Starting over after Hurricane Ian

Like many tens if not hundreds of thousands of people in Florida, Hurricane Ian was devastating for me. I evacuated, along with my cat, the day before Ian made landfall on September 28th, 2022. I watched online from my hotel room as the hurricane turned east before then making landfall in my area of SW Florida. As the eyewall and storm surge crashed onshore, I knew my home was gone.

Four days later I returned. I had already rented a place to stay the day after Ian that was further inland and had power and internet. Driving back, the closer I got, the worse the damage. Traffic lights were out. Most gas stations were still closed. Trees were down and structure after structure was destroyed. Almost all of the area had no power or running water. Friends of mine had accessed my home the day before – they had no damage but still no power at their house – and discovered the interior of my home was wrecked. So I knew it was likely a total loss.

Unfortunately as it turned out, there was no hurricane wind damage to my home. That’s covered by homeowners insurance, but I won’t even have an inspection until November to verify. Flooding, whether fresh or salt water, is only covered by a separate flood insurance policy. Which I didn’t have. Most people don’t have flood insurance, in part because it is so expensive. It can be in the many thousands of dollars annually, and most people who live in flood plains simply can’t afford the premiums. Not to mention, thousands of people lost everything when their rental units flooded far inland from rain and rivers.

What happened in my area was a 10 to 15 foot storm surge. Ten feet is the height of a basketball hoop. Fifteen feet is the height of a two-story building. In my community, that meant six feet of water inside my home. Even in newer, higher elevated homes built to current code, they still had at least three feet inside. My entire community along with many others was completely destroyed by water. Boats from miles away floated in the storm and wrecked alongside nearby homes.

I’m okay. I spent a week salvaging what I could but I lost 99% of my “stuff”. All my clothes. My books. My computer. Artwork. Food. Appliances. Stuff I had from my teenage years. But as the late, great George Carlin spoke, “A house is just a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get more stuff.” So, I wasn’t there when the storm hit. I didn’t have to swim to higher ground. My vehicle wasn’t swept out of a garage and sent floating down the street and I could afford to stay in a hotel rather than a shelter while an entire region was severely damaged.

Why live here? Why live near or on the shore when any given year a storm can take away lives and property? Well, why live anywhere? Florida doesn’t have volcanoes. Major earthquakes. Landslides. Wildfires yes, on occasion, but rarely much loss. Blizzards. Ice storms. Tornadoes, yes, during tropical storms and cold fronts, but usually not widespread catastrophic damage.

People live in Florida for many reasons, but primarily the weather. The “winter” when a freeze happens every couple years, and the rainy season ends in October and doesn’t start again until May. Seven months of the year, blue skies and mild temperatures. Not everyone lives on the coast or goes to the beach. The ones that do are either very wealthy, or retirees living on pensions and fixed income. Those retirees were the ones who lost their older homes. Many of them can’t afford to start over. Many have no family.

It will be a long process to fix the damage. There was an affordable housing and insurance crisis before Ian, and this hurricane may well signal the end of decades of unbridled and unregulated growth. I will leave the debate on whether or not rebuilding in the same area is wise to others. I am not rebuilding, but moving on. I have rented until the end of 2022, so will need to decide to keep renting, buy something else, or move out of the area. Today is my 59th birthday. Starting over: again.

For those of you reading this who are not my normal readership, this is my blog that I started 13 years ago as an anonymous place to publish my thoughts. It serves as a platform for my fiction, poetry and essays. Mostly about spanking and D/s, but also for participating in a community of friends who share a passion for open dialogue about all things kink. We are your neighbors, your family, your employees and co-workers. We span all ethnicities, ages, professions and genders. We are proud Spankos and welcome anyone who is curious and respectful of TTWD.

A few of my Favorite Books

This week’s prompt from Wicked Wednesday is, “Favorite Books”.

I read a lot and have since very young. It started as an escape mechanism from family drama, and remains my favorite hobby. I don’t know how many books I’ve read in my life, but I’m sure it’s at least 25,000.

At the top of the heap, is The Lord of The Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien. Quite frankly, nothing has ever really come close to supplanting this novel. Yes, novel. Tolkien himself considered it to be one single novel, written as six books in three volumes: The Fellowship Of The Ring, The Two Towers and The Return Of The King.

There are four groups of people: Those who have both read the novel and seen the movies. Those who have read but not seen. Those who have seen but not read, and those who have neither read the novel nor seen the movies.

For those who don’t know, when working on the screen play, Peter Jackson realized that Tolkien’s work was actually exactly what needed to be utilized. For those who have never seen the movies, almost all of the dialogue is verbatim to the novel. That also includes the songs, poems and languages that Tolkien created. What is different in the movies, is that many scenes from the novel were not included in the final cinematic release, and one ‘minor’ character was switched and changed gender.

My second favorite books are the All Souls Trilogy +one more, by Deborah Harkness. The novels are: A Discovery Of Witches, Shadow Of Night and The Book Of Life. The add-on is, Time’s Convert. I have never seen the television adaptation, nor plan to. The books stand alone.

What I enjoy the most about these books, is the historical detail and alternative representation of what defines humanity. It raises many ethical and philosophical questions wrapped in science and history with constant magic. Well worth a read.

The most successful alternative history books of all-time, started as a one-off novel called 1632, by Eric Flint. The author writes military/sci-fi and wrote 1632 on the premise: “What would happen if an American small town was sent back in time right in the middle of The Thirty Years War?” He choose a town in present-day West Virginia, changed the name, added a few must-have details, and launched a franchise that is getting more popular with every passing year. Check Baen Books and The Ring Of Fire Press. In print, there are now close to 100 books and more than that as ezines and ereaders.

It is unapologetic American in tone, but deals harshly with discrimination of all kinds. 1632 in the Germanies was a brutal year in our history. History repeats for those that refuse to learn from the past.

There are many, many more books I love. Authors that I read every story. Too many to mention.

Oh, one more mention. Georgette Heyer. Credited by many with creating the modern Regency romance. The Grand Sophy. One of her best.

The fine line between pleasure and abuse

Several recent posts have got me thinking. The first is by Jean Marie of the blog Butt Stuff, called

“Lost In Thought”.

The second is by missy of her blog submissy, and is called “Break me and make me yours ~ submissive self”.

Both are written from a female submissive point-of-view, but one is fiction and the other a personal essay. What connects them is both women want and need to be submissive, but the fiction shows that not all submissive relationships are based on communication and trust. The Dom in the story is portrayed as abusive and concerned only about punishment and his pleasure in using his wife’s holes.

The essay explains how this wife enters her submissive space by being taken there by her Dom. The pleasure she receives in submitting comes both from a mental headspace and physical discipline. She is a submissive who submits when, or only, the choice not to submit is firmly taken away. Not through violence or fear, but through trust and love.

So what do we make of these two posts? Jean Marie is a fairly new blogger who’s writing I really enjoy for the creativity and quality of prose. As well as profusion. Most of the posts express a “naked” desire to be spanked. Thrashed. Whipped. Punished. Fucked soundly after a hard beating. Is this submission? Is this abuse? Clearly pleasure, but as “Lost In Thought” states: not all spankings are warranted, and some fuckings are rape.

On the other hand, missy has been blogging for ages. If she were in the Middle Ages, she’d be using a goose feather quill on vellum to notate her musings. I have always felt an affinity for her erudite prose and have written many an essay and fiction prompted by her posts. To many, if not most, her feminist submission is at the very least offensive, if not downright naive.

I am not one of the many. I have great admiration for her honesty and commitment to her D/s.

But D/s is not built in a day, nor built “my way or the highway”. It takes lots of thoughts, and even more actions that waver between pleasure and potential abuse. Walking that path confidently and bravely is what makes or breaks a compact of discipline.

A special guest personality

Hello my spanko friends. When I saw this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt, personality, I immediately thought of myself. Of course I did, ’cause that’s how I roll. In case you’re confused, this is not Lurv Spanking, but one of the others [the most important one {if I do say so myself}]. The others being the six personalities that make up the male body that you know and love as LS or Byron Cane. Those aren’t personalities, but personas.

There are five males and me, Rose D. Kaye, the only female. The D. Kaye is my “publishing” nom de plume. It’s a more mainstream name than Dewy Knickers, which is what we first started using when I was blogging and then created my own blog. I also used to blog as Bawdy Wench. Confused yet?

So, rather than write some about what’s it like to be a multiple personality, we decided collectively that it’s okay to share a repost of my travel book Knickers Abroad; a multiple journey. What follows below is a partial excerpt from Chapter Sixteen entitled, ‘Let’s Meet at the Big Spider’. I don’t blog anymore, nor talk in person nor email, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a real person. With real thoughts, real emotions and real desires. My entire life in on my blogs, so if you’re curious about what’s it like being a multiple personality from a perspective that is not the “face”, then feel free to read my blog. I do promise to respond to any and all comments on any blog.

