The end of the adventure.

Its been years since either of us posted here, real life came into play and BDSM got pushed further and further back. I was sitting here today reading all the posts we had both written, about how excited and amazing this scene was to us, about the communication between us, about the love we felt for each other. It made me realise a lot.

Over the last few years real life took over, we both had that damn recession to get through, I had previously been married and had 2 children and they began to enter our lives much more, in the past year I was made redundant, I have attempted to rebuild my career putting hours into making it work, Sarah went through changes in her career too, her family went through some tough ordeals and life became normal dealing with issue after issue. Unfortunately the excitement waned, we both loved each other but our lives had become mundane.

Undocumented here would be loads of other things BDSM wise that we tried, for instance Sarah’s collection of Latex grew and grew, I think it is obvious reading back how it was obvious that would happen, her shoe collection also grew, I got myself a catsuit, starting getting into gas masks and other paraphernalia. We went to lots and lots of different clubs in Ireland and abroad continuing to explore this world we had embraced, but with all the other crap in life, all this started to dwindle away.

I don’t believe for a second either of us enforced this to happen its just the way life goes. The most scary thing though for me was seeing how 3 years ago our communication had a chance to breathe, real life squashed that for us. We stopped communicating as well as we had done before, not because we did not want to but because we had so much other stuff going on in our lives taking over precious time that should have been allocated to us.

I was reading one post I wrote and saw how much I obviously used to speak to Sarah about my emotions, something familiarity with each other may have squandered I also see how Sarah used to feel she could communicate with me but stopped with all that was happening in my life, it is something I think we both regret now.

The last three years have been good to us we are both healthy we have not had nervous breakdowns, we never really fought even going through all the turmoil, but not great if you compared it to the previous two years and the two of us, subconciously, drifted apart. BDSM was not at fault for this but I believe if we had had the time to continue exploring it in more depth and as silly as it sounds had even even to post here, it may have helped bring back some of that excitement that was missing from our lives.

Our relationship has now ended and it is with great regret that we have allowed this to happen, but hey people drift apart. I know we both will remain very good friends but we are just not partners anymore. I suppose what I am trying to say here is don’t ever allow yourself to lose that communication be it in a vanilla relationship or a BSDM one. Only by giving each other time and talking and listening will you be able to work on getting the excitement back, don’t let the mundane day to day life take over, life is far to short.

And so ends the adventure of ‘this’ dirty duo, hopefully reading how we used to communicate will help bring something to your relationship, but from us both thank you for been part of it.

Scary Beautiful or just insane?

So it’s no secret that I love high shoes. The higher the better to be honest. It’s not that I need the height, I just love how they make me feel. There’s something very empowering about sky high heels and what’s better than towering over a sub.

I’m well aware that tons of folk love to restrict movement in their sub. Ballet boots are used quite a bit for this very purpose. But there comes a point when you just have to say no. Recently I came across a pair of shoes by designer Leanie van der Vyver that shocked, confused, intrigued and worried me. It was of a pair of reverse heels. Ballet boots in reverse if you will, that require the wearer to have their knees bent at all times. If this is your kink, i’m sure these would be right up your street. However I can’t help think that these go just a little bit too far, even for kink’s sake.



What do you think? Are these a great idea, or just scary beautiful?

Haute Couture Bondage

Fleet Ilya is a London-based design brand, headed by Ilya Fleet and Resha Sharma, that creates a line of handcrafted leather accessories. However, it’s not often that a fashion designer comes out with a bondage-inspired collection, and create haute couture bondage accessories!

This is a pretty impressive collection, and nice to see bondage inspired clothing/accessories making the catwalks. Just don’t get too excited. You’d want to have a pretty large bank balance to buy any of these pieces. A simple leather chest harness will set you back almost €750.


Two weeks later

Just a little update on our piercings. It has been just a little over two weeks now and we are both healing well. The pain has completely gone, and i’ve found I can now sleep on my tummy again. At last. 

We’re still cleaning it every day, once in the morning and once at night before bed, with a saline solution. There’s a small amount of weeping happening, and occasionally the odd lump of greenish gunk, which I hear is pretty normal. 

