As I have already discussed in a previous post, Meghan Murphy had an article published on rabble.ca discussing the case of the RCMP officer currently under a ‘code of conduct’ investigation by the force, sparked by the appearance of photographs on a fetish social web site known as fetlife.com. I was extremely critical of the article, for a number of reasons. Certainly I was not alone, and there were a number of other comments posted on the original article, as well as extensive discussions on Twitter, some about her article and some actually involving her.

Yesterday, a follow-up post appeared on her blog that, in an extraordinarily derisive manner, told us that “it’s not about you,” suggesting that those in the BDSM community that got a little put out by her comments needed to, in her words, “get some perspective.”

Alright, let’s do that, shall we? At least, allow me to offer my perspective. Which actually leads into the first part of the problem… In her latest post, Ms. Murphy is incredibly critical of all of the people who discussed their personal perspectives, preferences and beliefs. She goes on to state the fact that she gets exactly the same response every time she critiques porn, prostitution or the burlesque industry. Now, when the same thing happens over and over again, there is always a possibility that you are contributing to problem, and possibly you might want to consider how and why that occurs.

So let me start with why, in my post, I discussed my experience. Firstly, and fundamentally, it’s the only thing I can speak about that is truth. Reality is a social construction, and the only person we have control of in that exercise is ourselves. There is already a lot of information out there (in the news, on blogs and on Twitter) offering takes on what the investigation of Jim Brown is about, what he is claimed to have done (or not done) and how bad (or good) a person he is supposed to be. I cannot speak to any of that, in that I don’t know him, the details of the investigation have not been published, and I am not responsible for the investigation. Different people have different perspectives on this. The one thing I do know is that there will never be one, single, cohesive objective ‘truth’ about this situation; there will be multiple perspectives, fuelled by multiple agendas, and driven differing views of whether what emerges from the RCMP investigation, the independent review of that investigation, or any newspaper reporting of it, are (or even can be) reasonable representations of the truth.

There is another, much larger issue at play here, however. If you are going to adopt critical theory as a stance (and if you choose to explore power structures and dynamics, as Ms. Murphy claims, that is exactly what you are doing) then one of the first things you must address is your own biases; how do you, as an analyst, narrator or commentator, introduce bias into your interpretation of what you are discussing? My identifying as being kinky, and specifically, being a male who enjoys submitting to a female, was not desperate pleading of, “but I like it,” as Ms. Murphy suggests. It was not about defending my personal interests, or even the larger community. I declare my biases, because they influence my perspective. Certainly there are those that will as a result dismiss that perspective, but that isn’t something that I can control.

Do I even pretend that everyone else was doing the same, and in so doing adopting an appropriate critical stance? Not a chance; I don’t pretend that we live in that self-aware a world. In that respect, however, Ms. Murphy gets a free pass right to the head of the line (for I’m nothing if not generous). In her first post, Ms. Murphy did not declare her bias, although it has certainly emerged through her subsequent comments. Some of the more polite characterizations in her most recent post were, “I really don’t care about ‘kink’ or about ‘kinky people’. It just doesn’t interest me.” And in a Twitter post over the weekend to the world at large, “In other news, I really don’t care about your SECRETNAUGHTYOHSOBADANDWRONGANDREBELLIOUSKINKY sex life.” There were other comments, but I don’t use those words on this blog.

And that’s just fine, if you don’t want to discuss BDSM, what it means, how it is practiced and the many protocols that those who subscribe to a philosophy of ‘safe, sane and consensual’ actually adopt. The challenge is, she does want to do that. But she wants to discuss BDSM, only she wants to do so in the very narrow confines of the boundaries she sets. Specifically, in her words, “…the phenomenon of sexualizing male violence against women and male dominance is of interest to me. And it is that, and only that, which I was addressing in my previous post.” If she wants to define her arguments on the head of a pin, she is more than welcome to do so. Putting sharp boundaries on a conversation, however, doesn’t give you the right to make blanket, bald-faced assertions in whatever tone of voice you want, and not leave yourself open to challenge.

So let’s explore what some of my issues are with her original article, shall we? For they are numerous. For starters, she continues to perpetuate the on-going fallacious assumption that all BDSM and kink are about is a male dominant and a female submissive. She makes the assertion that there is no boundary between private fantasy and public responsibility, and that it is impossible to establish or maintain these boundaries. She conflates BDSM with misogyny. And, without explicitly saying so, she strongly implies that those who have fantasies involving kink, involving power relationships, involving BDSM, should not be in positions of power.

