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Taking Impact Beyond 101

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One of the photographs of the human body with colors blocked out all over it has been making the rounds among my local community again.  It suggests that it can specify safe zones for impact.

While a couple of assumptions must be made to make those charts accurate, such as assuming first a lightweight flogger is the only impact implement being used, as well as assuming every body responds the same way to that stimuli, I get that all of the people who have made them probably have the noble intentions of educating newcomers.  Unfortunately for their good intentions, I strongly disagree with the concept of a chart on principle.

For starters, let’s just talk about a body part I universally saw as “green,” or totally safe for impact, on the many charts Google fetched me:  the forearm.  Sure, it’s a “green” zone if we’re talking lightweight flogger, but what if we up the weight of that flogger to around four pounds and make it out of bullhide?  Are you still as comfortable calling that a definite “green” zone?  What if we stop assuming floggers at all and swap out for a bat?  After all, those charts just specify impact safe zones, not the tool being used.  We still good to go for an impact session with a bat on a forearm?

Immediately, we all see the weaknesses of trying to set a universal standard of what is okay for a given implement without taking the time to learn it specifically.  Instead of trying to create a chart for everything, I’d much rather see us treat impact with the seriousness it deserves, as it can absolutely be edge play.

Start with questions.

What are the characteristics of my particular tool?  Does it have heft or is it light?  Is it rigid or flexible?  A very lightweight and flexible tool, such as a small flogger, is unlikely to be problematic for use as you explore a body with it.  Moving up from the buttocks and thighs, other than kidneys and face, there aren’t many places that will be off limits, particularly when using it lightly.  In contrast, even a small rigid tool, such as a mallet-type implement, could be dangerous if used on the spinal column, over the shoulder blades, or on other areas where bones connect or are closer to the surface:  knees, elbows, shoulder blades, even hipbones.  

If it wraps a torso, leg, or other body part, will it speed up and create a secondary impact point of greater intensity? Anything with flex has the potential to create a “wrapping” effect as it turns a corner around the body.  The speed of the implement is greatly impacted by that motion.  Some people stand on a principle that one should never wrap when using such implements.  Other Sadists I know use that technique to make sure they get some chest or breast hits in even if working from behind.  It is definitely a more advanced skill, and one that should be practiced on a pillow or other target prior to attempting it on a partner.

Is my tool going to spread the impact over a larger area, or will it be concentrated on a focused point?  Concentrated impact is often going to result in stingy sensation.  Whips, canes, and dragon tails are excellent examples of those types of implements.  In contrast, a large padded bat is going to spread out that force.  The larger the area of impact is, the less precision there can truly be.  You are going to hit across a larger area simply due to the nature of the object.  If you are impacting a spot the size of a dime, you’re going to have an easier time making sure you focus on specific spots.  Make sure to evaluate each one for its potential to damage if used on the ass, the thighs, or the upper shoulders individually.  Two similar bats can be constructed differently, create different impact, and thus need different considerations during use.

There is no “one way fits all” in kink.  Impact is no different than the larger framework.  We have to find tools which work for us, and in doing so, we have to make analytical decisions about what will be safe to attempt when using those tools.  Please discuss all risks with your partners prior to beginning, and know that mistakes can happen regardless of being informed about risk.  Please communicate and be conscious of limits with each person you may try impact with. Safety is imperative.

Temperature Play vs. Chemical Play

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More than once, I have talked about definitions.  I have learned over the years that compatible definitions prevent miscommunication.  

It wasn’t until recently that I came to understand my definition of temperature play was not the same as the broader community.  To me, temperature play is any type of play that brings intentional hot or cold sensation to the skin.  In my experiences with temperature play, I have had wax, ice, anbesol, capsaicin cream, and icy hot used.  

For perspective, I need to express how sensitive my skin is.  I have three conditions that affect me the most.  

Cold Urticaria is an allergy to cold.  It causes intense itchiness, hives, and swelling of the skin that was exposed.  A cold glass (such as a drink with ice in it) can cause my hands to swell if held for more than 2 or 3 minutes.

Cholinergic Urticaria is an allergy to heat.  It causes intense itchiness and hives.  I rarely swell from the heat, but it happens occasionally.  I wear driving gloves in the summer to allow me to touch my steering wheel to drive to work.  A hot cup of cocoa or a hot plate of dinner are often too much to touch my bare skin.

Dermatographia (Skin writing disease) is a sensitivity of the skin that causes any kind of surface scratch (meaning no skin is broken) to turn into welts or hives.  Something as simple as nails across my skin can welt for a couple of hours and look like I was in a fight.

All three of these are treated with antihistamines like Benadryl.  I am allergic to those.

As I am sure you can imagine, my kink looks different than yours.  I know which sensations affect me more than others and Master will decide how we play depending on the condition of my body at the time.  Ice is the hardest for me to play with.  So, we do not often use it.  Cold is the second hardest since it takes me hours to warm back up.  We play with that more often (such as having the playroom cooled with a fan or AC).  It tends to intensify the sensations of impact without cold implements touching my skin.  

Now that I have expressed how sensitive my skin is, let me explain that I am allergic to most chemicals.  I have a specific body soap, shampoo, and laundry detergent I can use.  I often break into hives just by touching everyday objects that have minimal residue from other people.  

If you can hear the frustrations of testing the waters of temperature play over the years, then I am sure you are snickering at my misfortune.  Now, we simply shrug off the physical representations (like hives) and Master pays more attention to my body language and verbal communication.

Whew.

That was a lot of physical limitations to cover, wasn’t it?  Are you wondering how I function?  Don’t worry, some days I do too.

Master and I enjoy pushing ourselves.  Which, in turn, means people believe we play risky.  If you watch us scene, I often finish with excessive welting.  I refuse to allow my skin to prevent my ability to explore different types of play.

