Oct 242014

Yesterday I was on my Fetlife account. I was scrolling through someone’s pictures. One popped up with the caption “Daddy’s new prize for me!” Her new prize was a bit. It was covered in some type of yellowed, plastic-ish thing. What… wha… o.O. So it’s brand new, and it’s yellow-ing-ish. I wish I had the picture, but I wasn’t just going to take it off her page.  I shook that one off and continued to peruse.

The next one was j…j…jelly.


There was no condom.

She was sucking on it.

Grabs my pearls.

And then she put it in her vagina.

All the jelly. In the vagina.

Suck up those phthalates, Darling, suck ‘em up.


Then I realized, there are a ton of kinksters that have no idea what they’re getting into when they buy sex toys. We can tell how well a flogger is made. We examine the falls and the leather. Feel the deer, or bull it might be made of. Even the weight of the thing. We can examine a spanking bench, a single tail, and a bull whip.But some of these same people will yank out a jelly dong because it feel good. Maybe they don’t care. Maybe they don’t know.

I have the most ridiculous thoughts sometimes. Why can’t Lilly make a tiny sex toy gun that I could keep in my pocket. I could shoot the taser at all the toys. The gun would leave the good ones and the bad ones would disappear up in smoke. Seriously, the uneducated need the quick and dirty about what they should and should not be putting in their bodies.

I’ve seen a lot of players who want to use their sex toys on someone else during a scene. Not on me, Sugar. I suggest kinksters begin bringing their own safe, sex toys to be used only on themselves during play. Now I carry every kinky toy that I own, plus any sex toys I might need. I know what I have is safe. It’s clean. Any partner I have can work with what I bring. If they can’t find something in that big box of sin, then God love ‘em.


Sep 072013

I have a confession to make. There are sand dunes in my submission brain. I’m craving for a shot of D-type.  I believe I’m going through some kind of submission withdrawals. I’ve not even let myself mentally release the last few times that I’ve played.

I’m topping in my local group, due to a serious lack of education.  That’s not what I want to do. I’m a sadist. I’m not a D-type. It’s got my filter all off kilter.  My writing has become darker. It’s less about logical BDSM relationships and more about the scarier side of life in general. You haven’t seen what sits, waiting to be worked on, and their levels of boundary-crossing afflictions.

I wonder if this is what happens when a submissive starts to dry up.

Aug 082012

Remember that girl I played with the other night? The entire thing started off with her asking me to come over and bring my collection of nipple clamps. At some point that day, I asked her if there was anything else that she wanted me to bring. I ended up just bringing the kitchen sink. After we’d played, I asked if she was still interested in the nipple clamps, and she very much was. She has nipples that are on the smaller side, so it made it a little harder to get things situated, plus, I’m not the one who usually does this. During this time, I’m usually bound, gagged, and floating. I’ll admit, I wasn’t very polished with getting all of the clamps on. Mental Note: Don’t say “What the Fuck?” out loud – it tends to make your bottom skittish.

So, on I went, trying to get each set on just right. I started with a simple pair of wooden clothes pins. I don’t think those really spurred her, even when I thumped one of them. Unfortunately, it went flying end-over-end and almost hit her in the face. She was blindfolded. I know now what blindfolds are really for. It has nothing to do with sensory play – it’s so bottoms can’t see when tops fuck up. I was grateful she was wearing one. Just think… what if I had put out her eye?

She seemed uninspired with the wooden clothes pins. I couldn’t blame her. My next, and favorite set were the tweezers. I think these turned out to be her favorites, too. I slid the ring almost all the way too the top and her nipples turned a bright pink. I tugged on the chain a little. The noises she made were impossible not to love. Entertaining. They brought a really happy laugh from somewhere deep inside me, especially when I snatched both clamps off at the same time by the chain.

Part of me wished that I had on a pair myself. A part of me longed for the same pain that I was giving. During all of this craziness, that was one of the things that I struggled with the most. I wanted that pain. I didn’t know what to do with those feelings so – I shelved them.

