Definitions

Writing any kind of definitions list / glossary of terms used for a blog like this is all kinds of difficult. I know what all the words and ancronyms mean so it's weird trying to write an overview of those things for people who don't. So we'll start a list here and link back fairly regularly. We'll update it when we think of a new term that needs to be defined.


For both of us, perhaps the most entertaining and attractive thing about kink is no one is really a universal expert. The nature of fetish and indeed, of the depth of depravity human mind is capable of, is such that no one ever really has a true scope on "all that is kinky". Just when you think you have a handle on things, and know it all, someone will do something that sends your mind into a tailspin and makes you step back from it all for a moment of introspection, often making you re-evaluate you entire ethical code.

Some of the more widely recognized kinks can be divided into a few basic categories to include things like;

Bondage- On one end of the scale, couples that tie each other up with silk scarves. Few people will go through their college years without experimenting a little with things such as this. But bondage can also get more serious, and range from purpose-built and customer made leather cuffs for wrists, ankles, biceps and thighs, through to hog-ties, full body mummification for sensory deprivation purposes, not to mention various Asian decorative rope bondage techniques such as Kinbaku (aka Shibari) and Hojojutsu(A martial art deploying rope bondage requiring no "true" knots) Eventually we'll add some links here. Two Knotty Boys post a bunch of instructional videos online that are fantastic watching if you're interested in the topic.


Role Play Scenarios (Not to be confused with pimple-faced computer geeks in their mom's basement playing Dungeons and Dragons)- From titillating games of schoolteacher/naughty student, sexy maid and stern policeman/woman that are quite commonplace, to animal play like puppies or ponies, age play, Dr/Patient, through to heavier scenes that require pre planning and sometimes multiple people to achieve such as interrogation, kidnapping and rape play scenarios. And this is only touching on some of the more commonplace- role-play is truly limited only by imagination of the participants. One of the best public role play scenes I've ever heard of, was a woman who picked half the stitches out of the seams of a set of clothing - very deliberately picked to look wholesome and girl next doorish, in the fetish club - the guys involved in the scene used the weakened seams to rip the clothes from her and have them disintegrate for a really great faux 'attack' scene that was very sexy.


Sensual/Sensation Play- from feathers and tickling on the lighter end of things to nipple clamps, scratching and biting, ice, suction cupping, sensory deprivation and candle wax- sensation play is play that focuses on how things feel- both good and bad. The idea here is to release the feel-good endorphins without resorting to actual beatings.

Percussion/Impact Play- from spanking on through to the use of tools such as floggers, whips, paddles, crops and canes, percussion play is in it's most basic sense, the act of purely beating someone. Notably separated from martial arts by sexual intent. Although some people’s practice of martial arts probably qualifies.

Power exchange- The act of Dominance and submission- the willing exchange of power, freely given by one partner, who agrees to let the other have control- be that for a single scene with tightly controlled circumstances and limitations, right through to more formalized "contracts" that could extend right through to other aspects of their relationship, for the duration of the relationship.

Electro-play- Electrical toys such as T.E.N.S units, violet wands, shock collars, cattle prods and so forth.


Blood sport- Piercing, cuttings, and so on. Things that are knowingly performed with the intention to draw blood. Some people play with or share the blood, especially vampire fetishists.

Edge play- Riskier activities such as blood sports, asphyxiation, and play with mental triggers and phobias- things that carry a greater risk to the participants. Also sometimes used to discuss forms of blood play performed with edged implements. Blood sports are usually considered edge play by the former definition anyway. We'll expand on this topic as we get some inspiration.

Fluids- Watersports, scat and roman showers, body waste products are considered taboo by most- which makes them more appealing for a select few. Brown and golden showers are kind of self evident as to what they are. A roman shower is vomiting on or being vomited on for sexual gratification. Even we file a lot of these things under 'people are weird'

Dude, you're FUCKED UP - pt 2

I went through girlfriends, none of them lasted - but lots of them learned things and all of them taught me things. I suppose it says something abut me that losing my virginity is barely even an event in my head. It was with a girl on a park bench who had her hands tied behind her back with my belt. But I'd been through so much experimentation that it hardly stands out in my memory, despite the fact that it should. When I was 17 I went to my first public fetish event - a 'munch' - a social gathering of perverts in a public, non fetish location; at a coffee shop in the local entertainment district, a coffee shop I'd frequented with my friends from high school, although a few hours later then the usual high school gatherings.

