A loveletter (on bondage and other important matters of the world)

When I then went to Sweden for the summer, I realized I needed something that was seemingly like a project. Something to focus on. With me I had the usual toys, but also 3 lengths of gorgeous jute-rope and some books on tying people  up. And in the end, I did exactly that, tying,  at every opportunity I had. It started very shaky, fiddly, plain weird and often not entirely correct.  But I continued, and it’s still often shakey, fiddly, plain weird and not correct, but  sometimes I’m  getting things right. But what then is ‘right’ when it comes to bondage? I will get back to that later. Anyhow, rope took up a lot of my thoughts,   and the need of doing more was evident. I wanted to be tied and I wanted to tie.

So what can a girl do? First of all, convince a dominant playpartner that she needed to practice on him. And she did, took some silly shortcuts, but in the same time had a load of fun.

And then,Stockholm Pride was about to take place, and with that I knew that many kinksters would be in the Swedish capital, and some of them are ropesluts and riggers to the bone, loving the rope and loving to have fun with it.  In the light of this, I posted an event on Darkside’s calendar, with the thought it would be a peer-to-peer rope workshop. Come as you are, with what you have, what you want to give and what you might want to get to learn. What I thought would be a small-scale thing turned out to be anything but. 25 people in the grass outside the Pride Park, talking, tying, learning, getting tied, laughing, eating, and everything in between.

I was not prepared for this, but nonetheless, so very happy. Because I was tying, getting tied up and could watch others do the same thing.  All while people was passing by, some stopped to ask questions, others stopped and asked politely if they could get tied up. The police came around, arguing that their metal handcuffs was faster and quicker, but we pointed out how much more fun rope can be, as well as more versatile. In the end they agreed. I wanted to ask one of them if I could tie her, but she was in uniform and had a busy evening ahead, so I did not ask.. But one day I will tie a police. Just wait.
Much more tying took place during the Pride, and the sheer possibility to meet so many people and get so much input felt like a massive boost.
I thought that since I was not a resident in Stockholm that certain ropemeet would not go any further but at least two new and different ropemeets are now up and running, and there has also been ironic complaints that it is hard to fit it all into the calendar. It ranges from clubs organizing evenings to private meetings in people’s homes.

Going back in the car that Sunday after Pride meant that we both felt sad and confused but we still decided to stay and go for a nekkid swim in a random lake along the way down to the south of the country. We did and there I had one more of those relevations. I asked a dear friend if I could tie her up there, in the grass, next to the lake.  The way it felt, the way we laughed together and the strong feeling of being free and strong sounds like a hippie-dream but hey, then I guess that I am a hippie.

And I guess it was there that it dawned on me. That I really love rope. I think it did not start out as love, it started out as something to do during the summer, or maybe something that had to do with being fed up with seeing so few women tying in clubs. But it quickly became more than that. It is a calm but focused space, a rush and a smell, extending or drowning myself. Safe but still insecure. And again I find that words let me down so very easily when it supposed to deal with matters such as sex. But how the words are empty is another post that I will deal with later on.

An example can be Korrosion. By accident, we managed to meet eachother this summer, at a musicfestival, and although she quickly defined herself as a straight woman, there was something there that

Korrosion tied and masked

ended up with many wonderful playsessions. If we disregard from the fact that she seem to become somewhat pansexual when she dress up in latex or get played with, there is something that should not work in this equation. A straight woman and another queer woman. But hey, lust and experiences often don’t walk hand in hand, and when you throw in some latex, some rope, maybe dancing in a club or just talking the night away, anything can happen. And it did. Over and over again. It did not need to be  overtly sexual (many times BDSM for me do not need to be an actual physical sexual act) to be an enjoying mutual exchange of heaps of fun.

In another post I intend to examine the need of neutralising/naturalising BDSM, but not here. I just want to clearly express that it is not what I am doing. I connect sexually, but the acts themselves do not need to be neccessarily sexual, or what people perceive as sexual. Anyhow, enough on me digressing on that subject.

I was talking about playing with Korrosion. And how it clicked in our heads, and sometimes it did not click, but hey it did not matter. Because when it did click, it was so amazing. I want to play with people who enjoy playing, no, not enjoy, who get lost in the play, a mindset

A collaboration with Ropefiend

that is so much more than plain, good enjoyment as in enjoying a movie. That is what I feel like when tying Korrosion. That is what I feel like when playing with the people that are important people in my life. I can vanish into the people involved, and they vanish into me and nothing else but the senses matter.
And all of these things I wanna feel with others who feel the same thing.

