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.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

BDSM Movie Review: Secretary

Years after hearing about the movie and more years after hearing about the story, I finally saw "Secretary".

There will be spoilers in this article. 

First of all, I have seen James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhall in other films, and I like them both.  I have nothing against them as actors.  I think they're excellent actors.  Their characters, on the other hand, are mixed for me.

Maggie's character, Lee, may or may not have a mental disorder.  I can't decide.  She might be a compulsive cutter, which is a problem, or she might just be a masochist who doesn't know there's a word for what she is until later in the film.  I think it's the latter, honestly; she only went to the institution because she cut herself too deeply on accident.  She cuts and burns herself to feel pain, which gives her pleasure.  She doesn't compulsively do it for self-harm, as strange as that might sound.  There's not a lot of depth to her, really, but she does go through a journey of self-discovery and finds out who she truly is through the course of the film.

My main problem with Lee is my problem with just about every woman portrayed in a BDSM situation in just about every movie with any sort of BDSM in it: she is virginal, comes from a broken home, and may or may not be broken herself.  While there are people from dysfunctional families and mental problem who exist in the BDSM community, there never seems to be a portrayal of a mentally healthy female with any sort of sexual experience, ever.  It has to be a young, naive girl who doesn't know what she wants, and must be shown what she wants by a man.

This brings us to the man, Spader's character, E. Ernest Grey.  He's an attorney who claims to be shy, and acts that way when he first meets Lee.  He doesn't seem dominant at all.  He's apparently had experience; his last secretary left in tears, and it seems to be a repeated behavior: he hires a secretary, uses her for his spanking fetish, feels guilty, and gets rid of her.

I can understand the moral dilemma.  I went through the same sort of dilemma regarding my sadism for a few years.  I wasn't sure what I was doing was moral in any way, even if a woman was willing.  I didn't have that moral dilemma early on, but I kept meeting women who had been through a great deal of abuse in their homes, and I started feeling like I was feeding into their mental issues.  I wasn't as involved with the community as I should have been, or I would have known that the mix of people with mental issues and histories of abuse matched the general population, more or less.  When I met a few masochists who had never been abused and were mentally together, I stopped trying to suppress who I was.  Who I am.  I'm so happy I got over the dilemma.

In any case, Grey strikes me as someone who hasn't had any interaction or education in the community.  He doesn't bother with finding out about whether Lee is curious about kink, never discusses safe words or the parameters of the relationship or the play.  Furthermore, what he does is terribly unprofessional--and I'm sure the intention is for the audience to know he knows that; it adds to his guilt over his proclivities.  It's also predatory.  Being in a power position and using someone over whom he has power as the object of his sadistic attention is victimization.  He is simply lucky that Lee not only goes along with it, but likes it.

What message does it send, though?  It's similar to the manosphere idea that what women really want--every time--is to be taken by force.  He doesn't fuck her, but coming from a sadist's perspective, what he does is rape, or at least sexual assault, because he doesn't get explicit consent, uses his position of power to make it difficult for his intended victim to say no (she could lose her job, after all), gaslights (makes his victim think that she can't do anything right), and does, at one point, stalk.  He follows Lee to the laundromat and sees her with Peter, then gets angry about it.  He's obviously jealous.

He starts controlling her diet in an unhealthy way.  I get that Lee finds comfort in getting his permission, and that she no longer self-harms because of him, but she's new to the lifestyle and naive; she doesn't realize that Ernest knows nothing about safety.  She puts her trust is someone who can't even trust himself.

Then, we come to the "hunger strike", which is really Lee waiting out Ernest's command to have her sit at the desk, palms flat on it, feet on the floor, for three days.  No food, no water.  People in her life keep coming in and talking with her.  Lecturing her.  She fights her ex-fiance when he tries to get her to stop.  Now, I could have forgiven this scenario if Ernest hadn't made her wait without food or water, and if he would have allowed her to go to the bathroom.  Sitting in urea can cause the skin to break down and develop sores, which can become infected and cause serious problems, including sepsis.  Dehydration can cause severe headaches and, going for that long, death.  Now, a person can live longer without water if there's no food, but that's another thing: starvation is painful after awhile, and if there are blood sugar problems, it can be deadly.  Ernest waits for three days before he decides to give her water, finally getting over his fear of committing to this sort of relationship.

To his credit, he does give her aftercare, and after this point, when he finally accepts who he is (thanks to Lee, who came to terms with who she was after doing some actual research into domination and submission, and made him realize it was okay--that she wanted this treatment, and that it fulfilled her), they develop a healthy BDSM relationship.  Fortunately, nobody was actually hurt, with the exception of Peter, who had to go through his bride running off on the wedding day.

I can forgive a lot in this movie, based on what I suspect about the intentions regarding the characters, but I think the three-day torment of Lee was unforgivable.  Common sense should tell anyone that letting someone go without food and water for three days is unhealthy and dangerous.  Sure. Lee wasn't restrained and could have left at any time--which makes it...okay?  I'm not certain.  I'm all for risk-aware consensual kink, but I didn't see the point of endangering Lee's life by prolonging this episode for three days.

There is some good stuff in this movie.  The display of kink is very mild, but there are elements to which people who have had to come to terms with masochistic or sadistic tendencies might relate.  The stereotype of the virginal female and the predatory dominant do make it difficult for me to give this movie a full thumbs-up.

Monday, February 16, 2015

BDSM Play 18: Spanking opportunity, resistance, breath play, begging, edging, oral, rough fucking, anal

Yesterday morning, as my slave and I were getting ready to take a shower, my stepdaughter began to run the vacuum, making it impossible for anyone to hear what we were doing.  I took the opportunity to redden her sweet little ass.  I grabbed a fistful of her hair near the roots to hold her in place, then I slapped her ass, alternating cheeks, hard enough to sting both my hand and her round little butt.

"We have to take these little opportunities as they present themselves," I growled in her ear when I was satisfied with the color.  

"Yes, Master," she said, as she laid her head on my chest and I stroked her hair.  

We entered the shower soon after.  As she applied conditioner to her hair, I wrapped one arm around her waist, supported her with one leg, then found her clit with my other hand.  I fingered her rapidly, letting her feel my hot breath on her neck as I brought her to orgasm.

"Master, may I cum?" she pleaded.

"Yes, little whore.  Cum for me."  She nearly collapsed when it hit her, knees bent, mouth parted, unable to stay steady on her own.  I was there for her, though; she would not fall with me holding her.  
We finished our shower, went about our day, then wound up on the couch watching a movie.  She laid against my left side, and I rubbed her breasts, as I usually do...but I slid my left hand into her pants, fingering her again.  I got my fingers wet with her juices, which I brought to her lips.  She sucked at them greedily.  I pulled my fingers out of her mouth and wiped her saliva on her face.  She loves the degradation.  I went back to fingering her, repeating the ritual, breaking it only by covering her mouth and nose with my hand and cutting off her breath.

The first time, she took awhile to panic.  During her panic reaction, she reached back to grab my right arm.  I seized her wrist and held the arm across my lap--it's always impossible for her to resist with only one arm free, but I love to see her try.  She tapped out, and I released her mouth and nose, but held onto her wrist.  She looked incredibly sexy, one breast showing, her full abdomen, down to the upper region of her labia.  Holding her there made me so hot.

I fingered her to orgasm once, then cut off her breath a second time.  She tried to pull my right hand off of her wrist, but it was in vain.  She had no chance.  She tapped out again.  I fingered her again, but this time, I refused to let her orgasm.  

"Master, may I please cum?  Please?  Please let me cum.  Please?"  She begged.  Fuck, it's so hot when she begs.  She sounds so submissive and utterly feminine and sexy when she begs. My cock hardened against my jeans--I'm sure she felt against her arm.  

"No, not yet," I replied, and went back to cutting of her breath.  This time, when she tried to pull my hand off her wrist, I grabbed it and put it together with her other arm--and almost lost the first arm in the process.  I managed to gain control over both, and now she was completely unable to put up a fight.  

I allowed her to breath again, then went back to fingering her.  She began to beg, "Master, will you fuck me?  Please, Master.  Please?"

"I will if I feel like it, little slut.  But you can keep begging."

"Master, please treat me like the little whore I am.  Please use my pussy.  Fuck me, please, Master. Please...oh, please let me cum.  Please?  Please!"  She was so close.  I took my finger away from her clit.  

"No, not yet, little whore.  Not yet."  I cut off her breath again, savored her reaction, watching her sexy body writhe as she struggled to breathe. I released her and fingered her again.  She begged some more...and it was time.  I had to fuck her.  

We went back to the bedroom.  I pushed her down on the bed.  She didn't stay in place--she was looking to escape.  She continued to resist as I undressed her.  I nearly ripped of her shirt while I was stripping her.  I had her naked, and I went down on her freshly-shaven pussy.  It wasn't long before she was begging me for permission to cum. 

Again, I refused.

I bit her on the belly, I bit her tits...she writhed and struggled to get away, but I kept biting.  I got the belt, I wrapped it around her arms, held them in place, and went down on her again.  This time, I let her cum.  Her orgasm was so intense.  Her backed arched, her lips parted, her breath caught, and she didn't breathe or moan again until the most intense moments passed.  

She was so wet, I slid my cock right into her.  

"I'm going to take my time, little slut, and enjoy using your body and making you suffer."  I grabbed her hair in two handfuls and yanked on it with each thrust.  She was nearly in tears, but no safe phrase escaped her lips.  She managed to get the belt off of her arms, but I put it around her neck instead, and I used it to choke her while I thrust harder.  I loosened it some, enjoying the look of it around her throat, then took the end and slapped her cheek with it.  Carefully.  So carefully.  I didn't want to catch her eye or anything else--just her cheek.

She asked permission to cum, but I didn't quite understand her, and asking her to repeat herself lost the moment...but I pulled out and fingered her roughly till she begged to cum instead.  I turned her over and began to fuck her wet little cunt from behind, grabbing her wrists and pulling her arms up behind her.  It forced her face into the mattress, which I'm sure made her feel degraded.  I grabbed an ass cheek, wrapped my leg firmly around her thigh, and used the leverage to thrust into her harder.

"Master, would you fuck me in the ass?  Please?"  We hadn't done anal in awhile, actually, so I had her lay flat on the bed, and with her natural lubricant coating my cock, I entered her tight little ass easily.  I hooked an arm and grabbed her hair, then thrust rapidly, savagely.  She loves a good anal fuck.  

Sweaty, tired, I rolled off of her, laid next to her awhile, stroked her hair, told her how much I loved her, then went and took a shower.  

The next morning, the power went out at 5:30.  I ended up getting up and staying up, but the alarm was set to go off at 8:30.  I thought I'd wake her up in a different way.  I went into the room, threw the blanket off of her, dragged her by her legs to the edge of the bed, pushed them up, then thrust against her.  I fucked her for a bit, but she said she had to use the bathroom.  I let her go, and when she came back, I directed her to suck my cock, which was coated her her wetness.

She went down on me, and I wrapped a leg around her.  I used my leg to set her pace, force her down, making her take my cock into her throat.  It wasn't long before I came into her throat.  I laid next to her again for a bit, caressing her soft skin..  

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

BDSM Info 1: Minimizing risks with choking and asphyxiation

My slave and I engage in some risky behavior.  There is no doubt that asphyxiation and choking are risky, and there is no 100% safe way to do them.  However, there are ways to minimize the risk.

Make no mistake: this play is dangerous and should never be taken lightly, if you're going to engage in it.  Cutting off oxygen for too long can be lethal.  Done carelessly, it could lead to heart attacks, brain damage, seizures, and other conditions.  

So why do we do it?  It gives us both intense sexual pleasure.  I've been doing it for two decades now, and I have not caused any injuries or death--but I still proceed with great caution.

First, let's define what I mean by asphyxiation and choking.

Asphyxiation: Deprivation of air.  

Choking: Applying pressure to the neck

Choking risks and safety

Let's begin with choking:  Choking is risky because you can do damage to the trachea (windpipe), the esophagus (the path from your mouth to your stomach), the jugular vein, which carries blood back to your heart from the brain, or the carotid artery, which carries blood to the brain.  Some methods of choking may also cause damage to the spine.

Here's what you should avoid in relation to choking:

  • Never apply direct pressure to the front of the neck.  Even if you are applying pressure to the sides, you might find your thumbs pressing into the neck.  You can crush the larynx, which will cut off the airway, or you could damage the hyoid bone
  • Avoid sudden impacts.  Some people are into hanging.  Use extreme caution.  Never do it alone, and never let yourself fall for any distance.  Gravity matters.  You could break your neck or do all sorts of damage.  
  • Remember that there are a lot of nerves in the neck, some of which will knock a person unconscious.  Some of them lead to the rest of the body.  Damaging them or pinching them will cause pain or numbness. 
  • Focusing pressure on the neck may cause bruising and other damage.  Marks on the neck are going to be visible.  Spread the pressure evenly to avoid marks and minimize risk of damage.   

Best practices:

  • Use something wide if you are wrapping it around the entire neck to distribute pressure evenly
  • If you are using the hands, be mindful of the pressure you applying with your fingertips and your thumbs.  Keep the pressure even across your palms and fingers.
  • Start gently, applying pressure slowly and firmly. 
  • Since choking leads to unconsciousness, make sure that the person being choked has a grip on you or has the ability to raise the head or arms, so when they begin to fall, you know to stop.  
  • Watch for reactions.  When the reactions slow, you need to stop.  

Asphyxiation risks and safety

My slave and I engage in asphyxiation play more than choking.  Asphyxiation is also known as hypoxyphilia, asphxiophilia, sexual asphyxia, or breath play.  We use plastic shrink wrap (found in rolls in the moving supplies section in your do-it-yourself stores), my hand over her mouth and nose, a heavy memory foam pillow, and sometimes my own flesh.  I press her face against my chest, my thighs, my belly; I also have engaged in sitting on her face, resting my scrotum over her mouth and nose.  It's large enough to cover her face.  

Breath play can also include suffocation by applying one's body weight such a way that the lungs have difficulty expanding and the diaphragm's expansion and contraction is restricted.   Laying on your partner's body can do this.  Tight corsets restrict the action of the respiratory system, as well (which is why women used to faint when they wore them).  Covering the face with cloth (e.g., putting a shirt over the face instead of taking it all the way off, wrapping a scarf around the head, etc.) will restrict airflow somewhat.  Gags and taping over the mouth also work.  We do not do gags because of my slave's TMJ (jaw problem), but we still use tape over her mouth.

Whatever method you use, you have to take the following into consideration:

  • Time is a huge factor.  Four minutes without oxygen will cause brain damage for certain, if not brain death.  Cardiac arrest is also a huge risk with low blood oxygen levels.  
  • Lack of oxygen can cause unconsciousness, which means the submissive cannot tap out or say her/his safe word.  This is dangerous for all kinds of reasons, but there's also the consideration of consent--if your sub is incapable of consent, you should stop playing immediately.  That aside, your sub cannot alert you of any medical/psychological concerns.  Panic will usually set in before unconsciousness will, but if your sub is particularly good at fighting the panic response, look for slowing of reactions/weaker responses. 
  • If you block the mouth, pay special attention to the nose.  The nose can become congested, especially if the submissive ends up crying during play.  
  • Under no circumstances should you leave a sub who cannot breathe unattended, but you should also not leave a sub who has any airway restricted unattended,as well.  
  • Allow the submissive to catch her/his breath before cutting off the airways again.  This allows the blood oxygen level to normalize, which minimizes the risk of heart attack and brain damage.
  • It is essential for the submissive to know that tapping out is acceptable, but you are ultimately responsible for her/his safety.  
Jay Wiseman, author of SM 101, says that there is no safe way to do breath play.  While that may be true, one may as well say that there is no safe way to swim underwater. The risk is the same, as long as you take it seriously, don't deprive your sub of oxygen for long, and let the submissive catch her/his breath between the times you cut it off.  Research on people who hold their breath frequently for long periods, as indicated in this article, has yielded mixed results, but, as the article also says, free divers have neurological responses that fall within the average range, and they hold their breath longer than it takes for most submissives to panic.  Panic usually sets in from fifteen seconds to forty-five, in my experience, with few exceptions.  

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

BDSM Play 17: Natural Born Killers

I have a confession to make: I have seen the movie, "Natural Born Killers", at least fifty times through.  At least.  When it was on HBO in the mid-1990s, I watched it every time it was on and I wasn't doing anything.  While I was out a lot in the mid-1990s and did a whole bunch of things, I was also up all night pretty much every night, and there were hours when no one was around or awake.  Aside from the fifty or so times I've watched it without distraction, I've also had it on as background noise more times than I can count.

I'm a parent now.  I can't do that anymore.

But this story isn't about the movie; it's not a critique or analysis.  It's about how I've never been able to get all the way through it if I've been in the same room as a woman with whom I've been sexually intimate--and my slave is no exception.

Does the movie itself turn me on?  Yes and no.  There are parts that would be completely hot if they involved consent and not snuff.  That part when Mickey assaults the hostage in the motel room with the knife could have turned into some hot knife play action (not that I would have wanted it to actually be IN the movie--but the fantasy fragment is there).  The part where Scagnetti strangles Pinkie, the prostitute, would have been hot if he hadn't killed her...and again, the essence of fantasy is there.

Consent is key, and of course, in the movie, the women are victims.  It doesn't stop me from changing the behavior in my mind into something hot, and that's why I get turned on.  I have no desire to kill anyone or make a woman do anything without her consent, but seeing a woman helpless, as both of these women were...well, that's how my life as a sadist began.  A far lower-quality film I saw in my childhood had a woman tied up, helpless, struggling, screaming, as she found out she was about to be burned alive.  The snuff was a disappointment, but the fantasy was there, and I couldn't help being turned on.  I could separate it in my mind, but back then, I didn't dare think any females were actually willing to do anything of the kind: being tied up, experiencing fear, struggling, screaming...willingly?

How wrong I was.

My slave also loves this movie, and we were watching it together.  After we got through the aforementioned scenes--long after; I think we were on the prison scene where Wayne Gayle asks Mickey for the live interview--I slid my hand into her pants and found her wet.

I wasn't going to finish the movie.  That much was clear.

I brought to orgasm once, twice, three times, then four, and she told me, "Master, I'm getting uncomfortably wet."

"A slave's life is not about comfort," I said, as I started on the fifth.

I took her back to the room, leading her by her hair.  I pushed her face down on the bed and yanked her pants off.  I ordered her to take off her hoodie.  She had a shirt underneath, and I took that off myself.  I had use for it.

I wrapped the shirt around her head, combined the ends with a handful of hair, and held her down with the shirt securely over her face.  Not only could she no longer see, but her breathing became difficult, which made her panic.  She clawed at the shirt and squealed.  She struggled.  Her head thrashed back and forth.

She was wet before.  Now, she was soaked.

Thrusting into her was easy.  Holding back the orgasm took tremendous effort.  I slowed my pace at first, gaining control...her panic reaction nearly caused me to fill her on entry.  Once I gained control, I quickened my pace and put more force behind my thrust.

I let her panic for some time, then I took the shirt away from her face.  "Does that scare you, little whore?  Make you claustrophobic?"

"Not claustrophobic, Master, but scared, yes."

"And you love the fear."

"Yes, Master, It turns me on so much."

"Mmmm...you're so fucking wet.  Did that movie turn you on?"

"Yes," she gasped.  She was still trying to catch her breath.

"What part?  Was it the knife?"  I know she loves knife play.

"That turned me on, yes, but the part with Pinkie."

"He wasted her, didn't he.  He should have taken his hands off, let her live, savored her fear."

"Yes, Master."

"You won't go to waste.  You know why?  You're my little plaything.  I don't want to lose my little toy."  I wrapped my hands around her neck, putting pressure on the sides. She clawed and my arms and my hands, then she gripped my upper arms hard for awhile.  When they weakened, when she was losing consciousness, I let go of her neck and smacked her head.  I let her catch her breath, then I did it again, but this time, I fucked her savagely while I held onto her neck.  It felt so fucking good, but I was in control of my orgasm now; I wasn't going to cum until I was done enjoying her.  Would have been a shame to waste her when she was this wet.

I let go of her neck, let her come back to her senses and catch her breath, then I wrapped the shirt around her head again.  I fucked her harder, harder, growling and grunting,her reactions feeding my primal savagery.  Then the surge came, and I exploded inside of her.

We really need to own that movie on DVD.

Afterward, we cleaned up--we needed to, badly.  Fluids were everywhere.  When we crawled back into bed, I cradled her cheek in my hand, I looked into her eyes, and I said, "You mean everything to me."

"You mean everything to me, Master," and she smiled.

We kissed.  I stopped to kiss her nose, like I always do.  It always makes her smile and laugh.  I love her smile and her laugh.  I wouldn't trade her for the world.

BDSM Play 16: Domination in whispers

Domination isn't all about harsh tones and corporal punishment.  It's not all about hair-pulling, face-slapping, and pussy abuse.  Those things are a part of BDSM, of course, but they're not what it's all about.

There's art.  There's seduction.  There's setting the mood and maintaining it.  There's tone of voice, there's creativity, there's a manner of breathing, there's the reading of body language.  There's getting to know everything about your slave or sub and using that to not just to do your will, but to make her desire to do everything for you, to live to please you.

My slave and I were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and we were talking about how I had a surprise in store for her sometime soon.  She was intrigued, but she couldn't guess; there are so many things she likes.  We were going over those things, and she mentioned how she loves it when I dominate her in whispers.

I used to say it often: "Domination is in a whisper."  I don't mean that you have to dominate anyone in a whisper.  What I mean is that you understand the art when you can.  It means that you know what to say to get your slave turned on, and you don't just bark orders at her or manhandle her into doing your will.

I ran my hand up her leg and I exhaled heavily near her ear, then I took a breath and whispered, "I desire you.  I want you.  I want to devour you.  I want to sink my teeth into your flesh and make you cry out as I give you pleasure."  My voice turned into a growl as my finger found her wetness, sliding it to lubricate her already-swollen clit.

"I want to degrade you.  Treat you like a dirty little whore.  Use you like a cheap piece of gutter trash.  I want to ravage your body until you're unable to move," I growled, breathing heavily, running the hand that was not giving her clit attention into her hair, grabbing a handful, and slowly yanking her back so she was looking up at me.  Her body was reacting to the attention her clit was getting, and I could feel the wetness spreading to her inner thighs.

"I own you."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"You're my plaything."

"Yes, Master."

"Do you want fucked, little whore?"

"Please Master.  Please fuck me.  Please..."

I led her to the bedroom.  I laid down on the bed beside her, moving my mouth in close to her ear, as it was on the couch, and I continued to whisper.  "You want fucked, do you?  Not yet.  Not yet."


"I'll fuck you when I'm ready, slave."  I began moving my finder more rapidly as I exhaled, growling against the back of her neck.  She moaned, her body writhing, making me want to enter her...but I held back.

Not yet.

"Please, Master, may I cum?" she whispered.  "Please?  Please, may I cum?"

"No."  I pulled my hand away and caressed her body, from her thighs to her belly to her breasts, rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, massaging her breasts, caressing downward again, teasing with my hand over her, making her writhe in anticipation.  Then I began again.  It wasn't long before she begged some more.

"Please, Master.  Please.  Please let me cum.  Please?"

I pulled away again.  "No," I whispered.  "You'll cum when I let you."  She gave a sexy, frustrated little whimper.  I teased her again, then moved my hand back between her thighs and pleasured her some more.

"Please!  Please Master....please may I cum?"

"Cum for me, little slut."

She came, arching her back, mouth opening in her ecstasy as if trying to moan, but her breath caught and she held it until the feeling subsided.  I didn't stop.  I kept rubbing her sensitive clit, and she begged again: "MastermayIcumPleaseMasterPlease..." she gasped.

"Cum for me," I growled.

She came again, her involuntary reactions making the intensity obvious.  Her ecstasy was almost painful.

I made her cum again.  And again.  And one more time.

And then, I couldn't wait any longer.  I had to use her sexy little body.

After I used her hard, I stroked her hair, her face.  I looked into her eyes, I kissed her lips, and I whispered into her ear, "I love you, little slave.  You still have a surprise coming, but I think you had fun tonight."

She smiled.  "Yes, Master.  That was...hot."

We fell asleep, naked and satisfied.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

BDSM Play 15: Leather belt, breath play, hard fucking

Privacy is hard to come by these days.  One of the kids is in cyber-school, so she's at home every day.  We mostly play after the kids are in bed, and we have to be relatively quiet, which limits us.   Last Monday, however, my slave urged the one who does school on her computer to go to the science center with her boyfriend, and we had the place to ourselves.

I wasn't feeling good, and I thought that might ruin things, but the more I thought about our privacy and what we could do with it, the more I gained the will and desire to play.  It's funny how that works; you're feeling under the weather, then something that brings out your passion makes you ignore whatever's bothering you, and you end up going at it harder than you do at other times.

I made her strip, then bend over the arm of the couch.  I took a leather belt out of the toy bag.  We have a few belts; most have metal studs.  However, the solid leather belt stings the most, and it's seldom since July that I've been able to give her a proper ass beating.  When we first started talking, it was one of those things she kept asking for from other men, and no one delivered.  I delivered--on our first night together, and on several occasions since...but since we moved, it's just too loud an activity.

No one could hear her cry out Monday.  No one could hear the leather connect with her lovely, round little ass.  No one.

I caressed her naked body, randomly slapping her ass, warming her up...then I took the belt and swung without mercy.  I knew she could take it; I knew she would love it.  I left one red stripe after another on her ass, till the whole thing was red.

"Count for me," I said.  "We're going for twenty."

"Yes, Master," she replied, sticking her ass out in anticipation.

I started whipping her ass again, five in a row on each cheek, then stopping to rub her ass, hoping she would forget her count and cause me to start over.  But no: she kept her count, even as her voice shook and she cried out in pain.

No matter.  Mercy wasn't desired or forthcoming.  I began to whip without a count, my cock hardening as her pain reactions became more obvious, her cries, louder.  Then came several hits in a row in the same spot, and:

"Master, I'm weak."

I yanked her up by her hair, looped the belt through the buckle (the prong removed) and put it over her head, pulling it tight around her neck--not too tight, but tight enough to lead her by it.  I led her back to the bedroom, pulled her down onto the bed by the belt, the pulled it back over her head.

"Spread your legs, slut," I ordered.  She complied without hesitation.  Good little slave.  "We're going to ten on your pussy.  Keep count, whore."

"I'm not going to make it to ten, Master.  That belt hurts so much," she said, looking up at me with her head turned in submission, pleading with me with her eyes as well as her voice.

"That's not your safe word.  Take it until you're weak."

"Yes, Master."

I whipped her pussy once, twice, three times...she closed her legs a bit.  "Spread your fucking legs, slave."  She complied.  Four, five...

"Master, I'm weak.  Oh, that hurts.  That hurts so much."

I took the belt and looped it again, put it around her neck again, then roughly fingered her clit.  She loves it rougher than most, and I was aggressive.  It wasn't long before she was begging permission to cum.

"Keep begging, little whore."

"Master, please let me cum.  Please?" she gasped.  "Please?  Master, please...oh please let me cum..."

"Cum for me, you dirty fucking whore."

She came, arching her back, her ass lifting slightly off the mattress, holding her breath.  I felt sure she was going to squirt; the orgasm was fairly intense.  It got her really wet, in any case, and I wanted so badly to enter her...so I pulled her roughly to the edge of the bed and rammed it inside her.

"You're so fucking wet.  Are you my little piece of fuckmeat?"

"Yes, Master, I'm a piece of fuckmeat."

I pulled the belt tight and cut off her breath.  She held her composure for awhile, then began to have the panic reaction I loved so much.  She grabbed at the belt, clawed at my arms, then finally, when she could take no more, tapped out.

I loosened the belt from her neck, fucked her harder, then pulled the pillow closer to her head.  She feared the pillow.  It's heavy.  It's memory foam.  She's had it over her face so many times in the last year or so, and she still fears it.  That fear triggered a gush of wetness that I could feel.

"You're afraid of the pillow."

"Yes, Master."

"And that fear turns you on so much..."

"Yes, Master, it does."

"Are you ready?"

"No, Master."

"Does it matter?"

"No, Master, it doesn't."

I put the pillow over her face and held it there, fucking her savagely, not letting up till she tapped out in panic--and panic she did.  Much worse than with the belt.  She cried out, and her muffled cries turned me on so much...but I held out.  I didn't want to cum yet.  I wanted her to feel like she'd been properly fucked.

I took the pillow off her face and smacked her in the head a couple times, then I grabbed her by the hair and fucked her as if I was in a rage.  I fucked her with all of the intensity I could muster.  In the meantime, she caught her breath...so it was time for the belt again.

I pulled it tight around her neck, and her panic reaction came sooner this time.  She didn't tap out right away, though; she actually came close to losing consciousness.  When her grip on my arm weakened and her reactions weren't strong anymore, I released the belt and grabbed her hair to snap her out of it.  I grabbed her hair with both hands and started fucking her with all I had.  I came inside of her, ramming it all the way inside when I did, filling her.

I laid down on the bed and pulled her close to me, stroking her hair, caressing her body.  The rest of the day, after the kids were home again, I spent time sitting with her on the couch, caressing her, showing her affection, loving her.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

BDSM Play 14: Overnight hotel stay, spanking, leather belt, pussy abuse, hogtie with bamboo pole

My slave and I arrived at the hotel, our bag of toys in hand, excited to play outside of the home for the first time in months.  After we showered, I started by stripping and edging her with my fingers, bringing her close to orgasm five times...then I denied her, smacking her there instead.  When she was a lovely shade of red, I shoved my fingers inside of her wetness, first two, then three, then four.  I rammed them into her, knowing it would make her sore for later, for when I was inside of her.  When I was satisfied that she would be good and sore, I climbed up on the bed, straddled her face, my balls resting on her mouth, nose, and cheeks (they are big and can smother her if I lower myself onto her), and I began stroking my cock.

"I'm going to cum on your tits, abuse you some more, then I'm going to fuck your sore pussy for a long time, slut."

As I stroked it, I rubbed my balls on her face.  She moved to put her tongue in my ass, the dirty little whore...such a good little slave.  She knew her place.  I was good and clean from the shower, and I wouldn't have her tongue in my ass any other way, but it's a good feeling, and I love it when she does it.  I came on her chest and her neck, then went to get a towel to wipe her off.

I resumed fingering her.  She begged to cum again, and again I denied her.  Instead, I got several lengths of rope, a bamboo pole, and the bondage mittens.  I made her lay face down, then laid the bamboo pole across her shoulders.  I tied her arms to it, then I bent her legs and bound her ankles to it, as well.  I fingered her again, allowing her to cum this time.  I continued to give her clit attention, and again she asked me to let her cum.  I brought her to orgasm after orgasm, feeling her wetness grow.  At the same time, her labia were swelling because of the beating I gave her earlier, and her insides were sore from fucking her with all of my fingers.  She was ready.

I picked her up and put her on her knees, turned her around, then laid her down on the bed.  Her legs were spread from being tied to the pole.  I pulled her to the edge of the bed and shoved my cock inside of her.  The look on her face from the pain made me savage, and I began fucking her hard.  My hands closed around her throat while I gave her everything I had, slamming into her.  She began to lose consciousness, so I released her and smacked her head.  Her eyes went wide form the pain, and she begged me to stop.

"Please don't.  It hurts so bad," she gasped.

"'Please don't' is not a safe word, little whore."

"Please stop.  Please," she begged.

"I'm not going to stop, worthless fucking slut," and I continued to thrust hard, making it hurt.  "You love it when it hurts."  I slapped her.  "Say it!  You love it when it hurts."

"I do," she whispered.  "I love it when it hurts."

I kept going, getting hot, sweaty, and wild...but the ties were beginning to cut off circulation, so I stopped to untie her.  Instead of continuing to fuck her, I turned her over and spanked her hard, reddening her ass.  It had been some time since she'd had a good, loud ass beating, and I made sure she felt it.  I eventually grabbed a leather belt and made her count the strokes, then I turned her over and whipped her between her legs with it, on her already-sensitive labia and clit.

"Master, I'm weak," she moaned.  Her safe phrase.

I turned her over again and spanked her some more, this time with the crop.  Her safe word was only for the whipping of her pussy.  I worked her ass with the crop, reddening every inch of her beautiful, round ass that hadn't been reddened already.  Then I flipped her over and mounted her again, making her feel every inch of me, getting off on her pain reaction.  I put a pillow over her face to cut off her breath, and felt myself building up to orgasm.  I summoned every bit of energy I could to give her even harder thrusts, then I came inside of her, flooding her with my second load of the night.

We rested, laying next to each other.  I stroked her and told her that I loved her, and she responded in kind.  We decided to go and take a shower to get the sweat and other fluids off of us.  She washed my body as she always does, lovingly, ritually, thoroughly.  It's a ritual we've been doing since the night we met, and it feels strange when we don't shower together.  Once we were clean, we fell asleep next to each other, naked and satisfied.

The next morning, we went and had breakfast, came back, and played again.  I spanked her some more with my hand and the leather belt, then I fucked her.  She was still sore from the night before, and she was begging me to stop--though she didn't want  me to.  She loves it, and begs me to turn me on.  We cleaned up again and left the hotel happy.