Joji Sada

Journey of a Wayward Sub

June 28, 2020 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

female sub tied suspended upside down with marks — via stock.adobe.com

**This Started out as a very odd dream. When the dream ended, I was asked by my Dom to continue the story to its natural end. This is the result**

* *

We were chosen by random lottery. So, all the Doms and Masters would take their subs to this stadium and a lottery was drawn. They had a group of unowned subs. If your number was drawn (which was reflected by the registry numbers on the subs tags) then they would go to the center of the field. The sub would strip, their collar removed, and temporary cuffs and collar assigned to the camp were placed. Then the D/M would pick an unowned sub to satisfy their needs for the length of time the sub(s) was gone. The D/M was also told that if they so chose, they could choose to keep the temp sub in lieu of their chosen one.

****

They hooked leashes to our collars, one by one as we were called. 37 of us in total this time. Four males, the rest female. They waited until the stadium emptied before we were moved. I can only imagine it was to show us we were replaceable as we watched our Masters leave with our replacements. Not one of them looked back.

****

The windows were black on the bus they put us on. I thought they were tinted but as I’m moved up the steps there is no light. I’m walked over to a seat and sat. Almost tenderly they move my cuffs against the wall. Did you know they were magnetic Sir? No, you probably wouldn’t. I doubt they have ever subjected you to this kind of travel. A strap is placed across my thighs to keep me attached to the seat. I can hear one of the girls crying. She is trying to be quiet but little stops the sound from traveling. From somewhere in the dark we are warned to keep quiet or we will be gagged until we reach our destination. I miss you already Master. I wonder what lies they’ve told you about the camp. This is nothing like the propaganda they have spouted for so many years

****

Have you ever sat in complete darkness, Sir? I can hear the gravel on the road, the soft purr of the engine, my own heartbeat in my ears. We have been driving for a long time. I lean my head against the blackened windows. I need sleep. I cant change whats going to happen so attention his point the worst it could be is not waking up at all. There are no rituals to help me drift, no tenderness to ease the panic. It is simply time and darkness.

****

I don’t know how long i was in the dark. I opened my eyes to the handlers removing us one by one. I’m one of the last to be removed. He leaned in close to me, warning me to be compliant. Anything else would result in a swift correction of behavior. I stepped off the bus. My feet sunk into the deep, cold blades of grass. I blinked several times trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. We are on a large lot of land. There are trees for miles. A large two story house stands before us, the whole front is glass from roof to foundation. I’m nervous again. Two weeks is a very long time to be away.

They lined us up just inside the house. With a steely soft voice, a female ordered us to kneel. Down I went, my eyes firmly on the ground, my back straight, and my hands loosely on my thighs. I could hear the clack of heels but i resisted the urge to look. From the sound of flesh against flesh, i realize someone else didn’t.

I’ve never realized how humiliating it is to be so bare in front of anyone other than you Sir. Hands moved across my chest, up and across my shoulders. My chin was grasped and my head forced up. My mouth was yanked open. Then i was pushed to the ground. My forehead touched the floor, my ass in the air. I was told to hold myself open. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin.

All I wanted to do was run. Instead, I simply close my eyes and wait for it to be over. I can feel the cold sensation of lube before something blunt pushes against my ass. It burns. There is no finesse, no kindness in the movements. I feel so full and stretched and it hurts. I feel the pushing stop and what I can only figure is a plug stays put. I am pulled back up to my knees and then they begin to divide us into groups. There are three others in my group. They are as mute as I am. I prefer your instruction. It comes with clear, concise instruction. Here, the handlers speak so little and assume we know their thoughts. I’m not sure I am going to survive.

No one knows what happens here. They hook our leashes together again and nearly drag us through the vast house. It is a labyrinth of a house and down three flights of stairs we find our darkness. Did you tell I fear the dark Sir? Is this a punishment for a slight i am unaware I’ve committed?

One flickering bulb hangs from the ceiling with four military cots against the four corners. I half expected hooks to hang us from but the walls are bare. There is no life in this room. I expect that’s why we were brought here. To make us lose hope.

One night down Sir. Thirteen to go.

****

I miss affection. We both know how i crave your touch, your kindness, your praise. I crave it almost as much as i crave your Sadistic side. But its different here.

“Good Girl” is said almost mockingly. I was volunteered to show my talents this morning. I was singled out because I did not rise at first call. We both know how deep I sleep. Apparently that is unacceptable for a submissive.

Rule 1: I am always to be ready to serve your needs, of any kind, at any time of day.

Apparently, I am weak at what I do. I’ve been selected for private sessions with the handlers.

****

Rule 2: I will always respect my betters.

More than likely this is why I am in trouble. I’ve refused to call them anything other than Handler. They are not my Master nor my Mistress. This is, as I’ve been told quite violently, unacceptable.

I have been restricted. I’m not sure how long I have been kneeling here. I am unable to feel anything below my waist now. If not for this contraption, my body would have given out long ago.

Im watching the other slaves fight. Well, its wrestling really. But there is no mercy here.

****

Rule 3: A submissive should always be ready to shield their Dom with their body.

What this really means is that we should be able to take what ever strikes our skins without complaint.

We are toys Sir.

This is not a training ground for us. I don’t think we are ever to make it back. Will you remember me if I disappear Sir? I’ve always been willful and now it is my worst attribute.

I’ve been used more than i can count now. I fear what they are prepping us for. Is this where i will spend the rest of my days?

Should i swallow my pride and allow them to break me Sir? If it means i can go home?

I’m beginning to wonder.

Three days down–I think. After all, its hard to count the hours in the dark.

****

I haven’t walked since I’ve been here Sir. My knees are bruised and bloody from crawling. I hate it on a good day for you, I despise doing it for them. I compose these letters to You in my head but I wish I could just hear You. Just for a moment.

Will you still want me when I am so jaded and broke? Will You take your pleasure from me knowing I’ve choked and gagged on an unknown amount of men? Will You touch me knowing that even though you cannot see it, I will have been torn and bruised and brutalized simply because I would not form my lips to call another Master?

I hope so.

****

Tonight I am outside on the lawn. I’ve been here since sun up. They wont let me sleep. My arms are pulled taunt above my head, hooked to a pulley system in the tree. Occasionally they let me down to my knees but I am currently struggling on my tip toes.

There are weights on my nipples. They burn. I can feel the pull in my shoulders and my back.

They wont touch me yet. I’m still squirming too much. Once I find my center and try to zone through the pain, that’s when I will draw their attention. I will feel the crop to my pussy or too my feet to make me jump. After all, if I didn’t flinch I wouldn’t be in as much pain.

Rule 5: i will accept what i am given and be grateful for it.

Does that include getting hosed down instead of being allowed to shower Sir?

The answer is yes. It only took me six hours to concede that answer.

****

Are you proud Sir?

I look a right mess. At least, I think I do. There are tear tracks, involuntary. Sometimes the sting is too much. There are no safewords here. I think that’s why so few subs return. There were no promises in the lottery that said we come back undamaged or sane…or that we come back at all.

Did you know rule 4 is the same as one of yours?

Rule 4: No biting

You understand if you could read these words, that I made a decision. I was so tired Sir. So tired and cold and sore and sick. I was smart enough to not bite the cock as it fucked my mouth raw. I was not so gentle to his thigh when he wiped his fluids across my face. I drew blood.

Then they drew blood on me.

****

It dawns on me, a breath of life, as i lay there. The more I fight, the less likely I am to see You again. I’ve never been good at dealing with being left alone. Sometimes I wonder if I am easy to read or You have sold my secrets to the devil. As my endurance gets better, my punishments only get worse.

I’ve had no one to soothe me. No one to tether me. This isn’t play. This is cruelty. Cruelty I’ve asked for from You.

So why is it so hard to accept?

That’s easy. Because it isn’t You.

****

I can hear the crunching of leaves. My eyes pop open. They are still a distance from me. I bring my battered body up to a kneel. My hands are cuffed in front of me, chained to the base of a tree where i was left last night. Its not even dawn yet but i have managed some rest.

I keep my eyes down and my back as straight as i am able, just as i did on day one.

I’m going to try Sir. Because i want to go home.

I can see boots stop in front of me. They are black leather. I like them less than yours. And Sir, they severely needed to be shined.

“Lick them.”

My eyes close the tightly. I knew it was coming. I’ve earned not only the humiliation but they are showing me my place. Never to question. Never to hesitate.

I lean forward, trying to keep my balance. I have to strain forward. He stands just beyond my comfortable reach. Between the bonds and the position, I’m sure i will crash forward. I stick my tongue out and reach the tip of the boots. The leather is smooth yet well worn. I can taste the dirt dusted across it. I want to curl in on myself and stop this but i cant…i wont. I continue to lick–long, slow licks, shining the material to the best of my ability. As I switch boots, i feel a sharp thwack on my ass.

Its the crop. I hate when he wields it. But i don’t cry this time. He keeps the pace for a good ten minutes or so before he stops and steps away from me.

He wraps his hand in my hair ans pulls my head back to meet his eyes. “Do you have something you would like to say, slut?”

My mind is screaming at me to spit at him. To fight and scream. Instead, i cave…as i swore i never would.

“Thank you Sir for allowing me to clean your boots.”

He drops my head and left me kneeling there alone.

Then the tears start.

****

I’ve been allowed inside Sir. Its the first time in three days. I am halfway through my time here. I’ve had no human interaction with anyone other than the Handlers. I see the others, performing various acts, but I am kept segregated. It wears on me.

The plug they placed in me has been replaced with beads. They stretch me less but they also move with me more. I feel them with every movement.

So far, today has been my easiest. I am spending my day sucking cock. As much as I despise this place, my mouth still waters at being allowed to lick and suck.

I am kneeled over a small device. It looks like a black cushion but in the center is a vibrator. It sits against my clit. I am free of bonds and am to show my understanding of rule 6.

Rule 6: A submissive shall exert a firm level of self control in any circumstance.

I keep my hands behind my back, my right hands holding my left wrist. I start licking the cock in front of me. Soft, light licks to the head. I circle my tongue around and gently nudge the tip of my tongue against the slit. I flatten my tongue and push firmly against the shaft until I reach the balls. I gently suck on them. It is a weird sensation that i love.

I let them go with a pop and move back to the tip. I suck firmly before sliding down to take the entire cock in my mouth. I make sure to keep my teeth covered. I’m taking my time. We will see who gives in first.

I’m in a very unique spot Sir. The bead have been replaced with the plug again. Its rubber and feels thicker than the first. There is a vibrating egg in my pussy and a dildo in my mouth to keep me quiet. I am bent over a cold metal table. It reminds me of an autopsy table. It is shiny enough that i can see movement behind me but not clear enough to see what he is holding. My hands are pulled taunt above my head and secured to the table legs. Strapped to my thigh is a vibrating wand. It sits right at the edge of my clit. It teases me and my juices are running down my legs. I’ve been here a while now. My body shivers from the sensations. My pussy is throbbing and I desperately want to cum. But I need more Sir. I need pressure. I need pain. I-I n-need….permission.

****

My body tensed with the first swing. I was distracted Sir. So as soon as I felt the wood hit my cheeks and drive the plug into me, I knew what this lesson was.

Rule 7: A submissive should always be attentive when engaged with their Dominant.

I had allowed my mind to wander. I feel so full and the vibrations are overwhelming. I can feel how swollen my clit is. I tried to push back but that earned me a second and third whack. I couldn’t even cry out with my mouth stretched and full as it was.

Four. Five. Six.

It hurts. It hurts so bad. The plug keeps shifting inside me. My body is sweating with the effort of trying to relax. I know that every flinch and tensing only makes it hurt more.

Seven. Eight.

My ass burns and the skin feels hot. There are tears running down my face and a puddle of drool on the table below me. I’m trying to breathe, to relax, to pay attention.

Nine.

Ten.

Fuck.

I feel the egg pulled from my pussy and without hesitation, a cock pushed into me. My ass burns from the friction and my pussy is so sensitive. My tummy is pushing into the edge of the table. I’m expecting to see bruises tomorrow.

