No, Kinky Kidneys Are Not And Endangered Species

The most precious part of the body in BDSM is the humble kidney

Everyone means well. BDSM basic safety advice is taught and repeated from a place of resilience against censorship. As online communities and access to written materials alike are squeezed by law and bad faith attacks by anti-sex moralists, we can always count on the hours and hours of free volunteer education to hold the line. Unfortunately, although unstinting in their commitment to keeping information about kink out there, there’s no quality control on what is shared. Thus while some advice might save a life, or at least an embarrassing trip to the ER, BDSM, as a subculture, loves its better safe than sorry story, frequently at the space of its own utility and dignity

This is best demonstrated by the Guardians of the Kidney, the safety squad that preaches the shibboleth of great power. Amongst the great perils of unflared butt plug bases, and the scourge of unsupervised bondage, so also is repeated wisdom “and don’t hit them on the kidneys.”  Elder and neophyte alike, after safewords and reminders of consent

Meet a new kinkster? They reassure you Kidneys are protected. Post a post scene pic?  These noble scouts watch for any wrapping whip strike or above the buttcrack bruise with a scrutiny that would  do a lifeguard proud. And surely as the kidney is the most guarded place on the body, most people who preach that proverb also cannot locate said organs.

I cannot take credit for this discovery, that cynical observation goes to Cybill Troy. But it remains a great test of if said person knows what they are talking about to ask them where they are or just how much force that damage takes approximately. Or how often it happens.

(Kidney are just above where your ribs stop, and while you can hurt them with an impact, it takes things like a bad fall, punch or kick, or the sort of blunt force trauma of a car accident.)

But, given the frequency of the average repetition of the advice, a kidney is Achilles Heel meets Baldars Holly in one. It’s easy to believe. They are, after all, an essential organ, nestled in a matched set in the torso. And a bruised kidney or even ruptured one is an actual injury humans can obtain!

But, you know, not as a day to day worry, or one even likely to ever come up from a scene gone wrong. Certainly not the way a few hundred lost objects will be pried out of anuses every day, around the world. Or that ligature or smothering for erotic reasons (and positional asphyxiation) will claim lives. Yes, the low/midback is not a space to flail away at. But there’s a number of other things more pressing to concern yourself there. 

Kidneys have a decent protective cage hanging down- the ribs being where they are. But, the waist is pretty spare on most humans, and low backs are already the failure zone of health problems. If you bonk that area it isn’t going to feel good, not even the good kind of bad.

But so also goes for the knee pits and elbows. Wrists are bad smack zones too, unless you are limiting yourself to a short ruler on the top side. Indeed there’s some general rules of thumb to work out where you should and shouldn’t hit. And equally importantly, what you may or may not want to use. And that’s going to help more.

Instead of just avoiding the kidneys, a little broad theory matters.

A technically useful lecture on impact play would cover concepts like warm ups, or the padding protection of muscle and fat. Force of possible impact correlates with how much meat there is to thump. Additionally the places you body has a joint or bone close to the surface is also a no no.

And, if you are not sure, don’t hit it, and less is more. You can always hit a second time harder if the first was too light, but you can’t un-hit people.

However, something about human nature means that rather than the most broadly actionable advice: Kidneys! Exploding! 

Don’t feel too bad if you were happily chirping this advice at other kinky folk by way of making conversation. It sounds bad enough that even if you’ve never actually heard of someone who got kidney damage from impact play, it favours better safe than sorry repeating!

But, let it be a lesson:

When someone repeats safety advice, it never hurts to ask for more specifics, before you pass it to someone else.

Friday Femdom Fiction: Cucked by the Zeitgeist

“Oh, I was going to fuck you, but then #forcedbirth legislation swept the US. Now I am going to cuck you with this big, thick silicone cock. But, because I am being fair and I love you, you can watch and masturbate. However, no draining those naughty unsnipped breeder balls until I say you can!”

The length of silicone balanced on its flanged base, standing erect in anticipation of the service it would be put to. His own equipment made a similar performance with less lucky expectations, but while the fake cock was marble swirls and muted shine, his was the warm mottled matte tones of skin.

He could smell the back of the nose lift of her arousal, hindbrain triggering, impossible to pretend. She grinned. “Of course you turn me on. That’s why I want this. It was so hard to find just the fit that matched your shape. But you understand, right?”

“C-can’t we just use condoms?” he asked weakly. The cock cage was lying next to them, key still in the lock, a tight squeeze to cram himself into with the sexts she’d been sending him all week. Now, here in here presence, she said she wanted a good, safe fuck, and nothing else.

He gave her a pleading look, hoping for a reprieve. Being inside her was wonderfully intimate. Her eyes would lock with his and she would straddle his lap, riding while he stayed in careful control, helping her come without letting himself ruin her pleasure by coming. Not this time.

“Oh no baby,” she was practically purring, a decided arch in her back that thrust her breasts out, clearly turned on by his suffering. Her fingers stroked down her own thigh. “If I am going to ride a piece of rubber, we are going to do it right, and we both know accidents happen. A condom could fail.”

He watched her spread herself, fingers seeking, pushing. He pressed his own mouth closed to push back a whimper. “Please? I want to be inside you.”

“I know, it must be driving you crazy. I am so very wet, and it feels so warm and tight. Don’t think I am going to let you get a vasectomy either. You are much too pretty not to make babies with you… when I am ready.”

He filled his palm with a squirt of clear, sleek lube, but a reach to the root of his cock got a hand tap. “No! Not until I have hilted, darling!”

Hesitating like a dog balancing a treat on its nose, he watched her nudge the rubber up against her pussy, one hand playing with a nipple. She had perfect breasts, halfway between heavy and full, responsive and soft. She wasn’t even letting him touch her.

The toy slid slowly into her. For a moment the affectionate but sadistic patter she teased him with stopped and her saw the unmistakable look of pleasure wash through her. Her lips made a pout, eyes going out of focus. Sliding down the toy, his rival, she let herself enjoy every inch.

He eagerly slicked up his own cock from the root to tip, beginning to stroke.

“Slower baby, in time with my pleasure. This is about me, and what your cock can’t do.”

Obedience made it better, and he matched his pace to her drag of her hips, up and down, squats pushing herself to the base of the toy and mid way up. “Don’t you wish that was your cock inside me?”

“Yes!”

“It feels so good. You are so perfect.” She was smiling, though it was crooked with the exertion and the distraction of what she was doing. “Isn’t it great you can still serve me this way?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She gave a huff, jiggle in her breasts and thigh with each fresh stroke. In his groin her sped pace was posing a danger. Building. Slick, tight.

“You don’t get to be inside me. You don’t get to come. You’re going to get locked back up after I do, and…”

“Nnnh…” He had to stop pumping his hand.

“Almost?” Her grin was wider, seeing his desperation. “You don’t need to cum. Not until I decide to breed you. You’re property. And I sumply cannot afford an accident, so this big, thick toy is going to take your place.”

“Mistress!”

“Hand off your cock.”

He gasped a thank you.

“Oh really? You know your place as a denied breeding slut?” She shifted to sitting, legs sprawled open, working the dildo out at the speed she liked before she came. “Say thank you to my rubber cock too. Thank it for doing what you can’t.”

“…Thank you to Mistress’s rubber cock.” Leaning forward, he made himself commit to the clumsiness of his phrasing. “Mistress deserves pleasure. Mistress deserves to come. I don’t matter. I’m only for breeding. I don’t get to come. I…”

The yell was a sharp exhalation, built tension pushing air from her lungs with quick burst of coming. Her eyes snapped shut, one last thrust jamming into just the spot that tipped her over. “Yes!”