"Zelophilia," "Stigmatophilia," but no "Obedience"

I spent some time looking at the online resource "BDSM for Dummies."  Essentially it is a glossary of terms.  Presumably, by reading the definitions of these terms, one might get a sense of what one desires when entering the realm of BDSM.

It explains a lot, albeit briefly.  Zelophilia is sexual arousal from jealousy, which I never realized is a thing.  (And of course it must be a thing given how much jealous behaviour there is in the world!) And there's Stigmatophilia, which is sexual arousal from body markings -- tats and piercings and such.  These and many other conditions are in the glossary of BDSM terms, and curiously enough, what's missing?  Obedience!

This is one of the most important words in the BDSM lifestyle, is it not?  Obedience.

Consider words like "control," and "domination," and "mastery," and "sadism."  These words would describe illegal, unconstitutional behaviour without the consenting "obedience" from the other side of that relationship.  Mastery without obedience is just, well, abuse.  Obedience is such an important word!

Consider words like "submission," and "safe words," and "hand cuffs," and "hypophilia" (sexual arousal from breath play):  these words would lack the willing participation of a sub without the inherent desire to obey.  Submission, like obedience, can be forced -- yes it is true.  Forced by another word called "duress" and yet another, "coercion."  However, submission without obedience is the difference between "brat" and "beloved."  Submission without obedience is not how I imagine my submission.  And, obedience without submission is like the Story of O -- obeying a chateau full of men one has not submitted to, intimately and wholly.

Still, the word "obedience" is a crucially-important word: it implies choice.  It says that the submissive has chosen (on some level, even if far removed from the present time and place) to give her power away so that others may use it.  People ask, "Where is the submissive's power? I thought Domination took away all the power."  That power, friends, is in the consent.  Is in the obedience.  Is in the day after day obedience.  Is in the repeated vows of submission that, still, to this day, hold true.  That power is in the consent.  Because without that consent, there is no power surrendered.  Without understanding her dedication to obedience, no Master can dominate the mind and soul and heart of a submissive.

The BDSM glossary has lots of arrows pointed towards sexual stimulation.  I suppose it is a common understanding that the BDSM lifestyle is a sexually-charged lifestyle... but I still maintain that for me it is not.  My submission means other things.

 

Safety, Safe Haven

Everybody has her idea of a safe haven, right?  The place where one goes and there is no threat of anything "wrong."

There are many versions of the safe haven in Second Life.  The Journey to Domination and Submission sim is one of those safe havens, a beautiful and natural setting with plenty of outdoor space and indoor shelter.  Pictures, art, reading, discussion areas, or a simple bench to occupy while listening to the radio and fishing in the pond.

I was thinking this week how grateful I am that such a place as J2D exists in the world.  Everybody needs a safe haven, even if they didn't realize it until they get there.

I spent time this week also making sure that I had my own house in order, my own safe haven, a retreat I share with Tasdron whenever he needs a safe retreat.  Cleaned, landscaped, tidied and organized.  It is a mental exercise to put my house in order and to see to the wee details, all the corners dusted, all the walls steamed and breathing right.  This is a nod to my history with Tasdron: the early, early days of 2007 when my job was to make sure his house was prepared nicely.  It is an act of submission on my part: I do not throw down objects in a room and call it "decorated," but, rather, each piece is carefully placed and coordinated with as much "realism" as I can orchestrate.  I take time.  I look at it from all angles.  I want it to look as though every inch of it was meant to be that way.  I want there to be no evidence of the effort that I put into it: as though the placement, the value, the functionality of everything are self-evident and their own form of perfection.  The least-adorned wooden stool has the value of perfection if it is in the right place, performing the right function.  Perfection is only ever that.

It is the same with my photographs: the picture is the truth of what I see, and the effort that goes into depicting the image must never be obvious.  That is, at least, what I strive for.  That all the elements were born to be that way, just so.  That the colour and texture and perspective and focus and distance-from, etc... were all meant to be that way, just so.  As though there could never be another way to see this story, and I have submitted my senses to show the nature of this thing as it was meant to be.

And the effort that I put into creating a haven safe from the abuse-of-power that runs rampant through the world; the effort that I put into erecting, defending, and adorning the boundaries; this is effort that I submit myself to and that I enjoy.  It is work that I do to gratify my own nerves, of course, but it is also in the service of Tasdron.  In the walled garden behind the house, there is a patio with flowers and refreshment.  The walled garden does not keep out the sound of birds and crickets; but it keeps out prying eyes and negative voices.  Only goodness, encouragement, and hope may thrive in the sturdy old house surrounded by fragrant flowers.  This is my submission to Tasdron, one of many petals in the blossoming flower.

I remember reading The Story of O, and the Fifty Shades trilogy, and seeing a few movies including The Secretary and also O:  the homes are decorated beautifully.  With discipline.  With care and thought for the proper placement of everything.  The homes are not littered with ball-gags and chains and crops and blindfolds.  A candle whose wick has already been lit several times before may be the only clue that "something else" happens when the lights go down.  To any casual observer, the furnishings are tasteful and functional, full of consideration and care.  The basic needs of human comfort and rest, of feeding the body optimal nourishment, of cleaning and hydrating the body, of adorning and warming the body are all tended to.  To any casual visitor, this is a comfortable place, a safe place.  Only when the lights go down, only when consent is established, will the place become more than what meets the eye.

And because consent is established first, the place -- one's favourite place in all the world -- one's safe haven is never tarnished with the abuse of power.  One's safe haven thrives as it comforts.

The Dictionary, Page Twelve

Capture, now what was I thinking?  Capture, of all things.  The dictionary of my submission -- the words meaningful to me as I relate to my Tasdron:  capture is word twelve.

Not roleplay, no -- this is not a game.  Not slavery, no --  a slave to my passions, I am not, and I govern my passions with the desire of a saint.  Surely to cupcakes I had something in mind when I blurted the word "capture" for page twelve of the dictionary.

Oh indeed, oh yes.  Oh for the very certainty.  Yes, and I remember precisely why, too.  I remember a day -- early, early in my understanding of this lifestyle -- when brave old Sir Will set me down in a new and unfamiliar sim, greenery everywhere, with some delicate iron chairs and a table for two.  I was honored to hold his attention for the twenty minutes we had for talking and enjoying green nature.  (I am always honored when someone of sublime humanity invites me for a small time to enjoy an idea or two, and I have been very lucky with how many of those people -- people of sublime humanity -- I have been able to meet.)  What we talked about was preserving -- holding time in a bottle, as it were.  How afraid I had become, at that time in the year, of time slipping away and vanishing, and taking everything I love with it.  It was an anxiety easily quelled, in fact, and brave old Sir Will's picture in my photo album proves it.  "Why do you take pictures?" he asked.  "I need to capture and then hold on to moments," I replied.