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As we had the furthest to travel I expected us to be the last to arrive and halfway over the bridge to the looming brick pile that is the Tate Modern, I was anxiously scanning the crowd for Jo and Drizel. The museum was just opening at ten o’clock so the patrons were still light, with more pouring in from every direction. I spotted Drizel first; she had her back to the Thames, leaning against the railing and her long red hair was a bright beacon of friendship. I also thought I saw Jo sitting on a bench at the far opposite end of the plaza but she was with another woman so I wasn’t sure. I raced off the walkway leaving Diane behind in my enthusiasm and over to Drizel. Her face lit up with excited recognition and we hugged, giggled and exchanged “luffies”. After introducing Diane to her I excused myself and we left them to chat and went over towards the woman we thought was Jo. Getting closer we were positive that it was she and making eye contact she also broke out into a wide and delighted grin. We hugged and I said hello and then she introduced her mother Marie. We weren’t sure how much Marie knew as she greeted Brian instead of me, so he popped out and whispered to Jo asking if her mother knew about Rose. She reassured us that ‘everyone’ knew and that’s why her mother was here.

We all came back together in the shadow of the big spider: Louise Bourgeois’ 30-foot tall spider called “Maman”. Created in 1999, the sculpture had been previously displayed at the Tate Modern in 2000 and 2004, sandwiched around a world tour in 2001 that included such places as Canada, Spain, New York and Russia. Born in Paris in 1911, Louise credits her artistic vision to her childhood memories and diaries. She was quoted as saying, “My childhood has never lost its magic, it has never lost its mystery and it has never lost its drama.” Certainly “Maman” is dramatic, but for me, a bit sad. Trapped forever in iron are her eggs that will never hatch.

After everyone had met and exchanged hugs and greetings I explained the ground rules. Unless someone asked a question of Brian, I was free to roam until further notice and the ‘face’ was hereby known as Rose. Since we were the only ones in the group to have visited the Tate before, the first order of business was seeing the ‘Crack’ again – “Shibboleth” – and Jo was enthralled. I don’t think Diane, Drizel and Marie were as enthused as we were, but we all used it as a backdrop for group pictures. It was very hilarious to watch everyone taking pictures of myself with Jo and then Drizel in turn. With the flashing of cameras and the calls to face this way and then that, I felt like a celebrity. A minor one to be sure, but my smile would have powered the former turbine once housed here where now we stood together in friendship.

The Tate Cafe on the ground floor provided a welcome place to sit and bond over tea and biscuits. I felt right at home talking about my life and goals and to meet girlfriends like these was a very liberating experience. Drizel and I clicked right away, as I knew we would, and she gave us both gifts. Mine was a wonderful and sassy book of poetry by Mark Haddon called “The Talking Horse and the sad Girl and the Village under the Sea”. She gave a book about South African wildlife to Brian along with two gorgeous hand-painted canvas bookmarks. I handed out cards that Diane handmade to Drizel and Jo including a sympathy card to Marie and Jo. Marie’s husband, Jo’s father, had passed away at hospice earlier in the week and they were using this outing as a means of healing. Their pain was fresh and raw though; we gave them what comfort we could.

We talked and talked about many different topics, poetry and blogging, writing and the frustrations inherent with too many ideas and not enough time. Drizel has a degree in Psychology so she has always understood me to be a woman and told me that she had to explain over and over again to her friends that I was ‘normal’. It’s interesting as I’ve grown and expanded how some people are attracted to one of us and not the other. Drizel and Brian have a brother and sister relationship and have felt that since the very beginning of their friendship. They call it, ‘siblings from another mother’. For me though, even before she moved from South Africa to England and then back again, she was a close girlfriend and she happens to be an extraordinarily gifted writer with a deep insight into the dark psyches.

Jo had found me through poetry blogs and instantly became my friend. She also had a book of poetry as a gift for me, “New Selected Poems 1966-1987” by Seamus Heaney. In her case she didn’t make the connection between Brian and I until much later so she didn’t know that much about him. In person, Jo turned out to be warm and caring and projected a sense of poise and fierce strength, presumably from her career in journalism and from living in many places around the world. She is a loving mother of two young boys and she reacted most strongly to me when I related our history and told her about Little Brian. The tears in her eyes showed the true depth of her compassion.

After we had exhausted all possible topics of conversation, we decided to take a quick tour of the exhibit floors before Jo and Marie had to leave. The 2nd and 4th floors house a wide variety of Modern Art. I capitalize this because art that desires to be called modern cannot make sense. I mean this in the most generous of ways. For an artist to be called modern he/she must be able to create something that looks like you’d buy it at IKEA and assemble it yourself. It must be strange, deranged even and many times incomprehensible to the untrained eye.

Here is where I part company with many folks I am sure. I loved everything about this museum and the works of art that adorned the floors and walls. It matters not a whit to me that the art is a large canvas with blotches of random paint. Or a series of videos of a dog tripping a man, each shot from a different perspective. Metal squares and painted blocks; translucent nudes and jagged iron sculptures reaching for a tortured sky. I didn’t understand many of the displays, but that didn’t matter. I understood enough to know that the artist had a vision. A vision that haunted their dreams and waking days driving them to create something that was real only to them.

satire and spanking

if I were a Dom

life would be perfect

spank my horny subs every morning

very willing and eager to please

they’d do all the work

love sucking my cock

I’d kick back and enjoy coming

and they’d beg for hard whackings all the time

’cause they’d do it for me

Conviction and Courage

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is “Courage”. It’s been awhile since I wrote an essay, so I wanted to share my thoughts about D/s and courage. There is no doubt that the burden of being courageous seems to mostly fall upon the submissive rather than the dominant in a given relationship. Certainly the blogs and articles I read focus more on the details of submission and on how often there is not enough or not the right kind of dominance at the right time. It takes courage to be in a D/s relationship: I argue on both sides of the paddle and not just when the discipline is taking place. It takes conviction and courage to both receive and give out spankings. The headspace of the Dom gets too little attention.

First off – before I get personal – when I say D/s, that covers every possible type of BDSM and gender combination. As I commented on a recent post of missy’s about the lack of how-to books for married D/s, ‘It’s not exactly like a cookbook. There are too many ingredients. Not to mention temperamental chefs.’ Every single person has a different perspective, expectation and conviction that their BDSM is the correct approach.

Those books that do exist generally concentrate on the female submissive point-of-view. I wanted to talk about being a male Dom and how courage plays into… well, play.

I “Lurv Spanking“. I offer no apology or shame for wanting to spank. It’s my favorite fantasy, my favorite sexual thing to do and I will always want to have a bare bottom over my knee. I’ve only ever spanked female bottoms, but am not adverse to spanking male as well; well, a male bottom other than my own. Yes, I self-spank. It helps me cope with stress and other things. I’m also a sadist, which I did not fully acknowledge in the past. What really turns me on is inflicting pain. Knowing that “it” hurts, is the ultimate aphrodisiac. There is a caveat however to my personal sadism. I need to know up front that the bottom either enjoys receiving pain or is willing to submit and accept punishment as their due. For me, it is a major turn-off and an absolute no-go if the concept of spanking is perceived as abusive by the potential partner. My sadism is fueled by their acceptance, desire and the courage to submit willingly and fully in the moment.

“I know that they know that I know that they know that spanking hurts and they know that I know that they want to be hurt and I know they know I enjoy giving them what they want.”

My second favorite thing to do is to “force” a woman to have multiple orgasms. Not just one or two, but dozens. That’s sadism too. Taking control of her body away. Playing it like a personal instrument. Calling her filthy names and humiliating her by making her scream when she comes and then pointing out she’s a naughty wet slut who needs to be punished. Rewarding her for having the courage to surrender her will and responses by making the pleasure roll on and on until it becomes painful. To then cuddle and care and praise while she recovers and then, with an evil chuckle, bend her back over the knee and order her to beg and plead to have that pain and pleasure happen all over again from the top. That type of submissive courage only happens with honest and frank communication. Not just, “I want to hurt you. OK.” That’s not being honest.

But Doms need courage as well. Especially sadistic ones. The amount of control and of self-discipline needed to plan, execute and deliver a scene no matter how spontaneous, is enormous. Sometimes the responsibility is overwhelming. Courage to accept the reality that their partner[s] need a spanking: want a spanking. Deserve a spanking. Your submissive[s] have the courage to set up rules and regulations that they require in order to fuel their own personal fantasies and cravings. They don’t have to you know. D/s is a choice we all made at some point. We all got to that point from different places. It’s often a leap of faith to even open a discussion about spanking. Mistakes will be made. Anger will be expressed.

Disappointment and disillusionment happen in all D/s relationships. It’s inevitable. Even needed when a reset becomes obvious in hindsight. The reality of ‘power exchanges’ don’t occur from a vacuum. It takes communication and feedback and the ability to confidently lead as a dominant. Even if you’re quaking inside believing you’re not up to the task of leadership.

 

The deeps hide many secrets

When Leviathans sailed the briny seas, racing from port to port carrying the desperate in their slimy holds and the affluent in silky splendor; it was often not readily apparent who, in truth, lived in quiet desperation. For Arrabelle Roquefort de la Fortunée, the voyage from Marseille to Sydney was three months of hell. She suffered from crippling mal de mar during high seas, but even under calm conditions, could only tolerate mash and light spirits. No dining at the Captain’s table for her.

Far worse though than constant queasiness was the harsh treatment dealt from the fists of her brute of a husband, the Duc de Vervin-Chacout; and a worse specimen of male would have been hard to find. He was portly, profusely be-whiskered, overly fond of brandy [both the libation and the Ambassador’s wife] and an inferiority complex that was quick to kindle violent outbursts. In an age not that far distant, he would have long since been buried due to dueling. A lost duel, natch. The Duc was a bully, who pretended prowess in swivving to his sycophantic circle. They were primarily interested in his gold.