He pushed deep in me and stopped. Fully seated, I suddenly felt the wand pushed firmly against my clit. I could feel myself contracting around his cock, my stomach clenching. I screwed my eyes tight and tried to hold back.

Self control.

“Cum.” and all my control disappeared.

****

I’ve never been one for the silence. I have trouble being alone. The longer I am there, alone with only my thoughts, the worse it gets. First I start they fidget. Little movements that only your sharp eyes catches. Then my eyes shift and my hands clench. My breathing becomes more shallow and I start to wonder. I wonder what I did wrong. The silence is always a punishment.

Here, though, it is a way of living. I can hear the cries of the other submissives. I can hear their training. I can hear the chaos. But, in my room, a solitary spot at the far end of the grounds, away from the actual house, I no longer connect to the sound. I zone through it.

So, I’ve taken to talking to myself. I’ve taken to reflecting on life…and training. I write these imaginary letters to you Sir, knowing you will never see them. I talk to you to keep me warm in the nights. This has been far from easy.

I’m trying. I wonder often if you would be ashamed of my actions those first few days. I am ten days in now and it took seven for me to stop fighting. Does that mean I have wasted this opportunity? Does that matter when neither of us chose to send me here? I wonder if you would still proudly claim I was yours knowing how I struggled. After all, it took months for you to tame me. Here, I’ve done it in a fraction of the time.

My submission is important to me. It took everything I had to lay it before you and offer myself. I figure that’s why I’m fighting so hard. I didn’t choose to submit to the handlers. It was a choice that was taken from me. But I’ve come to the realization that there are things I can be taught, from others, that can improve my submission to you.

So, as I sit here in the dark, humming a lullaby to soothe the fear, I’ve finally accepted why I am here…and what it will take to go home.

****

This is torture Sir. I thought You were Sadistic but they have proven there are others who are worse.

Rule 8: A submissive should be able to complete any task assigned without distraction.

Have you ever listened to a song on repeat because it speaks to you or comforts you or simply because you enjoy it? I have. There are many instances where I can listen to a single song for weeks. I have never, however, been subjected to them while working.

They are playing Disney songs Sir. My guilty pleasure. I’ve been told I am to tune them out. The volume is loud enough I can feel the Lion King thumping in the floor boards. I cannot sing along. I cannot dance.

I am to tune it out.

The task is relatively simply Sir. I am to clean the house. Its almost comforting. Of course, as I’ve been yet allowed to stand, everything is washed with a washcloth, toothbrush, and bucket. So, not my favorite.

Every so often one of the handlers comes in. Sometimes it is to purposefully track mud across my clean floors. Sometimes it is do be serviced. Most of the time it is to be distracting.

Poking and prodding me. Crops, paddles, hands…the implements change, the distraction doesn’t.

I have a deadline for when it is to be done by. I have no timer or clock to keep me on track. That’s part of the challenge.

After all, I am a service oriented submissive at home. If I am abiding by the rules, I shouldn’t need a clock to get everything done in time.

Right Sir?

****

I failed Sir. I was unable to complete my tasks on time. I tried. I pushed myself but I failed. I want to tell you it was because of all the interruptions but that is only an excuse.

I’m disheartened. Even without you here, I feel like I’ve disappointed you.

Rule 9: A submissive will accept that failure happens and endeavor to learn from it.

Rule 10: A submissive will never give excuses for her shortcomings. She will own up to her mistakes without hesitation and accept the corrections given.

I’ve been writing these rules for hours.

I cried Sir. I cried when they told me I had failed. I am guessing that I was not meant to finish the tasks. I was set up to fail so I would learn to accept it and move on.

Rule 11: Apologies are only meant to be given with heartfelt regret and a clearly stated reason as to why.

The more I have to recite these rules, the more I expect you to appear. I feel like you are watching Sir. I feel like you are feeding them my deepest fears, my darkest insecurities, and my biggest failures.

This is tailored to my rebellions.

Are the Handlers really that good or are You there Sir?

Three days to go. Maybe then I will find out if my suspicions are correct.

****

I have the worst balance Sir. I suppose I am meant to be graceful and ornate, skilled enough to make it through a crowd of people for service without being noticed. I am always to be on call and ready to serve.

Have you ever tried to walk on your knees Sir? To shuffle forward at a moderate pace while trying to hold tray service?

I am tightly holding a pipe like tube in my mouth. It is connected to a tray with drinks on it. Both my arms are out at my sides with my palms up, also holding trays, though these have food on them.

I am to stay still. I am to move only if told. Every shift in my position brings the items closer and closer to spilling.

This is torture.

****

Rule 12: A reward is earned and is never an expectation.

Did you know Sir that the more interest i show in something the less i get it?

I’ve expressed to you multiple times how I love to use my mouth. I’ve learned here that the love I have does lessen slightly with boot worship but is not wholly unbearable. I’ve also learned that I have a slight fondness related to rimming but my ultimate love lies with oral. Be it man or woman, i love the feel, the taste, everything. I enjoy sucking lightly on a woman’s clit while you watch, hearing her moan like a whore. I like swallowing you whole and tasting your cum on my tongue.

When I close my eyes and imagine being home, it is easier to perform those same actions here.

However, my enthusiasm for it, compared to my overall behavior, had the privilege stripped from me.

Even the gags changed. Now I have my mouth pulled open with a metal O ring. It does not allow my tongue anywhere to lick or suck.

I am impulsive Sir. I tried to lick one of the Handlers as they came by. I got one swipe in before the back of his hand connected to my face.

No words were uttered. They weren’t needed. I knew I was in the wrong. My whole body dropped in acceptance. I’ve only made the wait longer. I’ve only made the privilege harder to earn.

I am learning Sir. It just doesn’t seem to be fast enough.

****

It has been a long two weeks Sir. They have us all lined up outside on the lawn. This is the first time I have seen other subs since that first night. We are kneeling as expected.

Even me Sir. My eyes are down, my back is straight, and my palms are up, resting lightly on my thighs. I’ve not needed to be gagged in two days.

There are only a few of us here. I’m not sure what happened to everyone. Only one of the males remains and there are probably less than ten females left, including me.

I’ve been difficult Sir. I know that. But I’ve learned my rules and my lessons.

I was so afraid of losing myself. Of losing my personality. I didn’t want to be a doormat again. I had trouble separating my submission from myself.

But, being here, has brought me away from those fears. I ache from the depth of my lessons. My eyes have cried more than I thought possible. But I’ve learned the most important rule so far.

Rule 13: A submissive does not need to understand a Dominant’s decision to trust that it is for the best

****

Its dark Sir. The sky is beautiful out here. There are no other souls for miles and you can see the stars so clearly. It never dawned on me what I was missing back home.

I spend most of my time inside and I never realized it. Though, that is neither of our faults really. Between the fact that I cannot leave your property unaccompanied and the sun down curfew, i would never be able to see such sights in town.

Do not think I am unhappy Sir. You are both a kind and caring Master and I enjoy my days with you. I accept what i have and am grateful for it. But I will hold this moment close to my heart for a fair length of time. This is a freedom and beauty that cannot be replicated with so many people around.

The blindfold is being slipped on. Its not as frightening as it was on day one. In fact, it mostly feels heavy. I’ve been without clothes or adornments for so long now that it is uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

I hope this means I get to go home soon.

I miss you.

I hope you can say the same.

****

They have removed our collars Sir. They have removed all our adornments. My wrists and ankles are bare.

I have missed my own cuffs and collar. I have missed the comforting weight of them. Even though these last two weeks i’ve worn foreign marks of ownership, they felt wrong. But being without any feels worse.

We were told why they were taken. This is our final test. They expect perfect obedience on the way home. They expect absolute silence–a time of reflection.

Then, when we arrive back to the place in which we were taken, we would present ourselves for inspection.

Then, and only then, will we find if our Dominants have decided to take each of us back.

I’m worried.

My body is painted in foreign colors and marks. I know I am a masochist. I also know that the marks normally on my body are ones you know well. You take care that I stay undamaged.

My body is littered with more blue and purple than any of the other subs. You can see the marked up skin where my collar and leash were rubbing from being yanked so often. You can see the rope burns on my wrists and ankles that were previously covered by my cuffs.

These are the marks of a fighter. These are the marks of someone who spent most of the last fourteen days in trouble.

I wont need to say a word when I kneel before you. You will know in a moment what happened.

I wonder though….do I get in extra trouble for damaging your property by my bad decisions?

****

I knelt forward for my final inspection at this camp. The last of the devices are removed. I feel empty Sir. Then again, that has more to do with me being slutty than having the beads removed.

My body throbs, in a good way. I can feel the pulsing between my legs. I am preparing to suffer Sir. Heat is coming and I have yet to know if I am suffering alone this time.

We are loaded onto the bus, one by one. Our eyes remained darkened. I wonder if they fear we will know their location. It seems a futile fear. I doubt anyone wants to come back. I know I wish to be as far from here as possible.

The reason has changed from the first nights. First I wanted to leave because I feared that being away from you would have you forget me. Then, it was because of the restrictions. I’ve always asked you to be stricter and then when it was laid before me, I rebelled.

Now, I simply don’t want to need to be here anymore.

We were drawn by lottery. A lottery that very few survive.

As the bus comes to a slow stop, the gravel crunching under the weight of the tires, I am ready as I will ever be.

Fear is fluttering in my stomach. My nerves are vibrating with nervous energy. I breathe long, slow breaths. It is time.

I walked down the steps of the bus and forward until I am told to stop. I can hear the others. Their Dominants and Masters are talking to the handlers in low tones.

One girl is crying. I cannot see why but her sobs are heart wrenching. I hear another humming softly. I can only hope it is a happy song.

The sounds begin to quiet again. A single snap and I am on my knees. I close my eyes when I feel hands on my face. Slowly the blindfold is removed. I blink rapidly towards the ground so I can see again.

Its still dark. I’m not sure why that surprises me but it does.

I can see your boots Sir. All i want to do is lay my head on them and beg you to take me home. I want to beg you to hug me and kiss me. I want to beg for you to touch me in any way.

I don’t move.

I can hear the handler start to speak and you silence him.

“I can see how her time has gone.” Your voice is steady and low but hard to read.

My heart sinks.

Your hand touches me hair and combs through it gently. Your fingers trail down my face and place pressure under my chin until I am looking at you. I’m biting my lip to stay silent. I can feel the tears on my lashes.

Your hand runs across my throat before you pull back and reach into your pocket.

I see it. My collar.

You place it around my neck with practiced ease and slip the leash into its ring.

You tug me to my feet and give me a soft hug. Your lips brush my ear and you tell me everything I’ve ever needed to learn in one sentence.

“Rule 14: Whether on or off, my collar is always there.”

THE END

About the Author

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.

The Gift Of Acceptance

June 28, 2020 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

Tied up and reflecting on independence and freedom — via stock.adobe.com

When I was 26, my mother died.

When I was 27, my grandfather died.

And yesterday, at the age of 31, I lost my father 21 hours after our last text message saying “I love you.”

But, I don’t want to tell you about his death. I don’t want to fill these pages with tear stains and unintelligible sobbing.

I want to tell you the greatest thing he ever did for me.

He accepted me.

The man I still called Daddy was a man who took care of not only his son, but two daughters who weren’t his by blood.

Of course, he’d chastise me for saying that.

We were his. There was never any difference between us. He told me that often enough. He treated my sister and I, and both our spouses, as his kids. When they asked how many he had, the answer was always five.

I learned about kink when I was barely a teen. It spoke to me in a way that nothing else had. I read stories and blogs from a variety of submissives and slaves and it resonated with me. The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.

But, I needed a friend. I needed someone I could talk to about it.

My daddy was that friend.

So, a few years after I discovered this world, I nervously fumbled my way through what I’d found and how I felt.

He listened.

Without judgement, he asked me questions. He told me to be safe.

He laughed and then told me he had no desire to know about my sex life.

This is the same man who bought me my first pair of police grade handcuffs and my first cat o nine tails.

I was utterly shocked. My dad was a straight laced man who still blushed at dirty jokes.

But, he wanted me to feel accepted. He said he would always get me what I asked for if it was within his means.

I broke that pair of handcuffs about six years after I got them. I got handcuffed and we lost the key. So, with a fork, a butter knife, and a whole lot of bruising, I bent them enough to free myself.

On a side note, I don’t recommend losing the key.

For Christmas a couple years ago, As he does every year, he asked me what I wanted.

I told him nothing.

He called me on my bullshit.

I said the only things I wanted weren’t things I was going to ask him for.

He told me to send him the links.

So, I did.

That Christmas, I received a pair of black handcuffs and matching leg irons. I also received the money to buy the internal violet want attachments I wanted.

Weird, isn’t it?

I never thought so.

Though, seeing the face of my partners when I got what I asked for, was a picture worth taking.

**** **** ****

We, as humans, spend our lives noticing all the ways we are different. We live in fear that we will be cast out for being different.

We shy away from coming out, in any way, that could be seen as deviant.

That fear often turns to anger.

We push people away, we hide ourselves behind a wall of indifference, and we pretend.

We pretend nothing can hurt us. We pretend it doesn’t hurt when people walk away.

We accommodate people’s ignorance.

I’ve been fired from a job for being gay. So has my wife. I’ve been asked by my sister in law to not be affectionate with my wife at her wedding because it will upset guests. I’ve been told I’m not Queer because I have an attraction to men and women.

I’ve hurt myself even more.

I’ve taken my depression, my anxiety, and my fear out on my own skin. I have the silver lines of anger in my thighs. I’ve starved myself. I’ve scratched my skin to the point of bleeding. I’ve cleaned until my hands were numb and I couldn’t stand.

I’ve hurt myself in more ways than I can even count.

And, there in the darkness, was one man. A man who always had a hug for me. A man who let me sleep on his couch when I showed up late at night, upset. A man who sat there and talked about sci-fi and high fantasy to take my mind off whatever was bothering me. A man who answered the phone whenever I called, even if he was at work.

He didn’t scold me for my depression. He didn’t mock my anxiety. He simply told me that if medication was helping, then I needed to listen to the doctor.

For a man who hated hospitals, and doctors, he always made sure we went.

He didn’t condemn me when I fell off my meds. He didn’t lecture me. He didn’t pressure or push me.

He supported me. He accepted me. Mistakes and all.

Above everything a father teaches their child, their are two pieces that have made me a stronger individual and helped my journey of self.

1) Whatever you are into is secondary. Always greet someone with a smile. Just because I disagree with your choice, doesn’t mean I can’t still love you.

2) Be proud of who you are. Never bow your head to those undeserving. Trust with everything you have, but never accept a violation of that trust.

–It took me years to understand those teachings. Hell, I’m still learning them.

When these lessons were reenforced by my partners, and made priority by my Master, I knew I was home.

His acceptance taught me what home meant.

Home is never just a place to sleep. Home is the people who hold you up. Home is the ones who answer the phone at 3am because you just needed to talk. Home is those who know that whatever mistakes you make, you are still worth loving.

I wouldn’t be where I am without such acceptance.

In a community full of trauma survivors, I count myself among the lucky few who had a beautiful man who stood behind me.

Even though I have to explain that he really was my dad, he will always be Daddy to me.

About the Author

Rituals, Rights, Kitchen Lights

June 21, 2020 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

I am terrified that one day, the light will be off.

I am terrified that the darkness will be all consuming.

I am terrified I will be forgotten.

*Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? It sounds as though I am to be locked in a dark dungeon and left to rot. I am not. No need to dial 911.

In reality, I have an extremely irrational fear that the kitchen light will not be left on for me when I come home in the middle of the night.

Would it be the end of the world? No, not physically. Would I forget where I lived without the bright yellow glow? No.

But, would I feel forgotten? Overwhelmingly so.

The thought of it makes my stomach queasy and my anxiety spike.

It is completely irrational.

And yet, it’s there.

This is part of my rites and rituals that have developed in my relationship with Master.

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This is going to be a very frank conversation that will probably make people uncomfortable. My service has no religious connotations but there are undeniable parallels. This is not a political statement. This is my life, my beliefs, and my dedication to my service.

My hope is to simply relay how rites and rituals can be everyday occurrences and do not need the formal ceremonies flouted online and in BDSM literature.

While I acknowledge and respect the formal ceremonies of our cultural past, I stand by my beliefs that I can show the same dedication, and receive the same reciprocation, in a much simpler way.

Rite: a customary act, practice or tradition.

Ritual: a series of actions or type of behavior regularly and invariably followed by someone.

When I refer to a rite, I’m referring to the basic etiquette and expectations befitting a role within the dynamic.

When I refer to a ritual, it is the actions of deference and support.

While my experiences are from the eyes of a submissive, I want to make it clear that rites and rituals are relevant regardless of role.

The first of those is the light.

Master is a cautious individual who does not trust easy. He double checks the locks. He closes the curtains when the sun sinks low in the sky. He makes sure we are safe.

I work rotating hours that are often well into the darkness and long after bedtime for my family As such, I have a key to our home. Yet, he always leaves the light on for me and the backdoor unlocked.

Always.

No matter what he has done that day or where he has travelled to, whenever he is home before me, the light is on.

He knows I fear the night I come home to the dark. I have confessed to him and admitted I know it’s irrational.

He simply smiles, gives me a hug, and tells me it’s ok. He reminds me that he has never forgotten to leave it on. When I send him a text that reminds him to leave it on, because my anxiety is speaking for me, he obligingly answers me with “of course”.

He indulges me without making me feel ridiculous.

This is his ritual to remind me that he thinks of me even when I’m gone.

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I’ve spoken often in my writings about the mental fuckery I happily subject myself to.

I walk a fine line of love and hate with humiliation, degradation, and predicament play. I find my bliss in the pain of being torn down and rebuilt.

I always give a cautionary warning. You can and will fuck someone up if you aren’t careful.

My first degradation scene was ten minutes long, and the aftercare was double that.

He put his forehead to mine and spoke to me. His voice was firm but soft. He brought me out of sub space with reassurances. He told me that what is said in a scene does not reflect how he feels about or views me. He repeated it as needed until I could answer him and tell him I understood.

This was his rite.

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His rite led to the first ritual I ever asked to implement.

I asked to kiss his boots and thank him after every scene. It defined the end of our play and allowed my mind to separate the fuckery from reality.

The first-time life interrupted a scene, I did not have that closure. It left me with a severe drop. I had never experienced such a hard call back to Earth.

It hurts. It feels like you have fallen a few stories and hit hard on concrete. Your head is fuzzy, you feel abandoned, and you feel confused.

At least, I do.

Now, even when something unexpected comes up, and we do not have time to finish a scene, or do proper aftercare right away, we have a way to end the scene. It helps tide the headspace over and begin the transition back to reality until we can come together again.

**Those of you who would smite Master for letting aftercare go, must not have other responsibilities.

I have never been prouder of him as a person than I am when he drops everything for his kids. Even as they are grown, married, and living on their own, when that call comes in, and they need their dad, I will never put my needs before those.

I will snap into a functioning servitude. “What can I do? How can I help? What do you need?”.

Health and family will always come first.

In no way does this mean I am forgotten. We may not finish our scene, but he will check on me. If I have dropped, he will endeavor to make me smile. He will give me hugs and kiss me, he will invite me to cuddle or kneel, he will rub my back or slip his fingers into my hair…or he will ground me.

Definition Time:

Grounding: today you relax. Today you are not allowed to do chores, or serve, or work. Today, we take care of you.

Only in my house is grounding a good thing. *Chuckle*. That does not mean I don’t hate it from time to time. Sometimes I cannot sit still, and I am as jittery as a ten-year-old with ADHD. Sometimes I must remind myself that I am not in trouble. But I always know it comes from a good place.

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As I grew into myself, I had preconceived notions of what made a good submissive. How to act, how to speak (or not), positions to learn, and to never, ever, ever make eye contact with your Dom.

This has been the hardest rite to unlearn.

You see, Master prefers eye contact. Unless it has been restricted, he wishes me to meet his eyes.

The most powerful thing Master ever said to me was that he can see the surrender in my eyes.

He can see when I am blissed out. He can see the shift to sub space. He can see when I am no longer present. He can see the recognition of him when I come back to him. He can see every emotion and every thought running through me.

From that point on, I have always wondered why restricted eye contact has become so ingrained in BDSM culture. You can be submissive and never fully submit. You can fake your body language. But you can never fake the look in your eyes.

**On a side note, I have been told it is both about respect and power. Eye contact can be viewed as a challenge. It also clearly shows your station. This is a tradition groomed through thousands of years and hundreds of cultures**

But, every story, every picture, every bit of media you see, always shows the sub with her eyes down.

I struggle deeply with eye contact. I try my damnedest to look past Master, at a point on the wall, so my head is up but I am avoiding his dark gaze.

Yet, he calls me out. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

He does so with a quiet patience that I am positive I could never achieve.

He will wait for me. He will ask me to look at him and wait. He will watch me blink repeatedly, trying to get his face to focus. He will watch my eyes bounce from his chin, to the wall, to his forehead, and then his nose. He will chuckle softly as he tells me I am almost there.

And then he will smile when I meet his eyes finally. “There you are. That’s my good little pain slut (or piggie)”

The latter depends on the mood (maybe soon I shall regale you with the Piggie Tales).

This is his ritual.

He likes to see me submit. But he likes seeing me come back to him even more.

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When we think of rituals, they are often formal. Sometimes religious. Sometimes they involve many people. Sometimes they involve few.

To me, a ritual is simply an affirmation of our dynamic, our commitment. There needs to be nothing more than him and I.

They are meant to slide into everyday life with minimal disruption.

My rituals are fairly simple:

–I remove Master’s boots at the end of the day (relevant to days I am off or work early). I understand that when I work into the night, he is not sitting up waiting for me simply because it is part of our routine. That would both be inconvenient and restricting.

–Kisses always come in threes. The fact that I am indulged in my OCD, even though he gives only one kiss to everyone else, reaffirms his recognition of my needs…and my quirks.

–What’s His is mine. Sounds possessive…or marital, huh? What this means is I have earned his trust and proven my worth. I am permitted to care for his leather, and I am permitted to lay out and pack up his electrical gear. No one else is given such liberties.

–Parties, and public play events, will always begin with a change of collar. Once his gear is set up, and we are ready to open the doors, he takes ten minutes with just me. I kneel, my forehead inches above his kilt, my palms up and in front of me, as he places his warm hands against the back of my neck. He will squeeze the back of my neck, tight enough for my shoulders to drop and my eyes to slide closed. He will slip the clasp of my day collar out of its rings and lay it across my waiting hands. It sits across my palms, turned up in front of my face. I can hear the heavy metal on my collar clink as he removed it from his bag. He rubs the back of my neck and moves my hair aside. He slides it under my head and pulls it tight to my neck. It always makes my eyes pop open and a sharp intake of breath. He buckled it shut and adjusts the metals to his liking. He asks me if it is too tight and adjusts if needed. Then he pulls my hair back, puts his forehead to mine and stares me down. He always tells me that I am His. He takes the time to connect with me. When he is confident that we are both in a good space, he pulls the center ring, lifts me tall on my knees, and kisses me, three times.

My rites are odd:

–I will always kneel for the removal, adjustment, or changing of my collar. I will always kneel to remove his boots. I will always kneel when I need time and comfort.

–> Kneeling is my expression of respect, need, want, or emotional support.

–No matter where my hands are, at any time, they will never be in a fist. They will always be open because I will never intend him harm.

–My hair. Long and uncut, just as He likes it.

–I will always give him free rights to my mind and my body. I am his to use as he pleases when he pleases. It takes very extreme circumstances to hear an utterance of a safe word.

–My favorite rite and his favorite ritual: no scene will ever be planned. We play organically and react and adjust in real time, without hesitation–

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We do not have the space for elaborate rituals. Nor do we have the time. Its funny really. I am in several online groups, through various platforms, related to BDSM. All of them tell me that if “I am important, there will always be time.”

I am calling bullshit. I work a minimum of 60 hours a week, with travel time. I work a rotating schedule where I can work five days on, one day off, five days on, one day off….over and over again until I am a walking zombie. Somewhere, in that single day off, I must fit in my three partners, social time with friends, household chores, errands, hobbies, and sleep. Then, on top of that, I have to make sure my mental health is perfectly in sync and my body is not in pain from my job and my physical issues. Oh, yes, and our wives and children need to be at top form so that we can be confident that they will be alright if we disappear for a half hour or so.

And that is only from my side.

Then, you add those same stressors from Master’s side.

What happens with unexpected occurrences? Our bathroom was torn apart for a couple of weeks, fixing electrical and plumbing issues. Our fridge has started leaking so bad, we spent my day off getting a new one. With the lockdown from the pandemic, we had a buildup of donations and items for a garbage haul. When they opened, we spent our time getting everything transported.

You can read these as excuses. It makes no difference to me. But, it is our reality.

When I need time, and we don’t have it, I may kneel for a few minutes before I leave for work. I may ask to shine his boots, simply so I can sink into service. I might even tease him ever so slightly, so I can see that glint in his eye—the promise of retribution when we have our next moment in time.

In the end, I know that when we step out to play, and I’m waiting in the silence, with just the blood rushing through my head and the raggedness of my breathing, I have all the time in the world with Him. I am his sole focus and he is mine.

Everything else, beyond that door, becomes static white noise.

The world will always influence how we are able to express ourselves. But, it will never stop the continuation of our Rites and Rituals.

And, of course, it will never turn out the kitchen light.

About the Author

Bonding In Leather

May 31, 2020 By Joji Sada 3 Comments

Bootblacking is an act I have developed a love affair with. Though it started simply as a service to take care of a Leatherman, it has grown to be something I find both relaxing and quite hypnotizing. It has a way of letting the time slip by unchecked. So, I wanted to learn more about the history of bootblacking.

You see, I am what Master calls a “Curious sort.” I ask the most random of questions, seemingly out of nowhere, and am constantly researching. When I started caring for Master’s boots, I researched the best oils, polishes, and cleaning techniques. However, I didn’t take the time to learn the backstory.

This interest bloomed for two reasons. The first was that Master is a Leatherman and I felt it was my duty to make sure his leathers were properly cared for. It reflected on both Him and my service to Him.

The second was slightly less than savory. My core attended a kink conference early last year. It was the first time I had ever seen bootblacking in person, as it is far from common in our area outside of equine needs. The boy working on his boots was friendly and wonderful enough to give me advise on proper care. But, when he finished, Master’s boots were dull and lifeless. We were told that because his boots were oil tanned, there was little that could be done for them. We tipped the bootblack for his time and left it at that.

I was dissatisfied.

So, at the end of our weekend away, I started looking into what steps I could take to make his boots shine. As it turns out, oil tanning does affect the amount of shine you can achieve. I will never be able to “spit shine” his boots, but I can make them look cared for with a bit of reflection.

Now, whenever I’m stressed or whenever they need it, I sit down, meticulously pull out my box, lay out my tools, and get to work.

I’m going to be realistic with you. As erotic as it is to shine his boots while he wears them, I function in the real world. In our world, our schedules don’t meet up three times a week, twice a week is days off (filled with doctor’s appointments, chores, errands, and family), and other two days are hit and miss. When life is hectic, but my work needs done, I do it. Sometimes he’s found me sprawled across the kitchen floor, surrounded by polish and water and laces and cloths, working on his boots. Sometimes, they get done while he sleeps because insomnia has taken hold and I cannot sleep.

But, when we are able, I sit at his feet, his foot moving between the brass rest and my knee, as I wash and shine his boots until I am satisfied. Because, to be honest, my view of “perfect” is far more critical than his.

Besides, between you and me, if you were into Boot Worship (and humiliation with those same boots), you’d have high standards too.

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Now that I have given you my backstory, lets get into the real history. Sit back my peeps, its story time. Don’t worry, its short and sweet. Unfortunately, the bootblacking community seems quiet in their work and passes much of its history verbally.

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According to Merriam-Webster, the term bootblack was first used in 1817 and simply meant “one who shines shoes”.

I find the dictionary doesn’t come anywhere close to explaining everything that comes with the word bootblack. It does describe the most basic functions.

It is very difficult to find information on bootblacking. There is no reason given for why it separated from general leather care. I did manage to find a picture from Paris, 1838, showing a very blurring picture of someone having their shoes shined on the sidewalk.

Bootblacking is most closely tied to Leather Culture. In fact, I would consider it an integral part of the community since it revolves around the care of leather. From my understanding, while bootblacking refers to the care of boots, many bootblacks expand their care of leather to other items, such as chaps, vests, hats, and collars. This list is by no means comprehensive and I am positive that if something is made from leather, someone is there taking care of it.

There is very little information regarding bootblacking, outside of how-to instructions and the competitions held—the first of which was in 1953. To put this in perspective, the bootblack pride flag, designed by Jesse “Spanky” Penley, did not make its debut until 2005. That is a 52-year gap where the community had grown and developed before it adopted its symbol.

In my own experience, I have found it hard to meet others in a situation like mine. While bootblacking is not gender defined, it is heavily dominated by men. This was not unexpected since bootblacking, as we know it now, is so heavily tied to the gay leather community. But, finding another female who bootblacks for a male Master, and does so generally without sexual intentions, is harder to find.

It is my hope that the more involved I get and the more people I connect with, I can experience the diversity that is not so apparent to the outside world, but makes up the vast community who love leather (and its care) as much as I do.

Like many things in the kink lifestyle, bootblacking is an individual experience. We each have our own reasons for why we do what we do. Whether it is a spiritual, service-oriented, or sexual experience, we find what we need in bootblacking.

Before I let you go, I figured I’d leave you with a glimpse at my reasons.

I have a deep respect for those who work their craft for strangers. Currently, I do not have the patience for such a task. I also view bootblacking as a service. I find my fulfillment in providing that service to Master. With His blessing, I also extend that offer to those within our family.

Bootblacking is a highly personal experience to me. Not only am I caring for Master, I am able to lose myself in the fantasies and memories of our play. Those boots have been pressed against my cheek to press my face to the floor. They have been used against my chest to bend me backwards. They have been used to move me into positions and correct my posture. They have been polished with both my tongue and my body. They are often the first and only thing I see when play begins.

Beyond all of that, they mark my shift from sub-space to reality. Because, at the very end of every session, when I’m sweating, and panting, and coming down from the high of sub-space, I kiss each boot, thank my Master for his time and care, and press my forehead to the cool surface of his boots.

For me, there is no greater pleasure, than that moment of silence, that connects Master and myself as one.

About the Author

Consent Violations

April 19, 2020 By Joji Sada 3 Comments

Consent is the defining difference between BDSM and Abuse. Even beyond Communication, consent is necessary in every aspect of kink. However, consent is an umbrella term and has many different facets.

Consent: permission or agreement for something to happen

**This is a very broad definition and leaves a lot of wiggle room for play**

Other Types of Consent:

Medical Consent: In a Long-Term Partnership, it is the consent to allow your partner to enforce medical actions or decisions. For example, requiring you to take your pills/vitamins, eat healthy, exercise, or attend medical appointments.

In a scene, this relies more on the honesty of both the Top and bottom about prior medical issues. For example, Electrical play is unsafe for pregnant women and those with pacemakers or other heart issues. Honesty is paramount to a successful and fulfilling scene.

Mental/Emotional Consent: For me, this is the combination of consent and negotiation to allow mind fuckery and/or emotionally traumatizing play. It can encompass humiliation, degradation, dark age play, race play, objectification, and other types of taboo play.

Informed Consent: All parties involved have negotiated and are aware of the risks involved. Under this type of consent, there is a debate between SSC, RACK, and PRICK.

RACK- Risk Aware Consensual Kink. “I may know that fire play may result in a burn, but I am fine with proceeding anyway.”

SSC- Safe, Sane, Consensual. “Play should be safe, with a clear mind, and the agreement of all involved.”

PRICK- Personal Responsibility, Informed Consensual Kink. “I understand that breath play may cause an asthma attack, but I want to try it anyway.”

**PRICK is considered the “next evolution” of RACK. The easiest way to apply it is that You take the responsibility to understand all risks and possible outcomes of the play you wish to take part in. It falls to you to learn instead of simply relying on a seasoned partner.

You must make the decision for yourself on what you prefer to use in your own play. I personally play under RACK but I teach SSC. I know that what I do can be dangerous and can lead to injury. I take that responsibility, as does my partner. However, SSC is much more generalized and a good rule of thumb to get your feet wet in the scene.

Implied Consent: The dictionary defines this as “consent which is not expressly granted by a person, but rather implicitly granted by a person’s actions and the facts and circumstances of a particular situation (or in some cases, by a person’s silence or inaction)”.

**Please keep in mind that communication is number one. Implied consent happens when an assumption is made.

For example, when I am in subspace, I lose my ability to Safeword. I remain engaged in the scene, but I am unable to express if something is not to my liking. If my partner decides to ask me to do something I may not normally consent to, and I don’t indicate a Safeword, he may take this as consent. Due to my participation, my consent is implied.

In my relationship, this would not be a problem due to the nature of my dynamic. However, this type of consent leaves an opening for both miscommunication and coercion. It can also lead to victim blaming (“but you didn’t say no”) and/or false accusations of consent violations (“Why did you do ‘X?’” “Because you enthusiastically participated when I suggested it”).

Consent is a fluid idea. It can change in an instant. Any type of altered state of mind (Dom/sub space, drinking, drugs, 420, medication, etc.) can lead to miscommunication and/or lower inhibitions. These lowered inhibitions may influence your acceptance of an activity during a scene but lead to regret/feeling violated afterwards when the chemicals in your brain settle.

Blanket Consent: This is a term of my own making. It is how I define my own relationship. Outside of the five items on my hard limit list, my partner has the right to do anything he wishes without prior discussion or negotiation.

Financial Consent: This would be giving complete control of your financials to another individual. This option is seen in both the vanilla and kink worlds.

Financial Dominants (FinDom/mes). This is a Dom/me who receive gifts and money from a s-type individual. There is often no further contact between the D-type and the s-type beyond gift giving. No services are traded.
Master/slave relationships often involve giving over control of all aspects of your life, including financial freedom.
Allowing another person to control your finances to prevent self-harming behaviors or to promote good money practices.

Dubious Consent (Dubcon): This is not really defined as consent since it involves coercion. It could be as simple as pursuing someone consistently, after they have said no, until they give in to your wants. It can also involve blackmail and/or abuse of power.

I have this listed because it can be included in some fantasy play. Things like Headmaster/student, Boss/secretary, or Head of Household (HoH)/maid. Such roleplays can revolve around dubcon.

Personally, I recommend that this is negotiated very carefully.

Non-consensual Consent (NonCon/CNC): According to the BDSM Glossary on Fetlife.com, CNC is a “mutual agreement that within defined limits, or subject to a Safeword or other restrictions, and to common sense, consent to activities without foreknowledge of the exact actions planned.”

That is a fancy way of saying “do what you want as long as I haven’t used my Safeword and nobody is gravely injured.” At least, that’s how I read it.

CNC is often tied to edge play. Knife play, kidnapping play, rape play, race play, and other type of play that has an element of resistance or fear. For reactions to be more genuine, a majority of the scene may be left undiscussed.

CNC in no way means that they do not have the right to Safeword at any time. As with any type of scene, anyone involved has the right to withdraw consent at any point before or during play. You also have the right to refuse aftercare, even if it was previously negotiated.

Please understand that you cannot remove consent after the fact. If you expressly agreed to play with informed consent, you cannot state that consent was broken simply because you regret something or struggle processing your thoughts and feelings.

**If you do feel as though something isn’t right, or didn’t happen as you expected, communicate with your partner. If it was a Service Top or a one-time play partner at a party, reach out. If you are unable to talk to them, reach out to members of your community that you trust**

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Now that we understand the various degrees of consent, we get to talk about the hard stuff.

