August 3 2004

Jennifer, creator of the fabulous Naked Oblivion spanking story site (and the non-erotic but well-written Creative Doubt blog), sent me a thought-provoking email that has inspired me to write this entry. I adore Jennifer, both her writing and her personality, despite her evil contributions to the Big Memorial Day Bet (among other things, she was responsible for the caning).

Jennifer generously offered, in the email she sent me, to give me her boyfriend’s email address so that I could get a little payback for Memorial Day by sending him some suggestions. Of course, I enthusiastically accepted the offer... we’ll see if she’s actually has the nerve to go through with sending me the address!

What inspired this entry, however, was this part of her email:

The issue of safe words is one that many BDSM practitioners feel quite strongly about, one way or the other. My own stance is simple and uncompromising: Whether I’m on top or bottom, I don’t play with safe words. Ever. I won’t play with a top who allows me a safe word, and I won’t play with a bottom who insists on being allowed a safe word. This is one of my primary criteria for screening prospective playmates. It screens out about 90% of them: my position is definitely the minority position.

I have no interest in ever being part of any BDSM “scene” or “community,” so it’s not that big a problem for me that I’m part of a vastly-outnumbered minority in respect to a frequently divisive issue. If I was interested in being part of some local BDSM “scene” or “community” (though this is a big “if” that would basically entail me being a completely different person), it would be a big problem, because from what I’ve read and heard, I’m not just part of a minority, I’m part of a persecuted minority.

Basically, it works like this: everyone I’ve ever met on my side of the issue takes this stance: “If you play with me, there’s no safe words. If that’s not completely acceptable to you, for any reason, then I’m not the right person for you to play with.”

On the other hand, the majority of the people on the other side of the issue seem to take this stance: “Everyone must use safe words, because it’s the one and only right way to do it, and if you don’t do it that way, you are an evil heretic, and all who are righteous like me shall condemn you and flame you on the internet and ostracize you and bitch about you endlessly.”

Obviously, Jennifer isn’t like that at all. Her comments were motivated by friendly concern, and there was no condemnation or hostility or intrusiveness in what she said or how she said it. But she’s unusually great in that respect (in most respects, actually). In her tolerance and pleasantness, she represents an enlightened minority within the obnoxious majority.

It’s also possible that the “one true way” Inquisition crowd are only a majority here in the Bay Area. It does seem to be tied in with the whole Politically Correct radical feminist stance that’s so annoyingly rampant around here. The people who try to tell me that there’s one right way to do BDSM are the same ones who call me a “gender traitor” for shaving my legs and armpits. They’re also the same ones who march in the Dyke March and the Gay Pride march every year carrying signs demanding “tolerance.” Which is like the Republicans claiming to be defending “freedom.” Phooey.

My God, look at me... I’m ranting! Now I see why Nicky does so much of it in his blog: it feels great! I might make a habit of this!

But back to the point of this entry, which is to explain why I don’t play with safe words. Jennifer says she understands my reasons, but I’ve got a lot of reasons, so maybe there’s at least one of them she hasn’t heard before...

Oh, if there’s actually anyone who reads this who doesn’t yet know what a safe word is: it’s a word, agreed upon by the top and bottom prior to play, which the bottom can call out in order to call a halt to whatever is going on at the time.

So here, then, are my reasons for not including safe words in my play:

1. I’m only turned on if there’s a genuine element of nonconsensuality involved. The turn-on comes from the helpless bottom (whether it’s me or the other person) being subjected to something that they would escape from if they could. If that element isn’t there, then it’s just not that exciting or satisfying for me. That’s just the way I’m wired. Probably it’s because my first sexual experiences (see my accounts in the Stories section) were nonconsensual. Whatever the reason, that’s what I need in order to have a satisfying experience, whether I’m the bottom or the top. And I’m just no good at suspending disbelief. If the safe word option is there, then I always know that it’s really fake: the nonconsensuality is just roleplaying, and that doesn’t work for me.

