Tag Archives: dynamics

Taking it, Blindfolded

8FEFBF46-7578-4997-891F-E2B3F3E09BB4Last Saturday was one of my favorite parties, Master’s Den. I was going with Ryan, and more than a little excited to get some serious 1 on 1 play time in before the holidays hit. He hasn’t been able to come to BaGG and I’ve been in serious need of owies… though I’ve needed more than that as well.

The night before, I decided to go check out Taboo. It’s a party at the Citadel known for edgier play; sacrilegious scenes, dark age play in public, blood and cutting play… It was one of my favorite parties when I first entered the scene but I had mostly stopped going because it’s not a party James has shot. But, I knew he was going to be there. A dear friend of ours had said they were coming and he was going to give them a massage, and honestly I wanted to watch.
Fast-forward through the evening and the friend ended up bailing. I poked James about playing, but he wasn’t exactly in an impact mood, and he and I both need to be in good headspaces to play in a healthy way together. Right now…impact is somewhat safe, but sensual play, intimate touching, things like that.. not good for either one of us. We are starting from the ground up kink wise and trying to do it right. I got into trouble elsewhere, a light impact scene that was essentially a warm up for the night to follow. A friend used my ass as a punching bag (quite literally.They practiced different style punches on me xD) giving me just enough thuddy impact to silence the worst of my brain squirrels. Brain squirrels silenced, I went to investigate and see what trouble James had gotten into.
He had his big knife out and was trailing it down a friend’s thigh, the one I’ve continued on a three year long love affair with. The knife, not the friend. The friend is a very safe human that I know well, and so watching the scene of the two of them didn’t bring up any negative emotions. They’ve played before, and I love to watch. I sat, eyes fixated on the blade as he trailed it up and down, forcing squeaks from the bottom as he guided them with eyes and hands, not saying a word.
I am a sensation slut. I’ve said this many times. I’ve also said that the cruelest thing someone I care about can do is withhold touch from me. I sat, mesmerized by the scene as James pulled out various blades, his punch dagger, his claws… all things that my body remembers so well. I shivered with each touch as if it were on my own skin. I wanted the cold steel on me. I LOVE sharps. And then James did a thing.
He flipped our friend over and grabbed them by the hair, slowly raising their head before slipping the blade underneath their chin and touching into to the soft flesh. I let out a sigh and noticed an ache in me that hasn’t been present for a while. My brain went back to a long time ago, when a rough voice used to growl in my ear, ‘you are MINE.” There was no hesitation in leaving marks or bruising me; in using me to pull others into the back room by slamming down onto me and making me scream, moan, and cry. There was and is a primal edge to the play with James. The way he pulls hair. The way he claws into skin. The pain of rough hands slamming into an ass. And I found myself not necessarily missing him, but missing THAT. That primal claiming and marking and wanting and… rawr. To the point where I had to step away from the scene and breathe for a few moments, the longing for that kind of primal possession was so strong.
It was a bitter sweet feeling, walking out of the citadel that night knowing that I may never get that feeling again. But at least I had once known it.
The next evening I was there with my Daddy. We got there late, which had me stressed, and so my need for a good beating was amped up even higher. I changed into an outfit made to die a glorious death; a beautiful piece of lingerie that Chris had gotten me during my birthday in Santa Cruz the year before. It had seen many parties, and sadly had many holes in it to prove it. I had asked Ryan ahead of time if it could die a glorious death and was thrilled by his enthusiastic yes.
When play time came he chose a spot all the way in the back. I would be facing the wall and therefore be less distracted than normal. Our scenes have become rather routine. I strip off all that isn’t going to die, he ties me to the cross, he beats the shit out of me and teases me. We go home. This scene..had mostly the same formula, but with some twists that I didn’t know I needed until I felt them.
I had expected to be pulled to the cross once I stripped. Daddy surprised me by grabbing me right away and beginning to tear apart my outfit several feet from the cross. After man handling me a little bit, forcing me to the floor with his boot on top of me. More please..yes… I like the idea of being conquered by Daddy. Putting up just enough of a fight that he uses force to pin me. And I love his boots. And I love that with the boots, and the man-handling, there were also giggles. There’s almost always laughter in our scenes, and I love that so much.