All of those assertions are problematic, not just for me, but for a much larger community of people. They are a community in whom many, if not most, are not violent and are not misogynistic, are happily and gainfully employed in various positions of power, and who — exactly because of articles like these — fear for their livelihoods if their interests and preferences were exposed. Who fear, for we have a word for such things, discrimination.

In saying that, I’m not trying to say that no one is violent, no one is a product of abuse, or that no one engages in misogyny (or misanthropy, for that matter). But the BDSM community is in fact cited as one of the few who openly, rationally negotiate about sex and how it will be engaged in (something that most of us we would much rather not do; and, by not doing so, perpetuate so many of those cultural stereotypes that Ms. Murphy is railing against).

Ms. Murphy says that her concern is context, and that is what she is trying to explore. My basic issue with her first article, and most particularly with her second, is that there is little to no exploring going on. In my view, she wants to define her context, and impose it on others like a bludgeon. She has a position she is advancing, and she has no interest in anyone with an alternative perspective. On her Twitter feed, she is wholly grateful for positive messages of support, and wholly combative with those who have a different view.

And so, at this point, my issues are way beyond content, and take a whole lot of exception to style. Which is unfortunate, because in her second post, Ms. Murphy actually makes some good (and more nuanced) arguments. In fact, arguably, it would have been far better for her to make the points in her second article first. Except that they are completely overshadowed by rhetoric and tone that, quite frankly, leaves no room for intelligent or reasoned discussion.

Of course, you might ask at this point, “Why bother? What’s the point in responding when, in her words, in her tone, in her over-the-top derision, she makes it all too clear that she is only interested in debating the topic she chooses, within the boundaries she sets? Why bother even trying to challenge that?” And those are fair questions to ask. It’s her blog, after all. Except for this. When something gets passed off as ‘journalism’ (as her post was in being re-posted on rabble.ca, and as she self-describes herself in her Twitter profile) then there is a standard of integrity that is implied. And if something doesn’t meet that standard, it needs to be challenged.

An early tweet about this episode highlighted the problem quite profoundly: “Main media issue with the RCMP case? People who judge his proclivities are free to come forward, and those who don’t have to stay closeted.” There is a reason I write under a pseudonym; I have to, and Ms. Murphy has done me the courtesy of proving why several times over. But, while we hopefully live in a society that is accepting that silence does not equal consent in the bedroom, it seemingly does on the internet. And so, in the face of fallacious information and derisive dismissal, I choose not to be silent.

I am a feminist polar bear.

There are some complications with that statement. For starters, I am male; I was born with a penis, and I am rather quite attached to it. Apart from being male, I am also, through the privilege of birth, white and tall (as polar bears often are; well, the white and tall bit, anyway – the male part is still pretty much a 50/50 shot).

I am also a kinky, feminist polar bear. Or – fully qualified – I am a kinky, feminist polar bear in a loving relationship with a woman who enjoys tying me to the bed and spanking me on occasions. And I fully support her right to do so, notwithstanding the benefits that I also happen to derive from that arrangement.

I wouldn’t have thought that I needed to make this statement. I would have thought (or hoped), 50 years on, that feminism was alive and well and making perfectly good progress, thank you very much. Until I came across a comment on Twitter that said, “For the record, I have not felt safe being a feminist. Not ever.” Which pretty much floored me.

Not that I live under a rock. I recognize that the glass ceiling still exists, that there is still income disparity, that currently women are proportionally under-represented as heads of state, heads of corporations and members of boards of directors. I also recognize that there are many men in the world that view women’s role as being barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen (and that this could be considered the polite form of expressing this sentiment). Misogyny still exists, and there are those that are – or choose to be – wilfully ignorant. Or just ignorant.

At the same time, the cultural attitudes toward women – their role, their potential and their inherent, awesome value – has also evolved enormously in five decades. It still has room to go, no question. But big changes have also been made, and I hope to see – and continue to support – this continuing. I would have thought, entering as we are the second decade of the twenty-first century, that feminism was a given, and I’m saddened to see that I’m wrong in that regard.