I'd intended to go with a woman I'd met online, she was older then me and we'd fucked a few times. But she cancelled at the last minute and I went alone. There were other people who I'd talked to online at the munch who I made friends with fairly quickly and got along with well. When the social event was wrapping up - the crowd started moving towards a club that was on near by. A public venue held in the downstairs bar of a near-by club. I caught a ride with an older couple, a psychology professor and his partner. They hade to move the jelly sex toys from their back seat before I could get in.

I walked straight into the venue without being ID checked, but didn't have the nerve to buy alcohol from the bar, even though I'd drunk at bars before with my friends. I was too nervous about the consequences of getting caught out really. The couple I'd caught a ride with were doing a demo of an unusual toy. A Violet Wand - at the time they were rare in Australia. I'm not a bottom - I don't like people using toys on me, and I never have. But I was in love with the violet wand from that moment. It's a fetish that's lasted more then a decade now. I played with it for the better part of an hour before going to watch the other shows.

I only remember the rest of the night in flashes. An unsuccessful attempt to hit on a woman a decade my senior. A dominant woman enjoying my awkwardness as I turned down her offer of a beating and her amusement at my awkward offer of the same for her. Watching a stage show of wax and impact play, as a short Hispanic man in a trench coat next to me growled under his breath 'Yeah, Yeah, Hurt her, Hurt her' and trying to edge away from his creepy sketchiness. Watching a couple after playing retreat to the darkness in the corner of one of the side rooms for one of the most intense blowjobs i'd ever seen. In retrospect, what I was seeing was my first real external view of subspace and topspace meshing sexually. I'd glimpsed that sort of thing as a participant. But never as a voyeur, and never on the level that they were connected. Seeing that shared high, being part of that shared high is an addiction that I've never been able to kick.

There are a lot more stories that go into why I'm so fucked up. But fundamentally - that night set my path in stone. I was hooked. And while there was fall out from being underage at an event and more fall out from being an idiot teenager in a grownup culture. I never lost the jones for fetish nights after that first addictive taste.

Dude. You're FUCKED UP.

This whole beginnings thing is really fucking me up. Figuring out what to write about and what Nikki is going to write about is hard. Figuring out how to go about telling stories about my friends on a blog for entertainment is insanely brain twisting and figuring out what parts of my life are worth writing about and what parts of my life are just emo crap is confusing the shit out of me. I wouldn't even try this if there wasn't someone (good looking, talented, patient, insightful) else to bounce ideas off and get editorial feedback from.

I'm an odd duck, and lots of things don't make sense without explaining some of that oddness, so vanity seems like the answer for what to write about next to bring you up to speed. I'm an odd duck. I was a child prodigy. Growing up I aced everything. I had reading and comprehension scores off the charts - I was topping out at maximum for post graduate college students when I was 8. I was always good at Maths and had a natural affinity for computers from the time I first learned to read. But I have no artistic talent at all. I can't play an instrument to save myself. I can't read sheet music. I can barely handwrite even. I'm ambidextrous with some things and I can juggle and do all sorts of things that are hard for everyone else - but I suck at throwing a ball or catching like a normal person. I had a speech impediment as a kid that made me seem that little bit more odd and I grew up untill I started school in a community where I was the only european kid.

Even though i had a bunch of aboriginal play mates - none of them lived close. In the bush - everything spreads out. My parents were caretakers for a camping ground that was owned by a drug dealer before they took it over. So big dogs and guns were around from as early as I can remember. All the isolation of farms - but none of the live stock. I remember my mum loading the gun while she was on the phone to the cops, and firing a warning shot to convince the police that they should get off their asses and clear the car full of strangers, looking for a drug dealer out of our yard.

I remember our German Shepard dragging me away from a billabong full of crocadiles by the diaper.

I've seen photos of myself in a backpack, with the sleeping bag and the saucepans, on my mothers back as she abseiled down a waterfall face, leading a tour.

When I was old enough to start noticing things about our family and other peoples families, I first noticed that I was an only child - which was rare where we lived. Then I noticed that my mum was about 12 years older then my dad, which was way weird where we lived.

My dad was a heavy drinker, but not a mean drunk - just the life of the party. I have pictures of my dad stuffing me down the barrel of a bronzed naval cannon and that sort of gag was very typical of my dad. We used to go out on the weekend to the beach with dad's mates - we'd fill the back of a pickup with beers and then top the load with a half tonne of ice from the ice factory, then buy morton bay bugs (like lobster, expensive and trendy now, but they used to be waste catch that was just thrown away) - by the 44 gallon drum and then split the drums, fill them with salt water and barbeque them on the beach while the adults drank beers and the kids played in the sand.

