T is for TRANSCENDENCE

I’m writing about something which I think is hard to communicate about clearly. I don’t think our language or cultural practices focus on interpersonal connection and energy exchange as much as they elevate mechanical technique. However, connection and energy are a part of how we communicate and affect one another. When a sub/bottom is open to receiving the attention a Top/Dom desires to invest in them, fascinating things can happen beyond the physical journey. Sex, kink, and BDSM are physical activities, of course, but there is so much more to what is going on in any type of intimate physical scene than simple mechanics. Emotional and psychological connection can be played with and manipulated, and even if the intention isn’t to manipulate another person on these levels, it will happen naturally sometimes regardless. Our bodies are connected to our psychologies and emotions, and it is impossible to touch someone in only one of these places without affecting the others. It’s important to take responsibility and learn more about these things if you care for the people you play with.

Am I just talking about having good chemistry? Not really, though that can help people find a groove more quickly and is certainly part of the equation. I am talking about a certain willingness to be open, internally, with the people you play with, to engage not only your physical prowess but emotional sensitivities and psychological understanding. This type of willingness must come from all parties for a solid connection to form. It’s not just the job of the sub/bottom to be open, the Dom/Top must be in a space of intent listening which requires a higher level of openness too.

What would I call this type of exchange? Trust? Openness? Good listening? This type of exchange does require all of these things from both partners to succeed, but none of them are really it. Intuitive bonding? Maybe, though the driver needs to keep their intuitions in check and be open to the information they’re receiving which might be adverse to what they expect or have come across in the past. Spiritual? Well, I’m not a very “woo” person, but I do think the idea of one’s spirit being present for the exchange is an apt part of the equation. Energy exchange? This falls a little flat for me, as everything from saying “good morning” to people you pass on the street to wild tantric journeys fall under that heading… this is where I get a little stuck in our language. I know when I have this type of connection and openness with another person, or am open to cultivating it with someone, yet I don’t really know what to call it. Within my own experience though, I’ve started defining it as: what happens after what I refer to as “The Waiting”.

“The Waiting” happens when I generally know where I’d like to go with someone, but need to find them physically, emotionally, psychologically, willingly here with me before we can start. I’m used to grounding myself and finding my place of listening, my place of finding and reaching into the parts of a body which speak to me, but the person I am playing with must come to me asking for these things before I may begin. It’s not as simple as consciously asking out loud either. Many people have approached me “wanting to be Dominated”, but they were not ready, nor were they internally calibrated to willfully let me begin with them. Like a stray cat on the street, if you want to get it to come to you for a pet, you must do a fair amount of calling after it, talking, silently being there open hand extended, and… waiting.

“Offering” comes from all sides of a scene. We often talk, in BDSM forums, about a sub’s “offer”. This sometimes refers to a sub taking a position which physically lets the Dom know they are ready for whatever the Dom will ask of them. What we talk about less frequently is the offer a Top or Dominant makes. Obviously the D-type is spending a lot of time “doing”, though doing is not separate from offering if it is attached to active listening. Whether a top is wielding a whip or a feather tickler, is interrogating with red face and torture devices, or is pleasuring a body erotically, the activity (offer) will last only as long as it pleases the one who has ultimate control over the scene: the submissive. Once a safe word is uttered, the body convulsions twitch in that certain “this feels like an edge” kind of way, facial ticks reset more slowly to “please Sir, may I have another”, or that particular quality of scream let’s you know it’s time to cool down for a bit, the offer is packed away in favor of another offer — one more appropriate to this moment.

My experience is my experience, and yours is yours. This is always true, no matter how well we know one another, how many times we have played together, nor how long we have explored the same scene over and over again. This is somewhat easier to remember during pick-up play or with new partners. The alert level is naturally high in these instances because you know there are things you don’t know about this foreign body in front of you. Over time that alertness can wear down, and sometimes we forget that no matter how connected a scene feels, the people involved are having separate experiences. Physical mechanics only tell one part of the story. Emotional sensitivity is needed. Psychological prowess will help a scene unfold more responsibly. Communication is key, of course, but communication is imperfect. We must employ all that we can if we desire to delve deeply.

I find breathing helps key into all of these elements. Breathing helps set a pace between partners — breathing together is not only an exercise of the will to be on the same page, but it regulates our bodies to one another and heightens awareness of where in our own bodies we feel holds and tension. We can breath into tensions to release them. We can unlock our own hesitations by focusing on breathing into our fears and letting go. In breath, this basic function of life, there is everything to be discovered not only in ourselves, but of the people around us.

