May 2, 2013
September 17, 2012
June 7, 2012
Abandonment Scenes
Abandonment was mentioned last night when talking about fear play. A very valid form of fear play, but it got me thinking about my own relationship with abandonment. I’m not afraid of scene-abandonment, as such. I mean, tie me up and leave me somewhere? I’ll happily fall asleep, or meditate, or just glow happily in bondage. Tie me up and tell me to escape? Sure! I’ll wiggle and squirm free, and then curl up happily with the rope.
It’s when pain enters the picture that the abandonment means something to me. A very long time ago, long before kink, I wrote a diary entry about fear. In it I listed the things I was afraid of: snakes, needles, sparks. But I got a little more introspective after that. I noted that being in pain and being unable to do anything about it scares me a helluva lot, too. My phobias are flight responses. This one is a bit more complicated. This one leads to a different kind of break down of my psyche.
I am a masochist. I like pain. I enjoy it. I can get off on it. But I also like control. I like someone to be in control. Of me, of the scene, of the pain. Random, uncontrolled or unintentional pain is not cool. If you know me well enough and long enough, you’ll see me break down over my RA pain on occasion.
To be put in a painful bondage and then left, abandoned, causes the adrenaline rush. I’m in pain, I can’t stop the pain. No one is there to stop the pain. What if it becomes too much? What if I can’t take it anymore? What if I pass out from the pain? What if I panic? Am I already panicking? And on and on.
Near the beginning of the life of this blog, I posted Abandoned and Rescued. In that scene, I knew my white knight was coming to save me. I knew he would come and stop the pain. So I was left in a bigger predicament, his arrival had the chance of causing More pain, excruciating pain. And unless I could call out loudly enough and warn him, I would have no way to stop it. Later, I was threatened with being left in a similar situation, without the trap, with no one coming to save me, except maybe the hotel’s housekeeping staff, who I’m pretty sure would have just run away. Terrified, I begged my way out of it.
So, for me, abandonment works as a form of fear play, but it has to be painful. Otherwise, it’s just a happy bondage scene, which can also be fun.
May 31, 2012
What I Like and Why
So, let’s say someone new came up to me and asked, “Hey Imp, what do you like to do? And could you tell me why? What about those things interests you?” How would I respond, at this point in my life?
Hey, random person. Welcome to the community. I like to do a lot of different things, for a lot of different reasons.
Well, Imp, that’s not very helpful, could you be more specific?
Sure, random. I like bondage, sensation, deprivation, fear, pain, suspension, sexuality, dressing up, fire, electricity, corporal punishment, erotica, mind fucks, new experiences, serving, bootblacking, learning, teaching, submission, power exchange, biting, sucking, cuddling, challenges, sub space, and a whole host of other things.
Wow, Imp, that’s a lot. Could you tell me about all those different things?
Sure, random, let’s start at the top.
Bondage. I love bondage. Always have, always will. Cuffs, shackles, stocks, straitjackets, rope, saran wrap, or just mental. I love it all. But some for different reasons than others.
Cuffs, shackles and stocks. These are the stuff of erotic fantasies for me. Prisoner fantasies, slave fantasies, and the like. These are things for “bad girls” and as such, turn me on to that mindset. They are solid and secure and sometimes painful. They are a solid reminder that I am in bondage to the one who holds the key. I am at his mercy until he sets me free.
Straitjackets and saran wrap or mummification. These are the all encompassing, all enclosing, complete restriction of movement. They can be comforting, a big huge hug from the one who put me in it. A place to sink into myself with the outside kept at bay. Or they can be complete vulnerability. I am trapped, only allowed that which he gives me. Whether that’s simply air or pleasure. Only free when he allows it. And oh so helpless and available to whatever he wants to do. An excellent power exchange.
Rope. Glorious rope. I didn’t know how much I would love rope until it was used on me. I didn’t know I would fall in love until I first smelled hemp, and then he suspended me. And I was done. Forever a rope slut. Rope is a multitool. It can be used for sensation, for decoration, for bondage, for suspension, for pain, for pleasure, for service, and if you have enough, even for mummification. Rope makes me incredibly happy. The bite of the rough natural fibers on my skin. The taking of my power bit by bit as each limb is confined. The sense of freedom when I am held in its complete thrall.
Sensation and pain. So many different types of sensation. Floggers, whips, paddles, canes, drumsticks, clamps, clips, clothespins, slapping, spanking, body punching, kicking, biting, pinching, pressure points, scratching, knives, violet wands, stun guns, TENs, massage, wax. I’m sure I’m forgetting some.
Corporal punishment. Spanking, floggers, whips, paddles, canes, punching, kicking and drumming, all excellent examples. Let’s start with rhythmic fun. Floggers, canes, and drumming can all be used to beat someone to music, to a rhythm. This can take us both into space. Feeling connected as one as we flow and move with the same beat. Relaxing and soothing, it can also send me into the most incredible high. Spanking and paddles, also belts, are in the fantasy category for me. They send me into that “bad girl” headspace that I find so arousing. Pain space. This is where whips, body punching and kicking come in. They don’t fit in the first two categories for me, but if I want intense sensation for the purpose of going into pain space, they are added to the list of all these other tools. Pain space, for me, is a place where I fall into the pain, and enjoy both the pain and connection to the one causing it. Catharsis is another part of corporal for me. All these tools can be used to cause me such intense sensation that I am pushed through pain space into an emotional release.
Body manipulation. While I’m talking about spaces, and body punching and kicking. Let me go quickly to pressure points, biting, pinching and massage. These, for me, are direct, personal intense sensations. Biting goes into arousing fantasy, vampires and the like. Pressure points and pinching and focused intensity. He is close up, exploring my body and reactions. Some of them are painful, some of them are pleasurable. But they all make me want to kiss his hands afterward. I like the closeness, I like the personal intensity. The direct energy exchange. Massage has this, too. The closeness, the energy. It also has the element of service that I enjoy when I’m giving it. Or when I’m receiving, it makes me feel cared for and appreciated.
Sexuality. We are sexual beings. And we all express our sexuality in different ways with different people. Depending on my mood and my partner, I enjoy kissing, hugging, cuddling, nibbling, licking, orgasm control, masturbation, oral and sex. Physical connection, intimate connection, can be soothing, energizing, or just plain crazy fun.
Deprivation. On the opposite end of the physical, is the lack of input. Sensory deprivation. Sensory deprivation makes me depend on whatever I’m left with. I sink into my body away from the senses that were taken away and if I have anything left, all focus goes to that. If it has all ben removed or reduced, I’m often able to just float away deep inside. It’s incredibly relaxing. And can also be used to intensify whatever sense is left. Touch becomes so much more intense when you cannot see, hear, or smell. You are focused on the only thing you have left to sense the world around you. Pain in such a state is so much more intense for me.
Clips, clamps and clothespins. I’m not even sure how to categorize those. Pinchy things, I guess. These can be great fun and are usually a test in endurance. Last night, he showed up with two bags. One of 50 teeny tiny clothespins, and one of 24 two inch long clothespins. He decided our faces were his canvas, and went back and forth between all three of us, putting clothespins all over. It was crazy and intense and fun. I had to walk in place and keep touching him to ground, so I would keep breathing properly. These are an interesting category. They are intense sensation, and it just ramps up as you go along, without even having to do anything. And when you’re done, the fun isn’t over. You still have to take all those little things off. Which hurts a heck of a lot more in an instant than they have the whole time they’ve been on. This is why zippers are such great fun. Taking a whole line of them all off at once, can send me into such a great pain space high. This is one time when orgasms are especially appreciated for me, as a way to channel the energy created.
Electricity. Ah, electrical energy. In this category we have TENs, violet wands, electric flyswatters, and stun guns. TENs is a lot of fun. It can be therapeutic to tense or sore muscles. It can be silly giving over of control. It can be used to make Jenga a hilarious game. And it can be used to cause intense sensations and pain. Violet wands are one of the few things I top, for the crew. Anywhere for gentle vibrations of a massage, to sharp jolts of pain. Happy tickling sensations, to skin burning zaps. So versatile and fun. Electric flyswatters and stun guns are the next step up. Sharp, painful sparks when there’s a gap. Muscle jolting when held tight to the skin. For me, just the noise of these sends fear shooting through my body. Sends adrenaline racing, and depending on what he’s threatening, can drive me straight to tears. Delicious.
Fire is another of those adrenaline rushes. Someone is lighting you on fire FFS. It’s a nice warming sensation, which can also be slightly painful, but the fire is generally gone before the pain really starts. I’m not into burning/branding of the skin. But the fear. The primal fear response to being light on fire, is intoxicating. It brings my focus in to just that. Nothing else matters when you’re on fire. Then there’s sparks. Not electrical sparks, those don’t bother me. Fire sparks. A lighter, a sparkler, a log popping in the fire. Terror. Pure terror for me. This will bring me to tears faster than a stun gun, if I’m forced to be close for more than a couple sparks.
Fear. Oh yeah, fear. Sparks, needles, snakes. Fire, stun guns, flyswatters, gags, being in pain and helpless and abandoned. Fear is delicious. Adrenaline rushes are great. Phobias will bring me to tears and panic and breaking points. So they are dangerous to play with, but so far, have all gone well. Being brought to the point of panic, and then pulled right back to keep going can be an amazing power exchange, as well.
Power exchange. Submission, serving, mind fucks. All the mental stuff. To take me out of my head, to give up control. To take care of him and his boots. To dress up for him. To just simply be for him. To challenge myself. To be forced to think and use my brain. To be turned around so hard and fast that I don’t know where I am. To be scared and aroused and dropped all through the power of his voice. So many different head spaces and power exchanges. It can be absolutely amazing.
New experiences. Learning something new. Teaching someone something new. Trying something new. Helping someone else try something for the first time. There’s nothing like it. The joy, the excitement, the energy of new is unique and incredible.
And then there’s this. There’s writing about it. I love writing about it. Writing erotica about it, blog posts about it, journal entries about it. Sharing, processing, explaining. Teaching, learning. Writing it down gets it out of my head and into a place where I can look at it. Where I can share it with others. Where I can learn about myself and really see my own thoughts and reactions. Down on paper or screen, it’s not all jumbled up anymore. It’s clear and it’s wonderful. I hope you all think so, too.
May 27, 2012
Masochism
The other day, I was asked “Do all true masochists orgasm from pain?”
After snickerting at the word “true” for a moment, I answered masochists enjoy intense sensation. Each in their own way.
Later, I felt this deserved a bit more thought and discussion.
Dictionary.com: Masochism is “gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc.”
Midori has forever changed the phrasing in my head to be “intense sensation” instead of “pain.” She’s right. Pain is too broad. My elbow hurts right now, I’m not getting gratification from it. But intentional intense sensations, I do. I like that deprivation and degradation are included in the dictionary definition. Emotional masochism is just as powerful.
Orgasms are not the end result of intense sensation for me, they are simply one way for me to direct the energy created. A way I enjoy, certainly, but when I’m with a partner, only when allowed, or so directed. Yes, sometimes it turns me on so much I want an orgasmic release. Yes, sometimes it is so intense I want to orgasm to channel or focus the energy somewhere. But certainly not every time, certainly not for all intense sensation.
And that’s just me. I’m sure there are folk out there that it does exactly that for. That all intention intense sensation causes them to orgasm, or to want to orgasm. I’m sure there are folk out there that humiliation causes orgasm for, too. Or sensory deprivation; I enjoy it but it’s far from orgasmic for me.
April 26, 2012
Everything Changes, Everything Stays the Same
A good number of changes currently happening in my poly life and in the community I’m a part of. A new space has been acquired by some community leaders and a lot of groups are moving their meetings there. This includes my weekly Wednesday group. We are moving away from the space we have occupied for three years now, to a new place, a new space. And with high hopes that it will work for us and allow us to reach even more people.
I have also stepped down from being the little d with toy, back to a more comfortable s. I had a great time last year, learning and experiencing new things in this role. But this year, with a lot of upheaval in my life, it just didn’t feel comfortable anymore. We are examining our dynamic and determining how best to continue. It will take a bit of adjustment, but I think we’ll all come out happy in the end.
We said our fond farewell to our usual Wednesday night space in the best way we knew how. With friends, family, food and screams. He lined us up, his toy, myself and the engineer and tore into our thighs and chests. We started with the big dragon tail, then the little, then a nice blue rubber ball on a flexible rod, and ended with a round of the flyswatter, by their vote. I voted for more dragon tail because it’s not a fear response for me like the flyswatter, but it was just too much sting for them to want another round. We followed up with water and cuddles.
New and busy times lay ahead. I am grateful for what we’ve had and look forward to what is coming.
April 22, 2012
April 12, 2012
Memory Pain Fear
We are not born afraid. Very young children are fearless. They don’t know there is bad in the world. It is through experience that we gain fear. It is through pain that we become afraid. Physical, mental, emotional, our own or someone we love. I wasn’t afraid of needles, snakes or sparks until I had a bad experience. Loud noises didn’t bother me until they meant pain and fear. A lot of things in the kink world, I didn’t know to be afraid of until they happened. It is that memory of the pain, of the fear, of the trauma, that triggers now. Stronger than the reality. A stun gun pressed tight against my thigh causes far less reaction than the threat and crackling of it six inches away. The memory of the pain causes fear.
Today, I remember pain. A terrible pain, full of confusion and disbelief. And I am sad and crying. But I am also afraid. Afraid of losing someone else. Afraid of reliving that pain. Afraid of being ripped wide open and bare with nothing to hold on to. Afraid it will be worse, closer. So many are far apart, I don’t see them anymore. Today I remember, but I have to let go of the fear.
My family is far and wide. Idaho to Maine to the UP of Michigan. My college family is even further. Stretching over the ocean into England and the other way to China. Both groups have a few more local. My brother and his family. A couple college friends are still in town. My chosen kinky family is here for the most part. Here full of love and support (and all the typical family drama). No matter what happens, there are plenty of people who care and who I can turn to, in one way or another. Living in fear denies their contribution to my life. With their support, I can get through anything.
One day at a time.