Untill I was about 6 - my social interactions were primarily with adults. Thomas was my best friend, an aboriginal kid from around the corner who didn't talk. His parents were always drunk or huffing petrol. Thomas came to our house to play, which as an adult I recognise is probably another way of saying to avoid being beaten or raped. Aboriginal kids have it rough up north.

But my dad worked for a youth support service, and we always had a house full of kids in their late teens and early 20's who dad was counselling or helping through random stuff. So my real friends were at least 12 or 13 years older then me and really just tolerating me because I was cute (it faded). I remember playing transformers and watching simba the white lion with hung over bush teenagers who'd been drinking at our house the night before. My real friends were troubled, alcoholic young adults who I think needed me to be their friend more then the other way around.

Through all of my young life there was a pattern of kids who needed me more then I needed them. My friends were all fucked up. ADD kids, kids who'd stabbed people. Kids who were named after candy bars and were violent about being teased. I don't think any of my early childhood friends finished highschool. A few of them got equivalencies in their early 20's - they were the odd ones. One friend got onto the Australian under 17's soccer team and got a contract in the UK - the rest of them are now either labourers, addicts, petty criminals or in the armed forces as far as I know.

I'm digressing I know. But I'm trying to establish that I'm socially not normal. I probably have some condition on the Autism spectrum. We think Aspergers (heh, Ass Burgers) but it's not a confirmed diagnosis. I also have Dysgraphia which affects my handwriting and drawing as well as fucking with my social behaviours a little. Whatever it is that makes me weird, it makes me noticably weird. I know more then any normal human about a few isolated topics - computers and kinky sex being the primary ones. A few obscure genre's of fiction following closely.

Some of my clearest memories are things like the smell of a leather handbag my mother owned. A scene in a movie where the male lead orders the female lead to strip naked and swim. Playing doctor with a girl I knew and having to hold her down for a proceedure. Games where one person was in control and everyone else was an Animal who had to do what the person in control said.

My dad fell into the IT industry through a job fluke (from nurse to ambulance driver to cab driver to piano salesman to youth councillor to demolitions instructor to IT guy, perfectly natural progression right?) and as a result we had computers around the house from the early 80's onwards. Being a child prodigy - I knew almost as much about computers as he did by the time I was 8. We had modems and access to Fidonets and BBS systems - the antique precursor to the internet. I knew more about sex by the time I hit highschool then the average 40 year old hooker. I was interested in fetishes early.

I took martial arts for several years, Judo and later Jujitsu. In Jujitsu I made a lot of older friends. 16 and 17 year old friends when I was 14. I was big for my age. I always looked older then I was. All my older friends as a kid and my social weirdness made me pass for older then I was. I got invited to a party and lied to my parents that I was sleeping over at a friends. It was my first teen party. My first party with more girls then parents. My first party with alcohol. I had no idea about the many powers of alcohol when mixed with teenager hormones. I nursed a beer the entire night and had half of it left when well into the night, sitting and laughing with a group of 20 or so kids, a very drunk girl who'd been drinking straight from the bottle of vodka slurred out 'Who wants a blowie?' - half a beer had my courage up and I thought it was just a joke anyway, so I volunteered. She crawled across to me, pulled me out of my pants and gave me my first orgasm in front of 20 cheering, drunken teens.

The word got around to some kids my own age and grew teeth, ears and extra legs. The fact that I'd been answering questions about sex for years anyway thanks to my hard earned knowledge of pornography added to the legend and I was rapidly elevated into a sex god in my own lifetime. It's a remarkable quirk of fate when an Aspie kid gets laid before he can afford to go to bars. When an Aspie kid gets my highschool sex life it's a goddamn miracle. I had a series of girlriends, none of them ever lasted long but almost all of them were experimental. Hands tied to the bed. Spankings. Hair pulling and control games. When I was not quite 16, still not legal, I lied about my age to some people I met online, lied to my parents about where I was going, took a bus 2 hours west of my house and met a strange older man at the bus stop and rode out to his farm with him. I spent the weekend with him and his 'slaves' - an older woman and a younger woman - in her mid 20's. I beat her with a paddle, ordered her around all night and she statutorily raped me several times later that night.... while tied up.

It's a miracle that I lived through that even really, much less that nobody got charged or caught an STI as a result really.

