So…apparently I am a dolt (once again!) and missed the deadline for the Kink of the Week prompt, which was “writing on Skin.” Grrrrr…!!!! Still, I’m linking it here because I wrote it, damn it! (Kiss the lips at the end to check out other delicious writings and images on the same topic.)
I’ve always had a kink for being written on. I can remember as a child playing “writing” on my BFF’s back: first she would trace a word on my back that I would have to guess, then I on hers. There was the guessing game aspect of it, but there was also a sensuality that I recognized – and responded to – even as a child. I can remember, distinctly, the gooseflesh that would rise on my arms and the nape of my neck as her fingers traced fine lines and images on my skin. Thinking about it now, I wonder if that was the beginning of my deep need for touch and to touch, as lovers, as friends, as a parent and sibling and daughter. I can’t get enough of it.
When I first heard about writing on one’s skin as a form of kink play, as humiliation or punishment or fun, I knew it would be something I wanted to experience. But the thing is: being written on in that way is something that is done to you, not something you do to yourself. Because of the way that shame and embarrassment are so integral to my kink experience, it would need to be used in that way for it to work sexually for me, and probably as part of an embarrassment/humiliation scene. Although it was talked about several times – my ex had planned a scene at our local kink party requiring me to go around and ask people to write words on me, once…I believe we had babysitter issues that night so it never came to be; and though I told W about my interest, we never ended up playing with the idea…
Oh wait…there was one time! Heh. He’d sent me on a first date with a guy I’d met on OKCupid. In preparation for the date, he had me write letters on the back of my hand…odd, I can’t recall what the letters were now, and I can’t find that old post on Kink&Poly. Anyway, he made me write whatever-it-was…no wait, now I remember! It was “FM.” For “fuckmeat.” He made me write those letters on the back of my hand before the date. Now the gentleman I was meeting knew that 1) I was kinky, and 2) I was owned by a man that liked to loan me out. We hadn’t discussed making this a sexy first meet, and W liked it that way (this time): the game was that if my date remarked upon or asked about the (very visible) letters on the back of my hand, I’d have to tell him what they stood for – and offer myself up to him that afternoon. I’d be fuckmeat for W. It lent a delicious edge to the lunch date, as I waited for him to say something…but he never did.
Early on in V’s and my relationship (I love – and marvel – that I can say “early on” as if it’s been so long. The reality is that we have been together 10 months(!) though, so I get to use “early on” if I want. ;-) ) Anyway, early on, we – V, me, Adam and V’s wife E – went to a kinky Halloween party together. V and I were together at that point, but I’d consider what we were doing still “dating”…although our relationship was already moving into D/s space, we hadn’t really…er…”formalized” it yet as such. Not that we have anything formal in the sense that we’ve had some sort of ceremony or a collar, but…we hadn’t really established even between ourselves the “rules of engagement.” So when we got to the party, and Adam (clever Adam) got out the sharpie and suggested they write on me (I can’t recall now the genesis of the idea) and V wrote this on me… Who knew it would be so prophetic?
No really, at the time, I was thrilled and puzzled by it. Was he writing it as a message to me? Was that what he wanted, to own me? (As it turns out, yes, he did.) But I didn’t want to make too much of it. Maybe he was just fooling around. And if not, was that what I wanted? I knew even then that V’s brand of D/s, if we engaged that way, would be far different than W’s. He likes to be in control. Not just of my sex, not just in a scene when he can use and abuse me, but of my world. I didn’t realize yet how much of my world he would end up controlling – I couldn’t have imagined this place where we are now! And truthfully I don’t think he was imagining it either, then. It was just fun.