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Transitioning To The BDSM Lifestyle

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I was speaking to a woman who said she wanted to explore BDSM.  She claimed to be a total newbie, although I doubted it.  Nevertheless, she asked me a question that I thought would be great for the ASK BAADMASTER series here on kinkweekly.com . So without any covid-19 talk for a change, here is her question.

Reader:  I AM A VANILLA WHO HAS BEEN READING A LOT ABOUT BDSM.  IT EXCITES AND INTRIGUES ME.  BUT WHEN I ACTUALLY TRY ANYTHING – EVEN THE MOST RUDEMENTARY SELF BONDAGE — I GET VERY DEPRESSED.  FURTHERMORE, I MET A REAL TIME DOMME ONLINE AND WHEN SHE TRIED TO INSTRUCT ME AND PERFORM SOME ROPE TIES, I STARTED TO CRY. SHE LIVES NEAR ME BUT I HAVE AVOIDED RE-MEETING HER. AM I JUST A WRONGF FIT FOR BDSM?  AM I DOOMED TO LIVE IN THE VANILLA WORLD.  HELPPPP!

They say everything has a purpose. Surely your internal being (for want of a better term) wants you to “improve” on your vanilla life.  And it appears that you want to “transition” from your vanilla lifestyle to one that appeals to you.  Most of us here have had to make that transition; very few of us are born “Oh great and wonderful Master or Mistress.”

And many here have not made this transition without some pain or doubt.  Fortunately, most of us were able to interact with lifestylers in the many social events that most cities offer.  Instead of social events, we have social distancing.  Not a good formula for making a smooth journey from vanilla to BDSM.  Add into that, you have given me little information as to your vanilla situation; I know not whether you are single or married, whether you have freedom to explore and other important life factors.  But I can give you some general advice that you can build on, so when the social aspects of this lifestyle return, you will be ready and not crying. (Unless crying is part of a scene or play.)  I will offer a half dozen essential questions that you should answer to facilitate your entrance into the real time world of BDSM.

  1. Are you depending on BDSM to be an escape from your current malaise?  Answer: I would not put all your escape eggs in one basket.  Examine your vanilla life and try to see the good in it so that you don’t approach BDSM out of  a sense of desperation.
  1. Don’t ask your vanilla friends for advice nor tell them you are going “bondage.” I once told an acquaintance that I was exploring BDSM.  He replied, “So you beat up your girlfriend?” Misconceptions abound, especially about this kinky world.  Best to keep it to yourself unless you find a vanilla friend of a similar mindset to you.  I might add that your soaking up all these misconceptions that fill the media could surface when someone flogs you or ties you up.  This could be the reason for your tears.
  1. Why throw away my support system? In this hypothetical example, you are not; you are merely electing to not use your vanilla friends (except for the occasional one who understands you deeply) as your support system.  Over time, you will find like minded people to emotionally ground you.  Best adage/advice: “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”  This transition will take time.
  1. Use this “no fun” respite to study as much as you can.  Learn about yourself.  Are you a Domme or a sub or a switch?  What play  excites you the most?  Are you into pain?  As Socrates wrote, “Know thyself.”  As BaadMaster opines, “Use Google.”  
  1. Important: analyze the play that brought you to tears.  For example, you might have had a bad experience in “vanilla choking”, thus being choked in a scene might bring out bad – or even unconscious — memories that make you cry.  Go over all the scenes you plan and avoid activities that make you uncomfortable.  You are under no obligation to try everything nor do things against your judgment – whether you are a Domme or sub.
  1. Finally, in the “I can’t believe BaadMaster recommends” advice, I would ask you to rent “Fifty Shades of Grey”  Granted it is very fanciful; the BDSM is often idiotic.  But it will put you in the mood for your new bondage adventures.  And it is always good for a laugh or two.

In closing, being a woman navigating a new lifestyle is tough enough, even if you have a support system.  And soon, I hope, when the dungeons and the socials re-open, you will find new friends and a new support system.  For now, following my six principles should make your transition a smooth one.

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.

Erotica: Alex And Her Master-Chapter 4-An N/C Fantasy

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**all pieces of erotica are based on fictional scenarios. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual, sane, or safe.

Click here to read Chapter 3!

From last time: 

He carried her inside.  Alex tried to see around her, but the way she was carried, just about all she could see was the stone floor, and then the carpet as they moved deeper into the house.  Down a flight of stairs they went, into a dark room.  Twisting, turning, through several doorways he walked, until he reached a particular door.  He set Alex on her feet, leaning her against the wall.

“Can you stand now?”

Alex nodded.

He reached through the doorway and pulled a chain dangling from the ceiling; the clicking switch triggered a light.  Alex looked down and saw a small cuff, linked to a heavy chain.

“No…  Please…” she begged.  “Don’t do this…  Please!” she wailed.

Instead of telling her to shut up, or worse, he simply picked Alex up and set her on the floor, locking the soft leather cuff snugly around her right ankle.

Alex began crying.

“Gccckkh!”

The man stuffed a penis-shaped gag in her mouth.  When Alex parted her lips instinctively, he pressed it home until the ball-part of the gag popped past her teeth.  He buckled the straps tightly at the base of her neck, tugging the gag deeper as Alex choked and gurgled.

“I told you to shut up, girl.  So you get a gag.”

Pulling Alex back a couple of feet from the door as she fought the gag, trying futilely to dislodge it with her tongue, he laughed softly.

“And now you can have the hood, too.”

Alex sputtered and gurgled.  The elasticized fabric slid over her head and constricted around her throat.

“Just hold still, and breathe calmly.  You’ll be all right.”

Certain that she would be anything but all right, Alex sobbed and wailed as she heard the light-switch click again, and the door to the closet close with an ominous click of its own.

Alex had no idea how much time passed before the racking sobs subsided.  Coughing and choking around the gag because of her unfettered crying, she finally regained control.  The closet, dark and musty, surrounded her.  She wondered how she would ever escape captivity.  Finally, she decided to roll onto her side, even though she couldn’t see anything.  She landed without any extra pain, relieved at what suddenly seemed great fortune.

And after a time, she remembered her bonds.  It had been so long since she could move her arms, she had forgotten even to try.  A few twists and squirms, all of which tugged hard at the knotted crotch-rope buried deep in her wet folds, gave her the answer: no escape possible…

So she waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Torrents of her own drool rolled from her lips, uncontrollably.  The hood only made things worse, as it kept the wetness against her lips, cheeks, and chin.  For a time she tried to slurp her saliva back in around the gag, finally deciding that the cure was worse than the disease.  Hoping to sit back up so that the drooling would be diminished, she abandoned all hope when she realized she couldn’t do it.  Suddenly, having rolled over seemed a very bad idea…

And then…  Footsteps.

Alex mewed pathetically.  She didn’t even care if it was her captor whom she heard: she needed attention.

The door opened and the chain clicked.  Alex’s hood still blocked almost all light.

