I’ve never been sure that I’ve actually experienced “sub drop”. I’m still not sure. And I’m definitely uncertain about the pleasure/pain principle. You know the one: if I enjoy myself, somewhere on the horizon is a figurative slap in the face that will “balance the books”.
But – the occasional “low” feeling after a play session, or even after a pretty intense D/s time, had nothing on the misery (yes, I’ve tried to find another less emotive word, but nothing else will do) for my feelings after what was very nearly a 28 hour “day” of amazing sensations and emotions.
OK, I am indeed greedy: i will grab sensations with both hands (assuming they are not bound) and throw myself in to experiences whole-heartedly.
I am also still a great believer in that synergy/vortex thing whereby I please him, he shows it, I try harder, he smiles, I try harder still.
So – I’m back on a more even keel now, and wondering: was it sub-drop? Or just a natural reaction to counter-balance the amazing highs? I may never know.
Originally written for my “Informed Consent” blog – March 08
What’s worse? Doing something stupid & thoughtless and making him angry? or doing something stupid and thoughtless & hearing THAT tone in his voice: you have failed to meet the standards he expects and he is disappointed.
The punishment is swift and not hugely severe – but every stroke feels like a hundred and the tears are not from the pain but from the fear.
Fear that he will decide that I am not worth working at, not worth the effort: after all, why should
he bother if I am not prepared to make a proper contribution to the dynamic? Why should he persist, if his requirements are over-ridden?
And suddenly it becomes real – rules are rules, and infringements will have consequences.
And it’s a rite of passage, that tiny yet monstrous step into the the D/s unknown that accepts the first rule. That he has been given, and will take, the right to decide what is important. Talk the talk, even write down the rules – but if it is to mean anything, it must also be real.
I don’t learn easily at times, but I think I have learned this lesson the hard way today.
There are times when I give the girl a good whacking for my entertainment and she takes satisfaction in that: We call that play. Wikipedia defines it thus:
Play is a term employed in psychology and ethology to describe a range of voluntary, intrinsically motivated activities normally associated with recreational pleasure and enjoyment. Play is most commonly associated with children and their juvenile-level activities, but play can also be a useful adult activity, and occurs among other higher-functioning animals as well.
There are times when she is a bit naughty. I spank her. That is punishment of a sort. Wikipedia says this of punishment:
Punishment is the authoritative imposition of something negative or unpleasant on a person, animal, organization or entity in response tobehavior deemed unacceptable by an individual, group or other entity
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There are rarer times when something hurtful has passed between us and something that hurts helps mend things. That is punishment too. Rather more intense, serious and upsetting to both.
For us, play is joyful: punishment is anything but.
All this is consensual, she lets me do this to her. But that doesn’t make it something she volunteers for. Our dynamic, and the limit it is controlled by, means she has given informed consent to me playing with her, within our limits, when I want and punishing her, within our limits, when i find it necessary. Both things feel real to us and, I believe, to many others, whether they are in long-term relationships or not.
I find it very difficult to think of anything as punishment if it leaves the punished person with a sense of joyful satisfaction. That’s play – and there is nothing wrong with that. But punishment’s satisfaction is in forgiveness and atonement, and not in the physical or mental stimulation of the thing for its own sake.
When I spank her for something trivial it’s quite often quite gleeful for me. Not for her though (and this is the weird-but-important-to-us bit): She reacts quite differently to spankings of similar intensity depending whether it is punishment or play. The head space is different: she is genuinely remorseful and requires comforting, in the case of a punishment. She is quite smiley and proud of taking what I dish out if I whack her just because I want to.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Of course, you run the risk of inadvertently making her smile by imposing a penalty she rather likes. But, you can usually find something they won’t love (or that they love to hate) and use that when punishment must be given. YKIOK (Your kink is okay), but my kink, if it is one, would be to make sure that, if real punishment is required (something rare – I’ve not done it this year, I don’t think), that it was something that provided no comfort or satisfaction other than that experienced in atonement and forgiveness.
I think you can draw the distinction between BDSM play and BDSM punishment in pretty much every BDSM transaction from a long-term loving D/s or M/s relationship to a one-off interaction at a club (and everything in between): If it’s enjoyable to both parties, it’s play. If it’s being done to in response to something the Dom regards as wrong and it’s unpleasant to the submissive and, maybe, to the others involved, then it’s punishment, whatever it is.
The Dom’s dilemma
For us, punishment is sometimes part of a process of reconciliation and it does feel uncomfortable,
(Photo credit: Toban Black)
sometimes hateful, to me. What if I’m being genuinely unjust? I’ll hurt our relationship, maybe long-term. What if part of the fault was mine (it usually takes two to tango), then it only seems right if the punishment becomes, genuinely, something we both feel bad about. For me to enjoy it in those circumstances could be construed as me pleasing myself, and not as me taking responsibility for our relationship.
So, Play, no matter how severe, is still lovely and light and enjoyable by all. Punishment, no matter how light is something severe and serious which causes unhappiness for the dominant (and maybe his/her partner) because it is necessary, and for the submissive (or maybe both partners) in its infliction.
Making a clear distinction between the two makes it easier to explain both terms and the satisfaction experienced by BDSM people in both. My experience has been, from time to time, that trying to explain the concept of punishment as it works in my relationship ( and in others) has been undermined by the impression some have that BDSM play is the same as BDSM punishment ( as I’ve said above, we do both) and that punishment is always “just a bit of fun”.
This has led to people expressing the view to me that D/s relationships are trivial, unreal fantasies.
This is upsetting: Whilst I feel I am unlikely ever to live my BDSM D/s life discreetly but openly, I’d like that to be true for people sometime in the future.
