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This week in kink: March 1, 2021

February 27, 2021 By Dexx 2 Comments

Don’t miss the story of Mom turned Domme from the Daily Star!

Click below to read more!

Polyamorous mum leaves corporate job to become dominatrix earning £1,400 an hour
Mistress Tash Mia, 35, from Australia, spoke to the Daily Star about why she became a professional dominatrix earning thousands each week
Dailystar.co.uk | Sophie Foster

Don’t miss this riveting article about how BDSM can have therapeutic benefits from Big Think!

Click below to find out more!

BDSM therapy: Are there therapeutic and relational benefits to being submissive?
In-depth research suggests BDSM practitioners can experience altered states of consciousness that can be therapeutic.
Big Think

Celebrity Insider touches on the Marilyn Manson abuse allegations and differentiates between BDSM and abuse.

Click below to learn more!

Marilyn Manson Allegations Bring Up Questions Of BDSM And Abuse

Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to kinkweekly@gmail.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink.”

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, dominatrix, femdom, fetish, kink

The Slutatic Adventures Of Eve

February 20, 2021 By eve 2 Comments

mistress dominating male slave on leash
via stock.adobe.com

It’s essential to have goals. My slut goals vary. For the past six months, geography has been fun. At first, it was a match with places I had been, which extended into areas I wanted to go or know about. Being curious is a neat way to learn and make my way through the male population of my corner of the world. Not every message gets a response, but the profile was packed with details and interests that matched the reality of my luscious curves and sultry desire. Loving good sex is one thing, but knowing someone is into what you have to offer can be motivating.

“Love your pictures” was his opening foray. Hardly something to swoon over, but I don’t fuck for poetry, so I figured what the hell. The banter was intriguing. He was young and anxious to learn about my twisted little world of domination and submission. A weird little world of my knowledge and experience for him and a youthful cock and passion for my orgasm for me was enough to make him a regular. His full lips and generous mouth, athletic body, and desire for a heightened sexual experience solidified our mutual passion. 

“We can meet at my place. I have roommates, but they won’t be an issue. I want you so bad.” That was the message the morning after our first meet. “I would love to see you in heels and stocking.” Quickly followed. 

I was happy to oblige the following Tuesday. I slipped into a barely decent little black dress, low cut in the back and skimming the edge of my thigh, black sheer stay-ups, and black suede heels with shiny metal spike heels. The porch light was a bare light bulb. The starkness was notable was in such stark contrast to the Aladdin’s cave of treasure and pleasure I hoped to find beyond that bare bulb. 

I paid little attention to the terrain as I climbed the stairs and stepped onto the grass. My hell sunk, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. I looked up as he stepped out of his door. I righted myself and passed him my tote bag, and I brushed off the dead leaf and pulled my dress back in place. In some weird way, it was the perfect ice breaker. He whisked me to his room and fussed my wet, bruised knee. The niceties of a first meet were swamped by the adrenaline pumping through my system. He was talking, and I was watching his mouth, those full pillow lips I longed to suck and nibble. I nibbled my own lower lip as I waited for him to stop talking. My clit twitched, and his hands smoothed and caressed my legs and thighs. His fingers found the edge of the stay-ups, and my breath hitched in my throat, a small moan of pleasure escaped. I checked myself. We made eye contact, I fought the urge to speak, he dropped to his knees in front of me. He brought my face to his and kissed me. “This isn’t very sadistic” my thought was halted by the wakening of my sex, my clit twitched, and I was instantly wet.

His mouth kissed and suckled my inner thigh. His teeth grazed over the stocking, and his hand found my ankles and put them behind his neck. I lay back on the bed, still dressed and enjoying the hunger of his mouth on my thighs. My panties are soaked. The burgundy satin would be dark with my wetness. I stretched and writhed as he pulled the panties to the side and opened me with his strong ample tongue. He was out of my reach, and not a word had passed between us. I fought my desire to create social interaction. Instead, I emptied my mind and stayed in my body. He had found the spot, the holy grail of the squirt spot. He surprised himself and was delighted with himself. 

As I moaned in pleasure, I interjected, “you might want to grab a towel,” ever the practical slut. I broke the spell. He stood in front of me; I sat up facing his cock. It’s stretched against his body-hugging boxers. I trace his cock’s outline with my long, manicured nails. I continue to fondle and careless until his hand instinctually lands on my head. I look into his eyes with my fingers stroking the outside of his boxers. I finally speak. 

“ask for what you want.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm. His eyes bulge. My power shift is subtle, and I wait for him. His eyes bulge, and he motions towards his cock, unwilling to say the words. I hold his eyes, occasionally blinking, smiling softly—my hand retreats. 

“Babe,” his tone is pleading and weak. With that. I stand, kiss his mouth, adjust my stockings. And get ready to leave. “Seriously, you’re going to leave me like this?” The pussy is almost whimpering. With that, I picked up my bag. 

“Next time when I tell you to do something, you will do it. Shame really, you have a beautiful cock.” I walked out the door, stayed on my toes, and left.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, dominant, femdom, humiliation, humiliation play, power exchange, slave, slut

Orgasm Control

February 20, 2021 By Baadmaster 2 Comments

dark haired submissive chained to bed
via stock.adobe.com

This is a question that is self-explanatory.  So here it is:

Reader: Orgasm control and denial are topics of interest for me. I’ve heard lots of good things, but also that it can cause negative side effects. What do you think? Any tips?

First things first.  Can denial produce negative effects?  Many old wives’ tales suggest this to be true.  Some claimed that too much sex is bad; others said that denial is the road to ruination.  In the Reefer Madness era, believe it or not, there were even ones that said you would go blind if you masturbated excessively.  Yet the worst that happened to me is that I wear contact lenses.  Negative effects from orgasm control are a similar urban sex legend.  Sexual denial usually produces no negative effects — other than causing fewer orgasms in your life. Albeit bigger ones!

The purpose of orgasm manipulation is basically to make for better, bigger more intense orgasms.  (Sounds like a late night TV advertisement for the Orgasmotron – but wait, there’s more!)  Most of us practice a form of orgasm control even in the vanilla sex world. — most men delay orgasm for as long as possible to increase mutual pleasure.  But in BDSM, we have raised this to an art form.  Let’s look at the two major classes of devices used in orgasm control – the “chastity belt” and the “cock cage”.

Since many things old become new, the chastity belt for females is making a comeback.  As we become a more  egalitarian society, it was only natural to expect chastity devices to be equally available to all sexes. Or to put it into Mad Men advertising language, “Chastity devices ain’t just for men anymore.”  The effect of a chastity belt worn by a submissive – both from a role play point of view and a control perspective – can be awesome.  Recently, lightweight plastic/composite belts have replaced the old bulky leather/metal ones; these high-tech belts are not the heavy locked affairs of Elizabethan times.  These modern versions are a unique (although expensive) way for a Dominant to establish the ultimate in orgasmic and sexual control. 

The cock cage too has felt the advancement of technology in its development.  From the early plastic versions (the CB 2000) to the modern stainless alloy types, just like face-masks, they are available in a myriad of designs.   (Once this pandemic is over, you can use your spare face-masks for BDSM play!)  But whether  used for pleasure or punishment – or anything in between – ultimately the aim of such devices is to make your play more exciting.  

There is no doubt that sexual denial can increase horniness.  (Just go to a singles bar on a Friday right after work.)  But if you practice sexual denial on purpose, you can increase the anticipation and raise the sexual excitement to a fevered pitch.  “Don’t masturbate (or have sex) until I see you next week” is a popular Dominant’s technique that can turn the submissive into a horny, sex-crazed obsessive by the time they see each other.  

Another technique of orgasm control is that of bringing a submissive to the brink of climax over and over again.  Whether ending in a “ruined orgasm” or a “super orgasm,” this “tease and denial” technique can be done over a period of hours (or days…WOW!) and can be excruciatingly exciting.  Coupling BDSM play with “tease and denial” in a s scene a great way to produce explosive orgasms.

There is one area I have left to last – the legendary training of a submissive to “cum on command.”  This has an almost mythic quality to it; it appears to be the ultimate Dominant achievement.  I have heard tales of a Master being able to order his slave to cum via telephone and the slave doing so without even touching herself.  I personally have never witnessed this; nor have I ever achieved this feat.

