Thursday, September 2, 2010

Edges of Laughter

I was reading a blogpost this morning by jonsbabydoll. In it, she talked about how public edge play makes some people uncomfortable. She’d worried that warning people about her extreme tastes in play, makes it seem like she’s bragging. Or conversely, telling them that their kinks are wimpish.

I giggled a bit when she talked about how faceslapping, spitting, and choking tended to freak even kinky people out. When she talked about waterboarding, I could understand her fascination with this. While I personally don’t like to be black and blued so much it’s difficult to work, I also understand the fascination of having those black and blues. I know that feeling of touching them in those few days afterwards and feeling the rush of memories of the scene come flooding back. Those bruises leave me feeling beautiful, wanted, desired, used and his. My mind can wander for days over touching one of those bruises. And touching them, feeling the ache in them, actually calms my brain.

I’ve gone to the opposite extreme as jonsbabydoll and warned people that our public scenes tend to get ridiculous. Daddy and I are goofballs a lot of the time in public. People are getting used to us playing like that. They laugh, we laugh, and personally I think laughter in the dungeon is a wonderful sound. I’m sure that Daddy would say he prefers moans and tears.

The few times we’ve played in public with faceslapping, which we both love, the main comment I get afterwards is that they had no idea how mean Daddy really is. People have gotten used to seeing him in Daddy-mode. They seldom realize that he can also be a vicious sadist. And I still think that they sometimes think I’m “too fragile” to take whatever Daddy is dishing out. My best friend says that faceslapping and choking are hard limits for her. I told her that I never think twice about them. This is a woman who plays with sadists who leave hematomas on her ass. But she thinks that faceslapping is edge play.

We play with emotions, triggers, fear, and pain. The darkness that we both feel safe exploring together. His sadism, which is the opposing side to his daddyishness, can be unleashed on a willing participant in circumstances that aren’t likely to end in a jail sentence. My masochism, which can be given in to, can be experienced without getting the feeling that I’m heading for a psych ward as a suicide risk. Sometimes our play is edgy, dark, and dangerous. I thrive on the experience of those things. Without them, I’d just be another girl who likes to be tied to the bed, blindfolded and made to do “dirty things”. Bedroom bondage is enough for many people. Spanking or flogging, while nice and can get me over the doldrums, doesn’t do it for me the same way that a scene where he can make me cry does. Where he can force from me those things I don’t want to give him. Where he can slap, pinch, bite, choke and actually make me feel the way I want to. Or the way he does.

What some consider edge play for themselves, is what I’d consider a great scene. I don’t like my friends to get freaked out or worry about me. I don’t consider them wimps for having limits that are different from mine. If I warn them at all, it’s because I don’t want them to worry about me or think that Daddy is doing something wrong. So to my friends who might see Daddy being something of a mean bastard, and me no longer laughing in the dungeon, don't worry so much.

If he’s slapped me, and if I’m crying or if I'm laughing, it’s a pretty sure bet that he’s done it exactly right.

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