The New Meaning of Whore

Here's the situation:
I'm in the car, driving my 15-year-old home from school. There's nobody else in the car with us. He starts telling me about his day
(Someone once explained to me, after I had complained that my boys will only broach serious topics with me as I'm driving them somewhere and never while I'm sitting down comfortably at home, that boys will usually talk more, and open up more, in the car, where they know you cannot maintain eye contact with them. I largely think this is correct)
and he gets onto the subject of P.E.
Now P.E. is not my son's favorite class. He doesn't hate it, but he doesn't love it, either. His favorite class is actually Physics. Followed by Calculus.
Jock he is not.
But he has a nice group of friends in P.E., and they all just kind of hang out together and bear it collectively. They call themselves the "Nerd Herd," both in and out of P.E.
Son starts telling me about things they were discussing during P.E. time—words like "linux" and "steam" and "portal" and "pie graphs" and "Alpha" and "Beta" start flying out of his mouth and straight over my head—and then I realize he's started to talk about people.
"So Beta thought—"
"Wait, Beta is a person?"
"Yeah. We have names in the Nerd Herd. I'm Alpha, cause I'm Alpha Nerd. They decided."
(I am so not surprised.)
"Beta is second. When I'm out sick, he's the Alpha, but only when I'm not there."
"Okay....wow. What are some of the other people's names?"
"Well, we have Omega, and Fucker—"
"Wait, you have someone who's nickname is Fucker?"
"Yeah. He wanted it."
"Oh sheesh."
"If you don't like that, you're not going to like the others."
"Okay," I say, granting he's probably right. "But what about the girls? You do have girls in the group, don't you?"
"Yeah. Two."
"What are their names?"
"We call them the whores."

At this point, it was hard for me to drive, because my jaw was jamming the steering wheel.
"Son," I say, "that is NOT OKAY. Why would you do that? Why would you call these two girls whores? Do you understand how hard it is in general for girls to be nerds? How everything they do ends up being tied up somehow to their sexuality? How they're put down and insulted for daring to try to be included in circles of gamers and nerds?"
"Okay. Jeez, mom."
"No, it is not okay. It's very wrong for you guys to call them whores, just for being members of your group. What the hell were you thinking?"
"We were thinking it's funny."
"Well it's not. At all. You need to stop."
"It's supposed to be derogatory towards us, mom. Towards the guys."
"How—how is it derogatory towards the guys?"
"Because the joke is that no girls would be willing to be in our group unless we paid them."

I didn't have a clue what to say. I'm not exaggerating here: all possible answers were just wind-swept out of my head. Because when I looked at it from his point of view...yes, they were insulting themselves, not these girls, and certainly not women in general.
But it still didn't sit well with me.
Son then went on to tell me that the girls know about the name (it's not something the boys call them behind their backs), that they agree it's funny, and that they laugh about it, too.
Does this make it okay?
Can it ever be okay to call a women whores?

But then, maybe I'm whore shaming now? Certainly a woman has the right to label herself whatever she wants, and not have to get flak for it. The word "whore" doesn't have to be derogatory unless we designate it as an insult.
It can be a fact, not an epithet.
But for a group of boys to label girls "whores," even if it's to put down themselves, even if they don't mean it as an insult to the girls in question...it bothers me.
I'm just not sure I can articulate why.

Matched Chemistry Vs Time In the Scene

Rule number, what, three? Of attending a munch or kinky event:

When you see casual play going on between people, especially when it's a group of people, do not assume you can automatically participate. Everything you see—every touch, every grab, every mindfuck, every mode of play—is done by mutual consent. You, the newbie, do not get to assume it's a "free for all" that you can just join in. In fact, you should work under the assumption It Is Not Okay; not until you have permission. 

The reason given for this rule is typically along the lines of:

Those people have known each other long enough, have been friends long enough, to play like that. They are well-acquainted, therefore it's okay.

Here's the caveat to that rule: Sometimes you'll know somebody for long enough, and be friends long enough...and it will still be Not Okay.
Not even if that kind of play is obviously okay with them when they're in different company.
Not even if they obviously like playing like that with others.
Not even if you really, really want that kind of play from them.
Being friends, knowing for certain they like to play like that, watching them play like that with other people, even people they don't know as well as you? That does not automatically mean they now have to play like that with you.

