Integrating, Updating

I am, slower than I would like, bringing in a lot of my writing from previous blogs or cross-posting from membership-based sites so that I can share with more readers. The labels and such will all be fixed soon, and more content is on the way.

Thanks for reading!

Gem

Identities, Definitions and Protocols: No Cookie Cutter Answers

I was asked last week if the talks I was having with someone would constitute "mentoring." I use quotes because I was asked if I would consider it a Fetlife-applicable relationship and add Mentor to my profile. It came with a predefined ideal - not that it's a bad thing - but it made me think if what we were doing was, indeed, mentoring. Did it fit the definition of mentoring in order to warrant a relationship connection? Not that I mind it, do not misunderstand. In fact, I am flattered and honored. But I thought of the mentoring relationships to which I am exposed and I don't see the same styles. I started to wonder how it was defined, by whom, and what exactly it might entail.

And then I wondered why the hell it mattered how others would define it?

Silence is Golden. Duct Tape is Silver

He told me I would be punished... but not to the extent I would need the perfidious "punishment panties" again. Thank gods. I hate that red pile of thread; those panties, once so hot and fun, now meant only pain, shame, darkness. Even the word "punishment" - on its own - when coming from Deviant makes me shudder because my first thought is of that unwanted underwear.

Even with the caveat that they were not required for our session, I couldn't get the image of the panties and what they put me through out of my head. It definitely had an effect on my headspace going into our session.

It all started a week before. I was out enjoying a mid-week happy hour with a girlfriend. The bartender liked us and our personal happy hour extended far past what other patrons were offered. We had such a good time, in fact, that I ended up taking her home to my apartment because there was no way she could drive home. (No, don't ask. As much as the innuendo sounds good, we did not. Settled? Good.)

Interrogation is, ahem, "sew" much fun!

The leadup to that Friday night was... interesting... to say the least.

I was told that I would be forever changed and that I was ready for some next-level BDSM play. I was assured that when the night was over, I would experience new things and be ready for more elite play. I interpreted elite to mean not only the intensity of the play but the players themselves.

On more than one occasion, Deviant offered and then declined to tell me what I was facing. In part because I know that he, too, was excited, but in part - I have zero doubt - to fuck with my head. He's good at that, if you haven't noticed, and had me wondering, pondering, even fantasizing about what I would go through during our session.

I arrived a few minutes early. After greetings and hugs I spent some time chatting with his wife before he joined us in the kitchen. We continued talking for a short while longer and then it was time for us to begin. I made my way up to the play room and lit the candles. There was music already playing... but not in the play room. I found that a bit strange - we usually play music from an iPod docked in the room with us - but it wasn't totally foreign. Aside from the initial consideration, I didn't give it another thought until I saw the iPod on the bondage table.

Sensory deprivation was on the menu. I didn't need any more confirmation than that.