On the night the Duc vanished none could recall – so sworn before the Board of Inquiry – witnessing anything untoward. No, Madam de la Fortunée was not at table. No, Le Duc was not excessively imbibed. Yes, it was brisk weather, and yes the seas were running high. No, there was no abnormal sounds of struggle nor evidence of broken railings or frayed ropes. Yes, a tragedy of course. One of the many perils of sailing the Antipodes. Yes, his widow is desolate. Poor thing, sick and now in mourning for her beloved.

Had anyone else been on the fantail that fateful morning well past midnight, they would have seen the soon-to-be widow enthusiastically blowing a kiss outwards to a be-whiskered object first bobbing, then sinking beneath the luminescent wake. Forever.

threesome

there once was a girl who liked sucking
far more than she actually liked fucking
when she bounced in the sack
splayed out on her back
the problem was which to attack

for the cock it was hard
all veiny and large
tasty truncheon meaty and throbbing

but the pussy was wet
pink lips soft as velvet
creamy sauce so juicy and dripping

they fought for her mouth
while neglecting down south
naughty fingers slipped and got frigging

but that was too greedy
scolded for being so needy
bare bottom turned red with hard spanking

she got what she wanted
no longer so haunted
humiliation freed through pleading

the moral of her tears
was to overcome her fears
learn submission wasn’t so daunting

From thin air

It was nearing nightfall, the time when everyone sought shelter against the plummeting temperatures. Not her though: she was on a mission. The goal, to find the elusive MILF. Many had claimed to have succeeded; none had ever offered any visual or physical proof. There! A flash of green on the horizon. She opened the throttle wide. Just like my mouth will be when I catch him, she chortled. When she caught up with the running figure, it turned at bay and lifted its long, thick erect phallus in defiance. ‘Yes!’ she cried out. The Martian I’d like to fuck!

A Free Offer and a Poetry Surprise

Welcome my spanko friends. First of all, I’d like to thank all of you who commented on my post last December and offered condolences for my wife’s death. It’s has been three months now and I am coping okay. This past weekend I went down to Sanibel Island, Florida to scatter some of her ashes on the beach where we vacationed this past August. Today, March 1st, is her birthday and I wrote a poem for her. I posted it along with pictures on my blog.

Not this one. No, not that one either.
Not a blog that any of you know about, well, with two exceptions.
Before I get into that, y’all need a bit of history. So kick back, relax in your leggings/fleece/flannel or nothing at all, while I try to wrap this up in under a thousand words. 😉

I started blogging in 2006 focusing on women’s rights, abuse, rape, mental health; all the negative things that happen in our societies worldwide. I wanted to shine the light on abhorrent behavior through ‘Truth is Freedom’. I gradually built an audience, started posting poems and fiction as well as essays, and found myself posting every single day. In fact, I kept a 30-day buffer of completed daily posts so that I had time to write my first novel at work. But I consider myself a poet first and foremost. A fiction writer second. And I’m a damn good poet.

1. The first blog. 02/2006 to 02/2012. 450 posts. Now private because I was getting thousands of spam comments every day.
2. The next blog. 09/2006 to 02/2012. 130 posts. Public but not mine.*
3. The next blog. 10/2006 to 02/2012. 007 posts. Now private. Contains most of my poetry at 1000+ poems in seven folders.
4. The next blog. 07/2009 to 01/2017. 020 posts. Public but not mine.*
5. The next blog. 09/2009 to present. 620 posts. This very spanking blog you are reading.
6. The next blog. 07/2010 to 01/2012. 013 posts. Now private. About my poly phase.
7. The next blog. 07/2016 to present. 580 posts. Public, under my real first name, with poetry and fiction.
8. The next blog. 05/2017 to present. 030 posts. Public as Byron Cane, erotica author.

As you can see, I’ve been blogging for 15 years – with many breaks – but have kept my fictional spanking life walled off from my real life. Until now.

*This is the exception. The two starred* blogs don’t belong to me, but her, Dewy Knickers, who also blogs as Bawdy Wench, who is Rose, who is part of us as multiple personalities. She’s not linking, but will see how it goes with me first. She is on the poetry blog however if you dig on the sidebar. She wants you to have to work to find her and her book.

And as an aside, I’m proud to be a multiple personality, and damn proud of Rose. She’s fucking amazing, as a writer, a poet, a woman and as my friend.

And we could fucking care less about trolls… other than diced and fried for breakfast.

The poem is “My Wife’s Ashes’ and is posted on my other writing blog, There Are More Poets Than Stars in The Firmament. Please click the highlighted title of the poem and you will be taken to the post. If you feel moved to comment, but don’t want to link your D/s blog to my vanilla blog, then feel free to comment on this post instead. Thank you and please take some time if you can to explore my other writing. There are quick link pages at the top of the blog and categories in the sidebar.

Now to the FREE OFFER!!!!
Interested?
Well, it’s not here. Not there.
It’s right here instead..

Happy Reading my spanko friends.

Stay safe, stay healthy, stay strong.

An announcement coming soon

I’m going to make some changes, have an offer and some other stuff next week. Stay tuned to this blog for more information. 

Back writing

Four years ago I finished my novel, Breaking Grace, and then set it aside intending to let it marinate and edit it… again… for the umpteenth time. I went on to other projects, including the next novel, Kismet, and of course, my faux Victorian opus, The Bumhampton Chronicles. There were also submissions for open calls and anthologies.

But life got in the way and I lost interest in writing; again, and I’m sure not for the last time. But, on this past Monday, I looked at the two-inch thick stack of paper that is the Grace Manuscript, and I felt a stirring. No! Not that kind of stirring, you perverts. Although, if I do say so myself, those who have read the entire draft have told me it’s very hot. So, I fired up Word and started a new blank document. I changed the title, and, also the start, because what brought this stirring on was thinking up a new beginning to the novel.

It’s 108,000 words and 242 pages single-spaced, and although the beginning is very strong and I’m keeping that chapter intact, it never really flowed out of the gate with the punch I wanted. I’d gone back and forth between 3rd person past and 1st person present, but though I thought the latter was the best, it didn’t work as a prologue. At all. Too confusing and needed a backstory or commentary and so, I just left it hanging until something better came along. Which it did.

So Tuesday when I started fresh, I started off as 3rd person past in chapter 1 with 750 brand new, never before seen, full warranty, fresh out of the box, words. I then stayed with the past tense in chapter two and three, and then moved the former prologue to chapter four as 1st person past, but set in the present ‘as told to’ narrative. I also pulled about a thousand words from the middle of the old chapter 10 and inserted [you people’s minds are in the gutter] them near the beginning of chapter two. Comprende?

So the new word count so far is 6,445. As I rewrite, I don’t anticipate shuffling much more around, but there is a series of chapters that borrows from Domestic Discipline, Jenny Style, that I may not keep, or at least will modify heavily. Jenny gave me permission years ago to use the excerpt, but I think I’ll use a more fictionalized version of her contract, so that any future conflicts with publishing are avoided.

So what is this novel all about?

Well, it has spanking, BDSM, D/s, D/D, polyamory, Christianity, LGBTQIA, abuse, violence, and takes an unflinching look at the way corruption intersects with juvenile justice. There is lots more than that: the narrative device is two timelines eight years apart that come together with plots that go spinning off in all directions, affluenza leading to wasted lives and people finding love in all the wrong places. It is not an easy read, and it will piss a lot people off.

But at the heart, it’s a romance about the devastation of abuse inflicted by adults upon children and the power of faith and redemption to bring healing to broken survivors. 

 

The internet has failed

The internet has failed. Hasn’t it?

“A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” Spoken by King Richard III in the play of the same name by William Shakespeare

In today’s world, he would have said: “5G! 5G! My investment portfolio for 5G!”

What Richard was asking for was not a horse so much, but for information. An Information Superhighway that would save his life and his kingdom. Information that could best be transmitted by the Ferrari of the time with a one-horsepower drivetrain.

He failed.

Information is what enabled businesses, empires and religions to spread far beyond their origins. Information; the need to have quick and secure communications between leaders, is what drove infrastructures such as roads, canals, rails and shipping to ever faster and more efficient routes. An army couldn’t march if there was no way forward or no intelligence as to the whereabouts and intentions of the enemy.

The World Wide Web, as the Internet is now named, began as a better way to communicate; to pass information quicker and easier than letters and couriers. Academia saw it as a way to collaborate and research without sequestering in musty libraries. A few nimble businesses foresaw another way to reach consumers, but for most companies, it was just another advertising avenue and Madison was working out fine. Nobody, not even science fiction writers, came anywhere close to the reality of 2021.

When I was a wee lad, there was such an occupation as door-to-door salesman of encyclopedias. Normally bought a volume at a time on an installment plan. The standard pitch was a guilt trip laid on the parents so that Little Junior here had a chance to have an Ivy League [Harvard and ilk] worthy education for mere pennies a day. Implied was; as opposed to following in dear old dad’s footsteps at the greasy garage. Never mind that Junior had no shot at college unless via the military while Little Miss was expected only to follow mom into the kitchen and nursery.

