A Good Sub is Hard to Find

I, the Dom, wanted to take this opportunity to praise my sub for all the hard work she does. She spends countless hours researching and coming up with new ideas. She is also good enough to share her findings with the world through this blog. She talks to a multitude of people through websites like fetlife and bounces said ideas around with them. Asking probing questions and always reminding people to play safely.

She is also great during a scene. She can take a beating like a champ and feels for the right time to let loose a sexy whimper or yell. She loves to be controlled, have her hair pulled, berated, and bossed around. She falls into my arms a mess and lets me put the pieces back together again.

I encourage all of you to find a good, Christian sub and cherish her. Subs, who have these qualities, are worth their weight in gold. Seek one or if you have one tell them how much they mean to you, because a good sub is hard to find.

The BDSMer's Bedside Kit

BDSM Bedside Kit

1 box disinfectant baby wipes (to wipe skin and hands after play)

1 small towel (to mop up messes)

1 large towel (to place on soaked bedding)

6 bottles of water (for parched throats)

1 bottle painkiller (for aching muscles)

1 package extra-large ziplock baggies (to keep used toys after use)

1 knife (for removing bondage)

2 pairs sharpened scissors (for removing bondage)

1 bottle aloe vera (for soothing burns and bruises)

1 bottle vitamin E cream (for bruised skin)

1 cooling pack (to reduce swelling and bruises)

1 tube antibacterial cream (for treating cuts and punctures)

1 box multi-sized bandages or bandaids (for covering cuts)

1 set comfy pajamas for each player (to change into)

BDSM Flubs and Bloopers

I keep saying in this blog that mistakes are part of BDSM. The more you know, the more you practice, and the more you learn, the less likely they are to happen, but they'll still happen. From reading other BDSMers, I've heard hilarious horror stories of BDSM mistakes and slip-ups.... resulting in public humiliation for the wretched individuals when things went wrong. I've heard of a couple who had to safeword and opt out of a branding that they'd invited 50 friends to watch--a top whose bottom forgot they were playing the scene and public and refused to stop and finally had to be dragged offstage--people playing too hard with anal sex who accidentally shat the bed...in short, loads and loads of hilarious (albeit mortifying at the time) mishaps!

Well, I have one or two of my own to share.

For my first spanking scene, my Dom had prepared the before and the during... but I think he forgot to prepare for the after. He just assumed if he could get through the scene, it would all work out.

And I will say I was very impressed with his preparation! He surprised me with our first paddle, he practiced on himself first to make sure he didn't hurt me, together we researched spanking positions and techniques, and he bought zip ties for a kinky way to tie me up. He even had the knife beside the bed to cut me out. Everything should have gone smoothly, right?

Wrong.

After our incredibly hot scene, which began with me kneeling naked and tied on the floor and ended with me screaming in pain, my Dom tried to lift me onto the bed to move on to aftercare.

This proved to be Obstacle #1, since neither of us had forseen that, with my hands tied behind my back, it would be really awkward to lift and maneuver me. I could not help support my own weight with my arms, and he could not get a good grip on me because my bound arms were in the way. After awkwardly hoisting me up and half-dragging me across the bed, he left me to lie, helpless and still tied, on the bed while he began to provide aftercare.

Enter Obstacle #2. My arms were still tightly bound behind my back, making cuddling and "aftercare" generally difficult. Yet I'd just taken a huge beating, and was now trembling, lying limp and motionless, and I needed some TLC now. What to do?

My Dom grabbed a knife from the bedside table and started to cut the zip ties. It was dark and I couldn't see, but next thing I knew I heard an "Oof!" and he ran toward the bathroom. I was stuck there, curled in a ball on the bed in the dark, still tightly tied, and now getting cold (I was still naked) and quickly losing circulation in my hands. I heard much banging and rattling of cabinets, bottles being opened and closed, and water running. He called out to me, "I'm so sorry, I'm bleeding and I think I might need stitches!"

Great. The one time in my life I most needed aftercare, and he'd severed his finger. I could hear him rushing in the bathroom, trying to staunch the blood as fast as he could to get back to me. My arms and hands were going numb, and I tried to flex them a little as I waited, still bound and helpless, in the dark.

Finally I could hear him running into the kitchen, looking frantically for something else to cut my ties with. Obstacle #3... no backup plan. I tried to wait patiently, but with growing panic, as he fumbled through the kitchen. The lesson here? Always have backup tools for getting people out of bondage.

Finally he came hurrying in, where I was now way past the window for aftercare and feeling rather neglected. He began to cut away at my bonds furiously, and two seconds later I heard him cry, "Ow!" and suck his finger. Obstacle #4: our cheap kitchen scissors were no match for the zipties, and he was now bleeding again.

Ignoring his second severed finger, my Dom continued to cut away, til my wrists were finally released. I pulled my aching arms around me and curled up tightly on the bed. Briefly sucking his finger, my Dom quickly scooted in to snuggle me, belatedly stroking my hair and murmuring how well I'd done.

Then came Obstacle #5. Still bleeding, he asked me if I needed anything. Because scenes always leave me completely parched, I could barely ask for water. Of course, we should have known we'd need water after a scene, but had either of us thought of it? Nope. So he had to leave me again, this time to bandage his second finger and run to bring me water.

Luckily, no one was hurt or injured in our mistakes, and they were minor enough to be funny (once the blood had returned to my arms and his fingers had healed). Still, we've both learned that it isn't enough to have a great scene, but that you must have a great after scene as well, and for that to happen, we need to be prepared.

Thank You, Sir, May I Please Have Another?

Here is the story of my introduction to the most terrible, awful, fear-inspiring, and totally hot toy my Dom and I have tried yet!