What I have done is to train a submissive to become extremely sexually excited via a voice command.  The training technique I use is to deny orgasm over a period of time, thus building a heightened state of arousal.  Then you link your voice command to this excited state – by stating your command at the time of highest sexual arousal.  This conditioned response training is one way to get closest to making the submissive “cum on command.”  And maybe, using this technique over a period of time, it can actually be accomplished.

As with all my suggestions, they are just that – suggestions.  So let me know your experiences.  Good luck!


After a ten year run as head writer for the legendary bondage.com, and an equally long run as the host of the hit internet show “Baadmaster’s Dungeon,” we are pleased to welcome the one and only Baadmaster to KinkWeekly. His thoughts about all things BDSM will now appear regularly on these pages. From the mental aspects of D/s to the nuts and bolts of S&M play, Baadmaster will cover every facet of this ever expanding lifestyle.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, dominant, femdom, fetish, kink, orgasm, orgasm control, power dynamic, power exchange, self masturbation, sexual freedom, submissive

How To Be A Better Dominant

February 14, 2021 By Evie Lupine 2 Comments

Do you identify as a D-type?

Do you want to improve your power exchange relationships?

Do you realize that there’s always room for improvement?

Then, check out this awesome video by Evie Lupine on how to improve your Domming/Dommeing skills!

How to Be a Better Dominant

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bottom, dominant, femdom, fetish, kink, master, mistress, power exchange, slave, submissive, Top, topping from the bottom

Piggie Learns A Lesson

February 7, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

hot Domme ass with crop
via stock.adobe.com

**This story picks up right after “Piggie’s Day Out ends.  While it can be read alone, it would be best if you read that story first**

**It is also important to note that this story delves into breaking a submissive mentally and then continuing with play.  The items in this story are consensual and line up with the TPE dynamic I have in real life**


My eyes open quickly, and my breathing is erratic.  It takes me a minute to remember where I am.  I take a deep breath and just savor the feel of my cheek on your thigh.  I must have moved while we were sleeping Sir.  My head feels fuzzy and my body is sore.  I peak at the clock on the hotel nightstand next to you and it reads a blurry 2:30am.  

The longer I lay there, the more muddled my mind becomes.  Your body is warm against mine, but right now, even that is bringing me little comfort.  I move the sheet and slowly slide from the bed to avoid waking you.  I pad silently to the bathroom and close the door softly before I start the shower.

My body is shivering.  I don’t feel very good Sir.  I am going to try and figure myself out before the daylight.  I know you have more planned for this weekend and I refuse to be the reason your plans alter.

I cannot stand a hot shower normally.  But, right now, I turn it as hot as I can handle it.  I step in, shut the curtain behind me, and sit down.  I bring my knees to my chest, lean my head back, and close my eyes.  I can feel my skin burning under the hot spray, but I find myself not caring.  I will pay for it later when my hands and legs swell from the heat.  The steam is so thick it is hard to breathe.  

I cannot figure out why I feel so out of sorts.  It is like I am inches from drowning.  And no sooner do I think it, the tears start.  I try to hold it in.  The walls are thin in the hotel and I have no desire to interrupt your sleep.  If I cannot figure out why I feel like this, I doubt you will know either.  

I don’t know how long I sat there before the I couldn’t hold back the sobbing anymore.  Why do I feel like this Sir?  Why do I feel so empty inside?

I rested my head against the wall when the sobs lessen, and I closed my eyes for a minute.  I should get back into bed before you wake.  But my arms and legs feel like lead.  I am going to sit here for a few more minutes.  I open my eyes and stare at the knobs.  I should turn down the temperature.


I feel a touch on my shoulder, and I jump.  My eyes are wild in panic and my breathing is erratic.  Where am I?  What is going on?

“You are safe sweetie.  You are with me.”  I can hear you Sir.  My eyes blink rapidly as I shake my head and try and figure out what is going on.  My body is shivering and suddenly I feel very cold.  “You are safe sweetie.  Look at me.”  My neck feels weak and I am struggling to lift my head.  I keep trying to find you.  “You can do it.  Come on.  Look up here.”   My head lulls backwards and I blink slowly this time.

Suddenly, I can see you Sir.  Your dark eyes are staring down at me with worry.  What is wrong?  Why are you awake this early?

“Let’s get you dried off.”  You wrap your arms around me and lift me up from the tub.  I feel awfully dry for being in the shower.  You grab a towel off the rack and I shakily stand there as you dry me off.  I step out and let you lead me back to the bed.  Once you sit down, my knees give out.

I don’t understand what has happened and all I want to do is apologize.  It is only because you require a reason for an apology that keeps me from breaking down in a litany of “I’m sorry.”  I lay my head against your thigh and find comfort when your hand immediately tangles in my hair.  

We sit there quietly for a few before you ask me to climb back into bed and curl up with you.  As I scoot closer to you, I see the time on the clock.  4am.  

I think I understand your worry now.

I didn’t take a two-hour shower.  I zoned out.  I am guessing you found me in the shower, cold water turning me blue, and tried to wake me.  It explains why I am so cold.  I look up at you and you meet my eyes, and you cover me with an additional blanket.  I smile softly.  I am fine.  At least, I will be now.  

Let’s talk about this in a few more hours.  Maybe then we can figure out why I feel like I just jeopardized our whole weekend.


I woke slowly this time.  Your fingers were running through my hair.  My eyes opened and I am in the same position I fell asleep.  My head rests heavy on your thigh and I am staring at your feet as the tv croons in the background.  Slowly, I turn my head to look up at you.

“Good morning Sir.”  

“Good morning my little piggie.”  You smile at me.  I love your smile.  It always makes me feel at ease.  

I shift up next to you so I can get some kisses.  

“How are you feeling sweetie?”  My forehead creases in thought.  I feel fine.  My body is sore, and I am feeling a little tired, but I feel ok.

“I’m fine Sir.  I feel tired.  If it falls within our plans, I may need to take a nap later.”

You are staring Sir.  My body wants to fold under your gaze.  I do not understand why you are staring at me so intently.  What are you looking for?

“Are you going to tell me about last night?”

I sigh.  “There is nothing to tell, Sir.  I woke up and didn’t feel very good, so I decided to take a shower.  You came in at the end of it and helped me back to bed.”

“No, I got up to find you sitting in the tub, shivering, as the cold water rained down on you.  You were non-responsive.  Once I turned the water off, it was another ten before you answered me.”

“Oh.”  I don’t remember that.  I don’t really remember much beyond sitting in the hot shower and then having You dry me off.  “I am sorry Sir.  It is all kind of fuzzy.”

“How are you doing?  Honestly.” 

“Honestly, Sir, I am fine.  I feel good, other than being sore from yesterday’s activities, and my emotions are settled.  As I mentioned, I may ask for a nap later but otherwise, I am fine.”

You hug me close and kiss the top of my head.  “Alright.  If it changes, you will tell me.”

“Always, Sir.”

“Good Girl.”


After breakfast, you let me know that you have a couple errands to run.  I let you know that I just need to get dressed.  You stop me.

“You are going to stay here, piggie, and get some rest.  I have plans for us tonight and I need you to be at your best.”  My shoulders drop.  

“Are you mad at me Sir?”  I cannot help that this is my natural reaction.  You rarely refuse my company.

“No.  This is because I know you.  You will push yourself until you are so exhausted you drop.  I am grounding you, for your own good, until I get back.  You are going to put your phone aside and take a short nap.  I should be back soon.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”  

I am both saddened that I must stay here but intrigued as to what you have planned.  Should I fear what you have set up for me, Sir?  


My heart is racing as I am jerked awake.  I am on my back and there is a heavy weight across my hips.  It takes just a minute before I recognize you.  Your knees are locking my wrists to my sides.  I take a few deep breaths before your hand comes down hard on my mouth and nose.  My eyes widen as my brain connects that I cannot breathe.  I am trying to conserve the air I took in but before long I am struggling.  I am trying to rock you from my hips, but I cannot get any leverage.  I am franticly trying to move my head from your hand, but it is not working.  Just when I think I cannot take anymore, you let me breathe.  