Nikki's Story

Nikki’s Story

I'm of mixed opinion about writing a bio here at all- not because I don't want to reveal who I am, but rather, because there is this irritating propensity for people to see fetishists as people who are a little warped, psychologically damaged. Beliefs that people turn to kink because of something in their past irritate me- why can't people be kinky merely because they find it fun and exciting?

And now that I have voiced that, let me tell you about warped, psychologically damaging past.

My folks split when I was an infant- I have no memories of my mother, and the only reason I know what she looks like is because I tracked her down in my teens and exchanged mail with her for about a year.

My dad raised me- and in the 70's, a bloke raising a child, let alone a girl, was unusual enough that we both had to defend his ability to do so numerous times. Remember- this was a time before shopping malls has a "family" bathroom. He was also re-discovering his freedom- he was newly single again- and the last time he was single, he and his friends were lamenting the fact that they were too broke to go to Woodstock. Aids was un-heard of. Naturally, he went a little crazy with the man-whore-ishness. I had a succession of "babysitters" that came and went so quickly I don't remember their names or faces. We often lived in one-bedroom apartments, so I saw the various comings and goings from my bed on the couch.

I never developed that mental "ewww" factor many people seem to have regarding their parent's sexuality. I've never grasped who people feel uncomfortable with the idea that their parents might have a sex life. To me, it was a normal thing. And I think that early exposure resulted in my having a fairly open mind about sexuality in general- things were not censored at home, and Dad had a general rule about sex which included the notion that if I asked, he would answer. No topic was taboo. Sex-ed in school was not, therefore, a revealing moment for me. There was no uncomfortable "birds and the bees" talk- anything that would have been covered there had already been revealed to me throughout the years without fanfare- or embarrassment.

I did not know it then, but the concept of S&M was introduced to me very early too, by mere accident. I stumbled one day upon the lady from next-door crying to my father while confiding in him the face that her husband sometimes hit her during sex and liked calling her his whore. I never spoke of this with anyone, but even then, I remember not understanding why she was upset about it. I understood what she was saying, but not why she was crying about it.

When I was 7, Dad moved his latest girlfriend in- she came complete with three kids of her own- all boys- one my age, the others 3 and 6 years older then me. The middle boy and I remain closest mates even now, when we live half a globe apart and see each other about once a decade. The oldest boy immediately began a three year pattern of sexually abusing me. I am left with permanent scar tissue inside the womb from this, which results in me being unable to carry a child- I can get pregnant, but as there is not enough healthy tissue to sustain a foetus, it aborts itself. The abuse halted after three years because I deliberately and with conscious, pre-meditated thought, bit down on his testicle until it ruptured in my mouth. He has since served time for abusing other children, but I never pursued prosecution. He is in occasional contact with my family, but there is effort made to not have us at the same family gatherings. I've encountered him only once in adult life, and at that meeting, I broke his nose. I don' t expect our paths will cross again. Despite the patterns of violence towards him, I'm actually not stunted by the abuse, nor ashamed. I am comfortable discussing it in detail, and spent years counselling kids groups on abuse- I've talked it to death and examined everything- it is part of my past, but rarely interferes with my present.

At 16, I moved in with my then boyfriend, and partially raised his sister's child- she was 3 months when she came to us and 7 years when she moved back with her mother for good. I worked full time as a checkout chick during the day, remained registered in high school and held a weekly meeting with my teachers wherein I would pass in assignments and collect next weeks reading. My boyfriend worked nights in a warehouse, so one of us was always with the kid and we did not have to pay for a sitter. I graduated high school in a class of 120 students, but hardly knew anyone. At 22, I got married. a couple of years later, he was diagnosed as suffering depression- a diagnosis which I think incorrect, and believe him to be manic-depressive. At 29, I had an unexpected miscarriage, which devastated me, but which merely irritated my husband, as it meant I had to take three days off work to lie on my back in recovery. It was during those hazy days of cramping and sleeping that I had a personal epiphany that I was glad I lost it, as having a child then would have meant being tied to him for 20 years. And with that, I realized my marriage was over. His depression was in a serious "down" bout, and so I did not leave.

