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  1. Before You Go Out To Play

    March 8, 2016 by Heather Cole

    Vagina Antics Dungeon

    Helping out at my local dungeon means that I see all types of people at play. Kink is a varied tapestry of body shapes, gender identity, lifestyle choices, and sexual preferences. And that’s just what I can see from the outside. Everyone brings their moods, their varying energies, and emotions to our extreme games as well. There is no “one way” to do kink, and on the days that I go to the dungeon, I’m reminded that I’m still learning and having new experiences. I doubt I’ll ever get to a place where I say that I’ve “seen it all” when it comes to kink. It was a recent dungeon encounter, and a new situation that I hadn’t experienced before, that gave me the spark of an idea for this post.

    Today, dear vagina fans, we’re going to cover a few basic concepts to consider before you go out to play. These tips aren’t only good for dungeons, but also for any type of sexual/kinky play. Whether you’re hiring an escort (Sydney escorts) for a special night, paying to see your pro dominant for a session, or renting some space/time at a BDSM club, there are some basics to keep in mind.

    Before you get on your high horse about me mentioning Jaipur escorts, pro dominants (i.e. dominatrix), or any other type of sex worker, you should know that I support sex workers and that I write from a nonjudgmental space. I condemn human trafficking. People who choose sexwork (for whatever reason) shouldn’t be criminalized for offering a service. If you want to read more about my views, you can click here. If you’re horribly offended… honey, this ain’t the blog you should be reading.

    Now on with our friendly, neighborhood kinky play tips:

    1.Cleanliness is next to… um, it gets you closer to the person you desire – This should seem like a no-brainer, right? You’re probably rolling your eyes, thinking, “of course I’m going to shower before getting naked with my special someone.” This is good. You absolutely should. However, if you’re going to the dungeon between meetings or slipping out for a spicy massage on your lunch break, you won’t be showing up shower fresh. In fact, a lot of body functioning could have happened between that shower you had first thing in the morning and the moment when the dominant is tying you up for some CBT (that’s cock and ball torture).

    Human bodies smell. It’s our nature to emit pheromones, and our bodies have a variety of odors depending on diet, etc. So do yourself and your play partner a huge favor, and freshen up, buttercup! Personally I carry around wet wipes. They’re not only for babies, and they’re handy for all sorts of situations (sexual and not). I promise you that the person you’re getting naked with will thank you too.

    Spruce up those genitals, y’all, and don’t forget your anus. Yes, I said it. Clean your anus. I’m being explicit here, because sometimes it gets overlooked if a person thinks no one is going to play with it specifically. Well, even if your anus is to remain virginal, if it’s unclean your play partner and anyone else in the vicinity will be smelling it. Of course accidents can happen, but being proactive and cleaning up before playing will win you huge points with your person/people of interest.

    2.  If you’ve reserved dungeon play space, or booked time with a companion, please show up when you say you will. If you can’t make the appointment, give the dungeon owner/monitors lots and lots of advance notice so that they can fill that time slot. Play space is often at a premium, so if you can’t use it, please give your kinky comrades a chance. The same goes for dates with Gurgaon escorts, and appointments with masseuses, pro dominants, etc. Just because it’s sexy, play time, it doesn’t mean that flaking out at the last minute (less than 24 hours notice) is acceptable behavior.

    3.  Paying money for a service doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want to once you get there. This is a personal pet peeve of mine. If you pay for time/space at a dungeon and need assistance creating the scene that fulfills all your fantasies, please don’t act like you own the people who are helping you. A person can consent to helping bind you in restraints and then torturing your nipples until you cry, but that doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want to them because they’re part of your fantasy. You must ask if you can touch them if you haven’t negotiated this beforehand. You may have paid for the use of the equipment, space, and time, but you do not control the people involved.

    I understand that going to a dungeon is a heady experience, especially if someone has never been exposed to BDSM practices. Everywhere you look there’s skin, writhing bodies, and people in the throes of emotional and physical dynamics that can be intense and arousing. To the average person, I’m sure it looks like a sex circus. But everyone there has negotiated their scenes, paid their fees, and are creating their fantasies while respecting others around them and giving consent. (Or they should be. Nothing will get you banned from a community faster than breaking those basic tenets. Also, public dungeons typically have strict rules regarding penetration and exchange of fluids. In other words, there aren’t any.) So please be respectful of those who are helping you experience your dungeon fantasy. You won’t go wrong by asking before you touch someone else and cleaning up your play space afterwards is a sign of common decency. A heartfelt thank you to your host won’t go awry either.

    There are some great resources in print now regarding the ‘how tos’ of playing with others. I have a list of good reads in the ‘Beginners Kink’ section. Play clean; play safe, sweeties.  

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,, | 2 Comments

  2. In the Hands of a Stranger

    October 7, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Aaron Apt 2015

    I lay on the couch, draped over the stranger’s lap with my face buried in a cushion. My dress bunched around my waist and my panties had been pushed down to my knees. Stinging slaps rained down on my bottom as I fought not to squirm. The man enjoyed hitting high along the top of my asscheeks or on the sides, not across the meat of my bum where I preferred. I didn’t complain, though. Instead I bit the inside of my cheek and fought to endure the burning fire that spread across my flesh. I silently vowed to do my best and submit, because I wanted to make Daddy proud of me.

