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Journal of Homosexuality

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A “Different Economy of Bodies and Pleasures”?: Differentiating and Evaluating Sex and Sexual BDSM Experiences

Brandy L. Simula

To cite this article: Brandy L. Simula (2017): A “Different Economy of Bodies and Pleasures”?: Differentiating and Evaluating Sex and Sexual BDSM Experiences, Journal of Homosexuality, DOI: 10.1080/00918369.2017.1398017

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2017.1398017

Accepted author version posted online: 26 Oct 2017. Published online: 08 Dec 2017.

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A “Different Economy of Bodies and Pleasures”?: Differentiating and Evaluating Sex and Sexual BDSM Experiences Brandy L. Simula, PhD

Department of Sociology, Emory University, Atlanta, Georgia, USA

ABSTRACT This study examines how BDSM participants understand sexual experiences. Data are drawn from 32 in-depth, semistructured interviews and discussion-board threads from a large BDSM com- munity Web site. The analysis suggests that many BDSM partici- pants perceive sexual BDSM experiences as not only significantly different from but also better than mainstream or “vanilla” sex. Three primary differentiation mechanisms are identified. First, BDSM participants constructed sex as requiring genital contact, while framing sexual BDSM as creating sexual fulfillment not requiring normative indicators of sexual experiences (e.g., orgasm). Second, participants constructed sexual BDSM as cen- tered on emotional and mental experiences, while perceiving sex as being centered on physical experiences. Third, participants perceived sexual BDSM experiences as facilitating deeper inter- personal connections than those available in sex. Importantly, these mechanisms serve not only a differentiating but also an evaluative function. Most participants in this study reported a strong preference for sexual BDSM over sex.

KEYWORDS BDSM; sadomasochism; kink; Foucault; qualitative methodology; social construction; orgasm; sexual meaning

At the conclusion of History of Sexuality, Volume 1, Foucault (1990 [1978]) infamously referred to the possibility of a “different economy of bodies and pleasures” (p. 159) in which bodies and pleasures might be organized differ- ently than they are in the current economy. The concept of a “different economy of bodies and pleasures” has been particularly important for scho- lars working on projects related to BDSM, both because the passage can be read as gesturing to practices such as those involved in BDSM and because of Foucault’s own involvement in the leather community in San Francisco toward the end of his life (see especially Halperin, 1995; Miller, 1993; Plant, 2007). Additionally, because Foucault elsewhere described BDSM as “the real creation of new possibilities of pleasure” (Foucault, 1994, p. 165), some speculate that he viewed BDSM as creating one such potentially different economy of bodies and pleasures (Halperin, 1995; Miller, 1993). This study explores whether and how BDSM participants themselves perceive

CONTACT Brandy L. Simula [email protected] Department of Sociology, Emory University, 229 Tarbutton Hall, Atlanta, GA 30322, USA.

JOURNAL OF HOMOSEXUALITY https://doi.org/10.1080/00918369.2017.1398017

© 2017 Taylor & Francis

BDSM as creating one such “different economy of bodies and pleasures” by examining how participants negotiate and construct “sex” and “sexuality” in the context of interactions with other participants. Foucault and other scho- lars of sexuality demonstrated that sexuality is a system through which social experiences, identities, and lives are created and regulated (e.g., Foucault, 1990 [1978]; Gagnon & Simon, 2005 [1973]; Rubin, 1984).

That the categories of “sex” and “sexuality” are socially constructed has long been recognized by scholars of sexuality (Gagnon & Simon, 2005 [1973]; Katz, 1995; Plummer, 1975b, 1995; Waskul & Plante, 2010; Weeks, 1996 [1981]). Sexuality scholars have pointed out the nebulousness of the very category “sex” itself in both the academic literature and in popular discourse (Carpenter, 2001; Christina, 1992; Laumann, Gagnon, Michael, & Michaels, 1994; Rye & Meaney, 2007; Sanders & Reinisch, 1999). What is sex? Are genital contact, orgasm, and sexual pleasure markers of “sex”? Does cybersex count as sex? Significant disparity exists in the meaning of sex and in what individuals define as “having sex.” Indeed, an entire line of research, known as “sexual defini- tions,” examines how people determine which acts count as “having sex” (e.g., Barnett, Fleck, Marsden, & Martin, 2017; Horowitz & Bedford, 2017; Horowitz & Spicer, 2013). The range of sexual experiences and behaviors individuals construct as falling under the category of “sex” are influenced by a range of factors, including culture, age, gender, and sexual orientation (Horowitz & Bedford, 2017; Sewell, McGarrity, & Strassberg, 2017).

Yet while increasing recognition of the nebulousness of the category “sex” and variations in what individuals mean when they say they have “had sex” has expanded our empirical understanding of sex and sexuality, the centering of intercourse—particularly penis-in-vagina (PIV) intercourse—in both pop- ular discourses and empirical research about sex impedes our understanding of the range of acts that individuals perceive as sex. Importantly, it is not only the range of acts that individuals define as sex that is obscured when PIV intercourse is centered, but also the processes through which individuals construct sexual meanings.

Similarly, despite the longstanding use of orgasm as an indicator of “good sex,” recent research—particularly that which foregrounds the experiences of women—has suggested that for many individuals, orgasm is not a required and, in some cases, not even an important or desired component of sex (Elmerstig, Wijma, Sandell, & Bertero, 2012; Fahs & Plante, 2016; Pascoal, Narciso, & Pereira, 2014; Wood, Milhausen, & Jeffrey, 2014). Across a range of sexual orientations, women are more likely than men to prioritize emotional connec- tion and intimacy over orgasm in defining an encounter as sex (Chatterji et al., 2017; Fahs & Plante, 2016; Goldey, Posh, Bell, & Van Anders, 2016; Hayfield & Clarke, 2012). Using orgasm as a proxy for the act of sex or as a measure of “good sex” or “sexual satisfaction” assumes the meaning of a specific act in ways that hamper rather than facilitate our understanding of the meaning of that bodily

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experience, and it threatens to elide a particular physical experience (orgasm) with a particular social or interpersonal meaning, obscuring the myriad mean- ings that individuals actually assign to orgasm.

It is within this context of understanding the category “sex” itself—along with related categories, such as orgasm—as socially constructed, and in view of the increasing attention to identities, communities, and practices that decenter— intentionally or otherwise—normative conceptualizations of sex that the present study seeks to understand the ways in which BDSM participants use the category of “sex” to understand and navigate their experiences of BDSM.

Following previous research that has demonstrated the social construction of the category “sex,” I examine whether and how participants draw on the socially constructed normative meaning systems associated with “sex” and “sexuality” to differentiate their experiences of BDSM from other sexual experiences. I begin with a discussion of how extant empirical studies treat BDSM in relationship to sex and sexuality. Next, I present findings that suggest that participants frequently differentiate between sex—especially “vanilla sex”—on the one hand and sexual experiences involving BDSM on the other. Vanilla is a term used by BDSM participants to refer to non-BDSM sex, often with strong pejorative connotations (e.g., boring, unfulfilling, stereotypical, conforming, mindless, self-gratifying). I analyze the use of the distinction between “vanilla sex” and “sexual BDSM” drawn by participants, demonstrating that participants use this distinction to frame sexual BDSM experiences as not only different from but also better than “sex.”