Listening goes hand in hand with breath. Allowing ourselves to notice where we feel rigidities and softness. Allowing ourselves to slow down, and slow down again as we find edges we are unfamiliar with, thoughts or questions about where our connection is headed. Being mindful that energy is cyclical helps too. It’s natural to build and build and build, and then need to take a step back before building up again. Energy also turns corners and as it does goals must fly out the window in honor of the new shape taking form. Listening without judgement will take you further. Observation, questioning, and acceptance are key to riding these waves gracefully.

Intuition is a wonderful tool if you trust yours and have tempered it to be responsive to other people’s wills. Intuition is not everything, and it’s important to continue learning about the world of your scenes in multiple ways to responsibly delve deeper. Intuition is important but should not be used solely on the merit of its presence in a situation.

Which leads to the idea of experience. We gather experiences and information in so many ways when we’re open to it. Of course (I hope) we learn through trial and error, but we also learn through reading articles and books, through the stories we share with one another, by asking our partners questions about their experiences rather than assuming you know how a thing was for them just because you were present. We communicate in plethora ways because that’s how we get better over time, and if there’s anything the human species likes more than innovation, I don’t know what it is.

When a scene adds all of these elements together, when The Waiting has come to a close and play happens openly and flows between partners, there is a transcendence which can occur. We reach the “zone”. Domspace and subspace can follow, and from these heightened places there’s no telling what the journey will be. While I feel this space is deeply primal by nature, it requires deep responsibility to navigate safely. These types of play can release huge amounts of energy from a person’s body, or open up deep wells of emotion, psychological triggers being tripped on is not unheard of, as well as visions, a loss of time and spacial awareness, blackout moments, and any number of other experiences.

Following is a letter from a sub of mine who wrote about one of our encounters. It was a simple scene using no more than a handful of clothespins and some string, though our time together leading up to physical play allowed my sub to slowly and steadily open up to me as well as their own inner world physically, emotionally, and psychologically:

Yesterday was such a beautiful experience for me.  After you had removed all the clothespins from my body and I started trembling (in a good way) it felt like something was unlocked in me.  While I laid on your floor, I’m sure you saw it (whatever it is) starting to work its way through my body in a wave starting at my head and running down through my center and out my legs. It felt like a massive energy re-alignment on one level with something flowing freely throughout my body that was once blocked and I almost started to cry with joy (but was unsure if this would weird you out).  On another level it felt like a complete twitching and shaking of every muscle group in my body at once; even the really small muscles that you don’t always notice playing a part in movement. I think I was even visibly convulsing throughout this.  I wish I knew what caused this to begin with or what caused it all to be released in this moment but am grateful for it.

This felt so so compassionate of you to do this to me (and I hope that I can find myself in this situation with you again in the future…having you cause me so much intense pain and stimulation). I can’t thank you enough. It seemed like as soon as I had the need for more stimulation you were right there to apply it to my body in exactly the right way. I only hope that you felt enjoyment with pinning me in that moment because it was really special for me to be on the other side of it. Surprisingly today my chest doesn’t have any marks or lingering sensitivity.

I realize too that being held and cuddled by you was exactly what my body needed in the moments immediately after this. My emotions were very raw and vulnerable from our earlier work. Thank you so much Sir for calling me to your side and letting me cuddle with you. It means a lot to me that you would share part of yourself and energy with me in this way. In those moments afterwards I can still feel our bodies connecting with each other and it helped greatly to handle the emotional aspects of whatever happened. Also, today there is a bit of a sensation of being out of contact with [my] body which feels a little bit like when you have a ringing in your ears after a loud sound that you can’t shake… you still hear a ringing but look around for what’s making the sound and that thing is now gone…… Your skin is ringing in my body today.

My body has been twitching and stretching all morning in bed in strange ways (almost as if I’m an artist trying to convey a complex feeling with rapid body thrusts almost as if taken over by something) and I feel 100 times bigger than my actual body. When I received your text earlier I even went into a state of heightened arousal and it felt like I was having sex with you on some level and was semi-orgasmic…

I hope that you’ve had a wonderful morning, Sir. ~xxx

I’m grateful that this experience was as positive for my sub as they describe. I have been in exchanges where what opened up was less joyous for the person to process. I’ve subbed in scenes myself which caused me to question my own desires and work through fears about my worth, complete with harsh self-judgements for me to sort through. Not everyone will come away unscathed or smiling from opening their inner worlds up. It is important to find ways to support one another on these journeys for whatever arrives. We must take responsibility for ourselves ultimately, but it’s good to share with one another and be there for your fellow creatures, accepting one another’s offerings, and listening to the edges of our desires as they play down. We do these things together because we need one another in our lives, these stretches of years where we are born and then die alone.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

