Bound in Public

So I finally got up the courage to watch the scene that went live on Bound in Public back on Jan 27.  It took a lot for me to watch as there was a portion of the scene that was the most difficult part of any scene I have had to shoot to date; this was due to the fact that part of what happened during the scene actually triggered some very unpleasant memories of my past, that I feel I ought to write about on here, allowing you to get a better idea of who I am.

If you were to watch the video, twice there are instances wherein one of the men in the audience decides to throw their drinks on me.  This is something I would have had no idea would effect me as much as it did, as well as something that wasn't listed as a yes or no option on the form that kink.com has you fill out before shooting so that they would know what your limits are.  I say that to preface this so that all will know I am in no way holding Kink liable for the events, as lack of communication from my part as well as actions by non Kink employees were the cause.

The act of throwing a drink on someone is, of course, a degradation.  This is a lot of what the Bound in Public shoots are about, and something that, for the most part, I have to do a lot of mental preparation in order to be a party to.  Everyone has scars from their past from being picked on, being called names, etc.  That's all part of growing up, and so its expected that we need to be strong in order to cope with it, even when its not something that is meant to be serious.  This is why, for my first shoot, I requested that some of my close friends from here in San Francisco be involved in the scene, or at least present in the audience.  I needed to know that if something happened, and I wasn't as strong as I thought, that I would have a support network there to help pull me back together so I could finish my filming, and thank god I did.

I grew up on a household wherein it was normal for my father to belittle me, call me names, and bring me down.  This was in addition to the teasing I would suffer at school.  I was doing very well during the scene not letting the name calling from the scene get to me, and was staying strong up until the point that the icy cold drinks were thrown on me.  I can't say exactly why, but something about that triggered a memory of, perhaps, the worst part of the abuse suffered in my childhood, a part of the abuse that has caused me not to be able to live anywhere that has snow or ice anymore.

When I was about 15 my father pulled me out of bed early in the morning, threw me down the stairs that led to the back door, and shut me outside.  It was early January in Salt Lake, and it had been snowing the night before, and there I was stranded in our neighborhood, wearing next to nothing, and trying to find a way to stay warm while the ice bit at my toes and the snow continued to fall around me.  I honestly can't remember anything past that part of the event, even how I ended up getting back inside the house, but I do recall that it was the most traumatic part of the abuse I suffered, and was the catylist that caused me to start to take charge of my own life, and stand up to my father.

This experience, however, was not without its long term effects.  I still can not see snow without associating it with that event, and even worse can not stand ice, so when these men who had been degrading me threw ice on me, I broke down.  It was edited out of the final cut, but after the second drink was thrown on me, I could do nothing but sit on the floor in the middle of that bar and shiver, trying to hold back tears.

Thankfully for me, my friend Brent was there who knew about this part of my history, and had words with the director regarding it.  The director, while upset that he had to say something, ended up listening to the words of my friend, and we moved on without any further issues regarding ice, and cold (in fact they intentionally used hot water for all the end parts of the video where they mop the floor with me, and where they have me scrubbing the floors)

Now, in retrospect, this experience serves to reinforce a practice I already use in my personal life when approaching BDSM scenarios, and that is how utterly important it is that your partners really know you and what you can take as a sub.  This is due to the issue that my spirit was so completely broken during the scene, and I couldn't even remember what the safe word was, let alone to say it, to stop the ice from coming at me again.

On the leather pride flag, there is a red heart symbolizing that while we do acts that may seem intense, savage, and cruel to some, that there is compassion behind it all, and this is something that was lacking by the players in the scene, not due to any indifference on their part, but due to the fact that they didn't know me well enough to read my expressions, to know limits I may not now to tell them, and to know when to stop.  Its a lesson I'm glad to have learned; I just wish it had been an easier one to have come to know.