Caging

Caging and other forms of confinement intrigue me.  The appeal isn’t much different than bondage.  For many, being able to struggle to no avail yields a feeling of helplessness and being at the domme’s mercy.

This is definitely something I’m curious about exploring.  Something made for a medium-sized dog would work best; there would be just enough room to move a little bit, but it would be small enough to be pretty restrictive.  Whether it’s a cage or any other sort of container, at some point reality would set in.  I’m trapped.  Only she can let me out.  But she’s not.  Maybe I can kick my way out.  No, not enough room.  Push with everything I’ve got……nope.  Pull the lock off?  Nothing.  Completely at her mercy.  I’m really stuck.  She’s got me, and I can’t do a thing about it.

That sounds just plain tasty.

Cages do have problems not present with bondage: transport and storage.  Bondage gear doesn’t take up much space.  But where do you put a cage?  If you live in a small or medium apartment, your storage space is at a premium.  Keeping a cage in the living room, draped completely in fabric, might work.  It could be used as an end table.

T and I did some price shopping for a cage a few weeks ago.  They were about what I’d expected.  Ideally, I’d like to find the kind of cage that breaks down into individual panels so that it can be stored flat.  Slip it under the bed and it’s out of sight.

Plastic storage containers could be another option.  I’ve seen a few that I could fit into, though it’d be a tight fit.  This would also be a form of breath play unless we made air holes.  Putting me in there and sitting on top sounds like a hot idea, at least on paper.  But I could stay in a cage for much longer than in a small plastic box.  And I’d be able to see T as she gloats at my situation, which I absolutely adore.

There will hopefully be a cage in my future.  The appeal is too strong not to explore.

Self-Renovation

New Year’s resolutions aren’t my thing.  It’s always an appropriate time to make improvements.  Why wait until the odometer rolls over?  Why not start your resolution on April 18th or September 5th?  For me, self-improvement is a slow, ongoing process rather than a highly punctuated one marked by abrupt changes.

The hard part is seeing myself accurately.  The mirrors we use are distorted.  We don’t see our huge glaring flaws, and we blow out of proportion the very minor flaws that we do see.  We wonder if people see us as we see ourselves.  Making improvements is arduous if you aren’t certain what the biggest problem areas are.

Sometimes it helps to just ask others what your biggest problem areas are.  What do people criticize you for behind your back?  This is immensely valuable information.  Of course, lots of people won’t be honest, and they may even feel awkward being asked.  Sometimes people have a hard time pointing out the flaws of a friend or lover.  If you ask them to, they may think you’re setting them up or feel that you’ll pull your friendship away if they say something negative.  But eventually some people will start holding up a mirror for you, and seeing oneself clearly becomes a little easier with their help.

Having a plan helps as long as long as the time spent planning doesn’t come at the expense of taking action. It’s tempting to get lost in planning.  Trying to figure out the best way to effect change can consume lots of time and resources.  Getting caught up in planning is also a rather effective method of stalling.  But for real change to happen, you have to actually do something.
Whether we’re talking about improving some aspect of your personality, your appearance, performance, or working on any problem in your life, one question should be asked: If you want to improve this particular area, what are you doing to work towards that end?  Are you just running your mouth and saying you want to do it, or are you taking steps to actually reach that goal?  If you want to get in shape, have you joined a gym or started doing body-weight exercises at home?  If you want to change careers, have you applied to any schools and started saving up?  If you want to call Mom more often, have you picked up the phone lately?  You may want to learn that instrument, but have you signed up for lessons?  Or are you spinning your wheels, thinking, hoping, dreaming of how it could be if you’d only get off your ass and do something?  (If my words are abrasive, it’s mostly because this is more a criticism of myself and how I wasted so much time.)

Self-improvement yields a sense of responsibility and empowerment, not fatalism and resignation.  It’s easy to fall into thinking, “I’ve always been this way, I’ve always done it that way, everyone else does it this way, it’s just who I am.”    No.  Fuck no.  I control my destiny.  Who I am is my choice.  I alone am responsible for my actions.

Semi-Consensual Consensual Nonconsent of the Consensual Variety

Consensual nonconsent worries me.  At the same time, I find it intriguing.  For those not familiar, it’s agreeing to temporarily forgo your safeword and be pushed past that point for a particular scene or activity.  You’re agreeing that when you call an end to it, they don’t have to stop.

It’s scary, for obvious reasons.  Something like this would be pretty far on the intense end of the spectrum.  I know it would suck and be horrible and I’d really really really really really really really really want it to stop, but the idea of doing this also has a certain draw to it.

The complete helplessness is a big part of it.  I wouldn’t be able to stop her if we were to do this.  At all.  There’s nothing I could do or say to end things.  I’d be totally at her mercy.

This would also likely be a bonding experience.  Going this far and making me so vulnerable wouldn’t be without effect.

