Informed consent – a definition

I’ve said before that I believe informed consent is the absolute bedrock of what we do. Not only does it underpin safe, sane, consensual play and relationships/dynamics (or risk-aware consensual kink – or even personal responsibility informed consensual kink), but the wider world’s understanding that BDSM isn’t intrinsically abusive but is based on consenting to something where risk is understood and accepted is key to our future acceptance as a normal, non-scary part of the continuum of human sexual activity.

I’ve written before about the Informed Consent Principle – which originated here. I think it’s damn fine. But I’ve tinkered. I think it can be made slightly simpler. So, with respect to the original author, @Tanos, here’s my effort:

BDSM activities must have the informed consent of everyone taking part. All participants should strive to reach a shared awareness of risks and consequences. Consent cannot be given under duress or if any party has mental incapacity or is intoxicated.

 The original is:

The Informed Consent Principle is that BDSM requires the freely given informed consent of all participants; that participants should make genuine efforts to reach a shared awareness of risks and consequences; that if consent is given under duress or is invalidated by mental incapacity or intoxication then it is not legitimate; and that BDSM with this informed consent should not be criminalised or lead to discrimination.

I’ve just tried to shorten it and I’ve removed the phrase in red because I think that isn’t part of a principle itself, rather it’s an objective that we should be seeking to achieve for our community, with the help of the non-BDSM world.

Do you agree or disagree? Please leave a comment or do the poll:

Also see:

More polls on definitions here

Matched Pair: 17 – Reward?

c6552ac6446bcea8f2bdae10de169982_iThe Girl took an antiseptic wipe from a sachet and tenderly cleaned Two’s newly sewn up pussy, stroking away those few droplets of blood. One drop returned. She held the wipe firmly against it and then dabbed again, a few seconds later. The little bit of oozing stopped.

The man handed two latex gloves to each of the other three. “Put them on”.

“Turn her”, he ordered “so the cunt is facing my chair”. The Girl grabbed Two’s ankles and swung her through ninety degrees and then spread Two’s legs so the heels were as close to the table edges as Two could manage. “Rope” he said. The Girl headed for a large carved wooden chest at the end of the room opening the top and dragging out a weighty, well-studffed canvas sack. She undid the buckled leather tie at it’s neck and looked at the man. “Three four-metre lengths please. One eight millimetre diameter”.

The Girl rummaged and pulled out three short skeins of hemp, each with neatly sewn yellow whippings at each end. One length was substantially thicker than the other two. Each was in a Monkey Braid. He pulled the end out of the thicker length and it instantly fell loose.

He folded the rope in half and held it by its middle, marked, the girls noticed, by more yellow whipping. He made an “S” shape in the middle of the rope by folding  about 20 centimetres of the rope back on itself either side of the marked midpoint.  He  began wrapping one piece of the rope tightly around the loop that dropped from his hand. When the wrapped section was about 15 centimetres long , he passed the length he’d coiled round the loop through the hole left in the end and then pulled it tight. He was left with a thick rope coil from which a metre length protruded from each side.

He laid the coiled centre in an abandoned bowl and told Three to fetch water and fill the bowl.

He pulled a second coil loose and folded it in half. he lay the loop against Two’s ankle and then placed two finger’s of Three’s hand between the rope and the ankle. He wrapped the looped rope around the ankle and the fingers twice, neatly and snugly . He took what was left of the looped end and held it across the wraps – pushing it underneath them  and leaving the  looped end protruding from under . He tied the loop and the remaining doubled length in a simple knot against the loops. He nodded to Three who took her fingers away. The ankle cuff restricted nothing – but was secure. In seconds, Two’s other ankle was similarly prepared. He passed the remaining length of each rope, still doubled, once around each ankle and down through the bight that protruded from each knot. He left the ends dangling down each side of the table.

He marched to the dresser at the far end of the room, picked up a pair of decanters and returned to the coil that had been soaking whilst the ankle-trussing was done. Deftly he roped the neck of each glass vessel to each end of the rope with the moistened coil.

He turned to The Girl: “Take her ankle ropes around the table legs and pull them tightish. Don”t let her close her legs whatever you do”.

He pushed Two back onto the table, gently supporting her head as he lay her flat on the bare oak boards. He stroked the neatly sewn labia as he looked into her eyes. “This is my best whisky and brandy. You wouldn’t go spilling it now, would you?”. Wide-eyed, Two shook her head.