So the summer went by, missing J, but also learning, and one of the more fun things with this was tying together with other riggers such as Ropefiend (see pic for our collaboration). It made me really think to do other things, to see rope from someone else’s eyes. And often I have to resist the temptation of watching those who tie me up. Because I can’t try to learn all the time

The past summer’s exploration has made me realise many things about my self, and I want to thank all of those who have been a part of my life for this time Either as riggers, bunnies, bystanders, or those who did have nothing at all to do with the ropes. And of course J, who’s encouragement has made me want to do it even more.

But now, Korrosion, my dearest ropeslut, hurry back to London!

For those interested in rope, I will add two new links to our list, which is my new favorite forum on the internetz and the other is a awesome blog that I discovered the other day.

Bondage Forum is run by Esinem & Convolvulus

Then there is Spokewench who writes about bondage & self-bondage (must learn this!), feminism and D/S. What is there not to like with this? I guarantee that her pics are inspiring.

Lots of love to you all

//
Ve

How Far Will I Go?

My fantasy comes to life, Goddess playing with Her toy.

How far will I go for You Sweet Goddess? How deep will You take me? Can I become strong enough for You and myself to enjoy this journey with You?  What will I learn about You?

I see the fantasy and the dream and wonder who I will become, what do I need to do to grow?

I have been wondering why I want to do this, why I would put myself in Her sadistic hands? Is it the intimacy I have been seeking? Is it to see how deep and wide love can be, when two flow into One? Is God on the otherside or is it sometning else?

Someone I spoke with a little while ago told me, it takes two strong people, otherwise when you add in BDSM to realtionship it is a recipe for disaster. But then again it may also depend on how deep the couple wants to play.

I am learning I must be patient, I will not rush this journey it is important to me.

5 ting jeg oppdaget i september

Jeg glemte å fortelle hva jeg oppdaget i september. Men det er jo aldri for sent å ta et tilbakeblikk.

1. Porno kan noen ganger være akkurat like ekkelt som pornohaterne sier.

2. Det holder ikke å være villig til å forsøke alt en gang, denne bloggposten lærte meg at to er et bedre tall.

3. Apropos blogging, september bragte nye sexblogger til bloggerbys mer snuskete strøk. En av dem er Dronningfitta, en lovende blogg med godt språk. Jeg er lett sjarmert av godt språk.

4. En annen fersk er Duktig Pojk. Pojk skriver om ageplay på en måte som får meg til å le, og tenke, og le igjen.

5. Via Black Matrix oppdaget jeg fotograf Barbara Nitke. Fotokunst med motiver fra BDSM er overraskende nok ikke så vanlig, så jeg anbefaler alle en tur innom hennes nettside.

64 - Unique

So I can say: You are like this, or that:
You are the most amazing megastar
Touching my skin across a gap so far
That I can only gaze in wonder at:
You are the chill that kills my thermostat
You boil me up inside Your samovar
Then strap me up and lap me in Your car
From 0 to 60 in one second flat:

Or not. For none of that is strictly true.
You are like nothing else, Yourself, unique-
Untouchable, not winnable, for You
Keep disappearing everywhere I seek
And this is joy, more than I ever knew,
Sung in a language I can hardly speak.

Review of TWIKS #9 Podcast featuring Domina Dea and Boss Bondage

Domina Dea was a guest on  This Week In Kink’s, podcast #9, along with Boss Bondage, member the West Coast Assholes.  You’ll have to listen to the interview to hear about the West Coast Assholes.

The podcast was produced by Tonya. She invited the guests, prepared the questions, and supplied sources for the topics.  She and John Baku engaged Domina Dea and Boss in questions submitted by their audience.  The discussions were informative, intelligent, candid, and peppered with lively repartee.

I felt like a fly on the wall listening in on an intimate conversation between 4 people who were sitting in a lounge sipping their poison comfortably chatting away.

As I told Domina Dea, she was interesting, very intelligent, and her voice was sexy as hell. She should have her own show period.  Seriously.  But I am biased.   ‘-)

Slightly Crumbly

Naturally, once I handed over the key to my personal pandora’s box, my partner –that very night– went and read through half the archives. They did not waste time, oh no. To which my reaction was a kind of stuttering limbo between:

AeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiGHHHHHHH!

and:

‘Okay. Looks like that wasn’t such a big deal.’

“So I’m not so into rape and torture,” they said.

“I’m not necessarily either,” I replied. I did my best to answer their questions, to describe my experiences. I found the description surprisingly hard, as if all the clear-cut word-frames I’d thought of before had flown apart. We discussed the nebulousness of kinky vocabulary and how nobody is using anything the same way. I don’t know where I will go over the tumbled wreckage of the thick, high, camouflaged walls I spent two decades building around these parts of myself. It is. I am freer than I was.

