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Rituals in BDSM

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Brian Vox-http://www.voxart9.com/

In a previous edition of kinkweekly.com, Slave Bunny offered a terrific piece (https://www.kinkweekly.com/article-guest-author/rituals-part-2/ ) on rituals. Since rituals in BDSM are extremely important, I thought I might present some additional thoughts that illustrate how essential they are in our lifestyle. To paraphrase some football guru, “Rituals aren’t everything, they are the only thing.” I might have got that backwards, but you get the idea!

(Definition of “ritual”: a formal set of specific repetitive actions. In the BDSM context, specific sequences performed by the submissive at the pleasure of the Dominant.)

There are two major purposes for rituals in the BDSM lifestyle. The first is to maintain and reinforce the power exchange that is the essence of all D/s relationships. The second is to facilitate transitioning from “vanilla headspace” to “submissive headspace.” First, let’s examine its uses from a power dynamic point of view.

The most common ritual – it is virtually ubiquitous – is the honorific verbal greeting of “Sir,” “Master,” “Mistress” and “Ma’am.” Addressing the Dominant in this way is a very powerful tool for maintaining the power exchange that is at the heart of any D/s union. It reinforces the air of esteem that a submissive must have for her/his Dominant. The beauty of honorifics is that it offers an elegant way to reinforce the conscious integration of the power exchange within the relationship.

Of course, it is up to the couple to determine when this address will be required. Will it be compulsory 24/7, even in “vanilla” settings? Will it be mandatory only in scene-friendly environments? Is it only to be used during a BDSM scene? However often it is required, it is a verbal corroboration that the Dom/me is to be respected and obeyed in the context of the rules of their relationship. We think the honorific greeting is so essential to any D/s relationship that we offer two digressions on this topic.

Digression number one! Problems are often encountered when the slave is required to use “Master” 24/7. Using the title “Master” at a vanilla party can be dicey. But, there is one slave who came up with a brilliant solution to this problem. She always addressed her Dominant as “Master” but always added the word “Blaster” — as in the “Master Blaster” — in sticky situations. No one ever suspected; she was always able to address her owner as “Master” in just about every circumstance.

Digression number two! Although I am not personally fond of the common practice where a submissive addresses every Dom/me in the community as “Sir” or “Mistress,” there are exceptions for those who are universally respected in the community. I also think it is best to address a prospective Dominant thusly. If you use his/her birth name too often early on, it might become a hard habit to break. Using honorifics judiciously will serve you well.

Rituals are awesome tools for transitioning from “normal headspace” to “submissive headspace.” (We must make the distinction between “subspace,” which is defined as an exhilarated state caused by a rush of endorphins emitted during a BDSM scene, and “submissive headspace,” which can be viewed as the mental state of being in service to the Dominant.) In our busy and stress-filled world, this transition can be a difficult one. For example, if the sub has come home from a tough day at work, he/she might have a hard time getting into a submissive frame of mind. It is not easy to leave work headspace and enter submissive headspace. Rituals make this changeover a lot easier.

The classic greeting, or presentation, ritual is a tried-and-true transition technique. Here the submissive kneels in front of her Dominant and kisses his/her feet, shoes or boots. The sub remains in this position until a hand or verbal signal tells him/her to rise and maintain a kneeling position until instructed further. Another popular ritual is the inspection ritual. Here the submissive is required to kneel with his/her legs spread so the Dominant can inspect her/his private parts and make sure they are satisfactory. This is a superb triggering protocol; it has “submission” written all over it!

Although the greeting and inspection rituals are both popular and powerful, the transitioning protocol can be virtually anything. The Dom/me’s hand on the slave’s cheek, a particular look, a series of words or phrases, a slap to the face, a hair pull or just the touch of the Dom/me’s hand on the neck can trigger the transition. Any series of consistent, ritualized actions can activate the transition into submissive headspace  – and thus reinforce the Dom/me’s “Domspace.”.

Let me offer an innovative way to look at submissive headspace and transitioning. One can categorize submissive headspace into three distinct levels. The first level is “operational submission,” where you are submissive to your Dominant but little is required of you. It is a relaxed submissive state; the power dynamic is acknowledged but rarely actuated. The second stage is “active submission.” Here the sub might be required to be very attentive to the Dom and be available for him; but limits are not pushed. It is a state of familiar submission. No curveballs are thrown. The third space is “slave submission.” Typically, this is during play or training sessions; limits can be pushed and new areas of D/s are often explored. Transitioning into each of these states is most effectively accomplished with specific rituals designed to activate each of these levels as required. For example, a simple honorific can activate the first level. The physical greeting ritual might be used to transition into level two. And an intense inspection ritual might be the prompt to enter level three.

The number and complexity of rituals varies from Dom/me to Dom/me and couple to couple. Whether you are low, medium or high protocol, rituals are essential tools in your BDSM arsenal.

About the Author

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

A Special Treat for Donna: Part 3

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Click here for Part 1

Click here for Part 2

As we sat back and languidly sipped our drinks, a series of attractive young men summoned the courage to approach and ask to join us.  Madame had the ones she approved sit close to me so I could go to work on them. This was my night to be a bad girl without fear of provoking Madame.  I had full permission to flirt and tease to my lascivious heart’s content. I whispered dirty thoughts, nibbled earlobes, softly stroked inner forearms with my nails, unbuttoned shirts, and lay my hand on crotches.  I loved exercising the almost magical power to raise erections at will. I found it thrilling and wildly stimulating. Madame fully intended for me to respond as such, of course. She wanted me white hot with lust when it finally came time to beckon Nick into our lair.

I found myself particularly taken with a pint-size cutie pie sporting thick, shiny, black waves, dazzling white teeth, luscious lips, and huge, soulful brown eyes with mile-long lashes.  Although I generally preferred big men (being quite a big girl myself), I occasionally found myself fancying a certain muscular, banty rooster type, and he surely fit the bill. He had the body of a flyweight wrestler or maybe a gymnast, and displayed a razor-sharp wit and intellect.  He said he was a Harvard junior, and I had no reason to disbelieve him. Not to traffic in stereotypes, but I felt pretty sure he was Jewish. He could have been Greek, I suppose. It hardly mattered.

I started to make out with him (those lips!), but pulled back after Madame cautioned me not to ruin my expensive makeover.  We whispered lewdly and openly groped, oblivious to the surrounding mass of people. He slid a hand up my dress and attempted to take hold of my stirring cock.  I quickly yanked his hand away, gave it a slap, and said, “Thank you, honey, but we’re done now.”

He regrouped and attempted one more approach, but Madame stepped between us, took tight hold of his upper arm, pulled him up to a standing position, and with her patented, dagger-eyes she said between clenched teeth,“You are dismissed.”  The cute boy shook himself loose and vanished into the shadows. Madame and I erupted in peals of raucous, terribly unladylike laughter. We can be such awful bitches!

Shortly before midnight, Madame announced that it was time to go.  She phoned Nick, and by the time we retrieved our coats and exited the club, the limo was there waiting.  We rode home behind the privacy glass, holding hands, kissing, and giggling just as we had at the beginning of the evening.