    This particular situation was new for me. Daddy had loaned me out to a stranger for a precious two hours. I had seen the man before and had watched his scene with a different submissive. At the time, I hadn’t thought much about him—not good or bad. It was the idea of playing with a stranger that seemed like a distant possibility. He was an older, British gentleman with a ready smile and large hands. He hadn’t been practicing kink for a decade, but now he wanted to get back into the scene. The problem was that he didn’t have a regular submissive partner, and his life was constructed in such a way that being open about his preferences would have proved disastrous. He was discreet, and he wanted to play. Part of me loved the thrill of submitting to someone I didn’t know, while the other half of me felt anxious about it.

    Daddy agreed to the arrangement because a close friend, and dominant, supervised since he was unable to be present.The logical part of my brain told me that I wasn’t in real physical danger, but butterflies still filled my stomach. Daddy had negotiated the terms of the scene, and the three of us had reviewed my hard and soft limits beforehand. Even with all the things I knew the stranger wouldn’t do to me, that still left a lot of things, painful things, that could happen.

    My friend gave me a playful slap on my reddened skin as I passed her, making me wince. “I think he’s taking it easy on you,” she whispered. The wide grin on her face didn’t reassure me at all.

    The stranger led me by the hand from the sitting area into a large play room. He bid me to stand under a square, wooden frame and ran his hands over my waist and hips.

    “I love the clothes that women wear,” he said in his proper accent, “but I prefer them naked.” He pulled my dress over my head and stripped me out of my lingerie. “Bend over and spread yourself open. I want to see what I’ve borrowed for the afternoon.”

    His words slid like a knife between my ribs. This wasn’t my Daddy who objectified and degraded me with love in his heart. This man didn’t know anything about me. He wanted me because I would submit. I was a living, breathing sex toy that he could use for his own pleasure. In that moment I felt powerful, that I could give the gift of myself to please another, but on the heels of that thought came a needling voice, what kind of girl lets a stranger use her? I felt myself blush as I spread my legs apart.

    The stranger complimented my body as he tightened wide leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles. He clipped the cuffs to metal rings at the top of the frame, stretching me almost to my tiptoes, and then placed a spreader bar between my ankles. I was rendered immobile. He then produced the final touch… a blindfold. My heartbeat ratcheted into high gear as he covered my eyes. I was blind and bound, and in the hands of someone I didn’t know. I had surveyed the table full of impact toys before we started, but I didn’t know which one he would use. I strained to hear the slightest noise, but everyone remained silent. Goosebumps marched over my skin, and all my muscles tensed.

    His wide palms skimmed my ribcage, making a path over my abdomen and up to my breasts. A breath I didn’t know I had been holding escaped from between my lips. His meaty fingers fastened on a nipple, and he squeezed as hard as he could. My knees buckled at the pain lancing through me.

    “Yellow!” I gasped.

    My caution word made him release me, and I explained that my super-sensitive nipples couldn’t take that level of abuse. If he wanted me to last for the entire two hours, he needed to respect my body and pain tolerances.

    I don’t know how long I stayed on the frame. Time became blurred when it was reduced to the moments between body shaking blows and reverent caresses. The stranger was kind and cruel in turns, offering his embrace after a particularly powerful slap to my inner thigh, and then stepping away and retreating into silence until he decided to hit me again. It was the worst kind of cat and mouse, because I couldn’t protect myself and had no way to retreat. Silently I yelled, “leave me alone you mean man! I want my Daddy!” On the outside, though, I whimpered and squealed. Finally my body had had enough, and my fingers got tingly from being above my head for so long. He took me down immediately.

    Again he led me by the hand, this time to a massage table. He positioned me so that I was bent over at the waist, my abraded nipples protesting as they pressed against the cotton sheet. The blindfold came off, and I asked if I could have a tissue to blow my nose. My eyes were wet and my nose was running, but I didn’t feel upset anymore. Some conscious thought entered my awareness, and I recognized the signs of subspace. I still felt everything, but I didn’t care as much. I experienced a feeling of floating, of being wrapped in a huge bubble of not giving a fuck.

    I had warned the stranger at the beginning that canings made me cry, but that the tears weren’t a sign to stop. I told him that I would use red or yellow to signal if I were truly in distress. My friend reminded him again of my safewords, and then he gave me my instructions. I had to count each stroke, thank him, and then ask for another. With tears trickling down my cheeks, we began.

    He didn’t cane me like my Daddy. Memories tugged at me, threatening to send me down the rabbit hole of missing my sir. I didn’t want to fall apart, and I didn’t want to ruin our fun with the spectre of a physically absent dominant. So I remembered instead that this had always been a fantasy of ours. Even though sir wasn’t there watching, we still shared this adventure. I was pretty damn lucky to be able to live out this fantasy, even if it wasn’t exactly how I had envisioned it. But the stranger wasn’t finished. A flogging followed the caning, and then there was figging and more breast torture with clothespins and ice cubes.

    By the end of our time together, I was blissed out on endorphins and uncaring about what he wanted to do next with me. It was the kind of high that really good bruises give you. I felt like a ragdoll, a real life sex toy that had been used hard and who loved it.