When I frame it, snap it, save it, and treat it, it is mine for however long I say so.

Memory is unreliable, and dreams are easily influenced.  The taste of the tea at the time of a special moment is a taste I could try with all my might to recapture, tomorrow.  And of course, that taste, that perfect chemistry just so, just right, just there in that moment now gone, that taste is precious and flown.

So I take tea every day, for every moment.  I won't take any chances of missing out.

* * *

What happens, though, when the moments are perfectly collected, and the visuals perfectly captured, and the words and associations catalogued carefully and with pristine attention to every detail worth remembering -- and then the feeling fades... What happens when the chemistry that coordinated all of my feelings of submission suddenly changes, changed as a vial of blood poured into the clear, pure glass of aqua vita changes the look and meaning and value of the intoxicant?

The chemistry that made me crave the pain; the chemistry that made me crave the care; the chemistry that made me crave the naked vulnerability and steadfast rules and limits.  The chemistry that made me open myself to surrendering to another.  How do I recapture that chemistry?  I have gone all vanilla and happy.  There is great love, there.  There is placid, easy conversation.  There is intelligence and connection.  There is beauty and truth.  There is all such goodness but -- what of the chemistry that made me crave the sting of a riding crop?

My submission changes with every new day.  I am no less submissive simply for not craving pain.  I am no less submissive simply for not craving a passionate violence in fantasy.  I am no less submissive. I am simply... chaste in thought, now, as well as in deed.

There is no capturing chemistry as one captures its look.  Chemistry boils and bubbles, forever changing.  The species named "Submissive" does not change with the flowing, floating fury of volatile chemicals always at play.  I'm still me.  I'll be fine.

* * *

And I have valentines chairs to sit in for when you get home, by the way.

Mastering the Light

Once upon a time, I wandered into the darkness, seeking.  Then, things happened.  Then, I learned something.  Now, I come out of the darkness and back into the light, having learned something.  I breathe the fresh air, and I look around at the blue sky.

I'm not finished my learning; not at all.

I'm looking from a different angle, though.  I thought it was darkness that compelled me through the woods.  I realize now, though, that things have changed and I am better able to articulate what I need -- and articulate to the proper people.  It's not darkness I need: it's mastery of the light.

Just like in photography: the trick to a good photo is the use of light.  The trick to an interesting subject, one that compels us to look and understand, is the story.  What is she doing, where has she come from, and where is she going?  The present, the past, and the future of a story.  Only connect.

And as such, as I begin my mastery of the light, I celebrate one very important revelation.  It's a thread that has spun round me for a few months now and finally terminates in a pretty bow laced to my frilly blouse-collar:  are you sure what you're looking for is a D/s dynamic, he had asked?  It's an honest question.  The question arose because I was resistant to many things one traditionally associates with BDSM, namely the wide array of kinks on offer.  They simply do not turn me on.  Are you sure, came the question.  Of course! was my reply.  But that thread still hung loosely, nagging me.

And then it occurred to me.  Eureka! I do not need kinks to enjoy submission.  I may, actually, enjoy submission for the sake of submission.  It may very well be that I simply enjoy submission; the power exchange; without necessarily needing to bring a chicken, a crop, a deck of cards, and a blindfold into the room at the same time.  (Note well:  I am not only kink-tolerant, I am kink-encouraging!  I think people should have fun and do what they love to do.  I do not disparage "kink."  I simply think that kink is for others.  Or, well.  Usually.)

People may enjoy the delights of kink even in a non-D/s dynamic.  One does not have to be submissive to enjoy the unique sensation of a drop of wax on one's inner wrist.  One does not have to be submissive to enjoy the feeling of clamps, stamps, needles or blades, pins, fins, broomsticks and spades.  One may enjoy these things all on one's own, or with a friend, or with a lover, with an equal, or with a stranger... there are many ways one may enjoy a kink without actually submitting to an exchange of power in the process.

Plain and simple: I am not a kinky submissive.  There are times (naturally) when fantasies arise and these fantasies do not resemble my daily routine in the least.  (I do not live in a Chateau or own a posture collar in my real world; and so these things are delicious in fantasy play.)  But I have discovered that these fantasies arise less and less frequently as I engage more and more fully with my present.  My every-day.  My heart and soul and hearth.  The LIGHT in my life.  As I begin to embrace what is lightness in my world, the darkness recedes into the distance.  It may not be such a difficult transition into the real world, after all.

Shame, Part Three

Shame as kink involves a phenomenon that I still find difficult to put into words.  I have a great empathy for the practice, but I do not wish to practice it.  I do, however, understand the incredibly powerful connection that arises when two people engage: shame actually fails without that incredibly powerful connection.  To put it another way, shame is evidence that the connection between two people exists.  (Of course, there are other ways to test and prove the connection.  But, shame is as good a proof as any.)

Even if the players have only just met.  Even if the players do not even know each other's names. Or even if the players have played for fifty years one way and one way only.  "Shame" as a kink is a peculiar kind of connection between two people.  Take, for example, the idea of "insult."

On one hand, if someone I have no connection to, someone I feel completely indifferent to, tells me "You, Anna, are a dog, a low-lying guttersnipe," then I feel more puzzled than anything else.  "I have no idea why you would say such a thing, but I'm not curious to find out.  Goodbye," would be my answer.  In other words, I reject the insult as irrelevant to me.  It does not strike the target.  It does not hit home.  My core is perfectly preserved.

On the other hand, if someone for whom I have great respect, or great longing, or great lust, or great need, or great dependency upon, tells me, "You, Anna, are a dog, a low-lying guttersnipe," then for a moment I actually believe those words.  I admit those words into my core.  Not permanently... but, for a time.  Just to examine them and to see if they are real.

Personally, I do not feel "turned on" by being insulted. I feel emotionally struck when I am insulted by someone I love.  Those words "hit home" with a bulls-eye target if those words come from someone I trust.  Logical or not, I admit those words.  And so it is with shame.  If shame were my kink, I could see how powerful it would feel -- how strong the connection would become in my mind, in my body, in my imagination, in my whole reality -- if the man I worshipped were to look into my eyes and say the words that would make me feel shame.  Or if he were to position my body in the way that would shame me in front of others.  Or if he were to do anything, for that matter.

The connection is the idea.  "Kink" reinforces connection.  Whether it be shame, or cuffs, or dog-collar, or equipment, or words...  Kink reinforces connection.  Shame, like any other part of D/s relationships, requires both parties to participate, both parties to consent.  In fact, consent is half the shame, indeed.