“Ready to behave, slave?”

Alex nodded.  The hood came off in a rapid tug and the light glared into her eyes: Alex squinted at the sudden change.

He lifted her up to a sitting position.  She felt the ropes fall away as the unseen knife-blade sliced through them.  Alex whimpered as her arms moved forward, the circulation returning fully.  Her arms and fingers tingled slightly.

“If you promise to behave, the gag will come out, too…”

Before he could speak further, Alex nodded furiously, drool flying from her lips, dripping on her bulging breasts.  Without a word, he pushed her head down toward her knees, as if to make her bow in her seated position on the floor, pressing her breasts against her thighs.  The buckle came open, and the gag came out with some difficulty; Alex slobbered uncontrollably over her boobs.

Taking her by her hair, he pulled her back to an erect sitting position, then pulled her head back so she had no choice but to look at him.

“Move your arms, slave.”

“Why are you calling me slave?” she croaked.

He raised his hand as if to slap her face with his knuckles.  Alex cringed and whimpered in fear.

“That’s your one and only warning, slave.  That’s your new name.  Get used to it.  Fast!”

Alex cowered as she nodded her compliance.

“Please don’t hit me,” she whispered, her head turning away as the words trickled out.

Her captor seized her face by the jaw in a single powerful hand, yanking her head up so that she looked at him.

“Speak when I speak to you.  Or you may ask permission to speak.  In any other situation, keep our mouth shut, slave.  Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand.”

The slap was not so hard as it was shocking.  Alex, her head leaning away, still turned her eyes to look up at him.  Her eyes asked the question silently.

“I hit you, and far from hard, slave, because you will address me as Master.  If I give you a command, your only answer is ‘Yes, Master.’  Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you will do exactly as I say at all times.  Your only questions will be for clarification when you don’t understand an order.”

“Yes, Master.  I understand.”

Alex’s mind raced as she heard the words to which she agreed.  She tried to tell herself it was only survival.  She wanted to live, and she wanted to escape.  At the same time, she dreaded being locked in the closet again, yet somehow, when she considered it deeply, she wondered if it would be all that bad, as long as he didn’t tie her up so tightly.

She noticed then that she was still wet between her legs.


To be continued…

I’ve been writing erotica–niche adult fantasy (C/NC and N/C)–for the enjoyment of my readers for a number of years.  My greatest reward comes from knowing the pleasure my words bring to my readers.  If you want to let me know how you liked this story, feel free to drop me a line here: j.s.phoenix.1975@gmail.com

Please also visit me at: https://tinyurl.com/yycvsgr6

Consensual, BSDM Psychological Torture

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It’s said that torture is an unreliable way to get information, that people will tell you anything to get it to stop. Back in 2004 we discovered that torture was being used on prisoners at the Guantanamo Bay Interment Camp. It was a huge scandal; The American people were very upset that we would do something so blatantly against the Geneva Convention’s rules on the treatment of prisoners. That’s the sort of thing our enemies do, not us.

So yeah, using torture to extract information from someone is bad. Let’s just get that out of the way right here at the beginning.

But there are some times where torture is good, particularly when you use it to tease, torment, and tantalize a willing submissive. Because it’s not just about causing them physical pain, but emotional pain as well. But, y’know, in a good way.

It’s certainly not for everyone. Many people wouldn’t want to inflict this sort of torment on someone, whether they consent or not, Others wouldn’t want it done to them, for a variety of reasons.

But when done right, with the right people, they can make for a truly intense, emotionally fulfilling scene. It’s like a roller coaster, that thrill of danger without it being actually dangerous, only safer (seriously, do a search on roller coaster accidents and deaths; you’ll probably never get on one again).

So what constitutes this sort of scene?

Generally, it’s any scene that has as much of a psychological component as a physical one. Many Doms do this to some degree during a scene; think of a blindfolded girl who doesn’t know what toy’s going to be used on her next, a Dom tormeting her with one she’s especially afraid of, or threatening to hit where he knows she hates getting hit (but isn’t a hard limit).

Then there’s what’s generally known as predicament bondage; a tied-up girl made to send a certain text message, a gagged one having to make herself understood by Alexa, or being made to stand on your toes while nipple clamps are attached above her (forcing her to choose between the pain in her feet and calves or that in her nipples).

But a full-blown torture/torment/psychological scene involves more than that. It involves getting inside a girl’s head and using her fears, anxiety, dread and, sometimes, triggers against them, but all within the bounds of consent and negotiation.

Obviously this qualifies as advanced play, and should never be done with someone you don’t know well. When done wrong you can inflict some serious damage on someone’s psyche, and those wounds don’t have a tendency to fade away like a bad bruise.

Y’know, rather than just continue with broad vagaries, I’m simply going to describe a good psych scene I had recently with a girl I’ve known for a long, long time and add notes along the way. Sound good? Okay, here goes…

The four of us (my household) myself, my girl, my dear friend, and his girl (who’s also a dear friend) decided to escape our COVID 19 quarantime by renting a house on the ocean for a week, to eat bad food, drink lots of wine, enjoy the ambiance and (oh yeah) engage in more than a bit of debauchery.

Midway through the week my friend’s girl (MFG) had the scene in question.

We’ve played together several times, so I know what she likes and, more importantly, what she likes that her top isn’t inclined towards (which is generally the reason why you have a scene with another). She loves impact play, loves bruises, but also enjoys being controlled and (more specifically) enjoys being tied up very tightly.

I also know that she has a number of physical limitations that need to be taken into account; she can’t stand for long periods of time, nor can her joints take any of the more extreme bondage positions, particularly her arms.

So my checklist is; secure, tight bondage; domination and control, impact play that will leave bruises; no standing.

I began by telling her to strip. “Completely?” she asked.

“What else does strip mean?” I responded, knowing she hated being entirely nude (although it was not hard limit). She has a beautiful body, so this was pure pleasure from my perspective, particularly as I knew it made her feel particularly vulnerable.

Realizing there are a number of stout kitchen chairs available, I decided to utilize one. Over the next 20 minutes or so I proceeded to secure her to it, hands at her sides. I used leather mittens to secure her hands under the chair, straps to secure her to the side rungs, straps above-and-below her breasts, another at her waist. I use another to secure her hips to the seat, two more to secure her ankles to the legs and, finally, two at her upper thighs attached to the back of the chair, keeping her legs spread very wide and leaving her very exposed.

Ahead of this I’d placed a very efficient padded blindfold, and finished by buckling a ballgag (not a terribly severe one as she can’t wear that; still, it muffled her speaking delightfully).

Oh wait, I forgot; we’d worked out safe words and gestures that she could effectively communicate while secured like this. Since this sort of bondage is my thing, I’ve got that part down pat.

I next proceeded to sit down on the very comfortable couch, put my feet up, pull out my phone and tell her, “Okay, you’ve got five minutes to get loose. If you don’t, that means you want my worst, right?”

