One night, I fell in love

Category labels: BDSM psychology, D/s dynamics, Emotions, Faceslapping, Femdom, Knife play, Male sexuality, Personal experience, Personal history, Relationship

Back on May 3rd, 2005, a bit after 4 AM in the morning, I came home from an evening out at one of TES’s “College Night” parties at New York City’s local BDSM club, Paddles. A little over a month earlier, I had first met Eileen at Conversio Virium, but it had been significantly less than a month since we really began getting to know one another. This night, this College Night party, was the first time we played in public. It’s the first time I’d ever felt the beginnings of submission towards another person.

This night was one of the nights when I fell in love with her. Below, a protected entry from my personal journal is republished in full. With the end of my time in New York City fast approaching, I feel like the beginning deserves another look.

In chronological order:

  • Saying hello to more people than I can remember. Giving out hugs.
  • Pledging, hazing. Eating “live goldfish,” immitating a duck (badly), playing Simon Says, and ass paddling.
  • Electric touches everywhere, different on the scalp, on the body, on the genitals. (The ones on the genitals made me squirm to get away—never thought that’d happen when hands and my genitals were involved.) Also laughter, much of it.
  • Knives on steroids, the sound of sizzling, the feel of them burning my skin, forceful like lightning.
  • Caged by the electrified metal, trapped and cornered and struggling.
  • Cowering, hands bound behind my back, slapped and scared and being held, rocked, and petted.
  • He looks like a slave boy. Also a title, but not entirely transferrable from the titles given to a top.
  • Face slapping, breath play. Being broken, defeated, knocked off my feet by the power of her hits; no weapon, no threats, because none was needed—I was her’s.
  • Is this submission? Cavernous, dark, frightening, paralyzing and blurred, treasured.
  • Flinching at the gentle caresses, clutching her arms like they were a tether back up and out of the darkness.
  • A straight-edge blade and a curved blade both at my neck, held by two different people. Cornered in a booth almost kissing one of them, the other pushing my chin up with her knife, forcing the kiss.
  • Grilled chicken, pancakes, and stories at a diner. No coffee for me, though—this was a group outing.

In addition to all of the above, some reminders from an IM conversation for more things to write about:

  • The main difference between every single other time I’ve been in pain and these times was that every other time, my body extended itself towards the pain, again and again and again. Not just willingly—lustfully. But that didn’t happen with this.

    And this time you weren’t smiling anymore.

  • I also remember looking into your eyes when you were suffocating me, actually. But, strange, I don’t remember your eyes.
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Giving me wings

Category labels: Kink events, Knife play, Marks, Personal experience, Pic Post

My life’s doing that thing it sometimes does when so much happens in so little time that the only record of things actually happening is the effects these things have. That makes for a very exciting life, but not a very exciting blog, and this entry is a symptom of that. Therefore, this quick update-that’s-not-really-an-update post will defer to the (rather silly) tradition of Half Naked Thursdays and some miniscule eye-candy.

I spent last weekend in the Boston area at a private weekend-long play and sex party Eileen and I were graciously invited to attend. It was a lot of fun. I got to see some old friends again, got to play with some new friends and an older friend with whom I had never before played, and then when everything was said and done in Massachusetts, Eileen and I took a detour on the way home to visit Switch and Boy for yet more play. It feels like Tuesday to me, and yet I know it’s already Thursday.

A lot happened in Boston. Some of my friends are beginning to write about their experiences and I’m feeling blocked. I guess I can’t always be writing, though: I’m too busy living to be writing about it, at the moment.

In the mean time, I hope you’ll enjoy this picture of the results of the first and relatively very mild scene on Friday night. Eileen, wielding the shiny, new, custom-made knife that Boy made for her, decided to draw wings on my back. Personally, I think she’s got a thing for wings.

May with Knifed Wings

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Marks and pic post Q&A

Category labels: Knife play, Marks, Personal experience, Pic Post, Whipping

I was surprised to get a number of comments and questions on my latest post showing a photo of my marked-up back over the weekend and early into the week. It seems that everyone wants to know what kinds of instruments were used. An anonymous reader wrote privately:

…those marks are so gorgeous in the photo—what implements were used?

