My First Lesson :: by Kay

Dear reader, I'd like to mention that this piece is not edited very much at all. It's been edited and shortened just a bit, but I decided not to edit much of this part because of how much information and terminology it contains. I think this is a greatly erotic and educational part, so I decided it would be better to leave it whole, offering you as much as possible. It is a good post though, so please do enjoy.

~Sin

My First Lesson

Part Two of the Submission by Kay series.

My first lesson started rather unexpectedly. After we’d discussed various manners of items on the shelves and he tested my reaction to various levels of whips and sharp implements, he decided it was time to show me the positions.

There are six basic positions that all reputable dominants use. They are all numbered and named, but I am going to be completely honest and say that the only one that I remember right now is the first position, the submissive position. I remember the names of all the others and how to do them, but I won’t know if he gives me a numbered command and that honestly scares the hell out of me.

What I do know is that the first position is on your knees, bottom seated on your feet, head turned down so that you are looking at your Master/Mistresses knees if they are standing right in front of you. Dominants vary as to where they want the hands positioned. Some say hands clasped behind the back. My Master believes this to be a position that is far too relaxed so he has me clasp my hands behind my neck. Oh and I almost forgot, my knees have to be separated, spread slightly to keep my crotch open- a vulnerability thing I believe. And of course, my posture has to be perfect; neat and erect.

The other positions, in no particular order (as I have said I do not remember the order) are present your breasts, present your crotch, present your ass, present your mouth, and present your back.

Present your breasts is a fun one. I kind of rather like that one. You get down as if you were going into submissive position, except knees are clamped together, feet are crossed at the ankles and your bottom is not resting on your feet. You stick your chest out as far as you can, placing your breasts on display for your Master/Mistresses review and of course for various activities and possible nipple clamping. For this one he has me keep my hands on my neck…I think…Oh shit.

Present your crotch is not one I am particularly fond of, nor is it one that I remember very well. So as soon as I relearn it, I will explain what it is and I will probably tell you the punishment that I end up receiving for not remembering my lessons.

Present your ass is when you get down on your knees. Clasp your fingers together and lay your palms on the floor. Rest your head on your hands so that you are unable to see your Master/Mistress unless they walk within your limited area of peripheral vision and stick your ass out as far into the air as you can. I don’t really like my ass so this position may not end up very high on my list of favorite things to do during lessons.

Present your mouth is another one I don’t remember. Shit. Shit. Shit. I believe I need to research on the internet. What I do know is that you open your mouth as wide as you can…vertically, never horizontally, to show off what a pretty mouth you have and to allow your Dominant to place a gag in your mouth. I do know that it requires the same hand position as present your ass…at least I think it does. Ok well I know you have to keep your eyes shut.

Present your back is very similar to present your ass. Hands clasped, head on hands. Your knees, however, are pressed all the way up so that they touch your hands and your back is arched as nicely in the air as you are able to get it. As I have scoliosis, I do not believe my Master will be using this position very often. Actually that’s a bit of a shame, as I love things being done to my back and I know that would be a good receiving position.

Then came wax play. He told me to stand and remove my shirt and my bra. I was hesitant, but I did as I was told, learning a new lesson in the process: Always take care of your clothes. I was to fold them neatly and hand them to him. Oh and of course my eyes were downcast. You are not to look at your Master unless you have permission and trust me, that is very rare permission to receive.

He cuffed my ankles and wrists to the table. He also allowed me to wear a heavy collar, a cool, large, metal ring clamped tightly around my neck. (And you must always thank your Master when they collar you. It is a very high privilege.)

We moved up three more levels I believe. I actually kind of lost count after a while. Subspace is intense. (Subspace is the area of your head you go into to be able to deal with that kind of pain and take it as pleasure. You lose yourself in your mind, concentrating not on what happened, or on what will happen, but what is happening at that exact moment, nothing more.) So each layer burned worse, even though there was already a nice coat of wax on my back by the time he got to the hottest. Mind you, the ‘beginner’ candle came after two of his own and it still burned. But he was proud of me for making it to that level and he allowed me to move up one more step. Which is where I finally said the ‘safe word.’

