The BDSM Meme

[calmyourshit]

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!

Comments

[whatyoulike]

[His sobbing doesn't lessen her opinion of him in the slightest. Many of her clients had cried at one time or another after a session from the physical and emotional exhaustion of it. It was natural, to be expected. And, although it didn't come naturally to her, she had learned how to take on a comforting role and guide them through it with caresses and gentle words. To provide light as well as dark.

But it's more than that. He's seen her cry as well. Once, at the moment when her clever joke—the password she thought he'd never guess because it was something so human, so personal—became her undoing and he tore apart all her careful plans with the press of just four keys. She had cried then, silently, from the sheer horror of it and absolutely despised herself for doing so where he could see. Loathed herself for the way her voice quivered when she called after him. For letting her armor crack. For being weak. For being something other than The Woman at her most professional.

And again, kneeling at what was to be her execution. She had put on a brave front, didn't beg or plead. But it was only an act. In truth, she was terrified, and no amount of biting her inner lip or holding her shoulders taut as she waited for the blade could keep a tear from leaking out and trickling warm through her lashes and down her cheek. She had forgiven herself for that one. Who wouldn't cry at death?

So there's not an ounce of judgment or pity when she reaches out and rubs his back, murmuring nonsense phrases.]

[on_your_nerves]

[Sherlock flinches away, at first, like he doesn't want to be touched. The keening noises stop, even though his shoulders are still shaking and his breath is still coming in quiet, little gasps.]

[He wants to be touched and comforted, but doesn't want to want it. He wants to cling to her and shove her away at the same time.]

[Though she can't see it, his face contorts into a grimace as he fights with himself, as there's an absolutely vicious internal struggle. Then one part of him loses and another part wins, and he rolls over, sits up, and leans against her, butting his head into her shoulder. He can't make himself put his arms around her first, but he can force her to make the decision for him.]

[whatyoulike]

[Her arms come around to encircle him and she turns just slightly so his head shifts from her shoulder to lay against her collarbone instead. It's a nice, secure hold that says this is okay, that she isn't going anywhere, that he can stay right where he is and drip snot on her robe and it will all be fine.]

[on_your_nerves]

[He goes very quiet now, even though her robe is still consistently getting dripped on. Sherlock trembles as she holds him, tugging away from her slightly like he's going to shove her away, then stopping himself, tugging away from her slightly and then stopping himself, and then finally the struggling stops and he slowly relaxes in her arms, clinging to her like he'd curl up under her skin if it was possible.]

[It's very needy.]

[But then he's very damaged.]

[When they first met, she'd pretty much hit the nail on the head with that one.]

[whatyoulike]

Oh, it's all right. You're all right.

[Part of her is off thinking about checkout and flight times and whether, if he's still in this state by the time they have to leave, she should just phone down to the front desk and renew the room with some lighthearted comment about needing another day of honeymoon because, oh, it's all so wonderful, they can't bear to go home yet. Practicalities. But mostly she is there with him, rubbing soft circles on his back as one might with a child who's had a bad dream, and speaking in that same gentle tone she used way back when she snuck in to return his coat.]

[on_your_nerves]

[Sherlock keeps taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out, and finally starts to calm down. Now he's just getting very tired. Either he's going to have to book the room another night just to sleep--even if he's alright for her to leave--or he's going to have to sleep on the plane. His grip on her loosens, though he still leans his head against her, staring at the fabric of her robe.]

[His voice is shaky and very quiet, but he sounds more like himself when he finally speaks.]

To me, you are superlative, you know. You...you eclipse and predominate the whole of...

[The entire human race? No, there are others that are peerless in their ways, like John. For once, he can't find the words, so he just closes his eyes and lets that sentence trail off into silence. Irene Adler has her own category set aside, though. He settles for:]

You are without compare. Even if we walk away from here and never see one another again, that's how I'll hold you in my mind.

[He'd wanted to tell her that at least once, and the only reason he's done it is because all his barriers are down right now, letting him do what he wants.]

[whatyoulike]

And you're unexpectedly sweet with all the thinking worn out of you.

[It's a deflection. She wants to drink in all his unfiltered confessions, but can't bring herself to respond in kind. To acknowledge his importance to her would be to hand over a tiny sliver of power and she doesn't know how to set aside the game long enough for it to be any other way.

He occupies a singular position of respect, set apart from anyone she has ever encountered. Even pleading beneath her or crying against her chest, she respects him. For his mind and how he chooses to use it, for who he is. And yet, to articulate that feels like a concession.

Her own walls are still built too high to trade vulnerabilities, especially with the way he once used them against her.]

[on_your_nerves]

[There is tiny little bit of him that's soft, that's almost tender, that he always buries deep and keeps locked away, barricaded where it's safe, just like he keeps her old phone safely locked in the drawer of his file cabinet.]

[That part of him belongs to her.]

[(Hence why he kept her phone in the first place.)]

[He doesn't need her to say anything back. He's content to simply have that part of himself owned.]

[In any case, Sherlock is finally somewhat calmed down now, and leans back enough to press a small, soft kiss to the line of her jaw, before finally moving away, to sit up on the bed and work out how much pain exactly that he's in now that the adrenaline rush is fading. He's hurting quite a bit--starting to shake a little from it, in fact--and he should probably drink that water now.]