Feb 092010
 

I have a demo coming up this weekend for the Madtown Kinkfest. I really love the folks there, and I’m looking forward to it. I have a somewhat unique situation in that, because of popular demand, (believe me, it sounds even weirder to me than it does to you) I’m tracked on my own session so that there aren’t any other courses running concurrent with mine.

So, no pressure

But something’s been bugging me a bit. Continue reading »

Apr 142009
 

There are lots of kinks I’ve not fully explored.  Some because of a lack of interest, some because they are a bit esoteric or don’t really grab me or some because I just haven’t gotten around to them.

 

Could I have been ANY more fucking adorable? No. I couldnt!

Could I have been ANY more fucking adorable? No. I couldn't!

As a performer, role-playing is a fairly easy BDSM scenario for me to embrace. Pretending and make-believe has been my second home since I was 5 years old and went on my first audition.  My first boyfriend and I used to have all sorts of silly scenarios we would play out, and so it has never been far from my sexuality.

 What WAS new to me was playing a non-human role.  OK, yes, I did play a flower under the troll bridge in “The Three Billy Goats Gruff” in the first grade, but that was a departure for me. I had not seriously considered the idea of reverse anthropomorphization prior to actively entering the kink community.  And even then, I thought “Well, if it does it for you, than great, but if not, why bother?”

 But trying and tasting is half the fun, is it not?

 My first exposure to animal role-play was through several friends who were pony and puppy play people. I certainly saw the appeal! You get loads of attention, you can behave as you wish, and correction is never personal, never damaging, and never harsh. Communication is simple, hand gestures or vocal cues are all an animal can rely on when hearing from their human “trainers” or “owners”

 I always found it delightful to watch people play in this headspace. Years ago, at a Black Rose event in DC, I remember walking through the dungeon and SWEARING I heard a horse in the other side of the space. It was, in fact, a human pony who had mastered, eerily, the sound of whinnying horse.

 I’ll never forget being in a private party with a friend very much into pony play and getting to play a bit while they were in pony space. To be honest I was very startled at the emotional and energetic change that overcame them, and how looking into their eyes was an entirely different experience than it was over supper several hours before. Something was definitely…shifted.

I have only had one glimpse into that realm myself once when attending one of the Bizarre Flea Markets hosted several times a year here in San Francisco by Lady Thorn. It is a fun place to hang out, browse toys and meet up with friends.  I was chatting with a friend near a table that displayed lots of pony play gear when a particularly elaborate piece caught my eye. As someone who loves costuming, I am always the “crow to a shiny object” when it comes to fancies.  This bridle and harness had the added draw of being unusual in its composition; it was made with brown suede, very beautifully crafted.

 The woman vending it looked at me, and looked back at the piece “You know, it is remarkable…that is almost exactly your skin color…”  I nodded absently, as I was mid conversation with my friend who suddenly squealed and threw the thing over my head insisting that I try it on.  I looked to the vendor for help, thinking this wasn’t a cool thing to do but alas, she was busily unbuckling the other side of the thing to run the straps over my forehead, around my ears and under my chin.  A miniature snaffle thudded against my teeth and within 30 seconds, I was sporting a soft brown horns nosed muzzle, perky ears, a miniature mane and bright red plumes.

 pony-head1

 I felt pretty dumb.

“Oh my GOD you look AMAZING!!!” the vendor trilled

 “Yeah, of course…$475 worth of amazing if I fall for that…” I grumbled to me.

 The reins were tossed over my head and my friend, petite as she was, slapped my hip and ordered me over so she could ride.

 Bemused, I complied. Why not? We are all perverts here!

 

Well, on board she dug in her heels and I set off around the space, with people seeming quite amused at the display.

 ”I didn’t know Mo did pony play?” I hear more than a few times as I trotted around, thankful that my friend had some riding experience and that my hips are pretty damned sturdy.

 At one point, we stopped and someone asked her if they could pet me. “Who the fuck do you thnk you are?! I am right here, hello!!” I thought.  I turned my head to one side to glare at them but the blinkers made this difficult without a whole body shift. Then the whole thing shifted. He hadn’t asked me if he could touch me, because…he didn’t have to. I wasn’t a speaking person, I was this role, and therefore vulnerable to the whims of my owner. Even more than a person in a submissive role, a person in an animal play role is dependant on their “keeper” for protection.

 As she gave her permission and the person stroked me mane and shoulders, approvingly patting my rump, I felt oddly soothed, arranging the bit in my mouth and just enjoying the attention. I’d never had the experience of tough being grated around my permission, and it was incredibly soothing, actually.

