Going Beyond the Comfort Zone

There's a book on flogging in my reading bag today, along with the usual assortment of other non-fiction. (I do pity the fool at the coffee shop who innocently asks what I'm reading!)

I don't consider myself good at flogging -- and I don't know that a book is going to help that. I've had a few in-person lessons at flogging, and freaked out in the way I tend to do at any new skill I sort of want to learn but am afraid I'll look bad at -- like dancing, or Pilates. I want to practice it in private until I look a little bit like I know what I'm doing. And, with flogging you really can't.

I like canes. Yes, there is a certain amount of tech to them -- and a fair amount of kinetic learning to use them well without causing damage. But as a rule, they're an easy tool to self-teach. Once I understand the physics of them, the canes will pretty much go where I aim them with little muscle raining required.

Whips and floggers, on the other hand . . . oy. It feels like each of those tails has a mind of its own. I am too close, too far. The tails wrap. And while I am fairly sure I won't do serious damage to anything but my ego if things go wrong, I hate (hate, hate) hurting my bottoms in any but the ways I intend to. And so, this is a skill set I've avoided building.

Of course, the universe pairs me with a girl who's interested in floggers.

That may read like snark. If so, it shouldn't.

The fact is: the places where I have the deepest gaps and insecurities are the places where I need to most grow as a top. Period. Exclamation point. That doesn't mean I need to get good at everything -- I never see myself as having a yen for medical play. But then, I'm not insecure about medical play . . . because I have no interest in it. Flogging? Very much like dancing or Pilates, it holds a strong charge for me -- a taste of the fruit I've forbidden myself.

And of course that's precisely it. Back in the day, my dom didn't have any training in flogging. She didn't have anyone to teach her. She read what she could, practiced on a few pillows, and then had the courage to learn the rest on me. (She also, bless her heart, had no qualms about learning to do our first Shibari experiments with Midori's book open right in front of her like a recipe.)

I explain all this to my girl. Explain that I'm afraid that I may not be very polished at it -- and that my worst fear is that I may wrap the tails and hurt her in a not-pleasant way. Beautiful thing, she assures me this is okay. We can learn together.

And of course that's what the best bottoms do -- motivate us lazy-ass tops to avoid becoming arrogant, asshole doms and instead keep our beginners minds. This is, after all, a co-created process.

And so, the book goes in the bag, and my ego gets put on time out for a while. It's a good thing.