I never really thought much about bdsm until the kitten and the minx showed me how they wanted to be treated. Much about the "swinger" world seems to be about surrendering something to somebody. And the keeper of the keys to pleasure has to be OK with being in charge or it really doesn't work. Where does that mutual trust come from?
The first step in my experience was noting that I was aroused by the kitten cheating on me. Cheating is a cruddy way to put it, because it takes us all back to ownership. And ownership has a tremendous freight in this country, to make a big point lightly. I'm not interested in proving ownership with kitten, yet its undeniably true she belongs, and wants to belong, to me and me only. When she cuckolds me, it is both not a big deal and a fascinating power play. I really am controlling her to some extend and she gets nailed.
There's a thesis in there somewhere but this is a sex blog. You can't think about it too much to enjoy it a whole lot. It works. What we have works really well, and we enjoy play when it comes to us. Chasing it doesn't seem to work as well, the cat can grab its tail but its more fun grabbing somebody else's. Something like that.
Now when the minx showed up there was some interesting change in the firmament. The minx wants to be dominated, she craves it. In a couple of days I am going to literally tie her up and punish her for transgressions imagined and real. The kitten may help or she may want the same treatment. Either way its back to me being in control. And of course its not as simple as that but I couldn't help but notice that there is really not a whole lot of psycho-sexual difference between tying them up and beating them and watching VSK suck or get fucked right in front of me. Both are delicious in my pervy brain. And this Friday I get to scratch my itch(es). I am, as Piper pointed out, a lucky man.
Side note: if any of you bloggers have gotten an interesting proposition emailed to you in the last couple of weeks, I'd love to hear your take on it. Email me @firstname.lastname@example.org
Ok, here's your pic you naughty boys and girls.
PS. It is always a hoot to go thru airport security with cuff restraints and dog collars. They often run it through twice and you see this look go across their eyes. But they don't usually say a word. The last time I ended up joking with a bald 6'6" giant macho screener about wearing dresses. Freaks of the world, unite!