Some people think there's this magic clock ticking down somewhere, and once it hits zero, that means they've known someone long enough that they have to agree, or at least submit, to play.
It doesn't work like that.
The interactions, the type and level of play you have with people in the scene, do not depend solely on how long and how well you've known them.
It depends on other things, too.
Personally, I think the biggest factor is chemistry.

There are some people I like to play hard with, because that's the kind of chemistry we have; they make the beast of prey within me rise up to challenge them. There are people I like to play fast and loose with, because they're fun, and they know how to make me feel all soft and yummy inside. And then there are others who I enjoy teasing, because they enjoy the tease, and it becomes a game between us.
And then there are the others I will likely never play with at all, because we just don't have that kind of chemistry.
I still consider them friends. I still share chemistry with them; but it is of a different kind. And the truth is, I shouldn't have to owe them an explanation why I won't play with them.
No means no.

But it's hard to disappoint your friends. They want to play with you, and they don't understand why you're asking someone else to play, and not them; or they're wondering why you respond a certain way to someone else, and not the same way with them. The hard fact is, there may not be a cohesive, articulate reason to give them.
Except, maybe: the chemistry is just not there.

So if you're a newbie standing off to the sidelines, being told "don't assume you can do that too, you haven't known those people long enough," DO NOT take that to mean once a certain measure of time goes by, you'll get permission to go ahead and join in.
In fact, it's a bad idea to make any assumptions at all. Ever.
When in doubt, ask.
And until a safeword has been negotiated, no means no.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Have I told you guys I got a new bed and headboard? I don't think I did. Here is a photo.

The bed is King-sized. I have never owned a King-sized bed before.
It is magical. Now when Husband comes to bed at three o'clock in the morning, he doesn't wake me up. And when I get up at six, I don't wake him up. It's like a miracle invention with foam, coils, and pixie dust sprinkled inside.
But the best part isn't the bed at all, it's the new headboard. We picked this headboard because it looked way more kink-friendly than our old wooden flat one.
Boy, is it.
Husband has upped the ante ten-fold since we got this headboard. Part of me has no idea how such an innocuous piece (which is really just a piece of another piece) of furniture could have so much impact on our sex life; another part of me cannot understand why I didn't think of it before.
This headboard is perfect for cuffs, chain, rope, and often, for just wapping your hands around for hanging the fuck on. Husband has used those wrought iron bars for endurance tests ("Don't let go, whatever happens, don't you fucking let go"), positioning experiments ("Can your feet touch metal? No? Then your head can go lower down my dick"), and take-down scenes (you can use your imagination on this one).
He's having fun.
So am I.
The other thing I forgot to share with the masses is that I got a new toy at Folsom Fringe. It's about the size of a wooden spoon; strong, bendable, and more wicked than it lets on:

I don't even know what to call it, except maybe, The Breathless Flower. Flower, because it makes a beautiful flower design on flesh when it's hit hard enough; and breathless, because when it's hit that hard into my skin, I scream so high I'm rendered breathless.
The other night Husband was using this toy on my backside, and forcing me to stay up on my tiptoes as he cultivated his little garden across my rump. The kids were either not home or deep asleep, so he thought a little noise (of the screaming variety) wouldn't bother anyone.
"The design is so nice," he said. "Hey, don't put your feet down. Back on your toes."
"But it hurts!"
"No it doesn't."
"Yes it does!"
He swung the toy right into my backside, HARD. I started to howl and jump from one foot to the other.
"Did that hurt?" He asked.
"YES!"
"Good. Now you know the difference."
I couldn't help it; I started laughing. He was laughing, too.
"Now back on your toes," he said, still smiling. "I'm not done yet."
He wallpapered my ass with flowers and swirls. Then he made me stay still while he admired his work.
He still wouldn't let me put my feet down. "Stay on your toes, or I'll get the cane," he said. "Then you'll know 'hurt' a lot."
After a while, my feet hurt so bad, I was whimpering from the strain. Claiming to take pity on me, he allowed me to climb up on the bed on my hands and knees and grab onto the headboard.
Then he made me stay like that while he fucked my ass from behind.
A glorious time was had by all.

I would highly suggest you check out the people that make the toy I got over at Etsy. They're called Kink Nerd Toys.
 Oh, and after checking out the Etsy page, I see they call this toy the "Rose Crop."
I like my name Breathless Flower better. But hey...what does a name matter, when you have no voice anyway?

