Protocol is what I demand of her that is related to the expression of our BDSMdynamic, rather than our relationship. I see protocol as enduring, habitual, prescribed actions that people in BDSM dynamics do for each other whenever it is appropriate, as defined by their rules.
So, protocol doesn’t determine that I might give her a hug, or that we might have a row over something trivial, but it does mean, that if we are at home when hugging or arguing occurs that she will be naked. I’d say that the rule that she has no right to deny me use of her body, within our limits, is part of our dynamic – but not a protocol.
Our basic protocols are:
She is pink at home, unless I allow otherwise.
She asks permission to leave me, even to go into another room and waits until it is given.
She goes to bed when I ask her, not when she wants to.
She isn’t supposed to use furniture unless i say so but (memo to me) I’ve got a little lax on this.
She shaves her fou-fou regularly
She offers her bottom if she is in error without waiting for it to be required (this, of course depends whether she thinks she is in error or not and she is a bit of a barrack room lawyer)
There are things that seem more like ritual than protocol too. For example:
I don’t cut my own finger or toenails
I always brush and plait her at bed time
She removes my shoes when i get home.
We always eat from one plate, with one set of cutlery and feed each other not ourselves.
I get in and put on the kettle (we both like a nice cuppa). She steams in a few minutes later and goes into her bedroom to take her clothes off. If it’s winter, I turn the thermostat up a bit.
A hug or so later and she takes my jacket and tie, removes my boots and scurries off to get my slippers. I get such a look if I take my own shoes off.
If it’s really cold I might let her wear her “fluffy” (dressing gown) or a kimono. Mostly, I don’t.
Tea, and then, often, we retire to the bedroom for a cuddle and whatever Radio 4 has to offer as its early evening comedy choice. She’s there to be my pillow, if that’s what I want. Sometimes if I notice she’s got a bit scratchy down below I’ll shave her (she mostly does this when she showers in the morning – but the hairs between her lips are difficult to get to – and I like the jeopardy of removing them. So, sometimes, I do.
If she needs to pee or poo, she asks. If she leaves my side she bows and waits for me to let her go,
One of us will cook. If it’s her turn she gets to wear a pinny. That and excessive cold are her only reasons for not being naked around the house.
We might watch a bit of telly. We might make love. I might indulge myself with a little bit of cruelty. We could play Scrabble.
We always eat from one plate with one set of cutlery and we feed each other, never
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
ourselves.
WhenI tell her it’s bedtime she makes the bed warm and creates a nest, and, when I come to bed, ascertains whether I’m in the mood for nookie. She puts on her night collar ( a black choker ribbon) and waits for me to plait her and decide whether her body needs moisturising.
Usually we have a book we are reading aloud to each other, but we don’t read that every night – It might be simple snuggling or something more urgent and intimate. Or just falling asleep with the radio on.
Frequently I wake to her kisses, because that’s the best way to rouse me if she needs a loo visit in the middle of the night. Often I fall asleep on her breast and lay there until, being on her back, her snoring gets my attention. We pass the night entangled and wake fuzzy with love.
We were at Kage ( first time for her and me – we’ll be back) and a new young friend. There looked like quite a queue for the available dungeon kit and, frankly, I couldn’t wait to get my floggers out.
So, why not use one sub to support the other?
Quickly ( not to mention nervously and cack-handedly) I roped each of them into a inelegant but practical body harness. Our new friend, demure in ivory, looked terrifically fetching in red silk rope.
Then, the secret ingredient: cable ties. Amid much giggling and wriggling I ran one tie around
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
the ropes between each girl’s breasts and pulled it as tight as it would go. if they had not been intimate before, they were now. I repeated the process with the belly rope: now they had no choice to embrace or topple. Who needs an A frame?
Of course, administering a royal leathering in these circumstances has its own challenges. I learnt lots. Not least of which is just how sexy it can be to watch a little girl try to shrink into the protection ( perhaps solace) is a better word?) of her friend’s bosom. And to see the friend looking reproachfully at you as if to say ” you bwute” as you take yet another backswing in an effort to blacken her friends bum.
More seriously, I learnt some more important lessons.
When you play with different people, you get to understand that what pushes their buttons is, errr, different. What was good pain, barely-to-be-borne to one was, in her mood that day, barely a fly swat to the other.
