Kinky Sex Link

x-posted from Lady Evyl

Two weeks ago today I was at my host’s house in Raleigh North Carolina. I had been invited by Melequus to her home and city and local dungeon for a cell popping workshop. It was quite an honor and a pleasure to be there. Honestly so much happened in my 4 days there I am not sure where to start, what to talk about or in which order. So bare with me in this blog…just go with the flow!

Melequus lives in Cary county in a very cute and quaint country house with lots of land and a stable for 2 horses and is rented out! I had my own lovely room on the 2nd flour with a balcony. I am a city gal so for me this was completely different and I was gaga over the horse. This is horse country! Horses everywhere. In Quebec farm lands have mostly cows. Friday was leisurely and we drove around a bit in the town of Chapel Hill which is super cute actually. Its got a big university so it had lots of hip coffee shops and bars and all.

Danger was in the air though as soon as I arrived in NC…the coming snow and how everyone was freaking out about it…to the extent that both parties I was due to attend were possibly to be canceled. I am from Canada so even if the population there is very unaccustomed to snow I had a huge problem  sympathizing. The governor actually declared it a State of Emergency!!!!! I think I saw finally at most 3-4 inches accumulated. That is a flurry for me. But when in Rome….I did my best to smile and go with the flow.

But in the end nothing got canceled. Friday night a party was thrown in my honor at a Femdom dungeon called FAD…although the party was not a Femdom party as usual, just rented for me that night. An online friend, Nev, living in NC organized it for me and it was so wonderful to meet her in real life. During evening I also met rich. Mel had matched us up months ago on Fetlife in hopes that she would secure me an interesting sub to play with while there. rich and I had on/off communication and there was good potential. I did play with him that night and it was a very pleasant scene. he is not very experienced but seemed eager in his ignorance of what he liked or did not. Although he said CBT was something he enjoyed and I love CBT! he got quite a beating in the end, I got quite an interested crowd watching and fun was had by all.After our session he offered himself at my disposition 24hrs a day till my departure and also offered to drive us all to La Fortress the next day, the dungeon where I was to give my Cell Popping workshop. A sweet offer I gladly accepted since by now the snow was falling, La Fortress is normally a good 1hours drive and he claimed experience in bad driving weather conditions.

Saturday rich picked us up at 2 pm and we got there shortly before 4pm…the time I was due to start. I also never saw so many cars in ditches along the highway. Had it been nice it would have been a record attendance with 80 people signed up. But since it was the end of the world about 20 showed up…which is more then the normal monthly workshop. We even started an hour late as guest on their way called to say they were in a ditch but asked if we would wait lol. For the evening portion of the party about 35 people were present in total and as it was decided the day about 20 slept over as to not have to drive on the snow covered roads.  So it turned into a really fun slumber party and they had prepared eggs, bacon, biscuits and coffee in the morning.

La Fortress is awesome. Its an entire dungeon house in a country setting. The kitchen and living room are common grounds to socialize without play. The basement is a huge dungeon with about 10 stations. There is also a big medical room on the first floor and another play room and an attic. The workshop went really well and the demo was awesome too with my ’stunt-bottom’ being none other then Nefarious, Mr SouthEast Leatherfest 2009. I got lots of great feedback and 2 sessions in the evening involved Cell Popping. it was an honor to see people wanting to incorporate it into their play.

A bit later I did my 1st of 2 scenes that night with rich…a bondage scene with a bit of CBT, spanking, flogging and a wonderful mindfuck opportunity. We later had a 2nd scene too and I was just pleased by how well we played together and I just loved the submissive energy he was feeding me. The second scene involved him being tied to a padded ladder. At the end he came off the ladder shaking like a leaf. he said he could not remember the last time he had felt such an adrenaline rush. he may be new but has pain slut potential. I also incorporated a cell popping into our session. I wanted him to remember me for a while so I marked him with my initials on his hip. But this time we definitely had started to really feel a mutual connection. it was really nice having someone there with me, genuinely serving me, rather then a sub making an effort to please the visiting Mistress.

I asked rich to spend Sunday with me to give a bit of a break to my host who was by my side for 3 days now. he then took me on a drive through the country and the capital, Raleigh. I also asked to see the ghetto area as we just don’t have such ‘defined’ spots so much in Canada. Sure we have neighborhoods that tend to attract a larger number of particular ethnics but its not the same. Here its still has that old South flavor to it. It was not so bad and we did come across a spiffed up old police  car with a young dude in it. I got a pic and the driver saw me he was laughing and smiling. probably thought I liked his car when I was actually taking a ‘ghetto car’ pic.

After we went back to his place so he could shower before dinner. I picked his clothes, inspected the marks after 3 play sessions (lovely!) with Me and he showed me his gun collection as pr my request! GUNS…omg! Again, Canada is not a gun country. Sure people have them but you are not allowed to carry one on your person while walking down the street (legally). And honestly the majority do not own them. I have never been around guns. So I had to take a pic of  me with some of his guns.

We went out for dinner to a more traditional NC food place. I ordered a local wine and had chicken and dumplings (yummy). he ordered side dishes for me to try: pulled pork appetizer (excellent), creamy grits (not bad with the cheese), collard greens (meh, was OK) and corn bread (yummy) with Pot Liquor (gross). What is Pot Liquor you ask? It’s the liquid that is left behind after boiling vegetable greens and meat. rich told me as a kid this stuff was usually thrown out in the woods behind their house and no one would EVER consider ordering it, he found it funny to see that on the menu.

Sunday was a precious day spent in great company. It really made the trip. A note one play and the scene there. Fetish is non existent there…its just BDSM and they take it safely and seriously…they play a hell of a lot harder too in public. I am talk real sadism and blood play and all but completely done in a safe way. Honestly I liked it better then the current Montreal scene which is going towards fashionable fetish parties and pure BDSM night are getting more and more scarce. I hope to take what I learned on this level in NC and do my best to help Montreal find a more solid BDSM root again.

This last picture below I just received today from NC….it’s some of the last snow still found in Cary county from the ’storm’ when I was there. Too funny!

Challenges make life interesting, however, overcoming them is what makes life meaningful. – Mark Twain

Life has taken some unanticipated and less than desired turns as of late. There has been heartbreak and revelation, tears and trying moments, pity parties and plain ole bad days. But there’s also been processing and introspection, with a focus on how to do it better next time.