Once he got me upright again he sliced apart my pretty one piece and literally ripped apart my tights in a way that was so satisfying I wanted to purr. At one point as he shredded my clothes with both hands and pointy objects he stuck my own tights in my mouth as a gag; something that at one point would have been a hard limit for me. I was a brat and spit it out several times. But I did not red.
 He has new pretty knives for blade bondage…They are sharp, and shiny, and bite just enough when propped between my inner arms and ribs, blade pointed inward into my side. Ryan does this thing.. He will hit me hard, or do something particularly mean, and whisper in my ear right after. His voice sounds like its dripped in honey..it’s just a wee bit deeper and smoother, and it makes me squirmy as FUCK. As he secured the knives into my sides he did his honey whisper; “Don’t let them drop, kitten.” And the knives did not stop There.  No. That’s when it got interesting.
You can’t be afraid of what you can’t see. Daddy brought some very scary toys to use on me. And so he blindfolded me with my own outfit, using one of the bigger strips that remained as a blind fold to tie around my head. Suddenly I couldn’t see the toys, or the dungeon, or Daddy.. Everything was sensation.
When I say that I was chomping at the bit to play I mean I was squirming for so many sensations I couldn’t keep them all straight. What amazes me about Ryan and our play at times is that even before I vocalize a desire or a want it’s somehow happening. He’s picked up on it, or was following the same wave length.
Blindfolded, still not touching the cross, I felt blades against my skin, and a need was sated. I felt a hand in my hair, pulling, and another need was sated. And then I felt rope against my skin and I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.
Ryan has tied me a handful of times, including our first date. He’s made rope feel safe for me when for a long time it felt claustrophobic. He’s even suspended me once and yes I would do it again.. I have begun to enjoy the feel of rope, especially when it’s tied around me but not restricting me, in a harnesses with these intricate knots. It makes me feel beautiful.
He didn’t tie me to the cross that night, as he has so many times before. He tied me and then wove the throwing knives through the knots, so that if I moved right the blades poked me. At least I think he did. At that point I couldn’t see a damn thing. I just felt. It was..perfect.
I am an exhibitionist little slut. I like to show off, and to be watched, but that is often a double-edged sword for me. I get easily distracted by what’s going on around me and who’s watching me, and if I’m making the right faces, the right sounds.. if I’m putting on the best show I can. The blindfold removed that distraction, and is honestly something I’d like to play with more. I was hyper focused on what I was feeling, where Ryan was, and not on the people and scenes around me. I felt everything MORE. On top of it I wasn’t able to watch which toys Ryan was picking up. It took away any fear aspect I have associated with some of them..and there are quite a few of his toys that I am actually, actively afraid of.
The evening before, before the play and before watching James, I had watched a brutal impact scene. The Dom went hard on their submissive, to the point of legs buckling and screams filling the dungeon. As the submissive became overwhelmed, the Dominant would grab their face and touch a point between their eyes and their eyes would close. A dreamy smile would replace the pained face. Erotic hypnotism is something that Ryan and I play with a lot, and something that I thoroughly enjoy, and I noticed the button easily. Every time the submissive became overwhelmed by sensation or wasn’t able to take anymore the Dominant would put her into trance again, calming them down.The Dom would also snap their fingers and their bottom would flinch, signaling another button.
We’ve woven my buttons into play before. I have..a lot.. The two easiest that are typically Ryan’s go-to’s are when he snaps his right hand I have an anal orgasm. When he snaps his left, I have a vaginal orgasm. So, he’ll be a big meanie and give me a huge amount of pain and then snap his fingers and make me cum apart at the seams (pun intended). We’ve also played with me entranced before which is.. an odd, heady feeling. I’m awake but I’m not. I know what’s going on but can’t quite stop anything. We’ve also put buttons in place right before scenes too, to up my pain tolerance or make my body more relaxed upon impact (I tend to go up on my toes if something REALLY hurts).