The man took the coil from its dish and laid it across Two’s lips. “Bite” he said. She did. “Bite hard. Don’t let go”: he took the first decanter and lowered it over the side of the table carefully letting it hang.

The weight was more than she expected. Her jaw was easily strong enough to clamp on and ensure she didn’t drop his precious amber fluid. But keeping her head straight, at least for more than a few seconds, was damn near impossible.  The weight of the gently swaying decanter pulled her head in its direction.

She gripped tightly with her teeth and tried to keep her head level, staring at the chandelier above and finding that the man’s hand was already by her ear, keeping her steady. “Three” He commanded “lower the brandy would you. Gently”. Three did as bid and Two found the increased weight easier to bear now it was pulling the coil gag straight down into her mouth and not just to one side. The cut glass bottles oscillated slightly and the coiled rope sawed gently on the edges of her mouth. She understood why he’d wetted the rope and knew that any movement she made would just make things worsT. “Grip the edge of the table” he suggested.

He pushed his chair back from the table. And rose. The Girl took position by his side, a hand on his shoulder.

He spoke: “Now girls, I’d like you to make her come”.


Last: 16 – Blanket Stitch

Next: 18 – Release

Back to start

The BDSM and money survey – first results

The BDSM and Money Survey – who took part, and first results

aveburysarsenThis is the first article detailing results from my BDSM and money survey. I collected responses between December 2013 and March 2015. 476 people took part, mainly recruited through BDSM websites, including fetlife, strangely normal and fetbook.

This article sets the scene: In the coming weeks I’ll write more detailed articles about the things people said concerning their BDSM spending. Other articles on the survey are linked at the bottom of this page.

Who took part?

Of the 476 people who took part:

  • 67% came from the UK, 27% from the USA and 6% from elsewhere
  • 53% were female, 43% male and 5% expressed another preference
  • 64% said they were heterosexual, 6% said they were homosexual and 31% said they were bisexual.

What kind of BDSMer?

When it came to BDSM, participants said they were:

  • 33% Tops/dominants, 46% bottoms/submissives and 21% switches
  • 21% Sadists/masochists, 63% Dominants/submissives and 16% Masters/slaves

Money and spending priorities

I asked people to say which UK or US income quintile they fell into. The least populous response contained 18% of the sample and the most populous 22% – so the response broadly reflects the population as a whole.

Looking at areas of BDSM spending, the most popular three clothing categories were:

When it came to toys the top three are:

  • Bondage items (84%)
  • Impact play items (82%)
  • Other (64%)

The percentages above relate to those who said they’d spent any money on any of these categories at any time.

When it comes to body modification, 35% had spent money on tattoos and 30% on body piercing.

BDSM as an Income

We asked whether respondents made any money from BDSM products or services. 17% said they had.

Of those, roughly a fifth said BDSM was their main source of income and a similar number said it was an important secondary source.

The top three paid activities were pro-domme (38%) and other sex worker, and making BDSM toys (both 21%).

How important is BDSM spending?

Only 13% of respondents said BDSM was their first spending priority (out of nine, excluding essential household expenditure like housing costs, food and energy). 15% rated it second and 13% third.

Across the sample as a whole family events took top priority, followed by holidays and eating out. BDSM was the fourth most important item out of nine. So, the people who took part take their BDSM pretty seriously.

The surveys

Please note that these surveys don’t have properly constructed samples – they are drawn entirely from people who see my posts on BDSM websites and choose to take part – all one can say is that they represent the views of the respondents themselves and not the BDSM community as a whole.

BDSM and Money – more articles


If love is chaste, if pity comes from heaven

shutterstock_1171551Today is the fifth anniversary of our black pudding day (our commitment ceremony).

If love is chaste, if pity comes from heaven,

If fortune, good or ill, is shared between

Two equal loves, and if one wish can govern

Two hearts, and nothing evil intervene:

If one soul joins two bodies fast for ever

And if, on the same wings, these two can fly,

And if one dart of love can pierce and sever

The vital organs of both equally:

If both love one another with the same

Passion, and if each other’s good is sought

By both, if taste and pleasure and desire

Bind such a faithful love-knot, who can claim

Either with envy, scorn, contempt or ire,

The power to untie so fast a knot?acc2_be22

– Sonnet 32, Translated by Elizabeth Jennings, “The Sonnets of Michelangelo”, 1970, Doubleday & Co., New York

The Night Before The Head Shave.

