Friday Femdom Fiction: Makeup Sex

“Please punish me!” He was naked, his arms folded over his chest with the elbows drawn in, and his mouth beseeching, hoping. Vulnerable.

When they’d had the actual argument, voices hadn’t been raised. She’d touched him, and wept. She wasn’t a person to whom loud rage came easy, just emotions compressed inside herself until her core became clogged with unsaid, over self analyzed complaints and only raw honesty could dig her out. She’d said all she needed to say, and he’d listened, now he was left with the guilt she hated to place on him.

“I’m not… I’m still angry.” She had her fists half balled, her shoulders squared but her face half turned away, her mouth holding the signature of the pain she was feeling in the way she curled her lips. “I don’t want some sort of big display to show you’re sorry. I want you to give me what I need, not just today, but every day, when I actually need it. And I don’t want you to do this because you want to prove something and then get distracted tomorrow.”

“Please. Please Jane. I fucked up. I love you.”

“I know you do, baby. But wanting me isn’t the same as being good for me.” He body ached to take him, to put him under her hands and back in his place. “You fucked up, but you’re still mine.”


She took a deep breath. “You’re not going to feel better until I punish you, aren’t you?”

His expression told her the answer was yes.

She touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth, behind her teeth and reached, hands pulling his arms from where they were covering his body, exposing him. “Very well. Go take a shower and then come back to the bedroom. Dry yourself off properly and do not dawdle under the hot water. Bring a towel with you.”

His lanky body stretched as he got out of the bed, limbs leading, eyes still stickily focused on her until he left the room and she heard the bathroom door swing shut.

She got up, took the elastic from her wrist and pulled her loose hair into a tail next to her ear, keeping it out of her face. She wore the garb of early fall, high socks reaching to white thighs, ass hugging shorts, a sweater that was half way into dress length and made up for a modest body by tumbling off one shoulder. She drank a glass of water and the mirror told her that the tear stained redness had started to fade from her complexion.

She heard the water of his shower as she gathered her dominance from it’s dissembled places, putting willpower with love, and letting herself trust again enough to loose her sadism. The light in the bedroom was already off, but she rose to extinguish the one in the hall and set candles on the dresser, calming and giving everything a softness. On the bed, patting the duvet into flatness, she laid out the studded leather strip of his collar, the many stranded flogger of stretchy rubber, the slim, sharp crop in its nylon sheath, gloves and lube.

The shower noises stopped, and she waited the next few moments until he emerged, wavy hair tossled all over the place and dark with residual moisture, towel held to half curtain his nudity. She took it from his hand and raised her brows, letting a hint of the command enter her voice, “I hope you did a good job getting dry. Otherwise this is going to really hurt.”

He had an aura of nervous anticipation. She knew that the shower had both let him center himself and unsettled him, never completely sure how far she’d go. He’d seen her fully released, letting loose on a borrowed masochist and the joy in her face as she made the man scream. It turned her on that she intimidated him, liked that letting him watch gave her another lever of control.

She smirked put her hands on him as if she owned him, first his arm and then cradling his testicles, liking their weight in her hand and the sense that his body was entirely in her control. “Kneel.”

Abruptly, he went from almost a head taller than her to having his face level with her belly. She made him hold his head just so, in submissive supplication and slid his collar about his throat, pulling the tabbed end through the buckle so it say below his adam’s apple. her fingers ran through his hair and then grabbed a handful at the back, pulling up.

Without much choice, he followed her command and ended up belly down on the bed. She’d left his towel crumpled on the floor while her palm cupped his bare ass and began to spank.

She built up the sensations while teasing him that she hardly thought he deserved a warm up. His guilt broke the path easily, letting his submissiveness burst out, horny, hungry, unable to do anything other than take what she wanted and be grateful,

With a warm glow in the cheeks of his buttocks, she struck until her own palm stung, reminding him he was being punished. “Inattentive. Lazy. Flirt.’

When she saw he needed more she brought the flogger from the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes!”

