Three Great Things About Threesomes

I fucking love threesomes, and at this point in my life I’ve had a lot of them. Many good, a handful bad, and a rare few just explosively fucking brilliant.

A plate of pancakes. For a post about threesomes.Threesomes are, according to a bunch of studies and anecdotal evidence, one of the absolute most common sexual fantasies. The stereotype, of course, is that all straight men want a threesome with two women, but I think it goes deeper than that.

Making threesomes work isn’t necessarily easy, especially not the first few times you have one, but when they work they’re amazing.

Here’s three of the things I love most about the magical, mysterious menage et trois.

1. I get to watch my partner having fun

Seeing someone I love receiving and giving pleasure is fucking awesome. Threesomes allow me to see their pleasure in a whole new way. Through the way someone else touches them, I can learn new things about their body. From the things our Special Guest Star is into, they can pick up new tricks to bring back to their relationship with me. Watching my partner enjoying somebody else and being enjoyed by them just brings up massive feelings of compersion.

And let’s be real – what’s sexier than watching two hot people you’re wildly attracted to getting it on with each other, except watching this and also knowing you get to join in?

2. Getting to try different kinks and roles

There are some kinks and activities that simply need three or more people in order to work. For example, I’ve recently been having a lot of fantasies about having a submissive lower than me in the “hierarchy,” who I can push tasks or punishments off onto. I also generally have a lot of feelings about “Switch in the middle” type dynamics, where I have one person dominant over me and the other submissive to me. I really find group sex situations, especially threesomes with a more-dominant and a more-submissive partner, to be a great way to flex my Dom muscles in a safe way. Then again, I’m also really into subbing for two people at the same time – another one which, by definition, kinda requires three people to explore.

3. The warm fuzzies

No – seriously. This one might sound weird but it’s so true.

There’s the aforementioned compersion, of course, and how close and connected I feel to my partner afterwards. Then there’s the exhausted tangle of limbs in the bed when you take a breather or finally stop for the night. The warmth and cosyness of three-way snuggles. All the giggles and laughter and stupid jokes in between – or sometimes during – the fucking. The sense of awe and rush of deep fondness I usually feel for the person who has joined us, like “you’re so fucking great and I’m so fucking lucky to be getting to share this with you.” My best threesomes have been hot, yes… but they’ve also been happy, giggly, funny, silly, irreverent, sweet and affectionate.

Sometimes one of the nicest things about a really good threesome is in the morning, when your partner goes and makes pancakes for you and the girl you just fucked.

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Image courtesy of Pixabay.

Why I’m Doing “30 Day Orgasm Fun”

It’s April 1st! This means various things. Today is April Fools’ Day. It’s Easter Sunday. It’s one month ’til outdoor fucking starts. But most importantly, it’s the start of Tabitha Rayne’s 30 Day Orgasm Fun not-a-challenge!

A pair of red panties with black spots and a black vibrator lying on a red carpet. For a post about the 30 Day Orgasm Fun challenge.

I didn’t take part last year, mainly because I didn’t find out about it until it was too late, but this year I’m raring to go… as it were.

Here’s just four reasons why I’m taking part (and why I think you should considering doing so, too).

1. For mental health

There’s no two ways about it – orgasms are great for mental health. They flood the brain and body with happy chemicals and make you feel relaxed, de-stressed and ready to face the world. I’ve written before about using sex as a tool to manage my mental health, and I stand by it as the best natural antidepressant there is. I’ve had a shit mental health time recently, so I’m ready to boost my wellbeing with orgasms.

2. To see if I can

It’s a surprise to precisely no-one, I suspect, that I have an extremely high sex drive and tend to masturbate a lot. But every single day for an entire month? That is unprecedented, even for me. I’m partly doing this as a challenge to myself, to see if it’s actually possible and what happens when I do. #DoingItForScience.

3. To discover some new porn/erotica

If I’m going to be getting off every single day in April, I’m gonna need some new visual and literary stimulation. Anna at Frolic Me has kindly given me a subscription, so I’ll be exploring there and seeing what lovely “inspiration” I can find, as well as delving deeply into my favourite sections of Literotica and Tumblr porn. If anyone has any smutty stories or ethical porn favourites, send them my way! Particularly if they include female orgasm denial, cuckqueaning, humiliation, medical play, or any combination thereof.

4. To be an evil bitch

The thing about my orgasm denial kink is that, much as I love being denied orgasms myself, I also love teasing and denying other submissives. There’s someone lovely I’m currently hoping/tentatively planning to play with, who I think I will likely get to deny before this month is out.

The idea of saying “YOU can’t come, but I have to every day this month for the challenge, so get to work” is… quite fucking hot, to be honest.

So let’s go!

I’ve already had my first orgasm of the first day, though I don’t think it will be my last somehow. Incidentally, I’m keeping a spreadsheet of how the orgasm was achieved (toy/fingers/fucking etc) and any interesting facts, which I will publish at the end of the month.

Access some exciting bonus content by supporting me on Patreon, or buy me a coffee to say thanks if you enjoy my work!

Image courtesy of Pixabay, a royalty-free stock photo site.

