Blog – Ella Jacobs

Asking for What you Need Isn’t easy I was doing a read through of “If I Were Yours,” and reading a scene where Clara finally opens up to the two men and lets them know how she feels made me want to do this post. ‘Well done’ I thought, remembering how hard it can be. Especially in a new dynamic. Having been with my Dom for seven years and having had a lot of practice, I thought I was really good at expressing my feelings and needs. We’re really good at talking, and sometimes it feels like I tell him everything—to the point where it’s almost compulsive. If I have a fantasy I’m embarrassed about, I’ll initially tell myself that I can keep that one to myself—I don’t have to tell him all my fantasies. But then when the fantasy pops back into my mind later in the day when we’re together, I can’t help divulging it. I don’t know if it’s because his possession is so deeply rooted withing me or if it’s a need to share my innermost self with him. But that’s the level of openness I have with him. But no matter how good I thought I was, I suddenly faced the challenge of sharing some strong emotions and a very urgent need with him. MfM: Introducing a new man Half a year ago, we started opening our relationship up to the MfM dynamic, and my Dom had planned a scene with another man. It was the first time I was with two men, and I was dreadfully nervous, but so damn aroused. The scene was amazing—every bit as good as the fantasy I’d had for years. My Dom had me blindfolded and half naked (wearing lingerie that didn’t cover any of the important parts), and when the other man came, my Dom presented me to him like this. Nothing crazy happened. The two men watched me and touched me but didn’t even shed their own clothes. But the whole situation of being helpless at the hands of two dominant men, exposed and recieving pleasure from a new man, was overwhelming to say the least. (Not all subs would react so strongly to this, but to me, it’s a very big deal). I was a very happy little sub at the end of the night, but in the following days, I struggled to cope with the emotions of being bared to a new man like that and crashed into a week long subdrop (I have a separate post about this). My Dom gave me plenty of aftercare, but it wasn’t enough. Because two different men had used me, and my Dom could only cover his part. I needed aftercare from the other man to regain my balance. Asking for aftercare I badly needed to be hugged and held by him, but I couldn’t bring myself to confess this to my Dom. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because I was afraid my Dom would get jealous—I knew he’d understand—but because I was afraid to be a burden to the other man. I didn’t want to interrupt him and his probably busy life with my subdrop and need for more aftercare. And maybe there was a part of me that was afraid to get rejected. I spent three days working up the nerve to tell my Dom. When I finally did, my Dom decided to call the other man and let him know. I was so nervous, but it turned out I wasn’t an inconvenience at all—of course (but rationalization doesn’t always work on a vulnerable submissive mind that has been thrust into new waters). The other man came the next evening, took me in his arms and held me. It was just what I needed, and it turned out he was happy to do it too. Because even though power and control are a big part of being a dominant, care and protection is part of it too—at least to a good Dom. But even knowing this, I have a hard time wrapping my head around it, and the fear of asking for what I need and becoming a burden arises anew now that my Dom and I are about to embark on another journey of MfM play with a new man. Practice doesn’t make easy I got a lot of practice in opening up during the time my Dom and I played with the first man. Several times, I felt like I laid it all out there and bared my most intimate emotions. With my Dom, that’s okay to do. But in the new dynamic, I felt excruciatingly vulnerable. After all, I was the sub and had no control over what would happen, and the whole situation was very uncertain. Neither of us knew where it would lead or how long it would last. In ways I felt like I gave too much too quick, but BDSM tends to force out strong emotions in no time. It’s often necessary with the things we play with in this lifestyle. And the act of submitting is, in and of itself, an extremely intimate act. At least to me it is. This is why communication is so incredibly important when playing with BDSM. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Being a submissive at heart, it’s ingrained in me to be the one who submits and not the one who asks for things. In a long term dynamic that I feel safe in, I can usually override this, though, but when a new Dom comes into the picture, it’s like my submissive side goes on steroids, plus insecurities arise, making it even harder. So this is when I need to work extra hard on, Because without good communication, it simply won’t work.