Limits

I read so often in D/s literature that a submissive without limits is not as attractive as a submissive with limits.  I like Connor's take on limits very much, actually.  In his post about limits, wherein he talks about hard limits, conditional limits, soft limits, every kind of limits... he talks about how it is an accepted perspective in our lifestyle that limits are supposed to be pushed, and that is how a person grows.  I usually object to statements like that, but what makes this one different is that he tempers the idea by saying that to continually push limits would have us all committing "crimes against humanity" eventually.  Why bother declaring a limit if a person is just going to ignore it?   I have fought about this with lots of folks along the way:  my limits are damned sacred and they are not for pushing.  My limits really do mean, "this far, and no farther."    But, I suppose, I do not use my limits for growth.  My limits are not a tool.  My limits mean, "There is nothing else past this line for you to see.  This means you."

House Sparta calls that a boundary, the idea of "this far, and no farther."  Fine with me.  I will call a boundary a boundary if it means "this far, and no farther."   In the spirit of tolerance and respect, I can understand that sometimes people set limits that, over time, they grow past (if they want to) with the right kind of incentive.   But I object to the idea of "growing past" a limit, as if a limit by default were some kind of defect that needed help or some kind of stunted growth.  I think that is a dangerous assumption to make.  Not all who wander are lost; not all who limit are broken.  Feeling a part of House Sparta, as I do now, I know that my personal limits are safe as if twenty gods stood guard for me.  And, accordingly, because I feel so safe with my limits, I make sure they do with theirs too.

I have been meditating on and exploring the idea of limits.  I hadn't declared any limits because I still considered myself a student and not really a practitioner.  I didn't really need them.  I realize, though, that it is a good idea to declare them.  To think carefully, to understand what it is that we declare when we say "this far, and no farther."   "This far, and no farther," reflects a person's personality.  Some people say "anything goes" and those are the people (according to the literature) whose expectations are difficult to meet and who often do not know the meaning of "anything."  Defining limits demonstrates personality.  So I have been thinking, and I have been coming to some helpful (to myself) conclusions about where and when I say, "This far, and no further."   I do not have many limits, and I do not have many boundaries, but they are real and they are hard.  And I like being able to enforce that.  My limits and my boundaries protect someone else, actually, so that means they are especially unbreakable.  And I like that I do not need to change them if I do not feel like it, and I can be right about it.

Jealousy, Part Four

Jealousy is complicated not only by confusing feelings but also by the impetus to behave in ways unnatural to our own core, golden, untouchable self.  Jealousy (the feeling) is complicated by jealousy (the behaviour).  Often, people do not even examine or admit their jealousy (feeling) but, rather, demonstrate jealousy (behaviour) that they believe to be perfectly natural behaviour such as baking a cake (a little too angrily) or shutting a door (so loudly that the windows shatter).  The jealous man who becomes a little more violent towards the woman he cares for (because it's easy to take out his anger on her; she loves him and she won't fight back) is a classic example, one that was taken for granted back in the North American 20th Century.  (In fact, watching any movies from the 1950s and 1960s and 1970s will demonstrate how women slap men's faces in petulance just as often as men slap women down to the floor in a jealous rage... And there was a time when a man's slap on the face of another man signalled a duel to the death.  Obviously, people solve problems by hitting when the maturation process is stalled).

But what about the jealous woman who does not hit the man she loves?  She feels her jealousy rising: she knows that a woman from his past has resurfaced.  She knows that, in their former relationship, that other woman had no limits to her experimentation process.  She knows that the woman's no-limit ideas about experimentation really turned him on, at the time.  She knows that, being an open-minded man that he is, he might entertain the idea of dining with that woman while she's in town, just to catch up.  She doesn't like that possible scenario, and so she feels like bringing his attention back home.  She puts herself into unfamiliar situations in order to traverse the landscape of the human heart over to where he exists.  She puts herself into unrealistic situations in order to prove that she, too, can experiment.  She puts herself at risk, therefore, straying far from her normal boundaries and behaviour.  She puts herself at risk for his sake, for the sake of keeping him away from the adventurous woman.  It is jealous behaviour.  It is behaviour that arises out of the anxiety over losing him (a fictional worry, of course, since in this case he has no intention of leaving).  It is jealous behaviour arising from jealous motivation.  And it puts herself at risk.

If this woman believes that the Dom she courts still has feelings for an ex-lover, she might find herself involved in a (self-positioned) contest with this invisible ideal -- an ideal that she feels she needs to exceed in order to win his full attention.  "To be as good as, or better than, the other woman," goes the contest.  It's flattering to the Dom to have a girl who tries so hard, obviously.  More to the point, if the Dom can put his ego to one side, it's dangerous if the girl's motivation is not clear.  And, if her motivation isn't clear, and if she's doing something to compromise her safety, then that means her sanity is in question.  She's not behaving like a submissive; she's behaving like a reactionary jealous woman.   And if she's not behaving like a submissive but, rather, a reactionary jealous woman, then can her Dom fully believe in her submission at all?  Or can she, herself?   The reverse also: can a jealous Dom be trusted in his domination if he makes decisions based on jealousy?  Can either Dom or sub conduct a sane relationship without talking about this?

* * *   * * *    * * * 

In other news, I want to call attention to a blog I have just discovered.  Conor's Corner is the name of it, and it is such a pleasure to read.  I enjoy it frequently, the common-sense approach and the great care with explaining ideas that, often, people just take for granted.  This will be another standard entry in my reading list.

Backwards, Frontwards, Side to Side

It's been quite a day.  And there's nothing like talking to a real friend on a real kind of ... strange day.  I wanted to know about the role of love in submission, especially in the virtual world.  "Can you give yourself and still be independent?" my mentor asked me, challenging me to enjoy the feeling of a man without giving myself away.  And I enjoyed the feeling of a man.  And it feels like so long ago, but it is only just over a week, now.  "One more thing," she says to me, "do not fall in love with him."  That must mean that love is a part of submission.  Love can be a part of submission, rather.  It must mean that love risks being a part of submission, and that a person risks falling in love when perhaps love is not the bargain domination negotiates.
I started this journey, as I was reminded today by Sir RB, with the directive of "no love, please."  And I remember vividly saying to many people, "It's not  your love I'm looking for."  And I don't think that's changed, to be honest.  I do not think it is love that I am missing: but I do know that I am not cut out for a casual arrangement.  I do expect to be somebody's priority, because when I submit I make that man my priority.  I clarified today (thank you Sir RB, the conversation was precisely what I needed) that I spend a great deal of time erecting defenses against the possibility of being hurt (which would be a regular occurence if I did not erect these defenses; there are cruel people in the world), instead of privileging the aftermath of experience.  To privilege the guard-against means that I shall never really experience.  To privilege the aftermath means that I shall, in time, equip myself with the tools required to heal and to mend and to repair and to enjoy.  I have been doing things backwards, in other words.  I'm still not convinced that by doing the opposite I will actually be going forwards; I feel like I'm staggering to the side a little.  I know, however, that I am still on the right path towards You, mighty You, the You I know knows me.  Forgive me, I beg, if I take a little longer to get there.