So, subby self esteem is an issue. One does not want to seem less pleasing to me than the other (and they aren’t; the ability to induce a maidenly swoon is all that matters).
And fair share is an issue too. Because making it turn and turn about meant neither got the constant drubbing they deserved. So, next time I might make one look after the other and look to deliver my undivided attention to whoever played A frame later.
But it was good play. And I did blacken her bum. Our new friend was a good girl and c_b and I were pleased with her. And ourselves.
My first experience of kinky usage of the finger pricker gadget used by some diabetics.
This blog arises out of some play we had recently – he used it on my nipples by way of ‘tenderising’ them (or perhaps I misheard and he was torturing them – either way, it worked!)
*Safety disclaimer: We are careful and used sterile needles and a sharps bin*
His gadget seemed to be ideal as it allowed him to set the depth of the strike, so to speak…
In this case it was also torture when he decided to tease me to orgasm with the promise of using the gadget on my clitoris at the point of completion. Initially it was hard to concentrate, but it got to to stage where it HAD to happen – as did the pricking. Only a tiny drop of blood but an immense rush 🙂
As is often the case, the pain was a lot worse in the prospect than it was in actuality.
He mentioned that, if we were going to do more play with the gadget in future, it might be sensible to have some antiseptic wipes to hand…
Sometimes that does make me wonder whether I really do own her submission (If I felt I didn’t I’d be on the floor in a heap). I do tend to be a me of little faith, no matter how hard I try :(.
But, as ever, little things make all the difference.
Me:”Would you like to see Film XXXXX this afternoon?, it’s got great reviews”
She (without enthusiasm):”Probably from teenage boys, but – yeah – ok”
Me: “You’re going to go with hubby aren’t you? it’s his sort of movie”.
She: “I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. I told him if he wanted to see it he could go on his own”.
Me:”But you’d go with me?”
She: “Of course, if it’s what you want to see”.
Just a small understanding. Keeps the mojo turning.
The blog below was first posted on the UK-based BDSM website, informed consent – at the time of writing due to close between 17 and 24 February 2013. It will be much missed by many.
I owe a lot to IC, and this, my 5,000th post there, tried to express a little of what IC had done for me – not the least of which was to help me find my girl
IC helped me change my life.
Informed Consent (Photo credit: Kevin Krejci)
When I joined IC, I was in the 12th year of a marriage that should not have lasted that long. I was a devoted father and an abused husband.
It seemed it was escapism that brought me here – desire to recapture something healthier, if less conventional, that I’d shared years before. Certainly, at first, I kidded myself I just wanted vicarious satisfaction – to look, but not to live it.
Thinking back, it seems it was actually my very first step toward escaping my marriage, and getting back myself – and my family – and finding someone who cares for me.
There’s a lot I regret about the time since, but I have no regrets about where I find myself now.
I have a lover who is my partner. Is she my submissive? Yes. Is that important? Yes, vital – but not in the way I expected it to be. I have been here before in some ways, many years ago, when I lucked into my second serious relationship – also my first D/s one. That first time, we both wanted everything and, for a time, that’s what we thought we had.
We were both young. Everything was ahead of us then, whereas now, I have as much of a past behind me as there is a future still to come. That past is part of me and I’ve no desire to leave it behind.
For c_b and me, things are different. Both she and I have rich pasts. Neither she nor I are in a position to give the other everything even though it always feels that we do. I have my children – and leaving their home and my marriage saved my relationship with them. Since, it has strengthened immeasurably.
C_b has her marriage and the life she has built with her husband in over 20 years of life together.
We have our relationship: as lovers, as friends, as partners. And we have our dynamic.
I’ve thought more and more about this dynamic and how it makes our relationship possible, and I am afraid I have few answers. I possess her when she is with me and there is a vital part of her (her submission) that is always only mine.
Neither of us considers the other of less than equal worth or inferior in any way. I love her more completely than I have any other and, for a long time, I considered that, in the context of the kind of relationship I needed (a D/s one) ,this made me inferior – because I worried that c_b could live without me much more easily than I could without her.
We each decided – twice – that love was not enough and that our futures could not lie together. But, now – and, I hope, until she buries me, or I her – we are a tough little partnership with a real prospect of continued success.
Of course, all the best love stories are tragedies, so I am not going to promise myself that this will last forever, but I’m sure, right now, that both of us aim to try.
At the moment, I think that if there is a secret to what we have achieved so far, it is in something that could apply to any couple – but which, for me and for her, has been made easier by a D/s dynamic.
We’re hard work. Both of us.
Not to others, I hope, but certainly to each other. Because we concentrate on each other. Because we try to put the other person first. I’d thought this was only possible in a D/s relationship and have often said so here. I now think I was blinkered and that it is possible for anyone – but I think our D/s natures make it possible for c_b and myself.
An example. c_b hardly ever asks for anything or tells me what she likes or wants. It’s something that just happened and it’s something that we’ve only really talked about recently. But, she always accepts my decision or my choice. It reinforces my D mojo because, in a shared relationship, there is much I can’t be responsible for. But, I want c_b to want me and to welcome what I do with or to her. So, I watch hard to see what makes her feel great, whether because she takes a genuine pleasure in pleasing me or if it is just something that makes her feel good. (Rope, anyone?)
This often leaves me puzzled. If all she wants is my pleasure, then what – really – is in it for her? Well – just that. When she thinks she’s pleased me more than she ever has before, when she thinks she’s amazed me, she feels great. And, sometimes, that’s when I wonder who has the whip hand – because she’s grinning and proud because of the way she’s made me feel and all I can be is amazed at what she’s done for me.
But I know she wouldn’t want to be the best she can be for me if she did not genuinely feel she could offer me her submission. It hasn’t happened just because I am dominant and she is submissive and we get on with each other. It did not happen because we fell in love. It happened because I gained her respect and she desired to give me authority to look after her and to use her. And, I know that if either of us lose that respect for the other, it’s over.
She is in all of my life – not a D/s compartment. c_b knows my children and the rest of my family, my workmates and other friends. She’s seen me through times when I nearly made some bad decisions and been a critical friend when I’ve needed one. It may be “My man – right or wrong” to the world (and often to me), but when I need it she’s right there with the tough love.
And now, a confession: without the community that IC has helped create I am sure our relationship would have had a much rougher time thriving.
We made friends (one especially important but no longer with us – Mrs_Smith) who helped us across the roughest parts of our path so far. We began to understand who we are by posting and talking and meeting people. Even the criticism we got made us stronger by helping us see outside ourselves and to understand who we could be, whilst respecting others’ points of view.
We found people who understood how we wanted to live and didn’t judge us for our failure to be conventional – but who would, by encouragement or criticism, help us feel even more special to each other.
I’ve no idea what the future holds. I just know that, when I joined IC, I never dared look ahead. Things looked black and IC felt like somewhere I could be me, for an hour or two each day.
Now, looking back, even my worst times have been made less frightening by the woman who holds my hand. And the future looks like a place I shouldn’t be afraid to go, if she’ll walk with me.
She moans that she has “Noooooooo privacy” – and that she has no rights. And she maintains that I am as owned as she. Secretly (ok – not so secretly now) I agree. I am captivated by my captive.
Here are some thoughts, connected only by theme:
The other night we had a long conversation about why my non-BDSM marriage was not as successful or satisfying to me (though it lasted longer) than my previous M/s relationship. First, I think my marriage was a mistake held together by children (who are not, never were and never shall be any sort of error – they are loved without limits and I am completely content to accept my responsibility for them). Then, I think my M/s relationship was happy because I never had any doubt that she was less than completely focussed on me – or I on her. When that changed, it failed.
Then we were going out to a posh frock do. She brought several with her, for her to choose. She didn’t: I did. Then, she dithered over “stockings or legs”. I chose legs. On the way to the supper we discussed this. She agreed she was used to parading options and asking DMBLBIT, etc – and that being told what she will wear, and being confident that I do it because I think she looks fantastic, was an immense relief. But – it would not have been if she thought I had other than her best interests at heart. Dressing her for dogging or munching is, of course, quite different. Oh, and she buys my ties…
I am bullying her incessantly about losing weight on her tummy – and she is obdurate in insisting I get to the dentist. Neither of us resents the other in doing this – we are taking responsibility for the other’s welfare.
She knows I want her to be the best she can be for me – and that I define what that means. She stretches to meet my standards and delights in pleasing me, because she knows she is cared for and need never worry about being put in a position that she resents – because I concentrate on knowing her.
I feel great. So, I think, does she.
Who wants non-BDSM? Not I.
Originally posted to “Informed Consent”, 30 June 2009.
A dominant and submissive life 