[Guest Post] Forget Perfection, Bring Me the Glory – Life as a Disabled Kinkster by Pippin Strange

Today I am so, so honoured to be sharing a guest blog from one of my most favourite people. Pippin is my metamour – my sweetie The Artist’s primary partner – and a dear friend. Among many other things, they identify as disabled, queer and a survivor. They are also supremely wise, powerfully compassionate, ridiculously talented, and kinky as fuck in the best possible way. 

Content notes  are: chronic pain, intestinal health, ableism, intimate partner abuse and rape. Please look after yourselves when engaging with these topics.

Buckle in and get some coffee for this one, folks. It’s longer than I usually post, but I devoured every word and you should too.

Amy x
______________________

A person sitting in their wheelchair facing away from the camera looking up at a big tree.It’s a bad pain day. My joints are twinging; something untoward is happening in my lower abdomen; my neck feels like two bars of iron stuck on either side of my spine. And my fatigue levels are high – even sitting forward in my wheelchair is a challenge, and I’ve done well to make it out of the house.

Suddenly we come to a patch of bumpy pavement. The Magician increases their pushing speed ever so slightly, and every little jolt sets my buttocks singing with joyful agony from last night’s caning. It’s exquisite. Once we’re on the smooth ground again, I tell them my arse still hurts and it’s all their fault. Even before they stop pushing, I know they have broken into that devilishly handsome, sadistic grin. I shiver. They bend down and we kiss deeply, leaving me wanting more.

I’m Pippin Strange, otherwise known as the Minstrel. I’m a genderqueer, queer, polyamorous switch in my late thirties, with two delightful partners – the Magician (also known on Coffee and Kink as the Artist!), and the Ranger. My relationship with each of them includes kink – I submit to the Magician (who is my primary partner), and I switch with the Ranger.

I’m also disabled. I have joint hypermobility, and an unnecessarily interesting selection of long-term mental and physical illnesses, the former including Complex PTSD, the latter including ME/CFS and some form of seizure disorder. I’m also neurodivergent, with no formal diagnosis but the strong likelihood that I am both dyspraxic and autistic. I take several forms of medication, I’m housebound a lot, and I usually use my beloved wheelchair when out and about. For good or ill, being disabled permeates every part of my life, including my sex life, and it has done ever since I reached adulthood.

An evening in a university town, nearly twenty years ago. I’ve just come back from the bathroom. My lower abdomen is again in a scary amount of pain. The Saboteur – my boyfriend, later to become my husband – is not shy of expressing his disappointment that I’m yet again not well enough for intercourse. I’ve been close to screaming with the pain, but instead we focus on his sadness that we’re not going to fuck. I assure him, desperately, that yes I really am trying my best to sort out whatever is wrong with my innards so that he can be inside me again. I feel like a failure.

I say “an evening”. Actually this happens several times. On at least one occasion, I decide to give it a go anyway, because I can’t bear the guilt any more. The pain is too much, self-preservation kicks in, I speak out. He stops and withdraws. But he is the wronged party; I get no sympathy from him.

Fast forward to the present. An afternoon in an industrial city in the Midlands. The Ranger is above me, fucking me, and it’s glorious. His hands pin mine above my head. My lips are pressed against his collar bone, moaning words of helpless submission into the his soft skin. I know I’m not going to come like this, not in this position, but I love it, I love it so much, and I’m desperate to keep going, to feel the rhythm change and hear his gasps as he comes inside me. But my thigh muscles are too weak, and my right hip joint is complaining. This is not a sexy pain. I keep going anyway, because it is wonderful and I want it so much. But he notices something, checks, asks if I’m comfortable. I realise that I’ve been foolish, and admit that I’m not. He pulls out of me, shifts aside so I can stretch out. I breathe an apology for having to stop but he tells me I have nothing to be sorry for. He smiles at me, praises me for answering his question honestly, tells me how good I am. And seeing I’m eager to stay in the scene, he starts dominating me in a different way…

Looking back, I’ve been a sub-leaning switch for as long as I’ve had any sexual urges at all. And I suspect that I have being disabled, even more than being queer, to thank for how much I’ve allowed this part of me to blossom. My body is already othered, already weird, already unacceptable. I’m already rebelling against a cultural norm every time I use it in any way that brings me pleasure. So if conforming is impossible, at least for someone with my drives and my stubbornness, I’m damn well going to rebel in whatever way I like best. And now that I’m gnarled and middle-aged (and the hottest I’ve ever been) and I only have sexual or romantic relationships with people who are actively lovely (rather than, say, completely dreadful), kink – as both dominant and submissive – has become a crucial part of my sexual identity. And a crucial part of how I cope with the day-to-day reality of my health conditions and the impact they have on my life.

A winter morning. I’m so fatigued that my arms have mostly stopped working. But I have the Ranger stretched out at my side, beautiful and helpless and mine. I can do so little to him physically right now, but there’s so much I can order him to do to himself – and I do, stroking his face and holding his gaze with mine and enthralling him with words. I have no power to do much with my muscles, but I have so much power over him.