We Are The Creators of New Expectation

My “Ropes” performance adjusted for a film scene. Photo still from the short film “Legitimate” by Izzy Lee

Unless you’ve been under a very large dense rock for the past month or so, you’re aware of the current conversation about Harvey Weinstein’s history abusing women, the emergence of #MeToo, and the subsequent steady outing of a long list of popular men in the arts and politics as rapists, abusers, sexual predators, and unthinking opportunists. It’s an amazing time to be (or have had the experience of being) a woman. The bedrock concept that “women and minorities should be believed” is having a moment, and it’s striking how many people are absorbing that thought for the first time as a basic step toward building equality. At this same moment we are learning to let go of our desire to support certain celebrities as we take sexual assault and harassment more seriously than before. We are wading through the meaning behind which actions should get someone fired from their job or investigated, strung up by mobs, or lauded for the sincerity of an apology. Amidst these trials I recently read the article “What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men?” by Claire Dederer in The Paris Review. It’s a good article which acknowledges a lot about the corners of current affairs which aren’t being mucked into. While I don’t share her point of view entirely, nor think her assessment of women’s transgressions are as applicable to current events as they could be, I applaud her willingness to stand squarely within a quandary we’re not talking much about and pose the question: what do we do with the things we love when they’ve been sullied.

In reaction to her article and in conversation in general I’ve often heard the sentiment: It’s art. We enjoy it. We also acknowledge that the creators of art leave a lot to be desired as role models.

I don’t think that answer goes far enough. Hearing that makes me pause and wonder if the person relating that perspective is already over the moment we’re having — trying to quickly move past “listen to women and minorities”, and leap all the way over to “we really grew as a society when all that happened”, which I feel is where we get to after we give up on hard conversations and move back into our comfortable old coping mechanisms. We’re in the middle of growing pains right now trying to evolve away from those old coping mechanisms, but without holding out into discomfort and examining our impulses for quite a while they will not change for the long run. I will note here, because I think it’s important to think about, that it is usually a cis male who has uttered this sentiment. In radio interviews, on social media threads, and in articles I hear women and trans people retort, “I hope we keep talking like this. I think we’re far from over, this is just the beginning and I hope we keep having these hard conversations. There is still a lot to uncover and learn”.

There’s a disinfected truth to it: “It’s Art. We enjoy it. We acknowledge that those guys who made it are shitbags…”. I can hear the “but” hanging at the edges of that sentence every time it’s articulated by someone new. “…But I like that movie and don’t want to have to boycott it”, “but that guy was my friend and I don’t want to feel weird getting beers with him”, “but eventually we’ll get to a place I can be comfortable again, right?”

There’s an impatient rush to say “we got better at the thing” and forget about it so we don’t have to examine ourselves or our friends anymore. Isn’t that entirely the point in this whole uprooting to begin with though? We must become comfortable not being comfortable in order to grow and evolve.

What artists wrestle with in the creation of their art is often (always?) intersecting things they wrestle with as human beings. This is especially true of (and often visibly outlined within) artistic careers. I think it must be hard to be great at anything without wrestling — even enjoying the wrestling which comes from — the uneasy factions between your personal instinct and impulses, against a history of professional training and the system of knowledge that’s come before. Assaults and molestations and taking advantages of are about power. Abuse takes in hand opportunity and pushes boundaries in order to one up and push out. Artists and other people of power must daily be opportunistic, manipulative, and transgressive to bring their particular (often unique) point of view to the forefront at work. Yet we know it is entirely possible to make great art without being abusive. How often have we lauded the alcoholic or drug addict as “art genius” in the past, even knowing it’s entirely possible to be sober and great at what you do? Conflation. Storytelling. Romanticism — beware of it.

We’re fascinated by these stories because we feel morally superior to them within the broad strokes, yet we’re also implicated in the details through our consumption and support. Is it a guilty pleasure or form of self flagellation to consume these good arts made by bad men, waving away the implication that we would ever do such things ourselves? We’re still maintaining a certain edge, a bit more raw and verboten, when we say “it’s genius regardless of the person who made it”. What we don’t say (but can be read between the lines of position and behavior) is “and I just keep giving them my money. I just keep giving them my time and attention. I’m not doing research to find the women and minorities and not abusive people who have also created genius things for me to consume”. This is not evolution. This is maintenance of the status quo even after declaring we have moved on and learned society’s current lesson. This is the Patriarchy profiting off of a good mic drop moment because we love a good mic drop, but what happens after the mic is on that floor? We go back to our beers. And pettinesses. And comforting privileged routines. The mic has become highway litter no one feels a personal need to be responsible for. Who picks it back up? The women and minorities. Always.

I believe there is no answer but to struggle. Struggle to invest in the lives of victims rather than perpetrators. Struggle to believe women and minorities and listen to their perspectives on transgressions and their transgressors. We must struggle because through struggle we begin to really know something, and a knowing struggle is what instigates those artistic articulations we believe to be genius in the first place. We (you and I) must remember those who struggle and do not transgress at a predatory level as a result. Nonabusive artists and politicians may not have had the privilege to become lauded heroes of the patriarchy before their fall — yet their existence proves struggle and creation within art/politics/etc. is possible to do with some amount of grace.

Until we can leave behind those who maintain abuse of power during the workings of their genius, and start supporting the geniuses of those who struggle to make without harm, we are only feeding the beast we profess to abhor and starving the healthy ones out. Shitty abusive coping mechanisms don’t change because someone gets slapped on the wrist and then goes back to their regularly scheduled programming. Shitty abusive coping mechanisms change because they are suffocated out when they cease to work anymore. When we empower those who wield power and genius humanely, we create a new standard for getting attention and resources. Only when we leave those with stunted coping mechanisms behind, will those people have to do the work of learning new ways to work and new ways to be.

We must be willing to do our work first. We must find ourselves loving and supporting different people. We must research and find alternatives to what the Patriarchy and white privilege has served up on popular demand for so long. We must demand more from one another. We must get comfortable being uncomfortable, and struggle, and do better. We must always reach for more.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

The Other Side of Expectation

I found myself in the middle of a wonderful moment the other night. It was simple enough, I was eating dinner with a couple friends in my bedroom. I was dressed comfortably for the cool weather, and relaxed on my bed as we ate. We were in my bedroom because I have just moved to a new apartment and don’t have any furniture for the living room yet, and our kitchen is too small for a table… One of my friends was collared with a dog collar around their neck and topless, wearing only a rope harness I had tied onto their body earlier. They were eating out of a dog dish with no hands at the foot of my bed and grinning ear to ear while chatting about this and that between mouthfuls… This charming pup/boy had cooked dinner and served my guest and I: a wonderful and tasty vegan dinner paired with wine. They were collared and harnessed because they are my pup/boy, and it was the least I could do in appreciation of their service and care for the evening. (Well, I suppose I also beat them up a bit as well — just enough to get them giggling and smiling and merrily on their way to the kitchen…)

My other guest was stripped completely naked and kneeling properly on a blanket on the floor by my side. Beautiful posture, quiet demeanor, and holding a small tea saucer and chopsticks in his hands. His eyes were big practically unblinking saucers throughout our meal, experiencing the moment he was in wholly, and taking small bites of the food I placed on his dish from my own plate. His attention was studied and careful, eating when I ate, drinking when I drank, and gracefully taking the whole experience in. This guest of mine had just cleaned my bathroom while dinner was being made. Earlier in the evening I had brought him to his first proper sex positive/kinky/queer/feminist sex store… If his eyes were dark saucers of pupil now during this meal, you can imagine how the soft brown of his irises had disappeared in that environment earlier. Under my instruction he had bought a new toy he was curious about trying out. I am holding the gift in my home until he has learned enough about pleasing me to earn his reward…

In the middle of our simple dinner I thought to myself, “Oh this, this is my life — this is my life and I am so very happy and grateful for it”.

Is this blog meant to brag about my situation? No, but I do want to talk about that feeling. I experience this particular shade of gratefulness not infrequently in the midst of nontraditional happenings. It creeps up on me during sex and fetish parties while trussed up in bizarre predicaments, or watching a room full of people vulnerable, raw, and connecting deeply. I get it performing onstage with talented politically adept fellow actors who are telling their stories and raising fists against the ghosts and injuries of their pasts. This feeling washes over me on perfectly temperate days sitting in the sun deep in nature away from other humans, and it comes to me when I’m lost in writing or my art making process. This feeling tastes like contentment infused with excitement, there are hints of sensuous power at the edges of it’s balanced and grounded finish. The feeling is a restful animal, turned on, full, knowing all is right with the world.

How did I find myself here in this beautiful moment surrounded by good food, a happy pup, and turned on houseboy? In short, I got here because I made it happen. The more detailed answer is through years of hard work examining my own issues and trying out different paths towards pleasure. I got here by fighting for my own identity to be acknowledged — first by myself, and then by others around me. I got here by studying sexuality and human behavior, by making mistakes along the way, and acknowledging the depths to which I self-repress. Like most people I sometimes release my needs sideways, which is a problem I’ve consciously kept examining and challenging, and committed to work towards a more and more direct path to pleasure — my own and others’. I’ve zig-zagged through relationships which did not suit me finding a million reasons to better learn “no”, I’ve learned to stand my ground about gender, sexual identity, non-monogamous heart longings, kink-over-sex limitations (my healthy preferences)… I’ve had to accept myself first against deep fears that I will be abandoned or slandered by those who don’t understand my wants and needs in effort to be happy. I’ve battled guilt about advocating for my desires, and I’ve come to the other side stronger and more fully realized after each ending.

Along the way I’ve met more and more friends who understand me layers down deeply. Friends who see me and who value my voice as I celebrate and thrill at the creatures they are too. I’ve met people who have given me permission to be wholly myself, who’ve demanded I say what I mean rather than what I think anyone listening expects to hear. I have learned to better love from these imps and faeries as they’ve allowed me. I’ve started to dare showing up in spaces I was afraid were not mine to inhabit (though I’ve fantasized for decades about being welcomed in them), and I’ve felt my jaw drop in awe at the beauty there which I’ve spent years missing out on, by way of fear, self worth traps, and denial.

This is what it’s like to live outside the comfort of dominant society. There are gifts glittering in the trees and campfires of our queer Elders who reside on the outer edges of normativity. I’ve found new breath in dirty drafty bars smelling of stale tobacco, leather, cheap beer, and human musk. There are concrete rooms draped in cloth and furnished with benches, wooden rigs, and outfitted with toys of every imagined use, which hold onto the sweaty stench of lust while nightly showcasing mad desires and the everyday stunt people who conquer knives, needles, whip lashings, feather ticklers, gruff melting words to the ear, bootprint bruises, chains for hitting or bondage, seduction via a potent mix of jealousy/shame/compersion/voyeurism released during a bull’s intentional thrusts, and in dark corners you can find instances of heartbreaking love coursing through the body of a kneeling silent creature holding onto the well known leg of their Master…

From the years of puberty on we are taught to see some “thing” that we want, and conquer it with a quick fuck, a ring, relational rules tempered by selfishness and leading frequently to lies. I am grateful to be sitting in a room with people who make my heart sing. I am thankful to have scattered across the country playmates of varied genders and relationship styles who are as happy to have me in their bed as they are to simply take tea and catch up, or choreograph an evening of humiliation and pain, or submit to my will, or mold me, putty that I am, between their own fingers for a night… I like this adult life of eyes which sparkle, pupils that dilate wide in awe and anticipation of what comes next in our scene, of building trust through clear and open communication of our fantasies, our desire, boundaries, always ruled within the constitution of presentness, consent, respect, and earned trust.

We are a tradition of animals who have told ourselves “no” enough times to understand what we are capable of, and not starting in until we are ready to jump. We are improv performers gifted at exiting gracefully from our scenes when we are ready for an end. We are bodies full of scars and pleasure points hidden sometimes from even ourselves, scouring each other’s maps for adventurous answers to common problems. We are simple. We are ridiculous. We are educated in the dangers we employ, and oathed to take responsibility for inevitable downfalls, for our mistakes and unforeseen consequences. We find happiness in silly places — and goddamn if that in itself isn’t some kind of satisfyingly sexy win.

If  you didn’t know it, this is a love letter. Thank you to the scores of friends who have guided and helped shape my journey, to the hands pleasuring my way on each new adventurous day, and to the future teachers and students of my body, my heart, and my mind. That I can experience and articulate my joy is in service to every single one of you. May my findings be permission for others to wonder what might be if they seeked out a new kind of happiness, one that looks like a private fantasy but exists somewhere safely and consensually close by, a fantasy shared by other architects and creators of desire.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Age Verification: www.ABCsOfKink.com addresses adult sensual and sexual information, including imagery associated with a wide variety of BDSM topics and themes. This website is available to readers who are 18+ (and/or of legal adult age within their districts). If you are 18+, please select the "Entry" button below. If you are not yet of adult age as defined by your country and state or province, please click the "Exit" link below. If you're under the age of consent, we recommend heading over to www.scarleteen.com — an awesome website, which is more appropriate to minors looking for information on these subjects. Thank you!