BDSM is an umbrella term that encompasses a variety of terms used inter- changeably both in the literature and by participants to refer to a range of consensual practices/activities, desires, communities/subcultures, identities/ roles, and meanings related to bondage and discipline, dominance and submis- sion, and/or sadomasochism. The earliest studies of BDSM (then referred to only by the clinical term sadomasochism) were part of the work conducted by the founding sexologists and were based on clinical case studies that sought to find the underlying causes of sexual “disorders,” including BDSM (Ellis, 1901; Freud, 1905; Krafft-Ebing, 1903). These early sexological studies treated BDSM as abnormal and deviant and sought primarily to explain sadomasochistic etiology and establish “cures.” This pathologizing approach to BDSM characterized much of the work on BDSM through the mid-20th century, during which BDSM was approached through a deviance model and studied as a medical or psychiatric “problem” (Moser & Kleinplatz, 2006; Newmahr, 2008; Taylor, 1997). The earliest empirical work on BDSM thus sought primarily to explain the underlying causes of BDSM participation and to find effective “treatments” (e.g., Avery, 1977; Bates, 1975; Berest, 1970; Brenner, 1959; Levitt, 1971; Mitchell, 1969; Pierce, 1927; Robertiello, 1970).

Early sociological approaches to BDSM also relied on a deviance model, but they focused on social rather than biological or psychological factors that

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influence BDSM participation (Plummer, 1975a, 1975b; Seidman, 2003). These studies were interested in explaining rather than “curing” BDSM (e.g., Gagnon & Simon, 1967; Rubington & Weinberg, 1987) and sought to identify and describe the BDSM population, focusing primarily on the gay leather community, because it was assumed at that time that the BDSM population was composed primarily of gay men (e.g., Gebhard, 1969; Kamel, 1980, 1983; J. A. Lee, 1983 [1979]; Spengler, 1977; Thomas Weinberg, 1978). Beginning in the early 1980s, sociological approaches to BDSM began to include heterosexual participants and shifted focus from describing the population to exploring the ways that sexual orientation influences BDSM participation (e.g., Breslow, Evans, & Langley, 1985, 1986; Buhrich, 1983; Falk & Weinberg, 1983; M. Weinberg, Williams, & Moser, 1984; Thomas Weinberg & Kamel, 1983a, 1983b). At the same time, socio- logical studies were shifting away from the early model of deviance toward a social constructionist model—a trend that has continued in contemporary studies of BDSM (e.g., Beckmann, 2009; Moser & Kleinplatz, 2006; Seidman, 2003; Taylor, 1997; Taylor & Ussher, 2001; Thomas Weinberg, 1987). In the 1990s, empirical work shifted from studying participants and practices to exploring the organization of BDSM subcultures and communities (e.g., Brodsky, 1993; Ernulf & Innala, 1995; Gosselin, 1987; Graham, 1998; Houlberg, 1991; Levitt, Moser, & Jamison, 1994; Moser, 1998; Van Lieshout, 1995), further solidifying the influence of the social constructionist model. This shift in sociological approaches to BDSM—away from deviance models toward social constructionist models—is now widespread in the empirical field of BDSM studies. Despite the persistence of the deviance model among some scholars working in psychiatry and related disciplines, social constructionism has become the dominant paradigm for empirical studies of BDSM. The social constructionist approach emphasizes that BDSM practices cannot be understood without understanding the contexts in which they take place.

While numerous studies contributed to the shift to social constructionist approaches, Weinberg, Williams, and Moser’s (1984) article, based on 8 years of observations of and interviews with BDSM participants, has been espe- cially influential. Emphasizing that BDSM is social behavior, the authors identified five aspects of BDSM: (1) dominance and submission; (2) role playing; (3) consensuality; (4) a sexual context; and (5) mutual definition. Yet while this definition played a significant role in creating an understanding of BDSM as a social rather than psycho-medical issue, not all the features identified by M. Weinberg et al. apply to all BDSM participants. First, not all BDSM involves dominance and submission (sadomasochism and bon- dage, for example, do not always fall under the umbrella of dominance and submission dynamics). Second, not all participants engage in role play. Third, not all BDSM interactions take place in a sexual context or involve sexual

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content; a sexual context and sexual content are frequent, but not necessary, aspects of BDSM (e.g., Newmahr, 2011; Simula, 2014). For example, for some participants, BDSM is a spiritual (Schneider, 2009) rather than sexual experi- ence, while for others it involves physical pleasure that is not sexual (Lawrence & Love-Crowell, 2008). Lee, Sagarin, Klement, and colleagues (E. Lee et al., 2016b; Sagarin, Lee, & Klement, 2015), in studies of BDSM and extreme rituals, for instance, found that some BDSM participants framed their experiences as primarily spiritual rather than sexual, and they noted the importance of understanding participants’ own interpretations of their experiences.

T. Weinberg (2006) proposed an alternative set of features that define BDSM based on a meta-analysis of empirical research on BDSM. These features include: that BDSM scenes are “framed by social definitions that give the behavior a specific contextual meaning,” that they are “collaboratively produced,” that these interactions occur “only with a sexual context,” and that BDSM “behavior is highly symbolic” (pp. 33–34). The first, second, and fourth features identified by T. Weinberg are particularly useful for this study because they highlight the importance of mutually constructed meanings in navigating BDSM interaction while avoiding excluding or including specific behaviors, as does M. Weinberg, Williams, and Moser’s definition, and because the empha- sis on collaborative production and symbolic behavior in BDSM contexts are useful analytic tools for approaching how BDSM participants construct the meanings of their practices. The third criterion—that BDSM involves a sexual context—as discussed in the preceding section, is less useful for understanding the meanings BDSM participants construct for their experiences because it partially forecloses the range of possible answers. Additionally, more recent empirical findings reported after T. Weinberg’s (2006) definition call into question whether BDSM always and by definition involves a sexual context. Newmahr (2010) argued, for example:

Although many SM participants do frame their ‘play’ as having an erotic aspect, the conceptualization of SM as ‘kinky sex’ has obscured a more nuanced under- standing of this community and their activities… This view of SM persisted despite evidence to the contrary: in their pioneering definition of SM, Weinberg et al. (1984) considered a sexual perspective of SM to be a criterion for inclusion in their sample: “Some people engaged in SM-type activities but did not give them sexual meaning and thus were not considered to be ‘into SM.’ The perspective that SM is “about sex” persists despite widespread acknowledgement that at least some SM community members reject this framing. (pp. 314–316)

Newmahr’s own ethnography (2011) of a BDSM community in the northeast lent additional empirical support to the emerging recognition that BDSM is not always “about sex” nor does it always involve sex. Similarly, in a recent study of asexual individuals involved in the BDSM community, Sloan (2015) found that BDSM helps asexually identified individuals find and navigate

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relationships not based on sexual desire or contact. As a result of these and other recent empirical findings (e.g., Lawrence & Love-Crowell, 2008; E. Lee et al., 2016a; Sagarin et al., 2015; Simula, 2014) that challenge the assumption that BDSM necessarily involves sexual behavior or meaning, I draw on the first, second, and fourth components of T. Weinberg’s approach to BDSM, while diverging from T. Weinberg’s approach by treating “sexual context” as an open empirical question rather than a definitional criterion.

