They woke up around 11 AM, muscles aching from dancing, mouths dry from drinking toasts in their honour. He came to a little before her, his new wife nestled up against his side, as she tended to roll in her sleep. Their bedroom was strewn with the by products of the previous night, including a four thousand dollar white dress currently being worn by the rickety little chair he’d had since college. Sliding out of her sleepy grip, he started their daily routine: a cup of coffee for him with extra sugar, green tea made neat for her As he set their old drip-brew to work, he remembered amusedly there was a brand new coffee machine on the living room table. There were a lot [...]

Wildcard and I just signed a lease on an apartment together. Up until this point, as our relationship got serious, I had simply moved in on top of him (heh), taking my scant possessions, merging them with his: a computer, some clothes, a few personal effects and objects of sentimental value. Escaping my ex and the uncomfortable weight of my family has meant a certain paring down of the self, stripping away the non-essentials, both for the practicality of flight and the psychological comfort of not owning things. Moving together, this way, is a big step. It means, among many things, adjusting to a life that is ‘us’ not a life that is designed to be independent. It means, for him, leaving behind a lot [...]

As readers may well know, I am a stickler for proper conduct. The following questions come up as common BDSM etiquette problems and I’ve provided some guidelines to ensure excruciatingly correct behaviour at all times. The key to BDSM is of course arbitrary rules provided by fictional persons, traditions practiced purely by inertia and wishful thinking. Q I am a submissive trying to meet people, and a person who I am speaking to has demanded that I call them “Master” or “Mistress”. To be specific, they are neither my Master nor my Mistress, but I want to be sure I am doing this properly. A BDSM is built on tradition, and a submissive must know how to properly comport themselves. If you want [...]

As a follow up to my last post on the subject of dominatrices VS non-professionals, I’ve also been trying to share more of other people’s writings on the subject and make this more of a conversation, including on twitter. And of course I’m getting pushback because people think I dislike or don’t believe in professional dominants. This happens every time you try to talk about the pro/non-pro distinction, so I’m going to try to make a definitive response to the subject right here. Professionals are not fake. Please stop writing to tell me about how they are also all “lifestyle” and real and put their heart and soul into the job. This is not about bashing pros, it’s about making a distinction, and [...]

Once again, an innocent question from a redditor reminds me of one of the problems that comes with being a non-professional dominant. Or really any conversation about femdom. I get messages from people in my inbox (I guess I seem authoritative) of various sites and this is not an unusual occurrence. Sometimes it’s a guy trying to book a session. In this case, he was neither impolite nor unpleasant, but it’s my daily reminder that the thing that I do is not perceived as functioning the way I do it – to the larger world, femdoms are sex workers by default. Random Reddit Dude: Hi, I stumbled upon your reddit domme post and Im abt to go to my first domme in a [...]

The hickey made a trail up my neck, a line of purple-red dots showing where an evening of pure pleasure for my body had left a very obvious and unprofessional mark on his Miss. Wildcard was in trouble. Big trouble. We’d had a lazy, sexy Sunday evening, and I only discovered the result the next day in the office bathroom. At the time I warned him to be careful, so spotting the marks, my urge was to take down his pants and paddle him pink as soon as I got home. Nonetheless, I decided to save it up for his official punishment day, to give him a chance to anticipate. And of course, give Wildcard time to contemplate his own fate and you [...]

Burned. She made an uncomfortable mewling noise, looking at her body in the large hotel bathroom mirror. Everywhere was covered in sore streaky red. Her breasts were still their proper alabaster and rose color, as was her buttocks, but her shoulders were sun seared, ugly pink, as were patches on her torso and legs. She looked, in her judgement, like she was having some sort of allergic reaction. And she knew what would come next, peeling, then tan marks, light brown on milk white. The door rattled and swung open, and she poked her head out, still patting her singed flesh with a cool, damp wash cloth. “Okay baby, the concierge found a pharmacy that’s open at this hour…” He clutched a plastic sack, [...]