom, we've had to try to come to compromises about tools staying out, the advantages of things being close at hand, vs. tools being carefully stored in a very organized fashion for easy access. Structures have taken a bit of thought.

So for a first real piece of 'dungeon' related furniture, we've settled on a thermal and thickly padded top portable massage table. It folds away when we want it to, but quickly sets up and is wonderfully solid. We can lower it down to 24" if we choose, and it has plenty of good attachment points for rope or other such bonds.

Essentially, it will serve as a solid platform for everything from rope work to cuttings, canings to floggings. I often find I can take more lying down than standing bound to a frame. Lying down helps the muscles relax more, and it can be more comfortable for Sir as gravity does some of the work. Also lying down can protect against some forms of wrap (not that we seem to have a problem with such, I just thought I'd mention it for readers.)

So we have new bits of structure to try out. I'm excited to see what predicaments Sir's creativity puts me in.

In a final bit of news, we've registered for Floating World (II) in August. It's months away, but we're already looking forward to it!

TSA vs. Nipple Rings

Wish I could find the words, but at the moment, I'm just pissed.

Over this, "Woman Says TSA Forced Piercings Removal", in particular.

(If you really want to go for that brain embolism level of realization that the people around you really are morons, take a moment to look through some of the comments on the article, there are many 'gems'; "GOOD for the TSA. I personally do not feel comfortable flying with the class of people who insert metal objects into their body....P.S. Tattooed people should not be allowed to fly either", or " aww my feeling were hurt - I’ll sue to feel better about being a fat ugly lesbian cow!!" or "Hamlin should’ve been beat with those pliars…".)

Clearly we're somewhere that simply gives permission for assholes to wear their scorn of people like me on their sleeves, be that a couple of TSA fucks in Texas or the assholes verbally vomiting all over comment threads.

This is theater, not anything genuinely relating to 'security'. It lets the 'authorities' in question humiliate her and rub her nose in their ability to pull this shit. (After all, who's gonna stop 'em?) At that particular moment she needs something from them- the ability to get to her flight on time. They have a particular form of power over her, and apparently enjoyed abusing such.

Meanwhile, from her perspective, she's just trying to catch the flight, and other than missing her flight/turning around and walking out, she doesn't have much by way of options.

Freedom of movement/freedom to travel is a fundamental right in many societies, a core human right. Here in the US, however, our legal history in regard to such is more convoluted and less protected. (The Wikipedia link above lays out some of the ongoing mess that is our lack of an articulated explicitly federal protection.)

But the effect of 'micro-scale incidents' such as this is more than merely legal, it's also social. While ultimately yes, she was able to get on the plane, this story is actually more of an intimidation effect. It causes other people to fall into inertia. Others who hear about it and understand that they too are a 'person not unlike her' may pre-emptively modify their own behavior in relation to 'regulated' forms of travel, thus decreasing their own movement out of fear or having been intimidated.

Think I'm going to be subjecting myself to a 'pat down' on my labia rings and clit hood ring? Think again.

Plenty of folks are already pointing out, everything from pacemakers, hip replacements and even the copper in IUDs are also "hidden" metal. Is TSA going to start demanding people take those out to fly?

If thousands of people can go through every single day with wedding rings, there's no earthly reason why body piercings should not be treated in a somewhat similar fashion, unless of course, you happen to be a TSA jerk-off who ENJOYS pulling such shit.

Sure, in some alternate universe of unlimited time and money, she says fuck you very much, walks out rents a car or uses her own and spends the next however many days driving to wherever it was she needs to be. That's a nice scenario, but realistically, that's not the way this goes.

Instead, she goes through whatever the hell she has to to get where she needs to be. Why? Because the bottom line is most of the time, people's choices are more limited than you might imagine, so they suck it up and suffer through.

That said, kudos to Mandi Hamlin for having the 'pair' to sue their sorry asses. I hope she takes 'em to the cleaners.

More to the point, I hope her case sets the precedent that lays out (more) sane 'guidelines' going forward. (Yeah, not holding my breath on that one- clearly there are plenty of Americans who would rather piss their pants over a nipple ring than take the moment to realize that a nipple ring is not a weapon.)

The key piece of the TSA's crappy guidelines on body piercings is the word "hidden". There's nothing "hidden" about nipple rings that she offered to show a female screener. Body jewelry shown to a screener in private should be treated no differently than earings or a wedding ring shown to a TSA screener.

Now, being pissed is quaint, but it doesn't change much, so here's the get off your butt, (or stay on your butt, in your pjs, and put that keyboard to good use) ACTION portion of the blog entry-

For those dear readers interested in giving the TSA a piece of their mind here's their contact page. I'd also recommend contacting;

* your representatives (here's a house form and a senate form)

* the major airlines (particularly any you've enrolled in frequent flyer programs with etc, be sure to mention such when contacting them.) Be specific- point out how much business the TSA bullshit is causing them to lose- not that they have control over the TSA, but make it clear that this nit-picking (or tit-picking) bullshit on the TSA's part is causing them to lose your business.

* and whatever media you feel might be willing to run a letter to the editor or similar such

I know, overly optimistic. Perhaps even delusional to try.

Still, this is perhaps THE quintessential example of how America is down to going out of its collective mind over tiny pieces of wire while the things that genuinely matter can't get above the noise. Micro managing the nonsensical while Rome burns, perhaps?

But then, I guess government micromanagement down to the level of going after the nipple jewelry of the socially transgressive makes for a lovely distraction from tackling difficult and 'unpleasant' realities like the sub-prime crash.



Addendum- this link contains a snippet of video from the press conference, and the article contains mentions of some of the other instances of TSA v piercings.