Sometimes, it's just a cigar

This is our truth, tell us yours

Highs and Lows

Be aware this post discusses consensual BDSM and has graphic sexual content.

Every activity humans indulge in has jargon and tribes and  BDSM is no different. Sometimes its a way of bonding, working out who shares your preferences or attitudes to kink. Of course sometimes its a way of excluding or judging others, of letting it be known they are doing it wrong. One descriptor which might fit this last category is “high protocol” a term associated with slashy speak, contracts and the outward trappings of bdsm. Its meant to denote a certain formality in the way things are done. Its safe to say that high protocol was something we decided most certainly did not describe how we did things.

I wonder though if sometimes in the way that Carter  and I queer sex  we also queer high protocol, reclaiming it from those looking for a way to say others are doing it wrong and making it our own. Take a recent example, I was dressed as desired, heels, stockings, collar, pleased at the way I had matching nails and lipstick, a picture perfect sub. Part of what we do is communicate by rituals, even as we eschew twueness, he tells me what to wear when we meet, and from those instructions hints at what may be to come. Of course in the dance that is D/s that hint may be a bluff, its happened before, instructions to be naked which have led to a formal beating, or dressed in corset, collar and heels and then treated with tenderness.

Then he bent, and fisted me on the stairs, my body opening to him, I twisted and turned to allow him entry, my legs wide, without thinking, yielding without resistance ever even being contemplated. The picture of a perfect sub? Or simply someone responding as their heart and body wished too?

As I came and squirted and my whole body shook with orgasms I was not thinking, how do I submit, I simply did, and so it seemed right that the mere touch of his cock against my thighs made me beg, that being fucked with his foot, and allowed to clean it made me feel blessed, actions that might seem very deliberately D/s transformed because at each moment they were the natural thing to do. Is this high protocol, it would have looked like it to many, but there was no sense of formality, simply a doing what came naturally, what felt right in the moment of doing, of being.

And when he bent me for the cane, and I begged, and thanked him, how I wanted to feel that cane, every action and reaction from a place of this is right, this is real. We spoke afterwards of people who go looking for something and unfortunately find the reality which they never expected. What though of when you go looking for something, and the reality is so much more than you expected, because the fakery is what predominates, with terms like high protocol disgusting how so many people are just going through the motions without touching the reality.

Today we also went to those dark edges, signposted almost in the way he grabbed my hair, suspended me solely by his thumb in my arse, moved me without seemingly having to say a word. But the darkness itself seemed full of light, He spoke of it as a purging, and it was, that moment when you open the curtains and the sunlight streams in.

Perhaps there are no accepted terms for this thing that we do, except those we create ourselves, just as we create a reality that has meaning for us, but seems worth sharing so others might recognise part of themselves in it.

 

 

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This entry was posted on March 5, 2016 by in Uncategorized.

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