The New Violence

Hello dear S,

i write because of the exceptionally
high matching score. nice to know that
I’m not alone. :)
L.

It is autumn when László sends his introductory message on the dating app. Seasonal is gripping on to their job while their life falls apart in a foreign country. They are not sure that talking to the world in this state is a good idea, but they don’t know what else to do while they are in free fall. They try to trust that this breaking apart is also a coming together.

László is very attracted to women with short hair, and immediately after making contact in the app, he asks them about their haircut – is it a statement of some kind? Seasonal answers: I just feel more like myself with short hair, and then they hit the ball back over the net while standing in line at the bakery:

is your interest in kink an interest in
exploring or engaging power as
a political/social force, or do you
tend to think of it as (purely?)
erotic?

I don’t think the two can exist
separately. There is no such thing
as purely erotic, at least not in sex.

I have a number of things I’m
trying to explore with bdsm

Playing with power, releasing it
from its ossified state, liquidating
it, so it can be communicated,
exchanged, played, experimented
with is what I do in kink. It gives
me great pleasure to be free.

May I ask why did you ask this
question? It was no ordinary question.

Later that evening, Seasonal cradles the phone, and types the answer they hope they are capable of.

hi lászló, i really liked
your answer a lot: the idea
of releasing power from its
ossified state (beautifully put)
but also how bringing it to the
fore makes it available to be
exchanged and played with. i
am very interested in this
aspect of kink too.

what made me ask?

well, you are one of the few people
who signalled their interest in bdsm
in their profile in a way that
made me think you had thought
about it. seems i was right :)

i have also had a lot of
conversations with people –
especially recently – around
kink. it is very interesting to
me on all levels (intellectually,
interpersonally, erotically, etc.)
i am particularly interested
in how dominance/submission
can work as a cross current in
gendered forms of power.

and how nice that my questions
turned you on…
an added bonus :)

yes, it’s a turn on, because it opens
up so many possibilities.

that start with whether we speak
about this

and then, if yes, how

and how speech turns into
phisical
*physical

and, as you say, how gender
relations shade this.

I have played with men, and
there power exchange was
purely that, if you like a
reversal to the pack-hierarchy
state of affairs among
competing males. very pre-
cognitive, and proto-social.

playing with women, for me,
is a much richer experience,
because the contemporary
politics of gender is always
part of the play, whether we
know it / or want it, or reflect
on it.

and the cuts, bruises, and
rope marks don’t just stay on
the skin, or the soul, but also
on the body politic.

may i ask what you are into?

i am a novice
with a calling would be
the short answer.

I have so many things to say,
but I would like to say it in
person.

If you feel comfortable with
the idea, I’d love to meet you.

Despite this profession of enthusiasm, László finds it hard to find the energy to open his calendar. It takes two weeks of chatting. When he finally admits he is free, Seasonal suggests they meet at the café in the film museum in Amsterdam, which sits on an island behind central station and has a beautiful view of the IJ river and the city.

On the ferry to meet László on a chilly fall afternoon, Seasonal is terrified. They stand wide-legged amongst the tourists, scooters and the bicycles and type frantically into the notes app on their phone:

I am trying to inhabit my dom self: my stance, open body language, standing in my power, practicing my dismissive/assessing gaze: looking forward to the game. Hoping I can play it, that I am able to play, that he is willing.

What does it mean to try to bring fantasy into reality? To try to bend the world to your will, to find a part of the world that wants to be bent? To punish, to instruct, to immobilise, to make the other wait, to hold their reality within yours?

László has not chosen a table. He is standing in the atrium between the café and the stairs to the cinemas. He is tall, his skin the colour of roasted almonds. They greet each other with shy smiles and go in search of a table. The raised section at the back of the café is quiet, but each table has a sign that reads Gereserveerd. While pretending to look for a table, Seasonal sounds out the Dutch pronunciation in their mind, as it has the strong guttural ‘g’ they are still learning to mediate. Ge-res-er-veert. Have to remember to say the ‘d’ as ‘t’, they think, as they wonder who made all these reservations and where the hell are they? Eventually they agree with László on a spot on a long bench facing the water. László dismissively moves the ‘reserved’ sign in a swift fluid movement. This gesture speaks volumes about his attitude to authority. This gesture of dismissal seals the deal: the muscles in Seasonal’s pelvis pulse with wanting.

