For Scot and Leigh (but mostly Scot) over at The Dom Next Door. This post refers to experiences that Scot blogged about in Torn I-IV. If you haven’t read the posts, go over there and check them out, and then this will make a lot more sense.
A friend of mine, Philip the Foole, has experienced this growly, primal place that Scot found himself in recently. Reading Scot’s thoughts on the situation, and especially his apparent guilt and shame, inspired me to ask PtF if it would be OK to share a few posts from FetLife that discuss “Beastie Boy,” his name for his growly primal animal. He most graciously gave his permission, and so the posts are linked and copied below.
He also made a comment in our email exchange that I wanted to share here:
When “Beastie Boy” first emerged, he scared the hell out of me. I thought I was having some sort of “psychotic break” and was very much afraid of “losing it.”
Now, @Chattele and I realize that Beastie is a big, playful puppy dog playing Frisbee.
More precisely, he is a big, playful, highly martial arts-trained, giant killer war dog playing Frisbee while cranked up on adrenaline.
Without further ado, I present to you: Beastie Boy. 🙂
(Philip the Foole describes himself as “a highly trained, professional stunt pervert.” His sexual orientation is “Bi Poly Switch. I’m not indecisive — I’m greedy.” He has presented his “Erotic Takedowns” workshop, blending bondage, SM, martial arts, and humor, around the country. Jay Wiseman was kind enough to describe him as a perverting influence in the opening credits of “SM-101.”)
I sometimes go into a very primal, non-verbal, growling, snarling, roaring mode when I’m bottoming for intense play (and lately, sometimes during intensely sexual moments as well.) @KellyChance (who was, with @Master_Duane, the first to create this transformation in me) calls the state “Growlie Land” or “Beastie Boy mode.”
My “normal” awareness is still present at these times, but it is in the background, “along for the ride” and desperately trying to hang on to the “kill switch” in case Beastie loses it. So far, this has not happened, although there have been some rather exciting moments.
The transformation tends to happen just when I am on the edge of being forced to safeword. I think “This isn’t working. I’m going to have to safeword.” Then I feel a low growling that starts deep in my belly and gets louder and louder until I am roaring like an enraged gorilla. I know exactly how Dr. Bruce Banner feels when he starts to turn into the Incredible Hulk. “Uh oh. Here we go again.” There is a feeling of super-strength, as if I can walk straight through a solid brick wall without pausing. There may be some basis in fact for this feeling, since I was once tied to an X-cross at a play party by two experienced bondage tops, using a very large amount of strong nylon rope. When Chattele produced the transformation by means of whips, canes, fisting and ball torture, Beastie apparently got tired of being tied up and shredded the nylon rope as if it were dental floss. It was very much like the scene in “King Kong” where Kong breaks loose from his chains. If there hadn’t been dozens of reliable eye-witnesses at the party, I would not believe this story myself.
I would like to use this space for discussion with folks who have experienced or are interested in discussing or learning more about this sort of play.
Two articles by Tops who have had unexpected encounters with my “Beastie Boy” mode include:
“Primal Energy and Play — an Essay by Ms Toy (with commentary by Philip the Foole)”
“Magicians, Queens, Predators and Fools!” by Cleo Dubois
Your Humble Jester,
Philip the Foole
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
– Ancient Kung Foole Proverb (from “Hamlet”)
(Ms Toy has been active in the lifestyle in Seattle, then in Las Vegas where she was Safety Director for Shibari. She founded the Las Vegas Women’s Welcoming Committee and volunteered at two consecutive Ms Nevada Leather competitions. Ms Toy teaches courses in Safety & Etiquette, Signal Whip, and Mindfuck. She is a sadistic Domme with a very bent view of life, and now lives in Oklahoma City.)
This essay by Ms Toy was first published, along with my inserted commentary (in italics), by the now sadly-defunct webzine “The Dominant’s View.”
For folks who may have an interest in the topic of “Primal Play,” or in my non-verbal, growling, snarling, roaring alter-ego, “Beastie Boy,” I am archiving a copy here.
I have added a few additional thoughts in my FetLife essay Primal Play.
Primal Energy and Play
An Essay by Ms Toy
(inserted commentary by the Philip the Foole)
– from “The Dominant’s View” webzine, Volume 6, Issue 3.