Another comment also floored me yesterday (and normally I don’t floor that easily). Meghan Murphy, the blogger whose posting I in part critiqued over the weekend, retorted in response to a criticism of her post “Since when are feminists supposed to be into BDSM and pro porn?” (private conversation, publicly visible on Twitter). Really? Why can’t they be? They don’t have to be, certainly. But by the same token, since when were feminists supposed to be anti-BDSM and anti-porn?

One argument, and it is, I suspect, the one that Murphy was trying to make in her original post, is that BDSM, and porn, are additional tools by which men assert their power and control over women. In that regard, so is the missionary position. Pushing further, there are feminists that will argue that the existence of BDSM and porn (and the missionary position?) are contextually embedded constructs that subconsciously reinforce the misogynistic, patriarchal nature of our society. And I am quite sure that there are any number of examples that can be lined up and trotted out to illustrate that point. At the same time, all of this presumes the man in the dominant role and the woman in the submissive one. It also presumes that a woman cannot choose to be submissive of her own free will, in the context of a sexual relationship, and still be a strong, confident, capable woman in her own right.

Speaking personally, I am a submissive(ish) male who has – in fantasy and reality – enjoyed the prospect of a woman in the dominant position. I am in a loving relationship (and have been for nearly twenty years) with a woman who is (much) more than happy to tie me up and spank me, and have her way with me in whatever other way she might fancy. That doesn’t mean that I am her inferior, or that out of the bedroom she is in control of my actions or my behaviour. Even in the bedroom we negotiate and discuss our wants and our preferences, what works and what does not. In the rest of our lives we are also equals, and we share our lives, our dreams and our passions. What we do, and how we do it, is not exclusively about what I want, or about what she wants – it is a growing, evolving dialogue of what we both collectively choose.

As someone that is kinky, I am also engaged with a larger community of people who have embraced their kink in the many and varied forms in which it exists, and in which they define it. I know submissive men, and dominant ones; I know submissive and dominant women, also. I know people that embrace those labels, and also those who struggle with them as not really capturing the dynamic that they embody. The vast majority enjoy porn, some written and some visual. Many produce porn as well, whether as author, photographer or video producer (or performer). In doing so, they do not view this as compromising their identify, giving up their power or compromising their position in society. In fact, for many it is quite the opposite.

The vast majority of kinky women that I know (submissive or other) identify themselves as feminist, and the vast majority of kinky men that I know are sensitive, considerate, respectful and altogether appreciative of the women in their lives. They are intelligent, they are engaged and they are considerate. While knowing their own preferences, they are the people I know that are most likely to respect and tolerate the preferences of others. They are, to a person, able to separate the fantasy of their sexuality from the reality of their own lives; for some, their sexuality is front and centre; for others, and I number myself amongst them, their sexuality is only one aspect of a larger identity. I am kinky, and embrace the fact that I am; the fact that I am kinky does not define me, nor does it define (or limit) the activities and ambitions I hold, or the career I pursue.

I believe that it is a woman’s right to choose what to do with her body, her mind and her emotions. If she chooses to engage in kinky activiites, and submit to another person (man, woman or polar bear) then that is her right. If she chooses to dominate another, that, too, is her right. If she likes to switch it up on different days or with different partners, then that is her right as well. Provided that all partners consent to the relationship and to the actions within that relationship, and assuming that all partners are finding pleasure and satisfaction, then there is – and should be – nothing wrong with this choice.

Moreover, it is also a woman’s choice NOT to engage in BDSM, in kink, or in anything else that might come under the umbrella of ‘alternative sexual choices’. There is nothing any more wrong with straight-up missionary position sex than there is with full-on kink. Whatever provides two (or more) partners pleasure, expressed with affection and love (if not good, old fashioned lust), then that is their choice, and I support them in doing it.

My point is that a woman should have the right to choose whatever relationship, orientation or activity (sexual or otherwise) she wishes, without that choice being viewed as political; or worse, without that choice being viewed as antithetical to someone else’s political agenda. What we do in our own bedrooms – provided that it is consensual, and preferably that it is safe and sane as well – should be our own business.

It has been nearly 45 years since Pierre Trudeau said that, “the state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation.” If the can state accept that, perhaps everyone else should as well.

It has been awhile since I have posted on this blog. There have been a number of personal reasons for that, largely related to my working through how I feel about — and how I express to others — my sexual preferences, and particularly those that venture into the kinky realm. I’m breaking that silence today to express something I feel needs to be said.

Apparently, being kinky in this world runs a few dangers. Arguably, it always has. People  whose sexual preferences stray away from the domain of ‘vanilla’, missionary-position heterosexual sex have often struggled with the acceptance (by themselves first, by their partners and by society in general) of their sexual preferences.

Last week, an RCMP officer was identified in a CBC news article as being under investigation for violating the RCMP’s code of conduct. The subsequent rush to judgement has been nothing short of overwhelming.

The specific issue is that an RCMP officer posted (or allowed to be posted) pictures on the internet (specifically, on a kinky social networking site known as Fetlife) in which he was identifiably engaged in BDSM activities. The matter was initially dismissed by the RCMP as not in violation of the code of conduct, in that it was a private matter in which the person in question did not identify themselves as an RCMP officer, and was therefore not in conflict with the code of conduct. ‘Additional information’ (which is not disclosed) led to a code of conduct investigation being ordered. In the same article, a pscychologist (whose practice focusses on working with police officers) suggests that the officer’s behaviour is, “way up the scale in the abnormal range.” He further suggests that it is “conduct unbecoming” and that the RCMP was wrong to have minimized this.

Now, some context is possibly helpful here, for those not in Canada. The RCMP as a police force has an image problem, and has had for some time. They have been accused of arrogance, of attempting to minimize wrongdoing of their members (including the wrongful death of a Polish man who was tasered at Vancouver airport), of a culture of sexual harrassment (including harrassment of women on the force, sexual misconduct and extensive and widespread mistreatment of women within the RCMP).

The RCMP is very much trying to make sure that they are visibly ‘doing the right thing’ in terms of dealing with these challenges. Their existence going forward has been called into question. So to say that this particularly issue doesn’t come at a good time would be a significant understatement. I am quite sure that there are those that would like to make it simply go away. In that they cannot, clearly the alternative tack of vigorous, public and puritanical pursuit seemed like a good ‘Plan B’.

What I have not yet seen is anyone actually parse out and be specific about the offense that is being viewed as ‘way up the scale of abnormal’. Is it being kinky? Taking pictures of it? Posting those pictures? Posting those pictures when one is identifiable? Posting those pictures when one is identifiable and in a position of responsibility? Posting those pictures when one is identifiable and in a position of responsibility as a police officer?

Distinction aside, what this has led to, by both bloggers and the mainstream media, is a question of whether someone who engages in S&M practices can be a member of the police force. The larger question appears to be whether someone in a position of any authority can engage in kinky behaviour. Clearly from the perspective of Murphy (the blogger post first referenced in this paragraph) it cannot.

In a breathtaking piece of sophistry, she marshals a number of arguments, assertions and assumptions to make her point. She damns all views that suggest that private behaviour should be private, that kinky sex might actually be acceptable or that people can in fact make the separation between sexual fantasy (and consensual behaviour) and their public responsibilities. I don’t know what her personal experience is. She does not discuss that in any way. What she does do is engage in a sweeping damnation of kinky practices as abusive, those who engage in them as misogynistic (for they are, according to this post, all men dominating women) and an absolute dismissal that there should be (or can be) and separation of what happens in public and what happens in private. There are no facts supporting her argument. There is no research. There is only assertion, opinion and semantic device.

Articles like this are entirely unhelpful (unless one is trying to illustrate how reactionary people can be breathtakingly righteous when they have an issue that they believe they hold the sole, true, morally correct opinion about). I am kinky, and have been my whole life. And I have struggled with that identity, for fear that I would be considered weird, abnormal or sick. Posts like the one above go a long way to justifying that view. Except… I am not alone. Sexuality comes in many forms and flavours. People are gay. People cross-dress. People wear leather, latex or underwear of the opposite sex. People like to be spanked. Or flogged. Or whipped. Or caned. People like to be tied up. To feel helpless. To be infantilized. People fetishize balloons. The panoply of sexual preferences is enormous.

My fetishes are my fetishes. I am coming to terms with owning them. I am blessed with a supportive partner who enjoys and is willing to share them. And whose preferences in return I also share, and respect and enjoy. And even then, I have struggled at times to be truly honest about what I do want, for fear that she will judge me, or mock me, or find me wanting. And yet, what we do in the privacy of our own bedroom is… what we do in the privacy of our own bedroom. I’ve been tied up, spanked and teased, and loved every minute of it. And then I’ve lovingly cuddled my wife and gone to sleep. The next day, when I get up, shower, dress and go to work, my kink stays in the bedroom. I do, in fact, separate my personal and private sphere, thank you very much. And my submissive tendencies in the bedroom in no way colour my ability to be a successful executive in the boardroom. They do not influence how I negotiate a deal with a customer. They do not change how I interact with my employees.

I am still acutely conscious, however, that not everyone shares my fetishes. And that people (at least, some) probably would judge me were they to be common knowledge. I am concerned about how it would affect my career, my job and my standing in the community. It is that fear, more than anything, that has been the basis of my struggle with myself – because I cannot completely own and be up-front about who I am, because there are scenarios where that is hidden. So my friends do not know. My family does not know. My wife’s family do not know. My colleagues and customers certainly remain ignorant. Being comfortable with me, and being comfortable with the boundaries I set about who I am, and who knows that, is a difficult balance I am still struggling to get right. Posts like the one above are singularly unhelpful in helping to navigate that journey. And a younger me probably would have been once again shamed into quiet admonishment of my preferences as being disgusting and wrong.

I am equally sure that has been a challenge for the RCMP officer at the heart of this, and I can’t imagine how difficult the last week has been (or how difficult the coming weeks are going to be). I know many people who are on Fetlife, and who have until now viewed it as a community where such behaviour was accepted, where they didn’t have to worry about who might be looking over their shoulders. Clearly, that was a misjudgement. When you put something out on the internet, anywhere on the internet, you lose control over how that will be used. While I choose not to do so, it is up to others to make their own choices – and I will not judge them one way or another. This is, however, where the private and public spheres do intersect. What we put on the internet becomes public domain, no matter how secure we think it is, or how trustworthy we think our immediate social network might be. So we need to be clear about where our private acts stop, and where public visibility begins – and that is alot closer than many have considered.

The media coverage has made this a much larger issue, however, calling into question whether someone can and should be in a position of responsibility if they are kinky. Can someone be a police officer? Or a teacher? Or a member of the military? Or a politician? I can guarantee you that they are, and anyone not believing that is deluded. Statistics suggest that one in ten people are kinky (although recent studies hypothesize the number is even higher than that) . That suggests that one in ten police officers, and one in ten teachers, and one in ten corporate executives are kinky.

Is a tenth of the workforce wrongly employed? Are we going to preclude people from occupations because of their sexual preferences? Is that a more acceptable form of discrimination than any other form that has been, in the face of bigotry and hatred, fought down? I certainly hope not.

More importantly, does that mean that they are compromised in their ability to do their jobs? I believe that it does not. But, given the events of the last week, does that mean that they are needing to be more watchful of how they present themselves and what they reveal? Clearly, I believe the answer to be yes.

It is sad, on the weekend that gay pride is being celebrated in England – when a group who has been marginalized for so long for their sexual preferences is finally able to now celebrate them openly – that another group has needed to once again start looking over their shoulders.

(with new and improved holiday season updates!)

Shockingly nude baked goods...

There has been all too much talk of food on Twitter. Photos of meals. Explorations of diners. Discussion of desserts. Virtual sharing of bacon sandwiches. Why, recipes have begun to take over respectable and otherwise entirely perverted spanking blogs.
One has to ask the question… WTF?

Are spankos and kinksters just aesthetes in disguise, looking for that next sensory fix, in whatever form it will take? Gin and tonic? Double chocolate layer cake with raw vanilla ice cream? Romp in the hay? The mind reels.

Fortunately, some sanity started to return to the twittersphere last night, with the suggestion that perhaps food did have a purpose in the spankoverse. It seems some of our number were using it as bribery in order to optimize the possibility of potential paddling of their posterior. To be specific, the celestial one was seriously squirming for a spanking, and she was pulling out all the stops.

And so began a discussion of just what bribes might warrant what spankings.
In order to ensure equitability in the meting out of punishment in exchange for reward (because we’re nothing if not fair around here) the following list is offered. It is not to be considered definitive, for we kinksters are innovative in the way of baked goods and bashed goods… but it’s a start.