    Hours later I sat in front of my computer and skyped with Daddy. I had to cry a little bit, because I missed him. I wished he had been there, that it had been his cane against my thighs and his arms around me. But by the end of our talk, I was coming back to myself. Daddy said he was proud of me and that he loved me. I was proud of myself, too. I had endured a stranger’s sadism and had pleased him. Not every girl will take that kind of attention and enjoy it too.

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,, | 8 Comments

  3. Fifty Shades of NO: The Movie

    July 9, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Image courtesy of Salvatore Vuono at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

    I watched Fifty Shades of Grey the other night. I haven’t read the books, mostly because of the lackluster (poorly written) excerpts I read online. Sir watched it last week, though, and his feedback surprised me. He said there was a D/s contract and negotiation, and even though I was openly incredulous, I knew I had to watch it for the sole purpose of being able to discuss it with him. Plus, sir said that Mr. Grey’s playroom was kickass, and I’m a sucker for a well-appointed dungeon. I settled into bed after my child fell asleep, and watched the movie with my phone in my hand, so I could text Nikki about all the failings of the movie and its portrayal of D/s.

    I discovered that Fifty Shades of Grey, the movie, is about a woman who doesn’t want to be a submissive. She wants a billionaire boyfriend that treats her to amazing, spectacular adventures like flights in a glider, a helicopter, and buys her fab things. She wants love and romance, to be courted and swept off her feet. And there’s nothing wrong with that. The crux of the problem is that the billionaire boyfriend is a dominant and a sadist, and what he wants is a submissive with a signed contract that commits to a D/s relationship, which doesn’t guarantee emotional intimacy. At least, not the kind of emotional intimacy that a more traditional dating relationship would entail. Christian Grey also has a tendency to creep, stalk, and lurk. Add to these conflicting, fundamental differences the fact that BOTH characters are positively shitty communicators, and you have the basic gist of this movie.

    But… but… Heather, you say, aren’t you always going on and on about the physical and emotional intimacy you enjoy through BDSM? How can Mr. Grey be anything but a cad and a blackguard for wanting Anastasia bound and naked yet not wanting to cuddle with her overnight?

    My perspective of this movie is from the viewpoint of a woman who signed a D/s contract without the promise of romance. I committed myself to a dominant without the knowledge that we would fall deeply in love and that our partnership would expand into “regular” life. What I desired most of all was a man that would hurt me in all the ways that I wanted, who would use me, control me, and degrade me in the most delicious ways I could imagine. I wanted bondage, and pain; an outlet for those nameless things that clamored inside me–I wanted to serve. And I knew that sir was a decent man, one who would keep me safe while I explored all the dark, twisting turns of my desires. I knew he would be a caretaker for me in those times of domination and submission, but in the beginning, I didn’t have aspirations that our D/s would follow a path to romance and courtship. I had no expectation that we would live together, that my submission would turn 24/7, or that we would continue together despite an overseas relocation and months of separation.

    So no, I don’t think Mr. Grey is fucked up for being a dominant or a sadist. He lacks the ability to communicate his feelings to the unwilling, yet grudgingly submitting Anastasia. He utters the words “due diligence” to her, yet they fail to do anything except some light bondage and fucking six-ways-to-Sunday in the playroom. That’s all well and good, but she needed to do actual research on D/s (it’s called Google, Anastasia). Contracts in D/s can be a big frickin’ deal, and even though they aren’t legally binding, I would never enter into one without a lot of thought and consideration beforehand. But that’s a rant for a different day.

    Where Mr. Grey did fuck up (besides the stalking, lurking, and non-consensual control) was that he didn’t say anything regarding the trauma of his past (talking to someone when they’re asleep doesn’t count), or how it’s possible to be a loving sadist/dominant. Probably because he’s completely unfamiliar with what a functioning relationship may feel like.

    With such fundamental differences between them, you know the movie isn’t going to end well. It really doesn’t. In fact, it’s the last twenty minutes of the movie that made me hate it. Because nothing infuriates me more than a play partner begging for a certain thing, hating it but not using their safewords, and then when it’s all over, shaming the other person for doing the exact thing that they requested earlier. This sort of interaction is precisely why BDSM gets a bad rep when our lifestyle is actually based upon a foundation of consent and trust. And the simple act of writing about it has pissed me off all over again.

    sigh…

    I need a glass of wine and funny cat videos to forget this clusterfuck of a movie.

     

    For an eloquent fact-checking article regarding the “kink” (yeah, I placed that in quotes) in FSoG, Nikki found a great article written by actual kinky folks who engage in actual Dominance/submission. Read it HERE.

    ~And since Heather watched the movie, sharing with me a bazillion texts regarding its ridiculousness as it unfolded, I’ve agreed to finally read the clusterfuck of a book. Oy.~ Nikki

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,,,,,, | 4 Comments

  4. BDSM 101 Tips for the Newbie Kinkster

    March 17, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Valentine's Day BDSM gift

    No matter how hot things start out, over time, your sex life with your partner can get a little stale. You form a routine, and then before you know it, you’re in a rut. But instead of subjecting yourselves to a mediocre sex life, why not try some kinkier moves to help heat things up again? Before jumping into the deep end, take a look at our guide to help you dip your toes (and much more, of course) into the BDSM pool.