It's not necessarily love that I need.  In fact, I'm sure it is not love that I need. It is love that I feel, though; and I'm now beginning to clarify things in my mind.  It's not love that I need; it's time and privilege.  It is love that I have to give, when I submit.  And what I need is consistency: time and privilege, dedicated time and dedicated priority.  I do need to be somebody's priority.  I do need that.  I have needs, and that is one of them.  Priority when he is here.  Priority when we have established a routine of inviolable time to share.  Not a monopoly but a scheduled priority.  My submission and my love are not very far different from each other; and I do not expect a virtual dom to understand it or reciprocate it -- but I do expect it to be valued, consistently, as part of who I am.  I think it is what makes me a desirable submissive.  And to that end, a consistent one.  Which means, it's time I communicate  a little bit now.  And so I shall.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
In other news, in my frenzy to try to understand the mind of a dom, before I was lucky enough to score Sir RB's attention, I started reading notecards from a library in Second Life.  I was instantly disheartened, but then I realized "Hah, it's not really surprising."  Check out the first line in one of the notecards, and I quote:  "Dominance is a primitive part of the human psyche.  To plug into this primitive role, you have to appear strong.  So be as strong as you can.  Then fake the rest."   And then it goes on to say, "Strong people have wants, but not needs."   There is another notecard from the same library, "How to be a good top."  I turn my attention to that.  It poses the question, what do you do with a submissive you have tied up?  "You can be stern and commanding, sympathetic but nasty, jolly yet sadistic... anything you please."   My initial reaction to reading this?  "Not with me, you can't."  Whoever wrote these wrote them with absolutely no forethought about what it means to engage meaningfully in a long-term negotiated D/s relationship.  And now the highly questionable experiences I have endured in this world make a lot more sense, given what is out there instructing people.

In still other news, the landscapes in this post are of the Journey to Domination and submission sim that Genny (my mentor) owns and operates.  I have given her a bunch of fresh landscape shots because it has been a while since I have photographed some beautiful land.  I was chatting today about how the principles of photography (perspective, light, focal point and level of interest) are also the principles of any human relationship, not just relationship between subject and beholder.  I process a great many things when I am engaged in an intensity of focus on a picture.

Realism, Pessimism, and Hope

"I wasn't thanking him for the coin," says Sayuri in Memoirs of a Geisha, talking about her great love upon first meeting him.  "Or even for the trouble he'd taken in stopping to help me.  I was thanking him for, well, for something I'm not sure I can explain even now.  For showing me that something besides cruelty could be found in the world, I suppose."   This passage in the book is meaningful to me on a human level.  It has nothing much to do with D/s specifically; or BDSM or any of the alternative labels and structures for relationships that I explore in Second Life.  It has everything to do with the human beings we interact with on a daily basis.  With the people that I meet.  With You, my mighty and penetrating You.  You are like the Chairman, Sayuri's beloved.  You are like the one who brings Sayuri currency in a world of poverty.  You are like the one who brings Sayuri hope in a world of pessimism posing as "realism".
I met a man who tries to tell me the way things really are; but the way things really are in his mind are skewed by a terrible, scorpion-like anger.   I met another man who devotes his time to the growing of flowers in a vast garden, but he tends only to those who cry and fail; to those who call out with a shy silence and wound.  The flowers that breathe and thrive, on the other hand, he does not look at or enjoy, and they blossom for nobody.  I have met a man who is barely alive; rarely breathing; and infrequently amused.  I have met a man trapped by his own logic, a snake with two heads that devour to the core until nothing remains.  And I have met a man whom I could not even distinguish from the chip he bore like Atlas with the world -- a giant tumor of a chip that spoke for him, walked for him, alienated the world for him, but left him to wonder at his own loneliness, as if he could not see the chip that manipulated him.  Could you master any girl, truly? I won't allow myself to discover yes or no; I must protect myself from this.

And I have met a man who appears to me almost as though he were my own shadow --   who knows, somehow, the very curve of my wrist as though it were his own.  Who makes me feel as though I were not one of many petals but, rather, an entire blossom proper and ready, something select and chosen.  Someone careful with words.  Someone calm.  Someone with imagination.  No pretense, or so it would seem (and isn't the best art that which cannot be detected?)   And I have met a man who knows good photography when he sees it, and who shares.  I am quite enamoured with John Tisbury's photography at the moment and I'm becoming a fan.  His landscape prints can be purchased in Second Life at Alanis gallery.  Anyway, You of my clear and vivid imagination... You, Sir, have me captivated.  I am beginning to wonder if You are as intimately familiar with the curve of my wrist as I am familiar with the calm waters of your deep sea.  Sayuri committed herself, submitted herself, to the path that would lead her eventually into the arms of her Chairman.  An unwavering devotion.  So Choji walks, slowly and with sweet curiosity as butterflies and flowers surround her, towards You.

Re-mystifying Submission

I experienced something today that drove the point home entirely:  submission is in the mind.  It sounds phoney and insubstantial: but submission is in the mind.  I met a man and we traded a brief private conversation in the middle of a public gathering, and it was enlightening in ways I don't get to feel every day.  He wasn't trying to teach me anything either.  All he did was present me with a conundrum upon which to meditate.   I didn't even particularly understand the conundrum, to be honest.  I felt slightly foolish.  (Hooray for the hanged fool of the tarot!  Once again, I honour thee!)  I understood the picture that came with the conundrum... a bound woman, blindfolded, readied.  I understood the words of the conundrum: imagine a man who knows what to do with such a woman, and who will be unpredictable, and who will be in control, and who (being her dominant) has already established her safety and his sanity.  He's got into my mind and he's making me do things!  The fun isn't lost on me.

"To steepen the learning curve," he said to me, I would have to consider these things.  To consider theoretically, to imagine the conditions, to picture in my mind.  I'm sure all he wanted was for me to acclimatize myself to the possibility of "him", as it were.  It's a nice line.  It's a fun and romantic twist on the meeting of someone new.  "How about it, baby, you and me on a beach far away... picture the possibilities!"  A man could do worse for an opening gambit, especially if he's willing and able to deliver on the temptation.  But nevermind all that:  I have learned something extraordinary.  All of my imagining, all of my steepening, all of my considering, and all of my picturing have fulfilled in one afternoon what legions of men have been unable to accomplish in months of knowing me.  I have chastely, intelligently, experimentally experienced a perfect idea of submission -- a Platonically perfect idea of submission -- in my own mind.  The conundrum:  "How do I make this real?"  And the simple solution:  "It already is."

