The 'ethics' of casual 'bdsm'

[mattguize]

I'm new to the thread and still developing myself in the area of bdsm, so forgive me if i sould a little naive. But I just wanted to say that in my short life, the experiances i've had in BDSM have never been emotionally abusive, regardless of whether i was the Dom or the sub. Even the "casual" ones held elements of trust and were hugely rewarding in terms of enjoyment and experiance.

And in my experiance, theres always a "stop" word.

I feel sorry for you, BLoved. you've obviously been really hurt in the past, and never really come to terms with it.

 

[BLoved]

Introductions

Chapter 1

It almost cost her life to find him, and the funny thing was she wasn't really looking for anyone. But then fate has a way of throwing us opportunities when we're not looking.

Sometimes opportunities come in the form of blinding snowstorms.

The day started well. Fresh snow turned the land into a winter wonderland, every tree decorated with snow and ice as if for Christmas. So camera in hand she'd set off on a little day trip to capture the beauty around her.

The morning had gone well. The skeletal branches of maple and birch were grim reminders that summer had fled. But the majesty of spruce and cedar was even more awe-inspiring as they held up their mantles of white against the azure sky.

At noon she stopped at a little town just off the highway. There she found a small bed and breakfast and dined on simple fare: home-made chicken noodle soup with a slice of home-made sesame seed bread. The soup was thick with meat and vegetables, almost a stew, and the aromatic broth suggested herbs she did not recognize.

Nourished by her meal, she set off again to explore more of the countryside.

So delighted was she with the scenery she paid little attention to the clouds drifting in. It wasn't until they framed the trees in the east that she realized the sky was threatening more snow.

And to confirm her suspicions, large fluffy flakes began spattering her windshield as she turned around to head home.

She had no idea where she was, only the route she'd taken, and she wasn't a mile down the road when the storm began in earnest.

By the third mile the snow was so thick she couldn't see more than ten feet in front of her, and everything bore the sheen of snow reflecting her headlights.

So she wasn't at all prepared for the sense of weightlessness as the car sailed off the road where it had made an unseen turn.

Later she would recall her helplessness, and then the impact of the air bag as the front end of the car slammed into an old oak.

Then nothing.

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Chapter 2

Fate is a strange thing, almost whimsical in its gifts. Thus it was that on the road where she crashed there lived but one man. And as fate would have it, he was driving his dog sled homeward after picking up some essential supplies from town.

Intimately familiar with his world, the man knew from the first hint of sunlight that the weather would change rapidly. As cold as it was, there was a lack of crispness to the morning air, hinting at more snow.

But supplies were low and one learns to take advantage of breaks in the weather. He'd brought out the dogs, lashing them to the sled and set off for town in the bright sunlight.

The trip in was uneventful. Every now and then he'd come across the tracks of deer or fox crossing the road. They'd scared a hare who had been busy digging into the snow for some forage. He watched as the hare bounded away, zig-zagging to throw off any pursuit.

But the dogs were too well disciplined to give chase. The sled moved on, crunching the fresh snow as it went.

In town he decided to forgo the usual discussion about weather and the world with the locals. The weather was closing in and he still had a long trek home. Supplies acquired he strapped them carefully to the sled and set off on the homeward journey.

He had just turned onto his road when the snow started, and had yet to cover the first mile when the snow turned into a blizzard.

Blind as he was, he trusted in his dogs to find their way home. The road was trackless with all of the drifting snow swirling about, but they knew their way.

It was at the half-way mark that he found the car. By then it was half buried in snow and though the front of the car had wrapped about a tree, one light still worked.

He braked the sled, the dogs yapping their protest for they wanted to get in out of this weather.

Wading through drifts waist high he approached the car. All of the windows were covered with ice on the inside, a sign of warm moisture rapidly freezing.

He quickened his pace and peered into the car. When he saw her slumped over the deflated air bag, he swept away the snow blocking the door and opened it.

Her face was pale, her lips a tinge of blue, little puffs of moisture escaping from her with each shallow breath.

Quickly he searched the car for any survival gear. But one doesn't need such an emergency kit when one lives in the city.

Unbuckling the seat belt he checked her neck and head for injury, but only found a fresh bruise that had begun to show across her forehead.

Lifting her out of the car he was surprised at how light she was. It took a while to manage the drift while carrying her, but once he'd reached the sled he was a flurry of activity.

Pulling out the thermal blanket he wrapped her in it first. Then he set aside most of the supplies to make room for her. Wrapped in the blanket and securely fastened to the sled, he threw a bearskin over her and urged the dogs to get them home.

With a leap the sled began to move.

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Chapter 3

"Warm ... soft"

Those were her first thoughts when she regained consciousness.

However, these were quickly followed by "Where am I?"

She knew she was in a bed, so warm and soft. She no longer trembled with the cold.

But clearly this was no hospital bed. Not unless they'd started using layers of fur in their beds.

And no hospital heated with an open fire anymore, yet she could hear the crackling of wood burning.

Opening her eyes, she could see the light of the fire dancing across the ceiling. And what a ceiling, rough-hewn planks side by side, caulked with what looked like mud and dried moss.

Nervously, she began to look around. Walls made of the same material, a rough-made wicker chair, an antique oaken side table ... and a man.

Her eyes widened as she burrowed a little more deeply into the bed.

He was aged, bearded, not at all an imposing figure as he stood by the fire, looking at her. It wasn't until he approached and knelt beside her that she noticed the blueness of his eyes.

She couldn't look away.

His face was lined with years of life. Joy and sorrow mingled to bring character to his features. His beard, full and white, reminded her of St. Nick, but his eyes ...

... she felt as if they bored into her soul, stripping her of any pretense or doubt.

She was safe.

Then she heard his voice, soothing and gentle, almost hypnotic.

"You were in an accident. The roads are closed and I do not have a phone. However, you are uninjured, as far as I can tell. You were starting to freeze, but there is no sign of frostbite."

She relaxed, accepting his words without question. He produced a mug with a faint wisp of steam rising from it.

"Here, sip this. It will help."

She tried to lift her head but found her strength had left her. Carefully he cupped the back of her head in his hand and lifted her enough to sip at the mug. She could smell the nutmeg, and then she tasted the honey and rum.

"A hot toddy. My mother's recipe." he said with a smile.

She smiled in return, and managed three more sips before her eyes closed and she fell back to sleep.

Gently he let her head slip back to the pillow, careful not to disturb her.

He pulled the covers up over her shoulders, smiled, and left the room.

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Chapter 4

It was not so much the beam of sunlight that had managed to sneak around the curtains to play upon her face as it was that ancient urge to find a quiet corner in the woods to relieve one's self of the pressures within the body that urged her to awaken.

Feeling much stronger she arched her neck to look about. She found she was alone, the door closed. Across the bed lay a large woolen sweater and a shawl of the same material.

Pulling away the covers she looked down on her hopelessly wrinkled clothes. The air was cool, just enough to need the sweater. As she examined it more closely she noticed symbols had been stitched into the fabric, creating a pattern both graceful and appealing.

Beside the beds were her boots, as well as a pair of pink fluffy slippers that seemed odd in this rustic venue. Choosing the slippers she found herself warming up.

Not hearing a noise beyond the door, she opened it slowly, wincing at the creak of the hinges.

Peering out she found herself looking at a large room occupied by an old couch, desk, chair, a woodstove with the embers of the previous night's fire still glowing.

Deciding to explore, she soon found the bathroom. Splashing water on her face she found it bracingly cold. Taking care of other needs left her in brighter spirits, and hungry.

As she continued her exploration, she found two doors locked, and the kitchen.

For the primitive nature of the home, she was pleased to find he still used electricity. A fridge with eggs and ham and milk, a toaster for the bread (home-made!), a stove with frying pans.

A kettle and tea pot, with tea bags.

All the basics.

Her domestic instincts taking over, the kitchen was soon a bustle of activity with food cooking and tea brewing. The aroma was spreading through the house.

The toast had just popped up when she heard his voice.

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Chapter 5

"Good morning"

His voice, so resonant and calm, took her by surprise.

"Good morning" she said with a little more enthusiasm than she'd intended. His approach had been so silent, she had no idea he was there.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes upon hers.

"I ... I am well, thank you."

She could lose herself in those eyes. So tender, so intense.

"Good" and he broke the spell by looking to the stove.

"You may want to turn those soon." he smiled and she turned to the pan and saw the smoke starting to rise from the ham steaks. She grabbed the spatula and swung into action.

"I should know better than to distract a cook in the kitchen. My apologies."

That voice, so warm and calm and ... reassuring. But by the time she turned back to answer he was gone.

Like a ghost.

The crackling of the ham drew her back to the stove. Drawing two plates and suitable cutlery she distributed the food and set it on the table. By the time she'd returned with two mugs of tea he was there, holding her chair for her.

With a shy smile she set the mugs down and took her place, letting him slide her chair in for her.

He then took his place at the head of the table.

She looked up from her plate to see his eyes upon her again. She caught her breath.

"Thank you for this meal."

And he smiled.

And she blushed.

And she looked down to her plate.

"Shall we eat?" she managed through a throat surprisingly tight.

"I would not want to pass up anything that smells this good." said he.

And in a silence unexpectedly comfortable they ate their meal.

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Chapter 6

The breakfast eaten, the dishes put away (he washed, she dried), they retired to the living room where he proceeded to add material to the woodstove. In short order he'd turned the embers into a roaring fire and the room began to warm.

They both heard scratching at one of the doors. With cat-like silence he left the room and she could hear one of the doors opened and the padding of many feet approaching her.

Within seconds she was surrounded by a pack of dogs, uncertain about the stranger but curious.

Looking up she saw he had returned, smiling.

"This is the team who rescued you."

For some reason that made her feel more at ease, and she held her hand out to the closest of the dogs so he could get her scent. He gave her hand a tentative lick and then moved close enough to be petted. She scratched behind his ear and reassured him with her touch.

Soon all the dogs were crowding in for the attention which she seemed quite willing to give them.

"Okay puppies, let the lady breath. Out you go." and with that the dogs began to get more rambunctious, barking and whining. He led them to the outside door and no sooner opened it than they were all trying to squeeze through the gap, throwing the door wide open.