“So, do you feel rejected?” they asked, waggling their eyebrows, warming my ice-block feet between their thighs. I wiggled my toes.

I have given partner’s partner Dev and Dw3t-Hthr’s blog addresses, and told them that if they stumble across me, it’s their call if they want to read.

There are things I missed in my last comma-abusing stream of thought. Such as that I am exploring my other gender. (Being argued with by an eight-year-old about if I am a man: Priceless). That I missed participating in this loosely woven sexuality community, lopsided as it is. To just be able to talk to or read the thoughts of people where it is taken for granted that I am what I am, and that it is normal, without any explaining. To remember that there really are others who share my experience.

I realized yesterday during an unrelated emotionally intense conversation, that I am in approximately eight-million different pieces. I didn’t even know it until I had said it aloud.

I am a dominant and a sadist looking for ways to meet my needs with no idea how. I have just torn down the maximum security fences that I started building when I was three. I am in a new place, beginning a new life, that I don’t know if I will continue or move on from. I am stumbling along trying to learn how to live with the people around me in an intimate and meaningful way. Through various small events and interactions, the line between my old life and my new life has become smudged, and it’s not as comfortable as when there was a clean break. I am a maker longing to make, and I don’t know how to share what I make, and I fear what I make will not be wanted. I do not know my role in a dying world, my responsibilities to the land or my responsibilities to myself. I don’t feel like an emotional wreck, but I am not entirely together either.

Right now it just feels like this vaguely uncomfortable, toe-stubbing stage that I’m bound to go through until all these aspects of my life begin to coalesce again. In the eye in the back of my brain, I see something like jewel-toned stained glass.

Things Doms aren't supposed to talk about.

One of my moderators at MDS, Minofsin, posted a very provocative blog this evening about Dominants.   I’m posting it here because I really like it.  Sometimes I feel that being a dominant is sort of belonging to a really cool club with a bunch of cool people and everyone’s nodding that it’s all cool, except for those times when you just want to be.

Things Doms aren’t supposed to talk about.

by Minofsin

You don’t see many Dominants willing to discuss these things in public. One of the interesting things about the Roundtable program that is running here in Chicago and the MAsT meetings are the first times I have actually heard Dominants/Masters complain about the petty shit we aren’t supposed to mention anywhere else. Ok, maybe you hear complains, but it’s usually made in jest. But to hear other Dominants talk about their issues and their struggles not just with their relationships, but their own internal issues is refreshing.

We’re not alone.

But again, it’s not always what it’s cracked up to be. Don’t get me wrong, unless I was seriously forced to at gunpoint, I’d never give this lifestyle up. It completes me in a way few others do. But there are times when I want to pull out what little hair I have left and scream to the top of my lungs, “I’m tired of being a fucking Dominant.” Some days, I only want to deal with myself and nothing and no one else.

If saying that causes some to shake their head and think (because of course no one would have the balls to say it) that I am not a “twue Dom” or that I am a “wanna be Dom” (as a foolish and insipid former sub once referred to me) then so be it.

The reality is nothing is perfect. When I was reading that other blog I referenced earlier, it resonated with me on several levels. Because some of what she wrote has been told to me, personally. We all have off days and off moments when we doubt ourselves and what we are doing. It’s just the slaves and subs seem to be more honest and open about it.

While I have not had any such thoughts in a while, now and then it DOES happen. As I am learning, it’s natural. It’s part of the process. Even when I was happily married (for like those 5 or 6 days — LOL), there were times when I wanted to run away. I Love my son more than anything else on this planet, but there are times I’d like to drop kick his ass into the next garbage truck. Don’t even get me started on my mother.

As much pleasure as I get from all of this, from time to time it can be a bit much, and it is. Then, just as quickly as the frustration manifests, it goes away and the regularity of my life returns. Which is why I always say, don’t act out of anger. Because when that anger go away, the only thing you are left with is shit.

We build up these relationships to be some sort of Utopian vision of domestic bliss, when the reality is they are just like any other type of relationship. Yes, they are wonderful, but they can also make one’s ass itch. The itching, however, is temporary. But if it is consistent, then there are larger problems.

I think we all need to vent and purge now and then. I hope I don’t get kicked out of the Dom Club for saying any of this, but it needs to be said. Behind all the bravado and all the posturing is most likely a Dominant who sometimes gets just as frustrated as someone on the other end of it.

It’s called real life. Something I think many people could learn.