One of These Days

These boots are going to walk all over you sang Nancy Sinatra fifty years ago and there’s a clip of her performing this on YouTube which is a boot fetishist’s delight. I have been a boot fetishist since childhood and love the outset of autumn for the riot of boots that will hit the streets, including, of course, my own. And, like my most of my fetishes, I have carried this over into my BDSM play. Most of the submissives I have played with have enjoyed boot worship and my slave regards it as a great privilege to be ordered to clean my boots. I have recently extended foot and boot play to foot massage and foot worship. Until recently, however, I had never considered trampling.

I was aware of it as a kink activity and have a scene friend who specialises in it. I have, on a number of occasions, watched her trample her sub at public play events and wondered if it was for me. The difficulty I could see was that, being transgender, I had a different build to the lady dommes I knew and was significantly heavier, this despite a year of successful dieting and 10k runs and half marathons. I am a bit squeamish too (really!) and had visions of major organs being crushed under my feet.

So it was a little trepidation that I accompanied my slave to a recent Underfoot play event. My trampling friend was there as was a lady I had met the week before at a femdom event who had come to demonstrate. And I had a go. You can trample from a sitting position, trample supporting yourself on frames and bars, trample to your heart’s content without ever putting more than a fraction of the bodyweight on your human doormat. You can make it sensual, you can mess with the head and, best of all, you can make it hurt. I quickly found out how enjoyable it can be to use my heels to play with my victim’s nipples.

You can combine it too with related forms of play such as objectification and human furniture. Well, a lady does need to rest her feet after a spot of trampling and a human footstool is just the thing. As for my slave, he is still getting used to it and, yes, it does hurt.  We will be doing this again.

NOT THE GOLF CLUB….PLEASE

I have never had the slightest interest in golf, that is apart from the time some Frenchman called Van der Velde threw away the British Open on the final afternoon after getting stuck in a stream where it was canalised in a concrete trough and dropped a dozen shots as he hacked away like an amateur. Cue laughter and schadenfreude oh and a little anger at the crass misogyny of Peter Alliss who apparently thinks the sole function of any woman in his life is to make his tea. But I digress…..

One of the reasons golf has never really appealed is that most golfers belong to clubs, which are expensive to join, have bars full of back slapping self-satisfied white men and that, if these things weren’t off-putting enough , you have to be proposed and seconded by existing members if you want to join yourself. I have never been a fan of anything that required you to be approved by somebody else before joining.

I am concerned, therefore, to see that Fetlife is now effectively an invitation only club. New people can only sign up if invited by an existing member. Just like the golf club, really, but without the G and Ts and the Pringle sweaters……unless that’s a particularly esoteric fetish that has passed me by.

I can see why they might have done this. In my early days on the scene I got to know a man who was banned from Fetlife for stalking and harassment of one particular lady and kept rejoining under new IDs and I know, too, if only anecdotally that abuse, trolling, and general dickheadery are not uncommon. I have had to block a couple of people because of the latter. But the new rules will not necessarily deal with these issues. What, for example, is to stop a troll inviting him or herself under new names to have an account ready for when they are banned? And what about those who are simply blocked and ignored but never reported and remain on Fetlife to seek out new victims?

For those not yet in the scene this is a disaster. I, and no doubt many of you reading this, struggled for years alone with my fetishes and fantasies, unaware of the scene, unaware that there were so many like-minded people living within five miles of me. Joining Fetlife opened up to me a world of munches and play events, and led to me meeting a number of lovely people who helped me to love myself as I am and were influential, often in ways they might not realise, in making me the person I am today.

So, Fetlife, please think again. Think of those who don’t know anyone on the scene who have no-one to invite them and, because they cannot join, have no way of finding out about the munches and play events where they can meet kinky people. You have left them isolated in a vicious circle and made it impossible for us, as a community, to reach out and welcome them. Do not deny them the opportunities we all had.

We Are Like Ships in The Night

Sometimes friends mention things in conversation that give you a jolt because they express things that have been gnawing away at the back of your mind and make you think about them in a more focussed way. This happened a while ago as I enjoyed a pub lunch with fellow blogger Eye. She commented that many, if not most, friendships on the kink scene are essentially ephemeral. And this got me thinking.

I had been thinking anyway about how kink friendships differ from vanilla ones, in particular how there is often a weird kind of dislocation. This is particularly true of friends who have been play partners. I can think now of say half a dozen people I am no longer in contact with, who have been naked before me, who I have flogged and caned, spat on, humiliated in other ways, people, in short with whom I have enjoyed moments of great intensity and intimacy. And yet there are so many things I don’t know about them that even casual acquaintances in vanilla life know. I have explored the darkest recesses of their souls, they have bared themselves before me in more than physical ways, and yet, I know nothing about them.

Maybe it is because I know nothing that they are able to have these moments of intimacy. They know too, as I know, that we can disappear out of each other’s lives and they may never be able to find us. I suppose I am fortunate in never having had a major falling out with anyone on the scene although I have been close to others who have, and know just how traumatic these things can be. Mostly I have lost contact with people because, as in vanilla life, we move on, we change, or maybe stop going to the same events. Then there are the people who decide that the kink scene is no longer for them, who press the button on Fetlife and just disappear, knowing that we will not be able to find them. A couple of my former play partners have done this. I respect their choice and will not try to look for them.

