bakerstreet | The BDSM Meme

Entry tags:

The BDSM Meme

Have you ever had a dream where you were running through a sunflower field with clouds dancing across a crystal blue sky, your lover's running towards you? The wind is whipping through lovely lavish locks...and you embrace for that perfect passionate kiss...WELL. This is not that dream. This is hard, sweaty, angry, crazy, monstrous fucking.
-Brendon Urie

Sometimes, when someone has been very naughty, they just need to be tied up and whipped.

Post a comment with your character, fandom, and preferences in the subject line. Make sure to note if there is anything on the list you're not comfortable with. Use the RNG to get a number between 1 and 16, or just pick one (or several!) and tag around! Feel free to get creative!

1 - Handcuffs. An oldie but a goodie. Are you handcuffed to something or just behind your back?

2 - Full bondage. This can be anything from hands tied to the headboard to the most complex of rope bondage.

3 - Sex swing. Sling 'em up! Also includes harnesses and special furniture.

4 - Tied to the bed. You are not going anywhere -- whether spread-eagle or kneeling at the foot, you are not moving from this bed until your lover says so.

5 - Public scene. Whether a demonstration at a small party or a subtle but definite show of dominance in a restaurant, someone else is watching this show.

6 - Riding crop. Giddyup!

7 - Paddle. Leather, metal, or wood? Either way, someone's been bad.

8 - Cane. Just like in school!

9 - Whip. This isn't for beginners. Avoid the vital organs.

10 - Sensory deprivation. Blindfold, gag, breathplay? The possibilities here are endless.

11 - Spanking. Why use toys when your hand works just as well?

12 - Candle wax. Oh it burns so good.

13 - Blades. Careful where you cut, and make sure you clean up after!

14 - Needleplay. Whether it's permanent or just for play, this is a particularly sharp pain.

15 - Electric stimulation. Do you have an instrument, or are you being reckless with a wallplug?

16 - Wild card. Pick one of these or do your own favorite fantasy!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Unngh.

[Noises now. He's devolving into...noises. Noises that have never been coaxed out of him before. It stings, god, it stings, but he gets even harder in response to the pain.]

I'm--you--

[The words dissolve in his head, into nothing, and then he lets out a low moan. The first unrestrained moan of the morning. It probably won't be the last.]

That's what I thought.

[She sits back to give herself more room to work, rolling her hips with the movement. That feels excellent—due in no small part to the absolutely nothing she's wearing under that robe—so she does it again. Can't deny herself everything, after all.]

[Instinct is starting to take over and his hips rock to meet hers so that he grinds against her. His pulse is racing now, his breathing is starting to become quicker and more ragged, his pupils are dilated.]

[His abdomen and chest are already red with welts and irritation, but a flush starts to spread up from there to his neck and face.]

[When she rocks against him the second time, another low moan is dragged out of him.]

[Her own arousal makes her generous enough to let him grind against her a few times before she presses a firm hand to his hip and lifts her own a little so they're not quite in contact.]

No. Not yet.

[If and when he gets off from this, it'll be by her say-so. And what she wants right now is to keep playing, to tease, get him close and deny him.]

[That makes his back arch as he tries to rock against her again, tries to bring back the contact. When he finds her out of reach, he starts to tug on the restraints again, his breathing harsh as he struggles. It's still just as fruitless, so he gives up, looking up at her with his eyes slightly wild.]

Settle down.

[There's no question of whether or not that's a command. In spite of the fun she's having, she refuses to let slip even an inch of that precious control. So, for as long as it takes, she'll continue to hover there, giving him a chance to cool off before she starts again.]

[He obeys, and what's more, he stays completely still, trying to get his breathing under control.]

[It looks like he's starting to actually listen.]

[That earns him a look of approval. Once his breathing is somewhat even, she lowers herself, not moving yet, but giving him back some of that pressure.

The hand that was holding him in place moves to stroke his cheek and there's a slight crackle as the electricity flows between them. No willow wand for the moment, but it's coming.]

[He lies there very still as she strokes his cheek, trying to keep his hips from moving again--at her instruction this time. If he grinds against her again, she might move away, and having that slight pressure there is better than nothing at all.]

[She strokes his cheek and sparks crackle, and he turns his head slightly, trying to catch her fingers with his mouth, wondering what it will feel like to have those sparks against his tongue.]

[She brushes her fingers over his lips, not quite dipping within. He hasn't been that good yet. Though, of course, he might be able to catch them with the tip of his tongue if he's quick.

And, ah- there's the wand, tracing a loose outline of his ribs with the tails splayed out for maximum coverage.]

[Sherlock is quick, his tongue darting out, the tip of it getting close enough to her fingers to get a little shock. As she traces the wand against his ribs, he starts sucking his breath in through his teeth.]

[He's almost lost now, his mind actually shutting down for once and going quiet as he falls down and gets rolled under the waves, lost in a sea of physical sensation.]

[It's an awakening. Feelings and urges he's repressed for most of his life start to rush up to the surface.]

[And she rests there like an anchor, unmoving except to lazily sketch patterns with the wand. Serene in her mastery of him. Her thumb smooths across his bottom lip again, staticky. Carefully calculated tenderness to balance out the pain.

Her movements are so precise that, without taking in her dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, one might think her utterly unaffected.]

