Joji Sada

Adult Nursing Relationships

August 12, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

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For as long as I can remember, I have had an oral fixation. Initially, it started with chewing. I bit or chewed everything. I always assumed it was a stress response. As I got older, it developed into a love of sucking. I often used my own wrist or lollipops if I was outside my home. As I became more comfortable with it, I moved to using teething necklaces and pacifiers.

I find sucking comforting. It quiets my mind and help calms me emotionally. So, in times of stress or highly charged emotions, I use my mouth. When I entered a relationship with my wife, I just didn’t bring it up. I continued as I had for most of my life, by self-soothing.

What you may not know about me is that I used to write fanfiction. I do, in fact, still read it to this day. Somewhere in one of the stories, I was introduced to Adult Nursing Relationships (ANRs).

So, what is it?

It has several different names that can be used interchangeably. However, I do think the way someone refers to an ANR, reflects their interest in it.

Traditionally, ANRs are typically seen as pertaining to heterosexual couples, since this most often occurs after childbirth. ANRs are not specific to any particular sexuality, gender, or relationship type (such as a Domestic Discipline, 1950’s, Caregiver/little, or D/s dynamic).

The relationship aspect to ANR simply means there is some kind of underlying connection between the individuals. It does not need to be a romantic or long-term relationship, although often times they are. ANRs do not need to be sexual either. The main attraction of breast feeding is often about bonding, close skin-to-skin contact, or the feelings of nurture from either suckling or being suckled.

So, let’s get into some definitions now that we know the background information.

Adult Nursing– It is simply a person who drinks the milk of another.

-Medically, drinking a woman’s milk was done to alleviate the pain of swollen breasts, whether from a lack of natural expression or just an overabundance of production.

Erotic Lactation– sexual arousal from drinking a woman’s breastmilk. Lactophilia and Milk Fetishism are also terms that refer to this kind of sexual excitement (though they are mostly used in the field of psychiatry and listed in the ICD-10 and the DSM-IV). Hucows (or Human Cows) also fall under erotic lactation but are more of a sexual fetish that involves animal play and milking.

ANRs can be romantic relationships, sexual relationships, emotional relationships, roleplay, or any combination thereof.

There is also a phenomenon called dry suckling. Dry suckling is the suckling (or gentle application of sucking and licking) without milk production.

This is the one I enjoy. My wife did not enjoy breastfeeding nor having her breasts swollen with milk. When she stopped producing, she swore to never do so again. While there are ways to induce milk production, we have chosen to not take those steps. I find it emotionally soothing.

Adult Nursing Relationships tend to develop one of two ways. The first is natural development (or curiosity) after childbirth, in which your partner is naturally producing breastmilk. The second is through arduous negotiation, upkeep, and effort.

The reason I call the second one arduous is because inducing lactation is not an easy process. It requires constant suckling and stimulation to upkeep, even after milk production occurs. That said, it is said to be extremely fulfilling.

It should also be noted that some women struggle with or are incapable of producing breastmilk. Some of the medical conditions can include hypoplasia of the breast, lactation insufficiency, insufficient milk syndrome, agalactia, agalactorrhea, hypogalactia or hypogalactorrhe.

Even if you have not been diagnosed with any of these conditions, I always recommend seeing your primary care doctor for advice on inducing milk production, maintaining the supply, or how to cope with any struggles you may be having.

If you were to google it, there are hundreds of homeopathic remedies that say they can initiate or increase your milk supply. Since I do not have a medical degree, I refuse to offer up advice on those types of remedies or the possibilities of failure or success by using them.

Lactation can be incorporated into a relationship beyond suckling. In a D/s or M/s dynamic, it can give the D-type more control over their s-type’s body.

The ability of when or where the s-type can (or cannot) express their milk.
Keeping an s-type bound to a schedule
Breasts swollen with milk are more sensitive and can be incorporated with impact play for both pleasure and punishment (with care).
Milk can be shared with guests at the D-type’s discretion (and with negotiated consent).
If you push down on the breast (specifically at the point where the corner of the lips touch the skin) it breaks the suction. If done repeatedly, I consider it to be quite Sadistic.

*If it is the D-type who is lactating, the withholding of the ability to suckle can be used as a form of punishment or as a conduit to teach patience and self-control

Honestly, the possibilities are endless. The incorporation of certain types of play, such as needle play and/or piercings (play or permanent) should be assessed on a case-by-case basis to prevent too much trauma to the breast tissue, which could impact milk flow.

As mentioned earlier, ANRs can be enjoyed by any sexuality and gender. Biologically, men do not naturally produce breastmilk (except in a couple rare phenomenon in which the hormone prolactin becomes present in their body). However, there are ways that things can be adjusted to allow them to be the “producer.” The use of a nursing bra and a bottle of milk (or another liquid of choice) can mimic the natural process. Holding a partner and having them drink straight from a bottle can still give the same bonding experience while compensating for the inability to produce from the breast. Tubing can also be used to slow feed liquids. You can place the tubing near the nipple and have the individual suckle the nipple and the tubing at the same time. Please note that this needs to be done carefully and can be both messy and a choking hazard if done incorrectly.

Overall, Adult Nursing Relationships are what you make them. They can be sexual if that is what you wish. They can be about bonding and being emotionally connected to a partner. They can involve milk production or not (although the latter is considered a controversial idea).

For me, the most important part is the suckling. It brings me comfort and peace of mind. It soothes my frazzled nerves and calms me. I prefer to suckle at her breast, but I have learned to adjust to the wrist or inner elbow as needed (since her nipples tend to be the most erogenous part of her body). However you wish to look at it, ANRs are about connection. Whatever your connection looks like, as long as it is consensual, let your imagination be your guide.

Erotica: The Public Meets The Monster

August 5, 2021 By Joji Sada 6 Comments

sexy male Dom with leather whip — via stock.adobe.com

*** All works of erotica are fictional and we NEVER condone anything that is not safe and consensual

It has been so long since I have slept in front of the fire. You were even kind enough to give me a cushioned mat to curl up on. My body shivers lightly. I turn over so my back faces the flames. It is odd that the fire is still going. Did you stoke it throughout the night Sir? I hope you were still able to get some sleep without worrying over me.

It is odd being out here Sir. Normally, I lay at the foot of your bed. I know your routine. I know to move from my spot only once you are stirring awake. You like your coffee right after you wake. I prepare your shower and lay out your clothes.

But, out here, your door is shut. I am not allowed to enter without permission. I have upset you so much these last few days. I do not wish to upset you further by not completing the morning routine. Yet, I do not wish to intentionally break a rule and enter your domain without permission.

You are so quiet with me Sir. Very little in the way of direction, and even less in the way of expectations. I have learned by watching. I have survived this long by watching, waiting, and anticipating.

I have made my decision Sir. If you wanted me to complete my morning routine, you would have left the door open. You may have even carried me into the room last night. But I think this is the start of the punishment. You told me that I needed to trust you and I needed to be honest with you. I have not been quick to do either.

So, you have left me on my own for the night. You have left me in the exact position I have demonstrated that I desire; alone.

I sit up on the cushion, pull my knees up to my chest, and stare blindly into the fire. I have never wanted to be alone Sir. I hope you know that. I just have learned it is the best way to protect myself. The more I scare people, and the more I make myself invisible, the happier they are to forget me.

It is the safer way.

I shake my head. I do not wish to dwell on the horrors today. You deserve my full attention Sir. I have let Maker influence too many of our interactions. I seek to push him from my mind, if only possible for today.

I know that I cannot kneel until you awake Master. I greatly dislike admitting such faults. Maybe, with time, I can correct the damage done to my body. For now, I think it would be best to reflect on my behavior. I have not been at my best, Sir.

I know my place. A good slave is invisible. They are silent (or soft spoken if addressed). You should never be able to hear me walk (or crawl) in or out of a room. You should never need to call me. I should always know when and where I should be (regardless of environment).

Yet, I have been very lax in my behaviors. I was trained better than this. I feel the reminders left on my body as harshly as you see them.

I sit up, keeping my back to the fire, and cross my legs. I take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly release. My hands rest on my knees, palms facing upward. My back stays straight and my head is up, though my eyes are closed. I am in proper position to await you Sir, kneeling notwithstanding.

I do not know how long I have been sitting here Sir. But your touch to the top of my head startles me slightly. One day I will understand how you can walk so lightly in boots so heavy.

My eyes open and I lower my gaze down. I am determined to be perfect for you, Master.

I sense you walk around me, inspecting me. Once you sit down in your chair, I shift up onto my knees.

“There’s my good girl.”

My body grudgingly blushes. I do not feel like a good girl, and I am doing my best to not question you, even if only in my head.

“Eyes up pet.” Your voice is firm but quiet. I lift my eyes to yours. “When it is just us, I expect you to wait for me with your eyes up. I prefer eye contact. I can see what you are thinking, and hiding, much easier.”

I meet your eyes. This is difficult Sir. I am half expecting you to backhand me for such forward behavior. I am curious if you have set this rule previously or if this is specifically for me. Of course, it does not matter either way. You have ordered it; I shall obey it.

I see your arm move, but your hand is out of my eyeline. I keep my eyes locked on yours and suppress the tremble that threatens to overtake me. I can handle whatever you offer, Master. I will make sure you never doubt that.

I am startled slightly when I feel a tug on the ring of the collar around my neck. The thick leather gives me little room to resist as you pull me forward. My hands tighten on my knees, trying to stay upright and maintain the eye contact you have asked for.

“I have a gift for you.”

A gift? That is a surprise. I am sure my eyes reflect those thoughts as they widen in curiosity. With Maker, surprises meant pain. They meant a lot of blood and a lot of crying. But Master is much more kind. I am nervous but not fearful, yet.

You let the ring of the collar go. My body sways back into position.

Two snaps.

That means eyes down. I drop my eyes.

Your hands reach around, and I feel the lock of the leather being undone.

Deep breath. Trust. That’s what you said Master. I had to trust you. That means no panicking.

The collar slides off and my palms are turned up once more to catch it. I have never quite felt how heavy it is. Then again, this is the first time I remember being without one on, Sir.

Two snaps. Eyes up.

Thank the Gods I understand your silence, Sir.

I am staring at the soft, velvet bag in your hands. It is black with red lettering. I wonder briefly if that is a monogram to your unspoken name Master. Everyone has one. Some of us just don’t get to use them anymore.

You open the drawstring and I see a metal band pulled out. It is a new collar. I am slightly confused. Why the change Sir?

“Lay the leather across my knee and hold out your palms.” I do as you ask. “Meet my eyes.” As you wish Sir.

You lay the metal in my palms. I am surprised that it is lighter than the leather. Is that normal? It has no lock that I can feel. It also has no beginning or end. It seems to be a solid circle of metal.

I resist the urge to look down, or away, from you. You keep eye contact with silence. It weighs heavy between us, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stay silent. Have I told you how much silence scares me? I probably should.

It can’t have been more than a minute of silence Sir. Yet, when I felt the electricity dance across my palm as it races through the metal, I jump. I did not expect such an action.

“Do you feel that pet?” I nod. You have not granted permission yet to speak. “I have thought over your recent behavior. Should you disobey, punishment will be swift and merciless. You will curb your behavior. Do you understand me, pet?”

I nod.

Two snaps. Verbal answer it is. “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

You pluck the collar from my palms. I watch you unlock it with a special key before you place it around my neck. It is secured and I feel you place two fingers between the collar and my neck. Good to know I won’t die by suffocation, Sir.

“I will use this as needed.” I nod. I expected as much. “Now, we will deal with your impending punishment.” I am not surprised that I have a different punishment waiting for me. As much as I dislike it, I am thankful I do not need to wait much longer. I just want this behind us Sir. I want to start over. I can be good Master. I promise.

I could have only hoped that punishment would take place in your rooms. But, no, that would not have been enough. Crawling across the concrete is not even the hardest part, though it does leave my knees very tender. It is the eyes of the others watching me. You did not leash me, and my neck is bare enough to catch their attention. I hear a few snickers. They seem to recognize the collar and its purpose.

I think this place was built like a maze on purpose. I have lost count of the number of turns we have taken. All the hallways look identical. It probably doesn’t help that most of what I am seeing is the grey concrete of the floor and the heels of your boots.

