Added: Aric Buckmaster - Date: 01.12.2021 18:36 - Views: 46728 - Clicks: 7858
I have always been a Bratty Submissive. I have been since my first tentative steps into the kink community. Self-identified Bratty Subs were the first Submissives I encountered in my early days on Tumblr, and I quickly jumped into the fray. I never expected that to change. I went into the interaction with them with the plan to write an article about what it was like for me as a Brat slave kink share a space with a Master and his Slave for the night.
I came out feeling changed. Watching the Slave interact with her Master was something beautiful that I had not had the opportunity to witness before. Of slave kink, I had occasionally come across slave-types in my journeys across the Internet. But I saw less of them than I did my fellow Brats—both fewer of them in and less of their practice in what they chose to share. And it left me wondering: Could this be for me?
Coming to know yourself as a Submissive is part of a long, laborious journey of self-reflection. Not doubting yourself or your practice comes from exploration and experimentation. And yes—sometimes it comes from trying something new because it looks fun. I wanted to know myself completely. I wanted to know for sure if being a Slave was a road that I wanted to follow. I wanted to understand myself better because I believed it would make me more ready and able to submit on my own. It bugged me. Walking away from the scene, I revisited it again and again in my head, and I felt a pull.
In an unprecedented development, I found myself yearning for more structure in slave kink practice; wanting to serve in the same beautiful way I had seen in that bedroom. Several weeks later, it was still on my mind. And I had finally had enough. I broke down and reached out to the same couple, asking if they would be open to the idea of taking on another Submissive for a month-long trial.
To my delight, they agreed to my terms—with the caveat that I had to respect their privacy and anonymity when writing the article. Beyond that, nothing was off limits. Lockdown ensued, keeping me shut up in my house for what would have been my contract term. We decided to take the same approach that corporate America was taking through the crisis and work from home.
Or, in my case, train from home. And, just like that, my friends became the Master and my co-Submissive. At least for the month. Long enough for me to explore a new role and to rule it out as being my calling. I began my Slave training with a week of conferences, negotiations and contract-reading. The Master led the process by doling out orientation asments and facilitating ways for us to get to know each other in this new was—because, although we had all known each other for years, being let into this private side of their lives was something new for all of us.
I was anxious. I was excited. And, as much as I was anxious and excited, I was also impatient. I thought the first week would never end. Would I ever be done with the endless discussions? Or answering questions about my health issues, interests, and limits? I was ready—or I thought I was. But was I really? Looking back, I realize that there was a function to these multilayered practices.
Because, even if I was entering the contract partially as research for an article, I was still new to the kind of role I would be playing. More than that, I was new to this ground-up approach to kinks. Any other time I had entered a kink-based relationship, I had gone into it knowing what role I wanted to play and expecting the Dominant on the other side of the experience to fill in the blanks for me.
Negotiation for those scenes and arrangements was sometimes as brief as a few minutes, a handful of texts or s back and forth. And all of the preemptive conversation slave kink focused on sex.
No one had ever asked me about my history as a Slave kink or my personal interests—and I had never thought to ask them either. This, though? This felt like the real deal. In addition to helping my Playmates and me get to know each other in a of important ways, the negotiation and paperwork process turned me on. Knowing that this much effort had been put into the onboarding process, imagining the other Submissives who had gone through the same paperwork with them in the past, and seeing the possibilities of future interactions that were laid out in front of me—it simultaneously wet and more impatient.
It also turned me on to know that someone was listening to me throughout the process. Not so with this Master. And all of that was granted. More than that, it was written directly into my contract, incorporated into my role with clear guidelines on how it would be carried out.
There were certainly points at which I felt overwhelmed with everything I had on my plate. So, I felt new to the whole process, and I got lost in it. I had to spend ten minutes weekly training my ass, my cunt, and my mouth with dildos and plugs. All without cumming. It sounds fun on its own, but the addition of the risk of punishment each week added just enough edge to the experience to make it positively thrilling. The experience of the first week was amazing, blissful. But I slave kink reservations. And I still had impulses.