    Bondage

    In their Kinky Sex 101 guide, the writers at Adam & Eve describe the act of bondage as “a simple form of dominant/submissive sexual behavior where one sex partner is bound either to themselves (wrists tied together) or to a piece of furniture.” When experimenting with bondage, you can make yourself privy to your partner’s every whim by strapping into some cuffs, or practice your dom play by tying them up. If you’re new to bondage/restraints, it’s best to start with comfort-fit toys, such as silk ties, padded cuffs, and binding that has size adjustable straps. If you’re uncomfortable, or your extremities start to change color, your restraints are most likely too tight.

    Paddling

    Spanking or paddling can help you and your partner awaken some of your most sensitive areas. When selecting your spanking weapon of choice, your options are limited to your imagination in addition to what you and your partner are comfortable with. Beginners usually opt for classic toys like wooden or leather paddles. Eventually you can move your way up to more advanced toys that provide a little more sting, such as riding crops and leather floggers.Just don’t make the mistake of limiting your play to your partner’s rear. According to the team at the Art of Submission, “the back of the thighs and the inner thighs are often very sensitive, so you can get some nice reactions from your submissive when striking these.” Keep them guessing by varying the location and the intensity.

    Blindfolding

    Blindfolding your partner can add a whole new level of excitement to your play. Guessing where your lips, toys, paddle, etc. will venture next will have them writhing in anticipation of your touch. She Knows notes that “a blindfold is also a highly effective method for banishing body shame and shyness.” If you’re feeling too bashful to get in the BDSM mood, try eliminating the visual distractions. Get lost in the moment and focus on what you feel, instead of what you see.

    Sexy Extras

    For many kinksters, a Wartenberg wheel has become an increasingly popular addition to their toy collection. It was originally designed as a medical device to test nerve reaction and sensitivity, but it can also be used as a stimulating way to tickle your lover’s skin. Additionally, you can experiment with collars and leashes, or even nipple clamps for added excitement. Once you get into the spirit of BDSM, your options for play are truly endless.

    Just remember: you should never do anything that makes you or your partner uncomfortable. Aways have a safe word, and be sure to have established boundaries in place before getting started. Communicate, communicate, communicate about what you want to do (and not do) before embarking on a new activity. BDSM can be an amazing journey into emotional intimacy if you and your partner are open about sharing your experiences together.

    Who knows, you may learn that your sex life isn’t so “routine” after all.

     

    my37j

     

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,,,,,, | 2 Comments

  5. 5 Reasons Pornstars Hate 50 Shades of Grey

    February 28, 2015 by Nikki Blue

    Not long ago, these pornstars explained Net Neutrality in a way that made me love the art that is porn even more. And it had nothing to do with the cheesy bow-chicka-bow-wow music playing in the background. Not entirely. Seriously, though. Who doesn’t love 70s porn music?

    Anyway, the three beauties, with all of their awesomeness, are at it again with 5 Reasons Pornstars Hate 50 Shades of Grey, and it’s spot on.

     

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,,, | 2 Comments

  6. Wonder Woman and Bondage

    February 5, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Wonder Woman Spanking

    I have loved and idolized Wonder Woman since I was a little girl. I had Wonder Woman underoos, and my cousins and I spent hours wreaking havoc around my grandparents’ farm playing Super Friends. Even at that age I was frustrated that there were so few female superheroes. I didn’t realize that Wonder Woman began as a comic in the 1940’s or that she was into bondage, domination and submission, and spanking parties. If I had known that… well, my childhood probably would have made a lot more sense.

    Many thanks to our friend, Ashley, for finding this article about Wonder Woman’s fascinating roots.

    “If you’ve never read the comics written by Marston and drawn by Harry G. Peter, Berlatsky’s book is particularly eye-opening. It’s not just that Wonder Woman gets tied up more than other heroes (although she does) and that she does plenty of tying up herself. Marston was a psychologist by trade, and his particular views on gender, sexuality, domination, and submission (which were all, in his mind, inextricably linked) are on full display in his Wonder Woman run. There are scenes of children learning to be submissive on Paradise Island, stories where Wonder Woman fails because she isn’t dominate enough, lurid images of women trapped in cages (and, sometimes, lurid images of Steve Trevor tied up). And there are those weird spanking parties.”

     

    I’m falling in love all over again. Fetch me my magic lasso!

    Read the entire post here: Why Early Wonder Woman Was a Champion of Feminism… and Bondage over at io9.

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,,,, | 6 Comments

  7. She Stabbed Me, and I Bubbled

    May 10, 2014 by Heather Cole

    20140425_202119

    I was dressed in a plaid miniskirt and a white ruffled blouse. I wore ballet flats, complete with little bows, and my long hair was divided into two pigtails. As we crossed the foyer of the hotel, my only thought was how I didn’t blend in very much. Especially because I wore my thick, black leather play collar. The silver rings on it jingled softly, but they might as well have been clanging bells as far as I was concerned. I felt obvious, and my discomfort only increased sir’s pleasure with my appearance. The women at the check-in desk followed our progress, their gazes burning holes in my back. We obviously weren’t members of the wedding party staying at the hotel. We were attendees of the “other” group (400+ kinksters), and we were headed to “Try It Out Scouts” in the main ballroom of our first kink convention.