Demystifying Submission

I never get tired of consulting A Master's Viewpoint by Mr Najee.  Today's point of interest: the process of submission.  At a discussion not so long ago, I listened with interest as a lady posed a question to the Domme who was speaking.  "At what point," she asked, "is it a good idea for me to agree to wear someone's collar?"   This, incidentally, is why I haven't ventured into facilitating discussions of my own... How on earth does a person begin to approach a question like that?   I would have asked more questions until the core question framed itself (or until I beat it into a shape that could be considered meaningfully!), but that might have taken hours.  I'm still not sure what question the journeyer was asking.  "How will I know if he really loves me?"  or, "I'm not sure if I'm submissive, so when is it okay to wear a collar to try to find out?"  or, "Is there a set time, in your fantasy world that I'd like to play in, for people to agree to court before broaching the subject of collars?"  or, "I know that I'm submissive; I am simply not sure if he's dominant. Should I still go through with this?  Is there a safe way out?"   My busy mind hears so many questions embedded in that one vague question, and I'm really not sure which is being asked.  (I was not privy to the answer, either, so I cannot comment further.)

This post talks about what it's like when submission meets its proper domination, and vice versa.  "Finally," Mr. Najee writes, "the couple gets to the point where they decide they are going to be together.  I find that the submission process happens naturally.  There is no one moment in time when she offers it and he accepts it.  Instead, it is something that they move toward on a daily basis (with the occasional moving away from when pitfalls are encountered).  The people involved in the relationship, due to their communication, know what is happening."   For the most part, I dig that passage.  Especially how the submission process happens naturally.  The whole article explains what even vanilla relationships undergo in the process of development and intensifying.  Two people talk a lot.  Two people get to know each other.  Whether or not they have a submissive or a dominant character, their own personalities must mesh first and foremost.   (A submissive won't submit to just any dom.  A dominant won't accept the submission of every single sub that kneels at his feet.  It's impossible.  We have to gel.  We have to fit.  It's not a contest, nor a competition... it's just meeting someone you want to be with, in the quirky kind of structure that you dream of inhabiting, and finding that person wants the same thing.)  When we fit, when we gel, when we have talked so much that we know we just need to keep talking, and keep touching, and keep working for the other, it's a foregone conclusion that the relationship will continue on the forward trajectory.  Submission and domination have happened already because nature wanted it so.

"The answer is to interact like a human being," says our Mr Najee.  It's as if he had heard the question!  But seriously... now that I think about it, that's a good answer to many questions.  "How will I know that he really loves me?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that my submission is what he's looking for?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that when I reach out, he will reach for me also?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that it's alright to trust this person, that he won't try to abuse me or take advantage of me?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that he is competent enough to dominate me?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "How will I know that he has the self-esteem I expect in a dom?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.  "What happens when I am overcome with need and it feels like my need will overpower everything and everybody?"  The answer is to interact like a human being.

Self-Esteem

Once again, I realize how lucky I am.  Going back over the mentoring interactions with Genny, one thing strikes me now more clearly than anything:  this is a personal journey.  All of my assignments are designed for me to figure out who I am in a submissive relationship and what I want, and how I am prepared to live, and what it is that I see, and my vision, and my personal and unique way of expressing myself submissively.  Genny hasn't handed me a template and an instruction booklet on how to fit myself into this template:  Genny is getting me to explore who I am.  I am really lucky:  she is a great friend in the D/s lifestyle, and she isn't trying to change me, or shatter me, or break me down, or use me, or take advantage of me.  Or screw me, for that matter.  Instead, she gives me the equivalent of, "Here is my time, make something extraordinary with it, show what you can do." And, so, I do.  And every time I do, I come away with many meditations on the D/s lifestyle, and these meditations I carry with me and mull over as I move through the world, looking at the butterflies, making every moment a learning moment.
Whether deliberate or accidental, what Genny has done for me is to increase my self-esteem.  By letting me explore what it is that I want from this lifestyle, and by letting me express myself in ways meaningful to me, she has increased my self-esteem.  She has increased my power.  Well, I have increased my power: I know that it's all down to me, in the end, and if I asked Genny she would say, "I haven't increased your power; you did that."  But what Genny has done is to facilitate, enable, and witness it.  And consequently, I feel good.

Self-esteem is a big deal to my newfound "Masterful Expertise" Mr. Dennis Najee.  He states a very basic relationship principle here, and I agree with him 100%.  I quote: "The truth is that only those with a solid self-esteem can be in healthy relationships. Even in a power exchange situation, it is crucial that both people be on solid footing with their self-worth.  Again, and I cannot stress this enough, both parties need to look within for that value.  A slave is not valuable because of what she does; rather, her value is because of who she is.  Her awakening in the morning is all she needs to have merit.  Everything else flows out of that place."  So, the words make sense, but what do they mean ultimately in a practical sense?  How do people increase their self-esteem?  They can take a lesson from Genny my mentor, is what they can do.  Ask questions, task the submissive with exploratory tasks that aim for figuring out who she is, what she's capable of, and how she wants to live.  Explore the lifestyle and how other people live it: no two people have the same conditions, limits, considerations, or point of view.  There is no "template" for slavery; and there is no "template" for submission.  The lowest common denominator in the BDSM lifestyle is respect: everything else flows out of that place.

Mr. Najee talks about a spectrum.  "There are people at every stage of the spectrum."  It makes sense, right?  Domination is not just full-on control of every single aspect of a human being.  Domination is an art, and so one style does not fit everybody.  In fact, there are probably as many styles to domination as there are people who practice it.   Mr. Najee says, and I agree wholly, "The key is to know what it is that makes you tick.  In other words, how much of a relationship do you want with a person.  The one who is seeking a marriage partner as well as a BDSM one is looking for something emotionally in-depth.  This differs from the one who seeks to simply be of service to another in the domestic sense and forego the emotional.  Again, neither is better than the other.  It only matters what is best for you.  Knowing your place is a helpful thing to determine.  Sadly, few ever look at it before they enter into a relationship.  Most seem to do it backwards: they enter into relationships to determine what they desire.  Is it any wonder that so many relationships fail?"   I have goals in this world.  One of my immediate goals is to surround myself with more people like Mr. Najee and his very common-sense, non-predatory type of teaching.  Another of my immediate goals is to learn more from my interactions with Genny.  And eventually, a long time down the road, to surrender myself to You, my Future You, because the butterfly will someday emerge from the cocoon.  

