Saturday, November 27, 2010

Emotional Armor

Some people, in their vanilla lives or in the lifestyle--it doesn't matter, come at life wearing emotional armor. Whether with friends or in play they approach these people and experiences with a standoffish approach. Perhaps they had a rug pulled out from under them at some point. Likely they did, otherwise why take this untrusting approach?

Some people play for the sake of play. Don't get me wrong, that's fun. But I look for an emotional connection of some kind. I think it adds to the dynamic, the energy of the scene. Further, I work my ass off on the job and focus on my family, so to be perfectly honest, I don't really have any friends outside of work--I just don't have time!--so the bonus of being in the lifestyle I've discovered (and talked about in the past) is that I've made some wonderful friends and established some great relationships.

But there are those who believe that the only way to play is to be impartial, detached, removed. (My hunch is these folks are more in the BDSM scene than the spanko, but my observations could very well be incorrect on that point.) They feel that to "protect themselves" from putting themselves in a position of emotional vulnerability they need to wear this armor to avoid those connections.

To each their own. But to me, no armor. Bring on the connections, the dynamic. I amemotionally vulnerable. Eyes wide open. I'm aware it can could put me in a position of beingtoo open. But I prefer it to a stoic and unemotional detachment.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Off Topic Thanksgiving Rant

Last year for Thanksgiving I posted this pic of a truly trussed-up turkey.

This year, I've got a rant I've just gotta get off my chest. As most of you know, I travel a lot for my business (and some for pleasure once in a while). I've been in and out of airports no less than eight times in the last four weeks. Each time I go through security, whether here or abroad, and deal with all manner of bag checks, searches, security equipment and personnel. I've been patted down, gone through scanners, have done full body scans, been sniffed by electronic sniffing equipment that blows high pressure air at you then burns dried skin cells to see if you have traces of explosives on you (for real). All of it. I've even been strip-searched once.

And I don't complain.

Why? Because I don't want to fucking die in a terrorist-related plane crash!

I do not understand people complaining about an "invasion of privacy" with full body scanners or pat downs. Who the fuck cares??? If all this is paranoid, have at it! If a terrorist puts liquid explosives in 3 oz. bottles and we have to check all our toiletries or buy them upon landing in the future, so be it! Listen to me: I do not want to die in a terrorist-related plane crash!

I fully expect I'm going to die in some kind of plane malfunction. I fly a lot. I'm planning on it. That way, when it doesn't happen, I'll be pleasantly surprised.

So when people get all up in arms about full body scanners and pat downs I wish they would just shut their fucking mouths. You don't hear anyone outside of the U.S. complaining? In countries where the U.S. airport security machine is prevalent (any country that flies into the U.S. from abroad) people are kissing the feet of those making their flights safer. Only here in America where we are so coddled, protected and treated like veal do we go out of our way to whine about being kept safe!

A commentator on MSNBC the other day said something to the effect of this: There should be two lines at the airport--those that are willing to go through security measures and those that are not. That includes pilots and crew (some of them are complaining about their "civil liberties" too!). The rest go onto an unsecured plane. Let's see what happens then.

Everyone wants it easy: "No invasion of privacy! But fucking keep me safe!" And if a plane blew up in the air, guess who would be first in line to sue the government for malfeasance? The same families that are at the airport today not agreeing to full body scans as an "act of protest."

People: shut the fuck up, submit whatever security measures the wags at TSA want and pray you make it to your destination. Isn't it bad enough we have to be subjected to all of this in the first place? Terrorism is about disrupting our lives, our peace and our psychological wellbeing. They've already won. Why the fuck do we have to make it worse???

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

A Great Lair Scene with Beth

I started getting texts from Beth during the day Saturday. To be a bit understated, she was nervous. Running behind schedule. To be fair, Beth was a spanko, in the scene for a while, out of it, and only recently back in again. She had never been to a dungeon, never played with BDSM implements.

Beth and I met via my blog. She’d left some sassy comments, then, out of the blue, emailed me to say sorry for being a bit too sassy. I said no worries. I’m not one to take things like that seriously, to say the least. Because we both are on gmail, suddenly I could “see” her on my IM. So I IM’d her.

Eventually, we met up at Shadow Lane in Vegas in September (in my blog entry I refer to her as "B"). She said she’d be easy to spot, she would be the only Asian girl there. I corrected her. I told her Carolyn was Asian and she would be there, too. We were to spot one another at the vendor event Friday night, but I never saw her. Plus, I was pacing for my takedown scene with Lizzie, so I was a bit distracted. Eventually, we got to play at SL. Beth was nervous then, too. I don’t think I realized it at the time, but it was the first time she’d played in five years. She didn’t quite say it this way, but I think she wasn’t confident it would be like riding a bicycle.

After Vegas we chatted a few times online and came to the conclusion we both would like to play again—and Beth was interested in exploring more than just OTK. She was curious to experiment with other implements, experiencing things beyond the bottom and discovering new things like sensation play. She was coming to L.A. and we agreed to meet at the Lair.

Saturday night came quickly and Beth was running behind schedule, which I told her was going to earn her some trouble. I’d been keeping a tally of her “infractions” since Vegas and with running late she’d accumulated 17. Which she vehemently argued. Finally I got a text: “I’m here.” I walked across the street to escort her in. First of all, the neighborhood around the dungeon is a bit sketch, but also because she’d never been to a dungeon I wanted to make her feel as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances.