    The room was dotted with tables full of different implements and supplies. An expert in the application of a particular tool (like clothespins or rope or fire cupping etc) stood beside it to help attendees “try it out.” I started with my standard favorites, impact toys, and climbed on to a spanking bench to try out paddles and a series of cane-like items. I enjoyed the different spanking styles and the different weights of toys. The things, and the person, that I had been anticipating sat in the back corner, but sir steered us to other tables first. Whether he deliberately tried to draw out my nervousness or not, the effect was the same. My stomach did tiny somersaults as we winded our way through the tables. Finally he pushed me towards Angel’s table.

    “Time to try your first needles,” he said with a nudge.

    Angel and I have had a colorful past full of bitten nipples and pulled hair which was pretty benign stuff as far as her repertoire was concerned. I thought she’s the bee’s knees. She was smart as a whip, sweet as an angel, and sadistic as a… alas, words failed me to describe the depth of such sadism. Suffice to say she charmed me and terrified me by turns. Sir had always had her in mind when it came to trying needle play, and I was excited to have a chance to try them out with her in a casual setting.

    I had no idea whether or not I was going to like needles in a play context. I had acupuncture most of my life, but those needles were as thin as a cat’s whisker and only went a couple millimeters into my skin. I got my tattoo in my mid-twenties, and the feeling of the tiny needles dancing over my back relaxed me to the point where I fell asleep. The rest of my needle experience was purely medical and mostly unpleasant. During my years of trying to conceive, I had jabbed needles into my abdomen, ass, and arm, and I promise you, it all sucked. Because of the contradictory sensations, I really had no idea what to expect from my try out with Angel.

    Sir and I watched as she slid needles into the breast of a beautiful woman. The needles had light blue handles, and Angel didn’t hesitate as she slid them just under the surface of the skin, poking the ends back to the surface. It reminded me of how my mama and I pinned fabric when we sewed. The woman smiled and Angel beamed, and I thought, maybe I could do this after all. When they were finished, Angel turned to look at the line of people that had formed by her table.

    “Oh, you’re next darlin’,” she said to me with a evil smile.

    FINE! (I’m being dramatic) She looked her adorable, devious self. I plunked myself down in the folding chair opposite her, and she squeezed my hand.

    “Now lift up your skirt.”

    I didn’t have a clue what that had to do with needles, but I stood up and grabbed the hem of my skirt.

    “I’m just kidding!” she laughed. “This is going to be super easy. In fact, you’ll look back when I sew your pussy shut like this was nothing.”

    I laughed, but my palms were sweating. Having my tender bits sewed together had been a fantasy of mine for a long time. To be more accurate, it was a nightmare and a fantasy all at the same time. Part of me wanted to try it, and part of me said that I was absolutely insane to think it was a good idea. Hearing Angel talk about it made it feel like we were one step closer to it actually happening, and adrenaline was zinging through me mixed with a little bit of panic.

    She told me to unbutton my shirt, because she would place the needles through the skin of my breast, just above the cup of my bra. I took a deep breath and centered myself. I focused on Angel’s face and refused to look down to watch the needles pierce my skin. I saw the motions of her placing the needle, but I didn’t feel anything.

    “Look at that. How does it feel? They’re my thinnest and shortest needles.”

    I stared at the pink plastic jutting out from gleaming stainless steel. “Um. I don’t feel it.”

    “Want another one?” Again there was lots of grinning on her part.

    “Yes, please.”

    She placed three more after that. I felt those more, because my body had become sensitized in that area. Like it knew that poking was happening so I should feel it. Logically I knew that I should feel the needles as I’ve felt them before, but this sensation was overall pleasant. Then Angel pushed with her finger on the center where the needles crossed.

    I’ve heard other people describe the endorphin rush from needle play as “flying.” When Angel pushed on the needles, energy bubbled out of me like the fizz of an Alka Seltzer. It was an endorphin rush, yes, but I felt like one of those erupting volcanoes that you make for the science fair. I had to have been grinning like a dope as I sat there and gushed.

    “Energy is just coming out of you like crazy,” she said and motioned for sir to come closer. “Touch her arm.” Angel looked at me again. “Can you push that energy into your sir?”

    I tried. I looked inward and visualized moving the bubbly feeling up sir’s arm and into his body, but to be honest, I don’t think I did a damn thing. I felt boneless and more relaxed than I had in days. Eventually sir stood back again to watch.

    “Ready?” Angel asked. “I want you to look down.”

    If she hadn’t called my attention to the needles, I would have missed the entire thing. I certainly didn’t feel it at all. With a swift downward motion, Angel stabbed the last needle into my breast. Trust me when I say that the word “stab” is no exaggeration. She plunged that needle into me like Norman Bates through a shower curtain. My jaw dropped open as Angel rocked back in her chair and started to laugh.

    “Well, that’s kind of mean,” I sputtered, not really meaning it.

