Edge City.

When do you figure that those of us in D/s type relationships take things too far? Is there a moment where you, as either the bottom or the top, take stock of things and decide, "Hey, maybe this is a little out there?"

I'm only asking because I feel like I came to this exact crossroads yesterday.

It should be stated, outright, that I am truly madly and deeply in love with my Lady. I would never do anything to her that we hadn't expressly planned and discussed prior to play. But, with that being said, a miniature Rubicon was crossed last night, and I'm not sure how to feel.

I cut her.

I cut her at her request, and very carefully, with a sterilized razor and proper aftercare.

But I cut her.

I understand that in the BDSM scene, this is considered a form of "edgeplay," or rather play that exceeds even the communities lax standards of acceptability. I also understand the inherent risks involved with cutting your lover up, chief among then in this area being the questions we'll be asked should any of these show in public.

I also understand that it was pretty fucking hot, and that Lady enjoyed it even more than I did.

There's always a conundrum with being the dominant of a relationship, because there is an expectation that you be somewhat self-assured, ready and willing to make sure that you get what you want. Sometimes, that pressure can be a bit much. This is one of those times. I want to vent my reservations, but I cant in good consience vent them to Lady. She's had such a tough time coming out of her shell and realizing that her sexuality is not a sin. To question her at this point would be tantamount to shaming her for having desire, which I flatly refuse to do.

But I just fear this puts us on a darker path than I had envisioned our sex lives to have. Then again, prior to this event she still liked me to flog her until beet-red, and choke her, and even some spit play. So perhaps our sex life isnt as golden and uplifting as I imagine it.

It's scuzzy and dirty and it all kind of has that pallor of darkness. Then again, I wouldnt have it any other way. So maybe I should stop worrying.

Whadda you think?

Charm of the Unfamiliar

I worry a great deal about a great many things. I worry, that as a white male, that my dominant role in mine and Lady's relationship is a very slippery slope. I worry that I am not feminist enough, I worry that I dont seperate myself enough from the patriarchy.

I am, like every caucasian man in America, a Misogynistic White Supremacist.

I dont like that label, but it's the truth. The long-entrenched and almost hopelessly 'everywhere' of the patriarchal system ensures this. Whether I choose to participate, to become everything that I loathe, or not--it doesn't matter. Because the system will still work without my input. I will continue to benefit from it no matter how much I try to deny it.

The most I can really do is try to analyze myself a little bit at the end of each day and try to distance myself and confront myself with truths that I might not like to hear. It's a process, and it's one that I feel I've been successful in thus far.

But it brings me to write pieces like this, too, as a matter of asking the question I may not want to.

I'm a huge, huge fan of queer porn.

It just does something for me. Perhaps it's the realism of the lovemaking act. Perhaps it's the incredibly sexy stars of it--women like Jiz Lee and Madison Young. Maybe it's even the old DIY in me responding positively to what is still a very grassroots group of filmakers and actors.

But I always have had this troubling feeling whenever I watch it--am I just responding to the exoticism of it all?

Consider what I have gone through as a fan of smut of all sizes, shapes, and forms. I hit puberty just as the Internet was becoming such an all-encompasing force in the lives of, well, everyone. Which means I was able to consume pornography at a pretty swift pace. Lesbian pornography, for the longest time, bored the shit out of me. But look at what the market had at the time: Bimbos who weren't even truly bisexual, doing it for the money, with no passion whatsoever. It WAS boring, because falsity at it's very nature is boring.

But within the last 4 years or so, I found out about real queer porn. This stuff wasnt like anything I'd seen, ever, in ANY pornography. The first movie I ever saw was the Crash Pad. Most of these women were real life partners. It was hot, hotter than boiling molasses, folks. There was such passion, such interplay, such acceptance of various kinks that I thought I'd have to search high and low to find in porn--all right in front of me, in neat little packages with titles like NoFauxx and Superfreak. I couldnt then and still cannot get enough of it.

Like I said, though, those old fears are constantly creeping in: Am I enjoying this because it offers a glimpse into something I'll never be a part of? Is it that I just secretly enjoy seeing real lesbian sex like a boy peeking into the women's locker room?

As a heterosexual white male, do I have the right to watch queer porn and enjoy it?