Mar 012009

One of the Happier Discoveries I made about being a pervert is that lots of the idiosyncrasies, pathologies, fetishes and freakish desires that many people frown upon in the General Public are not only just fine by pervs, but are actively encouraged.

You Like to boss people around? Great! Find yourself a pliant submissive and knock yerself out!

You wanna be degraded and heaped in abuse and scorn? AWESOME. Get yourself at the feet of a skilled top and you can rootle like the pig you are to your heart’s content.

But it is a continuous process, for me, accepting myself.

I have yet to run across a fetish or a play-style that I absolutely cannot fathom. 

I understand why people wish to pretend to be children.

I can see why scatological play fascinates people.

I absolutely grok furries.

I have no trouble at all embodying the desire to hurt, be hurt, to hit some dude in the grapes with a ball-peen hammer.

And I can view these things with compassion.

Except in one notable case.

And that is me.

See, I need a boss. A Daddy.  A Platoon Leader for my Army of One.

I need guidance, encouragement, a cheerleader, a parental figure.

Someone who will put my picture up on the refrigerator and call me in the middle of the day to tell me how proud they are.

And I see this as a fatal weakness. A character flaw.

I SHOULD be self-motivated. I SHOULD be able to be a “Self-Starter.”  I SHOULD be able to motivate myself to do for myself by myself. I SHOULD not need someone to pull me along by the nose, sometimes kicking and screaming, toward what I need.  I SHOULD keep my room tidy because that is what Good Girls Do.

That’s a whole shitload of shoulds.

The drawback to functioning so well under the measured guidance of a Boss is that the absence of said boss leaves one at loose ends sometimes.

Now, sometimes I do get motivated.  I was quite proud of myself last Friday when I took much-needed time off of work, wrestled the Mighty Kaiser Permanente, asked for help by way of borrowing a friend’s car,  saw 2 doctors for 2 different issues,  got my Flu AND Pneumonia vaccines, had my scrips filled, fucked shit up at Target,  did my shopping, hauled my loot home and up; the the 3rd floor all by myself, went to dinner for delicious matzoh ball soup,  and got back to bed in one piece.

On Friday, I had my Big Girl Panties on.

But it fucking stung to want nothing more at the end of the day to have that acknowledged by someone who was present and loving. 

The thing about being in service to someone is that it takes you out of your “You-centric”  headspace and puts you into a mindset of gleaning joy from the service to another. 

And I love that, and I get that.

And I miss that. And it is an unshakable seismic ache, sometimes.

That’s all.



I have no pithy clever wrap-up tonight.

Just me, wondering why I’m built in this strange way.

Nov 182008

I cringe and bristle when I hear the phrase “topping from the bottom” It is often used as a pejorative within the Leather and BDSM community to denote one who is in the position of receiving sensation (the bottom) directing or “topping” from what “should be” a subordinate place.

The problem I have is this: the term top and bottom Do not OF NECESSITY denote a relinquishing of power, or submission to another’s will.  One can “bottom” without being submissive. Bottoming really just means that you are the one on the receiving end of the whip, bondage, flogger, etc.

A bottom has EVERY RIGHT and, I’ll add, the RESPONSIBILITY, to make sure that the scene is as they have called, because they are there to get their fucking rocks off.

And how they get their rocks off may be very particular.

If they leave that shit up to guesswork on the part of the top, and the top doesn’t get it right, who bears the responsibility there?

Often the term is also used to smack down “pushy” or “unsubmissive” slave or submissive types. 

I will agree that passive-aggressive behaviour isn’t sexy. Whining and puling and moaning to goad a partner into the type of behaviour you want isn’t the essence of submitting. 

It is lame ass fuckery.



It isn’t always about that.  For some, the “bratty sub” who pouts and resists is hot. And for others, pleasing the bottom or submissive is PRECISELY what gets them off. And the folk’s I know who are “Compassionate Sadists” [i.e. a person whose sadism is dependant on the masochistic pleasure of their partner] are secure enough within their kink to accept guidance from their bottom and relish the feedback. It is an excellent mark of healthy communication.

And all too often, people look at the components of a behaviour and miss the soul of service within.

