Reawakening

For several days, I roamed the virtual world, visiting BDSM clubs, in search of intense, extreme experiences to rouse me from the ennui that gripped my soul. At first, in my numbed state, it felt less like an adventure and more like research. Before I could have those experiences, I had to attract a dominant’s attention, and it wasn’t entirely the same as “vanilla” cruising. I made notes about how to get noticed, and learned the expectations of the dominants I met, so that I could be prepared to fulfill them. I outfitted my submissive’s tool kit: collars, handcuffs, gags, silks, latex, leather and sexy outfits; anything a prospective dominant might desire. I went to classes about D/s and joined several groups, mainly to listen and learn. Soon I knew which clubs to frequent, what to wear, where to stand, how to get noticed. I re-wrote my profile to present myself in the most appealing way. I became adept at attracting the attention of dominants, and had many interesting and strange encounters.

For three days, I became the property of an older, established Dom whose elaborate rules, rituals and protocols taxed my patience.  After that didn’t work out, I was captured by a 19 year old Turk who, apparently, was letting his 13 year old brother watch the computer monitor over his shoulder; I ended that one quickly. Then I met a European fellow who was only in SL to make initial contact and really only wanted to talk on Skype. Next was a man who wanted me as a house-slave to assist with his business, followed by a couple who wanted to share me; it took me less than an hour to decide against each. A brand new dominant was a lovely friend, but didn’t have enough experience to meet my needs, nor I his. There was an intriguing man with ice-white eyes who was into fantasy role-playing; unfortunately, that meant long, painstakingly composed descriptions of his every action and thought that were exquisitely crafted but took ages for him to produce. He brought me to his house for sex, but after two hours, he’d only managed to write us through a single kiss. After he spent another 45 minutes writing a description of removing his shirt, any arousal I might have felt had totally evaporated, and I’d nearly dozed off waiting for his next lines. Knowing there was no way to build a relationship there, I excused myself.

It was rather common to find dominants projecting a certain image that ultimately bore little resemblance to their actual personality. Everyone seemed to be a stereotypical Goth in black leather, heavy boots and spiked wristbands, with a scary name and dangerous-sounding profile. One such dominant turned out to be a cream puff who mostly liked tickling. Another severe-looking hyper-masculine Goth collared me for a couple of days, until I discovered that he was actually female. One exceptionally dark and dangerous dominant gave me chills… until he opened his mouth and started talking, bursting the bubble with a notable lack of sophistication, intelligence and ability to spell.

With each encounter, satisfying or not, I learned more about myself and what I wanted and needed (and what I didn’t want or need). Thus I was alert when, three weeks into my search, I met a young man who expressed an intense desire to possess and control me. As we explored one another, sharing our hopes and failures, to my surprise I felt life stirring in my empty heart. There was no sex between us; just possession, and complete control. His intensity reawakened my passion and tuned it to a fever pitch. I gladly surrendered myself to his control for one glorious week, before the differences in our needs became painfully apparent. He was “just passing through” to make initial contacts, uninterested in Second Life for its own sake, preferring only phone and webcam contact. His disinterest in the possibilities of the virtual world disappointed me, and ultimately his insistence on real world involvement caused our relationship to unravel. But inspite of that, he gave me a great gift. He breathed new life into my feelings, and helped me remember how it felt to be consumed with desire.

Next: Control, Intensity, Trust »

On the edge of tomorrow

I am standing on the edge of tomorrow. All the yesterdays that led me to this moment of “now” are behind me. Before going forward, I pause for a moment of self-examination. What am I feeling?

Empty.

I have felt much emptiness recently. But this is different, somehow. Until now, I have been feeling an emptiness that is lifeless. Now I begin to feel something else: a kind of dry, windswept empty. I have been empty because of the absence of the one I loved. Empty because I am missing the passion I used to have in my life; I long to feel something, anything. But that kind of empty is about the past, about what I have lost. The past is behind me. Now I am standing on the edge of tomorrow. I am looking forward. I look at the emptiness in another way: maybe empty doesn’t have to be about loss. Empty can be good. Empty can be clean. Empty can mean there is room, now, for something new.

I surprise myself that I am starting again, trying again. Yet here I am, standing on the edge of tomorrow.

I wrote the above words in my journal as I began a new chapter in my Second Life. I remember that I felt nothing, neither hope nor fear. If anything, I felt inert—seeing the future, but unable to move forward toward it. Needing to break out of my inertia, I wrote the words dispassionately, then closed the book and just started walking. I had to move. To put one foot in front of the other and simply move forward, without feeling. Just move. Thus I entered the world of BDSM in Second Life.