The two of them sit side by side on the bench overlooking the IJ. They talk ideas for the first hour. He is from Budapest and researches the internet. He asks them about the book they are finishing, and wants a chapter-by-chapter description. Seasonal dutifully gives one. They do not know how to shift out of this very familiar persona of the affable humanities researcher explaining their work. While they talk, their mind is frantically trying to find the door that allows them to be something else – the thing they’ve come here to try to be.

They are immensely relieved but also disappointed with themself when László finally introduces the topic of their shared interest in kink. Seasonal pushes themself to be honest about everything, but also struggles painfully to translate the low throbbing in their body, the high energy of excitement, the recent explosion in their erotic imagination. How to elucidate the strange feeling that even though they have had practically no experience (knowingly) inflicting pain and dominating the other, that they are going to be really good at it? They push through their sense of unease about appearing ridiculous or inexperienced; they know enough to know that a dom cannot be self-conscious. It is one of the many things they like about the headspace.

After two hours, Seasonal has to leave. They had scheduled another meeting as an insurance policy against László being boring. He asks if he can walk with them some of the way in a hopeful and soft voice that he had not used in the last two hours. His posture is still tall, but Seasonal senses how hope changes his bearing. His familiarity to them in this moment is disorienting. They know exactly what they are seeing.

As they leave the café they lie and tell László that they are teasing a sub they know, that he would be replaced if this date went well. He says nothing and looks straight ahead. As they approach the wooden stairs that lead down to the footpath, he looks down. His voice is quiet, deep, and without the boldness that has characterised its timbre up until this moment.

I would like that.

Their whole body responds to this meagre wish. Certainty plumps their clitoris and the soft gel discs between their vertebrae. Their stride lengthens just a little.

Later, a message arrives:

We talked Foucault, but the subtext
was something more visceral

I was trying to get a glimpse of how
your eyes glitter when cruel, when
greedy, when they deny.

We exchanged ideas but my
painful awareness of your scent
made me think of exchanging
body fluids.

The next day Seasonal can barely remember anything about the interaction with László: it is a blur of sense memory. The tarnished light on the water, the low hum of their desire growing louder and more insistent. The way his eyes moved. They could feel him reacting to them. But they cannot remember anything about him: brown hair? A black t-shirt with thin white stripes under a black cardigan? Blue jeans? The cardigan is fastened by a red plastic brooch that says Alarm. He wears a ring. Three black plastic discs joined by wire, each with white numbers from zero to ten. Which finger? And glasses…does he wear glasses? They cannot remember. Their ability to encode memory was weakened by the cognitive and corporeal task of processing the light, the water, how far they are from home, how far from their friends, how wonderful it is to be here now talking to a stranger about the games they can play to release power from its ossified state.

They start chatting with László every day via WhatsApp, and the following Monday he flies to South Korea to attend a conference as a keynote speaker. The negotiations of the terms of his surrender begin in earnest.

You have a very rich and deep
sensuality

So exciting and unique

And so very private

At least so it seems

I feel very lucky that you shared
some of it with me

I just wanted to thank you for this

I wanted you to know that I
appreciate the value of it

László likes to send Seasonal erotic photographs of male submission. The subject’s face is rarely visible in these images, and so the opening move in the game they want to play with him while he travels to Seoul is to request an airport selfie. The aim of the game is for him to learn proper forms of address in submission. In response to the request for a selfie, he sends three nicely framed arty shots of the airport in which his reflection or shadow is barely visible.

you are bad at selfies, i suspect,
because you do not want to be
seen.

you are going to have to try again.
look through the camera in your
phone and let me see you.

this is the first lesson in how to
address me.

i am waiting.

They assign a custom tone (Glass) to László in WhatsApp. The two short rings of Glass serve two purposes: their pleasure (giving him a distinct sonic presence amongst the stream of notifications they receive), and the omnipresence of the dom. They will allow this tone to interrupt them so that László may experience them as a near constant presence.

Before he boards the plane to Seoul, László asks:

Do I sense correctly that you have
a specific interest in power
over the male (body?), not just
simply the other, or the body?

yes

What is the role of gender? Or sex?

they both have a role
would you like me to elaborate?

Negotiations with László continue after he arrives in Seoul. Seasonal lies naked in bed, and the chat with him is rapid:

what do you fear?

I fear that you might order me to do
something that is not entirely appropriate

And demand proof that I obeyed

oh, like you just challenged me to do?

are you afraid i will force your
submissive and quotidian states together?

I refuse to answer that question

oh?
will you tell me why?

With your permission, I prefer not
to tell you why

oh you are tired from your flight and
you feel unsafe.

it is so impossible to read this
situation: i wish you were in the
room with me and i could use all my
senses to read you now

:)

I do fear the collapse of the submissive and
the quotidian

Seasonal is happy they were able to guide him through his fear. They understand his fear of being ensnared by desire. They sign off the chat by agreeing neither of them will masturbate, they will each hold on to the erotic tension that is building and bring it to their next meeting. Seasonal puts the phone down and breaks the promise immediately – they know, somehow, that this is what the dom should do. Seek their own pleasure.

I’ll send you a black heart every
time you shake my core in a way
that I’m happy to explore further
despite of, or exactly because of
my feelings.

The next morning they message with László in Seoul, and then ride their large omafiets to class. He sends them a teasing message that sends them into the classroom feeling flighty and too charged for the pedagogical scene. They tell him he needs to get better at pleasing them, not just teasing them. He offers to make it up to them.

Tell me when you are alone.

almost home

I’ll be waiting here
What is your desire, should I write, or speak
to you?

omg
you will speak to me?

Do you want me to?

fuck
yes

I’m grateful for you letting me try to please you

You have beautiful sounding orgasms, László says over a WhatsApp voice connection from South Korea.

i want you to know i have no interest in abuse.

What constitutes abuse does not
entirely depend on you.

oh i know that
there is a long story there

i have to find a way to confront my fear about
the inevitable relationship
between power and abuse
and that means running the risk
that you will feel abused by me
and i have to believe that you will tell me
if that happens
and that you will forgive me for it.

The sooner you tell me, the better.

i grew up in a physically and
emotionally abusive house but i am ok :)
but it has left me with questions
about gender and power, because
it was my father (unsurprisingly) who was abusive
and i am a lot like my father in many ways.
some of the best parts of me come from him.
(i am worried you are going to
walk out of this arrangement now.)
so i need to make it clear
that when i see men, i do not see my father.
i see my father in myself.
but it is not him, actually, that i see.
i have moved a great distance
(emotionally and physically) from him
and the house i grew up in.
but on the few occasions
when i have genuinely felt my will to power,
i have immediately turned from it and denied it.

And then comes the gift Seasonal was not expecting:

I hope I can help you find your own voice of power

A few days later, Seasonal lies in bed and types into their phone in the dim morning light. They ask László if he will let them use his body and his sexuality so that they can relearn the association between pain and pleasure. They hope that by understanding how pain and pleasure come together for him, that they can find out what kind of pain they might like to give. When they ask him, he fails to answer correctly, he does not give Seasonal the yes they want.

I appreciate you asking my
permission, but is that really
necessary?

try again.

May I ask why do you ask my
permission to give pain?

read my request again.

May I ask why do you think your
request isn’t covered by my
submission to your will?

And so they must administer the first punishment.

It comes to them fully formed, and their heart races. They know it must involve the senses, that they must shock the body and create a situation that forces him to reflect. They tell him to text them when he is back in his hotel room and they will tell him what his punishment is. He sends the black heart emoji in response.

In the hours while they wait for him to text from Seoul, they mark book reviews written by their students, they take a walk, they eat muesli and Greek yoghurt. They refine their strategy. They know they cannot write the instructions out and have them ready to cut and paste into the app when he contacts them. They have to type them in real time so that he has the experience of seeing the typing cue and the sense of anticipation can build. He needs to feel them instructing him, the time it takes for them to type the instructions feeds the pleasure and fear of anticipation.

