Everyone dresses up like skanks.

It started to get really ridiculous in the 90′s and, now, it’s just gotten worse and worse.  The girls lead the pack when it comes to provacative outfits but, increasingly, the guys are following suit.  I wouldn’t have it any other way!

I live in Chicago which includes Boystown, the main gayborhood within the city, where every Halloween you can be certain to see an endless parade of male and female flesh popping out at all angles.  Some people find it obnoxious and annoying.  Bumping into an infinite number of 20-something trixies made up as Sexy Little Bo Peep, Sexy Strawberry Shortcake, Sexy Cat, Sexy Angel, Sexy Devil, Sexy Alice in Wonderland, Sexy Dorothy Gale, etc., etc. can be exhausting.  Maybe for some people, but not for me.  I truly enjoy staring at everyone looking like sluts because it just seems more natural and fun.  Plus, I’m a huge pervert so that kind of helps.

What makes Halloween truly impressive, to me, is what it unleashes within the male psyche.  It’s difficult to tell the difference between the gay boys and the straight ones.  Many girls’ boyfriends will go in drag and other “completely hetero” guys will appear in some suspiciously revealing costumes and will encourage being molested by their straight (enough) buddies throughout the evening.  And it will seem like a joke until the fondling continues on past the 20-second grace period and re-emerges throughout the evening.  Things can get weird.

“No homo”?  Well, not on Halloween.  Halloween these days has a very murky sexual fluidity to it and it’s completely fantastic.  Yes homo.

I hate calling myself a spiritual person because I tend to want to smack the shit out of spiritual people.  But I still have faint traces of spirituality (even typing that word makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit) and I recognize that Halloween serves as a time of literal and personal harvest, of memorial, and end-of-year reflection.  It also serves as a subversive death festival which our culture needs (we have some serious death-denial issues going on, especially in America).  I hate admitting it but I am a reflective person and autumn brings out the best (and worst) in me.

We Americans can only deal with a certain amount of reflection, seriousness, and darkness however.  Enough is enough!  So we turned our death festival into a fucked up fertility festival while we were at it.  It may be tempting to believe that Halloween is “meant for the kids” which it never truly was if you’re willing to scratch the surface–usually, in our culture, we take that out when we’re looking to explore something absurd while attempting to avoid the risk of embarassment.  Halloween may be a time for kids in some respects but, let’s face it, it’s also an excuse for adults to hang up paper skulls on their doors and parade around in kinky roleplay outfits.

Go out on Halloween, to any place of partying and adult congregation, and this will be brutally evident.  Cassie from Human Resources wants to show the world that she’d make a really saucy Laura Croft.  So here she is with countless Becky’s, Jennifers, and Brianna’s strutting around like we’re trapped in red light district sponsored by Walt Disney.  And all the hot and semi-hot guys want to wear hot pants and weird wigs.  I wouldn’t change a thing.

Is Halloween the time when we see the real you?  Are you trying to tell us that your secret self is actually a whorish-looking cyborg?  Maybe we should have known all along.

Whether you want to celebrate it as a candlelit bummer/mope-fest, a tacky excuse for rubber spiders, or as your one-night chance to wear fetish outfits and be an exhibitionist, All Hallow’s Eve is everyone’s best hope for personal expression.  I see it as insightful and honest.  But maybe that’s being too serious….

What does a Dom wear on Halloween?  This year I’m going as an animal cracker werewolf.  What that says about me is anyone’s guess.

Paraffin wax is a soft kind of wax that is most typically used during this kind of play.  Undoubtably, you’ve noticed how the material within those tall, cylindrical catholic prayer votives is soft and squishy, much different from upright table candles.  That’s paraffin: almost putty-like, pliable, and full of air bubbles.  This type of wax melts at a signifigantly lower temperature when compared to taper candles which are the upright, rod candles that fit into candle sticks and candelabras.  Paraffin wax is less painful upon impact with skin.  It causes a relatively mellow jolt of heat when it’s dripped or puddled on flesh.  It’s not a huge deal.  If your play partner/submissive has very sensitive skin or gets freaked out by wax application, then you need to be especially cautious and considerate.

There was one particular Master, who I would session with as a co-Dom, that was very passionate about wax application with paraffin candles.  He would take a number of religious votive candles, of many colors, and drip them all at different points on top of the submissive’s body.  This created a rainbow mess of swirling wax that was a play on sensation for the participant but, also, was humiliating and intimidating for them without causing any real sort of signifigant pain.  It was extremely cool to watch.  Afterwards, the wax is peeled off the skin followed by a shower to remove the remaining traces.  Maybe the skin is a little bit rosy afterwards but that’s about the extent of it for most people.  With paraffin, the Dom can apply a lot of wax, in large amounts, on the slave with ease and cautious safety.  It’s also extremely messy, requires a paint tarp (or something along those lines) to protect the space, it’s high-maintenance.  I’ve seen kinksters place Saran Wrap on top of exposed flesh before paraffin wax play in order to:

1.) keep the heat impact but

2.) avoid the stickiness/messiness removal if everything doesn’t end up peeling away easily

Another option is to put lotion on the skin to make the wax removal easier.  That’s always a good idea too but, obviously, it may require a shower afterward anyway.  Be creative and sensible.

I prefer to use taper candles (those upright, rod candles) when doing wax play.  Why? In my opinion, paraffin wax is kind of “cute” and doesn’t cause enough pain.  When I’m applying candle wax onto my submissive, I want it to be in precise, targeted bites of heat like falling needles.  To me, those puddles and splashes of paraffin wax are too messy and require a certain kind of idealized space to work within.  Plus there’s the need for a tarp.  What if I don’t have time to go to the store to buy a paint tarp?  I’m an extremely busy Dom with a tight schedule.  Cleaning gear after a session usually takes at least 30-45 minutes afterwards and I have enough stuff to do……

Taper candles melt in drips that, with a little bit of skill, can be aimed at very specific parts of the human body and in controlled quantities.  These are the kind of wax drips that cause jumps and a bit of dread for the submissive.  I like being able to count and control the exact amount of drips heading towards the slave.  Many drips for the brave souls, less drips for the more sensitive ones.  My favorite way to remove wax?  Ice.

No matter what kind of wax you decide to you use for your adventures, wax play should never be done around the head and eyes (of course) nor should it be used wrecklessly or to plug any orifices.  It’s strictly for the wide expanses of the body and the outer areas–think the back, the shoulders, the buttocks, the chest, the nipples, carefully with the outer genitalia, etc.

The other issue, clearly, is that you’re dealing with fire.  Don’t get too close to your slave’s body with the fire (unless you’re doing fire play which means that you’re highly experienced/skilled and that you’re submissive is fully aware and willing, etc.  We’ll save the subject of fire play for some other article…..).  Always keep the fire at a distance.  Don’t burn anyone’s hair or clothing (including yours).  Only do wax play if you’re 100% focused and lucid.  Don’t do it if you’re tired.  Once you’re finished always blow out the candles.  The best way to get good at wax play is to find an ethusiastic submissive and put in a good amount of practice.

“Search for meaning in sores

–“Sympathy” by Sleater-Kinney

I have the amazing power to make people’s heads explode.  How do I do it?  I can merely just out myself.  The problem is that this usually follows a bunch of questions that I really don’t want to answer (either because I’ve answered them before or they are put in an invasive/offensive way).  This superpower and the consequences of it could most likely primarily be traced to the audience of this information.

I may have mentioned before that I go to a pretty progressive and liberal campus.  You would think that I would take advantage of this fact by hanging around with as many understanding and informed students as I could.  Well…It didn’t really work out that way in terms of where I mainly haunt on campus (when I am not pacing up and down). Of all the places I could pick to spend my time, I picked hanging around with the Orthodox Jewish kids.

Now, this not to say that all Orthodox kids are sheltered and completely aware of LGBTQ identities, because that’s certainly not true.  Actually, my two best and most accepting friends on campus happens to be a straight, cisgender Orthodox guy and his girlfriend. Yet, on the whole, it hasn’t been a pretty picture.  There are people who have known me for almost a year, have heard people refer to me as “he” or as a guy, but still call me “she” or include me in statements such as “we have x number of girls right now”

There is now a well-known incident amongst my friends in which a person, being told that I was male-identified and that there were certain questions that are rude to ask. Well, what kind of questions am I suddenly ambushed with by this person at dinner? “So…What are you biologically?” I kid you not.  I nearly had a panic attack after that whole event because I was afraid of what kind of questions that I’d get from other people or what she’d try to get me shunned/ousted from being a part of the campus Hillel for religious reasons.  Luckily, she didn’t…But it is easy to tell that she seems quite uncomfortable with my presence.  Plus, I am rather sure her grandma gave me a weird look when her family visited recently (oh my…Did someone do the “Guess what I just met!” phone call home?).  Another, lesser-known incident (with a different person) involves being told at Shabbat dinner that Levi is a great, Biblical (and male) name and that she’d love to name her future son Levi…But then about 20 minutes later explicitly referring to me as “one of the women” that was there.