She swung the tool in flicking strikes, landing the rubber ends with soft splats, noting each gasp as she intensified her strikes. The red grew and blossomed, and she let the whip fall over his back, remembering her lessons- let it fall like she was painting wings, always in control, always letting weight and momentum fall where she could force him to endure. his skin darkened, flushed and his head moved. “Slut!”

She let another slash land across his raised buttocks, noting his cock had climbed to rock hard. “Does thinking about what a bad boy you are turn you on?”

He whimpered, past further comment and she responded with the crop, sharp pain, her choice of head-strikes or white welts from the shaft. She knew he would bruise up purple after this, looked forward to the days of marking and redoubled her efforts until she’s scouraged away the guilt and brought him to an abject, animal place.

Admiring the fresh marks, she caressed and scooped the towel, tapping his hip by way of indicating he should lie belly down with the fabric under his legs and hips. He knew what was coming, even as she drew on the black rubber glovers and made her fingers shiny with lube.

She made him accomadate her, inside and out, probing fingers stretching and making him completely exposed. She watched as she found secret spots inside, pressing until he ground himself into the rough nap of the terry cloth under him. She saw as his hips shifted, that his erection was standing rampant. Nothing got him harder than being completely used and teased. He began to beg.

Her cunt was wet, soaking through her panties. Clumsily, she shed her gloves, told him that he was going to be her toy and fuck her. The button and zipper fly on her pants came apart with quick yank, shedding her tight shorts down her legs in one smooth motion with her dripping panties. She let her bare fingers wiggle over the split lips and drenched dark curls. “You are going to fuck me. As hard as I want, and you won’t come.”

He nodded, making a little mewl of acquiescence, face tense with supressed desire, until she made him mount her, positioned in front of him so he saw the unblemished swell of her pale, round ass and the vivid, enflamed warmth of her cunt, making him work his cock into her.

She gave a little gasp, accommodating its size and then engulfing completely, inner muscles gripping, showing him that all his size was nothing she could not control and use. he began to thrust and the noises she made came from deep in her chest, raw lust, loving the power that made him do this. Her fingers slipped between her legs, once, twice, almost too slicked up to find purchase and tease her clit.

He made little noise, all his concentration going to hold back and resist the barrage of stimulus as she insisted, “Don’t come. If you do I’ll flog you raw.”

Her threat became a gasp as she came, almost squeezing him completely out with the violence of her contractions, and he gripped at her hips, sheathing the way she liked to give her something to use. When she could draw steady breath, she heard him beg again and said, softly, “Yes. Yes you may.”

His orgasm came with a scream, louder than her, as the intensity of everything finally was loosed, throwing him into a final spasm that sent a pulse of hot semen deep into her. He collapsed, first over her back and then sprawling, onto his back, too drained and lost to give more than little body jerks as she curled up beside him, stroking and smiling until he could reach for her again, seeking a different kind of release in the comfort of her arms. Knowing he was forgiven.


This week’s Friday Femdom Fiction is brought to you by XXX Sex Guides – a dating site for kinksters, who kindly offered to have their story enjoyed by everyone- and then left what I wrote up to me- which meant something real, raw and very much taken from life.

What’s going on with Catamite?

Dear me, it’s probably my most beloved and controversial project. From getting banned on literotica for the non-con, and to be frank, some of the most blatant gender discrimination I’ve ever experienced, to frantic requests that I please, please publish one more chapter, the 23 chapter and counting novel is probably the heftiest of my works of fiction (although cumulatively, the friday femdom stories are starting to add up). It’s also been dormant for a while, and I really should finish it.

Today, still convalescing and wrapped up in a great white comforter, I took the master file and applied judicious editing, finding the project at over 38K words and counting. Ideally I’d like to have it done for Christmas, although that is health and work dependent.

I’m still not precisely sure how I intend to go about releasing the project though- the end goal was always an ebook, but getting more experience with what’s on the market I’ve realized that 3000 word short stories are considerably more normal- so it’ll probably be broken into two or three pieces.

