Straight in with a story this blog.
And I'm going to get into bondage. Not self-bondage, no. I'm going to write about it. How would I reach the keyboard? I've already got a love-hungry cat jumping up on the desk vying for my caresses.
And I'm not a recommender of self-bondage I have to say.
Lest you really want to get caught in a moment you can't get out of.
My rule of thumb here is to either:
1. Never be alone when doing bondage games.
2. Let someone know where you are and give a deadline time for them or you to call or text to confirm that 'all is well'.
But I said I would get into a story eh?
And this is my dilemma. Do I go all fantasy-feeding Christian Grey on your arse or can I possibly impart some helpful positive kink safety and ideas? Well here's my book, let's get that out of the way. Internationally-acclaimed and selling in more than 12 countries now.
But even that may not be enough.
You may want some form of tangible evidence to testify what say, 'bondage' can do.
Ok, so you're the newbie in this tale.
I'll be your Daddy and guide you through. Let's start with terms.
Bondage. Kink. Fetish. BDSM. S&M. Kinky Fuckery.
They all seem to be interchangeable words. For proper definitions default to my book.
For now know that we're on the way to a club called Perversion and that many people there will have different kinks to different degrees. Some will be fussy, others not. Most of them aren't their to exercise your fantasy or expect an instant jolly. So, wake up. Fetish people are human. You may want to read this.
However, you may be approached.
And some will ask you what you are into. You can tell them or not. Or wearing some fetish clothing, can they already see? Not all the time, some buy a latex dress just to seek attention. That may have been you.
It was a little like that for the girl I was with that time I went to Perversion.
Sofia was tall, blonde and Danish, demure and quietly elegant with absolutely no pretension. I liked her her a lot because she was both grounded and centred. We'd spent the afternoon shopping at the Breathless and Honour fetish boutiques in London and selected a sort of black governess/maid number with red piping. I secretly bought her a mask as well – not a full-on hood, but a Venetian type of thing.
The first part of a sex game or session is the anticipation.
We'd waited a couple of weeks to meet. We'd bought tickets to Perversion and booked an apartment in London. We went shopping at kinky stores. Talk about internal mental hype.
For Sofia, and many women of course, her appearance was crucial.
She spent ages getting ready, which increased my hype. We didn't communicate very well about her actual costume, because she decided last minute to start researching Japanese make-up, which to be honest, you need to prepare more for than when you're late for the night and just about to leave.
I know I let her know she wasn't there to please me.
Sofia was made aware that as it was her first night proper at a fetish club she wasn't there to think about solely pleasing me and just enjoy the experience. But, I intimated that little attention towards me and staying close together was important, as I was wary of chancers trying it on with someone so new to it all.
Sofia asked what we would do.
She kept repeating it. And it seemed to me less of a curiousness and more of an expectation that we would do something live. In. the. club. Then I realised that the anticipation, the dressing up and constant intimate communication was getting to her. Plus the Pinot Noir and G & T's we'd been having to help us relax. She may have been on that steep curve of realisation many have going to a kink night that sees it's not just a free-for-all gang-bang, and then thinks, then what are doing here? What are we going to do? And so the libido and thoughts loop.
She knew I didn't play publicly, but for her I would make exception.
And it's not a line. If the event had the right play equipment, and crucially if the timing was right and there were not too many spectators. She asked why. I said because it would affect her and make her too self-conscious. Sofia shrugged. But I could see Sofia wanted to somehow prove herself or impress me beyond her capabilities.
So many things she had said that weekend told me she was in transition.
And the point for me was to be a good listener and monitor what kind of adult fun would be acceptable or compatible with her personality. That's part of the 'session', the psychology throughout our long liaison. I suggested some light bondage but being 'wild' and doing at the club. This really meant being discreet for a first-timer. It was also our first kink encounter and I wanted it to be special and just between us.
So, we found the play area.
There was an X-frame with manacles. Sometimes known as a St Andrew's Cross. I found this appropriate as Sofia had picked up a Scottish inflection from her student days in Edinburgh. Oh there were other benches and racks but as the game came to me I noticed the exposure and rear access to the body was good for whispering and presence work. Plus it was in a dark corner, behind an alcove. This would be good to have a go on I said. Sofia laughed. This? She said, you want to be tied to this? No, I replied, I would tie you. And later... much later on, well... after midnight.
Sofia remained open-mouthed.
Much of her spending money had come from lap-dancing where she would act out her angst and tease lager lads who knew no better. I told her such things were of no interest to me and that she needed to trust and have a joyful experience with at least one man. She had this idea that perhaps I would be like all the rest and that she would pretend to do stuff to me, as that what kinky games seemed to her. But I was not for titillation until she got it. Until she fully understood where good, caring, positive kink begins. And that would mean her taking a leap of faith and letting me tie her to so she could have an... epiphany and find out for herself.
It wasn't me being patronizing, it was just an understanding of where she was at.
And all credit to her, Sofia had obviously connected with me because she could see I wasn't just some bozo. And it was ballsy to challenge her own supposedly feministic paradigm. But I was figuring that venting your spleen (inversely) by lap-dancing out your frustration was a croc of shit, because it negated all the guys out there who hate those kind of places. So she literally needed teaching. But had I made a mistake?
We'll see in the blog after next.
For now, what would you do in this situation?
You think you're in control and you are used to having things your way, and then you are asked to relinquish control?
All is not what it seems.
Speak soon. And kink safely,
Jackson ; )