REDIRECTED TO MAYBEMAIMED.COM: Maybe Maimed but Never Harmed

People often draw analogies between things in kink sex and vanilla sex. They do this sometimes out of necessity and sometimes out of a desire to avoid the overhead of defining every term they use, but mostly they do it (as I'm about to do) because it's something they've heard done before.

I've never "flown" in a scene. That is to say, I've never "checked out" or "seen my body from outside itself" or "felt like the pain was sexually pleasurable," or many of the other things lots of people who do what I do and claim similar labels as I claim have often told me about their experiences. Typically, they call this experience flying, and I've usually heard it discussed as though it was the BDSM version of an orgasm.

Well, if flying is the BDSM version of an orgasm and scenes are the BDSM version of sex, then I've never come.

Of course we all know that different people play differently and for different reasons and different goals and it's all good no matter who you are or what you're into or whatever, but whenever this subject gets brought up it makes me feel a little anorgasmic in regards to kinky things.

A part of me is always wondering if I'm just too technically-minded, too focused on comparing experiences with descriptions that I've missed the boat already in the same way vanilla people sometimes seem to me to be so concerned with orgasms and ejaculations that even when they experience them they sometimes didn't know that they had. And then part of me says to myself that it must be practically impossible not to notice something like an orgasm ("oh, you'll know!"), so a kinky scene orgasm should be similarly impossible not to notice, and since I've never noticed one I've probably never had one.

A lot of people talk about flying by talking about how pain, when experienced at a certain intensity, rhythm, and circumstance, makes the rest of their existence kind of fade out and brings into focus only the lovely sensations of the moment. I can understand that very viscerally; one of the reasons I love BDSM (and kinky sex, and sensual experiences in general) is because they help me get out of my head and into my body, for lack of a better description at the moment.

However, these same people tell me that the pain is sexually exciting. That's not something I can relate to. Friends have told me stories about whippings and beatings that have left them wet or hard and rutting in place, making their very thought processes change somewhat dramatically. I wonder what that sort of an experience would be like. It honestly doesn't really make a lot of sense to me, because as I've said before, pain doesn't turn me on.

As a perfect and somewhat humorous example, take a very sexy takedown scene that happened recently. Having been pulled away from Eileen for purposes completely unbeknownst to me at the time, I got worried about her when a friend said they had ended their scene because Eileen seemed "a little ADD at the end." Strange, I thought, Eileen only gets that way when something is wrong. I should go check on her.

I quickly turned around and started walking back toward her when several more friends appeared and stopped me. No, hang on, I told them, I need to check on Eileen and make sure she's okay. Then, when they pulled a hood over my face and quickly grabbed me by my limbs, you want to know what my first thought was? It was:

Oh, this is a takedown. Eileen's probably fine.

This was no surprise to Eileen, who later remarked, I knew your brain would keep working. It did. My second thought was, "In takedowns, the victim gets to struggle. I'd enjoy doing that!" So of course I struggled as much as I could while staying (as) careful (as I could) not to inadvertently kick the wrong person in the genitals.

This illustrates a very typical experience that I have when I play: I'm very often completely conscious of what's going on and very aware of the reality of a situation. When Eileen and I play with knives, I'm not scared that she'll purposefully cut my throat, or gouge my eye out, I'm scared that she'll do it accidentally. (The risk is what's appealing.) When she whips me, I'm often adjusting my position and I'm motivated to do so by the conscious awareness that my back is no longer straight after that last stroke and that it should be made straight again, or that the sound of the whip and the feel of the air it pushed toward me means the whip is approximately four inches in that direction so I should turn appropriately.

Really, and I'd hate to destroy people's illusions of my kinky sex if they have any, but I'm actually extremely unsexy in my head when I play. Rational thought processes are not really that sexy no matter how you try to dress them up. Everything sexy is entirely about emotion.

Getting beaten with a nightstick is just that; a stick and a body. It's all very mechanical and not very hot. However, with some feeling in there, like being forced to the ground and invited to violently show the emotional aspects of aggression by fighting back, then physically losing and giving in to overwhelming force, now that's sexy.