BDSM as a mechanism for personal growth never ceases to amaze me. Didn’t we get into this thing for the sex and the rush? For lots, yep.. that’s why we started. But for many of us it was just a springboard to looking deeper within ourselves to begin defining who we are, what we want, and other such things. Come for the sex, stay for the growth.

I thought I knew what  wanted from a submissive, from a partner. Things like control, power, structure, protocol, etc. Those things are still there. But recent developments have made me sit back and wonder, ‘What was missing? Why did things fall apart? What is it I wanted and didn’t know I wanted? What name does it bear?’

The answer came to me much more quickly than I would have expected: Devotion.

Forgetting the religious aspects of the word, the devotion I speak of here is defined as:

Yep, that’s it all right.

For me, this was one of those elementary, foundational ‘this is just how you do it’ kind of things. I assumed anyone who identified as submissive intrinsically felt this, simply because that’s always how I’d viewed it. It’s like teaching someone to wash their hands, you don’t always think to include telling them ‘now use soap..’ because it seems so obvious to you. But again with that self growth thing.. and a big part of that in BDSM and poly dynamics is realizing that we each bring our own histories and thoughts to an experience. Often this means words and concepts do not always mean the same to people as they do to you.

So we have the textbook definition of devotion, now what does that look like in real time and in relation to submission?  Here is a part of what it looks like to me:

• To want and desire with a full heart
• To set apart and above all things when practical
• To view or be viewed as special
• To think of that person and their needs and wants before your own a majority of the time and with consistency
• To act in an anticipatory manner so that the needs and wants of the person are met before a request is needed
• To look upon or be looked upon with eyes that are longing and eager to please
• To think of the self last
• To sacrifice personal comfort or wants for the other
• To be dedicated to making sure the other’s needs and desires are met
• To do all that is asked with sincerity and depth
• To perform with grace and enthusiasm for the greater cause
• To be transparent in communication and relaying emotional information
• To place one’s own well being and comfort in the hands of another after great thought and great trust with abandon
• Surrender of one’s will

There are others of course.. but the overall theme here is clear: to place another above yourself from a place of a desire.

Lest it seem I am asking for the moon, I am not unreasonable or entertaining visions of a god complex. If there are practical things like jobs, livelihoods, children, families, primary partners, emergencies, etc.. to be tended to then those should be seen to. But when at all possible, which actually is a goodly portion of the time; I want to be wanted, actively seeken out, to be served with enthusiasm, to have control freely given to me, to have someone be grateful for the effort I expend on them and return it in kind and more. I want someone who is devoted to me and my best interest.

This is how I have always approached a D/s dynamic as a submissive. I thought everyone did it the same way in this regard. Clearly, I needed to define it more. This is how I serve my Dominant. As a Dominant, this is how I want a submissive to serve me. Now that I have a more specific definition of it, I’ll be able to communicate this from the beginning for my next interaction.

New mistakes will be made in any future dynamic I enter into to be sure, but this one will be more easily intergrated I hope.

~kim

Kink In Motion

(Cross posted from Lair of the Dragon Mage)

(This story was inspired in part by a Twitter conversation I had with @WyldeKyttin. A chance comment on her part gave me a seed of an idea. The idea blossomed later that day, and I started writing when I got home. This story is the result. I hope you like it. )

They grin at each other as he parks his car in a dark corner of the employee parking lot behind the gym. She turns her head and looks at him and asks again, “Are you sure you won’t get into trouble for this?”

“I have keys and alarm codes, little one. A benefit of being the manager. And tonight, I’ll also get the benefits of being your personal trainer,” he says with a smile.

They walk casually across the parking lot, trading playful kisses on the way to the back door of the building. She waits as he opens the door and slips inside to disarm the alarm. When the beeping stops, he opens the door to let her into the dimly lit building, bringing the small duffel bag with them. He leads her to the men’s locker room and they find a pair of empty lockers. They open the lockers and undress, placing their street clothes into the lockers. She reaches for the duffel but he takes her hand and pulls her close for a kiss.

“You don’t need to get into that bag, little one.”

She starts to explain, “I need to put on my workout clothes,” but he cuts her off: “You are in your workout clothes for tonight.”

Her eyes widen as it dawns on her what he considers some of his benefits of being her trainer would be.

He takes her hand and turns towards the locker room exit, picking up the duffel bag as he leads her towards the workout floor, neither of them wearing anything but their shoes. She starts to turn towards the cardio equipment, expecting to start her workout on the treadmill as usual, but he leads her towards the strength machines instead.

“This workout will be a bit different, little one,” he says as they walk out onto the mat in the center of the large strength circuit. “We’ll need to stretch a bit to start.”  He stands next to her and they help each other stretch out, following the pattern that they had used many times before: her hands on his arms or legs to provide resistance as he stretches, and then his hands on her arms and legs. This time, however, his hands wander over her body to places he wouldn’t normally touch when the gym was occupied, and his touches get her heart going almost as well as a short cardio workout.

When they finish their stretching routine, he looks at her and says with a grin, “Ok, I think you’re warmed up enough now.” He lightly touches the back of her neck and then traces his fingertip around to her throat and down between her breasts.  He follows the curve of her body back up and around and laughs as she shivers from the feather-like touch. She pretends to pout when he laughs, and he smiles at her as he runs his finger around her nipple which hardens at his touch.  He takes her nipple between two fingers and pinches, just enough to hold on, and then he begins to walk towards the weight machines, leading her by tugging her nipple.  He leads her to the dual axis pull down machine, opens the duffel bag and removes a towel which he drapes on the seat, then waits as she adjusts the height of the seat and sits down. He leans in close and kisses her, and then turns and removes some rope from the duffel bag.

He walks around to the side of the machine and tells her to hold onto the handles. She looks questioningly at the rope in his hands, but stretches her arms up and takes hold of the handles. He slowly ties the rope around her wrists and the handles of the machine, and then kneels beside the machine, using the remaining length of rope to tie her ankles to the metal legs. He moves around the seat of the machine and pulls the pin from the weight stack, replacing it at the highest weight: nearly 300 pounds.