Upon arriving home, each of us took an arm and escorted Nick up to our dual-purpose Play/Discipline Room.  The Play/Discipline Room was large, opulently furnished, and amply equipped for all sorts of erotic fun, as well as for the administration of the most serious of disciplinary action.  Madame had Nick remove his uniform, put on a warm silk robe, and sit down on the comfiest chair in the room. I brought him a cold beer in a frozen mug.

While Nick waited and sipped his beer, Madame took me to an adjacent dressing room where she freshened my makeup, strategically perfumed me, and dressed me in my laciest, frilliest corset, with thong, fully fashioned silk stockings, and strappy sandals with 5” heels, all in a matching deep purple.  Madame also took a few minutes to completely lube and stretch my ass in anticipation of the fucking to come.

Madame brought me out and had me model my outfit for Nick.  She then instructed me to stretch out seductively on one of the beds.  Nick removed his robe and joined me, his cock already fully erect. He gazed at me with his gorgeous brown eyes and began to kiss me passionately.  I ran my hands all up and down his smooth, powerfully muscled, young body until I settled on his beautiful straining erection. I took his shaft into my mouth and started sucking.  His cock was smooth, sleek, and delicious. As I sucked, Madame gave my ass an occasional hard slap. These slaps were friendly and sensual, not punitive, and gave me a much different sensation.  My cock hardened as my pleasure grew.

After several minutes of intense foreplay, Nick was ready and so was I.  I rolled a condom over his dick and lay back to take him between my widespread thighs.  Before Nick could get himself into position, however, Madame ordered him to stop. She had been sitting in a chair alongside the bed, watching intently and masturbating.

“Nick, before I permit you to have Donna, I want you to fuck me for a few minutes.”  I looked at her in startled puzzlement. She explained, “Donna, I have allowed you to fuck me and cum inside me on many occasions.  That is the ultimate intimacy and it is an indispensable part of our lovemaking. Now I wish to reciprocate. By penetrating my pussy before he fucks you, Nick will serve as a living vessel to place my juices inside you, as you have placed yours inside me.  This will complete our circle of intimacy and seal our love as never before.”

“But Madame,” I queried.  “Couldn’t you accomplish the same yourself using a dildo?”

“My precious one,” she replied.  “A dildo is nothing but cold, inanimate plastic.  Nick is a warm, living, breathing human being. I need you to feel the heat and pulsating vitality of living flesh deep inside you as my most, intimate essence is transmitted to your most intimate recesses.”  As Madame spoke these words my heart swelled with ever-growing adoration. This special ritual was to remain a constant feature of all our future stud service sessions.

Nick mounted Madame in the missionary posture, thrust his swollen dick into Madame’s dripping cunt, and fucked her vigorously for several minutes, as I watched and enjoyed Madame’s forceful pelvic counterthrusts, rhythmic breathing, and delicate, girlish moans.  She ordered Nick to pull out and he turned his full attention to me.

I lay back as I had before and opened my legs to welcome Nick into my warm, moist cave.  Nick eagerly accepted my invitation and proceeded to fuck me with the same intensity as he had fucked Madame.  Unlike Madame, I am exceptionally noisy during sex, and soon I was letting fly all manner of full-throated vocalizations, including some odd spoken phrases I had never uttered before and will likely never utter again.  I can’t recall exactly what I said, but Madame was amused, as always.

Nick took me doggy-style for a time, and then we moved to the spooning position.  As Nick continued to drive into me, Madame kissed and licked me, pinched my nipples, and stroked my cock.  Within a few minutes I burst forth all over Madame’s belly, which she had strategically positioned for me to cum on.  Shortly thereafter, Nick approached a shuddering climax. Following Madame’s instructions, Nick withdraw his cock from me and he, too, rained his thick cum across the full, golden expanse of Madame’s smooth, tanned belly.  When it was done, I hungrily licked Madame clean of our blended ejaculate.

Madame and I were too exhausted to escort Nick to the door, so we both kissed him tenderly, and sent him on his way with another cold beer for him to enjoy when he got home. After Nick left, she took me by the hand and silently led me up the stairs and into our bedroom. She picked up a wooden hairbrush from her vanity and sat down in an armless accent chair which she kept in our room for one purpose. I knew what was in store. I had been indulged quite enough tonight, and it was time for me to be forcibly reminded of my place as Madame’s obedient bitch. I knelt and kissed Madame’s feet, then stood and draped my torso over Madame’s warm, ample thighs, where I awaited that which I both feared and craved.

“You are a cheap, dirty little whore, do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What are you, bitch?”

“I’m a cheap, dirty little whore, ma’am.”

“That’s right, you filthy cunt. But you’re my cheap, dirty little whore, you shameless cocksucker, you wanton anal slut, and don’t you ever forget it! I may have allowed you to behave badly tonight, but bad behavior never goes unpunished in my house. There will always be a price to pay, and you are about to pay it. In full”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for all that you do for me.”

Madame began with just a few light slaps with her open hand, and then steadily increased the force of her blows. I yelped and softly moaned as she spanked my well-fucked ass harder and harder, faster and faster. She paused for a moment, gently stroked my flaming cheeks and inspected her handiwork. She pried open my ass cheeks, roughly jammed two fingers inside me, and pulled at and stretched my sore sphincter to remind me of what a nasty anal slut I was. Madame then picked up the hairbrush and resumed paddling me with the flat wooden back of the implement. Each smack hurt more than the last, but left me aching for more. Receiving Madame’s harshest discipline was my greatest joy.

When Madame finally finished, she had me stand up and display my stinging bottom to her. She rubbed some cooling lotion into my inflamed skin. I examined my ass in the mirror and admired the beautiful pink color she had lovingly brought forth, along with just a touch of purple bruising on each cheek. I was proud to bear my Mistress’s marks and wished I could show them to the world so all would know I belonged to Madame and no one else.

Now thoroughly spent, we barely managed to grope our way to our bed before we collapsed into a tangled, snoring heap.  Another perfect night together.

About the Author

In the early to mid-2000s, Donna Queen enjoyed a brief, unexpected, but memorable career as an amateur transgender porn star, with a devoted worldwide following. She is now fully transitioned and happily married to a wonderful woman, and is no longer active in the porn scene, although her pictures and videos remain widely distributed and she often receives fan requests for new material. While she no longer makes visual porn, Donna is a gifted writer of fiction in multiple genres, including BDSM erotica. While Donna writes primarily from her own perspective as a lifelong submissive, she also demonstrates a sure grasp of the dominant’s point of view. Although her work is first and foremost powerfully erotic, Donna strives to create fully realized and authentically human characters, and her stories always reflect her loving, generous spirit and delightfully wicked sense of humor.

A Special Treat for Donna: Part 2

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Click here to read Part 1

Madame went to her email to comb through the dozens of responses she had received.  The large majority were complete duds, of course. Some with no pics at all, some offering nothing but tiresome dick pics, or worst of all, those hairy waist-down panty boys.  Yuck. There were also the usual functional illiterates for whom spelling and punctuation appear to be irrelevancies.