    I would have laughed too if I wasn’t so high.

     

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,,, | 6 Comments

  8. Handjob Heather

    November 19, 2013 by Heather Cole

    I stood in a room surrounded by dominant women and the men and women who served them. There was a table full of food, sodas and water, and at first glance it looked like any other type of meet-and-greet. People milled around talking and eating, the new submissives in the group meeting the Dommes and asking questions. What made the evening different for me was the person who “owned” me for the evening, a Domme. This night I was Timber’s toy, and although I had a vague understanding of what that involved, I had no idea what was going to actually happen besides a thorough beating by Timber and her rifle case full of implements.

    We had spoken at length about what we liked in a scene and what we didn’t. She had coordinated with my sir, and they had both talked to me about our expectations for the night. I was wearing the outfit that Timber had picked out for me; a black silk skirt with pink beading that matched my pink bra and no panties. My hair was pulled into two pigtails and then pinned into low buns, and my makeup was done in pastel hues.

    “Look what I brought tonight!” she told a friend. Introductions were made as my skirt was yanked to the side. Timber’s hand came down with a loud smack on my thigh, and I winced. “Doesn’t she mark up nicely? She’s going to be my Barbie doll for the evening.”

    “Action Barbie?” I asked, trying to be helpful. Timber cocked her head and surveyed me for a moment like I was a piece of steak at the butcher.

    “No, I think I’ll call you Handjob Heather.” Everyone laughed, me included, but I had a serious case of the butterflies.

    Timber first caught my attention when I watched her manhandle a male submissive at rope class. Her energy and joy for domination were infectious, and it made me sit up and take notice. I felt the urge to sit at her feet and say, “pet me, pet me, pet me, pleasepleasepleaseplease!” There were very few dominant personalities that made me want to instinctively submit right out of the box, and Timber was one of them. I asked permission from sir to start a dialogue with her, and although she first thought I was contacting her for lessons in how to be dominant (yes, I’m still laughing about that) we soon began discussing a time/day to play. My first Timber experience happened at the fall Slave Hunt where she chewed up one of my sides and down the other, but it wasn’t until she borrowed me for the female domination evening that we experienced one-on-one play.

    Timber sat on a couch and patted her lap. I perched on her knee until she pulled me back against her, one arm coming around me in a tight grip. She then motioned to a male submissive that I recognized from rope class. He had also been tied up to the post with me at the Slave Hunt, but we hadn’t had the opportunity to have a conversation.

    “On your knees,” she ordered, and then she pulled up my skirt. I squeaked in surprise, and she smacked a hand over my mouth. “Dolls don’t speak,” she chided.

    I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment as the submissive inched closer to my exposed pussy. Four or five people stood watching, but I couldn’t meet anybody’s gaze. It was mortifying and thrilling, and I knew I was wet.

    “Closer,” Timber commanded. “You need to get familiar with this pussy. This is going to be the doll I use to teach you how to stimulate a clitoris like you would a penis. She should be able to feel your breath on her pussy lips. Get in there!” She grabbed him by the hair with one hand and shoved his face in between my spread thighs.

    I felt a thousand things in that moment; embarrassed, objectified, desired, aroused… His breath felt cool against my hot skin, and I blushed even harder at the thought that he could smell my arousal. Then Timber told the sub he could stand, and everyone went back to their snacking and chatting. Timber stroked my hair and praised me for being a good toy. Part of me couldn’t believe that a strange man’s face had been millimeters from my vagina, but I was happy that Timber was pleased. I couldn’t wait to go home and tell sir all about my experience.

    While we waited for people to start playing, Timber told me to lie down on a spanking bench. She smiled above me and began scratching at the skin beneath my collarbone.

    “I’m going to brand you with a T. By the end of tonight you’ll be sweaty and smelling like me. Then your master is going to see this brand.” She laughed loudly at my expression. “It’s going to be like two bears scratching at the same tree!”

    Somehow she didn’t break the skin, but when the ‘T’ was red and angry looking, she began snapping a rubber band along the outline. I held my breath and wished it was finished. When I was permitted to look down, a bright red T was emblazoned on my chest, a real scarlet letter.

    When Timber indicated that it was time to play, I ended up naked and cuffed to a padded leather board. Timber set her case nearby on a stool and started throwing a flogger up and down my back and ass. It had a stingy thud that made the breath catch in my throat. I silently reminded myself to keep breathing and eventually there was a different flogger, then a wooden paddle, a crop and a dragon tail. There were other things, but I lost track. Timber checked in with me several times, and I thought I was managing, but the pain was intense. She favored the sensitive curve of skin right beneath my ass, and I knew from the throbbing heat along the back of my thighs that I wouldn’t be able to sit without remembering her attentions. I danced back and forth, pulling at the cuffs in a vain attempt to avoid Timber’s paddle. She laughed and encouraged me to continue, telling me that I was only giving her more flesh to hit. Playing with Timber felt like being buffeted by a hurricane. The intensity continued to build until I though I would yellow. Whether she knew it or not, Timber threw me a metaphorical lifesaver and told me to count down from twenty.

    “I want everyone to hear you, Heather. Count and thank me for every hit.”