“That should keep you still for a bit,” He says as he returns to the duffel, taking out a deerskin flogger. He stands behind the machine, his eyes wandering over the lines and curves of her body as she sits with her back and arms stretched up to hold onto the handles. He swings the flogger gently, smiling as the flinches when the tips of the falls flick over her back. He swings again and again, each pass of the flogger bringing the falls a little closer, each pass letting more of the deerskin touch her her skin, each pass landing with a little more force until the large room is filled with the thuds of the flogger striking her back. He settles into a rhythm, swinging the flogger with practiced ease, always watching her reaction, always listening to the sound of the flogger, and to the sounds of his partner. On some swings, he leans in closer, letting the flogger strike her side so that the deerskin wraps around her taughtly stretched body to land on her breasts, the tips stinging her nipples.

He watches her, judging her reaction, and when her breathing changes, he slows the flogger, pulling back so that only the tips touch her, lightly brushing over her reddened skin. As she begins to slump against the rope, he stops. He steps in close and lifts her arms, untying the rope to release her hands from the handles and supporting her as her arms fall. She leans against him for several moments until she can catch her breath, and then sits up. He kneels beside her to release her feet and gather up the rope and flogger before standing up again. He helps her to stand and removes the towel from the seat, noting the damp spot with a laugh.

He sees the question in her eyes, and answers before she can ask, “There is more, little one. Time for the next machine.”  He leads her to the prone leg curl, laying the towel over the pads and helping her get into place face down on the machine. He pulls the rope from the duffel again, using it to secure her hands to the handles, and her legs to the lift bar.  He pulls a small rattan cane out of the duffel and stands next to the machine, laying the rattan across his lover’s exposed ass.

He lifts the cane and taps it lightly across her flesh, teasing her with each touch until he has the feel for the angle. He lifts his arm and waits for half a breath before letting it drop. As his arm comes down, he flicks his wrist, snapping the rattan sharply across her ass.

She gasps and jumps as much as the rope will allow as the rattan kisses her backside with a fiery sting, and then quickly sucks in another breath as he lifts his arm again, waiting for him to swing and jumping again as the cane lands with another stinging stripe.

He flicks the cane up and down, each swing leaving a pink welt across the pale skin of her buttocks, each touch of the rattan causing her to jump. He turns his hand and flicks his wrist, the cane crossing another mark and leaving a X shaped welt.  He flicks his wrist several more times, leaving welts over most of her ass and even a few on her upper thighs.

She breathes deeply as he sets the cane aside, the pain of the rattan having already pushed her into that floating place in her head. She allows her eyes to close as she lays across the pads of the weight machine and feels the sting of the cane welts start to sink in. Her eyes open in shock as the welts on her ass begin to burn again. She tries to focus on the sensation and slowly recognizes the pricking of his pinwheel as he rolls it on the cane welts.

The quiet of the gym is broken by her sudden cry, “That hurts!”

He laughs at her and puts a hand on her back, holding her down as he continues to slowly roll the pinwheel over the welts on her ass. When he has traced every cane welt with the wheel, he puts it back into the duffel bag and stands up again. He walks around to the front of the machine and stands there waiting.

She doesn’t hear him moving, and she doesn’t feel any new sensations, so she lifts her head and looks up, and finds herself eye level with his erect cock. She sighs as she feels his fingers twine into her hair, and then gasps as he pulls, lifting her head.

He tugs her hair, lifting her head a little higher, then steps closer, brushing his cock against her full lips. “Open up, little one,” he whispers to her. He pushes as her lips part, slowly sliding his cock into her mouth until he is almost completely inside of her. He grins as she wraps her lips around him, and then he slowly moves his hips back, withdrawing from her mouth until the tip of his cock is between her lips.  He moves his hips again, a little faster, forward and back, sliding his cock in and out, faster and harder until he is fucking her mouth.

He twists his fingers tighter into her hair and pushes forward, pressing his cock into her mouth as deeply as he can, reveling in the feeling as she fights to not gag.  He pulls out a little, letting her take a breath, then shoves himself into her throat again, holding her head in place with her hair. He pulls back again, waiting for her to suck in a ragged breath and pushes once more, holding himself as deeply inside her mouth as he can, holding her hair tightly to she can’t move.  He smiles as he feels her stop trying to pull away, as he feels her throat relax and accept him, and he slowly pulls back, sliding out of her mouth and releasing her hair.  He kneels in front of the machine, looks into her now eyes, now glassy and wide, and says, “Good girl.”

He loosens the rope gently, rubbing her ankles and wrists as the rope is removed. He trails kisses from her ankle up the back of her leg, nipping lightly at the welts on her ass before tracing the line of kisses up her back to her neck. She shivers as his lips touch her already sensitive skin.

He carefully helps her to her feet, holding her close and feeling his desire grow at the touch of her skin on his. He takes her face in his hands and lifts her chin, kissing her tenderly.  “Time for the next machine, little one,” he says and leads her around the path, stopping at the fly machine. He places the towel on the seat and helps her sit down, tieing her hands to the handles. He puts the pin into the weight stack at the heaviest weight, ensuring that she can’t move her arms and then steps back.  He kneels in front of her, leaning close and kissing her lips as his fingers brush over her skin.  He leans down, brushing his lips over her nipples as his hands glide down to her thighs, stroking lightly.

She shivers as his lips touch her nipples, and yelps as she feels his teeth on her.  Willingly, she opens her legs as his fingers stroke her thighs, and she arches her hips towards his fingers as they move closer to her center. He moves his hands over her inner thighs, moving closer but not touching her pussy, pulling back every time she pushes her hips closer to him.  He straightens his back and kisses her neck as his hand moves closer and closer, finally brushing his fingertips down her slit. She gasps and arches her back at the touch, and he bites her the base of her neck where it curves out to her shoulder.

Her gasp becomes a moan as his fingers touch her more firmly, and her moan fades to a sigh as he pulls them away again.  He kisses her ear softly, and then whispers, “Don’t come, little one. Not until I say.” She groans her understanding of his command and he kisses her mouth to quiet the groan.

He traces his finger from her knee up her thigh and continues, following the contours of her body, letting them lead him to where she wants him to touch her. He dips his head down and kisses the base of her throat as his finger find the wetness between her legs and slowly push inside. His free hand caresses her breast as his mouth captures hers once again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his finger.  The sensations threaten to overwhelm her, pushing her closer to orgasm with each passing minute.

