April 2005

This month’s meeting topic was about negotiation with a partner before you even start to get kinky together. Very interesting. Being me, I had read a lot about BDSM before I ever ventured into “real-world” BDSM, and so I know about how important negotiation is (“negotiation” is a weird term for it — it’s just outlining what both of you want, things you absolutely won’t do, things you absolutely require, etc.), and yet, also being me, it struck me that I don’t feel entitled to ask for what I want. I get that it’s totally important for both the dom and the sub to be very clear about what they want, otherwise things can be unsatisfying at best and harmful in a worst-case scenario. I totally get that.

And yet I still feel like *I,* personally, don’t have the right to ask for what I want, that I should be grateful for whatever I get, even if it hurts. This, of course, is why I’m approaching the kinky lifestyle *verrrrry* slowly. Because I don’t actually want to get hurt, and I don’t want to do anything with anyone until I *do* feel entitled to ask for what I want and to say with certainty what I don’t want. It’s a mental hurdle I need to get past.

Lots to think about — not just about what I want, activity-wise (for want of a better term), but also what I want out of the whole experience. I have some vague ideas about the second part, and some really specific ideas about the first part. Mmm. You betcha. The real issue will be whether or not I can articulate them.

As I keep attending events, more and more faces are familiar to me, even if I can’t remember everyone’s name yet, and even if I don’t really *know* them, per se. That familiarity is SUCH a relief, since I’m so awkward and tongue-tied and foot-shuffle-y with people who I don’t know. People are generally nice, and, at the very least, not scary. Actually, they’re fun and welcoming and geeky in their own specialized way.

First, I did have fun. It was, they informed me, a fairly small party compared to their normal parties, because they inadvertently scheduled it the same night as 2 or 3 other BDSM groups’ play parties. Which was okay with me, because that way it was (1) fewer people and therefore less scary, and (2) less actual flogging going on in front of me and therefore less scary. (Though on the drive over I had to keep suppressing the urge to turn around and go back home. I kept telling myself, “You can handle this.” And it seemed to work, though, really, I don’t need to see other peoples’ asses. It’s just a general preference.)

The party area is HUGE, but you have to walk through the play/flogging/etc. area to get to the socializing/food area, and THAT was a little freaky. I kept telling myself “If people are already playing, I’ll just walk by and back to the socializing area. I can do that.” Fortunately, no one was playing just yet. They have a LOT of equipment, in the way of benches, St. Andrew’s crosses, etc.

People were very nice, knowing I was totally new. There was a guy there doing a sort of informal demonstration with a violet wand, which was really cool looking, and he kept holding it out to me to see if I wanted to try it, just on my arm. Which eventually I did, and it IS really cool, though it mostly reminded me of being a kid and getting out of the swimming pool to unplug the filter — while dripping wet — and getting shocked. Some of the other people standing around were amazed at how long I could take it without squealing and jumping away.

One way to use the violet wand, I learned, is for the bottom to hold what is essentially a battery post (like on a car battery) that’s attached to the wand, basically making you an electricity conductor, and then pretty much anything — or anyone — that touches you will raise a charge. Things with metal, obviously, raise a better charge, and so he had a lot of really creative accessories — like a cat-o-nine-tails of sorts made out of the kind of rope you see at fabric stores, made with metallic thread woven through it.

I think the coolest one was holding the post and having a Wartenburg wheel run over my arm. Which left tiny little red pinprick spots until this morning. Another guy had a knife, and he held the post in his hand, against the knife, and then drew the knife down my arm — it felt like being cut, but there was no cutting. Though I still have 2 tiny red marks on that arm today that look like cat scratches. They’re almost faded, though.

And that was the extent of my participating — and I hadn’t even intended to do *that,* but it was nifty.

There were other people there who weren’t wearing fetish wear, so I didn’t feel like a total tool, though I did wear my pleather pants in an attempt to fit in. I forgot how hot they can get. I don’t understand how people can wear full PVC w/o having heatstroke. (It’s a whole Batgirl thing.) There were people there in full fetish wear — mostly PVC, along with a couple guys in skirts (PVC) and heels, etc., as well as one guy in a fluffy pink Little Miss Muffett outfit, complete with teddy bear and ruffled panties that he kept showing off every 30 seconds or so.

I really have to remember not to stereotype people. A couple came in — mid-40s, woman in a loose flowered dress, guy in jeans and a sweater — and I think my jaw actually dropped when, 10 minutes later, the guy came out of the bathroom in fishnets, leather skirt, heels, leather halter, and collar (lots of people brought their fetish wear with them and changed at the party), and the woman in the flowered dress proceeded to secure him to a frame and flog the hell out of him. I was impressed, too, with how choreographed and artistic the people who were administering floggings were. It was kind of mesmerizing to watch. I did feel kind of rude and intrusive watching, though people kept assuring me that the people who were playing wouldn’t be doing it in public if they didn’t want (or at least didn’t mind) people watching them.

So, to sum up: first party? A success.