Mentoring

The topic of being a Mentor, or Mentorship, comes up from time to time, and I always struggle with the answer. When I first became aware of BDSM and D/s, I also discovered that there were actual "communities" and the first thing you find out about communities is that they have rules, there were rituals, routines, laws, protocols and established practices that people are expected to abide by. That is true for both online communities and real life local communities or clubs, all having rules.

One of the cardinal rules that I learned early on from these communities, both online and local, had to do with Mentors. My understanding of a Mentor was that is was a Dominant who took a submissive(s) under his wing and was essentially a teacher or advisor. He was someone the submissive could turn to when she had questions, an authority, who got to know her and could provide proper perspective. Perhaps it was a question about protocol, or relationships, or BDSM techniques, anything really. But the cardinal rule was, there was to be no intimacy between the Mentor and the charge.

I am sure this rule is intended to create a sense of safety for the submissive, which "the community" deemed as perhaps young, and naive, and inexperienced, and susceptible to undue or unethical influence. In other words, the rule was created to protect the submissive from the Dominant. This has always been the definition of Mentor that I had always recognized, and accepted.

However, having never really "joined up" with any communities, it really didn't matter much to me, one way or the other, and acceptance of that definition seemed fine. And then I started this blog, and people started asking me questions. So, in an effort to be smart(er) I undertook to research the matter, and sure enough, those communities are out there still, and they still have their rules. And what I found was, everyone's rules are different, not really surprising.

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In read through many message boards and discussions groups, and I found that most who considered themselves "old guard" or "old school" had strict prohibitions about intimacy with a Mentor.

However, in searching through "published" sources, this was more typical:

"The submissive petitions the Dominant Mentor to train them while they are searching for the Dominant that they will serve the rest of their lives with. The submissive should be treated as if collared by the Dominant for life, until they are released to their formal Dominant. Usually if this type of training has taken place, the Dominant Mentor will assist the submissive in searching out and accepting the formal Dominant that they will serve." - Vixen Rose, Collars and Traditions

To her credit, her article says, "Includes: A special concern about the dilution of old traditions."

So, according to this definition, not only can the Mentor play with the submissive, he should essentially treat her as his collared submissive. That is certainly a dilution of the old tradition I learned.

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Another source I turned to is a woman I have known for over a decade, someone who is considered an Elder in the greater Leather community. From an FAQ she published:

Q. What about intimacy (physical, sexual, emotional, etc.) in the mentoring relationship? Do mentor's and mentee's work SM together? Is sex OK between mentor and mentee?

A. To play or not to play? is a question that the mentor and mentee will discuss when they set the ground rules for the mentoring relationship.

So, I thought, it seems that the old rule I learned has pretty much been turned on its head, but then:

Q. Are there limits on a mentor's control?

A. An SM mentoring relationship is not an SM relationship per se, that is, power exchange and role-play is not appropriate in the mentoring relationship. The mentor and mentee are equals, one is not dominant and the other submissive in the relationship. Both are equals, sharing a common leather journey together.

Clearly, this kind of relationship is in a completely different ballpark.

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And the deeper I dug, the more I kept running into varying definitions. Frankly it only led to even greater confusion on my part. So, I tucked all this research away for a while and thought about it, and forgot about it, and then thought some more, and have come to the following conclusion:

I do not agree that the Mentor's charge should be considered collared or owned by him, but I do agree that intimacy is okay between them if they agree to it. The thing that bothers me about the Vixen Rose definition is that seems to imply that if she accepts the mentorship, then she accepts the play/sex permission quid pro quo as well. That is the part I do not agree with.

In fact, I was talking to someone about this recently, and I said, it sounds like a friendship thing, almost "mentor with benefits". She said, "That doesn't sound that different from many relationships in this scene (blogosphere) that i've heard about? i mean, that's kind of what it's like in my life".