So, back to where this conversation started.

Temperature play.

Since my skin has such unique reactions to everyday items, I have always counted temperature play as anything that affects my skin.  Things like icy hot, which burn me, fall under “hot” sensations.  Things like anbesol, which can turn your nerve endings to ice when combines with a fan, fall under “cold” sensations.

I got into a debate with someone about my definitions.  “Because,” they said, “you are advocating for chemical play, not temperature play.”

Well, I had honestly never thought about it.  

But I had to ask myself one major question, “does definition matter?”

Between Master and I, this new categorization did not matter.  Why?  Because He and I are aware of my medical issues, and we adjust accordingly.  I am physically affected by both chemical and natural compounds.  So, what we call it isn’t that important as long as we play safely.

However, my definition does matter in regard to the education I provide to the local community. Temperature play and chemical play has different safety measures that should be considered.  

So, I am going to share with you some of the differences I have learned.

Firstly, both types of play fall under an umbrella term: Sensation Play.

Sensation play is basically any type of play that is intentionally meant to push the sensory limits of an individual.  This can include soft touches (like feathers), hot and cold sensations (such as the use of fire, ice, or wax), sharp touches (like pinwheels or needles), varying textures (like sandpaper), or the removal of one sensation to enhance other sensations (such as blindfolds or noise cancelling headphones).

If we are being honest, I would say 75% of play can fall under this umbrella.  So, the key is that Sensation Play is about intent.

Then we have Temperature and Chemical play.

Temperature play is the use of naturally occurring items (like ice) that cause the body temperature to rise or fall.  This can be an entire body experience (such as playing outside in inclement weather) or localized to singular spots on the body.

It has been specified to me, by a couple of people, that I am no longer allowed to consider urine/water sports as temperature play.  It, apparently, requires its own negotiation and classification.

It is generally expected that the temperature changes need to happen on bare skin, but I am not opposed to the idea that playing naked in 20-degree weather or playing fully dressed in a sweat suit in the summer, falls under this category.

**Please beware of the hazards of heat stroke and/or hypothermia if attempting the aforementioned ideas**

For the following discussion, please understand that I do not advocate the attempt of this type of play, nor do I advocate the use of any of the chemicals listed, on anyone beyond myself. I use the acronym P.R.I.C.K (Personal Risk, Informed Consensual Kink).  You are all adults.  What you do with your partner and/or with your body is your responsibility.

Chemical Play is the use of chemicals to produce a specific reaction or sensation on the body.  The most common items are tabasco, icy hot, rubbing alcohol, peppermint/spearmint, and ginger.

The most fascinating aspect, to me, is that many of these items fall under more than one type of play.  

  • Rubbing alcohol, for example, can be lit (by either a source of fire or electricity) and now you may be taking part in fire and/or electrical play.  
  • Ginger oil would fall under chemical play due to its reactions with the excretions of the body.  But ginger root, which causes similar reactions, falls under food play.
  • Tabasco creates a similar burning that icy hot does.  However, because it is edible, it also falls under food play.
  • Peppermint/Spearmint can cause cooling, burning, or numbing sensations.  They can increase sensitivity in the mouth and genitals.  The sensation can come from chemical sources (such as mouthwash), natural food items (such as mints, gum, candy), or artificial chemical means (such as anbesol—which does not taste like peppermint but creates the same sensations).
  • By definition, wax is also a type of chemical play.  However, it is generally considered its own entity.

*Regardless of the type of chemical play you may decide to play in, I recommend testing your reaction on a small, generally non-sensitive patch of skin first.  The forearm or leg are a great place to start…before deciding to use it as lube.

Whether you want to delve into temperature play, chemical play, or any other type of play that crosses over, the most important advice I can give is to know your partner.  Beyond their limits, know their reactions.

Master and I are aware that many of the items we use will cause a reaction on my skin.  Hives are something that we most often just brush aside.  He knows to look for a reaction like dizziness or excessive lethargy to signify a more substantial reaction that may need medical intervention.

However, if anyone else is on his table, and he sees hives or welts (beyond the expected results of the type of play), he will call the scene and move into aftercare/medical mode.  

It is always important to include allergies when you negotiate.  As I mentioned above, hives are often treated with medications like Benadryl.  Benadryl, if given to me, causes seizures. I would rather deal with the hives and the itchiness than the seizures.  

My restrictions make me extremely cautious regarding pick-up play.  My style of negotiation (blanket consent) does not give me the personal freedom of experimenting with anyone outside of Master (or anyone Master chooses). These are my choices.

But, that does not mean you cannot experiment.  If you have medical issues, you need to remember a couple important points.

  1. Advocate for yourself.  Do not compromise your health.  Know your allergies, your reactions, your cures.  
  2. Medications taken and allergies (to medication or otherwise) should always be disclosed to your partner.
  3. Keep your emergency contact information within reach.  On the off chance that you become non-responsive, your play partner should know who to contact, whether 911 is necessary or not.
  4. Respect the preferences of your potential partner.  If they do not feel comfortable having a scene with someone with medical restrictions, respect that.  Patience is difficult, but your safety is worth it.
  5. Allow yourself to work within your limits for pick-up play.  I recommend pushing limits with a more permanent partner or one intimately familiar with your restrictions.

And, above all, know your partner’s definitions.

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.

Showing Appreciation in BDSM And Power Exchange Dynamics

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I hope you have been enjoying Rika’s Lair, my monthly column dedicated to thoughts and experiences  regarding power dynamics in Service-Oriented D/s relationships. Look up “Ms. Rika” in the search box  for links to all my articles in KinkWeekly! 

Gratitude: We recognize and enjoy what our partners do for us. We are humble in our receipt of their  efforts. We want to express our appreciation to them in a way that expresses our deepest gratitude.  Dominant or submissive, when our partners are gracious with their time and focus, we are compelled to  show our gratitude. I am always grateful for the dedication and commitment my subs provide. I am  open and honest regarding what their submission means to me as a means of validating their efforts. 

But too often, appreciation is shown in a way that is intended to modify behavior. The difference  between “Appreciation” and “Reward” is blurred. Appreciation shows gratitude…Reward is manipulation. 

I was having an online discussion the other day with a man whose wife had just agreed to lock him up  for the month of October (Loctober). He was expressing how thrilled he was that his wife had agreed to  put him in chastity and that she had also agreed to tease him throughout the month, so that the impact  of his denial would be maximized. As this decision was something he had asked her for, and, though she  felt she might enjoy it, did not feel it was something that “served her” directly, he recognized she was  providing a gift to him; that she was voluntarily signing up for a sub-centric month that would put  responsibility and obligation on her, for the expressed purpose of piquing his libido. 

He wanted to show his gratitude and had come up with what he considered a good way to communicate  it to her. He decided to do a huge number of tasks, chores, etc. for her during the month and to write  down each and every thing he did in a journal. He felt he would then present it to her at the end of the  month as a means of saying “Thank you”. 

Honestly, I was a little confused. My first instinct was to change the journal from a list of things he did  for her to a journal of thanks – for allowing him to do those things for her. Rather than saying, “I filled  your car with gas today”, I felt it would be better to say, “Thank you for letting me fill your car with gas  today. I enjoyed feeling useful and helping you avoid doing something you dislike”. I felt that this would  be better than just listing things she likely already knew that he did, with no real mention of thanks. 

But then, I started thinking about the whole idea of this journal – and realized that, intentionally or not,  he was anticipating playing the manipulative game so many men who want to be in chastity play: He  was going to try to show her the “Benefits” to her of keeping him in chastity – by being especially good  while locked up, doing things with no resistance that he COULD do for her without the chastity – but  won’t.  

Effectively, this journal would be communicating: “Look at all the things I am willing to do for you when  you keep me desperate and horny!” The message is loud and clear: “If you want me to do these things  without resistance, here’s the way to do it”. It’s a form of manipulation which is, unfortunately, quite  common with men who like chastity play. 

I was very pleased that he was recognizing that being locked up and teased during October was a  treat…something she wanted to give to him, for him. It was good that he recognized her generosity and wanted to show his gratitude. However, the means of showing that gratitude were falling directly into that stereotypical, manipulative trap. 

I posed the question to him: “What are you showing your gratitude for?” My assumption was that he  wanted to show his gratitude for her spending all that time teasing him and thinking about his  situation…keeping his libido piqued, etc. So, I asked him, “Why not say THAT in this journal?” I told him  that it would be better for him to thank her for applying so much focus and attention on him and his  libido. I challenged him to show that appreciation by directly appreciating what she’s doing without  using it to encourage further interaction. 

October is just beginning…his “Loctober” is only a week in…there will be plenty of fun times ahead of  them. If they keep up the schedule of tease that they anticipate, he will be MIGHTY desperate come  Sept 1! I hope she’s aware and ready for the “obligation” of making the release – after such a long ordeal – something worth remembering. We’ll see. 

We’ll also see if he rectifies the manipulation within his journal plan. He states that he didn’t intend to  manipulate her, but can see how doing what he was intending would do that. But the proof is in the  pudding – and if she’s not aware of the potential for manipulation – he may not be able to resist. Only time will tell. 

Appreciation is best shown in a selfless manner. You need to find a way to show gratitude without self gain. Make sure you’re not “Rewarding” behavior – rather, that you’re “Appreciating” it. Then your  partner will have a clear, unencumbered view of the pleasure their gift brings you – and thus, reap the  true benefits – to them – of giving treats. 

Ms. Rika is a lifestyle dominant, educator, and author; living in the suburbs of NYC with her  husband/slave. She has written several popular books on her approach to adding Dominant-Centric,  Service-Oriented D/s to relationships. You can find her books (in both print and eBook formats) at  Lulu.com (http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/msrika), or at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the iStore, Books-A Million, Kobo.com, or anywhere books are sold. Search for “Ms. Rika”. Write to me at  Ms_Rika@hotmail.com

Erotica: Bad Kitty

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***This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are consenting adults. 

I stand before him in just my panties. They’re the little ones with pink ruffles on the edges and a print made of tiny pink hearts and kitties. He’s standing at the foot of the bed. The new frame has arrived and I note the iron bars on the headboard that allow plenty of attachment points for restraints.

He unbuckles his belt and I feel the slick begin to soak my panties. I’m always wet and ready for Daddy. I smile as he sits down on the edge. Daddy feels my energy shift. “Not so fast Babygirl,” he says, folding the belt in his hands and making my heart begin to race. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen Daddy but I think someone has been touching her kitty and making explosions without Daddy’s permission.” I look at my toes, shame heating my cheeks and turning them pink. “Do you know who that little girl might be?”

I look up at Daddy and my eyes begin to brim with tears. “Blaidd,” I whisper, always being honest with Daddy. “I’m sorry Daddy, it’s just been such a long time.”

“I forgive you sweetheart,” Daddy says, “but we need to make this right before you deserve to have Daddy’s cock.” Daddy knows I’ve had the special herbal blend that heightens every sensation in my body. I’ve already begun to tingle when he pats his lap, indicating that I should assume the position. I’m nervous but I don’t fight him this time. I know that I’ve been naughty, and it has been a lot of times.

Daddy peels my panties off gently, and sets the soaked fabric aside. He runs his fingers through my slick as he lays me over one knee on the bed and tosses the other leg over my lower back, pinning me in place. CRACK. The first strike lands on my bottom. It hurts and I whimper. “One,” I count out loud.

