I was personally touched by the narrative on this video. I believe the speaker perfectly articulates what submission is to a lot of people. Perhaps you can relate to him as well. -anniebear
Archives for October 2016
It was more than we could have ever expected! Dexx and I found out there was an Auckland, New Zealand Fetish Ball and we just had to check it out while visiting the city. We’d attended a few other events in Auckland last year and knew there was a thriving Kiwi kink scene. This event, now in its 16th year proved to be as much fun and in some cases even better than the extremely active and saturated scene we’re used to in Los Angeles.
The theme for the ball was Cosplay. I donned my sexy wolf costume and Dexx was appropriately dressed as Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones. The venue was The Winchester, which turned out to be the perfect space for such a party. We arrived and made our way up the steps of the building. Considering what I knew about Auckland, it being a more conservative city generally, I was not sure what the costume participation would be. We were some of the first people to arrive. After being greeted and checking our coats with some super friendly people, we made our way into the main space. It was a large room, sexily lit in red. There were tables, couches, and even some giant bean bag chairs to lounge upon. The DJ was playing and there was a main stage where performances would be held later in the evening. So far, everyone seemed to be embracing the theme and was in all manner of costumes. We grabbed drinks at the bar and made our way around the room. Dexx is much more outgoing than myself and quickly introduced us to a few people. Unknowingly, the first person we met, Nocturness was to be one of the performers later in the evening.She was super friendly and had some incredible contacts on that changes her eyes to look quite intense. After a chat we went to look a the play space. The room was well equipped with many pieces of play equipment. There was a dungeon monitor and a “kitty” having a quick spanking. We were unsure how many people would be playing that evening.
The party filled up quickly after that. Many of the costumes were incredible with many types of kink and orientation represented: leather, latex, cross dresser, trans, lace, and of course Cosplay were in force! I have an affinity for going out as twins with some of my girlfriends and was able to snap a photo (with permission) of a cute set in attendance. We were very impressed. While it was obvious there were people in power exchanges with there partners, there was a far less sense of protocol as in the Los Angeles parties we attend. People were still very respectful, but the atmosphere was less chilly since you didn’t have to walk over egg shells to decipher who was in what dynamic follow which protocols. I also really appreciated the meshing of every type of dynamic. Gay leather mixed with hetero Dom/mes and everything in between. Because the scene is so large in Los Angeles, for better or worse, the parties are more fragmented with each group sticking to its own and rarely coming together. There was also some actual, honest to goodness dancing which dexx and myself appreciated and participated in. Next, We scouted out some seats for the show. We noticed a couple not in costumes next to us. We of course try not to judge folks but you could tell they were a bit “out of place,” Dexx was intrigued. He introduced himself and found that they were in fact friends of the venue’s owner and this was their first kinky event. Despite being a bit out of their element, they were really enjoying the festivities, people, and costumes.
The MC Miss Mole took the stage to get things started. Larger than life, she was dressed in an assortment of feathers in black and white. She gave a hilarious introduction for each act and was clearly a favorite among the crowd. The first act was our recent acquaintance Nocturness. She had changed into some impressive ram horns and was scantily clad. She danced with candles and wax, dripping them down her body. The room was silent and at attention. There was a collection of folks seated around the stage to enjoy the view. At the conclusion she received a rousing round of applause and cheers from the crowd.
Following Nocturness, the mood got considerably more serious as a procession of people made there way to the stage holding candles. As I watched what unfolded I knew immediately what was about to happen: a hook suspension, live and in person! I’ve been actively going out in the lifestyle for over two years now and never have I seen a hook suspension in person. Of course I knew the hows and whys and video but seeing it in person was another experience entirely. I’m admittedly a bit squeamish and disliked needles so I must say it was difficult for me to watch. The rest of crowd however could not take their eyes off of the stage. It was a beautiful connection between the person doing the suspension and the bottom. She took great care in communicating and had several assistants with her to help. The bottom was suspended about 7-9 inches off of the table they were working off of. The audience gave full weight to the happenings on stage by remaining respectfully silent. I myself had to keep looking away. I do give major respect to those involved int hat scene as it was very intense and beautiful in its own way.
After the seriousness of the suspension, Dexx lead me back to the play room. There were several more scenes going on at this point and the room was getting full. A few people were trying spanking for the first time, which was incredibly fun. We found out the dungeon equipment had been lent out by a local professional dominatrix, Mistress Dior and we of course had to meet her! She was so friendly and wearing and incredible costume, pictured. She was very popular at the party, showing the ropes to some impact play and more! It was after that that Dexx decided it was time for some spanking of my own. We found ourselves a spot and he took the liberty of spanking me very thoroughly in the crowded room. My face was very hot with embarrassment for all of the people watching us but I loved it!
We wrapped up the evening by having a rest in the main room and talking with the organizers of the ball. They are a very friendly couple and mentioned they brought the Fetish Ball from Chirstchurch and it’s been a huge success. Dexx and myself had a wonderful time and a big thank you to everyone for making us feel so welcome!
anniebear is a submissive living with her partner Dexx in Los Angeles. She enjoys writing, modeling for friends, animal rescue, and teaching herself how to cook. You can catch her on Fetlife or Facebook.
“I don’t see a lot of these,” she pressed her forehead against the glass and looked down.