Funny... in her August 1 blog entry, Yoko said to her fellow bloggers: “I've been catching up on your blogs and am amused to see a lot of them sharing the theme of integrity.” And I guess this is my entry on my own twisted sort of integrity... sexual integrity, being honest about, and true to, my own sexual needs, even though they may be disturbing to others. But then, I guess that’s what this whole site is about.

I think that nonconsensuality is one of the great taboos, especially for women, because generally when one speaks of nonconsensuality in sex, one is speaking of rape. But that’s not what I’m talking about. Rape sucks. It’s happened to me. It didn’t turn me on. It also didn’t put me off my kind of nonconsensual sex. I’ve actually met people (all of them man-hating feminists) who have been angry at me for not having my sexuality damaged by rape: “Damn it, stop having fun, you’re supposed to be traumatized!” Well, I was traumatized. Just not sexually. Maybe my teenage bondage experiences warped my sexuality so powerfully that I became immune to any further warping.

Anyway, my kind of nonconsensual sex is nothing like rape, because you choose your partner. You get things done to you that you’d stop if you could, but they’re being done by someone who you like (though maybe not at that moment), and are attracted to, and who likes you, and whom you trust to care about your well-being.

Anyway, that’s my primary reason for not playing with safe words: just knowing the safe word is there, knowing that the bottom does potentially have that bit of control, just ruins the central turn-on for me, even if the safe word never gets used.

I’m not unique in this. I’ve met a few people like me, over the years (including the ever-anomalous Nicky, who prefers to have that nonconsensual element in his BDSM, but who also claims to enjoy straight, consensual, vanilla sex. Weird).

So that’s my main reason, but as it happens, it’s not my only one...

2. I like gags. Especially ball-gags. Big, tight ball-gags that make it impossible for the victim to speak except for those cute little “Mmmph” noises. So how the hell is someone who’s gagged like that going to use a safe word? Hand signals, knocking in code, or humming a tune? Forget it. No way you can do that stuff when you’re being seriously tickled.

3. Safe words create a false sense of security, in both the bottom and the top. In a real emergency, like if the bottom has a heart attack or a stroke, or starts choking on something, or has a really severe asthma attack, or goes into some sort of deep Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder flashback, chances are that she’s not going to be able to utter her safe word anyway. If the top knows there’s no safe word, then she knows she has to pay attention, in case something like that happens. If there’s a safe word, then the top might think, “Those are some odd noises she’s making, but if she really needed me to stop tickling her, she’d use her safe word, so I shouldn’t worry.”

I’ve heard a couple of horror stories (one first-hand) about people who had PTSD-type flashbacks in which they couldn’t remember their safe words, resulting in nightmarish experiences because the top thought that if they really wanted it to stop, they’d use the safe word. Nicky, on the other hand, told me that he’s had a bottom go into that sort of flashback, and he spotted it, stopped the play, and was able to provide the comfort the person needed. Why was he able to spot it in time? Because he was paying attention, because there was no safe word to lull him a false sense of reduced responsibility.

4. Maybe for some people, the safe word, as Jennifer said, wouldn’t be a cop-out. But I’d use it as a cop-out. I’m a wimp. The “payoff” for me, the deep subspace high, only kicks in well after the point where I would have wimped out and used my safe word if I had the option. What I’m after, in myself when I’m the bottom and in my victim when I’m the top, lies on the other side of an “I can’t take any more of this” feeling that’s strong enough that I, for one, couldn’t get through it unless I had no choice in the matter.

5. Yes, I know that even if sometimes safe words provide a false sense of security, they can also sometimes be very useful in an emergency, as Jennifer said. What I’m saying here is that for me, in light of items number 1 and 4 in particular, they’re not worth it. It’s an individual choice, that everyone’s got to make for themselves. It’s the old Freedom vs. Security choice. How much of my life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness do I want to compromise out of fear of the Worst Case Scenario? To what extent am I willing to curtail my nighttime walks out of fear of mugging or rape? How much of my privacy and freedom will I let the government take away out of fear of a terrorist attack?