Years ago, back when I was still in Formal Leather Service to my first Trainer, I was out with him, 2 other subs in his House, and a group of about 20 kinky people.

The local Kinky Flea Markethad been the amusement for the afternoon, and we were catching our collective breath prior to heading to the CastleBar (RIP, CastleBar!) for the kick ass ass-kickings that were sure to follow an afternoon shopping for floggers and bindings and whips. (Oh. My.)

We went to Timo’s (RIP, Timo’s!) a Tapas restaurant that was well-known to me. Now, having 24 people at one long-ass table at a restaurant, especially a Tapas place, is a recipe for “Check, please!” epic disaster.

People started discussing who had cash, who had credit, who was not drinking, who was vegetarian…I felt this tremendous anxiety building. I wanted everyone to just be happy and have a nice meal. Plus, too many tops spoil the damned supper. Fo’reals.

I spoke aside to my Trainer and asked if he’d approve me handling this. He nodded and said “Of course.”

I stood at the end of the table, clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention.

I advised the group of the fact that, unless we had some consensus, this was not necessarily going to be a pleasant experience. I took a quick survey to see how much cash everyone was comfortable spending. I asked who had that amount in available cash, and who might need to put it on a card. I gathered those who were vegetarian in one section, those who were drinking in another, with enough overlap to break down the checks fairly. I re-arranged the seating to take these factors into account. I ordered for the table, assisted the waiter in disbursing the plates as the kitchen cranked them out, made sure everyone was fed, and when the check came I made sure that everyone paid their fair share, and that the waiter was well taken care of.

Several “dominants” at the table seemed nonplussed. They asked my Trainer if I was actually in service training, since I’d spent most of the evening telling people what to do. 

“Kinda bossy topping from the bottom type, isn’t she. She must be a handful.””

He smiled.

“Was she topping from the bottom? Telling people what to do, or relieving you of the annoyance and burden of worrying about what had to be done? When was the last time you went out with such a large group, ate your fill, knew what the check was going to be, and then had everything fall into place? That is what a well trained slave or submissive does for you: they make your life that much easier. They smooth the path. And they take pride in it.”

I’ll tell you this…more than one dominant was second-guessing their assumptions that evening.

Plus I love the “Awwww snap!! In your FACE, bitches!!” aspect of the thing. And I appreciated that he acknowledged the heart of the work I’d done.

Serving someone can often don the wolf’s hide of dominance.

A personal trainer is your employee, but they bust your ass to insure that you meet your desired goals. A person in service can often fulfill that role.

The trick is to do it with joy, and from a place of willingness, and because it fills your heart.

Nov 152008

If you are a self-identified kinky person, you may have heard of “Top’s Disease”: the dominant who shows off in scenes, is riddled with self-importance bordering on clinical monomania may fall into the category of victim of  “Top’s Disease.” This is the idea that a dominant or top has a terminal kink-centric narcissism. Believing their own hype.

Showing off flashy technique, being a “One True Way” elitist, making seemingly extravagant demands of partners or even bystanders, using submissives in a way that seems like a less than profound spiritual manner may well see you relegated to a toppy Bardo, in a purgatory of sorts.

Nobody like a show-off, after all.

Questioning someone’s motives, dominance, submission, etc because of what you are capable of observing about their play style is a slippery slope.

For example.

I was once ordered, before a scene, not to make a sound. Went to the dungeon, did a pretty heavy flogging then whipping scene, through which I remained completely silent.

Those who were used to hearing me shriek, kick, scream and speak in tongues (Seriously. Ask anyone who has seen me get seriously fucked up.) immediately assumed something was wrong, and asked the DM to intervene. Thank the gods she said, “You people complain when they scream too loud, now you want me to tell a bottom that they are BEING TOO QUIET? I’ll pass.”

Dominance is different things to different people. Perhaps showing off their mastery of flogging is what the dominant wanted to do. Isn’t it their right to do so?

As to egoism in a dominant, I ask ya: who DOESN’T want a dominant with a (healthy) ego? If you aren’t AT LEAST egotistical enough to assume control of me, you are not taping in to my submissive core.

Just because your particular style of “connected” doesn’t look like someone else’s is no reason to scorn it, them, or their approach.