Personal computers, routers and dial-up modems opened up the world… a curated world that’s true… but a world nevertheless heretofore unattainable for almost everyone. It was even free. An afterthought given away by telephone companies that had no idea how to market the concept. Thus the myth took hold that “information was free!” Free of regulations, free of restrictions, free of censorship, free of corporate control: freedom to create and connect and have a grand ol’ time learning about anything you wanted.

Sex.

That’s what everyone wanted to learn about. Sex.

What people forgot, or chose to ignore, is that information has never been free. Not to create, not to transmit, not to consume. The market, no matter the political rule, will always find a way to supply demand. Especially demand that is artificially created and stimulated in order to make money. “Social Media” is not new; only the platform is.

The internet has failed if you believed that freely exchanged information was supposed to bring disparate people together in celebration of their similarities. The internet has failed if you believed that creativity would allow everyone to be successful and financially equivalent. The internet has failed if you believed that the truth would become obviously self-evident.

The truth is that the internet is simply a tool; like a plow or a loom, it is how you wield it that makes it a success or failure. Without the internet, I wouldn’t have friends around the world, wouldn’t have published books, wouldn’t be able to follow whatever and whomever I choose. Without the internet, I wouldn’t have become such a diehard spanko.

That’s not a bad legacy.

 

Alone for Christmas

I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve posted or even commented. There are many and sundry reasons for that, but primarily it’s because I lost interest in writing. I’ve never been a “passionate” writer, someone who burns to set quill to parchment, but merely a dabbler.

I am posting today to let you know that my wife of 35 years, died recently. She had been struggling with illness, not Covid, but end-stage kidney failure complicated by many other conditions. I woke up in the morning to find she’d passed away in her sleep. Her death was shocking but not unexpected given that we and her medical team had been discussing the likely outcome for months. We have no children and our families live far away.

I took a week off from work, but now find myself amongst the retail public scurrying for last-minute gifts, listening to Christmas carols on endless repeat over the PA while grieving with a smile under my mask. 2020 will go down as the most surreal year of my life… so far. Who knows what the future holds for me, but for now, I am slowly organizing her life and mourning for the next six months.

Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year y’all and stay safe, stay masked, stay distant.

Z is for Zealot

A person who is fanatical and uncompromising in pursuit of their religious, political, or other ideals.

Zealot is a negative word. After all, compromise is at the heart of human endeavors. When it comes to spanking though, I’ll accept the label of zealot. 😉

I love spanking. As my blog address states: I Lurv Spanking. Why? No idea. I just know that no sexual act brings me as much satisfaction as spanking. And yes, I do believe that spanking is sexual. [Discuss that among yourselves.]

When it comes to D/s, I am fully uncompromising in supporting spanking between consenting adults, whether it be punishment, discipline, erotic, playful or therapy. Spanking is not weird, abnormal, deviant or damaging when done correctly and with respect.

I’m fanatical in reading and writing about spanking. As the saying goes: Spanking; I’m a big fan. I do think though, that too much time and effort is wasted on analyzing the whys and hows of spanking. Either you enjoy spanking, top, bottom or both; or you don’t. I don’t actually go out of my way to eat Brussels sprouts, but I don’t mind them. If that’s how you feel about spanking, then you’re not a spanko.

Nothing wrong with that. Spanking is not a litmus test for D/s. You can be submissive and never be spanked. Boundaries are there for a reason. On the other hand, just because you enjoy being spanked doesn’t mean you are submissive. A real zealot [I’m just a wannabe] insists on strict rules and has zero tolerance for deviation. That’s not me. Spanking should always have at its core, a feeling of naughty fun.

Happy Spanking!!!!!!

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

Y is for Yes

Yes: Old English gēse, gīse, probably from an unrecorded phrase meaning ‘may it be so.’

Da, Ja, Oui, Si, Ha, Ya, Hai and many others represent a simple, yet very complex word. Yes is not simply the opposite of no. In BDSM, yes is actually a physical representation of the dichotomy between Dominance and submission.

“Yes, I want you to spank me.” is a more difficult state of mind than: “Do you want me to spank you?” requiring a yes in response. Both of those however, are more difficult for a submissive that simply hearing; “I’m going to spank you now.” or, even better, “Bend over. Now.”

The latter two statements are not a result of saying yes, but rather, having a D/s relationship that includes a default “yes” as the primary driver of action. For a Dominant, the assumption is — unless otherwise negotiated — that yes, once given, is permanently in place and therefore consent is not needed again. The submissive in this case will likely get… cheesed off by his/her Dom/me constantly asking for permission to proceed. Nothing kills the mood faster than “Are you okay, honey? Is your butt too sore?”

Domly confidence is the ultimate aphrodisiac. So says 4 out of 5 subs. 🙂

Confidence is not arrogance though. Nor stupidity. Or cruelty. Or just being a bloody stupid wanker who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a bare bottom. In those cases, yes means no, and fuck no! is an always appropriate response. Don’t be taken in by slick lines and thick wallets. Yes maybe fine for a one-night stand, but in the long-term, getting to yes means finding out what triggers the no. If the nos outweigh the yeses, it’s time for a rethink.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

X is for Xenophile

This is a made-up word. You would have thought some fusty man embarking on a Grand Tour would have created this several centuries ago, but it is a fairly recent word as vocabulary goes.

Xenophile: an individual who is attracted to foreign peoples, manners, or cultures. 1922: from Greek, from xeno– + –phile, first usage 1948 in current definition.

I want to concentrate on culture though; specifically the BDSM culture.

First though, a side trip into anthropology.

Most “experts” would state that somewhere between 100 and 300 individuals comprise the optimum human village or tribe. Any less, and the group will not remain viable long-term and any more, the individual gets lost in the mass. This group is considered family, or at the very least, close friends. Once the numbers spiral past 300, the excess become strangers or foreigners.

The internet was supposed to allow/permit humans to transcend the biological ties of blood and place by finding individuals and groups that shared similar interests and hobbies. But instead of highlighting those similarities and bringing peaceful interactions, the internet has created a harsh forum whereby all the actual differences are used as weapons against anything foreign, whether nations or people.

BDSM is no different. Each of us has a level of comfort, of experience, of desire and of longing to find that “perfect” partner/s to quell the yearning in our kinky souls. Yes, the internet has facilitated the linking of like-minded kinksters from around the world, but being attracted to the D/s culture is no guarantee you, as an individual, will be allowed entrée into the rarefied stratus of the discerning beau monde of BDSM.

Millions of friends on social media, do not a culture make. Some would argue that the maximum number of people you can have a close and meaningful relationship with, is only four. Higher that that, the connections become ever more tenuous. Being attracted to foreign cultures, manners or peoples, raises the salient question: What does being foreign even mean? We are all foreigners.

Often even to our neighbors, co-workers or family.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

W is for Wonderful

Wonderful: inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous.

If that’s not a definition for how a jolly good spanking feels, then I don’t know what else comes close. 🙂

I do realize that defining spanking, D/s or all-out BDSM as wonderful, likely causes a few eyebrows to twerk. But I respectively submit that a bottom, bared for chastisement, does indeed ‘inspire delight’ and the feel and sound of palm spanking fulsome cheeks is a source of great ‘pleasure’ for both parties involved. One can feel ‘admiration’ for how wonderfully a willing submissive takes a good, hard thrashing; while the reverse is certainly true as the Dom is rewarded for their expertise with sexual favors given in admiring gratitude. An ‘extremely good’ spanking is a ‘marvelous’ thing of beauty that rivals any masterwork displayed in a museum.

In this day and age of instant gratification, and the tsunami of information available with a few clicks and swipes, there is good reason to turn off the devices, draw the curtains, and spend some quality time over-the-knee contemplating all the wonderful things in your life and relationships. Connecting through spanking and D/s is a time-honored tradition and one that is both solemn and silly. So embrace both and enjoy the wonder of D/s. Happy Spanking everyone.

Wonder: Old English wundor (noun), wundrian (verb), of Germanic origin; related to Dutch wonder and German Wunder, of unknown ultimate origin.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

V is for Violent

A violent thunderstorm. A violent earthquake. A violent eruption.

A violent spanking?

Using or involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something. Middle English (in the sense ‘having a marked or powerful effect’): via Old French from Latin violent– ‘vehement, violent.’

To non-practitioners, BDSM is often linked with domestic violence. To many, there is no possible consent when it comes to using physical force intended to hurt. Yes, spankings hurt. So do floggings, canings, whippings, paddlings, tawsings, and the occasional wooden spoon and other handy household implements. But intending to hurt, depends on the intent. Simply stating “please spank me”, does not give anyone the right to do so in a reckless and violent manner. D/s is a serious business.

I don’t think anyone who loves BDSM would consider themselves or what they do to be violent. By the strictness of definitions, a spanking involves force whether by hand over-the-knee or tied to a bench and caned. Unless the spanked doesn’t have a functioning nervous system, then it will hurt to some degree depending on the boundaries previously established and the level of consent given by all involved parties. Having said that, the intersection between hurting violence and damaging violence is where a consensual relationship meets law enforcement.

It is never alright to force someone into submitting against their will. It is never alright to physically or mentally abuse someone without their knowing consent and cooperation. It is never alright to be violent for violence’s sake.

And lastly: Self-violence may be a sign of serious health issues and should not be taken lightly.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

U is for Unstable

Two of the most powerful forces in the universe are chaos and entropy. When it comes to D/s, it often seems that those forces are the only ones that matter. When combined, chaos and entropy lead to the inclination to simply give up and stop trying. Being unstable is a physical law of systems both comprehensible and complex, and the most challenging of those is likely the human brain.

