The Garden

There lay a field, open and fertile, just over the hill and beyond the very old maple tree. One day, two individuals came upon this plot, separately and on their own. Each looked upon the earth that lay partially in the shade of the very old maple, and felt the urgency of potential emanating from beneath their feet.

In a very short time, the man found that the woman saw the land the very same way he did. She too wanted to plant and turn the dirt underneath. He discovered that much of the crops she wanted to grow were the same exact ones he wanted. She learned that some of the vegetation he specialized in very nicely complemented some of the vegetation in which she specialized. They could hardly contain their excitement underneath the tranquil shadow of the very old maple. The very next day, they began to build their garden.

He turned the earth with a shovel, and she followed behind him gently placing the various seeds of their intended crops into the terrestrial womb. After a few day's work, they'd planted every assortment of vegetable and fruit they'd chosen. Each day, they came back and watered the ground with great care, taking pleasure in the excitement of anticipation. When the first sprouts appeared, they held eachother jubilantly, humbled by the process of creation. For the next few months, each day, they tended to that garden, removing any weeds or pests that might endanger their product. They marveled at the transformation of this little piece of land with each growing stalk and bulging bulb. Occasionally, the joy of their effort would overcome them, and he would grab her and roll around in the dirt, playfully laughing and and tickling her.

Finally, the Fall arrived. Everywhere they looked, a tremendous diversity of color and shape greeted them, sounding out the full song of their harvest. The week that followed, they picked, pulled and tugged every ripe vegetable and fruit they could find, until they had a tremendous flora bounty. From this cornucopia, they were able to create great feasts for eachother and their loved ones. With each savory bite, they gave thanks for the product of their hard work and partnership.

What followed could take many paths. They could continue to put in great labor tending to this garden beneath the old maple tree that would over time not require as much labor as it did initially, and would continue to provide them with a bountiful yield year-long. Or they could dedicate themselves to the joint effort for a few years, but over time petering out, leaving the garden to fall to neglect and abandonment. Eventually, the earth would reclaim this land from them, and over time present itself to others. Regardless of what path they chose, there would be times this garden would not produce a single plant. There would be years where portions of it would need to lie dormant and fallow. But, all of these would be followed by a period where great output could be assured. As long as the two individuals who came upon this plot so many years before remained dedicated to their joint pledge to care, tend and love this garden, there existed no reason the very old maple tree wouldn't witness the continual beauty of fruit's bearing.

Putting the "shhh" in shackling

As i live in a very big city, like most urban dwellers, i reside in an apartment. My unit occupies the entire floor of our building, with a neighbor above and below sporting the exact same layout. The wood flooring that extends throughout the pad does little to insulate the pitter patter of the upstairs toddlers' amidst their play. Nor does the thinness of the ceilings - due to the 19th-century architecture of this brownstone - keep much of the constant hollering and caterwauling of those who live below confined to their own boxing ring.

Out my windows, on both ends of the apartment, i am no more than 100 feet from my closest external neighbor - both streetside and the rear of the building (think 'Rear Window') - which means at anytime, if my shades are up, a potential of over 100 eyes could be peering at the happenings of my humble abode (this is why they invented dungeons). Now, i frequently parade around my bungalow with only what the good Lord hath given me, to the dismay, i'm sure, of my neighboring eavesdroppers. Not because i'm a slob and unkempt - i'm rather well fit, i assure the reader - but because i so often flaunt my nudity to the point of overkill (there is a purpose for this). In this country that i love, it is mildly acceptable to be naked in your home without the shades drawn, however, it is not acceptable in any way to engage in the deprave acts that i pursue in mi casa.

This means that the many times i've mummified my girl, tied her up and whipped her, encased her in garish latex, or simply slipped a gag into her mouth, i've done so under considerable limitations. Shades drawn and a pledge from my girl that she try to hold in her screams (how taxing is that thought?) which usually puts an interesting dent into what we try to accomplish. We do not want to arouse the neighbors suspicions at the overflowing moans of agony pouring from these floors (but, i often wonder, how fair is it that i don't question the young parent's above on their neglect for having let their child scream bloody murder for 40 minutes?), nor do we want to interrupt our agenda.

There are times that we travel to remote locations for vacation, wherein we usually like to pick destinations that are far from anyone else, offering us seclusion and solitude. Here, we can be as loud and boisterous as we want, which reminds us of the interesting negotiation frequently entered back home with our surroundings. Silence may be golden, but for us, it's part and parcel of living in such close quarters.

World Whyed Web

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I like to keep her in suspense, pt. 2

When we last visited this subject, me and my dominant friend had established a date, location and agenda for an evening of four-headed playtime. The week leading up to the impending evening, i asked my girl every morning if she was excited, and every morning i heard the same response:

"Well, yes, i'm just uncertain what to expect."