Method

The study and research design were reviewed and endorsed by the Community-Academic Consortium for Research on Alternative Sexualities’ Research Advisory Committee, which includes both BDSM scholars and BDSM participants. Endorsement from CARAS, along with nearly a decade of previous research in the BDSM community, facilitated the project. The experiences of participants represented in this study are drawn from narratives created in two different contexts: semistructured, in-depth interviews and Web-based BDSM community discussion boards. I anticipated that there might be differences in reported meanings and experiences of BDSM in narratives created for a researcher compared with those in public narratives created for other community members. For that reason, I supplemented inter- view data with data collected from public discussion boards on a large BDSM community Web site. The data revealed similar themes across both data sources, however, and I draw on both sources in the findings reported here. All data were analyzed using the grounded theory method (Charmaz, 2001, 2006; Corbin & Strauss, 2008; Glaser, 1978, 1992; Glaser & Strauss, 1967).

Interviews

Interview participants were recruited through cyber and physical BDSM com- munity sites. Requirements for participation included self-identifying as a BDSM participant, being 18 or older, and currently living in the United States. Interviews were conducted using a semistructured interview guide and lasted between 1 and 2 hours, with most lasting approximately 1.5 hours. Both to create a geographically diverse sample and to include partici- pants who would not be comfortable participating in an in-person interview, I offered participants the choice of interview settings: face-to-face, phone, Skype, or instant messenger. Most interviews were conducted over the phone or Skype (n = 26). Each interview was fully transcribed, identifying data were removed, and each participant was assigned a pseudonym.

All demographic questions were open-ended: participants created their own response categories. The BDSM population is Whiter than the overall U.S. population, a pattern also reflected in this sample, with 25 of 32 interviewees

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identifying as White. Participants ranged in age from early 20s to early 70s; half of the interviewees were between 30 and 50 years old at the time of the interview. The majority of interviewees (n = 19) had participated in BDSM for more than a decade at the time of the interview. The sample is divided fairly evenly in terms of the BDSM role that participants most often take and/or identify with. Eleven interviewees identified as bottoms, submissives, slaves, and/or masochists, 10 identified as switches, and 11 identified as tops, dominants, masters, and/or sadists. While interviewees identified in relatively complex ways in terms of gender during the course of interviews, when asked demographic questions at the conclusion of the interview, nearly all interviewees self-identified in terms of dichotomous sex categories—giving the impression that the sample is more gender-normative than is actually the case: 15 identified as female, 15 identified as male, one identified as trans, and one as non-gender.

As with gender, participants responded to the open-ended question, “How would you describe your sexual orientation?” in relatively standard ways, while describing their sexual orientations in more complex ways during the course of the interview. In the demographic questions posed at the conclusion of each interview, 10 interviewees described their sexual orientation as heterosexual or straight, six as bisexual, four as gay, four as heteroflexible (including one who used the terminology “straight with bicurious”), two as pansexual, one as queer, and one described their sexuality as “I like everybody”; sexual orientation data are missing for three interviewees. Lesbian-identified participants are not present in the interview sample, but they are included in the discussion-board sample.1

For at least two reasons, however, the participant-created demographic labels for sexual orientation do not adequately capture the complex experiences participants shared during the course of interviews. First, many participants described experiences engaging in what they defined as “sexual BDSM” with partners of any gender, despite selecting mono- sexual orientations (e.g., heterosexual, gay), in the demographic portion of the interview, a pattern that also appeared multiple times among discus- sion-board participants who both specified a sexual orientation and described the gender(s) of specific partner(s). Additionally, many partici- pants also reported that their orientation to BDSM (e.g., dominant, sub- missive, switch) was more important in their choice of partners in comparison with their gendered sexual orientation (see Better & Simula, 2015; Simula, 2014 for extensive discussion of this finding and its impli- cations for BDSM and for conceptual models of sexual orientation). The seeming disjuncture between the sexual orientations participants self- identified with and the broader range of gender of BDSM partners with whom participants reported engaging in sexual BDSM interactions sug- gests that standard demographic questions about sexuality and sexual orientation may elicit responses that do not fully capture the range of

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individuals’ experiences, particularly experiences that fall outside the realm or normative or mainstream sex, a point to which I return in subsequent sections.

Discussion-board data

Discussion-board data come from targeted searches of bondage.com (at the time of data collection, one of the largest BDSM community Web sites) for themes related to the study. I sampled discussion boards using keywords related to the primary foci of the study and also read all discussion boards during a 12-month period between 2009 and 2010 to collect data not directly named in topics or threads. For example, if a thread was titled “Flying High After Cold Caning” and did not reference sexuality in the title, but the replies to the topic included discussion of sexual meanings or responses, orgasms, genital contact or experience, and so on during a caning scene, the thread was included in the sample. The threads collected span from 2002 to late 2010 in their entirety, and they comprise 344 threads averaging 32 replies per thread and representing more than 1,000 users. Because posters rarely self-identified in terms of providing demographic information on the boards, I do not have demographic data for these users except in cases where the user self-identified in the thread, which was an infrequent occurrence. The lack of demographic data available for the discussion-board data is an inherent limitation of those data, yet the similarity of the themes available in the discussion-board data to those that appeared in the interview data make them a useful addition to and contextualization of the interview data. While a range of data were publicly available on the now-defunct BDSM site from which the discussion-board data were collected, I chose to use only discussion-board data—text generated specifically for a public audience— and not draw data from discussions on interest-specific membership groups (which were open to and accessible by anyone, but about which users might have perceived a less public nature of messages posted) or from individual profiles (which, like text posted to inter- est-specific membership groups, are accessible to anyone, but about which individuals might feel a stronger sense of perceived privacy).

Results

The majority of participants across both interview and discussion-board data strongly distinguished between sexual BDSM and “vanilla” sex, explaining that while BDSM is often “sexual,” it is nonetheless distinctly not “sex.” Among interviewees, for instance, more than three quarters (n = 25) view their sexual BDSM experiences as significantly different from “sex”—the definitions of which I left open to each interviewee. A small minority (n = 2) perceived sex and their sexual BDSM experiences as being mostly

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similar, while another small minority (n = 3) constructed sex and their sexual BDSM experiences as being in some ways similar yet in others different. Two interviewees responded that they could not make a comparison because they had never had a non-BDSM sexual experience.

Among the majority of participants who distinguished between sex and sexual BDSM experiences, three primary ways of differentiating sex from sexual BDSM experiences appear. The first method involves constructing sex as requiring genital contact and/or intercourse, while, on the other hand, framing sexual BDSM as activities and experiences that involve physical and/ or sexual arousal, feelings, and/or fulfillment that do not require normative indicators of sexual pleasure, particularly those that are genitally based (e.g., orgasm). The second method involves constructing sexual BDSM experiences as deeper, more meaningful, and/or more fulfilling than sex as a result of the more intense emotional/mental experiences available in sexual BDSM com- pared with sex, especially “vanilla” sex. The third method involves an evalua- tion of sexual BDSM experiences as facilitating—and often requiring—deeper and more intimate interpersonal connections than does sex. In the discussion that follows, I explore these three methods of differentiating experiences, examining the messages they convey about both sex and sexual BDSM experiences. Importantly, as the results that follow demonstrate, these meth- ods are used not only to differentiate but also to evaluate sex and sexual BDSM experiences: a majority of participants (n = 25) evaluated sexual BDSM as “better” than sex and reported that if given the choice, they would choose sexual BDSM over sex.