1 breath. 2 breaths.  And on the third, the pressure is back.  My chest is heaving as I start struggling anew.  My heels are digging into the bed as I try to bend my knees and knock your center of balance.  You relent once again. Three seconds and this time as one hand covers my mouth and nose, the other is pressed against my neck.  The pressure on all sides has the edges of my vision darkening.  The strain on my chest is extreme.  The more I struggle to turn my head, the harder you press.  I think it is only the give of the mattress that keeps me from passing out at this point.  My hands are twitching against your knees.  I do not have the strength to kick my legs anymore.  I wonder if this is the time I finally pass out.

And, as though you can hear my thoughts, the pressure is gone.  My chest heaves with deep breaths and my eyes are shut tightly as I try to get my bearings.  I can feel your weight shifting back enough that I am able to pull my wrists free.  I move them out of your way but leave them stretched out at my waist.  When I feel settled, my eyes open and I find your gaze.  All I can do is smile.  

The fear.  The struggle.  The adrenaline.

“Mmm, thank you, Sir.”

A deep rumble comes from your chest.  You always seem so amused when I come from a place of intense fear and struggle to this soft, doe-eyed submissive who smiles from the experience.  We call it my “drugged out” state because I look at you with wide eyes, a dopey drunken smile, and looking high as fuck.

So far, this has been one hell of an up and down day, and I am positive it is far from over.


It has been a relatively relaxed day for us.  It is not often we have this much time together.  It is nice.  I have spent most of the morning curled up with you.  It is early afternoon now and you said we have to head out around 4pm.  Only about an hour to go and I find my anxiety is slowly building.  I trust you Sir.  I know that you will always make sure I am cared for.  But I also know you are skilled at mind-fucking and are able to leave me so confused I will fail to know my own name.

You move back to the chair you were in last night.  The one that brings flashes of humiliation to mind.  

You snap your fingers twice.  I shake my head to clear my mind.  I know what that means.  I slide from the bed, onto my knees, and crawl over to you.  I keep eye contact, as you prefer.  I stop just in front of you, kneel up, and rest my hands on my thighs.

“Tonight, I have plans for you piggie.  Plans that I am positive may cause you to forget yourself.”  You put your fingers under my chin and pull me up slightly.  “I worry about you.  Especially after what happened this morning.  Do you need to talk?”

“No, Sir.  Today has been a good day.  As of right now, I am fine.”

“What is your safeword?”

I am silent for longer than I expected.  You never ask me that.  I know the answer.  I teach it to others, as do you.  Why would you feel the need to ask me?  What do you have planned Sir?

“Piggie.”  I jerk out of my thoughts.

“I apologize Sir.  My word is Red.”

“Good piggie.”  You let go of my chin and smack my cheek lightly.  “Right now, you and I are going to center.  We are going to work on your self-control and remind you who is in charge.  You will not speak.  You will stay here for however long I require.  Should your knees get too uncomfortable, you may readjust onto your ass.  Is that clear?”  

“Yes, Sir.”

You unzipped your jeans and pulled out your cock.  “You will hold me in your mouth.  You will not suck, lick, tease, or otherwise attempt to play.  You will simply keep my cock warm.”

I am surprised but I enjoy using my mouth.  I fill my mouth with spit to moisten it.  I settle your cock into my mouth until my nose is nestled in your curls.  I see you pull out your phone, completely ignoring me.  I wonder how long you will keep us here.  Will this be until we head out?  Do you have something else planned?  


It takes ten minutes before my mind shuts off.  I have been on edge for the entire trip.  Everything you have me do leaves me with hundreds of questions.  I think this is the reason you are doing this.  You want me to sink into my service.  You want me to have peace of mind in my submission.  You know how hard it is for my mind to shut down.  Now, instead of wondering about tonight, I am fighting myself.  All I want to do is suck.  It is not even with a particular goal in mind.  I just want to suck on you.  I find it both relaxing and an emotional release.  The fact that it teases you is just an added benefit.  

I have looked up at you at frequent intervals.  You do not seem to notice my presence at all.  You are happily wrapped up in your phone.  Even when I readjust my position, you do not once look at me.  It drives my desire to suck even higher.  I want your attention.  I want you to look at me as I suck and lick you to hardness.  I want to feel you harden between my lips and for you to shove your cock down my throat until I am gagging.  I want you to pinch my nose as I gag so that I am struggling to breathe.   I want you to face-fuck me so hard my jaw feels wrenched from its socket.  I want whatever you will give me.

But it isn’t about what I want.  It is about following your directions without question.  It is about connecting with my submission and letting go of my anxiety and inhibitions.  It is about recognizing that sometimes I will have to do things in a way I may not agree with.  

It is about accepting and honoring Your Dominance.


You kept me there for somewhere near a half hour before you paid any attention to me.  You simply told me to stop and kneel up from my seated position.  I knelt there, watching you.  Without another word, I watched you slowly bring yourself to hardness.  I watched you tease yourself.  I watched you play.

This is torture. I hate, more than almost anything, not being allowed to touch.  I absolutely despise it.  It always feels like punishment when it happens.  But I know better than to raise a fuss.  There is a reason to everything you do.  Just because I do not understand it, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen. 

My eyes never leave your hand.  I watch every move you make.  I know if I look you in the eye, my resolve will break.  I will start to beg Sir.  Beg to touch you.  

Begging is the last thing you want to hear right now.

So, I watch.

When I hear the hitch of your breath, and you moan low in the back of your throat, I know you are close. Only then do I dare to meet your gaze.  As I do, you paint my face with your cum.  I feel it on my forehead and my cheeks.  And just to rub it in, you smear the last of it onto my lips.

I imagine I am quite an image Sir.  That feeling is only cemented when you pick up your discarded phone and I see the flash of your camera lens.

Why do I have the feeling there will be more pictures tonight Sir?  You seem to have developed a love of chronicling the humiliation of your piggie.


I sat there, covered in your cum, until you told me I could clean up.  I crawled into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and wet it in the tub.  I stayed on my knees while I cleaned up and then crawled back to you.  

I leaned down, kissed each boot three times, and laid my forehead down to the floor.  “Thank you, Sir.”


I decided to wear a short, cotton summer dress tonight.  In a rare change of circumstance, you told me undergarments were not needed.  I say it as though I had a choice in the matter.  We both know I did not.

As far as I am aware, you left my piggie gear at the hotel.  It matters little in the long run though.  I am not your pet, who needs dressed up to find their headspace.  I am, at all times, your little piggie.  I am always willing to get down and dirty with anything you can dream up. Besides, you seem to love to make me squeal.


We were in the car for about half an hour before we got there.  I have never been to this area before, but you seem oddly at home.  You take each turn with confidence until we come to a stop in front of a house.  It seems so normal looking.  I doubt anyone would suspect what hides behind those doors.

I am unsure of how tonight will go.  Normally, I would drown my anxiety by unloading and setting up your electrical gear.  Your gear usually takes up half of the back of our van.  It takes me fifteen to unload and another half hour to set up properly.  It is even longer to take down and pack it away.  But, for some reason, your gear did not come with us.  I am so used to taking care of you Sir, of negotiating your pick-up play, and keeping an eye on everything, I feel very out of my element without those distractions.  

Once the car was off, you pull the keys from the ignition and I watch you turn down the volume on both of our phones.  You tuck them into the inner pocket of your vest.  “I am going to hold onto these, sweetie.  If you need yours, come talk to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You put your hand on mine.  “You can do this.  I will be with you every step of the way.”

“I know Sir.  I am just nervous.”

“Good.  You should be.”

I shook my head.  I have no doubt you mean that.


I step out of the vehicle and make sure the door is locked.  I shut the door and wait for you.  

I will never tire of seeing you in your gear Sir.  My eyes always land on your boots first.  I have a healthy love of your boots.  From polishing them with my kit to licking them clean, I have yet to find something I dislike about them.  They are the defining feature of your headspace for me.  Because, regardless of the position I am in, they are always the first and last thing I see when I submit.

“We have one last thing to do before we go in.”  I cocked my head in question.  Two snaps.  I kneel, awaiting your direction.  

Then, I saw them.