I gave her a tour of the place, showing her each of the rooms so she could get a feel for each space to see which one she might want to play in. Still nervous, I sat her down in the main room. It was early and there was only one real scene going on, which she tuned out as I calmed her nerves and talked quietly.

The night wound on. It was time to play. We walked into the next room and I hugged her, telling her it was going to be fine—I would never do anything she didn’t like and we would be in constant contact throughout. We walked around the place again, settling on the room off the kitchen, the same room I always played with Erica. Beth liked it because it was somewhat quiet without a lot of traffic. A scene or two were going on in there, but we found a padded table to play on. I set up my implements and showed them to Beth. “Those are for me?” she asked, alarm in her voice. “Yes,” I said. “And I’ll use them all.”

Soon, Beth was across my lap and I was spanking her bottom, switching for a thin leather paddle and a thuddy glove. I could sense her relaxing and beginning to get into it. I ramped it up a bit and we continued, a few spectators coming in to watch as other scenes ebbed and flowed around us.

I stood her up and had her put her elbows on the table and got out my dragon’s tongue, which cracked like a signal tail over and over on her bottom. The sound was terrifying and the sting was surprising to her. I moved to a cane, a crop and moved off her bottom and onto her legs, back and shoulders.

To be honest, I was nervous before the scene. I hadn’t played at the Lair since Erica and I last played back in April. I hadn’t played with Beth before and I didn’t know what to expect. This was an experiment. What if she didn’t like something I used? What if her tolerance was low? What if I accidently hurt her—for real? But once we were into it, all that melted away and the scene was my total focus.

Eventually, I laid her down on the table, my fur blanket there for her to relax on. I caned her further, all over, then moved to sensation play. My finger claws really took her over the edge, as did the vampire gloves and my strangely unique “bottle brush” Wartenberg wheel combo. She liked it all. She screamed, moaned, whimpered. It was delicious.

I was able to really wallop on her with her urging via sassy comments using a few particular implements, most notably a leather strap, a leather strip and my antique razor strop.

I sensed she was nearing her max, and so I really ramped up to a few final implements—a wood paddle and my customary scene-ender, my thick leather paddle that looks like it was cut from a hunk of plywood. Beth was panting, absorbing the pain. I took pauses to let her take it in, comforting her and whispering words of comfort.

Finally, it was time to deliver her 17 swats. It took a long time. Each blow yielded near-screams and she would put her hands back on her bottom to rub the spot. I’d yank her hands away, scold her, and continue. We finally reached 17 and we were done.

I held her as she came back. “I lost track of time and everyone around me but you, Craig,” she said. “What was that?” I smiled at her. “I think you’re first time in subspace, Beth.” We marveled at the scene. I was impressed at her willingness to test herself and explore new sensations. I had cropped and caned her arms, shoulders, back, legs and it went fine. She was pleased she was able to try things without shutting down or stopping and that I’d pushed her to go beyond her usual comfort zone, pain-wise. “I never stopped trusting you,” she said later in a text as we reconnected Sunday to check in and see how she was doing. That was very rewarding to hear.

Beth: thanks for that trust. I’ll play with you again anytime and I look forward to trying new things that we can explore together.

Back to the Top

A few months ago I was in London on business and saw a pizza to-go place called "Tops Pizza" which just cracked me up. So I posted it. Well, today I'm in the UK again, walking to a favorite Indian restaurant nearby, and happened past Tops Pizza again, so this time I had a colleague take a picture of me in front of the sign, just for shits and grins.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Flash Fucktion: The End of the Tropics

I should have seen it coming. After a good spanking, all Jennifer and Marcus wanted was a good fucking. Thanks to all of you who voted. Burying the Baby Leg was the clear winner. But...this isn't a porn blog or just a fuck fiction story site. The for Flash Fucktion was twofold: 1.) Create an interactive storytelling device easily consumed in bite-sized chunks, and b.) Create some filler (to be honest) when I couldn't think of anything else to say.

So we did that.

And it's done.

I'm happy to do another Flash Fucktion. I liked writing it, but the scene just sort of petered out (no pun intended) and again, to be honest, I took too damn long. The energy was lost. The continuity from chapter to chapter dissipated. Not you. Me.

On another note, I'm playing tomorrow night. At the Lair. It's been a while since I've had a play date there. Normally Gia goes in on Saturday nights. Her schedule, as a switch, is utterly booked with suitors and suitees (is that right??) so she's golden. I've blogged in the past about wanting to be supportive of Gia, but also hating just sitting around at the dungeon knowing full well I wasn't going to play and really disliking it. So I haven't gone much. And I don't spend an ounce of energy trying to cultivate new play partners from scratch via or FL. I don't have time and without seeing the person to understand them or their intent or interest, it's hard to imagine showing up at the dungeon, shaking hands and running off to beat the woman. I guess that's just not my thing.

Fortunately, two ladies I like--one I've known for literally as long as my wife and I have been publicly playing and one I met via this very blog and later at ShadowLane in September--are interested in playing occasionally outside of the parties. Both are relatively geographically convenient and thus--back to to the Lair!

I'm thrilled. It's great to get to play again. I've got that itchy feeling. I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow night and, with the permission of the young lady I'm playing with, I'll be certain to blog about it soon.