We finally reach the destination. You step only a few feet into the room, though I follow dutifully.

“Kneel up.”

I comply. I take in the surroundings. From this angle, looking into the room, there is minimal furnishings. I see a large, wingback chair in the center of the wall, set slightly back than center. A large cross is bolted to the wall on the left. There were thick chains attached to the top of it.

I watch you stride forward to the chair. You sit down, your knees parting naturally.

Two snaps.

I crawl forward until I am right in front of you, the room forgotten. Your hand slides through my hair. “Turn around and remain kneeling.” I do so. I feel you tug my hair. It takes me a moment to realize you are braiding it. I assume you do not want it in your way. I can tell you are finished when I feel the braid bounce against my back after you’ve dropped it.

Your hand reaches around my face and tips my face back to see you. Your hand wraps around my throat, firm but without pressure. “You have committed three infractions against me pet.” I remain silent. Your hand slides from my neck and tips my face forward again. I start to face it down and your voice stops me. “Look forward pet.”

I do so and I see there is an audience. I swallow. This is not what I want.

“Tell them pet. Tell them how you have shamed yourself.”

I hesitate.

“Loud and clear pet. I will not repeat myself.”

Deep breath. “This girl did not truthfully answer Master regarding the state of her health. This girl lost her temper with Master as though she was his equal. This girl did not disclose her medical status to Master despite his order for complete honesty from his property.” It takes all I am to face down the crowd watching us. It had not quite sunk in until now how badly I fucked up.

I feel you rise. In just a couple steps you are standing between myself and the audience. “I can forgive a pet who forgets her place from time to time. It is my duty to teach you, and keep you, in your place. However, I do not forgive easily a slave who does not answer truthfully. You are my property. You do not get to decide what you will tell me. I expect the truth, at all times. Omission is lying.”

I have never heard you be so vocal Sir. I have upset you greatly. I do not like this. I want to apologize. I do not think it would matter at this point. My words mean nothing currently. Maybe by taking this, I will prove to you how I regret my actions.

“Bring the cage to the center of the room.”

I look around quickly, and spot it near the back, left corner of the room. I crawl over to it. It is large enough that I could fit inside. You have not given me leave to stand. I figure the only way I can do this is to drag it with me.

I crawl backwards from it, only a couple feet or so. I reach forward and hook my fingers in the bars. I pull it towards me. I was right Sir. It is heavy when I have no leverage to assist me. I move back a little more and pulled it to me again. Over and over, I repeat the process. Longer than I would have liked, I finally reach the center of the room where you are waiting.

I kneel next to the cage, facing you. I await your next instructions.

“Stand and present.” I do so, though much slower than I would have preferred. My legs are numb, but they are still supporting my weight. “Turn and face your audience.” I turn, and while I stay in position, my eyes drop to the floor. I know better than to make eye contact with any of the other Masters.

Deep breath.

I jumped slightly when my sight goes dark suddenly. I can hear snickering, but I cannot see them anymore. I have not decided it that is a good thing yet or not. I feel a warm breath near my ear. Lowly, you whisper, “You will learn to trust me slave. It will start when you cry for me.”

You stepped back.

“Bend forward over the cage, pet.” Cautiously, I do so. It is an uncomfortable height to bend properly. I feel your boot against my foot. “Spread.” You keep nudging my feet until the are spread just past my shoulders. It eases the pain on my hips and back. I think you are aware of that, even if the audience is not.

“You will hold yourself in position. You will accept what I give and thank me when I am finished. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” I made sure my voice was clear and easily heard.

The only warning I get is the whistle of the implement before it connects with my calf. It is the cane. I keep my mouth shut. I refuse to give in so easy. There is no warm-up with punishment. Even less so when you are proving a point to his audience. This is meant to hurt. This is meant to serve as a reminder to never again be so careless.

Two. Three. Four.

You are deliberately keeping the hits from forming a rhythm. It makes the hits much more intense. The back of my calf is burning.

Five. Six. Seven.

My leg is shaking. My attention is divided between keeping my leg still and trying not to tense before the next hit.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

My eyes are watering. I do not like this.

Without hesitation, the hits move to my other calf. The first one is just as hard as it was on the other side.

Two. Three. Four.

I understand why you chose my calves Sir.

Five. Six. Seven.

I did not tell you that my legs go numb. If I can function without feeling, and without telling you, then you will make sure I can feel this punishment. I can.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

I am gripping the cage tightly. My whole body is shaking. You did not tell me to count but I have been keeping track in my head. It is helping me focus. Just because my legs are occasionally numb (and paralyzed), does not mean I feel anything less. In fact, it often makes the sensations more intense.

My breathing is harsh; it echoes around the room. Everything is silent. I am unsure anymore if there are still people watching or even where you have gone to Sir. I do not feel you behind me anymore.

There is no warning this time either. You have come back with a vengeance. I cannot stop the grunt that passes my lips. Have I ever told you how much I hate wooden paddles? I despise them even more on the back of my thigh.

Two. Three. Four.

There is more rhythm with this one. I am unsure if it is because the paddle is heavier or if you are trying to help me breathe through the pain.

Five. Six. Seven.

I am reaching my breaking point Sir. I do not understand why I could face Maker so stoically, but I cannot do the same with you.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

My knees are shaking. At this point, the only thing that has kept me from dropping to the floor is my grip on the cage. My body is sweating profusely from the effort.

As with my calves, you took only a breath or two before switching thighs. I feel the firm swat to my right thigh. This makes 31 hits so far Sir. How much farther are we going?

Two. Three. Four.

The blindfold is soaked with tears. I am hiccupping from the sobbing. It hurts Sir.

Five. Six. Seven.

It hurts. Is this how bad I have hurt you by not being truthful? Is that why it is so harsh?

Eight.

I don’t know how long I can continue to hold myself up Master.

Nine.

Please, Sir. Please, can we be finished. I clench my eyes shut.

Ten.

This rounds out another Ten. I am sorry, Master. I will not do this again.

I cannot hear myself think anymore. My body trembles. I am biting my lip to try and calm the sobbing. I can hear murmurs again. There is no warm touch from you, Master, not this time.

“Stand up pet.”

I loosen my grip on the cage. I can feel the indentations that have been left in my skin. I trail the bars of the cage until I am sure my hands are on the top. I push my upper body off the cage. Without lifting my feet from the concrete, I slowly drag my feet back together.

Deep, shuddering breath. I can do this.

My body is on fire. It protests loudly as I move. But I bring myself up to a standing position. I bring my hands to the back of my head, my elbows bent and outward. My back is straight, my head is held high, and my gaze remains on the floor. My chest is heaving. My body is tired.

But I will take what you give, Master. I will make you proud.

“You have done well pet. Five left. You will stay in this position. Is that clear?” Your voice is firm.

“Yes, Sir.” As soon as I confirm my understanding, you slip a piece of rope between my teeth.

“Hold that firmly.” I nod.

My back spasmed at the first lash. It is the whip. I fucking hate the whip. So many bad memories attached to this type of punishment.

Two.

My foot stepped forward reactively after the second lash. Without a word, I put myself back into the position I started in. But it is too late. I feel the electricity of the collar. It lights my body on fire as my muscles tense.

Three.

My right knee gave out. It hits the concrete hard, even as my hands come down to catch me. I drop my head. I am failing you now. I am positive I can feel your disappointment. I am ashamed I have broken position, but I refuse to stay down. Slowly, I bring myself back up into position.

Though you cannot see it, I close my eyes. I grit my teeth against the rope, waiting for the electricity. It is stronger than the first time. My body feels like it is vibrating. Only two more lashes to go.

Four.

My hands tighten in my hair as I force my body to stay still.

Five.

The last one. I am so sorry, Master.

I feel one of your hands on the back of my neck as the other removes the length of rope. My voice wobbles as I remember your instructions. “Thank you, Master for correcting my behavior and reminding me of my place at your feet.”

“You may drop your hands pet.” Your hands move to release the blindfold. I close my eyes against the onslaught of light. “Address your audience pet.”

“This girl apologizes for her ill behavior. This girl has learned her lesson and endeavor to give exemplary service to Master going forward.”

Two Snaps. I kneel.

“Clean up after yourself while I take care of some business.”

“Yes, Master.”

I see you walk towards to hall. I try not to dwell on your actions. Is it selfish to want you to hold me Sir? Even when I have been so disobedient? I shake my head slightly and return my focus to my task. I push the cage forward. I move it a few inches before crawling forward and pushing it again. It takes me far longer than I care to admit, but it makes it back to its spot against the wall.

I turn and crawl back to the chair. I raise up on my knees to wait for you. My thighs and calves are throbbing and when they touch it gets worse.

Before long, I see you come back.

Two snaps.

I turn to face you. I am proud that I remember to meet your eyes. You pat your knee. I smile slightly, without showing teeth. I lay my head down on your knee and am relieved when your fingers start toying with my hair.

“You have done well pet. I am proud of you.”

I make a small, content noise. Thank you, Sir. It brings me peace to hear that. I live to make you happy.

“Lay out for me pet. Face down, arms at your sides.”

I do as you ask. I appreciate that you always let me keep my hands at my side. One day I will remember to mention that to you. I am internally relieved that my body stays lax when your hands touch me. I can feel something cold and smooth being spread across my skin. It soothes the pain minimally. Your hands apply even pressure as they move. I am grateful for your attention.

When you stop, I am loath to move. Regardless of the cold concrete, my body has fully relaxed. Hopefully I will not become too stiff tonight. “Stay.” Who am I to argue with your instructions, Sir?

I can hear you moving around, even with your footfalls as light as they are. I hear the clinking of metal. What are you doing, Sir?

“Come here pet.” I struggle to push myself up from the floor and look to find where you are. You are by the cage. I cock my head to the side in confusion but dutifully crawl forward. When I reach you, your fingers slide down the side of my face, and you cup my cheek.

“Tonight, you sleep here. I want you to think over everything that has happened and the punishment that you have endured. I will let you choose pet. If you cannot see yourself fully submitting to me, and trusting me, I will give you the option to go back up to auction.”

My eyes widen. My heart races with panic. No. No. No.

Your thumb brushes my lips, and you shush me. “Do not answer me tonight pet. Tonight, you need to be honest with yourself. Tomorrow, you will be honest with me.”

Two snaps.

I look up at you. I see you smile but there is something in your eyes I cannot quite place. I feel your hands reach for the back of the metal collar. I bring my palms up to hold it, should you need. You drop the collar into my hands. I feel the leather collar take its place and I have never felt such relief. Once it is locked, you step back.

“It is time.” You step around me to stand at the open cage door. I crawl the couple feet to the entrance. I turn to face you but keep my eyes down this time. Without hesitation, I give into an impulse. If this is my last night with you, then I want you to clearly understand what your kindness means to me.

I lean forward, and I kiss your left boot three times. Then I kiss the right, also three times. I place my forehead on the concrete and say very clearly, “thank you Master.” No matter how my body (and my mind) are pained by what has transpired, I am grateful for your correction. After a moment of silence, I lift my head and crawl into the cage. You have been kind enough to line it with a warm blanket and pillow. Once I am settled, I hear the lock snick into place.

I stare up at you as you rise.

“Think about what I have said pet. Tomorrow, when I ask, I expect you to have an answer.”

With that, the light is extinguished. I am alone in the dark once more.

Curling on my side, one of my hands comes up to rub the leather of my collar.

Maybe I don’t have to be alone anymore.

Erotica: Learning To Trust The Master

August 1, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

hot submissive wanting to please her dominant — via stock.adobe.com

***All works of erotica are fictional and we NEVER condone anything that is not safe and consensual

I sigh quietly. I am really fucking bored. I really do want to make Master proud, but it is very hard to stay focused when there is so little to do.

Right now, my head is resting on Master’s thigh. His hand is in my hair, the strands running through his fingers. I love when he does this. It always makes me feel cherished. Often times, I feel forgotten when his attention is no longer on me. It is as though I become invisible.

I sigh once more, letting all the voices wash over me. I am the only pet here and W/we have been here for–let me see–four hours now. Any longer and I swear I am going to bash my head into the table.

See, Master refused to leave me alone in His rooms after my fever last night. He told me that since I could not be trusted to tell Him exactly how I felt, He would just have to keep me with Him. Honestly, sitting here, listening to the other Masters discuss the running of the compound, is far worse than any punishment Master has given yet.