    I did exactly what she told me, and having the numbers to focus on gave me the reassurance that there was an end in sight. A floaty feeling descended as I entered subspace that was amplified when the beating stopped. Timber uncuffed me. She gently turned me around, and I saw my quilt spread out on the floor. I looked at her questioningly. She smiled and told me to lie down. Apparently the demonstration part of our scene was about to start.

    It took a few moments to get situated. I laid on my back with my head between Timber’s legs. C, the submissive man from earlier, knelt at my side and held the Hitachi. It was one of those moments where the mind fuck trumped all the physical. I wasn’t thinking straight because of my endorphin high. I was unable to think in any logical order. My thoughts were all over the place, and I eyed the Hitachi like a King Cobra. I had a love/hate relationship with it, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted an orgasm or not. See what I mean about not thinking straight?!

    First Timber fastened the clover clamps on my nipples, and then she started instructing C about how she wanted him to stroke my clit. Pleasure arched through me, a golden shimmer between the undulations of pain from my nipples. I begged for permission to come, but she denied me. C’s fingers continued their teasing torment, and I begged again. Finally she gave me permission, and I shouted with release.

    I thought it was over. I was counting on it being over, but Timber placed the chain of the clamps in my teeth. “You’re going to show me how badly you want to come by pulling off the clamps using your teeth. C, turn on the Hitachi.”

    She offered me hell and heaven in that moment. The clamps were excruciating, and pulling them in increments was the worst kind of agony, but I couldn’t fight the building pressure of the orgasm. My teeth ached from biting down and with a final jerk of my head I was free. I barely had time to announce it before the orgasm swept over me.

    There were people watching. I could feel the crowd around us, but my focus was entirely on Timber and what she wanted me to do. Even when she produced the thin cane and started hitting my breasts, I was ready to orgasm again. The pain, the pleasure, being watched and used… it all combined into this cacophony of sensation. I felt boneless, the heat of my bruised body combining with the heat created by C’s pleasurable fingers. I came apart in the best possible way, and there was nothing to be done but orgasm and plead for mercy.

    Eventually the demonstration ended, and Timber wrapped me in my quilt and cuddled me on the couch. She had made food for me, so when we got back to her place, we rehashed the evening while I drank water and ate chicken bites wrapped in bacon. It was some of the best aftercare I’ve ever received. By the time I drove home to sir, I was feeling like myself. Well, a beaten and orgasm-saturated version of myself, that is. He was in bed but not asleep, and after kissing him hello, he told me to strip. I gingerly pulled off my yoga pants and t-shirt (my going home outfit) and turned in a full circle so he could see all the welts and bruises.

    “I don’t think I authorized all that,” he said, deadpan. I promptly burst into laughter, and then he demanded to see what was on my chest.

    “It’s a T for Timber,” I said.

    “Come here so I can turn it into something else.”

    I couldn’t help myself, and I started to giggle again. “Timber was right,” I said as I laid down beside him. “Two bears scratching the same tree.”

    And here’s the proof…

    Handjob Heather

     

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,, | 6 Comments

  9. Fridays are Filthy

    October 4, 2013 by Heather Cole

    IMG_2233 SM

    I mean “filthy” in the best possible way, because this week I released a new collection of short-short stories called TALES OF A FILTHY GOOD GIRL.

    This has always been a dream of mine… to be used while being cherished, degraded and respected for it. These things shouldn’t coexist in a relationship, yet I experience them every time we’re together. I am his beloved. And I am his whore. 

    Tales of a Filthy Good Girl offers a glimpse into the lives of a Dominant man and his sex slave, a very good girl who discovered how delightful it was to be naughty. Full of love, power exchange, and erotic play, these tales offer a look into just what happens when a good girl turns filthy.

     

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    I’m particularly proud of the cover. My friend, Phoenix Eddy, was kind enough to tie me up, place me at his antique desk and take a bazillion photos. The man is a top notch rigger and photographer, and I love his interpretation of being a writer. You know, I’m not joking when I say that I’m “chained to my desk.”

     

    Here’s a tidbit of what you’ll find inside TALES OF A FILTHY GOOD GIRL:

    There once was a scullery wench who married a prince. Trust me, she was just as surprised about it as you are. The prince thought she was funny and smart and pretty. But he didn’t approve of her humble family, her plain clothes, or how often she wanted to fuck.

    He told her in a stern voice, “I will marry you and give you my royal name and all the wealth and privileges that go with it. You will never have to wash pots in the scullery again. However, you must leave behind your poor beginnings and your odd predilection for sex. Upstanding citizens, particularly royal ones, do not have sex except when appropriate.”

    The scullery wench was flattered for the most part. It wasn’t every day that a fancy man of royal lineage looked her way. But she felt self-conscious. She looked at her work-worn hands and the hole in the hem of her skirt. She fidgeted where she sat, knowing that if she reached between her legs she would find she was aroused. Before the prince had made his offer, she had been about to ask him to adjourn to the royal bed chamber for a round of enthusiastic lovemaking.

    Were all these things as disgraceful as he implied? What if he knew that she liked to be spanked and bitten hard on the ass? She glanced around the finely appointed room and the servant standing at attention by the door. It would be nice to have more stability. Being a scullery wench meant living hand-to-mouth most of the time. Besides, she didn’t need to be spanked every time she had sex. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at the prince.