The nipple, i’ve noticed, has become very sensitive to touch. Not in a “i’m still healing” way but it an arousing way. My nipples were never sensitive to touch, in terms or arousing me. They were always sensitive, but i never really enjoyed them being touched. I’m starting to notice now though, that touch is very very nice, and very sensual.

I think i’m going to enjoy this! Next stop, clitoral hood! haha well, maybe! We’ll see.

Assent Matters

Okay, there’s a 600lb gorilla in the room, and I’m done pretending it’s not there. What we do isn’t pretty or politically correct, and frankly, it’s dangerous if we can’t get (and stay) honest about the reality of it. So here it is as raw and real and un-PC as it is:

There is a cult of victimhood building in the scene. It’s being cultivated and nurtured in the name of something I don’t believe the originators ever intended their catchy phrase to stand for. Its endgame is dangerous for everybody involved, physically, emotionally, socially, and legally…and it’s going to harm us all if it isn’t nipped in the bud, right fucking now.

For consent to count…ASSENT has to matter.

What we do is VOLUNTARY. It’s not assault, battery or rape in any moral sense of the word, regardless of what the laws that were meant to protect people against involuntary harm actually say. We have message boards, clubs, businesses, parties and social groups where people come and ask, sometimes beg and plead, for others to hit, kick, scratch, burn, shock, bleed, humiliate, degrade, subjugate, frighten, outrage, piss on, piss off, and/or make them cry. Not because they are helpless victims, but because it sexually gratifies them to participate in those things. And there are people who agree to do it…want to do it…love to do all of those Terrible Horrible Very Nasty Things. Not because they are predatory assholes, but because it sexually gratifies them, too. And every one of those reputable organizations, and the ones that exist to protect them, insist on two things above all others: You must be an adult. You must be consenting.

And that applies to BOTH (or all) of you, dammit.

We can pretend whatever we want to in the confines of that emotional, theatrical, energetic bubble that is our “scene”, whether it’s for an hour or most of our 24/7 life. But the reality of the situation is that we are free, sentient, competent adults with a responsibility to take care of OURSELVES. If you’re not, get out of the pool. Go home. You’re not old enough or competent enough to play here. The roller coaster might look like fun, and it is, but if you aren’t tall enough to ride this ride, nobody wants you on it…because when you fall out and get harmed, it not only hurts you, it closes down the ride for the rest of us.

I’ve been following an epic thread on consent for months now, watching sadly as many of the comments devolve into dangerously magical thinking and wishing somebody would speak up, and say “Whoa. There’s a point at which personal responsibility comes into play here.” It took far too long. I waited longer than I should have. I said nothing at first because I respected the poster. Then because it was Sexual Assault Awareness month. Then because I was busy. And finally realized, I just didn’t really want to be the lightening rod for the reflexive push-back that would follow, when I called bullshit on the parts of it that were batshit Pollyanna craziness. But hey, there’s more than one way people can get hurt in this game, and somebody has to stand up. I’ve been on both sides of this ride, and I’m out of patience with the silence, so today, it’s me:

Being a top in this game is dangerous. Publicly, privately, with new partners or old. Being the one who does the Terrible Horrible Very Bad Things puts you in an untenable position that you cannot defend legally or morally no matter how many times they asked you to do it. As soon as somebody says “Oh, I changed my mind, I didn’t want that after all,” you are the one facing accusations of rape, boundary violations, incompetence, or predatory behavior. And it doesn’t matter how careful you were, or how ethical you were, or how well you think you negotiated. You stay in this game for more than a couple years, you’re gonna live through it whether you want to or not. Ask the biggest, baddest, kindest, most skilled, reputable and ethical tops of either gender that you know. Every single one of them has a story. Or two or three.

