JT Stockroom

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

BDSM Play 20: Studded belt, savage fucking, rough blowjob

Something rare happened today.  We were alone in the house!

Two of the kids were off at school, and the third got a ride to work today.

I was working, but fortunately, I'm helping out a team that's in transition, so I actually have a lot of down time.

My slave​ said to me, "We're alone!"

"We are?  Go get the belt."

She has a few choices of belt. She brought back one with two round pieces of metal every half inch or so.  It looks brutal...and she loves brutal.

After whipping her several times, I had her count.  Counting often gets her to push her limits, because she knows there's an end in sight.  I knew she was getting there.  I had her go to twenty.

I spread a blanket on the couch.  "Sit down and spread your legs."

She complied, and I started smacking her exposed labia with my open hand.  Then, I grabbed the belt.

"Are you ready?"

"I don't think so."

"Does it matter?"

"No, Master."

I started hitting her with the belt.  She was hissing through her teeth at the pain and crying out a little.  I hit her on her thighs, aiming carefully to avoid her fingers, because she was holding her legs up with her hands.  I went back to her clit after that.  A few strokes later, she said it: "Master, I'm weak."

I slid my arms underneath her, lifted her up, and carried her down the hallway to the bedroom.  I let her down.  She still had a hoodie and a shirt on, but no pants.  I stripped her roughly and pushed her down on the bed.

"I'll give you a choice, slut," I said.  "You can lube it with your mouth, or I can go in dry."

"Go in dry."

Always the rougher choice.  Good girl.  "Come here," I growled, and pulled her toward me, pushing her legs back in the same motion.  I shoved it inside her, but going in with a dry cock didn't matter much; her wetness made my entry easy.  Still: "It hurts," she moaned.

"Good.  I want you to suffer.  You want to suffer for me, don't you, little whore?"

"Yes, Master."  And she does.  She loves when I abuse her down there, and she's sore when we fuck.

I gathered her hair into one bundle and held it in my left hand, thrusting myself into her while I smacked her head.  I covered her mouth and nose with my right hand, cutting of her breath while I fucked her.  I took my hand off and closed it around her neck.

I took my left hand from her hair, shoved both arms above her head, and wrapped the pillow around her head.  She screamed and struggled, but didn't tap out.  Her growing wetness gave lie to her muffled screams for me to stop.

I took the pillow off her face.  "Beg me to make you suffer."

She moaned.

"Beg me."

"Master, please, I want to suffer for you."

I grabbed two fistfuls of her hair.  "Tell me you want to be my fucktoy."

"I do.  I want to be your fucktoy."

I pulled her head down by her hair and began fucking her hard.  "Please stop.  It hurts.  It hurts.  Please..."

I wasn't stopping.  I only fucked her with more savagery.  I wanted to finish in her mouth, though, so I stopped, got off of her...

Then I got a work call.

It was mercifully short, and I was able to go back to the bedroom in around two minutes, logging out for lunch so there would be no more interruptions.

"Get to it, slut.  I want you to worship my cock."

I was rough with her, as usually, using my leg behind her head to set the pace and force her down on it.  She struggled to breath around my cock when it wasn't in her throat, but she never came up to catch her breath.  I gave her warming, and she went down deliberately, as far as she could, to take my load in her throat.  Good little slave.

We lay there for awhile, enjoying each other, my arm draped over her, stroking one of her breasts.

If only we had this kind of privacy every day.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

BDSM Fiction 2: Dinner and Dessert

Tonight, I gave my slave specific instructions on how to prepare dinner.

She began by cooking the meal in her robe, a short one that showed off her well-toned legs.  She's a great cook, which is a huge bonus when your slave/wife is into being the 1950s housewife.  I waited for dinner on the chaise, relaxing after a day's work, being treated as the breadwinner should.

She finished dinner, brought the plate over to one side of the table, shed her robe, crawled onto the other side of the table naked, laid on her back, set the plate on her sexy, flat abdomen, and said, "Master, dinner is served."

I walked over to the table, sat down, picked up the knife and fork, and began to eat.  Each time I took a bite, I took my time chewing, and used the rounded end of the fork to rub her clit.  She had to stay still so she wouldn't upset the plate.  Her breathing gave away her struggle to do so.

I finished the meat--a beautiful cut of steak--and angled the knife against her skin, scraping it along the length of her body from abdomen to neck and back down.  A bit of fear entered into her breathing, but an excited fear...a fear the turned her on.  I would never cut her with a dirty knife, but there is always the chance of slipping, especially when the knife is sharp.

I finished the side dish, and I took a little longer rubbing her clit with the fork.  She finally asked permission to orgasm.  "No," I replied, and moved the end of the fork away.

She gave a near-breathless sigh, with a hint of waiver in it.  She wanted that permission so badly.

"Now for dessert."

I walked over and got dessert myself.  I didn't want her to move.  As cold is a hard limit for her, I draped a cloth napkin over her skin to keep the cold from getting to her, and I brought a plate with a slice of cheesecake on it out of the refrigerator.  I ate it slowly, rubbing her clit in between bites again, but edging her each time.  I made her beg for permission, and each time, I denied her.  To her credit, she was able to keep her upper body still, though she moved her legs with the agony of ecstasy.

"Now, for your dessert."

I went and got the other slice of cheesecake, made her get onto her hands and knees in front of me, and eat the cheesecake without hands, without utensils.  Ah, what a sight she was, with her narrow waist and curvy hips, her ass molded and shaped by years of ballet and athletic activity, her long violet hair draped over the side of her face opposite of me...she was beautiful in her submission, and the degradation of eating like a common animal made the sight even more appealing.  She is my favorite pet.

She finished.  I don't know how she does it, but she can eat that way without making a mess of her face.  I gave her a kiss, then said, "Now, for my second dessert."

I made her lay on her back again, but this time, her legs were draped over my shoulders.  I went down on her, sucking her clit into my mouth, nibbling it, biting down on it (she loves it rough), flicking it with my tongue.  It didn't take her long.  "Please, Master, may I cum?  Please?  Oh, please, Master..."

I let her beg for a bit, then I growled, "Cum for me."  She arched her back, her breath stolen from her, the orgasm seizing her body and making her write against her will, her muscles tightening involuntarily.  When she finally could breathe again, she whispered, "Thank you, Master."

I lifted her from the table, draped her over my shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom.  I grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and fucked her savagely.  "Stop!  Please stop!  Oh, it hurts..."

"I didn't hear a safe word, slut.  You fucking love it, don't you?  Don't you, little whore?"  I slapped her head, then grabbed her hair again.

"Yes," she admitted, almost under her breath.

I fucked her harder.  She continued to beg me to stop...and then she begged me to let her cum again.  "Please may I cum?  Please?  Please, Master..."

"Cum for me, little whore."

She came again.  I felt her wetness gush over my cock, felt her squeeze it.  Her breath was lost again, and I delighted in the sight of her arching her back again, her mouth parted as though crying out, though no sound came out.  She was able to moan after several seconds, and she expressed her gratitude once more.

I continued to fuck her hard, grabbing her hips and pulling her into me as I thrust.  It's just how she likes it, and with my hands off her hair, the pain no longer distracted her from the sensations below.  I slapped her repeatedly.  She loves it when it's violent.  I kept hold of her right hip as I slapped her with my right hand.  Sweat began to pour down my face, and I wiped it onto my hand, then wiped my hand on her face.

"What are you?"

"Your whore."

"What else are you?"

"Your plaything."

"That's right: you're my favorite toy.  I love using your little body, whore.  Do you like being used?"


I summoned more strength for my thrusts and fucked her rapidly, hard, fast,,,

"I'm going to cum...oh fuck..." My language was gone, reduced to primal grunts and growls, and I came inside of her, flooding her, draining myself into her.

I collapsed next to her.  She turned onto her side, and I pulled her into me, and we melted into each other for awhile.

Friday, July 17, 2015

BDSM Info: The value of a contract and documented rules

I've been roundly criticized for having a contract and a formal set of rules.  It's never bothered me, because the way I play is the way I play, and unless you have a safety/medical concern, your opinion doesn't matter.

However, I think it's valuable for those new to the lifestyle--or even those who have just "winged it" for years--to understand why I and others find value in contracts.

No, we're not copying off of 50 Shade of Grey.  Stop that.  That's fiction, and not a guide to a BDSM lifestyle.  Nobody talks a virgin into signing a contract like that.  Okay, no responsible dominant would talk a virgin, who can't have informed consent, into signing a contract like that.  Well, not so much talked into, as hounded, intimidated, and practically forced.

I digress.

Contracts have been around for a long time.  I haven't used them in the past, since most of the partners I've had in the past were masochists, not formally slaves.  We were all about playing with pain, and not about obedience and discipline.  I was dominant by default, almost, because I was a natural at it, and it is the typical role of choice of the sadist, just as submissive is the typical role of choice for the masochist--thought it's not always the case.  Nothing is set in stone in the world of sexuality--never fall into that trap.  It might be set in stone for you, but it's not a good assumption to believe that every plays like you do.

If you do find yourself in a D/s (whatever form that takes) relationship, a contract is a good idea, not because it protects you legally (no court in the civilized world would defend your claim of ownership over another person), but because it provides a framework for the submissive in which to play, and it provides a level of comfort to know exactly what the rules are.  Sometimes it's fun to play with loopholes, too, if you're into the whole bratty submissive thing...but if you're not, and you're looking for obedience, a formal set of rules to which you both agree (or you all agree, if you're poly) is a good start.

If you don't have rules, you could fall into the area of psychological abuse.  If the submissive never feels like she/he is doing the right thing, if nothing they do seems to meet your expectations, if you constantly discipline for whatever you feel like labeling as wrong, your submissive may be in a constant state of psychological torment.  It is my firm opinion that sub drop is more likely in this sort of situation, and it's more likely for a submissive to panic when she/he doesn't know what's expected.
Another value to having rules--and going over them from time to time--is that it tends to stimulate you and your partner sexually.  That's been my experience, anyway.  Go over them every so often, weeding out ones that seemed like good ideas when you first came up with them, but don't quite fit with the way you play or with the other things going on in your lives.

Still another good thing about rules is it is fulfilling for a submissive to know that she/he is doing a good job obeying them.   If your submissive believes you are worthy of respect, even worship, obeying/following the rules, and even a particular routine or ritual, will provide fulfillment and keep your submissive happy and loyal--and, in turn, will keep you satisfied.  They are your rules, after all.  Tailor them to your benefit, and you will both (or all) be happy.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

More fun with the Wartenberg wheel; breath play; rope work; knife play

With kids in the house and not much in the house dampening sound, I've shied away from using implements on my slave most of the time lately...but that's kept me out of the toy bag, and that's a shame.  There are all kinds of toys in there I can use when we play that won't make noise, or won't make enough to matter.  Two of the kids are asleep by the time we go to bed, and the third is playing games, wearing headphones, and talking on Skype--there's no way he's hearing us.

I had in mind to use the shrink wrap again.  It's one of her favorite things and mine, and it had been so long.  I'd been thinking about it all day, during work, when I could do nothing about it.  When we settled down on the couch for the evening, after the youngest went to bed, I grabbed my slave by the hair and whispered in her ear, "I've been thinking about you in shrink wrap all day.  I think we'll do a little breath play tonight."

She was enthusiastically compliant.  While she went to the bathroom in preparation for being restrained (there are few things worse than having to untie a slave for a bathroom break), I went to the bedroom to get the toys out.  I chose the Wartenberg wheel, the hunting knife, the shrink wrap, and two lengths of rope.  I also pulled out the flogger.  It's a bit worse for wear, but it is still effective.  
She came into the bedroom, and I showed her the flogger.  She immediately pulled down her jeans and assumed the position.  I began whipping her, reddening her ass...and then I received a painful reminder that one of the cats had followed us into the room.  Our biggest cat made a leap for the flogger while I was in mid-swing, missed, and latched onto my hand, hanging there by his claws for a few seconds.  He drew blood. 

I went to wash the scratches and the two puncture wounds, then bandaged them.  I made sure the cat was not in the room, and I continued the whipping.  I made her count this time, stopping a couple of times to rub her clit to the bring of orgasm, partially hoping it would make her lose count so I could start over...not that a completed count was going to stop me from continuing the whipping, but I love how it messes with her head.  She kept count, though.  I'm always impressed that she can do that now; she couldn't when we first got together.  meb

Happy with the result of the whipping, I stripped her the rest of the way, threw her down on the bed, and edged her again, this time making her beg for permission to orgasm.

"Can I cum, Master?  Please, can I come?  Oh, please..."

I let the begging continue for a few minutes, relishing her agony over wanting to orgasm and being denied, then said, "No, you may not.  You're not tied up yet."

I grabbed a length of rope, bent her leg so that her ankle was very near her thigh, and tied her lower leg to her thigh.  I wrapped the rope around her leg three times, then pulled the rope through the loop made by doubling it.  I made another coil around her leg, lower down, then I finished with coiling the rest around her ankle.  

I edged her again.  Made her beg again.  She was getting so wet...and I was more turned on that usual.  It had been so long since I'd restrained her with rope, I had forgotten how incredibly sexy she looks when I tie her up.  After denying her an orgasm for the second time, I took a moment to savor the view, then grabbed the second length of rope.  After doubling it, I used about a foot of it to whip her thighs, whip her pussy, and whip her thighs some more.  I tied her left like just like the right one.  

Damn...I wanted to fuck her then.  I wanted to just explode inside of her with her legs restrained like that...but no.  I wasn't done with her.  As sexy as she looked, we hadn't made things intense enough, and I wanted her to soak the sheets when I finally let her cum.  

I edged her for the third time.  I denied her for the third time.  I wasn't going to let her orgasm until she was completely helpless. That's when I grabbed the shrink wrap.  I made her fold her arms together, then I wrapped them together.  She was completely unable to resist now.  

I shoved my fingers into her wetness, two at first, then three, then four.  I stretched her, making her hurt.  She moaned in pain and pleasure.  I fucked her with my fingers, coating them with her juices...then I made her taste herself, making her suck her juices off her fingers.  Once they were coated with her saliva, I wiped it all over her face.  

"Does that make you feel like a cheap little whore?"


"You love that feeling, don't you."

"Uh huh."

"You love being treated like a little piece of meat, don't you?"

"Yes, Master."

I took the Wartenberg wheel and began to run it over the vulnerable, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.  Then, I spread her labia and ran it over the sensitive flesh beside her clit.  I ran it over her clit...and her reaction...her breathing changed, she moaned...it was pure pleasure.  I hadn't used vampire gloves in a very long time, because my pair was ruined through use as spanking implement, but it occurred to me at that moment that the wheel would be a similar feeling, and my slave loved it when I fingered her with the gloves on.  

I rolled the wheel on her clit, over and over, and she went positively wild with pleasure.  Her back arched, her breath grew ragged, she moaned, and she got very, very wet.

"Master, may I cum?  Please, please, please may I cum?" she breathed.  She could barely speak.  

"Cum for me, whore."  I held her in place, my body between her legs to keep them spread, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from jerking away, and kept rubbing her clit with the wheel while she came.  She squirted a bit, drenching the sheet.  Between the orgasm from the wheel and the edging that came before, her orgasm was explosive.  

I made her cum again before I stopped running the wheel over her clit. 

It was time for breath play.  

"Are you ready, little slut?"

"No," she gasped.  

"Does it matter that your not ready?"  

"No," she moaned.  

I smacked her on the side of the head.  "All that matters is that I'm ready," I growled, then grabbed a fistful of her hair.  "Right, little slut?"

"Yes, master."

I pulled her head up by her hair and started wrapping the shrink wrap around her head.  I wrapped it around her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and her chin, then wrapped it around her mouth, as well.  I laid over her chest and looked into her eyes, which were open under the plastic, and waited for her panic to set in, as it inevitably would.  It took some time.  She can hold her breath for a long time...but the shrink wrap usually causes her to panic sooner than she would if I simply held my hand over her mouth and nose.  The panic finally came, but she didn't tap out.  She fought it.  She struggled.  She writhed.  She was so fucking sexy. 

I finally poked a hole in the plastic for her mouth.  I barely let her catch her breath when I kissed her, covering her lips completely and moving my tongue over hers.  Even as she struggled for breath, she returned my kiss, moving her tongue in response.  I broke away from the kiss, grabbed another piece of the shrink wrap, and put it over her mouth.  The panic came more quickly this time, and I took the plastic off.  I wanted to fuck her.  I needed to fuck her.  

But first...I grabbed the hunting knife.  I ran it over her breasts, her face, her neck.  

"What would you say if I said I wanted to see your blood?"

"Not with that knife."

That was an unusual response.  I usually say things like this, knowing it's a hard limit and it's not going to happen.  Her response usually plays into the role of the helpless victim, crying "No, please don't" or something along those lines, but this...

"Have you been thinking about blood play?"

"I've been thinking about it for a long time now."

"Hmmmm...interesting.  But no, not with this knife.  It can be sharpened, though..."

I picked her helpless body up a bit and moved her roughly into position.  I grabbed her thighs and pulled her toward me.  It wasn't difficult to slide inside of her; she was soaked.  With the knife pressed to her neck, I fucked her savagely, grabbing her by the hair as I did.  It was clear that she was getting too hot, so I ripped the plastic off of her head and her arms, then I pinned her arms above her head and fucked her harder.  

When we were finished, we lay down next to each other, and I caressed her body.  We talked a bit about the possibility of blood play.  She's still scared of it, but it excites her, too.  Maybe someday...

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

BDSM Play 19: Wartenberg wheel and obedience

I stopped a conversation with my slave last night with some aggressive fingering.  It completely interrupted her train of thought, and she forgot all about what she was trying to say.  It wasn't long before she was asking permission to cum.

"Beg for me, whore,"

"Please, Master?  Please may I cum?  Please?" she begged, breathlessly.

I let her agonize over stopping herself from having an orgasm for a couple of minutes, then I gave her permission.  Her orgasm was intense; she arched her back, squeezed my arm, and couldn't breathe until it was over.  I didn't stop.  I kept fingering her until she had a second orgasm.

"That one wasn't as intense."

I wasn't taking that one lightly.  I grabbed her by the hair and put her hand behind her back, and I walked her back to the bedroom.  I pulled her pants down, smacked her ass, then turned her around and pushed her onto the bed.  I pushed her legs up, went down on her, and sucked her clit into my mouth, clamping down on it with my teeth, then rubbing it between my tongue and the back of my teeth.  I let it go and sucked it in and out of my mouth, flicking it with my tongue all the while.

"Master, may I cum?  Master, please, please may I cum?  Please?" she begged.


I got up and went over to the toy bag.  I got out the bondage mittens and the Wartenberg wheel.  I set the wheel between her tits and slid the bondage mittens over her hands.  I put the locks on the wrist restraints, then I used the rings on the ends to lock them together with a third padlock.  I took the Wartenberg wheel into my hand and started rolling it down her inner thighs.  She jerked and moaned as the needles poked her tender flesh.  I rolled it over her labia, over her clit, on her abdomen, on the underside of her tits, over her nipples.

Then, I had her stick out her tongue.

I rolled it over her tongue, and her reaction made it clear that she didn't like it, but she also was not saying her safe word.  I enjoyed the reaction immensely, so I did it again.  She winced and whimpered, but she took it like a good little slave.

I went down on her a second time, bringing her to the brink of orgasm again, and again, I refused her.  I ran the wheel over her flesh again, bit her on the belly and her thighs, and went down on her a third time.  I let her beg for permission for around two minutes, then I said, "Cum for me, slut."  She gushed.

While I was giving her clit oral attention, I noticed that she was having some luck with sliding the bondage mittens off.  They usually don't move at all.  I did not tighten them enough.  I told her to try to get out, and she did with some effort.  I immediately pinned her arms to the bed, and said, "You might get out of those, but you're still helpless, aren't you, little whore?"

"I can't move."

"No, you can't.  There's nothing you can do about me fucking you."  With that, I shoved my cock into her wet hole, and while I fucked her, I told her, "Stick out your tongue."

With a look of reluctance  but without hesitation, she obeyed, and I ran the wheel over her tongue.

"You don't like that, do you?"

"Not very much, no."

"But I love the reaction.  It's so hot to watch you and hear you whimper.  Stick out your tongue."

She obeyed.  Winced.  Moaned and squealed a bit.  And her wetness spread.  She was so fucking wet.  She might not have enjoyed the feeling of those tiny spikes rolling across her tongue, but she certainly enjoyed me making her obey.


Again, she obeyed.  And again, and again, as I thrust my cock hard into her soaking wet cunt.  I eventually put down the wheel and choked her while I fucked her, then released, then took the pillow and put it over her face.  She turned her head and found space to breathe, so I wrapped the pillow around her head to give her nowhere to go.  The helplessness, the inevitability of acceptance of her suffocation, the panic displayed as she clawed at the pillow and struggled, and her incredible wetness all made the orgasm surge in me.  I came hard inside of her and released her head from the pillow before she could tap out.

I laid down next to her, stroking her hair, rubbing her back and her ass (which was coated with her wetness in part), and I said, "You may not have enjoyed the wheel on your tongue, but you loved obeying me.  You were so wet."

"That wheel was uncomfortable."

"Yes, but as you said yourself, a slave's life is not about comfort."

"I did love the intensity, and I love it when you make me obey."

We enjoyed laying naked next to each other for awhile, then we went to clean up.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Do you have to be a submissive to become a good dominant?

Pick your title: Master/Mistress and slave, Dom/me and submissive, top and bottom...there are people who say that you either can't be a good dominant without first being a submissive, or that the best dominants are ones who were submissive first.  This opinion seems to be purely anecdotal.  A search for research on this topic yields no studies.  What tool(s) do we have left with which we may examine the claim?  In lieu of studies--which I fully support, if they exist or if they come about in the future--we can attempt to look at it logically.

The assumption that it's better to be submissive before one becomes dominant presupposes the following:

  • Submissives share common experiences, so if one has been submissive, one will know what a submissive wants/needs/feels
  • Submissives make good dominants
  • A dominant cannot be as good if he/she never submits
The first presupposition takes a cookie-cutter approach to the submissive experience--an idea that is ludicrous on its face.  Not all submissives are the same.  Some enjoy pain; some don't.  Some respond well to corporal punishment, while others respond well to nurturing, positive reinforcement, tasks, or verbal reprimands.  Some are simply obedient and do not need correction, and they are quick learners who require very little training.  In short, no submissive is really the same as any other.  Assuming you know what a submissive wants because that's what you wanted represents an unrealistic expectation that will make you less adaptable. 

The idea that there's a progression from submissive to dominant does not mesh with my twenty years in the BDSM lifestyle.  There are submissives, there are dominants, and there are switches, and those who are submissive or dominant tend not to want to be anything else.  I know some people who started out submissive and became dominant, and I know people who wanted to be dominant in the beginning, then went through a mentoring/learning process to get there.  It is not, by any means, a rule that dominants start out as submissives, and, since all the people with this opinion have are anecdotes, I will offer that anecdotally speaking, the best dominants I have known have never been submissive.  That's not to say that I'm right and they're wrong, but if we're only going on personal experience, my observations are just as good as theirs.  Right?

Finally, I object strongly to the supposition that a dominant can't be as good if he/she has never submitted.  I don't think I need to have been a submissive to have empathy.  I have acquired the skills to listen to my partner, to understand body language, to understand tone of voice and types of breathing, to know what questions to ask--verbally and physically--to make our experience the best it can be.  I know when my slave is into what I'm doing and when she's not.  I know what makes her wet, I know what gets her into the mood, I know how to maintain continuity of play, and I know how to regain control if something interrupts us.  I am not sure how being a submissive contributes to any of this experience.  I don't need to know what the flogger feels like on my skin (though I have tried implements on myself just out of curiosity) to know what her responses mean.  I can tell how much aftercare she needs and what kind.  

This argument takes me back to when a lesbian friend of mine opined that women give better oral than men to other women because they know what women want--they have the same parts.  I know that opinion doesn't hold water, because each woman I've gone down on has wanted something different.  Some women love it rough; some women want it gentle.  Some want the clit sucked in and nibbled, or even bitten; some just want it sucked gently, with the tongue flicking over it.  Assuming that every member of your sex wants head the same way ignores a simple truth: we are all sexual individuals.  We have different erogenous zones, different qualities to which we are attracted, different levels of sensitivity on our genitalia.  To believe that you have the puzzle solved because you were once a puzzle yourself ignores the fact that there are billions of puzzles out there, and you're only an expert on one.  

I think about my experiences in this lifestyle, and how different each and every submissive has been: one had no limits to the pain she desires, even to the point where there were serious safety concerns.  Another wanted nothing but blood play.  Another enjoyed electricity and spanking, but not needles.  Another enjoyed bondage and humiliation, but not a lot of pain.  There are as many different ways to play as there are players.  It's not a cookie-cutter experience, and that's what this idea of requiring dominants to first be submissive suggests.  

Friday, March 20, 2015

BDSM Info 2: Blood

The number one thing you should know about playing with blood is that you shouldn't.  The risk is high.  No matter how you draw blood, no matter what you use, no matter how careful you are, there is always the risk of infection.  The cut(s) could get infected, or you could be infected with a blood-borne pathogen.

I've played with blood.  A lot of people have and do.  Since people engage in this kind of play, I think it is valuable to present ways to minimize risk.


Anything you use to cut someone should be clean and free of microbes.  I recommend metal scalpels. They are incredibly sharp and not heat-sensitive, so you can use an autoclave to sterilize them.  Autoclaves are available from medical supply stores and Amazon, and range in price from $47 for a small one intended for use in tattoo shops to a few thousand dollars for ones intended for surgical use.  The Center for Disease Control recommends steam and flash sterilization, which you my learn about here.  

In the absence of an autoclave, you can clean your equipment with a detergent and water, or an enzyme cleaner, then boil it to sterilize it.  There are several methods that should be considered best practices, and a good resource for learning about them is this article.  

Of course, sterilization is not going to decrease your risk of exposure to blood-borne pathogens; it's only going to decrease the risk of infection to the cut.

It's important that you remember the cleaning part, as well; you do not want irritants in the cuts, either.  You run the risk of increased pain, rashes, and scars (some people want scars, and we'll get to that).


I have used a scalpel, a hunting knife, and razor blades in blood play.  The sharper the blade, the cleaner the cut, and the less likely there will be scars.

When I cut, I want to taste the blood.  Putting one's mouth on an open cut is one reason why blood play is risky; there is bacteria in your mouth.  You can minimize the bacteria by using mouthwash beforehand and brushing your teeth, as well as making sure your face is clean.  There's no way to eliminate the risk here, but disinfecting the wound immediately after play will minimize the risk of infection as much as possible.  Washing it with soap and water, disinfecting, then dressing the wound should be part of your aftercare.

I typically taste the blood, then kiss my partner with blood in my mouth/on my lips.  It can be intoxicating and incredibly erotic.  I avoid going deep with cuts, and I avoid areas where there are major veins and arteries.  Knowledge of the circulatory system helps.

For an extra painful experience, once you clean and disinfect a wound, use Liquid Skin to close it.  It burns like fire.

It should be stressed that there is no way to reduce your risk of blood borne pathogens if you're tasting blood, other than perhaps collecting the blood and boiling it first, or putting it under UV light before drinking it.  It would ruin the moment for me.

Smearing the blood, using it to write things on paper or on the skin, using it to make designs...there are other things to do than taste the blood.  Your creativity and level of accepted risk are the limits.  You still have the risk of blood-borne pathogens.


Flaying involves removing the epidermis, or outer layer of the skin, to expose the dermis.  The dermis is really sensitive, amplifying all sensations you normally feel through your epidermis.  It's especially sensitive to heat, but pretty much any sensation is going to be magnified if experienced with the dermis instead of the epidermis.  Alcohol rubbed on the dermis will burn.

The trick is remove just enough skin to expose the dermis, but do not be surprised if you draw blood the first time, or even the first few times.  You don't need to cut very deep to get to it.  The epidermis will grow back, and scarring is rare.

Dripping wax on the dermis, using alcohol on it, using ginger root...there are many things that will bring pain through flaying, but be extra careful--it is much easier to damage.  Drip any wax from a distance--what will simply be warm on the epidermis will really hurt on the dermis, even if it doesn't actually damage it.


Scarification is exactly what it sounds like: leaving scars on purpose.  There are several ways to do it-and not just with cutting.  You can burn to scar, as well.  Neither method is free of risk.

Tattoo shops will do scarification tattoos, and these people are artists.  They will create interesting, aesthetically pleasing designs.

A dominant who wants to mark a sub with scarification may consider doing it, but since this is a lasting body modification, it may be better to leave it to a professional, especially if it's something other people will see.

Typically, you draw a design (or etch it, then use ink to imprint it) on the skin surface, then cut away the skin necessary to create the design.  To get it to stay as a scar, get a baby toothbrush and peroxide, wet the scabs to soften them, then brush them with the baby toothbrush and peroxide.  If you leave it alone, it is likely to heal without scars.

I will not get into burning here, because this is an article about blood.