A gust of arctic air swirled through the house before he closed the door, refreshing after all of the warm air radiating from the woodstove.

"They are beautiful." she smiled, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

"They can be quite a handful" he replied. "But they're family, so allowances must be made." and the twinkle in his eyes gave away how much he cared for them.

They paused in silence again.

"What happened to me, last night?"

He told her of how he found her, brought her home, cared for her.

"And there is no way out?"

"Not for a few days, at least. The drifts are too deep for the dogs. I have a contract with a man in town to plow my road every two weeks. But since he saw me yesterday, he knows I won't need supplies for another two weeks.

"The problem is, I left most of those supplies where I found you. I'll have to retrieve them before the foxes find them, or we may have some difficult days ahead."

"And you do not have a phone?"

"No one would call." and she could not help but hear the subtle intonation of sadness in his voice.

"I have a cell in my purse. I don't suppose you brought it with you."

"No, I am sorry, but I did not think of it."

"No need to be sorry, you took care of me and for that I am very grateful. You probably saved my life."

"Think nothing of it. It is no more than what any human being would do for another."

She looked at his face but detected no hint of sarcasm there or in his voice. She wondered what he would do were he shown the homeless sleeping atop parking lot ventilation grates for warmth.

"I will continue to be grateful nonetheless." she said with a smile, and was surprised to see him blush.

Turning away, she asked "what do we need to do to get the supplies?"

"I have some outdoor clothing that will keep you warmer than what you have."

In short order they were bundled up, each drawing on a lead from the sled, with the dogs scattered about them, exuberant at this reversal of roles.

As the snow blew about them they set out for the car.

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Chapter 7

Warm, snug and full of good food, they made good progress. The snowshoes helped them make better progress than the dogs who would flounder this way and that in the drifting snow, trying to find some way to keep up.

Their exertions didn't leave them with much with which they could converse. Instead she found herself admiring the natural beauty about her.

Everywhere she looked there was the sparkle of ice crystals reflecting whatever light they could find. The trees were heavily laden with snow, their branches held close to the trunks from the weight.

With the dogs ranged about them there was no sign of wildlife aside from the occasional trail across the road.

All was silent except the wind and the crunch of snow underfoot.

It took three hours to get to the car. If not for the top of the opened door she never would have seen it. But he knew where to find it, being as familiar with his world as he was.

Together they swept away the snow from the door, and she clambered in for her purse while he loaded the sleigh with the supplies he'd left there.

Pulling out her cell phone she tried to get a signal, but the device wouldn't power up.

"Battery's dead" she muttered, and pocketed the thing.

Looking up from the car she was not surprised to find his eyes upon her again.

"Any luck?" he asked. She shook her head, and climbed the drift back to the road.

"How long would it take to walk to the nearest highway?"

"Another three hours, but the weather will worsen before then. Not many cars drive these roads when the weather is like this."

"Well then, may I impose on your hospitality a little longer?"

He smiled, a gentle smile.

"Of course you can."

They each grabbed a lead from the sled and started hauling it back the way they'd come.

It was a more difficult task with the weight of supplies burdening the sleigh. But it was also an easier job of walking through the trail they'd already made to get there.

As they approached his home the snow began to fall again.

To look at the house she could have sworn he'd built it with his own hands. It was not that the house was some kind of ram-shackle hut, ready to fall down. Rather, it was the solid construction through the use of materials he could only have found in the forest.

It was a log cabin, the logs tongued and grooved at the corners to make a tight fit. Again she saw the same mud and moss caulking used where the logs lay one upon the other forming the outside walls.

Arriving at the door she went in and stripped off the outer wear, careful not to shake too much snow off in the house.

While he brought in the supplies, she busied herself with the making of another pot of tea. She could feel the warmth from the woodstove seeping into her and her cheeks burned red from the combination of being in the icy wind and now being heated by the warmth of the home.

She had just poured the mugs when she heard the outer door close and as she brought him his mug he had just finished removing his winter clothing.

Droplets hung from his beard and moustache where icicles had hung from his breath in the cold.

"This will warm you up" she offered.

His eyes were upon her again, and she found herself almost blushing under his gaze. Such a penetrating look made her feel practically nude before him, as if he could look right through her to the core of her being.

"Thank you" he said softly, and took the mug from her and drank some.

"Aaahhh, yes. That is exactly what I needed. You have a talent for making tea the way I like it."

She smiled and now blushed more brilliantly, even through her already rosy cheeks. He smiled kindly and move into the house to the woodstove. Chucking in a few more pieces of birch he had the fire roaring again.

He sat in the chair in the living room. A dog came up and nosed his hand, seeking some affection, which he gave without thought, rubbing his fingers along the top of her snout to the top of her head, between her eyes, and back again. The dog's eyes closed and she arched her neck slightly to increase the pressure of his fingers on the bridge of her nose.

Outside the wind picked up while the snow fell thick and heavy.

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Chapter 8

"Do you live alone?"

"Do you mean aside from my dogs?"

"Yes"

"Yes, I do." and once again that hint of sadness crept into his voice, his eyes down-turned.

"It must get lonely for you."

"In the beginning there were difficult days. But it is surprising what you can get used to when you have no choice about it."

Not knowing what to say, she let silence draw a curtain over the conversation. The fire crackled and danced, almost hypnotic in its frantic effort to escape the woodstove.

"And how is it you came to be on my road?"

She explained to him the whimsy that brought her to his door. He nodded.

Again the silence descended, feeling more awkward this time.

"I am sorry if I asked you too personal a question." she said, squirming slightly.

"It wasn't too personal. I was not always alone ..." his voice trailed off and his eyes lost their focus, staring into the distance as if peeling away the minutes that stood between him and happier days.

He shook it off and once again his eyes were upon her.

"She died many years ago ... cancer." he said more firmly.

She looked at the sweater she was wearing, the embroidered symbols.

"Was this hers?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What do these symbols mean?"

"They are pagan: warmth and protection glyphs."

"Does it upset you to see me in it?"

"No. It looks good on you, and I trust it is warm enough for you."

"Oh it is, thank you."

"You are welcome." and there was something in his voice that made her feel welcome.

As if he'd adopted her and no longer found her presence in his home strange.

There was something about this man, his eyes, his voice, his silence, his calmness ... somehow she just knew that with him she was safe.

Once again she watched the fire trapped within the woodstove, trying to escape.

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Chapter 9

"What do you do for fun?" she finally asked.

"Fun? I'm afraid there hasn't been much of that for some time now. I read, write, take care of the dogs and the house. In summer we explore the forest and in winter we tend to stay closer to home."

"Well I for one think you could use a bit of fun in your life. Do you have any games about?"

The look of surprise on his face was worth her temerity. She had guessed right. Here was a man who had allowed his life to fall into a rut. Without another to engage his spontaneity he'd lost something more than a loved one.

"Just a minute ..." he said as he lifted himself out of his chair. A minute later he returned with a backgammon board.

"... do you play?" he asked with a smile.

"Well enough to beat you." she teased.

"Good enough".

It was an hour before she was ready to admit to herself his penchant for risk-taking paid off more often than her more cautious strategy. Where she was careful to double up her pieces whenever possible, he was content to run singles across the board, daring her to hit them off.

His luck with the dice was unbelievable. She'd have suspected they were loaded but they never produced the same results for her as they did for him.

And besides, she just couldn't believe this was a man who would cheat. She suspected he didn't have a dishonest bone in his body.

Perhaps she would do better with a game that did not require luck.

"Do you play chess?" she asked. Upon seeing his broad smile she had a feeling this wasn't going to be her game either.

So she was surprised when she managed to play him to a draw.

While playing he'd brought in more wood from the woodshed. She took a short break and made them sandwiches with the left-over ham. They drank tea and the silence was comfortable again.

The competition was friendly. Each would smile at the other over some well-executed bit of strategy, anticipating the difficulties of winning the game. He was as unorthodox in his chess as he was in his backgammon, pushing pawns far beyond the traditional openings as if they were queens.

So many challenging gambits to play, each one leading to an opening of her defenses which would have given him the opportunity to exploit his carefully structured attack.

She sensed he was luring her into a trap, and though she tried repeatedly to get him to do the same, he couldn't be fooled.

He'd look at the board for several minutes, then his eyes would be upon her and he'd smile, and make exactly the right move to avoid the trap she'd set.

Thus the game was a long series of trade-offs that left them their kings and queens, and naught else.

The sun had set and the candles were lit before the game finally came to its denouement.

"Stalemate" he announced. "You play very well. It has been a very long time since I've lost a game."

She smiled with relief. Rarely had she felt so challenged at the game she loved. Even a draw was an accomplishment against someone with his obvious talent for the game.

"Shall we try again?" he asked.

"Not tonight, thank you. One game like that a day is as much as my head can handle." She laughed lightly, the first time she'd laughed in his home, and he was delighted at the sound of it.

As if the birds of summer had come to visit and sing their songs for him.

"Then may I suggest we begin supper?"

"Supper I can handle." she smiled, and he followed her to the kitchen.

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Chapter 10

Wonders never ceased with this man. The making of dinner was like a well-choreographed dance.

It was obvious that her skill exceeded his own in the culinary arts. He was properly impressed with the smells and flavours of herbed and spiced food, yet he could suggest a pinch of this or a dash of that and she found her own creation improved by the advice.

Never quite underfoot, yet never not there either. His eyes upon her, she found herself trying to impress him with the way she moved, the way she cooked.

How did he inspire that in her?

The meal was simple yet so very tasty. Hamburger, noodles, and corn on the cob (a little soft for her taste, but being left overnight in freezing temperatures by her car has that result).

After dinner and the dishes put away, he kindled the fireplace in her room, then stoked it with birch to build up a quick fire for her.

After such a good meal and the exertions earlier in the day retrieving the supplies she couldn't stifle the yawn that overcame her. Sitting on the couch watching the fire dance soon made heavy eyelids close, and her head nodded forward.

She caught herself, waking with a start as if she had just kept herself from tumbling forward.

"Perhaps you'd prefer your bed. The room should be warm enough now and in winter we all tend to go to bed a bit earlier."

"Yes" she said "I think that would be best."

"Sleep well."

"Thank you ... " she hesitated, "... thank you for everything."