At this point, I really don’t try to correct some of these students when they get my gender identity and pronouns wrong. Partially because I don’t want a repeat incident, and partially because being the first trans person that someone has ever encountered can be pretty rough. There are some fellow queer students that keep their relationships an open secret around the same circles because they don’t want others to be uncomfortable.  So, I can’t tell whether or not they already know and just refuse to deal with it or if they are just going off my appearance and voice (which I have said before honestly does not “pass” as male very well).  It is an interest contrast to the rest of campus, where when they hear someone call me “he” enough times or a friend say “Levi’s a boy”, almost always tend to either correct themselves without fanfare, or profusely apologize for thinking/calling me otherwise.

Personally, I don’t want to be anyone’s representation for the trans community.  I don’t want to be the first person to try to explain the difference between gender identity and sexual orientation.  Honestly, I’d prefer not to have to clean up brain matter after I tell people that I’m trans and gay. But I guess that I may have to if I want my identity to be respected.

Lately, discussions that I’ve had with others relate to differerent interpretations of BDSM. Books and articles that I’ve read address this issue as well. A repeated theme, for whatever reason, keeps appearing.

What is BDSM? What isn’t BDSM? What rules do you have to follow in order to say “Yes, this is BDSM”?

Does it have to involve leather or some kind of kink-wear? Does someone have to be bound or restrained in some capacity? Must it involve pain or simulated “punishment”?

No one seems to agree on much of anything, which may be the one of the core strengths of the BDSM community. For many participants, the classic/stereotypical approach is taken in the sense that yes, indeed, there are the whips, cuffs, boots, and the rest of the predictable paraphernalia involved. But what if someone wants to do high heel worship on their Mistress, while she sits in a chair wearing a vintage wedding dress, followed by a good round of old fashioned fucking? Maybe that’s what a couple of my friends bragged about doing this weekend….(good job, you two–it sounds weird and strangely hot). And their question was: Was that BDSM? Was it kink? Or was it just sex with a couple of extra ingredients?

It’s all open to interpretation. Worship was involved. Fetishistic elements were involved. One person was in control while the other person played submissive. Then the control dynamic flip-flopped. No one, according to them, was tied up or spanked. Isn’t kink and BDSM under the same tent nowadays? Sort of?

I would argue that any sensual adventure, with experimental and prop elements involved, could be considered kink. Because kink is fetish. And fetish always goes along with BDSM. That didn’t used to be the case but now it is. Go to any dungeon party or kink event and see the wide variety and interpretations that are out there. Everyone sees things differently.

Who says that you need to have ropes and riding crops? There is no rule book. The old ways, which were overly pissy and restrictive, have crumbled in favor of a more inclusive defintion of “leather” (literal or figurative) and sadomasochistic control.

Do you want it to be kinky and taboo? Then it is. Perhaps what is kinky/taboo to you is weak and vanilla to a harder player but who cares? They don’t have to play along if they don’t like it. Every scene is yours for the making between yourself and your partner(s).

A common mode of thinking in the BDSM community nowadays is that the bigger the tent, the better the circus. I agree. The variety of ideas and perceptions of what encompasses BDSM and kink feeds into the strength of the community. The more shared ideas that are out there, the richer the feast. The more you are exposed to and understand, the better off you are. For some people, BDSM means heavy leather and hardcore abuse. For others, kink play may mean a little bit of exhibitionism, a wedding dress, and some high heels. Why not?

If you want to get very technical and specific, then yes there is a difference between fetish and S&M but less and less people seem to care anymore. To me, that’s progress. This all-inclusiveness has allowed the BDSM community to continue to grow as the years go on.

Don’t ever believe that in order to go to a kink event, that you need to be head-to-toe in traditional bondage gear. If you don’t want your Master or Mistress to tie you up, then you’re no less worthy a slave. If punishment, in no way, involves spanking for you then you’re not a weak submissive–it just means that you follow your own interests. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do. Traditions are meant to be smashed and rules are meant to be broken.

The BDSM culture? It’s yours. Redefine it to your own tastes and fantasies. The notions of kink, leather, fetish, and S&M are not sacred and fixed. If they were, that would completely defeat the purpose of transcendence.

I think that it’s impossible for the kink community to weaken by variety. There will always be those strong, heavier players (along with the lighter players) present to keep things leaning towards the dark and mysterious. Like a gene pool, the more varied the strains, the healthier the tribe is.

You think of people tied at the feet, knees, wrists, and elbows on a bed.  Or maybe you think of someone sexy bound to a chair.  Chances are that the ropes look like something that you’d find off of a ship since the the ropes typically used in rope play tend to be white or black, mid-width synthetics. When it comes down to it, BDSM kinksters can be surprisingly traditional.

I like to use ropes during sessions too (sometimes) but I favor stronger absolutes.  I’m an impatient person.  If a bondage arrangement takes me longer than three or so minutes to create, I probably won’t be interested.

My idea of bondage stems from cartoons, action films, and 1940′s film noir.  Those images established a quick, ultra-functional approach to tying someone down.  It was ugly, useful, and done immediately as would be the case if someone was actually abducted to be bound since, naturally, there would be an element of rebellion and struggle involved.  When I’m sessioning, I love to feel that the bondage is relatively plausible meaning that the captive most likely wasn’t asked if he or she would be kind enough to stand just so while the abductor took their sweet time to immobilize them.

I love metal, locks, and straps.  You don’t argue with them, you can’t slip out of them, and they won’t accept fussiness.  They’re either there or they’re not.  The lock is either in place or it isn’t.  Chains, especially, are quick, dirty, and functional which is exactly how I like bondage play.

The only thing that the Master or Mistress of the scene needs to be aware of is making sure that the correct keys to the locks are always within reach.  Lost keys can lead to bad situations, obviously.

I love the sound of chains clinking and clunking when binding a slave up.  It establishes a faintly medieval vibe and pushes that aura of inescapablility and punishment.  Chains are immediately associated with authority, access, and metalic strength.  If it’s man vs. chain, you know automatically who will win.  None of us are Superman.

Pet stores are the best due to the fact that their chains are pre-cut to reasonable, workable, and appropriate lengths for BDSM play.  Their short chains and long chains that are neither too short or overly long.  Hardware stores come in close second and are perfect if you find yourself desiring very specific lengths.

Everyone likes their bondage to reflect their unique tastes. Everyone has their own ways of doing things–just like making coffee.  BDSM is the same.  To me, nothing is more perfect than the sound of a riding crop hitting soft flesh immediately followed by the jangle of metal links, creating a classic combination of sound textures that are instantly and universally recognizable.  Plus, I know that when I want to capture or release a slave, I can do so in no time at all which is ideal for an impatient Master like myself.

And, with chains, is there any opportunity for the slave to escape?  Nope, not a chance.  The submissive if forced to have faith that their Master or Mistress will be relatively merciful…

Photo Credit: ArtisticZen on WikiCommons

Everyone was talking excitedly when you came walking over to the buzzing cluster of girls standing close together near the lockers. You hadn’t had a sleepover with Kim, Sara or Patti since you got bumped into honors English and you all didn’t have the same lunch hour, but you were excited to catch up with them between passing periods. When Kim’s eyes, lit with laughter, caught yours as you approached, she grabbed Patti by the hand. You felt the mood change immediately, but didn’t know what to say. Feeling brave, you just came out with it. “Where you guys talking about me?” They weren’t, they told you truthfully. They weren’t talking about you at all; they were talking about the party that you weren’t invited to.

For most of us, if we ever had to endure this devastating realization, it has been more than a decade since. For me? It happened 2 weeks ago; actually three times this summer. Much to my disappointment, there were no lockers around, but Facebook, email and text messages create that same sort of “girls crowded together giggling” ambiance so much so that I feel like I might have 29-11-82 scrawled on the back of my hand with a purple pen. My best girl friends from high school, who’s changing friendships I have always been glad to hold, have not been shy about mentioning their exciting birthday gatherings that I haven’t been invited to.

I’m aware that things are changing between us as they get married, move out of the city, and settle into serious careers. I know this because I’ve attended their wedding showers, bachelorette parties and weddings. In light of those experiences I’m starting to wonder – if I was following the same path, if I was getting married and moving out to the burbs would our friendships have lasted?

Am I now only a wedding guest, like some botox-faced second cousin in an iridescent dress, and not a best friend, 30th birthday party guest?

Has my non-traditional (gay) life trajectory finally split us up?

I’ve spent a lot of time educating and arguing that queer and straight people are the same: that our love and our relationships and our lifestyles are the same. But now I’m wondering if even my best allies believe that. I feel like I’ve gone back to being “other” after so many years of coming closer to feeling like we were all the same. We have never had a serious conversation about this subject, but once, a couple of years ago, one of my best high school friends said she felt like while I was growing distant with her I seemed to only want to hang out with my “gay friends.” While the implication that I’d choose friends based on who they sleep with is ridiculous, I have to wonder now if as the bonds I share with women who are enjoying marriage, the financial stability of a two person household, and children are stretching and thinning, the bonds I share with those in a situation more similar to mine — that is, connected to our sexual orientation– are strengthening. Are my friendships with queer friends still strong because are lives are staying on a similar path?