Fascism, Submission, and Art

My favorite part of Second Life is the art.  There is an art display right now called A Rusted Development which is a new exhibit built by Haveit Neox, which featuring work by Rose Borchovski, Claudia222 Jewell, Bryn Oh, and many other fine SL artists.  Claudia Jewell is my friend and I love her work, so I go see whatever she does.   EDIT:  you can see a catalogue of the display and biographies of all the artists, curator, and conjurer here (great idea, such wonderful creators!)  I was new to Rose's work, though, and I feature one of the displays here in the picture.  This segment  also features an audio component that I cannot demonstrate here in this post.  But as well as the stepping stones that tell the unfortunate soul what she cannot do, there is also the disembodied voice that tells the unfortunate soul the same thing.  "You are not allowed to read," is a block that nearly broke my heart.  "You are not allowed to think."  "You are not allowed to fish."  "You are not allowed in this market."  "You are not allowed to go to the cinema."  At first I thought it was an exercise, an exhibit, in censorship (the great enemy of art).  Then I realized it was an exhibit of fascism*, an exhibit showing what it was like to be racially marked with a yellow ribbon and segregated.  Rose's display is very powerful -- the audio as well as the visual.  The whole artistic melange is gorgeous.  It changes my state to walk among the displays.

But, taken out of context.  This path of "you are not allowed" stones reminds me of all the reasons I am afraid of submitting to someone.  When it's the wrong person, these "you are not alloweds" weigh heavily.  They are a life-sentence.  When it's the wrong person, every step along the path seems like it is branded with a "thou shalt not" of some kind.  When it's the wrong person, everything feels wrong -- and a body can feel not just helpless but also hopeless.  Put back into context, undesired submission is a fascist state of misery.  The art speaks to me.

And, when it is the right person, there's nothing bad written on the steps.  The "you are not alloweds" become "guess what you get to do for the one you serve!"  When it is the right person, the whole world looks different: the whole world looks clean.  Smells fresh.  Tastes savoury.  Perfection, dreamy, erotic, moving, wanted. Wanted.  Wanted.

*"Fascism" used here: a tendency toward or actual exercise of strong autocratic or dictatorial control, or the effects of such a government of a body population.

Fine Lines

This has been quite a week of conversations.  I have learned this week more about myself than in recent history combined, and so much has come from being tested with misconceptions.  I'll give the benefit of the doubt and not say the word "prejudice" or even "bigotry" but rather call it "misconception" that drives the conversations of recent memory from which I have stepped higher still in my journey to submission.  I, too, am guilty of misconception (and my recent post on protected precious sweet asses is evidence of that).  Perhaps nobody is immune; we all must learn and no one is born perfect.  But, this week especially, I have been challenged on many fronts.  It felt surreal, this week, sort of like I was exploring "D/s through the looking glass" instead of just plain old D/s.   I think the most important learning I can catalogue this week is HOW perspective changes, and THAT perspective changes, and WHY perspective changes, and the vast difference between the perspective of the new versus the perspective of the very experienced.  The difference is in the fine lines.

[Digression:  one of my pet peeves in language is the way people abuse the phrase, "There is a fine line between...(insert comparatives here)."  There is often not a fine line between the things they suggest, when I stop and think about it, and then I scuff my toe in frustration having wasted all that time.  And that is not what I mean to suggest here, either, when I talk about fine lines.  There is no fine line demarcating the initiate and the Master.  Instead, there is a crude chalk-drawing by a student, a three-stroke stick-figure trying to tell a story it isn't complex enough to convey.  Next to it, a finely-wrought image drawn by the Master, an image comprised of a thousand fine lines, conveying a rounder, deeper story that takes hours to appreciate and weeks to analyze.  What the new person scratches-out cannot compare to the Masterful image of high complexity.  That is what I mean.  The fine lines reveal everything.]

The new person:  1) expects things to be obvious, 2) gravitates towards the obvious, 3) leaves heavy footprints through the journey.


The initiate:  1) understands that things are not always as they seem, 2) gravitates more towards what she desires instead of what is obvious and presented by default, 3) tries to walk more softly through the world.


The initiated:  1) begins to develop subtleties that characterize her unique self, 2) begins to assert her desires and hardly pays any attention to the obvious and the default anymore, 3) strives to walk not just softly but without penetrating the rice paper.

The Master:  1) recognizes subtlety in others and celebrates it, while recognizing that the new need guidance also, 2) can anticipate desire and meet it but is never above being surprised by joy, 3) can carry himself and his disciple (if required) with minimal impact to the land beneath.

A simple example: it is confusing (to the new Doms and  to the new subs at the beginning, if nobody knows any better) whether a submissive lady should be kneeling by default when a man speaks to her.  There are so many competing opinions and values and practices in Second Life, as many different answers to that question as there are practitioners of alternative lifestyles and roleplay.  There are so many reasons why a Dom may believe it is appropriate for a girl to kneel when speaking to him.  There are so many reasons why a submissive may believe such behaviour to be archaic, misguided, inappropriate to her life's purpose, or totally and perfectly reasonable.

What does submission look like?  It looks like whatever you want it to look like.  Submissive women wear lingerie and snowsuits and sneakers and pumps (granted, not all at once...).  Sometimes a sub wears a collar.  Sometimes she doesn't.  There are at least a dozen variables (and possibly ten dozen more) affecting whether you see her sporting a collar at any given moment.  She may or may not kneel.  She may or may not be owned.  She may or may not be attached at all, in any relationship.  She may be getting over a relationship; she may be entertaining the possibility of a new relationship; she may be withdrawing from any immediate relationships; she may be seeking platonic friendships or protective arms with no other expectations.  She may be wearing leather or lace.  There is a lot in common, really, with the vanilla lifestyle.  But, honestly, there are so many ways to LOOK submissive if one wants to be obvious and catch the attention of the obvious-seeking.  There are also so many ways to assert one's subtleties if one is looking to attract the attention of the more discerning (and less obvious) tastes.  I have endeavoured to wander the road paved by the discerning.  My protected precious sweet ass enjoys the tranquility.

Giving Yourself, and Giving Away

Recently, I attended a discussion (so few of them are held in my timezone... I grab what I can!) and the topic was "Time to Say Goodbye" and what some reasons might be for a submissive and her Dom/me to part ways.  Without any big surprise, the reasons we discussed (and certainly there would be more of them if we had longer to discuss it) are very similar for vanilla couples:  a) when one or the other's needs simply aren't being met, and no amount of communication can build a bridge over that chasm; b) when one becomes abusive beyond the other's tolerance;  c) when one or the other is revealed as dishonest; d) when one or the other transgresses a core value previously established and sacred to the relationship.  Afterwards, I got to continue the conversation with a few other people who were also interested in the topic, and it was surprising how naturally the conversation led to "Acting Like a Sub".