Two more strikes land, and while it hurts, the herbs are in full force now and I notice that every touch, every brush of fabric or Daddy against my skin, causes tingles between my legs. Even the belt strikes, which bring pain with every blow, begin to hurt good. “Five,” I count.

Daddy lets me up and I’m surprised. Only five stripes is generous of Daddy given the number of illicit orgasms. “All done Daddy?” I whimper. Daddy smiles and massages my sore bum for a moment, nearly causing me to come. I resist. I’ll be sure to ask permission this time.

“Not quite little one,” he says gently but firmly. “You see, Kitty has also been naughty. She was an active participant in this week’s shenanigans.” I pale just a little as he grabs me around the waist and drags me onto the center of the bed. This time I do squirm and resist as he binds me spread eagled on the bed with a cleverly hidden set of underbed restraints. “It’s only fair baby, you have a very naughty kitty.”

I cry out when the first blow of the belt lands directly on my clit. The strikes are fairly soft but my anticipation amplifies the sensation by a thousand times. The pace begins to increase as I whimper and squirm on the bed, soaking the sheets beneath me. The hardness of the strikes begins to gradually increase, right in time with my pain and arousal.

I call his name out loud now. “Daddy please,” I beg, unsure if I’m pleading for the pain to stop or for it to continue. The blows keep coming down and certainty about what I need fills my mind as I find myself on the precipice of coming. I ask permission this time. “Daddy please. More. I need to explode.”

“Good girl!” he says enthusiastically, increasing both the speed and the intensity of the belt. “Come for Daddy!” His words and the frantic beating of the belt push me past the brink of sanity. as pain and pleasure bleed together and I detonate, convulsing on the mattress.

Daddy frees me and pulls me to my hands and knees. “Now you deserve Daddy’s cock,” he announces before looping his belt around my ribs and slamming into me from behind. I scream silently now as he uses the belt to control my breath while he pounds relentlessly into my tiny, abused kitty.

I gasp as he loosens the belt just enough to let it slide down and retighten around my waist, and using it for leverage then, begins to fuck me with abandon. I claw the sheets and whimper as he snarls behind me and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh between my shoulder and my throat. “Mine,” he growls, words clear despite being uttered around a mouthful of me. He doesn’t release me until he makes his own explosion, filling me with his seed.

We both collapse on the bed, and he pulls me close, catching some of the seeds dripping from between my thighs and pressing his fingers into my mouth. I suck them clean and he kisses me deeply then before wrapping me tightly in his arms. “I missed you,” he says, as I press my forehead to his and run my hands along the sides of his face, memorizing every line and curve. “I missed you too,” I whisper. “With Daddy is where I’m meant to be.”

Sunny Leigh Mayne is writer of romance and erotica specializing in dark romance and fetish/BDSM stories. An active member of the BDSM community, her interests include erotic hypnosis, dollification, sensual BDSM, and primal play. Identifying as pansexual, Sunny enjoys writing stories that are inclusive of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities. Her writings are intended for mature audiences aged 18 and older, and may contain some content triggers that some readers may find disturbing. She is also a visual artist and enjoys creating erotic art using mixed media. A lover of animals, and a proponent of animal rights advocacy, Sunny has several pets at home. Characters in all stories by Sunny Leigh Mayne are adults and any similarities to persons real or fictional are purely coincidental. Her books can be found at https://www.amazon.com/author/sunnyleighmayne

What Happened Last Week

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I hope you have been enjoying Rika’s Lair, my monthly column dedicated to thoughts and experiences  regarding power dynamics in Service-Oriented D/s relationships. Look up “Ms. Rika” in the search box  for links to all my articles in KinkWeekly! 

This week, I decided to share a true story. I often get asked what life is like for my submissive hubby. I’ve  talked about his birthday celebrations in the past…days dedicated to tweaking his fantasies for him. But  the following happened last week, which is kind of normal for us, and I thought I’d write it down in prose form for my readers.  

NOTE: I run the risk of hokey dialog, but I don’t know any other way of depicting what happened. The  exact words might not be these, but they do capture the gist – forgive me if it ends up reading like a  letter to Penthouse: 

I told him to kneel, and he dropped immediately. 

I didn’t find his compliance surprising. It was rather expected; the result of 15 days of edging and denial.  He was surely aching, although he never would complain. But when I “accidentally” allowed my hand to  brush his crotch, his involuntary gasp and sigh gave him away. I could almost see his knees buckle. I  figured I might as well help him out. 

I knew he was almost at the point of losing reason. I was stretching his self-control – testing his will to  remain obedient. Desperation is a regular state of mind for him, so I knew his resolve would win out.  Still, this was the perfect time to tighten the noose, so he was going to need to experience how well I  understood the condition I was cultivating in him.  

To increase desperation, make the sub talk.  

“Tell me what you want”, I looked down at him and he averted my gaze. I put my index finger under his  chin and lifted his face so I could stare deeply into his eyes. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear it from you”. 

“I’d like to please you. Make you scream.”, he said. “Make you scream” is our “lingo” for oral sex. I knew  that he was being “good” and making it about me – and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. 

“Is that all?” 

“No Goddess. I’d also like to come…please” he closed his eyes. 

“Please? Are you begging me?  

“Yes, Goddess. Please” 

I laughed a bit and played it up: “Do you call that begging? I don’t think you’re serious enough. Maybe  you haven’t gone long enough. Maybe a couple of more weeks?” I knew he was truly desperate and that  his brain was clearly unable to fathom reason. What a perfect time to make him panic! 

“No please…please. I beg of you. I beg you to please let me come. I can’t take any more of this…I mean, I  will if you want me to, but please don’t want me to!”

I turned sideways in front of him and lifted the bottom of my blouse from my pants. I watched as his  eyes sunk into my backside, loving the sleek look of my leathers. I swear I saw him tremble. 

“Kiss my ass while you beg. Maybe I’ll do what you ask!” – I actually do sometimes give him what he  wants, so it wasn’t an empty possibility. 

He fell into my body immediately. I felt his hands grab my hips and pull his face close to my ass. Then I  felt desperate kisses, creating tiny circles on my ass cheeks, moving around until finally his face buried  itself into the crack of my ass, pressing against the material of my pants. 

I pushed him back. “Where is your discipline? Slow kisses…gently…around my entire ass”. He was going  to have to control himself. 

He struggled to calm down. When I let him go, I felt his lips press against the cheeks of my ass, giving soft gentle kisses in concentric circles. 

“Don’t get my slacks wet!” Always making sure he stayed focused. Give him something else to think  about – in this case, keeping his kisses dry. Leather…focus…More desperation. 

“Oh…see? You CAN do it!”. I gave him some time to continue his efforts – testing to see if he’d tire. But  he continued to gently kiss. I knew he was struggling to keep his composure – binding his own hands  behind his back with his will. Exhibiting the self-discipline he knows I demand in hopes of gaining my favor. 

As he continued to kiss, I popped my hip out to the side, giving him a nice “S-Curve” to look at. “Tell me  what you want, slave”.  

Between his kisses, he sputtered, “Please, please…oh God…please, please let me please you!”. He was  regaining his rational mind. Trying to position his need in terms that would be about me, rather than his  selfish needs. I decided to test that a bit more. 

“Rub yourself”, I softly demanded. I heard him moan and shift and play with himself, careful not to  break the rhythm of his kisses. “You want to make me come? I might let you do that for me. Would that  make you happy?” 

“Yes…yes. Please, Goddess. Please”.  

I stepped away and slowly turned to face him. 

“Look at you! On your knees, playing with yourself like a schoolboy! Don’t forget to play with your balls  too…pull them down. Oh, You poor desperate thing. You ARE desperate, aren’t you?” 

He was going to have to admit it out loud. His own words are so much more powerful for driving him  into his subspace than any others. 

“God yes! Please. I beg you! I’m desperate!” His rubbing increased tempo. 

“And who made you desperate?”, I prompted his demise. 

“You…you made me desperate” 

“Me? You allow me to control you like that? Why?”

“Because it pleases you and I’m your slave.” 

I chuckled. Then came that perfect moment. 

“Please Goddess, may I please stop masturbating – I will come if I continue” 

Music to my ears! As instructed, as trained: The “Please Stop Me From Orgasming” rule is always in  effect. Even though he so badly wants to come, he exhibited perfect self-control. Rather than begging  me to come, he is instructed to beg me NOT to let him…even at his own hand. Total control because it’s  all in his mind. 

“Yes, slave. You may stop”, I calmly responded. 

He let go of himself and slumped forward, catching himself with his hand against the ground. “Thank  you, Goddess” 

I walked closer to him and straddled his head, squeezing it gently between my legs. “You’re welcome,  my pet!” I heard him inhale. I let him stay there for a moment, knowing that the smell of my leather  slacks would further drive his journey down. I stepped back. 

“Kneel up – hands behind your head” 

He assumed the position immediately, breathing heavily. A strand of precome stretched between the tip  of his penis and the small puddle on the floor. He was clearly ripe and ready. Poor baby. 

I walked over to the couch and motioned for him to crawl to me. I had him take my pants and  underwear down while I played with his hair. I let him kiss my belly and slowly work his way down to my  pubic bone. 

I put my hand on his forehead and pushed it backwards so he was looking up to me. Our eyes locked. “What do you want?” I asked again. 

“Oh God, please let me eat you!”, he was delirious, deliciously desperate and perfectly hard. 

I sat back on the couch and let him get close to me. I put my legs over his shoulders and shifted upwards towards him. 

“Take your time. Serve me well” I instructed.  

He was talented at oral sex when I first met him, and has been a very attentive student through the  years – a great combination. His only wish is to get as close to perfect for me as he can. I’m more than  willing to help him, although I openly admit, there are times when he does things I can’t explain – but  want again! 

He gave me two orgasms: The first a slow, long, drawn out, warm-me-all-over come; the second far  sharper and more sudden. It was all I could do to let him maintain connection when the second one crested. 

I looked down at him. He was so content and yet, so wanting. His erection had not faded throughout. I wanted that inside of me.

“Put it in”, I directed. He quickly slid into me. I was so open and ready. He slumped down against my  chest, kissing and nuzzling my neck as he thrust against me. We were hitting a rhythm and I could feel  his desire. I love that animal drive. 

He was getting close, I could feel him swelling inside of me. Then, dutifully, he offered his ultimate  submission, yet again: “Please let me stop”, he groaned out. 

I considered the moment while he hung on the edge – awaiting permission to not come; I just LOVE that  irony. I let him stew for a moment, well-aware that I was playing with fire. I could feel him slow down,  just a bit, holding himself just short of going too far, but not wanting to stop without permission. So  dutiful a servant, even under such desperate conditions. 

“OK…you can stop”, I “relented”. 

I could feel him collapse inside. I watched as he delicately and carefully stopped all motion, allowed  himself a moment to recompose, and then slowly and carefully, pull himself out. 

“And?” I inquired. 

“Thank you, Goddess”, he mustered, trying to sound as sincere as possible. I’m sure the word “Bitch” was on his tongue tip at that moment – so I gave him some leeway despite him seeming a bit insincere. 