Next: Reawakening »

BDSM in Second Life

Before I move on, I think I should say a few words about the phenomenon of BDSM in Second Life, for the sake of readers who are not already residents.

In fact, I will start at the very beginning. “BDSM” stands for “bondage, domination, sadism, masochism.” The acronym is shorthand for consensual erotic practices in which one partner controls the other for their mutual enjoyment. The power exchange of domination, in which a Dominant (Master or Mistress) controls a submissive partner, and bondage, in which the submissive is restrained by use of straps, ropes, cuffs, confinement or other means, are typical practices. S&M, a practice involving extreme sensory intensity, is included in the acronym, but is less common. Domination, the “D” portion of BDSM, is sometimes referred to separately with the expression “D/s” which stands for the pairing of domination and submission.

In real life, the practice of BDSM tends to be hidden, protected in secretive societies, whispered about in private. But in Second Life, BDSM is a wildly popular mainstream activity. I suspect that nearly everyone who has sex in SL has at least tried bondage. Bondage items are plentiful and easy to obtain. BDSM animations are included in many of the most popular sexual items.

One apparent reason for this phenomenon is the fact that virtual BDSM presents few of the risks that one might face in corresponding real life situations. Emotions can run high, of course, but as long as it all stays online, there is no possibility of physical harm… even from the most intense bondage scenarios. One can be cuffed, chained, tied in extreme positions, whipped, erotically choked, suspended, or locked away in a cage, all without danger. If it makes you uncomfortable, just log off, or turn off your computer.

Apparently a lot of people don’t find it uncomfortable–just the opposite. Without the risk of danger, one’s imagination free to engage the wildest sexual fantasies, a surprising number of people indulge in BDSM. The popularity of BDSM on SL is clear from the high traffic statistics at locations that provide opportunities to engage in it.

For most people who try it, RL and SL, bondage and D/s are simply occasional selections on an otherwise vanilla menu of sexual activities. Some, however, embrace BDSM and D/s relationships as an identity, a fulltime lifestyle choice. This choice can take a wide variety of forms. A Dominant may form a household with one or more submissives. Some may not establish formal relationships, but may engage in BDSM sessions or scenes. Some like to be restrained, but are not necessarily submissive; some get a thrill from dominating or submitting, and may not engage in bondage or even sex. Some enjoy the most extreme and restrictive forms of bondage, possession or even torture, while others have strict limits and will only go just so far and for just so long.

With such diversity, it is not easy to paint a picture of BDSM in Second Life. The only threads that tie all these practices together are the enjoyment of power exchange for mutual pleasure; and the freedom to indulge that fantasy without fear of physical harm.

My story is one of those threads. It’s a long and wandering thread, because it took a long time to find what I was looking for.

Next: On the edge of tomorrow »

Into darkness

But I’m getting a little ahead of the story.

Those were dismal days, after Jonah was gone. I seemed to plunge into a darkness that muted my heart, my thoughts, my desire, my outlook. It was not a darkness of anger or anguish. It was nothing so dramatic. No, I didn’t feel pain, or rage, or resentment. I didn’t feel anything at all.

My relationship with Jonah had been a dizzying series of highs and lows. In the words of the poem: when it was good, it was very, very good; when it was bad, it was horrid. At any given moment, I would be soaring the heights of bliss, or else my heart was ripped open. There was never anything in between. My friends were perplexed when I would sob, heartbroken, after the latest fight, or worry during one of his unexplained absences. Loyal to me as they were, their concern was reasonable. Why on earth do you stay with him? they would ask. Look what he does to you. Granted, the bad times were extraordinarily painful. But what can I say? I was in love with him, and that kind of love transcends the immediacy of highs and lows. For me, the good times were so good, that it was totally worth hanging in there through the bad times. I knew those bad times would happen. But I also knew that they would end. No matter how horrible the fight was, I knew he would be back, and that if I could let go of the hurt and anger, and allow myself to embrace the pleasure, the bliss might be even more exquisite than anything I had yet experienced. Hanging on was worth it, because the lows were predictable, while the highs kept on getting higher.

Until the day when they stopped, for good.

The soaring and plunging between highs and lows with Jonah had been exhausting. But even the anguish of the lowest low was not nearly as bad as the deadness that had taken over me now. I felt no relief. I felt no pleasure. I felt no longing. I felt no pain. I felt nothing. I continued to move through life, putting one foot in front of the other, but it was like eating food without being able to taste it. The world had no color. I could not take pleasure in anything. It was the worst.

I remembered that there had been a time before Jonah, a time when Second Life was shiny and new and interesting. Hoping that I could get interested in something, anything, I explored SL, wandering, searching. I shopped, but without enthusiasm. I went sailing, but it was boring alone. I tried to build, but with no one to build for, every prim just reminded me of my loss. I even made a half hearted attempt to date a little, but compared to Jonah, every man I met was a disappointment.

