Kinky Sex Link

Guess what today is? That is right it is Kinky sex Link‘s 2nd anniversary!

Please let me take a moment to say how I love everyone single one of you that has/is contributing to KSL and to all our loyal and new readers. THANK YOU!

Just like a 2 year old toddler testing a new world, we are about to change some of the formats here on KSL. As of today Kinky Sex Link (KSL) is a syndicated web blog community of self-identified Kink, Fetish and BDSM Bloggers and Authors. We blog in order to inform, educate, raise awareness and encourage discussion between fellow kinksters and the curious vanilla folk. So you get to read different kink bloggers on just one site.

PRIVILEGED authors who have established a good relationship with KSL can post websites directly on KSL as well. These special bloggers get their biography published on KSL as well.

Who can join?

On our site you’ll find a cross section of BDSM bloggers: from male/female subs, slaves, Masters, Mistresses, Switches, D/s couples, Fetishists, Sadomasochists, AB/DLs, Leather people, Polys, Genderqueers, Sissies and Maids, Gays, Lesbians, TG/TV….the whole ball of wax.

How to join?

Contributors supply KSL with the valid Atom or RSS feed of the posts on their blog. Once registered and verified KSL will automatically and regularly extract all the latest entries from all of our contributors’ blogs and publish them as one group blog at our website.

When the title link is clicked it will go directly back to your site and we will only publish the first 300 words. If there are more then a Read more will appear and it will link back to your site. The copyrights to all posts are held by their authors; all posts are reprinted by permission.

Want to add your blog’s feed?

Just click here to apply: http://www.kinkysexlink.com/how-to-join

Watch out everyone, we are in our TERRIBLE 2s lol

Mystress Lady Evyl,  administrator

Val and Robert went to the mall together later that day. Robert wanted to buy her some sexy lingerie. She expressed interest in buying him a couple new shirts, so they headed for a large department store. Once they were inside, Robert flipped through various button-down shirts that he liked. The collars were stiff and would look nice with a tie and suit jacket. He held the shirt up against his muscular chest for Val’s approval.

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head.

“Why not?” He held it up to his side. “It looks like it’ll fit ok.”

“That’s an insurance agent dress shirt. I want you to get some decent clubbing clothes. I want to buy you some button down stuff, but not stiff shirts like that.” She pointed to the rack. “Put that ugly, drab thing away. Let’s get you into something stylish. You can’t go dancing with me in a solid white dress shirt. The bartender will smell you trying to sell him insurance from a mile away.”

Robert humored her, and she picked out a few different shirts to take to the dressing room. Shopping for Robert normally didn’t take very long. He didn’t understand why he had to try the shirts on while still in the store, but he did it anyway. Shopping for her, on the other hand, took a little bit longer because he wanted to watch her try on the lingerie he thought would look sexy on her. Once they were inside a fitting room together and Val began discarding her clothing, Robert thought for sure he’d have a hard on. After all, what could possibly be naughtier than sneaking into the women’s changing rooms with his girlfriend, right?

Even after watching her change into satin, then lace, then silk, Robert couldn’t even start an erection. He didn’t want to lie again just for the sake of his body’s reaction. After the first store, Robert stopped trying to sneak into the fitting rooms with her. Making sure the lingerie fit properly wasn’t his objective anyway. He was glad when Val finally settled with three different lacy things. He didn’t even know the proper names for the garments, but they should have been enough of a visual for him to feel horny once they were alone.

After purchasing their items, Val and Robert walked around the mall. They stopped by a window showing an adorable litter of bull dog puppies. “Do you wanna go inside?” Val asked.

“Sure.” Robert followed her through the pet store. He didn’t want to be sucked into buying a puppy, but he did have to admit they were cute. Then they walked from display to display looking at cats, dogs, birds, fish, and then the lizards. Inside the lizard window, there were geckos that had crickets in their cages as food. Lucky for Robert, he couldn’t hear the crickets through the glass.

“Is something wrong?” Val stopped, turning toward him. “You just lost all your color.” She grasped her hand around his forearm.

“No, nothing’s wrong. Let’s look at the puppies again,” he said, turning away from her.

Damned crickets. Why did they always have to talk to him? The first three shrinks that he saw thought he had split personality disorder when he told them the crickets could talk. Robert kept repeating to the doctors that he wasn’t hearing voices inside his head. The crickets themselves were actually speaking to him, ordering Robert to do certain things and not others. It was as if the crickets were his conscience or something. Robert knew he didn’t need to be pumped full of pills; he only asked the doctors to make the crickets stop talking. Outside the puppy cages Robert paused, contemplating explaining all this to Val, but he didn’t think she’d understand. That, and he didn’t think bringing it up at the pet store would be a good idea. If Val thought he was loony, Robert didn’t want to watch her reaction while in public.

Val repeated her question.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said.

Something was wrong, and the lie caused Robert’s body to react. He needed her then and there. Robert wanted to cage her and take her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered into Val’s ear. “How about sneaking into that photo booth we passed just before the pet shop? You could sit on my lap and have pictures taken while we fuck.”

“We’d have to be quick,” she said.

Robert couldn’t believe she was agreeing. He was dating a pretty kinky woman, and he loved how willing she was to try new things. They exited the pet store and approached the photo booth. When they entered it, Robert spotted the little camera lens in front of the bench-style seat. He lifted his shirt over his head and draped it over the lens. Above it was a small ledge. He removed the wallet from his back pocket and used it to weigh down the shirt so it wouldn’t fall away from the camera lens. Val unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned his pants. He unzipped them while she pulled her jeans down to her ankles. She pushed her panties down with them.

Robert was sweating and excited by the quickie. He lowered his boxers beneath his balls and opened his arms. Val faced him and straddled his lap. She knelt with her knees on the bench and kissed him deeply as she pressed her sex against the tip of Robert’s cock. Her pussy was warm and ready. He closed his eyes as the camera flashed the first time. She thrust her body so his cock was surrounded with her tight flesh, and she fucked him in the photo booth as if she expected the three minutes to be over in two. Robert bit his tongue, remembering not to grunt as she squeezed his cock with her cunt and rubbed her chest against his. He wished her shirt were off, but he quickly forgot as she rode him fast. His need was feral. “You’re so wet, I’d almost swear you’d had your hands in your pants before sneaking in here with me,” he said.