It's very, very hard to get me out of my head. The only two things that have ever succeeded in doing so have been intense pain and intense pleasure (not necessarily orgasmic pleasure), and even these things don't manage to do it for very long stretches at a time. The way lots of people describe flying, it seems as though they experience some kind of emotional or spiritual climax too abstract for words. This is all wonderful, but is far too abstract for me.

I don't deal very well with abstracts. I'm a rather technical person, obviously, so I like things that make sense and which are grounded in rational thought. When people try to explain things to me that they say are based on "auras" or "energies," I usually just smile and nod. I have no problem with these things, most recently evidenced by a sudden interest in my social group with tantric practices, but I'd prefer to keep a critical eye pinned consistently in that direction.

So when I think about flying, in all the experiences I've had the one that comes closest to it has been getting suspended in rope bondage. Because that's when I was in the air, swinging around, and that's what flying means to me.

It is still fascinating to me how differently I react to pain when it is inflicted on the buttocks versus on the back versus on the face versus some other location. So much focus is often placed on the implement causing this pain but it's always been that the location of the pain has a stronger effect on my headspace.

Years ago, I disliked getting hit on the buttocks but I adored getting hit on the back. (I still adore getting hit on my back.) Facing a wall and being whipped was and still is, for the most part, the epitome of my mental image of strength. In contrast, having my ass hurt used to piss me off. I had never really been slapped in the face.

Over time, I was able to eroticize pain delivered to my ass through canings, spankings, and paddlings. I suspect this mostly has to do with the gentle and overtly sexual introduction of my ass cheeks to my play with Eileen, for which I am now, of course, very grateful. I'd never thought it possible before, but for the first time recently I actually got turned on with a properly rhythmic caning that left bruises for several days. But hitting my back still doesn't turn me on.

There is cultural imagery associated with beating certain parts of the body. The back is where you whip the insolent. The ass is where you paddle the disobediant young. The face is where you hit any kind of victim. Certainly, these associations are not far from my mind when I experience such sensations. I wonder, do other cultures (or individuals) with different associations have different reactions because of that?

While feeling pain on my back or face doesn't translate sexually to me, feeling it on my ass does as long as there's sufficent erotic context. Certainly, the proximity of my ass to my genitals helps this, though I think more to the point is the fact that the ass is a larger erogenous zone to begin with. I suspect this is how it works for people who enjoy CBT. (I've never been much a fan of cruel attentions to my genitals. They seem made for gentler manipulations.)

A lot of people think BDSM is an all-or-nothing sort of arrangement. Either you are my slave and do everything I ask of you, or you are not and shouldn't be wasting my time. Either I am always, absolutely forever and constantly at your feet and abiding by protocols or whatever, or I am not, and I never play that way. Either you are a pain slut and there's nothing you can't take, or pain's just not your thing and don't ever want to be really hurt.

All of these things are pointedly untrue, though this misconception is popular not only with the mainstream vanilla folks, but with many BDSM players and kinky people as well (which is endlessly frustrating). It certainly offers some explanation of why kink can be so scary for people who don't understand it and who are not at least intrigued by the acitivities. The fact that extended play time such as the extremes described above is actually a common, lustful fantasy offers, I think, a very plausible explanation to why so many people even of the kinky inclination think such a thing is true. And perhaps, though I have reason to doubt some of the claims I have heard, there really are people for whom "24/7" literally means every second of every day.

In the realities of day-to-day life, play time that lasts more than a couple of hours is very, very hard to come by. Beside from the fact that we all have "Real Jobs" and a life to lead outside of the bedroom, it's hard to stay in, for instance, slave headspace when you are constantly surrounded by your personal belongings at home or even at a friend's house. This was not something I ever anticipated being problematic for certain scenes such as longer-term ones, though it is. It's also particularly problematic for other certain kinds of scenes, namely singletail whipping. Again, not something I'd have guessed.

Another point of note regarding the length of a scene is the definition of what precisely a scene is. Two weekends ago, when Eileen and I were at a friend's house for a party (a vanilla party--not all the parties I go to are beat me, whip me affairs) we do as we always do, and I was ordered rather plainly to fetch her drinks from time to time. This was not a dramatic event, but it was not subtle either. It was only after our friend pointed out how strange it must seem for those in attendance who did not already understand our dynamic that we even noticed that it seemed like anything remotely like play at all. Was that a scene? Not for us. It might have been for some of our friends, though.