"What does a 'real' sub act like?  Look like?" And I think this is where the cultures clash:  the roleplayers, the lifestylers, the D/s lovers, the virtual-enthusiasts, the gamers, the real-lifers, the Goreans, the Vanillas... everybody, it seems, has an idea of what submission "looks" and "acts" like.  The one point on which we all agreed (those of us chatting on the topic together) was that submission "feels like" giving your whole self.  It ceases to feel like submission when you give yourself away.  But it feels like submission when you give your whole self.  It is not as confounding as it sounds...!  We must, must, must have the integrity and self-knowledge, and most importantly the self-love, required to know what it is we're giving to our Dominant when we submit ourselves.  When we give ourselves (and not when we give ourselves away), it's nice to be giving something great!   But honestly, there are so many competing submission ideals  here in Second Life, so many different points of access for understanding submission, so many ways to approach this, that there is simply no justice served by asserting "one right way" to act submissively.  (Now I am beginning to understand why the tempered, mature players in SL promote "respect and tolerance" as key values before entering their sims.)  Respect and tolerance because there is a multitude of genres to accommodate, and everybody's submission is unique in any case.

Why am I submissive?  I was born this way.  Do I switch?  No; my submission is a point of pride for me.  Do I think that I can demonstrate my submission as easily in silks as in a chunky white floppy sweater?  Why, yes I do.  Observe!  Says the silkie:  "My Master, there are so many empty chairs in this house when You are gone.  The sting of Your whip or the kiss of Your mouth, please, my Master, bring it to me!  Your girl aches and longs!"  Says the submissive:  "My Master, I hope You don't mind... while You were gone, I missed You so much that I wore Your sweater.  The one that You asked me to wash before You returned.  I wore it because it smells like You, and it feels like You surround me.  I ache and I long for You..."   I feel pretty confident that my submission will get across, no matter my medium, and no matter my appearance.

How to act submissively?  It's private and personal, of course, but I would answer, "Don't act."  Submission is an honest state.  And it requires a person who has the courage of her convictions.  Who can speak truth to power when required.  Who actually has power that she can surrender to her Dom/me.  More than in other states of being, you need to be able to articulate what you need.  What you want.  What you crave.  Where your fears are.  Where your courage is.  Why you see obstacles.  What you will examine and what you won't.  Where there is failure, and whether there is a remedy.  If you give yourself away, the prize is gone.  If you give yourself to fill yourself, and keep giving yourself and keep getting filled, the prize grows and grows for the One who claims you.
Or, so I believe right now.  And I hope this holds true.

But what can I give?

"Explain her submission," the assignment begins.  This task is a special one, for me, on many levels.  The basic level:  my mentor gave me this assignment conspicuously close to a declaration I made, which means she can hear me and she understands my quiet terrors.  I understand submission in the general sense; my logical mind can parse a sentence and process the meaning of words.  But my gooey mind still suffered (at the time) from a destabilizing conversation I'd had with someone who kept asking me, philosophically, "Why?  Why submit?  Why dominate?  What's in it for me?  What's in it for you?"  (Let me emphasize, it was a philosophical discussion, not crisis or grief.)

Which was fine, at the beginning.  But afterwards, I began to wonder, myself.  Why?  And then, as is my wont, I doubted myself, my gifts, whatever it is I have to offer a Dominant when the time comes to offer to him.  Why would he want me?  What could I give?I begin as a plain girl.  I begin as a girl who dreams of something beyond what I have.  What I have is good; what I have is polished and fine in the real world.  But it is insufficient.  What I have means I can take care of the basic needs of survival in my life: it means I can feed and clothe myself, nurture myself, strengthen myself with experience and learning, discipline myself with chore and duty.  I have and know love.   I have these things.  I know these things.  I practice these things as a matter of regular, vanilla ritual and living.  I know who I am in real life.  I know where I'm going in real life.  I know where I've been in real life.  I'm even beginning to know what it is I want from my fantasies; what my needs are.  And how I can best express them.  I begin to transform; I begin to learn.

In my dreams I am more.  In my dreams, I see more; and I feel more.  I interrogate what I have always known as certainty until there are no more certainties, and it is destabilizing and thrilling and... insecure-making.  I used to believe that pain was to be feared, avoided.  Now, my skin itches to feel something rough against it.  Something sharp strike it.  Something virile push it.  In my dreams, there is a world of experience that I cannot begin to imagine without the guiding hand of a careful man who understands the difference between a hard limit and an inexperienced barrier composed of fear.  Who understands the role of a Master, not just a Dominant.  Who understands the ideal and the real, and the concept of striving.  There is a world to explore on my knees, and I need to know those dreams and explorations.  I began as a plain girl; and I emerge as a dreamer under a very careful mentorship at the moment.  This is why I recommend being mentored in the beginning:

Because when I feel insecure and confused, and I honestly state what it is that shakes my foundations, my mentor gives me a task that answers my anxieties with my own words and my own thinking.  "What do I have to give, after all?" I ask in despair, and my mentor's answer is "Look at the picture of the girl, and explain to me her submission."  And then I explain it.   And my own words come.  And the assignment shapes as it will, and that's very gratifying...  But the crux:  I begin to understand that what I have to give is an excruciatingly-tender heart that never forgets beauty.  I forget the ache of agony and loneliness and waste; but I remember beauty.  I hold up a mirror to Your face, a mirror that is my eyes, and I show You Yourself as the exquisite apparition, the bright and blinding Divine light as You appear to me.  I find beauty.  I find it, and I keep it, and I protect it, and I give it to You when You demand.  It is why I collect songs and stories; musical instruments; images perfected by my own hands; jewels and trinkets of adornment.  I collect; I keep; I then adorn and display for You, so that You are transported from the muck of this world into a realm of my own making to be enjoyed only by You.  Because, in my eyes, You are the most important being there ever has been.  And my God, how important it is not to give this away to just anybody.  It must be to You, when You come.  To none other.

This is what submission looks like to me.  And when You come, finally, I am going to savour, for a long long time, explaining my submission to You.

The Fool, Part 2

You can give away only what you own.  It's a principle at play in "The Story of O" and it is a principle I was reminded of by my mentor this weekend.  You can give away only what you own:  and if you don't own yourself (and know yourself, and understand yourself, and take stock of yourself, and regularly prepare yourself) then you can't submit your true self to a powerful and creative dominating force.