They leave the apartment, desperate to stretch their legs. They walk their usual route through a nature reserve, past several canals and some garden plots then back through their neighbourhood. Seasonal notices none of these things. They are composing and practicing their lines. Their sense of ruthlessness swells, their gait becomes longer and their feet hit the pavement with decisiveness. Their torso is a chamber that holds a pristine and unfathomable power. Their body language is open and they are longing for László.

Finally, the two sharp sounds ring out from their pocket.

I’m here.
I would like to know what I did wrong.

the punishment will help you find that out.

They are ready. But when they realise it is their moment, their palms are wet and their blood is thumping in their ears. The membrane separating fantasy from reality is as thin as the iPhone into which they attempt to pour their dominance. Before they begin to type their lines, they think, Am I really about to punish a man I am attracted to, who I have met once, who is eight and a half thousand kilometres away?

They sit on their lounge and start typing.

i have a timer set on my phone. you
can set one too. set it for an hour.

then do the following:

1. use the word search function in
WhatsApp on our chat and search
the word ‘yes’

2. scroll through the results

3. take a cold shower

4. lie naked face down, wet, on the
tiled floor of your bathroom for thirty
minutes

5. call me and tell me what you
have learned about submission.

I understand, and do as you say

Seasonal opens the door to their balcony, and they light a cigarette. Their hand is shaking. The timer is running. They feel something new, hard, exciting, in their chest.

László calls them after he has got up from the floor. They ask him what he has learned. He says he learned that he does not say yes very often. When they ask why that is, he tells them he does not like to say yes because there is no room for his opinion.

I will do anything to avoid saying yes.
I fear if I say yes there is no room for my opinion.

They ask how he felt lying on the bathroom floor.

I felt alone.

He tells them he went into himself and concentrated on his breath. He came up off the floor feeling stronger.

Do you understand now, Seasonal asks forcefully, voice shaking, what I can give you?

Yes.

They ask if he thinks the strength he feels now will wear off.

No, it is part of me now.
I lay, wet, on the floor because a stranger
thousands of miles away told me to.
That is a unique experience.
I will not forget it.

How do you feel about me now? They ask, curious, afraid, alive with a new curiosity.

Lucky to be your play pal.

Seasonal wonders if László would say yes more easily if they knew the pleasure it brings them? He wants to be an instrument of their pleasure, and they shook his core in an earlier chat when they told him that when they use him for their pleasure, they will not care about how he feels or about his pleasure.

Shall I tell you what your ‘yes’ means to me?

If you think it will help me understand.

They tell him that his yes brings them a new, and great, form of satisfaction. That submission does not happen once, it happens over and over again and the yes is just as important as whatever it is he is agreeing to do for them. The yes is his submission. The yes is their prize.

They tell him that in submission his opinion does not matter, that is why he needs to learn to say yes. To realise he is irrelevant. What matters is that he submits, that he says it.

In the space of twenty-four hours, he says after this lecture on the ‘yes’, you have made me come and made me lie wet on the floor for thirty minutes. A few more like this and I will think you are some kind of James Bond villain.

This is music, this is a kind of sexual pleasure Seasonal had no idea existed.

Seasonal rereads their question to László over the voice connection. They want to know if he can say yes this time. They sit on the lounge and read the text aloud:

there is a gap between my desire
and my capacities that i think you can help me cross,
and it relates to physical pain
this in turn effects my ability to administer punishment, which
i have already told you i am interested in exploring ;)
i think to overcome this, i want to learn
more about the pain that brings you pleasure
in order to learn how they go together for you
the idea of giving you the pain
that you want fills me with desire
and i want to use that desire to
reorder the associations i have learned
in that reordering, i hope to discover
which forms of pain i like to give.
can you give me this opportunity lászló?

The answer he gives is the right one. It is Seasonal’s first victory.

They are metal filings responding to a new magnetic force: pulled violently across the surface of their previous assumptions about the forms desire will take.

Somewhere in this haze, Seasonal wonders where all this knowledge came from, and why they feel so certain in it.