It's the fact that our dynamic is that way at all that makes it appear as though we do the kind of 24/7 play that you hear people talking about with awed tones, but I think this is actually kind of silly. I don't really consider myself a 24/7 slave with any of the weight people seem to place upon that phrase, I just find the juxtaposition of day-to-day life and servitude enjoyable, both erotically and otherwise. That makes the line between scene spaces and vanilla spaces very, very blurry sometimes, though that is a side effect rather than a direct effect of how Eileen and I interact.

There are, however, certain things we have done expressly for creating play headspaces for longer periods of time. Some of these things are play-specific, and others are again blurry, as above. For instance, a little over a year ago, Eileen bought me a rather heavy locking leather and metal collar. When it goes on me, I know she wants to play. The collar usually stays on a lot longer than the scenes last, and this helps keep some of those slavish emotions around after the beating is through. When we play at night, sometimes she uses the collar and some of our lengths of chain to secure me to the bed for the night to the same effect.

Being leashed or hitched is also a way to actively induce a desired headspace, and is also something that often can last quite a while.

Aside from that collar, I also wear 5 lengths of small jewelry chain all the time. They are placed around my neck, each wrist, and each ankle, and they are have no clasp with which I can remove them (so I don't). They're my "everyday collars". Recently, Eileen's been very turned on by the "harem slave" idea, and so she's added a sixth length of chain around my waist that she calls "utterly decadent."

All this decoration does not leave me unaffected. It's very much like wearing the heavier, locking leather collar, only with a different twist. Rather than being her pain toy, the whipping boy, I'm her cherished posession, and quite often her sex toy. There's something intensely erotically humbling about being equated in some way to a favored vibrator.

Richard over on Femdom Blogs poses a question that has been on my mind for quite a while now. Specifically, have you ever drunk, done drugs, or otherwise been in an altered state as part of a BDSM scene? If so, did the intoxicant enhance or diminish the experience?

Two years ago my answer would have been a sharp, "No! Never!" Nowadays, however, I have to say that yes, I have. Back then, of course, I was also harshly against the notion of intoxicants or medications of any kind. I still don't even take Tylenol when I've got a headache. I never liked the idea of putting things into my body that would somehow change or alter my so-called "normal" reactions to stimuli. No matter that these changes might have been desired (I certainly enjoy a good buzz now and again these days), they were not my reactions, and so I shunned them.

However, this thinking has changed. It now surprises me how unbreachable a wall the BDSM community at large has created around the notion of intoxicants. This is not surprising, however, as there are certainly a great many dangers that such things bring. The mantra of "safe, sane and consensual" is often interpreted to mean that intoxicants of any kind were not involved in a scene, a negotiation, or even a fantasy. But I think this is a decidely restrictive view.

In other subcultures, using artificial substances as part of sex is actually the norm. Is it really just of me to judge that activity as immoral or unethical? After some thinking, I had to say no. An altered state is just that, altered, but that does not necessarily mean it is one with less self-awareness or foreknowledge of the consequences.

Furthermore, I know that for many people, myself included, controlled substances play a significant role in certain fantasies. Putting the all-too-often terrible reality (IMHO caused by a lack of self-control and self-awareness, which is another issue entirely) aside for a moment, it's nothing if not very, very sexy to think of getting drunk and then being taken advantage of.

Looking back on my experiences with just such scenes, a few things have been consistent during what I'd call my "better" scenes:

• I was never so drunk or otherwise incapacitated so as not to be able to respond to my partner, either physically or emotionally. Being passed out is just no fun for anyone, but being buzzed can give us both a nice thrill.


• We never played with anything specifically dangerous while intoxicated, such as knives, needles, or other forms of play that require precise motor control. Obviously, physical safety always comes first.


• While playing, I (the bottom) am always more trashed than she (the top) is. I think this is because being slightly handicapped is what makes the game fun for the bottom while being handicapped is not exactly a benefit for the top. It's easier to subdue someone who's drunk, rather than subdueing someone while drunk.


• If we are playing with such intoxicants, we always give ourselves much more time to recover than otherwise. This means almost all of this sort of play has been done on Friday or Saturday nights, when we didn't have to work the next day. Again, common sense is the best guide.