Now I will be the first to concede that some of my stories feature what may be best described as “specialist” equipment. That is to say, the kind of thing that may once have featured in a medieval torture-chamber updated and modernized for more pleasurable than painful use, not to mention the clothing of leather and latex and PVC. You might be forgiven to think that such things are essential if you are interested in playing seriously at a little BDSM…but that’s really not the case.
All you need for a BDSM relationship is two people – one the Top (dominant or dominatrix), the other the Bottom (submissive, slave, or pet) – and the desire to engage in it. Most people start off just playing at it: spice up the love life with a little more slap than tickle. For a lot of people, it starts with a spanking.
This doesn’t have to be a formal thing, or involve anything other than your hand (in fact, I strongly recommend that you give your first spanking with your hand if you and your sub are not experienced). You’re just playing about and that threat your boyfriend keeps making to take you over his knee and spank you, he actually goes to carry out. And rather than fight him (or play-fight him, really) you go along with it. Rather than just spank you, he makes it a little sexual – you are at least semi-naked over his lap, after all. After the first few spanks, he strokes your bottom, and after the next one or two he strokes your pussy and starts getting you warmed up.
When my boyfriend and I started, he set out to get me turned on by being spanked by always teasing me when he spanked me. Everyone is different, but the way we progressed was to go from just a spanking to using a few neckties and scarves as blindfolds and bindings. Oh, and my battery-operated boyfriend as well. I still get a shiver when I think of the first time I had my hands tied, blindfolded, and bent over his lap. He switched on my vibrator and wedged it against my pussy before starting the spanking, and he literally spanked me to the verge of climax.
He didn’t let me cum then, he string it out until I was begging and calling him Master. I’d say that’s when the Dominant/Submissive aspect of our relationship really started off. After that we experimented with all sorts of combinations, and it was mind-blowing for us both.
Adding to the Basics
Once we started using silk scarves, we went on to use ropes too – we did buy rope especially, mainly because what we had around the house was rather scratchy and unsuitable. We also took it to what we were wearing. I described for my lover what I liked him wearing, what said “Master” to me in no uncertain terms. He then told me what he’d like me to be wearing (or not wearing), and what said “Submissive” to him.
That’s how I ended up dressing in short skirts and no panties a lot. Master leaves it to me what I wear on the outside most of the time, but his directives on my underwear are absolute. I know that if I want to let him know I’m in the right frame of mind to play I dress in a way that says submissive (a coquettish style) or slutty (short skirts or dresses). He does likewise, power dressing when he wants me to know he’s in a dominant frame of mind.
It’s like a code between us, even now, if one of us sees the other one dressing up a little, we’ll go and change to give the message that we’re also in the mind to play.
All from just how we dress!
If you want to go a little further, handcuffs are quite ubiquitous, and in our case it was handcuffs, a riding crop, and a ball-gag. Oh, and a collar, my first but certainly not my last. I already had a nice sexy black corset, and it was very hot wearing just my corset and stockings, hands cuffed behind my back, and gagged as I waited for that crop…and after the crop, he collared me, and I was gone.
But I digress; my point is that it’s not expensive or elaborate stuff that you need. You don’t need to max out the credit card on-line to make a dungeon, just visit the local hardware store and use your imagination. Make sure you test home-made equipment before serious use to make sure it’s up to the job, though: nothing kills the mood faster than an equipment failure at a critical moment, or splinters somewhere unmentionable.
First…Is that even a garment?
It was a sort of harness of leather thongs and iron rings, my first “outfit” from an on-line source. It certainly didn’t actually cover anything, but it provided plenty of anchor points for ropes and things. Now I own quite a few kinky items, from catsuits to costumes.
But when you buy items to wear, what’s important is not so much what you are wearing as why you are wearing it. If the only thing you can afford is a sexy pair of panties you wear when you play, they are still your “playing panties” and they become special.
In some ways too much gear can detract from what really matters, the interplay between Top and Bottom.
An option we used after a while was to hire out a dungeon for a few hours.
Hiring out a place is great because if you are of limited means it allows you access to toys you could not otherwise afford, it gives you some guaranteed “special time” you can work up to, and it keeps things special by them not being every day. That said, doing it every day can be great to immerse yourself in your world.
Do it Your Way
Whatever you do, make sure that you do it your way, not anyone else’s. We’re all different, we all do things our own way so make sure that you do things your way. You do not have to have a collar or a slave contract to have a good D/S relationship, you just need to be happy in the way you do things with one person in charge and other happy that way. I know one couple who swap roles regularly – they are both switches, and they chop and change as they like – so you don’t even need to keep the sub and dom roles the same.
It’s all in how that you want to do it, and your only responsibility is to make sure that you and your lover are happy.
Like I said above, I do tend to indulge the gear a lot in my stories, but some are surprisingly free of specialist equipment. My werewolf stories are the principle ones, because in them the bondage angle is a means to an end for the werewolves to mate safely with humans, in order to ensure that the human doesn’t give the wrong body-language in the heat of passion. So here’s a teaser from Animal Magnetism…
He is still Peter, and I love him, and he is lonely. My heart aches inside me with his pain. More than anything, I want to put my arms around him and hold him and tell him: it’s OK, we’ll get through this.
“That’s, that’s OK Peter. See, I’m safe,” I tell him. “I still love you. I still want to help.”
“Martha,” he moans my name, rocking side to side slowly. “Want you, Martha…the wolf in me…it wants you.” His voice is thick with unconcealed lust.