The next set were the butterfly clamps. Those brought on a very heightened reaction. She slithered and twisted. She had to ask to get out of those early. Her already battered nipples just couldn’t stand the torment of the butterfly clamps. I pulled the right one off by the chain, s l o w l y and I thought she’d DIE, so the next one I squeezed and let her out of the sweet way. Hell, I guess I’m not all that bad. We went on with two failed attempts; the broad tipped clamps and my newest purchase, the Metal Worx Magnetic nipple clamps (I know – the review’s coming).

When the evening ended, we both realized that we’d had a good time. I’ll admit, I would have enjoyed sucking a bit more nipple, but taking it slow is always for the best. I think I need to practice clamping more nipples. I’m gladly accepting applications. Disclaimer: I’m rough on ‘em.

Aug 072012

The other night, I topped. I’ve dabbled in the past, but this time was different in a variety of ways.

1. It was only her second time to play!

2. I actually sent a submissive into subspace.

3. I used many implements of pain that I’ve never used before.

4. I really got to let out my sadistic side.

5. I really got to let out my sadistic side.


We’ll start at number 1. I thought I was the green one here. See Number 2.

I just went kinda slow. I did what I liked to have done to me. I kept continued communication until she had a case of the fat tongue and then I slowly eased out See number 3.

I hadn’t used anything too wild: a riding crop, a wooden paddle, and a few other floggers, including the Sensua Suede Whip by Lelo. I’m still writing a review on that, so sit on your hands and wait in suspense. I used a rattan cane, and that lit a fire under her ass! I used some old 10mm  nylon rope that I had and daisy chained it tightly together into one big circle. When you fold it in half, it makes a great hitty. Random. We tried a lot of different toys, all at very entry levels. Ok – See Number 4.

When we first started, we were both settling into the situation and I knew that I was grinning for some reason, but she pointed out that I continued to let out a slight chuckle. I think it made her a bit self conscious at first. I could tell that was running through her head, while – at the same time, I’m realizing that I’m really enjoying hitting this girl. I’d like to hit her harder… and Oh. My. Fuck, I’m more sadistic than I thought. I said it out loud after she asked for about the one millionth time, “Why are you laughing?!” – WE laughed it off after that. I was a little nervous about saying it out loud for some reason. There’s no other way to put it, I’m a growing, evil little sadist. See number 5.

Jun 162011

Even when I say that bad stuff, He smiles.

He’s gonna get me if I don’t shut up.

Daddy’s got that mean stuff like that sometimes.

But I will hide my face and casually leave my ass in the air, then squeal when he smacks at it.

Then I will be faux-shocked at his defilement of such an innocent creature

… and tell him about it.

… with a straight face.

…and a voice that most people have never heard and will never hear out of me.

I’m just a babygirl.

I want to hide behind him and curl up in his lap.

I want him to pet me and  feed me bites.

I want him to squish my sammiches flat, and rub that sweet part of my ass until my legs spread, and I get all blushy blushy.

I like sitting on the floor so I can stretch, then crawling over to put my head in his lap.

He can sit me down, and stop all the noise, and I’ll listen.

He can have me in tears in a heartbeat.

It’s more than sex.

It’s more than play.

It’s not exactly love, but close…

It’s a special level of care for another person.

May 092011

I always knew I was kinky. I just didn’t know that there was a word for it.

When I was 23, I stumbled into ‘the lifestyle’ and had some limited experiences here and there. I met my husband (TH – TwitterSpeak for TheHusband) in 2004 and we were married in 2005. During that time, anything kinky or otherwise – we were doing with each other. My life was going through some major shifts and changes and BDSM took a back burner.

Years later, things settled and the fact that BDSM & D/s was a huge issue in my life came back to our attention. We tried it together, and the chemistry just was NOT there.

We tried it again.


It was really kind of heartbreaking not to have this type of connection, and as strongly as you’d hoped,  with your own husband, yanno?

He wasn’t thrilled about it, but for D/s purposes, my happiness, and our happiness together as a couple, he agreed to let me have an outside Dom. I was able to play. I was able to connect. It was a huge start.

Now things have progressed – SLOWLY.

Anyone who knows…. KNOWS.

We have our OWN way of doing things and it works for US.

The bottom line is this… I am an adult who has commitments.

