CARNAL NATION

He arrived at the appointed time, carrying a pristine blue and black Nike bag, which he handed me with a graceful smile. “This is for you, ma’am,” he said softly. He was tall and blond and even more attractive than the picture he had sent in advance along with a brief but impressive bio. I’d told him to bring a favorite toy or two. He casually opened the bag and pulled out a shiny metal dog food bowl, several packets of special vegetarian dog food, a leash and collar and a red plaid tug toy. I am seldom at a total loss for words, but I couldn’t even muster a yip of panic as every plan I had for our play fled my mind.

Luckily, Rover had a good sense of humor and admitted he might have been a bit too vague in hinting about his desire to be a rambunctious puppy, while reminding me he had said he hoped to cuddle in my lap and was very playful. And, to be totally honest, he had sent me a link to a website about dog training. I put the doggie collar around his neck and even dumped some food in the bowl and watched the luscious, well-muscled specimen get down on his hands and knees (a position I favor in an obedient sub for its easy access) but I had to choke back a gag when he started to wolf down his food like a good dog.

I was still too new as a domme to be comfortable spanking a ’dog’ let alone contemplating any intimate animal invasions. My apartment has a few scatter rugs, but mostly hardwood floors, and leash-walking was tough on his knees. There was no way he could retrieve his ball without severe non-rug burns. The mood just wasn’t there and the session eventually fell apart by mutual agreement and he left. I’d learned an important lesson.

I promised myself I would ask a prospective partner a lot more questions and probe for answers before I decided how to probe his body. If any answers about prospective activities make me uncomfortable, I find out why and encourage him to do the same before he drives two hours expecting to have his doggie tail-dildo wagging and then find himself in the erotic doghouse. There are lots of good lists to use to find out someone’s boundaries without hindering my ability to feel in control of what happens. If someone lists watersports as a real turn-on, for example, I’ll tell them that except for cleansing or punishment enemas, or a sensual session in a hot tub, I’m not their cup of urine-tinged tea. If they aren’t into at least a moderate amount of what I consider erotic pain, they should seek someone else. It still leaves the door open for the development of a very intimate relationship. And it allows me to feel, within those boundaries, that I can completely control the scene.

I’ve never sent someone home like that since then. Well, of course I’ve sent them home, eventually.

I’ve also found that extensive conversations, besides providing a wealth of material with which to work, can greatly enhance an eventual meeting. They don’t have be drawn out over a long period of time, as in stringing someone along, but they do need to be insightful and often can greatly enhance actual play. And when, despite good intentions and communication, a meeting is less than perfect, I smile and glance at the silver dog food bowl I’ve filled with gloves or clamps just to remind myself that if I can’t find the keys to the cuffs, or my half hitches are slipping, or if I just feel knee deep in puppies, to just forge ahead, shake it off and keep on going.

A few months after the events I’ve written about in this column, I attended a gloriously freeing and educational weeklong event called Camp Crucible, which was a wonderful change to interact with hundreds of people from all walks of life and all sorts of BDSM interests. I met dommes who shared their experiences and offered their subs for my caning training. I went there with a sub who gave me the chance to practice all sorts of skills and share intimate moments of pain and pleasure. And I met scores of people who flocked to the organized special Pony Camp, where men and women demonstrated their skills in harness and bridles, tails flailing and hooves flashing during a four-hour show of prancing and maneuvering carts and chariots round a huge ring in an elaborate display of horse-human talent that would have put the Devon Horse Show to shame. Had he been there, it would have given me a great chance to have another conversation with Rover.