Another huge factor for me is that T has mentioned wanting to do some consensual nonconsent.  I very much enjoy making her happy, even if it means suffering for her.  And this type of play is definitely suffering………at a rather brutal level.

Bondage and a gag would be absolutely required.  Either that or bondage and a house with all the windows closed.  But gags are a little easier to obtain than houses.  And gags fit in the toy case much better.  If I wasn’t bound, I’d just get up or physically stop the scene.  But with all my limbs restrained, this wouldn’t be an option. I could struggle and fight all I wanted, but it wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Consensual nonconsent can be done with impact, strap-on play, humiliation, and other forms of pervery.  I wouldn’t want to do this with ball-kicking or breath play since there’s the potential for something to go medically wrong.

When T and I first started seeing each other, she was worried about her relative lack of dominant/topping experience.  But there is still plenty of unexplored ground for both of us, as well as things that one of us has tried but the other hasn’t.  Consensual nonconsent is one area I haven’t tread upon yet.  It makes me happy to know that we can forge new trails together.

Desiring to Delve into D/S Dynamics (of Doom)

T and I were talking with someone this weekend about d/s relationships.  The guy we were talking to is involved in the swing scene, and he and his wife are now starting to explore bdsm.  He asked if (I’m paraphrasing) the d/s crept out into other areas of the relationship or if it stayed in the bedroom/dungeon.

We do have a certain amount of d/s that permeates the relationship, but I found myself fumbling for words trying to explain our particular dynamic to him.  That made me realize that T and I haven’t really talked much about this.  So we talked on the ride home, and I realized that I don’t have many concrete ideas regarding d/s.

Specifically, we were talking about how d/s manifests itself in the relationship.  How does it show up in everyday life?  I’ve had relationships before where some d/s oozed out into the rest of the relationship.  There are also areas that are off limits to the d/s- career, family, finances, relationship decisions, etc.  And there are other areas in which I’d feel taken advantage of (not in a good way) if the d/s were applied to them, such as housework.  I see that occasionally in others’ relationships, and it doesn’t come across as d/s to me.  Certain things we’ve done evoke that fire I feel inside, making me feel more submissive toward her.  For example, she’ll occasionally tell me to kneel and remove her boots/shoes, or she’ll order me to sit at her feet.  Another time, she had me serve as her drink-holder at a party.  Not a big thing, but it brought to the surface the dynamic.  I don’t see blatant, heavy forms of d/s being practical all the time.  While 24/7 is possible, 24/7 in the dungeon is not.  So the more subtle forms of d/s come into play.

Just knowing about her power can most likely be enough at times.  Occasional public humiliation raises the possibility in my mind that she could make it happen at any time.  The same goes for any other form of dominance.  Asserting control, even if it’s something that goes unnoticed by everyone around, brings to the forefront the dynamic.  Flexing your muscle at times (in whatever form that may take) can provide a solid reminder of your power.  D/s can be a quiet background hum, a world-shaking explosion, or anywhere in between.

T does push me hard in some areas, and this often deepens the d/s dynamic.  She can take me further than I want to go and force me to go beyond what I think I can do.  I usually don’t want to do it, but I really enjoy making her happy as well.  It’s deeply satisfying.

I try to be proactive as well in my submission.  Balance between active dominance and active submission is important; both people need to make an effort in order for any relationship to work.

Springing out of this conversation, T asked me a couple nights later how I differentiated between submissive and slave.  That’s a worn-out discussion in most circles, and the general consensus is that each relationship is different, so one person’s definitions don’t fit everyone.  But that’s not what we were talking about; we were talking about our definitions.  I’ve never considered myself a slave, but this conversation intrigued me, and I hope to continue it.  I hadn’t ever considered the possibility of taking on that position, but the more I think about it, I realize that’s mostly because of negative experiences with some self-proclaimed slaves.  I have a less-than-ideal connotation of many people who identify this way due to these experiences.  I’m trying to detach those memories from the word to find out more of what it means to me.  At this point, I see it as simply a more extreme form of d/s.  I don’t agree with all the “your desires don’t matter” or “a slave should have no limits” stuff.  It’s all internet wankery.  But heavier levels of d/s can and do exist, and I’m curious.  The thought of it makes me nervous, but I also know it can be rewarding for both people.

Ow.

T gave me a gift recently, a flogger custom-made by someone local.

 

 

This thing looks wicked.  I’m really happy with the workmanship; it’s high-quality, not some toy flogger.  It is a little long, so it may have a bit of a learning curve to it.  T got her inspiration for this at a local bdsm store we went to a while back.  There was a flogger there with studs on each tail, but they were glued on, and the quality was lacking overall.  It seemed like a wicked thing to have in the arsenal, so she had a better one made.  With this flogger, the studs are double-ended and screwed through each tail.  It’s intimidating.  She had a huge, predatory smile on her face and a sparkle in her voice when she said she intends to beat me bloody with it.  I love how she shows so much delight in torturing me.  I’m screwed.