My needs for D/s, S&M, etc has nothing to do with how much I love my husband.

I am not getting a divorce.

I do not have to share details of my family life with you.

I don’t mind answering any questions that you might have, because everyone has a right to know what they’re getting into, both emotionally and physically.

You have no authority over my family life.

However, if we were to become involved, any rules that you’ve set in place for me when we are apart will be followed to the best of my ability. Work with me?

Family life over-rules everything. I need someone who is mature enough to understand that families have different levels of crisis a day. Anything from having to run last minute errands and doctor’s appointments to keeping a friend’s kid while they do the same thing. Before we are Doms, subs, switches, etc… we are people. We are Dads, Moms, kids, Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, and Friends. We are important to other people as well. My immediate family has to have me when they have to have me.

I will never argue this with you.

I don’t believe I should ever have to. The type of person who gets me and my time will understand that it’s a valuable commodity, just as I will do with them. Every second counts. Every minute is precious. I will make time for you. I will be there.

If you want something badly enough, you make it happen.

All that being said –

When I’m yours, I’m yours and you know exactly what you get.

You’ll also be damn lucky to get it.


May 162010

When I first found the BDSM lifestyle I quickly realized that I connected more to the D/s side that the S/m side. Although I’m discovering more about how the pain and pleasure of play suit me with each new experience, there’s no doubt that it’s the exchange of power and energy that I crave, even within the realm of play. I make no bones about it, loss of control is my main fetish. It’s on any profile I have. It’s the main topic in the majority of my writing. I often say that I don’t want to exchange power, I want it stripped from me. Although quite a bit of negotiation goes into S/m play, once those negotiations have been set, I tend to let go, trusting in the hands I’ve put myself in as long as the energy is good.

When I was brand new and learning the most basic terminologies of  the lifestyle and the subject of ‘aftercare’ was introduced to me, it was explained as a basic ‘chill out time’ after play that some people needed and some didn’t. The first time I received it and the first time I didn’t, I quickly realized it was much more than that.

Because loss of control is such a big part of play and my headspace, I tend to stay in that headspace through the time after play. I’ve never really voiced any opinion of aftercare, just going with the flow of how the Dom I’m with wants to work. If he gives, I love it. If he doesn’t, it’s a huge letdown, but I don’t say anything. I’ve always just eaten that sad feeling and been grateful for what good came of the play, feeling as if he had wanted to hold me, he would have. I struggle with that… asking for physical closeness. I never want to have to ask for that, especially as a submissive. It seems too strange. Afterall, if I’ve submitted to play with a Dom and he actually wanted to hold me afterwards, wouldn’t he?

While thinking about this post over the past few days I’ve started to realize how important aftercare really is to me, although I’ve always had a hard time expressing it and that’s mainly due to my issues with being held and touched by people who I weren’t sure wanted to hold or touch me. I’ve posted before about how hard it is for me to express my emotional needs. If someone doesn’t want to hold me then I would never want them to. I can’t imagine stating aftercare as a need and someone holding me who would rather not be giving aftercare. I pick up on that energy and aftercare gone bad would ruin even the best of scenes for me.

In a perfect world, I’d like for aftercare to be comforting and secure. After coming down, I enjoy discussing different aspects of the scene and reinforcing a positive experience for both myself and the Dom. Being held and shown tenderness after an intense scene is reassuring to me  as long as it’s never rushed, always sincere, and just as important for the Dom as it is for me.

Feb 092010

What is your favorite thing to get hit with?

A Man’s hands.

I’ve watched as He’s unloaded toy after toy, paddles, straps, floggers, canes, everything. I’ve felt each of these implements strike my flesh and bring my tears and my wetness, but none bring me the closeness that His hands do.

When He touches me He has the ability to feel His work, the temperature, the give, the flow of blood and tenseness of muscle. He can go from a caress to a slap or a pinch in a moment, at His whim. I am nothing if not at His mercy…and I …love …being at His mercy.

I enjoy Him the most… His arms restraining me, His mouth as my gag, His hands striking me. I know I’m supposed to be the toy, but, it’s Him that I wish I could order from, not JT’s Stockroom.


(FYI: I like JT’s.)

 Read more KOTW: