So, I may not be a masochist, but I’m definitely going to continue calling myself a switch. For a while I was beginning to wonder.

The past couple of weeks have been difficult ones for me. I felt very distressed and out of control of life. I was in need of some sort of release from my tension — something to break the emotional logjam that I found myself in.

Fortunately, B was more than willing to help me find what I was looking for. Not only is she an experienced bottom, but she also has a good deal of switch to her as well.

We negotiated a few days in advance. She asked for lots of feedback from me: harder, softer, different spot, new toy. I can completely understand that, but at the time I wanted one thing most of all: to be done to, without having to think about it (as much as could be done while still playing safe). I wanted to let go of everything — but B rightfully needed to know how I was handling things. We agreed to compromise as best as we could.

Playtime came. I was definitely in a different mental space than usual. I didn’t want to take any actions. I asked her to undress me first; this is a departure where usually she’s naked, either by my hand or my direction. She thought that this was a bit Dom-like at first, but really it was me just wanting to get into the submissive headspace. She stripped me down, turned me over, and tied my arms and legs to the bed.

It’s amazing how a bit of rope can mean so much. Wearing the rope cuffs feels secure; having them then tied down feels pleasantly restricting. I can describe the reinforcement of the submissive state that it brings me, but there’s something else I feel that’s more nebulous. I really want to explore that further, both as a top and a bottom.

After checking in with me, B started my spanking session. She started off with a slow warmup, knowing that I don’t have the pain tolerance that she does. She asked if I wanted to know what she was using, and I refused, but I recognized the riding crop, wooden spoon, lexan cane, and wooden shoe horn, as well as her bare hands. Each felt different against my skin, but ultimately they came down to one thing: pain.

I generally try to avoid pain. The first time I bottomed with B, I had the option of saying “stop” at any time. I used this as soon as I felt the burning. In my mind, at the time once it started to feel “unpleasant”, there was no point in continuing, so I would ask to stop.

This time was different. I wanted the intense experience. I went in with the intention of not stopping things until it was truly unbearable. I still didn’t know exactly where that was, or how I would react, but I was determined to last longer than before.

I still called out “stop”, but this time B knew to not listen. In addition to “red” as a safeword, we have a number system from one to ten. One means “I barely feel that”; ten means “stop now, scene over.” Nine means “time to stop… but maybe just one more.” (B actually called out a 0.5 after one of my flubbed hits; that immediately earned her a level-eight on the next attempt.)

When she beat me, I would call out “no” and “stop,” expecting and wanting it to continue. It felt good to do so, and I’m not really sure why. I knew full well that I was asking for the pain, and could really stop it at any time — but screaming unheeded negatives still satisfied some sort of inner calling I had.

She took me up the intensity levels one by one. Call out your numbers. When we get to six, then we’ll stop. Are you doing OK? Good, now let’s go to seven. Are you ready to try eight? Time for a break. Now, we’re going to nine. I answered “no” to most of her questions and commands, but we both knew what that meant. Five was pleasant, six was painful, seven hurt a lot, eight was excruciating, and at nine I couldn’t think about anything else.

Sometime around seven was when I started crying.

B talks about how receiving pain lets her be honest. Nobody judges someone who is being beaten that severely, so she can be free to do whatever she needs to in that moment; cry, laugh, scream, swear, beg. Who will criticize you when you’re going through that?

I know what that means now. In the middle of a scene like that you can let go of (almost) all the pretense, expectation, and facade that you carry. And that was something I needed to do.

It’s not an easy thing admitting it. Even past the masculine stereotypes, I don’t like crying or saying that I do. I debated writing about it here. But I want this to be an exploration, and that means peaking into certain places precisely because they are troubling. Once I decide to write, I’m forced to find out what and how, and that can lead me to new things. Like this paragraph, for instance.

When it was over, B asked whether I had enjoyed it, whether I had fun. The best answer I had was “It was what I wanted.” I didn’t like crying; the pain didn’t turn me on. It was not pleasant or happy or anything else normally positive. But I felt much better after than I did before it began. I was relieved. It did what I wanted it to do. And I was very happy for that.

B and I have been playing almost every weekend. It keeps getting better. I’m doing things I’d only dreamed of a few months go.

We had started our relationship focusing mostly on physical S&M play: lots of beating with various implements of impact. This was all well and good; she’s a masochist and has an insatiable craving for spanking. I’m developing my sadistic side so this was much fun for me as well.

But as our knowledge of each other deepened, we started branching out into Dominance & submission play. This is really what envisioned when I thought about living a kinky lifestyle.

As it happens, B is also very much into D/s. In fact, she said that she’d rather play D/s than with straight S&M. This really surprised me when she told me this, since she talks quite frequently, openly, and enthusiastically about receiving her beatings. Her response to submission are much more subdued.

But this is exactly why it’s so powerful: it’s a scary, intimate thing, and not something one can share with just anybody. That’s why it’s intense, and so desirable. Spanking will impact your skin; submission will impact your self.

And so will Dominance. It takes a great deal of control to play in that complex area above moderation and below abuse. I think that this is especially true for us Nice Guys; we’re trained to not be forceful. It takes skill to let that go.

But it’s worth it. It turns me on. And it turns a lot of women on too.

