Killing Uhura (The Next Generation): Communications in Kinks

Star Trek's UhuraCopyrighted material Used with Permission of the author all rights reserved

by Chris Carroll aka Book

The single hardest thing we have to do in any relationship is talk. Ever notice that? In the first days you just can’t shut up when near each other. You drop bomb shell after bomb shell and the other person is so entranced and so into you that they just process all that information because they’re building up their concept of you in their head and they are hungry for every tid bit they can get. This is the honeymoon period of every relationship. Add that to the pulse pounding excitement of the first time you do anything and everything together and you’ve a perfect storm of love and affection. I love the starts of things almost as much as my cathatic soul loves when things end (I’m all about the rebuilding… taking the stones of the cathedral and turning them into… oh… a pub).

But what happens when you lose the ability to talk? I fell asleep last night listening to some relationship guru yattering away on talk radio and she said something I must have read a thousand times in a thousand different books over the years. Those who are happiest in this world are those who never lose the ability to communicate both with total strangers or the people they love the most. Good communication improves every single aspect of your life. What is “Community Drama” other then two people who need to just sit the fuck down and have a conversation with each other being too pig headed to do it and gathering their friends on their “Side”? You stop talking and nine times out of ten you start keeping secrets. Nine times out of ten you start feeling guilty. Nine times out of ten you knock the first stones out of the bridge between you.

So why the fuck do we do it? Why do we kill Uhura?

That’s easy.

1. We did something we’re not proud of and we just don’t want the other person to know. This person is the center of our universe and her opinion of me is the only one that really matters. I don’t think I’d survive seeing disappointment in her eyes.

2. We did something that we know will hurt them and it is absolutely better to spare that, take it on ourselves and bury it fucking deep in a chance to maintain the status quo.

3. We’re said it all before. My stories are getting old. I’m getting boring. What do you say to the person who you can’t charm with words anymore because you used up all your voco-mojo in the first few months of the relationship.

I’m probably missing something but lets face it. Those are the three main ones. I think all of these form around one common miscomprehension. You cannot, and do not, EVER know what the other person is thinking. Even if they were completely and totally born without a poker face, even if you know them so well that you can read every single eye twitch and the emotion that spawns it you don’t know them THAT well. I know that what I have to tell you will hurt you and I know you don’t deserve that and I don’t want you to think less of me because I think nothing but everything of you… and yet… really… do I know how you’re going to react? Do I know how you deal with things. For the first few hours, yes I do. But I have no idea how you’ll process the emotions in the long run. I mean, you could tell me that you just had a fabulous fucking gang bang and squirted all over the place and did all sorts of really awesome things that I had wanted to do with you. Angry? Sure. Jealous? Sure. But do you know the moment when the emotion simmers down and my brain starts working again? Do you know that maybe an hour later that pervy part of myself that gets off on you being naughty will actually start wanting details? Do you know why it is I am wired to NOT feel jealousy for longer then an hour. You’ve heard the story… you’ve heard all my stories but do you know how the mechanics of it works? We always hold back because we assume our partners will take things badly.

The only thing I take badly to are secrets. I am a pretty happy guy. Maybe there is something to that. Or maybe I’m an emotional masochist. Okay, I am totally an emotional masochist but the point remains…. I’d rather know then not.

I had an interesting encounter recently. I ran in to a girl who was so conditioned against fighting, so conditioned against pissing her partner off that she would stop mid sentence whenever her brain flashed that the person she was talking to might react badly. Any attempts to get her to finish her sentence would be rebuked. She self edited to a degree I had never, ever seen before. Kinda common. Who doesn’t self edit on occasion. But I had never seen it quite this bad. It was, to be honest, a tad infuriating. I have only one rule with people I scene with. Don’t snow me. Don’t lie to me. Don’t hold back. If I am doing something wrong I won’t fix it til you tell me. If something makes you uncomfortable, tell me. Hell if my apartment has a bad smell or you just can’t stand the look of my cottage cheese ass anymore… just tell me. Everything can be fixed, and to be honest, after the initial hit we’ll be on much more stable ground. Fixing something can be a good bonding experience.

Hiding something, no matter how stealthy cool you are… not so much.

I digress.

Everyone always says communication is key to a relationship. Makes sense. But it our dynamics it is even more critical then most. I bring this up because there has been a fairly serious lack of communications and negotiations out there. I’m not saying that every little scene should have some sort of written contract but I have seen some stuff go down lately between TOTAL FUCKING STRANGERS that probably shouldn’t have. I’m all for losing myself in the moment but holy crap. What we do is DANGEROUS. I explained it to a friend once that it was more or less an extreme sport… we spend as much time training as athletes, as much time taking lumps and as much energy. I can’t scene without at least one long assed conversation, even months before, where I get the feel of the person I’m playing with. If I’m topping I really want to know what they’re looking for and need out of our time together. I really want to know where the landmines are and how to walk across the graveyard without blowing skeletons out of the Earth. If I’m letting some hot thing tie me up I want to be able to say, with reasonable assuredy, that when I am all spacy they aren’t going to jamming a red hot poker up my ass or taking my head off with a band saw.

“I don’t know… you’re the dom, you choose what we’re doing.”

If I had a nickle for every time I heard that. I’ve actually untied people, put their clothes back on and sent them home to think about what they want. I have. Or to think about what they think Doms are supposed to do because if all their information is coming off the interwebs they’re seriously confused. Go home and think about what you want in this scene. Go fantasize the hottest fucking rape and pillage you can cream to, write it down and send it to me. We’ll do that. Right now all the Dom wants is to know what he can do for the sub.

Which brings me back to the point.

We deal in a lifestyle that pushes limits. Our own and others. We deal in a lifestyle that has its own rules, its own titles, its own protocols and is generally just a shitstorm waiting to happen if you step over someone’s lines. Its a strange and wonderful world and I fucking love it. But I am well armed. If nothing else, I know how to talk to people. Maybe I’ve grown up and gotten old but for me, this whole lifestyle now is about the head. The one on my shoulders. I will get down and dirty with the best of them sure but I want to know what is going on in your head. What makes you feel dirtiest? What makes you feel strongest? Do you prefer aftercare or just a “Wow, Painslut! Well done, get the fuck out!” Kink takes sex and sews it together with a whole bunch of other concepts and this is why I love it. Sex is sex. Yay. Woo. Boring. But sex mixed in with this creepy little dream you used to have that made you feel both scared and naughty at the same time? Then it becomes something else. Then it becomes something special.

For me, its all about that. Layering all these different aspects onto each other. Dealing with your fantasies. Your fears. Your dreams. Shit you’ve never told anyone before that makes your heart hammer in your chest and you’re embarassed to admit and yet…

The idea that you get to do it keeping you wet and distracted for days…

Kink is about creativity and ideas.

All of which can’t happen when you lose the ability to talk.

I don’t care much about how long you’ve been together or how established the roles are. The dynamic is NOT the relationship. The roles are NOT the people. Every now and then you need to re read the old diaries. Every now and then you need to look over the original contracts. Every now and then you need to stop being the Sir, and start being the man. Every now and then you need a day sitting across from each other as equals.

This is going to be the most vanilla thing I will say today. Untie the girl and dress her up pretty. Go to a nice restaurant. Look into her eyes.

And let her talk.

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