Anyway, goal #1 will be to bring the story to its planned conclusion by the end of the year- it’s being worked on again. But then I have to format it into a book and get it available for download, and honestly, I have no idea how to do that… Learning time!

Free Femdom Story Give Away

yellow-orange-mapleIn celebration of fall, the most romantic season of the year for me, I’m offering a chance to get one of my bespoke BDSM or femdom stories.

Three lucky winners will get a completely free 500 word short piece of fiction of their choice. It’s the same deal as my regular custom story system- you pick the theme, I give it my own unique spin.

I get lots of requests for ideas that people wish someone would write about, so now’s your chance to get that special kink you really wish someone would cover. Winners get stories in a .pdf and .doc format, while everyone else gets to enjoy them here.

Leave a comment for your competition entry with your idea for a story- one entry per-person. Winners will be announced September 30th, contest ends September 29, 2014.

Not familiar with my work? Check out my archives for an ever increasing supply of femdom stories and BDSM erotica.

Want to increase your chance of getting your own story to 100%? Why not bite the bullet and order yourself one through the contact form right here?

Rules and Other Stuff after the jump!

Read more

Friday Femdom Fiction: Hands On Candle Wax

The room was lit only by the bright flare of the candle in her hand, and the fat little flickering telights floating in a glass bowl on the night stand. His body was stretched out beneath her, slim and angular, contrasts emphasized by the shadows and made softly shiny from the oil she had kneaded and pressed into his skin.

Before she had lit the candle in her hand, she’s dabbed her finger with sweet almond oil and starting at his bare shoulders, worked along the valleys and edges of muscle and bone. His skin was warm, thick and made soft by her ministrations and whisper fine hair.

When he’d come home she’d made him strip off all his clothing, shedding the office friendly polo and slacks, socks and all the contents of his pockets, admiring him in the curtain filtered light through the door, blue cast over shades of the lightest brown. She liked the smallness and darkness of his nipples, and the maleness of his chest, scattered with dark hair and broad, compared with his waist and his slim hips. In the candle light she could still see the muscular shape of his ass, and remembered the way her fingers dug in, teasing out the stresses of the day until, soothed by the oil, his body realeased itself to her and her touch.

The oil had soaked into her fingers as well, making them soft and leaving an almost imperceptible scent. She’d tried various kinds on his flesh, coconut butter in white lumps turning to a clear slickness, golden olive oil and liked them all, enjoying the glide of her hands over his skin and the press of her breast to his back when she lay atop him.

But now, warmed and ready, she extended her arm, catching the first few drops of wax on the back of her hand to test the temperature. Finding it sharp but safe, she slithered her fingernails down beside his spine before hovering, letting the shadow tell her where the drops would land before hearing the noise he made at each point of impact.

He groaned and wiggled, but stayed belly down, his arms held in the clasp of leather cuffs, anchored to the heavy headboard. She grinned, raising and lowering the height of the flame in her hand so that the heat was altered, controlling the volume and physical level of his reaction to her exact preference.

It was the wave of a conductor’s baton, not the precise calibration of scientific instruments, but as each spatter cooled in ragged white circles, she saw an increasing pattern in the rise and fall of his ass, humping the bed. She giggled, pressing her palm flat on his butt to grind him into the mattress and then adding a few plops of wax when he pushed back, making him yelp.

“Naughty little slut.” She was careful with her candle when she kissed and whispered in his ear. “You want to come, don’t you?”

“Mhm!” his head nodded, as he pushed himself up to the limits of the anchor rope and she twisted him, rolling him to his back. Her knees pressed into the bed bedside him, onto the towel she’d laid with care beneath him to save the sheets, and her free hand spidered over his stomach before caressing over his half engorged penis and the soft weight of his balls.

She made a purring giggle and brought the candle close to her face, making a small “o” with her lips, before blowing, putting out the flame with one strong puff. She set the candle aside and straddled him, the heels of her palms and bent wrists holding her weight over him, just the distance of her small, pert breasts and her panty clad groin wiggled against his.