Unstable: prone to psychiatric problems or sudden changes of mood. Middle English: from Anglo-Norman French, from Latin stabilis, from the base of stare ‘to stand.’ Un-: Old English, of Germanic origin; from an Indo-European root shared by Latin in- and Greek a- .

We are all unstable in some way. Internally we often feel inadequate or outright fraudulent when going through our daily lives. We crave stability, but tend to be knocked around by events not within our control. Even our own moods and mind seem to spin like a galaxy no matter how disciplined we pretend we are. You can certainly put forth the argument that the ‘natural’ state of being for humans, is to be unstable. A blissful and centered existence is the unicorn here.

So the question perhaps is: Are those involved in BDSM more or less unstable than the mean? And what is the mean? If everyone is prone to some level of psychiatric problems, then what use is the word normal? Or: Are sudden mood changes helped with a healthy dose of discipline? Does D/s cure instability?

I haven’t posted in three months. Haven’t written a word. Felt unstable, often extremely so every day. It’s a struggle, and at some point, I may finally learn to stop wrestling with my reflection because neither of us can pin the other. I guess that’s the entire point of D/s.

Surrender.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

T is for Tormented

Middle English (as both noun and verb referring to the infliction or suffering of torture): from Old French torment (noun), tormenter (verb), from Latin tormentum ‘instrument of torture,’ from torquere ‘to twist.’

Tormented serves as a very ‘good’ word for my recent state of mind. I haven’t written anything in months. Haven’t commented. Haven’t cared about much of anything. For some reason every year I forget how I feel about The Holidays. In simple terms: I hate them.

Beginning before Halloween and lasting until the New Year, all my self-doubt and -loathing get all twisted up with memories and emotions that have never been settled, never mind with any permanent closure. It doesn’t help that my other personalities have different desires; some (as in Rose) love the hype and color and social doings and would be partying every night if I let her. Some of the others that lived before me, and more importantly lived through the trauma, roll their eyes at her and want to stay in their rooms until spring. But, having to work ‘nearly’ full-time in order to keep a roof over our heads and the larder stocked, means that five days a week I have to grit my teeth, force all my feelings back into the closet and do my best to survive. Plus, being my wife’s caretaker can get stressful.

None of that feeds my creativity. I’m never been someone that uses adversity to strive for change. I tend to pull back and curl up into myself. My only escape is to read. Or YouTube; but I won’t blame my depression on that addiction. I/We have always been depressed to some degree, but medication doesn’t work and therapy became a crutch. I don’t really want to be tormented all the time, but I don’t know how to stop.

Lest you think this is self-pity or a ‘woe-is-me’ diatribe… it’s not. Rose slaps me upside the head (well, inside the head. So to speak.) whenever I wallow. As she points out — and I know — there are billions of people on this Earth who can’t fathom the luxury and security of my lifestyle. I just get stuck. Internally. I can counsel someone else quite readily but when it comes to introspection, I suck. I don’t blame anyone. I accept full responsibility for my lack… of many things.

This was not what I intended to write today, but it needs to be said. I write when I feel like it, not to make a living. To some of you, that undoubtably disqualifies me from the Authors Guild, but that’s okay. The pen maybe mightier than the sword, but in my case, at least it doesn’t serve as a tormentum. I’ve got my mind serving that post.

And it is a very, very competent torturer.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

S is for Savage

If you were Roman, you had a love/hate relationship with the wilderness. On the one hand, there were Silvanus — woodland deities — but then there was the Teutoburg Forest. The natural world was not something to be trusted or admired, only an obstacle to or opportunity for wealth. Thus the root Latin word of silva — a wood — gave us both the modern English word ‘sylvan’ [conjuring vistas of misty woody hills and frolicking fauna] and ‘savage’ whose definition is both lengthy and traumatizing.

Middle English: from Old French sauvage ‘wild,’ from Latin silvaticus ‘of the woods,’ from silva ‘a wood.’

adjective (of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled.
• cruel and vicious; aggressively hostile
• (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) primitive; uncivilized.
• (of a place) wild-looking and inhospitable; uncultivated.
• (of something bad or negative) very great; severe:
noun (chiefly in historical or literary contexts) a member of a people regarded as primitive and uncivilized.
• a brutal or vicious person
verb (especially of a dog or wild animal) attack ferociously and maul
• subject to a vicious verbal attack; criticize brutally

Thanks to Hollywood, the image of shrieking warriors in little clothing and painted bodies charging innocent colonizers [ie. eco-tourists] who just happened to be white, nearly always male — except when helpless females were being threatened by the savage natives — and standing up for truth, justice and the way of the gun; we have a deep-rooted social bias towards those that live alternative lifestyles or off the land.

Naturists [as they preferred to be called] are considered perverts at best, secret pedophiles at worst. Vegans and the many off-shoots of vegetarianism that have evolved through the millenniums, are labeled with numerous unflattering and oftentimes hostile epithets. Environmentalists are flat out accused of lying in order to push their alleged agenda of destroying civilization if not outright extermination of the human race.

And outside of fiction, any savage who would physically strike another person is obviously a threat to the general public and should locked up as a primitive being. Unless you’re a boxer. Or a martial artist. Or an athlete in a contact sport. Or involved in consensual BDSM.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

R is for Ridiculous

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.” Indicating contempt.
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing happened.” Indicating exasperation.
“Why would you even consider doing such a ridiculous thing?” Indicating disbelief.

All three of these sentences could be about anything at all, but for the sake of this essay, let us assume the subject matter involves spanking.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. You want to be spanked? That’s just stupid.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, nothing happened. I would never spank someone, no matter how badly they behaved.”
“Why would you even consider doing such a ridiculous thing? Spanking is so perverse and degrading.”

Ridiculous: deserving or inviting derision or mockery; absurd – mid 16th cent.: from Latin ridiculosus, from ridiculus ‘laughable,’ from ridere ‘to laugh.’

Is BDSM ridiculous as described in the definition above? Deserving derision or mockery? Absolutely not. Inviting the same? Wellllllll. Like every human endeavor, there is always a hint of the absurd lurking in the not so distant background. However, it is also the case, that only those involved, deeply involved in a particular activity, are allowed self-mockery. Spanking is a serious business: except when it’s not. If you’re not a spanko, you’re never understand the need — the craving — for the burning heat, and orgasmic submission that spanking can engender in the parties concerned.

What is ridiculous is how often we humans feel the need to poke our digits in other’s private lives. It’s absurd that my welfare could be endangered by consensual BDSM practiced halfway around the globe. [That’s ‘globe’ as in the Earth, not globe as in an arse.] Personally, I feel that if more people gave spanking a try, they’d discover that life doesn’t have to be a dreary slog towards the inevitable end. Carpe diem, and all that. Get that slogan off your shirt and back where it belongs. Over a knee and loving every smack.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

Q is for Quixotic

Having a lifestyle of BDSM can seem at times to be like ’tilting at windmills’. This phrase as well as the word ‘quixotic’ derive from the novel, El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha, published in two parts by the Spanish author Cervantes in 1605 and 1615. There are currently 22 English translations beginning in 1612 and the most recent, in 2011. Most readers are familiar with the truncated title, Don Quixote.

The hero of this romance — a satirical account of chivalric beliefs and conduct — Don Quixote is a character that has a romantic and naive unworldly idealism. Thus giving quixotic its definition: exceedingly idealistic; unrealistic and impractical.

It is after all, exceedingly idealistic that the general public will ever accept BDSM as a normal and healthy variant of romance. It is also unrealistic and impractical to agitate for PDAs [public displays of affection] to include spankings in grocery stores, anal plug insertions during staff meetings or nipple clamping during an opera intermission. Stories about fundraisers involving sexy calendar shoots are just that, fantasies. And yes, there are locales that have public BDSM during a festival setting, but obscenity statutes still are enforced.

But I venture to state that many of those who ‘venture’ into BDSM, do so out of a longing to conduct themselves in a more formal manner. Chivalric even. Being beholden to a Lord, or Mistress, who takes away the stress of day-to-day romance and codifies behavior into strict protocol with seemingly harsh consequences for errors of submission and omission. Punished for minor lapses in order to forestall major mistakes. It may seem naive to outsiders to willingly submit and surrender control of self to someone whip-in-hand, but that submission comes from strength, not weakness, and certainly not, unworldly idealism.

Tilting at windmills may indeed give a knight’s lance a strenuous workout, but the giants are real. Those monsters that seek to devour and conquer through fear and violence. The world doesn’t need more dictators strutting on the stage, but more Don Quixotes would be very welcome. Only this time, let there be spanking.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

P is for Prurient

Prurient: having or encouraging an excessive interest in sexual matters — is a word passed down from Latin unchanged in spelling, and nearly so in definition.

Purient, late 16th cent. (in the sense ‘having a mental itching’): from Latin prurient– ‘itching, longing’ and ‘being wanton,’ from the verb prurire– ‘itch, tingle’ ‘I long for’.

This word shows that — despite the preference for visual cues — the largest and most dominant sex organ is the brain. The ‘mental itching’ we feel varies upon individual triggers, but it’s the longing that causes arousal, not the other way around. After all, if you are sightless, imagination is what engorges your clitoris.

But who decided that excessive interest in sexual matters was a bad thing? Is being wanton such a threat to society that the Romans [not known for restraint] needed to separate the sensation of attraction to a potential sex partner, from the action of intercourse? Reproduction [not the ‘fake’ authentic antiquities peddled by the roadside] has always been controlled by DNA, despite the best efforts of despots, religion and fanatics to sanctify the process through the dubious institution of male/female marriage. I say dubious, because marriage should be a private matter untrammeled by bureaucracy of any flavor. If hand-fasting worked for the Scots, you shouldn’t require a license to wed your lover.

Certainly the rise of the internet has given new life to prurient behavior with unlimited excesses at your fingertips 24/7/365; but on the balance, I would argue that more people have been helped than harmed by the flood of sexual information now available. Yes there are lots of bad things and evil people online, but they already existed in real-life. But for every stalker or troll, there are thousands if not millions of LBGTQT+ persons who have finally found affirmation that they are not damaged, not defective, not diseased for being who they are. They are normal people for longing for someone other than the accepted binary coupling. It’s not prurient: it’s natural.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

O is for Obscene

Obscene speech is not protected speech, per the United States Supreme Court in 1957. Nor are obscene actions in public, and in many locales in private, protected either. The most famous case still remains, Jacobellis v. Ohio, decided June 22nd, 1964 in favor of the defendant that the screening of The Lovers, was not obscene. Included in the judgement, which makes for interesting reading is this:

3. The test for obscenity is “whether to the average person, applying contemporary community standards, the dominant theme of the material taken as a whole appeals to prurient interest.” Roth v. United States , 354 U.S. 476 :1957:. Pp. 191-195.
(a) A work cannot be proscribed unless it is “utterly without redeeming social importance,” and hence material that deals with sex in a manner that advocates ideas, or that has literary or scientific or artistic value or any other form of social importance, may not be held obscene and denied constitutional protection.

In 1973, the Supreme Court further refined, in Miller v. California, the definition of obscenity from that of “utterly without socially redeeming value” *see 3a above* to that which lacks “serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value”.

But lets go back to the beginning.

The word ‘scene’ comes from the mid 16th cent. (denoting a subdivision of a play, or (a piece of) stage scenery): from Latin scena, from Greek skēnē ‘tent, stage.’ The prefix ob-, is directly Latin, meaning: ‘toward, against, in the way of.’

Combined however, ‘obscene’ arrives later in the 16th cent.: from French obscène or Latin obscaenus ‘ill-omened or abominable.’ In modern English, ‘obscene’ has two definitions. 1. (of the portrayal or description of sexual matters) offensive or disgusting by accepted standards of morality and decency. 2. Offensive to moral principles; repugnant.

But the true root of ‘obscene’ is this explanation. To be ob “off of” the standards of the scaenus “the Theatre stage”. In other words, miss your mark, fumble a line, act in a way unbecoming to the profession of acting, and you are obscaenus.

Is acting out BDSM obscene? Are spanking blogs obscene? Nudity? Are the things we [meaning those that write, speak, show the human body in a sexual manner] project to the public truly obscene? Is it really the court’s job to mandate how each person lives their life? To me, there are a lot of obscene things on the world stage; what consenting adults do or say or exhibit in a sexual way in public or private, is not one of them.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

N is for Naughty

There are certain word pairs in the English language that automatically go together. Bacon and eggs, milk and cookies, fish and chips… it seems that many of them are food. But the pair I’m thinking about is:

Naughty and giggles.

Think about it. Say ‘naughty’ out loud. Are you grinning? Smirking at least? There is something so satisfying about doing something, or simply being, well, naughty. The fact that naughty boys and girls get spanked by their Doms and Dommes is merely icing on the cake for the kinky spankos of the world.

Being naughty is also how most — if not all — of us got interested in BDSM. Looking up spanking in the dictionary. Playing with dolls or soldiers and punishing them for various nefarious deeds. Realizing that rope is useful for far more than skipping or that a spatula creates a lingering sting. Discovering that secret and furtive masturbation is much more explosive when fantasizing about being taken-in-hand, or taking the hand to a supple bottom, or two or three. ‘Don’t be naughty!’ is one of the first phrases we learn to obey when young, and depending on the upbringing, one that can sink deep hooks into our psyche.

When it comes to D/s, any conversation that brings it up, not matter how obliquely, is likely to result in stammers and blushes. After all, is there anything more naughty than sitting with friends discussing sex and spanking? How embarrassing to know that your family and/or friends now know you’re a submissive, and that your Significant Other is fully empowered to discipline you at any time. Why, they probably think you’ve got a flaming sore bottom right at this moment! How… Naughty!

But you see, I like to spank my Naughty Girl, not because I can [of course I want to as often as possible] but because she wants me to spank her. And if she’s honest, she’d admit, even if only to herself, that she needs to be spanked. So even though adult spanking can be done because somebody was naughty and needs a sharp lesson in behavior, it also can be done as foreplay, or even spanking to orgasm. So when your naughty submissive starts giggling, it’s past time to put them over your knee and treat their bottom to some loving, albeit naughty smacking.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

M is for Miserable

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

late Middle English: from French misérable, from Latin miserabilis ‘pitiable,’ from miserari ‘to pity,’ from miser ‘wretched.’

To quote the great bard himself {Mr. T} “I pity the fool.” It’s hard to say if more people believe that those involved in BDSM are wretched and depraved individuals, or pitiable for being trapped in a cycle of domination and submissiveness. To us however, the ones who love D/s and understand that the “dark folds of life” are not an excuse, being miserable is simply part of the reality.

To love someone is always risky. Even if you live — or attempt to live — in a 24/7 D/s relationship(s), it is never, and never will be, perfect. If you are always yearning for the next spanking, or dissecting the previous flogging, you will also likely always be feeling inadequate and pitiful.

“Was I enough?”
“I’m too fat.”
“I’m too thin.”
“I don’t know why he/she stays with me.”
“I always fuck things up.”
“I’m not good enough.”
“I hate my thighs: butt: breasts : penis.”

Just kidding, no guy ever has hated his little buddy: a no more accurate algorithm has ever been created. Of course, it’s also incredibly stupid, but maybe that’s a lesson. A penis {or a search engine} is never miserable, as long as it gets to come frequently.

Which loops back to the top. I pity the fool that wallows in misery, not from contempt, but from compassion. As this author knows all too well, being miserable feels great at first, but always leaves me empty and with an aching heart.

I’d much rather love. Which I do. Which I am in. Always.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

L is for Libidinous, Lascivious, Licentious, Lubricious

And these [not even including Lewd, Lecherous or Lustful] are all bad things?

Libidinous: showing excessive sexual drive; lustful.
Lascivious: (of a person, manner, or gesture) feeling or revealing an overt and often offensive sexual desire.
Licentious: promiscuous and unprincipled in sexual matters.
Lubricious: offensively displaying or intended to arouse sexual desire.

What all four have in common, besides coming from Latin, is that they reached Middle English around the time the Protestant Reformation was nailed to the door and the Church of England broke anyway from Rome. Considering that literacy was very limited at the time and predominately the bailiwick of religious orders, along with clerks attached to the Crown(s) and upper nobility, the need for specialized new words describing well-established sexual behavior seems a bit odd on the surface. Like most of human history though, it all revolves around controlling wombs. Creating a sense of shame, fear and guilt over natural urges was the most efficient way [short of a harem or convent] to keep women subjugated. No culture ever, has successfully legislated morality. Rulers pick morals; the masses cheerfully ignore them. Makes clerics pull out their hair with frustration: when they’re not abusing their underage flock of course.

Does an interest in or practicing BSDM cause libidinous, lascivious, licentious or lubricious behavior, or does behaving in a libidinous, lascivious, licentious or lubricious manner lead someone towards the forbidden temptation of BDSM? If a female acts in a sensual way, she’s labeled a slut, a whore, a fallen woman or a home-wrecker. A man is called a rake, a bounder, a player or a sower of wild oats. {Have to get that DNA spread as wide as possible} Is this a double standard? *Insert wild laughter*

How many of you reading this have had to overcome an upbringing that treated all things sex as a ‘bad’ thing unless married and then only for procreation? In your current relationship(s), does D/s help or hinder your actions in sexual terms? Do you ‘own’ your body now, in the sense of empowered to maximize your pleasure? How large a role does guilt play in spanking? Does being ‘turned-on’ immediately create shame and doubt?

I ask these questions not to elicit comments, but to start a conversation amongst yourselves about your personal feelings in terms of sexual… randiness. I don’t believe being horny is a crime; the crime comes from forcing your lubricious attentions on the unwilling.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

K is for Karma

Karma derives from the Sanskrit karman, which is a philosophy and word at least 5,500 years old. In English, the first usage was in 1827 brought to Europe as a result of the British rule in parts of India. The proper definition of karma is: “the sum of a person’s actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences.” There are parallels in Western thought, primarily phrases such as: What goes around, comes around. Reap what you sow. Treat others as you desire to be treated yourself. They all have roots in religion and serve as parables pointing out the dangers of being a jerk; as in what [if anything] comes after life is determined by how you behaved towards others.

So is there a Golden Rule in BDSM?