You brought my cuffs Sir; two black strips of leather, stamped with the very first name you ever gave me: Pain Slut.  They bring me security and comfort when you put them on me.  

I held my arms in front of me and offered you my wrists.  Once you buckle them on, I feel safe.  Between being here with you and having the opportunity to wear my cuffs and collar, I know that no matter what happens behind those doors, I will be fine.

Because you wouldn’t let it be any other way.


You walk up to the door and knock.  I stay behind you.  I prefer to remain unseen when possible.  

You greet the man at the door like an old friend.  You do not introduce me as we step inside, and I do not ask.  I simply observe.  I follow you as the man leads you through the house.  We navigate a narrow hallway that opens into a large open living room space with large sliding glass doors.  I can see the burning end of cigarettes through the door, so I assume it is accessible to guests as well.  There are chairs interspersed throughout the area and I could hear smacks from down another hallway.  I guessed that there were people behind the closed doors, but I had no plans to investigate.  I have never seen a party so small, but I imagine this is the way of the world now.  From what I can tell, there is less than fifteen of us.  So far, I do not see any other submissives.  I hope that just means they are behind the closed doors.  

I waited quietly as you reacquainted yourself with old friends.  Once you take a seat against the back wall, nearest to the sliding doors, I kneel next to you.  My head rests on the outside of your thigh and your hand comes to rest on my head.  The hum of conversation is hard to follow for me.  There is too much noise, and each of you talks too low, for me to follow.  I close my eyes and rest.  If you need me, I know that you will make it known.


You seem to be enjoying yourself.  Your laughter, quiet as it is, brings me peace.  It makes me happy to see you so comfortable.  

I have been quiet while you are visiting.  It feels right.  I tip my head back to get your attention.  Your hand moves from my hair as you glance down at me.

“Yes?”

“May I go to the restroom Sir?”  I am unfamiliar with this house and where I should go.  Normally, you just let me slip away with a quiet acknowledgement but that is not possible right now.

“You may.  It is down the hall, last door on the left.”

“Will you help me up Sir?  My legs are numb.” 

You smile broadly.  “You are cute.  You may crawl.  I am going to enjoy the view.”  Thank you for reminding me about how short my dress is and the fact that you banned undergarments tonight.  

I can feel my cheeks flush.  “Yes Sir.”

I fall forward onto my arms.  My legs have gone numb, but it is not the first time I have had to make them move without feeling.  Sometimes I consider it a blessing that I deal with intermittent paralysis.

It is the longest hallway I have ever been down Sir.  Ok, not really.  But I can feel your eyes on me.  I feel extremely exposed.  I have been naked dozens of times.  It has never been as nerve wracking as this.

Once I make it to the door, I kneel up and wait.  The bathroom is occupied.  I keep my eyes focused on the bottom corner of the door, near the hinge.  I am too uncomfortable to look around and see if anyone has noticed me.  I squeeze my legs together tightly.  I need this person to hurry up or I am going to end up having an accident.  That might be a humiliation that even I cannot deal with.


I crawl back to you and as I pass in front of you, you stick your boot out to stop me.  I look up at you, wondering what I can do for you.

“My friends enjoyed the view as much as I did.”  My head turns slightly, and my shoulders come up.  It is a sure sign of my embarrassment.  “I think it is only fair you treat them to more for hosting us.  Wouldn’t you agree piggie?”  

Your question is rhetorical.  I know that.  You do not wish for an answer, so I remain silent.

“You were very lax in your duties piggie.  My boots are quite dirty form our travels.”  My eyes shift to your boots.  It is a blow to my gut to hear you say that.  I try very hard to keep your gear in good, clean condition.  As I stare at the dirt on your boots, I know you are correct.  It hurts to see that.  I bite the inside of my lip and try to keep my face stoic.  “I think it is only fair you clean them now.  Get to it.”

Deep breath.  That is what I tell myself.

I start to lean down but your boot stops me again.  “Face me. Let them have a good view.  Make sure to spread your legs wide piggie.”  You are determined to break me Sir.  No one gets to see me like this.  I reserve this kind of humiliation and degradation for you and you alone.  

My word sits heavy in my tongue.  I swallow it down.  I can do this.

I don’t need it yet.


I turn to face you and back up enough for me to head to the floor.  I do as you commanded and spread my legs wider.  I shift my hips enough that my hips shouldn’t freeze in place.  The air is cold on my lips and my hole clenches automatically.  I fill my mouth with spit, just to moisten my tongue.  I know from experience that my mouth, and tongue, will dry out quickly.

I lower my head and enthusiastically being servicing your boots.  I started with your left boot, as I always do.  You move your right one up to rest on my back.  Normally, I can relax at the feeling of being your footstool. Not tonight.  

I have a feeling I am going to be here awhile.  

After I finish your left boot, you switch places effortlessly to give me access to your right boot.  I am only a few licks in when I feel a sharp sting to my pussy lips.  My body jerks a little bit, but your boot holds me in place.

Then I feel it again.

And again.

I would bet it is the crop.  The sting of it is unique.  

Another hit.  

I don’t know how I feel about this.  You never let people touch me with impact toys.  You are far too protective of me.  So, this is extremely new territory.

“Pay attention to your task piggie.  Otherwise, I will punish you.”

Damn you and your observations. Sir.  

I push the thoughts from my head and get back to cleaning your boot.  I can hear the murmur of your voice, but I cannot understand you.  You must be speaking quieter so I cannot anticipate what will happen.  

It is not long before I feel someone separating my lips.  The air is cold to my exposed clit.  It makes the sting of the next hit hurt all the worse.  My legs shake.  I am trying to focus.  I am halfway done.  It won’t be much longer.

Again, and again.  The hits have no rhythm, and they vary in strength.  They are not extremely rough, but they are making my flesh tender.  It is also turning me on.  I am still sore from the brutal use yesterday by your friends Sir.  Are you planning another round?


The hits only continue until I have finished your boots.  Once done, the hands leave my body.   Your boots lift from my back and are placed back to the ground in front of me.  My hips ache with the position I am in, but I make no move to readjust without your say so.

Two snaps.

I am never so thankful as I am right now that I understand what that means.  

I slowly lift myself up and move back to the side of your chair.  I am careful to keep my eyes on the floor.  I cannot bring myself to face my audience.  You tap my head and as I look up at you, you make a hand gesture that I am ready to bite you for.  You motion for me to sit.  Which would be fine if it wasn’t the same hand signal you have trained the dog with.  You outright laugh at me as I glare at you.  You make the hand signal a second time.  You are counting down to my compliance.  Fine.  I will sit.

Asshole.

Your hand is tangled in my hair almost as soon as I think the thought.  

Jesus, did I say that out loud.  

“I think you are forgetting yourself.”  You stand abruptly.  You drag me to my feet by my hair.  My eyes are watering from the pain.

You thrust me forward and let go of my hair.  I barely manage to stay standing.

“Present.”  Your voice is hard.  Why do I have to be in my head so much?  All it does is backfire on me.

I spread my feet shoulder-width apart, put my hands behind my head, and interlace my fingers.  I keep my eyes on the floor.  I try to calm my breathing.  I tried so hard to be good Sir.  All I have done is upset you.  My stomach is in knots right now.  I am positive I am going to throw up.

I breathe deep through my nose.  At this point, I refuse to open my mouth.  Even for air.


“I think I have been too lenient with you, piggie.  I have spoiled you and now we need to reaffirm your place.”  Your fingers grab my nipples.  You tug and twist harshly as you talk. “I have thought about something like this for a while now.  You love pain far too much my little pain slut.  So, I had to get” you pull upward and bring me up onto my toes “creative.”  You let go and I rock back onto my heels as your hands come down hard on both my breasts.  I grit my teeth against the pain.

You extend your hand outside of my line of sight.  When you have what you are reaching for, you bring it up for me to see.

Lipstick.

What the fuck are you planning to do with lipstick?


You stripped me of my dress, tossing it carelessly to the side.  I am completely exposed now.

You, and your friends, ran the lipstick up and down my body.  None of the lines seem to make sense.  I stare at a fixed point on the wall.  Each of you move with confidence.  I am more stressed that I do not understand what you are doing than I am that I am in trouble.  I prefer quick, concise punishment.  Physical or otherwise, I want to be absolved of my crime and be reassured that you are no longer upset.