To be a disabled dom makes, I would say, an instinctive sense. I’m someone who feels far too powerless in my life far too much of the time. And here is the Ranger, a man I love, kind and fascinating and staggeringly gorgeous. And here he is handing temporary control of his body and mind to me, calling me “Sir”, eyes widening with pain or pleasure as he falls at my command and I play with the power he’s given me. Yes fucking please, on every level. 🙂

And the flip-side of that: one of the worst frustrations I experience in being incapacitated with fatigue so much of the time is how little ability I have to do caring, lovely things for the people who I love. Put simply, my dominating the Ranger makes him happy, and I love making the people I love happy.

When I’m submitting, it’s more complicated. I already spend far too much of my life feeling powerless and in pain. So why does, for instance, being held down by the Magician’s firm hand while they torture my nipples until I squeal not only make me wet, but also give me a welcome sense of peace, healing, well-being, and even power?

The obvious answer is that in that situation, however powerless I feel, I actually am nothing of the kind. Every instant is something I have passionately chosen. But it’s more than that. While I do struggle to feel powerful in my everyday life, something that I never struggle to feel is responsible. With PTSD, an anxiety disorder, and a mind that is by nature a constant torrent of words, the feeling of falling into subspace and allowing my mind to be quiet, slow, responsive to what is immediate rather than what is ongoing, brings an instant and glorious relief, and, ironically, a growth of true power within me that lasts long after the scene. As an abuse survivor who struggles with low self-esteem, being praised for my submission by a beloved partner is incredibly healing. As a caree who does not always feel at ease about my needs, to have a situation in which I am cherished and guarded and cared for as a submissive, and in which that adds to the pleasure experienced by the dominant, reclaims some of that space for me away from my own internalised ableism.

And the pain? As every masochist and every chronic pain sufferer knows, pain varies, in quality as well as in intensity. The angry bite of a headache, the enervating ache of a stiff muscle, the sickening dragging agony of an inflamed intestine… “pain” is one word for all these things, but they have little in common beyond it. I defy anyone to enjoy anything about having Ulcerative Colitis, but most of the pains involved in sensation play within kink are of a kind that are at least potentially pleasurable, and at no point give the kind of “wrongness” signals that the body is coming to serious harm. Even when I’m being spanked to the point of tears, I know that I’m safe, that no harm is coming to my body worse than a few bruises or welts. It is blessedly different from anything that comes from my health conditions. It’s not uncommon, even, for kink sensations, coupled with post-impact endorphins, to temporarily overwhelm and drive out my chronic pain; especially useful for me given I cannot safely take most painkillers!

The sense of achievement in sensation play is also a mighty difference between kink pain and chronic pain, and gives me a taste of something that I miss. I’ve always loved the feeling of having successfully pushed my body beyond what I believed it could do. To stand, for instance, on top of a big Scottish hill, gazing down at the incredible view, and thinking I made it. Since I now have moderately severe M.E., exerting my body beyond very narrow (and varying) limits is actively dangerous – it can make me more ill for days, weeks or even months. But a hard spanking challenges my body without that risk. And since I’m afterwards able to gaze on the Magician or the Ranger, the view’s not bad from the top of that hill either.

When it comes to sensations that are pleasurable as well as painful (clothes pegs on my nipples, a punch on my butt, a flogger on my thighs, a bite on my shoulder…), my body gets to feel something it can relish, just as much as with sensations that are purely pleasurable. More so, often, since the high background level of tension in my body can make pure pleasure paradoxically painful to me. A mixture of kink pain and pleasure allows my body to relax into the sensations and relish them intensely – and to be able to relish a physical experience in this body is a powerful thing indeed. Like a lot of people with chronic pain, I wrestle with the temptation to hate my body or feel thoroughly disconnected from it. At its best, sensation play as a sub brings me back into affectionate synchronicity with this fractious, fragile, and yet utterly wonderful meatsack of mine. It is beyond precious.

As I write this, the ring and little finger on my right hand are a trifle numb. Two days ago, with the Magician’s own chronic pain flaring but both of us feeling enthusiastic, we tried something new. They sat back on pillows, comfortably, calmly eating an apple like a (gorgeous) movie villain. And I gave them a show. Stripping at their instruction, torturing my nipples, scratching my thighs, pleasuring myself while they watched me and praised me and noted with delicious smugness that turning me into their helpless toy and slave had been so very, very easy…

It was wonderful. Squirmy and embarrassing and hot and beautiful and loving. And I wrenched my neck. It had been playing up for a few days, and the slightly unfamiliar position I was lying in did the rest. I felt odd after I came (I mean, happy! but odd), and the following day I woke up with my neck, jaw, and shoulders a mess, and the obvious symptoms of some mild and hopefully temporary nerve damage, as well as some indications that I’d had a seizure in my sleep. I don’t regret a thing about that scene (although I am thinking that I might need to go to the doctor if the symptoms continue…), but in future I’ll need to take a lot more thought about how I position myself, and ask for some Tiger Balm or ibuprofen gel as part of my after-care…

I don’t want to give the impression that being a disabled kinkster is easy. That, it certainly is not.

Events are a problem. I can’t get out of the house much, and when I can theoretically get to something, worries about access and the likelihood of running into at least some kind of ableist bullshit can be prohibitively exhausting.

