Adventures
Bi and Poly
Author Lorelei
Can someone bi and poly live monogamously? A friend of mine is looking for experiences and viewpoints on the issue now.
I’ve always been bisexual; my first-grade crushes were a girl called Robin and a boy called Stephen. Perhaps because my model of loving relationships wasn’t based on a tight mother-infant bond, but on the looser but no less powerful association of sisters, I was polyamorous before the term was coined.
Nevertheless, I was monogamously involved with my husband from 1984 (when we started dating) until 1999, when we became polyamorous by agreement. (We had been discussing the issue for the whole 15 years). When we met, I was in my mid-20s, and I had been romantically and sexually involved with both men and women. For years.
It is possible for someone innately bi and innately poly to live a monogamous life, but for me the monogamy had certain effects. For one thing, my imagination became completely lesbian. Lesbian sexual dreams, for example. I kept writing lesbian characters into my fiction; I even tried to sneak a lesbian schoolgirl crush into a Regency romance. (It was excised.) I found myself aching for women’s voices, women’s touch. I did of course still get crushes – mostly with women – even though I refused to do anything about them. And I had a few very close friendships with women that did not cross the line.
These days, when I’m sexually active only with a woman, I’m discovering that the same things are occurring in the other direction. I’m having erotic dreams about men. I’ve been craving involvement with a man. So far haven’t had more than an occasional play date, which is not the same thing as having full-out sex with someone. (I’ve stayed fully dressed on these play dates.) Part of me just wants a guy to hold for a long time, part of me wants to fuck a man, part of me wants a guysub.
I’m not sure I am ready for that – I’m still working out the scars of my marriage. But someday I hope I can find a lovely guy, whether for a secondary relationship or to bring into the family as a primary.
Are Toybags Necessary?
Author Lorelei
And now, a word from an old friend:
With all due respect, Mistress, do you really need all this stuff just to get off? And if so, what does it say about the role of industrial production in sex? How dependent are we on merchandise for human connection? How mechanized does sex need to be? (Zappa made fun of this kind of thing his whole career with constructions like the “mutant Gypsy industrial vacuum cleaner.”) Your catalog strikes me as little more than the plastic-and-leather underbelly of the James Bond movies or Playboy magazine, which also equate sex with shiny toys. Is the world of kink just another brand?
Whew. Good, tough interesting question from my old friend Clark. Like Clark Kent, he’s a mild-mannered reporter who secretly has superpowers. There are reasons Lois Lane smiles a lot.
The short answer is: No, I don’t need it all just to get off. The irreducible minimum is just myself and my imagination. The practical basics for two-person sex aren’t expanded much from that: I need my partner, plus a choice of my voice, lips, tongue, hands, or teeth. That’s about it.
But there are two very different problems behind Clark’s somewhat acid query.
One is about the toys and my attitude toward them. The other is about BDSM itself.
I’ll freely admit I posted that list partly in self-mockery (because it is ridiculous to carry that much equipment around), partly in pride. I’ve never known a Top yet who didn’t want to show off the toybag a bit. Partly it’s because most of the Tops I know (including myself) are geeks, and “Hey, look at this gadget” is an invitation to a primary geek social interaction.
Plenty of people have the Playboy/007 attitude Clark refers to: the idea that the toys themselves are more important than the human connection. I’ve always loathed that sort of materialist status-chasing.
I admit to a certain wry affection for the sweet little Goth kids who flaunt the look but don’t have the faintest idea what any of it means. Part of that feeling is based on amusement, part on knowing that a certain percentage of them are really kinky and just don’t know the words yet for what they crave. Anyway, 19-year-olds are allowed to have props. It’s part of self-exploration.