Reading "Fifty Shades of Grey" drives home, really, what it means for a woman to submit to a man: the man (Mr. Grey) wishes to provide for Ana, in every sense of the word.  Provide shelter; provide attention; provide food; provide physical fitness; provide physical maintenance; provide intellectual stimulation; provide for all the basic needs for survival, in short, as well as the luxuries that will maintain and increase her beauty.  (The tension in the novel arises from her need for, rather, love.)  The novel drives home, however, what dangers lurk for a young submissive, inexperienced and unsure.  The greatest danger is in how (and whether) the submissive thinks.
Does the submissive have the nerve to negotiate her own terms?  Does the submissive intend to have all her thinking done for her by the Dominant, or will she continue to formulate her own opinions, ask questions, and explore her world with her own eyes as well as with those of her Dominant?  How she thinks is pretty important: her self-esteem is on the line.  To surrender yourself is to expose your ego to shaping, refinement, an external force molding (and sometimes re-creating) parts of you.  If you have surrendered yourself to someone who does not know how to articulate honesty, complex issues, or even simple issues so that you can understand what is at stake, beware.

A woman sometimes wants to be re-shaped: maybe something was molded badly, before, and maybe there is someone in the world who knows how to fix that.  Over time; with careful mastery.  Over lots of time, after much trust, and with delicate skill.  Maybe there is someone in the world who knows how to remove that jarring shard without leaving nerve-damage in the wake.  That someone is, truly, a Master who can turn something beautiful into something even more beautiful.

When the Fool's card appears in the tarot spread, the seeker must ask oneself if the path has been obscured.  The seeker must understand whether significant change is on the horizon or whether it is simply time to strip down to the heart's core and, now, examine.  The seeker mimics the fool's journey as the spread reveals trial and test; and only at the end of the journey does the fool finally know, reunited with that almighty string-Master who has controlled fortune from the very beginning.  Oh to You, in the future, You who makes me breathe, Oh!  I learn for You, and I strive for You, and my aim is where You look.

May your April Fools be gentle in their mischief!

"cus the best is yet to come"

The really nice DJ is playing Def Leppard's "Armageddon It" at J2D while I'm blogging this.  We're dancing around having a great time; I've just taken some beautiful pictures; I've got some learnings to record; and it's a good day so far.  I've even had lunch.

OK learnings:  I've met people.  I've been talking to people.  It's been enlightening.  My own attitudes and fantasies have shifted considerably since I first began this journal.  I have discovered the difference between a lifestyle and a world of fantasy; between the intensity of a scene and the normalcy of quotidian motions (and the beauty of both).  And that is something subtle but significant to point out.  The scening and the normalcy; the performance and the reality; the act and the genuine.  I have given my all, in my time; I have thrown my heart, soul, blood, and spirit into some phenomenal roleplay.  It is exhausting.  It alters the mind.  It changes the world.  It transforms the body (physically, really, it does!  chemical reactions and oh that sweet look of satisfaction on the face...) and it is its own metamorphosis in toto.  It is exhausting.  A person can't keep up that level of intensity 24/7.  

There is beauty, too, in the day-to-day act of living.  Even in a D/s lifestyle, there is a simple kind of beauty.  It means that the intensity, the honesty, the vulnerability, the whole transformative change from the night before's scene may be now in the past and relegated to the realm of imagination and memory... but now everything that happens subsequently (the brushing of the teeth...  the making of the breakfast... the wandering to the window and looking out at the day with a cup of coffee... the choosing what to wear... the going back to work for the day and the going through motions of basic needs for survival...) everything that happens subsequently is coloured a shade more vibrantly.  Everything smells a little better.  It makes the days of normalcy that much more enjoyable.  Not every day needs to be a scene:  and not ever day needs to be leading up to a scene.  My own identity, my own submission, my own needs and my own fantasies, they still exist and they are still as real to me as anything... even during a peaceful cuppa on the porch.

I have been reading a new book: "50 Shades of Grey" recommended to me by Sir RB.  There's a lot to like about this book but the thing that strikes me most poignantly is during the making of breakfast.  That happens a few times.  (Also happens in the movie "Nine and a Half Weeks" which I enjoyed for similar reasons... the mundane act of breakfast, a calm time, representing the AFTER.)  Breakfast means there was something before it.  Breakfast is symbolic of the beautiful after-ness ("aftermath" has a negative connotation... "after-ness" works here, even though it isn't elegant).  Aftercare can be in the form of breakfast.  Why not.

What do these pictures have to do with this post?  These are shots of the sim J2D (where I'm engrossed in my mentorship).  You wouldn't think this is a D/s lifestyle sim by looking at these pictures.  Dancing around to Ozzy and Linkin Park with DJ Stormy doesn't have anything to do with scening, or with exploring pain boundaries, or with courting a collar, or with negotiating hard limits... Instead, this sim fosters a comfortable, elegant, cozy space to learn and grow and have some fun.  Meet people.  Move slowly.  Get to know each other.  Eventually move into the realm of discussing fantasy.  Eventually move into the realm of exploring those fantasies....  

Learning Never Ends

There is a sim in Second Life where I enjoy spending a good deal of time, and it is one of the few places that can tempt me away from my own fantasy-inspired home:  Journey to Domination and Submission, on Caerwyn Phyrrus.  Genny Clary and Klaudia Sparta are the talented and visionary women behind this well-thought-out project.  And Klaudia's Master, TonyGreg Sparta, is one of the most compelling people I have ever met, and it is he who suggested that I avail myself of what the place has to offer.  I have done a great deal of observation and question-posing, and from what I can gather these people really have their ducks in a row.  (Literally.  The neat rows of ducks swim in the ponds without any chaotic mis-formation.)

There's a great observation deck on the lighthouse where you can see all the land.  There is a dancefloor.  There is an extensive library.  There is a warehouse.  There is a maze.  There is a "noob" area full  of freebies that will get a new avatar up on her/his feet to face the journey ahead.  (It's always nice to face the journey with good hair, right?  That's where all my money goes...)  There is a bath house.  There are grounds to wander.  There is fishing to be had.  There are, as previously mentioned, ducks in a row.  There is a really sweet little swing-set too, which (rather than infantalizing) really sets a person free.  It is a good feeling to swing.  It is a good feeling, too, to examine why the pleasure feels so good.

It's an interesting visual metaphor, to me.  In a swing, my feet are off the ground.  Something else supports me.  I feel free, and yet I am inextricably connected to the swing (otherwise I'll fall and hurt myself).  I hold on with my own strength; and the swing moves me with its own momentum.  I am at the swing's mercy; I consented to being there, riding higher and higher and higher, but the swing controls the arc of the motion.  The swing controls the breathless, exhilarating feeling in me.  I hold on, and the swing knows what to do!
The swing reminds me of my submissive urges.  (It's not my Master... but it cradles me in my beginnings and takes me higher, if I want to go.)  I have not yet submitted to anybody; I'm still learning.  I'm forever learning...  I'm exploring how it feels to surrender.  I'm exploring how it feels to live among people who live this lifestyle.  I'm exploring how it feels to consider new ideas about my own inner core.  It's an awakening to understand something new about myself.   The J2D sim is a very good, very safe, very helpful and resource-packed place to learn and explore.  I'm really grateful it's here.