“The practice need not begin or end with exchange of fluids”: De- emphasizing genitally based pleasures

One of the most frequent methods participants used to distinguish sex and sexual BDSM experiences involves constructing vanilla sex as centered on genitally based activities—especially genital stimulation and intercourse— while constructing sexual experiences involving BDSM as sexually pleasur- able yet not genitally centered. For example, Robin (a switch living in the Midwest) said, “I can engage in technically challenging scenes without that [sex], but with some form of sexual intimacy. I don’t have sex with everyone that I scene with but I do have some sexual energy exchange.” For Robin, sexual energy exchange is integral to the ability to enjoy BDSM, but sex is not. Similarly, when I asked whether BDSM involves sex in the context of play or scenes, Andy (a switch living in the Midwest) told me:

Well, it depends on how you define sex. But if we define it in a more traditional way involving genital contact that results in orgasm. My husband and I can do a BDSM scene and probably half of the time I don’t have an orgasm. And I’m just

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fine with that… So there are times in BDSM scenes when it is fulfilling in and of itself without an orgasm. Is that sexual? In my broadest definition of sexual, yeah, it’s all sexual. I could do BDSM scenes and be perfectly happy with them and love them to death and not have an orgasm at all.

Andy identified sex as something traditionally associated with genital contact and orgasm, while alternatively constructing BDSM as an experience that can be extremely sexual and that can result in feeling “perfectly happy” in the absence of genital contact or orgasm. Other participants also described BDSM as sexually arousing and fulfilling in the absence of conventional sex. For instance, one discussion-board participant wrote, “bondage makes me horny as hell. That does not mean we always have intercourse.” Similarly, on a thread about the relationship of BDSM to sex—of which there are several dozen on the community Web site from which these threads were drawn—another discussion-board participant emphasized BDSM as a sexual experience distinct from sex: “I believe BDSM to be very sexual in nature, even if it does not include the actual act of having sex… Even if there is no intercourse, I think BDSM is very sexually based.” Another participant wrote, “[BDSM has] always been sexual for me… that isn’t sex but for me it is part of the sexual relationship.” Cody (a top living in the Southeast), who also strongly distinguished between sex and sexual BDSM, similarly rejected the idea that sexual BDSM requires conventional sex:

Well it’s [BDSM] sexual in its own way. In its own way it’s sexual. It’s a different type … It’s a part of my sexuality. That’s the importance to me. Is it about getting my cock hard? Yes it gets hard sometimes. But is that my focus? No. It’s not. Because it’s really not about sex. Because sex is the actual act of what you’re doing. Penile insertion into an orifice is sex. Taking a bullwhip and hitting someone else is sexual. It’s two different types. Both parties still get off. They get off in a different way. And there’s been many times when I’ve had people beg me to let them come because they’re so turned on. And to me that is a really powerful gift. That they were actually that sexual with it. Or that they could actually— you could just be playing, just kicking their balls or kicking their butthole and they actually begin to come internally versus ejaculating.

For Cody, BDSM is not “about sex,” which—for Cody—means not primarily about genitally centered experiences or intercourse. Cody also explained that orgasm can take a different form (“coming internally”) in sexual BDSM than it does in sex (“ejaculating”). For Cody, like for many others, the ability to transform experiences and sensations not normatively associated with sexual arousal and/or gratification (e.g., whipping, kicking) into sexual experiences is a strong part of the appeal of BDSM.

Other participants also explicitly resisted the idea that BDSM is “about sex.” For instance, a discussion board participant wrote, “I don’t think the practice of bdsm is all about sex. I don’t think it equals sex. It’s the practice of power. The practice need not begin or end with exchange of fluids.” Similarly, another discussion-

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board participant wrote: “For me sex is not the focus of the scene, but the release that I give to the submissive is. I am not going to say that it is not erotic, but it does not have to end up with sex. The emotional exchange can be enough, and satisfying to me… there is a closeness that goes deeper than just sex.” For this participant, the emotional exchange available through BDSM is satisfying in and of itself and provides a closeness deeper than that available through sex. Another wrote, “In a way it’s a sexual thing but for me it’s also so much more. I could do a complete BDSM scene without any kind of sexual touching and be as fulfilled (if not more so) than having a completely intimate moment of sex.” For this participant as well, sexual touching is not necessary to a sexual experience in the context of BDSM. Similarly, in a thread that began with the question, “Is BDSM more than just sex?” another participant wrote, “In a word YES! It is so much more than just sex. It adds depth and breadth to everything.” And Tracy said, “It’s not actually about sex. it’s about this intense interaction. And it’s about what it allows you to do… And actually I have no use for just the idea that BDSM is some sort of way to spice up sexual play.” Resistance to the idea that BDSM is “about” sex is also common in the second method—discussed in the next section— through which participants framed sexual BDSM experiences as primarily about self-exploration and connection with others.

In addition to resisting the conflation of “sexual” with “sex” by construct- ing intercourse and genitally based sex as distinct from sexual BDSM, many participants also resisted the importance of orgasm as an indicator of a sexual experience or sexual fulfillment. For instance, Andy, quoted above, explained that BDSM “is fulfilling in and of itself without an orgasm. Is that sexual? … Yeah. I could do BDSM scenes and be perfectly happy with them and love them to death and not have an orgasm at all.” For Andy, as for many others, neither intercourse nor orgasm are necessary components of a good and highly sexual scene. Similarly, another participant wrote, “[BDSM] play has not always ended up in one or both of us having actual orgasms. Nonetheless, it has almost always been intensely erotic.” Another wrote, “BDSM is sexual for me, but it’s not really *about* sex at all… it’s more than that, more intense. I could quite happily do without sex, without ever coming again, even, but I would never be able to do without [BDSM] again.” For this participant, neither sex nor orgasm are necessary parts of BDSM, and BDSM is significantly more important to this participant than either sex or orgasm. On a different thread, another participant wrote, “It’s not about orgasms or intercourse for me; my goals are larger, my drive different.” And another explained that although arousal is a necessary component of BDSM because it increases pain tolerance, arousal does not necessarily lead to either inter- course or orgasm, writing, “To me the sexual element is very important although not every scene necessarily needs to end in intercourse or orgasm. If I’m not at least aroused though I don’t enjoy the pain and I find my tolerance for pain is often directly proportional to the degree of arousal.” In

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these accounts, participants constructed orgasm as irrelevant to the kinds of sexual satisfaction and fulfillment that can be found through BDSM. Because sexual fulfillment through sex is normatively associated with orgasm, reject- ing orgasm as the primary indicator of sexual fulfillment in the context of BDSM serves to further distinguish sexual BDSM experiences from “sex,” especially vanilla sex. Many participants constructed BDSM as particularly unique and satisfying precisely because it provides a method of experiencing sexual arousal as well as sexual fulfillment that does not require intercourse, genital contact, or orgasm. In these accounts, participants are working against the normative meaning of “sexual fulfillment” as “orgasm” and are instead constructing sexual fulfillment as an emotional or mental rather than physical experience, a point to which I return in the next section.

Because intercourse and orgasm are both genitally based experiences, constructing them as irrelevant to sexual experiences and pleasures in the context of BDSM works to de-emphasize genitally based experiences and pleasures. In these accounts, participants constructed sex as a primarily genitally centered physical activity, sensation, or experience, usually invol- ving genital contact, intercourse, and/or orgasm; “sex” refers most often to bodily sensations centered in the genitals. “Sexual,” however, is most often constructed as a mental experience, based neither in the genitals nor in the body more generally, but instead in participants’ minds, and it is associated much more frequently with sexual BDSM than with “sex.” The association of sexual BDSM experiences with mental and emotional sensations and experi- ences, on the one hand, and of sex with physical experiences, on the other, lays the groundwork for a second and especially frequent type of distinction participants use to differentiate sex from the sexual.

