OK. Maybe I was a bit off on the pretty to look at.
Long, long ago, in a land far far away, that I like to call… college, I was a lil punk rock girl out to try everything and anything. I met a boy at a party. He was a friend of a friend’s friend… or something like that. He asked me out and I, who was perfecting the art of Dating for Dinners to supplement my college loans, said yes. Also? He was very pretty to look at. As it turns out, the only thing we had in common was that we both thought he was pretty to look at.
He was like a parakeet with a mirror, and just as mentally stimulating.
After dinner, we went back to my place (I said he was pretty to look at!), a tiny 3 bedroom apartment in which EVERY room with a door and no running water was a bedroom so, there were at least 4 people living there at all times, and occasionally someone squatting on the couch.
Which was in the kitchen.
We headed into my room where he slammed the door shut behind him and tossed me to the floor. He pinned me down and started groping me aggressively. He grabbed a blindfold that was proudly hung on my door knob and roughly put it on my head. The harder I fought, the more he laughed. He slapped my ass and bit my neck.
Now. This was TOTALLY something I was into. And? He was pretty to look at. Only thing was – I had no freaking idea who he was. He had not asked about any safewords, limits or heath issues. We had known each other for all of an hour and a half aside, from some drunken flirting at the party where we met.
Had he bothered to get to know me, he would have known fun little facts like, where I kept the good toys or where I kept the safer sex supplies or that I had an abusive ex-husband and was not a fan of being unexpectedly pinned to the floor and laughed at.
Luckily, even with his hand across my mouth, I was able to get the point across that he had about 2 nanoseconds to get out of my house before I screamed for my friends who would come and kick his ass in less then safe, sane and consensual manor. And thank you for dinner.
From the speed at which he exited, I’m pretty sure he believed me.
BDSM is all about trust and consent. It’s about being in a loving, safe place to act out fantasies in which you are NOT in a loving, safe place. Once there is trust established, limits can be pushed an explored. BDSM is a VERY vulnerable place and it’s hard to give your consent to just anyone. You need to trust that they are going to be open about your interests. That they are going to take your passions seriously. That they are not going to laugh at you and tell everyone about your freaky fetish for rubbing yourself off with a mohair sweater kept just for that purpose.
Yes. I have seen someone who had one of those.
Once you have achieved that level of comfort with someone and started to play, it’s all about limits. Limits should be explored, respected and occasionally pushed. But they should never be violated. Just because you have given your play partner consent to spank you in the bedroom, does NOT mean he has the right to do that in public.
Unless you have agreed to it.
It also doesn’t mean he can do it out of context. Just because he’s losing the argument about who is going to take out the trash, gives him no reason to spank you until you agree to it.
Unless… that is what you have agreed to.
And it should never be done out of anger. Ever. That is just called Abuse.
Ever been in a situation where Trust and Consent could have changed the outcome?
Mohair sweater. I'm having a hard time moving past the mohair sweater:) It's interesting - I think any encounter requires trust and consent (something the head of the IMF clearly isn't aware of). Otherwise, the waters can get very murky. But I would imagine that it is especially so in a BDSM situation, where it might be difficult to tell the difference between truth and role play. Laughed my tuchus off at that photo, by the way. As well as the parakeet with the mirror comment.
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