He continues his assault on her body and senses, watching her respond to his touch, waiting for just the right moment. As he feels her body tense in preparation for orgasm, he stops and leans back, not touching her at all, only watching.  For a moment, there is silence: neither of them even breath, but the silence is broken by her moan of disappointment.

He smiles at her, leaning forward and dropping his head lower, kissing her thighs and then biting. She closes her legs around his head as his teeth mark her flesh and he reaches up quickly, slapping her leg to remind her to keep them where he put them. She slowly opens her legs again, and he turns his head, pushing forward until his mouth finds her pussy, already wet from the evening’s workout. His tongue follows her lips, lightly touching and teasing, up and down, until it brushes her clitoris. She jumps at the expected but surprising touch but quickly rolls her hips forward, pushing her pussy towards his mouth, but he backs away, maintaining only a light, teasing touch.

He pulls back, looking into her eyes with a smile as she begins to voice her disappointment. He holds her eyes with his as he slowly moves his mouth closer to her, a little at a time until his tongue is almost touching her pussy again, and then he waits. He waits until she begins to move her hips again, and as she rocks her hips to get closer to his mouth, he moves that last little bit, covers her clit with his mouth and gently sucks. Her hips begin to buck, pushing against him as he sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue across her clit. He watches her face as she tries to hold back her orgasm, stopping in time for her to follow his instructions.

He stands up and kisses her, his tongue sliding between her lips allowing her to taste herself on his tongue, and then unties her wrists and helps her to stand up again. He walks her around the path past a few machines until they get to the reclining leg press, and he helps her to lie on her back on the pad. “Keep your feet on the floor for a moment, little one,” he says as she starts to pick her feet up to put them on the foot plate. “I need to make a quick adjustment.”

He puts the pin in the weight stack at the lightest setting and then opens the bag and pulls out some pieces of wood, some tape, her strap-on harness and a large dildo. He uses tape to hold a stack of several pieces wood on the footplate, and then arranges the harness around the footplate and the wood blocks. “Now put your feet up here, little one,” he instructs her. She lifts her feet and places them on the foot plate.  He takes the dildo and lines it up with her pussy. “Now lift the weights.” He puts the dildo into the harness lined up so the tip is barely touching her pussy when her legs are straightened.

“Let it back down slowly, love,” he says, and she slowly bends her knees, moaning as the dildo impales her. “Ah, good. That will do. Now, little one, it’s time to work those legs.” he tells her with a smile. She looks at him, her eyes wide, waiting, but he only watches her until she begins to move her legs. Each lift causing the dildo to slip almost all the way out of her cunt, and each return pushing it back inside of her.

“This is a low weight, little one, so do three sets of twelve to fifteen.” She looks at him, her eyes begging, asking what she dares not voice. “And,” he continues, “You better not come until I give you permission.” He counts her repetitions through three sets, and tells her to lift one more time when she reaches the last one. He kisses her mouth and whispers, “Good girl,” in her ear before removing the dildo and allowing her to relax as he removes his additions to the machine.

He puts everything but the towel back into the duffel and then helps her up from the pad. “There is one more we need to visit tonight, lover,” he says as she leans on him to stay upright. He helps her to the next place on the circuit: The free leg-lift. He holds her up while she steps onto the foot bars and puts her arms on the pads. He stands in front of her and says, “Now, little one, you need to lift your legs.”

She lifts her legs up and he moves in close enough that his body is touching hers. He steps up onto the foot bars slowly. “Put your legs around me, lover,” he whispers. She slides her legs around his waist as he touches his cock to her wet cunt. “Let yourself down just a bit now,” he breathes in her ear. She relaxes her arms as he stands up straight, sliding his cock inside of her. He looks into her eyes and kisses her as he begins to rock his hips. She uses her legs to pull him deeper inside of her, working her hips to meet his thrusting. He feels her body begin to tense as the evening’s play threatens to overwhelm her. He thrusts faster and harder, pushing her towards the climax he has been denying her all night, watching as she does her best to hold it off, as she does her best to obey. He bites her neck just under her ear and grins as she moans, and then when he feels that she is as close as she can get without losing control, he whispers in her ear, “Come for me, little one.”

Her body shudders and her legs tighten around him, pulling his cock deeper into her pussy as the orgasm washes over her like a wave. He waits for the shuddering to slow, for her body to relax a little, and then begins thrusting again. He bites her neck and shoulder as she works hard to hold onto the frame. He feels himself coming close to his own orgasm and kisses her mouth before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

She nods, and he rocks his hips faster, thrusting into her pussy as fast as he can now. He feels his orgasm start to build, and knows he can’t hold back any longer. He whispers through ragged breaths in her ear, “Come with me, little one,” and he kisses her. Her body shudders and stiffens again as another orgasm takes her. He feels her come and allows that to push him over the edge into his own orgasm.

They stay there for moments that feel like hours, holding the feeling of being completely one as long as they can.  He feels her arms begin to shake from holding herself up, so he carefully steps down from the frame and helps her down. They sit on the mat, touching and kissing for several minutes as she gets her balance back enough to stand.

As he helps her back to the locker room, he turns and asks, “Did you like this workout, lover?”

Dragon Mage

There are a few topics that seem to never get ‘resolved’ and thus are destined to forever be brought up over and over ad infinitum in BDSM theory. This is almost definitely a good thing. Its also most decidedly puzzling and complex, especially when one is trying to define themselves in the words of these discussions which are ever evolving. One of the ones that I don’t think willl ever cease to be discussed is that of what defines a submissive vs. what defines a slave?

I myself have puzzled over it time and time again. I WAS pretty comfy calling myself a submissive (in my bottomy headspace at least, as I am a switch). I had looked at all the ‘arguments’ and took stock in my own comfort levels in how the terms ‘fit’ me and came to the conclusion that sub was the best match for me. Many MANY people scoff at even that as I am fairly ‘not traditional subby material’,  outwardly at least. Behind closed doors is always a different matter. But this isnt about ‘them’, its about me and my search and journey through this vocabulary maze.