Val shushed him, ratcheting up the speed of her hips as she drove her pussy down over him. “There’s no time to talk,” she said while bringing his orgasm. Sweat caused her red hair to stick to her neck and forehead, but she thrust faster still until she climaxed. The camera flashed a second and then a third time. Val dismounted, and she quickly reached for her jeans and panties. Robert reassembled his clothing and pulled the completely black photographs out of Liesthe receiving window of the photo machine. The fuck was definitely worth the five dollars he paid for the ruined pictures.

Before they left the photo booth, Val leaned toward his ear and said, “What do you think I was doing in the fitting room while you waited for me to try on the rest of the lingerie? After you followed me into the booth the first time, I thought we’d have sex there. You got me all excited but then didn’t do anything about it. I’m sure glad you asked if I wanted to do it here because otherwise I was beginning to think you were only going to tease me.” She winked. “I brought myself nearly to orgasm but I didn’t go all the way. That’s why I was already so wet.”

Things have been way too serious and intellectual like around here lately. So I thought it was about time to inject some comedic relief. Ergo, today’s installment brings you a glimpse of the lighter side of  BDSM and how not every single detail of a scene is exacted with surgical precision.

My partner, D, and I went to our first party together in October 2006. He’d been in the scene for a few years and since this was only my second party ever, I thought he knew everything about everything about how SM operated. At the time I identified as submissive only.. bordering on the more slavey side and wouldn’t even utter the word ‘switch’ in relation to myself. I did the whole ‘walk a step behind, lower your eyes,’ subby type stuff. I thought D was the be all and end all of BDSM. He’d been around a few years and he was a DOMINANT afterall, of course he knew what he was doing and every single little nuance of SM. Didn’t they all by default?

So we go to our first party together as a couple. I was brand new in this country, in this particular scene and still pretty darn new to SM in general. My experience was basically limited to a few scenes and the wisdom gathered from ”The Story of O’ and ‘Safeword’. Thanks to that type of crash course, I was of the mind that D was Stephen of Roissy who lived in an estate with leather walls and red brocade curtains. I thought  that a submissive in a scene was there to do nothing more than ‘just take it. Take whatever your Master dishes out, without moving, without sound and certainly without opinion or objection!’ Thanks, Pauline.

Here is where my reputation as a stoic got its start: No matter how hard he hit me or with what, I was determined to keep still and keep quiet. Dont move a muscle and dont utter a sound. So that’s what I did. Take the pain, TAKE IT! or you will displease your Dominant and that makes you a bad girl. Noone wants to hear ‘bad girl’, so I kept still and quiet the way ‘good girls’ are supposed to. (the idiocy of my thinking alternately makes me laugh or want to go back in time to that version of me and slap her upside the head with a phone book.)

Our scene started and I was cuffed to the bar and blindfolded. D is whacking away at me with every toy we had. ‘Every toy we had’ at that time meant a briefcase that came with a free set of steak knives filled with a few handmade floggers, dollar store pervertables and some crafty little items he’d whipped up. One such item was a nasty little bugger we named ‘The Whisk’. If you saw it you’d laugh, it looks like a prop for a cheap ass Dominatrix Halloween Costume. An actual kitchen whisk would probably look more intimidating. It was a foot long piece of half inch dowel (painted black of course, this IS BDSM afterall) with 6-8 strings of 10 inch (black!)  latigo lacing attached to the end. It weighs practically nothing and looks like a prop of a Roman Scourge  in a kindergarten production of ‘The Passion of the Christ’.

Thing about that whisk is, its fucking evil! That piddly little prop of a toy can slice you open and have you calling ‘red!’ in one strike if that’s the desired effect. We should rename it ‘the Serial Killer’ because it seems to nice and harmless. It aint.

So D is wailing away on me with that stupid thing. He’d been at it for a while since, thanks to its lightness, it weighs practically nothing and can let the top keep running the scene long after getting major flogger fatigue from a more ‘Universally Accepted by the BDSM Magistrates’ type toy. After a fairly long time of ‘just taking’ that intense sting, I started to wiggle and moan with each strike. Just a little one.. a foot raised here, a shoulder turned away there, a lip biting here, a teeny little squeak of ouch there. Doesn’t sound like much but when your girl hasn’t moved a muscle fiber in an hour no matter what you do to her, a raised foot becomes a monumental reaction.

He jumped at the chance to lay some of that awesome Domly mindfuck language on me. ‘Dont move, bitch, or I’ll hit you harder.’ ‘WTF is wrong with you girl, I gave you one simple order and you cant follow it? BE STILL!’ and other such growly and wonderful things. At the time it never entered my head that he might be saying it just to fuck with me, I thought he was actually getting mad and disappointed in me. I resolved to be even more still.

I failed. He whapped me a right good one across the shoulders and my knees buckled. I got back up as soon as I could to try and resume my stoic stance so that my Master might use my body for the infliction of pain for his own pleasure.

We’ll pause for a second while I quell the nausea that my then headspace now gives me all these years later.

ahem….

I stood up just in time to hear him say ‘I told you to be still, slut!’ and THWAP! that damn whisk wrapped around and caught me square in the face. ‘Holy fuck, he’s really mad at me!’ I thought to myself. ‘ Ok ok.. be better! Be still!  I dont want that in my face again FFS! I didnt even know you COULD slap someone in the face like that! I thought that wasnt allowed! Could have sworn I read that in ‘Screw the Roses’, but he’s been around, so he would know that stuff. Yep, he knows what he’s doing so just do what he says!’

