I had a bit of a hellacious week at work, and I’ve sat down for at least a little while every night to try and put this post into the right words.
I haven’t managed so far, but I need to put it out there, because I have a (slightly) changed perspective. I have other posts I want to write and last weekend will probably be referenced, so here goes.
I had some bondage and electro-play last weekend.
I’ve tried writing this down sexily ala some of my favorite bloggers, but that doesn’t allow me to explain my complicated head space. I’ve tried to just talk all about how I felt the entire time, but that’s too complicated, and comes out sounding like it wasn’t an entirely positive experience. (It was, it was awesome, my brain just isn’t pleased with the implications.) I also just tried telling the story of last weekend, but it took too fucking long, so I’m just going to spit out the highlights and then hit you with a wrap up.
I got an E-mail from KinkinExile, saying “she would be in town and would I like to grab a bite?” Naturally I said yes as I love meeting new people, and I never get to actually talk about BDSM, you know, out loud, to other people.
We settled on brunch at one of my favorite spots, and “oh, would I be interested in a casual rope thing at the CSPC, afterwards.”
This is about where it started to get noisy in my head. I talked previously about my reluctance to become involved in the scene. At the same time waiting around on the sidelines and talking about all the fun I’m choosing not to have is getting a little stale. I said “what the hell” and plans were made.
Sunday brunch was great, I met KinkinExile and a friend of hers at the door, there was a 45 minute wait for a table, so we grabbed coffee, got to know each other. (KinkinExile, by the way reminded me exactly why I think smart is sexy.) I can’t express how refreshing it is to speak to someone who is intelligent and has well reasoned opinions on interesting issues.
After brunch we went to the CSPC, colloquially known as “The Wetspot” Got a grand tour hung out, watched people get tied up. KinkinExile tied up her friend for a bit while we talked. and then asked me if I would like to be tied up.
I said yes, removed my shoes and button up shirt. She asked me what I felt comfortable/uncomfortable with. I said no sexual touching or kissing and we began. Really when it comes down to it, it wasn’t that much different that “tie me up games” that I played as a kid, except my head was going a million miles a minute. Also there was an upside-down topless lady being spun around not four yards away.
Mostly I was excited, but I was trying to rationalize my excitement, because in this context what we’re doing is a bit of fun, but in the context I usually picture this sort of activity it would be the best thing ever. I told her later that:
“I had to be consciously aware that this is “good touch, and friendly playful touch, but it isn’t meaningful touch” (in other more hyperbolic terms, I had to tell myself “don’t to fall madly in love with this seriously cool woman just because she’s touching you.”)
That is sort of what my head is like, I am very aware of my capacity for wild romanticism and I know from experience that embracing that can lead to pain (not the fun kind.) So, my head is always on and when it comes to sex, or more specifically the intersection between my sexuality and my beliefs, my kinky desires and my old fashioned values, I get stopped up and find it difficult to express both sides of what’s going on in my head at the same time. It’s not unlike I’m Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde trying have the same conversation from different points of view.
After the rope thing was over, We did lunch in capitol hill, explored two sex shops and got cupcakes. All in all a great day. Before I left I was invited to come out to a party the following night. I didn’t think I’d make it, I don’t normally do much on work nights, however at the end of the day I was still humming with excitement and opted to go out.
I had given quite a bit of thought to my head space, and my uncharacteristic quietness by Monday night, and felt I was capable of explaining the confusing landscape that is my brain.
I wasn’t, I again found myself less talkative than is my wont, but since these were new acquaintances no one seemed to mind. We met at the cupcake place and headed over to the Wetspot again for Monday Madness, which is their weekly “BDSM party where almost anything can happen, and usually does!”
Honestly I was a bit overstimulated, by the myriad of new sights and sounds, I’m unused to being around naked people flogging and spanking and fondling each other, so I don’t think I can describe the scene with much accuracy. Suffice it to say, that everyone was very friendly.
There was an “electrical tasting” going on, and my first impression was that you would go and get shocked by who ever it was that was providing the violet wand for the evening, and I wasn’t keen to play with anyone I didn’t know. While having polite conversation with some of the folks about the scene, and kink spaces, I picked up on KinkinExile’s desire to try out the electrical tasting (I honestly don’t remember what she said.)
I decided that it would be alright to play with her, and expressed that and we signed up and waited. We met some folks, watched a naked dude getting beaten by a woman in a black dress, talked more, heard the woman before us on the list having a noisy orgasm from the violet wand (I presume, it was out of my line of sight) And eventually it was our turn.
We walked over to the “tasting” area, the hostess was wiping down the table. I took of my shirt.
The Violet wand, belonged to an older gentleman who reminded me a bit of my grandfather (who was a children’s pastor.) He talked about what it did, asked us about our limits, KinkinExile kindly explained that I wasn’t up for playing with anyone but her.
He hooked the wand to her belt, which made it so when she touched me, or used an object to touch me I got a shock.
Starting. lightly with her hands, she experimented zapping me. It was by no means the greatest pain I’ve willingly endured, I have eight hours worth of tattooing on my ribs. Still, it isn’t a sensation I could simply inflict on myself. Despite being safely outside the realm of what I consider (considered?) sexual activity, it was very intimate, letting her hurt me.
The Wartenburg wheel caused the greatest pain, but I think her favorite was this metallic feather-duster-looking cat-toy thing that caused a lot more sparks.
I never let myself too subspacey, but the pain more or less quieted my obnoxious conscience.
“Look at me.” she said.
I had been looking elsewhere, I guess. It was the only time she told me to do anything. I really appreciate how she phrased all her inquiries as “would you like?” questions and gave me time to consider my comfort and boundaries before doing anything. But that one command, Look at me, (while I hurt you) was so simple, and so difficult to follow, I’d get embarrassed with the extended eye contact, and she would tell me again.
At one point our friendly demonstrator suggested that she try kissing me, kissing by the way I had put off limits because touch is like super important to me, and I can’t remove the emotional weight that kissing carries for me.
At one point she put her hands on my thighs, and I immediately, became aware of potential applications for this sensation, that I had somehow overlooked.
I don’t know how long we went on, it seemed to go on for a long time, but was over much too soon.
The fellow running the the tasting had more people to shock.
Afterwards, she wanted hugs and some affirmation that I was OK, which was easy to give, I’m sure I seemed more spaced out than I was. As I said the pain, wasn’t that intense.
Still, my brain was back up an running when it was over. Rational thoughts like “I think that if I would like to become part of the kink community, in order to receive more of these delightful sensations, then I really ought to get myself plugged into a church, because I want to have people that will balance the influences in my life and encourage me to maintain my moral standards.” became upset sounding non-sequiturs like “I think I need to go to church.”
When the evening was over I drove home, she went back to a friends for a few hours of sleep before getting on a plane and flying away. *sigh*
So that’s it, that’s my first real BDSMish experience. I’ve got quite a bit to think about now. Some of it is distressing, like how can I get more play in a way that I find to be “morally acceptable” for lack of a better term. On the upside, I’ve always had this niggling fear that I’d wind up with the perfect Sadistic Dominant and loving wife and find out that I’m not really a masochist. I can safely say that isn’t an issue.
I want more.