Salon has an interesting and disturbing article about people ignoring the abuse of safewords within the BDSM scene. I’ve heard similar stories before and while it’s depressing, I’m not particularly surprised. Closing ranks and suppressing internal dissent is a common trait in groups that are, or perceive themselves as, persecuted minorities. I don’t play in ‘the scene’ or attend community events, so other than pointing people at the article, I really can’t add anything to that specific discussion. However, it did get me thinking about safewords in general, and my personal experiences with pro-dommes.
The usage of safewords was a shock to me when I first started playing for real. Not that people used them, but the fact that some people didn’t. The BDSM community has done such a good job of promoting the idea of safewords that they’ve entered into mainstream discourse. If you surveyed a random sample of non-kinky people I suspect you’d find that the majority would know about the idea of a safeword, despite never needing one themselves. It’s an idea that appeals on a intellectual level as a clever solution to a problem and on an emotional level as magical secret word. After all the idea of transforming a situation with a nonsensical but powerful word, like Abracadabra or ‘Open Sesame’, crops up again and again in stories. There’s something innately appealing about that concept.
Among the different pro-dommes I’ve played with, I’ve noticed three distinct approaches.
- Pro-dommes that use a safeword.
- Pro-dommes that don’t use a safeword and genuinely don’t need one.
- Pro-dommes that don’t use a safeword and really should.
The first category is the most obvious one and, in my limited sample set, the commonest. You agree a word (red, pineapple, ouch, etc. ), and head off for kinky fun.
The second category is rarer but satisfying when you encounter it. I’ve never had a safeword when playing with Lydia and it has never been an issue. That doesn’t mean I’ve never stopped a scene because of cramping or some other significant problem, but it has always been easy to step away from the action and communicate normally. Lydia is also an expert at reading body language and subtle physical tells. I’m always amazed when we deconstruct a scene after the fact and she describes the little touches and glances she used to figure out where I was at mentally and physically. She’d make a hell of a poker player.
The final category is of course the problematic one. It actually manifests itself in two different ways. The obvious issue is of pushing something too far and putting the submissive in a situation where he’s withdrawn consent but can’t communicate that. The other more subtle problem is of going to the other extreme and constantly checking in with the submissive. It becomes impossible to relax into the moment if every action triggers a “Is that OK?”. Repeatedly being asked to regulate the scene intensity is not conducive to a submissive mindset. It feels like being forced into topping from the bottom.
In a strange way the dommes in this final category remind me of a problem I occasionally face when writing staff appraisals at work. Expressed coarsely it’s that idiots don’t know they’re idiots. Smart competent people have well developed critical analysis skills. Idiots, almost by definition, don’t. A good domme will choose either category 1 or 2 based on an honest self-assessment. A bad domme may confidently assume she’s category 2 when in fact she’s category 3.
As a result of this, despite my numerous good experiences playing without a safeword, I tend to think it’s wise to always insist on one when playing with someone new. If you’ve got domme who can genuinely run a scene without one, then you’ll not need to use it anyway. In time, as you get to know each other, it can be consigned to history. Alternatively, if you’re unlucky enough to find a domme whose critical self-assessment doesn’t align with reality, then you’ll probably end up very grateful you insisted on selecting one. I should also add that none of the pro-dommes I’ve ever named and written about here fall into this unfortunate third category.
If all else fails, and you find yourself needing out of a scene, then “lawsuit” is always a good backup option. Or, more boringly, simply “safeword” itself.
Original image is courtesy of Strict Miss and was captioned by Servitor. I like the caption and the brandished cane. Less keen on her outfit.
Update: Thanks to a comment from Jim I can supply a little additional background. This is a shot from ClubDom and the mistress on the right is Goddess Deanna of Boston.