I still struggled with my Inner Brat. I found myself acting out when I wanted a specific kind of attention.
I would call my Master by his name. I would curse with reckless abandon. I would do things I knew would get me in trouble. Sometimes my Master would indulge me, giving me the occasional warning or reprimand. But, after a few days, the lenience stopped. Because giving me the attention I wanted from it only encouraged the naughtiness. And, worst of all, because I had words to ask for attention when and if I wanted it…and he expected me to use them.
As a Brat, you know how the game works. If slave kink want a spank, you say a curse word. If you want to be treated roughly, you refuse to do your chores. If you want attention, you demand it. Not with this Master. There was no way to get a rise out of him; he stayed cool, calm and collected all the time. No matter what.
And it drove my Inner Brat crazy. I would act out and, if the transgression was small enough, he would ignore it and continue the conversation. If not, he would correct me, ask me to cite the rule I was breaking, and wait for me to recenter myself before carrying on. In contrast to how quickly he wrote my desires into the contract before the games began, he was now asserting Dominance by not stooping to my level. He knew what I wanted and made sure not to give it to me. It threw me for days. And, although he told me just to ask for attention when I wanted it, it still never occurred to me that perhaps behaving and listening were the keys to getting everything that I craved.
Slave kink 2: The Green-Eyed Monster.
Leading into week, the other shoe dropped and the Sub Bliss started to fade away. I still found myself someone captivated with the constant pursuit of attention from my Master and was—at this point—still very much insistent on getting it on my own terms, failing to see that that was just not going to happen until I was ready to communicate what I wanted and why. And, to top slave kink off, I ran into some unexpected issues in my social life with my co-sub. This was gut-wrenching. I leaned on my friend almost as much as I did the Master to help me learn the ropes and keep track of my routines and rituals as they called them.
But week two felt different. Week two brought a sense of tension and distance that I had rarely felt in this nearly ten years of this friendship. Slave kink the last thing I wanted to do was talk to her about what I was feeling and why. But I had to. As she reminded me, we were all in this together, and that meant we had to work together to make it as safe and successful as possible. Talking about my negative feelings—even if they were ugly and I thought they were better off hidden—was part of that responsibility we had to each other.
I had expected to have fun. I had expected to feel excited, happy, turned on. Being a Submissive had stirred up and stimulated a lot of feelings for my Master that, as a lesbian, I was completely unprepared to experience. It was hard to discuss this. It cleared the air between us. It made us understand each other on a more personal level, and after the discussion we went right back to giggling and talking about Master. That only left me with my transgressions with my Master to fix, and after two days of doing absolutely whatever the hell I wanted, something finally clicked in my head.
I was sitting down and sulking on my couch wondering what I could possibly do to get his attention in a way I craved, and then finally a little lightbulb went off above my head. The way my training guides say. And so I did the virtual walk of shame to him and asked if we could slave kink. He said yes, however he asked me if I even enjoyed what we were doing, citing my behavior as a reason he felt he needed to check in.
That question made me think about the message I was really sending by acting out, and I knew then and there I really had messed up. Not when he had given me ways to ask for help. Right away, I began to explain myself. I explained how I enjoyed doing things, how I was very happy with the arrangement, slave kink how I was acting out for attention and because I was bored. And as I suspected, he knew. He knew exactly what I was doing and why, and an even deeper sense of shame overtook me.
I apologized sincerely, and I asked him if he would be willing to take me back.
I would submit completely instead of just looking to be entertained. I never submitted fully. I knew this because I had never called him Master. From the beginning, I was given the choice between addressing him as Master or as Sir. Master was too personal. Too deep. There was no room for doubt in it. Finally, I bowed. I called him Master without any doubt that that was what he was.Slave kink
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