Ryan managed to take what I shared with him about the scene I had enjoyed so much and make it work for us. There are a few of his toys that are hard for me to take a lot of. After a few whacks, even if I can’t see it, I’m dancing, I’m on tip toe, I’m screaming. Each time the pain became too much I would feel arms around me, or feel his scruff near my face before the honey voice would whisper in my ear that I could take more for Daddy, couldn’t I? That this was nothing and I’ve taken much worse. That I could take all the pain for Daddy.. And I was lulled just enough to think that I could. To feel that I could.
I faced a metal cane (a thick rod that I DESPISE), a dragon tongue (soft limit), an evil asshole paddle made out of a beer mat by an evil asshole (that I adore), and a curry comb as a finale. The curry comb was the only part that I actually got to see. Daddy slipped my blindfold off after the dragon tongue left pretty welts on my ass.
I have a history with dragon tongues. I…despise them. A single tail one can gain my trust with in time. Canes are the same way. A dragon tongue cut me up so bad at one point I had to go the ER. I never wanted to face one of those things again. Ryan seems bound and determined to have me face and take every toy I’m scared of. He started slow with it, whacking me when I was partially clothed to lessen the sting. Blindfolded and bare, there was no way of knowing when the dragon tongue was going to hit and where. He could have ripped me up easily. He could have harmed me. He didn’t. And I stood there, clinging to the cross for dear life, because I knew he wouldn’t. I trust Ryan.
You would think the perfect ending to all of this would be me facing my big fear and then Daddy taking me home to cuddle..but I did say that I got beaten with a curry comb, didn’t I? Those round metal brushes used on horses, with the mean teeth? yeah. That thing. On my ass. Our play with it has changed the more times that we’ve used it. The first time was rather timid, with Daddy using a paddle to leave imprints of the teeth in my ass and barely cutting the skin. Tap, tap, tap. That tap, tap went away a long time ago. Now he used pure force, swinging the curry comb itself and slamming it into my ass, leaving dozens of bloody circles in his wake.
I could see the windups to each one, but there’s no hesitation with the curry comb like there is for the dragon tongue or the canes. I love marks. I love sharps. The curry comb is a way for me to get both without being overwhelmed but that one sensation point where the knife blade meets my skin. This is dozens of little knife blades taking delicious bites out of me and leaving marks in a way that is much easier for my body than a basic impact beating.
I felt liquid sliding down my ass and grinned, proud of myself. There’s an odd turn on for me when Daddy makes me bleed. I earned it. And I don’t yellow when I feel the blood trickling down my legs. I wait for Daddy to wear himself out. He’s good at letting me know when the end is close and I can finally fully relax. The warning is usually, “Alright princess, I’m going to give you two more hard ones, one on each side, and then we’ll be all done, okay?” And I take them knowing that I get to rest after.
There were blood spots on the floor of the cross by the time we were done, as well as blood still trickling down my legs. We were safe, of course, spraying everything down properly with cavicide and alcohol respectively (my poor ass…oww.) before flopping over together in an aftercare couch.
We played again when we got home, my ass still sore, my body tired, when I thought we were going to just curl up and sleep. I remember bits and pieces of the sexual play.. I remember lots of orgasms, the honey coated voice, and I remember Daddy putting me into trance, but while he normally helps me out of it at the end of the scene this time he didn’t.. Even clean up was done in trance as I crawled into bed with him and snuggled into the nook of his shoulder. I don’t remember falling asleep. I do remember getting an incredibly good nights sleep as a result..
It was.. a lot in one night, and the ‘a lot’ was exactly what I needed. I’m breathing for now. I don’t feel like I’m starving, even knowing I’ve got about a week until any sort of real play.  And I feel incredibly guilty for wanting more. More rope. More impact, more boots and body play, more hair pulling and more of that honey coated sadist asking me to take all the pain for him. Cause, gods, will I. Happily, and eagerly.
The catharsis of an impact scene is incredible. The za za zooo it can spark or re-spark between two partners is also fantastic as well. But..getting to please my Daddy in a way that only my body can, taking the pain he asks me to take, doing it to make both of us smile? Yeah…that’s the main pleasure button for me.
Please, more, Daddy..
yours, as always
-Rene
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BDSM and Sex

