Another girl, another planet

Where to begin, even.

I have been through a whole lot of ups and downs lately. I started to believe I was being intentionally mindfucked over a job offer — it was “Yes!” “No!” “Yes!” “No!” “Maybe!”

and finally, definitively “Yes!” yesterday.

In the meantime, in between time, ain’t we got fun?

There had been very little fun in my life since all that rotten business back in September. But there comes a time in a boy’s life when he must pick himself up, dust himself off, and get on with the masochism. Which is exactly what I did last week.

Actually, it started a couple weeks before last week. It started with Miss Susie setting up her blog just before Christmas. I wrote to her; she wrote to me and things started to click. That “click” is the most important thing, and I realize that I have been extremely lucky in my pursuit of S&M happiness of late.

Back when I wasn’t sure what I really wanted out of this whole thing, I was lucky enough to find Miss Mitsu who introduced me to a whole new world of rope and electricity and needles and clips and on and on. Now that I have a much better sense of what I like, there’s a very different feeling about looking for a new playmate.

As fate would have it, I got lucky again. There’s so much more involved than a simple coordination of kinks. It’s not math, people. It’s not simply a matter of “do you like rope bondage? I like rope bondage!” but a more complex chemistry. I have read on the so-called internet about “McSessions” and other horror stories, and I can imagine what that experience must be like. Again, I feel very very lucky.

So last week I arrived at Pandora’s Box for my first session in months with a brand new Mistress in a brand new setting. Let’s back up to the moment when I was on the phone booking that session: it all came flooding back. I have fetishized the entire process of calling to book a session; extracting the cash from the ATM; and walking to the dungeon. I felt it in my stomach as the receptionist from Pandora’s told me to call back to confirm an hour before my session. That felt good.

Honestly, the trip from my house to Pandora’s is not nearly as erotic as my old walk through SoHo to Rapture. There just aren’t as many lingerie shops in the neighborhood. Nor is there a daunting staircase. How am I going to keep my buttocks firm and tight without three flights of stairs? But these are minor details; let’s get to the action.

I’m not much for protocol. Some people love it and need it, but I’m not one of them. I did as I was told, of course, and stripped and kneeled and waited.

Eventually the door opened and I heard Her enter the room. I did not lift my head but I saw a sweep of legs pass by out of the corner of my eye. I heard a cabinet open, music started, then a fingernail scratched me on the top of my head: “You can get up now.”

Go look up some pictures of Miss Susie to see how tall and lovely she is. Now bear in mind that she is MORE beautiful in person.

And so it began. We talked; she unpacked her rope and started working it around my body. The whole time I was simply reeling with delight at being back in that space. A different physical space than before, but the same mental space. A different guide than before, but she was taking me to familiar, but new, places.

As always, I am holding back some details. There was a hat, but I won’t say what kind of hat. That’s just between us.

I was restrained and then Miss Susie brought out her brand new electronic gadgetry — the Eros Tek ET-232. Oh that is a fine device! I was happy to serve as Miss Susie’s test dummy as we ran the ET-232 through it’s various settings. It had been so long since I felt anything like it that I just couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

One of the problems of being a masochist is that the more it hurts, the happier I get. More than once Miss Susie said “You’re having too much fun. I’ll have to turn it down.” But the real thrill of a session isn’t necessarily the voltage running from her device through my body; the real thrill is the connection between her eyes and mine. 

I think I’ll stop now.

Get the Balance Right

I can’t believe it has almost been a whole year since I had my first session with Miss Mitsu. Then again, it sometimes feels like that happened a decade ago. Time distorts when you’re having twisted fun, I guess.

It has certainly been an eventful year. I went from eager but ignorant newbie to blood-soaked pinchusion in less than twelve months. I went from lonely nights of agnst, porn and booze to S&M video star and public performer. Ok, I only made three videos and only played in public once, but it sure did tickle my exhibitionist side.

The point being, I spent a huge part of my life with these urges swirling around inside me until I finally took control and let them all out. Once again I will declare how lucky I feel to have found the perfect guide in Miss Mitsu. One of the moments that stands out in my brain is the time we played at the Cat o’Nine party at Lit in NY last February. We had sessioned a few times and shot one video, so we had a nice foundation. I don’t remember talking much about the scene she had in mind for that night. What I do remember is her telling me to watch her stuff while she went to talk to someone. She came back to where I was sitting, picked up her bag, then looked at me and said “Ready?” I don’t think I spoke. Maybe I mumbled “Yes.” Then I stood up and followed her to the stage.

That night was a great high for me. There I was, wearing my latex t-shirt in a club full of kinksters, and the most beautiful domme in the place was leading me onto the stage for hell knows what. I remember “Israel” by Siouxsie & the Banshees was playing during our scene. There was rope, there was a whip, there was a little choking, then she sat on me. A great night all around.

And from there, we moved on to hit many more highs. Scenes I had dreamed of for years as well as scenes I never even imagined before Mitsu guided me along this path. Hypnosis? Buddhist meditation? I really didn’t expect those to be part of my S&M journey, but here we are.

Things have been kind of crazy in the NY scene for the last few weeks. No one knows what’s going to happen or what the future holds for the world of kink here. I’m trying not to worry about it since I have enough turmoil in my personal life to keep me busy for now.

Regardless of what the future brings, I have come a long way. I have met some truly amazing people (on both ends of the whip). My kink is still there, but it’s no longer the angry dog howling in its cage and straining at the leash. It’s more of a comfortable cat these days; it’s curled up for a nap right now, but someday it will stretch itself out again. The difference is that now I possess a confident curiosity rather than a blind, desperate desire. 

Thank you again, Mitsu. And thanks to the whole Rapture tribe.

Electric Bondage Playtime

Last Friday I went directly to Rapture as soon as I got out of work. That was a little odd — I usually take a whole day off, or at least a half day, when I have a session with Mitsu. It was definitely a different vibe going directly from the world of work into the world of fantasy play. I was feeling pretty run down and a bit glum by the end of the day, even questioning whether I was in the right mood for a session. All those doubts were dispelled as soon as Mitsu walked into the Red Room.

One reason I was feeling a little glum was that my limits on marks are back in place. I was getting down on myself a bit for still concealing my kink; for sneaking off to a session and having to settle for less than I truly desire. I also have plenty of drama in my work-life these days, so it all added up to a rather anxious mindset Friday afternoon.

Despite all those sorts of feelings, I have total confidence in Mitsu’s abilities. I know that Rapture is the place where the rules are suspended. Most important, it’s a place for PLAY. I can leave all my day-to-day concerns and anxieties in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and enter a special space with a special guide.

Everything about Friday afternoon was just right. I felt completely at ease from the moment Mitsu entered the room. We talked, I gave her presents, I got undressed. I like to refer back to Mitsu’s profile on Rapture, and today I’m thinking about this sentence: “I prefer to let things unfold without scripts.” I hung up my clothes then sat on the bed. There was no moment of “Ok, now we’re going to start” — I sat down and we continued talking as she picked up some rope and started to bind me.

I was sitting cross-legged on the bed, hands resting on my knees as Mitsu tied my forearms to my thighs. She looped the rope around my neck, added some twine to my cock & balls, then secured me to the bedframe. Then she pulled out the Violet Wand. This was my first experience with this particular device. First she plugged it in then stuck an attachment down the back of her panties, thus turning herself into an electrical device. Watching the sparks jump from her fingertips to my skin was very nice indeed. Then she picked up a pinwheel and sent more jolts through me — along my legs, across my chest, around my cock. But all that was just the warmup.

Mitsu untied me, made me squirm into the middle of the bed, then she re-tied me. My arms were still tied securely to my legs, with a loop around my neck, then she hoisted my legs into the air and tied them off. I was securely caught in her rope web, with more twine holding my junk in place. Electrode bands were fastened at the base of my cock behind my balls, and at the top of my shaft just behind the head. The Violet Wand was put away and the trusty TENS unit brought out and put through its paces.

In addition to the wonderful sensations she was sending through me, I really enjoyed Mitsu explaining what she was up to. This was one of the chattiest sessions we have had in a while, which contributed to the sense of light-hearted play. There weren’t any goals, there weren’t any cameras, there wasn’t any blood, just two people enjoying some playtime together with rope and electricity. And a hairbrush. She did smack me a bit with a brush. And the nipple clamps. Let’s not forget the nipple clamps. Four days later, there’s still a delightful faint soreness in my nips.

The other striking element of our playtime was the degree to which I lost the ability to speak. I’ve commented before on my inability to keep track of numbers as I drift through subspace, but I think it goes deeper than that. As Mitsu turned the knobs, I began squealing and growling and grunting with all sorts of shock and delight — not really surprising. But there were moments when I was genuinely trying to speak but I just couldn’t do it. That’s a huge thing for me — I am a very verbal person. Part of my submission to Mitsu is so completely turning myself over to someone else that I even surrender the power of speech. She turned me into her twitching, yelping robot and I loved every minute of it.

Perhaps most important of all, Friday’s session reminded me how much FUN this all is. I was listening to Graydancer’s Ropecast interview with Mia recently and there’s a bit where he talks about giggling and laughing in the dungeon. It’s the last thing people expect in an S&M scene, but it’s a huge part of what attracts me. Go back and read the excerpt from Fakir Musafar I posted here back in June for more on this theme.