You see, i'd done two things in informing her of her role for the evening. The first being i'd kept her in complete darkness about the details or even the genre of our foursome. The second being i'd purposely misled her by dropping hints and non-sequiturs about my fixation on immobilized barmaids, and how i'd love to have a party with her put in that speechless role. I recognize that even to the most dedicated exhibitionist (which is a category my girl reluctantly would find herself placed), serving a party of friends and acquaintances as an armless, walking drink cart would cause some anxiety due to the pure, emphatic nature of the objectification. This is why i fully expected and anticipated the nerves my girl exhibited in the days prior our encounter with K and his girl. After all, some of those were my creation, so i shouldn't be shocked if my attempt to psych her out actually proved fruitful.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, i'd arranged to have six lengths of 6mm jute rope at 7 meters long, and six lengths of 6 mm at 8 meters long hand made, treated and delivered in time for our rendez-vous. K had set me up with a rope supplier he often used in a pinch (K himself likes to select and treat his own rope. A process i myself have dabbled in, but have found that i don't have the time to give it the necessary attention) who was located in the Netherlands. I put in my order, and when i told the polite Dutch gentleman that i was a friend of K's, he responded:

"K knows and can tie a woman very well. I hope you'll learn a lot from him."

I knew i was walking into uncharted territory, but being reminded by others of K's reputation in the rope world (yes, i can say world at this point), it put me at a little unease. I won't say the word "intimidation", but i will say i was stepping a little out of my comfort zone (to which K would say "why on earth would you do anything that didn't have you stepping out of your comfort zone?"). I'm responsible for my girl, especially when i bring her into a situation of my own design, where she has zero input, which means i take on the responsibility of her emotional reaction and her ability to cooperate in my hands. I didn't want to let the already nervous darling down.

I had proposed that we begin the evening with a meal at our place, with K and his girl arriving right at the point where it would be just about ready to serve. I am, without any need to downplay my skills, a very good cook, and one of my specialties is a hearty and scrumptious ribollita. Yes, my dear readers, the quickest way to facilitate an evening of kinky SM play is to prepare a meal that jump starts the sensual appetites of the participants. The aromas of the stewing vegetables and spices filled the apartment with a swampy greeting of welcome.

K and his girl arrived separately, K arriving first. I gave him a hug upon entrance to our place, and asked him to look the place over and tell me which room he felt worked best for our proposed activities. Within a few short minutes into his survey, he came across my recently acquired chin-up bar. I'd bought the contraption, satisfying a long-held desire to own a personal pull-up bar for me to use whenever i wanted. But as is the issue with most things i purchase, i evaluated the product on its ability to also service my SM agenda. K had clearly honed in on this when he encountered the bar, as i did when i noticed it was capable of holding 300 lbs.

He made his way to the kitchen, where my girl was putting out dishes for our meal. The air, full of the delicious scent of our upcoming repast, was also heavy with an awkwardness of three different human energies trying to find ways to immediately intermingle. I recognized the uncertainty of my girl's stance, and chose to break the tension by showing my hand. I asked her if she had any idea (one last time) of what was to happen in the evening:

"No, i have no idea. None."

I told her that several feet of brand new rope had been purchased, and K and i were going to bind each of the girls individually, and then try something that she'd been wanting to do for a very, very long time. I wish i'd had a camera ready to capture my girl's facial expression upon hearing what her intended use was going to be. The evening's objective had actually been a longstanding desire of hers, and even this normally cool and collected gal couldn't contain her glee.

Shortly after this, K's girl arrived, and we all retired to our living room. We chatted about politics, current events, our respective careers and our general happiness or disenchantment with them. After about 20 minutes, K and i looked at each other and we both nodded, which indicated that we felt that we had secured a level of comfort - we had collectively sloughed off our exteriors that permitted us to operate as semi-normal members of society and were ready to play.

I won't speak for anyone else, but for myself, i could sense an alignment of our individual breathing patterns. What came in as syncopated, self-centered and unconnected breaths from each of us, soon picked up on cues from those around us in the room, and slowly synchronized to the point where each of us respired at nearly the same interval.

With a head full of what was to come next, and a chest full of symbiosis, i got up from my chair and walked to the bedroom. I fetched the bag of newly acquired rope, and made my return back to the living room. I paused my reunion with the others for just a moment, stopping in the hallway, once more, meticulously perhaps, examining the pull-up bar one last time.

*this continues on here

I like to keep her in suspense, pt. 1

I couldn't tell who was more enthusiastic about the potential: him or i. Our encounters, whether in person, over e-mail or instant message almost always landed on the planning of the evening of our quartet. I mentioned earlier here how K and i had been brainstorming on the possibility of taking our casual (if not very passionately pedestrian) conversations between the two of us (and sometimes those that included our partners) to a more interactive level. Me being the greedy, often horizon-before-the-foreground sort of person proposed an outrageous scenario wherein my girl would be the central focus of a great deal of erotic energy. K initially went along with it, but as time went on, he articulated reservations about it that i myself had not had the stomach (aka humility) to confess.