I’ve seen a couple Dominants write about this topic, but rarely is it discussed from a submissive’s point of view.
Sex and BDSM are two things that are often closely linked together, and it’s little wonder as to why. We, especially submissives, tend to dress up in revealing clothing (or no clothing at all). We are seen as sexy, sensual creatures. BDSM is still seen as a rather taboo thing, and taboos in and of themselves tend to have an erotic twist to them.
But the reality is, there is so much more to BDSM and kink than sex, and often sex can manage to not play a part in the equation at all.
I am a rather sexual being. I have been since my early teens. I once explained to a partner that I will very rarely say no to sex when a partner is interested, even if I’m exhausted or low on spoons or some such thing. However, it’s hardly something that is required for me to be in a relationship with someone.
A main dynamic in all of my relationships is some sort of power exchange. For some, like my relationship with my Ace, that exchange is incredibly fluid. In the span of five minutes I can go from calling him sir to him calling me ma’am…and that’s just how we work.. For others, like Ryan and Chris, they are always my Daddy and my Sir. I willingly always hand over a certain degree of power to them, in different ways, and it pleases both the top to receive the power and the bottom to give it, immensely.
Chris and I haven’t had a sexual relationship for over a year now. We started out VERY sexual (honestly, I can understand the appeal of wanting to fuck like rabbits with someone half your age :P) and there was a time when it was a rocky transition between our sexual relationship and just having a D/s relationship. It’s not to say that I didn’t miss all the fucking..I mean..for the love of godde he managed to fuck through a condom at one point he was pounding me so hard..and that was wonderful. But there are other things that can be even more wonderful than that
The power exchange was still there..it was just that when we played we didn’t fuck after. If anything, the lack of sex meant that intensity was redirected elsewhere. I was even more devoted when we were in scene, even more willing to take pain for him, to learn new tricks and positions to please him. Our dynamic has still mange to keep its edge after two years, it’s just that the edge has changed. There are times when I ask for reassurances that he’s still attracted to me, and he is quick good at communicating that with kisses, and ‘sexy angels’ and a hand on my ass at times. There is still spice, still za za zoo, and yes, it can still be VERY sexy.
I didn’t honestly know how sex with Ryan was going to work the further down the DDlg rabbit hole we went.. if we were going to engage in dark age play or not. I didn’t know, personally, if I would be comfortable letting my Daddy ‘violate my princess parts’ when I’ve mentally regressed to a two year old..
Yes, we go there. And yes, it is naughty as fuck and we love every second of it. But what gets me wet starts far before fucking.
Saturday, Ryan and I went to Flash at the Citadel. I dressed up as his little fruit bat for the Halloween party; made pretty wings and all and wore a onesie for a bit that he had gotten for me that was a bat with wings and all (IT’S SO FLUFFY). After a bit of socializing and a wee bite of food he led me to a cross, stripped me out of what was not safe to cut off, and tied me to the damn thing so I couldn’t run away.
It was NOT an easy scene. We played for over an hour, staring with knife play slicing off my body stocking and ending with a curry comb slicing open my ass and leaving beautiful marks and drips of blood in its wake. In between there was a metal cane that I have a love/hate relationship with, wooden canes that make me yelp, a meanie stick that terrifies me, and a foam bat that makes fantastic sounds when slammed against my ass. And of course, Daddy’s hands.
But, as much as the pain and adrenaline that follow are wonderful at times, those were not what kept me up on that cross for an hour. What kept me up there were the moments when Daddy would put down the mean, wrap an arm around my chest or a hand around my throat, and growl in my ear,
“You can take it for Daddy? Can’t you?”
“Are you still with me, kitten? Can  you take more for Daddy?”
“You are doing sooo well, lil love. I’m so proud of you. I’d like to do a little more. Can you do that?”
Always that asking. THAT is what sates me. That is what keeps me going.
Can you do this for me, little one? Can you take this, not for you, but because it pleases me to do this to you? Can you serve me in this way?
Absolutely, yes.
And taking what is given to me, what my partner asks of me to take, will nine times out of ten be even more satiating to me than a good fucking, as was the case on Saturday night.
Aftercare was very much needed after our scene. Normally I bounce back pretty quickly. Within 10-20 minutes I may still be cuddly, but I’ll be chatty and smiling and goofing around. I was so sated, so sore in the best of ways, that I just wanted to cuddle and sleep. My ass was so raw I had to wear panties to protect the couches from my blood (…mmm….more please, Daddy), and the best feeling in the WORLD after such a hard and long beating was curling up in Daddy’s arms and letting my eyes fall closed, knowing he would wake me if he needed me. Knowing I was safe. I didn’t want more. I didn’t want to rile energy to climb on top and fuck him (even though it’s the citadel..that kind of thing is allowed, and sometimes encouraged). I just waned cuddles and kisses and a safe place to rest.
BDSM is so much more than sex. It’s trust, and constant learning, and knowing how much power to give to who and where to draw your lines. It’s understanding whose arms you truly feel safe sleeping in, and letting yourself go there when the time is right. It’s pushing your own personal limits in healthy ways, communication, thrills adrenaline, mind fucks. And yes. Sometimes sex.
But. Why would you want to focus on sex..where there is so much more?
Yours, ever exploring.
-Rene

