Spank you very much, continued

by Michelle Chihara

BEAT THE PRESS: since Attleboro, Cecilia Tan has been fighting to get a different image of the BDSM community into the public eye. "We are not all twisted and broken," she says.

Sitting on a futon in her Somerville apartment, leaning on a black silk pillow embroidered with Japanese plum blossoms, Tan is at ease. She is open about her world. Surrounded by boxes full of the latest print runs from her independent Circlet Press, she's wearing boxers and a T-shirt, and discussing popular misconceptions about "tops" and "bottoms." (If you're a "vanilla" -- someone totally outside the S&M scene -- you should know that a top plays the dominant role, while a bottom plays the submissive.)

"There's this idea that it's all some kind of abuse, that bottoms have something wrong with them, that they're victims of child abuse," she says. In truth, Tan claims, BDSM -- bondage, discipline, and sadomasochism -- can be good for you when it is part of a healthy diet (so to speak). "People only think of it the way it would be portrayed in stand-up shtick -- that it's just whip-wielding bitches," she complains.

Since Attleboro, Cecilia Tan and many other activists within the BDSM community have been trying to get a different picture of bondage out into the public eye. "We are not all twisted and broken," she says.

Tan describes the boundaries of a world whose practices range from the occasional spanking to regular sadomasochistic Klingon War parties (based on Star Trek characters whose "courtship is full of S&M stuff . . . violent but very romantic"). It's a world where some people consider themselves enslaved to a "master" 24/7, never speaking without permission or acting out of turn. It's also a world where some people switch from top to bottom depending on their mood.

And it's a growing world. The Kinsey Institute quotes a study estimating that five to 10 percent of the population has engaged in some sort of sadomasochistic activity. At this point, the New England scene that Tan represents probably numbers somewhere in the low thousands. The Fetish Flea Market drew 4000 curious people. The New England Leather Association mailing list includes 600 names, and over the past few years the group has distributed more than 8000 booklets about S&M safe-sex practices.

These sadomasochists make no bones about being a prickly bunch to organize. "I met a New York organizer who said we should all wear T-shirts saying 'Does not play well with others,' " Tan says. But they are also proud, educated, and articulate. And followers of the scene estimate that about 500 people in Boston alone go to S&M parties regularly. Many of the leaders of the established groups are married and live in the suburbs, but a new, younger guard is showing signs of organizing on its own. The Internet has made it easier for these new S&M practitioners to find each other.

For some people, BDSM is an occasional indulgence. For others, it's is a social circle, an identity, and a lifestyle. True, their practices revolve around some degree of physical pain. But, as they love to point out, how is enjoying a nice, consensual flogging all that different from enjoying a 26-mile run? The health risks are, if anything, lower.

Still, there is fear -- always. But fear feeds the arousal. A 39-year-old divorced mother of one, who has been in the scene for three and a half years, remembers well the fright of her first BDSM experience. "He began the scene by grabbing a big handful of my hair and pushing me gently but firmly to my knees, and telling me to call him Sir," says Sorcery (everyone in the scene uses an alias). "I was scared to death. I think I was shaking. But he's just a very kind person and he knew I was scared. He's the kind of person where you just know you're safe.

"So he tied me up. And the first thing he did was massage me. He said, 'We're not going any further until you relax a bit.' It was very sensual. Then he pulled my hair a little bit, spanked me a little bit. It was the first time I'd been spanked.

"I think the pivotal moment of it all was when I realized that I was getting an arousal and a submissive reaction, and that my reaction was making him feel more dominant and making him feel aroused. It was creating a feedback loop. It was like we were two sides of a coin."

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Sorcery, like most of the people I spoke with in the community, knew from an early age that she was "kinky." A penchant for bondage, dominance, submission, and sadomasochism falls somewhere between a sexual fetish (defined as needing a particular object, body part, or behavior in order to become aroused) and a sexual orientation. "It's like a form of sensory exploration that appeals to them, energizes them," says a Boston Dungeon Society member. "I've had these feelings since puberty. I've always had an interest in different forms of sexual exploration."

It can take a long time before people feel comfortable about exploring those feelings, but living near a healthy and active BDSM community can make all the difference. "I was always tying up little boys, from the time I was little" says Anya, a striking 27-year-old from Des Moines. "But I just had no idea where to find this in the Midwest. When I got to Boston I was freer to express myself."

Anya, a self-described "pain freak," tapped into the organized BDSM scene when she first moved to town. "I went to a few NLA meetings when I got here, until I met some people," she says. Anya introduced her current boyfriend to BDSM. These days she tends to stick to private play parties with her boyfriend and one or two other couples.

Some sadomasochists believe that BDSM paves the way to an even closer relationship than what's possible with ordinary "vanilla" sex. "It means I know how the other person feels," says Sugar Kane, a 40-year-old housewife and mother of four who's a long-time participant in the New England scene. "You talk before and after about everything. You have to communicate openly, if it's with somebody that's going to tie you up and do whatever they want to do to you. You have a 'safe word' that you can stop the scene with.

"Regular people in regular relationships tend not to talk about what occurred every time they make love. They just do it and it's done and over with. They don't have time to fantasize about it two weeks before, to talk about it and say 'I really would like this to happen,' and give the other person a chance to make that foreplay happen. Instead of watching TV together, you walk through the mall and collect stuff you're going to use that night."

If this sounds wholesome -- well, it gets even more so. "It's like my social circle," Sorcery says. "I go shopping and to the movies and to dinner and camping with these people. My kids play with their kids."

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Michelle Chihara can be reached at letters[a]phx.com.