As she muttered something incomprehensible I split my attention between the New York Times and her, watching as she … well… essentially sat still. Oh, her head moved around a lot, and her right foot wriggled around (I’d not secured it as well as I should have) but, ultimately, she could barely move. At all.

This, she told me later, made her feel extremely helpless, as it was very clear that I could do anything I wanted and she had no way to stop me… not even to move out of the way. She was both utterly terrified and thrilled at the same time.

For my main implement of destruction I’d chosen a thin wooden paddle, about 4 cm wide and 38 cm long. I’ve found it’s extremely painful and I’m able to use it with pinpoint accuracy. It also leaves wonderful bruises.

I began by running the paddle over her body, threatening different body parts. “If you don’t want to get hit there, simply move it out of the way,” I taunted.

After a few minutes of this I began to follow through, actually smacking her in the places I was threatening (starting lighter of course, before working my way up in intensity). Several minutes later I stopped. 

I sat down and played on my phone again. I knew she didn’t have a clue when I might be back or even if I was still in the room. She struggled around some more, this time with more than a bit more desperation.

I repeated this several more times, each time more with more intense and harder smacks. I began to increasingly taunt her, threatening to hit a given area, telling her to prepare, then doing nothing. Or I’d threaten one area then engage in a fusillade of smacks to everywhere but that area… before pausing and finishing at the initial place I’d threatened.

After 20 minutes of this her right leg was shaking uncontrollably. She had, of course, been acting increasingly terrified as the scene progressed. Meanwhile, I’d checked in regularly and she always gave me a clear, encouraging nod, as well as a gagged “uh-huh”. 

Which is, of course, the heart of the matter. She was allowing herself to be terrified precisely because she knew she was absolutely safe. It was the theme park thrill ride, only with bondage and beatings. Her catharsis was palpable.

After a little over a half hour I’d decided she’d had enough; she’s notorious for never tapping out, and I can read her pretty well. I went with my general rule of thumb that it’s better to leave someone wanting more than going too far. 

While I removed her blindfold and gag first, I untied her from the chair slowly, letting her relax as well as relish the return of her mobility to each limb. Afterwards, I helped her over to the couch, wrapped her in a blanket, and held her as she recovered. She was in a state of bliss, completely wrung out like a wet noodle, but in a good way.

The next day she proudly showed off the many, many bruises I’d left her with, some of which were rather pronounced. Many pictures were taken.

All in all it was a very successful scene, bringing together those necessary elements of negotiation, understanding, preparedness, and improvisation. In particular, those elements of torment or “mind fuckery” were carefully plotted out, designed to bring her to a place of maximum psychological torment.

Of course, what worked with her may not work with someone else. I’ve done many such scenes with a variety of gals, some more successful than others. The better you know the person you’re topping, and the more creative you are, the better the scene.

This sort of psychological torture scene isn’t for everyone. But for those who enjoy and appreciate them, they can be quite the satisfyingly heady brew.

PirateStan has been involved in his local BDSM community since 2007, after having had a lifelong inclination towards it. He currently lives a contented life in Southeastern Virginia with his girl, zeirah, while working by day for a Major Metropolitan Publication. 

The Best Impact Implements

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As a vendor of leather goods, I am often asked many questions. We (collectively) do our best to educate and inform everyone who comes to see us in person, regardless of whether or not they plan to purchase. One of the most common ones I hear: What is the best impact implement?

That’s a tough question on a good day.

I’m a heavy thud gal all the way. One of my absolute favorite implements is one that I built that isn’t for sale – a 36″ bat padded with a special high-density foam and covered with leather. It’s a warm-up and a full scene all in one, no need to change implements. I’m happy as a clam. Want something a little smaller? An elk hide flogger is like a massage in my scene and that works just fine for me. This means that my “best” will often involve soft textures. I also happen to have an eye for high quality implements, so the ones I want will likely cost someone a pretty penny.

Are either of those “the best,” though? Isn’t that subjective? Who am I to say what is your best? I may love thud, but I have many friends and acquaintances who are not fans of thuddy impact at all. Some prefer sting, some love whips, and some have some interestingly specific dislikes of floggers due to the impact of many tails at once.

Unfortunately, given the lack of in-person opportunities we’ve had this year, much of the kink shopping in our local community has transitioned to an online model or local sales chat with contactless pickup. The obvious disadvantage is that as a consumer, we are often unable to fully examine our purchases in advance. Not knowing exactly what an item may feel like can discourage a more expensive purchase. Some have simply opted to avoid new purchases entirely after one experience of disappointment.

Rather than avoiding new purchases, education can provide valuable insight about what we intend to purchase to ensure that we are getting exactly what we think we are ordering. This can be very difficult without hands-on, but I will do my best to provide useful information.

Setting General Expectations and Goals for the Purchase

Are you seeking an implement for a specific body part? Implements designed for genital impact are often smaller and lighter than an implement designed for full-body use. If you purchase one of the smaller ones thinking it is for full-body use, you will likely be disappointed even if the item is of good quality and value for its size.

Do you want the tool to leave marks afterwards? Do you want the tool to not leave marks? Unfortunately for those of us who prefer the thud, objects which provide it will often be less likely to leave mementos. To make that particular quest even more challenging, everyone is a little different. What marks one individual may leave only light traces on another, or may fade by morning. If a Maker is guaranteeing an object will leave marks, be wary. Absolutes are always suspect.

What sensations are you seeking in this implement? Are you looking to obtain something soft that can be used sensually, such as things involving rabbit fur or vegan materials? Are you looking for a specific effect from impact? I tend to prefer breaking down the sting / thud generalization into one that is slightly more descriptive. We categorize things by including a light / heavy descriptor, so we identify them as light sting, heavy sting, light thud, heavy thud, and combination sensations. Therefore, if I am shopping for something I want to be hit with, I am going to avoid things which provide a heavy sting, such as heavier paddles or smaller diameter canes made from harder materials (delrin, acrylic, carbon fiber). Softer textures absorb those inertial effects and create more thud. I’d also avoid things with pointy tips, such as floggers tipped to points, cats with pointed tips, dragon tails, etc. Rounded tipped floggers are more my cup of tea, and I will avoid leathers with shinier / smoother finish. Those finishes will generally come across as stingy. I know that is a bit sad for us thud fans, since those pretty finishes may be metallic or patterned and promise lots of sad later.

Matching Expectation to Reality

Knowledge and information are your friends. Learn about the ranges of sensation available in an implement. Floggers tend to be thought of as thuddy in general, though a skilled Maker can build one in any of the sensation ranges I mentioned earlier. Smooth topgrain leather plus thinner falls (3/8″ for example) plus pointed or snake tips equals a stingy flogger that will welt as easily as a more solid cane. An elk hide flogger that has wider falls (5/8″, 3/4″ or wider), a naked topgrain finish, and is finished with rounded tips is going to produce a softer thud. Thus unsurprisingly, heavier, thicker leathers with similar treatments will begin to create heavier thud sensations. Length definitely matters in an impact implement. Longer flogger falls require a harder swing to keep the falls from separating prior to impact, thus transfer more force through the blow. Want one that is less likely to wrap at lower speeds? Look for shorter lengths, such as 15″ falls. Avoid lengths of more than 20″, since those will require more force.

Keep in mind that softer textures and impact surfaces generally produce thud – leather paddle, floggers with lots of falls, rounded edges made of softer more flexible topgrain leathers or of full or split suede. Harder surfaces and textures generally produce sting – canes, dragon tails, smooth paddles made of wood or acrylic, floggers with firmer, stiffer leather or smooth finished topgrain and pointed tips.

Before you buy!

You can learn a great deal about an item from its description. Is the description lacking? The person selling it may be a reseller rather than a Maker. Don’t be afraid to reach out and ask questions. If someone can’t or won’t answer, they may not be the right seller for you. If a flogger description indicates that it is 20″ in length, is that 20″ of total length or 20″ of falls? How long is the handle, how wide are the falls and how many does it have? What type of leather is it made from? Do they list the thickness (or weight) of the leather? Do they mention what type of sensation you may experience from the item? Details are your friend. One measurement and the word “soft” in a description which comes in at one sentence long is personally not enough information for me to give informed consent to an item hitting my ass.

Look for key words. Do they advertise “Genuine Leather”? This is often a term used for leather that is made of scrap which is ground and pressed together. It is still technically leather just as plywood is still wood, it is simply a lower quality option. Look for words such as:  split suede – which indicates the bottom layers of hide have been split off; topgrain – which indicates the top layer and will have some type of finish, such as naked (super soft), pebble (textured but flexible); fullgrain – both topgrain and suede split leathers still combined, often thicker than either individually (still variances between animal types); corrected grain – topgrain has had the imperfections sanded off and then has been stamped with a topgrain finish, leaving a less expensive and slightly lower quality product, etc. If you don’t recognize a term, this is a good time to either run a quick google search or reach out to the seller and inquire. When purchasing wooden items, such as paddles, look for the type of wood. You don’t want thinner impact items made from softer woods, like pine or poplar. Hardwoods such as oak, maple, purple heart, and exotics are less likely to break and potentially splinter and cause some unpleasantness for the person receiving impact. The janka hardness scale can be a useful tool. Look for things with a hardness over a thousand, as a general rule.

Is it Artisan made? Is it mass-produced and available for resale on etsy for $20? A $20 flogger may well be worth what is being asked for it, but is much less likely to be tailored for a specific sensation preference, and likely to be made with lower quality materials and workmanship. I tend to advocate purchasing from a builder who is local, or if a local seller is unavailable in your area, from one who handcrafts their implements . Even then, however, levels of skill and workmanship will still vary greatly between craftsmen. If someone has a clear and reasonable understanding of the value of their work, and it is structurally sound, purchasing from them can be a viable option for those looking for implements in lower price ranges rather than from someone whose work may have more flourish and skill but be that much more expensive as a result.

The next thing to look at is workmanship. If the item features a braided handle, is the pattern lined up down the handle? If it has “knotwork,” do all of the parts of the knot seem to be symmetrical? If it has tacks, rivets, or other visible evidence of fastenings, are they lined up in straight lines or is the spacing even? Are they lined up with other parts of the item? Does the hardware appear solid and of good quality? Are edges finished, such as rounding edges on a paddle or burnishing leather edges on a belt, cuffs or a collar? Does stitching appear even?

Do keep in mind that these details do not necessarily indicate a product which is not worth what is being asked for it, or that the item won’t last. Most of those things are cosmetic, though some may be structural. If a paddle has been cut so that the wood grain traverses the handle portion in a perpendicular fashion, this is less stable in a more intense scene than one which has been cut so that the wood grain runs lengthwise down the paddle. If you see spots that appear to be blemishes, do not be afraid to ask for an up-close photo. Most Makers are willing to provide more information and responsible ones are less likely to be willing to sell an item which appears to have questionable structural integrity.

Read reviews of the item if it is one that is available in a standard option, and of the seller prior to purchase. Do reviews indicate that buyers generally received what they expected? Do reviews indicate that the photo was a stock one and the actual item varied greatly in quality?

Look at the photos. Are there close-up photos as well as distance pictures? Is there anything that looks iffy? If you are uncertain, it doesn’t hurt to ask someone who has more experience than you do.

Shop around. Finding a flogger marked at $35 is great, until you look closer and see that it has 10 falls that are each 1/2″ wide (likely that won’t be listed in the description). My super awesome maths skill tells me that’s 5 total inches of leather. If I can buy a different flogger for $45 that clearly lists that it offers 40 falls that are each 1/2″ wide, that’s a much better deal for the price even thought one is more expensive. If you factor in the workmanship and shipping, one may end up being a clear winner when it comes to a long-term investment.

Price point alone does not indicate whether or not a tool is appropriate for you. Not all vendors have a good understanding of how to price their items according to their skill level, labor time and effort, and material costs. This can mean pricing for a given item may range as much as $50 between the low and high end, and the pricing may still seem unevenly distributed across the quality of implements offered at those prices. It may also mean that the same $80 price tag can include a huge variety of offerings when it comes to amount of material, quality of material, and workmanship. Purchasing a less expensive item from a less skilled Maker can absolutely be a viable option as long as it meets your expectations and usage needs for the tool.

Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so.  Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals.  She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey.  She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others.  She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.

Trust in Power Exchange

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With the corona virus extending its “Reign of Error” (as a lot of people have got this pandemic wrong) into every area of our lives, I suggest we protect the most important areas in our lives WHEN POSSIBLE! (Was that the longest sentence in kink weekly?) To clarify: obviously, we cannot just go back to business as usual. For example, except for Mistress Cyan’s Virtual Dungeon, all the bondage clubs, at least in L.A., are closed. So, what to do to keep our bondage skills sharp and to also have fun.By some magical coincidence, I was going through my “questions bag” (which really isn’t a bag) and found a query that, although written pre-pandemic, was rather prescient and deserves to be answered. So here we go:

Reader: I’m a newbie, but am very interested in expanding my horizons. It’s giving control to someone else that appeals most to me about the bondage world. I love games of the mind, and have always been a control freak in every aspect of my life. The idea of a Dom having his way with me is thoroughly exciting. BUT it is also scary. How do I learn to trust someone? To lose control? How do I stay safe?

It appears (emphasis on the word “appears”) that many people who are control freaks in their everyday world long to give up control in their BDSM life. They not only find it exciting, but they also like the break from being controlling and responsible. But, as the saying goes, “Old habits die hard.” The desire to give up control, no matter how freeing and appealing it might be, is often easier said than done.

Thus, you are not alone in desiring to make the transition from day-to-day “Domme” to a submissive. The keys to making this big leap are threefold: a) “fantasy vs. need” b) “Rome wasn’t built in a day” and c) “letting go is a process.” Let’s examine, in detail, each of these three “keys” that I proposed.

The first one is “fantasy vs. need.” Is giving up control just a hot fantasy or is it an actual need of yours? Many people have sexual or BDSM fantasies that get them excited. But, as I have stated many times, there is no rule that says you must act on every craving that floats your boat. It might just be that due to your personal situation, this “submissive fantasy” is one that might best be left unexplored. On the other hand, if you have a true “submissive need,” then you should forget that it is scary and just give it a shot.

For most adults, consensual needs, I suggest – if at all possible – you not leave them unfulfilled. If this is your case, and submission is an unbending need and not just a pie-in-the-sky fantasy, then it is time to get to the “Rome wasn’t built in a day” principle.Learning to trust someone is a step-by-step progression. Trust is neither automatically given nor demanded – it must be earned over time. Thus, you have a right to be wary of any new Dom you play with – until he establishes the level of trust you feel comfortable with. As with any human endeavor, there are variations from person to person. Thus, it might take you more time to be at ease with one Dom than another.

Trust your instincts. This is especially true with respect to safety issues. In play, make sure you have a safe word and don’t be afraid to use it. If you do, and the Dom respects it, that is one way trust is built. Again, don’t expect instant trust. Furthermore, if your Dom tells you “I don’t believe in safe words” right out of the box, this is a big red flag. This is – especially in your case, where you have apprehension – as close to a “no-go” as you can find.Finally, about “letting go.” This is the end result of the whole process; it is not the process itself. It happens automatically after everything else has fallen into place. You don’t have to worry about it. In fact, worry (along with tension, doubt and too much thinking) is the enemy of “letting go.”

When you trust your Dom implicitly, when you aren’t stressing about safety issues, when you become less self-conscious about the whole idea of submitting, then you will automatically “let go.” A good Dom will put you at ease about your concerns and free your mind to perform the tasks that he will demand of you — the actions that, taken in totality, define “submission.” Believe me, with all the decisions that are thrust upon me during thin pandemic, I too would like to be an “Un-Dom” for week or two! Or even a day!The beauty of submission is that, ideally, it is a mental state wherein your mind is freed from all concerns other than the submission itself. Thus, by its very definition, it cannot exist until all your other fears and doubts are dispelled. And, except in very rare circumstances, that takes time!

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.

Rewards vs. Recognition In Power Exchange

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

I’ve written, at length, about my approach when it comes to rewards and punishments. I don’t do either  of those. I refer you to my other books for that discussion. However, I’ve also written about how a key  responsibility of the dominant is to recognize the submissive’s efforts so that the submissive does not  feel alone / abandoned in the dynamic. 

Some people have argued that recognition of the submissive’s role and assessment of the quality of the  job, is tantamount to a reward for the submissive. They feel that a dominant saying “good job” or “thank  you for continuing to serve me” is a reward for their efforts. 

I disagree with this notion. It’s true that submissives get pleasure and satisfaction from a dominant’s  recognition, however, there is a strong distinction between rewards and recognition. 

Though I don’t do rewards, I do a lot of recognition. My subs love that I recognize them and, in fact,  recognition is a basic necessity of the dynamic. However the difference that I see, stems from dictionary  definitions of the two words. 

In my mind, the difference is as follows: 

Recognition is personal praise or gratitude for good work and can be given at any  time.  

Rewards are tied to goals and accomplishments and are generally given up on  completion. 

I don’t reward goals / accomplishments because top-notch service is expected of my submissives. There  is nothing “out of the ordinary” for submissives to work hard and complete a task, assignment, or even  anticipate a need extremely well. If I set a goal for a submissive, they strive to achieve it, primarily to please me.  

I do however, provide personal praise for their efforts and also will show my gratitude for their  continued submission. Note: As in my essay on “Saying Please and Thank You”, I choose to show my  gratitude that my submissives continue to choose to serve me each day…as they show theirs to me for  allowing them to do so. If a sub does a great job of anticipating something for me, and removes an  obstacle before I have to face it, I’m both grateful and generous with my praise. 

Just because someone enjoys recognition and gets something out of it (e.g., Pride, sense of  accomplishment, and affirmation of the dynamic), doesn’t make it a reward. A reward is linked (in my  vernacular), to completion of goals or milestones. Rewards are more: Do this, and get that” – “Get this  because you did that”. It’s motivations and incentives. 

Herein lies my issue with rewards. I question why a sub would need more motivation / incentive than  serving their dominant well and receiving acknowledgment of a job well done. A pleased and satisfied dominant is the objective of their submission, so why would it take anything more or less than that to  motivate the best possible service? I’m suspect when that isn’t enough. 

Recognition, on the other hand, is one of the most important, and often neglected responsibilities that a  dominant takes on in my methodology. Recognizing when your submissive is striving to meet your  expectations and fulfill your preferences, is important in letting them know that you’re active and  present in the dynamic. It doesn’t take a lot to recognize a sub: Just a “Good job serving me” or an “I  see how you did that for me, and I liked it” go a long way. I like to have my sub thank me for doing  things for me: A little bit of irony goes a long way. These are really simple, no effort things that just say,  “I’m here, I’m present, and I see your effort”. 

As far as I’m concerned, recognition is a must. I recognize my subs as often as possible. I prefer higher  volume of lower effort recognition. Reward, on the other hand, is unnecessary and often counter productive; as it tends to distract submissives from their ultimate motivation – that of pleasing their  dominant by fulfilling their expectations. 

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

Erotica: The Fight Within

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***all pieces of erotica are works of fiction. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual, safe, ethical, or sane.

I need to specify to those reading this, that playing during high emotion can be dangerous.  You can miss verbal/body cues, overlook a safeword, or face the issue of potentially blacking out/disassociating.  

I wrote this to explore parts of my psyche I’ve yet to delve into.  But I also wrote this to someone with whom I trust my life.  

The goal of delving into the darker parts of the mind, is to learn.  There is more revealed in the unconscious mind than in any other medium.  

Even if I never delve into this scenario in person, I will have revealed everything I need to…subconsciously.  Master has told me, on more than one occasion, that my writing gives him insight because I pour myself into it.  It is the same reason he refuses to read unfinished work and offer suggestions.  If he did, it could influence me.

I explore darkness only with someone who can bring me back into the light.  I explore brokenness only with someone who can piece me back together.  I explore emotional fuckery only with someone who will not be crushed beneath the weight of it.

What you choose to do is your decision.  Just know, if you cannot separate what is done in a scene from what happens in real life, your relationship can be irrevocably changed or damaged.

You once told me, Sir, that I push your boundaries unlike anyone else.  

I had to think about that.  At first glance, it looks as though I lack respect for your limits.  But, when we talked about it, you told me it meant I pushed you as you push me.  

We have successfully faced quite a few demons and delved into some dark places.