Can I still maintain friendships with straight women if I don’t get married, move to the suburbs or have children? Is heteronormativity ruining my friendships?

To me, more specifically, Scheduling Is Everything – but I’ll discuss BDSM in general rather than get to the nitty-gritty of my personal life.

I’m a big believer in the 10-Minute Rule.  What I mean by this is that, in most cases, it’s best to do one particular activity (for example: spanking, nipple torture, electro play, etc.) and then move on to another one.  Give or take 10-minutes, depending on how the parties involved favor individual activities.  When it comes to extreme favorites and number one fetishes, then that length of time should be obviously extended – go for 20 minutes, a half hour, or even an hour or more on one activity if the time and passion are present.

If you’re trying something out, something new you’re not sure you and/or your partner will enjoy, it’s best to start out on that activity using a 2 or 3-minute time frame.  That gives you just enough time to say “yes, we did it and we tried it thoroughly,” allowing sensations to sink in and psychologically process without overdoing it to the point of someone getting bored, grossed out, or hurt by an unfavorable activity.  If you end up loving an activity, then you can continue along with it.

In my opinion, the dependable and safe amount of time for favored individual BDSM activities is 10 minutes each unless the submissive requests otherwise.  It’s just enough time to dive into an individual scene completely but not enough time to allow redundancy or boredom.

Often times, with bondage slaves, their eyes are bigger than their stomaches in the sense that they think (in their fantasies) that they can handle a certain kind of scene longer than they actually can.  For example, hearing a slave say that they want to be kept in a dog cage for an entire day should be taken with an extreme grain of salt.  A slave may insist “Really! I really want to be kept in a cage for 24 hours! I know that I’d love it and I know that I can handle it!” but then, after 15 minutes, they realize that the sitting or knealing in cramped conditions causes — you guessed it — cramps.  Or whatever.  Every once in a while, I’ll give someone exactly what they asked for just to prove that they don’t truly want it.  As a Dom, it’s part of my job to be a dick sometimes.

Rather than getting frustrated with some slaves, I’m at the point where I usually know how to translate their verbalized desires into realistic scenes.  Like everything else in life, if something sounds exaggerated and unrealistic, it probably is.  The same rule applies to BDSM timing.  If the slave says that they want to kept in a dog cage for an entire day, I immediately translate that to 25 minutes.  If they can go for an hour or two, then I’m definitely impressed.  We take it as it goes.  Needless to say, you must check in on your slave at intervals as the scene continues along.  Leaving them completely alone, in bondage, is a big fat NO and completely out of the question.

The perfect length for a full out, full meal BDSM session is anywhere from 1 to 3 hours, going from scene to scene, activity to activity.  It all depends on who you’re sessioning with.  There are some slaves who love a quick, 45-minute blast of S&M and that’s that for them for the day.  Other slaves can handle 5 hour sessions without blinking.  Everyone is different.

Here’s something to take with you….

If you’re a typical guy or gal and you’re into BDSM and your partner is into BDSM and they want to do some bondage play with you but they’re being coy and unspecific about what they want to do and how they want to go about it, just fall back on this:

An hour or so of play time and, when in doubt, indulging in one activity for about 10 minutes before moving on to another activity.  That’s safe and no one will argue with you for that.  Adjust the time lengths accordingly depending on your favorites and the favorites of your partner.  There you go.

Should you watch the clock?  Should you be overly invested in time management during what is supposed to be free-wheeling fun?

No, of course not.  You can feel time without looking at numbers.  You just go with what feels right, natural, and hot.  That’s all that there is to it.  However, it’s best not to linger or get frozen in particular activities to the point where it’s feeling stale or someone is getting sore.  When in doubt, leave them wanting more.  Or requesting more, for that matter.

But if you need to fall back on anything having to do with pacing a bondage session and you’re not sure what to do or how to progress a scene with your partner, relying on around 10 minutes (or less) per activity is a reasonable bet.  Be sure to try out new things and always play safe.

I realize that this is the most generalized timing approach to BDSM, but it’s a good foundation to adjust according to your liking.  S&M kinksters, especially those starting out, can get easily flustered by pacing issues with new play partners and this is meant to help you out a little.

I spend a lot of time doing my usual BDSM sessions but, every once in a while, a photo session pops up.

I don’t do anything porny.  It’s not my thing.  I like artfully done BDSM and fetish photography much more along the lines of those old, retro Bettie Page photos or vintage gay leather shots.  Provacative but…..subdued.  Rated R at most.

People appreciate the work on my blog (and on my site) so they send me messages sometimes like: “Hello, Master Aiden, I like the photos on your site. Can you do some for me, too?”

And then I say: “Sure, c’mon over!”

And that’s that.

But since I love doing those kinds of photos for people because I find it fun, relaxing, etc. and it gives me a chance to do directing, lighting, and software experiments.  It’s always a pleasure since it lets me be an art dork and a voyeur at the same time.

Any chance I can get to embrace my inner Mapplethorpe/Arbus/Witkin/Warhol, etc. I’ll go for it! Time and scheduling allowing, of course.  These photo sessions usually take me about an hour or so (I like to work quick and dirty–too much fussiness drives me nuts).

I stumbled into doing it accidentally, I deeply enjoy it, and now the option is there for Chicago kinksters and whoever is here visiting.

For pro’s (Masters, Mistresses, performers, escorts, etc.), I’ll do it for free.

For those who are not pro’s, I have a “pay what you will” policy in place. Because I love doing it, I’d probably do it for free for those who are strapped for cash but, if they want to toss me a few bills, why not?

I have Office Hours in place for visiting scenesters and prospective clients.  If there are Office Hours with no scheduled visitations, then those timeslots are always perfect for photo shoots.  Spending a Sunday morning photographing a drag queen in bondage is much better than reading the comics, you know what I mean?  It makes life much more interesting.

Obviously, the subjects can’t bring anything illegal to shoots.  No drugs and all of those brave souls stepping in front of the camera  must be at least 25 years of age.  Common sense stuff.

Overall, I love doing artistically-inclined bondage, fetish, and BDSM photography.  It’s never boring plus it allows me to try out new technical and aesthetic approaches (which helps me in my non-BDSM creative endeavors).

So, if you’re ever visiting ChiTown and you want to be photographed in your newest gimp mask, you know who to email.

My music was doing well and I was having a lot of fun. Once I got home to my silent bedroom I obsessively and feverishly sought late night encounters to dull the aching empty space within myself. I also don’t think this is a bad thing.

There is nothing wrong with sex with strangers if you are mentally equipped to do it. At the time I was much too sensitive for casual sex with gay men. I always fell in love, or at least expected them to talk to me again.

The etiquette of gay online sex was unbeknownst to me. In the 1960s a generation wondered, “Will you still love me tomorrow?”  Today this has morphed into “Should I vocalize my goodbye to you when I leave two minutes after you cum?”

My naive self was shredded and splintered by the coldness of it all. My body experienced some really great sex, but my self-esteem endured some massive bullet holes.

In 2002 my artistic reaction to the chaos of my life was a controversial online zine called “Naked Pictures Of People Who Were Mean To Me On The Internet.” This piece was originally published on an edgy site called NakedPoetry.com.

NakedPoetry.com has long been defunct and for one reason or another I didn’t have a copy of this work. Recently on a disc hidden deep in a friend’s drawer I found one sole copy of “Naked Pictures Of People Who Were Mean To Me On The Internet” did indeed still exist.

Reading back on my experiences I mourn for my sensitive younger self…and for all the thousands of gay men that are getting told today how ugly there are shortly after a guy fucks them.

I have restored “Naked Pictures Of People Who Were Mean To Me On The Internet.” When it originally ran the dicks were not censored.

I think this is an accurate document of what gay men can go through cruising online. Please be good to your own minds body, and heart.

To proceed to “Naked Pictures Of People Who Were Mean To Me On The Internet” click here.

The other night I was thinking to myself that it can be hard to find a clear, solid, concise list of general sites for kink lifestylers. I decided to create one that I put on my personal Master Aiden blog. Like I said, it’s more for Chicago people, but maybe you’ll enjoy it as well even if you’re not here in the same city with me.

Rather than having infinite choices (and we know that the Internet provides those for us, for better and for worse) sometimes it is better to reign things in and go for the best that’s out there as of now.

The resources given below are dependable. For example, one time I ordered a pair of leather boots for $175 from an unreliable online retailer, but I never got them. By providing the names of places and sites that are trustworthy, hopefully you’ll avoid the same thing. They’re the stores and sites that I go to, order from, and frequent.

So here we go.

Overall, there are many places to find great BDSM gear both in The Windy City and online.  Chicago is a BDSM city— no doubts about that. Events and places of interest are plentiful.