The next two definitions are not ones I necessarily agree with. I hold the personal belief that any breach of consent classifies as a violation. Whether intentional or accidental, a serious discussion is needed to rectify that wrong.

Consent Violation: A purposeful disregard or breach of someone’s boundaries.

Consent Accident: A breach of boundaries or consent through unintentional means, such as, miscommunication or a misinterpretation of responses.

While I understand breach of consent can be accidental, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to have it listed as an option. A violation, in any form, will always be a violation. However, stating it was an accident can cause it to be brushed aside with a compulsive “I’m Sorry.” To me, that removes the responsibility of one or both the individuals involved.

I will use these two terms as reference to make it easier to understand intent.

Intention is not often talked about in my community. As such, the first time I was asked what my intention for play was, I was utterly lost on how to answer. For the record, “I intend to get a caning” is not an acceptable answer.

Why is intention important? What does it mean? Who actually breaks it down enough that it matters?

The answer to the third question is Master. Because, let me tell you, play does not exist until I have the correct answer.

So, what does intention mean?

Everything in kink is intentional. I’ve never met a person that doesn’t have a reason for what they do.

A brat pushes buttons to get attention. A puppy jumps and barks for play time. A Dom sets a rule for a specific reason. A masochist may beg to receive more pain or push their boundaries.

I strive to anticipate. Everything I do is built on the intention of easing the stress on my Master and my spouses. I try to make sure chores are done, bills are paid, reminders are set, phone calls made, and/or anything else I find that is useful.

My intention in play is far different. My intention is to please.

Joji is a good girl with few boundaries. Since I prefer to not know our play ahead of time, I am often taken off guard and my reactions are quite genuine. It also means that wherever Master leads, I follow.

Because my focus and intent are based on pleasing Master, I find it very hard to tell him my intention towards a scene. So, He breaks it down for me.

“I intend to get a caning”

“Why?”

“Because I need one, Sir.”

“Why do you need one?”

“…” I Pause. Why? I’m not really sure myself. So, I think about it. Honestly, I dwell on it far more than I should. Master is patient as He watches the turmoil on my face. Why? Then I finally understand what he is asking.

“May I have a caning Sir?”

“Why?”

“Because I need to be able to let go of all my stress and guilt. I need to feel your absolute control.” My intention for play is to be pushed far enough to lose myself in the sensation of pain. My intention is to submit without reservations.

**Your intention can be as varied as your play. If its been awhile since I’ve played with Master, due to outside obligations, sometimes I just want a bare-handed spanking. In those moments, my intent is simply to reconnect with Him. Skin to skin contact is our solution.

Why is intention important?

While consent is the cornerstone between kink and abuse, intention is the building blocks. Consent opens the door, but each person’s intentions lead to trust, communication, reputation, experience, and everything else we consider defining characteristics.

-You can be trusted by a community and violate my trust at home.

-I can communicate with you and you could refuse to listen.

-You can have a polished reputation and keep your cruelty behind closed doors.

-You can be experienced but be without patience for me to learn.

Do you intend to just take what you want without regard to my needs? Do you intend to hold me to high standards without educating me on how to meet them? Do you intend to see me cry from cruelty or catharsis? Do you intend me to fear your words and movements or to revel in properly applied correction?

Do you intend to use and abuse me without my express consent?

If so, you will most likely violate my consent in the most cruel and intentional of ways.

**I need to specify that I ask these questions from my role as a submissive. In no way does this mean that only D-types can violate consent purposefully. Manipulation, use of guilt, abuse of Safeword, continuous disregard of negotiated rules, and ignoring stated limits are all ways that an s-type can purposefully violate a D-types consent.

Manipulation: “You’d do this if you loved me”

Guilt: “You never think about how stressed I am when you ask X”

Abuse of Safeword: Using your Safeword to stop mutually agreed upon punishments

Disregard of Rules: “I know I asked you to make sure I take my pills, but I’ve been skipping them because I just didn’t want to do it.”

Ignoring limits: “We agreed that any partner I had sex with would be STD tested first. However, I slept with someone last week who wasn’t tested and didn’t tell you.”

As vast as I’m sure your imagination is, there are plenty more examples of how people can violate consent, intentionally or accidentally.

Here are some of the most known ways I’ve come across:

Consent Accidents:

–Non-disclosure of medical history

Some of us have preferences on who we are willing to play with in regards to health, mental or physical.

A prime example of this happened to Master. He always asks the same questions before he will give someone a tasting of electrical play. One of his questions is about metal and/or medical implants. Metal plates in the body can heat up and give internal burns if electrified too much. So, he needs to know where to play lighter or if it needs to be avoided all together. One guy who got on his table told him he had no metal plates in his body. Turns out, the guy did have metal in his body. According to him, he has had the implant so long, it never crossed his mind that it was there. He only remembered after the fact. He unintentionally broke Master’s consent by neglecting to answer the questions fully.

–Unexpected Outcomes

On some occasions, one type of play mutates into another, less desirable type of play.

One instance happened at a local event last year. A guy was on Master’s table and they were doing knife play. He had been on Master’s table many times before and they both were comfortable playing together. They agreed to knife play, combined with electrical play, but no blood play or breaking of skin. The scene was going fine until the bottom had a knee-jerk reaction he never had before. He reached up and grabbed the knife. As you can imagine, he sustained a fairly good cut on his palm and it bled plenty. Purely by accident, we were now dealing with blood.

Accidents happen in play. There are times that blood, urine, vomit, and other bodily fluids come into play when they are nowhere near the negotiations. It is still considered a consent breach, especially if those things are on a limit list.

In this case, it is how you deal with it that matters. If this happens to you, please start with first aid and aftercare.

Consent Violations:

–Ignoring a Safeword(s).

Whether you use the stoplight system (green, yellow, red), a single safeword, a visual cue, an audio cue, or your own check-in colors, they must be respected. In my own personal beliefs, I cannot think of a single instance when ignoring a safeword would be considered acceptable.

–Coercing Consent

Repeatedly asking someone to do something they won’t until they agree is coercion. Obtaining consent while someone is in an altered mind state is coercion.

–Playing off-script

This one depends on the type of consent you have with your partner. For some, adding non-negotiated things to a scene (like an additional person, a new kink, etc) can be a violation. This does not apply to everyone.

–Removing the ability to safeword

This is a general statement but does depend on your dynamic. There are those who play without safeword. This is their choice. However, if you are playing with someone who does, and you leave them unable to use it (such as gagging without a visual safeword), then you are violating their consent.

Case by Case

–Intoxication

I try my best to never judge those who play differently than I do. Some people play with alcohol, drugs, 420, or medication in their system. I do not. I refuse to play with anyone who has.

If someone tells me they are sober and it turns out they aren’t, that is purposefully deceitful.

If someone has an adverse reaction to regular medication, that is an accident.

**** **** ****

I know that I have only scratched the surface of consent and violations. There are far more than those listed here. The most important thing I want you to take from this is to communicate, regardless of the circumstances. If you feel something happened that shouldn’t have or your consent was left in question, bring it up. Talk about it. Make it important.

Why?

Because it is important.

We are human. We make mistakes. I may have never intended to break your consent or cross a boundary. I cannot fix it, if you don’t bring it to my attention.

And if it is done on purpose, please revisit the list of common red flags and run the other direction.

About the Author

When You’re Not Enough

March 22, 2020 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

I have struggled to put these words to paper for quite awhile. However, this is a subject dear to me. I would like to share it with you.

I often speak about how mental health impacts my relationships and the struggle that I deal with personally. However, I am protective of my spouses and try very hard to only speak of it from my perspective.

If you’ll bare with me, I’m going to tackle the balancing of needs when mental health is involved.

Depression is a personal issue. Much like BDSM, it is unique to each individual. Typically, you are told it involves a sense of hopelessness and sadness. This can be true.

For some of us, it also leads to a lack of hygiene. It can lead to days in bed without any desire to move. It can be staying so busy that you pass out from exhaustion. It can involve a lot of crying when your insecurities are overwhelming. It can be anger, so high and instantaneous, all you can do is walk out the door to try and cool off.

Depression can also lead to ghosting.

Ghosting:. When you withdrawal from personal relationships by forgoing communication.

We talk constantly in the community that communication is everything. So, what happens when you lose that connection with your partner?

You have to make a decision.

I will never tell you to stay in a relationship you don’t feel is healthy. I will never tell you that lack of communication is healthy.

But, I will ask that you try to be patient when your partner has these issues.

It is mentally exhausting. It takes a very patient and strong person to continue to face every day when you feel alone.

For one of my partners, she deals with depression by hiding. She will spend days in our room. She doesn’t talk to anyone and she withdrawals from everything around her.

For another partner, her hygiene and desire to get up off the couch are non-existent. She just stares into space for most of the day.

For both of these partners, this is how they deal with their chronic pain and depression.

So, I talk to them. I patiently repeat what I’ve said multiple times as though it’s the first. I push them toward a shower, even when it makes them angry. I set timers for them to eat and take their medication so they don’t forget. I text them throughout the day when I’m at work so they know they aren’t alone.

Master does the same. I am a lucky individual who has him at home with our partners. He is able to make sure they’ve eaten. He is able to take them to doctor appointments when they can’t take themselves.

Even in our deepest frustrations, we do our best to stay calm and take care of them.

For our wives, their depression is fairly “standard”. The symptoms are close to what comes to mind for depression.

Now, we get into the hard subject.

Ghosting.

Master suffers from Seasonal Affect Disorder (SAD). This is a disorder that basically means that during the winter months, his depression is tri-fold. It comes on suddenly and lasts for anywhere from 4-6 months. Please keep in mind that where we live, we only experience Summer and Winter. There is no Spring or Fall weather out here. So, the darkness, the cold, and the snow lasts longer.

When he withdrawals, it starts with spaciness. He will zone out and be unaware of those around him. When the sun goes down, he feels exhausted. His insomnia acts up. He sleeps around three hours a night, and it is restless at best.

Then his headspace goes. It starts with an honest conversation with me that he is nowhere near the right headspace to play. Something I am grateful that he can be honest about.

Then the anger happens. Because his mind and body are so restless, combined with his lack of sleep, his patience wears thin. He spends a good deal of time alone so he does not risk any of us taking the brunt of his anger and frustration.

This leads to self-loathing. See, Depression doesn’t make you blind to what’s happening to you. It just makes you either not care or feel hopeless about change. So Master dwells on his list of things to-do but has no energy to complete the tasks.

Then he feels guilty. He was raised that the man always takes care of the household. But, when depression hits, we do our best to take over the tasks to alleviate some of his burden.

The more he gets in the head, the less I feel our connection as Dominant and submissive.

We go months without play. We go months without centering. We go months without any time to ourselves.

It’s hard. I have no qualms about saying that. It leaves me with high anxiety, panic attacks, and it makes my insecurities much more intense.

Sounds unhealthy, doesn’t it? It’s ok. I know it’s hard to understand.

I feel that my Master is worth my patience. He is worth my service. My Master is human. He experiences the same stresses and pain that the rest of us do.

So, I wait.

And we compromise.

Even on his worst days, he will never turn away hugs or kisses. And most of the time, cuddles.

Those silent moments are the most important. Because even as his voice is silenced under the weight of his depression, he communicates the best way he can: with open arms.

When you feel like you aren’t enough, you have to make a decision. You have to learn to separate your thoughts from their actions.

Depression, seasonal or otherwise, will consume everything in it’s path if you let it. It will fuel the anger of someone who doesn’t want to take care of themself. It will taunt you that no play means no want.

I’ve had several days feeling an overwhelming sense of loss. To a point, that I asked Master when I could “earn back my collar”. See, I have my day collar and my leather collar.

Spending months with the affirmation of his Dominance, without my leather collar and cuffs, and without centering, left me feeling abandoned.

It’s very hard to talk to someone lost in their head. But, thanks to a very firm conversation by a bestie, I realized that my needs cannot be completely cast aside.

So, several bouts of crying,a whole ton of cuddles, and some centering later, he has started to come out of his head.

He talks to me now. He tells me he’s working on it and that no matter how bad he gets, I am still important to him.

But, I never let him apologize.

In our house, you do not apologize for health issues, mental or physical.

When I made the decision to be with each of my partners, I accepted their physical limitations and their mental state. I accepted the good and the bad.

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it is exhausting. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed and just treading water to keep going.

But I always know I’m loved. I am always told I’m important. I’m am always welcome to hug and kiss and cuddle as needed to keep me sane.

The rest, as they say, is just dessert.

About the Author

Red Flags and Red Herrings

February 23, 2020 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

I’m addressing one question that has been burning in my gut all week.

Are Red Flags Universal? For reference, I’m only using ones commonly mentioned in BDSM relationships/Dynamics.

I feel the need to emphasize that red flags are personality driven. Your role in the dynamic has no bearing on your ability to abuse and manipulate someone. Never assume that only Dominants can be abusive. Because, I can tell you, that submissives can violate consent and they can be abusive.

Be warned, if you type “red flags in BDSM” into Google, the articles will all center around Dominants. Even the ones that discuss the subs, do so from the viewpoint of a victim. Abuse victims can be any gender, any color, any size or shape, and any role in BDSM.

I started dwelling on this because of a group I am in online. It has members from all over and we started discussing red flags. For many of them, red flags were universal and the answers were very consistent.

Except, half of them didn’t apply to my dynamic.

Did this mean my relationship was wrong? Unsafe?

I came to the conclusion that no, my relationship was fine. The definition of universal was not.

I’m going to quote one of the individuals in my group. I will not share their name for privacy reasons. They told me that the best definition for “universal red flags” was this:

If you consent to it, it’s BDSM. If you don’t, it’s abuse.

I find that much more accurate than the lists online. So I’m going to break down some of the red flags that I am familiar with. This is by no means a comprehensive and all inclusive list not does it account for anyone’s individual experience that differs from this.

Remember, that abuse is never ok.

Things to keep in mind:

1) Both D-types and s-types can be abusive. It doesn’t matter how the relationship is structured. Abuse is not based in consent.

2) Relationships take many forms. What would be a red flag for you may not be accurate for all.

3) Concern for a friend is never a bad thing. Speak up and express your concerns in a private setting. Be willing to listen and never make a rash judgement.

4) BDSM looks like abuse to many people. While we are often proud of our marks, many see it as wrong. As such, remember there are two sides to every story.

5) No word universally indicates abuse. Sentences I’ve used in my own relationship are good examples.

— “I can’t wait for my next beating”

— “It makes Master so happy when I flinch in pain”

— “I always flinch when he hits me”

— “I had to wear pants so my bruises wouldn’t show”

— “We don’t leave marks where people will see”

— “He hits me with love”

**Every single one of those sentences is something I have said. A variation of every single one of them can be found in a pamphlet on spousal abuse. Does that mean I’m being abused? No, it doesn’t. Because we have negotiated the boundaries of mine and his consent. But, being an outsider, you don’t know that. You have to make a personal decision on whether to speak up or pretend I’ve not said anything controversial.

What would you do?

**** **** ****

Red Flags

1) Removal of affection as a form of punishment

Silent treatment is commonly touted as a cruel way to “punish” someone. I often see this one relating to Daddy/little relationships. This is not a good punishment. The basis of BDSM is communication. You can’t communicate with silence. Even worse, for those who have anxiety, past abuse, or a regressive style of age play, the silent treatment is incomprehensible. It simply leads to feelings of inadequacy and mislaid blame.

**This punishment (specifically, four hours without hugs or kisses) is in my punishment jar. It was written and chosen by me. It was approved by Master after he asked for my reason. I told him that it would be a difficult and painful punishment because I thrive with physical touch. But, I also reasoned, that if he wants me to learn, it needs to be a memorable punishment. So, we both consented to it’s use. That means, in regards to my dynamic with Master, removal of affection is not a red flag**

2) Requiring you to do something you don’t want to do.

I find this to be an ambiguous statement that has multiple ways of approaching. So, let’s break it down.

“You will do this because you love me”

— This is a manipulative statement that I would classify as a red flag. Love, or any other emotion, should not be a factor in completing an action or trying something.

“You will do this because we agreed you would take care of yourself”

–It’s never been worded quite like that for me, but I do have rules that ascribe to this thought process. Daily medication is one of them. I am very bad at taking my medication. So, we agreed that it would become a punishable rule. I still don’t like it, but I sure as heck do it.

3. Physical hits during high emotions

–This is another one of the ambiguous ones. For me, this is an absolute red flag. You do not play with me when angry, you do not touch me when angry, and you sure as fuck don’t strike me when angry.

That being said, I do know a couple of people who use BDSM as their therapy for emotions. Think along the lines of having angry sex but it involves impact play. That would make this red flag fall under RACK.

4. Aftercare

–This is a full topic in and of itself. The universal feeling among other kinksters seems to be that aftercare is a must and those who don’t give it, don’t care.

I disagree. I think aftercare is something both parties are responsible for and should be negotiated.

For some people, if they play with a service top, they don’t accept aftercare because they don’t know them very well. This is perfectly acceptable.

For one Dom I know, he does not provide aftercare. However, he requires that you have a plan in place for your own aftercare before he will play with you. He is upfront about this. I also think this is acceptable. If you have accepted his specification through negotiation, then you have consented to those rules.

On the other hand, if you are left wanting for aftercare, express it. If your partner doesn’t listen, doesn’t renegotiate, doesn’t care, or states that your needs are unimportant (either through words or actions), then that is a red flag.

5. Unwilling to admit lack of knowledge

–You will never know everything. That is a fact of life. Even decades in the lifestyle will never give you all the answers.

I often share the same story when this “red flag” comes up.

It is well know in my community that I enjoy hard impact play. It is even more well know that my Master is very good at fulfilling that need. During one party, we played heavy. He focused his hits on my ass and thighs. He left me some good marks and when we finished, I went back to my duties regarding the party.

A few hours later, when it got dark, Master was asked to do fireplay. I don’t mind being on the table to show new people what it looks like. In fact, I often find it relaxing.

But, this time I didn’t. It just felt a little too hot. Since I am extremely sensitive to temperature play, I opted off the table after a few minutes. When my back still felt hot after another 20 minutes, I went to take a look. I had a red mark on my back in the shape of a crescent moon. No idea why or how.

So I informed Master, he put burn gel on me and we were good. There is always a chance of burns from fireplay. That is part of my risk.

Two days later (keeping with Neosporin and burn gel), my bra peeled the skin from that spot while I was at work.

It took us days to figure out what had happened. Turns out, one strike from the bullwhip hit my back instead of my ass. Due to the adrenaline of the scene, neither of us noticed. Since we lit skin that was already compromised, it caused me to scar.

Master and I have 45 years of experience in the lifestyle between the two of us…and we didn’t know that could happen.

So, now, we do not do impact and fire on the same person in the same evening. This accident has led us to safer practices. All because we were willing to admit our wrong and learn from the mistake.

Therefore, an inability to take advice is a big red flag. As is being a peacock.

Peacock: strutting around as if you are the Universe’s gift to mankind and are a perfect _____ (<—insert role here)

6. The words “true” or “real”

–These are toxic addeges that are often used to lure new (or green) individuals into a coersive situation. It can make you doubt that BDSM is what you make it.

You can still be submissive and not kneel. You can still be submissive and not wear a collar. You can be a Dominant and not live in high protocol.

You can still be you, have boundaries, likes, dislikes, wants, needs, and safewords.

There is no one “true” way and no particular act that makes you a “real” Dom or sub. (Please keep in mind I am using D/s terms as a generic umbrella. The vast number of roles is simply to large to list).

I dislike, more than anything, the use of these words. I also find they can compromise your learning in BDSM.

I used to have panic attacks when Master would need to remove my collar each night. We used a day collar for work (which due to its design, could not be worn to bed or in the shower). We only used my permanent collar for events. I was convinced that it was bad of me that he had to take the collar off. That I wasn’t showing respect because I couldn’t wear my permanent collar on a daily basis.

So, we moved on the a chainmaille collar. It never had to be taken off. That’s good, right?

Maybe.

It was great until I had an asthma attack so bad that my spouses found me collapsed over a tub, trying to breathe. Master removed my collar, my wife put me in the shower, and I sat in there, hiccuping in tears and trying not to suffocate.

Would you care to guess what I did after?

I went to Master’s bedroom door, asked to enter, knelt down, and sobbed how sorry I was that I couldn’t keep his collar on. I was convinced I was a bad and unworthy submissive because I had medical issues that required my collar to be removed.

Do you know what he did?

He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my head up. My eyes were screwed shut. I couldn’t see the disappointment at my failure that way. He asked me to look at him. He waited patiently until I did.

And I struggled. I looked everywhere but at him. He locked eyes with me. He told me I wasn’t allowed to apologize.

“We don’t apologize for medical issues. We take care of ourselves.”

He put the collar back on me and quite sternly told me that “my collar never leaves your neck, even if this (he lifted the chainmaille) isn’t there.”. Then he kissed my forehead (three times) and gave me a hug.

His understanding doesn’t make him any less of a “true Dom”. My medical issues don’t make me any less of a “true sub”.

They simply make us human.

** I’m aware this list is highly subjective. Mostly, all I ask is that you think freely without judgement. Don’t believe everything you read. Don’t be afraid to disagree. Conversations of differing viewpoints is what helps us grow as people.

Just as I would never ask you to violate your limits, I simply ask you do not impose your limits onto me.

There is nothing better about me because I like it rough. There is nothing worse because I enjoy mental fuckery more than I enjoy physical pain.

I am just another submissive who is trying to find his way in the world.

I encourage you to discuss the red flags. Google then. Blog about them. Leave a comment about your thoughts.

The only way to make sure red flags are remembered is if they are discussed consciously, purposefully, and continuously.

One last question that I hope you can answer. What does a red flag look like to you?

**** ***** *****

I hope you enjoy this. I also wanted to ask, are there specific topics you need or want covered? If so, please let me know.

Thank you,

Joji

About the Author

A Journey Through Jealousy

February 8, 2020 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

My mother taught me a great many things.

But she never taught me how to accept jealousy.

Jealousy was something you don’t feel. Jealousy was a sign of an insecure person and jealousy in a relationship was a red flag.

After all, if I trust you, I should never be jealous.

So, I am going to tell you about the first time I ever felt honest jealousy. To put this into perspective, I had to have it explained to me what the name of the feeling was. I had no idea. Which also means I had no idea on how to deal with it.

Hopefully, by reading this, mulling over (and probably laughing at) my naivete, you can avoid being in the same situation.

**** **** ****

I’ve been with my wife since I was nineteen. She was my first love. This means, I’ve never had to endure a breakup. I’ve never dealt with cheating.

It took me years to navigate the idea(s)

–that arguing did not mean she would leave me

–having an opinion was ok

–speaking up was acceptable and encouraged

–it was ok to have friend time away from my spouse

And, much more. I was, and in many ways still am, very inexperienced.

However, one of my greatest attributes, to me, was my inability to be jealous.

I’ve always been very easy going. I am open when i am attracted to someone. I encourage my spouse to be just as open. I’ve never has an issue watching porn or having a spouse watch it. I don’t worry when my spouse is gone for the weekend or with a friend. All I ask is they text me occasionally so I know they are safe.

After all, if I trust you, jealousy is never a factor.

**** **** ****

When I got into a poly unit, I stayed with that philosophy. We navigated the jealousy my wife felt when I spent too much time with Master. We talked through the amount of text messages versus phones calls (since they prefer different communication methods). We worked through moments of miscommunication, we talked as a couple and then as a core.

We navigated Master’s wife’s jealousy of how close we were in such a short amount of time. We agreed on rules as a core regarding the sexual attraction that was apparent. We talked through mistakes and came out stronger for it.

Master and I worked our relationship around the needs of our partners first and ourselves second.

This was our poly.

But, I was not Master’s only sub.

That’s a lie. I was his only sub but not his only on the small side of the slash.

Master has a lifestyle sister.

**Lifestyle sibling: a chosen member from the kink lifestyle who you have added to your family despite no blood relation.

His sister had a babygirl.

At some point, he became a Daddy to his sister’s babygirl.

(Please take a minute to insert a redneck joke or as I like to do, tell the story to the tune of the song “skater boy”)

Out of respect for privacy, we are going to call the babygirl “X”

Anyways, he was her Daddy for a good year or two before I became his submissive and we became a poly family.

On average, he would see his babygirl about once or twice a year and they would talk more frequently.

It was simply a part of the package.

X and I were on friendly terms but we rarely talked.

About eight months ago, X made a surprise visit to our house. She showed up at 10 at night on a Friday and asked to stay the weekend.

Cool.

It had been a year or so since Master had seen her. It wasn’t the best weekend in our world, but we were happy he would get some time with X.

The reason it wasn’t the best weekend is that I was leaving for six weeks for work and my wife had just gotten all her upper teeth pulled.

As many of you know, my wife has a split personality and it is a four year old who calls my Master “drampa”. So, we were both needy and attention whores.

As good people do (because jealousy is bad), we put our feelings aside to let Master have a good visit.

It started as little things. She wanted to cuddle up.

This included her kissing me on my back, touching my neck, tickling me, etc.

Keep in mind, I barely knew her. Now, I recognize that those were boundaries that were being violated. However, that falls on me since I never told her to stop. I didn’t want to cause waves.

Ok. That’s fine. I’m very tactile and my anxiety was up because I was leaving. So that must be why my stomach was all icky feeling.

She spent a good portion of the day massaging his back, sitting in his lap, and peppering him with kisses and touches and tickles and…

Well, you get the picture.

To this, I have to give a reminder to those of you who have read my adventures. I enjoy hugs and kisses. But, I also know tickling is off limits. And I will never interrupt what he is doing for touches unless I am desperate. Because patience is a virtue and I try never to be intrusive.

So it bugged me.

But, his and X’s relationship was their own.

I was nervous because I wouldn’t know anybody at the job site. I am a shy person by nature. So, the twitching of my eye must have been from that.

So, solution number one: read my fanfiction on my phone and pretend I’m fine.

Solution number two: give a running play by play through text to the bestie.

I talked to her about how it breaks my heart to see my wife in pain…and how adorable she looks with no teeth.

I talked to her about how I felt a little overlooked and abandoned because X was sitting at Master’s feet, and in his lap, and next to him. I curled up alone in the chair across the room.

She told me to talk to Master.

I didn’t. Not because I hadn’t planned to. But because I didn’t want to ruin his weekend. So I figured I would talk to him on Monday or Tuesday.

I just kind of kept quiet.

At one point, Master asked me if I was ok. I told him I felt “off”. I couldn’t quite place what was wrong. I tend to be someone who wants to work through my own head before I stumble through telling someone else about it. So I told him not to worry and went back to cleaning.

Cuz cleaning is a stresser’s best friend.

Throughout the day, as I texted the bestie, she finally told me why I felt so weird.

“You’re jealous sweetie”

“I don’t get jealous.”

“It’s normal hun”

“No it’s not”

“Talk to Him”

“Later”

“Now”

“You shouldn’t wait.”

“:P”

“On your head”

Don’t you like how nice we are? We are honest, brutally so. Even when one of us doesn’t want to hear it, we will tell each other the truth.

So, she said her peace and then told me she was here if she needed me. Then we talked about her yummy Dom…but that’s another story.

Until the moment my eyes bugged out of my head. X served Master dinner.

Sounds stupid doesn’t it? Such a simple thing.

But, this was my house. I’m a routine based, service oriented submissive. There are pretty much two non-negotiables in regards to my dynamic.

1) I remove Master’s boots at the end of the day.

2) I serve *fuckin* dinner

It’s always the same order. I dish up the kids, then my wife, then his wife, and then Master. Just as I will stop what I am doing, or eating, to get refills and seconds for my Peeps.

So, as any good submissive, I bit my tongue, breathed very, and I mean VERY deeply, calmly walked to the kitchen when it was empty of people, and texted my bestie.

“The Bitch Served Him Fucking Dinner. I’m Done!!”. –this is a direct quote.

I couldn’t breathe. It was like my whole body was on fire, the anger surged through me like a tidal wave. I bit through my tongue and my eyes burned with tears.

This was it. I was being replaced. After all, my one main job and He allowed another to do it. She served everyone but me. (I will add that she offered but I did not accept the plate. Call me petty, but I chose to get my own serving).

It felt as though my knees were to give out and my heart just broke. I had no desire to do anything but hide downstairs until I left in the morning.

I don’t know how to express how overwhelming the feeling of jealousy can be. I understand it now. But, in that moment, I simply felt hopeless.

So, I dished up dinner, sat at the bar in the kitchen, and ate dinner. When asked why I was there, I simply said I was nauseous. Which was true. I just didn’t express why I was so sick to my stomach.

For all I knew, I wouldn’t have a “place” in the house anymore when I came back.

Anxiety and jealousy are a toxic combination. They fuck you up unlike any other. All the trust and faith you have in your partners just kind of goes up in smoke. It makes you feel betrayed by things that are a thousand times worse in your head than it is in reality.

Remember, I’ve lost my head over a fuckin’ dinner plate.

Just sayin’.

So, the following morning, I kissed my wife goodbye and made sure she was situated. I kissed my Master and the kids. I petted the dog, said goodbye, and left.

Then I sobbed half my drive.

I checked in with my wife often and occasionally with Master. I felt I was interrupting things. My anxiety was eating away at my stomach like acid.

Over the next couple days, X and Master parted ways permanently. Out of respect for all involved, I will leave out this portion of the story.

In the end, X was no longer his babygirl and it had nothing to do with me.

Though it took a couple months and some major honesty with Master and my wife to believe that.

In fact, it wasn’t until a few months later that Master became aware of the text messages I sent the bestie. He knew something had been bothering me, he had not known it was that intense.

He made me promise never to wait so long to tell him things that bothered me.

I shrugged and told him I had expressed my thoughts to my wife. I had talked about the jealousy with her. I was confused and overwhelmed.

All because I didn’t know what jealousy was not how to handle it.

So, I’m imparting the best knowledge I can from what I learned.

1) Jealousy is a healthy and normal part of a relationship. It is acceptable to feel as though someone else is better than you, smarter than you, or more skilled than you. It is normal to believe that your partner(s) may find this individual more desirable. Recognize it for what it is and communicate it.

2) Jealousy is not a weakness unless you let it control you. I watch a lot of true crime tv. Most of it involves spousal murder. (Morbid, I know). Often times, jealousy is a major factor. One spouse cheats, one gets jealous, one dies. This, in my opinion, comes from a lack of level-headed communication. Jealousy needs to be expressed as any other emotion. It needs to be talked about, listened to, and resolved.

3) If someone tells you they don’t experience jealousy, they may be telling the truth at that point in time. Until that experience, I would have sworn to you that I did not feel jealousy. I found it as waste of time and energy. I still feel that way. Now, I just approach it more rationally. I slowly have developed the confidence to say, “I’m feeling jealous, can we talk about it?”

4). Communication is the number one answer. Just remember that it is a two way street. Just as I express my concerns, my partner has to listen and hear me. Then we figure out a solution together.

My poly makes me happy. We talk about the good and the bad. We check in, renegotiate, and are a family.

Now, when we talk, I am also more open about the negative feelings. In the end, I’ve learned that those are just as important as the positive ones.

If I’m feeling jealousy, I need to know why…and so do they.

Am I feeling insecure?

Am I dissatisfied?

Do I have a need I was previously unaware of?

Do we need to renegotiate?

Positive and negative feelings allow for a more fulfilling relationship when they can be expressed honestly.

I hope that you never have to feel what I felt that weekend. I hope you don’t spend the better part of your life not knowing what a basic emotion is or what it feels like. I hope you are able to better express yourself than I was.

But, mostly, I hope you get the opportunity to find a partner(s) that takes your concerns to heart and can look back and laugh with you at the irrationality of it all.

About the Author

On The Edge Of Arousal

January 19, 2020 By Joji Sada 3 Comments

I would like you to imagine something for me. I’d ask you to close your eyes but it defeats the purpose of reading my words. So, let’s set the scene.

I want you to feel the stirrings of arousal in your lower belly. The soft shots of electricity that run from your lower back and up your spine. I want you to imagine the sensitivity of your skin is so acute, the still air is too much to bare. I want you to imagine you’ve been teased without mercy for the last two hours and even the breath of your lover is overwhelming. I want your groin to swell and pulse as though you haven’t orgasmed in weeks.

Lastly, I want you to watch your favorite kinks and scenes play out like a movie in your head. It doesn’t matter that you are at work, or trying to sleep, or at your kid’s soccer game. It doesn’t matter because these images, these feelings and sensitivities, will never go away.

You will spend every day of your life at the height of arousal.

Sounds painful doesn’t it?

It is.

How do I know this?

Well, since you asked…I’ve spent every day of my life in this exact state since I was a teenager. It doesn’t lessen. It doesn’t stop. In fact, sometimes it gets worse.

This is called Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder (PGAD).

By definition, PGAD is “a phenomenon, in which afflicted women experience spontaneous genital arousal, unresolved by orgasms and triggered by sexual or nonsexual stimuli, eliciting stress.”

My symptoms have manifested slightly different than most of the well-known cases. In a majority of the women who have PGAD, they may continually orgasm. One case had a woman who had more than forty mini orgasms a day with no relief from her arousal.

Mine developed over time. When I was a teen, I experienced arousal, as most do. Except, mine never stopped. At my worst (before I had a name to what was happening), I would masturbate more than twenty times a day. I should state that I did have self control enough to take care of myself in private.

I spent years being constantly sore, swollen (from overuse), and distracted beyond compare.

I’m wondering if any of you are scoffing at this. After all, how bad can it be to always be turned on? Is it really that bad to constantly desire to have sex?

The reality of it is that yes, it can be. After dealing with this, you start to contemplate ways to “take care of things”.

Let’s cover the basics that you consider for solutions:

Risky sexual behavior: you will start to be less concerned about who you will sleep with. You stop caring if they are clean of STDs and if you are in a safe play environment.

Consent becomes less important: I am going to underline the importance of this sentence. In no way am I saying that PGAD makes you a rapist. What I am saying is that you stop caring if you really like or want what is happening in a sexual situation. As long as you can find temporary relief, the rest is just the price you pay.

Work and life are hard to balance: It has taken me many years to be able to focus on my job or home life while ignoring the demands of my body. These desires never dim. Even when I have attended funerals, my body is still taunt and aroused like I am participating in an orgy. It fucks you up in the head when you cannot justify the grief with the arousal.

Your desires will almost never match your partner’s: If you have ever scrolled Tumblr, read a trashy novel, or watched just about any type of porn….having a partner who is always ready and willing for sex is the ultimate fantasy.

I can happily (and sarcastically) disagree.

Life doesn’t stop simply because I am horny. I don’t get to change my work hours to accommodate the desire to play. Doctor’s appointments, holidays, and so forth are still barriers to play time.

But, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m not the only one in my life with these priorities. Just as all I can think about is fucking, most days my wife comes home from work and just wants to take a hot bath, eat some food, and get some sleep.

There are days my husband is out doing yard work on the weekend and he surely isn’t planning on moving straight from mowing the lawn to plowing me….though there are some good fantasies in my head for that…

My other wife is the same way. She does not spend her day doing math with the children and cleaning house to meet me at the door in heels and pearls (regardless of what tv has taught me).

So, I’ve taught myself some tricks of the trade.

The first thing I learned was to set a schedule. I trained my body that masturbation only happens at bedtime. That sounds depressing. However, playing relaxes your body and is known to help you sleep afterward. So, by setting myself up for bedtime play, it was both a reward for putting up with idiots all day as well as a sleep aid.