We negotiated a few nights before. We would be in Dominant and submissive mode whenever the collar was on. She’d call me “sir”, and she’d remember her manners. She’d do her part, but it was really up to me to get her into the submissive mindset — which I can understand. We talked about how to do that. I also got some ideas, and dropped some very vague hints about what I was going to do to her. This drove her insane with wonder — which I thoroughly enjoyed of course.

The weekend brought our playtime after much anticipation. I put the collar on her and her demeanor changed. It’s nothing but a piece of leather and metal, but it’s the key to unlocking a powerful force within her. She wants to be submissive, but has a hard time letting herself be; wearing the collar lets her throw off her own restrictions. When it goes on, her eyes go big and round and accepting as she looks up towards me, waiting for my action.

I started slowly, giving her simple instructions for undressing us both. But they were just a means to an end; as soon as she missed following one perfectly, I sized the opportunity to enforce upon her. I grabbed her by the hair and pushed her onto the bed, with as much power as I could summon. She gasped as she felt the intent, and I knew that I was having the effect we both wanted.

When I had her down, I started to play with her. Pinchings, spankings, penetrations of all sorts. Then she started saying “no.” We had talked about this before; “no” is not her safeword. So I kept going, harder and rougher. And then she started resisting — so I started fighting back. I mounted her and pinned her arms down, leaving my hands free to attack her face and breasts. I wrapped my legs around hers, spreading them open to expose her pussy. She tried hard (but not to hard) to cover up, but I had enough strength and position to overcome her. Then I managed to get into a position where I could reach her pussy without letting her hands and legs free. So I did.

She wasn’t panicking, but she was living the scene just enough to be actually trying to stop me from penetrating her. But she couldn’t. It was some distant cousin of rape that we could both allow. And it was incredibly hot. She had a different look in her eyes, a mix of frenzy, arousal, submission, and intimacy. It wasn’t repulsion, but it wasn’t complete enjoyment either. But it was what she wanted, and what I wanted too. I loved the feeling of overpowering her, of imposing myself on her despite herself. But I could still feel it hinge on knowing that she was enjoying our play as well. I need to know that whatever I’m doing is good for both of us. I can’t take pleasure at the expense of someone else.

And I like it that way.

P.S. I almost forgot: not long after this happened, I read an amazing story on this topic called Consensual Nonconsent. It’s like mine, but with the volume turned way up. I’m actually calling it the perfect nonconsent & mind fuck scene. Its very intense, so be careful — but if you’re reading this then you should be able to take it.

Friday was my first visit to Realm of Fantasy at the Calgary Adult Playground Club.

I went with B, who has been there several times. I really appreciated having her with me, as she helped introduce me to the scene; she made the experience much less nerve-wracking.

CAPC is pretty much as it was described to me. It’s in a crappy location which makes for an excellent location for not being noticed. It’s address isn’t publicized, so you’d never know it was there if you’re not looking for it. If you want to go, you have to get an invite from someone in the community, but getting one isn’t difficult. It’s a small place, and not impeccably decorated, but it is very well suited for what it is. I actually like the small size, at it feels cozy — important for intimate encounters.

Friday was the last day of Stampede, so CAPC was relatively empty; I counted 15 people there at the peak. What was most important was that I saw a few familiar faces; it let me get comfortable more easily.

A few of those familiar faces had a great scene involving rope suspension and electric play. I’m going to hold off on the details, given that I was just a spectator and didn’t ask about sharing this with The Internet. But suffice to say that it was amazing. On my first night out, I was treated to two of the more hardcore activities

And the best part? That could easily have be me there playing. In fact, there’s an electrosex workshop coming up on August 13th. To get in on the action, all I or anyone else need to do is: 1) find someone who is into the activity and/or has the right equipment (and there’s quite a few out there) and 2) ask.

But that will come later. The show was a great treat, but Friday was about playing with B. This was my first time playing outside my house, but since the club was mostly empty, there wasn’t anyone watching us… so I don’t really feel like I was really in public. I’m actually a little bit disappointed by that — though it’s really a good first step. B was much more nervous and excited about it. But then, she was topless.

And speaking of B, she wrote about our playtime on her own blog, and she did a pretty damn good job of it too, so I’ll leave most of the gory details to her. She even has pictures! I will let you in on a few secrets though.

Shhh. Come closer.

Ok. Now, you won’t tell her, right?

Ok, good.

At the time, I often felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. Thankfully B’s glowing report has mostly laid that to rest. Still, I was sort of intimidated and I think that came out in my play. I’m going to attribute this to several factors:

• Brand new place, out of my element.
• I had just watched a scene that was lightyears beyond the things I was doing.
• Public, with people potentially watching at any time. Being seen naked doesn’t necessarily embarrass me, but being seen fucking up (especially in front of advanced players) is my nightmare.
• It was difficult to gauge B’s reactions. She says she was quieter than usual (probably from being in a public place), and the club music (though not obnoxiously loud) made it hard to hear her. That, and she was face-down most of the time.

All in all though I’d call it a success. I did enjoy myself, and B definitely did too (especially the nasty bruise I left on her). It wasn’t an incredible mind-blowing experience, but that’s OK, because it wasn’t at all horrible. What that means is that it will get better from here. I’m already looking forward to next weekend; there’s a predicament bondage workshop that looks like a lot of fun. In fact, I’m already scheming.