Meeting new potential play partners is a problem. I’m horribly vulnerable, and already a survivor of assault, harassment, rape and ableist relationship abuse. Disabled people are on average twice as likely to be abused over the course of their lives as currently-abled people, and to say that I am very wary of the possibility of it happening to me again is an understatement. The kink scene and the polyamory scene are both riddled with ableism, from the usual cultural disdain for disabled bodies, to the fetishising of certain of those bodies in Fetlife groups, to the extreme end of Relationship Anarchy that rejects anything like a carer/caree (or mutual carer!) relationship between romantic partners – or even one that is merely stable and secure and committed, as is essential for me – as intrinsically oppressive. On top of that, anyone I go on an actual date with needs to be someone both the Magician and I trust to be, at least in a small way, my carer for a couple of hours – including pushing my wheelchair if the situation requires it. Thankfully I already have my two wonderful partners, not to mention three superb “kissing friends”, one of whom I may also start kinking with soon; I am quite beautifully polysaturated! But even if I were more interested in, say, casual play with a stranger or acquaintance than I am, it would not be remotely an option for me.

And then there’s the actual impairments. There are some activities I’d love to do that are either physically impossible for me, or which I cannot do for long. Ever tried giving a blow job with your jaw a clicky mass of pain, and when you have both a strong gag reflex and emetophobia? Not the easiest thing. 😉 I actually love sucking my partners’ cocks, both as a dom and as a sub, but my Gods do I have to be having a good day before I can, and deep-throating is most definitely not an option. And sometimes I am just too mentally ill for kink to be safe. Anxiety and depression and even flashbacks are one thing, and under the right circumstances kink can actively help, but on those thankfully rare occasions when my perception of reality is a little porous, let’s just say that telling a partner I’m their helpless captive is not a sensible plan…

But those limitations do come with their own blessings. I can’t have some perfect scene that lasts for hours and doesn’t require extensive in-scene management of my energy, pain levels, and whatever my brain might be up to. And since I can’t have it, I don’t need to try. Instead, my partners and I can get on with doing what works for us on the day – and finding creative solutions to some of the difficulties. After the Ranger and I stopped having PIV sex with him on top in the scene I describe earlier, we found another position that was a lot more sustainable for me, and in which I was able to come really quite explosively. Would we have found that position if my hips had been behaving themselves? I’m not sure we would. My difficulties with stroking his cock for any length of time I have gone some way to fixing, buying him as an anniversary gift a stroker toy that gives me a much easier grip, and which he loves in its own right (not least because it is purple!). The frankness about my body that I have had to develop to survive means that I’m good at giving accurate feedback, vital when trying something new.

The Magician and I, since we live together, engage in a lot of micro-kink: scenes that last literally seconds long and which we fit randomly into our day whenever we’re both up for it. A brisk hand or hairbrush spanking while we run a bath. Their hand closing briefly over my mouth while we’re snuggling. A glare over the top of their glasses that rapidly becomes a contest, with me trying to make them laugh before they can turn me into a subby heap (they usually win 😉 ). Even the very fact that they’re my carer sometimes creates micro-kink situations, as helping me out of bed turns into mutual fondling, encouraging me to rest becomes sternly ordering me to, and helping me undress when my arms aren’t working properly becomes, well, stripping me naked.

Perhaps this above all: every body and every brain has its moments of misfiring. The Magician is disabled too; the Ranger is also not in consistently perfect health. And they both know they can trust me absolutely to understand and empathise when it’s their needs or limitations that mean that a scene has to be changed or halted, or just isn’t possible that day. I don’t want to romanticise the lessons that being disabled has taught me, when the primary lesson it has taught me is that all disabled people live in severely ableist societies with inadequate access, respect, and understanding, and that this desperately needs to change. But I have been forced over the past two decades to teach myself something powerful about how futile it is to search for what is perfect, and how much better it is to build what is glorious instead. And if there is one thing that makes me both a good dominant and a good submissive, it is probably that.

Photo provided by the author. Do not steal it.

3 Things I Learned About Myself In My 18 Months as a 24/7 Submissive

Today in 30 Days of D/s, Kayla and John ask about 24/7 relationships. In a nutshell, this is a relationship where the power exchange is a permanent and pervasive part of the relationship. Essentially, the people in the relationship are “in role,” to a greater or lesser extent, all the time.

A padlock with a red heart on it and a red ribbon tied to it, fastened to a wire fence. For a post on 24/7 D/s

In my last relationship, I was a 24/7 submissive for a year and a half (collared for a year.) Even though that relationship was really unhealthy for me and I’m not in the 24/7 lifestyle any more, I still think I learned valuable lessons. Today I want to share some of those lessons with you.

Symbolism is really important to me

I’d been submitting to my partner more or less exclusively for months by the time we made the 24/7 thing “official”. Even so, writing and signing the contract and later having a collaring ceremony were really significant steps for me. They solidified what we were doing and they gave me a peg to hang my understanding of the relationship on. I couldn’t wear my collar 24/7 (professional job, y’all!) so having a day-collar (in our case it was a silver bracelet with a little lock-and-key charm) was very important.

Symbolism and ritual matters to me. It matters a lot. The act of creating intention together and naming it, whether simply to each other or in the presence of other loved ones, gives me a feeling of love, security and safety. Having a physical reminder of my connection to someone helps with the feeling of “home” that I value in a hopefully-lifetime relationship. This is why Mr CK and I intend to have a handfasting ceremony in the next couple of years.

I’m DEFINITELY a Switch

I love submitting and I’m still much more towards that end of the spectrum. However, I also definitely have a Dominant side and she gets grouchy if she doesn’t get to come out to play every once in a while. Not getting to Switch at all for about 2 years made me miss the hell out of it.

I’m not cut out for the 24/7 lifestyle

Yep… the biggest thing I learned in the course of that adventure into 24/7 power exchange is that I’m not cut out to live in a power exchange 24/7. Some of you are probably thinking this makes me less submissive, and the only thing I can say to that is that I think you’re wrong. When I choose to submit, I do so deeply and with my whole heart. It’s a beloved place I go back to time and time again and feel bereft if I’m away for too long. I just don’t live there.

You know the problem with wishing for what you want is that you might actually get what you want? Yep. I longed for 24/7 D/s and for quite a while I was on cloud nine of joy. When the reality set in, though, I chafed under the rules. I wanted to be able to step out of that role sometimes. Sometimes, I didn’t want to say yes Master, no Master, three bags full Master… I wanted to say you’re being an idiot, knock it off, and by the way I’m having a wank tonight whether you like it or not.

But I wanted it so much that I had to experience it to realise that maybe I don’t want it after all.

Tweet me your thoughts on 24/7 D/s. Have you done it? Would you do it again? Why or why not?

Kinky item of the day: ballet boots! (Not an affiliate link.) I love the hell out of these. They are, of course, utterly impractical on every level. But I think the inability to move far in them is part of the appeal, don’t you?

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The image featured in this post is reproduced here under Creative Commons Licensing.

The Hard Limits That Changed

It’s #KinkMonth this October. To celebrate, my lovely affiliates over at Lovehoney are offering 15% off any purchase of £50 or more and I’m writing a post a day inspired by Kayla Lords’ 30 Days of D/s project.

Today is all about limits. Kayla and John ask:

Do you know what your hard limits are? Are there a few things you’d like to try but you’re a little nervous? They’re such a big part of D/s and kink, it’s never a bad idea to think about them no matter where you are in your relationship.

A close up on a section of a barbed wire fence for a post about hard limits

Hard limits are an interesting thing. In a nutshell, a hard limit is a thing you absolutely will not do under any circumstances. We all have them and we must respect and honour our own and our partner’s.

What people won’t often tell you, though, is that hard limits can change. Some will never change, and that’s okay. But some will shift over time. A “fuck no” might become a “well, maybe…” From there, it might go back to being a “no,” or it might become a firm “yes.”

Mine have certainly shifted over time. I have a few that will almost certainly never change (DD/lg, ageplay, scat, cutting, to name just a few) but others, like those included below, have fluctuated and evolved over the years.

Anal sex

I wrote a post about my turbulent relationship with anal sex over the years. Pressure to engage in it long before I was ready made me shut down and close myself off to the possibility. For a long time, I declared anal a hard boundary and made it clear to anyone I had sex with that butt stuff was off the table.

The secret to cracking this limit was that I had to come to it in my own time. I had to be in a situation with enough love, trust and intimacy to enable me to explore it safely. In other words, I needed a space where I could peek around this particular door, knowing it’d be safe and okay to slam it shut again if I needed to.

I’m only engaging in it with Mr CK at the current time, but anal sex has moved from a hard limit to one of my favourite activities in the space of a few years.

Topping

Yep. Your card-carrying Twue Switch over here once insisted that she would never, ever Top or Dominate somebody under any circumstances. I once safeworded out of a threesome because the guy tried to Dom me into Domming the other woman.

And then, well, I got curious. I wanted to see what it was like. For science, you understand. To better appreciate the other side of the slash. What I didn’t expect was to like it as much as I did. (I wrote a little about that, too!)

I’m still about 80-90% sub (percentages vary on any given day!) but switchiness is a pretty key component of my sexual make-up and how I like to play these days.

Play-piercing

For years I simply could not understand the appeal of this. The idea of it viscerally squicked me the fuck out.

So why did I try it? Mainly, I think, to say I had. I thought it might be a funny story, a crazy anecdote to share about that time I explored a super edgy activity. And also, a little bit, because I was annoyed at myself for being so afraid of it.

It’s still very much in the “soft limit” category – a very occasional activity (literally three times ever) and one I have to be extremely careful with, for mental and physical health reasons as well as obvious safety concerns. Not to mention, of course, the sheer amount of trust required and the fact that I wouldn’t let anyone do this to me who hadn’t been trained in at least the basics by an expert.

And one that changed back: 24/7 D/s

This one could be a whole post by itself, and I may write that post at some point. For years, I insisted I would never do a 24/7 relationship – the idea of letting somebody have that level of control over me was, frankly, too terrifying to comprehend.

So why did I decide suddenly, in my early 20s, that I wanted it? Why did I ask my sometimes-Dom boyfriend to be my Master? The answer to that is complex and multi-faceted, but sadly the kernel at the core is this: I did it to justify to myself the fact that he already had pretty much complete control over my body, emotions, heart and life. I already barely breathed without permission, so why not stick a collar on it and call it kink?

Of course I understand that not all 24/7 relationships are abusive. There are some great and wonderful ones out there! (Hi, Kayla & John!) But that experience was valuable for me, if only because it taught me that that life isn’t for me. I don’t want to answer to anyone except in very limited and negotiated capacities. I certainly don’t ever want to hand over control over my entire life again.

Remember: limits can change! And that’s okay!

I now have three categories of limits: hard limits (NOPE NEVER ABSOLUTELY NOT,) soft limits (sometimes, under certain circumstances, with lots of negotiation,) and only-with-Mr-CK limits (things I won’t do with anyone but him.)

Your limits will change over time too. We’re humans and change is part of what we do. What’s important is to check in with yourself regularly, and keep communicating with your partner along the way!

Kinky item of the day: Jute 5mm, my bondage rope of choice. The smell, the feel, the tightness across my skin… mmmm! (This is not an affiliate link and I have no connection to the company, I just love their rope.)

Competitive Submission, or: A Journey Through Labels

For those just joining now, I’m celebrating #KinkMonth by writing posts inspired by Kayla Lords’ 30 Days of D/s project.

Day 3 is about labels. Today’s post is quite vulnerable and also heavily based on a stream of consciousness I splurged onto Fetlife last year. Kayla & John ask:

Beyond the basic title of Dominant or submissive, are there other titles you prefer or are interested in exploring? Are there any that turn you off or don’t seem like a good fit for you?

Some titles for Dominants may be Master, Sir, Daddy, Mistress, Lady, etc. Titles for submissives can be pet, babygirl, little one, boy, girl, etc.

A name badge style label with "submissive" crossed out and "Switch" next to it. For a post on competitive submission.

On Fetlife, you have to pick a “role” to list on your profile. There’s the usual Dominant, submissive, Master, Mistress, slave. Then there’s the slightly more specific babygirl/babyboy, Daddy, Mommy, pet, Primal. And then there’s the nondescript and vague Kinkster, Unsure, Evolving.

I’ve flip-flopped between labels over the years. For a very long time, I considered myself the most subby of the submissives. Topping was just not something I could ever see myself doing. So I listed my role as submissive.

Then, at twenty, I found myself pinning a willing submissive man to a bed and fucking him, telling him that he was Mine. And I liked it. Gradually, I explored my Dominant energy and realised I could get off on that rush of power, on reducing someone to a puddle of lust with just my hands and voice. I changed my label to Switch.

Then I realised that being young, hot and listed as a Switch brought out the worst of all kinds of men on Fetlife. The Doms were convinced their Domly dick was all I would ever need to shove myself firmly back into the box labelled “submissive”. The submissives wanted to crawl at my feet and serve me (for the value of “serve” which means “have me fulfill their every sexual fantasy”). I couldn’t be arsed with it. I switched to the vague Kinkster. Something about that nondescript label – possibly along with aging out of the coveted “18-24” age bracket – hugely diminished the number of unsolicited gunk in my inbox. But it didn’t feel like me.

In the midst of my relationship with my ex-Master, I switched (heh) back to submissive. I filled my profile with variations on, “I AM OWNED, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE”. It worked, sort of, but it still only described a fraction of the rich and complex tapestry of the Amy.

Me and Mr CK switch with each other. This has been the case since the beginning, and will most continue to be the case for as long as our lives run in parallel. We both enjoy both sides of the slash (him more “D,” me more “). So I changed my role once again to Switch, and that was that.

And then… well. There’s no way to make myself look good here. I got competitive. Jealous. Scared.

My partner started dating someone, you see, who we’ll call The Doctor. She listed herself as 100% submissive. (Having been on the receiving end of her hand spanking my ass, I respectfully disagree with that label, but people have the right to self-identify.) It was this, more than the sex or the romance or anything else, that freaked me the fuck out. My headweasels took over and convinced me absolutely, in the space of a couple of weeks, that:

One: Identifying as a submissive, instead of a Switch, made this person inherently better at submitting than me purely on the basis that they never swapped roles.

Two: Therefore, my partner would prefer playing with her to playing with me.

Three: Therefore, my partner would use all his kinky/sexy/Dominant energy on her, leaving none left for me, start taking her to all our favourite kinky events instead of me, and collar her as his 24/7 submissive despite emphatically telling me he doesn’t want that dynamic with anybody.

Four: Therefore, my relationship would be over if I couldn’t show him beyond all doubt that I was at least as good a submissive, if not better, than this other person.

The thing is, this was all in my head. Neither of them did anything to indicate to me that there was any validity to these fears whatsoever. In desperation, not knowing what else to do to fight the battle against my own mind, I changed my status back to submissive. It took a very long and tearful conversation with my partner, in which all my fears fell out of my mouth and into his lap, for me to articulate what was really going on and say “I’m scared as fuck that you’ll leave me for someone else who’s more submissive than I am.”

That was when I learned that my Switchyness, and the Switching dynamic we share, is a feature, not a bug. It’s one of the things he loves about me. It was also when I began to internalise that:

One: Submission is not a contest.

Two: Being a Switch doesn’t make my submission, when I give it, less real or authentic or beautiful.

There’s a stigma against Switches in a lot of the kink world. Much like bisexuals, we’re told that we’re greedy, that we’re confused. That we need to get off the fence and make up our damn minds.

I tend to date either Top-leaning Switches, or exclusive Tops/Doms. It’s getting much better (thanks, in part, to fabulous partners who embrace ALL of me as I am!) but on some levels I still struggle with the insecurity whispering that, as a Switch, I’m a poor second choice and a Top/Dom would always choose a 100% submissive over me and like a 100% submissive more than me. I also worry, because Mr and I hang out at a lot of fem-sub/M-Dom events, that I’ll be judged poorly or thought less of due to being a Switch.

On the flip side, sometimes I feel like a fraud for identifying as Switch because my interests are so unbalanced. It’s really hard to put a number on it and it fluctuates. At the moment my desires are probably 90% sub/bottom and 10% Dom/Top. On the occasions when I do Top, I worry that my submissive partner is just going to say, “you’re shit at this, I’m gonna go do it with a real Dom.”

So where the fuck does that leave me?

Sadly, there isn’t a role option on Fetlife for “Basically submissive at heart but still gets a huge rush from Topping once in a while because I like the feeling of power and the reactions and the knowledge that I’m giving so much pleasure.”

So… yeah.

Switch.

Remember: a label is the beginning of a conversation, not the end.

Kinky item of the day: Collars by Kabunza. I’m not affiliated with this company in any way, but I could talk them up forever because 1) Aemilia Hawk is the most wonderful human being and I adore her. 2) their stuff is so beautiful it makes my heart sing. 3) their customer service is brilliant. 4) we should all support our friendly neighbourhood kinky businesses.

I hope you enjoyed this post! If you’d like to support me, please consider becoming a sexy Patron, buying me a virtual coffee, or shopping with my affiliates in the right hand sidebar.

The image featured in this post was sourced from Pixabay and edited by me. Please don’t steal my edit without express permission.

Four Things That Don’t Make You Less Dominant

It’s October, which means it’s Kink Month for my lovely affiliates, Lovehoney. (Don’t forget to use reader code COFFKINK10 for 10% off any purchase before the end of 2017!) To celebrate, I’ve signed on for Loving BDSM’s 3o Days of D/s programme, and am going to aim to write a post each day inspired by that day’s subject.

A close up on a pair of metal handcuffs and keys. For a post on things that don't make you less dominant

Day One’s prompt was all about Dominance. Kayla and John ask:

What does dominance in a relationship mean to you? What traits will a Dominant have? How should a Dominant behave?

There are a lot of stereotypes of Dominants (and indeed submissives, but that’s another day) out there. Most of them are, to put it in very crass and British terms, complete stark raving bollocks. One only has to peruse the depths of Kinky & Popular on Fetlife to see all the One True Way-ism at play, people who are absolutely convinced that their particular brand of Dominance (or submission, or Mastery, or slavery) is the only real and correct one and that we should all just follow their lead if we want to Do It Right.

“A REAL Master always…”

“A true Dominant would never…”

It. Is. Bullshit. Dominance, like masculinity, is only as fragile as the owner allows it to be. If you’re secure in your identity as a Dominant or sometimes-Dominant person, no-one can take that away from you, the One Twue[1] Way be damned.

So here are four things that seem to give (particularly but not exclusively new or inexperienced) D-types anxiety about their Domly credentials.

Giving oral sex does not make you less Dominant.

If I could smash one stereotype with a mallet the size of my head, this would be the one. The length of time I stayed in a relationship where I didn’t get oral sex because my partner believed it was inherently beneath them as my Dominant was… well, let’s just say it was far, far too long.

This has been a bugbear for me for a really long time and I just recently discovered that Kayla also wrote an article on this very subject, way back when. It’s great. Go read it.

We do this kinky shit because it’s fun. As it turns out, a lot of people enjoy getting their cunt eaten or their dick sucked. Giving this pleasure to your partner doesn’t make you any less Dominant. In fact, there are lots of ways to explicitly frame it in a Dominant manner if that’s something you’re looking to do.

[Don’t believe me? Try shoving your submissive down onto the bed and growling, “spread your fucking legs, I’m going to eat you out until I’m satisfied. And don’t come, it’s for my pleasure, not yours.” You’re welcome.]

Loving your submissive does not make you less Dominant.

Where did we get this idea that Dominants are all cold, unfeeling monsters who are incapable of love? (And, incidentally, can we burn the Fifty Shades trilogy to the ground for, amongst MANY other sins, perpetuating this stereotype?)

BDSM and D/s is often a relationship build on profound vulnerability, trust, affection and love – on BOTH sides of the slash.

I’ve been madly in love with Dominants who just viewed me as a toy to use and then throw away, and couldn’t have given fewer fucks about me if they’d tried. I don’t recommend it.