Among the first cut we noted several who were very cute and wrote charming introductions, but one in particular stopped us dead in our tracks.  It was Nick, a limousine driver whom Madame had fired for behaving inappropriately with me (it wasn’t his fault, as I had initiated the contact and aggressively pressed the issue).  He was more gorgeous than ever, and even Madame could not fail to have been moved by the heartfelt apology and plea for forgiveness in his accompanying email. And Madame was indeed moved.  “You want him, don’t you, baby?” I nodded my affirmation. “Then we shall have him.” Madame stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead. I tingled from head to toe.

In a flurry of emails, instant messages, and cell phone calls, Madame made all the arrangements for a Friday night assignation with Nick.  He was to arrive in his limo, in uniform, and drive the two of us to the restaurants and clubs we’d selected for that evening, just like on a regular job.  We wanted to make him wait an excruciatingly long time before he’d get to lay a finger on us.

The wait through the week was excruciatingly long for me as well.  In my excitement I became even more absent-minded than usual, which is saying a lot.  I have more than a touch of ADHD and it is only through Madame’s discipline that I have learned to manage it with any consistent degree of success.  Madame was kind and indulgent through much of the week, but by Thursday afternoon I was bouncing off the walls, and Madame, who was working at home that day, decided it was time to reel me back in before I went utterly bonkers.

The breaking point came when I suddenly burst into her study, unannounced, dumped a heap of dresses on a sofa and loudly announced, “Madame, I just cannot decide what to wear tomorrow evening!  Why can’t I ever make up my mind? Will you please help me choose?”  The juvenile Hayley Mills could have played Donna in this movie. A split second after the last word exited my lips I knew I’d crossed the Rubicon.  The skies darkened and I heard the not-so-distant rumbling.

“Donna, dear,” she said with ominous impassivity.  Her volume and projection rose steadily as she spoke.  “Do you see what I’m doing here? Do you see? Look and think about it for a moment.  That’s right, Donna. I AM WORKING!!!!! I have been working ALL DAY on a project that I have been working on ALL FUCKING WEEK! I am not finished with it and I have to meet a FUCKING DEADLINE tomorrow morning so I can be free to give my spoiled, little brat a special gift that I’m beginning to think she doesn’t deserve and NEVER WILL!”  I wanted to burrow under a rock and curl up like a potato bug.

“I want you in the kitchen in five minutes.  Naked, except for those pink strappy pumps of yours.  The ones with the 6” heels you hate because they hurt your toes and make you feel awkward and clumsy.  Go. Now. But not without putting those stupid dresses away and OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

In a hair under five minutes I arrived in the kitchen, naked and tottering on those outlandish pumps.  Madame ordered me to lean on the cold granite of the center island and spread my legs apart. She went to the refrigerator and filled a small dish with ice wedges from the automatic dispenser.  She pried my ass cheeks open and without any preliminary stretching she inserted a wedge into my anus. Another. Then another. Five in all. I had never felt anything quite like it. I quickly developed what I could only describe as a sort of anal brain freeze.  The dull ache soon radiated throughout my pelvic region. Madame forced my legs back together and spanked me for a minute or so with a steel spatula. When the spanking was done she dug her nails into both cheeks, leaving behind her trademark ten of those familiar pink concave crescents.

“Down on your knees, cunt.”  I complied. Madame turned her back to me, lifted up her skirt, and presented her wide ass to my face.  “You know what to do.” I thrust my face into the deep crevice dividing Madame’s glorious rump and started licking enthusiastically.  Steadying herself with one hand on the island, Madame picked up her favorite vibrator with a clitoral stimulator, and began to masturbate with it as I licked.  Madame must have been extremely aroused, as she came quickly and very noisily. I could feel the spasms coursing through her whole body, her ass cheeks contracting and squeezing my face.  When her shaking and shuddering finally subsided, Madame handed the vibrator to me to be thoroughly washed and put away.

“Donna, you are to remain naked and wearing those shoes for the rest of the day.  You will not sit unless and until I grant you leave to do so. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I spent the remainder of the afternoon dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing the kitchen and bathrooms, and preparing the evening meal.  Madame periodically checked my work. If satisfied, she would give me a sweet smile and a kiss on the lips. If not, then a slap, a bite, and/or a pinch.  I had the feeling she’d turned down the heat to keep me acutely aware of my nakedness. I rubbed my arms and shivered. My nipples contracted and stayed shriveled and taut for hours.  By nightfall I was frozen stiff and my toes were crushed and numb. Madame wrapped me in a blanket, lay me down on the bed, took my shoes off, and kissed and massaged my aching toes. She filled the master bathroom with scented candles, drew a hot bubble bath, and left me to luxuriate for a full hour.  She returned to towel me off, apply moisturizer, and put me in my coziest pajamas and robe. A cup of hot chamomile and half a chick flick later, I was comfortably asleep in Madame’s arms.

Having completed her project Thursday night without further Donna-related disturbances, Madame was free to take Friday off and give me a full “day of beauty” in preparation for the evening’s fun.  All spankings, paddlings, whippings, etc. were suspended for the day, to ensure that my bottom remained smooth and inviting for Nick. Before we left the house, Madame filled a small flask with her strong, bright yellow morning pee, which she carried in her purse through the day.  Anytime I embarrassed or irritated her, she would have me take a sip as a pungent symbol of her firm possession and unyielding control. She pee-spiked all my drinks that day as well, from my morning orange juice through the evening’s cocktails. I confess that I rather liked receiving these reminders.  I had to suppress the occasional urge to misbehave just so I could enjoy another taste of Madame’s delightful essence.

Manicure, pedicure, massage, facial, waxing, hairstyling, and makeover – Madame treated us to the works, and when we were done I felt positively gorgeous.  Male heads practically spun off their heads as we two beauties sauntered by. More than a few women registered comparable reactions. Nick didn’t stand a chance.  No one did.

At 6 p.m. sharp Nick’s limousine pulled into the driveway.  Madame and I had each put away several glasses of white wine while we were dressing. I chose a scandalously short, sparkly cocktail dress in teal, cut on the bias to emphasize my  long , perfectly shaped, tanned, smooth legs. With my tan I needed no hose, and I love the feeling of my legs being freshly shaved and bare,  so I selected my favorite open-toed, 3 1/2 inch strappy sandals. Madame went for a more understated mature look, selecting a tight, sequined, low-cut number in French blue, emphasizing her ample curves and deep cleavage. Primped and perfumed, decked out in some of Madame’s most expensive bling, we two girls were locked and loaded for bear.We were the hottest thing going and we both knew it. We entered the limo and Madame brusquely gave Nick our first destination.  She ordered him to raise the privacy glass. Nick was to be just another generic limo driver until Madame was good and ready to relieve him of his duties.  We rode to the restaurant kissing, holding hands, and giggling all the way. As long as no one else was close enough to hear, tonight I was free to address Madame by her real name.  This was a rare privilege, and each utterance gave me the sweetest frisson. Truly a night to remember.

Dinner was lovely, as always.  I’m a hopeless shellfish addict, and as she has done many times before, Madame filled me with all the clams, oysters, shrimp, and lobster I could stuff into my greedy mouth.  I was allowed to get mildly tiddly on two Scotches and half a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, with each glass receiving but a single, teensy droplet of Madame’s precious golden cordial.

On the way to the dance club we let poor, famished Nick hit the Wendy’s drive-thru for a burger and large fries.  He was going to need plenty of fuel to get him through the night we had planned for him. Nick dropped us at the dance club and went off to park and await Madame’s call for him to return.

