Play Collar.

I walked out of the Planned Parenthood office armed with a bag containing several dozen condoms, six months’ worth of Progestogen only birth control pills, a small bottle of lube and a package containing some pulls commonly known as “Plan B.” Those last I was provided “just in case’ and I was carefully instructed on how to use them.  In light of the horrific erosion of the reproductive rights of women in America I felt fierce, empowered and fabulous as I strolled into the foggy late-morning sun in El Cerrito, CA.

Of course, when ‘m feeling fierce and empowered and am looking forward to an intriguing play date, I do what any superawesome submissive does.

I strolled into PetCo to collar shop.

What?

OK so anyone who knows me knows I don’t usually play in scene with collars. I’ve got a “thing” about it. I have a lot of fetishization around collars as symbols.

I’ve recently realized that I want to have the ability to have my play incorporate that symbol without it eviscerating me. SO when my date for Friday expressed in interest in dipping his feet into the power exchange pool, I thought about the collar less as a MASSIVE EPIC SYMBOL OF SLAVERY and more as a very succinct and tangible way to demarcate the beginning, duration and withdrawal from a dominant / submissive dynamic.

I wanna play, too.

A cheap pet store collar would be the way to go. I found a silver lamé number that matches my current manicure. Idly, I thought about some sort of leash, to follow the pampered pet theme, but nothing in the PetCo appealed to me.  I don’t usually see myself as a fancy pet kind of slave, so I felt adding a bit of distance would help me keep the evening in perspective.

Across from the PetCo, a JoAnne’s Fabrics beckoned me in for no particular reason I could ascertain until I wandered up the jewelry craft aisle and saw three perfect pieces that would, with a very little bit of effort, make an adorable leash. After grabbing the silvery chain, cheap little leather bracelet and heart-shaped clasps, I was now wiggly with delight. Deep inside me is a hidden crafty cobbler together of shit, and I was glad to be able to indulge it.

The rest of the day was a blur, and the planned phone date to initiate negotiations didn’t materialize. A few text messages and we made plans to chat the next day.

I was yanked from sleep by the melodious tones of my phone and one eye on my cell alerted me that my friend was calling. It was by no means early for normal folks, but I’m NOT the early riser.  Small talk and pleasantries and a little while later, I was sprawled in the sun on the front steps of the huge old Oakland home where I’m staying for a while. I squinted into the sun and gathered my sleep fuzzed mind around explaining to my friend why I’d offered to expand our play to include d/s for the night. I was more than a bit taken aback to learn he hadn’t engaged in this type of play before. Mind, he is…quite, quite well versed in the Sex-positive community. Quite. But the BDSM just isn’t his bag. However, curiosity and trust in my motives, my capacity to communicate and a lust for knowledge inspired him to say “Yes!” when previously he had chosen to not “go there.”

I explained my own degree of apprehension, my delight that he trusted me enough to go there, and that it was my trust in his transparency, motives and his blackbelt in relationship communication that motivated me to say “Fuck it. You wanna?”

Mutual trustgasm had by all. Negotiations pulled open. Now, know also I am not a fan of negotiations. But this was the first time I‘d negotiated explicitly with someone very well versed on negotiating for sexual encounters but not specifically BDSM. And this was a new paradigm for him, in that we were figuring out how to make it safe for him to do something new, and NOT gain explicit permission in advance for every step of the encounter. We were figuring out how to have time-restricted blanket permission within reasonable parameters, and within those parameters, he was free to romp at will.

It is such a wonderful dynamic to be able to leach while learning, and learn while teaching and engaging with someone so skilled in both teaching and learning is brilliant. And the more I elaborated on what it takes to negotiate, and the more he got it, and the more questions I was able to ask that opened up broad, inviting avenues of possibility the more aroused I became.  I love feeling smart. And regardless of my awkwardness about my self-perception? I know I’m awesome when I am communicating well, being heard, being understood. Fuck, its hot.

You know what else is hot? Someone sharing that they’re apprehensive about doing this new thing, and that they trust you enough to do it. This is a revelation I believe more “experienced” dominants can take to heart. I was reminded what it takes to be the boss of someone, even for a few hours, and that it can be intimidating. Imagine now your first time doing it is with someone who has dedicated a whole lotta time in this particular arena…and imagine the  kinkgnoscenti  and sexerati  all peering over their spanking benches at you, wondering what the heck you think you’re doing.

Healthy dose of happy nervousness all around.  I am loving the low-grade butterflies and anticipation. I was aggrieved to realize my period, irregular and wonky for the past few months, was gonna be in play for the playdate. Happily, this fact didn’t phase my date. Bonus. Because some of the hottest sex I’ve had has been in the midst of bleeding and I’d have been loath to have it interfere with the reward I’m promised if I’m a very, very good girl.

It is nice to be asked out, and it is even nicer to have someone who is interested in me actually follow through and make play happen.  And it seems just extra special when it’s a shiny new frontier or a new spin on a long-traveled path.

 

 

…to be continued…