A few months ago, at a private party, I met a dominant lady who shared my passion for vintage clothes, and specifically, Vivien of Holloway. She accepted my invitation to join in my play with my slave and we became friends on FetLife . We agreed to meet up again at the BBB and wear our Vivs. The other day I decided to message her about the next BBB and noticed that her profile too had disappeared. She was never really a friend as such but someone I felt I would like to have got to know better but this is not to be.

Falling out is not pleasant but I can handle it, drifting away from people you no longer feel much in common with I can handle too. But the sudden disappearance from the scene of people you liked and respected is different. It always leaves me with a feeling of wistful longing. Even in matters as ephemeral as kink it is sometimes nice to say goodbye.

It’s Painful but Is It Art?

Playing in public at clubs means that you are going to be watched. There are those who find this a distraction.  I realised early on that I didn’t and remember an occasion, early on in my domming career when I was so absorbed in the scene that I didn’t notice that a dozen people had gathered round, in silence, to watch. It was only when I turned round to select another toy to hit my sub with that I saw them, totally absorbed in what I was doing. But I was more absorbed still and pleased that only my play partner existed fort me in that hour. That is as it should be. We play for each other and not to put on a show. Or do we?

I find that at the big public events, such as the Birmingham Bizarre Bazaar or Cirque de Chaos play primarily is about putting on a show. The noise and general business make it difficult to get into the required headspace, on the one hand, and I also found it difficult to read the verbal and non-verbal signals from my sub that I need in order to pace the scene properly. I think I tend to err on the side of caution in these circumstances although my slave would probably beg to disagree. I also worry about losing equipment as has happened a couple of times over the years.

I think that, in a sense, all play is performance, even private play without an audience.   I once had a conversation with a highly experienced pro domme who told me that domination was all in the head and that she could dominate any one of her regular clients in sweatshirt, jeans and Uggs. Allowing for the possibility that there are people out there with an Ugg fetish, I don’t entirely agree. When we play we are taking ourselves out of the drab real world for an hour or two, we are creating our own theatre and the costumes we wear are part of the fantasy we create.  The aesthetics of BDSM  have become increasingly important to me over the last year or so. I have a range of traditional fetish out fits in PVC and latex and so on, but have also played in a schoolmatronly skirt suit, in my lovely Vivien of Holloway repro vintage. The latter can be quite disconcerting. Latex, PVC and boots are the sartorial language of sadism and dominance. Feminine 1950s repro vintage isn’t. It can be hard to come to terms with a girly girl in a cerise rose circle dress and pink petticoat who smiles as he wields the cane and the whip, who hurts and humiliates with genuine relish. It is, as they say, a mindfuck.

The dressing up, the make up, the attention to detail are as important as the planning of the session, the skill in using the toys. It is an act of self giving to turn myself into the Goddess that my slave needs me to be, to help him into the headspace, to lure him into the theatre where he can be his true self, where he and I indulge our fantasies and where the pain and the marks I inflict are balm for the stresses  of daily life. Let the curtain rise!

Bristol Again

What sticks in the memory about Eroticon is often not the sessions, interesting and stimulating though they are. It is, for me at least, conversations, impressions, and the thoughts inspired by these that I treasure, and the feeling that is has been an enormous privilege to spend an intensive weekend in the company of seriously bright people who are totally into sex, sexuality, kink and all things related.

Here are some memories of 2016 (in no particular order).

Discussing needle play over breakfast with Remittance Girl, who was able to capture from a theoretical perspective why it could be seen as deeply transgressive, this as I ate a sausage and egg sandwich.

The wonderful Off Centre cafe, superb breakfasts, great coffee and a really friendly atmosphere.

A spanking lesson from Pandora Blake with huge thanks to Simon Spanked for agreeing to be spanked by me so that I could practice.

Overcoming my nerves to read in the final session and trying probably unsuccessfully, to hide my embarrassment as DJ Fet  straightened my dress., a part of which had become tucked into my panties.

Ashley Lister’s anal poem, a riot of glorious bad taste.

Making a flogger, a cute little pink one. I think I know whose cock that is going to be used on.

Talking about the awfulness of radical feminism with Girl on The Net over a cigarette. I’ve been a target too and they didn’t even know I was trans!

The unceasing loveliness of F Leonora Solomon, including dinner with her on the first evening where we joined by the equally lovely @ouizzi and @exposing 40 and feeling bad because I hadn’t submitted anything for Leonora’s anthologies. I will, I promise.

An impromptu rope lesson from Charlie J Forrest in the bar with thanks to the Other Livvy for being my bunny (well as much as anyone can be for me with my non-existent skills!)

Discovering in the bar on the last evening that Anna Sky is a fellow Vivette (that’s a lady who wears Vivien of Holloway dresses by the way).  That’s now at least five of us in the kinky Vivette sisterhood. I’d love to hear from anyone else.