Thanks…. :) I love marks, and one of the reasons I play so “hard” is because it seems as though the harder I play the longer I can enjoy the aftermath. (I’m sure you understand what I mean.)

So, there a number of things going on in this photo. First, and most obviously, there are single-tail marks. A single-tail or, more specifically, a signal or snake whip is a type of whip originally designed to control teams of sled dogs. It is, in fact, the type of whip most commonly associated with BDSM play. (That whip prop they sell with dominatrix costumes, yeah, that’s a horrible facsimile of a real signal whip.) There are, however, many different kinds of whips with one tail (thus “single-tail”), but my favorite by fair is the signal whip, a short 3-4 foot whip that is typically weighted at the butt end.

I own a nylon snake whip, which is what made the majority of those very red welts and cuts on my back in the photo I posted. Nylon is an interesting material, because it requires a lot less care than other kinds of whips such as the traditional leathers and kangaroo hides, is much lighter and thus easier to throw, and provides a slightly different sensation. It’s far more poppy, very stingy and not nearly as heavy-feeling as the thicker materials. It’s also a lot cheaper. :)

Underneath the whip marks, you can see some knife marks in the shape of angel’s wings. I think these were made with a butterfly knife, a few days before the nearly hour-long whipping scene that produced the previous photo. In fact, I happen to have a picture of these marks as well.

Knives and whips are too often considered “edgy” toys to play with, but they’re also a lot of fun. There’s nothing quite as painful as a whip that can be wielded with such (relatively) little effort by a top. Likewise, few things (except perhaps firearms) are as scary as knives when pressed up against your skin. Of course, as is always the case, whips, knives, firearms, and every other implement you may use during sexual play such as a BDSM scene should be carefully researched and practiced before its use is sanctioned by yourself or your partner. Please be careful. There is a real possibility for serious harm when using such tools.

Finally, in the photo, the remains of an extremely severe caning Eileen had me endure while bound in ropes the previous week, evidenced by the sunset yellows and blues in a semi-circle on my ass, is also showing in the photograph. This was actually caused by repeated hits with a clear acrylic rod an inch in diameter. Not a cane, per se, but a pervertible that Eileen found at an art store. She bought two, and after that scene only ended up with one. (The other broke.) The feeling of this thing is seconded only by a broken-off table leg a friend of mine beat my thighs and ass with more recently. It’s intensely painful.

What instruments were used more recently?

Just the whip. Unfortunately, Eileen and I ran out of time at the club before the violet wand made its appearance.

On a compeltely unrelated note, the week has been surprisingly busy and somewhat stressful, both emotionally and otherwise, so my lack of posting should be considered a result of that thing that real life does when it swallows you up and makes you pay attention.

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The body as our canvas for expression

Category labels: Cock and ball torture (CBT), Emotions, Knife play, Relationship

Mistress 160 has a lovely description of a scene involving CBT with clamps and pegs and clothespins. What’s awesome about the way she desribes the scene is that her descriptions are analogous to a creative act like painting.

While my hand moved up and down his cock I considered my next artistic endeavour, as the canvas in front of me (sol’s family jewels) was now blank again

This brought to mind the observation that so many activities in BDSM are likened to these sorts of things. I think it’s wonderful, fulfilling and very satisfying. There have been many times when designs of wings, flowers, or abstract curves and shapes have been cut into my flesh (usually on my back or my ass) by my love. She would stand above me and admire her work in very much the same way she was doing so when she was proud of any other accomplishment she had achieved. I loved the feelings of closeness it gave me to offer her my body as the medium of her expression.

While this feeling was coupled with my submissive (and completely “normal” loving) desire to make sure I do whatever I can to enable her to do what she wants, to make her life full of happiness and pleasure, I found that on more than one occasion, she would offer the same for me. The typical vanilla example is a hickey. For us, a hickey is also a mark akin to a bruise from a beating so on the occasions when she encourages me to mark her like that, I feel priviledged and grateful that she’s offering her body to me.

Ultimately, I think these makes a lot of sense. Creation is experssion. People very frequently talk about using the body as a means of expression. It fits in many ways that we would choose our bodies as the medium of that creation. It’s primal, and a part of who we are as human beings.

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