His eyes were upon her and she found herself falling into their depths, lost in the blue of his eyes.

"You are welcome" he said.

She smiled shyly and took herself to her room. Closing the door behind her she found the room wonderfully warm except below her ankles, which was still cool.

Removing her clothing she climbed under the covers, pulling the blankets and furs over her as she'd been when she woke up in the morning. The bed quickly warmed, and felt so soft ... before long she drifted to sleep to the sound of the fire crackling away.

Finding herself drifting along with the current of an icy cold river should have surprised her, but it didn't.

Nor was it a surprise when she saw him standing on the shore with his arm stretched out to her.

Almost by sheer will she managed to drift close enough to him that his hand caught hers and her progress downstream stopped.

She could see his smile, those beautiful eyes, feel the firmness of his grip, and she felt safe.

But then the river began to pull her, refusing to relinquish its hold on her. Between his grip and the river's a tug of war began, and she let go of him only for a second, but a second was long enough. The river lunged forward, dragging her with it and beyond his reach.

His eyes were so sad as he watched her drift away, and she frantically clawed at the water to return to him. But the river laughed and dragged her down beneath the surface, deeper and deeper.

She held her breath, feeling nothing but regret over having let go of him.

She woke up with a gasp, just before she drowned.

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Chapter 11

Sometimes, when a dream is too vivid, we have trouble regaining our bearings when we wake up.

So it was for her.

Trapped under the weight of the blankets and furs, she thrashed furiously until all had been thrown from the bed and only her nude form remained, panting.

It was then that the light of the dwindling fire reminded her of where she was.

"Just a dream, just a dream" she thought reassuringly.

Gradually her body calmed, her breathing became more regular.

Such an odd dream. Why him? What did it mean? Troubled by the memories she donned the sweater, wrapped herself in a blanket and left the room.

Restless, she returned to exploring this strange home.

It was almost spartan in its decor. No knick-knacks festooned the shelving, just books. No paintings on the wall, but an old black and white family photo stood on a corner of the desk.

All signs of a woman's touch were gone, except for the sweater she wore.

Her mind seized upon the room with the locked door.

There had been two doors locked, one was to his room. But the other remained a mystery. Perhaps she could learn something about the woman in his past if she could get inside it and look about.

She returned to her room for a few things with which she might open the lock. The credit card worked first time.

She opened the door just enough to squeeze within, holding the candle ahead of her and up, so she could see.

She wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this.

The floor was clear, aside from a stack of boxes in the corner. But the walls ...

The walls were covered with a wide variety of items. most of them hanging from hooks.

She noticed the flogger hanging from a loop at the handle. Beside that she saw cuffs linked together, four of them. On a shelf nearby she saw all manner of clips and weights. On the far wall hung coils of rope, a bag full of clear plastic bags, two more floggers, a huge roll of plastic wrap, and many more things she could not readily identify.

Above the third wall she noticed a large hook secured into a cross-beam.

Upon the fourth wall a large rack had been mounted, with metal rings secured at the four corners.

With someone else this room would have sent them screaming in fear into the night, but she recognized the room as a bdsm dungeon, thanks to the stories of a friend who dabbled in such things.

She found herself disappointed, thinking of this man begging and whimpering to some mistress like a slave. It seemed such a natural assumption: his gentleness, his soothing voice, none of the machismo she'd come to expect from ... what did her friend call them ... a 'dominate'?

She was tempted to look through the boxes, but felt uncomfortable now that she'd discovered his secret. Quietly she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Returning to her room, sleep did not come easily. She tossed and turned trying to drive the image of this man on his knees out of her mind. Eventually sleep came, but her dreams troubled her, though she could not recall the details later.

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Chapter 12

Her inability to sleep through the night ensured she'd wake up late in the morning.

She was surprised to find his eyes upon her.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

She remained silent.

"No one disturbed you during the night?"

"No" she said.

"I'd like to show you something, when you're ready to get up." and he turned and left the room.

With trepidation she rapidly arose and got dressed. Opening the door she found him waiting on the other side, a lit candle in hand.

He led her to the locked door, and pointed to the handle. Though the handle was covered in dust, there was the clear imprint of a hand where the dust had been brushed away.

He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Opening it, he looked about on the floor. Sure enough, the floor was covered with dust except where her small bare feet had stood during the night.

He pointed these out to her, and then closed the door.

They returned to the living room where he left her while he went to make them a mug of tea each.

Returning to her with the steaming cup, he handed it to her and sat in his chair, sipping his tea.

His eyes were upon her, and she could not face him.

"I'm sure you have some questions."

She felt foolish, and trapped. He'd saved her life, and she rewarded him by prying into his secrets, betraying his trust. How could she be so stupid? And to have left a trail so clearly pointing to her.

She had so many questions, but what right did she have to further invade his privacy? Yet he invited her questions.

Looking into his eyes, she asked "Why?"

"Why would you want a woman to do such things to you?"

Recognizing her confusion, he laughed gently.

"I think you mean to ask me why I would want to do such things to a woman." he said with a smile.

"Why you would do ...?" her voice trailed off as she began to realize her mistake.

"Are you a ... a dominate?"

"The word is 'dominator', and no, I am something else. I am a master."

"A 'master'? What is that?"

"A master is a dominator full-time, whereas a dominator only serves in that capacity part-time."

" '... serves in that capacity ...' ?"

"Yes. A master serves the needs of a slave just as a slave serves the needs of her master. It is a symbiotic relationship: each fulfilling the needs of the other."

"I thought a dominate ... sorry, a dominator never serves another. Only himself."

"Too often that is true. But that way of life is unhealthy for all concerned, especially the submissive."

"Why?"

"Because in any negotiated relationship, both parties must keep an eye out for their own interests, to ensure the other is keeping up his or her end of the bargain. Otherwise there is a risk of either or both taking advantage of the other.

"If they trusted each other, there would be no need for negotiations. Each would love the other enough to meet their needs willingly, without bartering.

"That is the true nature of a master/slave relationship: they love each other enough to meet the needs of their lover."

"And what are those needs?"

"The same needs as all people have: to love and be loved, to grow and help others to grow, to share the good times and the bad."

"I thought their needs were, well, to be tortured and used ... "

"And abused, no doubt. It is a common misconception of the master/slave dynamic.

"A slave has a need to express her love in ways that banish doubt. She wishes to give all of herself to her love, not just words but deeds as well."

"And a master?"

"His need is to care for his slave. To protect her from those who would abuse her. To meet her needs for love and respect, and to give her a suitably challenging life that she feels there can be no doubt about her love and devotion to her master.

"She needs to feel herself giving love, not just talking about it and not just doing the little things everyone does. She needs to show her love in a more obvious fashion, by doing things for him that no one else would do. By doing the things only someone truly in love would do for him.

"Such is the essence of her love."

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Chapter 13

"But why must this love-offering be so brutal?"

"It needn't be, but often is.

"Like everyone a slave needs challenge in her life, and there are few things more challenging than inviting someone to inflict pain on you.

"Usually when someone inflicts pain it is abusive, and the abused wants to avoid the abuser at all costs.

"But in a master/slave relationship, the slave invites the pain, experiences the pain, and is grateful for the pain afterwards. For her the pain is like an opportunity for her to show how much she loves, how much she will endure for love, how much she needs the challenge so she can learn to love more, and better.

"For a slave, pain is a growth experience, provided it comes at the hands of her master in whom she trusts and knows herself to be completely safe."

His words echoed in her mind " ... completely safe". How often had she felt that way with this man, this man who had saved her life?

The image from her dream forced itself to the surface of her thoughts: the image of his face looking down upon her as he held her hand. Such tenderness and concern upon his face. And his eyes.

She looked up at him and again his eyes were upon her. That same expression of tenderness on his face. Suddenly she realized it was important to this man that she understand him, understand what he was, what he did.

She had never thought of herself as a submissive, let alone a slave. But his words made a strange kind of sense.

She offered to refresh their tea, which he accepted with the same gratitude he expressed for all of her deeds.

While she was busy, he fetched more wood for the fire, and let the dogs out to get some air and exercise.

She was waiting for him when he returned.

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Chapter 14

"You said that a love-offering needn't be brutal. What can a slave do that does not involve pain?"

He smiled and settled into his chair, sipping his tea.

"Anything a slave finds challenging can become an opportunity for her to express her love for her master.

"For some this is objectification, humiliation, degradation. For others it is domestic service, deferred pleasure, even celibacy.

"Any activity where the slave must trust in her master's love and respect for her demonstrates her love and respect for him.

"Any activity that renders her vulnerable. It takes great courage to make one's self vulnerable in this world."

"So does that make all masters cowards?"

He blinked.

"I beg your pardon?" his voice carried a hint of amusement that she found reassuring.

"Well, how does a master make himself vulnerable? He's calling all the shots, right? He's in control?"

"Ah ... well, not really. Ultimate control resides in both the master and the slave, for both must love one another and as long as that love lasts the master will control his slave.

"But just as a slave is miserable if her master is unhappy, so too is a master miserable if his slave is unhappy. Their love motivates them to meet the needs of the one they love: each other.

"As master he has promised to provide a life that promotes the growth and happiness of his slave. What does he do if he discovers he is unable to meed the needs of the one he loves?

"This is what he risks: the shattering realization that he may not be able to control events such that he can meet her needs.

"That he cannot make happy the woman he loves ... " and then in a whisper " ... or save her."

She looked up but his eyes were upon his hands. Such sadness covered his face, she looked away.

"So you see, masters do indeed take risks: the risk of a broken heart, the risk of discovering they are just men and not the supermen their slaves see them to be. The risk of knowing they were not good enough for the woman they love. The risk of losing the woman they love, either by death or departure."

"And to minimize that risk they give all of themselves to their slave, all of their abilities and skills are put to the test to improve and enhance the life of their slave, their beloved."

And she was not surprised to find his eyes upon her. Nor did she hold herself back as she found herself lost in the blue of those eyes.

She had seen the soul of the man. No guile or pretence, just love.

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Chapter 15

They held each other's gaze for a long minute.

"How ... how does a woman become a slave?" she asked, surprised that her throat had chosen that moment to constrict, as if the words had stuck there, refusing to come out.

"She falls in love."