I think a lot about play. If it were possible, I would abolish work and just play, immersing myself in a Roquelaure world of erotic deviance, desire, delight, and thought. I would give myself over to an active pursuit of all sorts of play opportunities, to wit the ones I think a lot about. Unfortunately that sort of fantasy just doesn’t lend itself well to keeping food on the table and the lights turned on. But thinking about play is a valuable exercise that helps a great deal when play does come along.
When I think about play it often takes the form of a dialogue that plays out in my mind. I do talk to myself and I answer myself. I ask questions and discuss topics and run scenarios in my mind. Sometimes I replay past events and other times I fantasize about events that may or may not ever happen. I think in metaphor and simile. Creation of life is iron and life is irony.
I like to know how things work and what to expect. I don’t do very well with improvisation so I rehearse in my head and run variations until what looks very spontaneous is more of a series of “if-then” sequences. I also like to define myself in my own terms, terms like crazy and evil and predatory.
Just as I define myself I define my world. I like to do things to set stages that I will play roles upon. For instance; I want to mindfuck everyone. I like bottoms to think that I am evil. I want my play partners, at some point, to start praying that they will survive their encounter with me. I love, adore the gasp of onlookers when I do something totally off the wall that shocks them. Play is all about getting what you want and in order to do that you have to know what that is and then learn how to get it.
So there was this guy in the lifestyle. We’ve never met, although we’ve probably crossed paths a zillion times or so. He writes a lot. He is very experienced and from what he wrote I knew that I wanted to be in his book of names. In fact, I wanted to be written into that book in blood with a couple of red stars next to my name.
Low Kung Foole bow
Why, THANK you, Ma’am! You certainly made an impression on me. Hundreds of impressions, actually. Now I see that you are not only beautiful, strong, creative and sadistic, but you are also an excellent writer.
We finally met and when the time was right we got to play. During negotiation he threw a monkey wrench at me. He told me that one of my favorite techniques is one that pisses him off and not in a fun and good way. Drats! But, if you’ve read this far you probably already know, I am nothing if not adaptively prepared. So we proceeded.
Unfortunately, the infamous “Same Damn Spot” (SDS) technique favored by many tops triggers a totally non-erotic, scene-ending anger in me.
I can be quite masochistic at times, but I am not even slightly submissive. “Same Damn Spot” is a hard limit. If a top can’t play without using that technique, oh well.
Fortunately, Ms. Toy is extremely versatile. She managed to find a great many ways to make me scream that didn’t require the “SDS” technique.
The scene was a good one. His reputation as a stunt bottom was well earned.
BDSM is, of course, a two-person dance. A top or a bottom standing alone on the stage isn’t very entertaining. We danced well together
After the warming up he was my steak and I was indeed hungry, so the fun began.
Play is all about certain exchanges that take place between the players. Classic “Power Exchange”, where control shifts gratifyingly from one to the other. Submission, where will is given over for pleasure use of the other. Empathy (one of my personal favorites) where the top literally creates a sensation set then rides the emotional highs and lows of the event. And then there is something else that happens, something akin to predator and prey. It’s rare, and I believe it is directly related to that tiny part of our brains that scientists say is a hold-over from our prehistoric past. It is certainly animal.
While playing with this delightful gentleman he surprised me. I knew that if the scene went the way I wanted it to I would get to that primal, animal place. I get there easily and, in fact, live my life just outside of that place. (If you don’t get it go back and read the first paragraph again.) But what made the scene surprising was that I got him there too.
There I am, throwing assault after assault at his body. I wanted to make him cry and scream and truly think that I was going to do him some serious harm. I wanted to feel him shaking as he processed what was happening to himself. I wanted to experience his anguish as I took him into my world. I wanted him to feel my very hungry hot breath on his vulnerable flesh and just know.
Has anyone ever told you that you that you seem to have some slight, barely perceptible sadistic tendencies
But then I stopped for a moment and listened and there was this growling coming from him. Oh, this could be fun.
A mongoose can kill a king cobra but usually before it does it will torment it and play with it. It’s that primal animal energy exchange. A cat will torture a mouse until it dies, just for the fun of it. But the cat and the mongoose know that they need to not let their prey turn and bite them or the whole game can shift and not in a good way.
“Mouse” is not the analogy I would use to describe my non-verbal “Beastie Boy” snarling, growling, roaring head space. It comes on as a low, throaty, rumbling growl.
When I hear (and feel) that sound, I think “Uh oh. Here we go again.” I know how Bruce Banner feels when he starts to change into the Incredible Hulk. The growl builds into full-fledged snarls and roars.
I’d characterize the feeling as “battle rage.” The pain you were giving me was transformed directly into incredible strength. I felt like I could walk straight through a brick wall.
There I was with this wonderful, primal, growling, snorting, beastie boy right in front of me. I was there and oh boy, oh boy, so was he. But I didn’t have a clue what the beastie boy was. He had neglected to mention this little detail in negotiation, and the truth was he and I both knew that he could probably take me out if there was a need to do so.
Sorry about neglecting that small detail. During our chat I mentioned my friends @Master_Duane / MaddMonk and @KellyChance /TeachMe2Nyt from Seattle.
I said that the three of us play at a very high level of intensity. Now you see what I was referring to. The two of them working on me usually drives me into “Beastie Boy” headspace. Very few others have ever done so.
I have mixed feelings about mentioning my growling, snarling mode to a new play partner. I feel that telling them about the gorilla growls puts unfair pressure on them. They get goal-oriented. It’s like a woman telling her new lover about the incredible, shuddering, full-body multiple orgasms that her previous partner always gave her.
No problem, as my beastie girl is fairly fearless and is up for a good challenge most of the time.
You adapted well, beastie girl.
So we danced. We went at each other like a couple of wild animals, one grabbing and forcing while the other was learning that even without restraint there was control and power to be given over.
Gosh, you’re fun. Brave, too. You fearlessly dived right in and kept driving me higher and higher.
This type of exchange is very raw and primitive. This type of experience is very difficult to explain unless you’ve been there. For me, we played until we were done, then we played just a bit more, hoping that we would catch our second wind and do it again. When it was all done my heart was pounding and I was chomping and snorting like a racehorse that just won the Triple Crown. It was almost two hours later before I came down, then the adrenaline in my system gave way and I was exhausted.
I enjoyed hugging you afterward and running my massage-kneading hands up and down your back and butt.
In any type of play there is always a conclusion, a goal that the players are trying to achieve when they can say to themselves “ahhhh”. When the energy gets primal and the play gets animalistic the conclusion could very possibly be when one devours the other.
Yummm. You want to devour me, beastie girl?
I don’t usually allow that sort of thing until the second date.
[Tilting my head to expose my throat.]
(In her 20-plus years of kinky experience, Ms. Cleo Dubois has studied ritual piercings among primitive tribes, acquired expertise in rope bondage, and developed her own special fire at the end of a whip. Cleo’s DVDs, “The Pain Game” and “Tie Me Up,” are seminal works in the field of BDSM education (available online at http://www.cleodubois.com/video.htm). Cleo presents seminars and weekend Intensives around the San Francisco Bay Area. In fact, her reputation for intense workshops and in-depth understanding of the rituals of BDSM has made Ms. Dubois a favorite guest presenter at major leather conferences throughout the country.)
Ready to begin the demo portion of my Temporary Piercing class in Oklahoma City a few weeks ago, the first raised hand I see belongs to none other than Philip the Foole, self-identified “humble court jester” of the SM scene. I will let him tell it:
“Of course, I volunteered to be a crash test dummy. I can do six dozen of those wimpy little 25-gauge needles Madame Cleo was using standing on my head. Once I was trapped, sitting down in front of the class, she said, ‘considering your reputation, I have something a bit stronger for you.’ She brought out [a sterile pouch containing] some sort of locking medical gauze clamps with sharp spikes on the pincers… She clamped one of these evil gadgets through the skin on each side of my chest. The intense pain dropped me into my non-verbal, growling, snarling, ‘beastie boy,’ headspace… She pulled and twisted on the clamps to intensify the pain. Like I said, Cleo is my kind of woman. Beastie boy likes to frolic with humans who have no sense of fear or self-preservation.”
And what a growling beastie he was! We understand what Philip is saying because, as Carl Jung pointed out, these archetypes exist across cultures in our collective unconscious. So we know what beasties are, how a Queen behaves, what it means to be a Slut or a Knight in shining armor. What the intense sensations and rituals of BDSM can do is plug us directly into these core elements that vibrate within. One of my own archetypes revealed herself during my first experience bottoming as a fantasy slave girl.
Over 20 years ago, the Master/Magician I chose to initiate me in ritual submission was trained in Gestalt at the Esalen Institute. He struck me as sensitive, kind, sexy and DOMINANT. I had met him, his wife and their beautiful slave girl at the Society of Janus when they were that month’s presenters. We remain friends to this day. One night I confided to his wife that with her permission, I wanted to submit to him. When I approached him, he replied:
“Slave girl? I don’t think so, but sexy wench looking to test her power, that we can do.”
A date was set and I was instructed to present myself at his door, wearing a bra with cut outs for my nipples under my button down dress. My pubic hair had to be shaved, something I had never done before. By the time that special evening arrived I was burning with excitement!
The playroom was dimly lit. Master’s first order was for me to sit on a low stool in front of his deck, The New Tarot Deck, cards turned face down. “Relax and pick a card,” He said. Somehow I sensed that my choice would be significant, so I took my time making my selection.
“Ah, the Queen of Swords! Look at her: kneeling up, holding sabers at arms’ length over her head. Of course,” He commented, nodding wisely. He instructed me to undress and his wife draped me in a red negligee in the same fashion as the Queen in the card. Ordering me to kneel in front of a full-length mirror, He took two beautiful swords out of the cabinet and commanded me to hold them up like the Queen. He watched, as I looked at my reflection. I didn’t dare say a word; I just held his swords proudly.
When the pain in my shoulders became unbearable, I heard from deep inside me, “laissez tomber les armes.” French for “let your weapon down,” the sentence stands for “surrender.” At that moment, I was ready to surrender, not as a victim, not as the one who lost the fight, but as the warrior strong enough to lay down her weapons. The slow and thorough flogging, nipple torment and Tantric love making that followed blasted open the door for me to SM Magic. My initiation left me feeling quite powerful indeed.
So who are you in a scene? A sex magician, seducer, princess, knight, damsel in distress, slut or pet? Have you ever wanted to be daddy’s girl? Do you wish Daddy to be controlling, sexy, teasing, or tender? When you are tied to a St. Andrew’s cross are you a sexy wench held captive by a pirate or a prisoner punished by a sadistic jailer? Is your style in the dungeon tender, rough, passionate, serious, playful? When you embody archetypal energies in SM, you might get more than you bargained for, no matter how well you negotiate.
Consider Marie, who for many years, was in lust with a man outside of her SM community. Her theater coach and bodyworker, John, was her mentor. A passionate woman, Marie could not resist his green eyes, muscular body, smooth southern drawl and macho charm.
She trusted him implicitly, dreaming the dream of the submissive without boundaries, anything you want, Sir! Yes, Sir! Thank you Sir! She craved to be his prey, and be taken with no limits. When he finally seduced her, she dropped to her knees in ecstasy. Lone predator that he was, he took her on the ultimate journey into sexual submission, dominating her without any hesitation, royally fucking her, and then dismissing her at the click of an email.
If not for the support of her close community of kinky friends, Marie would have been devastated. Of course, she could not forget him, using her hot memories to reach orgasm over and over. Five years went by and one day, she received a handwritten letter from him, apologizing for his past behavior. The seducer, the gypsy, the predator wanted her again and this time Marie set a boundary requiring him to call her after each date.
Using just his hands, voice, cock and knife, their torrid D/s play went on for six sizzling months. Once again she found herself consumed by desire dreaming that their relationship would go on. She wanted to bear his mark. As he dragged his blade slowly across her breast, she begged him to cut her. He kept promising, “soon, soon”. He had never drawn human blood with his hunting knife and he would get all turned on whispering in her ear about it!
Marie confided in him how significant and bonding the ritual cutting would be, and in the end, the chase was his game. The predator, the lone wolf, could not commit; she received her “dear John” letter again via email. She revealed to me that this time his desertion broke her trust and the magic is gone. Her heart bears an invisible scar because she gave of herself so deeply that no matter what John does with her gift of submission, he will always have that part of her.
We are not always aware of the risks we are taking and the results can be pretty momentous. A predator does not a trusted loving Dominant make, anymore than a warrior laying down his or her weapon in surrender a victim or loser makes.
When you are playing, be open and honest about who you are and how you feel about your play persona. Be ready for surprises, and remember, it never hurts to give each other lots of tender aftercare.
Like one of this season’s archetypes, big daddy Santa, does for us when he rewards our inner child at this time of gift giving. Hey Santa, don’t forget to fill all the black leather stockings of my column readers. We really are good boys and good girls, finding our way in a society that is still afraid of the way we love and the toys we play with.
In Leather Pride with heart,