Monday, September 20, 2010

Canes and Switches

Saturday night brought another party. This one was the Bound in Boston afterparty. We’d missed the actual Bound in Boston due to unalterable religious commitments. Read that as daddy was Yom Kippuring. I was shopping for shoes.

We got a special pass for the party. Ordinarily you have to attend the BiB to be allowed in, and although I’m not always comfortable having rules bent in my favor, this time I let it go. We’d needed some kinky friends and almost all of ours were at the BiB that weekend. I’m grateful that RopeRider bent the rules a bit for us.

At the party, we started playing early. Daddy tied my hands to bar hung from the ceiling. At first, I thought he was getting a little miffy with me because I wasn’t exactly being cooperative. You see, while he was tying me, I’d been trying to “leave myself an out”.

I'd thought that he kind of wanted me to just stand there and take a beating, something I'm not really into, especially in a public play setting. We’d seen too many times how that particular activity plays out in public. I feel like a piece of meat, on display, and disconnected from him. As if he’s hitting me, and I’m just standing there and could be anyone. Usually I end up in tears and we end up spending a big part of the night trying to figure out what went wrong. I was torn between wanted to do what he wanted (which was just to tie me up and hit me) and knowing that if that's what happened, I'd be disconnected from him in a matter of minutes. Heck, the disconnection had already begun when he’d stopped for a second because the knot had shifted on my wrist and made my hand go numb. He looked at me and I just kind of looked at him. He then said the words to me that I’m sure he’ll regret to his dying day: “you can fight back ya know?”

Brat On. With Permission.

He’d untied one of my hands (forgetting that I'm right handed). But to even things up, he'd tied one of my ankles and kept the other end of the rope. When he started caning my ass, I noticed that he’d left the cane bag within reach. There were several nice canes in there, just begging to be let out. I didn't have time to choose, I just grabbed the cane bag, yelped through a couple of well-placed strikes and thought about whether or not I really wanted to, like you know, actually HIT daddy? He was trying to cane me, while my range was limited by my still-tied hand, and the fact that he could yank my foot wherever he wanted to. I decided to step on the rope with my other foot, so he had to come closer.

I grabbed one of the canes out of the bag and brandished it like a sword. Sword fighting with canes is a bit difficult while tied to a bar and with only one foot available. It’s doubly hard when the other person’s reach is greater than yours. And it’s triply harder when you’re not really trying to hurt the other person, but he’s not too concerned with making contact anywhere on your body.

He got a couple of good cracks in with the cane, and I yelled “THAT HURT you mean bastard!” with a twinkle in my eye and a giggle. That’s when people started watching us.

We’d sword fought with the canes for a while, with him getting in far more cracks on me that I on him. And through every one of them, I’d laugh. I got him pinned to pole and got a good one across his ass. (I said sorry). We were having a ball. Him caning my arms, my ass and my legs (even the bottom of my foot when I’d lifted it to try to grab his boy bits with my toes). We were laughing and egging each other on. And I had marks all over me. My eyes were all on Daddy, I didn’t notice anyone else. All I wanted to do was to get him to come closer so that I could crack his ass with the cane again. He’d stolen several canes from my hands. But he was a gentleman when he helped me out when I’d taken one from the bag and held it by the wrong end. (I told you I wasn’t looking at anything else.) It was exciting, amusing, and interesting. We were having a ball. The entire dungeon dropped away and it was just the two of us playing with each other.

And it happened again.

He stopped and looked at me and said that he had to stop. He was done. At first, I thought I’d hurt him and was worried. Then I remembered the last time. I looked at his face and realized that I’d worn him out. We got me untied, put the canes away, and went to find a place to sit.

While we were leaving the floor, people stopped and said things like “you guys were hilarious”, or “we’d been placing bets”. Sometimes our friends can be such jokers. Later on, people were talking with me about that scene and they’d mentioned things about how they’d never be able to get away with “stuff like that”. They also wondered why Daddy let me behave that way. I just said that we’d developed a style of public play that worked for us. I said that the things we do at parties are not really how we prefer to play, but that the things we really like to do, don’t really have a place in a public dungeon. We prefer floor work, intense pain, and usually end up fucking. If you’ve seen the floors in most dungeons, and can’t get into a decent headspace to take intense pain, you’d understand why we had to find something else. And that whole fucking in public thing. That squicks more people than any amount of screaming and pain play that I've ever seen.

We spent a lot of time at the party afterwards talking to our friends. We watched a few scenes, (Coyotetoo got needles for the first time), and most importantly Daddy got to snuggle and snog a couple of people he really enjoys. Around 2 am, we’d decided to call it a night.

On the way out, as we were leaving, we were talking to our friend CyberKat. She was with her friend Dragon and when Daddy mentioned that “canes hurt”, Dragon said something about that's one of the problems when you're a switch.

And so the story continues. People, even our friends who are used to seeing us play like this, still don’t understand that just because a dominant gives his submissive permission to fight back, that it doesn’t make the top a switch. I wasn't doing anything that I hadn't been expressly given permission to do. ie: fight back. I wasn't out to hurt daddy or teach him a lesson. I fully expected him to win and get all the canes. I fought back as if I had everything to lose, when in actuality I've already GIVEN daddy everything long ago. I fought back not to win, but to interact, react, and play with Daddy. We don't get to do that a lot. And sometimes we both really just need to smile, laugh and enjoy whatever happens. The sort of predictability that comes within uncertain parameters.

Daddy is definitely not a switch. I guess people just arent' used to seeing domley doms have fun with their submissives. But as Daddy is so fond of saying, it's not all roses and leather underwear. Or to paraphrase, it's not all floggings and subspace. When we play like that, he's still the dom and I'm still the submissive. He's still firmly in control. It's just that sometimes he has to work harder to keep it. Does not always giving him his right to control me easily make him a switch?

Nope, but it sure makes it easier for me to cane HIS ass WITH a switch ::wink::

1 comment:

Vespertina99 said...

I just wanted to say that I LOVED this post. Everything about it. Issues of identity, connection, public play, being able to tell other people "stuff your judgement, this works for US"... Thank you for writing it.