“Well, you’ve been a good boy, so maybe I’ll indulge you…” She could feel her clit’s warm, buzzing tingle, teasing herself as she teased him. “Only I’m not in the mood to fuck, but I love seeing you shoot all over your belly. But I want to hear you beg me.”

“Please Miss C___”, please get me off!”

“Little louder…”


“Okay slut. I know those balls of yours have filled up again.” She swung her leg back over, ceasing to straddle him, and smiling at he effect on his cock as her fingers took another tiny bit of oil, before her hand circled him.

She began to stroke and pull at her length, her other hand cradling his balls before working around, fingers finding the sensitive place at the root of his penis, and the secret spots that extended to his ass, until he was bucking and sliding around in her hand, desperately trying to get that last little bit of stimulation to tip him to the point of no return.

“Slow down, you’ll come on my terms or you’ll even the evening with a ruined orgasm.” She warned.

He whimpered, and just when he thought he was past the point of being able to hold back, he heard her permission and felt the clench of her hand, coaxing.

“Ahhhh,” the orgasm caught him hard, heavier than he expected, rocking spasms through his body. She watched his body twitch, fighting the cuffs and his mouth open, chin tucking toward his chest as his cock sent two spurts of creamy white out, the first, airborn and splattering on his stomach and the second landing in a string across her fingers.

She brought her hand to her mouth, licking, smiling as he lay there, utterly helpless under her hands. “Good boy.”


A quickie with hot wax and an exploration of sensual female domination to add to the collection of femdom stories. Liked what you read? Leave a comment!

30 Days Of Kink: The Whys, The Whats and the Maybes

Day 13: Explain as best you can what the appeal of kink/BDSM is to you?  Why are you drawn to what you’re drawn to?

It’s my sexuality, and I find myself repeating this a lot. That being said, kink-as-a-set-of-expectations provides a codified structure to try to qualify and quantify and abstract emotional concept and a bunch of loosely connected fetishes. Human sexuality is squishy and determinded by the individual- this is a way of trying to characterize it so I can talk about what gets me off with other people.

As for the whys- if I knew I’d be an award winning, possibly noble prize worthy discoveries for achievements in psychology and human motivation studies. There’s lots of theories, some of them absurd (my favourite stupid idea being that spanking is just some sort of pre-species throw back for red behinds). I still go with the idea that human sexuality depends heavily on whatever symbols and social patterns that gelled with us whether you are ostensibly vanilla or kinked, and there really isn’t a ‘normal’ that people are born with that is perverted, just infinite shades of perversion.

Day 14: How would you say real life BDSM/kink varies from fantasy BDSM/kink?  If you haven’t experienced real life BDSM/kink how do you think it might differ?

Fantasy kink tends not to take real life into consideration, while amping up the petty and awesome as high as they go. Thus in fantasy, all the doms are super competent, all the subs complacent into the role, or if unwilling, unwilling in a way that is not simply truculent. Everyone is gorgeous and wealthy- typically old money or steeped in whatever the writer considers markers of high class. Everyone does whatever the person likes best as a normal thing, say if there thing is cuckolding and latex, hotwives and body condoms are what femdom is.

This sets up unrealistic expectations of good looks and easy dynamics that I’ve never seen happen in practice, with kink parties not being stocked with model hot millionaires. Meanwhile kink activities and needs, are, as I mentioned, much more about what a bunch of individuals are trying to do in a barely functional consensus.

Beyond that, probably the biggest fantasy/reality conflict is the expectation that just being whatever you are will cause what you want to happen. The inherent vulnerability of having to ask someone to submit to you is routinely glossed over- stories giving you things like infinite amounts of money or a pre-existing position of power over the sub, or just the fictional magic dom aura sucking in subs through their desire.

Day 15: Post a BDSM/kink activity you’re curious about and would like to try.

I’d like to try a more prolonged D/s dynamic, and I’d like to explore service a bit more, the latter as a matter of personal development and exploration.

Although Strong and I did owner/property in a way that was technically 24/7, distance and practicality put limits on things. Meanwhile most of my other experience is scene only. I’ve also never found a service oriented person I clicked with- it all felt like too much and too overwhelming to my personal boundaries.

I’m not sure how realistic a prolonged power thingy is. Wildcard and I have been glommed onto each other for a bit shy of a year, and formally hooked up only since January. One of the things I learned with Strong is that it’s hard to try to run a lot of things concurrently in the same dynamic- we flamed bright, but burned out fast and it didn’t survive having to accommodate being human.

Meanwhile as far as prolonged power experiments, I can’t say it’s gone as well as I’d like- the Ex constantly attempted to delegate personal responsibility for various things onto me, for example trying to give me control over his diet so he’d stop binging unhealthily or motivating him to exercise. This would last for about a day before he’d decide he didn’t actually care or want it. I’m going to chalk Strong and I’d thing up to one of those deeply meaningful short term things that wasn’t built to last.

But, as I mentioned, in fantasy, dominance is supposed to basically work like mind control and bring about exactly the results I want to achieve, and somehow make them fit well for the sub. In real life, humans are crap at habits and rules. What I can do is always deeply effected by what my partner can consent and conceivably do, and that’s a big part of the secret vulnerability of dominance. You say ‘Do X’ and it doesn’t happen.

With Wildcard, what we do together is also strongly influenced by his self exploration. Up until recently much of this was confined to the realm of improbable fantasy for him. Like many people he’d assumed that dominant women were so scarce that meeting one was a lottery win on its own.. This has meant a very odd scenario where I am both in a position of power in so far as my position of guidance, but also restraint, since realistically it’s hard to consent to big things when you are learning your limits. So what we’ve done in the direction of more prolonged dynamics is developing rituals and habits- Tuesday “Punishment” is certainly doing a wonderful job. That sense of constancy is definitely something that works for me.

He’s been a pretty good sport for someone who spends a lot of time exploring the upper edges of their comfort zone- and I’d have to describe myself at impressed with his courage about a lot of this stuff. Especially the really hard, ego destroying stuff where you have to admit you’re not up to doing what you actually kinda want. Add a sincere desire to make me happy and I really couldn’t ask for a better person to try to muck about with.

But on the side of my limits, I don’t know when or how I’ll experiment with the service thing and that’s definitely me baggage. For example one of the biggest barriers to enjoying service is the sensation of helplessness at having other people do stuff for me. I also don’t like the controlled, free lunch approach a lot of service subs take- I think this is more me being gunshy than them necessarily being wrong- but, it occurs to me that at this juncture in my life I’m feeling a little more comfortable with ordering someone to do for me.

Femdom Life Update: Health, Body Image and All That Stuff

So to complicate matters, I’ve been suffering from some health problems lately. This can be very frustrating: as well as interfering with work, it’s hard to get your dom on when you are taking extensive naps.

It’s not fun, and most of my mental energy’s being spent on getting better. My body has taken to this via shedding weight at a rate now leading to people announcing how tiny I am. This has meant a surprising amount of reconciling myself to new, reduced flesh.

Self image-wise, I’ve always been blessed that I wasn’t bothered by my weight- and never got particular pressure to be a particular size. The bone structure I inherited is very rangy, maybe gangly if I wasn’t of average height. Puberty gave me an ass, and even finding myself going all disordered eating seems not to shift that, even as I start to see the notched bones between my breasts, and my dress size has plummeted, something that’s supposed to make one happy, but mostly pisses me off because now my underpants don’t fit.

At the start of the summer, Wildcard and I went co-hab, me moving in over top of him to the official designation of “Sexy Roommates”, a fairly straight forward process that took about two car loads and merged our kitchenware, as well as necessitating the purchase of a place to cram my clothing into. It also means going from living out of a drawer and a bit of a mess, to sort of soaking into an already existing structure.

Summer isn’t my favourite set of months, and even less so to Wildcard, who belongs in tweed and wool on a moor somewhere- despite many references on his part to his Arabic heritage as part of his identity, he has climate temperament of a Brit, and a Northern one at that. Summer is one long migraine broken up by rare rain, not helped by weather in Montreal that decided that this year storm clouds were going to perpetually sit over the city with about the same utility as Tantalus’s grapes.

So add one less than happy partner plus me dealing with not being in top form and I’d describe the whole thing as one long stress test. This is not to say we’ve stopped doing kink- on the contrariwise we’ve started a weekly session on Tuesdays that we’ve both been finding very satisfying, but I wouldn’t exactly say it’s been an easy time for either of us. Certainly we’re both anticipating the fall with a certain degree of enthusiasm.

Meanwhile I’ve stepped up the aggressiveness to which I am making sure people are aware of my side trade in freelance writing. The derpy banner add is an experiment of sorts, to see where that goes.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Out of Her Hand(cuffs)

“I’ve decided you have too much independence most of the time and that’s interfering with your ability to submit. So I’m going to take that away.”  She gently moved him into the position she wanted him to be in, admiring the lines of his bare back as she stood behind him.

The ratchet made a click every time they tightened. On his wrists, slim as they were, that meant cinching them in close, squeezing the metal, satisfyingly, until his hands were captured behind his back in two loops of shiny steel.

He had held his arms for her, obediently for once, while she locked them into place.  Of course as soon as they were on and she let go he was testing against them, feeling the metal. She’d made him strip to the waist, and she could see the muscles shift under his skin as he figured out how much liberty he had.

“You’re going to spend the next four and a half hours with your arms like that,” she reminded. “From now until bedtime.”

5:22 PM

He looked up at her from the floor, where she’d shoved him down to kneel, expectantly.

“No, this isn’t about me playing with you for kinky fun time.” She frowned, shaking her head.”This is about reminding you that you’re helpless.”

He looked confused, but she shrugged and moved the pillow to the small of her back, making herself comfortable on the couch, going back to looking at the television. Her legs crossed at the ankle, tight, soft black knit rubbing against black knit. “You can stay here with me if you want, or go do something else on your own. Up to you.”

He knee walked over, putting his head into her lap. Her fingers combed through his thick, soft hair, but her eyes stayed on the screen at the other side of the living room. He focused on the feeling of her nails on his scalp, on the warmth of her thigh and the velvet nap of the couch upholstery.

6:13 PM

“Can we please take these off?”

“Are you safewording?” She looked at his face to gauge his level of discomfort, checking to see if he was genuinely in distress or simply irritated. “Think about this. Do you really need me let you go or are you just sulking because you want this to be about you?”

He seemed to consider it, weighing his tolerance to the consequences. “N…no.”

“Then tough it out.” There. That was the hard part, that little bit of guilt that not letting him have fun would have repercussions for her, the other half of the lesson she was teaching herself with at the same time she reminded him of his place. In the spirit of that, she pushed those thoughts aside, and the trailing resentment that went with them, focusing on the moment. “Submit.”

He looked ashamed and she smoothed out her skirt, reaching for her laptop and thumbing the lid open. He watched her click the keys, halfway between touch typing and two fingered button pushing.

6:58 PM

“What shall we have for dinner? Hm, is it takeout night or am I going to cook something?”

“Uh…” He looked uncomfortable about being asked. He never liked to directly pick what they ate, always preferring that she made a suggestion. “Whatever you want is fine.”

“A big plate of spaghetti for you to bury your face in? So you get covered with sauce?” Her finger lightly caressed his cheek. “Smeary red?”

He hesitated again, thinking about the texture mashed into his skin and how it would smell.  She watched his expression, still admiring his bare chest and the way he flexed his shoulders, still uncomfortable in the grip of the handcuffs. She smirked.

“How about pork fajitas? The pork needs to be used up.”

“Okay, but I want you to help me, you’re the one who knows how to make it better.”

“You could just uncuff me and I could make dinner…”

“No, I don’t think so. You can kneel on the kitchen floor and I’ll ask you if I have any questions.”

