duke_of_illusions | domesticity

"Unlike Break's humble beginnings as a kitchen boy over the knee of his cook, there's something of a culture of practitioners among the nobility. Particularly the ones belonging to my culture. Each month, I used to travel by carriage to a party where you could meet people with similar interests. Remember the dungeons and stages I was telling you about?"

He smiles.

"I happen to know that a close, mutual friend taught him his safewords, protocol, and safety concerns. Her education came from our circle. He means well with you, but he came to all this second hand."

Al nods, thoughtfully, and touches Barma's lips. "You've always looked much younger in your illusions," he prompts, curiously.

"I'm your age."

He smiles.

"Not particularly subtle, I suppose- but I wanted to give you an image or two of a healthy approach to this sort of thing, by someone like you. Not to malign poor Ryo, of course, but I wouldn't have you following his example, and I wouldn't think seeing him would be a particularly reaffirming experience."

"No, it wouldn't." A little sadly. He adores Ryo, but he figured out very early on that he isn't safe with this sort of thing.

"Were you actually my age when you did those things-?"

Thanks to Adstringendum, Al looks young even for eighteen.

"I started at seventeen. Which, when you're sixty seven, counts as 'your age,' wretch."

Swatting his ass.

Al gasps, then laughs, sticking out his tongue.

"I'm trying to remember whether I'd had my birthday before I started with Break."

Barma tugs him a little closer, shifting the book into one hand so he can wrap an arm about him.

"Any act in particular you're curious about hearing his take on? He has a few more gratifyingly graphic passages."

Al leans happily into the touch, pressing his lips briefly against his neck.

"I'd like to hear them," he admits, a little breathy at the thought.

"Let's assume your submissive is face-up on a bed and that all prior negotiations are completed. With one hand, hold the clothespin near its free end. With the other, pinch a fold of skin and lift the skin away from the submissive's body. Gradually increas your pinch's pressure until it equals the clamp's pressure.

You should now be holding a small 'tent' of skin. Pinch open the clothespin and guide it over the skin.

Tell the submissive that the clamp probably will cause a sharp pain for the first thirty seconds it's on, and then the pain will subside.

Over a period of about five to ten seconds, gradually release pressure on the clothespin. When your hand is completely off the clothespin, gardually spread apart your pinching fingers, and then move the hand away. Don't bump anything, especially the clamp.

Let the submissive lie quietly for about a minute so they can get used to the sensation. Don't touch the clamp and don't distract them. You might rest your hand, without moving it, on their abdomen or thigh, but don't interfere with their adjusting to the clamp. This is an important moment for them. Don't mess it up.

Watch their breathing. If it stays tight, then the clamp might be too intense. If they relax and take a deep breath, you can probably continue."

Al small shudder.

"I've never played with clothespins."

Barma just smiles at that. They'll change that soon.

"Also watch their overall degree of muscle tension or relaxation. It's normal for a submissive, especially a novice, to tense in expectation of receiving pain. What's important is how they react after the clothespin is on. If they remain tense, they're probably not aroused. If they relax, that's a good sign.

Important point; Remove the clamp if the submissive doesn't find it erotic. If they don't relax their muscles and begin breathing normally again after about a minute, you should probably remove the clamp even if they haven't asked for that.

If they do ask you to remove it, or call 'yellow' or give some other similar sign, take the clamp off at once. Afterward, don't criticize them. They may feel guilty. They may feel angry or turned off. Be understanding.

Remember, let them get used to this at their own pace. Don't rush them. If, after about a minute, the submissive relaxes and breathes normally, proceed with the session.

Another imporant thing to remember about clamps: they hurt coming off. This seems especially true of clamped nipples. As blood flows back into the freshly unclamped tissue and reexpands it, pain results.

For serious masochists, you can make a zipper by stringing several non-toothed clamps along a cord, tying knots on each side of the clamp to hold its position, the clamps are placed along the skin and yanked off with a pull on the end of the cord. Try this yourself before you do it to anyone else; it's pretty intense-

He's talking about much lighter masochists than you, you'd handle a zipper just fine."

Another, harder shudder and a nod.

"Mmmgh. Yes, I'd love that."

"You would, wouldn't you?"

Dropping the book off the edge of the bed, he rolls them, pulling Al's wrists over his head.

"Ah-!" Al lets Barma roll him, spreading his legs automatically and twisting against him with a gasp.

"Rufus..." shaky.

"You know, I think I've always had these proclivities."

He murmurs to him, softly, leaning down to kiss his jaw.

"I remember daydreaming as a child about sieges and pirates... and always being very concerned about what happened with the prisoners of war. Specific, young, rather chaste daydreams that nonetheless featured rooms full of men held at the mercy of the more powerful, stripped of dignity, brought to pained tears. Before I even had words to put it into."

"... what do you think fascinated you about it?" Al whispers, twisting under him, breathing slowly.

He knows, exactly. He'd had the thoughts himself.

"The eroticism of the power exchange. The fantasy that a prisoner might one day consent, might kneel at his captor's feet with a secret smile."

He presses down against his body.

"Inappropriate in practice, but oh, the fantasy of the force-"

"Were you the captor, or the prisoner in those fantasies?"

Al smiles, rubs up against him.

"One, then the other- they weren't me, really- but I daydreamed both roles to their fullest."

He smiles.

"... in our fantasy- me as a prisoner of war- I keep thinking about it," he admits.

"How that 'Alphonse' accepted it all, secretly would test his jailers-"

"How?"

He checks, reaching to begin undressing him, gently.

"Conniving creature."

"Not the guards, they were too easy to fool. But he could never escape you. All the attempts to escape were sincere, but there were times when he'd wonder how you'd catch him next."

"Do you think they'd ever get moments like these?"

He asks, curiously, as he lays him bare, leaning down to nip his throat, idly.

"I'd want to chain you to my bed by your ankles, read you books and feed you bread and honey with my fingers."

"He'd insist it wouldn't matter if he was in one cage or another," he whispers, shivering and tipping his head back.

"Then I'd keep you in that one."

He smiles, fingers stealing slowly over his skin.

"I'd never try to make you love me. I'd just- be kind, laugh at your accusations, kiss you sympathetically."

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