(For those of you who don’t know, it is absolutely necessary to have a ‘safe word’ in a relationship of this nature so that if your pain threshold is pushed too far, you can call things to a stop before it reaches a dangerous level. Never use the word ‘stop’, as it is a word people will naturally say when in pain and do not always mean. ‘Red’ is usually used to mean that the pain has become too much and you want that level to stop, but you do not want the activity to cease altogether.)

He clutched me and said “You are safe.” At this point, mind you, I was panting slightly and I had to calm down a bit because the pain had reached that slightly unbearable level.

He knew I liked knife play and he was planning to remove the wax with a knife, but as I had said the ‘safe word’ he asked if I still wanted him to. Of course I did. It felt amazing, feeling the cool blade on my back after the heat of the wax. I wanted to shiver, but at the same time I was just so…warm.

We fell into a silence as he worked, his hands working in tandem with the blade to ease the wax off my back. In all honesty, it felt like I’d just gotten a massage, the heat having eased all the tension from my body. Not to mention the fact that I felt like I was in this Zen-like mode, all thoughts gone, barely hearing the dull hum of the water heater nearby.

When he finished with the knife, he ran a scrubber over my back. It felt like sandpaper across my sensitive back but it felt so good, in a way I couldn’t even begin to explain. Who knew something that felt like sandpaper could cause my body to ache with a certain hunger.

Wow, thinking on it, I know he did a few more things, but I really cannot remember the order he went in. I do know that he ran a wheeled, jagged blade over my back and it felt like a constant knife over my skin, sharp against the sensitive heat he had already created. (Mind you, he had run that blade across my skin before in the introductory phase, and it felt no worse than a cat scratch. It was amazing how much it was intensified by the heat.) He also blew across my back, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise, my body wishing to arch against the bondage as I whimpered softly. I remember my eye lids fluttering shut, the feel like a cool breeze after an excruciatingly hot day.

And then he whipped me with his middle intensity whip. Ten strokes and I had to count them out loud and thank him after each one. I winced as the leather hit my back, realizing that I did wish to thank him for being so kind to me, for allowing me to feel the things I wanted to feel and some things I didn’t even know I wanted to feel until he fulfilled the silent requests for me.

I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life. And yet I’ve never felt so safe.

When we finished, we had Cool Down time, a necessary part of any good Dom/Sub relationship. It is a time to bring the submissive back from subspace, to ease their mind back into the world, out of their heads, their place of such intense vulnerability.

He wrapped me in a blanket and led me upstairs. At this point, my friend joined us again and we all cuddled on the couch, my friend wrapped tightly around me, purring in my ear, nuzzling against my side, both of them making sure I felt safe. Just safe. And eventually my mind did ease back into the real world, to coherent thoughts and time slipped by so quickly. I’d been in subspace for nearly two hours and Cool Down time was about that long, but each felt like nothing more than ten minutes. Which makes me wonder what time really is.

Continued next week with The Second Session...

Don't forget to check out Kay's full blog: A Life Beneath.

Related Posts: Beginning a Journey, Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones but Whips and Chains Excite Me

Beginning a Journey :: by Kay

**Editor's Note:: I think it's important to mention that Kay has not always been in the "BDSM" culture or lifestyle. While we have often discussed and debated about the sexual elements since we met, it is something she has sort of fallen into. Every person interested in BDSM has started, lived, and continued or stopped participated in their activities for different reasons. Sometimes it's an innate longing, sometimes curiosity, force, etc. There is no right way, there are no (or very few) wrong ways, and as Bell said so wonderfully, everyone is unique and beautiful and they're meant to be that way.

Anyway. Here is post #1, and from now on I'll post one from her every Sunday afternoon. Enjoy! <3>

Intro, Of Sorts
by Kay
Part One of the Submission by Kay series.

Here is what I know:

For the longest time I was a cutter. In a very loose sense of the word. I never broke the skin. There was just something about dragging the sharp edge of something along my bare flesh that filled a part of me. My physical pain, I found, had the ability to match my emotional pain. I had concrete evidence that I was, indeed, hurting. But it was evidence only for myself. I had scratches on my body, sure, but they were in places that I could easily cover with clothing. No one else could know. Unless I wanted them to. And a part of me wanted them to make the effort to discover those scratches, but no one ever did. So my outlet was temporary because after a while, the fact that no one ever noticed began to cause me more pain.