0004f9ec-a95d-9925-3787-f2bd8beaf1fe_110This was written the night before the head shaving. it’s really interesting to see the contrast between the fears and doubts that existed then vs how positive it felt afterwards. One thing that really springs to mind here is that this one often refers to the loss she fears she will feel: in reality, it felt like this one had gained more than she had lost as she sat in the chair having the final bits of hair removed. Such a paradox but yeah. Enjoy 🙂

“I am writing this the night before the head shave. I am sure that I will go ahead with it. To the very best of my knowledge I believe if I was gonna pull out of it I’d have done so by now so as not to mess with peoples heads, time, energy and possibly emotions.

I hope it goes ok. I am looking forward to seeing him and her but hope that I don’t find myself wishing I’d had a quiet night in because I’m terrified of feeling like a freak show. I’m terrified that people will think “aww she’s nuts anyway, this isn’t a big deal and she’s just doing it for attention” because nothing could be more drastically further from the truth.

I trust he and she to look after me but I stand forwarned that I will be taken out of my comfort zone. I can’t imagine wanting to face anyone once my hair has been taken away because I’m dreading looking like a dick. Sounds grumpy as but I can see just wanting to withdraw kneeling at their feet with my head down.

If it was up to me this would be being done in private but I also want Sir to experience this thing I’m consenting to give him to the height of its potential and as a result I know that he wants it to be public. I want so badly for the people around us to be indifferent or if not indifferent, supportive. This goes to show that I am going to be vulnerable to he and she to look after me. By letting them do this I am saying that I trust them to do right by me in a circumstance where I am giving them a level of submission that makes me publicly vulnerable and exposed. There is a massive load of subtext beyond the head shaving itself in this respect.

I want to do this. It’s something that all parties have held as a curiosity prior to this dynamic even starting. I don’t have a particular fetish for head shaving or being bald but I’ve always been keen to give a level of submission that puts someones needs above my own in a tremendous way because this makes it real and relevant to me and this is probably deep down what I want (I hope!).

Tomorrow I will read over my book that states the public protocols that I am to adhere to. I want to get them right and be on good behaviour. Also selfishly perhaps, I want to focus on these in order to keep my mind focussed and centred.

I am in control here. I could say “sod this entirely” or “maybe another day eh?” but there’s something about this that feels right enough to go ahead with it.

Sir tells me that I will be losing my use of first person personal pronouns once the first hair falls from my head. I’ve tried this in our written dialogue but have yet to do so verbally. I have no idea if I will succeed because my mind is too focussed on the hair thing itself.

This is my last night for a while of feeling my hair against my pillow. Tomorrow will be my last morning of waking up with bed hair and washing it and brushing it. All of this makes it feel really surreal.

I am worried that afterwards I will feel like I’m owed something as in “I’ve given you my hair so now you have to be super extra nice to me always” but I think that’s just me being an embarrassingly clingy nob end and even though put in a mindset of vulnerability and deep submission, I have faith that with my maturity and experience of bdsm over the years it won’t bring out a side of me that I really don’t like.

I’m quite looking forward to my baldness feeling like something I share with them and master only. I plan to always cover my head in public based on how I feel and then remove said wig or hat for their eyes only. I don’t want to feel that my amour or humility is with in front of anyone other than them and that’s what will make it special when I kneel to remove my wig.

I am worried I’ll giggle and mess about as nervous thing and a defence mechanism that mostly serves me well in life. I am worried that I will cry and be undignified and give off an unpleasantly heavy vibe. I’m worried that I’ll have a nice mellow little trip and look like it’s not a big deal to me when it is. Im worried I’ll make it into a big deal when it’s not. Afterall it’s only hair and it does grow back.

But if its only hair that grows back then why don’t more women shave it off. Am I really giving something that special or am I deluding myself and as soon as my head is bald it will be another slave another shaving. I hope the loss I feel is proportionate to the size of what they feel I’m giving (I think I believe it is, I’m just being insecure and with myself I think).