Down the Rabbit Hole…

There is a lot about my various kinks that I have embraced over time. The further down the rabbit hole I go, the more I discover about myself. Some of it stopped me short when I realized it was a part of myself… That there is an aspect of myself that is very much a slave to the proper Master, that I just can’t do pick-up-play. That there is a part of me that is a pain slut when I’m in the proper mindset.

That I very much have a little side, and that that little is sexual…

My first discovery of my little side was with Smith…and when that blew up and bit me in the ass my little went into hiding, DEEP hiding. That aspect of myself was a core part of our dynamic. He was the first one to expose me to phrases like ‘princess parts’, who made me stop squirming at the idea of calling someone ‘daddy’. He helped show me that taboo can be attractive, erotic… that the fetish could be done in a healthy way and can be incredibly fulfilling. And then our whole dynamic exploded and I was cut out like cancer, my little discarded because his partner was severely triggered by he and I… Not even James could coax her out again.

For two years, my little hid. Unfulfilled. Slipping out in spirts of a bubbly voice and an obvious love of stuffies; a side of myself that filled me with severe amounts of shame because when she finally came out she was told she was horrible and wrong.

And then I got to know Ryan.

Ryan is a BaGG regular who I’ve known for over a year now, in some capacity. For a very long time he was the rather attractive fellow that James gave rides to from time to time. Then he became the rather attractive fellow that was always at BaGG. Then he was the attractive fellow with the REALLY pretty partner. Like. Really pretty.

And then I found out the attractive fellow thought I was also attractive. Meep. MEEEEEEEEP.

As my squirly brain often does, it had labeled Ryan as ‘crush’ and therefore ‘untouchable. I found out that was very much not the case sometime in the late summer months. He was established with his partner, and I was slowly creeping back into dating after my release..and I was restless. I liked his voice, calm and soothing with a ‘sadist with a smile’ quality. I enjoyed his calm, easy going nature that was a balm on frazzled nerves. I especially liked how well we had begun communicating.