Conversations With the Body Parts

Mind: Get dressed get dressed get dressed get dressed
Cunt: No. Play with me.
Mind: I can't, it's time to get dressed and get ready to go
Cunt: How much time is there left?
Mind: Half an hour, tops.
Cunt. Plenty of time. Play with me.
Mind: Later, okay? I promise. LATER.
Cunt: No. Now. I'm needy.
Mind: Of course you're needy, you're always needy, shut up!
Cunt: Play with me, plaayyyy
Mind: Shut up, I'm serious
Cunt: I won't shut up, I don't ever shut up. Whatcha gonna do about it, hmmm?
Mind: You just watch.

(Puts in a call to Husband.)
Husband: I'm busy. What do you want?
Me: Can I have permission to come?
Husband: No. Wait until I get home. I have plans for you tonight: I'm gonna try that new toy out on your ass. It's bigger than what you're used to, but I think you can handle it.
Me: ...What?
Husband: I'm getting back to work now. Bye.
(Hangs up)

Cunt: Fine. You win. I'll leave you alone.
Ass: Did someone mention my name?

Folsom Fringe

So as I mentioned in my last post, this weekend I tried something new. Actually, a few things new. I
1. Attending my first kinky conference
2. Gave my self-publishing class to a room full of people
2. Vended my books

Number one rule about trying something new: it's all about the experience. I went into the weekend with a clear head and a list of hopes, but zero expectations.
IT WAS AWESOME.
Seriously, if you can attend Folsom Fringe next year, DOOOO EEET. It is an easy way to meet kinky people, take a ton of classes, learn a whole lot about things you never even knew existed, and PLAY.
Oh my god, people, the PLAY.
I had friends there who basically only left their hotel rooms to eat and meet up with new potential play partners. Once negotiations (and meals) were done, they were back in their rooms, having more fun.

The saturday night party was a huge ballroom of ongoing D/s, S/m, and kink. I got spanked, caned, punched (a first for me), wrestled to the ground, hogtied, and pussy chained. I got to scream, cry, struggle, flail, bite, kick, and punch back.
And the whole time, all around me, there were other scenes going on, with people laughing, crying, and coming. Countless play stations, chairs set up all around for those who wanted to watch, cleaning supplies, safety supplies....
All the while, around the corner in the social area, people sat in their dressed-up best, eating delicacies and socializing in hushed tones at intimate cafe tables.
It was lovely. Hedonism at its best.

I signed a lot of books. Sold out, in fact. Of course, I had to do a lot of begging to sell those books. The other vendors found me quite entertaining. But then, begging comes natural to me, so what can I say?

I was told my class was good. If you want to see much of what I taught, you can take a look at the menu bar on the blog and click on "how to self publish."

Of course, one of the biggest draws of Folsom Fringe is the ride to and from Folsom Street Fair. But the  thing is, since you've been partying and playing the whole weekend already, Folsom Fair becomes one aspect of the weekend, not the whole thing. For many, it's not even the grand finale. I know for me, the saturday night party was the highlight of the conference, and the weekend.

I came home with bruises on my shoulders, back, and breasts, rug burn on my knees and ass, a hoarse throat, and a sense of incredible accomplishment.

That last one? That was the best souvenir of all.

Folsom Street Fair 2013

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Your Turn to Teach Me Something

This is not a statement, and this is not a rant. This is an honest-to-God question. I'm hoping to start some discussion here, or at least, having some people enlighten me. Really, I'm trying to understand.

Some backdrop: I was having a discussion with some local veteran community members the other day. One of them, a Dom and Sadist, happened to make a comment about the "kinds" of subs he likes to Top. I'm paraphrasing here, but basically the conversation went something like this:
Him: I would never play with a sub who tells me she has no limits.
Me: Why not?
Him: Because every sub has limits. If she doesn't know what hers are yet, that's fine, but I don't want to find out the hard way. If she's so new she can't even give me one limit, then I step back and say 'sweetie, come back to me when you discover a limit or two, and then we'll play.'
Me: But what if she really has no limit? What if she'd let you do anything you want?
Him: Then she's mentally unstable, and I don't want to play with her anyway. I don't play with crazy.

