Tag: master

BDSM Thought Experiments: Irrevocable Consent and Memory Loss

Ashtyn Drapela

My Master and I play the question game all the time. Which basically means, we take turns asking random things. This time, my question was, “If I had amnesia, would you consider my irrevocable consent revoked?” It’s an interesting notion because how irrevocable is it, then, if his answer is yes?

Amnesia can be caused by a variety of factors including injury, illness, or substance abuse. If you consider how frequently someone like me takes blows to the head, it’s something important to question.

Consent is an active part of most healthy and respectful BDSM or vanilla sexual relationship. It involves actively seeking and participatory receiving of agreement from partners before engaging in activities. However, navigating consent can become complex in the context of memory loss, like amnesia.

That being said, my Master and I practice something called irrevocable consent. You can read more about that here on Hannah the Scribe’s blog post “What Makes Irrevocable Consent Okay” or “Why I Chose Irrevocable Consent as a Label, What It Means to Me, and Why I Write About It.” To summarize, “no safe words, no limits.” I do not have the power to end my relationship, play, dynamic, etc. This is how I wanted it when I consented. This is how I currently want things, though now I consider it a moot point. I consented to slavery. Wanting things doesn’t matter.

If I had my memory of the last few years erased, would I want my consent revoked? Or rather, would the person I be like to? I’d like to think that I wouldn’t. I honor my commitments and I hope this other version of myself would as well. Sure, I wouldn’t know the ins and outs of what giving that consent once looked like. However, I would know that I gave it based on these blog posts and personal anecdotes from friends and family.

There would be a lot of growing pains, too. I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons in the last few years. Things hard won. A peace I never knew existed before Master. Losing that would be an immeasurable back-step. Going back to that chaos, would he even still want me?

Okay, well, I asked him and he said he would still want me. 😛

Flowers for my Master

Ashtyn Drapela

My Master is a worthy man. A great and a good man. He is kind and thoughtful. He is demanding but fair. That I be exemplary in his name is all he asks. When I fail he lifts me back up. Should I falter, he is there to put me back in my place. He teaches me things so that I can be successful. He places great trust in me and I widen myself to meet his expectations.

The Master is a cruel man. A nasty and brutish man. He is quick to anger and quicker to condemn. He delights in every shuddered breath and piercing scream. He does not indulge. He commands. The Master rips and snarls and sneers. He does not ask. He poses hypotheticals. He teases, but only in choices of the macabre.

My Master considers things. He will take a problem and chew for hours. Then he will attack it every single way he knows how to do until it is solved. He allows me to escape into his worlds. He structures my days and makes events a celebration of life. My Master indulges me when I please him.

The Master destroys things. He will take something he loves and beat it for hours. Then he will call it pathetic and lazy and worthless. He drags me back from escaping his hell. Day or night has no meaning as time stands still in his presence. There is no pleasing the Master.

I love every inch of him.

The Smallest Spoon – Emotional Sadism in a BDSM Scene

Ashtyn Drapela

Really, the first clue should have been when he shoved me in the chest until I fell over. But it wasn’t until much later that I realized the traps my Master had been setting.

“We’re all out of small spoons,” I said, handing over a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Master is particular when it comes to utensils. Small spoons are good, small forks are abhorrent.

“Why are we out?” He pounced at the opportunity.

“B-because I need to do dishes?” That wasn’t true. My other husband’s chores were dirty dishes. He had been grading all weekend and hadn’t had time. A few nights before, Master had begun putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher in order to be helpful. However, it triggered some powerful memories in me of my parents angrily doing the dishes. I asked him to just let me do them.

“Why couldn’t you hand wash one?” His face was stone cold.

“I’m sorry. I can go get one now.” I turned to go but he put out one hand to stop me.

“No.” He handed me his controller to the videogame he had been playing.

I held back tears while I completed whatever task he asked of me. Looking back, I assume it was to make sure I was okay enough to leave his presence.

After making a beeline for my office so I could cry in peace, I got to work. I started a load of dishes, cleaned the cat pans, put up laundry, and mopped. It didn’t matter what I did, I still felt a heaviness in my heart. I was in the kitchen making sure we had all the ingredients for pork chops when he left his office. He didn’t once look at me as he got his own drink from the fridge. A task normally left to me. Uh-oh.

Tentatively, I followed him back to his office. I stood outside his door, listening quietly as I shored my resolve. Knocking twice with one knuckle, I opened the door and smiled as widely as I could.

“What are you feeling for lunch today? We have a few options.” I showed him the recipes. As we discussed, I noticed his clipped tone. His dismissive attitude. He chose the pot pie.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my hand on the door knob ready to leave.

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms and frowned, “Why are you so lazy?”

My heart dropped and my eyes filled with tears.

“Why couldn’t you have taken the 3 seconds to be exceptional and washed the spoon?” He continued.

“I’m sorry.” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t think of that.” I broke down in a sob.

“Come here.” He held out his hand.

I shook my head and took a step back, fearing his wrath. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll remember next time.”

“Come. Here.” He repeated.

Stepping forward, hot tears left streaks on my cheeks. I took his outstretched hand.

He removed my glasses, a move usually reserved before blows to the head, and I shuddered. But he didn’t strike me. He pulled me into a hug. I sobbed against his shoulder, repeating his words in my head. Lazy. Good for nothing. Disappointment. I needed to run. I needed to get away. I ne-

“I need to go,” Came out unbidden through wet gasps of breath, “I need to go, I need to go!”

My default response mode. Flight.

“You’re not going anywhere. I’m fucking with you.” He admitted with a smile.

“Not real?” I asked, disbelieving.

He invoked our safe word to show the seriousness of his words, “I’m just fucking with you. I’m being cruel.”

Despite his words, I began sobbing in earnest. Master had known how deeply his words would cut me.

How to Start BDSM or M/s Relationships or Contracts

Ashtyn Drapela

Most people do BDSM for psychologically healthy reasons. It is with those people in mind that this is being written. Very early on in dating, they are transparent about needs, are willing to be vulnerable, set aside ego, and maintain those throughout the relationship to the best of their ability.

Healthy dynamics have:

  • Commitment to communication
  • High level of trust
  • Focus on partner’s happiness
  • Co-construction of a reality that satisfies needs of both partners
  • Compatibility doesn’t mean identical kinks
  • Use of deeper protocols when issues arise

What level of commitment are you and they willing to make towards communication? Complete transparency?

Do you leave yourself vulnerable to trusting me with your body and soul, boy? Do you leave yourself vulnerable to trusting me with letting you hold it, Ma’am?

Compatibility doesn’t mean identical kinks. One does not need to meet every inexhaustible fantasy reservoir our minds think up to be compatible in bed or in mind. It’s about how you make the ones you do match matter. Or, sometimes in M/s case, it doesn’t matter if only the Master wants it. It will happen.

How to Keep Your slave Happy

Ashtyn Drapela

Masters and Mistresses, how do You keep Your slaves happy?

How do You keep Your slaves from leaving You? How do You keep them following You? Why should You be their Leader?

My Master knows exactly why i wouldn’t leave. Have you told your Masters why you wouldn’t leave, lately? It’s follow or leave. Where is the line for you? At any point you can leave, but that’s it. It’d be over forever. This special little moment in time when you were Theirs.

Is the line yelling? Is it clipping off body parts? Is it shoving you in a closet for hours when you have childhood trauma from that?

All break-ups happen because of communication or unreasonable expectations. The same is true of M/s. If my Master has the expectation that i would let Him put a file into my nail bed, He’s got another thing coming. There are a lot of tortures I would follow Him to, but He knows where the line is.

Do you know your line?