Second, I practiced orgasm denial. I have always struggled to orgasm. A side effect of constantly being on edge is that your body has a very hard time letting go. When I am able to orgasm, it’s a fucking Olympic sport. It takes the better part of an hour–if it happens at all. Sometimes, it doesn’t. By now, I simply accept it and move on. Over the years, play is simply about muscle relaxation over orgasm. On a side note, this also means that when I do Orgasm, it is explosive….pun abso-fuckin-lutely intended.

There are some side effects (and downsides, depending on your viewpoint) as well.

**It is important to note that I am speaking only from my own experience. I am, in no way, an end all be all representation of this disorder**

The number one side effect for me was what I have come to call “Heat”. I was very shy about this and have only recently shared this with a couple of friends. I am aware it is going to sound…ridiculous. I am ok with the knowledge that I may be scoffed at. I am also ok if anyone ever wants to ask me more than I have shared here.

Heat is a seven to twelve day, intensely painful bout of arousal. It starts with a burning sensation, almost like lightning from my lower back up my spine. My nipples and clit are swollen to the point that clothing is painful. My body pulses to a point of distraction.

As the days continue, the arousal turns to pain. Cramping in the stomach and back, mood swings, inability to cum or orgasm in any capacity, and no amount of masturbation or sex will bring any kind of relief.

There is no cure. There is no relief. Over the years, I’ve taken it as a challenge to never give in. With that being said, Master and I incorporate Orgasm denial (as well as masturbation control) in our dynamic. We have chosen to make no adjustments to these decisions during heat. I simply suffer for Him.

My body is always raw. I am constantly battling yeast infections, UTIs, and abrasions on/or near my groin.

I’m aware this is very TMI. Really, this whole article is. So I’m just gonna keep going…

Constant stimulation is bad for the health, just saying. For me, I am allergic to cum– mine and my partners’. What that means is that sexy time is always followed by a long, invasive shower to scrub down.

It’s worth it. It will always be worth it.

**** **** ****

I hope I have not left you feeling sorry for me. This is simply part of my life.

I can say, it has taught me the meaning of intimacy unlike anything else.

I know that the quite cuddles on the couch are moments of peace; even when it puts me to sleep almost instantly. Those moments let me forget the cries of my body.

Telling my spouses about the “heat” I suffer was difficult and embarrassing. However, it means that I’ve yet to find anything I cannot talk to them about.

I can laugh at the absurdity of my arousal and my body’s reactions. It has put me at ease and given me confidence. It has allowed me to feel no shame. I am who I am, PGAD and all.

Most of all, this has taught me how to communicate. Body language is the number one way people communicate. But, how can you read someone who is constantly turned on? How can you tell I’m upset, or tired, or happy, or in pain, when it simply looks like I want in your pants?

You don’t.

Yes, it was a trick question.

I have to tell you what I’m thinking. I have to explain my feelings. I have to remember that those “normal” cues that most people have, I don’t.

My understanding of intimacy (without sex), communication, and my self control, make me a better partner and a better sub.

I wouldn’t wish PGAD on anyone. But, at this point in my life, I’m going to chalk it up to being a blessing in disguise.

About the Author

Negotiations With Myself

December 29, 2019 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

Negotiations are a fundamental part of kink. But, it is more than just telling someone what you want. It is the ability to get in touch with yourself. It is the insight to understanding your own needs and wants as well as that of your partner(s). It is the chance to delve into the depths of your own mind and learn exactly who you are.

It sounds ominous to define negotiations as such, doesn’t it?. Not all negotiations are quite as in depth as I am discussing. For the sake of what follows, most of my focus will be on negotiating with a long term partner.

So, let’s start with the easy part: the definition.

Negotiate: to obtain or bring about by discussion.

You cannot gain anything without first discussing it. I should specify that this is a general rule of thumb and there are some of us outliers who just don’t follow the basic rules of negotiating. Though I rarely follow most of these rules myself, I do believe you have to understand negotiating before you can actively decide to disregard it.

For me, this is the difference between SSC and RACK.

Safe, sane, and consensual is what I teach. This is where negotiations fall.

Risk Aware, Consensual Kink (RACK) is what I live. I am aware that my decision to not negotiate is a personal choice, with personal risk. But, it is my choice to make.

When I fell into the lifestyle, all the information I could find was related to contracts. They were formal, long, and left little room for interpretation. Most importantly, they were always written. A contract would cover everything from if I (as the submissive) would be allowed to work to how often W/we fucked. Looking back, I chuckle heavily. Navigating and living this lifestyle have led me to love the spontenaity with which my play has developed. But, back then, I was young and eager and very much under the impression that there was “one true way.”

I hope you have not had to fight your way through that. Kink and BDSM at personal journeys, filled with lots of personal decisions and beliefs. If someone tells you differently, run.

As such, I want to walk you through the most basic ideas about negotiating and leave you with a greater understanding as you develop your own path within kink and BDSM.

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The Myths

1. Negotiations must always be written down.

Generally, I advise never to write your negotiations down. They can serve as legal documents and can be used against you in court. As much as I’d love to tell you that relationships don’t end and people don’t turn vindictive, it can and does happen.

That being said, it is a personal preference as to how you negotiate. For myself, I use blanket consent. If I have not placed something as a hard limit, Master can incorporate whatever he desires into play without prior discussion or approval from me. Because, this is how we negotiated, I have only the most basic of rules written down and the rest change to fit our play.

2. The more rules, the better D-type or s-type you are.

I will fully admit that High protocol is not something I personally follow in my Dynamic. It is something that I am still exploring and learning about. So, for this myth, I am more referring to accountability.

If you start out negotiating a large number of rules, it can lead to the inability to reinforce them. Without the follow up, it can lead to feelings of neglect and inadequacy.

Working with new individuals, I always advise they stick to less than ten rules to start with. As you weigh each rule, you each have to honestly express what matters most to you.

For myself, my rules revolve around personal health and safety….and impulse control.

A few examples are:

-I will take my pills as prescribed by my doctor.

-I am required to talk to one of my partners when upset and am not allowed to hide my feelings

-I am not allowed to clean when I am alone or when people are sleeping.

-I will not lick without permission

-I will not cause harm to myself or others unless in self defense.

Each of these rules represents a physical or mental aspect to my health and one reflects my impulse control and OCD.

In fact, as I read them, they seem almost common sense.

However, throughout my journey and my experiences with my partners, it has become important that these rules remain in place.

Negotiating does not need to be all about what happens in a scene. It is about what each of you needs to thrive in your chosen roles.

3. Negotiating only happens once.

Negotiating is a fluid concept. It should be something akin to breathing. It should be natural. It is all about communication. It does not need to be a formal sit down. Saying something like, “I am having trouble taking my pills. Will you hold me accountable?”. And Bam! I have just negotiated a new rule. (And yes, that’s almost exactly how that happened).

You could also use it as feedback as well. “Sir, I really love kneeling for you, but I need a pillow if it is going to be longer than X amount of time”. Never be afraid to confide a limitation. Medical necessities are always important to account for.

For example, I have arthritis in my feet. When it flares up, I can kneel but I have to make adjustments. I cannot rest pressure on the top of my feet, so I kneel tall. I also cannot roll up from the position. So, I place a hand on Master’s knee, pick one leg up, place my foot flat, and then pick my other leg up. Some days, due to paralysis, I cannot kneel at all.

It took me a long time to learn that my physical limitations did not make me a bad submissive in His eyes. He prefers when I ask for the accommodation. Partly because it is my responsibility to let him know about my health, but also so we can honestly discuss what we both need.

I need the ability to sit at his feet. So, when I cannot kneel, I sit and lean my head on his knee. We both still get the intimacy of our dynamic without jeopardizing either one of us.

I would recommend negotiating as often as necessary. In our relationship, we revisit my blanket consent about every six months. However, we communicate far more often and make adjustments as needed in between the “sit down” discussions.

4. I do not need a safe word.

This is a hot button issue and I am going to out right state that this is not a reflection on anyone’s choices.

Typically, I work with individuals who are new to the lifestyle. Therefore, what I teach and what I live are not necessarily the same.

If you chose to play without a safeword, that is your choice.

Even with my blanket consent, Master requires I have a safeword. We use the stoplight system. We use it both in our dynamic and for pickup play. Since it is a widely used system, it prevents confusion when we travel to events as well as keeps everyone on the same page with play.

Our definitions are as follows:

Green- I am fine and you may continue using that implement and/or increase the intensity

Yellow- I need an adjustment. I need you to check in with me.

**This could just mean I need to change implements, readjust my position, need a sip of water, or skin to skin contact

Red- I have hit my limit or something is not right. I need play to end immediately.

We also have a hand signal we use when the atmosphere is too loud. We had the pleasure of attending KinkFest in Portland last year and when you are surrounded by 1800 people, it is hard to hear.

So, when I had a panic attack in the middle of a scene, I reached my hand back to next to me hip, in his line of sight, and made a fist. That meant stop.

Since we had never been at such a large and loud venue before, I had to make the sign up one the fly. We had never discussed non-verbal cues. The reason it worked is that my hands are off limits. They are not allowed anywhere near striking zone for impact. They are to remain above my head or in front of me. Therefore, when I moved them next to my ass, where they could be struck, he knew something was wrong.

I strongly recommend discussing a non-verbal cue (or using a visual cue like a scarf or an auditory one, like a dog clicker) when discussing safe words. You may never know when you will find yourself in a situation where it will be needed.

5. Aftercare does not need to be negotiated.

While Aftercare could have a book written about it, we are going to address the basics.

If you need aftercare, you are responsible for setting it up. It needs to be discussed.

I know one Dominant who does not provide aftercare. However, he will not play with you if you cannot tell him that you have aftercare arranged.for yourself. This could be a blanket, another person, juice, fruit, and so on.

I know another who struggles with aftercare. Therefore, he needs to know exactly what you need before he will do more than a tasting.

One of my submissive friends does aftercare on her own. She does not like to be touched until she has processed the scene.

I need skin to skin contact. Whether I am naked or fully dressed, I need to feel the heat of your body warming me up. This is because I suffer sensory overload often, meaning everything is too loud, too bright, and too cold. The contact warms me and grounds me.

For Master, he needs fresh fruit and Gatorade. That is what brings his energy back up and keeps him going when he Service Tops all night. So, we always have a cooler stocked (or the fridge) for after play.

Aftercare can take any form you wish. It may also change over time, or with different partners. There is no shame in asking for what you need. But, you need to make sure that as with anything, whatever has been agreed upon is followed through.

Your word is your integrity.

**** ****

Negotiating “IN” (aka whitelisting)

This is a new concept to me. But, I understand and appreciate the thought behind it.

At it’s purest, this means that instead of focusing what you can’t or won’t do, you focus on what you WILL do.

This gives some leeway for both the Top and the bottom to try new things.

One example I had with a partner was an either/or method. She was open to using cuffs and a blindfold, but never together. So, I know that I am allowed to bring them into play without express negotiation each time, as long as only one is ever used during that scene.

It could be as easy as saying, “we can do impact with only your hand”. In this scenario, your scene is not explicitly written out like a script, but you know that you are staying within your comfort zone.

I often use this for darker play. Master will ask what I need a few days in advance. The last time I answered that I needed fear. I wanted to incorporate the elements of anxiety and being afraid during our scene. I gave him no guideline beyond my most basic limits. I left the entirety of the decisions up to him.

**On a side note, I’m aware that saying “fear” can be considered extreme but that is why I have stated that I ascribe to RACK. Sometimes I simply ask for an implement. How he chooses to use it is up to Him.**

Now that you understand the fundamentals, here is the best part.

Negotiations are what you make of it. If you can be honest with yourself, and your partner, then you have the ability to get more than just a good set of marks.

You gain the ability to grow and learn. You improve your communication skills and can objectively reflect on your wants and needs. You learn how to express yourself in a coherent manner.

Most importantly, if you are like me, you learn how to distinguish between hearing what your partner wants and actually listening to them.

About the Author

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Joji Sada

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