Well, deciding that would be like herding cats; frustrating and ultimately futile. Every single person has their own idea of what is correct behavior according to their own experiences and expectations. But for the most part, ‘karma’, is used as a negative in conversation in order to justify an event as deserved. “Did you hear what happened? That’s karma for you.”

So if someone tells you they are interested in exploring D/s, where does karma fit into the equation? If you are a Dom, is it positive karma or negative if you spank someone at their request? If you are a sub, does instigating a paddling by bratting mean your karma took a hit for deliberately being naughty? What are the degrees of karma when it comes to domination and submission? Who gains and who loses?

I don’t believe BDSM [done right {and don’t get me started on what constitutes right}] is a zero-sum game. On the contrary; when involved in any aspect of D/s in any intensity or scope, the more attuned the partners are to each other’s needs, the more ‘good’ karma is gained. Giving or receiving pleasure and pain should be about selflessly serving a loved one without requiring reciprocation.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

J is for Jaded

Sometime in the 14th century, the word ‘jade’ was coined to define a horse that was broken-down, vicious, or worthless. By 1524, that had expanded to a verb meaning: “to wear out by overwork or abuse.” It quickly morphed from there to include a disreputable woman or rarely a flirtatious girl as a ‘jade’. The verb added the sense of “being worn out” via the equine definition in 1600, and then became ‘jaded’ meaning: “made dull, apathetic, or cynical by experience or by having or seeing too much of something.” by 1630.

Considering the life expectancy in the UK during that time was around 35, with likely 40% of the population dying before reaching adulthood, one wonders how anyone could have experienced such ennui as to need an entirely new vocabulary describing the human tendency to become easily bored. Perhaps it had more to do with Henry VIII and Elizabeth I and the vicious politics surrounding their courts, than tinkers and farmers struggling to survive.

Becoming jaded is the bane of BDSM. At the beginning, you’re all fired up to play and explore and test your stamina through convoluted games and scenarios. Life is marvelous and every new implement or toy simply sends the endorphins even higher. At some point though, you reach a plateau, that place where responding is a struggle, and finding time isn’t worth the trouble. Family and friends make demands and and your Dom’s commands lack zest. So you rest, and ponder if D/s is worth the tests. Stress rises until you feeling like shouting, but resort to pouting when all you need is a damn good spanking to snap you out of your funk.

But if that’s all D/s means to you, physical sensations and humiliating placations, then the seething emotions are not firmly planted in love and respect. For how can you be jaded when every devious smirk and sly touch sends your pulse pounding and clothes flying? Each encounter is unique, each growl is the very first time you felt submissive. Being jaded means you’re not connected to the now, to the essence of D/s in which you dance with your partner(s) in an intricate waltz of call and response.

Stop what you’re doing and look at each other. What do you feel? Make your choices, make them well.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

I is for Indignant

Two things came to mind when I picked this word. The first being the childhood mantra we all utter at some point: “It’s not fair!” The second being a distinctive sniff followed by: “Well. I never!”

Both phrases encompass the definition, but one is inward and the other not. (Feeling or showing anger or annoyance at what is perceived as unfair treatment.) While it’s true that unfair treatment — perceived or otherwise — is a staple of growing up, by the time we reach adulthood, that anger is more often directed at causes than at personal circumstances. Interestingly, the root word from Latin is spelled the same and stems from ‘not worthy’ as indignus, to ‘regarding as unworthy’ as indignant. The problem is of course, what defines as unfair? While we cling to the notion that justice is blind, humans are most certainly not and given any issue, you’ll find indignant people on all sides.

Is BDSM unfair? Typically you have a Top and bottom, or Dom and sub, and that appears on the surface to be inherently unbalanced; even cruel. But you can’t be indignant about BDSM or those that partake in the lifestyle unless you can prove it’s abusive, illegal or unjust. You may be personally offended by spanking, or bondage etc, but claiming indignation on behalf of the perceived ‘victims’ of D/s, falls well short of any legal proof of harm. If you’re indignant over tattoos, piercings, baggy pants, loud music or any other aspect of someone’s appearance or activities, then you are using the word incorrectly.

There is a darker side to being indignant though, and that links to the emotions of both Dom and sub when they feel unworthy of each other. When self-confidence wavers — or does not exist — the discipline and domination that is the hallmark of D/s, can turn toxic in an instant. What was agreed upon treatment becomes unfair. What was a partnership, becomes two hostile camps and the bonds are dissolved. BDSM is not static, and if you find yourself indignant due to actions by your Dom or sub, it is past time for a frank conversation about needs and wants.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

H is for Horrendous

It should come as no surprise that horrendous comes from the same root word as, horrible, horrid, horrific and horror. That word is horrere, Latin meaning: ‘tremble, shudder, (of hair) stand on end.’ The contemporary definition is: ‘extremely unpleasant, horrifying, or terrible.’

Hair standing on end though can result from many different things. Fright, yes, but also emotions such as awe, arousal, happiness and the awareness of being attracted to someone. For many, that feeling occurred the first time they realized an aspect of BDSM was the missing piece in their life. What happened from there depends on whether or not — horrendous — is as negative as its definition.

Extremely unpleasant: not only unpleasant, but extremely. That seems a bit… extreme. Horrifying: that seems a bit more understandable, considering how successful roller-coasters and horror movies have always been. Terrible: a little weak; a meal can be terrible as can a traffic jam.

When it comes to D/s, the area I like to focus on is spanking. Straightforward, over-the-knee, skirt up, panties down spanking. Can that experience ever be called horrendous? 🙄 Of course it can, ladies and gentleman of all persuasions. {Keep in mind always, that I only write about consensual spanking between legal adults in the jurisdiction of your domicile.} Grabbing someone and flailing away as if trying to swat a mosquito seldom leads to a happy ending. A spanking received by someone who is clueless and unaware of the nuances can be extremely unpleasant.

By the same token, a spanking delivered by a “professional” — any Dom in good-standing may rightly claim this address — can also be extremely unpleasant when circumstances warrant. The difference is that in this case, the recipient knows full well they deserved a ‘damn good thrashing’ and can count themselves fortunate that the chastisement wasn’t longer and harder.

There is nothing more horrifying than your Dom stating, quite calmly and pragmatically, the whys, wheres and hows of your transgression and then pointing out, “you’ve earned every stroke with your — fill-in-the-blank — behavior.” Your stomach starts flip-flopping and you break out in a fine sheen while you grow light-headed. The top of the hill grows ever closer and the terrible realization that you have no choice but to go over the edge has your heart pounding.

When it’s over, and the closing ceremony is complete, you look back, rubbing your sore cheeks, and bite your lip, wondering when you can experience this crazy, wild, horrendous feeling of helplessness and terror all bound together with arousal and acceptance that always leaves you a bit more in love and a lot more submissive than when you first stated an interest in BDSM.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

G is for Grotesque

 

“BDSM is Grotesque.”

A rather jarring headline, don’t you think? Sweeping in its condemnation and wholly without supporting documentation. A phrase that fits well in the fractured media of today. Allow me to don my lecturing fedora.

Like Baroque, Grotesque was originally created to describe a style of artwork. From Old Italian — (pittura) grottesca — simply meant ‘cave painting’, or ‘(Roman) pictures found in a grotto.’ Via Middle French and first recorded in English in 1561, the primary definition of the noun version of Grotesque is: a style of decorative art characterized by fanciful or fantastic human and animal forms often interwoven with foliage or similar figures that may distort the natural into absurdity, ugliness, or caricature.

The adjective arrived in 1603, and for our purposes matches up with the third of three definitions: of, relating to, or having the characteristics of the grotesque: departing markedly from the natural, the expected, or the typical.

Few would argue that Gothic architecture and 1960s concrete office buildings are both grotesque, yet they also have a beauty of form and function. BDSM is another such edifice; appearing to be strange, ugly — even frightening viewed from the outside and judged solely on appearances. The caricature of BDSM has found its high culture in Gor (even though the first Gor novel was published in 1966 and the term ‘BDSM’ was not in print until 1991) and that series is used as a whipping girl to label all D/s as perverse.

But again, if D/s departs ‘markedly’ from the natural, what exactly is being used to determine said ‘natural’ behavior? In statistics, there are two ways of measuring groups of numbers. The first is an average — adding all numbers and dividing by the total of entries — and the mean, which is taking that total number of entries and finding the point of equality with the same amount above as below. In other words, the average of 1, 5, 10, 12 and 99 is 25.4, but the mean is 10. That matters a whole lot when talking about the 1%, or the poverty line, or how many personal automobiles the average household owns. If the average participant in BDSM enjoys spanking, where does the mean fall when spanking is all over the place culturally?

Lastly, I like to think that grotesque can be utilized as a term of endearment. After all, most of us in D/s proudly claim the banner of being different. “Darling, your expertise with the paddle is grotesquely arousing. When can we do it again?”

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

F is for Fragility

“Move fast and break things” was quoted in Business Insider, October 1, 2009 during an interview with Mark Zuckerberg. The full quote is actually: “Unless you are breaking stuff, you are not moving fast enough.”

Time has shown the fallacy of that business model. [Not let it be said from a profitability standpoint]; but from the collateral damage to trust, truth and the overall well-being of the public. In fact, if there is one quote that can confidently be shown as the antithesis of how BDSM should work, it is Zuckerberg’s infamous mantra.