“You’re welcome, puppy!” I rubbed his hair as he slipped down to a low kneel. “You can finish me now”,  I leaned back and pulled his head once again to my pussy. He ate me deep and hard, his desperation  driving him beyond. “Oh…you serve me SO well, slave”, I gave him encouragement and recognition. He  just moaned and delivered. It was heaven. 

The final orgasm was another long and warm, full-body toe-curler. By the time we were done, I could  tell that he was getting back into full sub-mode; no longer disappointed that he didn’t orgasm, but  rather loving the fact that the steady ache in his groin was making his head so much more subby. 

It was time to give him a treat – something that he loves that will help him firmly establish his sub space…just for him. For my sub, the best gifts have to do with my feet. I stood up next to him, stepped  into a puddle of his precome so that it squished into my toes, and lifted them to his mouth so he could  clean them. I repeated the process until all the puddles were just wet-spots. He dove into this task with  enthusiasm and gratitude. 

When he was done, I stood him up and gave him a big kiss. Then I told him that I was going to take a  shower and that he should put on some shorts, run my water, and turn the towel-heater on. Then he  could go make dinner. 

He thanked me (quite sincerely) and went off to the bathroom. 

As I readied myself for my shower, I considered how lucky I am to have such a diligent and devoted  submissive. I know he feels lucky too. For him, there’s no telling how many days of this type of close-call  T&D I will put him through. Sometimes I let him come right away – other times, this type of “scene” could last weeks. He never knows. Sometimes, I don’t even know until the moment comes.

Last week, he “suffered” for three more days of edging (a total of 18 days), before I finally allowed him  to orgasm onto my feet (and eat it up). Then I gave him 10 minutes to recover and then it was a night of  massage and service – right back “on the horse” – no slacking off, just because the desperation is gone. 

This is our life together. We both couldn’t be happier. I’m glad to share a little episode!

 Ms. Rika is a lifestyle dominant, educator, and author; living in the suburbs of NYC with her  husband/slave. She has written several popular books on her approach to adding Dominant-Centric,  Service-Oriented D/s to relationships. You can find her books (in both print and eBook formats) at  Lulu.com (http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/msrika), or at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the iStore, Books-A Million, Kobo.com, or anywhere books are sold. Search for “Ms. Rika”. Write to me at  Ms_Rika@hotmail.com

What Is Aftercare?

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As more and more new people join the Kink Community on the edges and middle of the pandemic, the more I realize how little knowledge some are stepping into this world with.  I recently wrote about pain processing in kink.  Today, I want to briefly discuss the aftermath of a scene.

When we say the word scene, generally we are talking about an agreed-upon period of time between two or more people, wherein they perform some negotiated kink experience.  It may be impact, it may be needles, or humiliation, or any one of a number of kinks that people share.

As I discussed in my post on pain, the body of the receiver in this event is likely experiencing some chemical side effects, brought to them courtesy of their brain.  Adrenaline and endorphins are a potent cocktail.  When the activities we engage in trigger those chemical responses, it can be a heady experience.  Often, the person who has experienced them will be slightly euphoric or “spacey” afterwards.  Some people refer to “subspace,” but I prefer more scientific explanations of what is happening.

Because that can be a sensation that feels different for different people, some find it disorienting.  Others feel “loopy” or giggly.  Some will need to come out of that headspace gradually, while others prefer a more abrupt return to reality.  The period of time after the scene has ended is often called aftercare.

Aftercare looks different based on who you ask.  Some people want a blanket and cuddles, some want a stuffie and chocolate.   I want a high five and to be told I was a good girl.  Some take an hour to gradually ease out of that headspace, others want to giggle away in a group of friends.  In some cases, people may prefer that aftercare be administered by someone they didn’t scene with, such as a friend or relationship partner.  It is important to include negotiations for the kind of aftercare you need when you are discussing a scene with a potential partner.

If you don’t know what you need for aftercare because you are newer to this, it may be a part of your journey which requires experimentation.  Ask yourself following a scene what would bring you comfort.  Prepare for many scenarios, such as bringing a favorite comfortable item of clothing to change into, an emotional attachment object, a protein bar, or a sugary snack you enjoy in order to give yourself options when the time comes.

If you are a more experienced kinkster and know that you’ll be having a scene with less experienced players, perhaps consider packing an emergency aftercare bag with some basics in it, in case it is something they aren’t familiar with, or don’t know yet what they need.  It isn’t a terrible idea to have things on hand that help others.  That’s part of why I always carry a mini first aid kit with me to the dungeon, despite it having three available.  My band-aids are cuter.

Please remember, even though there are tops who will hand you off to someone else for aftercare because it isn’t their thing, the important part is finding healthy ways to transition yourself back to life as the chemicals leave the body – and keep these things in mind for the possible drop following after the chemicals break down even further.   What you need is what you need during this process.

Knowledge is power, and by understanding what we need on our kink journeys, we give ourselves an amazing gift.

How “Total” Power Exchange Is Manifested

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There’s been a lot of yammering about the “total” part of total power exchange, and a lot of “whatabout” ism as people try to prove that total isn’t total at all.

People seem to think that the “total” in TPE means the dom is making every single decision every single minute of the day, and those decisions are all about the extremes of life and death matters. They seem to think decisions made must be to the detriment of the sub/slave half of the dynamic.

What they fail to see is that it also means the sub/slave is doing what the dom wants without having to constantly ask for a decision or be threatened with punishment. TPE requires obedience on the part of the sub/slave. If the sub/slave won’t obey, there is no power exchange. Disobedience/noncompliance is keeping control. Obedience/compliance gives control.

The dom/master/owner gives the rules and the sub/slave/property obeys them. That’s the power. It’s not about the teeniest little thing being dictated. It’s about doing things how the dom wants them to be without pitching a bitch about it every single time. It’s knowing “this” is what they want…and fulfilling their wishes.

