Thankfully Friday has come around again, and I’m chilling after a fairly frantic week of just about everything happening except me sitting down and writing, the one thing I want to be doing. Meh, it happens, and I’m grateful to my BF for all his support this week, he’s awesome! That said, it made me stop and think about something fairly intimate to the whole BDSM scene…
Exactly who, at the end of the day, is on top in the relationship?
Now if you aren’t very acquainted with the whole bondage, domination, submission, and masochism scene, it may seem like a very silly question. After all, what’s the point of having a dominant member of the relationship and a submissive member if the dominant isn’t going to dominate and the submissive submit, right?
Actually it really is a lot more complicated than that, in most cases.
Tops and Bottoms
The whole BDSM scene is based on trust. No trust, no scene. The submissive has to trust the dominant implicitly in most cases. They have to trust that they have no nefarious purpose, that they will not take advantage of the submissive beyond the restraints of the relationship, that they will respect the safe-words and signals agreed between the two. In that regard, it is the submissive (the “bottom”) and not the dominant (or “top”) who sets the boundaries. Often in a BDSM scene there are quite strict limits. Both top and bottom have aspects and ideas that they want to explore, and they work together to employ these in the scene they want to play out together. This means that prior to the whole thing starting, there is a lot of give and take.
Let me give you an example:
My BF and I are in a BDSM relationship, he’s the top and I am the bottom. He likes to be in charge, especially in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean I am his doormat, or that I do all the work around the house and wait on him hand and foot. In many ways we are a very normal couple in how we split the burdens in our lives, and we each have our own separate circles of friends as well as those that overlap. There are ways in which our kink plays into our lives, though: there are ‘play rules’ that we have that I will break if I want him to ‘put me in my place’ while there are other disagreements we have which simply do not get a mention when it’s discipline time. In short, I am allowed to disagree with my Master in areas which are not part of our BDSM life. This isn’t just permitted, I think it’s necessary.
There are other parts of our life together where I am happy to give my love full and absolute control, because I trust him. When he spanks me, ties me up, or otherwise plays with me he can pretty much set things up as he likes – he knows that me not knowing what he has planned is all part of the excitement for me. In related areas he makes rules that he knows I will enjoy keeping to. For example, he doesn’t choose what I wear but he does sometimes make stipulations that influence it – like telling me he wants me to wear certain underwear, or adopt a certain look. When at home he might want me in a certain costume to play, and I’ll always obey.
Wearing a costume puts you in a certain frame of mind, and it’s a great clue to me as to how he wants me to act: if he wants me as a maid, he wants service; if he wants a schoolgirl, he wants me to misbehave and be cheeky; if he wants me as a hooker, I know I’m to act really, really slutty, and so on. But I digress…
What I am trying to explain here is that we have agreed rules and agreed extents of control, and in these I have as much say as he does. In some cases, a bottom only wants a top in certain circumstances to fulfil a certain fantasy. One couple I know is perfectly normal in outward appearances, and their BDSM kink doesn’t play any part in their everyday life. However, he is a transvestite, and when he dresses he loves to be dominated. His wife gets to choose when and how he dresses, and then she is absolutely and completely in charge as long as it stays in the house.
It’s important to remember that both people involved are either fulfilling a need, or helping their partner fulfil a need. Some submissives are extremely demanding in their requirements; like the case above, where the man only likes being dominated when dressed, and it doesn’t happen the rest of the time. Some are so demanding that the term “topping from the bottom” is used; where it is really the submissive who is running the whole show.
Roles and Plays
All that said, there are some couples I know where the question of who is the top and who the bottom depends – they “switch” roles on one another. Indeed, I would say to anyone getting into the scene that they should, at least once, try being the opposite of what they feel to be their nature. It’s an invaluable learning experience, even if you decide that it’s not for you! I also recommend stepping out of your comfort zone for scenes now and again…you may discover more things you like. Or not. But you will never know if you do not try it.
Here’s a teaser from a story of topping and bottoming in many ways. It’s in the Lydia series, where I explore a lot of ideas – and it largely explains itself.
Excerpt from Lydia’s Path #6: Tested:
With a hiss and a crack the whip lays a weal of fire on my vulnerable naked ass-cheeks. I tremble and gasp with the pain and the hot tingle in my pussy. My slim body is bound on my back on a padded bench, my arms chained to the legs of it while my legs are hoisted straight up in the air by a spreader-bar to make them a nice V that exposes my bum and everything else. My long dark hair hangs over the end of the bench as I wriggle futilely to avoid the chastising blows. So far today I have been paddled, caned, cropped, and flogged until my entire backside was a mass of glowing welts, and now the whip was in use.
It really hurts…but I am at least part-masochist, and the pain is a terrific turn-on for me. Instead of whimpering in agony, I shiver with lust as each blow triggers a rush of endorphins and adrenaline. If I wanted to stop this, all I would have to do is speak a safe word. I don’t. This is a test, and I want to pass it.
