Session planning can be a controversial topic in the BDSM community. Some kinksters believe that planning is the enemy of spontaneity, and that some of the most magical moments come from identifying and capturing unexpected opportunities. For the most part, they're not wrong. On the other hand, it's impossible to achieve any complex long-term goal without some degree of forethought.
As in most cases, the answer is somewhere between the extremes. Do some degree of planning for your scenes simply because that works better, and leave yourself open to whatever enticing paths reveal themselves along the way. On that note, let's jump into how I might plan a session with a semi-hypothetical sub named Jackie this Saturday.
Vision
Just as a contractor would never start building something with no idea what the completed structure will look like, it's important for a Dom to have at least a partial vision of how his well-trained slut will speak, sit, walk, crawl, suck, fuck, and cum.
In a nutshell, my big-picture long-term goals for a sub include teaching her to welcome whatever sensations I choose to inflict, to recognize her sole purpose of serving and pleasing me regardless of her own preferences or comfort, and to derive her greatest pleasure from truly selfless service and unrestricted ownership.
Training Targets
With this vision in mind, the next step is to identify the undesirable characteristic that stands out the most and start chipping away. After only four sessions with Jackie, an eager and adorably sweet blonde, we've made solid progress with verbal protocol, blowjob technique, orgasm control, and some other odds and ends. For our next session, my primary target will be her habit of protecting herself with her hands when she isn't fully restrained, sometimes even pushing mine away when I'm spanking her ass or probing her pussy.
Now, in most cases, when a guy is hitting your ass hard enough to leave marks that last for a week, this is a pretty natural reflex. But in the BDSM context, where Jackie's ass, her pussy, and her hands for that matter are my property, this is the kind of huge no-no that makes a Dom say to himself, "Oh my god, you are in so much trouble when I eventually get around to correcting that." Well, sweet little Jackie, 'eventually' is scheduled for this Saturday.
Execution
Once that goal within a goal has been identified, the next challenge is to figure out how to achieve it. There are probably dozens of ways to provoke Jackie's overactive hands and then punish her for using them, but only a few will incorporate the right mix of incentive and consequence that will help me chip away at this unwanted mass on my human sculpture.
In this case, I'm thinking I'll restrain her in a standing position in the middle of my floor, chaining her collar to the ceiling and her ankle cuffs to the walls on either side. (IMPORTANT SAFETY NOTICE: Don't even think about chaining anyone's neck to the ceiling unless you know damn well what you're doing.) Then I'll lock her wrist cuffs together behind her back, slide my remote-control vibrating egg into her pussy, and make it abundantly clear that I expect her hands to stay positioned right in the small of her back, leaving her ass fully exposed. I think I'll gag her too. The incessant begging I know I'll be in for can be fun, but it won't be very productive. Plus, there's nothing quite like the sight of drool dripping from a sub's chin and dribbling down her chest. Trust me.
By switching on the vibrator and spanking, whipping, and caning her ass at just the right intensity, I should be able to give her the perfect level of stimulation—just enough to turn her on immensely and send her into five-alarm ass-protection mode. When those hands crash the party, I'll turn off the vibrator and do something I know she hates: attach a pair of clothespins to her hyper-sensitive breasts. Then I'll turn the vibrator back on and get back to work on her ass until more unwanted movement invites me to add more clothespins.
By the end of this simple exercise, chances are very good that Jackie will have a chest full of clothespins, significantly improved hand control, and a beautiful stream of drool running all the way down to her dripping wet pussy.
Final Assembly
With two or three little exercises like this on your itinerary, the next step is deciding how one flows into the next. This is where too much planning can start to make a session feel overly scripted, so it's best to focus on general practicality. If some of the items on your agenda require cuffs and chains and others involve some nice restrictive rope work, for example, it's best to group your cuff-dependent activities together so you don't have to keep taking them off and putting them back on again.