You know he doesn’t like rye bread. So you don’t make his lunch with rye bread. Do you have to be told a thousand times that he doesn’t like rye bread? No. He told you once and you remember. You can buy it for yourself if you want, unless he decrees he doesn’t want it in the house. If he doesn’t want it in the house, don’t fucking buy it.

THAT is the T in TPE.

EW decided once that I was not to address anyone by any title. His decision was final. I abided by that decision regardless who didn’t like it. When there came a time that someone had earned my respect (Lon_RM, who I have come to regard as the father I wish I’d had) that I wanted to use the title in his name (MasterLon, at that point), I went to EW and explained. He agreed and the exception was made. The rule was NOT changed for anyone else.

It was EW’s decision to make the exception. There was another time when I had asked for an exception and he’d said no. I abided by that decision, whether I liked it or not. That is total power.

I asked EW to flog me long enough that I naturally fell asleep. He refused. I had to abide by that decision, because he would never relent and I was not to ask again. I had nothing to say about his decision. I was not given the luxury of an opinion on the matter. That is total power.

There was a night he’d forgotten his keys. He was already in Manhattan and did not have the time to travel half an hour back home and half an hour into work again. I had a full plate of food in front of me. A delicious corned beef supper. I had to put that supper in the fridge, get my shoes on, and take him his keys. There was no option for me to say “after I eat”. It had to be now because Master needed it NOW. There wasn’t a single second of complaint about it from me. This was my job as his sub: To do as he required. Period. He had that total power to command. An hour and a half later (because waiting for trains and walking blocks through neighborhood), I was back home and finally able to eat my supper at 9 o’clock at night.

Having “total” power also means having discretion over when to exert their will and when not to.

He knew he could insert his own ideas into my books. He could use that power if he wanted. He chose never to tell me what to write or how. He felt it would not be appropriate. That is discretion.

He could have told me what kinds of leather goods to make. He could have told me never to use skulls or upside down crosses if he wanted. He chose never to tell me what to make or how to make it. That is discretion. He did, however, greatly enjoy prototype day, and some of my innovations. He particularly liked the 3-sided, meatier handles.

He could have bent me over and fucked me during the most painful days of my period if he wanted. He chose mercy, and would sometimes jerk off onto my tits instead. All I had to do was kneel or sit there and hold my tits up. He chose not to cause me more pain and discomfort. He chose discretion.

There was a time we discussed a piercing or tattoo to mark me as his. Then he worked a season with the Freak Show from Coney Island hanging in Blood Manor. He came home one morning and declared that he would never get me pierced or tattooed. Ever. Didn’t matter if I wanted the piercing or tattoo. He had decided, and the matter was at his discretion in the first place. When the time came that I wanted a simple tattoo as research for a book, he allowed it because it was for my own reasons and not something marking me as his. When I asked, months later, if I could get it finished, he said no. I did not sneak out behind his back to get the tattoo finished. Because total power exchange.

He chose to allow me to learn to top others. He could have put a stop to it at any time. In the last couple years of our relationship, he let me go to spanking parties and receive. But there were rules for both. I could not touch the genitals of anyone. No one could touch my genitals. There was no kissing. No mouths touched me and my mouth touched no one. This was completely within his power to permit or refuse at any time, any party. Even if I was about to walk out the door, he could have told me to stay home and I would have had to obey. Because total…and at his discretion.

I didn’t ever intentionally disobey him on trivial things or for trivial reasons. He knew anything I did that was contrary to what he might have wanted was a “rock/hard place” moment and I made the best decision I could…in good faith.

Not once was his “power” diminished by any of his decisions. He chose when how to use his authority and exert himself…and chose when not. He made what he felt was the correct decision in the moment.

And I didn’t turn every decision into a battle in order to have my way. Pissing and moaning over every decision, undermining every decision or overriding them and doing whatever the fuck I wanted, would have undermined the entire TPE dynamic. It would not have been “total”.

TPE meant he decided and I abided. Period.

TylerRose. is known as Dame Tyler in the NYC public SM/Fetish scene. She is an award-winning author who has written four “lifestyle”, four cartoon, and twenty eight fiction books. She’s been doing this bdsm stuff for 34 years and lived TPE relationships for 31 years.

Read her books on her Amazon page — https://www.amazon.com/TylerRose./e/B00HCPLSP2

You can also find more of her OP/ED work in Fetlife: https://fetlife.com/users/305828

She enjoys crocheting, diamond painting, and baking, and will no doubt die with a thesaurus open on her thigh.

Erotica: Ladies Choice

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The second hand on the clock held its breath waiting for the response. Sally was frozen, waiting. When no instruction came, she genuflected between them. He smiled at Mistress. The smile said so much. Nicely trained, fantastic sub. He stepped back and left the bathroom, giving Mistress room to manage her toy part of the session. Before he could survey the loft, Sally was in the door – leash in hand and holding it out for him.

He took the leash and walked back into the room.  He attached the leash to the hooks above the toilet. Sally’s eyes grew large, he reached for the enema bag. He filled it with warm water, lubed the end and motioned for her to assume the position. He lifted the toilet seat allowing, her to sit, coughing her hands to her ankles. Without a word, he grabbed Mistress and forced her to her knees. As Mistress, deep to the back of her throat Sally, watched in silent humiliation.

He curled her hair around his fingers, allowing her to lick and tease his erection. His jeans hung from his hips, and his balls were still tucked away as his cock became engorged from the pleasure she provided with her wanton mouth and tongue. She held his gaze as any thought of Sally slipped from her mind. His words of encouragement and praise fed her desire to satisfy him. He instructed her to take his pants off.