I didn’t move again. He didn’t hit me in the face again. At the end I got a ‘good girl’ and all was right and happy in my little world. Take THAT lil miss story of O! Oh wait, subs arent supposed to say that kind of thing are they? Fuckmuffins…

A few months later we were at a BDSM 101 workshop. Great time for it, eh.. AFTER I’d been in the scene for a while now? Well why break my longstanding tradition of doing everything ass backwards? So after a bit, the conversation turned to ‘what to do when you screw up.’ All the folks with more experience than me giggled and did that knowing head bob thing. I was mystified. ‘When you screw up? But everything is just how the Dom wants it? How could anything ever possibly screw up?’

One guy said ‘Yeah, like when you meant to hit her ass and you wrap around to the front of thighs! All you can do is hope she dont see your face when you say ‘ooh fuck! thats not what i meant to do!’ Everyone laughed, I was still trying to make sense of the words spoken in my native tongue that sounded so foreign. So another guy says ‘yep, thats why you blindfold them!’

I heard D laughing behind me. I looked at him quizzically and said ‘What?’.

He said ‘Oh, like that time I fucked up and got you in the face with that whisk!’

I was horrified. ‘I thought you did that on purpose cause you were mad at me. I thought you were just all  serious and stuff!’

He says ‘Oh hell no, it was an accident. I was so happy you couldn’t see me gasp and hope you weren’t gonna kill me when I took you down!’

My perfect little submissive world shattered. ‘I thought you were all hardcore and shit…’

He laughed, ‘not that day, that day I was just happy I remembered to pack the blindfold!’

And we laughed. And have been laughing about it ever since. Some people say there is no laughing in serious BDSM. I feel bad for them. The laughing scenes are some of the best ones! Maybe next time I’ll tell you about the oreo cookie pants scene, or the ‘Tarzan Swinging on the Suspension Rod’ scene or the time I got a little too close to a fuzzy caterpillar in a scene. Laughing is fun and as my wise friend used to say, ‘if it aint fun, it aint BDSM’.

~kim

Kink In Motion

Robert explained to Dr. Grillo he’d tried using the handcuffs as his new means of positive association but also informed her that he’d continued to lie to Val when using them. Dr. Grillo wasn’t an imposing woman, but he knew she wouldn’t be happy about his choice of lying to Val again. He cancelled the first appointment but showed up for this one when he found out he’d be charged for the appointment regardless of whether or not he attended.

“That won’t do,” Dr. Grillo said as she frowned. “You need to find a different association, one that’s completely free from the lying.” She tapped her pencil against her desk. Robert could hear the impatience in her voice. “What else do you think would be workable in order to form a new positive reinforcement to break you of this lying? If you keep up this cycle of deception, you’ll never achieve true intimacy with Val. Don’t you realize that?” Robert thought she might even pound her fist on the desk because she seemed so frustrated.

Robert stood and then paced about the office. How was he supposed to know what would work? Wasn’t he the one paying Dr. Grillo big bucks to help him solve his intimacy problems? The last thing he wanted was to take responsibility for finding the cure. Robert didn’t say any of that, of course, because he’d found that confrontation with doctors was usually the beginning of the end of his relationships with them. Dr. Grillo was his last hope for keeping a semi-normal relationship with a woman going. All the other doctors tried to do things like hypnotize him. He paused amid the pacing and said, “Does it have to be an object, or can it be something else?” Robert looked out the window while waiting Dr. Grillo’s reply.

“It can be whatever you want it to be,” she said. “The important thing is that you not lie while with the woman you love. Replace the lie with anything positive you want. It shouldn’t matter what you choose.”

“And if I accidentally tell another lie, what happens then?” His voice was gruff as he asked. He hated how defensive he was regarding his sexuality. Robert just wanted to be a real man and take care of Val. He wanted to protect her and love her, not deceive her. With the word “accidentally” he felt an acute twinge of guilt. The lie he told Val in The Whale’s Belly wasn’t accidental. He was telling deliberate lies to the woman he loved.

Dr. Grillo shrugged. “Then you’ll have to start over at square one like you’re doing now. By the way, you never did tell me how this whole problem started. I’m starting to get the impression there are a lot of things that you’re not telling me. I can’t really help you if I don’t know the whole picture behind what your problem really is.” She shrugged. “I’m here to help you. You don’t have to be afraid I’m going to give you bad advice or will use your problem against you.” Dr. Grillo looked out the window closest to her desk and sighed. “I know impotence scares you. Robert, you’re normal that way.”

He turned to face her. “Couldn’t I just take one of those pills they advertise on TV or something?” Would Dr. Grillo pick up on the sarcasm in his voice?

“I don’t think that’d solve your problem long term. Sooner or later you need to address what’s really causing all of these deceptive energies within you.” Dr. Grillo returned to her seat behind the oak desk.

“Yeah, well, our hour is up. I can’t afford to pay you for another one, so I’ll have to save the story for another time,” Robert said. He left the office, glad he didn’t have to tell her all about Lilly, the curse, and the fairy dust. None of the other doctors believed him. Why should Dr. Grillo? The omission of truth aroused him, and as he left Dr. Grillo’s office and walked past the receptionist, Robert hoped no one in the waiting room would notice his erection.

x-post from Mystress Lady Evyl

A little while back I wrote a blog about how I wanted to start offering workshops to small groups about various topics within our alternative lifestyle. Well the timing of my plans and the new ALCC could not have been more perfect!

The Alternative Lifestyle Community Center (Centre Communautaire pour les styles de vie Alternatifs de Montréal) is a free and open space where like minded individuals can meet, share, learn, build and create meaningful relationships, discover, and seek information without fear, judgment, or discrimination.

Last night I attended the grand opening and it was a huge success. I could only come for a short while and got there very early. I expected the place to be quiet. I was wrong…at 5h20pm the place was already packed. Such a great sign for the future! Countess Allura, a fabulous wonderful lady I am happy to call my friend, is the founder of this center. Amazing my dear! I am so proud of you!

And yes of course I will be giving my workshops here. I am very excited. I already have dates on the schedule. So COME SEE ME AT MY WORKSHOPS.