I attended a workshop on the matter at Unholy Harvest (which, btw, you should definitely check out next year!) this year where this topic was discussed. The topic came up AGAIN later that week in two different circles.In these conversations all my thinking was rather turned on its head. Prior to, I had placed myself firmly in the middle of the bottomy trifecta. Its not a competition, but so many view this whole thing rather like post graduate degrees:

• To be a bottom is to have your BA/BS
• To be a submissive is to have your Masters (oh the irony!)
• To be a slave is to have your PhD

(The view often is that a slave is ‘better’ than a sub because she is more devoted in some way. Its unspoken but palpable that slavery is the goal, submission is either posing or just a sto along the way to that goal. In short, submission is oft seen as inferior in some way.)

After the conference and following conversations, it seems ’slave’ may actually be a better fit.

Is this the result of the deepening of my submission? That after 3 years with my Dominant that only now my head space has fully embraced surrender? Not a chance. Not a darn thing has changed between he & I. All thats changed is my perspective on the other perspectives out there.

I googled sub vs slave and found 3 articles that sum up the basic arguments between all the debate. Please read them in their entirety if you wish but here I am only going to quote the parts that speak to what I have stated above so as to illustrate where I found the  points of interest that changed my perspective.

Associated Content

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Steel Door

(this is written as ‘here is what they said, how does that apply to how I self identify?’ this is not a judgement call on how anyone else views things nor is it an exhaustive list of arguments or the only way to define this stuff, just how I puzzle it out for myself)

• As a sub: ‘However you have your opinions and your choices and you can still make them’;’ you have more of an option to stop’; ‘Say you do the dishes and pay the bills, these things usually are still under your control’; ‘A submissive obeys and serves by choosing to do so each time and retains her will.  A slave initially makes a choice to obey her Master at all times and then submits to the will of her Master at all times.‘ – Ah the ‘brainwash’ argument. The theory goes that the slave is SO enslaved they cannot think in terms of ‘will i do this?’ and only do things on autopilot. I disagree. All the self identifying slaves that I know and respect all still make conscious decisions every day, they just always end up deciding to do what Master says because that is the life they choose. When you do the dishes, even if you ‘wouldnt think of NOT doing them’ its still you making your hands do the work. ergo: concious choice. I dont think any slave has ever woken up from some fog and said ‘awesome! those dishes got done!’. You know what are doing and WHY you are doing it, that isnt brainwashing.. its choice. And subs and slaves both do that. Verdict for me? nuetral
• ‘in a submissive role although you give up the control the power is really still 50/50 just in a different setting and under more intense circumstances‘ – First, I dont agree with this.. but for arguments sake:  I do feel a fair bit of control in my relationship but its because thats what makes his life easier and he ALWAYS has final say. That means I really have very little of the control, if any. Verdict for me? According to this, I’m a slave
• ‘Sex is usually a large part of this relationship and mostly where the submission enters in’ – well sex is a large part of ALOT of relationships, BDSM or not  so that isnt really an accurate qualifier. But alot do feel sex is the only place a submissive is submissive. Well, that aint the case here. Its more overt in our sex but its always there, 24/7. Verdict for me? Slave
• ‘Slaves usually are slaves 24/7. They may work but when they get home there is no distinction from normal day to a BDSM day, that person is always a slave from the day they ask for that.’ – Yup, that sounds like my life. Verdict for me? Slave
• ‘A submissive accepts submission, while a slave accepts obedience’; ‘The submissive is a volunteer.The slave is not a volunteer.’ – Oh dear. If you submit to and carry out your Sir’s every order, you are obeying it. And we are talking BDSM slavery not actual ‘take you in the night and force you to work under pain of death’ type slavery here. We are all volunteers. Verdict for me? This one is a non issue completely. Nuetral
• ‘A submissive often has a list of conditions, rules, and limits that a Dominant is required to agree to before entering a session or relationship.‘ ‘Their submission may be quite limited in range, for example, they may only want and desire to release their submission in a limited fashion, for short amounts of time and within tightly confined arena’s. This type of submissive will generally carry a long list of rules, boundaries, limits, requirements etc. which they require the Dominant to agree to prior to engaging their submissive aspect within the relationship.’ - Limits? you betcha. I do not want my arm getting hacked off with a chainsaw thank you very much. Conditions and rules? Not a chance. Verdict for me? Slave (because I firmly believe NOONE, slave or not, is cool with the chainsaw scenario. i dont care how hard core you think you are)
• ‘the Master may have total control, then once the period is over, control returns to the submissive.  The Master only borrows control of the submissive and to the extent the submissive wishes and she controls her submission.’ This, to me, is a bottom. Verdict? Nuetral
• ‘If the focus is on self then you are a submissive, if the focus is on your Master, then you are a slave.’ – I still think focus on self = bottom, focus on Master = sub or slave. But going by this then, verdict for me? Slave
• ‘Being a slave means you are willing to be molded to fit her Master’s needs and to serve him’.; ‘Her attention is on his happiness. A Master is responsible for the needs and happiness of a slave.  She gives him authority over her needs and happiness.  However, a slave is responsible to communicate those needs and feelings.  The limits of the Master become the limits of the slave.’ - Yup, this would be me. Verdict for me? Slave
• ‘Often a slave is given great responsibilities within the relationship. They are given a general framework of limits and direction and expected to act within them using their own resources and abilities.  A slave is often asked to express her thoughts on issues or problems, but realizes that the final decision is always her Master’s. The decision made by her Master becomes absolute for her.’ – Yup, this would be me. Verdict for me? Slave
• ‘…the person that calls themselves submissive who prefers to seek out only casual contacts.’ – Nope, not me. When I do this I consider it bottoming, submission or slavery is not a part of it. Verdict for me? Slave

There is more, and I could go on and on. But this is really the way most of it seems to be going. Every single ‘hallmark of slavery’ (with the exception of no limits which I just personally do not believe exists for anyone) seems to be what I have been referring to as submission. So I should start calling myself a slave, yes?

Not really. The term slave, while now proven applicable, just doesnt seem to fit me. Its like that dress you see and try on and, yeah it fits, but not as well as you’d like. And as someone told me whilst giving me shopping advice one day, ‘if you dont love it, dont buy it.’ I dont love the term slave for me. So I’ll keep my submissive moniker.

And really, all of this is for naught. These terms are fluid, personal, individual and ever changing. So in the end its what feels right for each person and all the rhetoric and dogma surrounding it just doesnt matter. Be who you are and be happy in it. Let others be who they are and them be happy in that. Maybe your views dont totally line up but.. now here is the REAL kicker for slavery: If what you do and how you identify pleases your Dominant/Sir/Master/Owner/Mistress/etc.. that other person’s views have no bearing on your dynamic, so go engage in and enjoy that dynamic in your way.

As my wise friend giving the workshop so eloquently summed all this up:

‘I am begining to wonder if the red herring in all of it is trying to compare D/s and M/s and whether that just muddles the thoughts – where a comparison between power exchange and non power exchange might lead to more interesting analysis??
D/s and M/s are like crunchy versus smooth peanut butter they are much the same and hard to distinguish and yet….some how different to those that are questing for one specifically.’

Amen. I used to be a smooth kinda girl, these days its crunchy. Either way its yummy and I’ll take more please and thank you.

~kim

kink_in_motion

(my apologies for length, i cannot figure out how to cut these entries!)

Another episode of the Masocast is up, this time with my friend Mistress Yin.

We talk about her early experiences with kink, how she incorporates ritual in her life, how she found rules for her dominance and more!

Yin is one of the first people I thouht of interviewing when I first thought of starting a podcast. Listening to this episode I’m sure you’ll understand why.

Subscribe here:

Or listen directly on the Masocast website.

Tasks While Your Dominant is Away

This guest post is by Alpine from Alpine Dreams.

A bit of a background story. My partner and I don’t live together.  We are both Poly, have other relationships and numerous obligations. Staying connected and in a D/s mindframe can be difficult since he does go away sometimes and we can’t always be together on our usual bi-weekly days.
Since, we’ve decided to explore D/s in more depth, …

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What It Means to Be An Owned Kajira

Today’s guest post is by dina from Kajiradreams. She’s donated a few posts for this week on Gorean Living so watch for them in the coming days!

My Master gave me the task of writing down my thoughts on what it means to be an owned kajira. I can only ever write this from my own feelings and own perspective, and to be honest it has taken a lot of thinking …

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Strengths and Misconceptions of Kajira

This is another guest post by dina of kajiradreams. She continues her thoughts on Gor and the life of a kajira. You can also read her thoughts on what it’s like to be an owned kajira.

The strengths of a kajira and the misconceptions of what a kajira is and does.
And what strengths better a kajira in being her Master’s absolute and total property….
I want to make one statement before …

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Submissive Chat Night 9/22/09: Subspace and Subdrop

It’s time for another Submissive Chat Night!
When: Sept 22nd at 8pm CST. It is expected to last about 1 1/2 hours.
Topic: Subspace and Subdrop

Some chat night rules, up for discussion.

Right now I have the room set that it will be moderated during chat night. Dominants are welcome at anytime, but will not be able …

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The Challenges of Being Kajira in Today’s Society

Today’s guest post is by dina from Kajiradreams. You can also read her post on what it’s like to be an owned kajira and a kajira’s strengths and misconceptions.

There is so many stereotypes, misconceptions of what a kajira is; what gor is; what the gorean lifestyle is; what a bdsm lifestyler looks like; what that sort of relationship looks like… Ad infinitum!But let’s just park them there for a moment …

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Val Fox clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as her best friend, Sarah, goaded her.  “No, I’m not going to the reunion.  Everybody from high school was so stupid.  Don’t you remember?”  Flipping through the pages of the style magazine, she held it below her chin and asked Sarah, “Do you think this hair style would look good on me?”

Sarah shook her head, and Val shook her head back.  With a mocking tone, Sarah said, “They were all stupid back then.  You’re right, but I wonder if maybe some of those assholes have gotten more mature over the years.  We’ll never know unless we grace them with our presence, now will we?”  She fluffed her hair and pointed to the new page Val held against her chest.  “I think that one might look okay on you.”

Val shrugged.  “I dunno.  Don’t you think it’s a little too eighties?”  She flipped the magazine to the next page just as the waiting area of the salon began smelling of perm solution.  “You just want to see Johnny again.  Don’t lie to me and tell me that’s not the reason you’re trying to drag me along to the class reunion.  He’s probably married and has a couple of kids by now.  Why not just have a girls’ night out instead?”

Sarah twisted her face in a fake smirk.  “Just because I want to see Johnny doesn’t mean we won’t have fun.  Ever since starting that fairy business of yours, you haven’t taken enough time to spend with people.  You know, people.  Not the kind who are customers, but people.”  Sarah smacked her bubble gum.  “Besides, you didn’t earn the nickname Foxy for nothing.  Snag a guy at the reunion.  Have a little fun.  I bet some of the men there’ll think you’re a knockout with your red hair.”

Later in the week while at the reunion, Val and Sarah stayed together for awhile until Sarah saw Johnny.  Just as Val predicted, Sarah talked with Johnny Rosencratz all night.  For the first half hour or so Val was left alone.  She was utterly bored, and kept checking her watch.  Most of the other people at the reunion wore fake grins, and nobody spoke with her.  Those who did strike up a conversation were people Val didn’t like in the first place.  Everybody hung out in the same cliques as when they were younger.

She crossed the large auditorium and dipped a plastic ladle into the punch bowl.  Turning to snatch a piece of cake along with the punch, Val saw a man with black hair standing near the entrance to the auditorium.  She didn’t remember him.  Wondering who he was, she carried the punch and cake toward where he stood.  The man was alone, and he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

When she was within earshot, Val introduced herself.  I’m Val Fox.  Although I’m sure you must have attended school here and were in my class, I don’t recognize you.  What’s your name?” she said while balancing the little plate and cake in the same hand as the punch so she could offer the man a handshake.  His palm was sweaty as he gripped hers.

He shook her hand firmly and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Val Fox.  I’m Robert Murrel.  I attended school here, but I graduated from East.  My family moved midway through my junior year, so I went to East my senior year.”  Robert’s eyes darted to a group of former football players across the room.  “I suppose this really isn’t the right class reunion to attend since I didn’t graduate from West, but I’m an insurance agent and figured maybe I could network a little for potential clients.”  He pointed at the lopsided piece of cake Val held.  “That looks good.  I think I’ll have some.”