Of course, not every session is going to be so lighthearted, but that’s part of what I love about playing with Mitsu. Some scenes will be rough and fast, some scenes will be serious and pointy, and some scenes will be funtimeUSA. The challenge now is to find ways to incorporate more play into the rest of my life. I don’t mean more S&M play or sex play, just PLAY. Let things unfold without scripts, loosen my grip on the steering wheel, let my unconscious mind take the reins for a while and see where it all leads…

I Go Swimming

Twenty four hours ago, I was in the middle of this:

The One Hundred Needles of Miss Mitsu

I don’t even know where to begin. We began last night with a bit of corporal punishment. We don’t do that too much, but my limits on markings were temporarily suspended.

So she tied me up, commanded me to the floor, then thrashed me. There was the initial pain, then she built up through “this is ok” to “this fucking HURTS” then on to “why are you doing this to me?” She pushed me a little farther than before with a cane at the end. I don’t know if I could have taken any more, but I’m really glad she stopped when she did.

Then it was onto the bed where she roped me up and held me down. I had a bit of wiggle room. I have no desire to escape, but I do like to see what the range of motion is for any particular rigging. I like having something there to hold me up; something utterly solid on which I can rely during the coming test.

I haven’t mentioned yet how spare the setting of the room at first appeared to be. The Silver Room felt quite empty when I arrived. When Mitsu came in she almost immediately ordered me to strip. “Don’t you want your presents first?” I asked. She allowed me to give her gifts, but then we moved right along. We often talk for a good long time, but last night, she seemed eager to get down to business.

And the business of the night was piercing.

Once I was fully restrained, Mitsu pulled boxes and boxes of needles from the cupboards, set up a tray with the requisite supplies, then set to work on my body. My body. Mine Mine Mine! I get to do whatever the fuck I want to do with it. And what I want to do with it is turn it over to Mitsu.

She sat on top of me and surveyed her blank canvas. She picked up a needle, opened a packet of lube, and started pushing needles into my tender juicy flesh.

My brain got into a thought loop: whenever a needle went in, I thought “wow, that feels like electricity.” Then I would think “But people describe electricity as feeling like pinpricks.” Over and over. Maybe you had to be there.

Three through each nipple. Fucking brilliant.

Mitsu worked her way down my torso.

The first needle in the Crown of Thorns hurts like a dog-fucking bitch. The next fifteen felt better and better.

The neglected angle on this scene is that I got to spend the better part of two hours flat on my back watching Mitsu do her thing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s a rather attractive young woman. And there she was, carefully regarding her specimen to insure symmetry of design in her needlework. My body was entirely hers. Her canvas. Her sandbox.

After the Crown of Thorns was done she paused to admire her handiwork. Mitsu counted 57 needles. That wasn’t nearly enough.

I was seriously trying to keep count of the number of needles Mitsu put through me as she worked her way down my cock and beyond. She really got a rhythm going — flipping off the caps, dipping into the lube, sliding through the skin. I remember asking her how many there were — I thought we were around 62; she said 69. I for real cannot keep numbers in my head when people are pushing needles through my dick.

Mitsu came up for air at number 80. It was decreed that we would go to one hundred — a nice round number. It only meant ten more needles on each leg. What could be finer?

At long last, Mitsu completed her design. I was released and allowed to stand to admire myself in the mirror. It was rather delicate maneuvering, but I stood and gazed and was greatly pleased. Then I returned to the bed and Mitsu began removing the needles.

That’s when the blood starts.

And now we are in an entirely new category. A completely different reality. The place we are is the place in which the command “Masturbate with your own blood” is met with eager compliance.

Just incase you don’t recall how an erection works, let me remind you. Your dick gets hard when chambers in the penis are swollen with blood. If someone has poked a bunch of holes in the end of your cock, it might get a little messy if you find yourself aroused. And what better aid to arousal than asphyxiation and face/neck pressure points? It seems to work well for me.

My cock was a dancing fountain of blood.

The horrific smear of blood and come across my torso at the conclusion of this affair truly blew my mind. This experience has left what Flagg might call an “irrevocable boot print” on my mind. I’m holding back a few details, which truly threw me over the far horizon.

And cleaning up afterward was a bitch. There exists some variety of spray bandage. Mitsu hit me with it after I showered and was about to get dressed. That stuff burns like a motherfucker. It seals up your holes and you won’t be weeping blood on your way home, but it hurts real bad. Just when you thought you were done.

I sure am glad I had the whole day off to recover today. Here’s a shot of the aftermath:

The Morning After

Not so bad, really. Not on the outside.

On the inside, there’s all sorts of chaos and confusion. There was, anyway. That has settled substantially over the last few hours.

This is what I like to do.

End transmission.

Let’s try some bondage…

On a rainy afternoon last November, Miss Mitsu said those words to me:

“Let’s try some bondage…”

That precise moment rings out clearly through all of my memories of my journey so far. We began our first session together with an excellent conversation about my previous experiences, my limits, and my fantasies. Mitsu smoked a cigarette and listened and talked. Then she stubbed out the end of her cigarette and said, “Let’s try some bondage.”

And then she tied me up. As she was tying me, she talked about the history of Japanese bondage in her lovely soothing voice. It was the start of an amazing time that featured rope and twine and clothespins and electricity and brain tweaking.

The second time I came to visit Mitsu, she suspended me. It can take a while to get all rigged up, but I love that time. I like the small commands “put your hands up” “give me your arm,” I like the closeness to her lovely figure, and I like her concern for my safety and well being. Then there’s the whole aesthetic angle — well-done ropework looks cool. And it leaves nice marks:

 

Rope Hickeys

That photo was taken by Head Mistress Sade after I shot my first video with Mitsu. That was a monumental day for me and I’m glad to have this picture. Mitsu had tied me in a lot of rope and it was taking a long time to un-do. She had to run to another appointment so Sade kindly stepped in to finish setting me free.

That video session really threw my mind into a spin. I was suspended face-down for a good long time while Mitsu turned me  into her windchime by attaching stuff to my body, including hanging my big black boots off my cock. I remember the moment I slid fully into subspace — I thought to myself “Elvis has left the building…” as I relaxed into the sensations.

Our next Play Date draws near and Mitsu has been posting about speed bondage and face bondage and all the stuff she learned at TES Fest. I have a hunch I might have a rope hickey or two next week at this time.

Who I am and what this is

I am a middle-aged man living in New York City who has taken his first steps into the amazing world of S&M. I consider myself extremely lucky to have connected with an exceptional person to guide me along this path: Miss Mitsu, one of the Dommes at Rapture.

The current phase of my journey began on a cold and cloudy day last November when I had my first session with Mitsu, but my interest/fascination/obsession with the worlds of kink and S&M has very deep roots. Something I am learning about myself is that I am a masochist. I intend to use this space to explore exactly what that means.

To begin at the beginning would be to go all the way back to when I was about three years old. This is an incident I have no memory of, but my mother has told me the story multiple times. Mom was working in the garden and I was playing outside. She heard me crying and came running. According to her, I was standing at the fence that separated our yard from our neighbor’s yard. The two next door neighbor boys were poking me in the belly with sticks. I just stood there, bleeding and crying while they jabbed away.

My earliest memory of auto-erotic sado-masochism is from when I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. There’s a Buggs Bunny cartoon called “From Hare to Heir” (1960) that contains this exchange between Yosemite Sam and his Advisor (who has a huge, phallic nose):

Advisor: But Sire, there is no more money. Your uncle, the king, has cut off your allowance.
Yosemite Sam: You know the penalty for not having the books balanced!
Advisor: Oh no. Not the ‘nose-in-the-book’ penalty.
Yosemite Sam: Yeah, the nose-in-the-book.
[Advisor puts his nose in the book and Sam slams it]
Yosemite Sam: WE’VE GOTTA GET SOME MONEY!

I acted out this scene by myself, but instead of slamming my nose in a book, I slammed my cock in the toilet seat.

Hmmm…

There’s plenty more where that came from, which I’ll write about here from time to time.

For now I’ll just explain the title of this blog.

Mitsu has kept a blog for a while, and I often write her long e-mails about what’s going on inside my brain before and after our sessions. Last week she suggested I post some of those thoughts to a blog, so here we are.

I kicked around a few ideas for the title “Masochism World,” “The Masochist Monk,” “The Center of the Cyclone” and others. A few days ago I was reading a book by Alan Watts called What is Zen? and I sent Mitsu this quote:

The whole point of Zen is to suspend the rules we have superimposed on things and to see the world as it is — as all of a piece. This has to be done in a special setting of some kind, because you can’t just gaily walk out into the street and suspend the rules. And if you do, you’ll create traffic confusion of every conceivable kind! But we can set up a certain environment in which we have an agreement to suspend the rules — that is to say to meditate, to stop thinking for a while, to stop making formulations.

When I first climbed the stairs to Rapture over six months ago, the last thing I expected was a reawakening of my interest in Zen philosophy and Buddhism. But this journey is way more complicated than I ever imagined, thanks to the brilliant wide-ranging mind of Miss Mitsu.

I have come to see my times at Rapture with Mitsu as the special setting in which I can safely suspend the rules. Rules about what your body is for; rules about pleasure and pain; rules about what part of the brain gets to run the show.

The title is also perfect because one of the things I enjoy immensely is suspension bondage. There’s something indescribable about being bound with ropes and hoisted into the air. The total vulnerability; the total faith in my Mistress; the endorphin rush; the whole damn package is mind blowing.

Mind-blowing. That’s probably my favorite way to describe the experiences I have had so far. I’m eager to keep exploring the limits of both my mind and my body with the guidance of the incredibly skilled, wicked smart, and utterly gorgeous Mitsu.