I have more anxieties and phobias than most people, and a more-than-mild case of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, so I’ve built a very safe little life for myself, and in most areas of that life I err on the side of caution to a degree that many people would consider abnormal. Sex is where I get to walk on the wild side. Sex is where I dare, where I play on the edge. So it’s the one area in my life where freedom gets to win out over security, where I choose to take big risks. It’s the one area where I don’t compromise my pleasure out of fear of the Worst Case Scenario. I know the risks, and to me, in this one area of my life, they are absolutely worth it.

So that’s why I don’t play with safe words.

 

Anyway... This is probably my last entry before the votes are counted in my rematch bet with Valkyrie on Friday. If you’re just tuning in and don’t know what that’s all about, see last month’s entries.

Friday morning, after breakfast, Valkyrie and I both get tied up in our underwear while Neige opens up the 12 votes that readers sent in. Whichever one of us got more votes gets untied. Loser stays tied, and, for the next twelve hours or so, is at the mercy of the winner and Neige (and Yoko, via email... plus Geminica, Jennifer, Kristine, and/or Sam if any of them choose to participate by email). No safe words, of course.

Tune in Friday morning (more like early afternoon for you East-Coasters) for my victory announcement. If no victory announcement appears, it means that Valkyrie will probably be making me write my very unhappy non-victory announcement sometime later that day.

 

August 6 2004 (Morning)

I won!

I won I won I won I won I won!

In fact, I won by a landslide: 11 to 1! Thank you, thank you, everyone who voted for me!

Well, well, well... there’s one very nervous Valkyrie tied spreadeagled on my bed in her underwear right now. And she’s got every reason to be nervous, especially after the little trash-talking session we had over breakfast to get our competitive juices flowing!

As soon as I was untied and re-dressed, Neige and I adjusted Valkyrie’s bonds to get her nicely stretched out (full stretching hadn’t been possible when she and I were both tied, awaiting the vote count, which Neige took her time with to build the suspense).

While I’m writing this, Neige is fitting her with a nice, tight ball-gag. As soon as I post this, I’ll go cut her underwear off, and then Neige and I will get to work shaving her pubic hair (except the hairs on the really delicate parts, which we get to pluck). Then we’ll whip out Neige’s digital camera and take a photo for your enjoyment.

Amid all our mutual threatening and trash-talking, I’ve carefully avoided mentioning the shaving-and-photo plan to Valkyrie, so I’m really looking forward to her reaction (thus the ball-gag, which makes outraged facial expressions and furious protests a whole lot funnier).

Ah, revenge is sweet...

So... Yoko, Geminica, Jennifer, Sam, Kristine: if you’re tuned in today, now’s the time to send your input! I’ll check my email when the shaving and photographing is done and I email the photo to Nicky for photoshop treatment. And then I’ll probably check again every hour or so through the afternoon. I’ll post the photo whenever Nicky sends it back, and I’ll post brief updates if needed (like if any of you have any messages you want to hear Valkyrie’s response to). Sometime in the late afternoon (West Coast time), I’ll probably shut off the computer so I can give Valkyrie six hours or so of my undivided attention.

Okay... I’m off to play!

 

August 6 2004 (Early Afternoon)

Here it is, folks: the official “Lila’s Revenge” photo! Our big, tough Valkyrie... naked, bound, and newly shaved!

 

 

Isn’t she beautiful, all naked and helpless like this?

I love the way you can see her muscles straining in this picture! And I’m also really digging those tan lines! Looks like someone had fun in the sun this summer!

I just wish that our agreement of anonymity didn’t keep me from showing the rest of her face! You should have seen her eyes when we shot this photo! If looks could kill...

Well, we’ll soon have her tamed. She’s our helpless plaything for the next 12 hours or so... and your plaything, too, if you write in with suggestions as to her fate! Kristine sent in an idea yesterday, that we’ll be trying later... and I’ve already got a first round of contributions from Yoko...

And since we’ll be playing with her well into the night, and since it’s Friday and many of you will be out being social... see if your friends have any ideas, too!

Okay, I’m off to hunt for the ticklish spots!

 

August 6 2004 (Late Afternoon)

Holy shit. I just checked my email, and also Valkyrie’s Yahoo account that’s currently open in my browser, and there were new messages in both mailboxes, from Yoko and Sam respectively, informing me that Rick James died today.