Where To Get BDSM Gear and Fetish Clothing in Chicago (quality gear, affordable prices, nice people):

• Leather Sport store on Halstead in Boystown
• Mephisto Leathers store on Clark in Rogers Park, close to Andersonville
• Belmont Army Surplus (3rd floor!) store at Clark & Belmont

Order BDSM Gear and Fetish Clothing from Anywhere Online (legit, professional, dependable, great stuff):

• Mr. S Leather based in San Francisco, CA.  Everything you want is here.  Look no further.
• Stockroom based in Los Angeles, CA
• Fort Troff based in Atlanta, GA
• Slick It Up based in New York City, NY
• SpandexMan based in New York City, NY
• N2N based in Los Angeles, CA
• Leather Etc. based in San Francisco, CA
• Extreme Restraints (online supplier only)

Socialize (the sites to meet new friends and fellow kinksters online; free memberships):

• Fetlife (think Facebook for Masters, Mistresses, slaves, and perverts; intelligent and a great source for event notifications)
• Recon (for gay and bi guys only)
• Collar Me (men, women, trans, gay, straight, bi, etc.)

Leather Bars in Chicago:

• Touche on Clark in Rogers Park
• Jackhammer and The Hole (2 in 1!….and right next door to Touche)

Go Visit in Chicago:

• Leather Archives and Museum
• 1901 Gallery
• Exit Bar

Annual BDSM Events in Chicago (while they occur around the same times every year, the specific dates change year by year, so please visit their respective sites):

• International Mr. Leather aka IML (end of May)
• Shibaricon (end of May; same weekend as IML)
• LGBT Pride (end of June; signifigant Leather presence and dependable S&M parties)
• Market Days (beginning of August; signifigant Leather presence and dependable S&M parties)
• Crimson Moon (big play parties every July and October)
• Kinky College (mid to end of October)
• Halloween (there are always a ton of BDSM events in Chicago at this time of the year)
• Mr. International Rubber (early November)
• New Years (you can depend of there being plenty of kinky events to choose from on NYE)

Suggestions:

• Join Fetlife.  STRONGLY suggested.  This site keeps you perfectly up-to-date on local BDSM events and play parties at bars, dungeons, etc.  Fantastic social network and surprisingly no-fuss.
• Join Recon.  Enthusiastic kinksters as well as international BDSM events listings.
• Visit this site, BrownBearsSW, which is a reliably up-to-date online calendar to see what’s going on night-by-night for BDSM kinksters in the Chicago area (which bars to go to, what parties to attend, special events, etc.).

The International Mr. Leather festival is a slightly misleading name for what this annual Chicago event has evolved into. Sure, there are still leathermen in their cowskins coming into view from every angle, but now IML is a more massive palate of individual kinks, fetishes, and fascinations put on display for everyone to see. As one of my slaves and I realized, as the years go on the costumes and toys that we encounter increasingly offer a wider visual range than one may expect: the internal, highly individualized sexual worlds of men and women, then externalized.

On the Friday I was there, I saw only a few women. Usually I see more, and I’m certain that plenty of kinky ladies visited IML on the days that followed. This lack of feminine presence emphasized that the festival is truly, at its core, a sort of perverted dreamworld for queer men of every leaning. If you’re a homosexual or bisexual male, if you like sex and have fetishes (which all of us do), then IML is for you, leather or no leather.

Yes, you will see the classic leatherman in head-to-toe skins: the hat, the boots, the chaps, and the harness. There will be plently of them. The IML festival was designed for that fetish archetype. But now that classic leatherman shares the floor at IML with an almost-equal amount of rubbermen, human dogs, human pigs, denim boys, and lycra enthusiasts.

The Old Guard has had to let the dungeon doors crack open a bit since the fetish community continues to evolve and change in variety and number. Rather than splintering the “leather world” and shooting kinksters off into different directions (something that I was initially concerned may happen) it seems that everything is settling comfortably under one tent. All of those fetish interests coexist peacefully as one wide, colorful spectrum of sexual obsessions for everyone to sample a bit or, at least, be exposed to. It’s becoming rarer to see any party or fetish ball that’s exclusively one type of “meat” over the other. I think it is a positive development. Why exclude passion and enthusiasm just because the clothing is made of a different material from the one that you fetishize? Why not embrace wider variety?

Black “gear” or clothing will always dominate IML. But this year, more than ever before, I saw blue rubber catsuits, canary yellow harnesses, and green and red wrestling singlets popping up. I usually prefer to wear all black — fashion isn’t my passion and I can count on black matching everything — but just because I’m kind of boring in that respect doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a deviation into colorful kink wear. Sometimes I get tired of seeing all that black and I love to encounter guys who take visual chances. I respect kinksters who aren’t afraid to stand out from the crowd.  This year was good for that; there were guys in kilts, poodle outfits, steampunk regalia, pure white Navy uniforms, even racoon tails.

More than anything, I noticed that IML and what we define as “kink” is clearly becoming more all-inclusive. It’s harder to shock people nowadays and America is becoming more sexually open. It’s difficult for any of us to remain innocent in a world with the Internet. While this may subtract from the secretive, “forbidden” allure that appeals to many who appreciate paddles, shackles, and leather masks, IML is living proof that the values of varying sexualities and obsessions are rising.

This year, I noticed that the toys and gear continue to evolve, progress, and remain classic when they choose to do so.  Visiting the vendors’s stalls it’s clear that kink innovation is not slowing down in the slightest.  The Willy Wonka-esque variety of impressive sex toys appeals to everyone with a libido.  The possibilities and ideas are, apparently, endless which keeps the kink trade remaining fresh.

Although it was initially created for gay guys, IML is becoming a destintation for every open-minded adult; ones who are extremely kinky and ones who are just a little bit kinky, which means basically everyone.  There were occassional straight couples strolling through the displays.

It’s only $5 to enter the market and tickets to individual parties are affordable. Being in Chicago and ignoring Leather Market is a disservice to oneself. I don’t remember hearing any screams of pain at IML 2011, but I did see an endless stream of smiling faces.

I dated women and fantasized about men. In my mind I compartmentalized relationships in a different box than sex. It never occurred to me as a teenager that dating the people you have sex with was an option. Without thought I always figured I’d date women and that my sexual feelings for men would pass. I wonder what my adolescence would have been like had I been aware that it’s okay to love a man.

I grew up in a lower income bracket. In my teenaged mind I was planning ahead for my future. I figured I could get a job after high school and get hormone shots that would balance my body “right” and then my feelings for men would go away. My earliest feelings about being gay was that there was just a chemical balance within myself that could be fixed with a couple simple shots. I just needed money. I just had to be brave enough to tell the doctor.

At nineteen years of age it dawned on me that I actually had no attraction to women and that the stirring and strong feelings I’d had for men my entire life were legitimate and real. A shot wouldn’t change what I was feeling.

I wonder how many young, gay boys in small towns are laying in their beds late at night hating their bodies and their hearts, unaware that they don’t need a hormone shot to make them “right” because there’s actually nothing wrong with them at all.

More  from Jeremy Gloff @ jeremygloff.com

K. is a hot queer mess currently living in Chicago.  When not painting or playing, K is bringing down the capitalist regime…which is rather difficult with a retail survival job.

c. 663highland

What makes some sex queer and some sex “normal”? Surely, a man and a woman together can have queer sex and others can have, well, boring sex. Is it queer when a woman tops a man, but straightens up when they switch to missionary? There are still plenty of people around who claim that non-reproductive sex is evil, sinful, and far more interesting than “have we made a baby yet?”

Some claim that, as a female-bodied person currently bumping uglies with male-bodied people (not at this current moment, unfortunately) I’ve straightened out. They can shove it, ’cause this sure beats Lesbian Bed Death! And then there are the kinky “opposite-sex” couples who find more sex positivity in the queer community than among their vanilla straight peers. I’ve had too much bad lesbian sex to say that we’re just better, sexually, but the ratio of lovely sluts certainly seems to skew in our favor.

One of my lovers describes sex as communication, that it’s a bodily conversation. Keeping that in mind, could it be said that queer sex is that which does not involve heterosexist communication? For example, when a man takes a dominant role with a woman because it’s fun for the moment, versus because he’s the man.

Aside from exhibitionists, though, nobody but the participants actually know what anyone does in bed. There’s the true stereotype of conservative evangelicals getting freaky themselves. Sex police tend to argue their way into others’ bedrooms either because they aren’t getting any themselves or because they want to hide their queer sexcapades. The same could be said of gender police and homophobes: oppress others to quelm what’s queer inside them. These miserable sex police either just assume what others do sexually, or they actually get in others’ privacy and expose all the fun! And then there’s the venomous concept of shame, which pervades even when agents aren’t around.

What consenting adults do is absolutely none of my business. I’d like to think that advocating freaky-deaky experiences (which can mean anything to different people) would improve our culture. But it’s not my place to jump into Bible Studies and yell “demonstrate the Song of Solomon by titty-fucking!” If people are honestly happy with just reproductive missionary, great! What I’d like to see more of is awareness. There’s a big difference between repetitive sex because it’s all you know (or condone) and because it’s what you enjoy and choose. And the same goes for hot oil orgies and anything else. Awareness of oneself, of the partner(s), of sex: “queer” sex could mean “enthusiastic” sex.