Wednesday, May 12

7-8pm: What is Protocol – Lady Evyl (English)

Wednesday, May 26

7-8pm: C’est quoi le Protocol – Lady Evyl (Français)

Wednesday, June 9

7-8pm: Let’s Have a Ball -CBT Intro – Lady Evyl (English)

Wednesday, June 16

7-8pm: On s’amuse avec les boules – Intro au CBT – Lady Evyl (Français)

More about the Alternative Lifestyle Community:

We provide information, education, counseling, socialization, and support through activities, workshops, seminars, discussion groups, certified psychologists, drop-in hours, and resource materials.

We welcome all people 18 years of age or older from any religion, culture, spirituality, race, age, distinction, minority, majority, orientation, identity, preference, sexuality, that may be curious about, questioning, or living an alternative lifestyle. We also welcome those who are concerned, opposing, or uncertain about alternative lifestyles and encourage you to come to the center to learn more.

We encourage you to drop by and ask questions, familiarize yourself with the various activities being offered at the center, or simply sit on our comfy couch and read some of the literature we have available.

The center is YOUR place to call your own and feel welcome.

Sarah, Val’s best friend, sat across from her on the other side of the booth. Work day lunches once a month were their ritual ever since they graduated from college.

“So he just lost it when he heard the crickets?” Sarah asked before crunching a large crouton from her salad.

“Pretty much.”

“Did he get it back up when you two went inside?”

Val pointed to Sarah’s face. “You have salad dressing on your chin.” She waited for Sarah to dab away the dressing with the napkin. “I mean he lost his erection, but he also kinda lost it lost it.” Val’s face flushed as she held back tears of frustration. She hated getting choked up in public.

Sarah’s eyes seemed to grow larger, and she raised her eyebrows. She even stuck her neck out in disbelief. “What do ya mean, ‘lost it lost it?’”

“I mean that Robert started talking to himself like I wasn’t there. I don’t know if Robert has a split personality or some other mental disorder, but it sure seemed like something was up. He was acting creepy, as if he were hearing voices. I thought I’d spent enough time to know him pretty well by now. I’m a pretty good judge of people, but now I’m not too sure.” Val’s stomach lurched when she looked at her own food. She was too distraught to eat much.

Sarah took a long sip of iced tea. “You’ve been seeing him for awhile now. I would have thought he was normal too. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to think about it,” Val said as she forced her belly into submission by finishing the salad greens. “Are we still on for the fairy hunting trip this weekend? The store sure is running low. You’re the best huntress I have. You know that.” Val finished her lemonade. “Did I tell you I found a guy to take Tur Coys off my hands for awhile? I’m leasing her out for awhile. I think I’ll break even on her.”

Sarah took a long sip of her tea before saying with a sly grin, “No, you didn’t mention to me leasing out Tur Coys.” She paused. “Of course I’m going with you. You pay too well for me to stay home when I could be out catching fairies.” Sarah and Val paid for their lunches. Before leaving the restaurant Sarah asked, “When do you get Tur Coys back from the lease?”

“Later today,” Val said before the two friends parted ways for the afternoon, and Val drove to work.

Val entered The Fairy Store with a sigh of relief. Even though she loved socializing, there was a lot of work she had to get done at the store before she’d be able to concentrate on anything else. Lots of inventory had to be audited, which was always a pain, but a necessity. Lately, she’d had a lot of customers ask for fairy dust and for actual fairies so they could have fairy dust at all times without having to return to stock up on more when they ran out. In the beginning, when the ban on buying and selling fairies was still illegal, she’d sold mostly wooden and glass sculptures of fairies and other creatures. At that early point in her career, Val would have never dreamed of taking such a big risk.

It wasn’t until a year or so ago that the laws on fairy trafficking were eased enough for her to actually start capturing and then selling them at all. The license to hunt fairies was at first a hardship for her because it was so expensive to buy from the county, but after she’d sold a few fairies, the cost was no longer a concern. What she should have done long ago was hire someone full time to do the store’s books and spend more time hunting fairies. They were the real commodity keeping the store afloat.

Val walked through various parts of the store. Her two part-time employees working the shift were waiting on customers while she began a preliminary walk-through of the inventory on the outside aisles. All the merchandise she kept out front near the windows consisted of ornamental pieces. There were statues and carvings of just about every size between a Kennedy half dollar and the height of a short woman. There were books containing folklore and mythology. The line of soaps and bubble bath which smelled like various subtypes of fairies was a hot seller. Val wrote on her steno pad that the store was sold out of the soaps. She wrote herself a note to order more scented soaps before walking behind the cash register for an invoice.

G.P. opened the door to The Fairy Store as soon as Val finished the invoice. He held the cage containing Tur Coys under his arm, and he was out of breath. “Here’s your critter back,” he said once he crossed the room to the cash register. Val noticed how careful G.P. was with the cage when he placed it on the countertop.

“Thanks,” she said. “Did she produce any dust for you?”

G.P. frowned. “No. I didn’t try getting any dust. I think I mentioned to you that I only wanted to use her as a model for a wood carving for one of my clocks.”

Val nodded. “You did mention your reason for wanting the fairy. Is there anything else I can help you with, Sir?”

“No thanks,” G.P. said.

Val carried Tur Coys and the cage into the storage room before she faxed the invoice for the soap to the supplier. The back room was where Val normally stored all the fairies and fairy dust. They were too valuable to keep on the sales floor, even in locked cases. Only a month ago one of the fairies was stolen, which forced her to keep them in the back room. Val frowned as she thought about the fairies in the back room while completing the faxed invoice for the soap. The only fairy the story currently had in stock was this one Val hadn’t been able to sell. Tur Coys was a feisty little creature who refused to shed any dust. Val tried every trick in the book, but the fairy was defiant. She thought maybe Tur Coys had a little dust pan and broom hidden under her wings, but Val couldn’t ever catch her in the act. She’d considered releasing Tur Coys back into the forest since she couldn’t sell the fairy without proof she’d provide magic fairy dust, but Val hesitated to actually free her. Fairies were simply too valuable.