It was during this period that I discovered my interest in Kink, Bondage and generally odd fetishes. I was working at the time as a writer and copy-editor for a Queer newsmagazine, as well as doing reviews for Sexuality.org. For reviewing purposes, I always abstained from bondage and S&M based material, as I felt undereducated in the area and therefore, felt I could not do such material justice. The newsmagazine sent me on a road trip to Vancouver to cover the North Amercian Conference on Bisexuality, Gender and Sexuality Diversity. The conference was 4 days long, but I stayed in Vancouver for two weeks, during which times I covered workshops such as "Flogging and Fireplay", "BDSM and the Law", "Political BDSM" and "BDSM? Or Abuse?". I watched a large man be suspended from meat hooks embedded into the skin of his back. I also got arrested for public nudity and indecency, and spent a night in jail, wherein a large scary tranny streetwalker stole my mattress and blanket, was released (still naked) in the morning, whereupon I met a lovely non-scary, non-streetwalking tranny, spent the day sightseeing with her and fell in lust. I never saw her again, but the trip changed my outlook on sexuality forever.

About a month after this conference, my husband accepted a job in Norway, and off we went- me biding my time for him to get over this round of depression till I was sure he cold stand on his own, when I would leave. I enrolled in Norwegian language lessons and found work as an editor/translator. About a year after arriving in Norway, after about 8 months of meds and therapy, my husband was functioning fairly well again, and so I moved in with a friend in England, and there myself headlong into the rich and somewhat intoxicating underworld of the weird and kinky. I travelled on a monthly basis back into Norway for work, and to visit my husband and our flatmate, though by this time I had the spare room. I'd sort his meds, chat with his Dr, and make sure he was on track. About 8 months after I left for England, he introduced me to his new girlfriend. His girlfriend was the just- turned 16 year old daughter of a good friend of ours. Since they had been together for a few months, when she was under aged, they had not yet told her mother. Wanting no part- or blame in this rather delicate not to mention morally questionable matter, I filed official separation documents with the Norwegian government that same day, and left Norway for the last time.

By this time, my London flatmate and I were well and truly trying our best to burn ourselves out on pure hedonism. We took Tuesday night off from fetish events to lie comatose on the couch with tv or movies, we ordered groceries online on Wednesday for Thursday home delivery, and took Thursday of work to cook for the upcoming week and do the laundry and cleaning from the past week. Six nights a week saw us hiking all over the city in full fetish regalia of rubber and leather, taking the tube to get to events and late night cabs back home- barring of course, for those nights wherein we landed ourselves a submissive chauffeur who actually showed up on time and would then drive us to and from the event, complete with door to door service and valet parking.

I don't know what makes it so, but it seems to me that Britain has more submissive males then any other country I have seen or experienced. Culturally, I'm not sure what it is they do to their men to make them all bitches, but I'm also not complaining about it. We fended off constant requests, from simple one-lined emails, all the way through to multi-paged formal requests and contracts from submissive men clamouring to come to our home to cook and clean, give foot massages, chauffeur us around the city, do our gardening, and serve as furniture. A dominant woman living in the UK need do nothing for herself if she has only the patience to wade through a mountain of applications and petitions of service.

In the midst of all this clubbing, I had couple of relationships, first as a submissive, then entering into a poly relationship with a married man, his wife and her boyfriend which was both romantic and D/s based, wherein the married man and myself would both switch roles with each other. I also spent several years talking to a guy from Australia, who was planning to save some cash and come to spend a year in London with us. The shortened version of this had the poly relationship exploding in a painfully way due to jealousy on the wife's part, and deceit on the part of myself and her husband.

With remarkably bad timing, it was at this point that my visa renewal to stay in the UK was rejected. Faced with the prospect of returning home to Canada, or going back to Norway- or entering Australia on a backpackers visa to explore things with the Aussie bloke, I found myself a month later on a three day trip through Amsterdam, Bancock and Taipei, landing at last, jetlagged, nervous and giddy in The Land Down Under, where I knew no one other then this arrogant dominant dude I had known online for a couple of years. No job lined up, no plans for what to do in case of a fallout other then a reservation in a cheap hostel should he prove to be a axe-wielding maniac.

A year later I was divorced and re-married to him, and once again heavily involved in the fetish community- which, while less diverse then London, still means events most every weekend. Our non-kink friends are relatively few, and even they know of our interests. Our home is a refugee camp of kinksters of varying ages and backgrounds, and most weekends means stepping over a sea of sleeping bodies who have travelled into the city to attend an event and could not get home as the trains don't run overnight here.

As I write this, our house is backed into boxes, and we are about to move into a two -apartment, 6 bedroom home in order to accommodate our ever-growing kink tribe. I do some work for an international kink website, we run our own local social networking style kink website, and are about to launch a couple of other kink -related business ventures.