“Now, you sorry you spank me?” The woman speaking is Sunny, a delicate dominatrix from Thailand with black hair down to her thighs and dark olive skin. Her skin-tight red PVC body-suit has cut-outs that expose her small breasts with dark brown nipples, and her red calf-boots click on the dungeon floor as she lines up her next shot with the whip. She’s tiny, even next to me, but I can confidently testify that she is surprisingly strong.
Last week at a party she had lost a bet with Master Phillip, my Mistress’ husband (and my Master), that he couldn’t tease-fuck her into begging him to be allowed to cum. It took him nearly three hours, but he won her over in the end. The terms of the bet were that she should serve us as a maid for a week if she lost. What Master would have had to do if she won is something I have not discovered. So why were we in the Weston’s basement-dungeon with her whipping me? It’s all down to motivation, apparently.
When she started as a maid, Sunny was placed under my instruction as I did most of the maid work for the Westons. Their other slave, Amanda, is Master Phillip’s secretary where he works. Almost at once Sunny tried to seduce, dominate and otherwise rebel against me at every turn; it’s a hard trial for a submissive like me to resist a strong-willed dominatrix! At first I had resorted to spanking her, and then appealed to Mistress when she managed to spank me instead – I won’t go into how. Like I said, she is surprisingly strong.
By Tuesday, Mistress found the key to motivating Sunny as a maid, and we got along largely very well for the rest of the week, although I still had to spank her for getting things wrong now and then – Mistress absolutely insisted on it, and I confess I did enjoy pulling her over my knee and turning her brown bottom red.
Until Saturday. That’s when I found that Sunny’s motivation for being a good maid was: Mistress had promised her a day with me to herself, to do as she wished with. Given that I had spent a lot of the last few days spanking her, this meant payback time! I suspected at the time that she did things wrong on purpose, now I am sure that she was setting me up to get some revenge.
So here I am, my ass presented to an evil dominatrix with a score to settle. I have the feeling Mistress Trudy set me up on purpose as well, a test of my submissiveness and commitment to her commands; if so it will hurt a lot, but I will be richly rewarded later. It’s been like that throughout my internship, then slavery – the bigger the test, the better the reward.
“No, Miss Sunny,” I reply, breathing hard. “Mistress ordered me to spank you, and I am not sorry that I did.” It is tempting to say otherwise, though, this really hurts! Worse, the bitch has my sex visibly wet with lust. After months of Mistress Trudy’s unique blend of punishment and pleasure, getting punished for any reason makes me very horny.
“Oh, feisty!” she exclaims, and giggles. The whip hisses through the air and I cry out with pain as it leaves another burning weal on my cheeks. “I like you, you know? I promise Mistress Trudy that I not break you bad.” She struts over to me across the stone-flagged floor. Her hand runs lightly over my smarting cheek, her nails digging in lightly and aggravating the welts she has already left there with whip, crop, cane and paddle.
“Ohhhh, somebody got leaky pussy!” She coos as one long-nailed finger pushes between my drooling pussy-lips and slides easily into me, wriggling and playing inside like a manic worn. I try and stifle my squeak of pleasure and surprise as my hole spasms a little and squeezes her finger in gratitude. “Aw, you no be scared, Lydy,” she reaches around me to caress one breast. “I like play with you, you fun subbie girl. If I own you, I use you on my subbies to suckie-fuckie them if they are good!” I shudder with lust and fear.
She is a professional domme in that she is paid by men and women to dominate them – to restrain them, punish them, and reward them. By contrast Mistress Trudy is a lifestyle dominatrix, who lives her private life in a BDSM style. While I know that Mistress would offer my services to others – sometimes at an auction – she always vetted them first, a sort of play-prostitution as opposed to the real thing. If I didn’t like the idea, I spoke my safe word and I’d be let off – not that I ever did, I just knew that I could. I am not so sure Sunny vets her paying subs to the same standard, and it’s not a concept I am comfortable with. I am not sure I could do what she would command me…unless I was a lot hornier than I am now, anyway.
She giggles and puts a second finger in me, and I give a little involuntary moan. To ensure no more attempts at seduction, Mistress had locked us both in chastity belts for the last few days, so I am, frankly, gagging for good hard fuck.
“Thank you for the – oh! – offer Miss,” I gasp, “but I am happy serving Mistress Trudy.”
“Yeah, you good slave, but you horny slut too!” she agrees, starting to pump her fingers in and out rapidly, making a wet sound. I squirm as her assault sends ripples of pleasure through me. “Maybe if I no whip you to disobey Mistress, I fuck you ‘til you cum without permission, eh?” She works a third finger into my cunt. “Ohh, you tight, you no been fisted before!”
Slave Girl #6: Tested
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