And, prior to that, persuading Exhibit A that  he really needs to buy a Viv men’s shirt or two.

And Eye for being Eye, generous, funny and clever.

Outing myself to Kay Jaybee  who has known me for two years on social media under a different name.

Shutting my eyes to hear Jonathan aka Earotica  read the good version of the story extract he had written to illustrate his talk and realising what a lovely voice he has. I could listen to him for hours…….

Space doesn’t allow me to mention everyone and apologies if I missed you. I just want to say that every conversation I had enriched my experience. Thanks to everyone I engaged with. I was actually quite  taken by Michael Knight’s idea of buying an island and us all going there. I think I would burn the boats though!

There is one person I haven’t mentioned yet and that is Ruby. As you know, Ruby, you have indirectly changed my life.  We have never really had much time to talk and I hope we do one day get the opportunity. I am totally in awe of your dedication and hard work in making this event happen, again and again. I know, too, that it is not only my life that has changed through Eroticon. You can be so, so proud of what you have done. Thank you!

Ruby is bowing out and has gone out at the top as the great sportswomen do.  I don’t know what is happening behind the scenes to get somebody else to take it on, but I do know this: Eroticon is too wonderful, too beautiful an event to be allowed to die.  I know too that we WILL all meet again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eroticon Again

Wow! It’s hard to believe that Eroticonlive is only ten days away. So here is a brief intro about for me for those of you who are going.

What is Your Name? I am Lady Celine @TVMadameCeline on Twitter.

If you had the opportunity to rename yourself (or your blog) what would you pick?

Tempting Eve

What are you most looking forward to at Eroticon Live and/or is there anything you are nervous about?

This will be my third Eroticon and I look forward to this as a weekend with friends. I’m not nervous about anything although I might be if I’d volunteered to bottom for Pandora🙂

Have you planned which sessions you will be attending or are you more of a spur of the moment kind of person?

I incline towards anything to do with kink or with the campaign against censorship so DJ Fet’s session on Humiliation and Degradation is a must.If it’s only half as good as her rope demo last year it will be awesome. I also look forward to hearing Pandora Blake as well.

What essential items to your life will be bringing with you to Eroticon Live? (you can have a maximum of 5)

Phone, cigarettes and a latex dress for the party. Maybe a flogger or two because you never know……

A new cocktail has been made in your honour, what would be the key ingredient and what would it be called?

Strawberries, cranberry juice to make it look red and menacing, and enough vodka to bring any man to his knees and keep him there. I would call it the Humbler

And finally… Complete the sentence; I have yet to…..

I have yet to leave Eroticon feeling other than inspired.

As I blogged last year Eroticon has played a big and, at the time, unexpected part in my life. A chance conversation at the bar in 2014 proved to have far reaching implications. And last year, my Eroticon debut en femme as it were, was simply beautiful. This is a gathering of awesome people and I look on Eroticon as a kind of family. I really can’t wait!.

 

The Prostitution Thing

Prostitute is not a word I like. When used about those who provide professional sexual services it is heavy with stigma, used either to convey contempt or to imply that the person is a helpless victim in need of rescue. It is often used too by lazy journalists. Take the case of the professional dominatrix who was for six months in a relationship with the Culture Secretary John Whittingdale. and who was described as a whore, a Miss Whiplash and so on.

Now most people who are reading this don’t need to be told that the job of a professional dominatrix is in many ways much more complex than that of a full service sex worker. She needs clothing, equipment, and specialised premises. She also needs skill and experience to engage in the various activities safely, Above all she needs empathy and psychological insight.

In saying this I do not want to be seen as driving a wedge between pro dommes and other providers. . although one pro domme (a lady for whom incidentally I have enormous respect) once upbraided me in an online exchange for comparing pro dommes to escorts when I referred to them as hex workers. I felt this comment was unfair. I had never suggested that she, or anybody else for that matter, had sex with clients.

There are reasons for thinking too that the rigid demarcation on some people still see between domes and escorts is anyway quite recent. The distinction is I think quite recent. A couple of years ago I found a fascinating article about the world of professional domination written in the early 1990s, just before the internet emerged as a real game changer for those who provide professional domination services. The piece was illustrated by ladies’ cards from which it is clear that, at that time, many dommes also doubled up as escorts.

But I think the key point is this. All of us who engage in BDSM are expressing an aspect of our sexuality. This very much includes the clients of pro dommes.  A pro domme I spoke to once put it like this..

“I do consider myself a sex worker. OK I don’t actually have sex with clients but it’s all about making people come isn’t it?”

The term sex worker embraces a large number of service providers many of whom do not have genital sex with clients and indeed some, such as webcam girls, may never even physically meet their clients. Melisa Gira Grant in her book Playing the Whore had no hesitation in making the connection. And this is surely right. The attacks on sex workers, the demands for the criminalisation of clients for example, need to be seen in the wider context of attacks on sexual freedom, for example the attacks on mainly BDSM porn and the creeping demands for ever more draconian internet censorship. These are attacks on all of us with alternative sexualities. So the next time someone proposes a law to criminalise the purchase of sex remember…..you and I could be in the firing line next. Get out there and make your voice heard.