[Sherlock's body is practically vibrating with desire. He's ready now, ready to do whatever she wants him to. She said before she'd have him on a leash, and if she truly wanted that, he'd let himself be collared, let himself be bound to her by a chain or a strip of leather just for the chance to be bound to her. He'd beg for whatever she wanted him to beg for. He'd be on his knees for her if she wanted, when he's never shown deference to another human being in his life. She doesn't even need the restraints if she doesn't want them; she's making him feel and because of that he wants to feel more, feel whatever she wants him to feel. Because of that, her words and her will can restrain him however she wants.]

[His tongue darts out again for her thumb and he looks up at her with an expression of complete submission and something akin to worship. The reverence is there because she's used pain and pleasure to turn this into something like a sacrament.]

[She's The Woman. The Woman. The only woman who matters, the only thing in all the world that matters right now at this particular moment in time. His skin is off and he's flayed open, vulnerable. She's cracked open his ribs and has free reign to do what she wants with his still-beating heart.]

[Now that he's given up control to her, for the first time in his life, he's actually free--free to be a man, his soul exposed, and free to be an animal, seeking base pleasure--rather than a heartless thinking machine.]

Edited 2012-02-24 05:25 (UTC)

[It's a good look for him, submission. He wears it well.

In his eyes all she sees is her, and, benevolent goddess that she is, she favors him with a smile. They're telling her she could break him down and build him back a thousand ways. Or simply leave him shattered. She could even make a pet of him, if it meant staying by her side. She wouldn't, of course. That would be such a waste. But knowing that she could? It's enough.

She leans over him, almost close enough for a kiss.]

I want you to stay still for me. If you move even a little, I'm going to stop.

[A subtle shifting of her hips to drive home the point.]

Understand?

Yes.

[It comes out a needy hiss through his teeth, and he stays perfectly still underneath her.]

[She dips down for just a second so their lips meet with a spark and then snaps upright, rolling her hips. It's excruciatingly slow, the way she moves, and she watches him intently through half-lidded eyes.

He gets a brief reprieve from the wand for now as she tests how well he obeys.]

[His body tenses up, and he lets out a long, drawn-out breath, but he obeys, and stays perfectly still. A bead of sweat drips down from his temple and runs down his face.]

[There is absolutely no downside to this arrangement, as far as she's concerned. Maintaining total control as he struggles not to react and teasing herself a bit in the process. Which, in turn, should make it even harder for him to keep still since she's making no effort to mask her facial expressions. It's all very gratifying.]

[It's like dying just a little bit at a time and not being able to do a thing to stop it or get it over with. He can see what's coming and wants to hasten it to stop the absolute agony of lying still.]

[And at the same time he never wants it to end. Sherlock never wants to stop looking at her face above him, twisting up into those expressions because of contact with his body.]

[Forget breathing, forget groaning, forget gasping, he's choking now. He's making little choked-off noises that are just short of whimpers.]

Edited 2012-02-24 11:28 (UTC)

[God, those sounds. She's tempted to institute a noise limitation just to hear him break it. But he's obeying so well now he might not and, while that would be satisfying in and of itself, she really does want to hear them.

For her own part, she's silent except to breathe — fast and shallow. It's not that she's holding anything back. Simply that, while good, the sensation isn't getting her past a certain point of arousal. In an attempt to change that and, perhaps, grant him a measure of mercy, she speeds her pace with one hand braced on the bed beside them. Of course, mercy has its price and the wand returns to play, drawing a line of sparks across his lower abdomen.]

[She really has to play it careful at this point if she wants him to last. After being worked up to such a state of arousal--especially if she's going to go at him with the willow wand again and move her hips faster--he's likely not going to hold out that long. The inexperience, you see.]

[In, fact the way his breath is hitching more and more, like he just can't get enough air into his lungs, is making it clear he's tremendously close to tumbling over the brink.]

Edited 2012-02-25 08:41 (UTC)

[How terribly frustrating for the both of them, because that means she has to stop again.]

I said no.

[That, right there, is a whine, in response. A genuine whine.]

[Sitting back, so her weight is mostly on his thighs instead.]

Oh, hush. You don't want this to be over, do you?

[Sherlock takes a few moments to try and master himself, trying to get his breathing under control. Through sheer force of will, he manages to make an admirable effort for someone so far gone, a testament to the tremendous willpower that mind of his possesses. Eventually, he can speak again, though his voice is shaky.]

No.

[No, he doesn't want it to be over quickly. He doesn't want it to be over ever, even though he knows that's impossible, that he can't spend every day of his life tied to a bed as she has her way with him. (She could make him into a pet if she wanted, even though she's right, it would be a waste.)]

More. I want--

[He wants to hurt, he wants to be bent over her knee and punished, he wants her to mark up every inch of his skin because now she owns it and he wants to be marked as hers. That deep need to be possessed, to be owned by her squirms inside him like a living thing, and makes it even harder not to squirm underneath her.]

[The next thing he says is very genteel, very calm, like he's asking her to pass the sugar.]

Please.

[Then he closes his eyes tight and says it again and this time, it's almost a sob; it's wrenched out out him like someone's stuck a hook into his body and ripped it out by force.]

Please.

[Annnd there's the begging, at long last. He can do more of it if she likes. He'll do anything she likes.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject