Thursday, June 26, 2008

Musings on Kink, Power, and Accoutrements

Today, I went over to RHF's place. And hit his girlfriend, Columbia, with various floggers and paddles - which was excellent practice. She's a lovely bottom - more responsive than the Cloaked Norseman. Then, after my arm was tired, and RHF had cooled her down with judiciously applied ice, I bit her. Hot damn. I am hesitant and very much still finding my way with regard to impact play, when I'm on the giving/topping end. But when it come to biting and hair-pulling, that I can do, confidently and joyfully, given an enthusiastic subject. And Columbia was quite enthusiastic. I learned, in college, that there are several boys who melt into a little puddle when you firmly grasp the hair at the nape of their neck. I learned that these same boys tend to make very pretty noises when you sink your teeth into their shoulders. Oh, I love that. I love the rush, knowing I'm awakening those pretty, pain-filled pleasures in them. I looked at Columbia, nekkid on the cross, and relished the thought of those shoulders, bare to do with what I pleased. I wrapped my hand in her jet hair, and pulled, tight and firm. I bit into the top of her shoulder, above her collarbone, wide and hard. And I felt the protectiveness well up in me, the caring. The profound knowledge that I have responsibility for this creature, that she's trusting me to hurt her, to push her, and to bring her through safely. I stared in wonder at her hair, the curves of her back and ass, open to me. When I top, that's what I want to feel. That wonder, at the gift I'm given. That enthusiasm for giving sensation. The profound satisfaction in the care and safety I provide.
I am, I believe, still primarily a bottom. But it was interesting to find what triggers the top in me, what pushes me to lose myself in action rather than reaction. And to observe how I top, what my goals and feelings about it are. Mm.
After I left Columbia and RHF's place, Apollo and I went to meet Church Goth Boy, hereafter Eldil, and his wife, hereafter Pomona, for dinner and gaming. Pizza, wine, ice cream and Munchkin made for a lovely night...then Eldil took me to his room (not like that you perverse people) to see the flogger he offered to loan to me (he found out, over lunch one day, that I was kinky and eager to learn to perform the skills I enjoy receiving). It's pretty. It's purple, and not too light, not too harsh. Not quite as spongy and thuddy as I'd like - but it'll do very well for a practice flogger.
Then he asked me, "How do you feel about collars?" "Um, well, I've only worn one once, for a very short time, when I was at my friend's house and she was showing me, very informally, all her tools...but they're something I'd like to explore..." Next thing I know, he's pulling a very plain black leather collar out of the closet, and telling me to turn around and lift my hair. As he fastens the collar and locks it, I feel the weight of subspace start to descend. Eldil is not a playmate. Since, to my knowledge, he is not poly, he will never be a playmate. As such, I should probably not let him put a collar on me again, even so informally. The weight descended, and my latent attraction to him rose. He commented on the fact that it fit me perfectly, where it's not quite right for Pomona, and proceeded to remark that I now had something new to wear to the upcoming fetish event.
", I don't want to appear as though I'm actually collared," I said. Really...I don't want to look as though I'm off-limits - that might spoil potential fun! "Well, you could turn the collar around so that the D-ring is out of sight, or you could attach a chain to the D-ring, then attach it to your own wrist, showing that you own yourself." My immediate reaction to this was, "That's what a fluffy sub would do! Someone who just wants to wear the pretties, not walk the walk that goes with them." But I've been thinking. I really like the idea, at this point in my exploration, of the collar, of my collar being first and foremost about my sovereignty over myself. My right to say where and how and to whom I give myself (of course, this is tied, at a higher level, to spirituality, with my first binding and commitment being to Deity - and I give myself in accordance with Her wishes for me). When I put it on myself, I am signaling that I am in control. When I permit someone else to put my collar on me (if I permit it - I have not yet decided), I have given that control willingly into their hands for a fixed time, a scene. I am not ready to commit my collar into the control of any one person, any one lover. Granted, once offered, any lover to whom it is offered will have the option to use it or not, as they see fit...but they are not the sole owners/users of my collar.
I feel, on some level, that I'm misusing the symbol that is the collar by making it about my own control and sovereignty (under Deity, of course). This, though, stems more from my fear of public opinion and what others will think about "that sub who owns herself" or "that sub who carries the key to her own collar" than about any personal objections. Hm. I'd appreciate thoughts on this.
On the note of personal sovereignty, a word about the Magician. In the midst of my kinky exploration, there is RHF and my Lovely Long Distance Friend/Mentor who are very much helping me explore what my submissive side is all about, helping me feel out my boundaries for giving up control, and helping me relish the sensation of surrender. By contrast, the Magician doesn't play power games. They don't interest or amuse him. He is all about sensation, and, more relevantly, about asking for what you want. In that sense, he is all about personal sovereignty and owning your own desires. And while it might be strange that I care so much for such diametrically opposed relationships, I care for them precisely because they are so different. They are causing me to grow in equally important, wonderful ways. RHF and My Mentor push me to learn about endurance, about giving up control, about taking what I'm given, and serving another's pleasure. The Magician pushes me to name my own desire, to search myself and ask boldly for what I want. He pushes me to find my voice, so often silenced in arousal, to give words to the longings in my heart and cunt. I am so very grateful to have this sort of balance in my life, in my exploration.

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