When Seasonal tells Y what László’s punishment was, she laughs hard and long and says, Seasonal, it is like performance art.

When they tell Q what László’s punishment was, he says, You should make him read you Foucault and flog him every time he mispronounces a word.

When they tell C what László’s punishment was, and that he felt stronger when he got up off the floor, she says, Wow. It is like a form of therapy.

They tell M via recorded message in WhatsApp that they are practicing BDSM. She responds by asking, what exactly does it mean for you to be dominant?

I could google all this obviously, she says in her voice message, but I want you to tell me. What does it mean that you dom him?

Once he has returned to Amsterdam from South Korea, arranging a second date with László is tricky business. He has said he lives with a woman, they have a son, and they have an open relationship. On the app he listed himself as single. As a person with no children, Seasonal is invariably drawn into the logistics of parenting when dating parents. László has to arrange a sleepover for his son to see them, and so the social arrangements of a ten-year-old child become entangled in their play. The mindset they adopt when talking about this is to be as easy going as possible, but every time they have to listen to the practicalities they think imagine how much harder this must be for the woman.

Soon László confirms his son does indeed have a sleepover, and that they are meeting, they feel sick to their stomach. Their bowels clench. They wonder how on earth they can inhabit space with him.

They suggest via text message that they meet him at the train station and that they take a walk.

Would it be possible to meet somewhere
less stressful and transitory?

He is so far from submission. After some gentle teasing on their part, they compromise.

This is what Seasonal does every day. Give way when they can tell someone needs something more than they do. They like to do it. They are trying to like it less.

As they negotiate their meeting, László proposes he devise a symbolic way of registering his submission to them – he would give them something before he enters their house that symbolised his submission. As they walk through the streets of Utrecht after eating ramen they are like any other pair on the street enjoying the relatively calm cold weather of late autumn. At the door to their apartment, László pauses and says,

I must give you this before I enter and hands them a piece of rope.

It is beautifully rolled and held together by a simple knot. They know László uses rope – he has mentioned in a chat that time unfolded differently the last time I was tied, and that I can be abusive when I rope top. The rope is rough, it would hurt like hell if it was tied right. They are terrible at knots; a rebellion against being sent to Brownies and then Girl Guides when they really wanted to be in Scouts (where the uniforms were so much better). They take the rope, and thank him, and feel its weight in their hand. He has a great poker face, until he gives in to his desire, and then everything is written there. But for now, they can only admire his solemnity and care, and the attentive beauty in the way he has tied the rope to itself.

Seasonal invites him in and makes some tea. Shortly afterwards, László stands on the balcony watching Seasonal smoke and explains how much he likes the Enlightenment. He thinks it has bequeathed Us a lot of Good Things, like Rationality, and Choice, and Autonomy. Seasonal doesn’t know where to start in response, but later in the evening when he puts their hand on his scrotum and asks them to squeeze and says don’t be afraid, they squeeze harder than they ever thought they would dare.

But for now, Seasonal redirects the conversation by inviting him back inside. They open a drawer in the small bookcase and give him what he had asked for: a symbol he can use to signal his submission to their will. They hand him a brand-new MAC Cosmetics kohl eyeliner. He is perplexed.

You have to write it on your body, they tell him. I have chosen something ephemeral: it will wear off, and you will have to renew it.

His eyes expand. He pauses to think. He likes it. They knew he would.

Not long after being given the eyeliner, he takes the lid off the pencil and draws a small black heart on the soft inside of his left wrist. Their will to master swells: they knew he would do this too. This is the emoji he sends in their chats when they have shaken his core. When László finally asks for permission to kiss them, after hours of talking and drinking tea and wearing his mark of submission on his wrist sitting on their lounge, he comes to their body tentatively and then like a thunderclap. They lie beneath him, he rises above them on his elbows and knees. Every muscle in his body, all his senses and his mind are engaged. He stares at them, smells them, kisses their mouth their face their neck, he is greedy and fast, but then something quieter rolls in, impressively tender and light. Seasonal thinks he has a physical range like Freddie Mercury’s rumoured four octaves – and he likes to use them all.