The Switch Is Not A Myth

The group had a party last night, and it was the first time in a very very VERY (very) long time that I went full-out, no-holds-barred, floggy-beaty-croppy-caney on T.’s ass (and other parts).

Ye gods, it was FUN. He’d had a stressful day yesterday, and he tends to think (as I also do) that, sometimes, nothing relieves stress like a good hard beating. For my part, I’d been thinking about a serious, hard, impact-play scene — with me as the top — for a few days.

It’s nice when our moods match up so well.

After I got him all secured to a spanking bench, with his limbs secured very well so that he could struggle and flail and pull against the restraints to his heart’s content, I put a ball gag in his mouth and put my iPod on him (for a long time he’s wanted to have white noise on the iPod when he bottoms, and I found a freeware application — for Macs only — that generates ‘pink noise’, and then recorded 30 seconds’ worth, ripped it into iTunes, and put it on the iPod, and then put it on repeat).

I blindfolded him, kissed his forehead, and then set about beating the hell out of him. I alternated floggers of different materials, a couple riding crops, a magic wand from a kid’s magic set, a wooden spoon, my bare hand, and a dragon tail (stinger).

That dragon tail is fierce — with very little effort on my part, it raised welts on T.’s ass. So pretty.

What was really a thrill for me was going so hard on T. at the same time that another couple was doing the same type of play about 10 feet away from us. They were also a femdom/male sub pair, which made me think of Bitchy Jones (well, okay, I thought of her after it was all over; I was far too involved in beating T. to think about internetland) and it made me grin to think that she would dig what was going on in that basement last night — just 2 women, wearing everyday clothes, inflicting heaps of pain upon 2 naked, trussed-up men.

Good stuff.

Today, however, I’ve had some serious fucking top drop (that’s the phenomenon wherein the top feels like crap the day after a great scene — tired, out of sorts, maybe kind of emotional [look, I was crying while watching a rerun of Ugly Betty, and while I think that Betty not getting together with Henry is all kinds of wrong, I’m not sure it was weep-worthy]).

It’s interesting — I *do* get sub drop the day after subbing, but not always. And it’s generally not very bad. But today, after topping last night? This top drop is kicking my ass. I went over to T.’s, and we just snuggled for a while, napped, and talked about random shit while snuggling some more. That helped, but I’m still feeling lousy.

I meant to ruminate on how it still feels “wrong” to beat the hell out of someone else, and enjoy it. Even when the other person wants it, asks for it, and enjoys it just as much as — and sometimes more than — I do. I meant to ruminate on society’s views on violence, and then look at it in the light of professional boxing (seriously — they get money and prestige for beating the hell out of each other while mostly naked, yet what *I* do could get me arrested). I meant to ruminate on gender roles, and what society says that “nice girls” can and can’t do, and why all of that feeds into my top drop.

But I’ve rambled on enough for tonight. I have a headache and I feel like hell, and I’m still pissed that Betty and Henry didn’t get together (c.f. 3 paragraphs above — reruns of Ugly Betty), so I’m off to bed.

Okay, the quote in the subject line? We didn’t hear that, verbatim, but the intent was still the same.

My BDSM group has a munch — basically, a super-casual get-together at a local bar/restaurant — once a month. Because my city is so conservative, and because the munch is held in a public (a.k.a., “vanilla”) place, we all dress — and act — like any other customers in the bar. We have no desire to bring down any sort of Moral Majority wrath upon us.

We’ve had this munch once a month at the same bar for the past 11 years. That’s a long fucking time, no?

At the beginning of the summer, the owners of the bar decided to retire, and they sold the bar to their (adult) kids.

(Surely you can see where this is going.)

The kids closed the bar for a few months to do some cosmetic/fire code renovations, and it just re-opened last week. Last night we had our first munch there since ownership changed hands.

The new manager told us last night that we are not welcome to return, because they want to maintain a “family” atmosphere.

Let me be crystal clear about this: anyone else at that bar — unless they previously knew what our group was — would NEVER know what our group was. Everyone is in jeans and t-shirts. No leather. No collars, no kinky shit of any kind. No behavior that even HINTS toward being kinky. Half the time the conversation is about computers, because MANY members are IT geeks.

Anyone wandering in to one of our munches would not know what our group was, unless they asked. We have NEVER been, in any way, any less “family-oriented” than any of the other customers who come to the bar, get hammered, and try to pick up someone for a one-night stand.

I’m seething. And flabbergasted. And, sadly, not entirely surprised.

Fuckers. Fuck them and their fucking “family-oriented” bar. Assclowns.