At this point, a lot (I won't say everyone, but a lot) of the people in the room started nodding their heads, like, yes, he's right, a sub with no limits is crazy.

So there seems to be this prevalent notion that subs, if they have any self-respect at all, if they're mentally sane, have to have some limits. Because not everything should go; a Top should not be allowed to do whatever he wants. That's foolish and dangerous. That could lead to disaster.

So here's my question: How come this rule doesn't apply to the kink community as a whole?

We're fed this belief that in our community of Sadists and masochists, debauchers and hedonists, everything goes. We repeat the mantra 'your kink is not my kink, and that is okay.' We're expected to erase judgement from our minds, treat it like a dirty little crime, never talk about it except with an air of disgust, a tone of contempt.
(As if we all could erase it from our minds. People judge other people. That's what we do. We can try to curb it, keep it down to a minimum, but we can never "evolve" ourselves past it.)
But if we have a community that accepts everything, and deplores nothing, refuses to entertain the idea that some things should just not be abided...
Don't we end up with a community full of crazies?

I really want to know why people seem to have this belief "a community without limits is a good kinky community." How is it good? How does it help the strength and growth of the community? I understand you want to protect it from the kind of discrimination and prejudice you find in the vanilla world. But surely, going to the opposite extreme of Anything Goes can't be healthy, either.
Can it?

Sometimes I'm Sick In the Not-So-Kinky Way

So I've been dealing with a cold for the week. And I don't know about you, but I consider having a cold for a whole week a Long Fucking Time. That rule about guests staying for three days? It should apply to colds too, you guys.
Unfortunately, like extended family, colds seem to put their fingers in their ears and do the la la la, I can't hear you song when you insinuate it is time for them to move on.
This morning I was texting Husband how sick and tired I am of being sick and tired.
He responded with one simple question: "Did you take Robitussin?"
DO'H! No I had not. But then I did...and man, is this stuff awesome, or what?
I feel so much better now!
I could run to the moon and back!
I could learn Russian in a day!
I might be a little high right now.
Not high enough to be completely non-functional, thank God. Just high enough to send an email to a friend letting him know I cannot forward him a link to a website, because I do not have his email address.
Yes, that just happened.
So I think now would be the perfect time to remind all you guys I'm giving a class at Folsom Fringe this year, it's exactly one week away, and I've decided I'm going hand out M&Ms at the end of my class. Maybe even M&M cookies.
Cause this is the dark side. We're supposed to have cookies.
Also, as I've been doing the last few years, I'm going to be live tweeting Folsom Street Faire, but this year, I'm going to bring a bag of googly eyes with me, and every toy I buy, I'm going to put googly eyes on it before I take a picture to show you.
Because...why not?
KINK IS FUN!

Exercise Should Not Count (But Apparently It Does)

I am currently sick.
I have a cold.
You know what that means for me?
NO S/m.

This does not mean no D/s. Far from it. I often get the brunt of MORE D/s dynamics stuff when I'm sick.
Husband likes to order me around when I'm sick, trying to tell me what to do to get better, because he doesn't like me being sick. He doesn't want a sick wife. He likes me healthy, because when I'm healthy, I'm happy, I can do my job as a mother and wife, I can fulfill my duties running the household, and he can do evil, sadistic things to me.  So he orders me to take it easy, he orders me to put on more clothes, he orders me to take my medicine like a good girl—
He makes me take Airborne, this high dose vitamin C crap, it tastes like cat piss—
Not that I know for sure, I have never tasted cat piss, but if you can imagine it, this would be it—
And he makes me go to sleep early. Like, insanely early.
He treats me like a little girl, which can be sweet at times....

We still have sex. The only times SEX has been "off the table" during our relationship was after each time I had either a baby, or surgery. But when I'm sick, he treats me to relatively painless sex, which means no roughhousing, no tussling, and no imposing physical torment involved.
You know what that means, right? It means no fun.

A friend of mine gave me a new cane last week. Isn't it a beauty?

This friend of mine is a sadist, and when I say sadist, I mean sadist. He's got a sick, twisted, evil fucking mind. He's generous with his toys, and will give them away gladly, because he knows more masochists in the world are suffering horrendous, indescribable pain strictly because of him. I think he considers his sadism a fucking vocation. 
Anyway, he gave me this cane (with the promise I tell him what it feels like, of course), but Husband has not had the chance to do any real damage with it on me so far, because I've been sick.