I began to tell people. And then I realized that I was having to defend my status as a “cutter.” I didn’t break skin. My injuries meant nothing. While self-inflicted, they meant nothing compared to the many people who drew blood. Who made scars. I was never one for blood.

But I kept doing it, kept dragging sharp edges across the skin, my tears stopping as I felt a jagged edge dragged across my thigh.

And then one day it just went too far. I won’t get into the details because I’m sure you’d rather not know them. Personally, I’d rather not know them but it’s something I’m forced to live with.

At any rate, I tried rather unsuccessfully to slit my wrist with a razor but I chickened out when the skin broke. It stung too much. So instead I downed a bottle of pills, then ran down the hall to get help.

And suddenly people cared. People wanted to know why.

And that was when I stopped knowing why.

I went to a therapist. And even now, almost two years later, I’m still seeing the same woman. And I’ve still barely scratched the surface of my problems. Pun intended.

A few weeks ago I moved in to my new place.

I had a huge fight with my parents the day I was slated to move out and it ended with me in tears, practically hyperventilating as I sped down the road, my car loaded with all manner of boxes.

My roommate invited her friend over that night. We started talking about sex, as my friends and I are very open about our sex lives and our preferences in the bedroom (in fact, the few that know about this endeavor of mine are very supportive of it!).

I don’t know how the subject came up, I mean specifically…I know how it eventually came up, knowing my friends the way I do. At any rate, I mentioned at some point that I enjoy knife play. Which, at that point in time was a lie. Not a complete lie. I rather did like the idea of knife play. I’d just never…played…before.

Let’s just say the night got better as the guy pulled his knife out and began to drag it across my skin. I’d never felt anything like it. I mean…I had, obviously as I’d formerly done stuff like it to myself…but it was something completely new now. It felt different to have someone else in control of the blade, to control how long it dragged or where it dragged. And I found it highly, highly erotic.

He dragged it over my nipples, over my stomach, my neck, pressing the cool blade into my skin, leaving beautiful pink scratch marks in its wake, marks that I would begin to feel alarmingly proud of.

He tied my wrists together and I found myself unable to clutch anything, barely able to writhe comfortably as he continued to drag that blade. And it was even more erotic. My body felt hot, the space between my legs aching terribly. Pain had become pleasure.

He came back a couple days later, his manner more forceful, pressing me against walls, slamming my face into the bed, tugging my hair. But the more he did, the more I began to enjoy myself. It was intense. It was insane. And it felt so wrong that it began to feel so right. He gave me more scratch marks and this time, I found them accompanied by nice blue bruises, some of those bruises still visible even now.

I was hooked.

Days later, my roommate took me to a friend’s house. She’d told me a lot about him and his girlfriend and the lifestyle they have. His girlfriend and my roommate are like sisters and she gladly showed me their “dungeon,” a basement with a large table at one end and all manner of suspension gear along the other, not to mention an entire wall lined with shelves covered in any manner of toys and devices necessary for their lifestyle.

Later that night, I got into a discussion with her boyfriend and I found myself practically drooling at the thought of working with them. I asked if he would train me and he readily agreed to, offering to go ahead and take me down to the basement for further discussion, including in depth descriptions of the toys and implements.

Later, there was more.

To be continued...(next Sunday)...

**This is an edited version of Kay's first post on her new blog, A Life Beneath. For the full version (not much is cut out, but there are more posts) you're welcome to visit her blog.

Or just stop by here next Sunday for her next post, "My First Lesson".**

clone it

"Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But Whips and Chains Excite Me"

A Quick Introduction to the World of BDSM

Book of the Day: You Know You Love It : Lessons in Sexual Mischief :: by Ilona Paris

Movie of the Day: Secretary :: Starring Maggie Gyllenhal and James Spader


The world of Sex and Sexuality is a vast and incomprehensibly interesting universe.
Likes, dislikes, fantasies, cultures, subcultures, fetishes, sexual orientations, and preferences, as well as the lack-there-of of all of the above and so so much more, make it one of the most eclectic topics in modern (and historical) culture.

It's not particularly often that I bring up subjects of fetishes, fantasies, or subcultures of sex. They tend to be complicated and take quite a bit of work to explain. But today, I'm taking a stab (haha) at one of my favorite fetishes/subcultures: BDSM.

For starters, BDSM stands for several things, depending on who you're asking. Respectively, it stands for some variation of Bondage and Discipline/Domination and Submission/Sadism and Masochism.

So lets break down the very very basic basics of what these each stand for.
Bondage: Being tied up. That's the down and dirty basic. Bondage as in Bonds. Being tied up, cuffed, roped, whatever.
Discipline: Being spanked. This is ...well...being disciplined.
Domination: Being on top. This is essentially dominating your partner in one way or another, whoever that may be.
Submission: Being on bottom. This is typically submitting to your partner. Enduring pain, bondage, humiliation, and all sorts of strange offenses that normally be horrid.
Sadism: Slapping and enjoying it. Based on the legendary Marquis De Sade, this is gaining pleasure from giving pain (whether that be physical of mental).
Masochism: Being slapped and enjoying it. The opposite of sadism, masochism is gaining pleasure from receiving pain.

Now, these things get a lot more complicated, and are defined and carried out in a million different ways by a million different people. Yes, I said a million. Its really millions. These pleasures are far more common than you think.
Think about it. What turns you on? Nibbling on each others lips? Nails down your back? Little extra roughness during sex?
These little things are little degrees of bondage, masochism, and domination.
There are, of course, many people who those things aren't enough for.

I've always had a quaint fascination with the BDSM world. My particular niche is the idea of being owned. Tied up, collared, punished, and, most of all, taken care of.

I recently bought a pair of fur lined leather wrist cuffs (not hand cuffs; I can't stand fuzzy handcuffs), and I adore them. Coal (my bf, W, in case I haven't mentioned the name change yet) puts them on me every morning, and takes them off every night. I'm only allowed to take them off for work and modeling (and cleaning or showering). It took a while for him to grasp what it was I wanted with all of this, but little by little he's understanding my want (and need) to be taken care of, almost as if I were a pet.

I'm sure it seems odd, but to me, seeing him put on the cuffs makes me feel owned in a way that lets me feel protected, wanted, and loved. Once in a while he bathes me, or dresses me, or other simple tasks, and when he asks me to do something, I do it (9 times out of 10 anyway...).
It isn't like I can't take care of myself (hell, he can barely take care of himself, I'm better at it), it's just this sweet, sensual feeling I get from being taken care of. And occasionally from small levels of inflicted pain.

This is a very simple, very basic form of a Dominance/Submission relationship. I'd like it to grow into more in the future, but right now we're taking little steps.

But there are so many higher, more complicated, more dangerous levels of BDSM. From knife play and hot wax to flogging and whipping, to suspension and chains, to asphyxiation, humiliation, and nipple clamps, to so so so much more. There are so many fetishes, subcultures, and ways to "play" that you'd be hard put to actually name most of them.

In the future I hope to eventually talk more about the culture and subcultures of BDSM, but for now I just wanted to give you this basic introduction, and introduce my new (and first) Guest Writer.

My friend Kay just started taking "classes" in Submission. She just started, but so far her experiences have been interesting, and her appreciation seems genuine. She recently started a Blog to journal her thoughts, sessions, and overall journey in this little area of the sexual world, so I invited her to post some of her writings here in Sin's Secret as a sort of weekly guest entry.

My hope is that this will do several things. One, is give Sin's Secret some more varied content, which I think is important, and a new, outside voice. Two, is give an inside view into something that most people aren't familiar with, so that maybe some of you readers might find something new to learn, create an understanding of, and maybe even try out some time ;-). Three, is to add a bit of spice in here. I know that now and then my posts can be pretty dull, and occasionally talk about some dull topics. This Guest Writer would mean that there'd be something strange, new, and interesting every week or so for readers to follow and enjoy.

So, the next post up will be Kay's initial introduction piece, to start her off.

Until next time!
<3
Sin