submisison

Erotica: Barbie Girl

October 27, 2021 By Sunny 2 Comments

bdsm leather submissive collar — via stock.adobe.com

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

I hum the song again softly to myself. It’s stuck in my head. The words play again in my mind. Life is plastic. It’s fantastic. I giggle out loud. Not plastic….wax. I begin to drift again. My head spins. I’m dehydrated. I reach for my bottle of diet coke and lift it to my lips. I freeze in place. The bottle in my hand is very real but all I can see is a version that resembles a tiny toy soda in a doll house, the liquid is really only a swipe of paint in acrylic. No liquid touches my lips.

“Need a little help baby?” my Daddy asks, returning from the bathroom and taking in my frozen state. I can’t move, legs extended in a rigid pose with one hand still holding the Coke. I manage to move my lips. I find sound.

“Daddy? Am I a little girl or little doll?” I whisper, my voice magnified by the open bottle still close to my lips. He climbs up onto the bed and bumps the end of the bottle up a little bit higher, allowing the soda to flow into my mouth. I swallow and sigh in relief. I am so thirsty. I giggle again as the music in my mind plays anew. This time I hum the tune out loud. Dress me up, make it tight, I’m your dolly.

“You’re a little girl sweetheart,” he soothes me, and I relax my body finding I can move after all. Yay fractionation. I am hypno fucked-up. “You need to drink more fluids baby,” Daddy encourages. Diet coke is not ideal but it’s what’s available in the hotel room on demand. “I wonder if the soda can make you come?” he teases, knowing my whole body is sensitized and wanting to encourage me to drink.

I lift the bottle to my lips, this time with two hands, only to find myself stuck again. Fucking fake plastic soda. “You’re my little girl sweetheart,” Daddy gently reminds me and bumps the bottle again. This time, as the bubbles flow down my throat orgasm tears through my body.

How did I get here? Oh yeah….Daddy turned my key. I’d eaten some chocolate, melted and then re-solidified into one large confectionary chunk. We’d checked in to this hotel and agreed to a little dolly time. The hypnosis had done the rest. I lie back against the mattress and as I float, I relive the evening all over again.

My entire body tingles, every vibration, every touch and sound, bringing me close to orgasm. Daddy locks my private collar around my neck. “What does this collar mean?” he asks me, beginning our ritual.

“I belong to Daddy,” I respond instinctually. This is the correct and only answer, and I’m rewarded with a “good girl.” As he pins me to the mattress with his large hand around my throat, Daddy reminds that my collar is not the only lock that matters. He is in possession of a very different sort of key. It clicks into place and my body becomes rigid.

Daddy spreads my legs and bends them on the bed. The don’t budge and inch as he laps between my thighs with a skill that makes me scream out my pleasure, but only in my mind. My lips remain silent. I am a motionless compliant doll, a fucktoy at his disposal.

Daddy climbs on top of me, bending one leg and then the other like a pretzel, with my blue painted toes pressed against his chest just under his chin. He lifts each arm in turn around his neck and they lock in place, arms straight and bent at the wrists. They remain fixed behind his head as he crushes my body under his weight, folding me in half, and slamming his cock inside of me.

My body can’t move of its own accord but it produces slick and I am wet and ready for Daddy. I don’t have to ask permission to come because I am unable to speak, and the tiny convulsions that make my muscles quiver and the spasms of my kitty around his shaft are the only indication of the ecstasy he brings me.

Daddy withdraws from my core and extends my limbs before rolling me on my belly. He lifts and turns me effortlessly, and I feel him mount me with my thighs pressed nearly together and one of his legs outside of each of mine. The position is impossibly tight but he presses against me with expert precision and pounds into me with the ferocity of a wild bear. He growls as he slams my petite form into the mattress, bringing me to release again and again, before finally spilling his seed in my belly.

I lay still on the mattress, trembling internally when I hear him whisper in my ear. “Are you ready for the wax?” Yes I’m not sure if I answer in my mind or out loud. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need my permission. As the first drops of wax strike my skin, feeling like burning rain, each new pour causing orgasm to detonate inside of my silent form, I feel that my humanity is melting away. I have no fears or concerns, only sensation. I am simply a doll, an object of pleasure, my Daddy’s most cherished possession. My thoughts drift completely away.

“You’re my little girl,” Daddy soothes, gently bringing me back to the present reality. He tosses me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing and carries me into the bathroom where he gently washes away the wax and the traces of our love. I enjoy his ministrations as he runs his soapy hands over my body, gently towels me off, and tucks me into bed. A powerade is discovered packed in the overnight bag, and hydration is achieved. I won’t need any melatonin to sleep tonight snuggled against my Daddy’s chest. His scent envelopes me as he holds me close and helps me sink into a deep and natural sleep. “You’re such a good girl,” he whispers, to the last traces of my consciousness as I drift off in a sea of bliss and darkness takes me.

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

How “Total” Power Exchange Is Manifested

October 13, 2021 By Dame TylerRose. 2 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

THAT is the T in TPE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TPE meant he decided and I abided. Period.

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

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

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

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

Erotica: The Center Of The Circus

September 29, 2021 By Joji Sada 2 Comments

sexy Domme playing with fire — via stock.adobe.com

I am a quiet and well-behaved slave. This is especially true in public. I do not speak beyond what is required of me as a hostess or unless directly addressed. I stay as close to Master’s side as possible while still fulfilling the tasks he has set forth when we have guests. I work to negotiate for Master when newer individuals get on the table, clean up between bottoms (and after the festivities), and I make sure Master is fed and hydrated. I monitor the unattached bottoms who visit, and I have my own gaggle of littles that I babysit.

While I am often busy keeping everything running smoothly, Master is often busy introducing individuals to electroplay.

To say we rarely get play time at a public event is an understatement. And when we do, it is reserved for the end of the night. Considering how much Sadomasochism is in our play, there are two factors we must consider.

Factor number one is Master’s energy level. He plays with twenty to thirty people prior to me. While more than half of the scenes are under 15 minutes, the up and down of the endorphins and adrenaline wears Him down considerably.

Factor number two is how many people, at the party, are new. It seems like an odd thing to factor into our play, doesn’t it? Theoretically, the only people who matter in a scene are the participants. But, in the real world, that is not the case.

We play rough. We play heavy. I have yet to safeword. And it scares people.

So, if we do scene, it is always at the end of the night, when most of the new people have left.

We play late to protect ourselves.

But, when we do, we become the center of our own circus.

Master thrives on the crowd. It is as though he absorbs the energy put out by them and channels it into his implements. I am sure I have seen his eyes glow from that same energy.

So, sit back, boys and girls, and let me tell you the story of a Sadistic Ringmaster.

I have been watching you for hours Sir. Over and over, men and women willingly put themselves on your table and cross. I watch your eyes light up with pleasure and the sinister smile slowly take over. Your creativity is beyond bounds. I have yet to see the same scene twice, even with tastings.

I never know quite what to expect. We have never played in public before Sir and my nerves are getting the best of me. You’ve told me that it was my choice to play or not. I know you want me up there, but I also know you will stand by your word.

It has taken most of the night, but I am ready to do this.

I can hear the shouts of the one in front of me. He is a masochist that I have seen you play with him before. He likes it hard and fast. I can tell, even from here, that he will have welts for a couple of days. I find it amusing when he climbs the cross. For being cuffed, he is quite flexible.

I wait until you have stepped away and the cross is empty. I see you cleaning everything you used. My stomach is in my throat, and I am struggling to find my voice.

I silently move to cross, standing slightly behind you to your left. I wait patiently for you to acknowledge me. It takes a few minutes. I wonder briefly if you have left me waiting on purpose, just to fuck with me.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi Sir.”

“Is everything alright?” You turn to face me completely. Your hand rests on my shoulder and you give it a soft squeeze.

“Yes, Sir.” Deep Breath. “Will you flog me on the cross?” My insides are shaking. Why is it so hard to do this in public?

You raise an eyebrow. Without hesitation, you tell me to step up to the cross. I stand there for a minute, waiting. I see you grab the first toy and I get a very wicked idea.

“Are you ready?” You ask.

“Don’t you want to tie me up Sir?”

I see you smile. The game has begun.

My shoulders are tense. This is very new to me. Here I am, cuffed to the cross, in just my panties, waiting for what will happen next.

This is the easy part. I know better than to look. I won’t know the implement until you use it. How many do you think I can guess right?

Your body presses against my back. Your hand curves around my neck, but no pressure is applied. “Are you ready?”

Deep, shuddering breath. “Yes, Sir.”

“Safe word?”

“Red for stop. Yellow for check-in.”

“Good girl.”

With that, you step back. My body shivers in anticipation.

The first strike of the flogger hurts. I must force my shoulders to relax. I know that the more tense I am, the more I could hurt myself.

My eyes close as you find your rhythm. There is a steady heat building under my skin. This isn’t so bad. If I keep my eyes closed, I can forget everyone else is there. I feel you pause every so often. Sometimes your hands touch my skin and sometimes you switch the implements. The floggers are steadily getting stingier.

The room has fallen silent. Or, at least, I cannot hear them anymore. There is only white noise in my ears now. My head feels like it is swimming. My eyelids are heavy. My mouth feels glued shut. Even at the increasing pain, I have no drive to stop you.

Then there is a long pause.

I rest my forehead to the cool wood of the cross. I steady my breathing and wait. I can hear the murmurs of the people again, but I find I care far less now than I did at the start.

I don’t know how long you left me waiting. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel your presence.

Then, you shocked me.

Without any warning, I felt a firm whack to my ass. It’s the paddle.

Fuck. I hate those.

My eyes pop open, and my hands wrap around the chains holding me in place. “Fuuhhck.”

I hear you laugh. It’s a dark and rich sound that cuts through the static.

Two.

Three.

Then you change it up again.

It’s always in threes.

I have lost count of the number of implements. This is far from the flogging I initially asked for. Then again, you have blanket consent to do as you please with this body. And you never cease to surprise me.

Somewhere in between the paddles, you check in with me. I know you expect me to be honest. My body feels warm and on fire. I feel invincible.

You ask me how I am doing.

I turn my head until our eyes meet. My answer shocks you. “Is that all you’ve got, Magick?” There is no Sir or Master. I am challenging your reputation.

Bring.

It.

On.

Master.

The gasp of the crowd cuts through the static. I hear a lone voice warning me not to say that. But it isn’t you.

Our eyes stay locked for several moments. You smile wide. I think I have provoked the Dragon.

Well, there is no turning back now.

I break the eye contact, turning back to the cross, dropping my head, and baring my neck.

What have I done?

The room is silent. I can feel the eyes of everyone on us. I think I have shocked them Sir.

Without warning, I feel something thin and stingy hit my ass. Ow. We just went from a 3 or 4 to a 7 on the pain scale. I breathe deep. This is what I asked for.

My eyes stay closed, and I scrunch up my face as I breathe through the pain. This is what I was looking for Sir. I wanted to see your Sadistic side. I wanted to trigger the same intensity you give the other masochists. I wanted you to use me without fear.

The strikes no longer come in threes, nor do they have the same rhythm. I can tell you are still in control, but you want me to feel each strike. Without a steady pattern, I cannot zone out. I cannot sink into the sweet oblivion of sub space.

And you know it.

I lose track of time so easily under your touch. I don’t know how long we have been at this. My legs are starting to feel weak. My ass feels as though it is on fire. The only thing holding me up at this point is the tight grip I have on the chains.

I am not ready for this to end. I refuse to give after I issued a challenge.

I finally hear your voice, soft and gruff in my ear. “How are you holding up?”

“Good, Sir.”

Your hand rests on the back of my neck. It feels hot.

You step away and I mewl at the loss.

One.

That one takes my breath away. It was solid enough that I felt my body would go through the wall with the force.

Two.

Jesus Christ that hurt. Whatever that was has me nearly biting through my tongue.

Three. I have finally climbed the cross. This is the devil. I cannot feel the back of my thighs anymore. What on Earth did you use, Sir?

My body sags. I grit my teeth and lean against the wood. I am near my breaking point. But I do not want to stop Sir. I want you to know I can take anything you are willing to give. I cannot stop this. I won’t.

I feel you against my back again. Your body is solid as you pull me against you. My head drops back onto your shoulder. Your hands wrap around my torso and climb up to my nipples. Your fingers tweak them, tugging and pulling. All I can do is gasp. There is so much pain on my backside and the combination of pain and pleasure from my nipples is going to drop me right here. You tug them upward and bring me to my tip toes.

“You look so pretty when you climb the cross.”

I let out a soft gwaff. I don’t even have the energy to laugh right now.

You let go of my nipples and your arms holds my waist to keep me upright. “How are you pet?”

“I…I” Deep breath. “I…am good Sir.” I exhale loudly. “May I have some water before we continue?”

“Let’s get you down pet and then I will get you some water.”

“No, Sir. Please. We can continue.”

“Shh. You have done well pet.” I hear you ask someone to help undo the restraints.

Once my arms are free, they drop heavily to my side. I turn around in your embrace and rest my head on your chest. I feel very floaty Sir, almost drunk.

And very sore.

All I can think is Thank you, Master. That was one hell of a ride.

That was the first of many public play sessions. When he finished checking on me, I can proudly tell you that I not only walked away from the cross on my own two feet, I went back to hosting duties after. I was on a high for several days. It also brought about one of the longest (and lowest) sub drops I had ever experienced.

I asked what those last three toys were. The thick one that thudded (and felt like I would go through the floor) was a length of a fire hose. For future reference, it has physically knocked me off a spanking bench and has quite the power behind it.

The second toy (the sting that made me curse very loudly) was a length of weather stripping. It is very, very painful. It leaves wonderful marks.

The last (which made me climb the cross) is a serpentine belt. It is my favorite toy (and has been since that day). I learned during that session that the belt corners should be sanded down. We ended up drawing blood on my thigh and it left a mark for nearly three months. We honestly thought it would scar.

Please understand that our dynamic is a Total Power Exchange with blanket consent. While I asked for a flogging for this scene, he decided to push my limits. I wouldn’t change anything about this scene.

That includes challenging him.

No one else has the balls to do that. No one will go head-to-head with Master. That’s what makes me special. That is why I have the honor of wearing his collar. He says I keep surprising him.

As I said at the beginning, I am generally a quiet and well-behaved slave. But, when the lights come up and the Circus tents open, I get to challenge the Ringmaster at his own game.

And it keeps everyone coming back for more.

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.

Three Levels of Submission

June 20, 2017 By Baadmaster Leave a Comment

With the changes in the BDSM “community” – if we can even call it that – there is one constant: Dominance and submission are integral to all BDSM interactions. Whether it is the more casual play of the “New Guard” or the classic formality of the “New Old Guard,” you cannot have a Dom/me without a submissive. In an attempt to give those who enjoy submission a “user friendly” playbook and give them an insight to their needs, I have codified “three levels of submission.” Of course, there is probably a google of levels. But these three broad categories should help give subs – and their Dom/mes – an easy reference point.

As I see it (my opinion, of course), one can categorize submission into three distinct levels. The first level is “operational submission,” where you are submissive to your Dom/me but little is required. It is a relaxed submissive state; the power dynamic is acknowledged but rarely actuated. Light play is often the hallmark of this level. The second stage is “active submission.” Here the sub might be required to be very attentive to the Dom/me and be available for him/her; but limits are not pushed. It is a state of familiar submission. Although the play might be edgier, no curveballs are thrown. The third space is “slave submission.” Typically, this is during hard play, training sessions or in a Master/slave relationship. Here limits can be pushed, subspace achieved and new areas of D/s are often explored.

These three levels were not simply an invention; the concept was born out of personal observation and interviews. Many submissives described different mindsets that they used at different times – especially within a D/s or M/s relationship. Although some said, as stated before, that there were many more levels than three, these three major categories emerged.

When dealing with D/s interactions, there are as many ways of approaching it as there are people. Obviously, there is no “one way.” For some, there is one consistent level of submission throughout their relationship. Yet, it might be enlightening to examine those who actually use different states of submission in order to best serve their Dominant – and also to best serve their relationship.

The most common problem with D/s – especially among post-Millennials — appears to be the intrusion of real life. Jobs, kids and everyday chores can be energy draining. Thus, these lifestylers – either consciously or unconsciously – conserve their “D/s” vigor. In level one, or “operational submission,” where little is required, the submissive expends the least effort. But how can this state be maintained if the Dominant is in a demanding mood? It can’t; it takes two to tango, as the saying goes. The most successful relationships are the ones in which the sub’s needs and the Dom/me’s demands dovetail seamlessly, like the idealized sadist and masochist. For the submissive to spend any amount of time in “operational submission,” the Dominant must also enjoy spending time in a relaxed, “Dom/me light” mood. I have met many “New Guard” couples who maintain a “level one” light Ds/ interaction pretty much all the time.

The second stage, “active submission” and the third, “slave submission,” clearly are not ones where the Dom/me and the submissive can be casual. Where stage two ends and stage three begins can be a vague line; one can easily transition into the other. These two stages are pretty intense; they are probably the states most people think of when they imagine what D/s is.