But I think my luck is about to change tonight.
Husband  called me earlier while I was working out.
"I can't talk right now," I huffed and puffed, "I'm working out."
"Oh, you're well enough to work out?" He asked. "That's good to know."
"Why?" I wheezed.
"Because if you're well enough to work out, you're well enough to get a caning," he said. "I'll see you later tonight."
"Wait! Husband! NOOooooooooo"

Number #5693 why I HATE WORKING OUT.

Update: 
So I got my caning. Hard enough to leave some nice marks, but not hard enough to make those marks last as long as I wanted. *sigh* Someday.
Also, I forgot to mention: The other time sex is Off The Table is on the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur, which happens to begin tonight, at sundown...so no fun for me tonight, either. *SIGH*

Free to Not Want

If you've been in the scene for any length of time, you've probably seen this one before: a submissive masochist—let's say female, since I am speaking as a female submissive masochist—will start talking about her journey in kink, how she's getting into things she wasn't before, how she's discovering herself, she's learning, and trying, new tools, new techniques, and new methods of play.
Her point at the end always seems to be something along the lines of I didn't know I would like that so much, but I did! And it's awesome! I want more of that! More more more!
Inevitably, people within earshot—especially if they are male Dom Sadists—will applause and congratulate the sub on her journey of self discovery. She is lauded for being adventurous, and for stepping out of her comfort zone, facing her fear, to try something more kinky. And there are usually head nods of conveyed understanding, because of course she liked what she tried, all she had to do was go for it, to open up a whole new world of kink.

Here is something you don't usually see: a submissive masochist talking about how she stepped out of her comfort zone to try something new, was willing to face her fear, conquer whatever mental restraints she had holding her back, and decided in the end, she didn't like it, not one whit.
Very few submissive masochists own up to that shit, and people in the scene don't commend that. Kinksters don't praise that attitude.

And what I want to know is, why the fuck not?

Why don't we compliment people in the scene for discovering things they don't like? I don't know if this is an issue for Dominant Sadists, but it sure is a big issue for submissive masochists, speaking from a personal vantage point.
There seems to be this expectation on our journey of self-exploration, that the farther we go, the more willing and open we're supposed to be to, well, just about anything. If we decide we don't like something, that that's just not our kink, then something's wrong with the master plan.
We're supposed to get more kinky, not less.
More kink means more toys, more humiliation, more tears, more positions, more screams, more play.
More of everything.
More more more.

But guess what? Kink is not about conquering limits and facing fears. Well, it is for some of us, but it's about other things, too. It's about options, inclinations, choices of desire, deciding for ourselves what turns us on and what doesn't.

Kink, in a way, is about seducing ourselves.

Too many Doms and Sadists out there share a mindset that women are trapped in this prison of their own inhibitions, and it's the Dominant Sadist's job to free them from it. Once done, the Dominant Sadists think they deserve, and will receive, praise, respect, and reverence from the women they've liberated, as well as the community, for managing the herculean feat of transforming a shy, ignorant girl into a full-fledged kinky woman.

But this is not true freedom. The woman isn't free, she's just traded one set of confines for another. She's stuck in someone else's expectations of fantasy; maybe it's one Dominant Sadist's, or maybe it's the community's at large. But she's striving to become someone she's not, to meet someone else's set of ideals—not her ideals.

The bottom line is, a woman should be able to decide for herself what she wants and likes, and in order for her to do that, she also has to decide what she doesn't want or like.
It is so simple a concept, so logical when you think about it...and yet so many of us forget, or choose not to see.

Fetlife doesn't make it any easier. Notice how people can add as many fetishes as they want, yet have no way of creating a "limits" list? Sure, people can write one up themselves to put on their profile, but how many people actually do that?
Why are there so few?

So this is me, this is where I am on my journey right now: I don't like rope. Rope is not my kink. I don't like anything tight on me. I do love chain, but I let a very select few restrain me in that way, so if you've never been in my house and met my dog, you are likely not one of the few. I don't like needles. I don't like bugs, especially spiders.
There's more to this list, of course. If there's ever a need, I'll reveal more. But this is good for now.

I'm a work in process. I'm evolving. We all are, I think. Our lists change with time. But we should always be able to state with pride who we are, what we like...what we want, and what we don't.