Val wasn’t sure if referencing the football players was Robert’s way of excusing himself from speaking with her any longer, but he gave her the vibes that her conversation was welcome.  He smiled as she tagged along with him back to the cake table.  She cleared her throat and said, “Whoever cut the cake sure mangled it.”

Robert laughed and grasped the ladle to the punchbowl, fixed himself a beverage, and took a piece of cake before pointing toward an empty table nearby.  “Let’s sit,” he said.  “I dunno about you, but standing in uncomfortable shoes has to be the worst thing in the world.  I finally broke down and bought a new pair, and they’re not completely broken in yet.”  Val ate her cake without saying much because her mouth was full.  She listened to Robert talk about the differences between attending East and West.  He wore an orange polo-style shirt and a pair of khaki Dockers.  Every now and again Val caught herself glimpsing at his black, leather belt.  A kidnapping fantasy formed in her mind.

This was why her relationships never worked out.  Val always fixated on men with nice belts.  She imagined them using a belt on her while she lay bound and submissive to them.  In reality, the men with the nice belts were either too shy in bed to try what she wanted, or they insisted on always slating her as a submissive.  Val was a true switch.  She liked using the wonderful leather on a man as much as she liked being on the receiving end of a good punishment.  Val could handle vanilla sex.  What she couldn’t handle was a man who stuck a label on her and then expected her to always take the same role.  She didn’t care if the role was in bed, on the job, or in the home.  That’s why she started The Fairy Store.  Val needed to create her own destiny.

“Are you okay?” Robert said.  “You’re kinda not paying attention to me.  I just asked you a question.”  His cup of punch was nearly drained, and the cake missing.

“Oh, sorry.  I just got lost in my thoughts for awhile.” Val wondered if her face was flushed.  Her slit was wet with the beginnings of a fantasy with this man.  His belt was still in the front of her mind when she said, “I’m not going to stay here for very long.  If you want to meet up with me later or leave with me and do something else, I’m cool with that.  The friend who accompanied me here ditched me.  There’s nobody else I intend to talk with.  If you want to razzle dazzle some potential clients since you just got here, I understand.  I’m a business owner myself.”

Robert swallowed the last few drops of punch in the paper cup before he said, “I think leaving with you sounds like more fun than talking to a bunch of people I don’t know.  Nobody really wants to be sold insurance at a reunion anyway.”

Nadia arrived at Robert’s ranch style house four hours later.  It was a bachelor pad with little in the way of decorations.  Most of his furniture was comfy and brown or beige.  Until her phone call, he hadn’t known she’d even moved back to town.  When she walked through the hallway into the living room, Nadia was as stunning as ever.  Robert approached her as soon as he saw her lips curl up into a wickedly seductive smile.  Wearing a shirt that read the name of a local bar, The Whale’s Belly, her nipples protruded through the “a” of “Whale” and the “y” of “Belly.”  “Damn, I forgot how fine your tits are,” he said, tracing the outline of the two letters.  “You know I’m a breast man.”

She flipped her long, straight blonde hair behind her shoulder.  “And you know from the old days that I like a good fuck just about as much as anything else.  I’ll let you under the Whale’s Belly if you’ll let me be on top.”

“It’s a deal.”  Robert’s pulse quickened as he stared at the bump sticking through the “A.”

He stripped off all his clothes, glad he kept up the rigorous gym routine in the mornings before work.  His jeans, flannel shirt, tank top, socks, and boots all dropped to the floor in a messy pile to the side of the couch.  Nadia watched him, her eyes fixed on his crotch.  She crinkled her nose before smiling again when she saw the sculpted abs Robert had worked so hard to maintain.  He felt comfortable around her, and he knew it drove her crazy when he was slow about taking off his underwear.  Robert crossed the room and then tapped the button on his stereo, filling the room with the echo of soft music.

While sitting on the couch, Nadia lifted the T-shirt over her supple breasts and then pulled her pants down. They slipped off her legs with a tomboyish lack of grace.  She wasn’t tall exactly, but her legs always seemed longer than most women’s legs.  Robert watched Nadia lift her feet out of the pants.  His belly tingled as he anticipated a good fuck.  In the past, Nadia always kept him guessing.  Sometimes she liked sex rough and was feral about their play.  Other times she insisted he take his time and tease her.  He wondered how Nadia wanted it this time around as he sat on the couch next to her.

Her skin was tan except for her bikini line, which suited Robert just fine.  His heartbeat ratcheted up a notch when she neared him with those long legs and tanned skin.  He wanted to explore under the whale’s belly, and she knew it.  Robert missed calling her these past few years whenever he desired a convenient, guilt-free lay.  They used to be a regular fuck when both of them weren’t in committed relationships.  Nadia had been with Joe for a couple years and a hundred miles away, so they hadn’t really kept in touch for awhile.  She winked at him before lifting her leg over Robert’s lap and letting out a deep, slow sigh.  Just like before, they avoided kissing on the mouth as Nadia straddled his lap. Their mutual understanding was that this act they were about to perform was about pleasure, nothing more.  There were no strings attached whatsoever.  Her pussy rocked over his hairy thigh, dampening his leg.  She was wet even before he fondled her.  “Damn, Nadia.  You’re soaked.  Take that thong off.”

He traced the outline of her panties and tugged at the fabric with one hand.  He stroked her long, blonde hair with the other.  Nadia snapped the waistband of his briefs and said, “There’s no use taking mine off if you’re not gonna take yours off.”

Robert panicked.  His dick was limp under the underwear.  Surely Nadia could feel and see his lack of a hard-on, but he didn’t want to talk about it too.  “I can tell you’ve been eager for this,” he said.  “Probably even touching yourself before driving over here.”  Deflecting the topic usually was a good tactic.  If he could just change the subject he’d be okay.  Robert was sure obsessing about having an erection was the problem.  As soon as he could forget about trying, it’d happen.  If he could just focus on Nadia for awhile, he’d be ready to fuck in no time at all.  “Tell me about what you want to do.  You know I like talking dirty,” he said.

“Yeah.”  Nadia removed her panties by lifting her pelvis above his lap and threading one leg at a time out of them.  “I’m glad you like talking dirty,” she said.  “Because it’s been awhile since I’ve done that.”  She pressed her tits against Robert’s chest, and she whispered into his ear.  “I wanna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have the image of us in your head for days.”  She clenched her jaw, whistling through her teeth before biting roughly on Robert’s neck.  “Just like the time we were in the woods on that tree stump.”