Val walked into the storage room in the back of the store. She wanted to see if today would be the day she’d be able to talk some sense into the lone fairy. Tur Coys sat in her little cage with her back to Val, her arms folded across her abdomen as if she were cold. Val hadn’t officially named her but thought of the fairy as Tur Coys because her hair was the color of a turquoise stone. Val knew the fairy wouldn’t answer to that name, but nonetheless, it was better than calling her by a number. Ever since Lilly Smith returned Tur Coys after owning her for only a few days, the fairy refused to cooperate with Val. Knowing Val had to be careful with Tur Coys when she fed her because the last time she tried, Tur Coys attempted biting her, she measured the prepackaged food and then poured it into a bowl. Everyone knew fairy bites were fatal, which was why there were laws banning their sale up until a year ago. Where there was money to be made, lawmakers will bend rules.

Val cleared her throat, hoping to catch Tur Coys’ attention. The fairy plugged her ears with her thumbs in a blatant act of protest against her owner. “Hey little one,” Val said as she reached for the bowl containing the food. “It’s time for lunch.” Even though Tur Coys wasn’t listening, Val tried her best to keep her tone as nice and cheerful as possible. She hoped maybe spending time with G.P. had changed her.

Tur Coys twisted her neck around in a position where Val could barely see the fairy’s face. Most of the view Val had of the five inch tall creature was of her backside. Holding back gentle laughter at Tur Coys’ cute little fairy butt, Val sang to her. Tur Coys stood with her neck still craned around, eyeing Val with mistrust. Val watched her tongue stick out while Tur Coys wiggled her little butt in a silly, mocking dance to the tune of Val’s song.

Val held up a cookie. “Are you sure you don’t want some? I don’t want you to starve.” Taking a step closer to the cage, she continued holding up the round treat and the bowl of fairy food.

Tur Coys pulled back her lips, showing her teeth like an attack dog. Val held back a laugh. Tur Coys was cute in her own way. Sliding the cookie between the bars of her cage, Val fed her. There was no doubt Tur Coys would eat as soon as Val left the storage room; she just had to show her owner she was defiant. They went through this strange ritual every day. The cookie was always gone and the bowl empty when Val returned.

Because Tur Coys’ behavior was so different from the other fairies Val owned and then sold in the past, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened at Lilly’s house that had changed Tur Coys so drastically. Even before Val sold her to Lilly, Tur Coys behaved like a totally different creature. Granted, she had always been full of spunk, but she’d been full of smiles and mischief before Val sold her. Now, all she got was sass from the fairy.

When Robert drove to Val’s house, he brought a set of handcuffs along with the intention to continue training himself out of the association of lying and sex, but when Val asked if he would tell her if something was bothering him, Robert couldn’t resist the temptation to take the easy way out by telling her that he would tell if something was on his mind. Instantly aroused when he lied to her, Robert breathed a sigh of relief. His dick responded, and he was surely gonna be able to perform for Val again that night. Screw Dr. Grillo and her ideas. The doctor had no idea how difficult it was for the association between lying and arousal to be broken. Nonetheless, seemingly all the blood left Robert’s brain and went to his cock when he told this fairly large fib.

While waiting for Val to return to him from the phone call, he wondered if it’d be wise to use the handcuffs anyway or if that would mess up the retraining that Dr. Grillo had suggested. Robert wished he could have asked the doctor about it before he went ahead and used them anyway. Val liked the handcuffs. That was all that mattered, right? When she returned from the phone call, he squeezed Val’s hand from across the kitchen table and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek with his other hand.

“Do you by chance have any other sets of handcuffs?” he asked.

“Sure,” Val said as she released Robert’s hand and then stood near the table. She flashed him an evil looking grin. “You want straight handcuffs or shackles?”

Robert inhaled quickly and shivered at the mention of shackles. She was really into restraints, much more so than he previously realized. “Either will do. I want four sets if you have them, two for your wrists and two for your ankles.” He was amazed by how quickly Val’s demeanor changed from teary eyed to curiosity and interest. As soon as he mentioned handcuffs, it was as if Val morphed into a different person’s emotions. Robert cleared his throat before he said, “And a blindfold if you have it.”

She walked out of the kitchen before returning with a large, plastic tub. In heavy black marker, “Toys,” was written on the side. Val released her long, red hair from her ponytail so that it cascaded down her back. Then she flipped open the lid to the plastic tub. This wickedly wonderful woman sure owned a lot of sex toys, Robert thought as he watched her rummage through the contents of the bin. She knelt on her hands and knees beside the container, and Robert couldn’t help but want to take her there on her hands and knees. After eyeing her position near the tub, Robert returned to his thoughts to what he could do to her if she were bound by the handcuffs. “Do you wanna be really naughty with me?”

Her lips curled upward. “Of course I do.” Val unzipped and then removed her vest before bending over the plastic tub again. Finally, she acquired the restraints and held them up for Robert to see. The metal items with their iron chains and curved restraints almost looked medieval. After holding them up, she unhooked her bra and dropped it next to the bin of toys. Her breasts were freckled and smooth. They weren’t very large, but Robert thought they looked hungry for attention. Robert wondered if she was into breast bondage but thought he’d wait until their sex life was better established before asking her.

Just to cement in his mind he could keep the erection, Robert decided he’d tell a second lie. “I’m not going to do anything to you while you’re in those restraints that you wouldn’t do to yourself if you weren’t wearing them,” he said as she crawled on her hands and knees to him. Val snarled at him like an animal in heat, and he got onto his hands and knees as well. Robert tried to keep the tone of his voice steady so she wouldn’t think he was being sarcastic. “I’m gonna chain you down and make sure you beg me to pleasure you.” He reached for the restraints next to the plastic bin and then with the shackles and chains in his hands, Robert stood and led the way outside. The sun was setting, and the sky looked like a finger-painted canvas of orange and yellow.

Val followed him, upright now, and watched as Robert set the shackles on top of her picnic table. Before he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, he said, “How high would you say this privacy fence is?” How he wanted to see how kinky his girlfriend could be. She didn’t even seem embarrassed as they stood in her back yard without her shirt and bra.

Val rested her hands on top of his hands around her waist. “High enough my neighbors can’t see inside my yard except when they jump really high on their pool’s diving board.”

Robert gave her another quick squeeze around the waist. “Good, then we can get down to business.” He jingled the shackles. “Do you remember what the safe sound is if you can’t talk?”

She nodded.

“Then I’ll give you one choice in this whole scene before restraining you. Do you want to be face up or face down on the picnic table?” He reached down into and then inside Val’s shorts and panties. Feeling her wet pussy engulf his finger, he repeated the question. “Face up or face down?”

Her eyes closed while he explored inside her panties with his finger. Then she pointed to the ground. “Neither.” Instead, she squatted in front of the picnic table, showing him how she intended him to shackle her.” Before Val gave him an opportunity to express his approval or denial, she pulled her shorts down her legs. Robert watched as she finished by removing her silky, little panties. “Oh wait. I forgot the gag,” she said.

Robert’s erection continued to maintain its hardness as he waited for Val to return with the prop. He undressed while waiting for her return. His entire body tensed as he heard what sounded like a cicada or a cricket. Listening carefully, he tried to discern the difference but was unable to hear the sound a second time before Val returned with the wash cloth and rope. She turned to him after putting them next to the shackles on the picnic table. Robert knew she was ready when she squatted in front of the picnic table in what appeared to be a horribly uncomfortable position to maintain for very long.

The dusk air was quickly cooling the semi-night air. While Robert shackled her wrists and ankles to the bars under the picnic table, forcing Val to maintain a squatting position, Robert thought he heard the cricket again but forced himself not to think about it. He wanted to focus on Val, not the stupid cricket. Once the metal restraints were in place, she opened her mouth for Robert to gag her with the wash cloth. He made sure her cries were muffled by tying the rope around her head tightly so that it was between her teeth, securing the washcloth.
He regarded her for a moment before changing his mind on the blindfold. No, he decided it was a bad idea to blindfold her. The squatting position she was in was bad enough. Robert didn’t feel comfortable blindfolding her and gagging her in such a difficult position. He wanted to keep her safe and felt it better if he could see her facial expressions without the blindfold in the way. His erection pulsed visibly as soon as he realized he’d lied to her about using the blindfold.

“I’m gonna punish you for being so naughty,” he said while tracing the outline of her lips with his index finger. “You must like pain with your pleasure, so I’ll give you plenty of both.”

He couldn’t resist the temptation to watch her reaction when he touched her eager, little clit before beginning her punishment, so he reached between her shackled legs to play with the hair and then the nub of flesh between them. Her eyes pleaded with him as Robert touched every inch of her puffy, pink cunt. Robert wondered how she’d react if he used the word cunt in describing her bush, and he paused to make a mental note to ask her how she felt about the word. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by using it now. Maybe she wouldn’t like him referring to her pussy as her cunt. His thoughts about terminology stopped when he heard the little sound of a moan. The sound reached his ears through the gag, and Robert grinned.

He removed his hand from between her legs before realizing he wanted her to suck his cock. Damned gag. He untied the rope around Val’s head and then ordered her to spit the wash cloth out. She obeyed but shook her head.

“I thought you wanted me gagged,” she said. Oddly, she seemed annoyed when Robert removed the gag.

“I lied. I want you to pleasure me,” he said in a deep growl. With her head at the height of the table top, he felt the slick warmth of her mouth and then her throat until he was close to coming. Robert retreated before getting carried away, remembering he needed to give Val some attention first.

Just as he was about to resume touching her pussy, Robert heard the crickets again. There must have been a whole family of them because the chirping was much louder and constant than a few minutes earlier. He watched the look of disappointment on Val’s face as she felt his erection fade in her mouth. She wasn’t normally a pouter, but her bottom lip spoke volumes after he removed his limp dick from her mouth. He didn’t want to keep lying to her to get it up again. Even if he’d tried, he wouldn’t have been able to maintain it for very long with the crickets chirping anyway. They drove him mad with frustration. Robert’s conscience returned with that terrible chirping. Guilt flooded him as he listened to the crickets. Stupid, stupid reminders of his dishonesty. Why wouldn’t the crickets just shut up?

‘Luke, you will find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view’ – Obi Wan Kenobi

I first heard that line when I was eight years old. At the time I had much the same reaction as Luke, as in ‘Well that’s just bullshit. Saying someone is dead is pretty cut & dry there Obi.. you’re just trying to justify your own lies and guilt’. Remember, this was 1980.. before we see Anakin redeem himself, before we see his crusty ass white face and WAY long before we see the cute little tyke who won a pod race turn batshit crazy drunk with his own self perceived power and be turned into a Sith-kabob courtesy of Obi Wan. Blessed with the fleshed out story and the benefit of almost 30 years of life experience, now when I watch ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ and hear the Obi ghost say that line I do a little knowing head bob and think ‘Boy, aint that the truth.’

Context is a beautiful thing. But how does it apply to kink? In true zen style I say instead: how doesn’t it?

Context is nothing more than the set of circumstances or facts that surround a particular event, situation, or relationship. Depending on the details, any given situation can have any number of interpretations. Those interpretations are how we process a thing, how we view it, judge it, decide its merits. In short, context gives us the basis to decide how we will react to a thing.

A few examples:

At a play party you see a female bottoming to a male and you know nothing about the people involved. Do you see a woman who is a traitor to the cause of feminism by being submissive to a man? Do you see a man perpetuating the patriarchy? Do you see a woman embracing the true spirit of feminist theory by acting on her right to choose her interactions? Do you see man taking his rightful place as being ‘over’ a woman in some way? Do you see just a plain ole hot scene with no politics attached?

In the parking lot of a munch you see a two people pull up in their car. Do you see a couple? Do you see two friends who carpooled? Is the driver the Dominant or the submissive?Is the passenger being served (driven) or is the driver taking control by operating the vehicle?

You are talking to a man who uses the label of Dominant in BDSM circles. He says he wishes his girl could find a job closer to the city he lives in. Is he weak for not ordering her to live closer to him? Or is he taking care of his girl by giving her the freedom to do what is best for areas of her life other than their relationship?