Tomorrow night (assuming it really doed go ahead), has potential to be a combination of hot, exciting, upsetting and worrying. I guess what’s going on in my head right now is a massive massive hope for those factors to balance in a way that works and gives everyone a night to remember rather than regret because either way it’s going to be blummin memorable and it’s going to take a while for the hair to grow back so there’s so so much riding on this really. Maybe there would be less kerfuzzle if this wasn’t set to happen in public but that’s what Sir wants so that’s what I am happy to consent to and I guess that, in a way, sums up a lot of what this dynamic is about.

I so hope this goes ok. I sort of hope in a weird way that they are as nervous as me maybe. Not sure why but yeah.

Oh well you know what they say, “b.ll.x b.ll.x and more b.ll.x”

Touch wood good luck fingers crossed!!!”

The Big Head Shaving Blog

“So how does one write about such a big thing that happened in a way that does it justice? Frankly, this one isn’t sure if it is possible because sometimes it’s a case of never being able to replicate or honour the intensity of something with mere words. But you know those moments that happen in life where you think about what you would give to relive the thing again even just once. Well it’s one of those”.

0004f9ec-a95d-9925-3787-f2bd8beaf1fe_110In the build up to the head shaving this one had been told to set a countdown timer on her phone: on the afternoon of that Friday one was genuinely panicking. Fascinatingly this included some physical symptoms of feeling nauseous and stressed breathing (although please don’t think that this was anything beyond mild compared to a real bad ass panic attack!). At the time this one just rode the wave of those feelings as she believes that BDSM does not always have to be nicely nicely and, within the realms of consent, this is ok.

The afternoon was spent watching TV under a blanket, doing ones makeup, collecting all the necessaries to take with oneself, ramming some couscous down the food hole and then hugging Master as he a gave this one a lift. Whilst waiting to meet he and she, this one was winding herself up something chronic as in “are you really going to do this” to which the answer was “yes because there is absolutely no rational reason that would justify backing out at the last-minute”.


This one didn’t say much when she climbed into he and she’s car. Once the journey to Townhouse had started this one broke the silence by saying something like “I’m pleased to see you both but I’m very nervous”. This one never plays with her hair but found herself doing so as a way of saying goodbye to it and appreciating it before it went. Once he and she had navigated the boring complicated part of the route this one relaxed into talking with them about random things and stuff and although the baseline feeling was an overwhelming barrage of nerves from all of us, it did take the very tip of the point off some of the tension (not much, but yeah). There was even a humour to it as they sang “we are shaving” to the tune of “we are sailing” as we pulled up at the venue (well, it wound this one up at the time but it is funny looking back at it in hindsight).

In the changing room this one got into her boiler suit and fit-for-purpose collar so that a chain could be attached between her and c_b.

Sir asked “are you doing anything at the moment?” which meant that it was right for this one to sit in nadu in the corner of the locker room. It felt whirly and woozy in this one’s head tstill and calm as the changing area bounced with the vibrancy of people turning up in a giggly and chatty way.

Once the chain was attached to this one’s collar there was a brief tour of the area before being taken to the dungeon in the cellar. This one has seen a number of cellars but this one is incredible as in it is a real cellar and very atmospheric. This one knelt in nadu while there was a bustle of preparatory activity going on. He and she stood in front of this one talking to each other. Sir was whispering something in c_b’s ear as she listened attentively. This one was ordered to stand up as c_b began walking her to one of the cells. This one stopped to say to our friends who had come to support us in this process that she is not an exhibitionist and that she’s specially nervous. It was pretty much a semi-apologetic desperate ramble. Maybe this one was procrastinating as she felt a tug on the lead and an instruction to hurry up and follow c_b.


Once in the cell, it turns out that c_b had been instructed to bring this one to orgasm as part of her undressing prior to the head shave. The fact that this one can orgasm through nipple play was thoroughly exploited but it felt caring and reassuring: it felt like this one was a condemned person being given the last bit of care and attention before the rough stuff and the carrying out of a sentence started. Once again another supportive person came to talk to us while in the cell and this one gave yet another rambly type of greeting before being lead to the box where the head shaving was to happen.

“sit on the edge of this box and carefully turn around into it and then gently lower yourself in” they said as some fine tuning was done to make sure that this one’s head was going to be accessible for its purpose. Once this one was sat comfortably in place in the box and she had touched her hair for one last time and said “goodbye hair”, all that remained was for the lid to be put on in order that only one’s head popped out leaving her body trapped in the box. It was at this point that Sir told this one that this was her last chance to withdraw consent and as he went on to say “do you consent” this one replied with the most certain yes that could have possibly been said. That is to say that this one was entirely ready for this and willing to give up her hair for them so when she replied yes it was loud and proud and unafraid which is ironic considering how genuinely worried this one had been in the build up to this moment. Maybe the yes this one gave was so confident and pride-filled because she knew she was ready to do this, especially after giving it a lot of thought and there being one hell of a build-up. Perhaps this was the yes that made this one realise “well it’s happening now so all one can do is take it as best as she can”.

The first cut…

Ironically perhaps, the next thing that this one felt was a hairbrush being gently and caringly run through her hair. It made this one feel a massive flood of emotions: It felt confusing as to how futile it was for the hair to be brushed. This one doesn’t recall actually making a whimpering sound but that’s what it felt like inside. Sir asked c_b to apply a band to a lock of this ones hair in order that a first neat and tidy lock of hair could be taken as a keepsake. It was on the top of this ones head to the front right side. This one can’t remember if she consciously felt and or heard the first snick of the scissors or if it was all too much to take in. The lock of hair was placed in front of this one and thereafter more snips and clumps of hair were built into a pile in front of this one. In terms of the feelings that happened, they are frustratingly hard to describe because there really is nothing like it.

This one was worried that she would giggle through being anxious. She didn’t. This one worried that she would cry. She didn’t.

She was really relieved that she didn’t cry (as in bawling her eyes out) because it wouldn’t have felt dignified seeing that it had been consented to and she wanted to offer this service and its hair and it will grow back. She did get a bit of a watery scrunch on her eyes but that was about it. Most of the entire experience was spent in a state of shock combined with an almost meditative like state. This one felt more dignified and controlled and brave than humiliated or shamed which felt incredible because she was expecting to feel the latter much more than the former – which emerged to be the lovely reality that did occur.

In terms of the physical sensations it felt actually quite massaging and like this one was being groomed in a really caring way. The lock of hair was cut and then chunks were cut and then the buzz clippers started humming along this one’s head and then another buzzy type tool was used to remove as much as possible whilst this ones head was sticking out of the box. There was a moment where this one heard Sir noting that it was hard to get the hair from the back of her head and when she bent her head so he could gain better access it felt amazing to be reminded that this one was being a  good girl. The buzz in the room (the one that had naff all to do with the shaving equipment) was incredible.

“Like it was this big vibe of awesome feelings and support and woah just everything! It was so emotional and this one felt really touched by the fact that she saw the odd watery eye on other people in the room too (yes she did see and no she’s not saying who it was but there were a number of you! Big hugs!)”.

Seriously there was nothing negative or degrading or dark about this at all which is really fascinating because that is what this one was kind of expecting to feel. It felt caring and supportive and downright euphoric! Such a contrast to what this one feared in wanting to be able to give this as part of her submission. This is so hard to write! This one can’t stop smiling and zoning out!

Ah yeah where was we…that’s right…it had got to the point where all the little bits needed to be got at so c_b helped this one out of the box and walked her over to the chair.

By this point this one was shivering and was really appreciative of how caring everyone Shaving-Brushwas. c_b and our kajira friend helped to get those pesky bits behind this one’s ears and this one was told to keep still (this is the point at which this one was overcome with the odd laugh here and there). Everyone was being so careful to get each remaining bit of hair and this sometimes resulted in a cold wet sponge being applied to this one’s head much to her shock at the temperature of the water with every new application as some of it (albeit a small amount) trickled down her back. As everyone agreed that all hair had been removed, the time had come for everyone to do the final bit of tidy up (gigantic thank you to everyone who helped!). There were lots of hugs and smiles and this one was feeling every possible emotion at this point but was probably coming across as fairly hyper.


Hyper moments included swearing when this one couldn’t find which leg to put in which hole of her boiler suit and telling Sir something to the effect of “I’m making an exception here with the swears and it was a pleasure to do that for you”. This one sort of regrets her conduct in this instance but it really was the emotions talking so it’s something that she’ll try and keep an eye on in the future.

Too soon the time came to go upstairs and join in with he rest of the world. This one didn’t feel ready to see herself or touch her head and, when she heard the footsteps of a new person come into the dungeon she ran to get a towel to put on her head for modesty. The person who came down the stairs said something so lovely and inspiring to this one though. He said “trust me, you’ve done something incredible and as one submissive to another I’m very jealous. Now go out there and enjoy it!” These words that pumped this one up to feel less apprehension about being led back up the stairs. Besides, by this point this one was in a state of being willing to do anything that might be asked of her. It was not the time to have a crisis of confidence.

So we get back up the stairs and this one sits in nadu at c_b’s feet while Sir goes to put all the kit back in the locker. Gutted to say that this one struggles to piece some of the beautiful rush of emotions together at this point. It wasn’t long after that that Sir took a seat and c_b and I went to the bar to order drinks (well, c_b did the useful stuff like the drink ordering and the comforting this one and this one nestled her head onto her. That was a lovely moment.). But then the moment got even more lovely. It was a Halloween themed night in August (you rock Townhouse!) and there were little nibbles at the bar and one of these was a little bowl of black pudding. Yes, black pudding! This was the absolute icing on the cake for this one in terms of seeing B and c_b being happy together in that not only had they just shaved their toy’s head but now there was some spontaneous black pudding at the bar and this is something that holds significance for the two of them and it was such a happy bursty squeezy moment to the extent that this ones smile muscles are getting far too much exercise writing about it. Seriously it was well magic!

Face to face

It wasn’t long after that this one said she didn’t even know what it looked like yet and didn’t feel ready to find out. Again, the little steps leading up to the moment are a little sketchy but this one basically finds herself in front of the mirror in the bar area with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. An equal amount of squeezyness is going on with he and she both holding a hand each to either side of this one.

“Can’t do it! Can’t do it!” This one exclaimed but both he and she said that on the count of three this one was to open her eyes to look in the mirror.

Before the countdown had finished (begun?) this one popped her eyes open and within a split second or less of her knees buckled under her and she found herself knelt on the floor from the shock and surprise of it all. Clearly, this one was expecting a bald head to be evident but nothing quite prepares you for the surrealness of it all until you’re actually presented with your reflection for the first time since having a full and thick head of hair. After getting over the initial shock, as people had said during the head shaving, it turns out that this one actually suits being bald. Like it doesn’t look like this god-awful cringey thing and a mistake in any respect. It just looks like a human being who consented to being bald and it looks ok. It looked kind of punky with the dark eye makeup (what was left of it) that this one had applied earlier. This one felt exposed but they didn’t feel awkward or like they had something to hide. It still felt incredibly slave like but it didn’t feel bad at all. There was nothing about the night, the decision to do it or how it looked that felt anything other than fantastic (despite this ones first reservations).



We all sat down and enjoyed talking and having a chill and this one felt incredible as she sat at their feet. Once everyone had had a good chat, chill and drink, Sir, c_b and this one went for a walk/got taken for a walk to find a soft and quiet place to have a bit of mellow time. Twas good. It felt fantastic to be in nadu as they made themselves comfortable on one of the lovely soft beds before inviting this one up to serve them. It is really difficult to work out where all that beautiful time went, but so be it.

We all had a bit more of a chill with our friends and some chocolate (necessary!) and then when this one was sat in the car they started singing “bald girl in the car” to the tune of “brown girl in the ring” (which sounds pretty rude anyway but maybe that’s just this one!). The drive home was as trippy and mellow as you’d expect for the non driving and non map reading passenger (ie this one) and then once they dropped me off we had more hugs and this one reiterated that it was a pleasure to be able to give Sir this experience because it’s something that he had wanted to do for a long time and it felt so fantastic to be able to give that to someone through this one’s own submission because this one is motivated by being pleasing and it felt like such an honour to be able to give that to two people who this one likes and respects a lot. The whole night had definitely moved things forward in our shared dynamic.

Thinking on

So basically this one went from thinking “head shaving is not a hard limit” to “this one would be willing to do that for Sir” and “oh my goodness panic panic this is going to be so humiliating and shaming” to actually having what was, in reality, a beautiful and worthwhile experience. Like one of the most incredible things about the whole night is that there was nothing that was even slightly bad about it and it all felt so calming and justified and right. The equivalent could perhaps be going to the dentist dreading a filling only to be told that you no longer need one and by the way have you checked your lottery numbers today. This one’s struggling to explain again but hopefully if this writing has recorded even an ounce of the joys of that special night then that will be something.

Other things worth noting are that this one didn’t want to collect or donate money for charity from this project because it felt important not to divert away from the reasons for wanting to do this. It was through and through about submission and giving this to B and c_b. This one gives what she can to charity and saw the head shaving, in its context, as something else.

When getting ready to head home, this one applied her wig and although it looks pretty groovy, the baldness “looks more you” as a lot of people said. This one agrees. Perhaps a blog on being a bald woman will be a good thing to follow this up with.

The contrast between the fear and anticipation vs the beautiful reality of what it actually felt like is massively and fascinatingly stark. A blog this one wrote prior to it happening will be posted after this (it was important to share the reality of what happened first in order that people wouldn’t worry unnecessarily).

The moment the first hair fell from this one’s head was the moment that this one had her use of personal pronouns removed. When this one was sat on the chair while the final tricky bits of hair were being removed, there was talk of the fact that this one hasn’t lost anything at all and if anything something had been gained from the removal of her hair. This one fully agrees and then some.

Special thanks to those who shared our special night with us and made it possible and extra special. Townhouse is one seriously good venue.

It was fascinating to ask to touch someone’s hair who has the same colour hair as this one did pre shaving. To feel the contrast was amazing.

Yes this one could probably have done with a thesaurus for writing this blog. There really aren’t enough words and it took longer than usual to write this because words aren’t proportionate to the extent to which the experience was emotional.

Before this head shaving, this one thought that being bald wouldn’t feel good and was fully prepared for and consenting of that. Nothing could be further from the truth.

It feels incredible predominantly because of what it stands for in this context but also because it looks awesome. This one tends to conceal it in public for an easy life (for now at least) but stands by the fact that it does look awesome. It feels fantastic to have it as something that she only allows special people to see (unless instructed otherwise on occasion). Master is enjoying observing the regrowth on a day basis and is pleased and supportive about this.

This one wouldn’t hesitate to have this done again and is looking forward to the next instance in which she is in nadu without any head coverings. It feels massively good and right.

Also see:

Losing the personal pronoun

aveburysarsenTNBoth of the people I have a dynamic with (my partner, curvy_bottom and our toy) have consented not to use their personal pronouns within our dynamic.

This means in interactions with me, each other and with anyone in a public D/s context.

It does not mean altering their language at work, out and about, or with friends (even kinky friends) in a non D/s context.

Posting on BDSM websites is, as far as I’m concerned, a proper context for this discipline.

My partner has done this since 2008 (with many lapses 🙂 ). Why? This is how I put it at the time:

“Despite my protestations otherwise you are not a bear of little brain. And I see no reason why I should not engage that enormous organ in the service of our dynamic.

Set aside for a moment your humanity, empathy, imagination, tenderness, thoughtfulness and all the other qualities that make me love you and ask why I should not challenge your intelligence?

Of course I should. And this does – doing without ‘I’ and ‘me’ is tricky I admit, but I can’t go much further, can I, in focussing you on me, even in my absence, than by asking you to moderate your language.

Now tell me that you won’t enjoy the challenge.”

I don’t (and won’t) punish either for failing in this. I do (and will) punish them for failing to try. There are exceptions too. Deep, important (or passionate ) conversations are difficult if you are parsing you language into an unnatural form – so it gets suspended then.

Over the years c_b and I have found this challenging discipline really useful. It’s much less about language and much more about creating a focus in conversation that we both find helpful.

Sometimes the language feels natural, but we both know it masks something. She doesn’t say “I’m gasping for a cuppa” – she does say “would you like tea?”. In fact, this is one of its biggest impacts – it converts statements and demands to questions and requests. This suits us.

Sometimes it becomes more inclusive. People in couples/families often say “We think”. She may do it more often (as long as she knows it’s true that it is a shared view).

It creates endearments that, to us, seem special: “I Love you” isn’t said. “You are loved” is. Often.

Sometimes, it’s just damned awkward. Whilst frustrating this is usually just amusing.

This is very new to the toy, of course. And potentially difficult for her. She doesn’t think much before she speaks (she doesn’t usually need to – what she says is what she feels and believes) and changing the structure of what she says is frustrating for her. I’m hoping practice will help.

The aim of this with the toy is not the same. In this case, losing the personal pronoun is much more about helping with her deep desire to have a part of her life that is dedicated to being an object cherished for its usefulness, well maintained at all times (which means having prime regard for her welfare) and used to further my dynamic with my partner (which can only happen because the toy gets profound satisfaction from service as a discrete part of all of her life). In this case, losing the pp is all about making her feel different and changed.