It’s ALL About the Bond

Wicked Wednesday

Prompt #270: Bond

When I first read Wicked Wednesday Prompt #270: Bond – I was stumped.  The attached video of the lovely performance didn’t help me any either.  I found no inspiration.

Then, after a nap this afternoon, I realized what the prompt meant to me.  Of course!

The special bonds I’ve found in BDSM relationships have been closer and deeper than any I’ve ever felt.  That is what inspires me to write on this topic.

vanilla’s just another spice

I want to say up front that I’m not going to claim (as some do) that BDSM relationships are always deeper.

I won’t even begin to say being part of a BDSM relationship creates a bond more special than other relationships styles.

You see, I’ve witnessed vanilla relationships with just as close a connection.  My Aunt and Uncle (Father’s brother and his wife) were one of the most exceptional couples I’ve ever met.  

I do know they shared an active sex life together all the way to the end.  I’m guessing they were pretty kinky too, at least all indications leaned that way.

But the relationship style was pure vanilla.

The bond they shared was forged in the great depression and a world war.

But, beyond that, it was built from shared hardships, common experiences, and mutual pleasures.

Those are the same elements which the best BDSM style relationships are also built upon.

Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words.

Jalaluddin Rumi

mutual pleasure

Without a doubt, the deepest relationships I’ve ever had were Master/slave relationships.

Obviously, I don’t believe that BDSM relationships feature an inherently deeper bond than other relationship styles.  But, it’s clear they can offer a path to a very close connection.

So, what is it about power exchange relationships that elicit such deep intimacy and closeness?

I think, in the case of successful power exchange relationships, it starts with mutual pleasure.

Often that is what attracted us to each other in the first place.  Our common interests in power exchange, kink, fetish, BDSM.

At least that’s how it has been for me, those times when I’ve found a great bond with others.

Granted, I’ve always been a very sexual creature.  And elements of BDSM have been part of my sexuality since my earliest memory.

I’ve nothing against pure vanilla.  In fact, I consider it to be just another spice.  But, it’s not my preference.  It’s not my kink, but that’s ok.

With that in mind, nearly all of the peak experiences I’ve shared with submissive partners, with my slaves, have been built around BDSM.

And, it’s those incredible mutual pleasures that help to build the very strong bond that often happens in power exchange/authority exchange relationships.

You don’t build a bond without being present.

James Earl Jones

common experience

If common experiences are another part of creating a great bond, opportunities abound within BDSM relationships.

Munches and play parties are a good example.  When folks in a power exchange relationship attend a play party (or even a munch) it can create memorable experiences they will always share.

At the very least, they aren’t off playing golf or attending church groups alone.

Bigger events and festivals can have even greater effects.

I know that I was inspired to become a presenter one weekend while attending Kinky Kollege in Chicago.  A visit to IML (also in Chicago) served as the catalyst for the formation of the first MAsT group in Iowa.

And, I know that Twisted Tryst, a four day weekend of camping and kinky debauchery, has had a dramatic effect on the lives of many.

If it’s true that the family that plays together stays together, then power exchange relationships offer great opportunities for bonding through those common experiences.

Love is the bond of perfection.

John Winthrop

shared hardships

I know it may seem a little odd at first that I’ve included shared hardships as a part of bonding.  I know it happens as a part of power exchange relationships.  And, to my mind, it’s a very common occurrence.

For most power exchange participants, keeping their kink activities in the closet is a necessity.  Perhaps we are out to friends or even family.  But, it’s rare for most to have our kink fully integrated into our lives.

Obviously, that’s a form of a shared hardship, the kind that can create a strong bond in relationships.

Parents with children face a similar situation.

Hiding a vibrator or dildo may cause a certain sense of unease for parents of inquisitive children.  But, needing to conceal floggers and other similar implements of instruction can be more anxiety inducing still.

The need to keep our authentic lives secret creates a shared hardship that bonds those of us who have immersed ourselves in power exchange ever closer to each other.

bond – Michael’s way

I really don’t enjoy power exchange, or any form of BDSM play, without a connection.  It does nothing for me without a bond.

I stopped doing “pick-up” play of any kind a while back, for that very reason.

I need that bond.  It could be said that I crave it.

Without that connection, the power exchange is really a role-play.  Roleplaying and cosplay are fun, but they aren’t what truly fuel my fire.

It really is ALL about the bond for me…

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

How Does Your Light Shine?

wash away my sorrow, wash away my shame

Wicked Wednesday Prompt #266: Bubbles

Life comes upon us like we are driving at dusk without headlights.  We may know the road behind us, but the road ahead is never clear.  Sometimes turning points come and go without notice, there’s no signpost to say the road has changed, that the path is different.

That’s a real problem if you are the lead wheel, if your position is to provide direction down the path.  What happens when the direction is unclear?  What happens when you peer ahead and see no path, only darkness?

I was sitting in a jacuzzi tub, filled with bubbles.  Joyous and carefree.  As Shakespeare once said – the world was my oyster.

I didn’t see the darkness ahead.  I thought the path was clear.

What lay ahead was loss.


Shattered dreams.

The stuff nightmares are made from . . .

The images bring back memories.  Feelings that are more than just bittersweet.  Packed with emotion.  Raw.

I can feel my skin crawl.  Is it anxiety?  Anger?  Hurt?

I have to remind myself that it was a beautiful weekend.  The bubbles were real.  The hugs and smiles were real too.

Could things ever have been so simple?  Joyous?  Bubbly?

What can I choose to remember?  What can I choose to forget?

I have to admit, some things are hard to remember.  Some things are even harder to forget.  Dreams slipped from my grasp.

Admitting that to myself is difficult.  Having to say it here, worse.

But I’ll always have the bubbles.  While bubbles can never protect, they do surround me, envelop me, warm me.

The bubbles are my cocoon. I’ll disappear into them, take shelter there for a time.

The bubbles will wash away the pain, they will wash away the shame.  They will not consume me.

I will reemerge.  My light will shine again.

Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain
With the rain in Shambala
Wash away my sorrow, wash away my shame
With the rain in Shambala

How does your light shine, in the halls of Shambala

Three Dog Night


Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

If Orange is the New Black Then Black is the New White

If Orange is the New Black Then Black is the New White

This entry is part 21 of 22 in the series Wicked Wednesday

what white apparently doesn’t mean to me

I’m going to be honest here, I’ve got nothing.  It’s not so much writer’s block, as it is a difficulty changing gears.

I’ve been obsessed with cigars of late.  It’s a hobby of mine since last summer, but it’s really blossomed of late.  My cigar obsession really took off since I started sampling a variety of different offerings from online vendors.

I was tempted to write a review of a cigar named White Obsidian.  It is about the word “white” afterall, it’s right there in the cigar’s name.  I received a 5-pack of mini White Obsidian’s as a freebie with a purchase I made last summer, and I did write a “quickie” review after sampling one, my first experience with the brand.  But, I just didn’t find any justification for twisting yet another Wicked Wednesday topic around to match up with my personal cigar obsession.

I considered writing a post about white privilege.  Certainly, it’s on topic for the prompt, weighty, and a current part of the conversation in the worlds of sexuality and kink.  But, I just don’t feel up to tackling such a truly weighty topic at the moment.  Talking about white privilege requires more than a little measure of introspection, as I’m certainly the recipient of said phenomenon.

Then I thought about writing a post that black was the new white, a thought I had after being told that I’m Sinnjara’s knight in black shining armor.  I’ve always had a soft spot for villains, as I’ve always found that they are more complex and believable than their opponents.  In the end though, I didn’t quite have the chutzpa to do that either.

Influenced by the title of a Netflix drama, I did come up with a name for the essay – If Orange is the New Black Then Black is the New White.  But, that’s about as far as it got, and I’m toiling away here at 9:28pm on Wednesday night, so it’s not like there’s any more time to complete this weeks essay for the prompt – white.

It was truly a Wicked Wednesday however, as Serafina and Sinnjara got matching school girl outfits for Halloween.  The white stockings they modeled, complete with a nice black bow at the top, absolutely completed the outfits.  Can you say adorable?

If Orange is the New Black Then Black is the New White

Wicked Wednesday

Sending Smoke Signals

Sending Smoke Signals

This entry is part 21 of 22 in the series Wicked Wednesday


There are lots of ways that we, as humans, communicate with each other.

Obviously there is verbal communication, that’s what naturally springs to mind for most of us when we hear the word.  Once we are past a couple years of age, words shape our perception of things, and the spoken word is king.  As children we spent hours upon hours listening to our teachers talk, likely far more time than we spend with our noses in books.   Language matters.  It is, perhaps, mankind’s most important invention.

But, for the purposes of today’s topic, I’m more interested in non-verbal forms of communication.  The messages we send with the clothes we wear, as well as the products we purchase and use, are perhaps even more important in signalling who we are, than anything we might say.

Why is that, I wondered?

At least that was my response when I first started to ponder this question.  Why can’t we just trust people to tell us who they are?

Then I remembered the old adage – “Talk is cheap!”  Some folks will say most anything to get what they want, or so it seems.  With that in mind, it does pay us good heed to look deeper than just listening to an individual’s words.  As they say, “Actions speak louder than words.”


drew-estate-dirt-torpedo-05Which brings me to the topic of this Wicked Wednesday post – cigars.  Ha!  I bet you were thinking this was a post about communication – and it is that indeed – it’s just not a normal association that most folks consciously make.  But, believe it or not, every time I light a cigar I am communicating with the world.

Cigars have a particular mystique about them.  Their use makes specific statements about who I am, and what I value.

Cigarettes are for the poor.  While advertising men once tried to make cigarette smoking appear to be a luxurious and decadent habit, the truth is cigarettes are vulgar.  Being quick and easily available, they are the tobacco of choice for whores.  And even without the vulgar association cigarettes bring to mind, I have to say that I don’t need to inhale smoke deep into my lungs to appreciate it’s characteristics.  Nor do I need my tobacco laced with a variety of exotic chemicals, as is the common practice by cigarette manufacturers.

Smoking a pipe, on the other hand, is a decidedly middle class hobby.  At least that’s the way it’s associated in my mind.  Solid middle class icons from my childhood, the father’s of 1950’s television families in particular, smoked pipes.  Pipes are also the domain of intellectuals, Albert Einstein smoked a pipe, as did Sherlock Holmes (perhaps the most prominent literary intellectual from my childhood.)

my three sons pipe smokerCigars, however, speak not so much of working or middle class styles and aspirations, but instead signify to me icons of power and fame (not to mention infamy.)  Cigars are an expression of machismo, power, influence, wealth, and sophistication.  Politicians and mobsters (aren’t they really one and the same most of the time?) smoke cigars.  Real adventurers, as well as action/adventure movie heroes smoke cigars, as do several of our former Governor’s and Presidents.

Cigars are celebrated.  Barack Obama’s cigarette habit is a dirty little secret, something that certainly could not be said about Richard Nixon’s enjoyment of a fine cigar.  Bill Clinton’s use of a cigar might have been a dirty little secret had it not turned into national news, but that’s the exception that makes the rule.  I’ve known die hard republican right wing types that asked their submissive lady to give his cigar’s that special sort of wetting, all the while hoping it just kept his fellow libertarians from mooching.  I hope, at least for both his lady and Ms Lewinski’s sake, that the gentlemen in question smoked something a little fatter than a 48 ring gauge.

Even our birth rituals point to the importance of the cigar.  I’m quite sure that nobody anywhere has passed a pinch of pipe tobacco around to celebrate a new baby, nor do they pass around Marlboro’s.  Indeed the cigar is unique in the world of tobacco.

smoke signals – communicating my alpha-maleness w/ cigars

As a alpha type male, when I light a cigar I send a clear message, a “smoke signal” if you will.  I’d like to think that I smoke because I enjoy the ritual, because I find it to be a relaxing and fascinating hobby, rather than because it might make me look powerful, or dominant, or because it’s an expression of my personal sense of masculine pride.

drew-estate-dirt-torpedo-02Yet, my conscious mind knows all of those things.  My head knows the message I communicate to the world when I relax and enjoy a fine cigar.  There’s no telling what my sub-conscious mind has for reasoning, in terms of my motivation to occasionally enjoy a fine cigar, as that part of our brain is protected from our consciousness by a protective fog.  But I am savvy enough to know the motivations are complex, and they probably just aren’t about me.

We, as human beings, are all social creatures.  That’s perhaps the most disturbing part of conditions like autism, they rob us of that basic and essential human trait, the need to communicate and interact with others.

That’s part of what makes our interactions with each other so complex and hard to decipher.  And that’s what makes the simple act of lighting a cigar a form of communication.1

Sending Smoke Signals


Wicked Wednesday

What Do You Doubt?

What Do You Doubt?

This entry is part 20 of 22 in the series Wicked Wednesday

doubt  –  /dout/

verb (used with object)

  1. to be uncertain about; consider questionable or unlikely; hesitate to believe.
  2. to distrust.
  3. Archaic. to fear; be apprehensive about.

verb (used without object)

  1. to be uncertain about something; be undecided in opinion or belief.


  1. a feeling of uncertainty about the truth, reality, or nature of something.
  2. distrust.
  3. a state of affairs such as to occasion uncertainty.
  4. Obsolete . fear; dread.

Everyone has doubts.

Yes, there are people who do their best to project an image of themselves without doubt.  But, in my experience, those are actually the people with perhaps the most self doubt.

I certainly don’t try to project such an image myself.  Yet, I can tell you that when in doubt, I point fingers at myself.  Perhaps I am among those who have the greatest self doubt after all.

Now, when I was growing up, there was an adage – “When in doubt blame the dog!”

Some people treat their consensual slaves like dogs.  In saying that, what I’m meaning is that it seems to me that some dominants are quick to point the finger of blame at their submissive.  That’s actually the opposite of my usual personal style.

If one of my darling slaves makes a mistake, I usually look first to myself.  Perhaps I didn’t give instructions clearly enough?  Maybe I wasn’t clear in expressing my intentions and expectations?  Could it be that I didn’t properly equip my girls to deal with a specific situation?

Yes, I’m big upon accountability.  I’m big on people owning their own shit.  But when it comes right down to it, when I’m thinking about my girls, when I’m considering their actions and issues, I’m usually looking first to blame myself.

They have me to hold them accountable, to take them to task if they decide it’s easier to ignore a rule, or protocol, we’ve all mutually agreed upon.  But then who holds the master accountable for his own foibles, if not himself?

My own doubts have been amplified of late.  I wrote in a previous post about my issues with sciatica pain.  That kind of pain brings big doubts to mind for me . . . 

Why me?  Why now?  What if the pain doesn’t go away?  What then?  How much longer will I be able to handle the physical strain of being a proper Master?  What will my girls think if I’m unable to play as dynamically as I once did?  What will I think if that happens?

Yes, when it comes to the topic of doubts these days, I have plenty . . .

What Do You Doubt?  Myself!


Wicked Wednesday