I actually like a healthy ego in a dominant. I love an edge of arrogance, because it takes that for me to really believe you can outdo me.

If you don’t want to see a scene that has spectacular aspects, to it, fine. But some of the most breathtaking scenes I have seen have involved play that was quite obviously extensively elaborate, and often was a gift to those watching, a “Thank you!” for lending their energy and attention.

Why throw their gift back in their face by scoffing at their style of playing?

Unless this person is unsafe, and the submissive is in physical or emotional danger, I don’t get the dismissiveness of a more theatrical level of play.

I mean, we CALL IT A PLAY PARTY. Refer to it as play. Shit, I do theatrically based plays too. And if people weren’t watching, clapping, feeling something, getting something back from my performance, I’d feel like shit. And if I didn’t bow at the end, you’d feel cheated.

You CAN be in tune with the audience and in tune with your “co-star” or “supporting actor” or even “prop” at the same time. Any actor worth their salt does it any time they step on stage.

And it ain’t a far cry away from playing.

I wouldn’t trade anything for the scene where the top I was playing with asked people from the audience watching what he should do to me, having them laugh, then be shocked when he went even farther, and me cursing the 12 generations of their families and all of their pets for being such assholes. Or how about someone helping to “recapture” me when I slipped from some bondage? Or a top actually stopping to explain something about his toys to another top, giving me the opportunity to quip, as thought bored while suspended upside down:

“Hey, if you’re busy, can I go have a smoke?”?

Yeah, I can be a smart ass. That is when I get slapped around. And that ain’t bad neither.

A crippling case of “Top’s Disease” is not becoming. But a nice healthy dose of well-earned ego, mastery and a scoop of arrogance topped with the cherry of entitlement…whew. Yes, please!

Oct 202008

So may times over the years I see submissives fall “prey” to “predators” or fall  “victim” of a bad dom or exploitative wolf in leather clothing.


I recently made the online acquaintance of a woman who was going from an online to a real-time dominant / submissive (d/s) relationship.


The fairytale for which so many pine. You may know it, or a variation of it. All romance and flowers and “the beast within” and roses at midnight and kneeling in trembling submission and all of that gorgeous prose.


For reasons that are their business, it went south.  She had to make the call to change course and let go of this particular fantasy-turned-reality.


And you know what? She did.


She cut her losses, realized that it was not the right situation for her.


She ended it.


She did not sail in railing against him on public forums.


She did not pull “submissive sob sister” all over the kink and fetish groups available on the damned Internet.


She acted like a bloody adult. She said “No, this is not OK.” And she made sure her home remained a safe space.


Not such a big deal? You think?


Think again.


Women are not typically groomed to fiercely protect their emotional space, or to be defensive of their safety. Add to that a reflexive desire to obey and be pleasing, steeped in seething vats of kinky purple prose designed to titillate and not firmly rooted in fact, and you have a recipe for an emotional 58 car pile-up.


I applaud this woman because it surprised me that she saw this coming and did what was right.


I applaud her for not kowtowing to the idea that being submissive means you have to do whatever it takes to please one person, even if your gut is screaming no.


I applaud this woman for taking care of herself and her family.


I applaud this woman for her huge brass ovaries in remaining hopeful in the face of crappy odds.


I applaud this person, this woman, with little experience in the Leather “Community” who still had the sense that the Gods gave her and the temerity to step up to the plate when it was time to do what needed to be done.


I send a prayer of strength to anyone who has NOT obeyed his or her gut.


Who, despite misgivings, stayed in a bad relationship.


Who let their fear of being alone override their knowledge that their situation was unhealthy.


I pray that, if you are ever faced with a situation that is not-optimal or outright dangerous, that you have the strength to let go, to see your self worth, to know that there are  DECENT, WONDERFUL, CARING, RESPONSIBLE PEOPLE and if you put out that energy, that energy WILL be yours.


Perhaps not in the time you want.


Perhaps not in a fairy-tale sparkling coach.


Maybe not even in a guise that is recognizable to you.


But it will happen.


It will.


And this post is more for me, more to me, than it is to The Woman Who IS SO Very, Very Brave.


Because she did what I wasn’t able to do, and took care of her emotional self.


SO, this is my post to me.


Love yourself.


Love yourself better.