On Why We Are and Why We Are Not in a Punishment Dynamic

You cannot actually define anything in BDSM except for what the all-important acronyms stand for (Bondage/Discipline; Dominance/Submission; Sado-Masochism) [[side note, I capitalized everything just to be a Twit]] and then there is SSC(Safe, Sane, Consensual) and RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) and WIITWD (What It Is That We Do) and TPE (Total Power Exchange) and OTK (Over The Knee[[YES PLEASE!]]) and of course everyone’s favorite… BBBJCIMNQNS.

If you can guess that one without googling, I’ll bake you a pie (and not JUST because it’s Pi day!). Continue reading

The New Normal

We were talking about behavior modification. I was curious what he thought about it. Then:

“Is that why you consider yourself a Dominant rather than a Master?”

“The meanings are interchangeable.”

“No difference then?” I asked.

“I am the Master of someone, through Domination. Long term, short-term, doesn’t really matter. It’s just a title,” he said.

“But you would say there is a difference between a submissive and a slave?”

“Yes, I would.” Continue reading

But I Do Love a Good Sequel

Or: A Happy Homemaker makes for a Happy Home.

Live from WordPress, It’s the Fatal and Sir show!

SIR sits in a chair while FATAL unbuttons just the first few buttons of his shirt. She wets and warms his face with a hot hand towel. When she is done, FATAL slings the towel over her forearm and she lathers his face from cheekbones to chin to throat, making sure that the lather is thick and fully covers his face. FATAL grabs a fresh, sharp razor from the sink and proceeds to shave SIR’s face carefully and meticulously. FATAL uses just the very tips of her fingers to tilt his head this way and that, watching him all the while, for signs of pain or discomfort. SIR sits serenely with his eyes closed.

When FATAL is done, she returns to the sink for a clean, hot towel and proceeds to pat SIR’s face clean. FATAL goes about cleaning up the shaving supplies, throwing the towels into the hamper for the morning laundry and wiping down the sink. When she returns to his side he is running his fingers over his cheeks.

SIR: Good?

FATAL: Yes. You approve?

SIR seems unsure but a smile slowly spreads across his lips. SIR taps his cheek.

SIR: A peck here, for approval.

FATAL smiles demurely and leans in close to SIR and plants a little peck against his cheek.

SIR: Your thoughts?

FATAL smacks her lips playfully.

FATAL: Feels perfectly fine to me.

SIR: How very good. I think I need a few more though.

FATAL: Some kisses?

SIR nods. FATAL perches on his knee, and SIR wraps his arms loosely about her waist. FATAL plants a kiss on each cheek, and small and quick kisses just along the very edge of his jawline, ending at his earlobe. SIR chuckles at the last. FATAL swoops in a steals a kiss from his lips. SIR returns the kiss in kind, stealing a second, less chaste kiss.

SIR: Anything that needs doing around the house, dear?

FATAL leans in to give SIR’s ear a quick nip of her teeth and whispers very quietly: Nothing but me.

SIR pats FATAL’s thigh and FATAL blushes profusely.

SIR: Is that so?

FATAL blushes a deeper shade of red and SIR walks his fingertips up the inside of her thighs, past the tops of her nylons, toying with the garters. FATAL eases her knees apart just so. SIR clucks his tongue at her brazenness. FATAL presses her face to SIR’s shoulder and he continues to move his fingers, up and down, back and forth, from knee to the tip-top of thigh and back again.

SIR: Come now, what dirty little desires are lurking in your head?

FATAL presses her hips forward, just once, when SIR’s fingertips are near, and slides her fingers into his hair, massaging and tugging and caressing it.

FATAL: Nothing too dirty, dear. Just a desire to please you… and to beg to be pleased.

SIR pinches FATAL just on the inner thigh, just hard enough to make her yelp.

SIR: Go to the bed.

FATAL climbs off of his lap, unties her apron and leaves it on the side of the sink before heading into the bedroom and climbing atop the large bed, until she just sits right in the center of it, her heels pressed against the edge.

And we can’t show you this part, folks! The NAB would have our hides! Next time, on the Fatal and Sir show…
Continue reading