I still remember his course-changing offer. It seemed so simple yet so outlandishly exciting. In fact, the very subject of the evening was something i could never have hoped for him to present. I had aspirations that perhaps a dozen or more foursomes down the line he might present this activity as a possibility. The reasons for my reticence was because K is known not on a community-wide level for his expertise in this field of bondage, nor on a national level, but on an international scale. He has taught classes on the subject to audiences around the country. He has contributed his services to both breathtaking, commissioned works of arts and spiritual, holistic healing sessions. His talents in this avocation have exposed him to the elite of the elites within the fetish world. I literally held no water to him in comparison.

Nonetheless, i leapt at the opportunity. In doing so, i unknowingly left behind a great deal of issues i would eventually need to address. When the time came, i realized that i had uncertainty surrounding whether the chemistry of my power dynamic would mingle with that of another's, despite the levels to which i prided my ability to control myself and my girl. This is analogous to being confident in one's ability's to sing in the shower and not knowing if that confidence would travel to the "Gong Show" once you made your appearance there.

Another thorn i discovered in my jumpsuit once i landed from the thrill of the impending evening emerged in a rather provocative form. I do not like to share my girl, nor does she like to be shared. Granted, we have played on a large(r) stage, in front of multiple others (read: complete strangers) and amassed great thrills at these displays. But couple-a-couple, we had not yet attempted.

I wrestled with these existential questions in an atypical fashion. In large part, when faced with issues of great emotional contention, i come to my girl. However, in this case, i couldn't do so. It had been my decision from the very beginning of the negotiations with K:

my girl would be kept completely in the dark

It didn't make logical sense to go to her with the meat of my vulnerability but withhold the "bone" to which it clung. Anytime she asked (which was seldom because she knew she would not get satisfaction to her inquiries) about the logistics of the upcoming evening, her questions were met by a firm but playful "you aren't serious..." stare.

With enough to occupy my mental faculties, i satiated my need to organize the approaching scene. Relying heavily on K's guidance, i set myself to acquiring the necessary equipment. His expertise served as a (most likely too often-indulged) shopping spree of knowledge. Frequently, he would ask me questions about my specific wishes for each stage of the evening, and habitually, i would lean on his expertise for the answer. Quite frankly, it was like wandering into a rock concert without an instrument case and the drummer asking you how much tom-tom you felt the ampitheatre needed. "Are you serious? Oh, wait...you are. WOW."

The small but not insignificant details worked themselves out. Soon we had a date (is it really possible to coordinate four incredibly busy metropolitan schedules?) and a location (my place or somewhere else? does anyone have an animal allergy or an aversion to keeping their noise to a civil volume?). All that remained was to let years of fantasy and serious mental focus to take control of the evening, and all would be fine.

...right?

*this continues on here

Dom-i-Nation

When our schedules allow, we meet once a month, usually over a meal like two predators. On the surface, our appearance assumes that of two urban men who have commuted back to their neighborhood from work and are now relaxing by patronizing a local eatery. We do not have bags containing coils of rope, a collection of shackles, clamps or gags sitting at our feet, nor are there whips hanging from our belts. To look at us, you would never guess that our sexual proclivities involved the sado-masochistic actions we project onto our female partners nor that these activities made up the bulk of our discussions when we commune monthly. Luckily, our waitresses have not been in range to hear such words as "knifeplay", "breath control", "Shibari", or "nooses" to arouse suspicion.

I lose track of time when i meet with my dominant friend K. We could've just sat down, and in a flash, we will have digested three hours. One explanation for this comes from how engrossing our discussions tend to be. I have a limited number of people in my life i can stretch out a palaver over the issues arising in a power exchange. From our first conversation, i felt like i was swimming in an endless stream of water. On occasion, i needed to stick my head above the surface to breathe, otherwise, i was practicing a new form of respiration - fully submerged - one that i had not had the opportunity to try before. Most of my vanilla friends have no clue as to my sexuality, and those that do, treat it like something they'd wished never to gain more than the small inkling they possess. This has led me to filling up hundreds of notebooks with stories, fantasies, doubts, questions and one-sided dialogues in order to express the deep-seeded wellings of my psychology. With K, i not only gain the opportunity to receive experience-derived feedback, but i learn about an entirely different experience and approach to SM. And yet, there is much common ground between us, which makes our dialogue even more fulfilling.

We've recently turned our discussion to negotiating an evening of us together with our partners. I proposed the idea to K first, and him being the AMAZING sport that he is, accepted the offer. Since my girl reads this journal from time to time, i won't go into detail about what K and i have decided upon (i won't even apply the "my girl" label as i know she insists on reading those posts specifically). The negotiations themselves have been a learning process for me, bringing up all sorts of questions and uncertainties that i hadn't expected. Luckily, K has been more than forthcoming in letting me express these and respond with sincerity and understanding.

I suspect the girls (who also meet together, on their own) do not look upon these gatherings of two tops as being completely beneficial to their well-being. It's sort of tantamount to two super-powers gathering for a summit and exchanging methods (i.e. pillaging, plundering, raping) they use to carve up little nations in order to exploit their natural resources. But as K i'm sure would assert, we come in peace.