“But I’m gonna need a little warming up first,” he said.  Robert cupped her full, round breasts in his hands.  They were just as wonderful as he remembered.  “Tell me more about how naughty you’ve been,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Nadia said as she licked his nipples.  She sucked roughly before dismounting from his lap.  He watched as she knelt between his legs and then grasped the elastic of his underwear.  She slid them off once Robert lifted his hips.  Her expression said it all.  She didn’t want to talk anymore.  Instead, Nadia used a gliding motion with her tongue as she licked his balls and his cock.  What she was doing felt good, but Robert’s penis didn’t respond.  Nadia then took it into her mouth and used her lips over the shaft.  Robert grunted, mostly out of frustration.  He didn’t even achieve a partial erection.

His face burned with embarrassment as Nadia said, “What’s wrong?  You whack off earlier today before I called you or something?”

“No,” he said.  “I don’t know what’s going on.”  He pushed her head away from his balls.  “I’ll pleasure you though.”

They traded places.  Nadia sat on the couch, and Robert knelt between her legs.  He eased his middle finger and then his index finger inside her pussy while flicking her clit with his tongue.  Nadia always had been a gusher.  Robert closed his eyes as he licked between her clit and opening while finding her G-spot with his fingers.

“Right there,” she said.  Nadia’s breathing deepened, and she began panting after he found the right places with his fingers and tongue.

Robert smiled at her directness.  Why was it that his fuck buddy was okay with telling him exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it, but all the women he’d even remotely wanted to date long term couldn’t be as straight forward?  He liked it when women knew what they wanted.  Call a spade and spade and move on, he thought.

Robert curled his finger in the motion he usually used while beckoning someone to “come here,” while he returned to her clit with his mouth.  Nadia rested her legs on his shoulders as her hips rocked back and forth.  Her pussy squeezed around his fingers, the juicy flesh pulsing as she moaned, begging him not to stop.  Robert was frustrated that he couldn’t put his cock inside where his fingers were, but he didn’t want to break her concentration, so he brought her to climax manually and orally instead.

“Your turn,” Nadia said after she was sated.

“No, that’s alright.  I’m kinda not so much in the mood anymore,” he said.  “You’re right; I jerked off earlier before you called me.”  The lie stuck to the roof of his mouth like cotton candy as he spoke.  He turned away from Nadia.  As Robert lost sight of her in his peripheral vision, and he picked the socks off the floor, his cock hardened as soon as the falsehood left his mouth.  “What the fuck?” he said aloud.

“Huh?” Nadia said.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”  The second lie caused his erection to grow harder, longer.  Damn, he wanted Nadia.  “I changed my mind,” he said.  Unsure if the fear of losing the opportunity was what changed his body’s response, Robert didn’t waste the opportunity.  Nadia was always a good lay, and she didn’t disappoint him when he asked to be pleasured.

The first time Robert tried physical intimacy with a woman after Lilly’s curse was when he hooked up with a friend who’d been a former fuck buddy.  “Do you wanna hook up tonight for old time’s sake,” Nadia said during a random phone call one day.

“What do you mean by hook up?  A round of beer?  A night of dancing?  Be more specific,” he said.  Robert loved goading Nadia.

“Hook up, hook up.  I need a good lay.  You know how we used to be fuck buddies before I met Joe.  He and I broke up over six months ago, and I need to release some tension,” she said.  Nadia sounded like she was chewing gum as she talked.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.  You know where to find me.”  Robert wondered if Nadia was wearing anything.  It had been awhile since he last saw her, and she normally meant business when discussing sex.  He wondered why she and Joe broke up, but he didn’t ask.  Why ruin her desire to have a friendly fuck?

“How are you doing?” George Peter asked.  Everyone called him G.P.

“Not too bad,” Robert said as he helped G.P. carve an ornate figurine that would eventually be part of a cuckoo clock.  Woodworking was the only thing he truly enjoyed doing with his father.  They’d never really bonded over things like fishing, hunting, or sports, but woodworking was G.P.’s business.  Ever since Robert was a young boy, he recalled how proud his father always seemed after he’d created anything nice out of wood.  Robert reached across the table to grab a carving tool.

“I heard from what you told your mother that one of your clients attacked you the other day.”  G.P. continued working on his own ornate piece as he spoke.  G.P. wasn’t a man of many words.  Whenever he worked on a project with his son, however, the words seemed to flow more freely.

“Attacked isn’t really the right word,” Robert said as he scraped a light line with his knife into the wing of the cuckoo bird.  Pine wasn’t his favorite wood, but his father had insisted this clock be solid pine except for the gears and other metal pieces.

“Then what would you call it?”  G.P. asked.  He stopped carving and manually sanded a rough spot on the side of the unpainted pendulum.  It would eventually hang from the bottom of the clock.

“My client threw some stuff but she wasn’t violent or anything.”  Robert tried not to sound defensive, but he was pretty sure his efforts weren’t working.

G.P.’s sanding took on a more elbow grease as he said, “A boy like you should take a few classes in conflict resolution.  Going to school is good for a businessman such as you.  I’m sure you must deal with potential situations before the clients get out of hand.”

Rather than argue with his father, Robert continued working the pine into the fully formed bird.  G.P. was usually right about most things, but Robert wasn’t a little boy anymore.  He didn’t like being told how to live his life.  He tentatively agreed to look into the cost of attending a conflict resolution course, doubting he’d actually enroll. Why bother?  Customers would show anger when claims were denied.  No class would change the fact he’d never be able to please everyone all the time.  The customer wasn’t always right, regardless of what customers believed.

Robert held the cuckoo up for his father’s approval.  “What do you think, Pop?”

“Looks good, my boy.  Might be the best bird you’ve carved yet.  It’s really unique.”

G.P. said the same thing every time Robert asked about one of his carvings.  Every one was Robert’s best carving in his father’s eyes.  In G.P.’s overly vocal opinion, Robert’s skills were as good as his own, but Robert knew better.  Carving was only a hobby for him.  For G.P. it was his whole livelihood.  No one would ever be as good a woodworker as G.P.