Overall, it would be great to open up a dialogue about the conversation of sex, albeit with the understanding that it’s nobody’s business to pry into what goes on in another’s bed.

c. Dave Buchwald

Was Zack’s use of the term “breeder,” a heterophobic epithet or a clever synonym?

It was used only once in the article, mostly for stylistic reasons, to vary the language of straightness. The writing would have been repetitive otherwise, and to Zack Rosen, editor-in cheif of The New Gay, it was merely a synonym for “straight,” not intended as pejorative. He realized later on however (with the “help” of a number of commenters to his article which appeared reprinted in Jezebel), that the word “Breeder” can indeed be insulting, and he acknowledged this fact when posting the link to this article on his Facebook page.

He needn’t have bothered, it seems, because the majority of Facebook commenters seemed much more offended by his apologetic statement that the use of the word “breeder” was regrettably lacking in judgement, than by his use of the offending term. The commenters seemed ready to pounce on anyone who would dare to take exception to its use, and indeed, ridiculed those who had.

I do not believe that any words are inherently evil or offensive. Words, while they retain definitions, are effectively meaningless when stripped of context. They communicate nothing. No word is eternally and universally off-limits, and every word has its appropriate place and use. Words in their context, however, have tremendous power, and when a word is used in a manner that turns it into a weapon, even unintentionally, there may be consequences, just as a child wielding a knife, though he may not understand what he is doing, can still draw blood.

For all of their power though, words also sometimes just… happen. There may be a misunderstanding or disagreement about the context, ignorance of the definition, history, or baggage that a word carries, or simply an unthinking slip of the tongue, pen, or keyboard. Rather than angrily ranting about the resultant injury or insult, the proper, measured, mature response is to talk about what a word means and why, why it carries the power that it does.

I will freely admit that I use the term “breeder” in certain friendly facetious contexts. I might similarly use the word “fag” or “dyke” (“dyke” more often and with less reservation since, as woman on the queer-spectrum I feel I have more claim to that epithet). I try never to forget, though, the weight that these words can still carry. “Fag” and “dyke” are still used with alarming frequency by people outside the LGBTQ community to demean us, make us feel small, dismiss us, injure us. These words are furthermore, still harmful and hurtful when not intended as an attack, if used unthinkingly, even when not directed at anyone in particular. In some ways, these are the most dangerous contexts in which such words are spoken because they reinforce an insidious attitude of belittlement of a particular group of people.

The difference, one may argue, is that the LGBTQ community is more vulnerable, more historically and currently oppressed. We are endangered, you might say. The straights have nothing to fear because they are, and always have been, the privileged majority. Historical privilege, however, does not dictate who will or will not be hurt, who may or may not be offended by words used or perceived as pejorative. I did not, for example, enjoy being called a “cracker” or “whitey” or even simply “white girl” as sometimes happened in my childhood. My primary identity was Jewish, and I grew up in a largely West-Indian neighborhood. I didn’t really even know myself as “white” in the sense that they meant it. These kids who would sling these words my way did not know me or my story, and I had done nothing to offend them. But because of my skin color, my perceived racial identity, I was marked as one of the oppressive class. It was therefore legitimate to target me for race-based ridicule with impunity. And yes, it was painful.

The term “breeder” carries an implication that the people to whom the word refers are defined by their reproductive capability. This fact on its own carries a deep ringing echo of the historical misogyny that has defined a woman’s value in terms of her womb and its fertility. For so many, for so long, a woman’s worth had nothing to do with her mind and everything to do with her ability to produce children, limiting her movement and her potential to engage her intelligence. She was defined by her status as a breeder. To those who argue that the term cannot be offensive because it is accurate, straight people do indeed breed, even in cases where this is true it still reduces a whole human being with a mind and a heart down to the viability of their gametes. Whether directed at a man or a woman, there is a sense of contributing to the world only that which their loins can produce. Remember also that not all straight people can, or choose to, have children, and that many gay people do. When straight people are defined by nothing more than their ability to breed, those who are child-free-by-choice, or worse, infertile straight folks, are called out as contributing nothing at all, valueless, without identity. Calling such people a “breeders” can be horribly offensive and indeed, quite painful.

Finally, it is not only folks outside the LGBTQ community who stand to be hurt by unconsidered use of this word. Use of the term “breeder” within the queer community as a pejorative, or even not intending offense, may contribute to the suspicion, erasure, and insecurity surrounding bisexuals and bisexuality in the queer world. Not all queer people end up in same-sex or biologically non-reproductive partnerships, and it is hugely problematic for us as a community to discount that fact or suggest that such people have to give up their community and identity if such is the life into which they ultimately settle. The use of the word “breeder” here is just another way of “othering” which may understandably feel refreshing to a minority which is so often seen as the “other.” We cannot allow ourselves to be blind, though, to the ways in which we might be further marginalizing an already marginalized minority within our minority community.

Do I think that we should stop using the term “breeder” altogether? No, not at all. But just like Zack Rosen, I am a huge believer in the power of words, and the effects felt by their use. Words create our worlds, and words can tear our worlds down. Words have histories and relationships, and while there is such a thing as oversensitivity, there is also such a thing as lack of sensitivity and consideration. If a word hurts someone, whether intentional or not, that hurt is real, and has a source. One person may be fine with being called a breeder and may even use it as a self-descriptor. So too one person may not mind being called a cheap Jew, or another a Mick, a Wop, or a dyke. The context though, the position of the person who wields the word, and the person on the receiving end, and their story, matter. Instead of getting up in arms and defending the unquestionable right one has to wield words however we will, it behooves us to stop for a bit, and listen to the story of someone whom the word effects, and learn its true power. And so may our words be wielded with that much more knowledge and skill.

To be inconspicuous, you need either an entire change of clothing to bring with you or you can do things how I prefer to do them. I believe in black hoodies.  They zip up and off easily and I make sure it’s a big enough hoodie to zip over whatever clothing/gear that I have on my upper torso. I also recommend baggy gym pants or sweats that can easily fit over fetish pants and tone down the visual impact of leather boots.  Keep in mind that cover clothing is simply for coming and going — not for hanging out around town since they’re not the best looks. But wearing simple cover clothing saves you the time/awkwardness of completely changing and also has something of a superhero factor in the sense that you can just pull off your clothes and you’re ready to go. It doesn’t matter whether or not it’s 90 degrees outside.  I deal with it.

When entering or exiting any building or hotel with your bag of gear and whatever clothes you’re wearing, it’s best to just march in there like you own the place and that you’re completely confident in where you’re going.  Look a little tired. Yawn. Maybe text while you’re doing it.  You’ve been in and out so many times that you’re OVER IT and you just want to get to your room.  Understand?  Be sure know exactly which room you’re heading to by clearly communicating the room number with your partner before you head over to the location.  If the location requires key access of some sort in order to reach the floor of the particular room that you’re heading to, your partner must meet you down in the lobby so that you can head up together.  Please, no fetish clothes, wrist shackles, or roleplay then. You’ll get to that later.  Incognito, always.

A big bag of gear requires a duffel or at least something with a lot of space to it. If you’re bringing any rods or canes, be sure that the bag has enough length in order to accomodate those OR place your rods/canes in poster/blueprint tubes or musical instrument cases to allude to other purposes rather than S&M— Just a suggestion.  Plus, it’s fun. Also, pack up with you some black plastic bags in which you can hold your “To Wash” items for when you get home, so that those are clearly and physically seperated from other gear and bag/cases linings.  You have to think ahead and maintain cleanliness and good hygiene while remaining incognito during exits and entrances.

c. Salvatore Vuono

In our search for Mr. Right or Mr. Right Away, gay men, at least those gay men who are not in politically correct denial about the very existence of human nature, pay considerable attention to their own and one another’s preferences for a romantic or sexual partner. In fact, many gay men pay so much attention to one another’s lives that they feel called upon to pass moral judgment on those lives and to declare arbitrary rules about which preferences are acceptable and which are not.

Some preferences are so prevalent, at least among the more mainstream segments of the gay male community, that they pretty much go without saying. Such preferences include muscles, penis size, an age within an impossibly narrow range, and exactly the amount of body hair that the media tell us we like this month. Also, it is self-evident, at least to twinks and their devotees, that everyone hankers for a twink.

Other preferences, seemingly just as innocuous, provoke irate reactions among many gay men. For instance, telling a gay male advice columnist that you want someone intelligent is the most effective way to press that columnist’s berserk button. Never mind the role of similarity of intelligence on the success of a relationship. Caring about such things just isn’t P.C., and that’s all that matters.

The second most effective way to press that berserk button is to say that you want someone masculine. After all, how dare anyone think that male homosexuality has anything to do with an attraction to men. Yet liking muscles is acceptable and even expected; I told you that the rules are arbitrary. Also, no one seems concerned about those gay men who want sissy-boys in panties.