The dance club was loud, cavernous, and crammed full of milling, young people – some openly ebullient, others standing about, diffidently nursing their drinks and feigning deep boredom.  As far as we could see, Madame and I were the eldest patrons there, by a significant margin. It proved no disadvantage.

The imposingly beautiful, middle-aged, blonde BBW bombshell, and her leggy, lissome, equally middle-aged, tranny companion with red, bee-stung lips and big, brown eyes were magnets for attention.  While the men hovered from a safe distance trying not to be obvious, the women had no compunctions about showing their interest. The girls repeatedly pulled us both out onto the dance floor, and we all slithered and swayed seductively to the subwoofers’ rumbling pulse.  Several bold young women openly suggested that we “get together” after hours. Alas, Madame and I had other plans.

Whenever we overheated from dancing we would retire to the bar, where Madame had a reserved table.  Madame ordered oysters for us both, and I was granted the privilege of two more generously poured scotches on crushed ice, each, of course, enhanced with the barest hint of Madame’s well-guarded, secret flavoring agent.  I was having a perfectly fabulous time.

Click here for Part 3

About the Author

In the early to mid-2000s, Donna Queen enjoyed a brief, unexpected, but memorable career as an amateur transgender porn star, with a devoted worldwide following. She is now fully transitioned and happily married to a wonderful woman, and is no longer active in the porn scene, although her pictures and videos remain widely distributed and she often receives fan requests for new material. While she no longer makes visual porn, Donna is a gifted writer of fiction in multiple genres, including BDSM erotica. While Donna writes primarily from her own perspective as a lifelong submissive, she also demonstrates a sure grasp of the dominant’s point of view. Although her work is first and foremost powerfully erotic, Donna strives to create fully realized and authentically human characters, and her stories always reflect her loving, generous spirit and delightfully wicked sense of humor.

A Special Treat for Donna: Part 1

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bdsm toys and corset background

I’d been a tad naughty during our evening on the town.  I drank too much Scotch and allowed my libido to slip its leash – sidling up to good-looking men, breathily whispering coy suggestions into their ears, brushing my fingers across their bulging crotches.  I eventually depleted Madame’s store of tolerance and she brought things to an abrupt halt, employing one of her preferred and rather effective control techniques – slipping her hand up my dress and under my panties and digging her well-honed fingernails deep into my vulnerable cheeks.  She snatched my glass of high-end blended Scotch on the rocks, brought it under her skirt, discreetly topped it off with a generous splash of her pungent pee, and handed it back to me with a stony stare.

“Drink up, you trashy little cunt.  Why do you persist in publicly embarrassing me like this?  Does anything I teach you ever take hold in your cluttered brain?  Yet another disgraceful performance, Donna.” Madame sighed and shook her head in disgust.  I lowered my eyes abjectly and drank up as ordered.

Following a long, icily silent ride home, I received a sound over-the-knee paddling and, a rough session with the strapon, wrists tightly bound, clothespins on my nipples, and a large butt plug crammed in my mouth.  I gagged and let it pop out once. For this lapse in control I was administered several sharp swats with the flogger on my legs and back. Madame presently emptied her reservoir of anger and frustration, and all was well again.  She hugged me tight, kissed away my tears, and we settled in for another sweet night of cuddling and tender lovemaking. Madame loves me boundlessly, and it is from her abiding love that she provides me with the rigid structure and heavy discipline so essential to my well-being. She is harsh, sometimes even cruel, and she does not hesitate to unleash the full physical and emotional force of her anger on me when duly provoked. Nevertheless, Madame’s volcanic wrath is always carefully channeled towards maximizing my happiness and personal fulfillment.  I am a better, more successful person for having unreservedly yielded to my beautiful Mistress’s superior wisdom and unique power.

“Donna, I sense that you’re getting one of your periodic itches for male attention.  It couldn’t have been more obvious last night,” Madame said over breakfast the next morning, her head cocked and eyebrows raised.  “We need to address this with prompt and decisive action.” I began to sweat and tremble in anticipation of the fearsome array of disciplinary measures that lay ahead.  It seemed to me that I’d been more than adequately punished the night before. But who was I to challenge Madame’s judgment in these matters? I recalled my inferior station and kept mute.

Madame tossed her head back and whooped with laughter at her successful jest.  “You are too funny, Donna! You thought I was going to put you through another series of punishments, didn’t you?  Relax, honey. You weren’t that naughty last night.  You certainly pissed me off, but I’m long past it by now,” she said, her warm eyes twinkling with love.  “I’ve elected to pursue a softer approach to the problem that I know you’re going to like. There’s no denying that you derive great pleasure from being taken by handsome men, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that you’re much easier to manage when you’ve had a recent healthy dose of cock.  From now on I’d like to keep you regularly serviced by quality studs. I think it will make both of our lives easier by preventing future recurrences of last night’s fiasco. You already give me more than enough reasons to spank you. I’d like to keep it down to no more than two or three good thrashings daily so I don’t wear out my right arm and lose all the feeling in my hand,” Madame said with a chuckle and a sly wink.  “But don’t get the idea that you’re going to dodge the open palm, lash, and paddle altogether, Missy! You need constant reinforcement and the occasional bite. A dig in the ass or a swig of my piss (I happen to know you love Madame’s tasty tinkle, anyway) will be nowhere near enough to keep a spirited little bitch like you in line.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!  My beloved Madame was going to bring me all the choice studs I could ever want!  I felt more loved than ever before. She really would do anything to keep me happy.  What a wonderful gift!

“By the way,” she added, in a conspiratorial sotto voce.  “I’ve been known to partake of the opposite sex myself on occasion.  This is going to be great fun for both of us.”

Could it get any better than this?  I could have done the happy dance right then and there, but Madame would have frowned upon such an undignified display.  This wasn’t the time to push my luck.

“I have an important meeting at my office this morning, so I’ll be going now.  I expect this house to be spotless and in perfect order when I return tonight,” said Madame, abruptly shifting conversational gears.  Dressed for business, leather briefcase in hand, my loving Mistress whisked herself out the door, got into her cherry red BMW M3 convertible with camel top and interior, and roared out of the driveway.  Taking careful note of the time, I quickly set to my chores. One day I’ll finally get it completely right and maybe just once the storm clouds won’t gather the instant I greet Madame at the door.

By 7 p.m. I had completed my long list of household tasks to what I dearly hoped would be to Madame’s satisfaction, and had a scrumptious dinner on the table, hot and ready for her imminent return.  Madame had the uncanny ability to arrive home on the hour and this night her record remained intact. I rushed to open the front door for her, giddy with excitement, for I had missed her terribly all day.  Madame entered, scanned the foyer, then turned to face me. My broad smile collapsed and my heart sank. The black clouds rolled in and a cold wind whipped up.

“I’m beginning to think you’re hopeless, Donna.  Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that you couldn’t be bothered to dust the tops of the paintings?  I’ve been patiently watching and waiting since Monday and here it is, the end of my hard work week and the place still looks like hell.  Is that a greasy fingerprint I see in the corner of that mirror over there? I’m growing weary of living in this pigsty.” Madame threw her jacket and briefcase on the floor before my feet.  I squatted down to pick them up and put them where they belong, but before doing so I kissed and licked the toes of Madame’s black leather, daytime pumps. I removed her things to their proper places, and returned to the foyer where Madame stood waiting with furrowed brow and folded arms.

“Turn around and pull up your skirt.”  I obeyed. Madame reached into the drawer of a table that sat against the wall, and pulled out a highly polished, old wooden paddleball racket, which had been drilled with dozens of small holes to reduce wind resistance.  Neither of us played the game; Madame had found a better use for the implement. She yanked down my panties and let loose with twenty forceful smacks. Madame meant business; she set my compact little ass aflame in a blast of unmitigated ire.  I bit my lip and stifled my pitiful cries, but nothing could hold back my tearful deluge.

Under other circumstances Madame would undoubtedly have punished me further, but corporal discipline is hard physical work, and she’d had a long, exhausting day.  I was sufficiently contrite, anyhow, so it wouldn’t have been worth the extra effort. Madame willed away her seething displeasure and we enjoyed a cheerfully animated meal together.  We fell asleep in one another’s arms watching mindless, forgettable reality shows.

We awoke to a glorious October Saturday, both of us overflowing with productive energy.  Madame and I began the day cruising the yard sales and just plain joyriding in the M3 with the top down.  Once I relaxed too much, let my attention flag and my wig flew off in the wind, bounced off the windshield of a trailing vehicle and landed atop a roadside rhododendron. For a moment, I expected Madame to march me into the woods, cut a switch, and whip my still tender bottom for having almost ruined such a fine and costly gift. Instead she simply howled with laughter at my comical dishevelment.  Madame had a weakness for cute slapstick (No, she did not like the Three Stooges).  I restyled my hair, this time tightly tied it down with a scarf, and off we sped, unable to contain our hilarity for more than a few minutes at a time.  Throughout the afternoon we’d look at each other and suddenly erupt in giggly fits in front of puzzled onlookers. We were like a couple of 12-year-old girls trying desperately not to blurt out a riotous secret about a classmate.

Back home, we plunged into yard work – trimming, digging, planting, mowing, etc.  It was a sweaty, gratifying afternoon. Madame relaxes her disciplinary regime somewhat on nice weekends, and this day was no exception.  She never lets me off the hook altogether, however. At one point, I took an overlong bathroom break, and upon my belated return Madame gave me the “look.”  Needing no spoken order, I dropped my dirty jeans and accepted several cursory swats with the back of a garden trowel. I was glad it didn’t happen on a weekday.

We dined on lobster and littlenecks, drank two bottles of wine, revisited the high points of our idyllic day, and retired to our favorite plush sofa.  Madame opened her laptop, rubbed her palms together, and said, “Let’s find us a hottie!”

Madame had already laid the groundwork by advertising the two of us in a Craigslist personal.  The posting was accompanied by several enticing photos with our privates concealed by black bars, so as to comply with CL terms of service.  Madame respected the rules of others to the same strict degree that she expected others to observe hers. The ad offered the promise of unredacted images for those who responded with face pictures of their own.

I was a good cheesecake model and Madame, a naturally skilled photographer who also loved and understood my body, had created a nice portfolio of me in a variety of “come hither” poses prominently displaying my long, shapely legs, sweet cock, and irresistible, pink anus.  We’d posted many of these pictures on adult photo sharing sites, and they’d proven remarkably effective at drawing in hordes of panting males begging for a chance to fuck my tight, little hole, and slide their rigid dicks through my soft, full, red lips. I became an overnight transgender porn star, to my everlasting astonishment.  Madame had her own extensive fan base, of course. There are women who assume the “BBW” designation who, while indisputably big and indisputably a woman, don’t truly merit the “B” that stands for “beautiful.” No one, however, had a stronger claim to that all-important second “B” than Madame. She was flat-out, eye-poppingly gorgeous, and had devoted admirers all over the world furiously wanking to her images and hoping against hope for even a fleeting moment in her stunning presence.  We had a surprising amount of fan overlap, as well. There’s a certain breed of man that loves sexy tgirls and BBWs with equal ardor. A fascinating phenomenon that defies adequate explanation, but we saw no need to overanalyze. Together we formed an extraordinary, compelling, erotic team. They couldn’t get enough of us and oh, how we loved it!

Click here for Part 2

About the Author

In the early to mid-2000s, Donna Queen enjoyed a brief, unexpected, but memorable career as an amateur transgender porn star, with a devoted worldwide following. She is now fully transitioned and happily married to a wonderful woman, and is no longer active in the porn scene, although her pictures and videos remain widely distributed and she often receives fan requests for new material. While she no longer makes visual porn, Donna is a gifted writer of fiction in multiple genres, including BDSM erotica. While Donna writes primarily from her own perspective as a lifelong submissive, she also demonstrates a sure grasp of the dominant’s point of view. Although her work is first and foremost powerfully erotic, Donna strives to create fully realized and authentically human characters, and her stories always reflect her loving, generous spirit and delightfully wicked sense of humor.

Submissives Who Work

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desk-glasses-laptop-3061

I was recently involved in a discussion group that intrigued me. The topic: Dom/mes that work out of their home. As a writer and an Internet consultant, I work “out of my house”; thus, this topic is very personal. Here is the question (paraphrased) and my answer.

“My Master works out of our house. I have a regular 9-5 job, which I had before we met; we both agreed to me continuing my career. I am concerned that I cannot live up to his 24/7 D/s ideal because of my employment situation. Do you think I can? Any tips how best to manage this situation?”

First of all, since your Master was in favor of you continuing your job, he clearly did not want you to serve him literally 24/7. True live-in 24/7 service, where the slave serves the Master 24/7, is actually rare in this lifestyle. I don’t have statistics, but the number of live-in slaves who do not work is surprisingly small. This happens for a myriad of reasons. One is that many people do not want to be in the company of another all the time. Another is that many slaves are career oriented. Having a job can be very fulfilling; again, your Master – from day one – was clearly in favor of your career. Besides, a second paycheck can be a welcome addition to any household, M/s or otherwise. Thus, for one or all of these reasons, your Master was cool with you having a job. It appears that concerns about the “24/7 D/s ideal” are yours, not his.

The key is to understand, as your Master seemingly does, that 24/7 does not have to literally mean 24/7. Of course, for some, it can. All Master/slave relationships are unique and there is no universal standard; it appears to me that 24/7 is more a state of mental slavery than one of physical servitude, which I have addressed in previous kinkweekly.com articles. The best example I can give you is that of marriage. Even when you are at work, you are married. If you are 3000 miles away from each other, you are married – and married 24/7. Similarly, if you are a collared slave, you are collared 24/7. The collar does not come off your neck when you are apart. (Velcro collars exempted!) That said, one must not slack off when it comes to being a good slave. And that is a legitimate concern. So, let me offer you some tips to keep you on your game.

One problem of having a job is that you can be exhausted when you come home from work. If your job has any submissive aspects to it – like an executive assistant – there can be a tendency to mentally say, “I don’t want to get anyone anything. I am worn out.” Rather than serve grudgingly, you might mention that you are particularly tired that day. Your Master just might just go light on you. Communication is always the key.