Any person with a brain in their head would answer any of these questions with the same response: Well, it depends.

Exactly. That’s context.

Each of these questions and a gazillion more just like them are debated without end in SM circles. There is never a hard and fast conclusion met. (Which does not negate the value of the conversations. Healthy debate is always just that.. healthy.) There in lies the beauty of BDSM, should we choose to embrace it. There is no one true way.

So then whats the point .. dont judge a book by its cover? Well yes. We were all taught that early on (I hope). But it goes deeper than that, and hits closer to home. The point? Give yourself a break, take ownership of whats yours and hold others accountable to the power of context.

Give yourself a break: I see so many people agonize over how they identify and how they fit into the greater collective of kink. In the end all that matters is ‘are you happy with how you are’? The rest is just noise. If you dont feel comfortable with a situation, ask yourself why. If it comes back to alot of ‘they think this‘, or ‘they may say that‘.. take out the ‘they’s‘ and see what’s left over. Are YOU happy with it? If so.. then there ya go.  Context in this way means knowing yourself enough to know that whatever you are is just as it should be.

Take ownership of whats yours: And by ‘whats yours’ I mean whatever labels you choose to apply to yourself.

These days I identify as a bi-poly-switch. In a very ironic twist this means I dont ‘fit’ into alot of places. I ‘barely qualify’ for events that are heavily skewed toward male Dom/fem sub dynamics. Going to Leather Dyke events and talking about living with my male partner gets not a few ‘why are you here’ looks. I enjoy service but only for those who will not take advantage of it simply based on my gender or kink label which means volunteering for events that used to be a joy now leave me nauseated.

But I choose to look at it the other way. I actually DO fit into just about anywhere I want to go (with the exception of all cis-male or non switch welcoming events). So long as I respect the rules and spirit of the event, I have no trouble moving from one paradigm to another. I go to primarly hetero events as well as all girl ones. I go to workshops on Dominance and submission alike. I often top and bottom in the same evening. Rather than seeing my preferences as limiting, I choose to look at it as a buffet that I can pick and choose from.

Hold others accountable to the power of context: Last year at the PRIDE Dyke March my partner and I both were on the sidelines snapping shots of the parade. A couple of girls from a bisexual organization were going down the line handing out flyers for an all girl event later that evening. They gave flyers to the 2 girls in front of us, looked at me with my partner and  then gave flyers to 2 girls behind me. Now maybe they had all manner of reasons to not hand me a flyer but the body language suggested that they made a snap judgement that since I was standing with a male in the midst of a thousand dykes I was hetero and not included in their demographic. Before they got too far I stopped them and asked for a flyer too. After all, bi girls are just that.. BISEXUAL.. meanining both, and PRIDE is supposed to be about challenging normative thinking and embracing inclusiveness. But then again maybe our disconnect was not over sexual orientation but over the issue of mono/poly. Either way, taking context into account changes the scenario all the way around when you know my situation. Conversely if I knew more about why they did what they did I may have had a different reaction. At the very least, maybe I made them think for just a second about how perhaps things are not always what they seem.

‘…many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view..’ Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes it is a laborious process taking many hours of planting and harvesting, curing and rolling that culminates in a thing you can enjoy. Both are correct. Your view of which it is depends on the context in which you choose to view it. Knowing this gets you one step closer to being comfortable in your own skin. Embracing it gets you one step closer harnessing your own power, in whatever context you choose.

~kim

Kink In Motion

When Robert knocked on Val’s door, she was ready to have a heart to heart conversation with him regarding where the relationship was headed. She opened the door to see him holding a dozen roses. Robert kissed her, and then said, “I’m glad you invited me over to your place. I just couldn’t resist buying you some flowers.” Val wasn’t sure, but she thought his hands were shaking slightly until she took the roses from him.

“Thanks.” She turned and walked into the house. Robert followed behind her. Finding a vase, Val filled it with water and arranged the flowers. They would make a nice centerpiece on the kitchen table. “Can we talk? I mean really talk?” she said.

“Sure.” He folded his hands over his lap and listened. Robert seemed relaxed even though he was shaking only moments earlier.

Val sat across from him at the table. With a quivering voice she said, “Is there something going on with you? I mean, you acted cold toward me the other morning, as if getting away from me as fast as you could was the most important thing on earth. What’s going on?” Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, but Val blinked them back as she waited for Robert’s response.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Robert stood and then walked to the sink and helped himself to a glass of tap water before returning to sit across from her at the table. His face was blank; he honestly didn’t seem to think anything was amiss.

“There’s got to be something going on. What’s wrong?” she asked again.

“Nothing. I just was embarrassed the other morning because I couldn’t get hard.” He held his head low while focusing his eyes on the place where the two leaves of her table met. “Everything was great that night, and I thought you’d be disappointed that I couldn’t perform the following morning. That’s all.”

“Then why’d you split so quickly after waking up with me? You didn’t mention any other engagement you had to attend. You just left when I was in the shower.” She choked down the beginnings of a sob. It was caught in her throat, but she continued. “I understand you being embarrassed. What I don’t understand is why you left so suddenly without even saying goodbye.”

“Val, I told you; nothing was or is wrong. I love you. I was embarrassed. That’s all. Nothing else is wrong.” He slowed down the words to the last sentence as he reached across the table and opened his hand.

Val reached across the table to hold his hand. “If something was bothering you, you’d tell me, right?”

“I’d never lie to you, Val. Honest. If something was bothering me, even if it was something trivial, I’d tell you about it. Like I said before, I love you.” He squeezed Val’s hand and sustained eye contact with her until she left the room to answer the phone.

Almost without fail, when a person new to BDSM begins asking questions about how to go about things in this perverted little world of ours, one word will come up repeatedly: consent. Whether you are a proponent of SSC, RACK or just the general concept of safe play; consent is the one thing everything else is predicated upon. Even in cases of ‘rape play’, its ‘consensual nonconsent’ that is the allure. In that case the concept is so nice they named it twice. Its what protects us from allegations, keeps us safe and that from which all other things flow. Consent is a foundational, meaning everything else is built up on it.