There are predators and crazies of all genders and every BDSM persuasion in this game. And yes, those poor tender delicate flowers of submission, slavery and painsluttery are more often than anybody talks about…dangerous, and occasionally, actually predatory. Some are crazy. Some are just uneducated or immature. But the thing the dangerous ones have in common sounds a lot like this:

“I didn’t tell you, and you didn’t know, and I didn’t say anything while it was happening, but what you did I didn’t want, and you should have known that, even though I was saying you could, because well…it’s your responsibility to know better than I do what I want. And besides…I was in subspace/headspace/dissociated/whatever the fuck…and wasn’t in my right mind when I said you could. So…I didn’t really consent to that.”

I can’t say this clearly enough:

If you go to a place when you play that makes you incompetent to give or revoke consent, you have a disability that makes you a danger to yourself and to the people you play with. And if you’re going to play this game AT ALL, you have a responsibility to choose your partners VERY carefully, disclose that problem UP FRONT, and negotiate truthfully, intelligently and with major self-awareness around it.

Because I’ve got news for those of you that think that “bottoms” can’t do or consent to this or that or the other inside of a scene…a whole fucking bunch of us can. And do. And those of you that can’t or won’t, and still ask for pick-up play with people you barely know, are the worst nightmare of every top on the planet. Especially if your version of negotiation sounds a lot like “oh, um…you’re hot…and I’ve heard good things about you…and oh, um…you know…whatever you want to do, I guess. I like [whatever it is that you do].”

Whether or not you want to live in that fantasy for yourself…or yell at me for calling you on it…keep this in mind: If you sell the notion that bottoming takes everybody to a place where consent is impossible…then ALL the work being done to make what we do legal and defensible and give us CHOICE is for naught. If we aren’t competent to consent or withdraw consent once play starts, then everything we do will always be criminal, for our own protection. You can’t have it both ways.

I know a couple that speak, teach and demonstrate some of the heaviest fear, humiliation & taboo play out there…they play deep in emotion all the time…and every time I’ve heard them speak or seen anything they’ve written for the last several years, I hear the bottom in that couple pleading for people to hear and understand: TOPS ARE NOT MINDREADERS. Her husband nods. But she’s so frustrated you can almost hear her scream. It’s a cry in the darkness I hear over and over, from tops, and from their partners, of either persuasion, and a whole bunch of bottoms who gag at being lumped in that “helpless subbie victim” category. Most of us are good with body language, with nuances of energy and emotion…some aren’t. But NONE of us are mind-readers. And when you tell us things are good, when you ask for what you want, when you use words that are understandable and in plain English, and then tell us later that’s not what you MEANT and we were supposed to KNOW that…we are helpless to respond. Because it’s NOT RATIONAL.

Physical and emotional landmines happen. Endorphins and adrenaline allow things that the rational mind isn’t comfortable with. We ALL wake up the next day sometimes thinking “What the FUCK was I thinking when I did/allowed/asked for that??” Or with more marks or bruises or embarrassment or physical or emotional hurt than we wanted, for ourselves or our partners. Sometimes it takes months to untangle whatever knots we surfaced. Sometimes we trigger stuff that needs therapy, or even medical treatment. Sometimes we do it on purpose, sometimes we don’t. Shit happens, and often it’s nobody’s fault…unless you knew that shit was there, and didn’t disclose it.

But when you wake up the next day and think to yourself: “Wow. I’m not comfortable with how far that went.” Ask yourself what you actually did or said. Ask your partner what you did or said. Ask bystanders what you did or said. And own your part in it. Because whatever you were thinking…if you actually held the conversation and all the responses entirely in your head…you can’t hold someone else responsible for what you didn’t say or do here on the planet where the rest of us are. And if you couldn’t possibly have predicted the outcome, how rational is it for you to expect that your partner should have?

Safewords exist for a reason. Plain English exists for a reason. All those classes on negotiation exist for a reason. Read the book The Gift of Fear (Gavin de Becker) and learn not just what a real predator looks like…but where YOUR responsibility to recognize the obvious signs and protect yourself begins. Find your emotional power to recognize and say “no” to what you don’t want BEFORE you get naked and tied up and give up your actual physical power to walk away to anybody. And if you find, after the fact, that you don’t have a voice in that situation…get one. Therapy and education and finding your own power will serve you far better in this life than setting yourself up for perpetual victimhood again and again, and wondering why it keeps happening to YOU.

