consent – Mija’s Room

This started as a post on accountability, discipline, and punishment, but as I tried to write it I realized I need to write a piece on consent first. The timeline may seem a bit blurry — that’s intentional. I’m not writing about any one thing or person, but rather some experiences that inform my notions of consent.

I’ll start this by pointing out Paul and I have been partnered in some form for my entire adult kink experience — almost since I delurked on the newsgroup.¹ I didn’t play with anyone else, even virtually, before we were committed to each other, so I’ve only ever negotiated consent and limits with Paul and my relationship as part of the equation. My negotiations with others always existed within those limits because the agreements/limits between Paul and me inform whatever negotiations happened with other people. Additionally, there are things Paul and I do we agreed we wouldn’t do with anyone else.

These limits were, and (as I discovered to my peril recently) still are hugely important to my being able to not having our relationship be exclusive. In 1997, when I “delurked” on alt.sex.spanking, I was 29, barely separated from my first husband, who’d repeatedly lied, mislead, and cheated on me. We’d met my first quarter in college. I was barely 18, he was my English professor and significantly older. The disorienting experience of being deceived and discovering that deception was a trauma on top of the infidelity and my wounds were very fresh. The late 1990s newsgroup had posters like Janet Hardy (co-author of The Ethical Slut) who emphasized openness and consent in navigating play and partnership.

The ones that matter to me

Punishment – Outside of play² scenes, I don’t have rules and am not disciplined or punished by anyone but Paul. This has been the case since 1997. As far as I know, the reverse is also true. This limit has always been important — it speaks to how “real” accountability has (or in some cases, hasn’t) worked between us.³
Pre-check – We always check with each other before we meet and/or play with other people and each have the right to veto for whatever reason. This was informal from the start of our relationship. It became formal after I foolishly gave into a lonely urge and met and played with someone from a random AOL chatroom one night.⁴ Unfortunately, I ended up physically injured and needed medical care. I’ve got terrible impulse control but am good at sticking to promises/limits. So, especially when we were long distance, having to pause and talk to my partner has been a great safety check. On the other side, recently I found out that in 2023, Paul and a (former) long-time friend planned and enacted elaborate scenes on two separate occasions while I was out of town without either asking or letting me know before or after, despite our being in marriage counseling. Aside from the pain and sense of betrayal, finding out has caused, our not talking about it ahead of time, coupled with neither of us having played with anyone else for years, meant that a number of our other limits were forgotten. [If you’re wondering why we’ve had these last few months together, it’s because when I decided I needed out of this triangle I never consented to, Paul (surprisingly) broke off contact with his affair partner.] ⁵
Transparency – We can ask to hear about the other’s playing with other people in as much or little detail as is needed or desired to be comfortable. This is one I need – without it I can’t be comfortable opening up play to other people. In my first marriage my ex-husband had multiple affairs. One of the things I’ve always valued about the way play with others happens in our scene is that honesty and explicit consent are the norm.
The “A” thing – I’ve not even written the words out and cringe even putting down this much is probably the reason for this limit. For me, “bottom play/punishment” are the most intimate acts ⁶ I’ve ever done and ones I’ve only done with Paul – can only imagine doing with Paul. My brain can’t even conceive of doing this kind of play with anyone else. I’m still reeling and trying to find space for my feelings about this one being “forgotten” during our former friend’s visit last year.

The one that could have gone years ago but is funny so I like it.

Don’t Call Me “Sir” – this one that dates to IRC, the digital space where we could hang out with other newsgroup friends when we were long distance. It was great fun, mostly anyway. But, because as soon as he partnered with me, Paul became identified as a “top,” rather than a switch, some of the “TREW SUBS” (more on that later) decided he was a “Dom” and therefore had to be called “Sir.” Paul found this beyond annoying and balked at being called “sir.” As we talked about this, me mostly amused, him mostly annoyed, I realized that my use of “sir,” something that happened spontaneously during punishment scenes, was deeply meaningful to him. He made it a rule/limit that no one would call him sir but me. Reciprocity being a thing, I told him, outside of school-type role-play, I would never use “sir” for anyone but him. I never have, resulting in scenes with Tony Elka who agreed I could use another word as a substitute for “sir.” So I counted cane strokes with “[insert number] – thank you, DORK.

1
digital (1997), long distance (in-person meeting 1998), living together (2002?), married 2004–
2
By this I mean role-play, in that any accountability I have to anyother other than Paul is “play” even when it’s deep, dark, and serious.
3
Dates to pretty early on — became fixed, at least for me, as part of our wedding day and night — it was part of the vows we gave each other after our legal ceremony.
4
This play experience was a painful lesson in the importance of consent being informed.
5
This situation, an affair triangle, is my worst nightmare. Aside from feeling betrayed, I’ve never experienced anything like this friendship break-up before – first time a close friendship has ended through anything other than drift. The trauma has been intense. Since I found out I’ve lost more than 15% of my body weight (currently my jeans can be pulled down without needing to unzip or unbutton) and have had nightmares, hives, and experienced suicidal ideation for the first time since I was a young teen.
6
Knowing we don’t engage in any other kind of penetration with anyone may make this more understandable.