“Can, um, can that happen, if you are…wolf, and I’m human?” I ask, my guts churning. Yes, I want Peter. The closeness, the scent of him, and his obvious arousal are actually sending little tingles through my pussy and my nipples. He’s so primordial it’s grabbing me by the hormones and turning me on without his even touching me. However despite how horny my body is right now, in my head I know that I don’t want to be torn limb from limb in the throes of passion.
“Yes…there are…many human mates,” he whispers. “But we have to be careful. Children might be human or wolf, might happen in later generations. Have to be taken somewhere safe if they are wolf, for first moon…” he is leaning closer, his mouth inches from mine. “Wolves mate for life. Humans…give the wrong signals, sometimes.”
I stare up into his eyes…there is the animal in there, and there is Peter, and Peter is frightened. Frightened because of the enormity of the step this could be, this commitment from him, and commitment from me too. This is like marriage, but more, so much more. What I do and say now could likely decide the rest of my life, be it long or short. Everything stands on this knife-edge.
My mind races as I see generations of people, some of them wolves, some of them not wolves but related. The ‘wolf’ aspect must be like a recessive gene: it may not show, unless both parents have it, or it may suddenly pop up generations later when some child suddenly gets the urge to howl at the moon and goes absolutely nuts. How many people in prisons or insane asylums are werewolves all unknowing? If I give myself to Peter I am not just marrying him with maybe no prospect of divorce, I will have to trace every child we have, every grandchild, and make sure they know what could be in their blood.
Then there are the signals, the body language. No wonder his parents seem strange…wrong signals, I can’t read theirs, and mine are wrong to them. They are predators by nature, and I come stomping through their lives like a bull in a china shop.
This is fucking huge, way too much, I can’t avoid it and I have only moments to consider it.
Body language can be learned. Genealogy can be tracked. We will have to be careful…but I love him. Filthy and wild, his musk is driving me insane, and I love him.
I want him to take me and make me his mate more than anything else right now.
“It’s all right Peter, I want that too,” I whisper. “Let me free,” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“No! The wolf…if the signals go wrong…I can’t control…I’ll kill you!” he is breathing hard, frightened for me, addled with lust and hormones and whatever the fuck hell is bubbling through his body to make him half-wolf. Oh he looks human, but right here and right now I have no doubts he’s half-wolf, in his mind at least; not truly a wolf but a much more primordial human in there. Then there is his body: strong and fast, with senses that turn the night into a kaleidoscope of smell and sound. He must be suffering a huge sensory overload right now. Oh hell, if it’s the time of the month for me that I suspect it is, no wonder he’s turned on!
“Need you now,” he moans. “Can run, can run far away, leave you here, be safe…” his body seems to lock rigid as if he’s fighting with himself. I’m sure he’d try and run, but I’d still be tied here and if the animal gets control it could come back…
Inside me, a dam breaks. I can’t stand it, I can’t stand his pain and frustration, and I can’t stand how his musk, his very animalism, is driving my own hormones wild. I want him, really badly want him. That throbbing cock is inches from my pussy and I want it inside me so bad that I can’t think straight.
“Take me now!” I gasp. “Just do it, take me now, fuck me Peter – fuck me hard!”
Suddenly his mouth is pressing over mine, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth and his musk suddenly billows over me. The state of him, of us, no longer matters as I press up against him, seek to draw his darting tongue into my mouth in our first true kiss. His hot, firm, bare chest presses hard down against my soft breasts, my erect nipples dig into him. My hips press up and his down, I can feel his hard cock through the thin fabric of my pants.
Our kiss breaks, and his rough kisses are grazing down my throat. Again I throw my head aside to expose it to him, an act of submission in every body-language there is. Arching my back, feeling his kisses grind down on my breasts I moan with lust. He is biting, not really painfully but more than enough for me to know he is there.
Hands grip the waistband of my pants and panties both, and his shoulders knot with muscle as with a tearing sound he quite literally rips them off me. Without even hesitating he buries his face in my pussy, his tongue thrusting and lapping at me, tasting and smelling me. My clit thrums under the assault, and my hips writhe as I cry out with the unexpected rush of heat and pleasure that floods up my spine.
His tongue thrusts at my hole, virgin tight but wet and responsive, then at my clit, making me whimper and moan. It feels so good, so very good! I can’t do what I want, can’t take any kind of control, can’t do anything except squirm helplessly as his musk and my own hormones intoxicate me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, never been touched by any other man though I have had offers. At least for my first time I am giving myself to the man I want more than anything, no matter what else happens.
Hot kisses move up my body, my flat belly, up to my breasts to suck hard on my nipples, to my throat, to imprison my mouth again. His cockhead presses to my slick pussy-lips, and I feel a sting of pain as they first resist, then part and yield. With a groan and a shudder he presses hard and his throbbing, warm, firm meat opens me up and fills me for the very first time. It strains and hurts but it feels wonderful at the same time as it impales me. His pubic bone grinds against my clit, pushing whimpering waves through me, turning the pain to heat to pleasure.
My head spins, I’m senseless from the rush of sensation, dizzy from overload, and I am not the only one. Peter’s hand locks in my hair, pinning my head as his kisses my lips, throat and breasts. My limbs strain against the ropes still binding me as his hips rise, easing his pulsing dick out of me, then fall, driving it back in deep and hard.
WIld Discipline: The Werewolf Collection
Wild Discipline #1: Street Wolf
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/ol77oop
Wild Discipline #2: The Alpha
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/na6nynu
Wild Discipline #3: Animal Magnetism
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/katjurt
Wild Discipline #4: The Wolf With The Red Roses
Barnes & Noble: http://tinyurl.com/oggxto7