It’s well-discussed that spankees should learn, know, and protect their Hard Limits – the things in which they are not interested in participating. I always want to know what my playmates like and don’t like, but I’m most interested in their Hard Limits. I don’t touch those – don’t even graze ’em. It’s important, at least to my mind, for those in my hands to know that, even though they’re likely in for a tough time, they can trust that I won’t go ‘there’…wherever ‘there’ is for them.
So if someone tells me that canes are an absolute no-no for them, then they may rest assured that I will never, but never, strike them with one. If that same person has an aversion to complete nudity, they may, albeit against my better judgment, remain partially clothed at all times. Trust is fragile, you shouldn’t mess about with it. I get that. I also respect the wishes of others, possibly sometimes to a fault, as I’ve gathered on more than one occasion that a playmate was somehow hoping that I would use the information against them. I get it – the notion that your top would exceed your Hard Limit is probably a high-ranking bottom fantasy – but it’s not gonna happen. At least not here.
Conversely, there are some other things which aren’t gonna happen here because they’re MY Hard Limits. These things really have very little to do with you and what you desire (isn’t that horribly selfish of me?), and at this point in my play experience are pretty damn universal.
Without further adieu, my Hard Limits :
Let me be clear here – I am in no way knocking S&M. Some of my best friends are dominatrices, and that’s not a punchline. However, and to be completely frank, I suck at it. I’ve tried – trust me, I’ve tried. But the clothes are restrictive and sweaty, I’m not coordinated enough to swing a single tail, and – most importantly – humiliation is NOT my forte’. The gadgets required to properly torture genitalia appear to be very expensive and extremely fiddly to operate, and I’ve no idea what the curve is on CBT Operator Error. Bondage is pretty but most knot-work renders the buttock area inaccessible, totally killing the rest of the evening for me. Also, I’m never sure what exactly I’m supposed to do to you once I get you tied up like a roast pig. And how long before the circulation to your ears cuts off, anyway?
Of course, I DO love to hit people, and don’t necessarily mind if that doesn’t always occur on the rear, but…
2. I will not cane/paddle/otherwise-strike-with-a-hard-object the inside of your thighs.
Google ‘femoral artery’.
3. For basically the same sane medical reasoning as #2, I will not strike your hands/palms/wrists with anything larger or more lethal than a balsa wood ruler.
Look, there’s a reasonable expectation of discomfort and, in many cases, even the expectation of marking or bruising. But when it comes right down to it, I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in actually injuring you. I don’t care whether it’s okay with you or not – it’s not okay with me.
The buttocks are a gladly-placed mass of overlapping muscles, fat, and bazillions of teeny little nerve endings. No organs. No bones. No major blood vessels leading directly to the brain. You know, your usual non-lethal ass area. And with the right conditioning, an area which can handle quite a lot of impact, up to and including skin abrasions, repeatedly, and with no ill effect (when cared for properly). Most other areas of the body hold no such distinction, so I prefer to keep the extra-posterior impact to a minimum.
( ** Disclaimer : This doesn’t mean that I won’t slap your face if you get mouthy…I just won’t do it really, really hard.)
We touched on this in #1, but it definitely deserves it’s own numeral. I do NOT ‘do’ humiliation. Embarrassment, yes; shaming, definitely. But not humiliation.
(I am using my own personal definition of humiliation here, which may or may not jibe with your own.) To me, the difference between humiliation and embarrassment lies in the intent – am I providing you with positive or negative feedback? Example : You’ve eaten all the candy after I’ve told you it’s for everyone. Humiliation would, to my mind, sound like this : “You sick pig! I can’t even look at you – you nauseate me. You’ll sleep on the floor like a dog tonight.” (Told you I suck at it.) On the other hand, embarrassment feels more like : “You ate all that candy? After I told you not to? What am I going to do with you? Don’t come crying to me when you get a stomachache.”
I cannot say nasty things to you. I cannot try to hurt your feelings, make you feel bad about yourself. Can’t even fake it. Say what you want, but there’s enough negativity in each of our minds already without having someone plant bad crap there while your brain’s all wide open. I’d rather be a ‘cheerleader’, thankyouverymuch.
5. It’s really, really, REALLY not okay to touch my ass. Ever.