She withdrew from him to maneuver around and remove his pants. Before she could stand, he had a handful of hair in his hands, “Did I tell you to stop sucking my cock, slut!?”

She leaned back to rest on her heels and answer. He laughed at her effort. “I didn’t. You could stop.”

He placed his hands on either side of her head and drew her in until she gagged. He held her there for what seemed like an eternity to Sally. He was enjoying this training, and this captive audience was a different kind of rush. The planning of the next steps added intensity to his hard-on.  He flicked his hips forward, jamming his cock down her throat; her wretch and tear were the tipping point. He grabbed his cock and spat his load onto her face. He playfully slapped her face, kissed her forehead, and cooed “good slut” as he walked into the shower.

He beckoned her to the shower. He made no effort to make it easy for her to turn on the shower. Mistress had removed the body stocking. He stood in the middle of the shower, waiting. She pressed herself against the icy cold tiles, her nipples pulled into painfully tight nubs. He held her breast and flicked her nipples as she struggled to turn on the water. His body blocked her as he cajoled her into turning on the water. Training continued as he teased her about failing at her task.  His admonishment was playful, meant to frustrate her just enough that she would have to ask permission to set the temperature. She growled and flicked her arms in frustration. He pressed her into the cold tiles, drew his mouth near her ear  and growled, “you” do nothing without permission.” Mistress stopped fighting and let his weight hold her until she was chilled on the back and warmed on the front. When she had been still for several minutes, she murmured, “Can  I please turn on the shower and help you bathe?”

He stepped back so she could move and turn on the shower.  She set the shower to run down his back. She scrubbed him with a loofa and mint soap until his back was pink.

“Am I washing your hair?”

“You want to try that again?”

“Sir, would you like me to wash your hair?”

“slut you may, but don’t get soap in my eyes.”

She gingerly put small amounts of shampoo in his hair, rinsing as she shielded his eyes. He didn’t move or make any effort to make the tease easy for her. Without asking, she turned off the water and passed him a small towel.

“What do you expect me to do with that?” Silently, she began to dry him off.

He left the shower and attended to Sally. She had held the position silently. He released her restraints and the enema bag. He didn’t look at her or reward her obedience. Mistress watched the interaction; her only response was to press her lips together. She wanted this. Now she wanted to see it through. He approached her and asked, “Where are we?”

Mistress looked at Sally. She was humiliated and in need of comfort. He told Mistress to put Sally on the toilet and then set up the four-point restraints on the bed. He went to the kitchen and drank water while he surveyed the room. The pace of this evening was slower than he was happy with, but a whole lot of fun. The St. Andrew’s cross was in a superior position for observing the bed. Without speaking, he motioned for Sally to be strapped in.

Mistress stood at the end of the bed, naked.  Her hair was wet from the shower and a little wild.  She was a fawn in a meadow and he the wolf. He walked to her and kissed her full on the mouth. His hand wrapped at the base of her neck, lifting her onto her toes as the kiss deepened. He continued to kiss her long after the moans of pleasure rose from her heaving chest. When her legs were shaking from being stretched, his arm slid under her ass, and he lifted her to the bed. Her mouth was swollen and a little bruised already. Her areolas were deep pink. He leaned over her body, not touching her except to trace his nail around the circumference. She lay spread eagle, watching him stalk around the bed, watching her body. He had taken a crop from the table and was using it to lift her breasts. He smacked gently down the length of her torso. He was using the leather tongue to open and stoke her sex as he positioned her body. The tongue of the crop was wet. He dragged it across her lips. He lay the crop across her tits.

“Don’t let it fall, or there will be consequences”  he smiled as he tightened the first arm restraint. His mouth began at the inside of her wrist, and he caressed and teased down her side. She tried using slow breaths to not squirm from the tickles his beard created at her side. His mouth traced the soft skin at her hip. The flatness of his tongue stirred an arousal she had not anticipated. He traced and nipped at the area above her pubic bone, tempting but never touching her sex. Her breath was ragged, and she pressed her hips into the bed. He restrained her ankle and continued to use his mouth and hand up to her inner thigh. The heat from his mouth on her inner thigh was too much. Mistress wrapped her unrestrained leg across his back and raised her pussy to him. He let her hold him for the briefest moment. He stopped and stood. He restrained the portion and walked away.

She saw the light of the fridge light up the ceiling. The music washed away any clues as to how he was moving around the room. She could see Sally’s face; it was twisted in frustration. He brought her a drink with a straw. He tempted and teased her until her knees went weak. This time he didn’t withdraw. He flicked her clitoris at lightning speed, telling her not to come until she gushed. He licked her from his fingers. Kissed her and cooed, good girl. He released her from the cross, swaddled her in a large blanket and carried her to the couch with some fruit and ice water.  

“Be a good little sub and let me finish your Mistress.”

He crawled on all fours to between her legs, slid his hands under her ass, so his thumb pressed against her ass. With the flat of his tongue, he began to drink her deeply. As she started to rock in pleasure, he slowly massaged her asshole. She was wet and aching for his cock. Once she had cum, he released the restraints, put on a condom, and gentled his pace. He entered her slowly and barely moved. She wrapped herself around him. He sat back and held her close, whispering for her to inhale and exhale until they were synced. He danced her around the bed, varying the pace and intensity until her nails dug in, and she froze for her climax. He waited until she relaxed. She kissed him with gratitude. He returned the kiss and increased the intensity of screwing her. She climaxed again. When she settled, he grabbed an anal vibrator from the side table, lubed it and slid it in. Positioning him from behind, he pounded her relentlessly. He climaxed, smacked her ass, and walked to the bathroom.

When he returned, she was wrapped in a blanket on the sofa next to Sally. He sat down, tossed the TV remote at Mistress and said, “ladies’ choice.”