Now, though I’ll play submissive for casual partners, I won’t deeply submit to someone unless I’m absolutely sure they love me. And that love, when I feel it, and the protection and care I feel coming from them as a result? That doesn’t diminish their control over me. It increases it.

Switching does not make you less Dominant.

Look, lots of us enjoy both sides of the slash to a greater or lesser extent. Whether you’re primarily a Top who enjoys getting flogged or tied up occasionally, the mythical fifty-fifty-down-the-middle Switch, or primarily a bottom who just has Toppy feels towards one specific partner… it doesn’t matter.

I actually really love submitting to Switches. I love it because they’ve experienced what it’s like on the other side of the whip (so to speak). This often results in increased empathy for my experience… as well as, sometimes, some truly wicked ideas that they’ve learned via the things they’ve previously had done to them!

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that True Dominants or real submissives stay in their lane and never experience the other side. Switches can be really Dominant AND really submissive. We’re not a watered-down approximation of both.

Being penetrated does not make you less Dominant.

Obviously, everyone gets to choose the acts they do and don’t want to engage in, and not everyone is into penetrative sex. But when I hear of female Dominants who’d really like to get fucked but feel they can’t have P-in-V sex with their submissive because being penetrated undermines their Dominance, or male Dominants who love anal pleasure but feel they can’t possibly take something in their ass or it’ll make them submissive… well, it makes me really sad.

Order him or her to fuck you until you’re satisfied. Make them fuck you but don’t let them get off until you’ve had your fill. Order them to fuck you in exactly the position, speed and depth YOU want to be fucked. Receiving P-in-V-or-A sex can be Domly as fuck.

In conclusion:

If you identify as Dominant, always or sometimes or occasionally or only on Fridays during the full moon or just in this specific relationship, you’re a fucking Dominant. There’s no set list of required or prohibited activities. We do this shit because it’s fun. So go forth and have some kinky fun.

[1] Not a typ0.

Kinky item of the day: bondage tape for securing your lover to the bed while you ravish them thoroughly.

FYI: this post contains affiliate links and if you use them, I may make a small commission. The image featured in this post was offered for use under Creative Commons Licensing.

[Kink Product Review] Rouge Garments Leather Spiral Flogger

Did I mention that sex bloggers get the BEST goodie bags at our events? Well, we do. The lovely people at Rouge Garments provided various goodies for the June Lube and Laptop meet, and mine turned out to be this fittingly red red red (seriously this thing is so red) leather flogger.

The bright red Rouge Garments Leather Spiral Flogger. For a review post.

This flogger is pretty hefty. End to end it’s about 71cm, of which 51cm is the falls and 20cm the handle. (On Rouge’s site it lists the length of falls as 47cm, so mine may be a slightly over-long prototype.) Either way it’s got a lot of length to it.

My Ratings (all scores out of 5★)

Price: ★★★★
The flogger retails on Rouge Garments’ own site for £29.99, which is a very reasonable price for a real leather product.

Materials: ★★★★★
It’s 100% real leather, which is my material of choice for hitty items in general. Vegans and stricter vegetarians may want to steer clear, but that’s a matter of personal choice. (I’ll hold my hands up as a hypocritical vegetarian who loves leather here.)

Appearance & Quality: ★★★
It comes in black or red, which are pretty standard colours for BDSM equipment. I’d love to see more variety in this area in general! The design is fine though I don’t think it’s the prettiest item in Rouge’s store – my personal aesthetic tastes lean more along the lines of leather falls with a wooden or metal handle, rather than all-over leather, but that’s a matter of preference. It seems generally solid in terms of craftsmanship, but my one gripe (and it’s a pretty major one) is with the length of the falls. They’re not cut evenly and there is a disparity of more than an inch between the longest and shortest. This does, unfortunately, make an otherwise well-made product look somewhat cheap and slapdash.

Ease of Wielding: ★★★
Like all longer floggers, it takes some practice to wield effectively, but this isn’t a criticism of the product. Generally the longer the hitty thing, the harder it is to wield. It is very light for its size, though, which is a plus point. I could use it for quite a while without my arm getting tired, and I’m far from the strongest person around. Mr CK pointed out that, due to the handle not being smooth (the leather is effectively wrapped around in a spiral shape,) the ridges did start to hurt his hand after a little while.

Feel: ★★★
I adore the feel of real leather on my skin. For me, this flogger is just about the perfect thud/sting balance. The weight is just enough to give it a nice thud, while the thin falls follow that initial thud with a little bit of bite. The uneven falls do increase the tendency for mishits to happen, though, which led to a couple of “BAD ouch” moments. Not recommended for anyone who wants pure thud or intense sting, but a good option if you like a mix.

Overall Score: ★★★
Not the greatest flogger I’ve ever used but far from the worst, either. I’d recommend it for people with some flogging experience who want to try out a larger flogger, and for anyone who wants to add some real leather to their collection but is on a budget. If you want pure beauty and craft, though, I’d skip this one and head on over to Jack’s Floggers or Kabunza instead.

Rouge Garments generously gifted these products and asked for honest reviews. All opinions are, and will always be, my own. There are no affiliate links in this post.