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I am coming to think that intimacy between a Mentor and his charge is not as uncommon as I once thought, particularly for those who are not in a Master/slave, collared or owned situation. And I think that is a good thing, it seems an aftificial and unnecessary barrier beween two people who are sharing a powerful and growing experience together. Perhaps I was stuck in those old community rules and roles learned so long ago.

Good Night, Good Bye, Paul Newman

A wonderful man passed today, he was 83 years old. He was simply a man, an actor, a race car driver, philanthropist, father, husband, a caring being, the kind of dominant man I aspire to be. I had the good fortune to spend time in his company on three occasions, at car race weekends; I knew people who knew him.

I will simply affirm what two others have said about him - Robert Redford, "My life - and this country - is better for his being in it." And, George Clooney, "He set the bar too high for the rest of us. Not just actors, but all of us. He will be greatly missed."

The Next Morning - Morning Wood

derived from

Eventually she stopped shuddering, and relaxed, and he untied her ankles and wrists. They left the meeting room and went out into the day. They went down the stairs and onto the main casino floor to the early morning Starbucks for a coffee and orange juice. He took her out to a sitting area in a little plaza and they sat and talked, and looked at each other, finally, really for the first time. Another hour passed all too quickly and they had to part, and return to their respective lives.


The next morning, very early, he walked into the hotel, through the lobby to the elevator foyer and rode up to the 23rd floor. He walked down the hall, clicked the card key and let himself into the room where she was sleeping. He sat the small bag he was carrying on the foot of the bed. He sat down, and reached across her body, put his hand on her cheek, and brushed the hair back off her face. Finally she stirred a bit and began to wake up. Seeing him there, she pulled herself closer and pressed her face against his leg. She smiled and whispered softly, "Good morning." He smiled back at her, and sunk his fingers deep into her hair.

He pulled her head up off the bed. She closed her eyes, smiled, and made a soft noise. He leaned forward, placed his mouth over hers, both of their mouths opened to the other. He felt her tongue start dancing against his, slowly, tentatively at first. He forced his mouth harder onto hers, moving his tongue back and forth against hers. As he pulled her even closer against him, he felt her body pressing hard against the side of his leg. The kiss lingered on and on, so long desired, not wanting to end it. Finally, overwhelmed with passion and desire, he pulled back.

He stood up, fingers still tightly tangled in her hair; he pulled and guided her around, crosswise. She was kicking with her feet to help spin around, until she was lying across the width of the bed. She had her knees bent, feet up on the bed. She was stretched across the bed, head against his legs. He let go of her hair, and looked down the length of her naked body, thanking god for the inadequacy of hotel A/C in the summer, it had been so warm she had been comfortable sleeping naked as he had instructed.

He moved his hand along her jaw bone and chin, put his thumb against her lips. She opened her mouth and let it in, licking slowly with her tongue, and closed her lips around it. She sucked harder on his thumb, moved it slightly in and out of her mouth, he pushed it deeper into her mouth against the corner of her mouth, and she gripping it with her teeth. His other hand he moved across her breasts feeling the slight dampness of perspiration on her cool skin, brushing repeatedly over her swelling nipples, teasing them, feeling them stiffen. He toyed with them, bending and pushing them, listening to the sound of her sucking on his thumb and moaning in response to his touch.

Suddenly, she took hold above the knuckle and bit down. "No!" he said. He took hold of a nipple hard between his thumb and the side of his index finger and twisted when she did not respond to his voice. Still she did not respond and in fact it felt like her bite tightened even more. He let go her nipple and gave her a startling slap on the cheek, and moved his hand to her forehead. Her eyes flashed open, showing some shock and puzzlement.

With his hand on her forehead, he curled his fingers under her chin, gripped and pried her jaw open just enough to break her concentration and she loosened her bite on his thumb. He repeated, "No!" She let go her grip, got a coy smile in her eyes, and returned to caressing his thumb with her tongue, closed her eyes and returned to sucking in earnest. "Good girl".