And so, forthwith, the list:

Slice of bread – firm scolding

Slice of bread with butter – firm scolding with dirty words

Slice of bread with butter and home made jam – firm scolding with dirty words and corner time

Scone – unfulfilled teasing

Scone with clotted cream and jam – unfulfilled teasing with accompanying gropes and fondling

Muffin – Mild spanking over clothing

Christmas cookie – Moderate spanking (skirt up, over panties)

Cupcake – Light warmup spanking (panties down)

Chocolate cupcake – Warmup spanking, panties down, with butt plug

Mince tarts – Firm hand spanking until red and glowing

Orange cake with orange buttercream icing – ‘good girl’ spanking on the bare

Cheesecake – prolonged spanking

Raspberry cheesecake – prolonged spanking, pouts and corner time
(panties remain down, extra spanks awarded for actual raspberries)

Carrot cake – heavy spanking with inserted dildo

Chocolate cake – firm strapping

Chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream – firm strapping, with wind down sex
(missionary position for bonus points)

Chocolate cake and chocolate ice cream – firm strapping, with (do we really want to go here?)

Double chocolate cake – firm tawsing on the bare

Fruitcake – wooden paddling (bonus points if the paddle is made of wood denser than the cake)

Ginger cake – caning with inserted fig

Additional notations and suggestions are always welcome, and can be forward to the official keeper of the Baked Goods & Bashed Good list.

Your faithful servant,
Insatiabear

Delightful nude baking goods...

As a public service to the twitterverse (and I am nothing if not a civic-minded bear) I am please to announce the latest development in the global effort to consistently dole out the spankings that are deserved.

From the author and keeper of the ‘Baked Goods and Bashed Good’ list comes the latest in trend-setting spankophilia.

For, it must be said, that the spankoverse has an unhealthy obsession with buses. Or, to describe this phenomenon more accurately, an unhealthy obsession with throwing other spankos under said buses. Arguably, this is cruel. Buses must go through the rest of their lives haunted by the tragic recollection of running over their first bottom. Bus drivers must wrestle with the unfair moral question of whether to avoid said spankos, or to line up their wheels for a perfect strike. And we needn’t talk about the impact on our crumbling infrastructure, and the cost of on-going public works efforts necessary to keep our roads in optimal bus-friendly shape.

Given the tragic and one-sided nature of spanking-related bus-throwing transactions, the consequences are immediate and dire. Action must be taken. Decent, normal people want to know that they can ride public transit without fear of losing their venti no-whip triple-pump vanilla chai cappuccino due to the wilful and inconsiderate throwing of yet another spanko under the wheels of their bus.

To forestall this imminent tragedy, we announce the formation of a new society dedicated to the fair usage of buses in spanking scenarios.

The Society Against Unreasonable Use of Buses is dedicated to making the world safe for spankos who fear the looming presence of a Volvo diesel. Who prevaricate in the face of Prevost. Who desperately fear a Mitshushibi Heavy Industries logo being indelicately imprinted in their posterior.

We will lobby for humane rules for healthy alternatives to throwing your best friend under a bus. We will provide comfort and care to those who have been thrown under a bus. We will provide strategies and tactics to avoid being thrown to such a fate. And when all else fails, we will stand with everyone else as the perverted bystanders that we are, and watch the action unfold.

Memberships are on sale now. Membership provides numerous benefits, including knowing that you are standing in solidarity with other spankos, who would stand up for themselves if they weren’t lying prone under a bus. Know that you are contributing to making the world a safer place for buses, and a more interesting place for those familiar with what they look like from below. And, of course, get that all valuable annual “Get Out From Under A Bus Free” card, good for one extraction from beneath the wheels. Always useful just when it counts.

I am pleased to announce that my partner in crime, Mrs. Insatiabear, has willingly stood for candidacy for the position of Chief Administrator of Appropriate Bus Usage. She has taken up the flogger of office, and – trust me on this – she is not afraid to use it.

In anticipation of the extensive efforts that will be required to intervene in the exponentially increasing incidents of throwing-under-a-bus that we are seeing, we have also undertaken an extensive fundraising campaign. First up will be “Throw Em Under A Bus” day, feature the beloved @emma_enchanted, who has been an inspiration to so very many in how to artfully hurtle even the dearest of friends beneath the wheels. And who can argue against fate, destiny, charity, worthy causes and the joy she will provide her friends on what is certain to be a popular annual tradition? Certainly she can’t.

So join us, my friends. Stand up and be counted. Or at least, stand up before the number 12 express special looms over you. You have nothing to lose but the tire prints on your back.

Don't Let This Be Your Fate!

On the evening of Friday, 5 August 2011, I committed twittercide.

While this was not pre-meditated, there was certainly reasoning behind the decision.

The decision also no doubt had its repercussions, as the act was performed without announcement or fanfare. While one could argue that there was opportunity to do so, there isn’t much point when the announcement is about to be made inaccessible.

Nonetheless, I recognize that there were probably those that were sad, confused and concerned. There were also arguably people who didn’t notice. While we all have an impact when we throw our rocks in the pond, the ripples get overwhelmed and lost quickly enough. Even without a bear, Twitter will continue on uninterrupted.

The reasons for deciding to leave were simple enough. To an extent, they were rooted in why I found Twitter in the first place. The past year has been a difficult one, personally and professionally. Faced with an extended period where Mrs. Bear (for yes, the bear has a partner, and a much loved one at that) was absent dealing with a personal crisis of her own, I found myself lonely, restless and in need of distraction. If that isn’t a recipe for Twitter, then I really don’t know what is.

This wasn’t a secret, to be clear, and it’s not like my partner doesn’t know I’m kinky or share my interests (at least, some of them). I also let it be clearly known that I was ‘on Twitter’ when the opportunity presented itself. But Mrs. Bear isn’t on Twitter, isn’t particularly a fan of Twitter, and doesn’t have any especial intention of ever being on Twitter. So her awareness of what Twitter is was limited to what the average bear (pun intended) typically understands it to be.

Which pretty much sets us up for the modern-age, on-line equivalent of an English bedroom farce. An exchange of private messages with a friend showed up on my phone, looking for all-the-world like a ‘smoking text’ of me having a conversation with another woman. Which, literally, was true. Those actually conversant with the twitterverse recognize that direct messages are certainly common enough, and that over time very real friendships develop online. The results was that an innocent conversation checking in on how I was doing as a bear looked a whole lot like an on-going and intimate chat. Cue the usual perceptions of how such behaviour would be interpreted.

Now, I’ve come to value my online universe and the people within it enormously. Over the course of the last six months, I’ve garnered a number of acquaintances — and a few of what I would consider good friends. For the first time in my adult life, I have also been able to openly converse about spanking and kink with a (very) broadminded community of people that share my interests. That means a lot to me. My primary partner, however, means a whole lot more. We’ve been together for 18 years, and she has known me longer than just about any other person on the planet. We get each other, we understand each other, we respect each other and most importantly we love each other.

So, if my online existence was in any way going to be perceived as a threat to my real life relationship, then there was only one outcome possible: the bear had to die.

In that you are reading this, things have clearly changed. After a very late night and not much sleep, my partner and I sorted out our feelings over what happened, why and the reasons for both of our reactions. We reaffirmed that we still loved each other – and still trusted each other. My willingness to abandon my online presence may or may not have influenced it, but what is important is that we worked through would could have been an ugly and escalating misunderstanding and made it through whole, happy and still together. And that’s a good thing.

There are those that may consider it unnecessary for me to have erased my online presence, or even be offended that I would do so. There may be those who view it as problematic that my partner had issues with my presence online if it really was as innocent as I profess, or that my being willing to abandon it would be something I would even consider. While I’m sorry this may be your view, I’m certainly not going to apologize for my actions. I did what I felt I had to do at the time. For those who felt abandoned or hurt by my departure, however, I do truly apologize. It pained me to leave, knowing there were many out there that I would miss being in contact with.

The consequences of twittercide are severe, however. Just as in real life, once abandoned you can never re-inhabit your original body. @insatiaboo is gone forever, and there is no getting it back; the laws of the twitterverse forbid it. A lot has changed, however, in six months. I started as an innocent neophyte, unschooled in the ways of Twitter, with an egg for a face. I evolved into a sarcastic, funny and thoughtful polar bear, lounging on my ice floe, swilling Badoit and martinis while mocking the Girl for her inability to cook without incurring severe bodily harm.

People in the community are encouraged to name and give voice to their identity. And so, after a very brief absence, I am pleased and proud to say that I am back. I am a kinky polar bear. And my name is @insatiabear.

Hi. My name is Insatiaboo, and I’m a pervert.

At least, in the eyes of many I probably I am

I like to think of it as being well-rounded. Or, I like well-rounded things. Bums figure prominently into this. Spanked bums, in particular. Sometimes mine, sometimes others.

Where my kink started is probably as much a mystery for me as it is for many, but it started as early as I was able to form coherent thoughts. For those of a sarcastic bent, no, this was not a recent occurrence. Let’s call it around the age of three or four, just to be safe.

One of my earliest exposures to kink, like many, was pornography. My path to sin, interestingly enough, was my father’s bedside table. Where normal parents no doubt might have a copy of Playboy or Penthouse secreted away somewhere, my dad had copies of Screw magazine. And European bondage magazines (from Amsterdam, I believe; kinky, those Europeans). I have no idea whether kink is hereditary, and I have no clue as to what his predilections actually were (nor do I seek to find out). I also have no idea whether his interests also extended to my mother, and I really, really don’t want to find that out, either. But it certainly reinforced for me at an early stage that there were different flavours of sex than those peddled by the mainstream media. And I apparently had a fondness for several of them…

Bondage, spanking, latex and leather were early fixations. And red ball gags. Not obsessions that got discussed at all (generally not the topics of casual conversation), but they figured into my masturbatory fantasies pretty much from the time that I figured out the mechanics of actually making that work.

Much of my early development was pre-internet, so my exposure came from what pornographic magazines I could either find or buy at a discreetly out-of-the-way convenience store (developing an appreciation at a surprisingly precocious age for the virtues of plain brown paper wrappers). My porn stash ebbed and flowed based upon the capacity of my mattress (why do pre-pubescent teenagers universally consider this a secure hiding place?!?) and the occasional bout of virtue that my conscience would unhelpfully inject.

The virtuous conscience is deadly to the development of an up-and-coming kinkster. The number of dildoes, butt plugs, handcuffs, paddles and other sundry accessories, not to mention stashes of pictures, stories, books and magazines, that have found their way into and then out of my life again is nothing short of astonishing. And sad. And depressing. Feelings of guilt that I was weird, and that I would be shunned, derided or mocked for my perversions, have been a periodic flirtation.

While I am different and unique, I am by no means alone, and there are many out there that share (and far exceed) my level of kink. On the best of days, I know and remember this (and correspond happily with many of them!) On the worst of days, I try to lock this idea up like a wilfully disobedient slave, in the deepest, darkest dungeons of my subconscious. It always gets out past the locks, however. While I recognize this now (mostly), it has taken a good long while to get here.

While I currently identify mostly as sub, this appears to not be as fixed a notion as it once did. I like and enjoy spankings and kinky sex, and I certainly like being on the receiving end. For me, this is playtime and reward, not punishment. I am not controlled or disciplined, and my relationship with my partner is one of equals. I am not subservient to her and she doesn’t dominate me. We love each other, we lust for each other, and we play with each other.

I’m also discovering a mischievous (some have said sadistic) streak that isn’t about being bratty for the sake of trying to attract a spanking, so much as trying to inspire squirming in others. These toppish tendencies are new and interesting and entirely formative in nature, so where this goes is anyone’s guess.

I am new to the whole world of blogs and Twitter, having recently ‘come out’ a few weeks ago (see aforementioned comments regarding virtue and guilt). In that time, I have found what many already know… that the internet is a wonderful way of finding your tribe, and of confirming in a way that is otherwise difficult or impossible that you are not alone. There is an entire universe of kinky people out there. What once lived in the darkened corners of the cupboards and recesses of our subconscious is being given pride of place in the light of our conscious minds, and that is no bad thing.

This blog is my way of exploring my kink, of sharing it and of contributing back to a universe of people that have contributed to me, in ways that many of them do not know and cannot possibly begin to imagine. It started after a small but influential lobbying campaign on Twitter. A select few – they know who they are – insisted that I should have a blog so they could read my stories. I consider this high praise indeed, given that I had only just written my first story the week prior. This has been followed by a second, a third and a fourth – with varying degrees of distribution. They will all appear here, and no doubt they will be joined by still more in the fullness of time.

Happy reading. I hope my words find a receptive audience – or at least a horny one.

Best,

Insatiaboo

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