I haven’t tried much bondage. The few times I’ve been tied up or handcuffed, my obstacle isn’t fear of pain. I’m scared of wetting myself. I’m so ticklish around the sides of my ribcage. It could be the ultimate experience combining all elements of Restrained Elegance with Ticklish Spot and I Need 2 Pee. Perhaps, I just need to get attend the BDSM Campus of Columbia University.

The academic name drop sounds a non sequitur but according to Douglas Fiedan of the New York Daily News (12/03/06), it’s not. He wrote an article describing one of New York’s most prestigious universities as a hotbed of perversion. He regales us with tawdry tales of naked parties and public sex acts in the illustrious confines of the school that costs over $33,000 US a year to attend.

Miriam Datskovsky, who writes the Sexplorations column for student newspaper The Spectator, claims, “Having sex in the stacks of Butler Library is one of the ultimate Columbia experiences. There’s very little dating. It’s predominately a hookup scene.
Everything is so much easier and so much quicker; you go to dinner and then have sex.”

I hear you sister. You’re proof positive that a higher education really does pay off in our current age of enlightenment. After all back high school many seniors take those damn purity pledges despite the ranging hormones of eighteen and nineteen-year-old boys and girls. Apparently, once you get to college, it’s no holds barred.

Fiedan witnessed a meeting in one of the hallowed lecture halls where students have learned the classics for nearly a century. The group called Coversio Virium sounds highbrow enough but don’t let the Latin full you. If any great works loosely inspired the lecture the reporter witnessed, it would be those written by the Marquis de Sade rather than the classical musings of Plato or Poe.

Although, they state that they’re only a discussion group, Fiedan claims he witnessed the flogging of a willing female volunteer by the cat-of-nine-tails wielded by a lecturer identifying himself only as Dov. He obviously wasn’t a tenured professor employed by Columbia. As such, he has no one to whom he must answer about his unorthodox teaching methods.

Friedan finishes by stating that all the wildness goes unfettered while to write love letters is warned against as they could be interpreted as non-physical sexual harassment according to University Health Services. He implies that such a warning doesn’t make sense.

Nevertheless, I think it’s fair. Getting it up smacking willing girl’s ass black and blue in public is one thing. Putting it down in black and white as what you’d do her in private when she doesn’t even know you is another. I guess understanding the difference requires a college degree these days.