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.

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.

When there are no words

Last Tuesday evening. I'm ready for bed but Sir is still quite awake. I ask him to tuck me in.

Sir surprises me.

We're trying to be a bit more intentional about some of our small rituals, trying to take time out of our all too often busy lives to make time for the building of habits and small gestures that in many ways reinforce the 'us'.

For many in the Leather community such come perfectly naturally.

When I am the Dominant partner in a relationship, for example, I live sleep eat breathe rituals; everything from morning coffee rituals to how my girl enters a room, or dresses. I suppose you could say I'm highly demanding when it comes to protocols.

Yet when I find myself on the other end of the power dynamic, well, I often end up feeling somewhat adrift. Unfortunately, particularly with Sir, as clear articulations and demands upon me are often in short supply.

In our relationship I am "property" to him, yet we have few protocols.

There are many counterbalances, though, that do help me find my way. Sex with him is one of those many ways I find clarity in my position.

Thus, the simple act of tucking me into bed, every so often, at unexpected times, like Tuesday night, sometimes escalates into good hard sex. And thereafter, even though the words may not come, I do know my place and feel secure in it.

I suspect many womyn who are slaves to, or bottom to (or whatever in relation to) particular men find their Dom/Owner/Sir's lack of articulation of expectation difficult from time to time. Perhaps it's a bit more acute for me, in that I have at times both been on the 'other end' as both 'owner' of a sort, and as an at times Dominant woman's beloved.

The particular womyn I've chosen to partner with have tended to have at least some ability to spell out many of their needs. With the men in my life, Sir included, their wants and needs at times seem to fall off the edge of language, or perhaps they simply don't feel the need to use language to express them.

Either way, me being a person for whom clarity in communication is important, I sometimes find that lack of articulation deeply frustrating.

Yes, there are inarticulate about such things, (desires and details) womyn Dommes, and perfectly articulate male Doms. But that is not quite the way that has played out for me with my Sir.

So finding those times when it's somewhere other than words, but things are perfectly clear between us is very important, in that that clarity is rarely spelled out in detail between us.

In day to day life, both of us fully understand what this is and how we relate to one another, coupled with the fact that this is my life (and his), I'm not going anywhere. But finding the clarity in expression of those things at times is subtle, it's in a look, a touch, and the pulling of my hair, not necessarily words.

Thus times, such as Tuesday night, become quite precious to me.

On the importance of 'just being there'

This may seem a very pedestrian topic for a kink-blog entry, but sometimes it's the little things that are so often overlooked that matter so.

If I were asked for a list of 'duties' I perform, tasks or chores pertinent to my status as "property" I'd have to sit you down and explain at length how it's more complicated than that.

While I am in some ways submissive (and other ways, NOT), you would hardly mistake me for a 'service submissive'. That's just not the way we structure our (Leather) household. There are chores I tend to gravitate towards, and other chores Sir for the most part has staked out as what he does. There are also ongoing bits of the household that sometimes I do, sometimes he does, it's more dependent upon who happens to get sick of looking at it, and has the spare time to do something about it first.

I know, I know! Heresy! Unimaginable!

To dare even mention that Sir does household chores too? Why I must have broken at least 30 'the-one-true-way Leather Taboos!' (tm)

But our real Leather lives, unlike pulp novels or oh so many online MASTER-slavelings, are real. We live them, 24-7. And that means we deal with real world real things. What often goes unstated, is that in relation to the 'chores' each of us take on, the other does feel a sense of gratitude. Sometimes we express such, but usually, it lies just beneath the surface, each of us quietly aware that the things the other does for us help us, and make our lives as we live them together not merely easier, but in certain bedrock kinds of ways, possible. While not an egalitarian household, at times, it does share certain resemblances to a Leather 'partnership' of sorts. It's what works for us.

That said, I do make a point of making 'Sir's' bed.

Now that must sound odd. But as we sometimes run opposite schedules to one another, I am allowed my own rooms in addition to the primary bedroom we share. Recently, no matter what our sleep schedules may be, I've made a point of ensuring that when Sir comes up to bed, it's a neatly made bed.

That may sound perfectly obvious, and the kind of habit some people got in back when they were oh, say, 5, but for the two of us, living on our own as we do together, we tend to simply get up and hit the ground running and then tumble into bed at night.

If the downstairs is the at times more 'public' part of the household, the upstairs is more a private sanctuary. I suppose we're quite Victorian in that sense. The parlour is a place where our household intersects with the external world, the upstairs bedrooms are private spaces.

So I make the bed.

It was the first piece of furniture we bought together for the house, a big four poster King sized bed, (an updated) comfy mattress, and padding and sheets we picked out together, as a couple, when we were just beginning. We brought the bed home and assembled it ourselves. Some couples buy couches together first, we selected and assembled the bed.

And when we're home, not traveling, I tend to carve out the laundry as a part of my ongoing routine. Just as womyn for generations before me have cared for, mended, and laundered their beloved's clothing, I too, try to ensure, as one presenter at the Floating World last Autumn used as an example, when my Sir goes to reach for an item of clothing, it should 'just be there'.

What marks us as different, perhaps, is that when we do travel, (which is to say frequently,) while I may sort the piles, Sir himself tends to run the laundry. Sometimes I fold, sometimes we fold together.

But the laundry is simply part of the rhythm of that which needs to be attended to. Sometimes the ongoing 'chores' are less 'choreful' and simply part of that which must be done. At times, it's even possible to gain a certain satisfaction, or feeling that things are 'running well' based upon the ongoing rhythm of ensuring things are 'there when you reach for them'. I find it leads to more of a household sense of well-being, confidence, and yes, even control.

When things pile up and feel overwhelming, it lends itself to a things being 'out of control' sensation. Conversely, when things are simply where they're supposed to be, whether it's laundry or dishes, or mail sorted and filed it leads to a certain ease, comfort and sensation of things being 'under control'.

From that 'under control' springs a certain confidence in both of us.

Which yes, leads me back around full circle to sex-blogging. In that one of the very few 'duties' I perform, tasks or chores pertinent to my status as "property" is that of being sexually available to my Sir.

That when he reaches for me, I too am at hand, exactly where I should be. Physically, psychologically, etc.

(While yes, there is absolutely, a blog entry -or 20- in what being self described "property" means in my context, that being a Radical Feminist context, American legal context, etc, that's not about to happen today.)

At any time, I feel I could say "no" or "not right now", but in practice I next to never do (other than sometimes, when I'm still mostly asleep, and not thinking very clearly at the time.) Having the ability to say "no" (which is actually more a 'raincheck' than a "no",) that freedom to say "no", is part of what makes it secure and a confident "yes".

That may not be the way some Leather lovers arrange their relationships, but again, this is what works for us. We're both reasonably aware that when it comes down to it, I pretty much only say "no" in relation to extenuating, usually physical, circumstances.

In part, how we define some of my "duties" in this relationship are to be His, anytime, with the one caveat that communication of any extenuating circumstance is an inherent to such.

So last night, he both enjoyed me, and a well made bed.

This morning, I smile to myself with the satisfaction that things are 'running well'.

***

(Now, have I just equated sex to housework? Perhaps... if you really feel you MUST take it that way, but what I'm really referring to is the satisfaction of behind the scenes work, -yes at times good, hard work with one's hands with very quantifiable results- that goes into making parts of life feel 'effortless' and how such for us at least, tends to lead to the sense of well being and 'control' which can be at times so vital to our Leather/BDSM lives. It's a topic I see very little written about, particularly in your average 'how to Leather' books, yet it has everything to do with how we live this out 24-7.)

On purely subjective delineations

Been meaning to write here for a couple of days now, since Tuesday actually.

Monday night was very special for us.

I've been being very careful with my fresh piercings, giving them the ongoing cleaning attention, but not unnecessary attention (i.e. fiddling with them, which would only increase the odds of infection.) And generally taking time to heal.

Which is not to say I'm completely healed by any means, just that I've been being careful and taking good care of myself. While I know new piercings can have their ups and downs, these have gone incredibly well so far.

Yes, I know I haven't even really written the REAL post about getting pierced yet. I suppose I'll get there eventually.

In any case, Monday night the rational part of my brain was saying that so long as we went gently (and used a condom and water based lube) and stopped or eased up if I was experiencing any pain, then sex should be alright by now, my body was 'feeling up to it'. On the other hand, the less than rational part of my brain was inevitably screaming "SEX! NOW!"

So late Monday night, we fell into bed together.

Naturally, Sir was also being cautious and careful, but I was not merely 'doing fine', I was well, discovering what sex with rings through my labia felt like. (As, was he.)

At times, it felt the way sex without rings feels like. But then at other times, I was AWARE. Not in a bad or painful way at all, just in a 'very paying attention to my body' kind of way.

I've no idea whether it was the addition of the new hardware, the feeling of being so completely His, or 'merely' the intervening roughly month and a half without penetrative sex with a partner, whether it was any one of the above, or a combination of several that led to me cumming so quickly. All I know is that afterwards I felt very happy.

And very close to him in ways I hadn't before we had the rings placed through me.

Sure, that part is all subjective and psychological on my part. No argument there. But if part of the reason to do such is the psychological changes that occur, well I consider that valid reason enough.

Non-kinky people may not feel they understand that. But if they've ever constructed a purely subjective delineation betwixt sex inside or external to marriage they've probably felt something similar.

As has often been said, the strongest of the sex organs is the one between your two ears.

Rings!

So I'm VERY happily wearing new rings in new piercings at the moment.

Sir's rings, holes in relation to Sir. Over a decade in the timing.

I am deeply honoured.

(No folks, this is not the real post about the piercings, it's more of just a placeholder until I get there, but friends wanted to know.)

Inner labia, not my outer, thanks to my anatomy- but all things considered, it's a good thing- less pain, shorter healing time, the jewelry I wanted, far less likely to migrate and lose the piercings, all good reasons.

I now wear two twelve gauge 3/8" implant grade surgical steel captive bead rings.

Yes, it was painful- very painful.

But the experience itself was more than even I had hoped for. I'm incredibly glad I did it where I did with who I did it with- it made all the difference. (I'll get there in the real post.)

Most importantly though, when it was all over, and we were home, and Sir was tucking me into bed, he said the thing I had been waiting to hear-

"I felt like I was very much a part of it, like a participant in it."

Which was not only very important to me, it also reflected the way I felt about him having been there with me- this was about US, and fortunately, that was exactly the way it worked out, very US.

It was the coming to fruition of a lot of things we have both been working towards for a very long time now. When we finally came to it, everything just 'came together'. Thing is, I can't decide whether it was worth the wait, or something we should have done years ago. Either way, the actually doing of it, I wouldn't have done differently. It was in the end, simply right.

Thank you Sir!

Wuzzle!

Piercings

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.