Saturday, August 9, 2008

Working the Kinks Out

A friend of mine - let's call her Dara - was training to be an aesthetician and offered to give me a free facial. I happily obliged. As we chatted during the appointment, Dara told me she needed more practice with men's bikini waxing. Knowing what I do, a lightbulb went off in her head. "Wait a minute! You must have some guys I can work on," she said.

"Oh, I'm sure I could talk a few slaves into the idea," I said. "But do you really want to see my people?" I asked, conscious that while she was open-minded, my friend was quite the innocent.

"Just send them over. It'll be awesome!" she reassured me.

So I emailed a couple of my boys and encouraged them to set up appointments with Dara. Afterwards, I received giddy messages from both letting me know how much fun they had. One of my sissies even chatted about feminization with her. Dara also contacted me almost immediately afterward to thank me for the referrals, letting me know how sweet they both were. "Somehow I could tell they were your slaves," she giggled.

I hadn't realized how powerful and titillating it would be to send my submissives off to be worked on by a friend, that it would in some ways be an extension of the existing dynamic between us. I think it must have felt pretty liberating knowing that they could be themselves with a trusted friend of mine.

The very act of waxing is sadomasochistic in and of itself. I hadn't realized how much so until I had it done. Dara convinced me to return the following week for my first bikini wax ever. I wanted to find out how it feels to have your pubic hair ripped out by the roots. I was thrown off by how much it hurt, letting out a little scream until I learned to cover my own mouth. Even after the disturbingly hot wax was pulled off, she wasn't finished until the remaining stray hairs were plucked out with a tweezer. Wow.

It's funny when we can turn normally vanilla situations into a kinky fieldtrip! Of course, consensuality for any overt acts is important. But along these same lines, one of my tried and true sent me a note about his experience at the dentist's office:

The dentist and her assistant were making a couple of soft castings of my mouth and during that process poured warm molten silicone rubber into my mouth and then used a lot of force and TLC to get it out once it had cured. They must have thought I was crazy to be smiling during this very uncomfortable process, but I thought it very cool to be subjected to this. Of course I didn't tell them that I'm quite used to having intelligent, beautiful women forcing silicone rubber products in and out of my mouth with semi-regularity.

Since winding down from the pro scene, how I go about my days could aptly be described as "lifestyle" kinky. Meaning that situations have become more free-flowing, less restricted to the dungeon and more integrated into my everyday life. Admittedly, I've always hated the word "lifestyle" and how it was used in a snobby sort of way to distinguish oneself as better than more commercially-oriented dommes. I've been fortunate in that I was not raised to buy into convention, so my lifestyle has never really been vanilla. And I've bristled at how alternative culture can simply replace one type of uniform and stereotyped thinking with another. But I suppose "lifestyle" can, at times, be a useful delineator.

Whatever you call this hybrid existence, I am enjoying not having to adhere to any industry standard, protocol, peer pressure and the like. I am enjoying not stepping outside myself to critique my performance in anticipation of a review, or otherwise getting bogged down in the hustle of it all.

I am revelling in connecting with my wants, not my shoulds. I am playing with people I deeply care about, trust and respect. Surprising and delighting myself with each discovery, I am unearthing new dimensions to myself, tapping into novel avenues of exploration and cultivation of my personal power. Working the kinks out is a very good thing...