7:36 PM

She kept him there while she put together dinner, crisped pork shreds wrapped in cornflour shells,  garnished inside with confetti-fine shreds of lettuce and spicy, sweet salsa and green and garlic sharp guacamole. He’d felt fidgety and frustrated, watching the outline of her ass and the way the slight stretch in the fabric of her pencil skirt cradled it.

He thought about other things to go do, picking up his phone and poking at the screen or curling up with his computer, but both weren’t options.

“There, two for me, three for you, with a squirt of lime.” She turned, crouched and smiled. “Come on, we’ll eat on the rug.”

She sat mermaid style, and he knelt, trying to figure out how to eat the food she’d put in front of him. He leaned forward, trying to take a bite and succeeded in making the tortilla unroll, spreading the blended contents on his plate and getting guacamole on his nose.

She giggled and took a bite, savoring the crispness, and the mixed flavours. “Having trouble?”

He frowned and she reached out with a finger, scooping the green off his nose before popping it in her mouth and sucking. “Mmm…”

“I can’t eat like this.”

“Well, that does sound like a problem. You’re going to be hungry if you don’t think of a solution.”

“Can… can you help me eat this?”

There was a satisfied smirk, as if she was waiting to hear that, and she picked up the fajita, retucking it together and holding it in his reach. He took a big bite.


30 days of kink: Hard limits, ethics and funny stuff.

30 days of kink continues with a bunch of unrelated questions- from super serious limits to funny anecdotes.

Day 10: What are your hard limits?

I don’t want to permanently harm anyone. I also don’t want to involve poo, children or animals. I also don’t want to be outed or out anyone, which limits the possible blackmail scenarios I’m comfortable with. I also prefer to play with a safeword and breaking the law is not my idea of fun.

When I’m on the receiving end of stuff I’m extremely, ridiculously picky- like one of the reasons I know that the ‘submissive’ label doesn’t fit is that the experience is very much about what I want. I don’t like punishment dynamics used on me, or involving other people beyond a very passive audience- like I don’t mind people getting off on it, but being vulnerable to people and their judgement makes me uncomfortable in a not sexy way.

For example, I like the sensations of impact play and have a reasonably high pain thresh hold, but while playing with Wildcard where there was an audience (camming) he was joking with them about me being a bad girl, etc and I basically went into full on GTFO dom mode. In the end, I think he found my reaction, which was pretty icy and calmly pissed off, more distressing than I found the experience.

Due to past bad mojo, I can’t masturbate and have someone fondle me from my right side. I’m also slightly jumpy about being touched from behind, even though that’s a major source of sexual stimulation for me. I’m usually okay about that, but a few days ago I was washing my hair in the bathtub and got caught but surprise to a grope and got all weirdly freaked out.

Day 11: What are your views on the ethics of kink?

I find this one comes up a lot for people who feel guilty or believe that subs/bottoms don’t really want what they want. I think there is a lot of ethical stuff to unpack and examine within kink, such as Dommism, but I don’t see the ethics of kinky sex as being too deviant from what people consider vanilla. Heheh, deviant.

For me, one of the challenges is that I function under a preference for enthusiastic consent (as it should be) but fetishize non-con. In theory one would just ask your partners to talk about and describe their desires, but I’ve discovered a lot of people don’t have the vocabulary to do that- or they don’t make that sort of separation of role. In hindsight some of the challenges with Strong is that he wanted to be forced without being able to tell me he wanted it. Obviously this meant where he would start talking about limits I would back off- because I don’t like having to second guess my partners.

Day 12: Tell us about a humorous BDSM/kink experience you’ve had.  If you haven’t had one, talk about aspects of kink/BDSM you find funny.

Well, there was the time after an orgy I was helping people pack up, and being on sextoy washing duty I stuck a large purple suction cup dildo to the wall at eye level and they nearly forgot it there for the hotel staff.

Or the time that I was using a fly swatter on someone’s ass and got them in the nuts by accident, or the time my endorphin addled friend thanked someone “for the soft caning”, resulting in a much harder session than the top had initially planned.