Allow Me To Introduce Myself...

Now, there are open-minded people, and then there are OPEN-minded people. I, dear readers, am OPEN! Not only am I a friend to fellow kinky bitches Sheba and Pink Vixxxen, I have also been reading (and getting off to) The Kink Chronicles since it started. Through the past few years, I have shared some of my experiences with the girls and they finally convinced me to join the fold. I started out my sexual journey pretty submissive, following the guy's lead as to how nasty I got. It ended up being that same modus operandi that lead me to the freaky tales I'll be sharing with you.

When I was in my mid-20s, I met an older guy who turned me on to some newshit. New shit that a-I didn't even think I would like and b-Had no idea how many straight men were into. The guy was an former arena football player, which doesn't mean shit except to say he was a man's man. By all outward appearances, that is.

Don't get me wrong, he had always been a freak--a monster pussy and ass-eater, to be exact--and I was always happy to let him indulge. But one day, during a freaky phone session, he kicked things up a notch. He asked me what did I think about using a toy on him, anally. I surprised myself by the lack of hesitation when I replied, "Sure baby, I'll fuck your ass. If that's how you want it." And it was. He stroked himself to an orgasm as he described how he wanted me to fuck him in the ass, slap him and talk dirty to him. He wanted to be dominated, and although it was something new for me, I've never been one to back away from some new shit. After his orgasm(and subsequent drifting off) I hung up the phone and kept masturbating long into the night as I anticipated my first step into female domination, or femdom.

The next time we met up, he had suggested we go to an adult store and pick out his toy. I made sure to embarrass him in the store by asking him loud enough for others to hear, "Is this one was big enough?" or "Do you think you can take all of that?" as we sorted through the selection of dildos. Finally, we settled on a beginner-sized 6 inch dildo with a slight curve and a bottle of Astroglide. I walked to the car and made him pay alone. He was flustered, and visibly horny as he made his way back to the car. I took a deep breath as he approached. There was no turning back now.

I was so excited that I rubbed my pussy the whole ride to the hotel. I stayed in my seat and waited for him to open my door. He did. We got in the room and I told him to take off his clothes and kneel in front of me. He did. I had no idea how this was all coming to me so easily, but hey, I watch a lot of porn. So, I just went with it. While he was kneeling, I walked over to him and lifted my dress. I pressed his face into my pussy and he tried to get into a good position to lick it properly. I stepped up on my toes a bit and he held my ass and sucked my pussy to a screaming orgasm. Good, I thought, at least I got mine squared away. "Get on the bed. On your back," I told him. He did. I pushed his legs open and started to suck his dick. I was scraping my nails all over his thighs, making him writhe in pleasure beneath me then I reached over and grabbed the lube we'd just bought and smeared it around his asshole. He closed his eyes, and as I continued to suck him, I started pushing my finger in. He tensed up, but started to relax and moan as I pushed and twisted my finger in deeper. He tensed up as I got knuckle deep and I told him that if he couldn't take my finger, he definitely wouldn't be able to take the toy dick. I started moving my finger in and out, and he was moaning and grinding onto my finger as if he would cum any minute, so I stopped.

I asked him if he was ready for me to use the toy on him and he just moaned. I slapped him straight across the face. He was stunned. "I asked you a question," I nearly growled. "Are you ready to get fucked or what?" He said yes. "Yes, what?" I asked. "Yes, Mistress." Shit, I liked the sound of that. And he did too, his dick was rock hard and leaking a stream of precum. The Mistress shit got in my head and you would have thought I was a pro the way I quickly lubed up the fake dick and started to ease it in. I made him pull his legs up to his chest and I slapped the back of his thighs as I pushed the head in and started talking shit. I told him to stay still and take this fucking he had asked for. He stopped trying to back away from me and started to buck his hips and stroke his dick while I fucked him. By now, his lubed up ass was making sloppy sounds and I would tease him about a nasty boy he was and how I was going to fuck his ass until it was raw. When I started speeding up the fucking, I leaned over and sucked his dick on the tip of his dick, then sat back up and stared into his face while he seemed to drift off into ecstasy. I stopped only long enough to reposition myself onto his face so that he could suck this pussy while I finished him off. I sat on his face and leaned over him, fucking his ass faster as he licked and sucked my clit.

I came in his mouth, and his dick started pulsating, letting me know he would be right behind me. I lifted off his face and used both hands to simultaneously fuck his ass and stroke his dick. He was moaning like crazy and just before he came he clamped his mouth back onto my pussy and moaned the most delicious orgasm into my pussy...and all over my hands. As I sat up and let go, the toy plopped out of his ass and he let out a big sigh. I laid down next to him, reveling in this new experience (for me, at least) and wondered if he had enjoyed himself. "So, this isn't the last time we doing this, right?" he asked. I guess I got my answer. With this experience, I had opened Pandora's Box and since then, I've definitely expanded my dominating repertoire. Now, any poor schmuck to come my way doesn't stand a chance!

I am Poison Ivy, that's Mistress Ivy to you. Wasn't it a pleasure to meet me?

Play on the Edge IV - Safe, Sane, Consensual

Continued from Play on the Edge III

How could I bring closure to my project? The advice of my contact was to get “real” by moving out of the world of the imagined and theoretical and into the lives of those who actually live and breathe the lifestyle. With her assurances that everything would become crystal clear once I was in the company of the converted, I decided to attend the local SPICE (South Florida People Involved in Consensual Endeavors) meeting. I’d had what I considered to be a taste test and I was fairly optimistic on the long drive from Miami to North Broward. I am not sure what I expected from a group of people who were involved in the lifestyle, but I was certain I wanted to learn. Sometimes when you step into a space that is not your own, the people who normally live there ask you to leave. I often find however that when those people are living in a space that is on the fringe, they ask you to come in. At the Off the Cuff monthly meeting at Club Kink in Pompano I could not have felt more welcome. The discussion was candid, earnest and funny. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable. If I had expected to meet a crowd of freakish sex fiends, I was in the wrong place. To be sure these couples did have sex, plenty of good kinky sex, but they weren’t freakish.

I was awed by the support I received and by how those who were offering their help considered it as crucial to my having a safe and high quality experience. John Warren, the author of The Loving Dominant, and his wife Libby, were veritable encyclopedias, full of unlimited knowledge on the topic of BDSM. John is a true academic and a faithful practitioner, who has written quite a few books on the subject. He has over thirty years worth of intimate knowledge on kink and an awareness of its history that goes far beyond that. John, Club Kink’s manager, an experienced dominant, had come to the club as an observer for almost two years before he actually participated in play. He encouraged me to let him & Jane (the life partner he’d met at play party) know when and if I was interested in visiting the club on a guided tour. Rick, a dominant and clinical sexologist who ran the meeting, talked openly about his own missteps when he entered the lifestyle and how lucky he was that his wife Sandra had stayed with him while they learned together. All agreed that the best way to bring "new blood" into the lifestyle is to guide, teach and mentor them in the ways that they can fulfill their needs and desires. All considered meetings like Off the Cuff essential to this process. I heard a few horror stories, a few happy endings and added a lot more depth to my knowledge of what it meant to be in a BDSM relationship. By the time the meeting was over I had a great deal more knowledge than I had come in with. I had a pocketful of phone numbers and email addresses and entreaties to contact them if I had any questions. I had come to an educational support group meeting and asked for help, information and direction. I left feeling welcome, wanted and safe. If I have questions and concerns as I continue this journey, I know I have guides should I need them.

According to Dr. Peggy Kleinplatz “Our bodies are the repositories for memories, fears, secrets, hopes and dreams”. Kleinplatz asks us, “Why stop at orgasm when we can aim for ecstasy?” “Maybe”, she suggests “we really ought to consider learning from those who aim high – from those who aim to get all that they can out of their sexual encounters and refuse to settle for perfunctory sex. They aim to use sex as a vehicle for personal growth and transformation and interpersonal intimacy. If the means they use are outside the conventions and constraints of ordinary sexual relations, so too, are their goals extraordinary.” Out of the ordinary indeed; from the first time I read it, this passage stuck me as truth. During this project I’ve been challenged. On some level I’d like to think I haven’t had to stretch myself at all and that my mind is and will continue to be completely open. Except that if I am honest, I will admit that I had to adapt and encourage myself to embrace quite a few ideas that hadn’t been part of my world view. I have evolved and been transformed and emerged anew, and for that I am truly grateful.

BDSM, like swinging, preferring blonds, enjoying women with huge silicone implants – it’s all considered to be fetish. A fetish is any interest or desire that may not fall into the "Judeo /Christian norm". More officially, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, a fetish is “something, such as an object or a nonsexual part of the body that arouses sexual desire and may become necessary for sexual gratification“. Exploring BDSM is also an exploration of self. Everyone whether they admit it or not, has a little kink desire in them. There are three essential things I’ve discovered or had reinforced during this project. First, there are more “good” people (judges, senators, doctors, lawyers....etc) in this lifestyle than the average person realizes. Second, being in the lifestyle or interested in it does not make you “bad”, sick, crazy or perverted. Mostly being part of the lifestyle makes you honest. Third and most important, Y.K.I.N.M.K.B.Y.K.I.O.K. Translation - Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is ok! Not everyone is going to have the same interests in the lifestyle. My partner and I may not have the same interests, but in the learning process we'll hopefully come to find that we can work with our different likes to grow and play together. In Kinkorama Simon Sheppard emphasizes that “sadomasochistic sex, especially the traditional leathersex variety, is chockablock with rules and rituals. It’s fun, of course, but these road rules also exist because this stuff is scary. Kink involves a radical vulnerability that is always at least a little risky because it’s letting the big, hungry animal out to play." I didn’t expect that the lessons I learned from this experience would be about the importance of honesty and intimacy in relationships. I definitely could not have known that the meeting would have taught me more about the nature of human attraction and the simple yet very complicated things those who have “vanilla” sex take for granted. The credo of " SSC - Safe, Sane, and Consensual" is something most BDSM participants live and play by. It struck me, much to my surprise, that individuals who partake in the BSDM lifestyle have much safer sexual interactions than the rest of us. What lessons should those in the vanilla community take from this? Just how much of the Hippocratic entreaty first do no harm do we take into our relationship, our homes, our bedrooms?

Ultimately I am just one of many chefs in the gourmet restaurant of life, tasting different dishes on my own journey of sexual exploration and discovery. Many of us will opt for a life of happy absolute vanilla. An adventurous few, more than the rest of us may think, will visit the kitchen of Kink, even if only on special occasions. We will dine at the table of desire, maybe even attempt to sneak a guilty peek at the dark molten chocolate of dessert, burning our fingers on the oven door in the process. In the end there is no right technique, and certainly there is no perfect recipe. We make choices. We make mistakes. We evolve. As Sheppard reminds us “For better or worse – for better and worse – we make up our lives as we go along.” So at this, the end of my little adventure, I raise my plate of dribbled chocolate sauce and crumbs and say - thank you sir, may I have another.

*References available on request

Play on the Edge III - In the Lifestyle

Continued from Play on the Edge II

In my conversations with people in the “lifestyle” as it is called, I discovered that there is a lot regarding BDSM that we vanilla folks have no idea about. As with any kind of ignorance there are also a lot of lies we tell ourselves about so called “deviant” sexual practices that allow us to place ourselves in the church steeple and they the “other” into a dungeon. Little do we know that most of the time, they like it there. BSDM is more about trust respect and yes safety, than I ever could have known looking in from the outside. There is a kind of communion between top and bottom, master and slave, dominant and submissive that speaks to a level of honesty and shared commitment to the experience that I doubt most couples reach. During play there is a sense of security achieved between submissive and dominant, borne out of chivalry dictated by strict codes of behavior. According to Easton & Hardy “All these structures are there to help you get as big as you can, and your bottom as small as he can, while ensuring your safe return to your normal size when you need to go back. Like Alice’s looking glass, they enable you to wander safely through the topsy-turvy dreamscapes of fantasy, where pain is pleasure and cruelty is love “(p. 20). For the submissive there is honor in giving over control and pride in the discipline submission requires. For the dominant nothing can happen without the permission of the submissive. Theirs is often a stressful experience with release and exhilaration only possible through the pleasure and release of their bottom. Within their shared experience exists a place where the person who assumes the less aggressive pose is actually the one in control.

Pat Califia suggests that “S/M is usually dealt with in an abstract, self-righteous way by feminist theorists who believe it is the epitome of misogyny, sexism, and violence”. Although I don’t agree with the radical feminist’s take on sadomasochism, I hadn’t previously seen BDSM as empowering for the submissive. How could there be a place of power beneath the hands of a man? If there is power, real power there, then on some level how can you be female and not interested in the “lifestyle”. That BSDM and the fantasies it makes real occur at an intersection between desire and power isn’t hard to believe. Who among us doesn’t like a little bit of power? As Sheppard stresses, “we are all straining under the burden of mortality, no matter what myths we may construct that promise a happy ending to our earthly lives”. His theory proposes that one way past that heavy load is to use our bodies for pleasure, connectedness, and yes SEX. I am obliged to agree with him. Power-based sex has a touch of the supernatural. The journey it involves is a sharp and treacherous path to self-knowledge. That such a journey could be a meditation or a weird kind of salvation seems possible to me. I’ve been told that the experience of the submissive can be transformative, and the pride generated by each successful scene akin to that felt by a warrior following a difficult conflict, having worked against resistance towards ultimate triumph. Who wouldn’t want that kind of rush?

Califia reminds us that “sadists and masochists are stereotyped as people who are out of control, sick or criminal, or incapable of acting in their own or other’s best interests”. But the more we look carefully at the line between vanilla sex and the body stress sought out by some S/M people, the more it begins to waver and blur. Dominance of one kind or another is inherent to the act of sex itself. Most people enjoy the weight of their partner’s body on top of them, being grabbed, moved around, scratched and even bitten at the height of passion. How does one move from forceful sex to BDSM? How many steps are there until one reaches the other side of that line? I decided that I needed some more information. Voracious reader that I am, I have been reading about sex since I was 12. It made perfect sense that I should turn to books to better explore the BSDM lifestyle. I made my way to the Miami Beach Regional library on South Beach, the only library in Miami-Dade County that stocks S/M related topics. Along with curious looks and unsolicited commentary from the male staff, I left with an arm full of titles that I hoped would take me safely and purposefully to the other side of the line.

Two weeks later, after endless conversations, clarifications and assurances, my partner and I stood on the edge of our grand adventure. Appropriated informed, I felt ready to create a sizzling meal of sexual fantasy, intrigue and what I hoped would be more than a little bit of fun. We had mentally prepared ourselves for just about any outcome. He was worried he would get too far into things to come back safely. Although I wasn’t certain I would like it, I was more than a little excited by that idea. I took a trip to Fetish Factory in Ft. Lauderdale for appropriate attire. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that on some level the clothing, a heady mixture of latex, leather and lace, comes with a power all its own. By the time I looked at myself in the mirror I felt a lot more like a determined dominatrix than a sweet and willing slave. Despite this, for our inaugural scene I was playing the part of the submissive. I was prepared to be fully devoted to that role. In the end, as novice cooks in the kitchen of the Kink my partner and I didn’t do too badly. Our BDSM buffet had a dash of minor bondage and a sprinkle of spanking, mixed liberally with a handful of verbal abuse, a shower of role play and a steamy dish of homemade porn for desert. In the role of bad little girl I was shameless and be assured, I was punished thoroughly. The experience was almost as shocking as it was exhilarating. Lying in a sweaty heap at the end of it all, I felt like Alice peering into the rabbit hole. We’d made a good first effort but we had barely scratched the surface and I knew I wanted more. So I decided to go in search of guidance.

