Read This, You Filthy Sluts

DISCLAIMER: This is not an instruction manual. If you aren't experienced with any of the things I'm writing about, and want to try any of these types of things, great, but don't try to wing it. It's never fun when someone gets hurt in a bad way. Do your research, and talk to someone reputable and knowledgeable first. I'm usually willing to answer questions, but the likelihood of me providing a physical demonstration for you is pretty low.

I'm a fan of bondage and role playing, and have mentioned it casually in a few blog posts. In the post about polyamory, I mentioned that not all poly people are kinky to dispel a stereotype. While that is true, Trisha, Michelle, and I are kinky.

Kink basically refers to sexual practices that are considered unconventional, such as BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism, and Masochism), role playing, specific fetishes, like leather for example, voyeurism (enjoying watching someone else), exhibitionism (enjoying being watched), group sex, etc.

Like any sexual activity, enthusiastic consent is paramount. "Safe, sane, and consensual" is a motto a lot of kinky people use. If you don't have consent, it is sexual assault/abuse. With kink, a lot of communication needs to happen. You have to articulate what can and can't happen before doing anything. Sadly though, abuse does happen among kinky people. Fifty Shades of Grey is not something you should be using as an instruction manual. What happens in that book is abusive. Plus it's trash literature in general. Maybe if you have a copy, put it in your recycle bin so it has a chance at becoming something with more value. That should work out just fine. It's a low bar.

Communication and boundary setting are important in any relationship, and that much more so when it comes any kind of power play or infliction of pain. Always communicate with your partner(s) about boundaries, what is desired, worth exploring, and what any hard limits are. Not every kink is every kinky person's kink. I recommend just making a list and checking what you want, what's worth exploring, and what's off limits. A scene should be planned out by everyone involved before taking place.

Safe words or gestures (if you can't speak because you're using gags) are a must. If you are the dominant partner, check on your submissive partner frequently, especially if you're new to each other. Any word or gesture can be used, but common ones are "red" for stop, "yellow" for slow down, "green" for keep going. I saw some random article about common safe words a while back that said "Oklahoma" was a common safe word because that's where the fun stops. I don't know if the article was accurate, but I thought that was pretty amusing.

Personally, I identify as a switch, which means I can enjoy being submissive or dominant, but I lean strongly to the former most of the time, which surprises some people. Sometimes I actually want to give up control, which for me, and some other submissive people, is like taking a break from always being a hard core Type A personality in control in every other aspect of life. Trisha is usually more dominant sexually, and Michelle is more back and forth. There are people who live a whole lifestyle of kink all the time. For us, it's just something we enjoy casually sometimes. Personally, I enjoy being on the receiving end of language that would rightfully be considered abusive in other contexts, being in bondage and submitting to and pleasuring someone I trust sometimes. I'm kind of bratty on purpose since spanking, being restrained, candle wax, Wartenberg pinwheel (a little wheel with spikes you can roll on the skin), various other sex toys, and face slapping can be fun punishments. Sometimes I, and other subs, can reach a sort of state of mind called "subspace," where I'm in almost a sort of trance-like euphoria as a result of the pleasure/pain causing the release of adrenaline and endorphins (science!). During that state, I'm as in the moment as I ever can be, and really have no thoughts of whatever stress is currently in my life. There is also topspace, which is also like a sort of "high" and in-the-moment state, but much more focused and aware of the submissive partner's state and desires.

Of course that doesn't last forever. There is a comedown because this can be pretty tiring. That's where aftercare comes in. Aftercare is something a lot of people, including us, do after any kinky play. It's meant to help transition out of intense activity back to the real world. It can be whatever works. I'm kind of a cuddle whore anyway, so usually that and conversation do it for me. That seems to be a pretty standard aftercare. 

Play parties, where people go in a group to enjoy various kinky activities, don't really do much for me. I've been to a few. Social anxiety doesn't help. To each their own, but I don't trust people I don't know well, and I guess it's sort of an intimacy and vulnerability I share with people I'm close to, such as my partners. Like I mentioned earlier, not every kink is every kinky person's kink. Also, just because someone is another person's sub or Dom doesn't mean they're YOURS. Just FYI.

Personally, I find consensual play with power and control pleasurable. Lot's of people don't, and that's valid, and lots of people do, but it's considered taboo. Society seems to think of sex as something that just happens. Even if your taste is totally vanilla, it's really best to communicate your needs and desires and those of your partners instead of being lazy or careless, which can wind up resulting in someone being hurt or not enjoying themselves to the fullest extent possible.