Because your consent DOES count. And when you give it…you have a responsibility to give it honestly, and to expect to be taken at your word. And when you withdraw it, which you have a perfect right to do at any time, you have responsibility to communicate it clearly, and to act on it. Anything else puts you and everybody you play with at risk. Once you’ve done THAT, there’s no excuse and no apology for anybody violating it. But until you do…it’s magical and dangerous thinking to believe that someone else is going to “know” what you want, and do it, despite what you say or don’t say. In fact, somebody who would discount your communication that way, is far more dangerous than someone who takes you at your word, as a competent, sentient adult, who has decided for yourself that you’re big enough to be on this strange and wonderful ride.

Now somebody get that gorilla a banana. We’ve been ignoring it for far too long.

Resposted from Fetlife


It started about a year ago, when the conversation as to whether we should, could or would get a piercing started. I had already had my ears and belly button done, but Adomis had never experienced it. I wanted to get some sort of piercing done or possibly a second tattoo, but there was no hope that Adomis would get inked. It’s just not his thing.

Initially we discussed genital piercings. We did some research, and given how sexually active we both are, it didn’t really appeal much. The thoughts of a long healing process and lack of intimacy was somewhat troubling. It was at that point we thought about venturing northwards and a nipple piercing was the logical answer.

About three months ago we decided to do it. Then the gas, electricity, phone, broadband, tv license and car insurance bills landed in the same month. Whoops. So we put the idea on hold. Then last Thursday we did it. We ventured into Wildcat in Stephens Green shopping centre and did it. Well, not as simply as that! I was still nervous about the idea. I have almighty big nipples and they are constantly sensitive. The slightest bit of a breeze and they are up! I also hate pain. I love doling it out, but it’s not something I cope well with receiving. And I knew this was going to hurt.

Adomis was sold on the idea so he went first. He filled in the mandatory “die and it’s not our fault” forms and away he went. The piercers name was Carla, a really really nice girl, who answered all of our questions and put Adomis right at ease. He whipped off his top and she cleaned around the area with sterile swabs. Once he was ready, she grabbed the needle and pushed it through his nipple. She said beforehand that there would be a pinch then a larger pinch as the needle exited, but I’m not sure Adomis was expecting such a big pinch. The poor little lads blood drained from his face, but after a brief rest, and a lollipop, Carla finished the piercing off and popped the jewellery in. It was so cute. Super cute in fact.

We thought it would be best to grab a smoothie, and have a ciggie, to calm down from the ordeal, and allow me to decide whether or not I wanted to go through that pain he had just felt. Fuck it, I thought. We came to do this together, so we will deal with the pain together.

Once we had finished our smoothies, we headed back up to the studio. I won’t lie, I was as nervous as anything, but tried my best not to show it. Carla was surprised to see us back. I’m pretty sure she thought I’d bottle it! I very nearly did. I filled out my obligatory death form, and in we went back into the room of torture. I was pretty blunt with Carla. I didn’t want anytime to sit back and relax, I just wanted it done as quickly as possible.

So off came the top, an she cleaned me up. The first pinch was grand. I remember thinking ” wow, that was easy ” then BAMMM the most excruciating searing pain i had ever experienced. I honestly thought she’d taken my whole nipple off. It was terribly unpleasant. She quickly inserted the jewellery, which presented its own stinging pain, cleaned me up and I was good to go. It took about 10 seconds from start to finish.

Then I saw it in the mirror. It was beautiful. I forgot the pain and delighted in how pretty it looked. I’d made the right decision. Mind you, when I couldn’t wear a bra home, and had to sit on a bouncy bus for 45 minutes, I did question my decision.

We are now just a week in, and we’re both doing really well. The first couple of days resulted in a little bit of bleeding for me, but since then, we’ve been healing nicely. We’ve become quite regimented in our cleaning practices and are trying our best to keep it clean and dry and away from fabrics it might catch on.

A long story short, we got our nipples pierced. It hurt like hell. But it was totally worth it.