Terry Richardson

I found myself at a midtown hotel one recent evening, with two dominatrices, a gentleman submissive and several hundred feet of rope.  It was going to be an entertaining few hours…

Miss VictoriaX answered the door, a sparkle in her eye.  She’d already spent several hours with Charles that day, shopping at Leatherman and lunching, and they now stood attached via a metal ball clamp and leash.  I was invited in along with Miss Eliza, who was also joining the scene (see her post on it here).

This was the first time I’d been involved in a bdsm scene with pro dommes and wasn’t sure what to expect.  Uncertain of whether I should speak to the submissive, I kept quiet. Victoria’s style turned out to be quite relaxed and we all took a seat in the living area, conversing about the hotel decor and the benefits of a metal ball clamp over other types.  It was rectangular in shape, locked by a large metal key that hung around Victoria’s neck.  Charles was relagated to the floor and his hands tied to the leg of the sofa.  The plan was that he would be a model for a bondage demonstration–the ladies had kindly offered to share some of their expertise with me.

We started with some basic wrist and ankle binds, Eliza and Victoria showing their versions then me having a go.  Both of these women are very smart, accomplished and free from pretense, neither fitting the sterotypical image of a latex-clad dominatrix barking orders and humiliating her subject (not to detract from the legitimacy of humiliation as a technique).  Nor did Charles seem particularly submissive, for a submissive.  He struck me as an articulate and worldly guy who was there for the sensory and pyschological journey, rather than out of masochistic need. He graciously responded to all requests and endured discomfort without complaint, but there wasn’t so much a sense of servitude as an understanding.  It was subtle(ball clamp notwithstanding)–roles had been defined and were inhabited freely and willingly.

Eliza and Victoria demonstrated their versions of a cock bind.  I’ve always been a bit of a minimalist and liked the idea that one item, rope, could serve so many purposes.  I tried my own cock bind, which wasn’t bad for a first try.  It occured to me that three women making art of a naked man might have resulted in burning at the stake in another time.  Following some head and face bondage, safety foremost in mind, Charles was moved to the bed and stretched out, spreadeagle.  The room fixtures at the Royalton lend themselves perfectly to activities of the rope, with circular curtain rod hooks and a bedhead design providing sturdy anchor points.  I got to do some freestyle creation and wanted to make something pretty.  With rope rigged from four corners and two sides of the room, attaching to one or another of Charles’ limbs, it was time for Eliza and I to depart and leave the other two to the rest of their evening.  That final image has stayed with me, it reminded me of a gentleman I tied up quite some time ago.  Although I was physcially in control, mentally he was unshakable.  I liked that.

There was a time when having sex in anything but the missionary position was considered a crime in America.  The original vibrator was created to relieve overworked doctors who were treating female patients suffering from ‘hysteria’ with stimulatory massage techniques. Find out many more interesting factoids about the criminalization of sex over the past few centuries in Sex Crimes Cabaret, an hilarious performance combining live music, film and spoken word.  It’s on in Tribeca, NYC for another week.

From French Vogue (Dec09/Jan10)

I was at a dinner party recently when the topic of conversation turned to sexual attraction.  It started when someone mentioned Padma Lakshmi and I voiced my long-held disappointment that Salman Rushdie, despite his great insight into human impulse and the forces of nature, went for the obvious in choosing a mate–physical beauty.  Padma’s no intellectual slouch but I guess I just hold out hope that there are people who see beyond it.  “Why wouldn’t he choose someone beautiful?” was the majority response at dinner. “He can.”

The conversation moved on to famous people we’d like to fuck.  I condradicted myself by choosing Matthew Bomer, who plays a white-collar criminal turned FBI agent in the TV series White Collar.  Come to think of it, my previous actor infatuation was with another criminal mastermind–Dexter’s serial-killer brother in the HBO series.  I guess it’s the bad boy thing–at least the latest one is into non-violent activities.  In reality, I’d probably avoid someone as beautiful as Bomer, he’d make me nervous.  The conversation moved on to what we’d do with the chosen ones if we had them. The girl next to me commented that a guy she’d been with recently had asked her to spank him.  She said she thought it was weird.  I’m not sure if this was her way of gaging other people’s reactions or if she genuinely couldn’t understand kink.  This was a woman who’s very liberal minded socially and politically, has travelled extensively and lived a pretty bohemian lifestyle.  I was reminded that, even in our culture of overt and constant sexual imagery and messaging, deviations from the standard acts are still taboo.

Former Frat Boy said that he couldn’t understand why any guy would want to hit a woman, even during role play.  Putting stereotypical gender roles aside, I think it’s fair to say that most human interaction involves a power exchange or the assignation of roles.  In every sphere of human endeavor there are degrees of expertimentation and expression.  I see kink as a way of further exploring the submissive role I find myself in when being fucked in the missionary position (which I really like).  Or, of the masochistic role I play when I continue to see someone who I know is bad for me.  Or the dominant role I play when it’s called for at work (which I don’t like). Then there’s sadism.  We can take the route of labelling any form of inflicting pain as abuse or we can acknowledge that there are always circumstances in which something that’s unacceptable in one case, is acceptable in another.  Willingness, consent and desire are, I think, the mitigating factors.

I’ve done things in my sexual life that many people would consider to be objectifying: being “forced” to read aloud anti-feminist propaganda while being held down and fucked hard enough that the words became a blur; being collared and leashed and exhibited on a hotel room balcony to neighbouring apartment buildings; cleaning the penthouse of two bankers in high heels, rubber gloves and nipple clamps while they sat on the sofa giving orders and watching Blue Velvet.

All of these situations were pre-negotiated and there was a distinct understanding of the boundaries of each party.  I had gotten to know and trusted the men who were “degrading” me.  I wanted to feel and understand the experience of whatever each scenario entailed.  I’ve degraded others in similar ways and am comfortable doing so because I don’t believe sexual objectivity is always negative.  There are times when, to my partner, I could be anyone.  To me, it’s really liberating to be just anyone sometimes, to step outside of myself and through doing so, find out a little bit more.