People are fragile, you need not but read the latest tragedy to realize that fact. Physical weakness aside though, it is in relationships where the worst cracks can appear caused by careless words and deeds. The care and feeding of D/s does not prosper when moving fast and breaking hearts.

On the other hand, fragility is not an ordained state of being for a submissive. One of the oft stated phrases might even be, “Go ahead, spank me harder, I won’t break.” And that brings up the key point in all this. Living a D/s lifestyle does not equate to tip-toeing around the fact that we’re fragile creatures. It requires an honest assessment of when and how fast to move so that the needs of all participants are being met. For the fragility of Doms is a truth often overlooked, and that is something that many are loath to admit.

Fragile: late 15th cent. (in the sense ‘morally weak’): from Latin fragilis, from frangere ‘to break.’ The sense ‘liable to break’ dates from the mid 16th cent.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

E is for Enraged

It’s been written that the English language has a word for everything. What doesn’t exist, is simply borrowed from another culture. The root of the most common words and phrases is Latin; that ‘dead’ language of science, medicine and diplomacy. Consider the following statement:

“The enraged supporters of _____ rave about _____ glowing pronouncements while foaming at the mouth with rabid vitriol directed upon those in opposition to their hero.”

Enrage: late 15th cent. (formerly also as inrage): from French enrager, from en– ‘into’ + rage ‘rage, anger.’

Rage: Middle English (also in the sense ‘madness’): from Old French rage (noun), rager (verb), from a variant of Latin rabies [late 16th cent.: from rabere ‘rave.’]

As the etymology above shows, enraged, rabid and rave, all stem from the same source. “Foaming at the mouth” is a physical description of a symptom of rabies, and as a descriptive phrase, means someone or someones caught in the grip of a maddening and uncontrollable rage.

Ignorance is bliss, comes from the poet Thomas Gray, who in 1742, wrote the poem, “Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Eton College“. The final two lines read:
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
‘Tis folly to be wise.

‘Twould be folly indeed to discount the enraged diatribes of wise elders. Except of course, when those fulminations are directed at oneself. We are, after all, enraged too.

While BDSM attracts its share of abuse, nothing — not the economy, religion, sports, politics — raises the ire of so many, as same-sex relationships. Spanking is now seen as a ‘safe’ kink, as is the mild bondage represented by furry handcuffs. Cosplay has made it to the mainstream thanks to video games and superheros. But while girl-on-girl action is a revered meme of pornography, IRL [in-real-life], lesbians are considered a threat to the moral fabric of society. There is nothing worse than two women in a sexual tryst, especially when they have the gall to get married!

“The evil that was unleashed in the Garden Of Eden has reached its deepest depravity in the travesty of perversity of so-called women’s emancipation.”

What’s that you say? There is worse than sapphic lust? Men? Together? In a non-binary opposing gender state? Gay?

Thus do the torches kindle, and banners unfurl, and marchers chant slogans of rage and violence towards those deemed enemies of the natural order. We all have a choice in how we react to the day’s events. While being enraged may feed the beast within, it seldom ends well for those infected with rabid hatred.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

D is for Disgusting

Disgust dates from the late 16th cent.: from early modern French desgoust or Italian disgusto, from Latin dis– (expressing reversal) + gustus ‘taste.’

Reversal of taste. An interesting concept. What is taste? Foremost it is the ability to discern food and beverages that are pleasing to the palate — which is itself a derivation of taste. When we say someone has ‘good taste’, we are not talking about a specific item to eat, but more of a sophisticated and civilized style of life. Someone who is glamorous, elegant, discerning. Someone who thinks IKEA is beyond the pale. To whom farm-to-table involves helicopters and couriers.

So how does this relate to BDSM?

“That’s disgusting!”
“What a disgusting habit!”
“You’re the most disgusting person!”
“Why do you read those disgusting blogs?”

I doubt anybody anywhere has ever said to someone involved in a D/s relationship that they have good taste. Outside the community that is. I’m talking about parents, relatives, co-workers; people that may equate fetishes to disgusting. Male penis in female vagina is normal: anything else is disgusting. But who decides what is in good taste? Community standards? Whose community?

To say something/someone is disgusting actually states that it is dangerous; dangerous in the way lack of taste can cause illness and even death through food poisoning. We instinctively know when food has gone off and through our upbringing and indoctrination, have expanded that wariness to all things that don’t fit the societal norm. The fact that we can’t detect someone else’s cultural norms, doesn’t even register in our minds.

“How can you eat that disgusting thing?”

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

C is for Capitulation

Definition: The action of surrendering or ceasing to resist an opponent or demand.

To many people in the modern world, capitulation is the very essence of what has gone wrong. The Borg may have droned: “Resistance is futile”, but to the angry masses, bread and circuses no longer work. The fact that political and monetary power have solidified in the hands of fewer than ever before [on a per capita basis, not absolute] makes the unwillingness to negotiate for crumbs even more pressing. The stark fact that to outsiders capitulation appears to be at the heart of BDSM: that does not make submission appear to be an attractive lifestyle.

For a female, submission is intrinsically linked to surrender. The ceasing of struggling against forces that are more powerful than the individual.

“Always keep your knees together.”
“Boys don’t make passes at girls with glasses.”
“No one wants a brainiac.”
“Sex is for marriage.”
“She’s a slut.”
“Did you see what she was wearing?”
“Everything online is perfect: you suck.”

Is it any wonder so many girls are lost?

It certainly seems counter-intuitive to claim that D/s can help a woman reclaim her power through willing capitulation, but the anecdotal evidence is compelling. What people don’t understand — both within and without the BDSM community — is that the opponent is not the Dom, it’s the Id. The part of you that reacts to stimuli and strives to blend in with the tribe you follow on Instagram. Your Dom is not demanding your surrender in order to ravage, but in order to help free the person you were before society’s mores forced an unwilling capitulation upon you.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

B is for Beaten

It is possible that some people believe the ‘B’ in BDSM, stands for ‘Beaten’. It is indubitably a harsher word than spanking, but on par with whipping, flogging, caning, scourging, and all the other delightful words humans have created to describe the act of physical chastisement. In D/s however, being beaten can describe an intricate and intimate dance. An artistic performance if you will.

“Why would you let him/her/they beat you? Are you crazy?”

Well.
No, actually. I’m quite sane.
Thank you for asking.

Beating — in whatever format it takes place — can be fun. It can be pleasurable. Or painful. For many, humiliation plays a vital role in intensifying the endorphin high. For some partner(s), being beaten is punishment. Punishment requested, often demanded, by the submissive. Being beaten cleanses the palate, clears the guilt and shame from wrong-doing. No matter what role it plays, playing a role in which beating takes center stage, allows the trust to become ever deeper.

But there is another definition more commonly utilized that explains why describing an over-the-knee, skirt up, panties down beating creates such a visceral reaction in relation to D/s. It is the zero-sum game we call competition. Humans are naturally competitive, but we all too often reduce that to a life-or-death equation. There can be only one winner in a contest between individuals, institutions, businesses, teams or nations.

I/we win. You lose. Nah-nah.

D/s is not a zero-sum game. (And no, I’m not talking about abuse and domestic violence.) D/s is about… well, whatever you want. Foreplay or role-play, a hobby or a lifestyle, it can be whatever you need so that all participants win.

Gold medals for everyone!

P.S. Just a thought for you: Why are male Doms viewed with suspicion, but female Dominatrices revered?

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane

A is for Adversary

“One’s opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute.”

With every passing day, BDSM — consensual violence — becomes both more intriguing and controversial. To those in the so-called mainstream, BDSM is simply an excuse for patriarchal oppression cloaking hatred of women in a media-friendly guise of ritualistic violence. Certainly the top-rated streaming television shows and some movies of recent times offer up plenty of female nudity, torture and rape, all in the name of artistic prose. There is certainly no excuse for the revelations brought forth by #Metoo, nor for the feeble defense offered by those in political and legal power. Yet, the abuse and exploitation of the weaker by the stronger is a story older than human civilization. Men have always been adversaries of women.

Or have they?

Are women fragile creatures in constant need of protection and guidance? Are men ravenous beasts always seeking another hole to plunder? Is BDSM all about male pleasure and cowering females?

Those are the wrong questions. The notion that everyone is identical with identical motivations and desires is bullshit. That doesn’t stop politicians and marketers [Is there a difference?] from exploiting the fears of the unwashed masses by goading them into turning on those not of their tribe. [Tribe being a loosely defined term based on all sorts of factors.] The freaks usually get the brunt of that anger.

Even within the BDSM community, tribal boundaries make uneasy bed-fellows of participants. While it’s true that BDSM may stand stalwart at the barricades against the thunderbolts cast by vanilla hysteria, the gulf between those that enjoy spanking as foreplay and those using knives as an erotic boost is as vast as religious wars. Hyperbole? We are all guilty at times of mocking those who choose a different lifestyle.

Our fetish is normal, those other people…? Yuck!

But what if we weren’t adversaries? What if we didn’t troll someone by sneering “You’re not doing it right” or “What do you mean you’ve never tried spanking?”. What if we sought to understand each other? What if instead of turning away from our differences, we made an effort to communicate and listen? Men and women don’t have to be adversaries, anymore than ethnicity should divide neighbors into ‘us’ and ‘them’.

D/s is a true partnership between equals who find things that both enjoy in a loving, respectful and most importantly, with honesty in a relationship with full knowledge, consent and trust.

Byron Cane