On the other hand, on those days when you are not dragging, make a special effort to be a terrific slave. Your Master will appreciate the extra exertion – and it will more than make up for the days when your job wore you out. So, don’t be so hard on yourself. Some days are simply better than others – from both the Dom/me and sub point of view.

The key is to realize you are not actually serving 24/7 – so on those hours when your Master expects you to be at his beck and call, you should be very attentive. Don’t underestimate your Dom/me; a wise Master/Mistress will understand the time management aspects of owning a slave with a job. You really have nothing to worry about. Just serve well when you are required to, and communicate with him when you are unable to be the perfect slave due to job fatigue or other work-related factors.

Never forget the 24/7 ideal is just that – an ideal. It rarely exists. Most of us, Lotto winners excepted, live in the real world. In your case, your Master was accepting of your employment. It follows that he will also accept the ebbs and flows that any time-intensive job will cause. The best advice I can offer you is to do your best, communicate effectively – and, more than likely, all will be fine.

About the Author

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

This week in kink: June 18, 2018

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02_dita_von_teeseDita Von Teese shot by Danny Stygion

Check out Danny Stygion’s e-book, How to Create and Sell a Digital Magazine. Release date is this Friday, June 15.

The e-book includes a step-by-step guide on how to design and virtually distribute a digital
magazine with e-mail marketing and social media promotion advice.

Also, check out his amazing photography featured in this week’s issue!

About Danny Stygion

Danny Stygion (born March 21, 1980) is a photographer, magazine publisher,
filmmaker, and podcaster. He is the co-founder and editor of Sinical
Magazine, established in November 2010. Sinical Magazine focuses on
alternative culture and fetish fashion and has featured the world’s top
alternative models such as Dita Von Teese, Masuimi Max, and Bianca
Beauchamp. The Sinical Magazine Podcast was founded in 2015.

In 2013, subspace Magazine was launched, focusing on professional
Dominatrices and BDSM.

In 2015-2016, he produced a series of magazine issues for NightCulture,
Inc., a producer of live electronic music events.

In late 2016, he co-founded an independent film and video production
company called LP-1126 Productions.

Click here to check out his website

11_nova_nymphNova Nymph shot by Danny Stygion

Be sure to check out Sharesome, the new NSFW social networking site that allows you to post videos, photos, and links that often are banned by other social media sites

Click here to visit the site

12_jewell_marceauJewell Marceau shot by Danny Stygion

Learn about the Mile High Dungeon in Denver, Colorado. It has been known as one of the best dungeons in the United States

Click here to read more

04_ludella_hahnLudella Hahn shot by Danny Stygion

Sex workers are helping women to achieve better orgasms using weed lube

Click here to find out more

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

Trespasser: Part 1

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hooper-vanity-checkmate-101Dirk Hooper Professional Photography-http://www.DirkHooper.com

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and we are in no way advocates of any kind of abuse, non-consensual behavior, crossing any hard limits, putting anyone in harm’s way (physically/mentally/emotionally/spiritually), or violating one’s boundaries/what was pre-negotiated.

With this being said, enjoy the story!

I watched them through my hiding place. I took refuge behind a pine tree. I tried hard to save my energy for when they would be on top of me. I could outrun them in short spurts. Long spurts…not so much

One of them was a woman with wild, blonde hair. She had brown eyes that could pierce one’s soul. She was tall and had an athletic build. She reminded me of the Amazon warrior women from Xena:Warrior Princess.

The other was a man. He had short, dark hair with stumble on his chin and glacial blue eyes. If you stared into his eyes, it would feel like falling into a vast, deep, light-blue ocean- like the ones you see in the Caribbean. His shirt was off and he was heavily muscled. Sweat glistened off his chest. He wore tight, jean shorts.

They both were barefoot. It made my feet hurt just by looking at them. However, if they lived like this often, the bottoms of their feet were heavily calloused and probably didn’t feel much.

They wanted me. They saw me as a piece of meat…and not the kind you eat. The kind they wanted to ravage. The kind they wanted to control. I could tell by the gleaming look in their eyes when I first encountered them.

It was my fault. I had stumbled onto their land out in the forest. I had been hitch hiking. I was running away from the life I had for the last ten years, which was filled with emotional and verbal abuse, and my ex-husband cheating on the side. It didn’t matter if I was homeless, carless, and penniless. I was free now.

Accidentally, I had come across an apple tree that was part of this couple’s property. I thought it just grew naturally on the border of the forest.

Once they saw me on their premises, I thought they were going to shoot me. A hunting rifle was pointed right at me. I begged them not to kill me.

“What makes you think we’re going to kill you, girl?” The man asked me in a southern drawl.

“Um…the gun pointing at me?”

“This doesn’t have bullets. It has pellets. They hurt like the Devil, but they don’t kill ya.”

“Oh,” I said in relief.

“However, you’re trespassing on our property,” the woman said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know this tree belonged to you both. Please don’t call the cops”

They both chuckled. “We aren’t going to call the feds, girl.”
“We prefer to play with trespassers,” the woman cockily mentioned.

“In what way?” I asked nervously.

“We’ll play something that I can only describe as the adult version of hide and seek,” the man replied.

“Hide and seek? So, we just play that and everything is fine?”

They both busted out in laughter again. “No, gírl! You run as far as you can from us. Then, my wife and I will hunt you. If you can avoid capture inside our property, you’re free to go. If not, you will be ours.”

I felt my heart climb into my throat. “What would that entail?”

“Trust me, it’ll be fun. At least for us,” the wife said gleefully.  

“So, girl, you up for a hunt?” growled the man.

“What if I don’t want to do this hunt?”

“How cute,” the wife mused to her husband. “She thinks she has a choice in this.”

I could feel my heart beating in my throat. “Okay…I guess I am.”

“Good!” The husband said happily. “Better get running!”

The couple gave me a ten second head start and I took off running as fast as my little legs could carry me. I imagined myself being as fast as a cheetah to help give me speed and agility. My heart raced as I imagined what they had in store for me once they caught me.

They were good hunters. They stayed on my trail the whole way. I was probably thirty minutes away from where I had been originally. They were determined to have me. While they probably felt exhilarated by the hunt, I felt exhilarated trying to outrun and outsmart them.

I was getting tired now. Lungs, knees, and stamina were giving up on me. So, now, it was time to outsmart them. I would let them walk past me. Then, when they were a few feet ahead, I would run in the opposite direction or in another direction that they weren’t in. They would see me, and this would begin another chase.

I ran behind a boulder. I sank beside it as I become even more exhausted. I sat there for…who knows how long. I know it was long enough because I could feel my skin becoming sunburned. I was getting thirsty. I rested my eyes. I think I rested my eyes. One moment I was laying against the warm boulder, and the next, I was gazing up at the couple standing right in front of me with looks of triumph on their tanned faces.

“Taking a cat nap?” The man asked curiously. I didn’t have a response. I didn’t feel like I dozed off. Maybe passed out because of heat exhaustion?

“Get her!” The woman exclaimed.

I rolled quickly away from the boulder using pure agility. I swept my leg and caused the man to fall.

“You stupid bitch!” He cried out.“You’ll pay for that!”

I began to sprint. I saw a small brook and crossed over it.

They weren’t too far behind. This time I hid behind a bush. This would’ve been a great spot if it weren’t for the damn mosquitoes turning me into a buffet. I squealed as I slapped my skin as those little assholes fed on me. This got the attention of the two hunters. I ran once more. I didn’t get far though.

I cried out when the man wrapped his grizzly arms around my waist and tackled me to the ground.

He tried to pin me down with his body. He was much bigger and stronger than I was. He was about six feet tall. Yours truly was only four foot eleven. However, what I lacked in muscle and height, I made up for in flexibility.

My legs were already in spread eagle. I raised them and wrapped them around his broad chest. Using every thigh muscle I could muster, I threw him off of me.

The hunter was surprised. He quickly recovered and was on me once again. “Get to her feet first!” He exclaimed to the woman. “She’s feisty.”

“You better believe it,” I quipped.

He slammed a hand over my mouth. “Shut the fuck up, bitch”

“Don’t give us any trouble,” he growled. Something in his eyes stopped me from continuing to be difficult. There was something feral there… something dangerous.

The huntress caught up to us, and started to start tie a leather strap around my ankles while the man tied my hands together. When the man finished tying up my wrists, the woman layed a flannel blanket on the ground between two trees. He picked me up and carried me to the blanket. He sat down on it and put me on his lap face down.

He forcefully pulled my pants down to the middle of my thighs. “What a lovely ass,” he remarked as he began to rub it.  

“What are you two going to do to me?” I asked nervously.

“Punish you,” the woman said as she sat next to her husband on the blanket. She brushed a finger down my spine. “Pleasure you,” she whispered as her hand covered my mound.

The man arched me and grasped my chin. “You, sweet girl, are our little play thing now.” He brought his stubbly face inches from mine and gave me a short kiss on the lips.

“You can’t do this to me!” I vehemently protested.

“We can since we caught you fair and square,” the woman countered as she put her hand on my throat. She didn’t squeeze though.

“If I told the cops what happened, they would call this kidnapping and rape!”

The woman now applied some pressure. Not enough to strangle me, but enough to give me a warning to shut up. “We haven’t raped you,” she growled. “And we don’t plan to. By the time we’re done with you, you’re going to beg us to fuck you. And trust me, baby doll…you WILL beg us to fuck you.” Her other hand covered my vagina once more. “We never had anyone NOT beg us to fuck them.”

“First, let’s give you a spanking for being the naughty, little girl you are,” the hunter barked.

“How many should we give her?”  

“I like ten,” said the man cheerfully. To me, he said “We’re going to spank you ten times. You will help us count. Failure to do so will result in further punishment. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Yes, what?”

“I don’t know what to call you,” I snapped.

The hunter fisted his hand in my hair and pulled my head back. “How about Master?”

“And you will call me Mistress,” expressed the woman as she planted a sensual kiss on my lips. It was the first time I ever kissed a woman.

“Do you understand, girl?”

“Yes, Master and Mistress.”

“Good girl,” he uttered before landing a big smack on my ass. I yelped in pain. “Forgetting something?”

“One!” I quickly amended.

His hand circled my ass before he landed another hard spanking on me.

“Two,” I cried.

Three to eight came very quickly in rapid succession. He stopped to caress my red behind a bit before giving me spanking number nine and ten.

After a few moments, the hunter and huntress pulled me off his lap, and turned me onto my back. They tied my wrists to one tree trunk while they tied my feet to the other. I felt like I was going to be sacrificed.

They undressed very quickly. Their bodies looked amazing. The woman’s breasts were firm and about B cups. Her nipples looking like red gumdrops. It made my mouth water as I imagined sucking on them. Her vagina was shaved. Her clit smiled at me.

The man was already hard as a rock. The chase and my punishment must’ve aroused him. It was about nine inches long and had the girth of three fingers.

They pulled off my clothes are far as they would go given that I was tied up. It didn’t matter if they weren’t completely off. What mattered was their access to my goods. My breasts were much bigger than the woman’s. I was about a D. My breasts looked like marange tops with cherries. My pussy wasn’t completely shaven, but it was trimmed. I felt wet already, which intrigued me because I barely knew these people. Yet, something primal in me wanted this. Something told me I deserved this.

The woman went straight for my pussy. Her mouth clamped over my clit while her tongue lapped at it as she put two fingers deep into my moist, feminine core. The guy was kissing me hard. His tongue plundered my mouth.  The man eventually sat on my chest; he wanted me to suck him off.
I felt myself becoming rebellious again. I averted my face from him. He grabbed me by the chin and forced me to look at him. Then, he put his cockhead to my lips, and ran it across them as if his throbbing head was lipstick. Eventually, my mouth opened on its own will and in popped his cock. I sucked it like a fucking blow pop; I imagined it being cherry flavored. He moaned, and his head fell back as my mouth pleasured him.

Click here for Part 2

About the Author:

She is an avid swimmer and a stay at home mother by day. She is a published author that specializes in erotica and the supernatural by night. She is a kink submissive. However, don’t let her innocent look fool you. She has a naughty imagination and a defiant attitude. She writes erotica on Fetlife under Lynn82md and her novels under another name.
Links:
Fetlife: Lynn82md
Her novel on Amazon: Immortal Love

Rules

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evaMistress Eva with sub
https://www.youwillpleaseme.com/

From time to time, I respond to submitted BDSM questions whose answers might help some of our readers. Here is one that I found fascinating; and though it is written by a female submissive, my answer should apply to male subs too.…

“I am a relatively new female submissive. A potential Master I met gave me a complicated list of rules he wants me to follow. The prospect of following them is very scary to me. What should I do?”

The first thing you must understand is that every Dominant – and every submissive – is different. We might all be learning from similar playbooks, but all of us pick and choose different paths and preferences. There are high protocol and low protocol Dom/mes and subs, weekend and 24/7 practitioners, switches and fetishists. Before you choose a Dominant, it would be best to familiarize yourself with all these different possibilities.

When you first meet a Dominant, even if you like him, you really owe him nothing — other than respect and honesty. Technically, until you decide to enter into some sort of D/s arrangement, you are a free agent. And so is he. Thus, when he sends you a long list of rules he wants you to follow, you are not compelled to obey them immediately. You are still in the “negotiations” phase. This is really a two part discovery process. The first is to find out if you actually like each other. This can border on vanilla considerations; but, human concerns are always critical in any relationship, BDSM or otherwise. After you determine that you like him – or you discover you want him only as a play partner — then you should enter into the “lifestyle negotiations” phase, of which his rules are but one aspect.

The great advantage of BDSM relationships – if you do them “by the book” and don’t skip the negotiations phase – is that all aspects of your interactions are up for discussion.  Whether it is your Dom’s rulebook, play, pain, fetishes, sex, polyamory, hard & soft limits or levels of protocol, nothing – other than agreeing on a safe word — should be off the table. The key is that these discussions should be as complete and wide-ranging as possible. In your case, his rules are the first thing, but not the only thing, to be talked about.

Before you discuss the list with him, I suggest (my opinion) you examine it and separate the rules into three categories. One should be those rules you actually like. For example, a popular rule that many subs love is that the submissive gives oral sex on demand. The next group would include those rules you don’t find overly objectionable. For example, asking permission to cum can be a pain for many submissives, but few would consider this a deal breaker. Then you must list those which are hard limits. This often happens when a low protocol sub meets a high protocol Dominant who might require her/him to ask permission to go the bathroom – even when at work.

