It's Not the Clothespins
by Jack Rinella

Most Leather scenes are playful and of relatively short duration. Physical pleasure is the sole measure of their intensity. They may contain aspects of emotional and psychological release but these are usually short-lived and of a fairly superficial nature. At times though, there can be more to SM than a one-night stand or simply an orgasm and a good-night.

Most people don't think of clothespins as being part of a Leather toy bag, but the truth is that they are often one of the first purchases a novice to Leather makes. Even the most advanced sadist keeps a supply of them handy. Store bought tit clamps, alligator clips, and other such pinching toys are certainly prevalent, but clothespins retain a special place in one's collection of pleasure/pain devices.

They are easy to acquire, inexpensive, cause no embarrassment when purchased, and need neither care nor significant investment. Where else can a person get 50 or 100 SM toys for under five dollars? The simple wooden, spring type clothespins are a mainstay in my toy bag. They're easy to apply to various parts of a body and, although they inflict pain, they cause no permanent damage. They won't break the skin, permanently mark the tissue, or spread disease.

If you've never tried a clothespin on your nipple, I suggest you find one soon and simply apply it in the privacy of your bedroom. As I remember my first clothespin, it hurt... and so I only left it on for a few minutes. The pain is one that generally builds as the skin under the clothespin is deprived of blood for longer and longer periods of time. Eventually the area goes numb.

The worst pain occurs when you (or your top) takes the clothespin off. When that happens the blood rushes back into the area and significant pain is felt for a moment. The sensations then turn into a kind of pleasure, depending on one's tolerance, experience, and the amount of pressure applied by the clothespin.

I'll never forget the School of Lower Education held at the Mine Shaft in New York, sometime in the early eighties. It was my first exposure (I only watched!) to clothespins and a lot of other SM as well. A master had his slave tied spread eagle to the wall. He then applied, in an attractive pattern, over 200 clothespins to the guy's chest, arms, thighs, and genitals. That blew my mind. But as with many SM activities, there's more to clothespins than meets they eye. On two different occasions, I had similar experiences with the application of clothespins. Let me illustrate my point.

Soon after I met “Stan,” he asked me to be his Master. I told him I was willing to start something between us but since we were outside the Mercantile Exchange on the banks of the Chicago River, he'd have to wait for a more appropriate time and place. We began dating seriously and he soon won a place in my heart as my boy and I got called a chicken hawk for the first time. I couldn't help it if Stan was a Daddy chaser!

Anyway, I digress.

Our scenes increased in intensity over the ensuing weeks. We grew fond of each other. He learned how to please and serve, what I expected. I taught him what he could endure and how to enjoy it. It was a mutually fulfilling time of training and affection. Stan was becoming a Leather man.

On the "night of the clothespins," he was kneeling buck naked next to my bed. His hands were tied behind his back. I looked into his eyes and over the next five minutes or so, I put twelve clothespins on his cock and ball sac, one by one. I don't remember what, if anything, we were talking about. I do remember being my typical demanding self. I wanted to take Stan a bit further tonight, past a limit, into new territory. There was an intense feeling between us, though I have to admit I wasn't reading the scene as well as I thought.

Stan was taking everything surprisingly well. For a twenty-one year old novice he was doing fine. At least that's what I thought. When I put on the twelfth clothespin, Stan lost his temper and told me to stop, to take the clothespins off. He didn't want anymore of this. Of course, I did as he asked. I ended the scene right then and there. I wouldn't let Stan go home immediately but convinced him to take a few minutes to talk things out. As we did, the real story came out.

For it wasn't the clothespins that had triggered his reaction. Instead, in the pain and intensity of the moment he had flashed on images of his childhood. I was no longer a Leather sex top. Instead he saw his father, demanding perfection, pushing him to take it. It was an unpleasant experience and one at which Stan had often and repeatedly rebelled.

He didn't so much want to me to stop as he wanted the Dad of his childhood to stop. The clothespins and I had pushed him into an emotional and psychological area that was hidden and often suppressed. The scene was a trigger for its release and revelation.

Experiences with depth, emotional release, and the gaining of insight are one of the side-benefits of intense physical activity. Though we often forget, the many aspects of our lives are intricately woven together. Emotion affects thought which affects body which affects action and reaction. Each side of us builds and feeds the others. Each "part" of us only seems to be a part. In reality we are one and complete in many dimensions.

So if you think it's the clothespins, or the Leather, or the kissing, remember it's not the clothespins. What is it? It's the life experiences that we bring to the moment, the fleeting experiences that add up to life.

This column can also be found in my book “The Masters Manual, A Handbook of Erotic Dominance,” Daedalus Publishing Co.

Copyright 2008 by Jack Rinella, all rights reserved.