    “I will marry you. Now can we fuck?”

     

    I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them!

    *boob smoosh*

    ~Heather

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,,, | 5 Comments

  10. Fall Slave Hunt

    October 2, 2013 by Heather Cole

    And that's my "good" side.

    And that’s my “good” side.

    After an event like the Slave Hunt, it’s difficult to know where to begin describing my experience. At the spring Hunt, I focused on being hunted and then punished for trying to “run away.” The physical sensations of being chased and then beaten were overwhelming at times. It felt like riding a roller coaster, and at the end of the day, I literally collapsed into bed. I was emotionally and physically wrung out.

    The fall Slave Hunt was a deeper experience. The series of events was similar; I ran through the woods, hid and was captured by a Dom with a paintball gun. Once back at basecamp, I stripped and was dragged by the hair to the whipping post by a petite badass named Angel. I was then cuffed to the post by sir and beaten by some wonderful people. These things had happened before, but the feeling of it was incredibly rich. Like I was seeing everything through technicolor orgasm.

    What was the difference? Connection.

    There was a group of people waiting for me at the whipping post, their hands wrapped around all sorts of implements of torture. There were canes, paddles and a heavy duty sweat scraper, even kitchen utensils. Just because a spatula says “Be Mine” on it in fancy script doesn’t mean it won’t hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. And sometimes the thinnest canes are the worst. Four words:  Wandarella’s Baton of Agony.

    As they stepped closer, I had a glimpse of what it must have felt like to be an ogre surrounded by townspeople with pitchforks. The difference was that I knew these people. They were my friends, people I had met in the community and some I even considered family. In that moment, I felt buoyed by our connections. They wanted to hit me, and I wanted them to. And in the midst of pain, I found joy. The sting of impact transformed to love, and the energy bubbling around us felt like golden soaring happiness.

    Don’t get me wrong. The shit hurt like the devil, and I pride myself on being quiet and taking my beating like a good girl. I can assure you, this time I was the opposite of quiet when Timber sunk her teeth into me. And I screamed when she marked me, up one side of my back and down the other. Over and over again. The pain was searing, almost a tearing sensation because her teeth gripped my flesh in a way toys won’t. There were moments when I couldn’t see the end of it, and no matter how I twisted my body on the post, there was someone waiting to make contact with my flesh.

    I was on the cusp of dreamy subspace when Angel made her way over to us. In fact, sir was just about to bring me to orgasm when she pinched me using the strong tips of her fingernails. One minute I was about to plunge into ecstasy, and the next I was back at the surface shrieking with pain. Neither of them stopped, of course. Like fire ant bites, her pinches ran up and down my stomach, across my nipples, and over my pussy. Sir was caning me, I think, and then suddenly each one of them had a nipple in their mouth. I was so scared. Holy fucking shit, was I scared. I caught my breath, panic spilling through me as Angel pulled. Before I could react, sir’s fingers were rubbing my clit.

    “I can smell you,” he said.

    “I can smell you too,” Angel said. “You smell aroused.”

    I was too embarrassed to reply, because it was absolutely true. Sir’s other hand came from behind to tease my pussy, and then Angel’s voice was in my ear.

    “Is his hand in your pussy?”

    “Yes,” I said, feeling an orgasm begin to build.

    “Are you going to come?” she demanded.

    “Yes. Yes! YES! I’m coming!” I shouted.

    At least, it sounded like a shout to me. The roar of the orgasm and the pain of Angel’s pinches and teeth combined in a glorious cacophony in my head as the physical pleasure rippled through my body. My world had dwindled to the two sadists on either side of me, and the sensations rocketing through my body. I felt boneless and weightless and divine. I didn’t feel like I was done, but sir said I was. After a few licks from a friend’s new boot paddle, of course.

    Sir wrapped me in a blanket and made me sit down after it was over. He brought me snacks to eat and water to drink as I stared at nothing, totally blissed out on endorphins. I couldn’t help but think about how far we had traveled together since our last Hunt, and that was probably the biggest difference for me. Our connection has had five months to strengthen and mature. It has been tested, and we’ve both grown in our experience and dedication to our dynamic. We have made friends in the community together, and we’re learning what D/s means for us. Together we are part of this amazing web of people and connections and energy that makes up our community. And at the Slave Hunt, I had the opportunity to feel ALL of it.

    I didn’t get a chance to look in the mirror until we were home. When I did, I saw that my thighs were purple with scratches and bruises as was my ass. Each of Timber’s bite marks was ringed with deep red which I knew from previous experience would turn blue by morning. I had “BEAUTIFUL” written across my abdomen in blue marker that I can still see today. And maybe that’s the greatest takeaway of this experience. I see these marks and remember the people that gave them to me out of love and camaraderie, and I feel beautiful. I feel accepted. I had a moment surrounded by community where I could be exactly the thing that I am. The part of me that I used to be afraid to show, was set free to be seen by everyone. And that shadow animal was deemed beautiful too. Everything was just… beautiful.

     

    Category BDSM | Tags: ,, | 19 Comments

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