The usual justification that I have heard since the eighties for opposing a preference for masculine men is that it is a reaction to the supposed cult of “straight-looking and -acting men.” Nonetheless, since that reaction has been going on since at least the eighties, perhaps we should give it a rest and move on. How au courant in 2011 is an endless rehashing of an argument that was already stale in 1991?

Others have argued that “straight-acting” is simply an act; however, that argument is a textbook example of the fallacy of equivocation.

Moreover, if I may return to my point above about twinks, I have heard devotees of twinks take offense at the idea that any gay man could want a non-twink guy. More than once, such devotees have even tried to convert me to the twink cult.

Finally, many gay men accuse one another of religious “bigotry” in selecting a potential mate having the same beliefs. I do not see the problem there, even though as an atheist I presumably should. If someone takes his faith seriously, why should he not want someone who shares that faith?

I suggest we relax, acknowledge that none of us is the measure of all things and that therefore none of us has the right to define what everyone else’s preferences should be, and stop yammering about the need for diversity long enough to embrace the diversity that already exists in our community. That would be my preference, anyway.

I don’t remember if he was talking about me fucking her or just getting a bj, but the general presumption was that a gay guy could suck it up, close his eyes, and just enjoy the thrill of someplace warm to put the proverbial it. My reply to that — which wasn’t even sarcastic — was to ask if he’d let me blow him. I’ve never had much luck with on-the-fence straight guys and I thought it was too good to pass up. I told him that by his logic he could let a dude blow him. He said no, as I more or less expected.

The easy answer to why I wouldn’t do anything with a girl, no matter how cute or sweet, is because I’m gay. Lesbians don’t turn because they’re bored of dick, straight guys aren’t just waiting for the right male bottom and I know – from personal experience – that if you’re 100% gay the Queen of Sheba’s pussy itself couldn’t turn you.

I spent high school and my first year of college subscribing to the “you have to get it somewhere” school of human sexuality. That is, I wasn’t out and was too old for daily wet dreams so I pursued and “had relations” with ladies. I had fun, and it helped me learn what a blowjob was like before my penis grew back into itself from disuse, but it wasn’t what I would’ve chosen in an ideal world. I spent my summer after  high school graduation doing everything-but with my first boyfriend but then my first year of college got confusing.

I was one of about ten gay men at an extremely small, stiflingly rural Ohio college and had to balance what I was against what I wanted. I was hiding under the banner of “bi now, gay later” (as my first gay friend put it) I slept with guys here and there, when I could find them, and messed around with girls when the urge and/or the need to keep my friends confused about my sexuality struck.

It worked as a temporary solution in that my testicles didn’t explode in the middle of an IPHS class and I got to stay as under-the-radar as any skinny, un-stubbled, pink-shirt-wearing, gay-friend-having, Belle-and-Sebastian-listening, 19 year-old protofag could. Though I found out later that the small-world nature of my campus  had my roommate knowing I was a homo before he even met me, but he was a good sport about seeming surprised when I let the non-cat out of the non-bag.

I used to take a lot of pride in not being a gold-star gay. 19 year-old me was even more aggressively, obnoxiously anti-gay-culture than I was now. The creeping rot of the closet had me rejecting everything that I thought “gay guys did.” I complained that 4 or 5 of the gay seniors always had dinner together in the dining hall. (Don’t they have other friends?), were active in queer issues (What are they, like, only gay?) and went to GLBT campus support meetings (No thanks, I have frat parties to attend.) So my ultimate public act of rebellion,  oddly enough, was acting straight.

It wasn’t like girls did nothing for me. I had some crushes, some lust objects, some angry, ranting nights when a date went poorly. But I knew what I really was after and which of my actions would be left in the dust with my baseball caps and girl-on-girl porn. As a guy who hates unfinshed business, can’t stand doing anything haflway, I made myself a promise: I would hold onto my bi identity until I could go all the way with a girl. I figured (unlike an actual bisexual person) that I could just get lady-sex out of the way once before moving on to the thing I actually, exclusively liked.

And wow was it not fun for either party. I woke up on the morning of March 23rd, 2003, and proclaimed to my friends “I’m tired of being a virgin. Tonight’s the night.” In the resulting severe case of “careful what you wish for” (and I’ll spare you all the gory details) I had clumsy, obtrusive, lucky-I-knew-where-to-put-it sex with a gorgeous, smart friend of mine who really deserved a better way to end her Saturday night. Though much about the event was unfortunate  (on my part, to her chagrin) the only thing you really need to know is that I ended up sleeping in the condom and then slinking into a woman’s bathroom the next day to throw it out.

I’ve since made peace with the woman in question, which is lucky because there aren’t enough apologies in the world for an unsuspecting straight girl who fell into the path of a curious gay man’s heterosexual explorations. That was the last time any part of me touched any part of a girl that wouldn’t already have been exposed at a museum gala or business lunch. I didn’t feel like explaining that to the guy from after the LCD show, but I figured why not tell three thousand strangers online?

Sexuality is never as easy as choosing between two different flavors. The queer lady community is usually given more freedom to sleep with men than gay guys have to occasionally experiment with women. But I know I’m not the only one out there who dabbled. Anyone in TNG-ville have such an experience that ended better for either you or the girl? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Submission by Knowledge, StudWithSwag.com

Crossposted with permission from author. View original article here.

Be yourself.

Treat your woman like a treasure.

Stay true and committed to you.

Let me begin by saying that identifying as a more dominant or masculine lesbian has little to do with gender maturity and everything to do with finding our internal comfort zone. Gender maturity is something we usually reach by the time we are firmly planted within that comfort zone and begin to embrace it as our own. Being a Butch/AG/Stud Lesbian in today’s society can be a journey within a journey that we struggle to come to terms with daily. These struggles most often encompass not knowing exactly how to embrace our identity in its infancy. Many young studs struggle with issues relating to self-acceptance, identity, and self-esteem. Many others, brought on by age and maturity, no longer concern themselves with how they’re seen and viewed by society. Instead, they are concerned with creating and investing in the physical and emotional growth of the gay and lesbian community as a whole. Included is the reinforcement and awareness of redefining roles and labels within our culture and the promotion of the positivity within both. A community that often tells us that we’re confused about our gender when for the most part we are not demands that our persistent and respectful enlightenment teach them the opposite.

The Stigma

The label “stud” imparts negative feelings and reactions among many lesbians and primarily heterosexual men. This is due in part by perceptions and misconceptions that lesbians and straight women harbor about what it means to be a stud.

Most of us start out as tomboys and only later in life do we begin to embrace our uniqueness, our masculinity and our differences as lesbians within an ever-expanding, diverse gay culture. Some begin to mimic behavior they feel is reminiscent of society’s view of “typical stud behavior” with the onset of “typical stud mentality” following closely behind. Most of the negative behaviors associated with butch lesbians only begin to manifest themselves after they’ve embraced a particular subset of popular culture and its view of sexuality usually through music and art. To a large degree, most of those embracing these behaviors and attitudes have subsequently forced themselves into a role that seemingly does not fit.

The Realizations

We realize that every stud or butch lesbian is unique. She is an individual. The diversity among us is staggering. Some studs prefer to sag their pants to the knees and others can rock the hell out of a pair of DKNY’s fitted and resting slightly below the waistline.

We realize that not every stud will turn down the loving touch and tender embrace of another woman, choosing only to give pleasure in lieu of receiving.

We realize that there are those of us who are highly educated intellectuals with goals for the future. We will work tirelessly to achieve them through any positive means possible.

We realize that those who have conquered and won the fight of self-acceptance are no longer restricted by society’s view of our womanhood, our lesbianism, our self worth and our labels.

We realize that those of us who are comfortable with their bodies and their selves have made it. We are no longer confined to others definitions of who we are and what makes us tick. We no longer feel constrained by the judgment of others because we are our own greatest judge.

We realize that being a stud may not mean being more masculine for some or being more dominant for others, it is everything to do with being well, You.

We realize that with everything in this world, there are those whose actions give us a bad name, but we refuse to allow those members of our subset to strictly define us. Society does a good enough job doing that on its own.

We realize that we are the only ones who hold the power in the meaning of these words, regardless of the attitudes of others and their miss-categorizations.

We have adopted these labels and only we have the power to redefine.

Those among us who identify as Studs/AGs/Butches are equals, not adversaries.

Our outward behavior is often attributed to those who identify with us. As with any community, this will have positive and negative connotations. For studs, the negatives have been outweighing the positives for far too long.

It’s time for change.

The Summation

As a lesbian who identifies as a woman first, soft-“Stud” second, it is my duty to tear down negative stereotypes relating to my fellow gender-bending lesbians. I feel it my duty to express in the only way I can my outright disappointment at studs who adopt misogynistic attitudes and behaviors and incorporate them into their relationships with other women as the norm. You, yes you, are not only wrong, you are shining a negative light on the rest of it and it’s not appreciated.

