I am proudly autistic, asexual, and kinky.

It was never my intention to take nearly four months off from this blog, but for a blog called Bondage Diaries, I suppose that one would need to have bondage to write about in the virtual diary before one can post.  And I’ve been more or less out of the scene since the incident in July where I was nonconsensually humiliated at DCDungeon, which left me unable to trust the person that I had been playing with up to that time.  I went to the Rockville Munch in September, where I had a good time, but otherwise, I’ve been out of things.  I haven’t played, I’ve only been to one munch, I’ve let the spoon sit up on a shelf in the closet collecting dust, and I’ve been pursuing other interests for a while.  I have been casually looking for a play partner/relationship/whatever lately, both on OKCupid and Collarme.com, but I haven’t had any success with it.  It will come with time, I’m sure.

I’m also not entirely sure yet about where I really “belong” in the fetish scene.  I’m sure that there’s a place for me, but I don’t think I’ve found it yet.  I am 31 years old, I identify as male, I play as a bottom, I list my orientation on FetLife as “heteroflexible”, and I am quite single.  And with what I’ve tried so far, I feel as though I’ve had difficulty relating to these folks.  I feel as though I’m too old for the DC TNG crowd, and it seemed that in that group, people weren’t as amazingly friendly as I would like, and it seemed that many people had their cliques.  However, I also felt somewhat out of place with the older crowd in the Rockville scene, as I felt that those folks had far more experience than I did – so much so that I felt somewhat inadequate by comparison because I lacked that experience.  Plus it’s far less intimidating to meet people when you’re meeting someone with someone else vs. doing so alone, and I was going to these things alone.  It is very possible to feel lonely amongst a crowd of people, and I got that distinct feeling of loneliness a number of times with both the Rockville scene and the DC TNG scene.

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For those of you who don’t know, I am an avid swimmer, and I can usually be found swimming laps at an indoor pool several times a week.  Recently at the pool, I finally went digging through the various swim fins and other equipment that the pool makes available for swimmers’ use.  Kickboards notwithstanding, the item that I’ve found most useful for my workout is a pair of short fins.  But amongst the various items in the big bin of stuff is a monofin.  The monofin looks like this:

Image: Amazon.com

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If there is such a thing as a bad night at the dungeon, this one was it.  I was mistreated in my scene, and then treated as a fifth wheel outside of that.  It’s definitely caused me to reevaluate how I view D/s and my own role within it.

Recently, my regular play partner became involved in a relationship with someone whom she called her “Sir”.  Since she became involved with this person, our play scenes had become more dominant/submissive with the inequality that comes with that designation, rather than filling the top or bottom role between equals.  I was being ordered around more in our scenes.  Pre-scene negotiations became almost nonexistent.  “Give me your hands,” was usually the extent of it, and if I attempted to negotiate a scene, I was told that it wasn’t my place as the sub.  If I tried to explain mid-scene that something wasn’t working for me or getting too intense, then I was told, in an annoyed sort of way, that I was “topping from the bottom”.  And she would refuse to gag me, which, as I mentioned before, I need in order to get to subspace.  And if I’m making noise, gag or not, I’m not there.  I’ve noticed that when I’ve reached subspace, I stop making any sound.  I stop talking (or “mmphing”, as the case may be), I don’t giggle, and I don’t make happy sounds.  I just go silent.

So last Friday, I got together with my play partner for our usual dungeon night routine: dinner somewhere and then off to DCDungeon.  I knew that her “Sir” would be coming along, and that was fine, because I was interested in meeting him.  He seemed like a nice enough guy at dinner.  We talked about whatever, and then when dinner was done, we headed over to DCDungeon.  At DCDungeon, after my play partner and I showed her “Sir” around the place (it was his first time), it was time for a scene.  As I had understood it going into this, we were going to be beaten together.  That’s not how it happened.  First she was flogged by “Sir”, and then when he was done, she was going to do similarly to me.

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People could (and do) write volumes on language and terminology, and on how we use language to define ourselves.  In my four months in the scene, I have thought about what words get used in places quite a bit.

One thing I’ve always found interesting about content of a sexual nature is the use of “naughty words” over plainer language.  For instance, the rear end is usually referred to as “ass”, and not as “behind”, “backside”, or even “butt”.  Likewise, I’ve noticed that the penis is usually referred to as “cock”.  I’ve always found it interesting, mostly because I find such terms to be uncouth, even when used sexually.  Maybe it’s just me. I wonder if others feel similarly about the use of “foul language” as the normal term.  However, the use of foul language is more just a pet peeve of mine than anything else.  I’m not fond of it, but whatever. If it makes people tick, then more power to them, I suppose.

The terms that I think about most are the terms “dominant”, “submissive”, “top”, and “bottom”.  That thinking usually centers around how I identify myself in that concept set as I learn more about my own style and behaviors in scene settings.  Going in back in January, I thought that dominant = top and top = dominant, and likewise I thought that submissive = bottom and bottom = submissive.  In other words, I thought that the terms were exactly equivalent.  Now I know that the terms are not necessarily the same.

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Just in looking at my own kinks, I’m amazed about how specific some things can be. In the various BDSM scenes that I’ve had the fortune of being in, it’s taught me a lot about what puts me on the path to subspace and what doesn’t.

One thing I’ve come to realize is that I have to completely “let go” to reach subspace. But at the same time, I am unable to let go on my own. I often try to direct a situation, sometimes without even realizing I’m doing it. Thus I have to be somewhat forced to let go. I need to not mess with things: tie me up. If I can say something about a situation, I will do so and try to take it over, but need to not do that to let go: gag me. And if I can see it, I will try and do something about it, even if only mentally: blindfold me.

On that note, I have to be able to know I’m in until someone releases me. That’s why I am not that fond of tape gags, for one. At least as I see it, a person who is tape gagged is only gagged voluntarily. I know that I can, on my own, render a tape gag ineffective just by opening my mouth. Thus I’m insufficiently gagged and can’t let go. For me to reach subspace, the gag has to be one that I can’t negate on my own. This is partly why I love ballgags so much. When my hands are properly restrained, I can’t get rid of a ballgag. It is in there until the top removes it, and until such time, any attempt at speech is futile. So it’s a “problem” that I can’t solve, and so I just have to let go.

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When I first entered the BDSM scene in January, I did three kink events within the span of a week: Gateway with Black Rose, Dungeon 101 night at The Crucible, and a munch.  These things all cost money.

I mentioned previously in passing that I am a major cheapskate.  Basically, I don’t like to spend money if I don’t need to, and will plan my purchases carefully.  Black Rose had membership dues of $30, and attendance at their regular meetings required further payment beyond the membership dues.  Likewise, due to its location in the NoMa neighborhood, The Crucible operated as a private club, with a $25 membership fee, and then the cost of admission to a Crucible event cost an additional $20.  Then of course the munch had the cost of the meal and tip.  Plus I needed to build up a collection of stuff to play with, like rope, BDSM gear, and other “pervertables” (more on that last part later).  And as much as I wish it were otherwise, my funds are finite, and there are only so many hours in a day.  Thus I had to make choices about what to spend my money and time on.

The way I saw it, Black Rose and The Crucible were both a little pricey.  Black Rose membership cost $30 to join and would expire on June 30.  Then to actually use the membership and go to their various meetings and educational events would cost more money.  It felt as though they wanted money at every turn.  Thus it was a somewhat high barrier to entry, and for less than six months’ time as a member before having to pay another $30 for the next year’s membership.

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Sometimes the hardest part of a journey is taking the first step.  This was the case for my first foray into the public BDSM scene.

In my previous post, you may recall that I discussed how I had known that I was kinky for practically my entire life, and that I had known about Washington DC-based Black Rose for several years, but had taken no action towards getting involved with that group.  Once my friend told me back in September 2011 that she was kinky, and was involved in her own local scene, it made me start to wonder why I wasn’t involved myself.  After all, if she can do it, why can’t I?  I looked at Black Rose’s site again a few times over the next few months, and in late December, determined that their next orientation, or as they call it, “Gateway”, was on January 5, 2012 in a conference room at the Phoenix Park Hotel near Union Station in DC.

I had been debating in my mind for about a week prior to the January Gateway about whether or not I should go.  Ultimately, I decided to just take the plunge and go.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?  It might be a great thing, or it might turn out to be completely lame, but you don’t know for sure until you go and find out.

As with other vanilla special events that I’ve been to, my body knew that Black Rose’s Gateway was something special.  My stomach was doing flipturns at the office, as the anticipation was causing me some physical ailments.  I knew that this was something I really needed to do for myself, and I would regret it if I didn’t go (and would have to wait a month for another opportunity), but my stomach felt worse and worse as the day went on.  I did my best to ignore it, as I knew it was just nervousness from anticipation and that once I got there, I would be fine, but it was becoming difficult to ignore in the meantime.

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Welcome to Bondage Diaries, a place on the Internet where I can safely and discreetly discuss kinky topics.

I feel like I should introduce myself in this first post. I am in my early thirties, and I identify as male. I consider myself a submissive, first and foremost.

I have known that I was kinky practically all of my life. Something “clicked” when, as a child, I would see a scene in a cartoon showing someone getting tied up and gagged. I particularly enjoyed a very brief scene from the SuperTed episode “Nuts in Space” where a villain gagged a woman whom he had previously tied up offscreen.

Likewise, I would feel uncomfortable watching a scene on television where someone got tied up when family members were present. It wasn’t that I was doing anything that I wouldn’t necessarily want them to see while these scenes were going on, but I was enjoying the scenes in a way that I couldn’t quite name and they were cramping my style by simply being in the room.

Later in childhood, I would tie myself up with the pillowcases in my bedroom at night for a few minutes before falling asleep. This sort of self-bondage wasn’t anything that I could have ever gotten trapped in by any means. I relied on my imagination more than anything else to keep me “bound”. Then after tying myself up for a while, I would quietly put everything back as it should be before going to sleep.

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