It was unbearable. I became desperate to break free of the deadness, the ennui. I just wanted to feel something. To feel some evidence that I was still alive.

My mind wandered back over my two and a half years in Second Life, trying to remember whether I’d ever done anything else that could potentially shake me out of this state… anything intense enough… even a little risky. I started wandering in the back alleys, the red light districts, the post-apocalyptic ruins, the darkest corners of SL. I threw caution aside and sought out sexual encounters that were anonymous, primal, a little dangerous. The danger caused something to stir inside. I went after it with a hunger for more.

As I searched for experiences intense enough to rouse me from my ennui, I recalled a moment from my distant past, before I met Jonah. In the first flush of realizing that in SL, as long as I stayed anonymous, I could try anything without threat of physical harm, I’d visited a seedy meeting place and challenged myself to flirt with the most dangerous looking man I could find. He was pretty scary, too; he was tall and powerfully built, with an air of dark power around him, dressed in black leather with metal trim. I may have been brazen, but I was still naive; he told me he was a Master, and I responded, a Master of what? He laughed. At that time, I honestly knew almost nothing about BDSM, and certainly nothing about D/s, dominance and submission.

He corrected that quickly. Here, put this on, he said, handing me a collar. I hesitated, a thousand questions spinning in my head. Should I do it? What am I getting into? My heart was racing. The fear of the unknown. The thrill of danger. I took a deep breath. What’s the worst that could happen? I thought to myself. In a rush of boldness, I complied, and put on the collar.

I waited nervously as he typed some information and adjusted the collar. Suddenly, I was kneeling. I struggled in confusion. Why was I kneeling? I didn’t recall wanting to kneel, or touching my keyboard in any way. But there I was, on my knees, hands behind my back. I looked up at the Master. His dark eyes were fastened on me with an intensity that made me shiver. From now on, he said, you will greet me this way.

Then I heard a snap, and the chink of metal; I saw that a chain had been attached to the collar. He held the other end. Come, he said, and turned and walked away, obviously expecting me to follow.

Um, I don’t think so, I thought to myself. I don’t know where this is going, and it sounds like a good time to stop. But to my shock, I could not stop. I seemed not to be in control of my movements. Not of my own volition, I followed, jerking along at the end of the leash. It wasn’t up to me. Every nerve was firing as I grasped that by putting on that collar, I had given control of myself to someone else.

Now, two and a half years later, my memory of the intensity of that brief encounter created a spark of interest in my otherwise dead heart. Those few days I spent with that Master had opened a new world to me. I only had a glimpse of it at the time, but something about it resonated very deeply. I know that the prospect of not being in control scares some people half to death. Others place great value on their freedom and independence and are not interested in losing it. Until I met that Master, I thought I was one of those people. After all, in RL, I am usually the one in charge; the manager, the leader, the chairperson. But not because I want to be. I do it because it is expected. Being in control energizes some people. Not me; being in control depletes me.

Gradually, subtly, that Master taught me to see something in myself, something that goes against the grain of popular culture. That first experience was a surprise; he took control without asking. If he had not, I would never have understood. Once I tasted it, though, I wanted more. I gave up control to him willingly. Each time I did, I had no idea what would come of it. But the excitement was intoxicating.

I came to realize that I feel this thrill because I am, by nature, submissive. It wasn’t a choice. It’s just a part of my personality that I was born with. I had managed to ignore it for my entire life, to that point, believing myself to be a natural leader.

My first encounter with D/s lasted only a few days. I met Jonah not long after. Was his naturally dominant personality part of his allure? He did not practice BDSM in any formal way, but because he was dominant by nature, and I was submissive by nature, our relationship had that dynamic. I ceded control to him in everything. He made all the choices, deciding what we would do and when. He always operated the menus, selected and placed the pose balls; he even designed my avatar, choosing my clothes, skin, shape and hair. Being in control of me was deeply satisfying for him. For him to be in control was deeply satisfying for me. 

Now, in my dismal numbness, I remembered those butterflies in my stomach, the sensation of simply letting go, letting someone else be in charge of me, accepting the danger. Would BDSM provide the intensity I needed? I decided to find out. When I felt the thrill in the pit of my stomach as I faced the unknown, I began to suspect I was on the right track.

Next: BDSM in Second Life »

Revealing my secret

I am a very private person. I am also quiet. I listen a lot more than I talk, and rarely talk about myself. So those around me don’t know much about me. I know they are curious. They sense that my eventful past holds secrets… and my present does as well. Usually I like to keep it that way. But sometimes, there is a good reason for revealing secrets.

I have said that a relationship is a space between two people. That space could consist of a few wispy strands of fluff, or glow hot with passion, or run deep and strong like a river. Relationships are diverse in character. This blog allows me to create new relationships; as I reveal my secrets to readers like you, the space between us comes alive.

In my opening posts I told the story of my first SL relationship. Now I will begin to tell another story, of a time when I was lost, and searching. If you are lost too, you might resonate with that. There is another love story waiting at the end of that journey, and I will tell that secret too.

I hope you will join me for the journey.

Camryn Darkstone

Wake Up!

What are you longing for? Where do you long to be? 

I went to see Paradise Lost: Shadows and Wings, the epic opera electronica by noted composer Eric Whitacre. This amazing piece of musical theater weaves together techno music, anime, manga, martial arts and Asian drumming with awesomely beautiful music. As a purely sensory experience, it soars. And for the past two days, I found that the memorable music stayed with me, haunting me, nagging me to remember the story it told.

In the story, lost angels are trying to get back to Paradise. They have been marooned for 17 years, since they were children. Two friends, a young man and woman, sing, 

“All they ever think about
is being any other place than this…
They remember being home,
but they’ve forgotten what it’s like
to feel a paradise of bliss.”

In the end, they don’t make it. But just on the verge of death, they suddenly see what has been right in front of them all along. Realizing their love for each other, they finally embrace and sing,

“If there be a paradise of bliss,
it is this… it is this.”

This could have been my story. I am going through some difficult things in my RL right now. No paradise of bliss, to be sure. There are times when I can’t even remember what it was like not to be weighted down with stress, worry and pain. I find myself wishing, longing for peace. Someday, I think to myself. Someday I will find that happiness I yearn for. It seems so elusive. It is out there somewhere. Like the lost angels in the story, I can’t seem to find my way home.

The song. The song was just so beautiful. It kept spinning in my head. Trying to get my attention.

It was some time this morning when I finally woke up to the message of the song. In the cool of the early morning, the sun streamed through the trees, creating a golden glow in the humid air. Everything around me was green, and so beautiful, bathed in golden light. As I thought of how much I have to be grateful for, even in the midst of trouble, and of the One who loves me, I realized that the bliss I long for is not “out there” somewhere. It is here. Now. Right in front of me. I don’t have to go searching. I just have to open my eyes.

If there be a paradise of bliss… it is this.

Don’t cry

With Jonah gone, the color seemed to drain out of the world. Without him, I had trouble finding pleasure in anything. Through force of habit, I continued to log on to Second Life, but shopping, building, meeting people and exploring just seemed less interesting. I moped for days without relief, until one day, I happened across words by, of all people, Dr. Seuss:

Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.

It might sound harsh to say this, but uninterrupted bliss is simply not the way of human existence. Normal lives are a continuum of routine, boredom, stress and frayed relationships, punctuated by injury and illness, failure and disappointment. That is just how things are. What makes it bearable? When the tedium is suddenly interrupted by brilliant flashes of joy. Stolen moments of happiness. The first flush of love. Surprising beauty. A realization of contentment.

Any of us are really, really lucky to experience any of these things, even for a moment. The secret of survival is to be on the lookout for them, and when they do happen, allow yourself to be in that moment, fully appreciating and enjoying it. Really taste the chocolate. Smile when your cat purrs in your lap. Feel the warmth of the sun on your skin. Notice your lover’s tenderness. Delight in his little quirks. Be fascinated by the creativity of an artist. Be grateful for laughter. Let yourself be in awe of beauty, when you find it.

I hope this doesn’t sound like a platitude, because the truth is that living into these fleeting moments of grace has a transformative power. Practice it, and one day in the midst of heartbreak you will be able to notice healing, and be grateful for it, which will, in turn, heal you further.

When Jonah was gone, I cried for days. At first, I could not bear to think of any of the things I loved about him… his tenderness, his creativity, his passion, his quirky wit, his handsome charm… without being grief-stricken by their loss. But slowly, I began to understand that I grieved so much because I loved so much. The depth of my grief honored the depth of my love. I allowed myself to honor that love, and feel the enormity of its loss… but also to feel deeply grateful that I had been lucky enough to experience it. If I had not been so lucky to love and be loved by someone like Jonah, I would have no reason to grieve. And I would be so much poorer for it. How incredibly fortunate I was to have known this man! In the continuum of routine that is life, how extraordinary it was that we shared two and a half years together! And to think that he loved me… that I was able to experience such a remarkable love. Not everyone gets to have that… but I did. How lucky is that?

Little by little, I began to smile because it happened.

Next: Into darkness »