Yes, Rick James. Funk legend, and composer and singer of “Super Freak.” Some of you might recall that during the Big Memorial Day Bet, one of the requests that Valkyrie didn’t get around to using was Sam’s request that I be forced to sing “Super Freak” (a torment that Sam herself has inflicted on her captives in the past).

Another thing that I haven’t mentioned in this blog, so as not to alert Valkyrie in advance, is that I promised Sam that if I won this bet, I’d make Valkyrie sing “Super Freak.”

We’ve discovered that Valkyrie is amazingly ticklish, even more ticklish than I am, everywhere on her body! Guli, you’ll be happy to hear that we tried your suggestion of using a feather to tickle her face, and found that her face is ticklish, too. It drove her crazy! Yes, even her lips are ticklish. (Both sets of lips... hee hee!)

We were finally able to figure out a way to get her off the bed without risk of escape (a concern because she’s so much stronger than either of us). We replaced the bonds at her ankles with handcuffs, then we untied her hands and retied her arms behind her back before unlocking the handcuffs. That way, if she made trouble, all we had to do was move out of her reach and she’d be stuck there with her ankles still cuffed to the bed. We waited until she really, really had to pee first, so she was very motivated to cooperate with whatever it took to get her to the bathroom. That, and the fact that she was blindfolded and weakened from a very long tickle-torture session (Yoko requested the blindfolded tickling), made her pretty meek, so we got her arms very well-bound behind her back without any trouble.

We opted for elbows bent 90 degrees and wrists to opposite elbows, because if you just tie someone’s wrists behind their back, they’ve sitll got some ability to use the hands to protect from spanking. also, the wrists-to-opposite elbows method forces the chest up and out, prominently displaying the breasts and stretching out the whole front of the torso in a way that’s especially vulnerable to tickling.

Tied like that, and still blindfolded, she’s been very easy to lead around. Once we got her onto the toilet, she was a bit shy about peeing with both of us watching her, so we helped her by tickling her until she couldn’t help herself.

She’s in the kitchen right now, where Neige is feeding her. Considering the way Neige likes to feed people, I guess a shower is next. And then, while she’s dripping wet, we’ll stand her in the middle of the living room floor (arms still tied, of course) for her command performance of “Super Freak.”

I haven’t broken the news to Valkyrie yet, either about Rick James’ death or about her having to sing. I’m not going to tell her about the death today: I don’t want it to affect her performance. But I’ll know that Rick might be listening in, so I’ll make sure she sings with feeling. And dances, too! I’ll have the cane handy, to make sure she really shakes it for us. Rick would want it that way.

 

August 6 2004 (Evening)

What a show! Rick James would have been proud.

Having a great time here (at least, Neige and I are). Don’t want to spend too much time away from it, so I’ll make this quick...

Those of you who’ve read the tale of the Big Memorial Day Bet may recall that when Neige and Valkyrie were torturing me, they saved up all the serious spanking for near the end. And after the spanking, while I was still tied bent over with my butt in the air, Neige proceeded to give me a long, cruel, anal fucking with her trusty strap-on.

Well, we’re saving Valkyrie’s spanking for near the end of the night, and Neige has begun taunting her with claims that after the spanking, Valkyrie will be getting the same treatment from her that I got. And this has drawn some truly delightful begging and pleading from Valkyrie! It seems our Valkyrie is an anal virgin! Hee hee!

Well, after enjoying Valkyrie’s pitiful pleading for a while, we decided that this was a matter best left to our dear readers. So, dear readers, if you’re reading this evening, you all get another chance to vote! Since there’s no way Neige is going to pass up the opportunity to have Valkyrie from behind after the spanking, complete clemency is not an option. The three choices are: genital penetration, anal penetration, or both. (Don’t worry, we’re very sanitary here: if it’s both, it will be done with two different strap-ons.) While you’re voting, let us know how many strokes of the strap-on we should say are a gift from you (feel free to specify fast, slow, or whatever).

When was the last time you got to vote on the fate of someone’s anal virginity?