My toys are not props, nor are they status symbols. A brand-new flogger may excite me with the potential it evokes, or it may please the sensualist and craftswoman in me with fine balance, rich color, a smoothly braided grip, the luxurious thickness of its falls. But until I’ve used it, no toy is more to me than a thing made well or badly of leather, suede, steel, or wood. Afterward it is blessed by the use. These things become close to sacred because they are the symbols for the connection between Domme and sub, outward and visible signs of the inward intensity of experience within a scene. So what’s the point of all the toys?
1. They’re fun. 2. They signal a serious scene. 3. Serious scenes are part of building the intimacy of the relationship.
Packing the toybag serves the same purpose in the kinky relationship that a dozen roses or a candlelit dinner serves in more vanilla settings. It’s a promise of attention to be paid, intimate secrets exchanged, passion aroused and sated. And yes, there are people who are so fixated on roses or paddles that they forget the person they’re with.
The toys and the play they signal strengthen the bond between Domme and sub. So no, they are not (for me) a barrier to intimacy, nor a substitute for it.
And that, neatly enough, leads to the hidden question. “Are the toys necessary?” means “Is the kink necessary?” — a question Clark is entitled to ask, because when I was 19 (but not a Goth — they weren’t invented yet) he and I were lovers. That’s more than two decades ago, but we’re still good friends. And he has to wonder how a woman who spent an entire summer fucking him with such verve and enthusiasm and inventiveness could have turned into a pervert for whom all sexual expression must take place in the context of a BDSM relationship.
Honey, I don’t know. I know that the craving was there, even then, but I couldn’t name it or admit most of it, even to myself. I know that when I was younger, it was a lot easier to keep different parts of myself in separate boxes. These days I can’t do that. I can’t let someone into my sexuality without letting them into my life. I need to trust a lover. And one of the things that I need from a lover is genuine recognition. S/he has to know who I really am before I can open myself.
Who I really am is a sadist, a playful, affectionate, passionate sadist who laughs while she hurts men or women to the point of tears. I don’t cause unnecessary nonconsensual pain these days if I can help it, but what I do with consensual pain turns some people green. Don’t watch if you don’t like it. What I do makes me come. It makes my partners come, too, when they’re done screaming.
Who I really am is a Domme, a woman who needs her lover’s willing surrender, who discovers and explores and *loves* all her partner’s darkness, who loves and accepts his shame, fear, self-doubt, who will force a submissive to her knees in an airport. I love taking a submissive to a physical and emotional point where they can’t even decide what to order in a restaurant. Yes, I always bring them back, but I cherish the confusion and weakness, the blurred enormous eyes of someone who is so deeply dived they don’t remember their own name.
Of course, I am more than a sadist, more than a Domme. I’m a writer, a reader, a baker of bread, a good and loving sister, a warm friend, a devout if unorthodox goddess-centered Christian.
It took a lot for me to come to grips with my own nature. I’m not willing anymore to make love with someone who can’t deal with that part of me. It’s too important. That is one intimacy that is always present, in the foreground or background of any sexual expression.
Types of Scene
Author Lorelei
Doing a demo might as well not be a scene at all, in terms of my sexual arousal. It’s pure expertise, which has its own keen intellectual pleasure, but no visceral lust, no emotional involvement. One exception was the knifeplay scene at Folsom Street fair a few years ago, where I kept actually getting into it. Mmm, nice. But that was Karen whose clothes I was cutting away. Part of the reason is that in a demo, your attention is divided between the reactions of the audience and the sub, plus using whatever tricky skill is being presented.
Playing with a friend’s sub — usually done as co-Topping — is almost like a game of tennis, except that I wear a lot more clothes and am considerably better at it. It’s an exhilarating physical sport. Though of course I do aftercare, the main emotional stuff gets dealt with by the Domme in residence. It makes me feel high but not sexual toward the sub; on the other hand, Karen often gets extra on a night when I’ve helped with someone else’s scene.