Notice, the three stages of submission are not some unilateral declaration of behavior management. They are the way the Dominant in partnership with the submissive shapes the relationship. A wise Dominant knows when a job is sapping his submissive’s vigor and compensates for this. The three levels are, basically, a great way to sculpt a relationship from both the Dom/me’s and sub’s point of view.

I know some high-protocol Masters and slaves who appear to maintain “slave submission” all the time. For them, there might – or might not — be more subtle gradations of submission. Either way, it is impressive; for them, the three levels of submission might not have relevance. But, for the rest of us, there seems to be a need to effectively conserve our energy, especially when faced with so many demanding outside activities. The three levels of submission might be such a way.

By BaadMaster
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.

Inspiring Submission

January 3, 2017 By Baadmaster 1 Comment

“If you want someone to trust you, be trustworthy!”

Welcome 2017. As “Fifty Shades Darker” is due out this year, let’s not ignore the elephant in the room. While I cannot comment on a movie I have not seen (New Year’s Resolution #3 in last week’s article), I can predict it will bring a lot of new blood into the BDSM/kink/fetish scene.

Obviously, total newbies will not, by definition, know a lot about BDSM. But they do have a natural curiosity – otherwise why would they watch two BDSM oriented movies, no matter how accurate or inaccurate? So, let’s not discuss protocols and technical aspects of BDSM right now. Let’s instead give some practical tips that will facilitate D/s play at any level – especially when a Dom/me first meets a prospective submissive.

When a submissive meets a Dominant, it is very important that he/she is able to evaluate this potential Master, even if you met at a loud club and it is only for play “Should I trust this Dominant?” is usually the most pressing question on a submissive’s mind. And it is up to the potential Dominant to be confident enough to put the submissive at ease upon meeting. Whether high, medium or no protocol, a Dominant should have enough knowledge and skills – confidence built upon reality — to actually command a submissive.

Thus, I have compiled a list on how best to ”Inspire Submission” in a submissive — whether for a night or for a lifetime. (Or an almost lifetime!)

1. Knowledge is the lifeblood of all mastery. Even if you are a newbie Dom/me (everyone was a newbie once), the fact that you aspire to know more about BDSM will inspire confidence in any prospective slave or play partner. Be humble and don’t claim to know more than you do.

2. You should have mastered at least one other non-BDSM discipline. This could include being a computer gamer, a fireman, a carpenter, a pool player, a chef, a martial artist, a chess player, a pilot, a bodybuilder, a poet, a skateboarder, a craftsman, a guitarist, a bowler, a painter, a parent, a mechanic. The list is virtually endless. But you must understand the dynamics of “mastering” something, anything — no matter how obscure — before you can control another human being.

3. Being a “Lone Ranger” Master is no Master at all. Telling a prospective submissive that “I practice my own form of BDSM in my own private dungeon” sounds quite creepy. Even if you met online, have some real time kinky friends who are in a similar scene to vouch for you

4. You should have attended a BDSM play party. At first glance, this might seem a frivolous requirement. Not! Being disinterested in what other lifestylers do demonstrates a cavalier lack of interest in BDSM. Master computer techs go to computer conventions; master filmmakers go to the movies; master painters go to museums. You do not have to play; observing is sufficient. (Some Masters are averse to public play.) But you must see “how it’s done” before you play with your submissive.

5. You must master at least some areas of BDSM play. For example: crops, floggers, canes, whips, CBT, mummification, wax, hand-spanking or the paddle. Thus when you play, you will know what you are doing! Skill inspires the sub’s confidence in the Dom/me.

6. An inspiring Dom/me has a general sense of honor and honesty in all BDSM dealings. Submissives can pick up on dishonest Dom/mes! (And even go into the bathroom and check out any Dom/me on his/her smart phone.) When a submissive is confident in his/her Dom/me, submitting is really quite easy!

7. Inspire confidence simply by…inspiring confidence! Tell your potential partner the safety precautions you insist on. Such as you always use a safe word or you go slow when you first play. Find out his/her preferences and hard limits. And don’t bum rush this process. Learn about your prospective submissive in as much detail as possible at this stage. Trust cuts both ways.

Since trust is essential for a submissive to submit, your mantra should be, “If you want someone to trust you, be trustworthy!”

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