"Falls in love? You mean a master doesn't take her, force her into service?"

"No, a master need never do such a thing. Nor would he want to, for he would be falling in love as well.

"A slave falls so in love with a man that she cannot imagine refusing him anything, trusting him and his love that he would never ask anything of her that would be harmful to her or detrimental to her growth, her future.

"And a master falls so in love with her that he cannot imagine ever wanting to take advantage of her, abuse her, or put her in harm's way. He wants to use his talents for her benefit, just as she wants to use her talents to benefit him."

"But doesn't a master put his slave 'in harm's way' whenever he causes her pain?"

He smiled.

"No. Using pain or any other challenging activity is carefully controlled by the master to ensure harm is not caused to his beloved. In a way he is an illusionist, creating the appearance of risk without ever allowing risk to enter the equation.

"If he is very good at what he does the appearance of risk is very convincing. The more convincing he is, the more a slave benefits from the challenge: the more she grows.

"In some ways it is like the relationship between a parent and a child. Too much of a challenge can break the child's self-confidence. Too little a challenge and the child gets a false sense of his/her abilities.

"A slave is much more aware of the difficulties involved in a challenge. She can tell when she is being molly-coddled or broken, and she neither respects nor loves either.

"She is an adult, accomplished in her own right. Though her love directs her to give all she is, she needs a man who knows what to do with all she gives. Without him she has no one worthy of the love she has to give.

"And that is what happens to most slaves: they look and look for someone worthy of their love.

"And there are not many men who are worthy of such a love. Most have control issues, either with themselves or others. As a society we do not do a very good job encouraging people to be self-confident enough to be respectful of others.

"Some of those find their way into the world of bdsm where they believe all they have to do is order some woman around to get all they want. They really have no clue how to make this life work in a healthy way."

"Is that why you are out here?"

"Yes. Out here without all the infrastructure and without the ability to be anonymous people rely on each other more. They rely on a person's integrity, his sense of honour, his word more.

"Those who fail at this soon find themselves without assistance when they need it. Out here no one can afford the luxury of selfishness or deception. Helping your neighbour is a time-honoured necessity for everyone.

"I prefer to be here because people are just plain people out here. We watch out for one another."

"As you did with me." she said quietly.

"Yes."

"So back to my earlier question, are you saying a slave gives herself to a man?"

"Essentially, yes. She falls in love and feels such a need as to offer herself to the man she loves so that she can have the opportunity to make him happy for the rest of their lives.

"She doesn't do this for just anyone. She does this for the man whose love convinces her she will be cherished, respected, nurtured and challenged to grow for the rest of her life.

"It doesn't happen often, but when it does there is no love more true."

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Chapter 16

It was a long time before either spoke. His words weighed heavily on her mind.

He excused himself to fetch more wood. She could hear him outside, splitting the wood.

A true love, where both gave all they had to give to the one they love. It sounded like a dream. She could think of no other relationship she'd ever known where so much was given for love.

It was exhilirating and frightening at the same time.

The thought of what she would receive in such a relationship was enough to cause her heart to skip a beat.

But then she thought of what she had to give, and she realized no man had ever wanted it all.

Usually they wanted her body for sex. They might want her for a date, a movie, something casual, something normal.

But no one had wanted it all. No one had wanted to know all there was to know about her, to cherish her or love her for all she was.

That's why she was single. She'd never found a man whom she could love and respect, for she'd never found a man who loved and respected her.

Until now.

It was much too soon to expect love, but clearly the respect was there. He'd answered all her questions without evasion. He did not think her silly or stupid, though she had asked some questions that betrayed her ignorance.

His behaviour towards her was more paternal in nature. Affectionate but with a socially-acceptable distance between them.

She began to wonder what it would be like to be closer to this man. What would it feel like to be loved by this man whose eyes were so blue.

What would it be like?

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Chapter 17

He returned with a stack of wood in his arms, the peak of which was tucked under his chin. With a clatter he dumped the wood into the bin beside the woodstove.

Shucking off his outer wear, he stood before her, his shirt drenched in sweat.

"Take that off before you catch cold." She instructed, and he dutifully complied. She went off to the washroom and returned with a large towel.

She led him to the woodstove and while he faced it she rubbed his back of all perspiration. Turning him about she did the same with his chest, not daring to stop to look into his face.

Not until he said "Thank you."

He could feel her hands tremble as she looked up into his eyes.

"You're welcome." her voice soft, and gentle. "Where do you keep your sweaters?"

"Second drawer from the bottom, in my room." he replied.

She left the towel draped around his back like a shawl, and went to his room.

She'd not been in the room before. It was a modest size, with a large bed, and end table and a dresser.

Upon the dresser were several photographs mounted in frames. Only one included the man and a woman. However the rest were pictures of the woman through various seasons. In one the woman wore the same sweater she'd been wearing.

She opened the appropriate drawer and pulled out a large brown sweater. Returning to the man she rolled it up so she could pull the neck over his head. He moved his arms into the sweater and she found herself being held for a second while her arms were still around his neck.

As brief as it was, she could feel the strength in his arms around her.

It made her feel safe. A memory from her childhood surfaced: the last time her father had hugged her.

She caught her breath just as he released her.

"Thank you." he said, and turned to the bin to load more wood into the stove.

Lost in the thought of what it felt like to be held by him, she didn't notice the warmth of blush upon her cheeks.

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Chapter 18

"You said a slave gives herself to her master. Is there no way to do that before falling in love?"

He chuckled.

"Many try. They are so eager to find out how it feels, they overlook the need to know why they do it.

"Without the intimacy of love, being a slave has no value at all. It is pure lust, mere sensation without any purpose or meaning beyond the selfish desire to satisfy a craving.

"That kind of 'slavery' is truly degrading, reducing all of the potential of a human being to what she can do in bed.

"Without love, there is no respect, no trust, no hope, just two bodies using each other for their own pleasure."

"Some people might call that 'love'." she said unconvincingly.

"They might, but I prefer Heinlein's definition for love."

"Heinlein, who is he?"

"A writer. He wrote that love is 'the condition in which the welfare and happiness of another becomes essential to your own'. Not many live like that anymore. Easier to dump someone and move on. No one wants to give another that much power over their life.

"No one trusts anyone enough to truly love them.

"What most people call 'love' is actually no different to what was once called 'like', a mild form of affection.

"Society has become very good at teaching people to see each other as resources to be used and discarded when the resource dries up.

"Devotion, dedication, love are going the way of the dinosaur. And as each generation degrades the value of being human even further, the trend becomes even less reversible.

"We are entering the Age of the Thief, where the ability to deceive others becomes an essential survival skill."

"Is that why you are here?"

"Yes. Society has no use for an honest man who truly loves. How do you betray such a man without feeling the crushing guilt that comes with it? How do you take pride in betraying someone who trusted you, someone who loved you?

"Only those who can't see beyond the end of their noses can manage that. People who do not think about what they do, do not value themselves enough to behave in a mature manner.

"People who have no faith in themselves, and thus are unable to have faith in anyone."

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Chapter 19

"I hate people like that. So selfish and so insensitive." She said passionately.

"I don't."

"Why not?"

"Because they are lost souls. People who have lost their joy in life and seek to replace that joy with whatever they can find.

"They grow bored easily, requiring frequent changes in the schedule and their life. They live for drama, which is the only way they know they feel anything. But deep down inside they don't feel anything at all.

"They've shut down their heart to stop feeling the pain of not being loved. They stop listening to anyone who speaks of it because they believe there is no such thing as love. For them love is just another lie someone uses to get what he wants.

"Because they never found true love, they believe it can't possibly exist."

"But that's silly."

"Not to those who have been abused in the name of 'love'. For them 'Love' is a four-letter word. They may talk of looking for it, but they do not believe it when they find it, or they run from it when they realize what love expects of them.

"Love expects them to consider the well-being and happiness of another person essential to their own. Whenever they did that they were abused and neglected. Why should they welcome Love into their lives when that is their experience?"

"But love is so much more than that."

"Have you ever experienced it?"

She thought about the men she'd known, those who had spoken of love. She'd never felt that any man valued her as much as he valued himself.

"No." she said quietly.

"Very few have." he said grimly.

"Have you?"

"Yes." he said quietly.

"Could you ... again, if given the chance?"

"Yes ..." he said firmly. " ... if given the chance ... "

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Chapter 20

"What do you find lovable in a woman?" She looked into his eyes, into his soul.

"The courage she shows whenever she chooses to be vulnerable with me. To be vulnerable is to trust, and both take a great deal of courage in this society.

"A woman who chooses to be vulnerable with me is acknowledging what I already know: that I am trustworthy.

"I needn't go far to find people who think otherwise. People who treat strangers suspiciously are ubiquitous. Especially true in urbanized areas, where people can remain anonymous and thus feel at liberty to do just about anything and get away with it.

"Most people do not find it easy to trust others, expecting from the next person what they got from the last person.

"Where is the reward in being trustworthy when no one will believe it anyway? What motivation is there for being trustworthy if people will treat you with suspicion regardless? Indeed, the more trustworthy you appear, the more suspicious some become.

"It is as they say, nice guys finish last.

"And yet, with all of that going against a good man, if by some chance he should find a woman who breaks the rules, a woman who chooses to be vulnerable by trusting him, how could he ignore the exceptional courage it took for her to make that choice? How could he not love her, cherish her, and give his best to her for what she has given him?

"It is the courage to be vulnerable that I love, for she is a woman of such exceptional qualities as to see me for who I am, and not for who she's afraid I might be."

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Chapter 21

"That kind of vulnerability can be dangerous for a woman." she said.

"True. In this world there are many who deserve to be distrusted. But there are also those who deserve trust. Those who believe better safe than sorry will never take the risk to find out if someone new is trustworthy or not.

"They go from person to person, demanding to be impressed and never failing to find fault. They remain cloaked and guarded their entire lives for fear of being vulnerable, and thus never know the joy of love.

"Life offers no guarantees, only opportunities.

"Most people seek safety first, and then love, if possible. They do not realize that to love another, to give the needs of another the same priority they give their own needs is inherently unsafe. They are allowing the happiness and welfare of another dictate their own happiness and well-being.

"Rarely do you find someone who understands this, who seek love knowing that to find it entails risk of being disappointed.

"They seek love not because they are lonely or in need of distraction, but because they recognize it is our shared human nature to love and be loved. No human can be judged healthy if they are forever running from love.

"No one is healthy who allows fear to rule them rather than love.

"It is for this reason that a master/slave relationship must first be built upon love. Only then can it fulfill the needs of both."

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Chapter 22

"But how can you know whether someone can be trusted?" her voice almost pleaded for an answer.

"As I said, life offers no guarantees. But there is one thing I've noticed about those in love, and that is there willingness to set their own needs aside for those of the one they love.

"It is called 'selflessness'. Something only found amongst those who believe in love. They would rather defer their own pleasure than see the needs of a loved one go unabated.

"Those who seek to abuse others rarely have the patience to wait for the fulfillment of their desires. And that patience wears to the breaking point if they must meet the needs of another before achieving their own goals.

"Those with suspicious minds see themselves in all faces, and behave accordingly.

"In a dog-eat-dog world you have to beat the other guy to the finish line, get out with the most before the other guy can. It's a profit-and-loss operation where they invest less than they get.

"That kind of thinking is not usually hard to detect."

She thought about the men she'd known, and how they'd assumed she would do what they wished, give what they wanted, and not ask for anything.

When she was young she was so eager to please, just to be loved. But as the years went by and one abusive relationship followed another she'd started to give up on the idea of being involved with anyone.

Without true love there just wasn't any point to it.

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Chapter 23

He waited quietly, motionless, his eyes upon her.

She was ashamed of how easy it was to believe that his attentiveness was due to her being the first female to visit him in his home. So easy to assume the worst.

But there was nothing in his manner to suggest it. He did not come across as desperate or impatient, neither lecherous nor over-eager.

Instead he seemed to have no other purpose than to sit there, waiting for her to ask her questions, so that he could answer them.

It was as if he existed only for her benefit.

Selflessly.

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Chapter 24

It was in that moment that compassion filled her.

Here was an honest man, a noble man, who had lost his love and known no other.

She had no plan when she stood up, no goal in mind when she took his hand and pulled it with pleading eyes for him to rise, no fear as she led him to his room.

All she knew was she wanted to give this man something he needed, something she could give.

He said not a word, did not question her or stop her. He just followed where she led.

She held his hand as she lay upon the bed, gently pulling him to lay upon the other side. He started to lay down facing her, but she knew that would be the wrong position for him. Gently she pulled on his shoulder, rolling him over till his back nestled against her.

Neither spoke, nor undressed. There was no kissing, or intimate touching.

She just held him, and soon became aware that he wept silent tears.

Holding him close, like a precious gift, she rocked him slowly as he finally released all the pain he'd held in for so long.

She didn't know when, but at some point his tears turned into sleep. She stopped rocking him and just snuggled up behind him ... holding him close.

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Chapter 25

When she awakened in the morning it was to the sound of whining. They were still in the position they'd been in when they fell asleep. He was still nestled in her arms, sleeping.

The whining continued, and she realized the dogs were sitting, looking at her, their tails wagging.

Carefully so as not to disturb him she disentangled herself and led the dogs to the door so they could get outside. Once that was done she returned to his room and slipped into bed beside him.

As she began to settle in he rolled onto his back so he could look upon her.

"Thank you." he said quietly. He stretched out an arm towards her and she snuggled into his chest. He wrapped his arm around her protectively, gently caressing her shoulder and back.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"I didn't" she admitted "but it seemed like the right thing to do for you."

"It was" he whispered. He pulled her closer, gently, and continued to stroke her back as she drifted back to sleep.

She had not known such peace since she was a little girl.

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Chapter 26

When she woke up for the second time she found he was still stroking her back and shoulder. She looked into his face to find his eyes upon her, a smile upon his lips.

"Good morning, Sleepy Head." he said kindly.

She smiled.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I've never slept better."

"That took a lot of courage on your part."

"Not really. You have a way of making a woman feel safe. I didn't feel that I was risking anything with you."

"Thank you for your faith in me."

"Thank you for being someone I can trust."

"Would you like breakfast in bed?" he asked.

"Only if I get to share it with you." she smiled.

They laughed good-naturedly and both got out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

He let the dogs in and rekindled the fire, as the room was now cool. She began to wrestle with pots and pans and various foods.

Having taken care of the initial chores, he set about making them a pot of tea.

In short order they had a sumptuous breakfast feast prepared. He produced two serving trays and the plates of food were placed there along with forks and knives and their cups of tea.

Together they returned to the bedroom, followed by the dogs whose noses had caught the scent of sausages and eggs and hash browns.

Once in the room he let her settle herself in first and placed one of the trays upon her lap. He then took the position beside her and placed his tray before him.

He held up his tea cup in salute, and she did the same. Gently they tapped the lips of their cups together and then sipped their tea.

Perhaps it was the fresh air, perhaps the company, but she couldn't recall enjoying a breakfast more than this one.

________________________________________

Chapter 27

Her third day with him was a merry one.

They played another game of chess. Playing white this time, he won. However, she learned more of his pawn strategy which she promised herself she would try next time they played.

After their game they pulled on the outerwear needed to step outside. Although there was a strong wind, the sky was clear and the air crisp. He explained they were inside the edge of an arctic high pressure system.

She helped him split the wood for the fire, placing the wood on the chopping block for him and tossing the split pieces into a pile.

Once the splitting was done she helped him cart the wood in and dumped it in the bin.

Stripping out of their outerwear they were both sweating from the exercise.

He urged her to take the first bath, neglecting to mention there was only enough hot water for one such bath at a time.

When she learned of this she offered to give him a towel bath, pointing out it did not require nearly as much water.

He thanked her for her thoughtfulness and stripped to the waist.

She poured a bowl of warm water, grabbed a face-cloth and towel and began rubbing down his back, thin rivulets of water collecting around his waist band.

She didn't ask herself where this was headed, or question why she did it. She was too wrapped up in the good feeling she had taking care of this man.

She'd never really felt appreciated for the things she did for men, until now. This man made her feel that everything she did was like a gift from heaven.

Much more of this and she could very easily fall in love.

After she'd finished washing him down, he excused himself to change his pants while she began preparations for lunch.

After such a heavy breakfast she decided to keep lunch light, offering a soup with crackers. He treated it as if it were the finest filet mignon.

She'd never known a man for whom she could do no wrong.

It was intoxicating.

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Chapter 28

It was that afternoon when her thoughts began drifting to the locked room.

She realized that she was following the pattern this man ascribed to slaves. As her affection for this man grew, so too did her desire to do things for him, to please him.

With this awareness she began wondering just how far would she go. How far did she want to go?

The stories of her friend about bdsm had intrigued her, even excited her somewhat. But this feeling was always counter-balanced by the crassness of her friend's relationships.

Casual encounters, play parties, public venues, none of that had appealed to her. She wasn't a showgirl and had no desire to become one.

Nor did she want to think so little of herself that she'd offer to be with anyone.

She wanted someone special to think she was special. She wanted to feel special, and with this man there had not been a moment where he didn't treat her as an honoured guest.

But how far did she want to go, and once started, could she stop?

She certainly didn't want to lead him on with false promises or expectations.

The thoughts roiled about in her head for over an hour before he said anything about it.

"I've noticed you seem distracted. Is there something I can do to help?"

Instinctively she shook her head. Then she looked into his eyes and saw the gentleness there and her shoulders slumped from the release of tension.

"Yes, you can help. I've been thinking of what you've told me, of how a slave offers herself to the man she wants as master. What if she offers more than she can deliver?"

"The only reason she could not deliver what she offered is if her fear overcame her love.

"Consider that the only thing she could offer that she truly could not deliver is life and limb. And while a master may accept such an offer as a symbolic gesture, no man who loves her would ever put that to the test.

"And there is nothing else she could offer that she could fail to deliver, providing her love is true.

"The only thing that could cause her to betray her offer is her fear: fear of abuse, fear of neglect, fear of love.

"Assuming the man is neither abusive nor neglectful, it would be her fear of the all-consuming nature of love that causes her to step back. And in that she denies her humanity."

And as she considered his answer she recognized that she'd been suffering from performance anxiety, her own brand of fear. She did not want to let this man down, and through any offer she would be raising his expectations.

Her own fear was sabotaging her ability to express her affection freely, as she felt it.

How long had it been since she last felt free of fear?

________________________________________

Chapter 29

They did not speak of slavery again for the rest of the day.

Instead they spoke of their past. She was surprised at how candid she was with him, revealing things aboiut herself she'd never told anyone.

There was something about this man that invited confidences. Perhaps his quiet nature, perhaps his understanding.

She learned he'd lost his father when he was a boy. She was surprised by how much he'd learned from the experience. He understood the transience of life and the need to cherish it, the unpredictable nature of the universe and the limits upon the power of any man to control it, the need for a good father and what is lost without one.

But she also learned of his mother, how she had raised two sons at a time when single mothers were frowned upon, how she liberated his mind to see women as equals at a time when women's liberation was going through its growing pains, how she carried on the idealism of his father.

He was very much a self-made man, being freed of stereotypes to chart his own course.

And yet he saw himself as just a man, no more than what any man can accomplish if he sets his will to growth.

He seemed to have no sense of superiority. Only a desire to strive for his own personal best in all things.

From this came his sense of self, and that quiet confidence she'd experienced since she met him.

She found thoughts of him turning in her mind over and over as she tried to sleep that night.

And whenever she closed her eyes she saw his face, smiling, his eyes upon her, encouraging her to be free of her fear.

________________________________________

Chapter 30

It was in the wee hours of the morning that she decided to take her soul out and examine it.

She had to admit she was falling in love with him. He was a man unlike any other she'd known since her father when she was a little girl. There was that same sense of safety, of trust, the same quiet affection and attentiveness that she recalled from her childhood.

He was very much like that, but there was more to this man than her father could ever give.

This man could be a man with her. He was inspiring thoughts and feelings no other man had inspired.

She wanted to know where this would lead. She needed to know.

And yet, there was her fear built upon all of those broken relationships that had been so unsatisfying for her. Did she really want to risk going through it again when she had managed to establish herself as an independant woman?