 Several more people decided they wanted to play, so of course I was soon stamping out my age with a “hoof” and tossing my head in delight at a particularly lovely “scritch”

 Alas, playtimes soon had to be over. The harness returned, the bit dropped into disinfectant and the seller offering me a really good deal on the outfit…if I wanted it.

 I wasn’t able to afford it that day, and besides…I’m not into pony play….

 …but every once in a while, I wish I had that harness, that soft nose, those perky ears, and perhaps a tail and hooves.

 Who doesn’t sometimes want to be the very special pet of a loving owner, if only for an afternoon?

Feb 062009
 

I value the relationships I have formed within the BDSM community. It is not only that we have the commonality of kink, it is that being a pervert means that you smite the artifice of sexual Gerrymandering.

I am living a charmed life in some ways. My lifestyle as an “Out Kinky Pervert” actually was pivotal in landing me my current job. I am out to everyone who knows me, and I am pleased about that. I have done a lifestyle mash-up with kink and theater, kink and employment, kink and my social life. This makes for awesome stories. And a pretty groovy life. Most importantly, I have made friends who, outside of BDSM, it is highly unlikely I’d ever have known.

Two friends of mine fall into this category. Lady Thendara and her husband, Mustang, are the kind of loving and happy couple you’d see at dinner, going to a movie, shopping, whatever and have no idea that, when they “got hitched”, he was actually in full pony gear, and proudly pulled his bride in a pony cart.

Well, that was the ceremony for “kink family” at least.

We should all have the freedom to play our heart's desire.

Grant us all the freedom to play our heart's desire.

I was the caterer for that phenomenal soirée, and it was pretty awesome to be a part of such a singular event. There is nothing that makes me smile quite like the memory of drawing up a menu that included appetizers, a carving station, beverages and…pony-treats. Think quartered apples, (but NO green ones!) and whole carrot sticks alongside people-sized crudité .

I feel so blessed to have folks in my life who are an example of a couple who have found kinky compatibility and share their joy with others. I am happy in their company whether playing Scrabble, enjoying play-time in a Dungeon, gossiping over dinner or wriggling in bondage.

I’ve played with the both of them before. Mustang is a switchy player both in and out of his Pony Headspace. And Lady Thendara has enough experience on both sides of the crop to be a double threat. Female Switches, y’all!! Much like the Wu-Tang clan, they ain’t nothing to fuck with.

I was a bit apprehensive when Thendara invited me to visit with them for the weekend, despite the fact I really wanted to. Of late I have been having some pretty radical internal conflicts about my role in BDSM. Partially this is the same shit I grind myself through whenever I’m single for a while. But playing with a couple, for me, has its own wistfulness. It can underscore my being single…here I am, alone, and there they are, all happy and blah blah blah… but mostly it was my fear of not being “enough.”

As a masochist, I can play very heavily. The operative word in that sentence being the modifier. I can, but that does not mean I will. And it doesn’t always mean I want to. Being a submissive or a slave sometimes means subsuming your will, and then you better be down to take one for the sake of your service-oriented ass.

Many people see that highly-charged over-the-top play-style and assume that is the way that I play all of the time. But it isn’t. It is just what people remember and talk about at the next Munch. My “heavy bottoming” has terms, conditions, infrastructure, caverns caves sinkholes and fucking punji-pits within. And you can’t see that. All you see is me being thrown to the ground and shocked with dog collars, poked with a few dozen needles, brutally anally assaulted, OR groveling and licking the boots of a man I’d just met.

But these are the exception, rather than the rule, and I am ill-suited, right now, for heavy play. Because I have no one to whom I can turn for the unpredictable repair process I need to “come back” from that edge. And for me to want to take that pain, I realize I need that emotional connection.

I’m not a clinical masochist…just a twisted slavish masochistic sex-pervert.

Yet I live in apprehension of the thought of disappointing my friends.

So, I scurry around the edges and hope that my Dom Charming will soon ride in in his gleaming creaking leathers and sweep me off of my quivering feet.

But I couldn’t resist the sunny warmth of my friend’s offer to play, and the instantaneous relaxing of the bands of anxiety circling my heart when I blurted out that I really can’t do any heavy play and Thendara laughed.

“We’re service tops, sweetie! It’s all good!”

Oh. Right. You WANT me to enjoy myself.

Fuck yeah.

So, right now, I have something better than obsessing and moping, and that is letting myself enjoy the company of friends, knowing that they are looking forward to seeing me, and that it is OK to say “Be gentle, care for me, and hold me after.” and they will do that, with love and affection.