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I reinforced the righteous correctness of her self-restraint, telling her what a fortunate man he was. I quoted to her from Charlie Glickman’s recent column about marriage, where he’d championed the idea of putting the “sacred” back in marriage in it’s traditional meaning of “sacrifice.” This acceptance of the lust that was kindled by watching another body in the rope without acting on it was a tribute to both their relationship and to her strength and value as a lover, I told her.
I told her about friends of mine who have one of the most successful relationships I’ve ever heard of with only one rule: “Bring it home hot.” My suggestion that she would be doing the same by taking that sexual urge home to her lover was somewhat diluted by the fact that those friends, in particular, are also some of the most lecherous polyamorous sluts I’ve ever met (and he’s a better rope top than I am, in fact, a fact which made her eyes first widen and then narrow as her erotica-writer’s imagination ran with that thought).
At some point we both became aware that the tension, the desire, and the frustration was actually turning into something other than just a discussion. I was starting to enjoy her suffering, in fact, and it was feeding that sadistic part of me. It is a particular kind of sweetness to share a sexual attraction with someone and know that it is not going to be consummated.
I smiled and offered her a quote from Wendell Berry’s “the Wild Rose”, about choosing again what you’d chosen before, and she just grimaced. “Sweet, I’ve heard of it, but it doesn’t really help,” she grumbled, and we talking more about the difficulty in telling the difference between discipline and denial when self esteem is the battlefield. I knew it wouldn’t help. In fact, I knew that the more I engaged her in conversation, made her laugh, laughed with her, pointed out the nobility of her actions or lack thereof, the more she’d suffer.
And oh, how sweet that suffering was. At a certain point she was drawn off to another conversation, and she rather warily held her arms out for a hug. Her eyes held a strange resignation, the same look that I will see on a partner’s face as they offer up their nipple or ass or other body part to the next blow from paddle or hand or whip. It is the look of knowing that something is going to hurt, but knowing that passing up the sensation will hurt worse. No, not exactly hurt, but somehow make life less than it could be.
I hugged her, and of course it was electric. I felt the skin of her neck as it met her shoulder pressing against my cheek, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to stretch into a soft kiss into the subtle aroma of clean and pure desire there. Her body was strong and warm and I could have pushed our bodies into more tangible manifestation of the intimacies our conversation had spun.
But I didn’t. And she knew I didn’t. And we both knew that by not doing it, we were gaining and losing at the same time, and the antinomy of the situation was like electric wine on our soul’s lips.
As our bodies parted, she had a far off look in her eyes and a wry smile on her lips. “Yeah,” she said softly. “It was there.” Her expression was somewhere between merry rue and mock resentment as I smiled at her. She knew I was enjoying her struggle, and like any good scene, she was also enjoying the fact that she was giving me that pleasure.
It was all either of us would get from each other.
Sweet.
Recently I was honored to be invited back to the Bondage Capital of the World, Madison, WI to teach a workshop on kink to the Sex Out Loud staff. This is a group of peer-educators who make sex education their business, and damn if they aren’t an impressive bunch. They listened (and watched) me blather for three hours about everything from the neurochemical response to pain to how to tie a ball sack (using one of the most original props I’ve ever come up with).
As part of the class I stole a page from Susie Bright and invited people to write questions on paper that they were too embarrassed or simply didn’t want to voice out loud. When the time came to answer them I was running short during the presentation, and so I promised that I would answer them briefly there and more coherently here. So, for the benefit of the Sex Out Loud crew (and the rest of you), here’s the questions and my best answers. Feel free to chime in with your own views in the comments; I never claimed to be an authority.
However, the best thing to do is get live, hands-on training. Madison happens to be home to some of the finer piercers I know of, and going through the local groups to find places to learn how to safely do it is a great start. qM Datingbondage Dating Is Articles 10548 Dating Bondage Graydancerh Escorts Dating Bondage wM Datingbondage Dating Is Articles 10548 Dating Bondage Graydancerq Dating Bondage Prepagos%20colombianas%20en%20culioneros Dating Bondage Kissing