The first time we played he tied me up, giving me a pretty chest harness with bottlecaps underneath the rope for the edge of pain I craved…and then he fucked me into oblivion. Holy crap, that man scratches that particular itch for me in a way that will have me sated for a good few days afterward (a rarity with a libido as active as mine). It was good, comfortable. We played well with one another…though the dynamic wasn’t mind-blowing, it was fun. And I found myself much, MUCH more attracted to him than I thought possible… He has strong arms with just the right amount of muscle, a fit body, and his legs… Yum yum yum yum yum….

Another date followed, this time at his place, and then the weeks went by. We talked, both at BaGG when we saw one another and online when we didn’t. I don’t quite remember how it started, but somehow the topic of me being a little slipped out.

He was interested. He liked the idea of it. More than liked it.

Part of me was hesitant. Yes, it had been two years…and yes, this was a stable play partner that I trusted… but did I trust myself not to fuck up again? What if my little was just bad, and not in the good way? What if it was the rotten part of myself that I just couldn’t show?

…If I didn’t try, I would never know.

 

And so, I dressed up. I wore a frilly pink shirt, my ‘little’ underwear, my hair in pigtails. I brought stuffies and let myself slowly, slowly relax into the dynamic as I drove to Ryan’s house.

I love when risks pay off. He spanked me, of course.. He pulled my hair, played with my ‘princess parts’ and made them feel ‘funny’ and ‘got me all wet’. He had me cumming so many times I lost track, and seemed to all but purr every time I called him ‘daddy’. That magic switched that existed when he called me ‘kitten’ or ‘sweetie’ worked both ways..and the dynamic went from good to pretty fucking fantastic. We found a very natural niche for both of us to play in, a need that others weren’t sating at the moment, and so we played through taboo whispers of mommy not finding out what we were doing, and the little girl begging for daddy’s hard cock in her bum and princess parts… I let myself go, let myself enjoy.

The dynamic has developed over time, and now our play dates are some of my favorite things. They are catharsis, release, whether he simply fucks me into oblivion or beats me with a hairbrush before. It’s fun, and easy. There is something about Ryan that from the beginning has felt incredibly… safe. Our relationship isn’t romantic, but I do very much love and care for the man, and his partner. I know he’s protective of me, that he has my back. I know that I can run to him and his lovely at BaGG if I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. I also feel so free to talk to him about my headspace, how I’m feeling and what I need from play on a certain night. I don’t feel on edge, or ashamed, or in need of censuring myself with him. Our negotiation skills are kinda top knotch, and there’s an ease to he and I that I respect and enjoy.

Some of my favorite parts of our playdates are our ‘games’. I have a wee bit of an oral fixation, as I’m sure has become quite apparent in my entries.. I love sucking cock. We developed a ‘game’ a couple of dates ago. While daddy is on the phone ordering take out, kitten kneels in front of him and sucks his cock. This usually continues until long after the phone call is over, much to my great pleasure. Ryan is not small..and I take great pride in being able to take all of him down my throat, even if it’s not for long yet.

Last date he led me into the bedroom by his cock, starting with me sitting on the couch. He let me suck him for a few moments, and then took a step back, forcing me to my knees chasing after him. Step by step, he backed toward his bedroom. Inch by inch on my knees I followed, eagerly bobbing my head after his cock in an attempt to keep a steady rhythm as we moved. He’s one of those that I always love the taste of..male and musk and..mmmmm.

He pushed me down onto his bed and thoroughly beat my ass, literally punching into me. I remain very much an impact slut and absolutely love rough body play. I can take a lot of thuddy punching, especially with two or three fingers shoved up my pussy as a fist slams into my ass. I get off on the impact, asking for more, begging for it…and I did beg. Asking daddy for more and begging to be allowed to cum. Sometimes he makes me wait… He gets me there so easily. Other times he forces the orgasm out of me, having figured out on our first date that I can cum on command. By the fourth or fifth orgasm I am spent, screaming and begging daddy, daddy, daddy over and over as fingers fuck me, and then his cock. He’s not one to relent, to let me off easily, and I enjoy the play even more for that. He stretches me, pushing me through orgasm after orgasm, his cock going so deep it hits my back wall more often than not and sends me spiraling even more often. If I’m a good girl, if I ask nicely, he’ll toy my ass. If I’m really good daddy will have me spread my bum and slide his cock, inch by inch, inside, pausing just for a moment before picking up a punishing rhythm that gets me off so quickly I can barely see straight. All the while I cling to the blankets, begging for more, trying not to scream..

Afterwards, there is tobacco (he smokes. I don’t, though I will at times steal a drag after sex). He more often than not will offer his house coat and slippers to me over real clothes, a touching gesture and ritual I’ve begun to enjoy. I like the fuzzy texture on my skin when it’s still buzzing with aftershock goodness. I love it combined with cuddles, the smell of tobacco and man and sex, and the ease in which Ryan and I communicate both in and out of scene.

It’s taken more than words to make my little side feel safe, cared for, and like she isn’t…bad. Innately evil. It’s taken touches and teases. Cuddles, cartoons, and dozens of sweeties, kittens, and lots and lots of patience. Ryan has seen me cry, both in and out of little space, and has offered a safe space for me. He is honestly an incredible top and an even better friend… and I’m not sure my little would have ever been coaxed back out of hiding without him, and the encouragement and support of his epic partner. The combo platter of the two of them in my life as my people, my safe place, my friends… I am lucky. Very, very lucky.

The further I jump down the rabbit hole, the more I learn about myself. I continue to marvel at how kinks and preferences can change, and how relationships can be so meaningful and yet so different as well. A few years ago I never though I would be talking about poly pods and seeing someone I’m involved with not just as himself, but part of a unit. It would have plagued me with so much jealousy and made me feel like a third wheel. Instead, compersion is very much a thing, and my happy little side squees at time with both of them.

And so, further down the rabbit hole I go.

Yours, ever growing and ever changing,

-Rene

Day 2

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Day 2
Describe who you might submit to and how. Are you exclusively submissive in marriage or just in the bedroom? Are you submissive only in the context of a scene or in a role or throughout your daily life? Are you submissive to play partners or only in the context of a relationship?

There are those dangerous categories on Fetlife when it comes to the amount of time you spend “involved” with kink. ‘I live the lifestyle when I can’, ’24/7′, ‘bedroom only’, etc. What is the line between ‘I live the lifestyle when I can’ and ’24/7′. It is not as if I am always thinking subby thoughts.. but it takes me almost nothing to get there. It’s a look from James, or his tone, or from other partners I play with.. It is definitely not just a scene or role for me. My submission is part of who I am. I fall into it naturally, without a fight… but I fall into it when signals from a Dominant man are sent.

I’ll give you a for-instance…both are playful, as I am a sassy little sub. James and I will ‘poke’ each other. I mean literally reach out and poke each other with our fingers. Sometimes this devolves into tickles, licks, and playful nips and both of us end up laughing hysterically. Other times he will look at me, suddenly calm, and just go, “Really? Really now? Are you sure?” The moment those words are out of his mouth I’m in sub mode, mentally bracing for the nail about to pierce my skin or the hand about to come down on my chest or thigh. I don’t fight him, I don’t question it..because I don’t want to. Because those words are the trigger that make me want it. I want the sting of warmed, reddened flesh and the feel of his nails digging into me…

It works in text as well as in person, at least for me. I have a play partner in San Mateo that will text me orders from time to time when I’m on the way to see him, simple things like “pick up chocolate on the way and I’ll pay you back” or “park in the space next to mine in the garage.” My automatic response is almost always, “Yes, sir.”

However, only people relatively close to me text me…and have that power to get that response out of me. If someone is a casual play partner that I see only at parties then I’m only submissive to them during our scene at that party. I belong to James. I submit to James whenever it is asked of me.. When it comes to playing with others they have to ask his permission, so it almost feels as if I’m on loan to them for those moments, and then I go back to where I belong.

And on a final note to today’s question: why does the phrase ‘marriage’ have to be used? The idea of getting married right now is terrifying… just saying.

Two questions down, 28 to go.

Yours, as always

-Rena