Being a stud is not about trying to control someone or collect women as trophies. It encompasses everything having to do with treating a woman like the Queen she is. In return, she will embrace you as the female King of her castle or however you wish to be honored by your woman. She will understand that just because you may at times feel entirely comfortable expressing your masculine side, you are 100% woman and that doesn’t mean you want to be a man nor does it give her license to strip you of your womanhood in the process. There were women kings throughout history that took on roles as leaders of entire nations. There is only pride and respect to be found in fulfilling such a role.

Studs have individual set preferences, but diversity among lesbians more feminine than us or androgynous must be respected and embraced in turn. We must not try to set standards upon non-butch identified lesbians in any limiting manner that makes light of her individuality, her appearance, behaviors or attitudes just because of our rigid and faulty nuances. This form of polarization is an unacceptable breeding ground for negativity. We must respect that lesbians who are more feminine than us are just as diverse and hold a very important role in our culture and society. These differences must be honored above all else.

Studs young and old must not allow music culture to dictate and deteriorate their behaviors and actions and the measure of respect they show other women. There is only shame to be felt in the degradation of women, which is often embraced by mainstream music and the youth and adults it inspires.

I’m putting it out there because my sanity depends on it, but thankfully my self worth does not. My ability to co-exist among my gay and lesbian family demands it.

My fellow Studs, AG’s and Butches, we’re done selling ourselves short. We allow those within and outside of our community to define, redefine and ultimately restrict our visibility. The truth is we are about as diverse as a United Nations gathering. We form a powerful cohesive within the lesbian community and our time to shine is now.

We are:

Mothers

Daughters

Sisters

Grand Mothers

Matriarchs

Pretty Bois.

Pretty Girls.

Beautiful.

Average.

Tomboys.

Bisexuals

Transgenders.

Amateur & Professional Athletes.

Entrepreneurs

Writers

Artists

Those in the middle who haven’t yet figured it out.

And so many more…

We are many and we are diverse as one.

We allow others far too much leverage and power in determining exactly who we are, when we should be doing our self. We have the ability and the POWER to define and redefine masculine womanism, dominant lesbianism, tomboyishness, and androgyny. We make up such a force that this topic deserves to be addressed. We owe it to ourselves to aptly follow through in our pursuit of self-confidence, self-esteem and most importantly self-identity in a society that frowns upon those who appear and who are different. Our identity deserves the same respect as any other, even those choosing to transcend their gender. No longer will we allow ourselves to be thrust into a revolving trend where a word that encompasses so many positives is thought of and seen in a largely negative light. We understand that our definition of “stud” may not jive with how another self-imposed stud sees herself. We must no longer make excuses for immature, irresponsible, misogynistic lesbians who call themselves studs, AGs or butch, but instead we must educate. We are empowered through positivity and we aim to promote growth through change in our community.

There are no strict gender roles no matter how you identify in the gay community. In order to be accepted and appreciated for who you are, my advice to you is to be yourself. The gray areas are limitless.

I haven’t done any Q&A’s for a while now, and there were some interesting ones building up, so let’s get to it…..

Q: Master Aiden, I’ve had fantasies of being submissive while being dressed in ladies’ lingerie, high heels, and makeup.  If I were to schedule some time with you, would you be willing to do a forced fem session with me?

A: I don’t get requests like this one very often and, at this point, I’ve only done two “forced fem”-themed sessions.  From what I understand, this is a scenario that is requested towards Dominatrixes a lot — to have a woman “turn” a man (in a submissive mode) into a feminine alter ego or what he considers to be a more ladylike version of himself.  Although this fantasy raises questions concerning political correctness, gender identity, submission/dominance, etc. it can’t be ignored since the transformation of the individual into a fabricated set role is basically the foundation stone of what the BDSM dynamic is.  The inquirer, as you may notice, is not very specific as to what sort of scene gets played out in this session.

Is he (soon to be she) simply looking for an opportunity to parade around in gown and heels within a leather-flavored setting or is he/she looking to be a damsel in distress who gets tied up, roughed up, and punished for some yet-to-be-decided indiscretion?  That’s up to the submissive and this is something that , we would discuss before the session takes place. While raw personal fantasies are very rarely politically correct, I believe that these types of scenarios should be approached with sensitivity with emphasis on understanding and trust.

Gender bending and transformations are fairly typical for S&M scenes, but not so typical that I am readily prepared to make the magic happen at the drop of a hat. For this type of session, the client would have to bring is own clothing, wig, and makeup to the location.  Although I am pretty good at illustration, I don’t really know how sharp my makeup skills would be.  Hopefully the client has some previous experience applying his own glamour face. If I were to be the one slapping on the colors, the submissive may end up looking more like a John Waters character than a Lana Turner. But maybe we can make that part of the session?  On a side note, for some reason, I’m really good at creating zombie/gore makeup so if you want to ever want to play a submissive undead or whatnot, you know who to email….

Overall, I’m up for it.  Glamor girls or zombies.  Or glamorous zombies.

Q: Dear Master Aiden, do you do candle play?

A: As I mentioned in my last “Yes, Master” article, yes. I do incorporate candle play into some sessions. As you can probably imagine, candle play requires heightened focus since it involves fire, skin, and melted wax.  Using hot wax or heat application during a scene tends to divide people; submissives either love it or hate it. Rarely do you get a someone who feels that it’s “fine” or they’re simply okay with candle play. Fire play is something entirely different from candle play or wax play.  Fire play involves lighting 50 percent to 70 percent rubbing alcohol or other flammable substances on or very close to the skin. Although this is something that I think would be really interesting to get into, my clients wouldn’t be into it. I’ve seen it done during a couple of BDSM shows. It’s very dangerous and tends to be for extreme lifestyler types. Branding and scarification are also on my “NO” list.  Call me a softie, but I have no interest in setting permanent marks on my clients bodies or altering them through torture. Have I had requests for that?  You bet.  But here’s my perspective:  that brand mark that says “Property of Master Aiden” on someone’s left butt cheek might be really cool for them in 2011 but they may feel very differently about it in 2018, if you know what I mean.

Q: Would you wear DayGlo for me during a session and rig up the dungeon with black lights?

A: Although this roller disco/Ke$ha-themed scenario seems “interesting,” please be aware that you would have to purchase all the black lights and fluorescent clothes (in addition to paying your regular tribute) since my Dom garb is all black.  I don’t have any of these things in my regular stock.  This scene sounds like a mess but, hey, at least it’s unique.

Q: Where do you get your masks, Master Aiden?

A: Here are my favorite mask-makers:  Frights.org, Maxx Empire, and Fantasy Guilde.  I’ve also found some great stuff at leather markets (IML, etc.) and BDSM shoppes.  One of my favorite masks I actually got at a Renaissance festival a couple of years ago.  I rarely ever wear masks during sessions, but they’re perfect for photo shoots.

The foot has hundreds of bones and nerve centers that never quit. They can’t. Your feet connect you to the ground, which lets you know where you are in a very functional, essential sense. Therefore the foot represents freedom and fashion. Next to the thong, high heels are probably the sexiest thing worn by women and men who like to dress like women. Toes are delicate, nuanced, and very sensitive, like most body parts humans enjoy exploring with the tongue. If you’ve ever licked an ear canal, the crack between two toes in not beyond you.

Feet also just make me happy in a pure way. They are straight forward, easy to please and always satisfy. I enjoy giving and receiving foot rubs. Often it’s an intense experience. At other times it’s a soft way to connect during a quality snuggle, making it a versatile act. A good rub leaves me feeling just as relaxed as good sex, without all the effort and mess. Even if foot sex is not your fetish, it would be hard to turn down a good foot rub every now and then. Each participant can set limits and a good old fashion vanilla massage is still my favorite form of foot worship.

One thing I don’t enjoy is wet and sloppy foot worship. That’s what condoms are for. You can fit a magnum condom over an entire foot and get your foot sucked. Some foot fetishist reserve this type of play for special partner(s) and others like to do it with as many partners as possible. I enjoying taking my cross dressing clients to the salon and forcing them to get a pedicure. The transformation is magical. Before it’s over they’re usually begging for pink nail polish I previously threatened them with.

When I started training submissives I was very uncomfortable receiving any form of foot worship, although I enjoyed it very much. Upon further reflection this led me to work on some trust issues. I used the act of foot worship as a way to learn to be comfortable again with receiving touch. The first time I had my shoes boot blacked at a leather event, I almost orgasmed when the hot butch buffing my Manolos bent over and licked the inside arch of my black leather pump. I still have those shoes.

Spring is right around the corner and each year I look forward to hearing my fellow foot lovers discuss the return of toes. For some it’s an event they find at once fascinating and maddening. I for one don’t really find street toes a turn on. I prefer an intimate environment when indulging my fantasies. The fact that I can choose when and where I am privy to my fetish may mean it’s not a fetish at all. Often fetishes are perceived as very demanding sexual proclivities. Regardless, I’ll continue to enjoy as many foot rubs as I can find.