“What, fire escapes?” He was unpacking the cords and chargers from his backpack.
“Yeah. Mostly see them in movies – you know, like in Pretty Woman and stuff that takes place in New York. There aren’t many fire escapes in the suburbs.”
“Pretty Woman, huh?” He smiled.
She turned. “What?”
“See if that window opens,” he smirked.
“Why,” she asked coyly. “You gonna climb up and confess your love to me?”
“Nah,” he answered, unbuckling his belt. “I’m gonna fuck your ass on it.”
She fiddled with the latch and pulled the window open. “Same difference,” she responded, as she kicked her panties off from under her dress.
Erotic fiction writer. Phi (pronounced “fee”) came into kink at early age and renewed her connection with the lifestyle in 2014 after a decade-long hiatus. A somewhat popular and undeniably avid blogger on fetlife.com under the name phi-is-me, she lives in the suburb of a suburb in southern California with two cats and six pillows.
Fear play is not usually something people jump into right away when they’re new to the scene. Although, even if you think you’ve never done any fear play, you might be wrong. Fear play runs on a long spectrum much like most other things. Ever been spanking a bottom again and again and again then suddenly stop and give pause, only to surprise them with one hard smack! That pause, even though it’s subtle, can cause momentary fear in the bottom. Not knowing what will come next – for example putting a blindfold on them – can cause fear. It may be showing them a scary toy, then blindfolding them and, in reality, using something that merely feels like you might be using the “scary” toy but you’re not. As you advance to certain implements, like single tails or dragonstails, or even canes – you may strike it or crack it hard nearby to make them jump. All of these things can be considered fear play. Heck, sometimes just making them think you’ve left them alone on the cross or bench can be a total mind fuck – yet we know that a responsible Top would never actually do this.
Some types of fear play I don’t recommend unless it’s with a trusted and long term partner. One example of this is a story I know of a female Dom with her slave and the slave had a hard limit of breaking his skin. She first showed him a knife then blindfolded him. She’d done non-cutting knife play before so he thought nothing of it. Using a toothpick and warm honey she pretended to “accidentally” cut him. Scared the crap out of him. He didn’t know it wasn’t real until after the scene. People have also used fake versions of real phobias to create fear. For example, if the bottom is arachnophobic (spiders) then using plastic spiders in the scene can cause intense fear. Even if they know they’re fake – it’s based on a phobia which amplifies the emotional response. Making them hold them or placing them on the bottom’s body could be scarier than the whip or staple gun in your hand!
Now, this brings me to an important point. In the case of a real phobia DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT use or do the real thing. Using the example above, never put a real live spider on a bottom who is arachnophobic. If someone is claustrophobic be VERY careful about using sensory deprivation and especially things like hoods or gas masks. Even if something seems harmless to you, these are illogical, yet real, fears. To the bottom this type of extreme fear play can cause traumatic psychological results. Plus they probably won’t ever want to play with you again!
So while fear play can be awesome, remember that there are different levels. Base what you do on the experience and trust you have with your play partner and always do it responsibly. While I appreciate getting new clients in my therapy office, this shouldn’t be the reason!
Jennifer Masri is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, specializing in Alternative Lifestyles for individual and relationship issues. She also teaches the BDSM 101 class series at Sanctuary LAX in Los Angeles every Monday evening. We are delighted to have her as a columnist for KinkWeekly, offering particular insight into some of the common challenges that kinky people face in their relationships and journey in the lifestyle.Read more about Jennifer on her blog, A Kink Shrink.
It is my experience that my submissives relate to me on several different levels all at once. In this article I’d like to play with the possibility that there are five identifiable levels. Their way of looking at their dom(me) and breathing your greatness can be thought of as falling into five categories. These groupings start at a barely human, earthy level and escalate to a spiritual high, landing you and your S-type at again a barely human level but this time up in the clouds.
I am a domme of twelve years experience. My submissive male partner and I have been together for seven years and counting. I am polyamorous and have had other relationships. As Mistress, my kink life has included temporary subs plus relationships with males and females. This is the context in which I bring you one of my deeper thoughts for your consideration.
Now, I need to say that there is no judgment about any level. These are happening with great overlap. On an everyday basis, three or four levels may be operating at once. It’s never five at once, however, since the highest and the lowest cancel each other out.
Remember, these are my ruminations about how S-types view their particular D-type and not D’s in general.
The S-type is making a one-to-one correlation in their imagination but more than that in their subconscious about what a dominant has to be. A character trait or physical trait is being associated with what it means to be dominant. For the most part the submissive or slave has no idea that they are doing this. The Inner Self needs what it needs. It goes looking for what it needs. A S-type that deeply needs a very large bodied dominant is never, ever going to take a skinny-bodied person seriously as their dominant. This is not a conscious choice.
What are these levels?:
1. At the top is a demi-god reverence.
2. Just below it is a best self.
3. An everyday self.
4. An everyday self.
5. At the bottom is a reverence for something base and earthy.
Demi-god means that a dominant is a representative for god or gods. The submissive or slave is making his dominant a stand in for their religious or spiritual practices. The S-type is not considering the Master or Mistress or Owner as the literal human who stands before them. That serves a great need for the S. Service is the point. But service at this level is a momentary thing and the S is grateful to get a glimpse at this higher self for themselves. They are the ones who are lifted higher. I know a couple who swear that in these moments she lifts him, too.