And how would she ever manage to try again if it failed to work with this man? How would she feel if he rejected her or, worse yet, treated her as if she were nothing special?

Could she stand the fall from such a height?

Both sides waged war within her, for each pro there was a con, and for each con there was a pro.

It required a decision but her fear rendered her indecisive.

Should she risk it all or return to her safe world where love was just a four-letter word men used to get into her pants?

The rest of the night crept by second by second like the dripping of a faucet. She did not sleep.

________________________________________

Chapter 31

"How did you sleep?" he asked her when she finally left the bedroom. It was early in the morning, sunlight just now beginning to creep through the windows.

"Not so well." She looked at him and noticed he too seemed a bit haggard this morning.

As he had already brewed the tea, she helped herself to a mug and poured herself a cup. Sipping it she found her nerves began to settle from the night-long debate she'd had with herself.

They drank their tea in silence, each absorbed with their own thoughts.

It had taken all night to come to a decision, but finally she made one.

As much as she'd like to stay, she felt obligated to go. Her family and friends would worry about her. She had a job, a life back there that was waiting for her return.

True he had saved her life, but she had given him something in return: release from the pain of his loss.

It didn't seem like much to her, but it would have to do.

As if reading her mind, he said "Today will be a good day to get you back to town. The arctic high has pushed over us, and the wind has stopped. There is no chance of a storm for at least another day."

His voice held a hint of sadness in it, for he spoke quietly, slowly. He did not look at her as he spoke, but rather looked into the fire dancing in the woodstove.

"When would you suggest we leave?" she managed before her throat constricted.

"After breakfast. It takes several hours to get there and back, and it is best done in daylight."

"Then I best begin breakfast." she said.

With breakfast completed and the kitchen put in order they donned their outerwear and left the house. He called the dogs to the sled and lashed each one to a lead.

"We will make better time if you will ride the sled."

He pulled back the fur covering and she clambered on board, sitting with her back against the fur that wrapped around the handles. He pulled the fur covering up to her chest and before long she found herself warming up under the cover.

"Let's go, puppies!" he called out, and they began to pull the sled towards the road while he ran behind the sled pushing on the handles.

Soon she was gliding over the softly crunching snow. Everywhere she looked the land was white and dazzlingly bright. So bright it hurt her eyes and for much of it she kept her eyes closed.

Doubts about her decision nagged at her, but she was here now, on her way home. It was easier to ignore the doubts when she focused on those she'd left behind at home.

Eventually they came to her car, now a mound of drifted snow totally hiding any trace of the vehicle.

He asked if she'd like to stop for anything, but she just shook her head.

In time they reached the highway, freshly plowed, and before long she could see the houses on the outskirts of town.

It was then that the tears started welling up inside her. Why did she have to choose between the two? Why couldn't she have both?

The long night, the doubts, and the kernel of love in her heart took their toll on her, and she wept freely, her tears freezing on her cheeks as they fell.

It was not long after that they pulled up beside the general store. He instructed the dogs to stay, and helped her out of the sled.

Walking into the store together, he greeted the clerk and explained her problem. He instructed the clerk to give her whatever assistance was needed, and to put any costs on his tab.

The time for farewell had come, but she was reluctant to face it.

"Will you wait until I've made a few phone calls?" she asked, not daring to look at his face.

"Of course." he said reassuringly.

"Thank you." and she followed the clerk to the back room where the phone was kept.

________________________________________

Epilogue

They waited for her ride, both sitting on a bench on the front porch of the store, she leaning into him with his coat opened and pulled around her shoulders and back.

They said nothing, for anything would have brought tears.

When her ride arrived she asked them to wait a moment and returned to face him. They said nothing, but she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her head to his chest, and his arms held her as they fought back the tears.

"Be more careful when you drive." he said with a smile, tears in his eyes.

"I will" she whispered.

"Thank you ... for everything" he said.

She looked up at him, into his eyes so blue, her tears flowing. "When I return, I will never leave you."

________________________________________

In the fullness of time, she returned to him.

And they lived happily ever after.

Never give up on Love, for Love will find a way.

 

[FloggingMolly]

You write very well, I'd submit it properly if you haven't already

 

[Lizzie_Borden]

You write very well, I'd submit it properly if you haven't already

Heaven forbid, Molly.

He only threw a tanty last month when the mods weren't quick enough to delete his stuff because apparently it was getting downrated out of spite.

 

[FloggingMolly]

Heaven forbid, Molly.

He only threw a tanty last month when the mods weren't quick enough to delete his stuff because apparently it was getting downrated out of spite.

Ah well, in that case, I retract the initial statement

 

[BLoved]

You write very well, I'd submit it properly if you haven't already

Your pals in this thread don't want anyone reading it.

 

[BLoved]

Casual 'BDSM' and Emotional Abuse: The Case for Love

Needs

The first need of the casual community is more recruits.

They are always recruiting more female submissives.

There is a good reason for that: female submissives quit the community.

One might ask "why?".

I find the cigarette industry a useful comparison.

How do you convince people to give up breathing fresh air and teach them to prefer cigarette smoke instead?

For the casual community, the question is: How do you convince people to give up Love and teach them to prefer lustful, loveless one night stands?

The answer is the same: you make it look "cool", and you silence anyone who would issue a warning about the dangers.

The reason so many female submissives quit is because they learn of the dangers for themselves, usually as a result of being abused.

Just as those who found themselves invaded by lung cancer gave up smoking.

________________________________________

________________________________________

Strategies

Paint a Rosy Picture

Control the medium, and you control the message.

The casual community has learned this lesson well.

By ensuring they are in positions of control: site owners, group owners, moderators, etc they are in a position to ensure only the message they want others to hear will be heard, and no other.

From this position they can make any claim, and as they have the authority to control what is heard, dissent is never heard.

And anyone who doesn't get with the program can be made an example of for others.

So now that we know what won't be heard, what do we hear?

We hear that everything is perfect in the casual community. Everything is a munch or a party. Everyone is safe, and do be doubly sure, there are dungeon monitors.

Safe and fun, that is what we hear about casual communities ... because that is what the casual communities who control the medium want us to hear.

We hear a lot about techniques, but no one talks about ethics.

If ethics comes up at all, it is the mantra "I can do anything I want, its my life."

Remember this. It will come up often.

Safe, fun, and self-indulging, this is the appearance of casual play in public.

What could appeal more to a young female novice submissive?

Lower Their Guard

And what could be more effective than a munch?

Gives the newbies a chance to meet the local play party crowd under controlled conditions.

Gives the local play party crowd a chance to determine which of the attendees will make for cooperative recruits.

After all, you didn't think they were there out of the goodness of their hearts, did you?

Keep in mind these are self-indulging people seeking recruits for lustful, loveless encounters.

Just as the lady selling tupperware may come across as wanting to be your best friend, so too do those seeking fresh meat.

"I can do anything I want, its my life."

They are not there for you. They don't even know you. So why invite you into a loveless sexual encounter unless they believe it will benefit themselves?

Well might one wonder, but the question is easily overlooked when distracted by their friendly behaviour.

The casual communities attempt to create the impression of relaxed, friendly people who are there to make new friends.

Again, one might wonder, what happened to the old "new friends"? How many munches a year does a casual community have, and how many attend, and how many more next year, and the year after that, and what of the years past?

Surely these communities must be packed like sardines in any given room at a play party by now.

We'll get to that.

The munch exists to reassure you that you are dealing with a group of "safe, sane, real" people.

Whether it succeeds depends upon the quality of their performance.

Ask any tupperware party saleslady.

________________________________________

Play Parties

There are at least two kinds of play party: public and private.

Public Play Parties

The public parties are usually money-making in nature. A hall is rented, tickets are sold, anyone walking by along the street can get in for the price of admission.

Depending on the size of the hall, attendance can reach the hundreds.

Nearly all will be male.

Stages are erected for the purposes of displaying the talents of the domly types on submissives. Think of it as an erotic performance, with restraints.

Anyone can submit, as long as they can find someone with toys to dom them.

It is important to notice just how safe this is for a female submissive being invited to perform.

Keep in mind the submissive will be restrained, and thus unable to do anything to protect herself.

Anyone can enter the premises.

No weapons or bottle check is made. No sobriety check is made. Those who come in can be high on anything, and packing anything.

All they need is the price of admission.

It is most likely the event itself is illegal. If busted there will likely be charges. If someone with kids is charged, Social Services may get involved.

For this reason it will be with the greatest of reluctance paramedics would be called in the event of an emergency.

The police with even more reluctance.

True, there are Dungeon Monitors, volunteers who are to keep the peace.

But how much of themselves are they willing to risk for the sake of others if they are not even performing a weapons check at the door to protect themselves?

I've always said it is the little things that count the most. I pay attention to the little details like this that add up to a bigger picture.

The Dungeon Monitors are a bluff. If they were serious about safety, they'd check for weapons and drugs and booze and needles and ... you get my drift.

If anyone can walk in off the street a street gang could walk in off the street.

Even without the street gang, the mob of men themselves could turn on others, in frustration or machismo or whatever.

There are never going to be enough monitors to control such a crowd if it got out of control, and considering what the female submissives are 'advertising' merely by being there, this is not a situation you ever want getting out of control.

So ... why are there no weapons checks?

Moving along ...

Even ignoring the possibility of the crowd losing control, a small group of men can do a fair bit of damage to a woman in a crowd. Most bystanders will watch, assuming this too is part of the entertainment.

For them, it is a rape scene.

So ... why does the online casual community insist these events are "safe"?

Especially since these events occur world wide without any attention being paid to them by the individuals who claim these events are safe.

No one can speak for what rules apply to these events, because those who run these events can invent their own rules, on the fly if need be.

Furthermore, no one can speak to whether the rules are inforced, or in what matter, because once again those who run these events and those who enforce the rules are making judgment calls on the fly, as needed.

And in making their choice, their interests are first and foremost, not those of anyone requiring medical attention.

And those who advocate this behaviour, the ones who believe they benefit from it, how can they absolve themselves of their own self-interest?

How can they claim no abuse occured when they could not witness all things happening to all attendees during the time all of these events occurred?

They do not stop and say "the ones I went to were safe for me" until they are pressed against the wall.

The party line is they are all safe.