We have moved seamlessly from physical pain to mental and we continue to push against what is deemed as safe and sane.

We are risk takers Sir.  I’d have it no other way.

With that in mind, I wish to request a new boundary to be explored.

I want you to make me angry Sir.  

I want you to throw me against the proverbial wall and help me bring the bricks down.

I want to feel the thrum of adrenaline and the fire in my veins.  

I want to fight you.  

I want to growl and scream and cry.

I want you to take me down without mercy.

Are you willing to brave this with me Sir?  Are you willing to catch me on the other side as I come down?  Are you willing to help me deal with the guilt when this is done?

Are you willing and able to keep me sane without losing yourself in the process?

We don’t play angry.  We have always refused to play during any heavy influx of emotions. 

Tonight, I want that to change.

Please, Sir?

You are a crafty bastard Sir.  When I asked for an emotionally charged scene, I did not expect you to have me set it up.

You know how much I hate making decisions.

I know you’re fucking with me.  But I also know you want to understand how far to push me.

See, you can read me my body like no other.  But what I choose at the beginning, gives you an idea of how far to go.

I understand it.  I just don’t like it.

I knew the two fastest ways to anger without conflict.

Step one: My song. On repeat.  Seven minutes of mesmerizing lyrics that take me over.

You can see the change in me.  There is a reason I rarely play this song.  It stirs my mind like a woman possessed.  It makes me feel…violent.

Step two: Handcuffs

We both know the cuffs alone will make me fight.  I tried breaking the kitchen chair last time we used them.  

This time, you were smarter.

You locked one wrist in front of me, pulled the chain between my legs, and locked the other one.  Then you pulled the leg irons chain over the cuffs and pulled them down and around the leg of the bedframe.

I am technically free to move within a small area.  With difficulty, I can switch from kneeling to sitting but little else is possible.

You snap your fingers.

I Breathe deeply.  We are about to begin.

You want me immersed.  

I sit down on my ass, my knees bent and my hands loosely hanging.  My top half is bare, and the room is chilly.    My fingers are playing with the soft fabric of my leggings already.  Can you see my anxiety already Sir?  I don’t think I have hidden it very well.

The leg irons pull against my ankles.  I have twisted the chain already, but I refuse to say anything.  I will deal with this.

I look up at you.  I am scared Sir.

For all my bravado, I do not like being angry.  I know that I could hurt someone.  I know that I could hurt you if I sink too far.  I feel very small for asking for this.

You read me so well.  You look deep into my eyes, my lip trembling, and you run your fingers through my hair.  It soothes me.  I close my eyes to revel in it and you backhand me.

We’ve started.

From this point, you won’t let up until you are ready…or I color.

Would that be wrong?  To color on a scene I’ve requested?  

You will tell me that it is not wrong.  And I know for damn sure, we would never be trying this if you didn’t trust me to speak up when needed.

Those thoughts cross my mind all the time.  

So, let’s see what happens Sir.

Are you ready?

I am waiting for the music to start.  

“Are you ready for this?”. You ask only once.

You are giving me an out.

I inhale deeply. I don’t want it.

“Press play” I state firmly.

Without another word, you press play.  I know we have put the song on repeat for the length of the disc.  It will continue to ramp me up until it is turned off.

The headphones are immersion ones.  They close me off from the outside world.  All I can hear is the music.

Then, you leave.

I fucking hate being alone.  I get antsy and worried and scared.  

Forty-five seconds in.  My eyes close of their own volition.

1 and a half minutes in.  I can feel my face contorting into a smirk.

2 minutes.  My lips move unconsciously to mouth the dark words.  You were smart Sir.  By using the instrumental track, with only the backup vocals, I can sink ever so further.  The ability to sing along and keep myself distracted from the emotion is no longer an option.  

My chin drops to my chest.  I roll my neck to one side and slowly to the other.  I can feel the cracking of the bones. 

3 minutes. My heart is pounding. My eyes are open and unseeing.  My head cocks to the side, glaring into the nothingness. 

Four minutes.  Even though I know I shouldn’t, I start rubbing the cuff rings.

The cuffs are cool to my thumbs as I rub the metal.

My thoughts are dark Sir; and sneaky.

We are halfway through the first play of the song.  The bass drum is beating loud.  I am tugging more frantically at my cuffs now.  I feel them pulling against my hands.  

I am going to bruise.

I am watching the door.  I’m determined to be free by the time you come back.  I plan to tackle you.  I’m going to take you to the floor and have you beg me for mercy.

I can do it.  

I smirk.

If not, I will go down fighting.

I was unprepared for the mask Sir.  As soon as the darkness descended, I started bucking.  You appeared from nowhere.

Were you watching me?  Where?  I could not see you.  

Why would you hide Sir?

Are you scared of me?

Won’t you let me free Sir?  

I can do such wondrous things to you.

After all, you cannot see the fire in my eyes with a hood on.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Whatever shall we do Sir?  Won’t you let me out to play?

You have turned the volume up.  I can feel the vibrations across the whole of my ears.  I feel the zipper on the hood open across my mouth.  I strike forward to bite you.

Rule number 2 in our dynamic.  I am never to bite.

I’ve just declared war.

I am pulling roughly at the handcuffs.  If I can shift the bed frame, then you have no chance.

I feel your hand grip the back of my neck, as though you were planning to lift me.  You press my body forward.  Your other palm presses harshly against my mouth and pinches my nose through the hood.  I did not even have a chance to take a breath.  I’m trying to wrestle free.  I can hear the clanking of the metal over the music.  I feel like a feral animal trying to free itself. My head is locked into place by your strength.  

I am going to pass out.

Then, you let me breathe.

Or so I thought.

One big breath is all I managed before you shoved the gag between my teeth.  You made sure I would be able to breathe by picking the ball gag with holes.  But it clearly tells me that talking is out of the question.

Good.

If you want an answer, you are gonna need to read my fucking mind.

Sir.

I feel the chain go slack for a split second.  You must have lifted the corner of the bed.  I pull quickly and round my head in what I believe is your direction.  It connects with something.  I turn the other direction and roll onto my back.  I know I cannot run with the way I am chained.  But I do have enough room to kick you.

I kick out, low to the ground, and my foot connects.  I know instantly I have hit too low.  Your boots hurt quite a bit when kicked with bare feet.  I aim higher but I feel your hand grab my ankles.  My arms are stretched as you hold me tight.

Then the blows start.

A firm smack right onto my ass.  

I hate this position.  I hate having my legs in the air like a baby.  It is humiliating…and you know it.  That is exactly why you do it.

Two. Three. Four.

In such quick succession, I cannot catch my breath or bearings.

Five hits me full force to the top of my pussy.

Fuck.  I guarantee you heard that through the gag.

Six. Seven. Eight.  

Harder and harder you hit my ass.  My body is trying to rock against the floor.  Anything I can do to get free.  I am not fairing so well at that.

Nine is a firm kick to the ass by your boot.