It's also important to vary the positions you use. A sub can only kneel on a hard floor or hang from her wrists for so long before too much soreness or numbness will undermine the effectiveness of your training and potentially lead to an injury. Drawing up a quick mental outline will help you eliminate unnecessary work and ensure that your sub feels only the pain you intend to inflict.
Jackie can sometimes be a bit nervous before our sessions, so I like to warm her up with some restrictive bondage and moderate pain to put her in the right headspace. In this case, I'm thinking I'll start her in a standing spread-eagle position for some spanking and cropping. From there, all I'll have to do is lock her wrists behind her back for the little tutorial I described. After that, we'll do some anal training and blowjob practice, both of which require consistent repetition to produce results, and both can be performed in fresh positions that will give tired parts of her body a break.
For the grand finale? That's easy: I'm going to fuck her senseless like I always do. I'm pretty uncreative that way. Sometimes I have a sub hold a position and apply some form of discipline if she moves, but since I will have already done that with the hands thing, I think I'll give her a break and tie her to my soft comfy bed in some completely immobilizing position. By this point, I think she will have earned it. Unless she doesn't…
Fog of War
They say every general has a perfect battle plan until the first shot is fired, and the same is true for a well-prepared Dom until the clothes come off and the collar goes on. You can always count on the unexpected, and the best Doms are able to turn these surprises into even better ways of achieving their training goals.
So, if it's impossible to anticipate every variable, and we know we'll be throwing out a big chunk of our plan each time, why bother? The point of planning is not to carry out that plan to the letter. The real value of this process lies in taking the time to understand where we want to go and how we're going to get there. Asking and answering those questions is what allows us to react to the unexpected in more intelligent and productive ways.
Bottom line: far from spontaneity's enemy, planning may just be its BFF.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Makings of a Dom
I know this will make me sound like a mom who makes you feel guilty for missing dinner by going on and on about how long she slaved over that hot stove, but I'll say it anyway: being a Dom is a lot of work. For starters, there's a ton of shit to buy, and you'll need a lot of practice before you'll be any good at using it. When you finally find a girl who'll let you tie her up and do all kinds of dirty things to her, you'll have to ask all the right questions to really get inside her head, then identify your training goals and prep for your first session.
The session itself takes a lot more energy and focus than, say, the typical Friday-night romp with that hottie you picked up at the Roosevelt. And in the morning, you'll have a giant mess of chains, rope, leather, dildos, whips, and butt plugs on the floor that'll look like West Hollywood after a category-five tornado. To be honest, I still haven't cleaned up from last weekend. So why do we put ourselves through all this? What's in it for us? I can't speak for everyone, but I'll bet retracing the evolution of my kinkiness will reveal what that answer is for me. Let's find out...
Chapter I: Giant Gorillas and Corpulent Aliens
You might say my first sexual influences were a tad unconventional. One of the earliest memories of my life is watching this old version of King Kong on TV with my parents, and I can still remember how strangely fascinated I was by that image of Jane with her wrists tied to those stakes. I was only three or four at the time, but I knew instinctively that this horny oversized ape and I were on the same page.
A few years later, George Lucas released a film that would inspire new generations of future pervs for decades to come: Return of the Jedi. Princess Leia didn't really do much for me at age six, but the image of her collared and chained to Jabba the Hut in that skimpy little bikini is still burned into my brain to this day. Jabba may be a bit on the heavy side, even for a Dom, but you have to admire his style.
By the time my hormones joined the party, I knew there was something very different going on in my head. I certainly wasn't the only kid who had to plan sitting and standing around my ill-timed erections, and I was just as comfortable joking about the indignities of puberty as my friends were, but I learned quickly that the details of my fantasies were best kept to myself. I still thought about normal sex, mostly to reassure myself that I was at least somewhat normal, but at that age I could have jerked off to Kathy Bates.
Chapter II: Drunken Fumblings with Naked Girls and Ethernet Cable
In college, when I finally moved from the chalkboard to the field, I set out to make the most of the four key resources at hand: a deliciously pervy girlfriend who was happy try anything twice, a beer fridge well stocked with Sierra Nevada, one university-issue four-post modular bed, and lots of Ethernet cable. Sorry about that Ethernet cable, Abby, but you know how it is: we just didn't have the Internet resources back then even to learn about the proper equipment, much less buy it online.
Once the beers were uncapped and Abby was unclothed, my first step was to create my own living bondage porn. After that, my plan was to rustle up a makeshift blindfold, then maybe do something fun with the ice cubes in my fridge and the ping-pong paddle I had liberated from downstairs. It only took a few minutes to tie each wrist and ankle to each corner of the bed. As I looked down at this athletically shaped pre-med, so exposed and vulnerable as she tugged helplessly at the high-speed data cables that held her in place, I decided to skip right to Phase II: fuck her and cum on her face. About five minutes later (hey, I was 19!), as I wiped the sweat from my brow and stumbled across the room for another Sierra Nevada, I found myself asking what would become a pretty familiar question for the next few years: "Now what?"
With practice, I eventually developed the Zen-like discipline to resist fucking Abby the instant I finished tying her up, and I started exploring a whole range of exciting ways to amplify and intensify her helplessness and vulnerability. I realized that total physical control meant total sensory control, and by blindfolding, gagging, pinching, biting, spanking, and choking her, I could play those senses like keys on a vastly complex piano. At first, all I could manage was Chopsticks and maybe Jingle Bells, but you know how they say you get to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice.
Chapter III: Graduate Study
Around the time I moved to LA and started exploring the local fetish community, that question popped up again: Now what? That was when I met Courtney, a sweet, wholesomely beautiful brunette with a razor-sharp sense of humor and an insatiable appetite for total power exchange. Suddenly, I had this tidal wave of fresh ideas and a diehard play partner at least as perverted as I was to try them on. It was the perfect storm, and soon I had the next major epiphany in my evolution as a Dom: I could use all these tools and techniques for the bigger-picture, longer-term goal of shaping a sub's behavior and attitude to my exact specifications.
I took 24/7 control of Courtney's orgasms, requiring that she email, text, or call me whenever she wanted permission to cum. I taught her the verbal protocol and eye-contact rules I wanted her to follow, the slave positions I wanted her to hold, and the techniques of sucking and cleaning my cock I wanted her to use. When she was a good girl, I'd give her multiple forced orgasms until she begged me to stop. When she broke a rule, I'd discipline her with a wooden paddle or something else I knew she hated until she begged me for another chance to do it right. With time, she learned to place my pleasure above her own comfort, to obey even the most unexpected and unusual instructions without hesitation, and to revel in her status as my property. When Courtney and I were enjoying these intense moments of intimacy, I felt a stronger sense of sexual fulfillment than I could ever have imagined, and purity of this fulfillment helped me uncover the real foundation of my sexuality.
And Finally…
For the vast majority of straight males, the female form is an object of obsession from puberty until death. For me, BDSM is the ultimate way to fully possess, savor, and connect with that object on a more intimate and intense level than most will ever experience. It is a lot of work, but then again, nothing truly worthwhile is easy. Now to put those damn toys away…
The session itself takes a lot more energy and focus than, say, the typical Friday-night romp with that hottie you picked up at the Roosevelt. And in the morning, you'll have a giant mess of chains, rope, leather, dildos, whips, and butt plugs on the floor that'll look like West Hollywood after a category-five tornado. To be honest, I still haven't cleaned up from last weekend. So why do we put ourselves through all this? What's in it for us? I can't speak for everyone, but I'll bet retracing the evolution of my kinkiness will reveal what that answer is for me. Let's find out...
Chapter I: Giant Gorillas and Corpulent Aliens
You might say my first sexual influences were a tad unconventional. One of the earliest memories of my life is watching this old version of King Kong on TV with my parents, and I can still remember how strangely fascinated I was by that image of Jane with her wrists tied to those stakes. I was only three or four at the time, but I knew instinctively that this horny oversized ape and I were on the same page.
A few years later, George Lucas released a film that would inspire new generations of future pervs for decades to come: Return of the Jedi. Princess Leia didn't really do much for me at age six, but the image of her collared and chained to Jabba the Hut in that skimpy little bikini is still burned into my brain to this day. Jabba may be a bit on the heavy side, even for a Dom, but you have to admire his style.
By the time my hormones joined the party, I knew there was something very different going on in my head. I certainly wasn't the only kid who had to plan sitting and standing around my ill-timed erections, and I was just as comfortable joking about the indignities of puberty as my friends were, but I learned quickly that the details of my fantasies were best kept to myself. I still thought about normal sex, mostly to reassure myself that I was at least somewhat normal, but at that age I could have jerked off to Kathy Bates.
Chapter II: Drunken Fumblings with Naked Girls and Ethernet Cable
In college, when I finally moved from the chalkboard to the field, I set out to make the most of the four key resources at hand: a deliciously pervy girlfriend who was happy try anything twice, a beer fridge well stocked with Sierra Nevada, one university-issue four-post modular bed, and lots of Ethernet cable. Sorry about that Ethernet cable, Abby, but you know how it is: we just didn't have the Internet resources back then even to learn about the proper equipment, much less buy it online.
Once the beers were uncapped and Abby was unclothed, my first step was to create my own living bondage porn. After that, my plan was to rustle up a makeshift blindfold, then maybe do something fun with the ice cubes in my fridge and the ping-pong paddle I had liberated from downstairs. It only took a few minutes to tie each wrist and ankle to each corner of the bed. As I looked down at this athletically shaped pre-med, so exposed and vulnerable as she tugged helplessly at the high-speed data cables that held her in place, I decided to skip right to Phase II: fuck her and cum on her face. About five minutes later (hey, I was 19!), as I wiped the sweat from my brow and stumbled across the room for another Sierra Nevada, I found myself asking what would become a pretty familiar question for the next few years: "Now what?"
With practice, I eventually developed the Zen-like discipline to resist fucking Abby the instant I finished tying her up, and I started exploring a whole range of exciting ways to amplify and intensify her helplessness and vulnerability. I realized that total physical control meant total sensory control, and by blindfolding, gagging, pinching, biting, spanking, and choking her, I could play those senses like keys on a vastly complex piano. At first, all I could manage was Chopsticks and maybe Jingle Bells, but you know how they say you get to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice.
Chapter III: Graduate Study
Around the time I moved to LA and started exploring the local fetish community, that question popped up again: Now what? That was when I met Courtney, a sweet, wholesomely beautiful brunette with a razor-sharp sense of humor and an insatiable appetite for total power exchange. Suddenly, I had this tidal wave of fresh ideas and a diehard play partner at least as perverted as I was to try them on. It was the perfect storm, and soon I had the next major epiphany in my evolution as a Dom: I could use all these tools and techniques for the bigger-picture, longer-term goal of shaping a sub's behavior and attitude to my exact specifications.
I took 24/7 control of Courtney's orgasms, requiring that she email, text, or call me whenever she wanted permission to cum. I taught her the verbal protocol and eye-contact rules I wanted her to follow, the slave positions I wanted her to hold, and the techniques of sucking and cleaning my cock I wanted her to use. When she was a good girl, I'd give her multiple forced orgasms until she begged me to stop. When she broke a rule, I'd discipline her with a wooden paddle or something else I knew she hated until she begged me for another chance to do it right. With time, she learned to place my pleasure above her own comfort, to obey even the most unexpected and unusual instructions without hesitation, and to revel in her status as my property. When Courtney and I were enjoying these intense moments of intimacy, I felt a stronger sense of sexual fulfillment than I could ever have imagined, and purity of this fulfillment helped me uncover the real foundation of my sexuality.
And Finally…
For the vast majority of straight males, the female form is an object of obsession from puberty until death. For me, BDSM is the ultimate way to fully possess, savor, and connect with that object on a more intimate and intense level than most will ever experience. It is a lot of work, but then again, nothing truly worthwhile is easy. Now to put those damn toys away…
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