During my travels and adventures through the chains and whips, I’ve noticed that there are clear patterns and similarities to what enthusiasts listen to while getting kinky.  The goth clubs/ BDSM demonstrations/ dungeon parties tend to edge towards droney, synth-industrial music or dark metal — music like Cradle of Filth and Skinny Puppy.  It’s almost a given that you’ll hear Depeche Mode and NIN at some point in the evening as well.

I tend to be a BDSM traditionalist but, when it comes to dungeon background music, I turn in a different direction. I prefer classical music. I don’t like it super loud or anything like that. I just want my Beethoven and Tchaikovsky melting into the air while I’m getting down to business. It helps me to concentrate during complicated sessions, everyone likes it, and it slightly classes things up a bit. (Don’t roll your eyes.) Most importantly, for whatever reason, you can depend on classical music to fit perfectly during whatever type of session you may be doing.  It can lend irony, drama, and sometimes even well-needed doses of levity during S&M play.  It always works, as strange as that may seem.  If you don’t believe me, than try it out for yourself. It’s magic.

I used to listen to hard, screaming, techno-doom rock while I did sessions because that’s what I grew up listening to and that’s what traditionally is featured during kinky social events. Then I realized that 95 percent of my slaves hated that music. (There can be huge differences between the sensibilities of BDSM scenesters and the sensibilities of BDSM clients. They’re not usually the same people, interestingly enough.) I also had to admit that I found that music to be sometimes obnoxious and headache-inducing. Plus if you’re doing some semi-dangerous, detail oriented pain play, the last thing you need is a burst of demonic voices unpredictably yelling in German. It’s not as sexy as it seems. Sometimes it’s like “Man, please shut the fuck up while I’m doing candle-play on this person’s nipples.”  Surely, you understand.  Sometimes “Hall of the Mountain King” makes things much, much better.

So the next time you’re buckling on your leather harness and you’re partner is getting their jock strap and collar on, consider giving KMFDM a rest for the evening and give Grieg and Holst a shot instead.  It’s entirely possible that you may never going back. I still love the synths and keyboards but, when it comes to BDSM sessions, I’d rather go with orchestras.

I have often heard that bi is just a gay waiting-room. When I came out as gay, I felt badly for contributing to that stereotype – because in many cases it is simply not true. People really are bisexual – in every sense of the word. It is a real sexuality and I think as a community we need to be more supportive of that.

Sure, there are plenty of cases where someone is bi for a while and then realizes they are either gay or straight, and that’s okay. It happens. Sometimes it’s a casualty of self-discovery. We need to acknowledge and be sensitive to that without then assuming that bisexuality is a phase for everyone. Let’s be a little more open-minded.

There are also instances where a person will have sexual relations with a person of the same-sex but only date (or plan to marry) someone of the opposite sex. I think this makes us uncomfortable because to us it implies shame. It also allows that person to “pass” for straight. They have all the benefits of heterosexual privilege while eating their cake too. We think it’s unfair; that they’re taking advantage of the system or something. Perhaps they are, but it’s really not for us to decide who anyone dates or sleeps with – at least I thought that’s what we’re trying to convince other people of.

I have heard that some people are uncomfortable with dating a bisexual individual because they’re worried that person will miss the other gender. It’s hard enough to compete with one gender, but when dating someone who’s bi, you have twice the competition. She might leave you for a man, and if she does it’s not something you can argue with – not a need you can meet. While I recognize some people might feel this way, and they’re entitled to their fears – I’ll even admit I’ve been worried about it at times – it is, when you think about it, pretty irrational. When you date anyone, of any sexuality, there’s always the possibility for cheating. She can leave you, at any time. That’s scary, but it doesn’t change with bisexuals. If she leaves you, she leaves you – does it really matter who it’s with or for? It still sucks. The issue here is whether or not you trust the person you are dating. If you do, it doesn’t matter how big the pool is or how many genders she could be attracted to, she’s committed to you and just as she trusts you to be faithful, you have to trust her. If you can’t handle it, date someone else. It’s not fair to assume that just because someone is bi she is a cheater or a flake. We have to stop marginalizing each other.

Whether a person is confused, who they sleep with versus date, or what they like in general, does not negate the fact that there are people who identify as bisexual, period. Sexuality is a spectrum after all, and some people fall in the middle.

I have a few friends who are bi. They date men and they date women – not at the same time (though if they did, that would be their and their partners’ prerogatives). They are attracted to both genders and date for love. I say more power to them – challenge the gender binary, swim in your bigger pond, find who you’re looking for. I don’t think these people are manipulating or taking advantage of the “system.” They’re simply being who they are and we need to understand, accept and embrace it.

It frustrates me when people discount bisexuality off-hand as something that is either a phase or a show; especially when that someone is within the queer community. We have so much hate, ignorance, discomfort and negative energy constantly thrown our way, we should be protecting our sisters (and brothers) and educating the outside world rather than isolating the bi contingent.

If we are truly fighting for sexual tolerance and freedom, we should not and cannot dismiss bisexuality.

It’s actually very rare for me (and I’m assuming that it’s the same for other pro Masters and Mistresses) to recieve requests for couples’ training.  Usually only individuals who request sessions but every once in a while, someone will pop out and send me that email which usually reads something along the lines of this:

“Dear Master Aiden:

My wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner and I are interested in doing a training session with you. She/He has wanted to try out S&M for a while (with her/him as the top and me as the bottom).

I would like to know how much a session like this would cost and when you would be available. We are very new at this so go easy on us and treat us like beginners.

Thank you for reading this letter, Sir, and I look forward to hearing back from you.

Respectfully,

Mr. X”

The very modern, kinky lifestyle couples usually aren’t interested all that much whether the person helping to guide them on their BDSM adventures is a man or a woman.  It surprises me how nonchalant they usually are about that part of the equation. Sometimes it’s a request for me to train a couple as a pair of experienced submissives (two slaves at the same time).  If that’s the case, then it’s just me doing double-duty as a Master — these sessions are fun while being hectic and very busy for me (as you’d probably expect). Typically though, if it’s a request for a session involving three people, it probably has to do with one person generally learning how to dominate the others.

Typically, when they show up introductions are very friendly and formal. Since I’m in instructor mode I don’t do a lot of the expected Master/slave role play dynamics since many of these newbie couples are pretty nervous.  It’s all about becoming acquainted with the standard BDSM equipment, how to use that stuff properly, how to be gentle/painful/careful, and roll out a general list of many of the activities that couples can try when engaging in bondage play.

The most challenging aspect of diving into BDSM for these established couples is taking it seriously and becoming the actors within their own fantasies. Why is it that couples can be the most restrained when it comes to being with one another?  Sometimes they can become almost conservative in that respect.

The key for these couples–the most important and unsettling piece of the puzzle–is believing in each other as either Master/Mistress and slave.  If they both genuinely have that scope of imagination for themselves and for each other, then they’re already 80% good to go.  BDSM is imagination and roleplay.  The rest of it is just props.

Do you have a kiss for daddy? Image borrowed from a Ferris Bueller's Day Off fan site.

My office location moved recently.  Instead of being on the edge, the frontier if you will, of the central business district, I now report to work every day smack dab in the center of it.  Well, right of center, but pretty center.  The benefits of this new location are many, including an easier commute and lunch options an order of magnitude more various than previously.  With this new location and good lunch options comes the ability to meet friends for lunch, an option I never had before at my old work location.  And with meeting friends for lunch near my office comes the inevitably awkward, public, man-on-man kiss-hello.

The kiss-hello, as a concept, is something I’m totally cool with.  I love my friends, and humans show affection through physical means, including embraces and smooches.  When not anywhere near my office, I throw my arms around my friends and put my face near theirs and smooch without a second thought.  So, why the concern near my workplace?

After spending some time on this, I think it’s mostly a fear of the ignorance of my straight colleagues feeding into their potentially wild imaginations.  Whenever I approach a friend on the street near my workplace and we move in for our familiar, nearly canine greeting, I am reminded of the scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, where Ferris is dressed as his girlfriend’s father, picking her up from school for her grandmother’s funeral.  She runs down the stairs, smiling, and greets her “father” with a passionate kiss.  The principal, standing at the top of the steps looking down on the mini family reunion, says, “So THAT’S how it is in their family.”

While I don’t engage in amoral behavior, and I really don’t think it’s anyone’s business how I greet my friends on the street, I can’t help but to be a bit concerned about the impression I might be making.  I’ve stated before that the workplace is a good opportunity for educating straight colleagues and work buddies on how normal and boring many queer people are, and how we live lives shocking similar to them.    I guess I fear that midday, sidewalk kiss-hellos between adult men might be misconstrued or misinterpreted as more than a familiar greeting.

In the ideal world, I shouldn’t have to worry about repercussions from expressing myself outside of work.  However, the sidewalk across from my office might straddle the normally clear demarkation between work life and personal live.  Being aware of this, I hope I’m not doing myself or anyone else a disservice by slightly altering my behavior in greeting friends while standing on that line.