God Dammit.

Ten reigns down on my pussy once more.  Pretty sure I am going to be icing for days at this point.

You drag me by my ankle across the carpet until we meet linoleum.  You roll me over in one smooth motion and use the leverage of the chain to pull my knees up under me.  My ass is now in the air and my face is pressed to the cold floor.  My shoulders are burning, and my wrists are swollen.  I am biting down on the rubber of the gag so hard I am expecting it to split.

I feel a heavy thud against my thighs.  Oh god, not that one.  I hate it.

Five thwacks, each getting harsher and harsher.  The hood is wet now.  It clings to my eyes as they water, and I have soaked the bottom half with my spit.

I keep trying to shift away from the blows.  For a masochist, I move a lot Sir.  Have you ever noticed that?

Five more and I am sobbing.  My legs are shaking to the point that I cannot hold them up anymore.  Then again, as soon as I started to drop them, I felt it.

You finally unsheathed the knife you were hitting me with.

The broad side of the blade is cool against my skin.  I feel its tip at my belly button, with the rest of the length sliding down to my pussy.  It is your warning to keep my position.

And it is my chance to end it.

Not a chance in hell Sir.

Is that all you’ve got?

My legs are trembling.  I feel like I have been at the gym for a couple hours on a treadmill.  I feel the knife sliding against my skin.  I am trying to hold still.  I know there will be marks.  Even the dullest of your knives leave me with welts.  

Ever so slowly, the tip slides down between my legs.  I feel you grab the crotch of my leggings and I feel the sharp tug as you slice them.  The knife leaves my skin for just a moment and I feel your fists shred my clothes the remaining in bit.  I can only feel them clinging to me from my calves to my ankles.  Then the blade is back.  

You are cruel Master.  I am trying to focus on where the blade is at, but the music is distracting me too much.  If I had to guess, knowing the marks it will leave, I am positive you are drawing little smiley faces that I will be staring at in the mirror for the next week.

I am not amused!

But I can imagine the smirk you must be wearing at your own ingenuity.

I feel the tip slide down my thighs and to my calves.  I feel the rest of my leggings fall from my body.

Time is relative in the dark.  I lost count of the amount of times my song has played.  I know my ass stings.  I have no idea how long you have been marking me with that blade.  I know it periodically slides between the lips of my vagina and I hold my breath every time.  I know my jaw aches from the gag and my neck is sore from being on the floor in this position.  My shoulders still burn, and my body shakes from either adrenaline or cold.  Of which I am not entirely sure.

But I want more Sir.

When you have finished with the blade, I feel you give me one last whack with it after you sheathed it and I felt your breath light up the cuts along my backside.

Gently, you pull me up to my knees and let me lean my head against your legs.  The music is turned down until it is a mere whisper.  It stays constant, and I still cannot hear you, but it curbs the adrenaline.

You pick me up to standing but my legs cannot hold me.  So, you leave me kneeling and drag me to wherever you desire me to be.  You bend me over the bed.  It keeps me kneeling but puts the pressure on my abdomen instead of my knees.  I put my forehead against the softer surface.  

Your hand is rubbing my ass.  It feels nice.

Then I feel the cold.  You just dumped ice water down my back, across my ass, and over my legs.  My body tenses instantly.  We both know I do not do well with temperature change.  

This is new.

And then I understand why you turned the music down.

POP

Fuck.

It is the fucking cattle prod.

Yes, it hurts.  But it is the sound that gets me.

Once to the thigh.  It travels with the water as it drips down my skin.

Then you set it off near my ear.  I jumped and thrashed.

Another to the ass.  The knife marks light up with the electricity.

Did you know open wounds increase the intensity of the shocks?  Of course you did.  This is your favorite.  To watch me bend and bow to the lightning.  To watch me shiver from the cold, or is that fear?

One. Two.

POP. This one doesn’t touch me but I can hear it near my face.

Three.

POP.

Four. Five.

POP. This time I hear it behind my neck

Then one long intense one between my legs.  I screamed with that one.

POP. I can hear it again, but I cannot tell where it is coming from.  This time I hear it and it is followed by a smack to my ass.  It must be the belt.  

I cannot hold back the cries anymore.

Smack.

Smack.

POP.

Silence.

Where am I Sir?

I am very, very cold and I cannot open my eyes.

My ears are buzzing but there is no defining sound.  My body is shivering but I feel a warm hand on my stomach and one in my hair.

My heart has slowed.  

My mind is jumbled and dark.  I’m not really sure what is going on.

I don’t know how long it took but my eyes finally flutter open.  It takes several tries.  The room is very bright, even though we have black out curtains up.

I finally open my eyes and I see Master there.  I am laying on my back with my head in his lap.   He is watching me.  He seems worried. 

I see his lips moving but I cannot understand what he is saying.

Everything is a blur, but I can guess what happened.  

I stare up at him with a soft smile.  I am in the safest place right now.

He is waiting for an answer.  

I know the question.

“My name is Joji.”  I see him breathe a little easier. 

He brushes my hair from my face and rubs soft circles on my tummy with his thumb.

“And my name?” The question sounds so soft to me, but I can hear him again.

“Master.”  As I see him smile, I know that we are both going to be fine.

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Erotica: Alex And Her Master- An NC Fantasy: Chapter 2

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***all pieces of erotica are based on safe, sane, and consensual practices. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual.

Want to read chapter 1? Click here

From last time: Alex, the pretty blonde girl in the scoop-necked red dress, was taken from behind…

I’m being kidnapped!

A minute later, perhaps two, she felt the motion as the tow-truck drove away.

Alex squirmed to get comfortable.  Her bound arms hurt no matter how she moved, and she couldn’t move much.  She decided she’d be satisfied if she could simply become less uncomfortable.

Satisfaction eluded her, though.  Soft tears trickled down her face, more from her reflections than the pain of her bonds.  As the truck traveled further, she thought her bound limbs might grow numb.

No luck there, either.

The week’s events invaded her mind, forcing her, against her will, to relive the chain of events that brought her here.  Trapped beyond hope, bound and gagged, stuffed into the trunk of her own car on this fateful Friday.

On Thursday night, he’d broken up with her.  Crushed her heart with cruel words.  And things only got worse after that.  In keeping with management-manuals the world over, she’d learned at noon today, Friday, that she had lost her job.  She’d left in tears upon receiving the news, unable to disguise her misery, forgetting entirely about cleaning out her desk.  The fact that she had been handed a severance check meant that the firing had been more than days in planning, and all the while everyone had smiled at her as if nothing was amiss.

So Alex drove out to the old farm.  She had no idea who owned the land, and it hadn’t been worked in years.  Something about that old barn had intrigued her since she had been a little girl, and she often went there to think, to ponder.  Today, to brood.

And, as it turned out, to be kidnapped.

More tears trickled down her cheek.  She preferred tears to terror, and Alex felt near enough to terrified as it was.

Just as she thought she might get her nerves under control, the truck slowed, turned, and pulled to a stop.  Alex had lost track of time.  When the trunk popped open, she saw that the sun had gone down.  Alex squirmed.  Somehow her bonds hurt more now than at any time since her abduction.

He looked down into the trunk.

“Still nice and secure, I see,” he said with a slight smirk in his voice.  “Have a good trip?”

Alex tried to glare at him, but her courage withered when she looked in his eyes.  His stare transformed her into the proverbial headlight-frozen deer.  He clicked a fob in his pocket; Alex heard a door open.  He leaned down, picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and carried her to what she discovered was a rental van.

He laid her on the floor, securing her bound form to cargo hooks with straps, then pulled a safety net over her.  Finally, he piled several shipping blankets over her.

“Don’t struggle.  Just lie still, and you’ll be able to breathe.”

Alex struggled anyway.  She wondered whether he was watching her as she writhed uselessly.  When it became hard to breathe, she stopped fighting her bonds.

“I told you, girl.  Don’t make me punish you.”

His words chilled her to her core; Alex shuddered.

Alex heard the van door close, and then her car starting.  She feared being abandoned in this van … where the hell was she?  More tears came as she realized that even if she could get loose, she almost certainly couldn’t escape.

She heard her car shut down, and then her captor entered the van.

To be continued…

Thanks for reading.  If you’d like to read (non-serialized) stories I’ve written, please come visit: https://tinyurl.com/yycvsgr6

I’ve been writing erotica–niche adult fantasy (C/NC and N/C)–for the enjoyment of my readers for a number of years.  My greatest reward comes from knowing the pleasure my words bring to my readers.  If you want to let me know how you liked this story, feel free to drop me a line here: j.s.phoenix.1975@gmail.com

Video: Consensual Humiliation Play

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Interested in humiliation play?

Want to know more about how to do this kind of play ethically and consensually?

Then, tune into this informative video that will give you all kinds of great humiliation play ideas and advice!

Humiliating a submissive (BDSM, degradation kink) including humiliation ideas! Submissive training

Erotica: Lovely Lucy, My Toilet Slut

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***all pieces of erotica are based on safe, sane, and consensual practices. We never condone anything that is NOT consensual.

My skin was tingling, electrified, even before I stood to greet her. I bumped the small table center of the café when I rose to greet her. We greet with a kiss on the check and not an embrace. Polite and maybe a little nervous, there was that awkward silence. 

“There is a booth,” she motioned her head as she spoke. I gathered my things and stuffed them into my messenger bag. Sticking my phone is the pocket of my leggings.  Her oversized coat was perfect for her. Comparatively, I am an unmade bed, dishwater blond curls that are as untameable as my desire is held by a vintage scarf. A bulky man’s sweater hides my ample bust and gives a rather dumpy allusion of my femineity. It has taken me weeks to get u the courage to ask her out. 

Her, is Lucy. We had crossed paths at the pub and then at the dance bar I love to frequent. Just a “hi” at the sink of the girls’ bathroom was the first meet. The next night was a different story. I   was hanging out in the ladies’ room. I was avoiding my date, on my phone, and chatting with a friend in the stall. Lucy is in front of me!

“Oh, hi! You again?” She is too close to shake hands. She leans in, our lips are so close she says, You’re Lil, I asked about you.” She smells of lemons and heat. I kiss her; without thinking, I kiss her. That orange-flavored lipgloss lip needs to be sucked, I draw it in, her bottom lip into my mouth.  She returns the kiss; her fingers wrap around my curls, her tongue is soft against mine, my breath catches in my throat, my pussy twitches, and my nipples rise from her reaction. She pulls me off the counter. 

The thumping of the music permeates the stalls of the toilet.  We are like a ball in a pinball machine moving from one side of the toilet-stall to the other. We fall from side to side, in the dance of hunger. I draw my nails across her the ass of jeans. Her ass is perfect -taut and round, I squeeze and press to her.  Her hands are fondling my breasts and pulling my hair.  A deep moan escapes her throat as I massage her ass and kiss her neck.  We are almost the same height as our shoes. She sits on the toilet as she hikes up my skirt.  Lucy laughs at the picture on my panties. It’s a happy face with pig-tails and braces.  I stand one hand holding the stall wall, the other down her shirt, scratching the lace around her erect nipple. She breaks my focus as two fingers slide inside me. My body responds as I squeeze her tit hard. At that moment, I hear a choir of laughter, my eyes grow large, and I instinctually back way and straighten my clothes. She licks me off her fingers and flushes the toilet like the last 20 minutes never happened. She smiles, kisses me on the cheek, opens the stall, and leaves. I immediately lock the stall and sit on the toilet, unable to process what I have done. I have no idea how to leave the bathroom; everyone will know what I was up to. I pull up my skirt and pee. I feel drunker now than I did before. My head is light, and I am flushed. 

I go back to the dancefloor; my date has a new glass of wine for me. I take it, and we hit the dance floor. Late that night, as he’s fucking me, all I can do is think of Lucy. 

Now she is across from me, and I have no idea what to say. I finger my phone and fight the urge to just start scrolling. “It’s nice to see you,” I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. 

“Glad u found my number, I think I need the toilet, you?

My cunt twitches at the word toilet. I’m up and on the way to the back of the café. She follows. It’s a  small gender-free bathroom.  Her coat is left in the booth. My face lights up, a wrap dress. I lean in and release her breast from its fabric. I take my teeth across the bra and bite her nipple through the material.  I expose her erect nipple and massage her breast. Her nipple is red and alive. The smallest sucking sensation makes her inhale hard. My hands press her against the sink.  Her hands are holding my head, and I nuzzle and soak her bra. I pull back to drop to my knee. Without a sound, I remover panties and open her legs.

 Like a hungry puppy, I bury my face in her sex. My tongue on her clit, she is warm and sweet.  Long licks tasting her until I can feel her clit hardened. I flick my tongue and blow cold air to increase the intensity. I press my middle finger in her cunt. She’s wet and works her muscles as I insert a second finger and suck her clit into my mouth, I suck and milk that hard little nub, and she pressed my head into her. I finger fuck her with all four fingers. As her moans transition into a bucking motion, I will have her orgasm for me. There is it, she holds her breath, then she freezes,   her body anticipates the role of pleasure that is to follow. The freeze just for a moment, but I know it well. 

“Breathe for me, nice and slow.”  I remove my fingers slowly. She is on the edge. I know too well. Her clit is aching and swollen. I barely touch her clit with my tongue, and Lucy jumps. I lick and press this time. She moves her hips forward, and I slide into her. This time I don’t back down three fingers and at a passionate pace, I stand in front of her she grabs my shoulders. Her body follows as she climaxes over my hand. I hold my hand there for a few moments before I step back. I wash my hands, kiss her on the mouth, and place her tit back in her bra.

“Thanks, that was fun, coffee?”

I leave the toilet.