Once everyone moved away, the flashes begin.  I make my first mistake then.  My head turns to see where you are.  Without hesitation, I feel your hand connect with my cheek.  

You…you backhanded me, Sir.

My head snaps back into place.

There are back-to-back flashes.  I know your phone Sir.  It cannot process a flash that quickly.  There is more than one camera.  

I do not like this.  

I dislike others seeing me like this.  I dislike it even more that they will have a permanent shot of me, humiliated and struggling.

I am biting the inside of my lip.  You have always told me that the most memorable punishments are public.  As much as I dislike this, I do not believe in safewording out of a punishment.  I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.


You grab my chin roughly and make eye contact with me.  “I expected better of you.  Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of a dirty little piggie.”  Your words hurt Sir.  It is worse than any physical blow.  “Since you are so anxious to see yourself, take a look.”  You hold the phone up for me to see the pictures.  It is not your phone.  My fears are confirmed.

My body is covered with words.  I can see the word Piggie on my forehead.  I remember the feel of you writing it.  The other words are less kind.  

Dirty. Slut. Whore. Just a hole. 

Those are the easy ones.  I can get behind those. 

Fat.  Brat.  Defiant.

Those are harder.  I disagree with them.

But, there, across my stomach, is the word Disappointment.

That is the hardest to see.  I am wracking my brain, trying to figure out if you had written on my tummy.  Of course, it is across the area of my body I hate the most.  It says I am the one thing I try so hard not to be.

I blink back the tears.

This is the hardest thing you have put me through, Sir.


I would have preferred the physical punishment Sir.  You did let me sit next to your chosen chair afterwards.  I sat cross-legged because you knew I could not kneel any longer.  I keep my head down and stay quiet.  My head is muddled again.

I have never shied from following orders from you.  I have always told you that I am yours, to do with as you please, when and where you wish.  

It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how hard that can be.  It is so easy to believe what I say but moments like this make me doubt myself.  Sometimes I wonder if I can really do this.  Why do I feel like I have lied to you?  


I am unsure what time it is now.  I feel like I have been sitting here for a long time.  Yet, I know that time passes differently when I am in this kind of headspace.

I am almost thankful you have not cuddled me Sir.  As much as I desire your touch, I feel I might crack.  

I am determined to see this through though.  I wonder if you are pushing me for your enjoyment or to see what it takes to hear me safeword.  

It has been on the tip of my tongue for hours now.  But I am not ready to use it yet.  I know that, at the end of this, you will pick me back up.  I have asked you more than once to break me.  

You may finally have taken my words to heart.


My eyes keep drifting closed.  I am so tired Master.  I see you crouch down in front of me and I try to force my body to get into position.  You place your hand on my shoulder and hold me where I am.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

I don’t want to.  I don’t want you to see that my head is a mess.  I don’t want you to see me so insecure during service.  

But I feel like I have already disappointed you tonight and I cannot fathom being the cause of that again.

I look up at you, my eyes half-lidded with tiredness.  

I know you see it.  The way you look at me has softened considerably from earlier.  You put one hand on my cheek and rest your thumb against my lips.  I shake my head slightly.  There are some vulnerabilities I am unwilling to share.  My body can be given out.  But the comfort I find in that reward, cannot.

“Are you ready to go home sweetie?”

I close my eyes, lean into your touch, and nod my head slightly.  

You lean forward and give me three kisses.  You lean your forehead to mine and softly whisper, “You have done well piggie.  I am so proud of you.”  

That’s when the tears start clinging to my eyelashes.

You wipe the tears away with your thumbs.  “Let’s get you dressed.”  You must have grabbed my dress before you came over.  You slip it carefully over my head and then put your hand out to help me up.

I move to kiss your boots, as I do at the end of every scene.  You stop me.

I am slightly frantic at that.  I need this closure.  I need to know this was just a scene.

“Shh.  Not yet, sweetie.  We are going to get you home and cleaned up before this scene is over.  I will not have you see these words all over you outside of service.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You help me up and wrap your arm around my shoulder.  I hesitate to lean on you.  I do not want to get lipstick all over your leather.  You don’t hesitate to pull me in close.  

“Leather washes.  It will give you something to do tomorrow.”

I laugh softly.  I will never understand how you know me so well.

“That’s my good girl.”


My body is cold and filthy, and I am so tired.  I must have dozed off on the drive.  We are back at the hotel already.  You wrap me in the blanket from the car.  We enter through a side door. 

Thank you for not taking me through the lobby.

We get back into the room without running into anyone.

“Strip down and into the tub.”

I comply.  I sit down on the cold porcelain.  

You follow me a few minutes later.  You are naked from the waist up Sir.  It is not often I see you out of gear when I am still in a scene.

“Turn and face me, piggie.”

I turn so my back is to the wall and I am sitting cross-legged in the middle of the tub.

“I have shared you this weekend, piggie.  I have let others bring both your fantasies and your nightmares come true.  I have set you on a rollercoaster to test your resilience.  But, I want you to have no doubt that you belong to me.  You are mine.  My little pain slut, my subbie, and my piggie.”

Suddenly I knew what you were going to do.  And I was at peace with it.

I closed my eyes just before I felt the warm liquid hit my hair.  You are pissing on me.  You are marking me as yours.  I am not offended as I probably should be.  I am comforted.  It is as though you are washing everything else away, even if you really are just making me extra filthy.

When you are finished, I just keep my eyes closed and feel it drip down my face.  Before I think to turn on the water, you have the shower running.  Silently, you begin to wash me.  I feel you scrubbing the sweat, piss, and lipstick from my body.  It feels like you are washing away all the humiliation from the last couple nights.  It will physically be gone.  However, I know that it will be imprinted in my mind for a long time.  There are aspects that cut far deeper than I could have imagined.

I could never have done this with anyone else.  You give me the strength to push myself like this.  You give me the strength to hold my safeword back so I can experience things I had kept locked in the dark for most of my life.

Your touch is so soft.  It soothes the pain inside.

When the sobbing starts, you just hold me.  I am sure we are getting water all over the floor, but it doesn’t seem to bother you.  You don’t say a word.  You let me work through everything, silently giving me support.

When the sobs slow to hiccups, you wash my hair.  You rinse it carefully, trying to avoid getting water in my ears.

Just as we were in the early hours of dawn, you dry me off and help me to bed.  

You sit down on the bed and I kneel down.

No matter how exhausted I am, I have two things I need to do.

I lean down, still wrapped in the towel, with my hair dripping everywhere, and kiss each boot three times.  I press my head to the carpet between them and thank you.

Then I kneel up and work to remove your boots.

As I place them by the nightstand, I realize something.  

No matter what we do, how much I let myself be mind-fucked, as long as I always end up right here, at your feet, I will be fine.


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.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, bottom, dominant, femdom, fetish, kink, master, mistress, power exchange, slave, submissive, Top

An Excerpt From Mira O’Hart’s Erotic Novel “Master & Slave” – Book 1 The Sale

January 24, 2021 By Mira OHart 2 Comments

sexy Domme with whip
via stock.adobe.com

***all works of erotica are fictional. We NEVER condone anything that is not consensual

***This work takes place in a fictional world where slavery is legal (sort of like Gor). This work is for fantasy purposes only and is not an accurate portrayal of a BDSM relationship.


What surprised him was the feel of cold metal around his wrist. Shackled. She was chaining him. This was going to be bad. He gripped the headboard more tightly. When she closed the second cuff he buried his head in the goose down pillow. He would bite it if he had to. Punishment should be suffered with grace, dignity and humility. What exactly he was being punished for he couldn’t hazard a guess.

By the fifth stroke he was biting the pillow – to keep from laughing with relief. It was not the club, but a leather riding crop. Yes, it stung; he would have marks, but it was so much better than the club. He would gladly kneel for her after this and kiss her tiny feet for this small gesture of mercy.

She stopped abruptly. He thought maybe it was over. She came up beside him. Jessie ran her hand lightly over his back, over the red marks and welts. She slipped her hand under him and pulled at the fastening of his jeans. He lifted himself to assist her. The sturdy denim was not the defense against the lash that she must assume it to be, but if she insisted on whipping him naked, it was not his place to refuse. He saw no purpose in her removing his underwear as well, except perhaps to humiliate him. His face was burning almost as much as his back; he thanked Them for the small mercy of being able to hide in the pillow.