Once you have these categories firmly in mind, you should ask this Dom whether “category three” rules are negotiable or not. If he refuses, and there are lots of “hard limit” rules in the list, he simply might not be the Dominant for you. If, on the other hand, he is willing to bend his rules a bit, then you can start to get a handle whether this will work. Don’t expect him to tailor his protocols to completely satisfy you. After all, who is the Dom here? But, if you are cool with a lot of his rules, and he is willing to change some before finalizing them, then all might be fine.

The key in all relationships, as stated here ad nauseam, is communication. Your Master’s list can be a good jump-off point to see where you both stand. Plus, after the rules are finalized, you will find that having them in place can be the cornerstone of a great union.

Remember, his list is not an ending, but merely a beginning!

About the Author:

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

Healthy Dominance

By 3 Comments

fashion-horse-10x20 www.voxart9.com

I have noticed there are a lot of new individuals in the community that seem to be unclear about what a D type really is. A lot of these individuals are also unaware of the responsibilities that come with being any rendition of a D type.

Being a Dominant entails so much more than just telling people what to do and getting your fantasies met by doing so.

Sure, Doms can consensually tell others what to do, and in doing so get their needs and wants met. However, there is so much a Dom must consider before making a demand.

First, the s type’s hard limits must be considered as well as their soft limits. It would go against the job description of any Dom to do anything that would actually physically or mentally harm the s type. The Dom must always keep the sub safe.

Soft limits should also be considered because some soft limits are situationally- based as well as mentally-based. What I mean by this is, some soft limits are only safe to be explored in certain settings and/or when the sub is in a certain headspace or feeling a certain way.

Second, what the s type can realistically handle and can physically/mentally do should be considered as well. The Dom should NEVER set the sub up to purposefully fail  (unless this has been pre-negotiated and consented to). Now, the Dom can ask for things that might be trying and/or challenging for the sub (again as long as it is consensual and no hard limits are crossed). However, if the Dom knows that what is being asked has no chance of being successful, then I would highly recommend not asking for said thing. Furthermore, if what you wish to ask for is very important to you, you could potentially train the sub on what they cannot do at this time (in hopes that they can perform the task or fulfill the order in the future). Please note, that there are some things that cannot be trained and other things that can. It’s the Dom’s job to gather enough information to know the difference.

It’s also important to not get upset and/or angry at where the s type is currently. It’s always more beneficial to accept the s type, and proactively and practically work with them to help them serve you better. It’s totally acceptable to correct the s type’s behavior, but be careful not to correct who they are. This could negatively affect their self esteem.

If you find that you no longer wish to be in a power exchange dynamic with your sub, then that’s your right as well, and the healthiest break up protocols should be followed by all parties (these should be dynamic-specific).

Again, if you choose to stay with your submissive, it’s important to work with them as a team or at least consider them a part of the team even if all parties have agreed that the sub is considered less than the Dominant.

Third, the Dom should always take into account their own mental state and physical state. You may wish to discipline or punish at a particular moment, but realizing you should not punish until you calm down can be a sign of an aware Dom with great self control. Self control is paramount for both D types and s types. It can be your best friend when you want to do something, but realize you are not in the best headspace to do said thing.

I am also not recommending that punishments and/or discipline get thrown to the wayside because you are too angered and/or upset. I am merely suggesting to recognize when you are experiencing negative emotions that could impede your judgment, and then postpone punishment/discipline until you are in a calmer state. For example, you could tell your sub you will have their punishment for them within 24 hours, or  let them know you need five minutes to cool off before talking to them about this, or you could tell them to wait in the corner and think about what they have done until you have calmed down (which would begin the punishment even before you are calm enough to continue talking about the matter). These are just a few options. There are many more to choose from.

Bottom line, the important thing is that you are always fair and just-even when punishing, disciplining, and/or correcting. When emotions are heightened that can put fairness and justice on the back burner. Just like a submissive may have to train on specific skills, so might a Dominant. The difference in training is that the sub has the Dom leading the training, process, and the Dom has to lead their own training (unless the Dom has a D type of their own or a mentor).  Doms are people too, and their emotions need to kept in check just as much as subs.

Often, Doms are role models for their subs. With this being said, it would be in the Dom’s/relationship’s best interest to model the behavior and/or core values they wish the sub to exhibit/live by. I am in no way saying that Dominants should act submissive, or behave exactly like their s types, or have the same behavior protocols. I am merely stating that if a Dominant wants their submissive to be honest, they themselves should be honest.

I have often heard debates on whether or not Doms should apologize to their subs and/or talk to them about their errors.

I am a firm believer that it is the D type’s responsibility to own their error and make necessary modifications as needed. Now do they need to grovel or give a lengthy apology?- NO!

But they at least need to be willing to adjust things so the s type is safe and not put under potentially harmful physical and/or mental strain.

It’s human to have too high or unrealistic expectations. I am sure these things happen in nearly every power exchange relationship. And that’s totally okay. The essential thing for Doms is that you make healthier adjustments as needed. This requires you to be flexible, humble, and caring about your s type’s well-being to some degree.

In short, it’s important to know when to healthily/consensually push, and when to modify. Every situation is different, and a Dom’s task is often to balance challenge and adjustment.

It’s also important for a Dom to carefully observe not only the s type’s words and overt actions, but also their subtler mannerisms such as body language. You can often learn more about what the sub thinks and who they are by paying attention to these things. Doms who note these kinds of things will have more success in knowing when to push and when to pull back.

I have always heard mindfulness talked about from a sub’s and slave’s perspective, but mindfulness is greatly needed for everyone in any kind of dynamic.

Unhealthy implementation of dominance can create resentment, willful disobedience, and even dynamic dissolution. Healthy dominance can breed respect, trust, happiness, obedience, and a very strong foundation for any power exchange dynamic.

The D type wields all or most of the power in a relationship and/or scene. Because of this, it is up to them to set the tone and establish the path the dynamic will be on.

Of course, it is the responsibility of the s type to want to serve and to follow what the D type has prescribed. However, the D type is the leader and creates the overall ambiance of the exchange/relationship.

In closing, D types should be humble, logical, stable, understanding, intelligent, and in tune with their s types (this last point may vary based on whether one is talking about a scene, a power exchange relationship, or pick-up play. Nonetheless, the D type must be in tune with the s type to some degree. The D type cannot act as if the s type isn’t there and their boundaries don’t exist).

I hope this article has helped others gain a better understanding of  D types’ responsibilities.

As always, thanks for reading and stay tuned!

Click here for the sister article- Healthy Submission

About the Author:

Slave Bunny, a 1950’s power slave, is involved in a wonderful and loving TPE 24/7 M/S relationship with her Master and husband. She is also the Creative Director of Kink Weekly.

She has dedicated her life to working on herself mentally, spiritually, and physically, and hopes to inspire others to do the same. Through teaching and mentoring, she hopes to help everyone in the Kink community as much as she can.

Feel free to add her on Fetlife (Slave_Bunny992) to see her upcoming workshops and classes.