Okay, so it's just a paddle. Not scary, right? In fact, I even suggested the paddle to him. I thought it seemed more "normal" (ha!) and less painful than some of the other striking implements, such as whips, canes, and floggers.

My Dom found a wonderful hand-made wooden paddle on E-bay for under $10. Without telling me (though I could tell something was up!) he ordered it and hid it in a closet. When Valentine's Day rolled around, there it was, beautiful and brown, lying amid my other kinky gifts!

I was excited, but also a litte nervous. Just holding the paddle made my Dom get a sort of maniacal laugh and red glint in his eye--think Jekyll and Hyde. Obviously, he got some rush of power and sadism from this toy that slightly frightened me. So it was with great trepidation and great sexual excitement that I was prepared for my first real spanking scene.

I've always thought the sexual energy that sparks and sizzles from a Dom makes or breaks the scene, and this was no exception. He was so excited that the air fairly sizzled and crackled. Something about this paddle made him feel more like a man--more like a Dom--and that made me more submissive in turn. So I waited patiently, unmoving, trembling with excitement, as he knelt me down on the floor, pushed my head into the bed, and began securing my wrists behind me with zip ties.

True to my advice on this blog, he had tried the paddle out on himself beforehand so he knew exactly how it felt to me. He started out lightly, rubbing my exposed ass to get the blood flowing, and told me we would play a game called Jacob's Ladder, where he would start at 1 and count to 10, upping the intensity a litte between each spank. Tonight, he told me, we would play Jacob's Ladder twice.

He began, and I must admit that paddle hur far more than I had so smugly anticipated! By the count of 3, the smug expression had vanished from my face and I was breathing heavily, grunting into the mattress with each stroke. By 6, my grunts were turning into wails. By the time 9 and 10 came around, I had become a believer! That paddle smarted and stung like no other!

I was hoping he would forget about the 2nd round of the game, or perhaps see I was in a lot more pain than I, at least, had anticipated and go easy on me.

No such luck.

With my backside already smarting so much from my first climb up Jacob's awful ladder, there was no sense of 1 or 2. Even when he was hitting on a 1 or 2, my sore ass was registering the strikes at a 8 or 9!!! Now, I pride myself on my pain tolerance, which is high (I am a woman and a redhead, both of which contribute to significantly higher pain thresholds), and on my stubborness (again due to that red hair!) which makes me not utter a peep even when I am in severe pain. But this paddle got the better of me. I simply could not conceive of making it all the way through 10 again. Before I knew it, I was screeching, screaming muffled screams into the mattress.

My Dom later recounted (with supreme satisfaction, I might add) how I whimpered and begged, thrashed and writhed, and went from kneeling quietly on the floor to extending to anguished tiptoes, begging that I would do anything instead of finish the game. I was sure he would see how far over the edge I'd gone, and relent, accepting my offer of sexual favors galore instead of this game.

I was wrong. In a display of strength that I both hated and feared, he pushed the small of my back down into the bed with one hand and told me calmly that if Iwanted to end the game, I was going to have to either take the pain... or use my safeword.

Of course I was too stubborn for that.

The agonizing tenth blow finally came. My screams and writhing abruptly stopped, and I collapsed, trembling and silent, onto the bed. He picked me up carefully (this was difficult because my hands were still tied behind my back) and laid me gently on the bed. I lay there, still and unmoving, while he removed the zip ties and crawled into bed to cuddle me. He held me, stroked my hair, and cooed to me softly how well I'd done and how hot that had been for him. He brought me water for my parched throat and massaged my aching bum. We went to sleep, exhausted and happy.

In the morning, I am happy to report, my butt had completely healed from any sore muscles or pain. I was completely pain-free, and that after quite a beating! I was bruised--not the large, dark bruises I'd expected, but decorated with scattered red dots where blood vessels had broken (I believe a more adequate warm-up would have lessened this). However, none of it hurt, and I was able to sit and stand and walk without discomfort all day. After two or three days, the bruises faded, and I eagerly await such a totally hot hot HOT scene again!

Tragic BDSM Accident Leads to 2 Deaths

This story is so sad I thought I'd share.

In a powerful reminder that those of us who play with BDSM play with fire, two members of the Philadelphia BDSM community have died this week. It seems Goeke, a 37-year-old man, accidentally killed his girlfriend during consenual sex. How? They were playing with asphyxiation.

Goeke strangled his girlfriend, and a few days later committed suicide by jumping off a bridge. His suicide note apologized for the tragedy. Police have confirmed the marks on the woman's body are consistent with accidental asphyxiation (not murder).

BDSM is playing with fire. Like fire, BDSM has many positive uses. We can use it for fun, for healing, for enjoyment, for catharsis, for intesity, for release, for orgasm. But like fire, you have to be safe.

My Dom and I play with light asphyxiation. He will often use his hand to block some (not all) of my airflow. For me, this leads to a few tantalizing seconds of shock, fear, and adrenaline rush. The subsequnt gasp of air feels oh-so-sweet! He loves to see my eyes bulge in fear as I struggle to catch a full breath. We never use anything but his hand (no ropes, no chains, no cloth) to strangle me so he can remove it immediately, and we only do it lightly (a second or two, not 10 or 20 or 60). It is enough to be light and kinky, but not enough to put me in danger of unconsciousness or death.

Obviously, since I engage in a little fun asphyxiation play from time to time, I'm not here to stand on a soapbox and tell you how to live your BDSM lifestyle. Your kink is your own, and if it weren't considered "weird" or "dangerous" by the vanilla world it wouldn't be called kink. I will, however, point to this Philadelphia story and remind you: Safety first!

Play hard, play fun... but play safely.

Please keep these two unfortunate BDSMers, their families, and their community in your thoughts and prayers.