The strokes fell faster. They stung and he could feel welts rising. Perhaps the jeans were more protection than he had realized. He let his breathing fall into sync with the lashes. The familiar heady feeling found him. Blessed endorphins, adrenaline and other chemicals that put a soft haze over the pain and turned it into pleasure. If her goal was to make him suffer, she was failing. He could endure this for at least an hour. She varied the strokes and the area inflicted. It had melted into a warm tingling from the bottom of his thighs to just below his hips. He would probably feel it for a day or two, he hoped. A little reminder from a proper beating kept a slave humble, obedient. He still couldn’t imagine what he had done to offend her. Perhaps nothing. There had been guards like that, and Instructors. Those who would summon you to kneel under their lash purely to amuse them. Granted, his friendship with Brutus had protected him, from the guards at least.

It was the silence in the room that let him know that the beating was over. He could no longer tell if the blows were falling, nerves fired randomly and pain signals collided off one another in the race to his brain. john drifted in the familiar post beating delirium. He was ready to beg and thank her for his punishment, but he was cognizant enough to await her orders.

He felt the mattress move and realized she had climbed onto the bed with him. Her leg pressed against his and the touch of her skirt fabric reminded him of his nakedness. She straddled him. Perhaps she was going to inspect his marks, or unchain him, although it seemed an awkward position to accomplish either of these tasks. 

“Spread your legs.”

Noting to himself that this would be easier to do if she were not on top of him, john struggled to obey. He could not brag of any great flexibility. He realized she was probably going to whip the insides of his thighs, and he prayed that his lack of physical dexterity would not be interpreted as disobedience or a refusal to submit to discipline. He pushed his legs a little farther.

“Good. Very nice.”

A compliment? And she actually sounded pleased. He cursed his rigid muscular body, that the first task he had struggled with would be one apparently important to her. Perhaps she was pleased by his overall submission to the beating. It did seem to make her happy to beat him. It would be nice if she derived such enjoyment from his duties about the house, but he would endeavor to please her where he could.

“You were very good. Very good.” She gently stroked his hair and allowed him to kiss her hand.

“Mistress, thank you, Mistress.” He awaited a command or permission to beg her forgiveness.

She petted his hair and lightly rubbed his shoulders. It was the most gentle touch he’d ever received from her. She had rolled to the side and was lying next to him. He felt her lips press against his shoulder. She continued to kiss along his shoulders and his back. john lay quietly, perplexed and uncertain. He almost opened his mouth to speak to ask what this meant and what behavior would be appropriate on his part. No. It was better to remain silent. If she gave a command he would obey. If she permitted him to beg, he would confess his wrong-doing- probably misaddress- and hope that his acceptance of his punishment had pleased her.

“You may speak.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress. Thank you for your correction and guiding me in my service to you. I sincerely beg your pardon for my continual misaddress, Mistress. I have been disrespectful and disobedient. I was greatly in need of your correction and am indebted to you for such. I can only hope that my submission to my punishment has pleased you and beg your mercy that you might forgive me.”

Jessie gave a noticeable shiver beside him. She made a small moan and he expected her to speak. More precisely to lecture him on his misconduct and detail what punishment future disobedience would bring. Her knowledge of at least some slave etiquette was comforting. Not that he relished being punished, but he had deserved it. She had told him repeatedly to address her as ‘Mistress” and he had disobeyed. His reasons were irrelevant. She gave orders and she punished; she had acted more like a Master than his Master had. She had earned his respect.

“You want me to forgive you?” Jessie ran her fingers lightly over john’s welted ass and thighs.

“Mistress, yes Mistress. This slave understands that more punishment may be required to satisfy forgiveness. This slave will suffer as silently as possible and endure whatever discipline Mistress deems appropriate.” 

His Mistress shuddered again. Was she getting ill? The room was not cold and she was still fully clothed.

“I forgive you. I am even going to reward you.”

“I am hardly deserving of any reward, Mistress.”

“But you are going to lay there and let me do anything I want to you, aren’t you?”

“Mistress, I submit myself to your hand, Mistress.” 

“And you won’t mention this to Steven?”

“Mistress, punishment is generally considered private, Mistress. If you have forgiven me there is no need to discuss it further with my Master.”

“Just to be clear, you are forgiven. This is not punishment. This is just something I’ve wanted to do to you for a while, simply because I will enjoy it.”

“I submit myself to your hand, Mistress.” The rush of endorphins was starting to ebb and sleepiness pulled at him. His ass and thighs were warm and ached from clenching them. The welts stung. Punished and forgiven. He hoped she would be finished with him soon so he could retreat downstairs to his couch and sleep.

She laughed softly. “Funny you should phrase it that way.” She caressed his thigh and ran her nails over the reddened flesh. 

john writhed. It wasn’t exactly pain, but he did not have a word for the sensation. Her fingernails felt like knives on his tender skin. Submit. Submit. Be still. Be silent. He sighed and forced himself to be rigid under her hands.

“It’s all right, john. I told you. This is not punishment. I don’t mind if you move around or make a little noise. I enjoy it. Now, I’m going to rub some lotion on you. This should feel nice.”

It stung a little at first, the lotion finding the numerous abrasions on his skin. But then it cooled, it soothed his skin. They had used something like this at school, though he hadn’t had anyone else rub it on him since he was a child. Brutus had always cleaned any lash marks that drew blood, but this was different. He had no frame of reference for the sensations this stirred in him. john was painfully aware of his nakedness and his involuntary reaction to the gentle caress of his Mistress. 

“Good slave.”

He shuddered this time. With that, some quiet tears flowed. As hard as john fought to be perfect he never felt so at peace as when he had failed, was truly punished and truly forgiven. To be accepted, to be called good even when he had disobeyed. He thought he was quiet, but she must have heard him. She stopped caressing his thighs and put her hands back on his shoulders.

“Shh, shh, ssshhh. It’s all right. You’re good, john. You’re a very good slave. Shh, shh, shh.” She massaged his shoulders, stroked his hair and finally turned his head so that she could kiss his cheek. And then she found his mouth.

When they finally parted lips they were breathless. john averted his eyes, certain that this had not been proper. And yet, it felt so assuredly right. He fought the urge to force his mouth back onto hers. While he struggled to make sense of everything, she leaned back into him. Her mouth found his lips; she grabbed a fist full of his hair with her left hand and she slid her right hand down to cup his ass.

Her fingers were invading the most private part of him. Everything tensed. Muscles deep inside him fought to push the intruder out, but they could not. He felt her slide her fingers further inside of him. He tried to pull free of the kiss and free of her prying fingers. She tightened her grip on his hair, pulling painfully. 

“Shh. I’m not hurting you. Be good. Just be good. Be still, relax. This won’t hurt if you relax. I promise, this will feel nice.”

“Mistress, please. Mistress, I don’t understand.”

“Shh. Don’t think. Just feel. Just lay there and focus on what you feel.”

“This is the remainder of my punishment, Mistress?”

She kissed his lips, softly. “No. This is simply how I chose to use you. You would not question your Mistress’s use of you, would you?”

“Mistress, no Mistress.”

“Good. Good slave. Now, just relax. You may speak or scream or cry or express any feelings you may have.”

His Master never would have thought to grant him such permission. He wanted to thank her, but she crushed his mouth into another kiss and he was swept under. Her tongue explored his mouth and her fingers explored a more intimate cavity. The life of a slave is an exercise in vulnerability, but john experienced a previously undiscovered level of submission. No one had ever owned inside of him before. Vulnerable. Owned. These were feelings he understood. In this unfamiliar context he took comfort in those feelings. She was his Mistress. She was using him as she wished. He was a good slave; he would submit.

Submission was his core, his essence. After each trial, each punishment, each moment of redemption or forgiveness he felt his core grow, expand, brighten. It brightened now. His very soul expounded and glowed, until it was a white-hot sun. The warmth inside of him spread until it matched and surpassed the warmth of his welted skin. The warmth and pressure built until all that was left of him was the glowing hot sun of submission burning inside him. And then the sun exploded. He screamed, but it was drowned in her kiss. 