If none of them ever admit to safety concerns, they all benefit.

More novices are lured into a sense of false security.

So why does the online casual community censor any attempt to discuss this?

Because they get trapped behind these ridiculous claims and the truth becomes clear.

These events are not safe.

You will notice a lot of this 'closing of the ranks' mentality as we go along.

Private Play Parties

Private play parties occur in homes, with small groups of people specifically invited for the event.

Basically, if you were invited, someone in the group was hot for your meat and believes you will cooperate completely with their fantasies that involve you.

In theory, no one is pressured into anything.

In practice, that all depends upon someone's definition for "pressure".

Deception may or may not be used to obtain cooperation.

Drugs/alcohol may or may not be used to obtain cooperation.

Hypnosis may or may not be used to obtain cooperation.

And that is assuming subtlty is involved.

For some, the fact a submissive even shows up is enough cooperation. For others, if she permits herself to be tied up she is available to anyone attending.

The thinking is, if she didn't want it, she wouldn't have come to the event.

What limits will be respected and which will be ignored are entirely up to the regular group, who will always outnumber the recruits.

One group I knew of required both members of a couple to serve as subs, regardless of whether they were subs or not.

This would mean both could be rendered helpless at the same time and neither be able to come to the aid of the other, if required.

Unlike public play parties which are advertised, there is no hope of making claims about how many private parties occur, who is involved, what rules are enforced and how are they enforced, what safety protocols are followed, if any ...

But it will be noted this does not deter those who advocate such behaviour to make claims about safety without concern for this lack of knowledge.

They are all safe.

________________________________________

Other Forms of Casual Encounters

Adultery (Cheating)

It is not unusual I see an advertisement from a woman claiming to be attached seeking discreet encounters.

Here all safety concerns are cast to the wind. No one must know they are meeting, so no one knows where she goes, or who she is with.

Anything can happen, and no one would know.

There is the possibility of blackmail.

If helpless, there is the chance he uses no protection and causes pregnancy or the transmission of disease.

And even if the worst does not happen, bruises and marks are more easily obtained than explained.

There is one other aspect that often gets overlooked.

How trustworthy is a man who helps a woman cheat her husband?

Partner Exchange (Wife Swapping)

I must make clear that there are two very different types of people who engage in this practice.

There are those who form close friendships with others and with whom they share sexual intimacy. These are not casual, loveless relationships, tho' it is unlikely they are full-blown romances. These are people who care for each other deeply. What they share is not a one-night stand, but part of an evolving relationship.

And then there is the other type.

These are couples where the dom wants to watch his submissive with another woman, or a couple, or for whatever reason finds his sexual arousal enhanced from such situations.

There is little or no contact with each other except for these events.

The submissive might well find herself involved to show her love for her dom, or because she's promised to do anything, etc.

The risk for her is mostly the emotional damage done to her.

I will discuss that concept in the "On Ethics" section.

Mentoring (Training)

By this I do not mean the giving of advice. In that sense "mentor" is just another word for "friend".

We all give and receive advice.

What I mean here are those who, in theory, act as dom for the submissive till she finds "the One" for her.

In theory, he is preparing her for her "One".

In fact, he is doing what he wants with her.

Dressing it up as another "lesson" just makes this more palatable.

He does not point out to her that he is cheating her "One" of the pure joy of being first to share any of this with her.

Nor does he make clear that what he teaches her may have nothing to do with what her "One" wants.

Indeed, what he teaches may make it more difficult for her to share herself with her "One".

By the way, this is another one of those concepts in which the online casual community unites.

All mentors are good. Everyone should get training. People should attend courses.

Thus, those whose sexuality, like their love, is a private matter, are urged to rush into the casual community where such concepts are alien.

Nothing is private in the casual community.

One-Night Stands

This group represents the largest segment of the casual community, online or off.

These are the guys the dating services love, because these are the guys who will use their service to send a note to every woman, five times a day.

These are people desperate for sex, of any kind, any way they can get it.

No one can argue they do not belong in the casual community, because their needs are no different from the rest.

They all want a loveless, temporary, no strings attached, no consequences encounter.

These are the guys who showed up at the munch.

These are the guys who showed up at the public play parties.

These are the guys who are in it for the sex, nothing else.

Just like those who organize the play parties.

The only difference between any of them is what rules do they live by, and what rules will they break to get what they want.

"I can do whatever I want. It's my life."

________________________________________

On Ethics

"Behave towards others the way you would want them to behave towards you, were the situation reversed."

Seems pretty straight-forward, doesn't it?

What about this one?

"Others will behave towards you the way they expect you to behave towards them."

You won't see that one written down anywhere, but it is nonetheless true.

There are those who expect the best in others, and do their best to offer the same.

And then there are those who expect the worst in others, and will do their best to meet their needs anyway they can.

One might generalize these two concepts as "Cooperation" and "Competition".

Cooperation seeks to harmonize relationships so that all may meet their needs and all may benefit.

Competition seeks private profit without regard for the consequences to others.

Each is a paradigm through which each individual makes choices.

The nature of each individual can be determined by their concern for the consequence of decisions to others.

Cooperation demands concern.

Competition scorns it.

________________________________________

The Ethics of BDSM

There is no concept more essential to BDSM than "Consent".

Without consent BDSM is assault, rape, forcible confinement, kidnapping ...

There are no doubts about this. For BDSM to be "consensual" it must depend upon "consent".

But how does one define "consent"?

For some, it is enough to show up at the door.

For others, it requires lengthy negotiations and a signed agreement.

It can be many different things to different people.

As one might expect, those who choose Cooperation and those who choose Competition have very different ways of looking at this.

Cooperation

Because the focus of Cooperation is that all needs are met and all benefit, those who follow this path concern themselves with issues such as competency.

It is not enough to say "Yes". For a yes" to have meaning, it must be the result of an informed consideration from a competent mind.

The individual must understand what they are agreeing to, and must be in a sober, adult state of mind.

This automatically invalidates consent from children, and adults with afflictions that affect their capacity to judge for themselves the consequences of their decisions.

It also invalidates the consent of those who have no idea what they are getting into. If they are unaware of the risks, they cannot make an informed decision for themselves.

Cooperation requires all of these assessments take place, so as to ensure that all will indeed benefit.

And even so, despite all of these precautions, problems can arise.

I will discuss more of that in "Living with Trauma: Cycles of Self-Destruction".

Competition

Because the focus of Competition is personal gain, without concern for the consequences of others, "consent" becomes a vague and nebulous concept.

Whatever definition is applied, it will serve the needs of the one seeking consent, not necessarily the one who gives it.

And this does not apply just to the idea of consent, it applies to all activities.

If one is willing to play fast and loose with consent, what is one willing to do when it comes to limits and safewords?

What about health and safety concerns?

Again, none of these are concerns for the one seeking consent.

His concern is his own personal gain.

He has no concern for the consequences to those he uses to get what he wants.

His is a strictly cost/benefit mentality. The less he can put in and the more he can get out, the better.

This is not an individual who is going to get to know the submissive, whether he gives that appearance or not. He doesn't want to know her. He wants to use her.

As long as she is willing to be used, he is happy. If she becomes unwilling, he will find another.

His concern is only for his own personal gain.

________________________________________

Love and Fear and BDSM

By now it will be obvious that those who focus on Cooperation act from Love. The degree to which they love isn't an issue, they love to some degree to care for the well-being of others.

And because they care for the well-being of others, health and safety risks are minimized, as are the risks that limits and safewords will be ignored.

This approach also recognizes the value of after-care.

Those who focus on Competition act from Fear. Their focus on personal gain without concern for others is a result of their fear they live in a dog-eat-dog world, and that if they don't grab what they want, they will never get it as no one will cooperate and give it to them.

For them it is 'use or be used'.

That some of them can cooperate in casual groups does not alter this.

Dogs hunt in packs yet will fight for the spoils.

Yet Love and Fear do not act on the domly types alone. They also motivate the submissives.

Some submissives give because the Love within them for another inspires them to give.

Some submissives give out of fear that if they don't they will not be loved, accepted, desired.

The one who loves is concerned for how her behaviour benefits another. Cooperation.

The one who fears is concerned for how her behaviour benefits herself (that others benefit is the cost she must pay to get what she wants). Competition.

The consequences for these couplings depends very much on the nature(s) of those involved.

The very best combination (and the one I seek) is a Cooperative Dom with a Cooperative submissive. Both are thinking of the well-being of the other.

The very worst combination is the Competitive Dom with a Competitive submissive. Her need for approval is a terrible weapon in the hands of a selfish dom. Simply by grinding down her self-respect he can make it impossible for her to leave. Those familiar with the symptoms of spousal abuse would recognize this relationship as being very similar.

With either of the other two combinations, there is an opportunity for healing, and an opportunity for abuse.

A Cooperative dom with a Competitive submissive can offer the submissive the experience that helps her overcome her low self-esteem. On the other hand the submissive can be emotionally abusive and drain the dom.

A Competitive dom with a Cooperative submissive has a chance to physically and emotionally abuse the submissive. Her need to heal the pain that caused his fear can lead her to return repeatedly and tolerate much before the abuse reaches a point where she cannot return. On the other hand, her love could be what he needs to turn his back on fear.

To the degree we believe in the best in others we will be inclined towards provide loving cooperation and will expect to find the best in others.

To the degree we believe in the worst in others we will be inclined towards taking what we want out of fear that no one will love us enough to give us what we want.

Love or Fear, we exist under the sway of one or the other.

Never both.

Self-Respect

Self-respect means to have a healthy concern for your well-being: mental, physical, emotional, and for those who believe in it, spiritual.

It means to take care of yourself, embrace healthy choices and reject unhealthy ones.

It means to be truthful with one's self. To be completely candid. To recognize the consequences for one's decisions and to accept responsibility for those consequences. Not just the consequences as they affect you, but also as they affect others involved.

This is not about how others see you. It is not about flattery or delusions of grandeur.

This is about you taking care of you. A quiet, calm, fair assessment.

That which promotes self-respect is healthy.

That which inhibits self-respect is unhealthy.

To the degree one exhibits these qualities is the degree to which one feels self-respect, and thus the degree to which one can feel and express love towards another.