I think it would be useful if BDSM punishment is seen as distinct from BDSM play, Almost everyone in BDSM plays. Some punish or are punished. Being aware that there is a difference gives depth to people’s views of BDSM relationships. I think that’s a good thing.
A subject that gets discussed from time to time on BDSM forums is control of a submissive’s finances. Money is very important to most people and controlling access to it is an incredibly touchy subject for most. It isn’t part of my current dynamic with the gorgeous curvy_bottom but it was important in my first long-term D/s relationship, which took place in the days before electronic banking and the internet. But, in that once-upon-a-time, taking control of her money made me fully aware of my responsibilities as a master and confirmed my girl’s need to be more and more submissive.
I knew her as a student for two years, and then for a year or so after she started training as a lawyer.
We never lost touch, but I spent a period of years working abroad, during which she found several someones and nearly settled down with a chap who was less man than mouse – something with which, curiously, they both seemed content.
Thank goodness (well, from my point of view), that failed. And, some six months later, things were back roughly where they’d started – except I now had a highly successful and deeply bouncy junior corporate lawyer crowding out my one-bedroom flat in Clapham.
In the first few months we had huge fun turning our lives into a beautiful mass of M/s rituals – something we both deeply desired… and soon she wanted me to start to subtly effect her behaviour at work too (not in a way that affected her career, she was a highly professional professional – and deeply ambitious too). We found ways.
But she wasn’t as content as I hoped I hoped I could make her. In fact, she was deeply unsettled and nowhere near happy. It took a while to establish why – basically, thrusting (pardon the unfeminine notion) corporate lawyers earn a lot more than middle-ranking marketing people. She hated it… But she was also damn sure it was her money!
Her money – under my control
The solution – which took a while to get to – came from me and was this: Her salary was paid into a building society account to which she was the only signatory, but I locked away the passbook. Monthly she transferred funds to deal with her living expenses, share of mortgage, holiday, etc, etc, to my account, plus an amount to be used to clothe her, groom her, buy knick-nacks and sundries, etc.
Money – Black and White Money (Photo credit: @Doug88888)
From then on she only ever had emergency taxi-fare in her purse and a small amount for daily living. Anything she bought she explained to me and presented a receipt. Meanwhile the surplus in her BS account grew and grew (years later, when the divorce happened – it was an annoyingly large amount).
The only rule was that any money of hers in my account had to be used for her benefit (which usually actually meant it benefited both of us).
Her whole attitude changed. She was spectacularly happy that she had given over control of her purse and felt secure that her money would remain hers. And, this prompted the biggest change in me: I realised once and for all that the choice this woman had made was not to have choice in her life. Finally I had the courage, if not the experience, nor yet the patience, to be a master.
English: Erotic scene. Rim of an Attic red-figure kylix, c. 510 BC. Français : Scène érotique. Bord d’un kylix attique à figures rouges, vers 510 av. J.-C. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Or, why I like anal sex First and foremost, if I am honest, is the sensation. I can be greedy, of course, and feelings of deep satisfaction (for him as well as me, I hope) are very much desirable.
At the start, the over-riding feeling if a certain fullness – one good reason to be as “empty” as possible from the beginning – and warmth: not the same heat as my lotus, and not as damp, either – but definitely balmy.
But I rush on – so much of the pleasure is before he has even started. From the moment his mouth curves into that special, thoughtful smile, I know what he is going to say. “I’m going to bugger you”. I just want to melt into a little puddle. Or a big one.
Then the lube, carefully warmed on my finger-tips, and generously applied to both tip and shaft. The pleasure of touching him, stroking him, encouraging him – the opportunity for such a personal closeness.
I am just glowing. He will often roger me first, which is wonderful in its own way, and very special. But I know he is almost teasing till the right moment comes, when he says, simply, “turn over”. Then it’s a matter of kneeling, lowering my hips and waiting – sometimes for gentle probing with fingers before the pressure against the sphincter as his cock demands entry, others for an immediate total insertion which feels as if I’ll be torn open but which also makes me feel more submissive than almost anything else. You know, of course, that there are many extra nerve ending there – so anal coitus can be even better than vaginal. And there is the added fillip of being on my knees – though I miss seeing his face! We are experimenting with ways of dealing with this… Then of course there is the “naughty” aspect – by which I mean the taboo of using the dirt road. Perhaps this is the result of a Welsh Baptist upbringing – but it becomes irrelevant in the face of his pleasure. And mine. Did I mention I was greedy?
So – there you have it: anal sex. I’m on my knees, it’s naughty, it makes my bits sore, it’s all about his pleasure. What’s not to like?
Kneeling and waiting for him to decide the how and where of penetration is a challenge, even though I have already consented to “anywhere”. Even when he has announced his intention to bugger me, it is always in his power to change his mind and decide instead to use my mouth or lotus.
Of course, he could decide not to touch me at all. I am learning on a basic level simply to accept: my desires and preferences are irrelevant, unimportant until he decides otherwise.
In terms of my submission, there is another element – and this is linked to pleasing him. I shiver to hear “good girl” at any time, but now there is an absolute fountain of joyous bubbles rising inside me as i hear him say “clever bottom”. For me, it is not enough to give him access and measure my submission by my own standards of generosity. For it to ‘work’, it has to be as complete as possible (or as complete as it can be in our circumstances) and as perfect as we can make it. So I practice – pelvic floor exercises and clenches, not just for the vaginal muscles but also for the rear. When he is taking my bottom, I will try to massage him with gentle muscle squeezes. In a way, this distracts from my pleasure and once again makes it all about his, which is the way we like it.
I’ve never been sure that I’ve actually experienced “sub drop”. I’m still not sure. And I’m definitely uncertain about the pleasure/pain principle. You know the one: if I enjoy myself, somewhere on the horizon is a figurative slap in the face that will “balance the books”.
A dominant and submissive life 