Learning Limits And Pissing On My Boundaries

New dynamics call for robust communication, it’s so important to allow you to hit the ground running. Sharing what is needed to get you off, what you’ll try for the other person and helping them in learning your limits. But what happens when your interests are in flux, changing, expanding?

Communication, for me, doesn’t end at the beginning. It’s a two way process that is ongoing. My likes and limits shift occasionally as I open myself up to new experiences and learning. I have a strong preference for keeping play options limited early on. Hard limits and needs shared, and pinch points too, places to be careful. But I like people I can build trust with, flex within my boundaries and maybe, if I feel safe and secure, push forward and try new things.

When I first started exploring my kinks I recall one of my hard limits being watersports. It took me less than a month to rip up the rule book of pee play. Since then I’ve been known as little piss breath, introduced friends to golden showers and been called upon to hose down friends in the showers at events. Had I not explored the limits of my own comfort zone I would never have learned the joy of sharing my well-hydrated body in this way, or had the desire to drink from the source; a lovers flow.

If watersports can go from ‘hard limit’ to ‘like’ what happens with other boundaries?

Depending on the energy and connection, my limits will vary considerably. I need to remain flexible as kink, and life in general, are so rarely static. 1001011 and I, for example, have an entirely non-sexual play partnership, my tits and bits are always covered. I’ll often get my boobs out with friends (the scavenger hunt is a great example of friends adding something a little different to the world). I’m very particular over who touches them. Even fussier when it comes to impact play on my breasts.

And as time goes by, and I’m learning more about my likes and limits, more of the older boundaries are coming under attack from my curiosity. If, for example, I’m topping you and the sadistic side of me leaks out in a giggle at your (consensual) expense, then you may call me a bitch. However, this will still trigger an emotional response in any other context. I’m also finally learning that it’s the man not the facial hair, that makes the abuser. Leaning into the discomfort of a full beard is comfortable with the right soul beneath the thick fur. These examples are only stretchable in very specific situations, and a go-with-the-flow approach pays off here. Along with communication on the pressure points and an understanding that we might need to ease back.

So, what does learning limits have to do with needles?

Needles were a no go, right from the very start. I didn’t want them in me, not in a kink sense anyway. I have no problem with needles in a medical sense, but always felt that is where they should stay. Unless for piercings or tattoos, but that’s for aesthetic rather than pleasure. (Although I must admit to producing a lusty scent whenever I’m being inked. The joys of masochism, eh?!)

In 2018 I had a pain task, to create something different. I chose staples, and quickly learnt that I loved the sensation but couldn’t get the staples out efficiently. (This is still something I would like to revisit, but for now I’m in no rush.) Over the years I have coveted The Carnie’s work. He uses needles and thread to create intense scenes for his models. The tension in the thread drawing me in with utter fascination, and with that came a slight interest in needle play.

Then, between lockdowns, I had opportunity to create another pain task. This time with another woman. I knew SWL had a passion for needles and I wondered if I could administer them. We both had a little corset on our breasts by the time I was finished, and she loved the experience. I got spacey really, really quickly. Dropped like a stone afterwards. Vowed to Sir that my needle play adventures were over, it was definitely a hard limit. Never again. Nope.

Until the next time…

Last summer I had another pain task. This time I asked Bunny if she would enjoy some sadistic rope and getting a little bit stabby with me. She had the skills and passion for needles that I was missing, naturally she agreed. And I had long since wondered if the topping and bottoming in the same unfamiliar scene was what caused the drop. Or even if SWLs enthusiasm to repeat the experience afterwards was what had tipped the balance. And rope is my happy place so maybe this would show me the way to passion-for-needles?

I had an incredible time with Bunny. She had the skills, passion and energy I needed to enjoy the scene. My favourite part was when she had removed the needles and sprayed alcohol across the wounds. That pain was a true delight. And I didn’t have drop afterwards, we had breakfast and cuddled and then giggled our way off into our separate days. But what I did learn is that inserting the needles isn’t a pain that I enjoy. It just feels like one of the many failed attempts at medics finding a vein. And that’s ok. To experience things in my own way, through my own lens.

However, it is a pain that I can tolerate, and for the right person I would enjoy receiving from them. In the right context and with thorough communication and carefully planned aftercare. Needle pain doesn’t feel pleasurable to my receptors, so if I would suffer this for you, you must be very important to me.

So what has this got to do with learning my limits?

Without stretching my own boundaries I would be missing out on a vital part of who I am. A risk taker, a lover of the unknown, an adventurer. Had I never opened up to the idea of playing with pee solo, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy certain friends in the way that I have. Sometimes the desire to pee on someone is little more than just needing to go and his face being as good a place as any. Sometimes the desire to be peed on is just for silly fun. And yet another time it might become a need, a grounding force, a connection with someone interesting who has their own ideas.

With needles, though they were a hard limit, there came a time when curiosity outweighed fear. Having friends in my sphere who can, and do, provide the safe space for platonic explorations means I’m able to take a peak at stuff in an unpressurised way. Making up the rules as I go, with those around me sharing their needs too. Perfect! This safe space of exploration has allowed me to become more confident in my ability to communicate boundaries and discomfort. Especially of the emotional kind. By figuring out my relationship with the obvious and playful limits, I am becoming more willing to take a breath and lean into the deeper scars. Finding the safe spaces (within myself) to explore different, less obvious barriers.

I can honestly say that my limits are always up for review, learning by and for me.

The decision to stretch boundaries lies with me and me alone. Unless I ask you to join me for the ride, and then we can plan and play together. Any attempt to coerce me into re-evaluating my life choices will be taken as the red flag you are waving and I will walk away. But if I feel safe and secure in your company, and trust you enough to be open to the idea of pissing all over my own boundaries with you then who knows where the world will take us?