“It’s the mindfuck that gives me the buzz”: Emphasizing emotional and mental experiences

In addition to distinguishing between sex and sexual by defining sexual as a category of experiences that includes non-genital and non-orgasmic experi- ences, participants also distinguished between sex and sexual by assigning different meanings to sex compared with sexual BDSM experiences and constructing these experiences as serving different purposes. For many par- ticipants for whom BDSM is a sexual experience, BDSM is not only or primarily a sexual experience, but instead an experience that bears a variety of other significant meanings as well—meanings participants perceive as unavailable through sex. Sex—especially vanilla sex—is often perceived as about mindless physical gratification. Sexual BDSM, on the other hand, is perceived as a range of experiences that are primarily about emotional and/or mental experiences such as personal growth, intimate connection, spiritual- ity, or healing. Importantly, not all participants constructed these emotional

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and relational experiences as sexual. Those who did construct emotional and interpersonal experiences as sexual, however, reported that such experiences are available in sexual BDSM in ways that they are not in sex. Tracy (a top living in the Midwest), for instance, drew a strong distinction between mental experiences in sex compared with those available in sexual BDSM:

There’s a huge difference. Sex is just plain sex. I mean it’s just a physical act. It’s devoid of profound significance. But with BDSM just like everything else that’s going on by virtue of the fact that it’s taking place within this dynamic of power and powerlessness and control and being controlled and submission and domi- nance it—everything that happens in it from sex to fetishistic acts, anything—it’s transformed, it’s imbued with this whole ritual almost significance. And it imme- diately transports it from the comparative mundane level of ordinary sex to something much more intense and it’s because of that for me that the interaction in BDSM is so intense, is so profound, has such an incredible impact. And so yeah I think there’s a world of difference. I mean you could compare non-BDSM sexual or erotic activity to a tune played on a kazoo whereas BDSM is a work by Bach or something. It’s that kind of night and day difference between something just profane and something truly transcendent for those who are experiencing it. Which is perhaps [a] very chauvinistic attitude about well BDSM is better than ordinary sex. I don’t really want to say that because I mean what’s best for people is what they like. But for me there’s the deepest difference just between non-BDSM eroticism and BDSM eroticism. It’s almost a mystical experience. It can almost reach that level. Not in the way that some stupid people talk about sex being mystical. Because the way you get this incredible bliss, it’s really something.

Tracy defined sex as “just a physical act” and explained that BDSM is a much more intense interaction that includes transcendent, mystical experiences that result in “incredible bliss.” Like Tracy, Ryan (a top living in the Southeast) also said that although BDSM is sexual, the kinds of emotional experiences available in BDSM are significantly different from those available in sex. Ryan told me:

To a degree yes, I do classify it [BDSM] as a sexual thing. It doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m out to achieve climax or an orgasm. But it is a turn-on, it is, you know…Yes. It’s sexual. At the same time it doesn’t have to be just sexual. It could be very emotional. It could be very mental. It could be very spiritual. You know so again it depends on the parties involved, the scene that’s taking place. A lot of people would say it’s always sexual. Well, to a degree it is. Spirituality is sexual. Emotions are sexual. So yeah you could always say that it’s sexual. But at the same time can you take it above that sexual plane into another level of emotional or psychological pleasure and go above just the sexual aspect of it? So that’s what I’m trying to do when I play in that mode. Yeah it’s going to be sexual but you know can we take it higher? Can we go past the physical sexual aspect? Make it more emotional, make it more fantasy, make it more spiritual, make it more mental? That’s what draws me to it in the first place.

Like many other participants, Ryan refuted orgasm as a goal of BDSM while explaining that BDSM is nonetheless arousing—“a turn-on”—explaining that

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BDSM takes an experience beyond “just the sexual aspect” to a more emo- tional, mental, and spiritual experience. For Ryan, as for many others, the emotional/mental aspects of sexual BDSM are significantly different from the emotional/mental experiences they have had during sex.

The relative importance of mental/emotional experiences over physical experiences in BDSM compared with sex is for many participants the stron- gest distinguishing factor. A significant majority of participants framed the physical activities involved in BDSM as a means to an end—participants explained that it is not the physical activities themselves but the mental/ emotional experiences they create that are pleasurable. One participant, for example, wrote, “BDSM is about a lot more than sex. The mental aspect of it is of far greater importance.” Similarly, another participant wrote, “The most important part of S&M is not the physical activities for me, it is the mental aspects. The physical parts are simply means for me to push myself and give myself completely over to my Master.” For this participant, as for many other BDSM participants, the physical activities involved in BDSM are a means to achieve the emotional/mental goals of BDSM—including the kind of intimate connections facilitated by power exchange, which I discuss further in the following section. Another participant also emphasized the importance of the mental aspects of BDSM, writing, “It’s more than sex for me. The mental capacity of it intrigues the hell out of me.” Yet another wrote, “It’s much more than sex. I can play and never consider sex. It’s the feeling of power, the mindfuck2 that gives me the buzz.” For this participant, as for many others, the mental aspects of BDSM are experiences available in BDSM but not in sex. Similarly, another wrote, “It’s all mental for me, and not about having sex, or getting fucked. Stimulate my brain.” Mental rather than physical stimulation is of primary importance for most participants in this study.

For many participants, the emotional and interpersonal aspects of BDSM make BDSM a type of mental experience that is significantly different from the physical experience that is the primary experience available in sex. Morgan (a switch living on the West Coast), for instance, said, “It [BDSM] is always sexual. Always. Even when there isn’t penetration or sex involved. It’s head sex. Always. It’s always erotic for me.” For Morgan, BDSM is always sexual even in the absence of penetration because BDSM is “head sex.” For participants such as Morgan, what happens mentally in BDSM is more important than what happens physically—and it is what happens mentally rather than what happens physically that determines the meaning of the experience. Another participant more explicitly described the headspace3 available in BDSM as sexual without “actual sex,” writing:

BDSM for me is about the mental experience. This can include sex, but in no way requires it. I think you can differentiate between sex in bdsm and sexuality in bdsm. You can experience headspace that is deeply powerful and long lasting that can have a sexual component without actual sex taking place. In fact, in my

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experience, sexual satisfaction through intense headspace (rather than any form of physical intercourse) can be much more intense, long lasting and emotionally and physically satisfying.

This participant, like the majority of participants included in this study, experiences the sexual satisfaction achieved through the headspace that results from BDSM as more intense and satisfying than the sexual satisfaction achieved through sex, particularly intercourse.

Likewise, another participant explained, “BDSM is a tool for achieving headspace for me. I’d chose [sic] headspace over an orgasm everytime [sic].” The sexual pleasures that accompany headspace or subspace are, for many participants, more intense and satisfying than those available through con- ventional sex, including orgasm. The equation of the pleasures available through BDSM with mental pleasures and those available through sex with physical pleasures—particularly orgasm—was made particularly explicit by one participant, who wrote, “scene = subspace, sex = orgasms.” Similarly, another participant wrote:

More than sex? I’d say beyond sex. Subspace, for example is beyond orgasm. Mindset and headspace are not major elements in vanilla sex, which is an experi- ence that often lacks psychological elements and interplay. It’s an entirely different paradigm. Comparing it to vanilla sex is like comparing apples to oranges.