Some scenes are pure emotion: deeply D/s scenes in which the thrill is exerting pure control, guiding an emotional breakthrough, feeling the sub’s surrender. Often they take little physical effort and don’t demand the sheer technical expertise of, say, Japanese bondage. But they’re high-demand scenes anyway, because by God you’d better know your sub, and yourself, and be willing to handle any landmines that come up. As the Domme, you’re not riding the emotional rollercoaster. You’re designing and building it while the sub rides it. And I do mean *while* — this requires powerful self-control, sometimes instantaneous changes of direction, and the knife-edge awareness of your sub’s emotional state.
Playing with my own sub — Karen, these days, or the Ex in the old days — can be intellectually, emotionally, and physically intense. There were watersports scenes with the Ex that were just astonishing for both of us. (Though things didn’t work out, and the final few years were sheer hell, there were some good moments.)
Playing with someone I like and care about (like the other day) is both emotionally and sadistically satisfying. . . . to a limited extent. Like a good dessert. A wonderful treat, a work of art in its own right, not good as a steady diet, but sometimes just exactly what you want.
What was really powerful for me in that scene wasn’t just the thrill of playing. It was in the tender emotional connection we established during the negotiation, strengthened during play, and expressed during aftercare. Real intimacy there: not romance, not really sexual at all (though sex can be a road to it, just as play can). From now on we’ll be good friends, but always with that invisible bond of loyalty and care that you get when you’ve taken someone through hell.
And all done while I stayed completely dressed. But this leads into the murky question of what sex is, and how a scene like that can be erotic for me without getting so much as a quick grope. Later, later.
Live Nude Safety Notes
Author Lorelei
It had been ages since I had a chance to play with a boy. It’s been only twice in the past three years, both times co-Topping a seriously masochistic guysub who belonged to a friend. Somehow that’s different, though. Karen assisted me in various ways. Very satisfying. If you heard reports of unidentified screams, moans, thuds, and mad cackles of glee, now you know why.
My friend was a lovely guy, deeply responsive to pain and pleasure. I like that a lot. Excellent first scene, and I’m hoping to play with him again sometime. An ongoing Domme/sub relationship is not in the cards, but a deeper friendship certainly seems to be.
I was really pleased to see that he had set up a safe call. If ever one was unnecessary, you’d think this would be the time: we’re both well known in the scene, we have a lot of friends in common, we’ve known each other (online and off) for nearly a decade, we’ve had non-play dinners together, and we both have excellent reputations as safe, careful players. BUT — this was a first play date, and a safe call is an essential precaution. It’s good to know that your play partner holds to the basic safety rules.
So many guysubs think they’re invulnerable, or that a girl couldn’t really hurt them. Well, when a woman has you tied up and holds a knife to your cock, it doesn’t matter that you’re ten inches taller than she is, or that you have a black belt in karate. What matters is that you can’t move and she has a weapon. Of course, when I do that I’m just having fun, but how the hell does a stranger know that my idea of fun doesn’t extend to castration?
Suck, Sex, Swallow
Author Lorelei
Do Dommes ever have regular intercourse? Do they do fellatio? These seem kind of undignified, maybe even subby.
Honey, Dommes do what we damned well please, and we don’t worry what someone else thinks of our pleasures. Yes, I personally love fellatio. I also bite.
Many people consider receiving penetration to be somehow an intrinsically submissive act. They see penetration as invasive, controlling. Sure, it can be. When I’m wearing a strap-on, you’d better believe that with every thrust, I am taking, using, claiming my partner from the inside out. (The plentiful use of lube makes this a much happier process for all concerned. I don’t confuse discomfort with dominance.) GuyDoms may also have similar feelings when they’re fucking a sub’s mouth, pussy, or ass. And during a fisting, I am filling my partner in one of the most powerful and intimate acts possible to human beings.
Nevertheless, I’ve never felt a contradiction between dominance and receiving penetrative sex. I love penetrative sex of all varieties. When I’m being fucked, I don’t feel invaded or surrendered to my lover. I feel voracious, engulfing, then I feel incredibly well-filled and satisfied. My partner and his cock (or her strap-on) are at my service, providing the sensations I desire.