To the degree one lacks these qualities is the degree to which one feels a lack of self-respect, and thus is susceptible to control by Fear.

Abuse

Abuse is the process of inhibiting self-respect.

The more one believes they are deserving of mental, physical, emotional and/or spiritual degradation, the more inhibited self-respect will be, and thus the greater the abuse done.

This is not a natural condition. Babies are not born believing this.

People are taught to believe this about themselves.

Considering we are all born with an aversion to such treatment, shunning away from it being a natural response, the fact someone believes themselves deserving of nothing better is evidence of past abuse.

At some point she was taught to expect no better treatment, to tolerate the treatment she got ... to see herself "deserving" the abuse.

Whether a submissive is predisposed to abuse because of past abuse, or whether she is unable to see that the dom she loves is incapable of giving love back, either in the hands of a Competitive dom will find his needs are met better the more they inhibit their self-respect.

The longer this goes on, the greater the damage done to their self-respect.

Living with Trauma: Cycles of Self-Destruction

As was described in the previous section, past abuse can predispose a submissive to accept more abuse.

This is not inevitable. Love has a healing quality when it comes to abuse.

Whether the love of one person can heal the abuse suffered by another very much depends on the individuals and the degree to which Love and Fear motivates them.

But there is no cure for abuse but Love.

Love helps to restore self-respect.

Love provides a solid foundation from which one can determine what is real, what is flattery, and what is delusion.

Love does not deceive.

But for those who do not find love, and for those combinations of people where the love of one was insufficient to overcome the fears of the abused, there continues this diminished sense of self-respect.

In their need for relief, they seek solace in the arms of others. But in allowing themselves to be used for the sake of the illusion of being desired they further undermine their self-respect.

Some, convinced they are not doing enough to be desirable, seek to go further, casting off limits if need be, ignoring safety concerns and pushing themselves to the brink of extinction, emotionally if not physically as well.

It is a vicious cycle which, if not stopped, eventually leaves the submissive incapable of accepting love, pushing away anything that looks like love.

After so much abuse, she simply no longer believes in it, or no longer believes herself worthy of it.

She may well go to the extreme of only seeking out situations where there is no chance of Love entering her world.

Jaded and calloused, she may even join in the abuse of others.

After so much abuse, the ability to relate to the feelings of others grows numb.

Just as it does for the domly types who abuse others.

________________________________________

________________________________________

The Case for Love

Love strengthens self-respect, in the lover and the one loved.

Love respects consent and the lack of consent.

Love tolerates no deception.

Love is patient and thorough.

Love never places a beloved at risk.

Love delights in the sharing of discovery and exploration.

Love needs no previous experience.

Love heals.

Love has meaning, not just for one night, but night after night after ...

Love isn't lonely.

Love is much more than lust.

Love challenges us to be our best, because it demands of us that we care for another as much as we care for ourselves.

As we would not deny ourselves our best, so too do we not deny our best to those we love.

To be our best we must be willing to grow, to learn, to explore and discover, always respecting our selves and each other.

Love offers all of this to those who have the courage to believe in themselves, to respect themselves, to respect others.

Love offers itself to those who turn their backs on Fear.

Love offers itself to those who choose to be what they were born to be.

Human.

 

[chy_girl]

Your pals in this thread don't want anyone reading it.

*rolls eyes and wanders away to find something interesting to do*

 

[FloggingMolly]

I meant publish it on the proper story site. I very much doubt they'd care at all that you'd submitted it.

 

[CutieMouse]

I meant publish it on the proper story site. I very much doubt they'd care at all that you'd submitted it.

It was up on the writing side if Lit; he deleted everything (his decision, his choice) after 2-3 people gave him less favorable ratings than he felt the writing deserved.

BL is of the opinion that his decision to remove his writing is proof that the "casual community" is censoring his right to free speech, and further proof that the "casual community" will not tolerate any alternative viewpoints - in spite of the fact that several posters encouraged him to keep his writings on the site.

He also threw a tantrum on the GB complaining that his writings hadn't been removed as soon as he made the request - even though one of the site owners explained there is a 2-3 day lag between when a request is made and a person actually reviews the request... Another example (in his opinion) of the "casual community's" devious censorship.

 

[intothewoods]

Good God, that is a long post.

Question - are you suggesting that female submissives are incapable of deciding who to play with or not to play with? Whether or not the scene is for them?

I was a bdsm novice not so long ago, and I can still vaguely recall being a young woman. I don't know, don't most women get the lecture or advice from someone that some men just want to fuck you? The public scene isn't all that different from any party with single-ready-to-mingle attendees. I know when a man just wants to fuck me. Can't most women figure this out? What do you think is preventing a woman from giving full consent in this context? Why can't a submissive woman make this decision for herself?

"Safe, fun and self-indulging." Ok, but if it's not for you, then you know that after a few experiences. Young women are not so weak that a few casual experiences causes them emotional damage.

You are not a woman or a submissive, and I think it's sexist and patronizing to suggest that you know what's best for us.

As far as a discussion of ethics goes, just check out the Fetlife discussion groups for any local group. The groups around me can't be unique. People are always discussing and debating a myriad of topics including the rules of the group, safety, the limitations of safer sex, whether single men are treated unfairly in the scene and whether there are enough protections for women in the scene.

Checking for weapons - I guess groups could do that. Thank goodness it's never been an issue in my city. As a society, we don't check restaurant patrons, people going to the movies, and all sorts of other public events. I think that goes to a broader issue in our society about safety versus freedom. The sad fact is that if someone is hellbent on doing harm, I don't know if we can stop them. Even with patdowns at the door to a party.

I totally disagree that people who run public parties won't call the police or an ambulance. For large events, you provide all sorts of health information in case the leaders do need to call an ambulance, and ambulances have indeed been called before.

Many smaller local parties are not money-making ventures -- the cost of admission covers the cost of throwing the parties. The people who run the weekend or weeklong type events make some money, but they work ridiculously hard to put these things on. If people feel unsafe at an event, oh boy, do they hear about it from the attendees.

Again, I say this as someone who rarely attends public parties. If the public scene ends tomorrow, my life will be virtually unchanged. You are just describing something that has no basis in my reality. Can't you understand that what you experienced is not the norm? Have you surveyed all local groups in Canada and the U.S.? Worldwide?

 

[BLoved]

Good God, that is a long post.

Question - are you suggesting that female submissives are incapable of deciding who to play with or not to play with? Whether or not the scene is for them?

This thread and those that led to it are more than ample proof casual players and their advocates have no ethics worthy of respect.

Deceit, two-facedness, immaturity, impulsiveness, a complete lack of personal responsibility.

All anyone need do is read this discussion and those that led up to it.

 

[intothewoods]

There is so much that I can't address because I just don't have the time or energy, but I have to say that so much of your post, Bloved, is based on M-dom/f-sub relationships, and also a straight heterosexual dynamic. My group is very very queer and genderqueer. The dynamic is just different.

 

[intothewoods]

This thread and those that led to it are more than ample proof casual players and their advocates have no ethics worthy of respect.

Deceit, two-facedness, immaturity, impulsiveness, a complete lack of personal responsibility.

All anyone need do is read this discussion and those that led up to it.

You've interacted with what - 10 people here? 15? If I meet 10 people from a particular cultural group who are all assholes, I don't make the determination that the entire group is made up of people who are exactly the same.

 

[WriterDom]

Every single bdsm group is autonomous. Same with every bdsm message board. You can define them all as "casual" if you like. So if all real life groups are casual and bad, and all message boards are casual and bad, where does one go to find their beloved? Or where would a female sub go to find her non-causal Dom?

 

[Keroin]

Ha! Thanks to this thread, I just figured out the answer to that famous koan: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

*pats self on back*

 

[Stella_Omega]

Ha! Thanks to this thread, I just figured out the answer to that famous koan: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"

*pats self on back*

It's the sound of you patting yourself on the back?

 

[Keroin]

It's the sound of you patting yourself on the back?

YUP!

har har har

 

[sb2009]

many many moons ago when I was a young soldier in the Army, there was this crusty old E-7 who had taken the malaprop far beyond what any reasonable person could imagine. One of his best that stays with me to this day was "ethnics" instead of "ethics."

Because of his rank and his position in the company, he was often the one to give safety briefings, etc. In one briefing, intended to make us aware of extremist organizations and how they might target young wide-eyed soldiers, he talked about "persuado religious organizations" who would often not have the best "ethnics" when attemtping to recruit new members.

So now, when I see this thread I read it in HIS voice in my mind..."the ethnics of casual BDSM..."

 

[Etoile]

Yawn.

 

[sb2009]

I'm sorry for boring you Etoile.... :-(

 

[Etoile]

I'm sorry for boring you Etoile.... :-(

You didn't, actually the funny thing is I loaded up the reply page and then watched some funny cat video. Only later did I realize I never postedmy my yawn.

 

[sb2009]

well, funny cat videos always outrank anything I can say....I am however, banned from clicking on any funny cat links because I broke the last laptop doing that.

My life is empty now.

 

[clock1]

Introductions

Chapter 1

It almost cost her life to find him, and the funny thing was she wasn't really looking for anyone. But then fate has a way of throwing us opportunities when we're not looking.

????????????

Is that what this thread was all about?

To creat a "captive" audience 37-38 pages in so you can post your stories?

Please (I agree with someone else who said YAWN!)

If I want stories I go to that section of Lit, I come here for amusing, enlightening, shared conversation.

This is your thread BL, I'll leave it to you, but if you want stories put them in the correct place and ignore the feedback. I never care what the recipient says about a gift.

 

[Stella_Omega]

many many moons ago when I was a young soldier in the Army, there was this crusty old E-7 who had taken the malaprop far beyond what any reasonable person could imagine. One of his best that stays with me to this day was "ethnics" instead of "ethics."

Because of his rank and his position in the company, he was often the one to give safety briefings, etc. In one briefing, intended to make us aware of extremist organizations and how they might target young wide-eyed soldiers, he talked about "persuado religious organizations" who would often not have the best "ethnics" when attemtping to recruit new members.

So now, when I see this thread I read it in HIS voice in my mind..."the ethnics of casual BDSM..."

That must have made military life less boring at any rate! And possibly, put some fun into BDSM as well...