While she continued, he reached over and picked up the bag he had dropped on the foot of the bed earlier, and dumped out it contents. They made a clattering sound as they fell into a heap on the bed. He told her to keep her eyes closed and that he was going to remove his thumb from her mouth, she mumbled a little grumble, kept her eyes closed and relaxed her mouth as he pulled his thumb out.

"Relax and be still". He rummaged through the items and picked up the sleeping mask and placed it over her eyes, and pulled the elastic around the back of her had. "Do you trust me baby?" and she nodded again, and a smile covered her face. "Good girl."

He reached back into the pile and took up a long handled wooden kitchen spoon. He leaned forward and repeatedly tapped the inside of her thighs with the cupped part of the spoon. The harder he struck it the louder was the popping sound the cup of the spoon made as it slapped against her thighs. She winced a little, and reached up and took a grip on the legs of his pants, squeezing handfuls of the denim, to help her steady herself. She started making a murmuring sound punctuated with little gasps of air as the implement would strike her tender inner thighs.

She continued to make gasping noises, and he continued to smack her. He would stop for a few moments, watch her face to be sure she was okay, and seeing her nod, would resume, a little more firmly each time. He smiled, knowing she was enjoying the sensations. Then he would stop and check again. After several cycles of this, he let the spoon slide down between her thighs, rubbing the back side of the spoon over her swollen lips, noticing how smoothly it slide up and down over her growing wetness. He pressed down more firmly, and she shivered. He slowly moved it up and down, noticing her hips move, lifting up, and pressing back against the sensations. Then he stopped and laid the cup of the spoon on the bed below her hips, and positioned it so that the long wooden handle lay against her swollen mound, and left it there.

He reached down and caressed her cheeks, noticed her breathing was more relaxed, and saw her smile as he touched her. He tried to remove her hands from their grip on the legs of his pants, but she held her grip and shook her head. Clearly she wanted to continue holding onto the denim, he assumed to help her steady herself.

He ran his hand up and down the front of her torso, feeling more perspiration on her skin; no longer as cool as it had been when he started. He reached into the pile and took a wooden clothespin, and clamped it on her nipple. Her body stiffened and she took a sharp breath, then whimpered softly and worked at steadying her breathing. As she settled into the sensation, he picked up the second clothespin and placed it onto her other nipple. Again she whimpered and it took a couple minutes for her breathing to settle back down again. He had become accustomed to hearing those wonderfully sexy, achy sounds she made when she was pinned like that. He leaned forward over her body, and rubbed and caressed her stomach, helping her calm down and feel more centered in her body.

She started pushing with her feet and sliding herself on the bed more, scooting up a bit on the sheets until her head was slightly tilted off the edge of the bed. She reached up and fumbled with his button and zipper, got them undone and pulled down on his pants, and they slide down off his hips and fell to a puddle around his ankles. She reached for his boxers and realized he was not wearing any, and laughed. She reached up and took a hold and moved him into her mouth. He was still leaning forward, rubbing her stomach. Balancing himself with one hand on the bed at her hip, he reached down and took hold of the wooden spoon and pulled it up across her and set it aside in the heap of implements. She continued to suck on him as he moved about. He was responding and growing harder and harder in her mouth.

He rubbed his fingers over her swollen mound, feeling her heat and dampness, and feeling her arousal. He reached over to the pile, picked up a third clothespin, and clamped it well up onto her hood. She shook with the sensation of the pressure but her attention was concentrated elsewhere. He picked up the wooden handled, stiff bristled pastry brush and began stroking it up and down across her clit. Her body started to shiver as if she was cold, and he knew she was close. He moved the brush faster and faster, increasing the pressure, and could feel her reaction in her mouth, as she drove him closer and closer to the edge, right along with her.

Her whole body stiffened and her back arched. He grabbed hold of the clothespin and pulled it off of her hood, her neck straining back. He yanked the pins off of her nipples and her head shook. Her legs stiffened and stretched out straight. He let loose his own orgasm, and growled, "Oh Yes. Now baby. Now."

and finally, the ending