Have you ever sought out an instruction manual?

Pain is Pleasure

I am the queen of talking shit…straight instigating in the naughty, flirty sense. I had been away for a week and I was dying to get it in with him----gangsta style of course. He hated (and loved) that I always felt the need to go toe-to-toe. What can I say, I’m from BK and it’s just how I roll. I already knew what he was capable of when provoked. Just the thought made me want to act up even more. lol Of course for the first two days I purposely ignored his texts. Thereafter, I kept my responses very short and vague. I knew this would make him livid but at the same time it had him feening to get me alone. Whenever he hadn’t seen me for an extended period, he stayed checking in just to make sure I wasn’t giving HIS pussy away. On the car ride back, even though I was going about 20 miles above the speed limit to get to him, I made sure I played it cool via text. “WTF, why haven’t you been responding to my messages? Wait until I see your ass tonight….", he texted. I couldn’t help but giggle giddily to myself while I sang along to Beyonce’s new joint. I quickly responded that he should save his punk ass threats for the next chick, stomped on the gas and practically floored it to our rendezvous location. I wanted to make sure that I got there before him with enough time to prepare.

How I managed to get to the hotel without getting a ticket is beyond me but thankfully I had arrived with about an hour to spare. An hour an half, since I knew his ass would be late. The room was just as I had pictured it----impeccable and perfect, white linens on a king sized bed; beautiful marble floored bathroom with a Jacuzzi and rain showerhead; and of course a 42 in flat panel television. (A beautiful hotel room is such a turn on to me.) I was already horny during the drive but when I saw the room, all I can say is MOIST—what! I quickly showered with his favorite scented gel, lotioned my entire body with matching body butter, and followed that up with the matching body spray. The room probably smelled like I had been living there for months. I smelled like fucking pure seduction but I felt slightly nervous in anticipation of his arrival. Since I was headed into battle, I needed to put on all the necessary armor: my favorite black vinyl corset with the matching over-the-knee stiletto boots. No panties or bra necessary. I slicked my hair back into a pony, threw on my dog collar and attached the metal leash. Just as I snapped the leash onto my collar, this negro was banging on the hotel door. Perfect. I threw the leash over my shoulder, grabbed my wooden paddle wrapped with black electric tape and headed into what was about to be the kinkiest battle of the sexes ever.

I opened the door trying to look the MOST unimpressed but inside I was loving the scowl he had on his face. I wanted to beg for mercy before we even started but fuck that---fuck him. I’m a defiant bitch. He stared at me so hard it was as if he had superman’s x-ray vision and he was taking a sneak peak into my soul. Shit, he was really fucking pissed---it was about to be on. We stared each other down in the doorway for what seemed like the longest minute ever. Finally, as I could feel myself about to lose at our game of “Who’s gonna look away first”, I yelled –YOU’RE LATE and slammed the door right in his grill. He’s swift so he caught the door before it closed completely---came in and slammed the door behind him. At this point, I was literally giving him my ass to kiss as I walked back with an attitude towards the bed. He grabbed the metal leash attached to my collar and WHAM—I was laid out on my back before I could take two steps from him. Here we go!

Yo, I was seriously stunned and my heart was racing. The marble floor was cold against my bare ass which was throbbing from the take-down. I knew this was going to be a LOOONG night with plenty of bruises to show for it. He jumped his 200+lb frame directly on top of me, gripping the leash even tighter. He brought his face close to mine as if he intended to kiss me. Instead, I could see he was becoming intoxicated by his favorite scent on my body. He whispered in my ear, “Bitch—don’t move an inch.” I could smell his cologne mixing with my pure seduction and I wanted to melt in his muscular arms. Instead I gripped his freshly shaven face with my hands, wrapped my thick muscular legs around his waist and squeezed both with all my strength. He gasped for air, gritting through whatever pain I was inflicting on him. I needed to show him I was there to rumble and would not surrender so easily. Just the weight of his entire body on top of me and the pressure of his belt buckle against my clit made my pussy tingle. We tussled for a few minutes until he finally regained control of the situation. All of my efforts to get the leash back in my possession were thwarted—he had it gripped up too tight between his thick fingers. He pulled me to my knees using the collar. I gasped for air while he looked down at me, grinning at the sight of my struggle---sick bastard. I used my hands to grab at him, trying everything in my power to hurt him---pinching and punching at his chest until finally I had ripped his button down shirt AND his wife-beater off his body. He cocked his free hand back and slapped the shit out of me. I let out a long moan and my pussy gushed. Fighting back tears, I looked at him like I didn’t know whether to kill him or to kiss him. He quickly unbuckled his pants and whipped out his thick, pulsing dick---it looked absolutely delightful. “Did you miss this dick?” he asked. I didn’t answer (partially because I could barely breathe from the collar choking me). SLAP—he hit me again. “Bitch did you miss this dick?” he asked again. True to my defiant nature, I smiled devilishly and said NOPE. Our eyes met and I knew he understood he was going to have to put in work to break me.

He used the leash to drag me towards the bed, scraping my knees on the floor. He sat down and shoved his long, thick dick all the way to the back of my throat. I gagged initially and tears rolled down my face. I tried to resist but he tightened the grip on my collar and used his free hand to hold my head down to take in his full length. At this point my clit was throbbing and I could feel my wetness on my inner thighs and ass. Eventually my throat relaxed and I began working my tongue around the base of his dick. I DID miss his dick. He adjusted my face so he could see me work and encouraged me to suck harder with an occasional “yeah bitch, suck that dick”. I loved working while he watched. I rubbed my entire face along the length of his dick and in his pubic hair, kissed his inner thighs and then began gently massaging his balls with my tongue. I was getting into a zone---my special place. He started to relax his grip on my chain and laid back to enjoy my lips and tongue on him. I felt like I was regaining control.

He was getting excited, using his hands on my head to direct my speed up and down his shaft. I could feel him twitching and pulsating in my mouth. Just as his moans got louder and his grip on my chain got looser, I abruptly stopped and jumped to my feet---practically laughing as he looked up enraged at the disruption. Fuck him, I hadn’t surrendered just yet. He was pissed and I loved it. He quickly grabbed me and literally threw me to the floor on the OTHER side of the bed. Before I could recover, he grabbed my neck to stand me up and pinned me to the wall. He squeezed my throat tighter and I could feel my eyes roll to the back of my head. He kissed me aggressively, taking both of my lips into his mouth and then sucking each of my lips individually before pushing his soft tongue into my mouth. With his free hand, he pried open my legs and pinched my clit between his thumb and his finger. He, of course, ripped my $150 corset in attempts to bite and suck on my nipples. I was PISSED but nearly hyperventilating. I felt powerless in his hands. He tossed me roughly onto the bed and cleverly wrapped the leash around the bed post so I couldn’t freely move. He flipped me over to my knees so my ass was in the air and proceeded to spank me with my own paddle (an unfortunate hazard of bringing weapons to such a battle lol). After the first stroke, I laughed and gasped “that’s all you got?”. I knew such taunting would make him eventually black out on me which was exactly what I was craving. With each subsequent swing of the paddle, my entire body began to sting and I was screaming and moaning his name at the top of my lungs. Clawing at the sheets, I remember thinking—god I hope no one calls the police. After he felt he had given me enough punishment, he tossed the paddle, grabbed my chain from behind and thrust the full length of his dick into my wet, sore pussy. He let out a moan of his own as I came almost immediately, clamping down my tight pussy around the hardness of his dick. “Yeah cum on my dick. Cum hard…who’s pussy is this?” he said in between breaths. “YOOOOOOOOURS” I moaned back. I couldn't fight anymore. “Good girl” he responded. He pulled my leash tighter, arching my back and pumped even harder. He worked my spot for what seemed like eternity. I couldn’t stop cumming and it didn't take long before I felt lightheaded enough to pass out. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out. I turned quickly to slurp up all of his warm, delicious cum. I collapsed onto the bed, my entire body aching in pain and with pleasure. He scooped me onto his smooth caramel chest and gently rubbed my sore body with his hands. I nudged my face into the crook of his neck, taking in all of his scent and looked up at him —“Good girl” he whispered one last time. Now that we had made war…..it was time to make love.

Have you ever made war with someone you loved? How far would you go before you surrendered?

Play on the Edge II - A Second Look

Continued from Play on the Edge I

Sometimes it’s hard for me to admit when I am wrong. I have a stubborn streak and although it usually takes a back seat to my partner’s, it is alive and kicking. After I wrote my proposal I was determined to give the conversation another go. I tried relentlessly over the course of the next couple of weeks to get more details and to have him explore his feelings. It was difficult if not impossible to get him to tell me anything. I started to become offended. How dare he place me in some kind of lily white category? How has he made me of all people into a paragon of sexual virtue? It was upsetting and alarming at the same time. He was insulting my inner sex goddess. Had we really been having “vanilla” sex all these years? How exactly could I spend the rest of my life with a man like this? My determination grew into relentless dedication. Even at this point, I wasn’t sure what him telling me more would accomplish exactly and how this would help us move toward future adventures. I at least understood that his “violent” sex had something to do with the BDSM lifestyle. I was hoping to tap into that something and hone it, perhaps help it to flourish. I was a little anxious about the details, but that anxiety had an element of excitement to it. I was ready for a new challenge in a sense, and spurred on by the idea that this was something I might actually really like. Trying it on to see if it fit became imperative.

I asked my partner why he thought average people are willing to add things like stockings, handcuffs, blindfolds and the occasional good smack, into their sex lives. On some level I thought it had something to do with the “idea” of being spicy, of trying something new. I wondered where the pleasure came from. Was it related to doing something slightly taboo or forbidden? Was it a joy that came from being a variation of normal and stepping outside of the sometimes puritanical bounds of American sexuality? If I am honest with myself I will admit to being condescending. I consider these people – of which I am one – to be fakers, mirroring an idea of the daring yet unwilling to embrace the experience in a more pure form. When you are spanking me during sex, what exactly is that about, I asked him. Are you reenacting a music video or are you getting pleasure from it, and if so from what aspect? I could feel myself becoming a therapist. In spite of my best efforts not to fall into it I was in fact “shrinking” him. In the face of his insistence not to have the discussion I had discovered a back door. I’d found a way to get him to talk about his feelings as they related to sex play without actually asking about that specific encounter he refused to discuss. All of a sudden we were having a real conversation about what he experienced as the aggressor. My ability to reframe and shift context was allowing me to understand what dominance meant to him and why he felt real BDSM wasn’t a good fit for us.

Our sex play has often included aspects of bondage or spanking but more as a variation of normal than a lifestyle choice. My partner has had experiences wih other women which he considers to be more of a deviation from the norm than ours. However, he believes these experiences to be somewhat isolated incidents that just "happened" to work out well. He isn’t at the point where he can picture acting out similar scenarios with me. He is also unsure whether he would enjoy the behavior if it were in some way official or sanctioned. On some level he believes the person in the submissive role isn’t enjoying what is happening. So from his perspective in order to really get into what he is doing he would have to stop caring how the other person felt. His theory is that this is not someplace he could go with me. Attempting to do so would require him wrapping his mind around the idea that I might actually experience pleasure from physical discomfort or even pain. As my current sexual partner and possible life partner he is committed to the idea of doing whatever he can sexually which will bring me pleasure. If BDSM experiences are part of that, then ultimately he is willing to make an attempt. However he really doesn’t know what he is doing and that bothers him. So he wants to know where we start.

How do you add something "new" to your sexual menu?

Play on the Edge I - The Assignment

“It’s mean.” he said

I replied, “What? How is it mean if I want you to do it?”

(Sheba, Personal communication, June 8, 2005)

I found the writing of this assignment for my Sex Therapy course difficult in the sense that it was not a conventional research paper. I had to ask myself, how can I best discuss the fullness of my experience while looking back on three month’s worth of conversations, research articles and acutely personal revelations? I wanted to use this assignment as an opportunity to merge together some of the concepts I have found most important in our course. However I didn’t want to get bogged down by them. Instead I wanted them to mingle with the details of my project to make a whole picture, to imbue it with a sense of authenticity. I will begin with what lead me to my topic. I will discuss the discoveries I made and where they led me. I hope to end with how I feel that choice, those discoveries and the direction they sent me in, fit into the matrix of ideas I embraced in that class over the course of the semester.

Our assignment was to do something that pushed our boundaries and stretched our levels of comfort about sexually. Ideally that something would be transformative. Initially I was stuck. What stone had I left unturned in the world of sex? What was there about sex left to transform me? It was a struggle. I spent weeks thinking about this. I started to believe at one point that perhaps I was just full of myself. Perhaps I was completely full of hubris in thinking myself so wonderfully open-minded as to have no un-walked avenues on the road of sexual abandon. I loathed the idea of possibly being a bogus left wing liberal – in bed. I talked to other people about their topics: exploring nudity, monogamy, pornography. None of those topics struck a chord with me and I started to wonder how honest I was being with myself. Should I just try them out in case I might discover something that made me uncomfortable? This didn’t seem like a genuine exploration of my sexuality. I began to worry that I would be forced to do something that was boring, tiresome and dull. I was losing hope. Then, almost by accident, I found something which could be interesting, titillating and new - BDSM. BDSM is an acronym for bondage, dominance, sadism masochism. Even stringing the words together on the same line, in the same sentence, is exciting. I must admit that when I first chose this topic I thought it would be simple. Little did I know that I had a fairly narrow understanding of what BDSM actually was furthermore how I would go about incorporating it into my personal sex life. As badly wanted to try I didn’t necessarily add into the equation that I would need a willing partner in order to achieve true success. I simply knew my partner would be willing. How could he not be willing, he is the one who brought the whole thing up in the first place.

Almost three years ago when we had our liquor induced conversation in a freezing car outside if his parent’s house, I was being brave. With a sexual bravado I had come to pride myself on over the years I announced that in any good relationship partners must be to be willing to experiment. How does one know something is unlikable if one does not first test it out? I declared that certainly I hoped that I expressed this in our relationship and would be sorely saddened if it turned out that he had deviant, or worse yet, mainstream interests he had not attempted to share with me. Women often have impeccable timing. It would serve men well if they did not forget this. I knew my partner wasn’t sober, and melancholy pensive Gemini that he is, I also knew that intoxication was often the key to absolute truth and honesty. He was hesitant at first, but ultimately it came out that on one of our many “breaks” he’d had sex with a woman who had a violent streak. I was intrigued. What exactly did he mean? Looking back he said he was lucky things had turned out as well as they did and that the female was into his rough play, but ultimately he wouldn’t give gory (or possibly exciting) details. Of course I was then beyond curious, and more importantly wondered whether perhaps he would try this kind of play with me.

I recall at the time he said absolutely not, something about not being able to “see” me that way, whatever “that way” was. I can’t imagine not insisting this was not only extraordinarily narrow minded of him but also detrimental to our sex life. He gradually became more detailed about his reasons for not discussing it. On some level he didn’t perceive this kind of behavior as “us”. He didn’t picture our relationship in a way that would allow him to act “that way” with me. More importantly he didn’t want to accidentally tap into my history of sexual abuse by being overly aggressive or dominant in bed. I was not discouraged by this because I didn’t believe it was possible the latter would happen. Though the scope of my thought process was sorely limited at the time, I knew there had been nothing violent about my prior sexual abuse. Here were uncharted waters in our relationship. I wanted to sail them. Eventually, we moved on to other topics. It’s come up a few other times over the years, by my choice, but I haven’t ever gotten him to go more in depth about what had happened or more willing to explore the scenario in our relationship. However when I again stumbled – courtesy of the class reading assignment – on this topic, I thought well surely he’ll be willing for the sake of my grade?