Best Self level is you or me cleaned up and presentable and more than either of us can hold at every moment. We can pull this one out if we need to though. The S-type has certainly seen this one repeatedly.
Everyday Self. Well, this one has two levels because comparatively one is shiny’r than the other. Let’s say this one is you or me before we have gotten that first cup of coffee in the morning and the other is one of us after the caffeine has kicked in. The S-type sees their dominant most strongly and that’s the point.
The Bottom level is really the bottom. It probably is not you or me. It is less than we can put out on an everyday basis. However, I have known a couple that seemed to like to hover around the earthy level as often as possible. The female dominant told me that she enjoyed gardening. Her slave male liked to catch her before she’d taken a shower. The smelly, naturalness drove him wild, literally. He was triggered into his animal persona. He met her on all fours as she entered the house and would not let her ignore him. She had special chains and cuffs on the bed for restraining him. Neither thought that the base reverence of his Mistress was a bad thing. This could also be the dominant who has not had much sleep or for any other reason really does not have themselves together temporarily and their S-type is particularly drawn to them right then. I’m thinking of myself at the airport after many hours of flight. I was lucky to have a slave who was eager to serve by getting my bags and driving us home and tucking me into bed.
What is the importance of thinking in levels to the submissive or slave? Well, there’s the S-type who is looking for their dominant. It’s good to know what the strongest attraction is for them. What if a brainy intellectual dominant does it for them? That information should be the strongest lead as they search. If a particular body type rings their Inner Voice then lead with that. Other traits can be secondary. Once the S-type has their desired dominant then, in my opinion, it is good to understand the dynamic between them. Instead of a mysterious, wondrous something that draws you to me you’ll know why. For instance, it is better to know that the highest level can only happen in momentary events. Your appreciation of those moments and of me will be greater.
What is the importance of levels to the dominant? How might this way of thinking make the D a better D? Might there be better care of the S? The D is experienced at using everything that presents itself in making the power dynamic sing. If the S is particularly excited by the body type or the spiritual persona or the deep voice of the dominant then the D can play with that aspect. They can make it more enhanced and draw the S to them tightly or knowingly reduce the attraction. The D really should remember that the S has a great desire for the highest levels so offer your S those special moments—the D/s or M/s moment of circulated dominant and submissive energy and true intimacy—so that they get there. If your S gets there through the base level then have at it.
The goals for the couple get played out in whatever form of power dynamic the couple has established, which has at its core some unique attractants like the S being drawn powerfully to his/her master/mistress.
Mistress Sky is a tantra practitioner, bondage queen, and hypnotist. Professionally, Sky is a life positive counselor for alternative lifestyles at Gates Counseling. She gives presentations and workshops and writes about Unequal Partnership, the dominance/submission model that she developed over the last ten years.
DomCon New Orleans is coming up in just a few short weeks! This sister event to DomCon Los Angeles is sure to be just as spectacular as its predecessors with classes, vendors, and play parties. Tickets are still available for the educational and entertaining event.
This incredible article from Cosmopolitan is how one woman believes BDSM helped her through a difficult pregnancy.
From another mainstream source, Glamour finally gives lifestylers credit for being more educated on consent. In fact, they call BDSM practitioners “consent experts.” I could not agree more. Of course there are always exceptions, but I feel people in the BDSM lifestyle tend to have a greater awareness of consent and boundaries in general.
USA – Next week, America votes. We’ve had a lot of fun supporting Mistress Tara Indiana in her bid for the presidency. She would probably have made a fine president. However, we concede that her chances are winning now are basically zero. So, in order that our readers’ votes don’t go to waste, I encourage anyone kinky minded to consider voting Democrat.
The choices for the American presidency are not great. Both candidates are flawed and divisive. Whether Trump or Clinton wins the White House, I think that most voters will be left feeling most dissatisfied in 4 years’ time. The reason for my recommendation to vote Democrat is simple – Republicans and the socially conservative ideology they support have a history of fighting against sexual freedom. Democrats, whether Governors, Senators, members of Congress or indeed in the White House, are more likely to support the rights of kinky people. And you can bet that will be the case when appointing justices to the Supreme Court.
While great progress has been made in recent years in cultural acceptance of kink & BDSM, the law has not kept up. Kinky people still face job loss, harassment, school expulsion, loss of child custody and even prosecution. Just this year, the Supreme Court ruled that, unlike other forms of sexuality, Americans have no constitutional right to engage in consensual BDSM. This paves the way for all kinds of discriminatory laws and persecution at the city and state level. While Democrats are not perfect, you can bet they will be far stronger defenders of BDSM rights than Republicans. And only a Democrat president will appoint a Supreme Court justice liberally-minded enough to have a chance of tipping the balance in favor of recognition of kink.
Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, collarings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to email@example.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink”!
One tradition that has endured in our “post Fifty Shades” world is that of public play. Here a D/s couple performs a scene in front of strangers, usually at a dungeon play party. The most notable aspect of this tradition is that the submissive is usually naked – or as close to naked as the law allows. And being naked in front of strangers – and being flogged or caned or bound up – can elicit fear in any submissive. Especially if it is the first time.
One of the great things about BDSM is that it enables you to overcome fears and hang-ups that would probably continue to plague you were you to be in a vanilla relationship. And most of us have a lot of vanilla hang-ups that we bring to our BDSM world.
Many submissives – most people, in fact – are actually quite shy. And everyone has something they are shy about. For example, fear of public speaking is so ubiquitous that most Americans list that as their main fear in poll after poll. We are trained not only be shy in front of a group of strangers, but also to be especially shy and reticent about performing naked – which is what most public play scenes require. And if you come from the vanilla world (where most of us hail from), then you have been filled with fears and insecurities about being nude in front of a crowd.
By now you must realize is that you are not alone. Whenever you see a submissive at a dungeon play party effortlessly get on an apparatus, do not assume it was easy for the submissive. He/she might have had to overcome quite a number of fears to reach that point.
The first step toward conquering your fears is to trust your Dom/me. Always keep in mind that you are not only there to please him/her, but that he/she has your best interests at heart whenever a demand is made of you. If you truly do not believe this, you will not be able to overcome the barriers that he/she will be requesting you to conquer. A good Dom/me pushes your limits; so this will only be the first in a series of requests that might catch you off guard. (Of course, you should have an agreed upon safe word.)
You must always keep in mind that you will be asked you to do things you would not ordinarily do. That is probably the most exciting part of our lifestyle. For if he only asks you to do things which you would ordinarily do – such as drink only Coke and not drink Pepsi – what does this prove? How exciting is being a “coca-cola submissive”?
Once you realize that public play and pushing limits are all part of the journey, and understand that fear is a natural emotion, you will not balk and will give it your best effort. Your Dom/me, I am sure, will give you a many chances to perform in public. And once you experience the thrill of public play, you will understand why it is worth overcoming your fears for. Additionally, the bonding power of losing your “public BDSM virginity” will bring you two closer together than you could ever imagine.
Remember, you cannot lose your sexual virginity twice. But you can lose you BDSM virginity many times. The same fear – and excitement – that you felt when you first lost your sexual virginity can be reproduced in the BDSM world. And, in most cases, you are older, wiser and more selective in your choice of mate.
So, assuming being publicly naked is not a hard limit, and you are able to overcome your inherent shyness, you will be looking forward, with great anticipation, to your next “show.” That is why public play is so popular in the BDSM world.
After a ten year run as head writer for the legendary bondage.com, and an equally long run as the host of the hit internet show “Baadmaster’s Dungeon,” we are pleased to welcome the one and only Baadmaster to KinkWeekly. His thoughts about all things BDSM will now appear regularly on these pages. From the mental aspects of D/s to the nuts and bolts of S&M play, Baadmaster will cover every facet of this ever expanding lifestyle.
I am a man of Order. I like things to be where they belong and for them to stay where they belong. Anything different will not be tolerated. This one simple rule is the staple foundation of my company. Everyone is assign to a job, everyone attends to their job, and everyone does their job with vigilance. Like a series of cogs and wheels, everything must mesh together to work along in harmony. But there is a certain illness that likes to poke its head within my precious Company. Every now and then, this little rat likes to crawl out from its little hole and disturb the precious balance that I so wish to keep within this building. And that is Disobedience.
The mere mention of the word makes the blood in my veins boil with fury. I abhor Disobedience of any kind. And I intend on making sure nothing is going to disturb the peace within these walls. Not one bit.
The intercom on my desk began to hum lightly, quickly catching my attention and pulling me away from my work. I took a moment to readjust my black tie before pressing the receiver button, “Yes, Elenor?” I answered. My voice was punctual, serious, assertive, showing my crown to my servants. I could not allow myself to act in any other way. A female voice echoed from the speaker, “Sir, Miss Daphne is here to speak to you as requested.” I felt my lips curl at the side, forming a small subtle smirk.
“Excellent. Please, send her in.” I replied before clicking the receiver off. My fingers curled and flexed with anticipation, awaiting my current obedience problem to reveal itself to me. It was one that has been festering for quite some time, testing my patience. And as of today, I plan on reprimanding this little issue. One way or another, I will straighten this nuisance out. Several minutes elapsed and Daphne entered my office. Her heels clicked with each step she took, swaying her short cut skirt with her curvy hips. Her milky white skinned legs were revealed to me, a detail that won my stern look. But the expression didn’t pierce my poised manner. Instead I continued inspecting her as she moved closer to my desk. She bore a white blouse partially unbuttoned, short black hair and a Cheshire cat smile formed by ruby lips. She was tempting me. How dare she do such a thing. Needless to say, she took a seat, crossing her legs and bringing an aura of nonchalance with her, calm as ever. But I know what you’re hiding under that smile. Deep down, I could see what you truly were from under the makeup and lewd attire. Don’t think you can fool me, Woman.
“You wished to see me?” she said, her voice cheerful and almost excited, as if she was hoping for this. Of course you would be expecting this. I straighten myself up, fix my tie and inhale silently.
“Miss Daphne.” I stated firmly, frankly, looking her dead in the eyes as I begin. “There have been some discrepancies that have been brought to my attention.”
She blinked innocently before her smile stretched outward, tempting me. “Discrepancies?” she said. “Well I must apologize sir. I wasn’t aware of these errors.” Don’t lie to me. I can see through your little act. “May I ask what I am doing wrong sir?”
“For starters,” my eyes sharpened down towards her clothing, “Your attire. It’s unacceptable.” She leaned towards the table, revealing bits of her womanly mounds, sauntering closer, mischievously. How irritating. She was just adding more salt to the wound, proud of her slight against the rules. Not a single bit of shame showed on her skin. I felt a vein throb as I continued. “I’m sure you are fully aware of the dress code Ms. Daphne. What you’re wearing is disgraceful. Now I suggest you change immediately if you still want your job.”
“And what exactly is the dress code, sir?” she inched closer to the desk, showing more of her saucy detail, invading my air as I grinded my teeth behind my lips. “Or Should I say, why should I care about this so called dress code? I’m one of the best employees in your company and I don’t think I need to be hampered by something so superficial as a mere set of rules.” Her hands reached the desk; her legs uncrossed and pushed towards me. “You could always fire me. But I have a strong feeling that’s something you couldn’t possibly perform on little ole’ me.”
Anger boiled inside me, chipping away at my composure, cracking my poised nature to pieces. She’s really enjoying pressing my buttons, toying with me, poking at a sleeping beast inside me. Every word she spoke was true. Why should I fire her? Why should I give her the luxury of getting away scotch free? More importantly, why should I walk away from such discord? I am a man of order damn it! There are certain laws to uphold and rules to abide. And when someone breaks these rules, they must be punished! They must see the error in their ways! They must know who they are!
Her lips parted and her tongue lulled against the edges of her mouth, playfully revealing another annoying detail, a tongue piercing. I stayed quietly, eyeing my surroundings waiting for the perfect time to strike, like a panther amidst the trees. “Well, is there anything else that I should be aware of sir?” my gaze narrowed. My back arched slightly and my hand slipped inside one of the drawers to my right, fetching the one tool I needed the shut her up.
“Piercings are not allowed Miss Daphne.” I stated keeping calm despite her goading me.
A giggle slipped from her lips as I saw the whiteness of her teeth. “My apologies. It must have slipped my mind when I got it.” She flashed the piercing before hiding it inside her mouth. “In any case sir, if there’s nothing else, I think I’ll take my leave.” She turned on her heel and gave an alluring sway with her hips. But I stood up and approached her.
“There is one more thing that I must speak with you about.” I said, halting her retreat, stopping her. And before should could speak another word, I pounced, like the predator I was. I snatched her jaw and held the item I procured from the desk, a metal ring. Forcefully, I shoved my fingers into her mouth and latched it on to her tongue piercing. It was a snug fit, thankfully. As I retreat my hands she looked at me, confused, defensive, and scared. Good, I want to her to know her place.
“Sir, what did you-“
“Shut up!” I ordered, producing a small remote form my pocket and clicking the button. Her eyes widened as a jolt of electricity zapped her tongue, stopping her mouth and preventing her voice. I grabbed her again and bent her over the desk, pinning her down, and pressed my hand on her head. She grunted, struggling to break away, covering under my strength. “Don’t you dare say a word” I snarled at her as I undid my tie with my free hand and begin to bind her hands with it, restraining her. “Do you think you can just merely insult me and walk away with no reprimand, Miss Daphne? You know full well what inappropriate behavior rewards you with.” With a firm hand, I slapped her right in her delicious ass, letting my fingers grip at her skin. “Punishment.” Again, I attacked her rear, spanking her repeatedly, harshly. “And Reprimands.” She strained at her bondage as I held her down over the desk, letting whimpers slip from her throat. I pulled her skirt up. My face twisted with disgust at the sight of her dripping pussy, wet from arousal, wet with the need for attention. “No under garments?” I commented, glaring at her as she stuttered and stammered, searching for an excuse. But sadly there’s nothing in the world that can save you from this. Naughty little girls never get away from being disciplined. I strike her pussy, fiercely, coaxing moans out of her. But I quickly silenced her again with the remote, zapping her tongue. “I said no talking.” I ordered, craning my head to her ear, snarling like a mad beast who was disturbed from his sleep. I showed her the remote and thumbed the trigger, giving a silent threat. “Keep that filthy mouth of yours closed or else.”
Her lip quivered by my words, fearful, keeping them sealed. Good Answer. Then she inhaled sharply, biting back any sound as my fingers entered her. Steadily and thoroughly I explored her, felt her wetness, her inner desire. I had to chuckle slightly at how easy she was to read. She was starving for attention, to be used, to be punished. Even with my fingers in her, she rocked her hips, showing her need. Her gaze drew behind her, seeing my movement and eyeing my bulge in my pants, silently begging for more. My fingers pulled away and I fiddled with my zipper. Slowly my cock peeked out from the fabric slit, following the scent of her arousal. I snatched her hair and yanked her closer to me. “I don’t please delinquents.” I replied coldly, holding her steady, treating her like the mere fucktoy that she deserved to be. Slut. Whore. Sex crazed deviant. And to think she could flaunt these needs without a care in my building, my company, my house! The head of my member pushed inside, intruding. Her eyes widened and she stifled a mixture of shrieks and pleasurable moans. Each thrust shoved her into my desk, pressing her closer, letting my hard length drill deeper into her. Using her hair as reigns, I held her in place, bucking and indulging in her womanhood. My groans bellowed from my throat. Her tight pussy was clinging desperately. Such a cock hungry slut she was. I smiled. She may have broken the rules. But I’ll be having fun putting her in her place.
My pace quickened. And small squeaks of pleasure seeped from her mouth, still pressing her lips together to dampen the sound. My grip tightened. My cock throbbed wildly inside, feeling the urge to use her even more. The need to explode was burning inside me, persuading me. Soon my entire length was ramming wildly in her, filling her with every inch of my member. Closer and closer, the end drew near, going faster and rougher on her body. Every part of me was hungry for a release.
But alas, I had to stop myself. I gave one last fierce thrust before stopping my hips, slowly pulling out my malehood from her. She whined, complaining. But a quick zap shut her up almost instantly. “Bad girls don’t get to cum.” I hissed, taking my hand and thrusting my fist inside her, feeling her juices cake my fingers. I pulled out and slapped her face, rubbing the scent into her skin as whimpered. “Do you smell this?” I growled, holding her, forcing her to smell herself. “ This is what a bad disrespectful girl smells like.” I made sure she got a good whiff of her own self, letting her go. She didn’t resist nor did she give any back talk. It’s good that she learns fast. All she did was stand there, avoiding my eyes. Her head hung down low, submissive, obedient. Her hands still bound by my tie. I moved behind her to retrieve it from her wrists. Then I crane my neck to her ear again.
“You will be silent.” I hissed, making her flinch by my words. “You will return to your duties and come back to me. No back talking.” After several more moments, she nodded quickly, still keeping her eyes down. Her hands were still behind her back as she began to walk away, exiting. I smiled as I clicked the switch to my intercom and heard the voice sound off from the speaker.
“Sir? Is everything alright?”
“Cancel my 4 o’clock meeting. There has been an unexpected event that has occurred and it requires my attention.” I replied. I returned my tie back and my neck and clicked the remote just one more time. A small reminder of my orders never hurt anyone.
Since his first steps, PascalSage knew he had a love for weaving stories. His focuses have been in Fantasy and BDSM erotica. You can find more on him here.
Worldwide: Thrillist author Charyn Pheuffer released this interesting theory that Fifty Shades did not create a BDSM revolution. I tend to disagree. She brings up the point that most people already knew about BDSM before the books and films, however I personally think it has 100% opened up the door for a conversation on it. What do you think?
Japan: Here’s a fun read on Japanese fetish clubs. I’ve heard they are much more elaborate there in terms of “setting the scene” so to speak. Definitely some good inspiration!
anniebear and I attended the Auckland Fetish ball this past weekend and were not disappointed. We’ll have a full recap for you next week but it was a great event with festive costumes and performances. The scene in Auckland is far less fragmented as compared to LA which offered a very intimate party. In the meantime, we hope you enjoy this week’s review on the Armory haunted house. We also have a new segment on floggers in our buying guide.
I’m afraid of the dark. Like, “won’t walk down the hallway in my own house without flipping on a light switch first” kind of afraid. The complications this brings about when it comes to hoods and blindfolds and other kinky crap is a story for another day! I also hate clowns – which makes this time of year particularly unnerving, especially when friends continuously send daunting photos of sinister creatures wielding balloons and the occasional axe… I digress. But I secretly love the adrenaline rush of a well put together production. As soon as I learned The Armory in San Francisco would be continuing their “Hell in the Armory” event, I quickly asked my Sir if we could possibly find a weekend to travel up there and attend. The planets aligned, I bought tickets, and we planned our weekend away.
Starting times were offered every 30 minutes from 6:30pm deep into the night. We opted for the Friday at 7:30pm time, figuring we could make dinner reservations before and still have plenty of time afterwards to enjoy my favorite cocktail at The Armory Club (a moody bar across the street). Knowing this event was at the home of kink.com, I wanted to dress the part. I wore a cute black dress and a giant bow in my hair, with the cutest knee high socks. I figured if I looked like a sweet little girl, I could grab onto Daddy’s arm and no one would hurt me.
We checked in to the front desk of The Armory, got ID’d, and checked our coats, and there began our quest to enter – and then escape – Hell in the Armory…
(CAUTION: SPOILERS! if you plan on attending, skip to the last paragraph!)
We were instructed to head into a dark room, only illuminated by throbbing red lights and an eerie fog floating about. A gruff man darted in, yelled that we were next, and disappeared as quickly as he arrived. It dawned on me all at once that we were about to go into a terrifying experience. This wasn’t just any trip to The Armory; it was the very real possibility of facing every single fear I have – complete with a hold harmless waiver and a safeword. I began squirming nervously and looking over my shoulder, letting my imagination concoct the most hideous creatures hiding beyond the red glow in every dark crevice of the room. I must’ve looked insane sitting there, wringing my hands in my dress with my head darting back and forth because I had convinced myself there were a thousand eyes watching me. My heart was already beating so fast, and I felt the icy cold dread and fear running through my veins. I took deep breaths and reminded myself that this was my idea. I begged for the trip to San Francisco. I bought these tickets. I consented to this. And, it was all just for fun and entertainment, right?
The gruff man came back in. His thick black rubber gloves instantly intrigued me, the freak inside me remembered this was, after all, a professional kink haven. He gestured towards us and another couple to meet him in the hallway. He awkwardly made us all introduce ourselves. He gave us stern instructions on the official safeword, how to use it, and what it meant. Then he told us to hold hands, extended his hand to my Sir, and took off running at an insane pace dragging us all behind him yelling at us to run faster. I instantly second guessed my wedged boots and short flowy dress as we sped past stunned guests checking in and up the stairs to the next floor.
We ran into a dark foggy hallway, and abruptly stopped. The gruff man ordered all of us to face the wall, line up shoulder-to-shoulder, and keep holding hands. I continued to take deep breaths and stare at the green glow on the wall in front of me. Suddenly, everything went black. Before I knew what had happened, a thick black hood was yanked over my head rendering me completely blind. All the sounds around me became muffled as my heart started pounding so hard, I was sure it would beat out of my chest. My Sir later told me that he could feel my pulse in my hand. I was still holding the hand of the unfortunate male half of the couple that was partnered up with us; I tried so hard to not break his fingers. I felt our hands being pulled apart, and a thick rope was put in place of our grip. I felt a tug and off we went, running into darkness. I was certain I was going to trip, but fortunately (or unfortunately?) that was the least of my worries. I was so terrified I found myself laughing in between gasping for breaths. Our run came to a stop, our hoods were yanked off (I was pleased that all of us were hooded, not just me – even though I later found out I was the first victim. Guess my sweet little outfit wasn’t having the desired effect…), and we blinked at the room around us. A voice told us that we had 3 minutes. “Three minutes til what?!” screamed my brain, and then I remembered this spectacle had an Escape Room twist to it. I immediately looked around to take in my surroundings. It was some hodge-podge Christmas décor that looked straight out of a sociopath’s living room in 1970’s, complete with a record player crooning some unrecognizable tunes. There was a locked toolbox dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room, with a note that said “READ ME.” The man from the other couple with us took to the task. There was some elaborate rhyming message, which basically said we needed to figure out the combination and unlock the box. We all began tearing apart the room; shuffling through records, moving picture frames, analyzing decorations, trying to create clues out of something or nothing all at once. After what felt like eternity, we got the box unlocked (it was rather anti-climactic though, as whoever ‘reset’ the room after the last party left the word on the combo lock – we foolishly kept trying to figure it out even though it was already ‘solved’). We opened the box to find a whistle and a witty sign that said “BLOW ME.” No sooner had I raised the whistle to my lips (jokes most definitely ensued later that night), two masked men ran into our creepy Christmas room, yanked hoods over the other couple, and pulled them out of the room. I blew the whistle anyway, hoping for some sort of mercy. Our fate was no different than theirs. I was soon blind and defenseless again, being led down a dark hallway. I had no hand to hold, though the masked man had a firm grip on the back of my neck as he maneuvered me to our next destination.
The next room was just as dark. I felt like I could see glowing figures moving around in front of me, but that may have just been my paranoia setting in. I had no clue where my Sir was, if he was even in the same room as me. Aside from the dark, and clowns, being alone is one of my worst fears. I didn’t have time to ponder his whereabouts much, as I was roughly pushed up against a wall. My hands were splayed over my head, and my feet were kicked apart. My head was pushed down until my forehead touched the wall, with such authority that I didn’t dare lift it to look around. And then I was frisked. Roughly. I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it. I also wont lie and say that my dress was not up around my waist because my arms were stretched so high above my head. My wrists were then crossed, trapped in the hands of my captor and I was yanked into what felt like the middle of the room. I felt a body next to me, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized it was Sir (he was frisked too!). We were pressed tightly against each other, side-by-side, and wrapped from hip to armpit (our arms were still raised – remember what I said about my dress??) in what I can only describe as black saran wrap. Out of that room we went, with the now familiar hand of my handler firmly gripping the back of my neck once again.
It was a short walk this time. Rough pressure on my shoulders brought me to my knees, taking my pseudo-Siamese-twin with me. I was relieved to feel a cushion under my knees as I sank to the ground. We kneeled there in silence for what felt like an eternity. The sense of vulnerability was crushing. All at once, the room lit up with blinding bulbs and strobes. Once my eyes adjusted, I realized we were not alone. I could feel breath on my neck. I tried to look around, but my head was held tightly in this unidentified person’s grasp facing forward. A silhouette was appearing in the midst of the brightest lights. As they began to dim, we could see the back of a man standing up. The music that had been deafening this entire time was abruptly cut, and all we could hear were his ragged breaths. I soon recognized them as breaths of pleasure not of distress, and I realized we were being forced to watch a man masturbate. The breathy person behind me let out a diabolical laugh as she held our heads facing the grim sight. The silhouetted man was nearing completion. We witnessed what appeared to be a desperately long awaited orgasm, and he slowly pulled his hand to the side. Thick strings of his pleasure caught the light, as we caught sight of the mess that had been made in his hand. He slowly turned around, laughing (I fully expected him to be a clown, by the way), revealing his face – entrapped in some leather harness-type contraption. His laughs turned to a creepy rendition of “eeny meeny miny mo…” as he waived his vulgar hand back and forth between Sir and I. I was, alas, the unfortunate winner of his little game. My prize was a caress of his indecency across my cheek and down my neck. Sir, who chuckled because he thought he was out of the woods, was rewarded with a squirt of some liquid down his back. Our sticky selves were hauled up, hooded again, and ushered to another room.
Amidst trying not to trip, I was trying to identify the substance drying on my cheek. Whatever it was, it was very…well…realistic. My thoughts were interrupted as we came to a stop in our room. The hand on my neck gripped tighter and voice barked “don’t f*ing move!” There we were again – in darkness, and in silence. After another round of eternity, we heard rustling and a faint voice. Once it became more audible, we heard a suffering man assuring us that “he was gone.” His raspy voice told us to take off our hoods and remove the plastic still binding us together. We stood in silence, suspecting some sort of trap. His pleas got louder, as he begged us for help and assured his that “he” was gone. Sir removed his hood, and then turned to take off mine. I shook my head violently trying to pull of out his grasp. I frantically tried to simultaneously keep my hood on and stay still, as I was bluntly told to do earlier. The voice became louder and more demanding, and eventually I succumbed to the pressure. I was already envisioning the retribution that could come from such a blatant display of disobedience. With hoods removed and plastic binds shed, we turned around. A sweaty, dirty, half naked man was tied to a stack of threadbare mattresses. He was curled in the fetal position shaking with evident fear, extending his bound wrists and begging for us to find the key. We took in our surroundings. Countless orange prescription bottles littered the floor, amongst trash bags and various discarded items. I began gingerly kicking things around, hoping to stumble across “the key” before “he” came back in and unleashed hell upon us because we moved. I tried to set aside my nauseating thoughts of what I could possibly uncover under these piles of trash. We eventually found the key taped to the wall above the man on the mattresses (again, slightly anti-climactic). I pushed the key into Sir’s hand, and backed into a corner – unsure of what would happen after this man was free. He gingerly rubbed his sore wrists, thanked us, and began pacing around the ravaged room. A sudden spark of hospitality overcame him, and he invited us to lie down on the mattresses. His invitation turned to demanding orders, and so down we went. As soon as my head hit the mattress, I was overwhelmed with a pungent aroma. I was unsure if it was coming from my new resting place, or the filthy man that we had just freed. The overwhelming sense of vulnerability crept up again, while the possibilities of being flat on my back in a dark room with a crazed man swirled through my imagination. We heard rustling behind us, as the man pulled items from a closet. We heard metal scrape the floor, and the discernable sound of him urinating into a bucket. He let out relieved breaths, and began putting the bucket away. The spark of hospitality must have ignited again, as he muttered something about how thirsty we must be. Horror overcame me as I watched him pour liquid from the bucket into Sir’s mouth. I watched him swallow (yes, I did make several jokes about this later) and gag repeatedly. I had been convinced he did actually relieve himself into that bucket, and now I was trying by best to assure myself that all of this was just for fun. I clenched my lips tight and shook my head when he brought the bucket to my lips. His kind offer became forceful and I felt the salty liquid pool in my mouth. I turned my head to the side and spit it out hastily, not caring that it drenched my hair. The man then said he was thirsty too. He procured a cup, and made us both spit into it. I watched in shock as he took a swig of it. The man seemed displeased and told us to get up. He began to pace frantically again. His muted mutterings turned to loud shouts as he told us to “find his pill.” His clutched his head in his hands and his strained voice screamed over and over. I looked around in dismay at the hundreds of pill bottles littering the floor. I bent down and began the arduous task of shaking each one, hoping to find this pill and stop this madman from shouting. I finally heard a magical rattle, and tossed the bottle at the man. He opened it and swallowed its contents greedily. He looked around in panic, as if a sudden realization had just come over him. He peeked out the door of the room, and told us we had to go. NOW.
My details will stop there, as I fear I’ve already said too much. I wish to not fully ruin it for those also looking to experience this production… Overall, I was thrilled to have experienced, and Escaped, Hell in The Armory. The hands-on immersion was a terrifying mindf*ck, and tapped into several of my fears. The actors were deep into their characters, their stories were believable, their interaction was spot on, and I liked the small group intimacy. Upon reflection, I was disappointed in the lack of nudity (I mean, it’s The Armory for crying out loud!) as reviews of previous years’ Haunts had stated there were ample amounts of. I also was hoping for a little bit ‘more’ – there could have been a continuous story line or plot; “the key” could have been drowning in a jar of some ghastly substance, not taped in plain sight; the men escorting us could have been substantially more terrifying; our actions could have dictated the rest of our encounter; the ‘Escape’ aspect of it could have been much more crucial to the story line; the could have made much better use of the vast sets that kink.com already has in place in this historical building. And – it was a rather short experience, at just 20 minutes. All that said though, I was not disappointed in the slightest. I was covered in unidentified substances, shaking my head in disbelief at all I just experienced. I enjoyed telling my friends I visited The Armory and left with ejaculate on my face and urine in my mouth. The event most definitely did not disappoint, as my imagination was able to go wild and divulge in the narrative. I enjoyed that it wasn’t your typical Haunted House with things jumping out at you screaming “BOO!” I liked that it wasn’t all about being scary or gory, and while the lack of nudity was slightly disappointing – I liked that it wasn’t all about sex as one might expect. I liked that it tapped into deep rooted fears, and ran the viewers through a slew of emotions – fear, disgust, confusion, shock. I hope the creators improve upon this year’s production, and we can’t wait to visit Hell in The Armory next year.
Vice Erotica is a photographer, writer, and babygirl from Southern California. She is a regular contributor for Kink Weekly. When she’s not photographing pretty things, she enjoys cigars, collars, and planning her next adventure. You can view more of her work here.