Master assured me this morning that it wouldn’t be a very long meeting. But, I am so tired. I can feel the pin pricks in my lower back. This means things are not going to end well. Master is going to be very upset when He sees the largest omission so far.

Finally, Master rises, and I feel a pat on my head, telling me to rise as well. Swiftly and silently, I do as asked, and wait for everyone to leave.

I know what is coming.

I trail behind Master as we snake our way through the connecting hallways. I am unsure what Master has planned for the rest of today, I am only praying that I can escape his sights long enough to compose myself.

My hands clench tightly. Apparently, luck is not on my side.

Almost as soon as the door closes, my knees give out. I hit the floor roughly my body tense. My palms hit the floor in front of me, holding the bulk of my weight. I know this will pass. I close my eyes tightly. Master has never seen this before. I would say I fear his reaction, but I am more resigned than anything.

The first Master (or my maker as I often refer to him) did not react well to my imperfections.

I am thrown against the wall. I know better than to pick myself up. Maker prefers to see me beneath him. I have no desire to antagonize him further.

“I put all this effort into you slut, and this is how you repay me?” he snarls at me, his spit hitting my side.

My head is resting on the inside of my arm. As I feel Maker stand atop my hands, I knew instantly I should have protected them. His weight is heavy. I am beyond making noises of discontent. The darkness in my right eye taught me that lesson.

He turns his boots, grinding down onto my knuckles. It is an indescribable pain. I will be cradling them for days if he continues. He steps off my hands after a couple minutes and proceeds to kick me in the stomach.

I hold firm in my silence. I must pick the lesser of two evils. Right now, he will take any sound as disobedience.

“Get up.” He growls at me. “Lest I beat you where you lay.”

He knows I can’t. That is why he is so angry to begin with. I am nothing but a disgrace at this point. Broken. Disfigured. Disappointment.

“In position.”

I roll onto my stomach, my arms stretched above my head and my legs are as straight as I could manage without moving them.

“You will count. When you cannot manage to count anymore, I may consider your punishment served.”

Without the benefit of a warm-up, I felt the raw sting of his cane. “One, Maker.”

Another. “Two, Maker.”

Again.

And again.

Once he got bored of the cane, around forty hits or so, he switched to the ball-chain flogger. Its feeling is unmistakable. It is sharp and cold, uncaring of my pain.

“Forty-five, Maker.”

I lost count around sixty. My fists were clenched and my eyes dripping. The harsh breathing of both of us echoed throughout the dungeon. He did not stop. In his words, he promised to only think about it.

It was a blessing when I passed out. Though, when I awoke, I found myself shivering and alone in the darkness.

Even now, that phantom cold seeps into my bones from time to time.

My body is tired. I have not been entirely honest with Master about how I am recovering. Just a couple nights ago, He chastised me for not telling him I was ill. I don’t know how to explain to him that I have never been allowed to be sick.

I am, and must always be, fine.

When the tensing eased, and my breathing settled, I took a small liberty and looked up. I was almost convinced (and quite hopeful) that he had just left me to my devices. I was not that lucky.

My eyes met his. I can see the concern in them. I do not understand why he is so worried. He can always get another toy.

When it becomes apparent that I am not going to give the reasons for my collapse, I hear him sigh. “Come here, pet.”

I weigh the options. Either way, I am in trouble. Do I speak out of turn and tell him the truth, or do I stay silent and let Master believe I am willfully ignoring Him?

Deep breath. “I can’t, Sir.”

Two snaps. “Now.”

“I can’t Sir. I am sorry.”

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately.” You uttered softly. I watched you rise from the chair and move forward. Before I could protest, your arms wrapped around me, and I was cradled to you. I rest my head against your chest, your heartbeat steady in my ears.

I do not know how I thought to hide this from you. I just didn’t want to be auctioned again Sir. Please don’t send me back.

We ended up at my favorite spot. You sat me on the floor at the base of your wingback chair. The carpet is soft here and it is close enough to the fireplace to stay warm but far enough that I stay comfortable. As much as I haven’t mentioned it, I think you know that the light of the fireplace soothes me.

My back is set against the chair leg, and I slowly rearrange my legs so they are stretched out in front of me. My hands start massaging the back of my thighs. This is going to be a slow and painful process, but necessary to get feeling back in them before dawn.

You reach down, sliding your hands into my armpits. You pull me sideways until I am sitting between your legs. I continue massaging once you let go.

“You have some explaining to do, girl, and I want the whole truth. We just discussed that I will not allow you to continue to omit information, especially regarding your health. If you cannot be honest, I will release you.”

My hands pause. I shiver. I hate when his voice gets like this. I do not want to go back. No one will take me. I will be fodder for the masses.

Should I beg you Sir? Should I apologize for trying to please you? I have only ever been ridiculed Sir, and I just wanted to be perfect for you.

Softly, I stumble to answer you. “If you can give me an hour or so, Sir, to be able to move, I will get out of your sight.”

Your hands drop onto my shoulders and grip ever so slightly. I can sense you are trying not to lose your temper with me. You tilt my head back so our eyes meet, and I can no longer hide the tears in my lashes.

“Talk to me.”

“You said you were sending me away Sir. I am unsure what is left to say.” I answer flatly.

“No, I said I would if you could not learn to trust me completely.”

“I am trying Master.” Why wouldn’t he believe me?

“Then why do you question me so and why have you not told me what caused your collapse earlier? Tell me, why do you skirt the questions?”

Finally, I snapped. My temper fiery and out of control. I snapped my head forward, fighting against him as he tried to tug it back.

“Do you really want to know about this? I am broken Master. Nothing more than a marionette living on borrowed time. It is called Hypokalemic Periodic Paralysis. What it means is that I will never live up to what you want Sir. You were swindled. You bought a broken toy Sir.” My hands tightened on my thighs. “They call me a monster Sir. I scare them. You are the first to see me without seeing Maker first. I did not intend to deceive you. I just didn’t want to go back.”

The fight is gone from me. I have blown it. Surely Master will toss me to the wolves now.

Calmly, Master listens to me vent. I stare into the fire. It was only the even tempo of his breathing that keeps me from falling into myself.

“How does this affect you, pet?”

I am a little startled at your question Master, but I answer quietly. “If I can keep massaging the muscle, I am more likely to get feeling and movement back sooner. It jumpstarts the sensations.”

You stand and step over me. You hold your hands out for mine and I grip them tightly. You spin me slightly until my side is against the chair. “Are you able to lay back unassisted?”

“Yes, Sir.” I hate this position. It brings back so many terrible memories. I lay back and move to raise my arms. You let me know I can keep them by my side. While I know I will never raise my arms against you, it brings me comfort to know it is physically an option.

“I am going to massage your legs. You will tell me if, at any time, it hurts. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

And so it went. Every so often, I would wince just a little too much, and you would stop and wait. The first time I did not understand. So, you tapped the spot on my leg again, and when I winced, I understood.

“That hurts, Sir.”

You nodded and continued. By the time you finished, there was no hesitation in telling you when it hurt.

“Better. You are learning, pet.”

I smile, ever so slightly. I lifted my head enough to watch my toes. With much concentration, the toes started to twitch. No matter how many times I go through this, it always brings relief when I can move once more.

You crouch down and offer me a hand to pull me into a sitting position. “It is good to see movement.” You meet my eyes. “and even better to see you smile.”

I had forgotten He had never seen me smile. I have learned to keep hidden the gruesome sharps that were once my teeth.

I looked up at Master, surprised. “Do you wish to see me smile Sir?”

He raises his eyebrow in challenge.

So, hard as it is, I meet his eyes and smile.

It feels sinister.

When You lean down, kiss my forehead, and tell me I am a good girl, I know I was right to trust you.

Punishment, harsher than You have yet to give me, awaits me tomorrow. I know that. I have taken many missteps since you purchased me, Master.

But, if I can smile without making you recoil in disgust, then I will bear whatever you have to offer.

Even as broken as I am, I am at your service, Master.

Thank you for leaving the light on.

Erotica: The Monster, The Maker, and The Master

July 25, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

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I knelt by the fireplace. My knees burn with the effort. My legs have long since gone numb. I am waiting for Master. He said He would be but a few minutes, and yet the chime of the clock mocks the hour mark.

I am worried about him. I cannot help it. Master is extremely capable of taking care of himself. I would not wish my worst enemy to turn his ire, but I cannot help the slight stuttering of my heart as the clock hands tick.

My body is starting to bend. My posture is failing, my back bending forward weakly. I feel tired and weak, but I refuse to disobey Master. He ordered me to wait and wait I shall.

My eyes drift close thinking about Him. He has done so much for me. He let me see the light again. He touches me with kindness. He speaks to me as though I am a person. While I know it is an illusion, it is one I cling to desperately.

Anything is better than before. I will not disappoint Him. To do so only means I will be sent away…or worse, forgotten.

He had said only a few minutes and yet the time has passed, bringing back only anxiousness in return. I am trying to remind myself that I live by His time, not mine. But still, it is unlike him to be late. I know my Master and he is punctual, easily displeased when others are not.

I want to look for him. Even numb, my knee twitches as though to lift my weight. I lean back further onto my haunches. I know better. I am to stay where I am.

The fireplace is dimming now. My body is on fire, but the chill is rapidly cooling the sweat beaded on my skin. The embers mock me as the darkness falls. I do not like the darkness. I spent far too long submerged in it to ever again be comfortable.

I close my eyes. If I pretend the darkness is simply because my eyes are closed, I may yet survive this.

My mind starts drifting back to before Master owned me. Drifting back to the lessons of a madman and his monster.

“Stupid wench. How hard is it to please my friends? Your sobs do not make for a good fuck!” He threw me to the ground. I could barely get my barrings before his hand wrapped threw my hair and he dragged me across the cold cement. My eyes watered from the pain. I tried so hard to stay quiet, to not fuel his rage, but I couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.

He flipped me over, my outer thigh scraped from the pavement and my knees bruised from the force of falling on them. He pulled me to my feet, my arms limp at my sides. I knew better than to fight him.

I am to be punished.

Without a word, he finally lets my hair loose and sets about securing my wrists in the shackles hanging from the ceiling. They are secured high enough that I have to stay on my tip toes to remain standing. My body sways in the chains. He leaves my feet free because he knows I will move. At some point, I will try to shift the weight from my wrists. I know, as does He, that all that does is knock my center of balance and ends up wounding me more.

I close my eyes. This will not be pleasant. I have disgraced him, amongst his peers.

His fury has settled into silence. My skin has developed goosebumps. The hairs are standing on end. Why isn’t he doing anything?

Deep breath.

Time passes slowly in the dark. I do not know how long I have been here. I can hear the scurrying of a mouse or two, but without light, it is hard to tell the time.

I suddenly feel the strike of a whip.

My body tenses in surprise. My eyes open but its hard to tell. The darkness is too oppressing.

Again.

And Again.

The tears are falling heavy and my chest is heaving with sobs.

Again.

And Again.

I am pulling at the shackles as hard as I can. I just want to run. My legs feel weak from how long I have been there.

Again

And Again.

My back is on fire. It drips with either blood or sweat. It makes the floor slick beneath me.

Again.

I’ve begged him to stop. I’ve apologized over and over again. I’ve promised to never shame him again. He stays silent.

Again.

The sobs have quieted now. I have no tears left and my voice is raw from screaming.

Another.

Three more in succession and all I can do is let out small gasps. I have no words, no tears, no fight left in me.

He unhooked me and my body dropped like lead.

His voice surrounds me when he does speak. “We will go until you can take this in silence. You will never shame me again with your incessant crying.”

I spent a week in the darkness. I earned my food and water only when I could keep from making sounds during his cruelty.

He alternated after that first session. He would strike several times and then stop. He would leave uneven lengths of space between his rounds. I was tired. I just wanted it to end.

And it did.

The moment he missed and took sight from my left eye.

The memories faded from my conscious as I came to awareness. My eyes blink rapidly, trying to push my horrific past from my mind.

I did not think I had fallen asleep, Sir. I feel a hand running through my hair and my eyes finally start to focus in on the soft glow of your bedroom. I wouldn’t have come in here without your permission Sir. I promise. That must mean you brought me in here.

Had I fallen asleep? I must have. Oh no.

I can feel my body tensing against you. Your hand stops caressing my locks.

My voice is shaking, and my words are barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry Master. I didn’t mean to, really I didn’t. I tried, I’m sorry.” My voice sticks in my throat and, for the first time since my sight was taken, I could feel the tears spill through my lashes. I couldn’t help it. I have disappointed you. “I-I…”

My head drops from your chest and I move swiftly from my position next to you, until I am kneeling on the bed in the same position I had been by the fireplace.

If I had been thinking clearly, I would recognize that I had both spoken out of turn and removed myself from your grasp. But everything is fairly fuzzy in my panic.

I see your hands reach for me, and then you are gently trying to pull me back to you. I tense. “Pet,” Your voice is firm with warning.

I have no desire to upset you further Sir. I take a deep breath and consciously relax my body, resisting minimally as you pull me into your lap. My shoulder leans against your chest and I feel the warmth of your hand as you urge my head to rest upon your shoulder.

“Why did you panic, pet? It is not like you to resist. You may speak freely.”

I take a deep breath and thank the Gods you have not made me meet your eyes. “I-I fell asleep Master. I remember waiting for you and now I am in here. You must have carried me Sir. I do not understand why you did not just leave me there. I apologize for failing you.” My voice wavers during the last sentence, but I have said what I must.

“No, pet, you did not.” My head turned up to meet your eyes. “I found you unconscious. Your body was burning with fever. It only broke a couple of hours ago. I had not expected you to wake at all tonight. Why did you not tell me?” You stare into my eyes, waiting patiently for me to gather my thoughts. I break eye contact and swallow harshly.

“I thought I would be okay Sir. You said you would be back in a few minutes, and I did not wish to worry you. My discomfort comes after You, Sir.”

“I had not expected to be gone so long. I received a call I had been waiting for.” Your fingers grip my chin and you bring my head back up to face you. “I thought we had agreed you would tell me these things?” You sound disappointed, Sir.

Now that is true pain.

“Yes, Sir. I just, I didn’t feel that bad. I was only a little sore. If I thought I was going to pass out, I would have told you.”

“We are going to have to work on your sense of worth. I want to know any discomfort you are feeling pet. For now, you will rest. Is that clear?”

“Yes Master.” You nodded that you heard me. I attempted to get up, but your hand on my chest had me stilling.

I swallowed, “Sir?”

“I said rest, pet. Tonight, you share with me.”

You stripped down and climbed in behind me. My body molded into yours.

Tomorrow, I am sure we will address the punishment for omitting too much when I told you I was fine. Just as I am sure that my scale of “fine,” may be redefined.

But, for tonight, I will curl up with you.

Maybe, now, I won’t fear the darkness.

The Power Of Choice In Power Exchange

July 15, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

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Submission is a choice. Every aspect of the power we hand over to another individual is a daisy chain of choices. I have always been transparent about the struggles I had in learning how to make those choices.

I chose to offer Him my submission and He rejected me.

I chose to offer it a second time and He took me under consideration.

I chose when to kneel. I chose when to call Him Sir and once again when to call Him Master. I chose when to crawl.

And I chose when to finally let go.

As I write this, I understand that to the naked eye, it seems as though I had all the power. And we all know how I feel about that saying.

What I am trying to do is highlight the slow decent into complete acceptance. He has a considerable amount of patience. He pushed me by setting His expectations a notch higher than I thought I could achieve.

Every. Single. Time.

By turning me down, He verified I had an honest desire to serve Him and the determination to address things that make me uncomfortable.

By letting me kneel at my pace, He could see that understanding dawn in my eyes when I finally accepted the desires I spoke about.

By allowing me to choose how to address Him, He guaranteed my service was sincere and natural.

By waiting for me to crawl, He watched me finally comprehend that my discomfort is secondary to His pleasure.

In a profoundly silent style, He taught me how to sink into my submission and wrap it around me like a warm cloak of spirituality.

Each of these led to my final choice: to offer Him a Total Power Exchange. He would (and does) own my body, my mind, and my soul. At this point in O/our dynamic, my limits are His limits.

Now, the reason I am laying this out, is because you need to understand the building blocks of our dynamic before I tell you the final step of His “training” process.

Once I reached the point of complete acceptance, He pointed out the most important part of what I had learned. I had learned to anticipate His needs, and, by default, my own. During my efforts to figure out my own wants and needs, I had started subconsciously seeking his approval. I had, without realizing it, had taken the service aspect to heart. My happiness came from my ability to make His life easier. It was (and still is) my mission to recognize and provide everything He desires without Him ever saying a word.

Only once I reached the point of anticipating His thoughts (as much as submissive can anticipate the thoughts of a Sadist) were we able to delve into O/our favorite part of BDSM.

Now the fun part.

I am going to ask you to define Mental Bondage.

I know, without ever hearing the answers, that each of you gave me a different definition.

Here’s why:

If you type Mental Bondage into Google (without any other code words), you will get two types of answers. The first is religious. They refer to mental bondage as the inability to see, feel, or understand the spirit of God. The second is a warning against domestic abuse. Mental bondage, in that capacity, refers to the inability to break the cycle of abuse and recognize the trauma being experienced.

If those aren’t vastly different ends of the spectrum, I don’t know what is.

If you change your search to “BDSM Mental Bondage,” the answers move to kink related themes.

1) The first answer is sexual hypnosis. Sexual Hypnosis, also called Erotic Hypnosis, is the use of hypnosis to elicit a particular set of sexual or sensual responses. It can be used to force orgasms, increase sensitivity to touch, or implement trigger words that can sink someone into sub space. While it is not my kink (mostly because attempted hypnosis just triggers my narcolepsy), I did take a class on it at one time out of curiosity. For those who can use hypnosis in (or as) their kink, it is amazing to see the sensuality of it. I have a friend who partakes, and she keeps her trigger word private because it will turn her extremely primal. I was able to watch her play with Master one time where she wanted to have her word used in conjunction with electricity. It was…quite the scene.

2) The second answer you will see is a reference to positional training. This most often references the Gorean slave positions or submissive training poses. I make the distinction between these because while some of the poses overlap, they are two separate sets of positions and commands to learn. There are three common languages used to give the commands. The first is English, and most commonly coincides with submissive training poses. The second is German, akin to the same words used to train dogs (and I may or may not have managed to surprise Master when I responded to them). I have seen this one used in more High Protocol settings, and more often used with slaves. The last is the common tongue of Gor. These are the terms (and definitions) outlined in the Gor Series (written by John Norman). These books are the foundations of the Gorean lifestyle.

The reason positional training falls under Mental Bondage is because the learning of these positions becomes second nature to the submissive and often can sink them into a particular mindset, depending on the position used. This is especially true with the Gorean positions. For example, the position “Bracelets” is used to put slave bracelets on so the slave may be chained. “Leasha (Leash)” is the position used to attach a leash to the slave.

If you have been in either of those positions (formally or just in play), they are vastly different mindsets.

3) The third most common answer revolves around 24/7 dynamics. It is the commitment of a submissive to the rules laid out by their Dominant. Think about it. Do your rules dictate what you eat, what you wear, or what you can say? Are you required to answer questions with a particular honorific or in a certain way?

All of these are forms of mental bondage. You are bound to a strict set of expectation that you are only released from at your Dominant’s discretion. It is an invisible version of bondage. It is much like being bound with rope and only being freed once your Dominant desires it.

While there are quite a few other definitions, the ones listed above are the most commonly agreed upon within the vast online BDSM community.

Then there is U/us.

While we do use aspects of the previous mentioned definitions, we have developed O/our own version of Mental Bondage.

Mental Bondage, in my experience, is the adherence to protocols, orders, and positions that have only been anticipated (and never verbally directed) with the expectation of correction if the submissive is wrong.

Sounds scary, huh?

To me, it sounds deliciously fearsome. Which is why Mental Bondage is my kink.

O/our version of Mental Bondage does have a component of Consensual Non-Consent (CNC). The expectations laid upon me change each time we play. As mentioned, many times before, I do not know what is going to happen until it happens.

One example of Mental Bondage is “the waiting game.”

When Master has decided it is time to scene, I am sent down to my room to wait for Him. He never states how I am to wait. The only consistent is the fact that I kneel. Sometimes I am naked and other times I am dressed. Sometimes I am in Nadu pose. Other times I kneel at the edge of the bed, my forehead to the mattress, my arms extended out above my head. The pose depends on what I have anticipated He wants me to do.

Unfortunately for me, W/we like to combine Mental Fuckery and Mental Bondage, so I am only right about 20% of the time.

Another one of Master’s favorite expressions of mental bondage occurs during impact play. Sadomasochism is a heavy part of our play. This means that we play for short amounts of time at a high intensity with little warm-up or cool down. I have been bucked off a spanking bench and a barrel from the force of the impact.

Do you know what happens when I break position?

I pick myself up and move back into position. He never breaks posture, nor does He speak. He knows that once I am in a position, I will hold it until His direction changes. He expects me to hold myself in a way where He can reach as much of my body as physically possible.

While He refuses to admit to me that He enjoys watching me struggle, I can see it clearly on His face. Watching my legs tremble beneath me, hearing me sob as I try to continually hold my body against the force of impact, and ultimately watching me collapse brings a sinister grin to His face.

Rope has been used only one time during the length of O/our dynamic. Metal cuffs have been used three times, and I can count the number of times my leather cuffs have been used on one hand. Outside of those instances, all of the bondage I am subjected to is mental.

In my experience, Mental Bondage brings me a sense of accomplishment. Knowing that I am pushing my body to the edge to hold a position for longer periods of time, simply because He wants me to, is rewarding.

It also gives me a focus point. Master does not like to keep the same rhythm during play. Doing so would allow me to push out the pain. He wants me to feel it, to experience it in the moment, and to push through it. Repetitive motion, like a flogging, can allow a submissive to sink into a meditative state to push their pain threshold. He expects me to push through it through an active choice to continue (through the withholding of my safeword).

I have the choice to put myself back into position.

I have the choice to stop experiencing the pain and the pleasure.

I even have the choice to break the invisible hold of mental bondage by using my safeword.

After all, there is nothing physically stopping me.

It is my honor as a submissive that bound me to Master. It is my desire to serve and please Him. It comes down to the moment I gave Him power over me.

The moment I gave Him my power to choose.

The Breeding Fetish

July 5, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

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Over the years, I have become less conservative in exploring my interests. When I started out, I was very shy. I had all these different interests, and I was convinced that there was no way my partner would understand. So, I stuck to what I considered “standard” kinks. Since getting with Master, I have found the freedom to explore anything that comes to mind.

So, I thought I would share one of them with you.

One of the kinks I kept hidden, for many years, was Breeding.

Traditionally, a breeding kink involves a Dominant male having intercourse with a submissive female with the full intent of impregnation. This generally means sex without protection and an intentional exchange of body fluids. It is considered a riskier kink (though not edge play) because bareback sex can increase your chances of a Sexually Transmitted Infection (STI).

It can also increase the chances of a yeast infection or PH imbalance. The vagina is generally considered acidic and should have a PH level of 3.8-4.5. However, sperm need a PH level of 7-8.5 to thrive. During unprotected sex, the vagina’s PH level will rise to accommodate the sperm, optimizing the chance of impregnation.

Sounds great, right?

Well, it can be. But for some of us, the ph level struggles to go back down afterward. An acidic environment (with the PH of 3.8-4.5) is naturally protective. Having an imbalance can promote the growth of bacteria and lead to several different types of medical issues (i.e. Bacterial Vaginosis or Yeast Infection). So, my personal PSA is to consult a doctor if you notice things do not feel right after unprotected sex. Stay healthy and optimize your kink.

Alright. Now we can get back to the fun stuff.

Breeding, over the last couple decades, has expanded in its definition. Let’s go over some different ways to enjoy your kink.

Role Play:

There are a few ways that role play can be incorporated.

Cross-Gendered Role play

Due to the expansion of role play aspects in this kink, there is less focus on the gender of those involved as well. For female/female partners, the use of a strap-on can simulate the action of breeding. There are dildos that have tubing in the center to simulate ejaculation. For male/male partners, the incorporation of other kinks, such as sissification, can make the fantasy of impregnation more realistic.

Breeding with Birth Control

For some individuals, having a resulting pregnancy is not part of their kink. This could be due to medical factors, financial reasons, or already having children. As such, the use of birth control can help mitigate the chances of pregnancy. As with anything, I recommend talking to a licensed professional to find the best option possible for you. I also recommend researching everything for yourself. As several individuals in my family learned, the pill form of birth control actually made them more fertile. For me, I have an implant in my arm. It lasts 3 years, has minimal side effects, and I am not allergic to it. While the chance of me getting pregnant is under 1 percent, the use of birth control is a secondary preventative measure.

Animal play

Animal play is an umbrella term for when one partner acts as an animal and one acts as a handler. Most often, breeding often uses role play of actual “bred” animals. While hudogs (i.e. human dogs) are occasionally seen, it is almost always farm animal role play. Hucows (Human Cows) are the most common. A hucow is defined as a “submissive woman who is into lactation (whether voluntarily being milked or forced lactation) and/or breeding (forced insemination). The breeding aspect is a newer addition to the Hucow kink.

You can also add objectification to this type of play. An example of this is putting a burlap bag over the “animal’s” head (which could even be labeled with “Breed Me” or other more derogatory sayings) so that the receiver becomes nothing more than a breeding machine or potential incubator.

**Animal play also gives an opportunity to play with artificial insemination as a form of breeding**

Consent Non-Consent:

Consent Non-Consent (CNC) is another umbrella term. It is often equated to “rape play.” I do not use that term for two reasons. The first is because CNC has so many different avenues of expression. Second, consent is paramount in our community. Rape does not involve consent in any form, and I feel that it needs to keep its own definition (and implications) without convoluting consensual play.

The definition I prefer to use is “[play] between two (or more) consenting adults where one of them does unpleasant or harmful seeming things to the other, who looks as if they’re not enjoying it, or not consenting.”

Breeding can be incorporated into almost any CNC scenario that you can dream up. All the scenarios I am about to list reference “role play scenarios” in which all parties have consented to the activities involved.

Blackmailing a co-worker, Boss/secretary dubious consent, Headmaster/student
Hypnosis/Mind Control
kidnapping, home invasion
Gang Bang

It is also important to me that CNC can also be a relationship type. It is most often referred to as a Total Power Exchange (TPE). I have talked previously about my relationship with Master. He has blanket consent to do as he pleases. He allows me the option of a safe word, just in case. However, I never know what is going to happen or when. I do not negotiate our scenes. That means that every time we play, it falls under CNC. I can scream, cry, say no or stop repeatedly but the only thing that will stop the scene is the word “red.”

As I have explored Breeding more and more, the only real consistent “requirement” is sex without a condom. Everything else is up to the individual people involved and as broad as their imagination.

I find Breeding is a kink that many still find themselves shy to talk about. I have seen it kink shamed on more than one occasion. If I have learned anything in the last 15 years, it is that there is no shame in kink if consent is paramount. Never let someone tell you what you can and cannot enjoy in your dynamic.

Erotica: The Master and The Monster

June 9, 2021 By Joji Sada 6 Comments

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**This story contains depictions of edge play in the forms of electricity, knives, blood, and implied consent/CNC. The implied consent is based on the Total Power Exchange of an M/s dynamic. It also references past trauma as experienced by the slave who tells this tale**

I am often overlooked down here as I sit quietly at Master’s feet. There is a thick leather collar around my neck and a steel band, around my thigh, whose chain is secured to an eyebolt in the floor. It keeps me in place while still allowing me a moderate amount of movement. But Master always leaves my arms free. He has done so since the first time someone felt it right to attack his property.

Since then, he has also kept my mouth covered with black cloth when I am not by his side.

You see, I scare people. Or so I have been told.

My previous Master had a sick sense of humor. He liked to play with his toys until they were broken. And if he twisted us enough, he was sure no one would take us.

I am one of the lucky ones. I bare the fewest scars, but I look the most fearsome.

There is a deep cut from my forehead, through my right eye, and down past my ear. He took my sight on that side with a single whiplash. He had my teeth sharpened to points. I’ve been told that when I smile, its horrific. There are slices down my back from when he played too rough while he was drinking, and a couple burns on my right thigh. But it is my face that keeps people away.

I am used to it now. I don’t speak anymore unless Master asks me a question. I don’t dream. I don’t ask for anything and I never allow myself to crave anything.

I simply exist.

I exist for Master’s pleasure.

The taste of blood is frequent, even after all these years. I constantly swipe my tongue over my teeth and they nick it in protest. I find it soothing. It reminds me of meeting an old friend.

Master is too kind. He treats me delicately. He holds back.

It…hurts.

I can see the craving in his eyes to bend me back and take his pleasure. I see the desire to take his Sadistic needs out on my flesh.

But then I see the hesitancy when he caresses my face. When his thumb slides down the marred flesh, I see a caring that limits him with me. I want to tell him it’s ok. I want to shout that I am forever in his debt and he can do as he wishes.

But I don’t say a word.

What right do I have to direct Him or His actions?

So, I wait.

Maybe soon, he will notice me as more than just a monster.

Maybe.

Master is Sadistic. Have I mentioned that? He likes to watch someone’s body tighten, to see them sweat. He likes to see them grit their teeth to take what he gives. But, most of all, he likes to see the bliss on their face. To see them get satisfaction from enduring what only he can provide. He likes to see them happy….and sore.

And they fall all over Him.

I watch beauty after beauty prostrate before him. I watch them bend and burn for him. I watch their pain, and their passion, and I see their growing attachement to him.

Not one of them will come near me.

But he draws them in like moths to a flame.

He is intoxicating.

I think Master gets enjoyment out of watching me. See, I love to feel his fingers through my hair. Often, I curl between his legs, with my back to his chair, and lean my head on his thigh. And though I never let Master see, I am sure to give a smile full of teeth to every person I watch pass our room.

He chuckles darkly from time to time when someone gasps. They all try to be nonchalant, but no one has Mastered it yet.

It amuses me.

It makes the passing of time easier until he takes me to our private chambers each night.

While this probably makes me ill-behaved, Master hasn’t chastised me yet. So, I must be doing something right.

My eyes are closed when another visits. As I crack my good eye open, I see it is a far cry from another grovelling slave. It is another Master. I know better than to meet his gaze. There are some things even I cannot get away with.

But I take him in. He wears nothing but black. His t-shirt and jeans are as dark as coal. His vest is dark but blazing with colors. They are too blurry for me to read. His boots are dirty. I can tell he must live in them.

He speaks softly and passes Master a note. This must not be for a slave’s ears.

Master taps my head twice and I instantly move back to the side of his chair. As Master stands, my hands slip under his cushion and pull the black cloth. I slip it over my face, in time for Master to give me a nod of approval.

I lean my head against the side of the chair and close my eyes. I know Master will wake me when he needs me.

I am unsure of how much time has passed when I feel Master’s fingers in my hair. I look up at him and he is grinning.

Two snaps.

I move to kneel in front if him. He leans forward and removes the cloth from my face. His hand cups the side of my face and his thumb trails delicately over the scarring.

“I have a gift for you.”

I cock my head to the side. A gift? I am curious as to what I have done to earn such a privilege.

“Thank you Master.” I smile slightly, with my mouth closed.

“It will be delivered shortly.”

Two snaps.

I return to the side of his chair. I face the door. My curiosity has the best of me.

With my last Master, surprises meant pain. They meant a lot of blood and a lot of crying. But this Master is kind. He takes care of me. He lets me sit on a cushion instead of the cold floors. He keeps me fed. And he doesn’t look at me with pity or disgust.

I am uneasy but I know it will be ok. Whatever the surprise, I am sure he knows what he is doing.

He is a good Master.

A girl. You have gifted me a girl, Master.

Do I get to play?

I stared at the girl thrown at Master’s feet. She is stoic. She is breathing heavily. She must be nervous. She won’t look up from the floor. She is also refusing to rise onto her knees. Her intentions are clear. She is intending to refuse her orders.

I don’t need to hear what was said previously to see what is happening. Master is good at training. She isn’t the first to be put before him. But she is the first to be gifted to me.

She must have offended him. He is sending a message to her, and her handler, that she has not earned the right to be touched by him. She is not worth his time.

But she is worth mine.

She is a pretty little thing. Her hair is black. It is braided tightly and cascades down to her ass. She is petite and her skin is bronzed. She has spent many hours in the sun. Her arms and legs are thin. She is definitely not a work slave. I wonder if she is new to the fold or possibly a house or pleasure slave.

She has the gold markings around her wrists and ankles. The rest of her is bare.

When she finally looks up, I smile. I see her eyes widen and I can feel her fear.

It’s delicious.

Master rarely lets me play with others. I tend to be fairly sadistic. The other Masters don’t let me near their toys. So often, I am left by Master’s chair while he plays with others. Unless he brings out the electricity. Then I get to watch. He lays them across his table, mere feet from where I sit.

I find it fascinating. Watching the girls squirm is entertaining. He goes so gentle with some of them. Especially those whose Masters stay nearby. But those left to him to take his pleasure from get a whole different experience.

Their bodies bow off the table, akin to a scene from Frankenstein. Their voices are breathy, save for a few who unwillingly curse at Master. It’s amusing to see his reaction.

The result is always the same. They leave his table shaking and sated. His eyes glow and his body vibrates with energy. It’s those moments that he unleashes me and takes his pleasure. It is those moments that I feel useful and owned.

It’s those moments, brought by the subjugation of others, that I stop feeling like a monster.

Master stands and turns towards me. I kneel up, my back rigid and my eyes firmly on the floor. I let out a deep, cleansing breath. I feel him unlock the leather collar from my neck. In its place, I feel the cold snap of the metal collar. Its electrified. Should I disobey, punishment is swift and merciless. The electric collar always comes out to play when I am unleashed now. Apparently fighting other slaves is not an approved behavior.

Then he unhooks a key from his belt, crouches down, and unlocks the iron around my thigh. As he sets the iron down, I lean forward until my head is between his boots. I kiss the left boot three times and repeat the action on the right before returning my forehead to the floor and whispering, “thank you Master.”

Master returns to his seat.

Two snaps.

I kneel back up.

“Entertain me, pet.”

At his words, I prowl forward on my hands and knees.

I hope she tries to run.

She is shaking.

It is delightful.

I make sure I move enough to give Master a good show of my ass. It takes me only a few steps to cross the room to her. She isn’t moving. In fact, she has stilled like prey.

Is it bad I wanted a fight, Master?

I reach out and run a finger down her side. Her skin is cool to the touch. I briefly wonder how long she has been uncovered on the cold floor before she was put here.

She jerks away and I snap my jaw at her, as if poised to bite. She screams. Her arms reach out as if there were spots in the floor to pull her away from me.

My hand clamps down on her hip and I flip her into her back with little effort. My arms are much stronger than hers.

I straddle her waist and pin her wrists down with my right hand. My left wanders down the side of her face.

“What a pretty prize you are.” My voice is low and gravelly. I cannot speak much more than a whisper. I don’t really know why. I can guess but it hasn’t mattered in a long time. Slaves aren’t meant to speak.

I brought my fingers down, hovering slightly over her nipple. I turned my head to glance at Master. He nodded in confirmation.

I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Her breath hitched. She must be sensitive. I tugged on it lightly before twisting it and letting go. I flicked it several times before tugging and twisting again. The more I did it, the more she arched under me. When her nipple was engorged and aching, I switched my attention to her other nipple. I swapped the hands holding her wrists and repeated the treatment.

She is whining, low in her throat. I can tell she is trying to be quiet. She is trying to hold back.

I click my tongue. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

I lean down to her ear so she can hear me clearly. “You will scream for us before we are done sweetie.” I licked the shell of her ear before returning to playing with my prize.

I let my nails drag across her stomach. She is twisting beneath me. My thighs can hold her tiny frame in place. But I am excited to see her reactions.

It is much better play when the prey fights back.

I scoot my ass back a few inches until I am resting on her thighs. I decide to see what she will do. I let go of her wrists.

I lean back and rest on my haunches. I stare her down. I drag my nails down her chest, between the curves of her breasts. Once my eyes left hers though, I learned my mistake.

I felt a hard smack to the side of my face. My neck turned with the force. I growled. It’s not that she hit me Master. Its that she hit me on my blindside. That’s just dirty tactics.

I turned back to meet her eyes and I grabbed each of her wrists with my corresponding hands. I gripped tightly. I am trying not to bruise her…after all, she isn’t mine permanently.

I lean down near her shoulder and drag my top teeth across it. They are sharp enough to draw blood. I lap it up and hold it in my mouth.

I move her hands to her sides and kneel on them. Then I grab her chin with bruising force and lean down to kiss her. I let the blood, her blood, trickle into her mouth. Then I cover her mouth with my hand until she swallows.

I watch her shudder.

She wants to hit me hard enough to taste blood, it is only fair to return the favor.

I lick the salty tears trailing down her face. I am growing bored with her now.

Master said I should entertain him.

An idea pops into my head.

I wrap her braid around my fist and move off her. I give her a moment to flip over but she makes no effort to move.

So, I start dragging her. She is begging me to let go. But we both know how this works. You go where directed or you are moved by force.

She made her choice.

I reach the wall and crouch down, still holding her hair.

“Stand. Or I will make you.”

She moves with purpose this time. I stand her up, her back to the wall, and attach a metal cuff to each wrist. They are above her head, stretched out to an X shape, leaving her standing on the balls of her feet.

Endurance. That was a lesson I struggled with myself. Let’s see if she can do better.

I roughly grab both her nipples without warning, pinching and pulling them away from her body. Her feet are dancing, trying to alleviate the pain.

I lean in and bite the side of each breast, semi-gently. I want her to heal. As the blood begins to slowly seep out, I let her nipples go and watch her body bounce back in relief.

The blood is glistening. It excites me.

I turn from her and kneel, facing Master. My lips are still red from tasting her. I keep my eyes down, waiting for the command to come back.

Instead, I hear his boots on the cement. I still the quivering in my body. I am riled up from playtime and I crave his touch.

His boots come into view and I immediately lean forward with my head on the floor.

Two snaps.

I am kneeling upright again.

Two snaps.

I climb it my feet and put my hands on my elbows behind my back.

Two snaps.

My eyes move to meet his.

He is grinning. I can see the Sadistic glint in his eyes.

He pulls me forward by the electric collar and growls into my ear. “You’ve done well, pet.”

He pulls my hair into his fist and tilts my neck before biting down at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. My hands break rank as I grab for his shirt. He knows this will bring me to my knees. Harder and harder he bites until my first knee hits the ground. I let out a breathy sound just before my second knee drops. I can smell the copper tang. He drew blood.

My head is tilted back and as he kisses me, my own blood trickles between my lips. It is warm. His tongue his hot against mine. It is almost dizzying. When he pulls back, I swallow the remaining liquid and stare up at him. I feel drunk now. When he lets go of my hair, my body slumps, heaving great breaths.

Master really is intoxicating.

I almost forgot we had a guest. Then I heard the tell-tale whine. She is rattling the chains. She is starting to give me a headache.

She is interrupting my bliss.

I growl again and climb back to my feet, turning to face her. I take the first step towards her and Master halts me with his hand.

I still. I am dissatisfied with the direction, but I know better than to question it.

He moves away from her and puts a finger to his lips to keep me silent. I see where he is headed and I finally understand why.

I watch as he grabs his knife and tucks a cord through his belt. He has just turned himself into a conduit for electricity.

He’s going to play with her.

He is going to paint her pretty with fine red lines of electric current through the tip of his blade.

She won’t know what hit her.

I can hear the soft buzzing of the electricity. I am positive she can too, especially how this room echoes.

I am watching Master move. His steps are light but sure. He stays just out of her sight. I can see the soft stains of the blood marks and sweat intermingling on her flesh. It is both erotic and enticing.

I catch Master’s eye. He smirks and I watch as he licks the blade from base to tip. I shiver. He is teasing me. I doubt if he even feels the electricity anymore. I am positive it must run through his veins.

He lays the blade flat on her stomach, covering her navel. I know she won’t get much of a jolt with such a broad surface but the cold with react with the heat of her skin.

Sure enough, she looks down and tries to press herself back against the wall. I am amused. If there is something sharp touching you, it is best practice not to move.

But adrenaline and fear will often override common sense. That’s what makes it so delicious.

Master slowly lifts the blade and turns it on its tip. He drags it from her naval, up between her breasts, and slowly across both shoulders before sliding it back down. He follows the path a couple of times, watching her. She is mesmerized by the movement. Where he turns the blade, her gaze follows.

He slides it down her breast, circling the dark patch around her nub. He taps the blade against her nipple. She gasps. I watch him repeat the process to the other side before he reaches towards his belt. He turns up the current. The next round will be harsher.

Again and again, he works her over. Turning the current up and down without warning. He slides the blade up her thighs and across her stomach. He tortures her nipples with both the blade and his hands. He makes her stick out her tongue and he touches the tip of the blade to it.

I flinch. I know that feeling.

I can smell her arousal. It lingers in the air. As much as she whines and cries, her body is betraying her. Her sensitivity is heightened. Instead of running away, her body arches towards him now.

They all break for him in the end.

He warns her not to move. He drags the blade softly across her hips and down to her hood. He reaches back and turns off the current for a moment, sheathing his knife.

I watch him mercilessly take two fingers and start rubbing her clit. He does not give her any respite. He keeps the pressure heavy and the movements fast.

She moans and cries and begs him. A littany of pleases leave her lips and he pays her no mind. When she reaches the edge, he stops.

Her body curls in on herself as tears form on her lashes.

He turns the current back on and runs the blade over her skin again and again. Once he sees her body settle into the play, he flips it off and brings her to the edge again.

This time though, when he stops, he keeps her lips spread, turns the current back on, and taps the blade over and over against her clit.

I know from experience how sharp the sensation is. But when you are in the state she’s in, it doesn’t matter much.

All you want is more.

Her chest is heaving. I can tell she is tiring out. So can Master.

He has me sit down on the floor as he removes her restraints. Her head rests on the floor next to me.

I run my fingers through her hair. Being worked over and left on edge is a hard lesson.

She will be fine in a little while.

Master rubs her down with a burn cream. We want her to heal.

Her eyes are only half-open, and the fight has left her. She shivers from the cold floor.

Master locks a matching electrical collar around her neck before he picks her up. He moves to the other side of the room. He opens the door to one of the iron cages, lined with wool blankets, and lays her gently inside.

He locks the door.

“Keep her company, pet. She’s ours now.”

Rebuilding After Trauma

May 27, 2021 By Joji Sada 3 Comments

There are many commonalities in the kink community. As hard as it is to admit, many of us have a history of trauma. Though the causes vary, they impact our interactions in BDSM heavily. So we are going to explore what you can do if you need to renegotiate or build a scene after recent trauma.

Trauma is defined as “a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.”

This is a broad definition. We often equate trauma to incidents that result in physical injuries or abuse. But trauma can be anything. Trauma can happen as a result of a death in the family, stress from work or family, near death experiences, abuse, accidents, and mental health imbalances. This is, by no means, a comprehensive list.

For example, due to repeated deaths in my family in a short period of time, and a couple of traumatic experiences from when I was a teenager, I deal with the effects of PTSD. My brain just sort of short circuits at times. On an average day, it does not affect me much because I have learned to cope with it. However, when I delve into play, the closer I get to sub space, the less control I have in my head. Sometimes, that means disassociation. Sometimes it is moments of extreme panic or fear.

Outside of play, and regardless of the control you have over your mental health, your trauma does influence all aspects of your life. It can change the route you take home from work or where you work. It can change how you sleep or whether the light stays on at night. It can affect how you talk and who you talk to.

In kink, and often as a result of trauma, many suffer the effects of PTSD, severe depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, fear of men/women, nightmares/ Night terrors, and more. Some people lose their sense of self and their independence.

Some seek help. Some don’t. Some find relief in a bottle and some in pills. Some never sleep and some only sleep. Some learn to cope, and some don’t. Some move on and some don’t. Some give up and some don’t.

It is an individual experience and recovery.

As mentioned previously, you don’t need to look hard to find a lot of trauma survivors in BDSM and Kink. We all have our own reasons for delving into kink and dealing with our mental health.

Some use kink to reclaim their independence. It allows them to reclaim the moments they felt helpless and take back control. Some use kink for coping.

And, for some, they attempt to keep their trauma and their kink separate.

I do not personally believe the last statement is possible. Even the most careful of individuals can be triggered unintentionally. Because of this, it is important to figure out how to renegotiate and build a scene after trauma, to meet the needs of both yourself and your partner(s).

The steps below are built on the premise that you were involved in kink prior to the traumatic event.

Step 1: Be honest (to yourself and your partner) about your mental and physical state.

As much as we would love to pretend the trauma has never happened, it did. You and your partner need to accept that. You also need to clearly state your current needs. Do not allow yourself or your partner to assume that your wants, needs, and desires are the same as they were prior to the traumatic event.

Step 2: Negotiate with what you can do, not what you can’t

Feeling powerless is common with trauma. You may find yourself hesitant or even fearful of things you consider to be “simple.” There is no shame in doing what is best for you. If you cannot handle hugs any longer, or need someone to ask ahead of doing so, be clear in those expectations. Because there may be so many more things that you cannot do/have done as before, it is important to not lose yourself in what you “cannot do.” Instead of negotiating with your partner about what is off-limits, change the parameters.

“I would like you to do X, but I need you to keep eye contact with me.”

“I would like to feel your weight on me, but without restraint.”

“I need you to use my name when you talk to me. Please speak clearly so I know it is you.”

“I need skin to skin contact and I need you to stay above the waist.”

“I want to be flogged with my shirt on.”

Any of these options are considered green behaviors for this individual. It states what you wish to do and how it needs to be done to minimize triggering.

Step 3: Watch for frenzy. It can happen after long bouts of inactivity, not just to people new to the lifestyle.

Sometimes we remove ourselves from kink all together when trauma occurs. When we feel strong enough to get back into the scene, it is easy to lose yourself into frenzy. The feelings that you had thought forgotten come rushing back, and with it, so does the desire to get back into everything.

Watching for frenzy also means watching for extreme drop. We, as people, like to believe that we will always be able to do everything at the level we currently do it. Maybe, prior to your break, you could take an hour long beating with a cane. Most likely, after that break, you will not be able to. To play safely, it is better to start as though you are new and gauge your tolerance from there. But it can be a blow to both your ego and your self-esteem to “feel less than” we once were. Tolerance can be relearned. Pushing too fast, though, can reignite the trauma responses that required the break in the first place.

Step 4: If needed, write down the negotiation. This way you can review it and revisit it before play, if needed.

I am not suggesting a contract. I am suggesting more of a journaling exercise. Write down where you want to start, your goals, and your reactions to things as they occur.

This includes determining who will be involved in the scene, participating or watching? What will happen? What is your safeword? What are the boundaries? Are the scene boundaries different than your everyday ones? Do you have a panic option if your safeword becomes unuseable?

What happens though if the trauma happens during kink? Or if it happens with your current partner? Does that change how we renegotiate or build a scene?

In my mind, it does.

Trust is paramount in a dynamic. When that trust wavers, it can make kink so much more dangerous. For example, you can lose the comfort and confidence needed to safeword. As much as most Dominants seem like mind-readers, they are not. They need to know their partner will 22speak up when necessary, to prevent hurting the submissive.

Below, I have an altered set of steps to help guide the reestablishment of boundaries and the renegotiation of terms in an existing dynamic.

Step 1: Make sure you are both emotionally recovered enough to discuss logically.

Was the trauma caused by yourself? Your partner? Did it happen during a scene? Was the trauma an accident, miscommunication, or malicious? Is it unrelated?

These are important questions to ask yourself. Trauma that is unrelated may be easier to navigate with a partner than something caused by them. The same goes for the intention behind what happened.

Accidents and miscommunication happen in scenes. My first scene with Master was at a public party as pick-up play. I thought we had negotiated a flogging. Turns out, he was under the impression we negotiated an impact scene that involved floggers. In this instance, it turned out to be a beneficial miscommunication.

Later on, in our relationship, we did impact play at a party and a couple hours later we tried fire play. Turns out, even a light flogging (one that doesn’t leave marks) can weaken the skin enough that fire play can burn (when it otherwise would not). Technically, I was injured because my skin was burned. It was a small crescent shaped mark and for me, was a plausible outcome to the risky stuff we engage in. In this example, neither instance impacted my trust in Master. But, I have seen similar instances that have traumatized submissives and made them very skittish.

Step 2: Read through the current rules, together, and discuss their meaning.

When we first begin in kink, there are often a set of rules that we put in place to set the boundaries of our dynamics. Over time, those can change or evolve.

Due to personal issues with food in my past, one of my rules is that I must eat 3 times a day (or six tiny meals to help with my diabetes). When my dad died last year, I couldn’t bring myself to eat through my grief. But I had to, because it was a rule. I essentially made myself extremely sick. So, I had to reach out to Master and ask for an amendment. The rule adjusted to eating 2 times per day and I could use a meal replacement shake if needed.

We were not discarding everything that we had set forth, but we were adjusting them as needed to make sure I was ok.

Step 3: Recognize if any of the current rules contributed to the trauma.

**The rules I use as an example below are just rules that I have had mentioned to me by other submissives that have encountered issues. I have a personal belief that as long as rules are consensual, then they can be anything the Dominant and the submissive wish**

Some rules can add to the negative headspace left by trauma. For example, some dynamics have a rule that issues will be discussed once a month during a free chat. This could lead a submissive to believe they cannot speak up when needed.

Another example is a rule that does not allow safewording during a punishment. Is this something that foster’s fear in the submissive? Can this lead to triggering during a punishment without recourse to remove themself from the situation?

Step 4: Remove or adjust any rule that has impacted either the D-type or s-type’s state of mind.

Step 5: Keep the number of rules manageable. Trauma impacts the mental and physical states. If you are still recovering, having too many rules can make you feel like a failure and having too few can maximize your feelings of not being wanted or useful.

Step 6: Make a plan to maintain the healthy mindset. Whether this is through therapy, medication, maintenance discipline, etc. Recovering from trauma is fluid. It does not just stop and get cured.

Ultimately, you are stronger than your trauma. No one will know your reactions better than you. There is no right or wrong answer in your decisions, kink related or not. Your kink goes at the speed that you determine is best. Never let anyone try to force you to change.

Lastly, as cruel as it sounds, your trauma is your trauma. Just as you have the right to play at your discretion and pace, others have the right to choose not to play with you. This is not a reflection on either person’s character. Some people are not willing or able to deal with the aftereffects of trauma. This is their right.

When you vet a new partner, or renegotiate with an old partner, Be honest, clear in your expectations, and open about your mental health.

My name is Joji. I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42. I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling. I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay. I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning. I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan. I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education). It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement. We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Erotica: The Laughter Of Kink

May 27, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

sexy male Dom with crop — via stock.adobe.com

I asked what you wanted, as I have many times before. Usually, you will tell me you are unsure, and decide in the moment what will please you. This time you had an answer.

“I want to hear you laugh.”

I was taken aback. Have I been so depressed that you are unable to see something so simple? Has it become so rare you feel the need to request it? I am disheartened to think I have stopped giving you such a small thing.

I shake my head of my thoughts and look at you. “You want me to laugh?”

“Yes. It makes me happy to hear you laugh.”

It has been a long time since I was at a loss for words. I do not know where to even begin to make this happen. If it were so easy, I probably would have done so already. It will be a challenge Sir. But I am sure I can accommodate your request.

I am nervous Sir. I have been so unsure of what you have planned. I am so afraid of disappointing you. This is the first time you have told me what you plan to do. I always thought that doing so would take away the anticipation. It did not.

You have decided on tickle torture.

I am convinced of two things. I am probably going to piss myself. And I am probably going to die. Ok, that is a little dramatic, even for me. But I cannot help it.

I am standing before you, completely exposed. I am trying to be patient. Methodically, you are wrapping rope around me. My arms are folded behind me, each hand clasping an opposite forearm. My eyes are closed, and I am trying to relax my breathing.

Ropes have never been a limit. We just do not use them. I have discovered that my patience is minimal when it comes to this kind of prep work.

Your hands are soft as you move the rope around me. Ever so slowly, it tightens into place. Finally, I hear you chuckle. I am curious at what has amused you. My eyes pop open just in time to catch the camera flash.

My head dropped down to hide my blush. No matter how depraved we get, I never cease to feel so shy when your attention is focused on me.

“Head up sweetie.”

I complied.

Your hands are tugging at different spots. I am sure you are making sure that nothing will damage me.

“How does that feel?”

“Good, Master. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We are just getting started.”

There is that feeling again. The nervous anticipation.

Your fingers are running through my hair. It is so long now. You seem to have such a fascination with it. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I kneel. As I settle, I feel a brush run through my hair. I stay silent, enjoying the feeling. You have never done this before.

I try to stamp down the little voice inside my head that tells me that you are dissatisfied with me for leaving my hair down. I normally pull it back, but I thought you might enjoy the change. Was I wrong, Sir? Should I not have deviated from my normal routine?

I try not to let my inner thoughts ruin what you are doing. I have to remember to breathe. It does not matter the why. It only matters what pleases you.

After several long moments, I feel you pull my hair back and wrap it into a ponytail. Then I felt the telltale pull of braiding. I have not had someone braid my hair in years. It is odd how much I am enjoying this.

Of course, I am not blind to the fact that the nicer you are now, the rougher you will be later.

I am sure I make quite the picture, Sir. The white ropes are stark as they crisscross over my skin. My shoulder muscles are taunt from trying to free my hands. My hair hangs in a braid down my back. And the beautiful cherry on top, is my jaw wrenched open by a red ball gag. I can feel the amount of drool sliding down the sides of my mouth.

Do I glisten Sir? Are you enjoying the mess you have turned me into before we have even started?

You do not have to answer Sir. I can see the glint in your eye. You are enjoying this.

At least you were kind enough to use the gag with holes through it. Maybe I will still be breathing at the end of this.

The first shove took me off guard. I have been standing here, just waiting for instructions, and you have not said a word. You just stared at me. Do you know how unnerving that is or how much it makes me want to squirm?

But I know better. I waited, as still as possible, for your instruction.

Suddenly, I felt your hand in the middle of my back and I was forcefully shoved. My body hits the bed and it takes the wind out of me for a second. I try to get my knees under me to adjust myself, but you are not letting up.

The game has begun.

I feel several rough smacks from your hand every time I try to shift up. There is no warm-up today. Finally, taking far longer than it should have for me to understand, I stop trying to get my knees under me. All I am doing is giving you a target.

I start rotating my body so that I can flip onto my side. You start tickling my feet. I cannot help but laugh. It sounds awfully breathy through the gag. I hate being tickled. Did I mention that Sir? I despise it. But above all, I despise anyone tickling my feet. They are so sensitive that it often hurts.

My brain is fighting over the rules. I am not supposed to move when you tickle me. Because you enjoy watching me struggle. Yet, my reflex is to kick at you.

I curl my knees up, trying to keep my feet still but move from your reach. It is a fruitless endeavor. You simply move closer. My body is twisting, I have lost the battle to stay still. I am laughing. I turn to look at you. Your face is filled with Sadistic glee.

In that second, I know exactly why I agreed to this.

I cannot take it anymore. My legs are kicking at you. This just seems to amuse you more. I roll onto my back so I can use my feet to push me up the bed, trying to escape. You expected the move. Your hands wrap around my ankles and tug. My ass is at the edge of the bed. You move over me and straddle my hips. As you meet my eyes, your fingers move to my sides and start tickling me relentlessly.

I toss my head side to side. Your thighs tighten on my hips. I am pinned. I will be at your mercy until you decide otherwise.

It hurts but I cannot stop laughing. My brow is matted with sweat. This is one hell of a workout.

I feel one of your hands move up my stomach and grab roughly at my boob. Your fingers pinch my nipples tightly and you tug upward. You are just holding it. Every time I try to twist from the tickling. You gave me a slight reprieve from the tickling but now both my nipples are under your sadistic hands.

Your thumb and pointer fingers hold tight to my nipples. You seem to enjoy pinching right where my piercings lay. It hurts so much more, especially when you roll them until your nails are dig into the tender flesh.

You smirk down at me when I hiss in pain. Without a word, you lean down and take my nipple between your teeth and tug harshly. I should probably specify that the strangled noise you heard was, in fact, a gasp. A gasp, I repeated, as you spent a few minutes alternating between each of my nipples.

They are so tender Sir. They will be for days. But you know that. You know my work clothes will press upon the tortured flesh and I will be distracted by the memories it conjures.

You let go suddenly and lean back. Your body weight presses down on my thighs and my stomach heaves in exhaustion. You are looking down at me. Your eyes boring into mine. My face is flush. I can feel it. My jaw aches as I pant through the gag.

I’ve never seen you so energetic during play. You have a glow about you. It makes me happy.

I can feel myself slipping Sir. I can see the static starting to form around you. The blood is rushing loudly through my ears, making it difficult to hear. I am quickly sinking into subspace, Sir.

I am positive you see it.

Your hand wraps in the front harness of ropes and pulls my upper body close to you. My eyes feel blown open as I try to meet your eyes. It is so difficult to make eye contact Sir. I am losing focus.

You let go and I drop back to the bed. My head bounces. I am saddened by the loss of pressure.

Suddenly, your hand is wrapped back in the ropes as you spin my body around. I will never understand how you can move me as though I am weightless.

My feet are on the wall and my legs are bent. My head rests in the middle of the bed and I am staring up at the ceiling. I laugh when you wrap my braid around your hands. I understand now.

I needed a handle.

I push against the wall, trying to alleviate the tugging on my head as I am pulled to the edge of the bed. As my head comes to rest, hanging off the bed, I see you crouch down. I feel you undoing the buckle of the gag. Your fingers slide around my cheeks, towards my lips, and you gently pry the gag from between my teeth.

The first thing I did was swallow. I am sticky with sweat and saliva, but I unable to move to wipe it away. As you stand, I move to lift my head, but you prevent it by stepping forward. Your jeans press against my face.

I can smell your arousal Sir. It excites me.

Like the good girl I am, I open wide and stick out my tongue.

Have I been good enough to get a reward Sir? Will I get to taste you?

You stand there for a few minutes. I feel restless. I rub my face against your jeans. Please, Sir. Please may I please you?

I keep still and quiet. You do not like to feel rushed. I am here for your pleasure, not the other way around.

Then I hear it.

Your zipper slides down and the button is tugged from its home. Teasingly, you take your time pulling out your cock. I have no choice but to wait patiently. I am not in a position to initiate anything and you know it.

You put the tip to my lips. I stick my tongue out and work my piercing around the head. I push the tip of my tongue slightly against your slit, moving it up and down for a few strokes before I return to circling the head.

I must have teased you a little too much.

Without warning, your length is down my throat, passed my gag reflex. My throat is spasming around you as I gag. I am struggling to breath. My nose is buried in your balls and your scent is all around me, but I cannot draw breath.

I start struggling. My feet flatten on the bed and I lift my hips. My lower half is twisting, trying to tell you I need to breathe.

You wait a few seconds more.

Then you pull back. I draw breath just before you thrust in again. Over and over, I struggle to breathe as you alternate your rhythm. Sometimes you fuck my mouth without mercy. Then you will bury yourself deep and wait until my body twists and turns in panic before pulling back.

It starts to get fuzzy around here Sir. I remember your hand wrapping around my throat as you push your length slowly back in. You do not go far enough to trigger my gag reflex. My chest is heaving, drawing small, short pockets of air around your cock.

I feel as though I am suffocating but you always leave me enough room to draw breath.

When your hand leaves my neck, I feel you pull yourself from my mouth. My eyes are struggling to stay open.

As they slide closed, my body exhausted, I feel you finish on my face. I can feel it across my forehead and my eyes. There is even a bit sliding down my cheek.

I feel relaxed now Sir. My breathing is slowing, and everything is quiet.

I feel your finger tap twice on my lips. I open obediently. You wipe the last of your cum across my tongue.

I must have missed you speaking. It is rare you resort to hand signals.

It is so quiet.

Where are you, Sir?

My body is freezing now. All the hairs are standing on end and I am shivering.

Your hands are like fire as they caress my skin.

I both love and hate this. I want to curl into you Sir. Yet, I have to wait as you remove the ropes. I know you are being cautious, so I do not get burned, but I just want you to hold me.

Once free, my body just drops. I do not even have the strength to even lift my head.

I jump slightly when I feel a warm cloth on my face. You are cleaning me up.

It saddens me to have my face cleaned but I appreciate you taking care of me, Sir.

Even with my eyes closed, I know you are talking to me. I cannot hear you. But that is normal.

I hope my laughter has pleased you, Sir.

As soon as my senses dull, and I come back to you, I will be sure to thank you properly.

With three kisses to each boot and my forehead to the floor.

An Inside Look At Pet Play

March 13, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

latex, kitten, bdsm play — via stock.adobe.com

It has been nearly two years since the first time Master called me Pig.

We were sitting in a Leather class at a local convention and the Leatherman teaching the class introduced both himself and his wife/slave (who could not attend for health reasons). He explained that she was his girl and she identified as a Pig.

Naturally, someone asked why.

His answer still rings in my ears today. “Because she squeals when I hit her.” He laughed. He said that was their favorite response to the question. I do not remember most of his definition of why she identified as a pig. I remember key words. Tenacity. Durability. Loyalty.

Master did not hesitate in leaning over and whispering in my ear that it sounded like me. In an instant, I was blushing, and I hid my face in his shoulder, shaking my head slightly. I was embarrassed.

Each time he brought it up that weekend, I adamantly refused him.

When I finally accepted his new name for me, I corrected him. I am not a pig. I will never be a pig. But I would happily, and bashfully, be his piggie.

There are two defining reasons for this distinction.

Growing up, my Great Graa and Graa (short for grandmother) were my best friends. For the first eight years of my life, I spent more time with them than my parents. They referred to our trio as the “Pig Women.” While I was never told why Great Graa gave us that nickname, it is still something I hold dear. It is also something I choose to keep separate from the darker side of my kink journey.

The second are my own experiences growing up.

I am not a traditional beauty. I have, only in recent years, come to accept that I am beautiful in my own way. I have never been desired by anyone who did not use me for their own gain. I was bullied, lied to, manipulated, used, and abused by those I had chosen to trust as friends. I have spent my life overweight. I have struggled through eating disorders, self- harm, and mental disorders. I have continually shied away from anything that negatively related to any of those struggles. For me, the term Pig has ugly connotations that refer to my weight struggles and my non-traditional looks. It is a time of my life I am not eager to relive.

Throughout my journey in kink, I have discovered strengths in myself that I never thought possible. I found I could take heavy impact play. In fact, I craved it. I adopted the term masochist to define my love and craving for such rough play.

I reveled in making people cringe when they watched us play.

But it wasn’t until Master introduced me to humiliation and degradation play that I found my place.

Where I could take a beating quietly, and I could banter back to tease him, humiliation would reduce me to tears in a matter of minutes. The first time we delved into it as the main part of play, He thought he broke me. The scene lasted about ten minutes. The aftercare took more than a half hour.

The end of that scene found me kneeling, unable to speak, tears rolling down my cheeks, and unaware of anything around me, including the presence of Master.

I have never felt more liberated than I had after that. My demons felt less oppressive and my mood was lighter.

From that point, we have pushed against all of my perceived boundaries. We use my fears to amplify the intensity of a scene. We take my insecurities, and he criticizes me for them in play. He has taught me that when I kiss his boots to end said scene, the insecurities stay there. By adding them to play, they plague me less in my everyday life.

I have found a deep love of foot and boot worship. I find it relaxing and arousing, and absolutely humiliating. Worship has the flexibility to allow me to play sensually just as easily as I play rough. For example, kissing his boots to end a scene is comforting. It allows me to reconnect with Master. Removing his boots after a long day of work reminds me of my place. Polishing his boots allows me to care for him and show my pride in my service. Yet, licking the dirt from his boots as he degrades my skills, both arouses and breaks me. It makes me try harder, push more, and lose myself in our play.

What I find most ironic, is that I can explain the humiliation I have willingly suffered, but the idea of expressing what piggie means to me, has left me struggling to put the thoughts to paper.

So, let me start back at the beginning.

As I said, I was embarrassed. But I was also confused.

I am not, nor will I ever be, a pet.

Master is not, nor will he ever be, a handler or an owner.

So, how then, could I be a pig and yet not be a pet?

Pet play is when someone roleplays as a domesticated animal.

I do not find this definition to be all encompassing, just based on the pets I do know. For them, pet play is also a headspace. This is where they often take on the characteristics of the animals they relate to. For example, the kittens tend to enjoy curling up, purring, being petted, meowing, etc. They may have their ability to talk restricted since “animals do not speak English.” Some enjoy being placed on a leash and playing with toys.

The first time I was introduced to pet play, it involved Pony Play. Specifically, it involved “Show Ponies.” Then I was introduced to Puppies. Then Kittens. At this point, I have met foxes, bunnies, and even a lizard. You truly can be whatever you wish to be.

**For reference, I was introduced through friends. I did not partake in the activities myself.

Most often, Pet Play varies from animal to animal.

Let’s look at the most common animals: Ponies, Puppies, and Kittens.

Ponies, for example, tend to work on their walks (such as cantering). But even this varies. Some ponies are trained to pull carts. Sometimes their trainer rides the carts and sometimes it is for labor purposes. Ponies are one animal that undergo more formal training than other animals.

For example, when leading a pony, a trainer should stand on the left of them, with a 12-18in gap of lead between them, to lead the pony. This is similar to the etiquette of leading a bio-horse. Keeping the lead slack if the pony is behaving and tightening it when they disobey. A sharp tug can stop an errant pet in their tracks.

If you are teaching them “tying,” the process reflects teaching a puppy to stay. A ground tie simply means your pony has reigns and/or lead on but is able to remain standing at a point you have left them without requiring them to be tied to a post so they do not wander off.

It starts with a proper stance. The pony should stand squarely, his weight distributed evenly on both legs. His front hooves and fore hooves should be hanging straight down. His head should be held up, his back should be straight, and he should remain looking ahead of him. Once he has mastered the stance, the trainer will slowly work on teaching them to stay. Depending on the pony, this can be a lengthy process. Positive reinforcement is the recommended way to train but a good swat on the ass if they aren’t listening never went awry. You may wander a few feet after telling them to stay. If they do as you have instructed, you should move back to them and then reward them. You can give them a treat, pet them, and/or tell them what a “good boy” they are. If they have disobeyed, pick your poison for correction. It could be a tug on the reigns, a verbal reprimand, or a swat to the ass. Repeat this process, moving a little further each time, until they have demonstrated their understanding of the command.

The Ground tie training helps with the next step of training. Ponies are expected to be able to stand still for longer periods of time (i.e. more than fifteen minutes). Fidgeting, pulling, or pawing is considered undesirable. A pony should be able to sink into their identity and hold themselves with calm confidence. The best I can describe it as is a deep meditative state.

Pony training is a long process that requires a deep love and dedication to your desired role.

Puppies tend to be very enthusiastic, play fetch, and tend to be social. I have had a little more interaction with puppies than I have ponies. They are my personal favorites. I find the happy energy that puppies exude to be contagious and I find there to be a little more freedom in their interactions with outsiders. I am also a sucker for a cute puppy and do so love to pet them (with their and their owner’s consent).

Puppy play is often a direct reflection of what a bio-dog likes. Most puppies enjoy playing fetch. They enjoy tug of war and catch. They love being petted, belly rubs, and, of course, treats. I find puppies to be exceedingly loyal as well.

They can be trained with commands through the use of German words (as Service dogs are trained), sign language or hand signals, or through the native language of the pup.

Puppy play varies from person to person. It depends on what they enjoy, disabilities the pup may have, opportunity to play, and so forth.

Kittens are far more introverted and tend to be calmer. In our local community, we have eight people who identify as kittens. The leading theme is that they also identify as littles and brats. While these identities are not mutually exclusive, in my experience, they often intermingle. From what I have been told, the mindsets are similar.

I find that kittens and puppies also tend to have behavior corrected with BDSM-related discipline.

Let’s break this down a little bit further:

The wider umbrella term of this kink is called “Animal Play.” The definition is the same as Pet play, but it tends to refer to non-domesticated animals. Cows and Pigs fall under this type of play.

A furry fetish refers to an interest in animals with human-like tendencies and features. Indulging in this fetish might involve drawing these characters, wishing to become them, or interacting with other furries in online communities.

Although often mistaken as such, Primal play is not inherently animal play. It revolves around getting in touch with your baser, and more animalistic, instincts. While I have met some who relate to animals, such as wolves, it is more about power than being an animal.

Each of these sub-categories can include sexual aspects. It is purely up to the negotiations and consent of those involved on whether sex is included or not.

Then there is Piggie.

Piggie is born of humiliation.

I talk about her as though she is a separate being. Because, in my mind, she is.

Piggie has her own headspace. It isn’t animalistic to me. It is a quiet headspace. It makes it difficult for me to speak with words and I am often reduced to a low whining sound, from the back of my throat. I find that the boundaries of my limits blur so heavily, I struggle to remember that they exist. While Piggie prefers to crawl, there is no limit to standing or sitting.

When we started this, Master only called me it occasionally in an effort to embarrass me. He said my reaction was cute when he brought it up. This was not limited to in-person teasing. He would often tease me through text as well, and it was no less impactful.

Then it showed up in a scene.

It is hard to remember exactly how it happened. But sometime during our play, he referred to me as his piggie.

Later on, I asked him why. He wasn’t sure. He said it felt right in the moment. Slowly, over that next year, the name would appear more and more.

I asked again.

He said it was because I am always “down to get dirty.” When I asked for clarification, he said that I had little inhibitions when it came to play. Whatever he wanted to try, no matter how humiliating or ‘dirty,’ I would whole-heartedly explore.

I considered it a compliment at that point.

Then came the oink.

During one of our scenes, maybe 9 months ago, he ordered me to oink for him. For those of you who read my stories, you can imagine what happened. I stared him down, in complete silence, and I pursed my lips. I silently refused to oblige him.

So, he pushed me. He put my body through impact that was meant to break my resolve. Without a word, I knew that I was either going to oink or safeword by the end of that scene. I just had to figure out which option I was taking.

Over time, “oink” has become a safeword on its own, at least to me. We have scenes now that do not end until I utter that word. While it has never actually replaced my safeword, I know that when I have to choose between “oink” or “Red”, I will always utter “oink.”

**It is important that I specify that we have never negotiated oink as a safeword. The feeling of it is solely based around how I feel in the moment. Making me oink is a form of humiliation, especially because I struggle so hard against it. As with anything, there are exceptions to the rule. We have continued play after I utter the word. He has had me utter it over and over and over again, just to see me curl in on myself in embarrassment.

I have discovered that pushing myself to the point of oinking fucks with my head. It strips me of my humanity. It reinforces my natural reactions in subspace.

I am one who gets exceedingly quiet during play. The further I get into subspace, the worse it gets. It has been an on-going process to learn to answer Master verbally, in and out of play. But, once I move into service mode, I stay quiet. By the time I hit subspace, I lose the ability to speak at all. It is as though I have forgotten how. I stop understanding English. I forget my own name. I lose the ability to safeword at all.

Master says I become catatonic.

Except, I can still be of service. I can continue to function on autopilot and meet Master’s needs, but I cannot do it independently and of sound mind. There have been many times that he has had to call the scene when I hit that point. My trust in his ability to take care of me is infallible. That is what allows us to explore such extreme mind fuckery without fear of permanent repercussions.

I explored pet play because that’s where everything leads. When you look up “pig” or “piggie,” you either end up with pet play or food play as a result. Neither of these fits what I am.

So, now I get to ask you the same questions I asked myself.

How can I be a piggie, if I am not a pet?

The answer is easier to express now. It is because being a piggie is simply who I am. The attributes I have given her are a part of me.

I do not need to take on the roles of the animal itself.

I do not need gear (though we are exploring the absolute humiliation that occurs when I shake my 8-inch springy tail). My talking is never restricted, nor is my ability to walk.

Being Piggie is not a headspace that I must achieve.

Piggie just is.

She thrives in my humiliation the degradation of my everyday self. She sets out to please, by any means necessary. She has little in the way of reservations and finds pleasure in watching my inhibitions disappear.

Piggie is born from a desire to be humiliated and degraded by Master. Piggie is…Me.

Joji Sada

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