She pulled away. He was panting, gasping for air. She was smiling at him. 

“Good. Good slave.” She stroked his hair.

To Be Continued…


Mira O’Hart credits her life long love of words, books and language to her Mom, who read to her every day. “Bookie” was one of her first words and publishing her own novel became a goal by age 10. Mira studied Journalism and Psychology at Penn State and later returned for a Master’s Degree in Education. Her varied career has included journalism, community mental health and school counseling.

Her passions include reading, writing, animals and travel. Italy and Greece are two of her favorite places visited so far. Her love of the written word has inspired her to study ancient languages including Latin, Egyptian Hieroglyphs and Summarian. She lives in North Eastern Pa with her cats, Tilly and Chloe.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, dominant, femdom, fetish, kink, mistress, power dynamic, power exchange, sex, slave, submissive

Routine Task Lists In Power Exchange Dynamics

January 3, 2021 By Ms. Rika 3 Comments

blonde sexy Domme with male submissive in straitjacket
via stock.adobe.com

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 of my articles in KinkWeekly!  

This week, I’d like to focus in on a technique that I introduced in my first book, “Uniquely Rika” – The  Routine Task List exercise. This exercise has brought a great deal of success for many couples through the years. It originated as a way to help couples establish the activities they would utilize within a  Dominant-centric dynamic. The exercise was originally established to accomplish three things: 

1) Establish a “To-Do” list of tasks that truly serve the dominant and can be executed without the  need for the dominant to ensure, order, and follow up on assignments 

2) Ensure that what is being done for a dominant is actually FOR a dominant 

3) Share the responsibility of creativity between the partners so that the dominant is not solely  burdened with the need to come up with and create things for the submissive to do 

As it turns out, the Routine Task List exercise has a couple of far more valuable side-benefits: It teaches  the submissive to identify the dominant’s preferences; gives the submissive an understanding of why  something is, or isn’t, considered to be submission to their particular partner; and helps the submissive  think about their activities in terms of what the dominant wants. In short, it establishes a structured  communication method, within which the submissive learns how to serve their unique dominant. Because of these, it’s a great exercise for beginners and seasoned players alike. In my second book,  “Uniquely Us”, you see how several couples have implemented the technique within their dynamics with great results! 

The Routine Task List Exercise 

The exercise is best described in the books, but here goes the abridged version: 

1) The sub is to prepare a list of 10 items that the sub believes the dominant will feel are service to them. 

• The list should be prepared on a regular schedule. Many couples start at once a week. It’s  best to establish a set time to prepare a written list. 

• The list should contain things that the submissive feels is going to be received by the  dominant as submission to them. It’s not a list of things that the sub wants to do, it’s a list  of things that the sub thinks the dominant would want. This caveat is what makes the  exercise so useful for establishing the definition of submission for that dominant – because  the submissive is forced to think like the dominant. 

• The submissive should create this list on their own, based on their understanding of the  dominant’s preferences. 

2) The dominant reviews the list and triages it into three categories and explains why each item fell  into each category: 

• Things that the dominant feels are really submission to them – that they would want to  have done on a regular basis

• Things that the dominant feels are really more for the submissive – and although the  dominant likes to see the submissive happy and will get pleasure from making the sub  happy, are not actually submission for them 

• Things that the dominant does not like and does not want to do 

The important part of all of this, is that dominant needs to take the time to explain  WHY each item from the list ends up in the bucket it does. It’s equally important to  explain to the sub what it is about a specific task that is submission to the dominant  and made it to the list – as it is to explain why something did not make the task list. 

3) The dominant assigns the triaged items that meet the criteria: 

• The things that make the first category, are given a frequency and are added to the  submissive’s “Task List”. The frequency can be something like, “Every day”, “Once a week”,  “Whenever I shower”, “At meals”, “When I enter the room”, etc. These items are put on the  submissives list and the submissive is to execute the tasks on the scheduled times without  the need for provocation, reminder, etc. It’s the sub’s responsibility to meet the schedule. 

• Things in the second category are taken under advisement by the dominant as things that  can be given as treats/gifts during playtime. They do not make the task list. The dominant  should be quite particular about what makes it to the task list…if it’s not really service to the  dominant…that is, if it’s not FOR the dominant, then it doesn’t make the list. 

• Things that are in the third category are removed and will not be done. 

If the submissive gets 5 or more items accepted to the list, they’ve done a good job. The goal, of course,  is to get a perfect 10 for 10. If the sub gets less than 5 items on the list, then they should go back and try  again that same week…armed with the understanding they’ve accumulated via the feedback. Otherwise,  the sub executes the (now grown) task list and begins to think of things for the next week’s list. 

After a few weeks of this, the sub gets pretty good at understanding what is and what isn’t considered  to be submission to this dominant…and should begin to get better at predicting and getting more and  more items added to the list. The end result is an increasing list of pre-scheduled tasks that the sub is  performing on a regular basis, that truly provide submission to the unique dominant. 

The list is designed to contain routine tasks – to be executed according to the schedule, by the  submissive, without the need for the dominant to monitor or command execution. This simplifies the  dominant’s life – while providing services that meet their needs. 

John’s Attestation 

As I mentioned, many couples with whom I’ve worked, have used this technique with a great deal of  success. Earlier in 2020, the submissive of one of those couples posted his account in my FetLife Rika’s  Lair discussion group. I’ve reproduced it here with his permission: 

Hi folks! I wanted to chime in here to talk about the Task List Exercise. For those of you  who don’t know me, I’m John – of Liz and John in Rika’s second book. We started the Task  List Exercise when Liz introduced me to Rika’s methodology. I was a bit skeptical at first  (with the whole methodology, as well as the exercise), but Liz was into it…and to see her excited by anything having to do with being my dominant was, as the song goes, simply  irresistible! 

I remember how I thought my first list was perfection…and it turned out to be AWFUL. In  it, I spelled out what I felt submission was, being sure to list the kinky activities that Liz  and I had done in our previous playtime that she liked. Turns out, she enjoyed my reaction  to those kinds of things, but serving her – in her mind – was a much different experience. It  was, looking back, all about me: What I would allow her to do to me. Only one item from  my first list made it to the routine list. 

She sat me down and explained why these things, although enjoyable, were not going to  be considered to be submission to her. That we will likely do some of those things, because  they’re fun, but they were not making their way to the list – which was to define service TO HER. 

I remember feeling that she had been fed a dose of poison and that we were losing every  chance of having a deep D/s dynamic. I was pretty pissed at Rika, frankly. But Liz was not  moving. She would not budge from what she wanted. She sets expectations in a way that  wasn’t asking me, it was telling me. She basically said I was doing this, or I wasn’t doing  anything – that to serve her meant she got to set what service means. In other words, she  was being dominant! On the surface, I didn’t like where she was taking this – but at my  core, I loved that she was demanding that I comply. I did. 

Fast forward about 6 months: I was 10 for 10 on my task list almost every week and had  a routine list of over 200 items. They were small items, but there were a lot of them! It  was more than I could handle, frankly. We both recognized that we were fast approaching  my limit. Rika advised us to prune the list. To remove things that Liz could live without. She  also recommended that we review the list monthly, rather than weekly. We got the list to  [a] manageable 160 items, some of them daily, some weekly, some in certain  circumstances. 

Around two months into this process, I started to realize that I FELT MORE submissive than  I had ever felt in our playtime. I was truly serving Liz and Liz was feeling truly dominant.  She was also giving me lots of treats. I didn’t feel like I was going without what I enjoyed  – I just knew that when Liz gave me something that she knew I liked, it was not submission,  but rather a gift – and I was so very thankful for it. 

We’re many years into our dynamic now – we don’t visit the task list on a regular basis  anymore. It changes when Liz wants it to change. It is, however, always in play. I am her  servant, heart and soul, and love every moment of it. I find that my tastes and desires have  changed and are almost in complete lock step with Liz’s. It’s not that I can read her mind,  but I’m thinking like her now. I’ve embodied her tastes and preferences and find myself  acting in accordance with them, without having to try. 

