Lost in translation … p0rn

“OMG, how can she take that?”

“Did you see that? Hot hot hot!!”

We swoon and marvel in the things we find on the internet. There are some very creative people doing some very impressive things.

… and most of it is staged. Of course it’s staged! (insert burst bubble here – poof)

I know I know, I’m sorry I had to do that, but it does illustrate how pØrn really ruins things our realities.

“What do you mean I can’t string you up by your tits like that?”

“But the slut in the video liked the hot poker on her ass.”


The simple reality is the fact we *can* replicate some of the things we see in our pØrn, but let’s be smart about it. Learn about it. plan it out, work up to it, ease on the path. But let’s look at those videos up close and personal:

*How can she take that?* – A staged production will employ some acting (I know, I know – burst bubble again), but the folks in the production do a really good job at selling the action, selling the feeling and the rawness behind it. Does the flogger make contact? Yes. Are the slaps on the face real? Yes. Are they exaggerated? Some are – some are not. It’s also possible that you see videos where the participants have worked on their craft a bit to get to the stage they’re at. She can “take it” because they’ve worked and worked and scened and played to get to that point.

REALITY: Inside the workings of “the activity” we can learn about how an s-type can take a slap across the face. We know where to hit so we accidentally don’t hit on the eye or the ear. We generally have to ease into them – easy pats before we start bringing the Zeus hammer down on someone.

*What do you mean I can’t string you up by your tits like that?* – You really shouldn’t unless you’re really good with rope, have done a lot of rigging before and have a lot of safety interests in mind. This is one of those “sounds good at the time” moments until one actually tries it – then wonders why they end up in the emergency room afterwards.

REALITY: It takes a long time to learn the craft, PRACTICE, then practice some more, learn the bottom/s-type, create good synergy, practice open communication before you string the tatas from the ceiling. The important thing is to be smart about it, learn it and take it in steps and increments. You may still never be able to hang your girlfriend by her tatas. If you work gradually and incrementally into it – and are very conscious and aware of exactly what you’re doing – then MAYBE – some day – you may be able to make such an attempt.

*My girlfriend will enjoy this!* – Wait, wait WAIT! Just because the beautiful model has a wonderfully erotic expression with her pristine makeup and glossy lipstick WON’T necessarily mean that your girlfriend will automatically enjoy it. Stop projecting the model onto the real-life situation you’re creating in your mind. It’s okay to learn the techniques, the tools and the nuances – but please don’t try to make your girlfriend into something that was highly planned out, negotiated, trained and otherwise staged. Transforming stuff into reality can be much different than the hot hot video we watch. These videos can be really good creative soup inspirations, but folks doing these videos are often really REALLY good in their craft and trade. From the model, to the rigger, to the producer, to the photographer and videographer – every single person is generally on top of their roles when producing the content we see online.

REALITY: Your counterpart will likely want to do it because they know how much it means to you. But just walking in and assuming “oh they’ll enjoy this” is not realistic unless you know, really know – what they actually like and don’t like. Don’t assume, treat every new activity the same way: the same introduction, the same knowledge and learning, the same build up.

*Dial in expectations, but adjust and make modifications*

It doesn’t mean we should be aspiring to see if that 12 foot long PVC pipe will fit inside danae’s pussy. No. It does mean that we we *can* dream up ways to make it realistic, safe and rational. Maybe there’s a dildo on the end, maybe she’s suspended on a safe pully system that can lower her on the PVC pipe, maybe instead of 12, we start with 3 foot … But even that requires a lot of planning and such too.

Which brings me to a fetish of mine: the planning of it. It’s about visualizing the entire experience, planning every nuance, anticipating as many different issues and outcomes as possible. It becomes a strategic exercise of sorts … plotting … devising … and implementing …

So while our pØrn can give us some wonderful wet dreams – we can do some of it, we just can’t do all of it.

And this isn’t a dig at those that share scene work who are actually engaging very deeply into a scene. These folks are enormously talented and I hold nothing but the deepest respect for what they produce. Then there are those folks like me that DO this with the harshness that a single tail that leaves the bright red mark on the skin. One KNOWS that was a real hit and can feel the energy from the bottom/s-type that absorbs it.

So when we watch our pØrn it’s perfectly okay to get a raging hard on or so wet that you’re needing a change before you go to work. When trying to transfer what we see in pØrn to real life, just know that there *might* be elements which can be made very real. As always:


Be smart

Gwen: Looking down the abyss (pt 5 – the end)

Numb. Lifeless. Defeated.

Gwen sat idle in the chair. Her stoic gaze focused on nothing because inside she felt nothing. Her fingers absently play with the chain still secured to her. She had no idea what M was doing as he scuttled about. She didn’t care. He had placed a cup of coffee in front of her, but it was starting to get cool.

Startled. M wrapped a bed sheet around her. The sudden touch of fabric on her skin was electrifying and almost painful. She drew herself more inward as she cocooned the sheets around her naked body.

The silence was awkward, but the energy was neutral. Gwen was still very much in withdrawal and let down after her revelation. M was in care mode – something that she didn’t recognize or understand in that moment. She wasn’t in a state of understanding or getting it either.

The coffee cup remained the focal point of her gaze. The rest of the universe didn’t matter. She mentally touched the contours of the ceramic cup. Her mind played with the ridges on the side and gently tapped the exterior of the cup with her fingernail.

M stood to her side – leash in hand. She was oblivious to the leash in his hand or even him for that matter.

He bent down and connected her collar to the long leather and chain leash.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He chimed.

She didn’t acknowledge or even seem to sense what he had done.

He tugged on the leash.

Her gaze finally broke from the cup and her green eyes looked up at him. A loud clank was heard as she dropped the chain she held onto. Her expression up at him wasn’t angry. It wasn’t crying. It was almost hopeless. Despair. Serious.

M returned the expression with his face lowering slightly, his eyes grew slightly wide, but there was a warmness about them. He wasn’t upset or angry she wasn’t complying – he understood.

As her eyes continued to assess him, M just stood there – holding the same gaze and energy. The leash was pulled taut between his hand and her neck.

“What am I doing?” she asked.

“You’re know exactly what you’re doing.” M offered. “Come with me.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced with the answer. “No.” She quietly uttered. “I can’t do this.” Her heart welled up as the tears began again to amass in their ducts. “I just can’t.” She repeated aloud.

He let out a sigh, continuing to look down at her.

“Just come with me.” He encouraged.

Resigned, she went to stand up from her chair – still draped in the blanket, she followed him – still leashed – to the bedroom – the connected chain dragging on the floor behind her. When she stood in the doorway, her eyes widened. The drapes were pulled closed. Candles were lit and were placed throughout the room. They had varying scents – that created their own little bubble of aroma around them … apple, linen, some lavender. The sheets have been changed out, the bed was made and there was a bigger glow coming from the bathroom.

Her mouth was slightly agape as she immediately forgot things as she slowly stepped into the room. M unclasped the leash from her collar, then gently tugged at the sheet she had with her – letting it fall on the floor. The fabric glanced on her skin as gravity pulled it to the floor. Gwen’s nest on the floor was no longer there – but the other part of the chain that locked her to the bed still was.

Standing between the bed and bathroom, he turned and began to kneel before her. His hands slowly worked their way down to her waist line where he began to delicately unply the latex panty from her skin. He ran his fingers between the unforgiving latex prison and her body. There was pain – tough pain as her body began to adjust to the fact the latex was being pried from her body. He then pulled the panty downward. She held her breath in anticipation for what was going to come next.

It was not going to be easy.

“Breathe.” M commanded.

As the panty continued its downward descent, M grabbed the long latex dong which was embedded deep in her cunt. He slowly pulled it. “Oh God! Oh God – wait – oh God – okay – wait – fuck!” she contorted as he continued to ease the invader from her nether region. She felt like this is what child birth must feel like – but not really. The dildo took forever to be pulled from her body. Each inch could be felt in the walls of her cervix and vaginal canal. The pain was intense, but now so was the pleasure.

The lube, cum dripped dildo finally emerged from inside her. “Oh dear God … thank you thank you.” She felt like she needed to collapse. Even though she was still very pained, there was enormous relief. Gwen placed her hand on M’s shoulder to steady herself. As the rest of the panty was pulled off and on the floor, she gratefully stepped out of that fucking hell.

M slowly stood up and caught her glancing at him. He grinned.

Trying to catch her breath Gwen was floating between the anger, pain and now ecstasy. “Fucking sadists” she thought to herself. “I hate him, absolutely fucking hate him.” The grin remained as he turned and without saying a word, he led her by the hand into the bathroom where there were many more tea candles and the bathtub had soapy bubbles brimming.

Her mouth went agape again.

M led her over to the tub, reaching and taking her other hand – gently leading her into the (now) lukewarm water. She shivered as she adjusted to the different temperature. He reached down and turned on straight hot water. She remained standing as the warm water began to migrate its way to her feet. It felt wonderful.

He got down and started swirling the water and bubbles to make sure the temperature was just right. He then added some cold water to make sure that it was more balanced.

She couldn’t help but grin. It was the thing that always happens in the romance novels but she never had a boyfriend that would do something like this for her – much less a dominant – I mean c’mon, that’s not what dominants are supposed to do. Wait, oh yes – I still fucking hate him.

Satisfied, he stood back up and gently encouraged and helped her into the waiting bubble bath. Gwen went to step forward and she heard the chain behind her – stopping, she dangled her right foot enough for him to notice that she was still connected. M grinned down at the ankle, then back up at her – then continued to encourage her into the bathtub.

As she eased her leg into the hot water, it felt wonderful. She reached and grabbed the chain before letting it disappear into the bubbles … hearing the clunk as the links meet the porcelain. Bending herself as she descends through the layer of floating bubbles, the water felt sensational but it was extremely difficult on her pussy which was still feeling the after effects of the pained invader. The searing pain in her pussy made it difficult to settle in the water – yet she knew it would get better in time. But the pain was very intense and she started to black out slightly because of it.

“Breathe.” He reminded her.

“Oh yeah, breathing – forgot about that” her inner dialogue said to herself. Gwen let out a few deep breaths and found the pain subsiding gradually.

M grabbed a white hand towel nearby to dry off his hands as he retreated back into the bedroom. She closed her eyes as she began to finally began to relax – the first time in the last couple of days. He quietly returned – unbeknownst to her – until she heard soft piano music playing from the bedroom. He brought a tall orange drink that she knew had to be a mimosa because of the bubbly/fizzing still occurring in the large tall glass flute.

“Mimosa if you want.” He explained. The glass flute was placed on a shelf next to the tub.

He then grabbed another hand towel and sat on a small stool next to the tub. Her eyes were fixated on him, but her mood was still cold and chilled. The hand towel went into the bubbly water. Pulling the terry cloth water soaked wad from the tub, M wrung it before reaching and getting some of her bath soap. Lathering up the towel, he started in at her neckline. Very carefully making sure there was a balance of soap and water as he continued to gently make that re-connection to her body.

Gwen’s gaze never left his face as she was baffled. Confused. Tormented. Now relaxed? Eased? Even cherished? The confusion consumed her and she had to say something.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

The question was redundant and yet relevant in the grander scheme of where her mind was going.

“I … am … bathing you.” in his best sarcastic wit.

“What are you doing?” she repeated.

M continued soaping her right arm.

The silence grew.

“I’m doing what I care to.” he finally offered succinctly.

Somehow the air of things can change very suddenly at the turn of 6 simple words. The power of those words cut deeply into her, resonating on a level that suddenly woke her stomach up. She didn’t quite expect that. She wasn’t sure she liked that change either.

M dunked the towel into the water to relieve it of its soapy mess. He repeated this process a couple more times before beginning the process of washing the soap from her neck, shoulders, arms and breasts.It wasn’t exactly the most sensual bath, but it wasn’t meant to be either.

There was a consistency in his approach. A deliberateness. A calculation. A quiet air of confidence – of strength and depth. The man contemplates everything and very rarely makes haphazard, spontaneous decisions. Even when he has to think quick on his feet, there’s a calculation to it. It’s one of the alluring qualities Gwen found in him – and the fact he’s just calm and comfortable with himself.

When he finished he once again dunk the wash cloth into the water – this time his gaze was on her. Gwen’s eyes met his. After the third dunking of the washcloth, M arose from the stool he was on and placed the damp cloth on the side of the tub. He located the towel he used to dry his hands off with before. He then reached over and unplugged the water stopper. The water began its descent down the drain. Gwen thought about saying something, but thought better of it. M continued to watch the water level diminish before reaching back down to stopper the water once again. She started shivering as the cool air started to penetrate the warm wet barrier that drained from her skin.

M reached up and turned on the hot water – waiting for it to warm up before slightly adding cold water to the mixture. He knew she preferred hot baths to warm ones. As the hot water continued its assault into the lukewarm water, steam once again returned. He continued to carefully monitor and swirl the water to mix it up. He saw the bubbles in their state of decline – so he reached for the bottle of bubbles soap and poured the liquid into the piping hot stream. Immediately the bubbles consumed Gwen. She completely forgot things for a while and smiled at the fact this wall of bubbles was about to swallow her up. It was playful, it was cute.

She glanced up at him to see that he was smiling back at her. He bent down and stopped the hot flow that consumed her. He once again dried his hands off and made his way to the doorway. He reached for the door – something he would normally never do with his “open door” policy, and pulled it slightly closed. It was a signal, a sign – that he was giving her some space. Her eyes followed him as he continued to do things in the bedroom.

After he settled, Gwen took a big long deep breath and relaxed. The hot water was soothing her, warming her, comforting her.

As the water temperature continued to wane, Gwen found her doubts and self-doubts returning.

“How do I even process this?”
“What the fuck? I mean really – what the serious fuck?”
“I can’t do this, fuck this, fuck this lifestyle – fuck fuck fuck!”

The frustration was released despite the fact there were still some pretty hard core issues to resolve.

She looked around the bathroom and marveled at how she really didn’t spend a lot of time just focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. She saw the long stemmed mimosa awaiting on the shelf. She reached and grinned as her hand brought the waiting bubbly fruity drink to her lips. As though all of her senses were now in overload, the mimosa just tasted wonderful – beyond wonderful.

“How can someone so fucking mean, so sadistic, so seemingly uncaring be so romantic at the same time?” The paradox made no sense to her. None of this made any sense.

“What am I doing?”

The thoughts swirled as her skin continued to prune up. She completely lost track of time but it made no difference. There wasn’t anywhere to be and then that thought struck her.

“I have no where else to be.”

Somewhere in that moment – it dawned on her. Things started to come back into focus for her. Things were making sense again.

She downed the last of her mimosa before reaching to unplug the water stopper she found parts of her despair were seemingly flowing down with the water. Almost as though some of the burden had been lifted. Oh, she’s still pissed as all get out, but the weight of it was getting much less.

Gwen reached for the large bath towel and breathed deep into the fabric. Her eyes closed as she once again reached some inner peace. After a few seconds of reflection, she wiped the wet drops that remained on her skin before spending time drying her hair as best she could with the towel. Suddenly the air got cooler as the warmth wore off. M had left a white terrycloth robe in the bathroom that she pulled onto her naked body.

Reaching down, she grabbed the chain still attached to her now soaked cuff. She tried drying it as best she could, but it wasn’t really working. Clutching her chain, she drew her robe in tighter to suppress the cold air trying to work its way to her body.

Gwen opened the door and expected to find M in the bedroom. Instead, the only thing she noticed was a single red rose on the bed as the piano music continued to play. The room was still dimly lit as small rays of light from the morning sun was forcing itself through the window shade.

She approached the side of the bed, smiling at the mature flower. Reaching, she picked up the flower and lifted it to her nose. The aroma was relaxing, warming and beautiful. A small smile overcame her as she played with the flower on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she finally achieved some peace after the last couple of days.

Make no mistake, she’s still upset and is convinced this isn’t the life for her – but she can’t deny “the other stuff” either. The inner war wages on despite having achieved some peace and some answers even though she was doing her best to avoid them.

Gwen scanned the room, not finding anything else unusual or out of place. Drawing her robe tightly again, she sought to see where M was. As she tiptoed through the entry and into the main room, she didn’t see or hear any sign. Suddenly she heard some clanging around in the kitchen. Quietly she moved and peeked around the corner.

M was at the sink, washing off dishes and cleaning things up from this morning. He was still in his dressed down casual attire but she fixated her gaze on the man that does so many things to her internally and externally. Her mind always seems like it’s spinning around like crazy. She marveled at him all the while hating him at the same time.

He was oblivious to her presence.

She was about to step out into the kitchen when her mind took over: she’s still upset. Gwen then slowly backed away from the doorway and retreated into the living room area, finding a section of couch before sitting down, curling up and fumbling with the chain in her fingers. Her mind was spinning. Spinning very hard.

Internally, she was a wreck. The deep needs were imploded by the events of the last 24 hours and everything was destroyed.

“Run,” her internal voice was telling her. “Just go.”

Her thoughts kept spiraling downward. “Nothing he can say can fix this,” she kept churning over and over in her mind. Gwen kept going back over the intensity of the pain, the trigger that caused and how it kept cycling through and through. Her anxiety was kicked up a notch. Her depression sinking her into the ground. “The fucking dildo. Why? Why? And what the fuck is cockgratification? What’s that shit?”

Gwen’s anger was causing dark clouds to re-emerge. Any progress and hope done in the bathtub was almost completely erased.

Unbeknownst to her, M had come into the living room and sat off to the side. Embarrassed that she missed him coming in, she drew her robe closed even more. The body language alone was enough for M to know that she was still having a hard time processing.

He leaned forward, clasping his hands, his gaze was downward as he collected his thoughts.

“Regardless of what you’re going through internally, I am proud of you.” He spoke.

The words shot through her, the internal bleeding continued. “How could he say that?” she wondered.

“But there’s clearly something else happening here.” The words resonated within her.

“We agreed from the onset that we’re dedicated on a path together and that path meant a very strong communication process that creates that strong foundation. So. I’m asking that we re-establish our communication so we can begin working on the deeper issues.” M said calmly.

The emotions and feelings swirled once more within her. Almost conflicted, Gwen let out a sigh, but didn’t speak. There was no way she could make things out clearly through the cacophony going on inside her head.

“I can’t articulate what I’m feeling or what I’m going through. I feel damaged, broken and otherwise destroyed.” She tried to articulate. Tears began welling up. “I feel like a failure. That somehow me being broken means you wouldn’t want someone like me.”

“You do remember that I was the one that broke you – and that it was by design that I broke you, right?” M asked rhetorically. Gwen nodded slightly, but still wasn’t buying it totally.

“I’m still broken, who wants that?”

“I do.”

“Why?” she asked.

“So that I can help restore you, bring you back, then repeat it again tomorrow or next weekend or whenever. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because this was the type of relationship dynamic we both sought. It speaks to us regardless of how horrifying it is. We find we need light in the darkest corners of our mind and sometimes there is no light to be found. And that’s okay. That’s okay because we’re here in this darkest abyss together – and we can overcome the darkness – together. It’s sometimes where we live. What we want and that’s we we crave so deeply and profoundly.”

“I’m not sure I can do this.” She said under her breath, her gaze drifting downward, away from him.

Silence formed once again. M studied Gwen, feeling her energy before sensing there was something else at play here.

“That’s not all though, there’s more isn’t there.” M asked. “Something hit you at the core and had a really bad reaction internally. It triggered you somehow in ways that broadsided you and sent you into the ravine.”

Gwen remained silent, but her head came up slightly as she pondered that. M was well aware of her past, but nearly everyone he knew had some past, some demons that needed wrangling. All of us are broken, most of us remain that way unknowing how broken we are until the right set of circumstances shines that light on the cracks and crevices. This type of mental mindfuckery is ripe for that light to shine on our imperfections, previous damage, self-speak and other self-doubt issues that we accumulate over the years.

She nodded gently.

“Do you know what the difference here, today is?” M asked. Gwen turned her green-eyed gaze over at him to listen. “You’re with someone who doesn’t see you as an unwanted, abused woman damaged by the constantly onslaught you’ve faced throughout the years. You’re with someone that has the same wants, craves and desires you do. Someone who walks with you, hand in hand, by your side as we traverse into the darkness only to come out the other side.”

Gwen shook her head slightly. “You made me broken though. I didn’t need to go through that for your so-called ‘cockgratification’ bullshit.” She said candidly.

M couldn’t help but grin as he looked down. “Yeah, I’m an asshole, I fully own that.”

She wasn’t amused, insert hashtag #jokefail. M sensed that and changed to a more serious tone.

“I’ll be equally straightforward. You crave this shit – despite the crap you’re internalizing right now, it’s the same things you’ve masturbated to long before our paths crossed, so …” M dangled out there.

He’s right. It’s one thing to masturbate to someone’s “plight” but it’s an entirely different thing to experience it first hand. Porn gives us all the illusion of the “plight” – but the obvious reality is that for the most part, much of it is fake, staged and otherwise thoroughly negotiated to the point where it’s a paid contract to set things up. Dealing with an intense, breaking scene like the one she went through is a whole other enchilada altogether.

“Just because we’ve made it real, doesn’t mean you have no value or worth or self-worth. You’ve taken something very demoralizing and difficult – only to overcome it and emerge on the other side. You may not feel it now, but coming out – where you did – and where we are, can actually be empowering.” M offered.

“Empowering?” Gwen chided back. The scoff was almost disrespectful, but M was giving her enormous latitude as she continued to search for answers and meaning at this point.

“You may not see it right now. You may try to dismiss it – but I promise you some day you’ll see it. It’s not the funyon ‘oh sir beat me please’ standard you’ve been used to – but nevertheless your outlook on kink and the stuff we do has changed dramatically.” M explained.

She accepted that because as the linear side of history goes, she’s made substantial gains through her own kink path – so the belief that she’ll look at this differently later on was entirely if not completely accurate.

Gwen looked downward, but remained in the line of sight with him. She was processing and maybe things were starting to make sense to her. Maybe not completely over it or at a place of resolve, but the wheels weren’t spinning as much as they did before.

Silence was now settling in again as she contemplated what they talked about. The energy was no longer as divisive as it had been earlier. There was some calmness as the day wore on.

The sun gradually added additional shadows as it worked itself through the sky. The light landing on walls, moving, inching across as the day wore on.

Gwen found herself achieving some inner peace. M sensed it.

Her gaze kept flicking back and forth to him, then away from him as she sought to understand what feelings were swirling around her. When her gaze looked over at him, he was either looking down in front of him or catching the brief glance with a small warming compassionate grin.

Calmness was settling in and she found herself incredibly exhausted.

Still clutching her chain – she grabbed the end of it with her left hand – then outreached it to him.

M felt very overwhelmed by the gesture – reaching for and taking the chain – gently standing as the motion included her to follow him – back into the bedroom.




Fighting the Consensual Paradox

“You’re not submissive enough”

“Every submissive does X”

“True submissives say yes. They never say no.”

“She’s not a submissive if she can’t take it.”

“You’re topping from below if you’re controlling what’s happening.”

“I’ve had 100 submissives and they never said no.”

“S-types aren’t ever supposed to have rules, lines or limits.You must not be a s-type”

At the heart of this lifestyle is the basis of consent. It’s seems like a pretty straight forward concept but basically it comes down to either having consent to do something or you don’t have consent to do something. Even consensual non-consent (CNC) has an original element of consent made at some point.

Why is it then that we teach submissives how to create boundaries, how to establish lines and limits, and how to negotiate scenes – but all of that is thrown out the window the moment an s-type is guilted into something she wasn’t prepared for or willing or wanting to do.

It’s not mindfuckery d-types. It’s a simple  manipulation of one’s consent. Don’t do it.

Not good.

D-type: Abide by the negotiations set forth. Be respectful of those lines, limits and boundaries and for fuck’s sake – just be humane about it. Guilting or manipulating into doing what you want is not dominance – it’s a dick move. It doesn’t make you more dominant because you could push a submissive into a zone you wanted to be at. It makes you a dick – so stop being one.

S-types: those that are pushing, prodding or affecting their guilt onto you – well that’s a flag and likely indicative of something gone amiss. Be mindful, be careful, remain true to yourself and by all means – if it doesn’t feel right, use that exit strategy. Also, re-examine the romantic notion of the full surrender bit. Oh, it’s hot as hell and make our loins tempted – but the reality is, we need to make sure you’re making the sanest, most rational decision you can make in the moment. Be titillated, but be smart about it. Be excited about it, but know what it is that you’re going into.Any d-type that’s pushing buttons isn’t “encouraging” you – it’s a form of manipulation. Arguably the hottest thing is to have someone willfully submit or surrender, but we all stand to lose a helluva lot more if that process far exceeds or crosses lines, limits and such. It’s not worth it for everyone involved. So – don’t do it.

Respect the s-type on the other end of the conversation.

Respect that if you do not have clear consent then you have no consent.

One last thing: wearing down an s-type’s defenses to get what you want isn’t cool either. Sure, there’s the evolution believe that we transform as time goes on so someone adopting the same kinks and likes – is also natural … but when it becomes the central point of the focus of the dynamic – one can be guilted into doing something gradually with or without their knowledge, acceptance … or consent.

Consent doesn’t work that way, nor should it. Rational, inform-minded participants should be able to determine what they CHOOSE to do. When a person is not informed, when it’s not rational or approached in a sane manner – then how can we expect to rely on the consent part?

We can’t. So don’t.

Care in General

Aftercare is a popular topic it seems like of late. The term arrives from what state of care should be available for bottoms (and tops) once a scene is concluded. It’s an important concept because the after effects of some of the scenes can result in a huge sub or top drop that makes us feel like we’re going crazy.


First and foremost is to really invest the time to get to know yourself. (no, your hand doesn’t go there – it’s not that kind of time investment.) But spend time getting to know how you do with scenes. What happens after certain types of play. Does it depend on the length, duration or intensity? Does it depend on implements, bondage or head space?

Dopamine, adrenaline and all of our various internal fluid levels go through dramatic changes when a scene occurs. It’s natural – it’s anticipated (rather should be anticipated)

Prepare and PRE-care

So I’ve been pondering the broader brush. Consider the amount of preparation one might take if you’re going for a long walk or bike ride. Consider what changes to your preparations might be if you were to hike in the mountains or raft a river. Our preparations change according to the activity we’re about to engage in.

That’s was PRE-care is probably just as, if not more important than the immediate scene-aftercare that I’ve been seeing lately. Are we hydrating ourselves enough before we play? Are we getting enough sleep before a play date? Do we need more protein going in – or do we ease up on our carb intake? Are you up on your medication? Do you need to anticipate the sudden surge (and release) of these levels when you’re in play? Have you informed the top (or bottom) of these tendencies and what to look out for and do during and after?


Then of course there is the immediate aftercare that happens post-scene. As we’ve all read about. Cuddling vs. non-cuddling. Eating vs. not eating. Hydration hydration hydration … meds, etc.


But then there’s the check-in, which is done by some folks, but not everyone. It’s the two-three day aftershocks that tend to hit. This is largely chemical in the brain after surging with all that adrenaline – it can be a catastrophic drop. This is where we all need a tailor made diet and routine we follow post-scene. So much care is done in the immediacy – that we tend to forget how we feel in the days to follow.

Danae and I did some checking in terms of adrenaline and dopamine drops – and while we’re both very far from being doctors or experts, we came to the realization that we’re not taking good care of our bodies after. We’re sometimes gravitating to what sounds good – when we should be vigilant about what is needed. Whether it’s a series of complex carbohydrates that follow in the days to come – or some other regimen, the point is that we need to all establish a viable, workable plan.

Reach out

Lastly, reach out. Friends that understand the drop I’m going through – won’t bat an eyelash if I’m needy in the following week. Don’t isolate. Don’t succumb to the thoughts “it’s all in my head, just get over it.” Don’t. Merely wishing it away won’t do anything.

Remember, we’re all unique. Find the formula that works best and apply it.

So, to summarize:
* Know yourself
* Prepare in advance
* Do what necessary care is needed immediately after
* Check in
* Reach out when things don’t go to a good place.

Gwen: Looking down the abyss (pt 4)

Miserable – absolutely fucking miserable.

The latex shaft pummeling her pussy was very unforgiving. Things were not getting fun now. Things really sucked.

“Where the hell is the joy in this?” Gwen kept repeating in her head over and over again.

She was sweating, twisting and turning in her seat at M continued to drive.

“This is not fun.” She said aloud on the way home. She was pissed. Unhappy. It was clearly one of those events where “It sounded good in the moment, but this fucking sucks.” Her expression told M all he needed to know.

He never looked at her.

No acknowledgment.

He didn’t need to, she knew this too. Gwen sighed under her breath as she was not looking forward to the chain of events that were about to unfold.

The drone of the wheels traversing the pavement made a dull noise inside the cab of the car. Nothing. No words from him, a very fiery “I’m unhappy” vibe clearly coming from Gwen.

As the silence grew, Gwen suddenly realized that her words were a little more … pointed – than she probably would’ve done before. “Shit.” She thought to herself.

M maintained his composure, maintained his silence. She instantly became more aware of everything he was doing. How he was breathing. She watched his jaw (usually an indicator of his anger) and then the eyes. M has very telling eyes. He’s not a very good poker-face … and consequently his mood can be ever present. That works in Gwen’s favor … but for some reason she was having a very difficult time reading him tonight. “Shit!.”

The car pulled into the driveway. M opened up his door and got out without a word. Gwen hesitantly opened hers, gathering herself she eased herself outside of the car, closing the passenger door behind her. Her heels clopped on the concrete as she pressed the sides of her skirt down as she followed him into the house. The cuffs she wore secured her limbs – but they weren’t bound together. The long skirt and long sleeve blouse she wore covered them up. Unless someone really studied her, they would be oblivious to what she wore.

The silence continued.

Gwen’s anxiety shot UP – a thousand points or more. Her heart is racing – knowing she’s in deep full shit. It dawned on her that any discomfort, any pain, any sweat, any inconvenience she had been enduring up until now – was nearly abated. “Fuck, if only I kept my mouth shut.”

M led the way inside. The silence was obvious, apparent and gauged. She was beginning to fear what was going to happen next.

He took off his jacket, emptying out his pockets like any other day they had been out shopping or running errands. But clearly there was an energy that wasn’t right. The silence didn’t help matters as it was complicit in building the anxiety between them. Gwen instantly became aware of every movement M was making. She half expected him to cold cock with a single blow – but that didn’t happen. “Fuck! Just get this fucking shit over with!” She screamed internally.

What M did after they stepped inside was seemingly normal. He went about closing things up, turning out lights, the normal ritual of things.

Gwen stayed in the living room with him with everything she had with her. She went to sit down on the couch. He immediately sensed what she was about to do.

“No.” The first words he uttered since the incredibly awkward car ride home. The tone was calm. Calculated. It wasn’t hate filled, but it was deliberate. It wasn’t yelling – but it was – very specific. Gwen froze before planting her butt in the cushioned sofa. Her mind racing about what to do – what not to do. “God dammit – just get it over with!” she again screamed inside herself.

No other words were spoken as she remain standing in the same spot. M continued reviewing some paperwork and envelopes he received in the daily mail. Gwen thought better of doing or saying anything else, so she opted to slowly adjust her stance to where she was standing fully erect in her “rest pose,” which wasn’t a formal Gorean stance, but one that was demure enough to be recognized as being respectful to the dynamic. Her arms were at her side, slightly behind her, her gaze downward.

After several minutes, M completed what he was doing and began to make his way through their kitchen and in to the master bedroom. His demeanor wasn’t angry, but he was definitely consumed. There was a constant steady pace in his mood. Gwen hesitated to move at first until she saw that he was closing things and turning off lights for the night. Even without direction, she knew to follow him into the bedroom with her arms still slightly behind her. Gwen’s heart was racing and she was starting to sweat even more now.

She made it to the bedroom when she looked in – standing in the doorway – she noticed the pile of sheets at the end of the bed where she had previously laid. The chain was still attached. Nearly everything was as they left it. She even caught a waif of her smell when she dripped earlier.

M wasn’t in the room. She figured he went into the master bathroom, but it left her feeling a little uncertain what to do next. She remained standing for what seemed like forever. Because of what happened in the car, she definitely didn’t want to make any presumptions that could send things further into a tailspin. Her heart was pounding slightly as she scanned the room before seeing something on the bed. She couldn’t quite make it …

The belt.

“FUCK!” she screamed inside.

Gwen’s gaze fixated on the 2 inch wide black full grain leather belt coiled on the disheveled bedding. She began to panic a bit when she looked up to see a silhouette of M in the doorway to the bathroom. She was unaware how long he had been standing there. It startled her.

His sleeves were rolled up which was not how he was when they arrived home. She began trying to calculate all the possible things he could or would do to her. The sleeves – through her.

The uncomfortable silence was mounting yet again.

She couldn’t hold the gaze of the faceless man with the light of the bathroom overpowering the available light in the bedroom. His face was in shadows, but she could feel his gaze as she shrunk worse.

“Strip.” the silhouette offered softly from the opposing doorway.

A knot developed in her stomach as she took a deep breath before undoing her clothing. She light jacket peeled off her marked up arms. Next she removed the blouse quickly, but not desperately. Her resolve focused on immediate compliance. The skirt gave way as her incredibly tight and sweaty latex panty was dripping sweat, cum and lube . She had some redness in concert of the marks she bore. Gwen let out a sigh of relief as the cool air met the sweat droplets – chilling them and giving her some much needed cooling.

The relief was brief as she focused on her remaining items – leaving the dildo panties for last – assuming he may want them remained on. After the heels were removed, she stood in her leather cuffs and the vaginal invader. Gwen returned her arms down by her sides, slightly behind her hips. The light clink of the o-ring was the only sound present.

The tension continued.

M stepped back into the bathroom – leaving Gwen in the doorway with the pile of clothes at her feet.

She heard water. Like a tub was filling up.

“Oh dear God no …. ” she immediately knew what this likely meant.

Water play is different than water sports. She liked the water and on the edgy side of things, she liked the idea of being drowned. The thought that the tub was filling up excited her to no end.

But it was conflicting for her too.

M made no secret that he had some strong feelings about punishments. If something “deserved” a punishment, then it’s indicative of something major problem within the relationship dynamic. He doesn’t do punishments that are normally linked to scene play so this was slightly unusual. Her mind was racing in many circles.

He emerged from the bathroom and into the doorway once more.

“Come here.” The voice called out. He was wringing his hands with a towel.

Gwen took slow steps forward into the room. The dripping glop between her legs quite evident and unavoidable to look at. Her cheeks were burning red with embarrassment but she knows M enough that he’s loving every second of this.

The whole thing was confusing her. As approached the disheveled bedding on the floor, M calmly said: “Stop.”

She took a partial step before retreating her left leg and maintained her position.

After standing for a couple of seconds, M stepped forward into the room very slowly and deliberately. Her eyes went downward into the beige carpet.

“Now about that comments in the car.”

Gwen sank and let the rest of the air out of her lungs. “Yes Sir,” she meekly offered.

The silence returned. Growing outward. M’s calmness was disturbing in and of itself. She knew she messed up. She knew there would be repercussions, but the silence was overwhelming her.

“I misspoke.” She said under her breath.


“I misspoke.” She offered slightly louder.

“What exactly did you misspeak about?”

“I, I … I was disrespectful.”

The air of disappointment was apparent.

“Yes you were.” He replied.

Dead silence. Dreaded silence. Deafening silence. Gut wrenching silence.

Finally, “What about next time?” He asked.

“There’s going to be a next time?!? All things holy … GOD!” She immediately screamed inside her head. “Think! Think! Answer his question.”

“I find myself needing guidance in terms of how to eliminate or reduce the outburst that happened. I thought I had it under control and I was hot, the dildo was hurting and ….. ” She caught herself. Rambling was fine, but when it starts spilling over to excuses and deflecting blame … that’s when it doesn’t set well with M. Gwen caught herself and immediately stopped. After re-thinking her words, she spoke again.

“I’m sorry Sir.” she offered.

Several more seconds of silence as she could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down upon her. She could at least see the whites of his powerful blue eyes staring her down. He continued standing there before simply saying:

“Floor,” was all he said.

He stepped from the shadow of the doorway and went over to the bed to grab her chain. He let out a long sigh and one could tell he was still not happy.

Gwen immediately complied by preparing herself to kneel and ultimately be in her typical “resting” position. The latex dildo panty remained and managed to work into her position with the vaginal invader punishing her deeply. She tried not to wince, but it wasn’t possible.

M then retrieved her leather collar and locked it around her neck. Gwen desperately wanted to reach out to him, but she knew that would be a very bad idea. As the lock secured the leather strap around her throat, M took a couple of steps away from her back towards the bathroom.

No words were spoken. The air was think with a lot of negative, a lot of unsettled emotions and feelings. Gwen felt like melting into the floor and beyond. She sighed to herself.

M made his way back to the doorway of the bathroom. Her gaze was not on him, but towards the floor in front of her. She was punishing herself for what happened. She heard some shuffling and glanced over at him, then did a double take.

With his back to her, he began to strip out of his clothing. The light providing a perfect contrast of light and dark. Removing the long sleeved dress shirt revealed his backside. His slacks and boxer briefs were lowered to expose his ass as he continued to work himself free of his work clothes. Fully naked, M didn’t acknowledge or notice her captivating gaze as his nakedness. His clothes lay huddled just outside the bathroom.

Clearly the bath was for him and not for her. This devastated her in many ways because it denied her any ability to witness said nakedness in the bath. It also denied her the ability to help clean him, her personal service of him – a task she enjoyed – immensely. Having that personal connection, one-on-one time was something Gwen loved.

She shifted in her bondage as M disappeared into the bathroom. Tears began to well up as she contemplated what happened. There was loneliness. Gwen heard M again in the bathroom before turning the lights out in the bathroom. Her bondage, her gut wrenching feeling, the soft glow of the moon outside made her reflection even more powerful. She felt horrible for what she did.

It wasn’t the first time M had taken a bath or shower in the dark. He loved the feeling of resting his eyes in the darkness as much as the water soothed him. On this night, he did light a few candles but that even made the air even worse: a potential romantic evening – dampened.

Gwen couldn’t hold back the tears. She tried to keep them embedded inside – but her weeping was occasionally audible. M wouldn’t hear it – and she was thankful for that part. She coiled herself onto her bedding sobbing into the sheets and comforter. The coolness of the room set in – as a soft glow emerged from the bathroom from the few scented candles he lit.

As the tears continued to envelope her, she was getting tired and started drifting asleep. Her thoughts became dreams and her dreams became thoughts – it was confusing, but the expulsion of emotion exhausted her to the point she fell into a deep sleep. Her thoughts muddled, but in dreamland – it doesn’t matter.

M stood up from the bathtub. It was the perfect way to let those emotions sink into the water. He felt relaxed and not as tense as when the arrived home.

He was most unhappy.

There’s a knowing component when it comes to the dynamic they share together. If it’s known, it doesn’t need to be repeated over and over again. M knew that Gwen was sick to her stomach and he knew she was upset about it as well. “She won’t want to make this same mistake again,” he thought to himself.

At this point of their relationship there was the expectation of the honeymoon feels to start fading away – where the real maintenance really needs to kick in. He knew that he had to grasp this while the moment was ripe. They had talked about punishments and acceptable forms of conduct. Gwen knows what is expected of her – and she also knew that what transpired was not acceptable. It was a poor reflection onto him – and as a result, that was hurting her in more ways than she could imagine.

He reached for the nearby terrycloth towel, letting out a sigh, he breathed into the fragrant fabric. His thoughts were slowing down, allowing him to focus.

As the drain continued it’s slow emptying process, he stepped out and continued to dab dry the droplets that remained affixed to his skin. He replaced the towel back on the nearby rack and carefully extinguished the candles that illuminated his bath.

He took a step into the doorway and looked in the direction of Gwen. The moonlight cast a soft glow from the window. He stood there as he watched her asleep on the floor – chained – secured. He marveled at her beauty, even with everything that had transpired earlier in the evening. Gwen’s mostly naked chained and cuffed body was intertwined and coiled with the sheets. The latex invader panties still looked deliciously tight on her – despite the issues throughout the evening. M’s cock stirred slightly at his cherished girl. M is incredibly lucky.

After finishing up in the bathroom, he came into the bedroom and over by her side of the bed. She hadn’t moved and her heavy breathing was a pretty clear sign she was asleep. He located her handwritten journal that she keeps for him (and herself.) After finding a pen – he returned to his side of the bed and turned on a small light so that he could write on the next available page:

“g ~

I anticipate you’ll wake up at some point in the middle of the night. I am here, I am in bed. I have also unlocked your chain from the bed, but the chain is still attached to your collar. You may use the restroom and return to the floor. The dildo panties will remain on for the duration of the night. But the purpose of this journal will be to allow you to purge your thoughts and feelings onto paper. I want you to write – only if you’re not able to sleep after you wake. You’ll stay on the floor until you’ve finished your writing, then you may come into bed with me – locking yourself on the corner headboard post per normal.

We’ll discuss things further in the morning and tomorrow.


He got up out of bed and proceeded into the kitchen naked where he took a refrigerated snack sized Hershey’s candy bar and brought it back into the bedroom with him. Gwen remained unmoved as he placed her journal, pen and chocolate on the floor near her. He then proceeded to her side of the bed where he unlocked her chain from the bed frame placing it on her side of the bed before turned on her reading light so that she could see.

The moon had begun it’s nightly traverse as its brilliance was considerable given that it wasn’t quite a full moon. The glow had made it into the bedroom and at the place Gwen was resting. She stirred somewhat. The floor was not forgiving. There was pain shooting down her head and neck down her left side. She was somewhat disoriented as she slept hard.

When she came to – she started looking around for M. She peeked over the edge of the bed to see that he was on his side of the bed sleeping. She looked to see the clock staring “3:12am” back her. She slumped into her little covered comforter and sheet bed on the floor. Resting her head on her hands, she gazed out on the floor – suddenly noticing the journal, pen and what appeared to be a wrapper.

Gwen was puzzled at first, but saw the pen and chocolate. She grinned as she finally sensed some relief since they got home. She opened her journal to find what he had wrote and she glanced down at the chain once she realized she was free of being bound.

She unwrapped the still-cool chocolate and nibbled it down until it was gone. The level of stress went down another level or two.

After she finished her chocolate, she winced to find the vaginal invader still very prominent in her pussy. Gwen let out a small whimper that surprised her – as she was trying to be quiet. She reached and gathered up the chain that was still locked to her neck and she got up off the floor. It didn’t even dawn on Gwen that her light was on – but she did notice it after she went into the bathroom.

She strained as she pulled the latex invader from her deep recesses. A gasp and some facial contortions overcame her expression as she finally freed herself from the extremely conforming garment. As the pee streamed out of her, the pussy was not happy about things. She was pained. It was bordering on that last nerve she experienced at the restaurant.

“Breathe Gwen … breathe.” she kept reminding herself as she released the last few drops from her bladder. She was trying not to get upset about it, but she knew that M would want to know – hence the journal and the instructions on the panties … he KNEW … and was getting her to flesh it out on paper. “Damn he’s good,” she quietly thought to herself. She hated that she was going to face it, but at the same time – she relished the notion he was inside her head. He probably even knows what she’s going to write about – but it’s the process of putting pen to paper that matters to him. It’s a process that he’s used for a long time that has been helpful.

As she sat on the toilet contemplating the vaginal invader – she reached over and grabbed the lube. She dutifully applied some on the erect member before lathering some down her slit and inside her tender pussy. Easing the long black dong back into her vagina was no easy task. She winced in pain as the dildo returned to its familiar position. She continued to pull on the panties to smooth them out until she was fully encased in them again.

She found tears starting to form in her eyes as a result of this. She began to feel defeated. She began to question that she can’t do this. She can’t be the slave he wants or deserves. There’s no way she can keep doing this.

Gwen carried her chain back into the bedroom and returned to her huddled bedding. Her thoughts were swirling as she had no idea what to right. M was always so good about her writing by reinforcing that there wasn’t a right or wrong answer because as long as it was a true feeling from within – then she was always going to be right. She kept churning this over in her mind until she decided that she needed to spill her soul in terms of what this evening has done to her mentally, physically and emotionally.

“M ~

I’m not sure how to begin this or where to start, but I’m pretty sure this is going to end in disaster.”

Not exactly the most flowery journal entry start but then this wasn’t your average run of the mill issue either. Gwen started describing the evening, preparing, how everything got to be so overwhelming, how dinner was horrible because she couldn’t get her mind off the fact a 7 inch latex dong was shoved up her pussy.

However writing that, part of that same pussy tingled somewhat, something Gwen outright dismissed because there was no chance in hell she was going to admit that one. It was kind of hot, but her headspace was far too negative to try and reconcile the aftermath.

She concluded:

“Ultimately I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I’m sorry. I wish I was better or had a better mindset coming in. Maybe I’m just a bottom that likes to play every so often. I don’t know. I’m confused, I’m upset and I just want out.


With tears still forming, the old tears stained and dried on her cheek, Gwen reached and placed the pen & journal on the bed. She then returned to her bedding, softly sobbing herself to sleep yet again. The feeling gutted her as she knew the end was near.


If there’s anything in life that’s reliable is the fact that every morning the sun will rise and give illumination on things. In many ways the rising sun gives birth to a new day, a new way of looking at things and in Gwen’s case, a new way to internalize everything that ultimately felt the doom looming with every breath she inhaled.

M stretched and woke first. Gently turning over to see if his slave was in bed with him. She wasn’t. He let out a sigh and drew the sheets back – gently easing his legs to the floor. He completely missed the fact the journal had been placed back on the bed. He stood up. His naked frame reflecting the morning’s glow from the window. He took a couple of steps to the end of the bed. M spotted the journal and then saw his girl asleep on the sheets on the floor.

He reached and got her journal book, glancing down at her beauty and left the bedroom.

The pain was getting unbearable.

She did not sleep well. Her body ached as she tried to stretch. The light was harsh on her eyes as she started to figure out what happened. Reality began setting in again as she realized she was on the floor and then all the feelings, memories and emotions from last night swelled up inside her again. As her brain became less foggy she noticed a tent folded piece of paper a few inches from her head:

“Breakfast nook.”

She let out a sigh and just stared blankly at the note for several seconds. She managed to pull herself up on her hip. Blood rushed down again as her aching bones really didn’t enjoy the thought of getting up. Gwen had to use the restroom. For a moment she contemplated going before heading out to the breakfast nook.

Suddenly she smelled some much needed coffee. She was spent, tired, sore and otherwise in a very cranky mood. Gwen stretched and recovered her chain, gently pulling it to her body as she went to get up. Her pussy throbbed badly and not the good throb either. Things were starting to hurt pretty good.

Getting to her feet, Gwen’s walk looked pained, her hair was a mess, makeup smeared all over. Normally she would be horrified she was presenting in this manner, but she has been on automatic pilot after seeing the simple tent note’s two word instruction.

As she made her way into the kitchen, she felt the weight of the chain and decided this wasn’t for her. All of it – just not what she wanted at all.

M was dressed very casually in shorts and a shirt – a contrast to what Gwen’s attire (or lack thereof) consisted of. She noticed two cups of coffee on the small nook table. Some fruit, croissants and her journal in between the two large mugs.

She covered herself with her arms as she went to seat herself with the large intruder still causing her pain.

M’s look and demeanor was very much changed. This didn’t make Gwen feel any better because of all the things flooding through her mind. She was defeated and was resolved to end this.

“Good morning.” M started as he looked warmly, but deeply into her. He knew everything she was going through. He was feeling everything she was going through. The journal only confirmed it. She cupped the coffee with both hands, but didn’t say anything.

“Good morning,” he repeated, the warmness now becoming a little more lukewarm. The repeated phrase startled her and quickly got her realigned again.

“Good morning, Sir.” She replied.

There was a silence between them, both having their hands around their morning java supply.

“Rough night.” He acknowledged. Gwen resisted the urge of making a smirk “bonus points for Captain Obvious.” Thing is, he detected it. She knows this too – which always makes for interesting conversations. Him acknowledging it helps in some ways because in past relationships her boyfriends have always been oblivious to “Captain Obvious” moments.

“No.” He followed up with after. Gwen looked confused for a moment as to what exactly he was saying no to.

“You are here, you are mine. This will pass.” There was a definite energy change as the sentences reached their conclusion. Any equivocation as to how he felt about the obscure emotional journal post was immediately answered. In a way it was good to dive right into the issue, but she was bristling angry. Her hair began standing up on end and she chose to fight back.

“I will not. No. This isn’t working. I can’t do this. I’m really fucking pissed off. I hurt and I’m in pain and I haven’t slept and ….” her voice trailed into a waterfall of tears that were coming out. “No, I can’t.” she kept repeating as she tried covering herself, pulling within herself as best she could.

“I know you can’t do this. I know it isn’t working. I know you’re really fucking pissed off.” as the words sizzled off his tongue. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He challenged her.

“What in the name of all things fucked?” she snidely said inward, but her expression back to him shot it out. “You heard me. Tell me something I don’t know.” he repeated again.

Astonished she had nothing. She was completely shaking her head as though that was going to reset things to a logical state. Her mind was whipping into high speed and yet nothing was coming to her.

“Come on – you’re wasting my time.” He challenged further. Pressing the gaping wound and not letting go.

Now she was pissed. But the words weren’t forming because she wanted to execute that challenge by way of fire hose – but nothing was coming to her. “FUCK!”

“I know you can’t be a slave, but you don’t have any idea why.” He kept hammering it.

“Because you’re an asshole for making me wear this stupid shit for your own cockratification ….” ….. and after that instant purge, she felt better. She felt relieved. She felt vindicated, justified and otherwise strong in her articulation … even if her articulation was on the PG-13 side of things.

But there it was ….

M grinned as he took it in stride. Again, anticipating this.

“Yes. It is for my own … cockratificiation ….” M said nearly bursting into giggles. Gwen caught onto her word use and tried not to smirk.

“…. but you still haven’t gotten to the why YOU … YOU … can’t be a slave.”

“What the …” she thought to herself. “This guy is off his rocker.”

“Because I can’t be what you need, what you want. I am in so much God damn pain right now I can’t see straight. I’m very irritated and I’m frustrated and I’m done … I’m done.” Her voice trailed off.

M sat back in his chair a bit, pulling the coffee mug from the table.

“I get it, but you still don’t.” M continued the cryptic repartee.

Again, Gwen had a puzzled look on her face as she stared at him. After taking a long sip of coffee, he placed the mug on the table and leaned inward, his energy changed and she suddenly sensed it. Her eyes got wider as he got closer.

“You underestimate yourself in unfathomable ways.” He started out.

“Consider – every single, solitary thing from yesterday afternoon to right this moment.”

She was baffled at the comment, but her interest was piqued.

“You left here in a rush, in haste, with a yard stick up your cunt. You hustled on 4 inch heels while the yard stick was punishing you twat. You gathered yourself to the best of your ability. We dined. We ate. You were absolutely maxed out because I pushed you there.”

Gwen held her breath.

“Then when we got up to leave, your yardstick decided to knock you off balance and you accidentally fell into the waiter on your heels. You were humiliated and yet you continued to follow me to the car. You were pissed beyond all imagination and you were infuriated that all of this could’ve been avoided if you weren’t wearing that fucking dildo inside you.” M ranted.

Gwen was shrinking a bit.

“So then the outburst in the car happened. Understandable. Quite impressive actually and we made it home where you were still quite upset and now you were afraid of what I was going to do. You expected the worst. You expected the absolute worst I could do. You were fucked and you knew it. You are fucked and you know it.”

She suddenly felt a bit more meek and less sure than when she made her way to the nook.

“Then you weren’t done yet. You continued where you were and then train got off the rails a little bit and you caught yourself. You stopped. You figured it out and in that moment – that’s when you changed. Your crystallized moment came to that moment that you went into full surrender.”

Astonished, Gwen continued to sit in silence.

“When you were instructed to strip and go on the floor, you did. When you were unlocked in the middle of the night, you could’ve left – you didn’t. You knew where I have my keys – but you didn’t. You were instructed to write – and you did. You didn’t have to. You could’ve walked out right then – but you didn’t. At any point after I went to bed, you could’ve left but you chose – not to.”

“Then …”

“You had the ability to take off the collar. You also had the capability to take off those infernal panties too. But you didn’t. Even after you went to the bathroom, you lubed yourself back up and inserted the yardstick back on up there. You came back in – wrote in your journal, then proceeded to stay – at the bottom of the bed on the floor.”

“Finally …”

“This morning, you woke up. You read the note and you came straight here. You desperately need to use the restroom – I know you do right now in fact. But you could’ve pulled off that god damn yardstick and pee’d in the bathroom – but you didn’t. You could’ve unlocked your chains, gotten dressed – left out the door or come here, but you didn’t.”

“Like it or not – you surrendered last night and this morning than ever before.”

“So once again – I ask you WHY do you think you’re not my slave?”  His steely blue eyes darken, his energy growing darker and darker as the challenge was placed before her.

Gwen sunk into her chair. “FUCK!” she screamed.

Sadistic rage

Two words that invoke very dark and scary images.

When I first met my sadist, it was not unlike what we read about in vampires story – about the blood lust and frenzy that happens where control very difficult because it’s very consuming. It was within that abyss that the darkest of thoughts emerge which is very daunting and disturbing on several sanity levels.

I have dark thoughts. Very dark thoughts.

I own them – they don’t own me.

Because at one point in my discovery, I could see exactly what harm meant. Not the bruises or the marks that are yummy to look at, the harm that’s often embedded deeply or to have that uncontrolled burst where things happen as though you had an out of body experience. I saw how that affected the sadistic draw I have within me. I could see a different kind of pain, a different kind of fear. The breaking of the toy that entrusted me with their safety and sanity.

It’s the ugly side of pain, the ugly side of fear. A place not unlike we see in the movies where the fight that goes on too far and folks just stand back in absolute horror because it’s still going on: “why won’t someone stop the fight?!?”

It’s a primal part that was unbridled, untamed, completely raw and primal sadism in what I can construe was nothing but evilness in its most basic level.

That really spooked me. Looking inward and finding THAT sitting in closet looking back at me.

And I very well could have drawn deeply into that abyss – deeply into that darkness and evil swirly – but I did not want that. I did not want my toys to look at me fearfully that I will somehow find the way to pull their arms from their sockets or maim them … or causing any other irreparable harm in doing so.

I had met … “the line.”

It’s not a wall.
It’s not a fence.
There’s no guardrail.
No tower.
No ballistic missile defense system.

It’s simply a line.

Lines can be crossed. Lines can be blurred. Lines can move back and forth. But lines are representative for boundaries in this instance. Just like a vampires thirst for blood, the sadistic rage is part of me. That place exists well beyond the line I have chosen to live behind. It’s a place I know that exists and will always exist – but I have made the conscious and deliberate choice to stay on this side of the line.

It wasn’t easy and yes, it’s been a process and no, I don’t have a secret recipe or javascript that can fix it. Something like this can’t be fixed – it’s something we learn about, adapt to, maintain and live with. It’s something that can be tapped, used, molded and manipulated in a way that can be constructive sadism.

The process:

* Recognize it
* Identify it
* Learn about it
* Understand it
* Find tools to assist you
* Develop awareness for it
* Adopt those tools seriously, completely and totally
* Maintain those tools – check in with your significant other, see how things look from the outside in.

We have to be willing to look at ourselves honestly. Set aside the D-side ego and have that very serious, honest lens conversation. Chances are – if someone has said anything previously or if you felt a twinge … there’s stuff there. Stuff you probably don’t want to face or confront … well … you need to. You need to have that opportunity to strip off the armor and get things examined at the core.

It’ll make you feel better in the long run.
It’ll make those around you – who play with you perhaps less concerned.

“But what about if I just need to get some aggression out?”

I understand that. I’ve been there too and in some consensual non-consent dynamics there could be the understanding in place that says that those times might happen. Be very clear when you’re engaging – to let your aggression out. It may also be helpful to your counterpart to know the WHY you need your aggression out so that they know it isn’t about them. Communicate clearly, have an established understanding before engaging forward.

Now ….

“Can this sadistic rage be used … applied …. in play?”

Yes it can.

… but it does not mean we lose our heads about it. Controlled, exacting sadistic rage can be a very intense outlet for the involved participants. Considerable care and awareness have to be on the forefront if one is to release their inner beast. There has to be a very well established knowing component as well. Unleashing the beast on someone unsuspecting – even if there is a consensual non-consent agreement – isn’t really fair to the bottom half of the equation because it’s going to hit and likely overwhelm them.

“But it’s fun! I don’t care anyway, I’ll do what I want.”

Well – good luck with that. I won’t say you’ll fall flat on your face, but it’s amazing how deep you can get with someone if you make them part of that journey downward.