We may bicker and argue and debate the merits of this type of play or that, the safety of an activity, the skill of a player or any of a zillion other things; but it almost always comes back to ‘well, they consented so there you go.’ It’s our stop gap, our fallback, our retreat position. Consent is supposed to be what keeps players on both sides of the whip safe from harm of both the mental and physical varieties.

It all sounds very textbook and thorough and finite. You consent to a thing, you get the thing you consented to. The implication is that so long as consent is given, no other factors should be taken into account when dealing with an event that left a person uncomfortable in some way. As in. ‘so you consented to be flogged, you dont get to gripe about bruises now’.  Right about here is where speeches about personal responsibility, negotiations, being self educated, etc.. get spouted, often with great gusto and even derision.

Not that the speech givers are wrong: there absolutely should be personal responsibility, education and negotiations undertaken by all parties in a scene. But what happens if a player didnt talk it to great lengths before getting up on that cross? Well the cyclical argument now starts eating itself like the proverbial snake. ‘But still you consented so….’.

It can be very easy at this point to just say ‘be educated and be careful who you trust but when you consent, its game over so dont be crying about it after the fact when you said yes… Dozens of these arguments end right here. Very few times does anyone look deeper into the issue to see whats at the heart of the matter.

Consent isnt the be all and end all of the negotiation process. As a top or a bottom, your goal is not to just get a scene underway. Its not a competition or a race. You dont ‘win’ just because you manage to get a scene in.  Your goal is to facilitate a scene that will benefit both parties while still ensuring safety (this goes for tops and bottoms alike). Its not ‘oh hey, a post just opened up, lets get up there and get beaten’, its ‘I’d like to play tonight and here are the things I’d like to get out of it, how can I get that and also have my partner get their needs met and us both walk away with only the type of sensation/emotion we want from it’

So whats the difference? Information leading to the consent, or more succinctly worded: Informed Consent.

To consent to a thing means to permit, approve, or agree; comply or yield to it. Basically it means ‘I say yes’. Informed consent means to approve or comply based upon a clear appreciation and understanding of the facts, implications, and future consequences of an action. Or ‘I understand what is going to be done, how it can possibly effect me in as many ways as possible and I say yes.’ Thats a very big difference. And one not alot of people actually take the time to actually embrace.

Informed consent can be hard to determine. Expressions of consent nor expressions of the understanding of possible implications necessarily mean that full  consent was in fact given nor that full comprehension of all relevant issues was understood.Just because someone says ‘yes! i wanna be single tailed!’ doesnt mean they are aware that they could have marks or even bleeding as a result. ‘Common sense’  may tell us that this is in fact a possibility, but common sense is never common. Never assume anyone is aware of every implication just because it seems like ‘something everyone should know’. If you are the top, tell your bottom what could happen. If you are the bottom, ask your Top what might result from the scene.  Both should be proactive in obtaining and relaying any information relevant to a scene.

Many people rely on that consent may be implied within the usual subtleties of human interaction rather than being explicitly negotiated.You hear this one alot ‘well, you never said no..’. Lack of a no does not automatically mean informed consent has been given. ‘Yes’ is the only thing that means yes, and if you really wanna be one of the cool kids ‘yes, i understand that x,y or z could happen and i still say yes’ is really the only ‘yes’ you wanna move forward with.

In some cases consent cannot realistically be possible, even if the person protests he does indeed understand . This is especially true in cases where a person is not made aware of all the possible effects of an event (flogging can lead to bruising, violet wands may lead to first degree burns, etc..) or if either party is suffering from ‘diminished mental capacity’. If you aren’t aware that your top has issues with anger outbursts, memory impairment, etc.. as the result of an organic process then if a negative outcome arises from the scene it can be legitimately argued that informed consent was never given based on the lack on information relayed at the time consent was requested . Basically, be proactive. Ask the questions, give the answers. Both with as much honesty and authenticity as possible and the risk of negative outcomes decreases exponentially.

The crux of the matter when it comes to Informed Consent is : had the individual been made aware of the risk would they have proceeded with the activity?

• Do you sign up for a credit card based ONLY on the credit limit? Or do you look at the interest rate and yearly fee before signing up?
• Do you buy a house just because it has 3 bedrooms? Or do you have it inspected to make sure its up to code and you wont have to replace the roof/plumbing/electrical in the next little while?
• Do you hire a new employee just because they say they know the things required for the job? Or do you check references, inquire about education levels and assess if their personality meshes well with your existing team?

We take time and care to assess risk and reward in so many aspects of our lives, but then when we decide to place our lives in the care of someone else/ take the life of someone in our own hands (sometimes literally: breathplay, fireplay, edgeplay, etc…) we simply settle for ‘oh that looks like fun, lets do that!’  It seems ill advised at best, downright dangerous and negligent at worst to go about BDSM in such a capricious manner.

As tops we should ask about health issues, possible triggers, hard limits, soft limits, preferences, needs, desires, etc.. that could affect play and relay that same information about ourselves to our partner. As bottoms we should do exactly the same.When in doubt, more information is better. This is not a race against the clock, there is always time. If you dont get the scene in tonight there is no reason it cant happen another night. Basically any excuse for not relaying as much information as possible is just that: an excuse. Where there are excuses there are generally also other issues. Smoke and fire go together in the cliche for a reason.

BDSM is a constant learning process. Learning about skills, theory, interpersonal dynamics, philosophies, and on and on. Just because a scene ‘went bad’ does not mean that a person was/is bad. It can often be viewed as a way to assess what did and did not work well in an effort to make sure history and mistakes do not repeat themselves. Everyone involved in a scene has the responsibility to try and make it as safe and fulfilling a scene as possible and 99 times out of 100 communication will be the best way to make sure that happens.

Just because a ‘yes’ was given is not the end of the story, or even the beginning of a scene. Often times its just the starting off point for entire conversations.

~kim

Kink In Motion