Elspeth Demina

Just another sexy weblog

Adventures in Nudity: A Straight Razor Saga August 9, 2011

Filed under: adventures in...,events,my life,observations — Lorax Of Sex @ 3:38 pm

It seems that breaking through limits is something that happens rather publicly for me, or at least that’s the trend so far. Earlier this year there was my experiences at SEAF with the Electro-Bike, and then my weekend in Portland for Sunday School with PDX Bad Girls. Not sure what this means about me…

Sunday School was a special three-part workshop being put on by the PDX Bad Girls, a women’s kink social group, as an annual part of Oregon Leather Pride. This year the event featured Dr. Evil Boi teaching two workshops: one on mindfucks and one on blood and ritual, with Twisted Monk teaching a workshop on straight razor shaving in-between. While these subjects (well, the mindfucks and the razors at least) are generally of interest to me to begin with, this wasn’t just another workshop for me. Oh no. You see, I was to be a part of the workshop. Being friends with interesting people has its perks, and one of those is that sometimes opportunities such as being a demo-body for a straight razor workshop arise. So it was that I found myself naked from the waist down, feet in stirrups, a big examination light spotlighting my cunt, in a room full of (mostly) strangers.

This may seem like no big thing to some. People get naked at kink events and play parties all the time, so what’s the big deal? Well yes, people do do that, but I don’t. I have spent much of the past decade appearing to the rest of the world more than a little conservative. Floor-length skirts, long sleeves, even covering my hair, were a normal mode of appearance for me. While not quite that severe these days, I am still generally much more modestly dressed than most. On the rare occasion that I engage in any sort of public play I still don’t strip down to my birthday suit, opting instead for underoos and a tank. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll go topless if I’m feeling particularly daring that day. I’m certainly never caught with my junk out in the open in public though. I tend to refer to public full or lower nudity as a soft limit for me. It’s a difficult thing to explain why that is — it’s not based on fear or repulsion, as many limits are. A lot of it is trust, and some of it is modesty, and the rest just is. Pair this with the truth that I am a bit of an exhibitionist, and things get interesting.

I was fully aware of what I was getting into when it was settled that I would be offering up my body and my hair for public removal. I’ve been straight razor shaved before, so that part wasn’t new. I’m comfortable with it, as much as anyone ever is comfortable with someone using a frighteningly sharp blade around the most sensitive parts of their body. I knew that Little Brother and his Daddy would be there too, which was both reassuring and not (Brother simply loves goading me into trouble). I trust Monk unquestionably. The variable here was simply being naked, in public, with strangers.

What was interesting to me, was how much more arousing the shave in this situation ended up being. I found myself getting excited and damp even before I was down to my underoos (which, incidentally, being my new Batman y-fronts, prompted the entire room bursting out in the Batman theme song upon sight). Even shaving my legs and underarms had a profound effect on me, enough that by the time I had to slip off my underoos my body was pretty wired, my endorphins up, and my mind definitely somewhere rather good. Kudos to Monk for being able to safely navigate my nethers despite the added slipperyness. I’m sure getting a good grip on my flesh to safely shave it was a bit tricky. I can’t say for sure as I couldn’t see what was going on down there, but it certainly felt like I was getting far wetter than I’ve been in a long time. I might even hazard to use the phrase “dripping wet”.

It’s funny how something like this can create such a response in my body and mind. Afterwards I was far more altered than I have been even from my intensest scenes. I’m not sure I’m ready to start being fully nude or nude on the lower half in public on any sort of regular basis now, but I’ve found the power in choosing to offer this option as a rare treat. I have to say thank you to everyone who was there too. To Little Brother for lending a boot of reassurance while my legs were being shaved at the beginning of the workshop, and for not inciting too much trouble. To my Family as a whole for being supportive, present, and helpful. To Monk for keeping me in one piece, working through my laughter when the razor tickled, and for providing me this amazing opportunity and experience. And to everyone in attendance, for having a sense of humor, for being so kind, for being an amazing audience, and for making me feel comfortable despite my vulnerability.

 

I Volunteered With The Seattle Erotic Arts Festival (and all I got was one less hard limit) June 2, 2011

Filed under: events,kink,my life,seaf — Lorax Of Sex @ 12:45 pm

No, the illness which was afflicting me earlier this month didn’t eat me alive- SEAF did. What’s SEAF? That would be the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival. It’s an annual event, going on ten years next year, which showcases erotic art in various forms. Last year a few folk I knew, and a number of folk I didn’t know but wanted to, were working with SEAF and so I figured why the hell not and signed up to volunteer. I had such a blast helping out unpack and hang art that I decided to help out again this year.

Oh boy did I help out. Unlike last year where I drove 30 minutes into the city after I got out of some classes I was taking, helped out for a few hours, then did it all again the next day, this year I decided to dedicate myself fully to SEAF for the whole pre-show insanity and the full weekend of the event. Yeah, I’m crazy. I took the week off work, and spent my time checking in artwork being dropped off for the exhibition, wrangling spreadsheets, and waking up far FAR earlier than I think anyone should. As luck would have it, not only did I get to do art-handling and installing (and somehow becoming the queen of all knowledge related to the spreadsheets), I got asked to assistant stage-manage the mainstage production. I have a delightful history of getting added to the production team for shows the day before opening night so I put on my headset, hopped onto the com, and away we went! Being backstage and in my element again awoke some parts of me which have too long been dormant, and it felt absolutely amazing.

My techie self wasn’t the only thing that SEAF awoke, and while I’d love to wank on about what a wonderful time I had ASMing and all that rot, you’re probably wondering what the “and all I got was one less hard limit” is all about. That’s fair, it’s really my favourite part of my SEAF experience this year.

photo courtesy of adameros photography

My favourite piece in the entire show was a delightfully interactive installation work by Dana Ollestad called the Electro-Bike. The catalog description of the Electro-Bike says you can “Control your own experience with this everyday object newly subverted into an electrical device that rides the thrilling line between pleasure and pain.” I’d say that’s a spot-on explanation of what the bike was all about. I’ll admit- the entire first day of SEAF I walked past the bike over and over never even looking at it twice. “Eh, it’s a bike” I thought. I didn’t feel a draw to look at it further really. Afterall, what was so exciting or erotic about a bike on a static-training stand? What I’d failed to notice initially was the little generator tucked into the frame. It wasn’t until a couple of folk were geeking over the construction and wiring of the bike that I got interested.

Shortly thereafter I got a chance to climb onto the bike. It was then that I learned that it wasn’t what I (and many patrons I soon learned) had thought it was. Everyone assumed that the saddle would vibrate or electrify. Oh no. The saddle was just a normal bike saddle. What wasn’t so normal were the handles- they were exposed metal wired to that tiny little generator under the frame. Just the tiniest movement of the pedals and BZZZZT! the electrical tingle shot up my arms. I jumped off the bike, displeased at how it felt, and went back about my SEAFly duties. It wasn’t long before I was back on the bike again. And again. And again. And “Are you on the bike again? Really? You’re such a pig!” comments began to come from friends and staff. Yup, I loved that bike. Anyone who was there Saturday afternoon and evening heard my love of the bike resonating down the corridors of the festival too.

Not only did I love the bike, not only was I back on it every time my muscles stopped tingling from the previous ride, but before the bike electrical play was firmly on my hard limit list. I’ve licked my fair share of 9v batteries backstage to discern the live from the dead ones to put into mic-packs. I’ve been electrocuted (mildly) twice. I am freaked out by the high-frequency machine we use in spas to zap zit-forming bacteria (it feels like a needle poke!). The bike changed my mind about electricity, and now I can’t WAIT to get to play more with it. What did it feel like to face a hard limit, and crash through it like the Kool-Aid man? “Oh Yeah!” is about right if you ask me, but I’ll let you see for yourself… (and if you need more, I’ve got a second video up too)