This was probably one of the harder things for me to write about, and isn't specifically about any trans issues. Maybe it's just how personal all this shit is. As open as I am about pretty much everything, this is stuff that typically goes on in the privacy of a home, but maybe that's why I wanted to talk about it and maybe educate someone a little on a topic that is often stigmatized and kept in the dark. It's often assumed that there is something wrong with kinky people, but most of us are like everyone else. We just like it a little rough, which doesn't make us damaged, depraved, or traumatized, though consensual power play can be a valid way to work through trauma and reclaim your sexuality. This is largely my personal experience as a mostly submissive, and I made it a point not to spill too much tea about anyone else. I'll include a few links with more kinky info. They're mostly focused on queer women, as that's basically my experience:

Kinky Terminology

BDSM Explained by Stevie Because I Love How She Explains Things

Being a Switch

Impact Play (Spanking, etc.)

Statistics and Charts Because I'm Nerd for Such Things

Boxes

I don’t think it’s particularly constructive to spend a great deal of time putting people in boxes like someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder stacks pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters in individual towers from left to right, according to value. I’m not really going to demonize people for trying to put me in boxes, given the fact that they spend at least as much time doing it to themselves and each other, but I feel as though I’m probably more sensitive and resistant to it than average.

The problem with the boxes we all create is they don’t always make as much sense as they appear to at first. Things that have nothing to do with each other get put into the same box. Either/or thinking excludes everything between ‘either’ and ‘or.’ Half the time ‘either’ and ‘or’ aren’t even opposites to begin with. Gender identity and sexual preference are constantly abused in this way.

If you’re a heterosexual woman, you’re expected to be exclusively into men. Lesbians are expected to be exclusively into other women. It works the same way if you’re male. Bisexuals are assumed to be confused,  greedy, or not half way out of the closet.  In reality, all of this is fairly fluid, subject to countless variables. I really only identify as someone who does whatever I want, but that’s just too confusing for most people. I don’t tend to refer to myself as “gay,” “straight” “bisexual,” or “lesbian” for any other reason than the convenience of others. Sometimes I’m guilty of using black and white terminology to end boring conversations.

If you’re physically transitioning from one sex to the other, a lot of people just take that to mean that you’re also becoming heterosexual, and even that heterosexuality is a primary motivation. My primary attractions are to men. That’s just how I roll. It isn’t written in stone somewhere. I didn’t sign any documents.  If I express attraction to another woman, let alone act on it, some people act like I just shot at them. It’s hilarious sometimes. If anything, there has been some increased fluidity in who I'm attracted to since beginning hormone therapy. Increased. Not new so much.  A lot of things I’m more sensitive to now aren’t really so specific to other people’s genders. And those things were there before all this to some degree or another. The fact that my sexuality in general isn’t totally one-dimensional is something I enjoy. An increased openness to experience is also something I enjoy. Plus, it gives me something to do.

As someone transitioning from male to female, I’m expected to be almost a caricature of the stereotypical, hyper-feminine woman,  as if that’s all it means to be a woman. Yeah, because that’s why I’m spending thousands of dollars doing all this--because I care so intensely what everyone thinks of me, and just want to “perform” that much more efficiently. Ironically, transgender people are big offenders in this area. If that’s who you really are, great, but I think a lot of people are probably trying to make up for lost time and end up overcompensating, not understanding why I don’t do the same.

For instance, I usually use makeup pretty much the same way most other women who wear makeup use it. I’m a jeans girl. I don’t have a dress and heels on every time I leave the house. I’m not demur. I’m not submissive unless I want to be (sometimes, but this sort of thing could be a whole separate blog entry). I don’t defer to men when I want to do something. I pack heat and happen to be a good shot. I’m good at math. I’m a computer geek. I love gory movies. I like to fuck in inappropriate places. I’m still me, just more so than I was before starting this process.

Gender is at the core of who we are. A sense of our gender and the genders of everyone around us is one of the first things people develop. Most people never have to spend a great deal of time thinking about or questioning it. But if your body doesn’t match with your brain, you will think about it a lot. My transition is not motivated by my sexuality or a desire to perform some stereotypical role. It’s something I need to do to become fully me, instead of half of me.