For this participant, mental and emotional experiences are not “major elements” of sex, which is what makes BDSM an “entirely different para- digm” of experience in comparison with sex. Subspace, for this participant, is not only different from but beyond orgasm. Pat (a switch living in the Midwest) also experienced the emotional/mental pleasures of BDSM as more fulfilling than orgasm, explaining:

It’s [BDSM] more fulfilling because it encompasses so much more than just an orgasm. It’s what I am. [What makes it so much more than just an orgasm?] It’s the sensations. It’s other sensations besides just the erotic part of it. The power exchange. The interaction between the two of us or five of us, whatever. You know it just involves more of your senses. With BDSM you’ve got a lot of endorphins going on that aren’t there just during vanilla sex.

For Pat, the emotional experience of power exchange goes beyond the erotic and beyond the senses and sensations usually involved in sex. In accounts such as these, participants constructed BDSM as not only different from but better than sex because of the significantly different mental experi- ences available through each.

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“It requires both partners really to concentrate on each other”: Emphasizing interpersonal connection

For many participants, the intense and/or extreme mental experiences pro- vided by BDSM lead to a deeper connection with a partner than what participants have experienced through sex. For instance, explaining the appeal of mental aspects of BDSM, including the pleasures of creating a “mindfuck,” one participant wrote, “It’s the brain stimulation. I love the human chess aspect of BDSM. Thinking three or more steps ahead of your sub to get the results you want knowing there is another person to contend with. Fucking with another’s mind in a positive or sexual way is all good… makes me satisfied.” For this participant, the mental pleasures of BDSM are related to an intimate connection with a partner, made possible through a process that requires getting in a partner’s head to create a mindfuck. Similarly, for Chris (a top living on the West Coast), the emotional/mental intensities of BDSM are related to the deepness of the connection with a partner. In comparing sex and sexual BDSM experiences, Chris said, “I didn’t even know there were more extreme ways of experiencing those same feel- ings, in other words amplify[ing] the feelings, the emotions, the mental aspects of being intimate.” For Chris, the intensity of the mental and emo- tional aspects of intimacy are heightened in BDSM, which allows for a deeper connection with a partner. Unlike most participants, however, Chris identi- fied the differences in feelings available in BDSM compared with sex as one of magnitude rather than of type.

Like Chris, Andy (a switch living in the Midwest) has also experienced a significantly deeper connection with a sexual partner during BDSM compared with vanilla sex. When I asked whether Andy’s sexual BDSM experiences had been similar to or different from Andy’s non-BDSM sexual experiences, Andy said:

Yes, very different. What BDSM has done is to show me that there is a lot more to intimacy and eroticism than the vanilla sex that I was doing. It’s provided me with an opportunity to feel both emotionally and physically in ways that in the more vanilla sex roles I was in didn’t do… I mean most of us in a vanilla sexual relationship don’t have a discussion before about what we’re going to do and what we’re not going to do and how long it’s going to last and you know whatever. But if you were having a discussion about planning a scene and how this is going to work out and what you want to try. In a BDSM world you’re doing all that communicating up front. And that communicating to me, so far, has turned out to be a really, really fun, important piece of it. Because it creates the mutuality going in to the scene already… BDSM is much more fulfilling. It’s more than just let’s have some genital sex. It involves a lot more emotionally and a lot more communication and a lot more interplay with your partner. And that’s part of the reason that I like power exchange is because it even adds to that dynamic. But beyond that it involves more than just focused foreplay to orgasm kind of sexuality. It involves an eroticism that is a much bigger world than non- BDSM sex, at least in my experience.

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For Andy, BDSM provides an avenue for emotional experiences and intimacy with a partner not available in sex. Andy explained that these experiences are facilitated by the importance of communication in BDSM, which was missing in Andy’s non-BDSM sexual experiences with the same partner. Importantly, Andy explained that the communication that happens up front in BDSM is “really, really fun.” For Andy, as for most participants, the communication required to engage in BDSM is in itself one of the pleasures of BDSM. Harper (a switch living in the Southeast) similarly emphasized the differences in communication and connection with a partner in vanilla sex compared with BDSM, saying:

You know, I’ll be honest. My vanilla sexual experiences have been few and far between. Because when I realized finally that I was kinky that was pretty much the only kind of sexual activity that I was interested in. And quite frankly vanilla sex doesn’t excite me. We don’t have vanilla sex… There is a greater mental fulfillment from kinky sex. I mean I have never had orgasms like I have with kinky sex anywhere else. The mental enjoyment is far greater also. You know I have had vanilla partners in the past and there’s always that sort of trepidation I suppose if you want something a certain way or something’s not pleasurable. Then you know you’re wondering if you should say anything. If you should drop hints and suggestions and things. And I have found that people in the lifestyle as a general rule kind of know a lot about this. So there’s not a whole lot of guesswork. Which means things end up being so much more enjoyable. Because you know if we’re doing some kind of sexual activity with someone and they actually tell you hey that doesn’t feel good. We’ll that’s a hell of a lot easier than playing a guessing game for 30 minutes as to what something works to get off. Vanilla sex to me involves way too much guessing game and hinting and suggesting and trying to beat around the bush about what works and not really knowing what the other person likes. Not being willing to admit what you like. Kinky sex basically gets rid of all of that fear. And you just get down to this is what I like, this is what I enjoy. This is what turns me on. Do this.

For Harper, the increased connection with a partner that is made possible by BDSM stems from what Harper sees as more honest and open communica- tion. Feeling safe, or getting rid of “all of that fear” of what one’s partner might think of one’s desires, is part of the pleasures of communication. As one participant wrote:

It’s not just sex it’s about freeing oneself from limits and societal expectations. It’s about taking the risk to trust another completely. It’s about exploring oneself through another’s desires. It’s about handing power to another while accepting responsibility for their pleasures, it is about learning, stretching, developing, being re-moulded to another’s image of you. It’s about feeling, thinking…

For this participant, as for most BDSM participants, the experience of “trust[ing] another completely” is unique to BDSM and is part of what creates the context for mental and emotional pleasures. Another participant similarly explained that the intimacy created through the honesty of BDSM

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relationships is among the mental pleasures of BDSM, writing, “It’s [BDSM is] emotional and intellectual. It’s the intimacy and honesty I found sorely lacking in ’nilla [vanilla] relationships.” Cody also emphasized the impor- tance of honesty in BDSM as a significant difference between sex and BDSM, telling me, “Yeah. Yeah. Very different. It’s [BDSM is] about being honest and about knowing what you need.” Another participant emphasized the importance of respect through deep exchange and honesty, writing:

BDSM is VERY sexual to me. I enjoy the mental game. As I explained to a ‘vanilla’ friend the other day, in a straight [straight in this context refers to vanilla sex, not to a relationship between people of different genders] relationship, encounters are based on casual contact and lies. In a BDSM relationship, encounters are based on deep exchanges and respect. The difference between the two? Fulfillment!!!

The idea that BDSM encourages and often requires more honest and open communication than does sex—particularly vanilla sex—is one that appears frequently in these data, and it is a recurrent way that participants distin- guished the intensity of the connections with a partner they experience in BDSM compared with sex.

Participants also explained that the intensity of BDSM requires both partners to be fully present mentally in ways that they often are not in sex. Jamie (a top living in the Midwest), for instance, said:

I think the BDSM is way more intense [than sex]. Just because of—there’s elements of pain, there’s elements of restriction, there’s a whole lot of other dynamics going on. And it requires both partners really to concentrate on each other. Whereas in a— I’ll use my former marriage. It was an act. You know? Ok. We did it [sex]. Great. We all had an orgasm, everybody was happy. Fine. But with BDSM it’s more of a dynamic. Or really intense. You really have to be in it. You can’t just do it. Sex could be, ok, you do me or I’ll do you. But BDSM you really both have to be there 100% of the time.

For Jamie, sex often involves going through the motions without being fully present and engaged with a partner. On the other hand, because of the complex physical and mental activities involved, BDSM requires “both part- ners really to concentrate on each other, to “really… be in it,” and to “really both… be there 100% of the time” and for Jamie these experiences are significantly different from the emotional and mental experiences Jamie has had during sex. Like Jamie, Sam (a bottom living in the Southeast) also explained the importance of connection that makes BDSM sexual play very different from non-BDSM sexual play:

No I think that it [BDSM] can be very different from [sex]. Because with BDSM experiences there’s so much more going on. You know if you’re inflicting pain or doing anything like that, you know you’ve got to pay attention to what you’re doing. Even when you’re not doing that. Just being dominant over somebody you’ve really got to be paying attention to what you’re doing, making sure to take

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care for their sake, for the submissive’s safety and all that all while at the same time taking pleasure from it, from the activity. It’s important to be fully present. Which is why for most BDSMers drinking and drug use, you know, either before or during the scene is like most people consider it a big no-no.

Participants often constructed “paying attention” and “being fully present” as both requirements and pleasures of BDSM. In other words, paying attention and being fully present are not onerous requirements necessary for getting to the pleasures of BDSM but instead are deeply pleasurable sexual experiences in and of themselves.

Participants used emphasizing emotional/mental experiences over phy- sical experiences as one of the ways of distinguishing and evaluating BDSM and sex. For the majority of participants, the emotional experiences available through BDSM are both different from and more intense than the emotional experiences they have had during sex. For many partici- pants, the value of the emotional experiences available through BDSM is closely tied to the feelings of intense connection with a partner that they create. Importantly, some participants explicitly constructed these emo- tional/mental experiences as sexual experiences. Emphasizing these experi- ences relative to physical experiences is another way that participants de- emphasize genitally based pleasures, including orgasm. In this way, emphasizing emotional experiences is often correlated with de- emphasizing genitally based pleasures.

Discussion

Although these three differentiation strategies are conceptually distinct, they often overlap empirically. For example, constructing sexual BDSM play as a particularly emotionally and/or interpersonally intense experience often empirically overlaps with constructing sexual BDSM play as distinct from sex through a decentering of genitally based pleasures. Importantly, these methods of distinguishing “sex” from “sexual BDSM” do not simply serve a differentiating purpose, but also allow participants to make evaluations across them. In drawing these distinctions, participants frequently con- structed sexual BDSM as not only different from but also better than sex.

Constructing BDSM as better than sex is also reflected in participants’ responses to the interview question: “If on any given day you had to choose between sex and BDSM, which would you choose?” A strong majority of interviewees (n = 25) said they would choose BDSM. Two interviewees challenged the premise of the question, explaining that for them there is no distinction between BDSM and sex because they never have sex without BDSM. A minority of participants (n = 5) said that they might choose sex over BDSM and explained that life (e.g., time or health constraints) some- times interferes with their ability to engage in BDSM. Participants who said

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they would choose sex over BDSM explained that they do not always have the time or energy to engage in BDSM and in those instances prefer “just sex,” again underscoring the point that BDSM requires a deeper level of engagement than does sex.

Importantly, even in the relatively few instances when participants indi- cated a preference for sex over BDSM, they did so in ways that maintained the construction of BDSM as a better, more fulfilling, and more significant experience by explaining that although they prefer BDSM, it is sometimes easier or quicker to have sex than a sexual BDSM experience. When asked why they prefer BDSM to sex, interviewees explained that BDSM “involves more parts of my personality”; “is a much deeper experience;” “is just so much more meaningful”; “lets me really connect with my partner”; “is what I do to reduce stress”; and other responses that focus on the emotional and mental rather than physical aspects of BDSM.

Most participants did not construct the choice between BDSM and sex as a choice between two different types of physical activities and experiences. Instead, participants were much more likely to construct the choice as one between a physical experience—sex—and an emotional and/or psychological experience—sexual BDSM. In other words, distinguishing between sexual BDSM and sex does not primarily result in a comparison between two equally valuable, intense, and/or pleasurable experiences. Instead, partici- pants used this distinction in an evaluative way, nearly universally construct- ing sexual BDSM as more fulfilling, satisfying, intense, and/or meaningful than sex. Perhaps most importantly, while outsiders often perceive BDSM as being primarily about particularly intense physical sensations (e.g., pain), participants themselves constructed the intensity of BDSM as a primarily emotional/mental intensity that facilitates deeply intimate connection with one’s BDSM partner(s).

Foucault’s (1997) analysis of BDSM, which suggested that BDSM practices demonstrate that “we can produce pleasure with very odd things, very strange parts of our bodies, in very unusual situations,” is thus only partially supported by these findings (p. 165). The majority of participants included in this study did indeed perceive BDSM as an unusual, even unique, situation that allows for the production of pleasure with very odd things. Yet the “odd things” participants use to produce pleasure are mental rather than physical. The mind, rather than “very strange parts of… bodies,” is the primary location of the pleasures participants experience through BDSM. While Foucault (1997) argued that in BDSM people are “inventing new possibilities of pleasure with strange parts of their body—through the eroticisation of the body,” I find instead that for most participants, the pleasures of BDSM arise not through using strange parts of their bodies or through eroticizing bodies, but instead through the eroticization or sexualization of nonphysical mental and emotional experiences (p. 165). Moving away from genitally based

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pleasures has not primarily led participants to experiment with pleasures centered in other parts of the body—strange or otherwise—but instead to develop a battery of pleasures centered primarily in emotional and mental experiences. So while for many participants in this study, BDSM does indeed create a “different economy of bodies and pleasures” than the normative economy that currently regulates sex, it does so not through a different organization of bodily pleasures but through a different organization of pleasure entirely—an organization that decenters the body in favor of the mind.

Limitations

The findings presented here are subject to several significant limitations. First, the samples—both interview and discussion-board data—on which these analyses are based are not representative of the broader BDSM popula- tion. The interview sample, for instance, does not include lesbian-identified participants. Additionally, the interview sample, like most physical BDSM communities, is overwhelmingly White. Socioeconomic status and race sig- nificantly influence who participates in both physical and virtual BDSM communities. In addition to the ways that the unequal distribution of economic resources—particularly across race—shapes who can afford to participate in BDSM (e.g., who can afford entrance fees to dungeons, equip- ment and implements, the clothing and fetish gear preferred if not required in many BDSM spaces), symbolic exclusion and lack of representation of people of color, as well as the potentially more serious effects of social stigma and legal consequences for people of color and working-class people, may also shape the sociopolitical contexts in which working-class people and people of color are underrepresented in BDSM communities (Sheff & Hammers, 2011). People who identify as BDSM participants who either cannot or choose not to participate in physical or virtual BDSM communities are missing from the present study, and their experiences, as well as the systems of meaning on which they draw to navigate the categories of “sex” and “sexual” in relation to their BDSM experiences, likely differ from those of individuals who participate in one or more BDSM communities.

Additionally, the narratives constructed and used by participants in this study may be reflective of dominant narrative themes within their local BDSM communities and/or dominant themes on popular BDSM community Web sites, such as bondage.com, from which the discussion-board data were drawn, and its successor site, Fetlife.com. Future research should explore similarities and differences in cultural messages and meanings across physical and cyber BDSM community spaces. For instance, are individuals who engage in BDSM only in private spaces (such as their homes) and whose primary form of participation in BDSM community spaces is through

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reading BDSM-related Web sites more or less likely to frame BDSM as “sexual” than are participants whose participation in BDSM community spaces includes engaging in BDSM scenes in dungeons and at semi-private play parties (where genital sex is often but not always explicitly prohibited by event organizers)?

Implications and future directions

An important implication of the ways that participants described their sexual orientations, identifications, practices, and choices of partners in the course of the interview in comparison with their use of standard demographic categories—which did not always align with their more nuanced descriptions during the course of the interview—is that that individuals may not include their non-normative or alternative sexual experiences when responding to questions about their sexual practices unless specifically asked to do so. Additionally, the surprising finding that some individuals who perceive BDSM as sexual and who engage in BDSM with partners of a variety of genders self-identify with monosexual orientations (e.g., gay, heterosexual) suggests that “sexual orientation” may have previously under-recognized limitations as a conceptual tool. Individuals may consider only their main- stream or normatively recognized sexual experiences when identifying their sexual orientations, for example. Future research should explicitly explore whether and how individuals make choices about including or excluding alternative or non-mainstream sexual experiences when constructing and describing their sexual orientation. It would also be fruitful to explore whether some types of framing language for questions about sexual identity and orientation are more likely to elicit responses that encompass alternative sexual experiences and practices than others.

These findings also have important implications for our understanding of the category of “sex” more generally. Detaching sexual pleasure from geni- tally centered experiences and activities is among the most important ways BDSM participants create contexts in which their intent for a set of interac- tions comes to replace normative indicators of sexual experience. Decentering orgasm and genital arousal thus not only allows but requires participants to create and use other indicators of sexual experience and satisfaction. Contrary to the popular belief that BDSM is often is primarily about intense physical experiences (e.g., pain), participants themselves con- structed BDSM as being about emotional/mental experiences, with physical experiences simply providing the means to achieving those experiences. Emphasizing emotional/mental experiences over physical experiences thus creates an interactional context in which bodily experiences are significantly less important than mental/emotional experiences. Sexuality scholars must continue to expand our understanding of sexuality beyond the body and

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bodily experiences and pleasures and must continue to deepen our focus on both the meaning of particular bodily experiences or activities as well as on the emotional and mental aspects of sexuality.

The experiences of BDSM participants described here—particularly the foregrounding of emotional and mental connection over physical pleasure, especially sex—have parallels with the experiences of several other popula- tions. For example, asexually identified individuals (or “aces”), like many of the BDSM participants described in this study, frequently challenge the idea that sex is the best or only method to achieving or indicator of interpersonal intimacy (Bogaert, 2012; Carrigan, 2012; Carter, 2013; Dawson, McDonnell, & Scott, 2016). For instance, some aces have reported experiencing romantic attraction and/or desiring physical but not sexual contact, genital contact, or intercourse (Carrigan, 2011; Scherrer, 2008, 2010). Additionally, Kim (2010) found that aces resist the centering of sexual pleasure by normalizing a variety of nonsexual pleasures. The ways that some aces foreground emo- tional and psychological connection over orgasm or sexual pleasure is strik- ingly similar to the constructions of interpersonal intimacy and connection used by the BDSM participants in this study (see also Sloan, 2015).

Similarly, some trans* people who decenter or avoid genital contact and/or sexual activities also engage in strategies similar to those used by the BDSM participants described here. Some trans* people, like some ace and BDSM- identified individuals, decenter normative markers of sexual experience in favor of other bodily as well as emotional and interpersonal experiences in constructing the meaning of sex and intimacy (Doorduin & Van Berlo, 2014; Latham, 2016). For instance, trans men in Schilt and Windsor’s (2014) study reported using a variety of toys and activities in their sexual activities. Whether intentional or not, such practices may serve to further decenter genital contact as a primary indicator of sex or sexual pleasure.

In a similar vein, writing about the sexual experiences of individuals with disabilities, Siebers (2008) argued that individuals with disabilities “may advance a different sexual geography… for the body… disabled persons may change places on the body not usually associated with sexual feeling into erogenous zones” (p. 50). Sloane (2014) more explicitly acknowledged the decentering of genital contact and pleasure by some individuals with disabilities, explaining that disability can lead “individuals to find other areas of the body to eroticize beyond the genitals” (pp. 455–456). In decentering genital contact and pleasures in the context of sexual experiences, some individuals with disabilities foreground emotional connection over physical (including sexual) contact and/or pleasure when establishing intimate relationships (Fraley, Mona, & Theodore, 2007; McCabe & McDonald, 2007; Turner & Crane, 2016).

Like the BDSM participants described in this study, some ace, trans*, and disabled individuals resist normative meanings of sex and sexual experiences, often in ways that decenter genitally based experiences and

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physical pleasure (such as orgasm) in favor of emotional and mental experiences (such as intimacy). Future research should explore the simila- rities and differences in strategies used across the increasing numbers of communities and individuals who are developing alternative understand- ings of bodies and pleasures. Are some strategies more easily accessible or frequently used in some of these communities than others? How do individuals who share multiple identities or community memberships navigate possible differences in how each community constructs and understands these strategies?

Finally, these findings demonstrate the importance of definitions of sexuality broad enough to accommodate the wide variety of experiences to which indivi- duals assign sexual meanings. The meanings participants assigned to sexual BDSM experiences often differed significantly from the meanings they associated with sex, suggesting that models of sex and sexuality based on non-BDSM sexual experiences may not capture the meanings of sexual experiences for BDSM participants, a point also suggested by participants’ descriptions of engaging in sexual BDSM with a wider variety of genders among partners in the course of describing sexual BDSM experiences than correlates with the sexual orientations with which they identified in standard demographic questions about sexual orientation. Developing models of sexual experiences and sexualities that can illuminate non-genitally-centered sexualities including BDSM is likely to be of significant benefit in our continually evolving understanding of sexualities and sexual experiences. Because our present models of sexuality are built on homo/ hetero understandings of sexual experiences that rely on sex category/ gender, these models cannot account for desires and experiences not organized at least in part according to genitals. Developing models of sexuality that do not assume that sexual experiences are genitally centered can help us develop a more accurate understanding of the range of sexual experiences, identifications, and orientations that exist in the empirical world, and it can help sexuality scholars develop models that are more inclusive of a host of marginalized individuals and communities, including BDSM, ace, trans*, disability, and others.

Notes

1. Lesbian participants are extremely underrepresented in pansexual and gay BDSM communities, both physical and virtual, and despite specific outreach to specifically lesbian-oriented groups, I was unable to recruit lesbian-identified interviewees, which is a significant limitation of this study. See Bauer’s (2014) recent ethnography of the women’s and trans+ BDSM community, the first full-length ethnography to include significant representation of lesbian-identified participants.

2. Mindfuck is a term used by BDSM participants to refer to particularly intense and/or extreme power exchange and/or edgeplay. Mindfucks are experiences where the bot- tom/submissive is led to believe that something more extreme is happening than is actually the case.

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3. Headspace is usually used as a synonym for subspace, but it can also refer to topspace. Subspace refers to a mental state achieved by bottoms/submissives, which participants described as an experience similar to an out-of-body experience, using adjectives such as floating, flying, and freedom to describe the mental/emotional feelings that accompany subspace. Topspace is a term used much less frequently in my data, and it refers to a sense of “flow” or a “mental buzz” tops or dominants may experience during a scene, described as the experience of finding one’s rhythm, feeling an unusually clear sense of focus, and/or feeling an extraordinary sense of connection between one’s body and one’s mind.

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