I’ll count the votes around midnight West Coast time (so I guess you East Coasters will have to wait until tomorrow to find out the results).

Feel free to send other suggestions along with your votes... we’ve got all night, no work tomorrow, and plenty of coffee.

 

August 7 2004

Well, it’s a bit after midnight, and I’ve just checked my email and counted the votes.

My, you folks sure are a sweet and kindhearted bunch! You voted unanimously to leave Valkyrie’s anal virginity intact!

The ever-cruel Neige will be a bit disappointed, but I’m sure Valkyrie will be very grateful. She’s been rather anxious about the matter.

Valkyrie is tied in a kneeling position right now, with her head down and her butt sticking up in the air. She’s been tied that way for a while, while we’ve played with her in a variety of ways, mostly involving repeatedly teasing her almost to orgasm but not quite, and then stopping for some spanking and/or tickling. Finally, after teasing her to tears (the third time we’d gotten her to cry in the past several hours), we got down to the proper spanking: a good sound thrashing with a hairbrush, which made her cry a whole lot more.

While I’ve been checking email, counting votes, and writing this, Neige has been tormenting Valkyrie’s privates and her reddened bottom with a great deal of stroking, tickling, slapping, and pinching, while taunting her about the fucking she’s going to get. All of which has put Valkyrie into quite a frantic state.

Well, I guess I’ll tell them the results now. I’m sure Neige won’t be too disappointed... after all, she still gets to fuck Valkyrie vaginally, with the larger strap-on, and according to various readers she gets to do it “for as long as she wants,” and “until Valkyrie begs her to stop,” with some “slow and torturous” fucking and some “fast and hard,” and with much spanking and hair-pulling.

Me, I’ll mostly just be content to watch Valkyrie’s face and provide some taunting.

Anyway, let’s break the news to them and see if Valkyrie has anything to say to those of you who voted to allow her to retain her anal virginity...

Valkyrie says: “Oh God! Thank you! Tell them thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

She really sounds like she means it, too! I can’t tell if she’s actually crying with relief, or if she’s just still teary from the teasing and spanking and Neige’s tortures. But anyway, those of you who voted on this matter tonight have performed a noble act of mercy, which Valkyrie seems to fully appreciate. Don’t hesitate to remind her that she’s in your debt now.

Anyway, I’m off to hold Valkyrie by the hair and enjoy her reactions to Neige’s merciless (but non-anal) fucking. And I guess that’s it! By the time I get around to posting again, this delightful day of vengeance will be over and done with. Thanks once again to everyone who voted for me, and especially to those of you who sent in comments and suggestions today!

 

August 10 2004

I’m glad that we here at guttergaunt.com were able to provide Rick James with a nice farewell tribute on Friday.

On Sunday night, I learned of another death: Fay Wray, leading lady in the original 1933 version of King Kong.

Although not as funky as Rick James, the beautiful and vivacious Ms. Wray was a much better and happier person. She made it all the way to 96 years old, too! Still, I’m sad that she died before she got a chance to do the cameo role that had been promised her in Peter Jackson’s upcoming King Kong remake.

Fay Wray, cinema’s greatest damsel-in-distress, queen of screamers, occupies a very special place in my dark and twisted heart: my very earliest bondage-related memory is that scene in King Kong, where Kong first appears, when the islanders have Fay tied between those two pillars on their altar.

(All the images from that scene that I can find online are of Kong’s appearance, so Fay is tiny and blurred in them, dwarfed by the big ape... no good closeups of struggling Fay from before Kong’s big entrance. Anyone want to draw me a picture I can post, of just the struggling girl, without the monkey business?)

I was only seven or eight years old when I first saw King Kong on television... an innocent pre-pubescent, years away from associating bondage with sexuality... but that beautiful woman struggling between those pillars, screaming her head off, was a thrilling and romantic image to my young mind, and I remember trying to imitate during games of make-believe, and wishing I had the nerve to scream so freely.

So here’s to Fay, who, when recruited for her most famous role, was promised that she would have “the tallest, darkest leading man in Hollywood.”