I love you. You love me.
It’s time for cakes and sodomy.
With the crack of a whip
that goes from me to you,
Won’t you say you love me too.
I love you. You love me.
We’re best friends with benefits.
Analingus, golden showers and fellatio
At my condo in WeHo.
I love you. You love me.
You’re the sub and I’m the Dom.
I’ll tie you up and spank you too
Just to prove my love is true.
pleasure and pain
crack the whip
at me again
instruct exactly
how to please
wanting only
to appease
flesh to latex
rubber skin
touch of passion
my head spins
bottle tops
and drinks of gin
hear passion
escape again
front and back
leather lace
thrice tonight
i met your pace
on the sheets
your love a glow
as i top you
from below
Finally, it’s complete! It’s difficult to photograph as it encircles my calf, but it’s done. This will be the last one for a while. The nipple piercing will still happen though; I might wait and use my Living in America Bonus money for it though. How cool is it to use stimulus money from the Government for body modification? As usual I digress. The shading went quickly — just over an hour. I got wrapped up and went out to finish playing on Bardstown Road. Now all Jack needs is a good sub, and he’ll be all set for Summer.
I want to give a special shot to The Cumberland for the bison burgers and mead. Both are divine. It’s my new favorite pub. Just don’t the barkeeps at My Favorite Third Place, please.
‘Degredation is the subtlest drug, the most insinuating.’
Angela Carter,
The Passion of New Eve
Friday evening I was in a meeting and tried on several occasions to find a good word that covered my world. One person suggested simply calling it “Jack’s World,” and while I’m egotistical enough to like it, I also know that it won’t work. Jack’s World might be Shangrila for many people, but it isn’t an all inclusive land. It might be right for you, and I respect and honour that, but it’s not right for me, and therefore not part of my world. BDSM is my preferred term, but it has a narrow scope as well. Even though it’s hackneyed to a degree, I kept coming back to kink as my default. I want something freshly flavorful — like Nueve York. Something that people will understand without having it explained to them.
There’s a concern in the gay community about what to call the other person in your life. Gay men often reject Husband because it’s a het term and because people think that if he’s the husband you’re the wife. I’ve written recently about my change to sub instead of boyfriend (a term I find despicable for anyone of drinking age). He would call me his Dom, by-the-bye. Maybe an inability to find a label means that I should stop trying. After all, I don’t like the idea of putting people into little boxes and making them stay put — puppy crates excepted.
Maybe that’s also why there’s a plethora of flags: Pony Pride, Leather Girl, Bisexual, Ownership, International Bear Brotherhood, Leather Boy, Bootblack, Transgender, Heterosexual, Puppy, and (my favorite) Leather Pride. The list does go on. The one thing they all have in common is that they show a diversity of sexuality and interest. My kink might be past your extreme. That’s fine as long as you understand that what’s over the top for you might be pretty vanilla for me. In all honestly, I don’t get some things I know people do. It’s not my place to. My role is to be who I am, keep my sub in his place, and respect that everyone is different.
So I’ll use whatever term comes to mind first with the hope that people will understand what I mean — or will ask for clarification. Masters and puppies, Doms and subs, you are all welcome in Jack’s World where respect — even in degradation — is the law of the land.
sleek and cutting
snake flashs
cool heat
ignite limbs
temper sanity
with madness
retreat
return
touching
non-existent essence
My limits are those things that I absolutely refuse to be involved in. A prime example is electrostim. I respect that your thing’s your thing, but it’s not right for me. My boundaries are different and far more flexible. I’ll tie a sub up and spank him – maybe make him polish my boots. A guy in a wheelchair is beyond my boundary though. I just couldn’t make him a sub. Even with his willingness, there’s a level of cruel that I can’t get past. He could be my date, my boyfriend, but never my sub. For some reason other physical “disabilities” don’t get and automatic no from me.
Of course the sub must trust me not to kill or maim him while I find his intersection of pleasure and pain. It also means knowing, testing, and honouring his limits and boundaries while expecting reciprocation from him. In all it’s far different that a typical date. In fact, I personally refuse to consider a scene until we’ve known each other a while, had non-bdsm sex, and developed a level of intimacy that extends beyond the sexual. And even though humiliation is often part of the relationship, I’ve also got to respect him.
I guess that’s what it comes down to so often in the bdsm World. Respect is vital among the participants – even when the scene would seems completely different. And in all honesty, pure, simple respect is something that’s missing from the larger world. Maybe it’s time to bring the respect out of the Dungeon and teach it a lot further than our fellow kinks.
Phase 2: The Braiding is complete. It was a couple of hours lying on a table in uncomfortable positions (for the most part), but it’s closer to completion. The next appointment is in March. That should be the last one. Adam said his eyes began crossing when he was working on this. “Even though it’s a pain in the ass in more ways that one,” he said “it will be a very nice tattoo when it’s done.” I agree. This one will be the last for a while — at least a year. Three tattoos in less than twelve months might be slightly obsessive.
There’s an inherent spirituality to getting a tattoo. I haven’t given it enough though to verbalize my thoughts. Somehow though it brings me closer to who I am as a spiritual being. If you’re on my wave length, it will make perfect sense; if you’re not then it will be utter nonsense. Both are okay.
Pax,
whip cracks echo in night
quickly like a snake bite
pain leaves pleasure
icy touch brings heat
dominate submission synergy
passion brings salvation
mercy master baptize me
”You’re one of the very few people to be tattooed to this album,” The Artist said at one point in the process of outlining my tattoo. “At least in this century,” he clarified. Meta Loaf’s Bat Out of Hellw blared as a backdrop. I was most definitely into the scene — sitting on the table with my leg on a large, blue paper-towel while The Artist worked. It was an interesting combination of calisthenics (to be able to wrap the whip around my calf) and pain endurance (because of the size and the tender parts of my leg). It’s difficult to get the entire tattoo in a photo. I’ve included the handle and some of the whip itself in the pic above. The Artist finished the outline yesterday; I go back in a couple of weeks to get the braiding added. I don’t know if I’ll have the shading done at that point or if I’ll wait for a third session. This is my largest, first multi-session, and most expensive one to date. I’m quite pleased thus far. He had the handle drawn when I went it and applied it as a stencil. The rest he drew freehand with ink before he took up the needle.
As is traditional with all body art (in Jack’s world at least), I stopped off for authentic Mexican on the way home. At the moment it’s like ten degrees outside, and I’m quite cold.
On the Feast of Epiphany I went to see Pandora Production’s latest holiday offering Don We Now More Gay Apparel (http://www.pandoraprods.org/). It’s a play full of mirth, humor, irreverence, and drag queens. If you have the time and aren’t easily offended, I encourage you to see the production. It’s worth the admission. From a reunion of the Peanuts characters where Charlie Brown goes postal, to the North Pole version of The Vagina Monologues, to the asides from Gayle King the play is a non-stop pleasure sensation. The venue in the Henry Clay is phenominal. I sat in the last seat of the top row, and laughed extra hard when one of the songs suggested blowing the guy in the corner. Some of the categories will make much better sense if you see the play.
Along with my enjoyment of the show, I also received positive reinforcement from some of the lyrics. They mirror what’s been going on in my thoughts lately. It’s a good thing. It’s a positive thing, and I’m looking forward to what comes next.