My pleasure in engulfing extends to oral sex. Given the fact that I have teeth, I just can’t see performing fellatio as a subservient activity. How can it be? I’m controlling my partner’s cock with my mouth. I get to nibble, suck, tease, torment, and arouse him, not to mention bite. I do it for my own primitive pleasure in the taste and feel of a cock in my mouth — but also for the sadistic joys of inflicting pleasure. A touch of pain, a touch of fear, an overload of frustration, all the unpredictable sensations I choose to bestow.
Of course, one of my pleasures in fellatio is simultaneously fucking the guysub’s ass, with lubed fingers or a toy. It’s even better if I have him gagged, so his mouth is also claimed.
Imagine yourself tied on your back, knees up so your sweet shy butthole is accessible to my probing fingers. All you can do is lie there exposed, naked, awaiting my will — you can’t move, can’t hide. It’s so easy for me to squeeze your balls, trail a fingernail along the sensitive perineum, or twist your scrotum while I lick and chew and suck. And there is nothing you can do about it except moan.
Feel the rhythm, counterpoint, and syncopation of my mouth and hand, filling your ass and swallowing your cock, building up the tension, bringing you close to the edge, withdrawing everything for a near-catastrophic moment, then filling and embracing you again.
Do you feel in charge? Or do you feel ravished?
Tips for Great Oral Sex
My Master wants me to go down on him, but I have a real terror of oral sex. I had some bad experiences. Can you help? I don’t want to be rebellious, but this is really hard for me.
First and most important, your submission and obedience can be just as well expressed with a dry kiss to the glans — or the hand — as in sword-swallowing. As a Domme, what I value is a submissive’s gift of who s/he is, and I don’t demand that someone fit themselves to an impossible standard of Perfect Subbiness — more like plastic subbiness, when you think of it. Your gift of yourself is precious enough without fellatio.
You may never be able to handle fellatio, but, speaking as a Domme, I’d be enormously touched and pleased if you were able to try a little, as much for your own sake as for mine. I wouldn’t expect you to turn into Linda Lovelace overnight. Nor would I be disappointed in you if you couldn’t overcome the block. Not the greatest Domme nor the most obedient submissive can heal all the past with a touch. If your Dom would be satisfied by nothing less than a savage oral rape-style scene, that could be a serious problem, but the problem would be with his unrealistic demands, not with you. A good and loving Dom/me wouldn’t knowingly push you there unless and until you’re ready.
I can’t address the deep psychological issues; in my experience, you need to work those through with a good therapist. And I do recommend that you do so. Obviously there’s a lot of hurt here, and I hate to think of you in such pain.
What I can help with is a practical desensitization exercise. Buy a realistic dildo, the kind with glans and balls and veins. They come in various amusing jelly colors as well as a couple of not-terribly-realistic skin tones; I recommend the jellies because they feel uncannily like the real thing. They also come in a range of sizes from average, real-world-guy to “boy, do you have a future in porn movies.” Choose a small one. (In fact, you might want to start with a tiny dildo — maybe a new, slender, mini buttplug.) Wash it well; they taste kind of funny. If you like, smear it with something tasty: honey, whipped cream, chocolate sauce. Then practice on it. Start gently and slowly. Lick and suck it, and stop whenever things get nasty. Then when you feel good again, start up again. Take it slowly, but practice often, and you’ll be amazed how soon you can slide the whole thing in.
If you keep it up, I bet you’ll learn to deal with the feel of having a cock in your mouth, or even just licking it. You’ll learn to associate it with pleasure and control, instead of misery and helplessness. I came up with this as a technique to teach a lesbian friend how to suck cock, a skill she needed when she started subbing to a man. It’s also useful for learning how to deep-throat.
Though this is not how I overcame them, I myself have had some serious issues with foreign objects in my mouth. Dear old Daddy orally raped me when I was a toddler, so I’ve always had a very sensitive gag reflex (I gag on my own toothbrush sometimes), and I used to come out of a painless, no-cavities dental exam sobbing uncontrollably. Yet I love fellatio, and I can do it, too. Luckily one of my early lovers was willing to let me approach his cock at my own pace and style, so I was able to do the desensitization using a live cock. (Thanks, Jason.) I learned that he wouldn’t hurt me, force me, or push me into a difficult place. Since then I’ve had no problems with cocks. I still have the gag reflex. It just doesn’t operate when I’m sucking cock.
Other fellatio tips:
- Breathe through your nose, and it cuts down the gagging considerably.
- Relax your tongue, even move it a bit forward, and you can take him much deeper.
- To control the depth to which he’s going in your mouth, wrap one hand (or both, if needed) around his cock, as far back from the head as you want to let him in. That way his whole cock is being stimulated, and you only have to take in as much as you want. To give him that all-over wet feel, you can lick him all over first, or lube him with a flavored lube.
- In my experience, if a guy has a nice wide fat cock, he can be harder to go down on. My back teeth get in the way, since I have a small mouth. Which is not a problem if he’s a sub. A longer cock is actually less trouble, because you can use your hands too.
- If you have a hand free, try enhancing the experience with playing with his balls or penetrating his ass.
- And as long as we’re talking cockplay (which I do love), using lube before a handjob makes it a much more rewarding experience.
- Another nice handjob trick is to change the normal in-and-out motion. Instead of rubbing down the length of the cock and then changing direction, use both hands alternately to rub in one direction for a while, so he’ll feel like he’s just going deeper and deeper and deeper, and then switch directions. (You really need lube for this.) I dunno if it works just because it feels good, or because it makes him feel like his cock is about a yard long.
- Farm girls will also know that milking is a wonderful technique to use on a cock. Grasp the cock with your whole hand, but instead of wrapping your thumb around, turn it downward, running parallel to the cock and pressing into it. Instead of yanking on the cock, stimulate it by pressing your fingers in waves. Very nice.
Usually I’m more likely to post about CBT. I hope everybody’s not too unbearably surprised that I know how to play nicely with those luscious organs.
Packing the Toybag
Author Lorelei
Percussion Toys
A weight-lifter’s glove (pads the palm while leaving the fingers free — makes for very thuddy spanking and lets me hit as hard as I like while doing no damage) Vampire gloves (yes, I use these spiky leather gloves for percussion) Two sizes of small rubber flogger One squid (a kind of flogger made of weird bumpy red stuff) Two paddles: one bloodwood, one birch with large evil holes Half a dozen plastic, Delrin, and Lucite canes in sizes from 1/16th inch to 1.5 inches
An Entire Plastic Shoebox Filled with Insertion Toys
Three butt plugs in different shapes and sizes Two purple jelly dildos in Holmesian sizes Various other dildos ranging from 5 to 14 inches Various strap-on harnesses A hundred-dollar double-ended dildo designed for penetration of both partners at once Lots of lube A lot of condoms
Edged Toys
Scalpel handle and a dozen blades Two Wartenburg wheels A folding knife A small, beautiful skinning knife (gift of Redmage) Two lethally sharp daggers
Bondage Equipment
Two pairs of cuffs Bond Voyage (a set of straps specifically for adding attachment points to mattresses, wherever you may be) An array of assorted straps, tie-downs, carabineers, snap bolts, quick links, and other hardware
Miscellaneous Goodies
A bag of clips and clamps A paraffin candle and lighter The usual bandages, EMT shears, Neosporin, sharps container, etc.
I didn’t pack the long canes, any of the leather floggers or cats, any of the leather straps, the needles, the wooden hairbrush, the abrasion toys, the CBT toys, blindfolds, rope. . . . really, I was most abstemious. Really.