Rika’s system works. This task list is just the beginning, but it’s an important first  component. Try it out…I strongly recommend it. And to the dominants: Be REALLY strict about what makes it onto your list. Make sure it REALLY serves YOU if you allow it. The  other things you can still do, but not as part of this list. This list is about YOU. 

Wrapping it Up 

Communication is, by far, the most important element of success for couples establishing, or continuing  their D/s dynamics. The Routine Task List exercise provides an excellent vehicle to enable greater  communication. It’s particularly effective because it engages the submissive’s mind – challenging the  submissive to internalize the dominant’s definition of submission. When submissives begin to consistently create lists that triage a perfect 10 for 10, the couple can be certain that the submissive has  truly embraced the dominant’s definition of submission. Over time, that definition can change – and the Routine Task List assures that the submissive stays with the course. 

Try the technique. For more info, read the books. I think you’ll find that they will help your dynamic  regardless of how “seasoned” or “newbie” yours is! 


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

Tagged With: bdsm play, bdsm property, bdsm relationship, communication, consent, dominant, domme, femdom, master, mistress, power dynamic, power exchange, power play, slave, slave contracts, submission, subspace

Gynosupremacy, The Internet, and The Loss of Individuality

December 27, 2020 By Ms. Rika 2 Comments

hot sexy Domme with whip, male submissive
via stock.adobe.com

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 of my articles in KinkWeekly!  

My brain-dump of the day started with a response to a question about whether the dominant women in  our group have their submissives serve “all women” with whom they come in contact; to yield to  women as superiors and to enslave themselves by virtue of gender. 

I had heard this concept before, and had always thought of it as a male fantasy. I had always assumed  that the allure of every woman being their superior; the thought that they were “under” every woman – was an imagery men craved. It just struck me as a convenient way for men to live in a titillated state  throughout the day and, frankly, to push their kink onto unsuspecting – and non-consenting women.  However, I was surprised to find that some of the women in the room not only had given that very order  to their submissives, but truly believed in gynosupremacy. 

I questioned those that had ordered their subs to treat all women as superiors as to whether the idea  was theirs or their submissive’s. Most either admitted that the guy had been first to recommend it, or  that they couldn’t recall who suggested it first…that it just kind of “became a thing.” However, there  were a couple of women who proudly stated that it was their original directive. I questioned their  rationale. The discussion became lively. 

I had addressed the concept of “supremacy” in my books before that discussion and started down the  logic trail. For me, submission is a dedication to an individual and I feel that when you generalize based  on a trait, you lose individuality. I related it to feeling commoditized by gender-related bias. I posited: 

“Can you see how a blanket statement about women in general being superior, makes  none of us special? I’m not just a woman. What is it about ME that makes someone want to submit TO ME? As opposed to any other women, for example? Am I just the  most convenient woman around right now? If not me, will the next woman do? Is what  makes me special that I have a vagina – and am willing to allow someone to serve me?  No thank you! 

The notion that someone’s gender is all that’s necessary to warrant submission dilutes the value of that submission. Submission is a dynamic between two people, not between  two genders. Furthermore, if you define gender as an identity, then are we implying  that, if someone identifies as a man, they are not superior – but if they decide to identify  as a woman, they are? I’m sorry, but that would confuse me!” 

I think it’s safe to assume that, when we look at women and men as individuals, rather than as  generalized men and women, we see their strengths and weaknesses. There are individual character  traits that could make someone a very good, or a very poor dominant – or a very good, or a very poor  submissive, irrespective of their gender. It’s not the existence or lack of existence of a “Y” chromosome  (or one’s gender identity) that makes someone dominant or submissive. All men are really NOT  alike…nor are all women. I know many women who I would follow anywhere – and others who I would  never follow … EVER.

I started asking about the nature of their dynamics. Surprisingly, a majority had online relationships  with their submissives. Many of the relationships in the room were either completely limited to the  internet, or predominantly remote with occasional real-life interaction. 

That then got me going on the impact of the digital world on individuality. I started to consider that the  number of relationships people establish (at all levels of seriousness and of all relationship types) with  people they have never, or seldom met – and don’t really know, is growing due to the internet. It brings  people with similar interests together and improves the efficiency of the compatibility filtering process.  Additionally, the allure of anonymity is strong, particularly for people exploring an “edge” interest. But this remoteness is a double-edged sword. The worlds of reality and fantasy blend on the internet. You’re  never really certain who you’re with – as there are few immediate repercussions to your actions. 

I began to wonder if the notion that “all women are worthy of submission” stems, in part, from being  able to interact with people without knowing them. Does the internet make a partner easier to sculpt in  general terms – and to create an image of a person that matches your fantasy? I think it’s pretty clear that it does. 

In fact, I believe this image-creation phenomenon is also largely to blame for the number of men who  believe that a woman will jump at the opportunity to dominate them, just because they’re willing to be  dominated. If you’re a dominant woman with an online identity, you’ve very likely been approached, multiple times, by men who have already decided to submit to you, without knowing you at all – and  then, who are hurt if you don’t want them to serve you without getting to know one another!  

I’m also certain that there are a number of you reading this today, who have been disappointed – or  even hurt – when the imagery presented online and the reality of present-relationships don’t match. Or  when you yourself don’t seem to live up to the imagery that was projected onto you. 

Part of the allure – and the primary reason for the failure – of the internet for creating relationships is  that partners become commodities. You live in the fantasy of your imagination for a period of time, and  when that burns out, you move on to the next online partner. Imagining that every woman is a superior  – or that every male is an underling – is a generalization that is highly supported by the way the online  world masks our individuality. 

I find generalizations, as a rule, to be troublesome (irony intended). I find the notion of supremacy (in  any flavor: Female, Male, Black, White, etc.) particularly distasteful on many levels. I am an individual. I  want to be treated as an individual and I want to receive my due based on the merits of who I am, how I  think, and what I do. If someone wants to submit to me, they had better be prepared to explain what it  is about ME that compels you to make that type of commitment. What separates me from all others like  me. If they’re going to submit, they will submit to what’s between my ears, not what’s between my legs! 


 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

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, femdom, fetish, gender, kink, power exchange, sex, sexual fantasy

Video: BDSM Games For Foot Fetishes and Foot Lovers

December 5, 2020 By total versext 2 Comments

Have a foot fetish?

Love feet?

Want to spice up your foot play?

Then check out this awesome video from the fabulous Dominatrix Susanna!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuP-Dgr97Eg

Tagged With: bdsm, dominatrix, femdom, fetish, foot caning, foot fetish, foot worship, kink, sex, sexual fantasy

This week in kink: November 30, 2020

November 28, 2020 By Dexx 2 Comments

We at Kink Weekly believe everything should ALWAYS be consensual including the sharing of intimate images.

In Ireland, Justice Minister Helen McEntee seeks to crimininalise the non-consensual sharing of such images often referred to as revenge porn.

She is specifically trying to enact the Harassment, Harmful Communications and Related Offences Bill, which hopefully would help reduce this non-consensual behavior.

Click below to read more from UT news!

Justice Minister Seeks to Ban Non-Consensual Sharing of Intimate Images

During the pandemic, sex workers have had to find new avenues to keep their businesses running.

Because of this, erotica humiliation and financial domination have soared on Tik Tok. These submissive clients are often referred to as “pay pigs.”

Click below to read more about this from I-D!

Meet the findom goddesses making bank from "pay pigs" on TikTok
Erotic humiliation has found a new home on your FYP, and humiliatrixes are using the app to make a living in the midst of a global economic crisis.
I-d

In need of a new podcast?

Then, check out From Tops To Bottoms that explores feminism, BDSM, sexuality, and so much more!

On this show, the hosts share their personal experiences to give listeners a better understanding of such broad, often misunderstood/misrepresented topics.

Click below to read more from thebeijinger!

Date Night China: From Tops to Bottoms is a New Podcast About Sexuality
Looking for a new podcast to get into while waiting for Season 2 of Date Night China's Podcast?
www.thebeijinger.com

Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to kinkweekly@gmail.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink.”

Tagged With: bdsm, consensual, femdom, feminism, fetish, financial domination, humiliation play, kink, paypigs, power exchange, queer, sex, Sex Work Community, sex worker rights, sex workers, sexual safety, sexuality

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