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Crashing into Subdrop

1 Comment / Aftercare, BDSM, Subdrop / ella

Crashing into Subdrop It’s been years since I crashed into a severe subdrop—so long I almost forgot just how bad it can be even though I’ve been writing about it a lot. But then it happened. I fell, and I fell hard and long. For several days, I was depleted. Not just tired. It felt like all the energy had been sucked straight out of me and refused to return. I couldn’t do much else but get the bare minimum of my day job done and lie on the couch the rest of the day. New depthsI thought I was getting sick, but the fatigue never went further. No sore throat or runny nose. It was purely the aftereffects of an intense scene. I’d never tried anything like it. When I started seeing my Dom seven years ago, I would go into subdrop quite often. It would hit me like a strike of lightning—usually after I’d come home in the afternoons, luckily. Suddenly, I’d feel depressed and sad for no apparent reason. I’d often cry too, feeling completely gutted. But it usually went away within a few hours. So this time, when it just kept dragging me down for days, I must say I was a bit worried. Back when I started seeing my Dom, the circumstances were such that we couldn’t be together after a scene. He’d drive me home at night, and then we’d stay in touch through texts. This separation was really hard on me, and when I dropped and he asked me what I needed, I badly wanted to say you. I needed to feel him, to be held, and have the man who tore through my defenses build them back up. But I didn’t want to be a burden, seem needy, or ask for things I wasn’t sure I was supposed to want. So I never expressed my most urgent need. Luckily, this situation didn’t last long. Circumstance changed, and within months, I was living with my Dom most of the time. This meant more aftercare, nights spent together after intense scenes, and bye bye subdrop. There has been small drops of course, but nothing as severe as those gutted, lonely hours I experienced during our first months together. So why now?At first, I thought it was because the scene leading up to it was really intense. And it was. But then someone told me it was also because what had happened during the scene was new and very big, and things suddenly added up. The scene was something I had dreamt of for years—my Dom sharing me with another man. But it was also something that really pushed my boundaries, and I was incredibly nervous several days before. So it was all very new, exciting, and nerve-racking. When I started seeing my Dom, everything was new too. Him, of course, but also the way we played. It was much more intense and real than anything I’d tried before. He was the first true dominant I was with. Not just a sadist or someone who experimented with BDSM for my sake. No, he wanted to take my submission as much as I wanted to give it, and that was huge for me. So comparing the situation back then with the one now, it makes a lot of sense that the whole newness of the scene was part of the reason I dropped so hard. But even though my Dom gave me plenty of aftercare in the days following the scene, I felt afloat, unable to find my footing. Something was missing. Asking for what I neededAs the days passed and the uneasy feeling intensified, it became more and more clear that it was the need for aftercare from the other man who’d dominated me. Aftercare wasn’t just aftercare. I needed it from both men who had pushed me far out of my comfort zone and taken something very personal—my submission. But I had a really hard time telling my Dom this. Not because I was afraid he’d feel bad about me needing another man to help me out of subdrop, but because I didn’t want to be a burden—again, something that ties back to the early days of our relationship. Usually I can tell my Dom everything, but this time it took a lot of rumination and a long talk with a girlfriend for me to gather the nerve to tell my Dom what I truly needed. And I’m so glad I did. My Dom called the other man, who came the next evening and gave me the aftercare I badly needed. The man my Dom had shared me with also reassured me that it was quite normal to feel the way I did and that he liked giving me aftercare. It didn’t magically fix me, but I think it made all the difference. It was like a burden off my chest, and I felt a lot better the next day, and my energy slowly started to return.

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Living an Age Gap Romance

1 Comment / Age Gap, BDSM, Personal / ella

Living an Age Gap Romance I met S—my Dom and boyfriend—seven years ago; he was 48 at the time and I was 23. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine we would still be together so many years later. Having just gotten out of a relationship, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, and the age gap was just too big to warrant a long-term relationship, right? Well, it turned out not to be. I’m crazy about S and still find my stomach fluttering when he winks at me or says something funny that really shouldn’t be funny. He’s the person I tell everything to—small and big—and the person who knows me the best. I can’t imagine a life without him and don’t want to. But when you’re in a relationship with such a huge age gap, you know that one day you will, and that thought is terrifying. But nothing comes without a flipside, and there are so many good things that this is not worth too many worries. The best thing about age gap The best things in our relationship doesn’t stem from the age difference—it’s plain and simple chemistry. But I do love the dynamic it creates. Being in a Dom/sub relationship, the age difference lends some weight to the dynamic. S’s age lends him a certain type of authority. Having that much life experience simply gives you an advantage—more knowledge about yourself and the world and a certain grounding. Of course, all men are different, and you can find fifty-year-old men no more mature than a teenager, but I do believe it’s rare to find the kind of grounding that comes with age in a thirty-year old man. Another great thing—and I think this holds true for a lot of women who find an older man—is his maturity and responsibility. I came from a relationship with a guy who hadn’t anything figured out, and instead of trying to bring about change, he would play computer games all day. If I wanted him to join me for dinner, I had to warn him forty minutes before, so he wouldn’t start a new game. Going from this to a man with a steady job and a good income, who would insist on enjoying the dinner I’d prepared together, was no less than abso-fucking-lutely wonderful! Though, finding an older man doesn’t guarantee maturity. I have a friend who dated a guy over ten years her senior, and when people would ask her why she would be with someone that much older, she’d tell them they were the same place in life—they were both studying, trying to figure out what they wanted to do. I get her need to explain, but I don’t really see this as a compliment to the guy and don’t think she ever got the full dating-an-older-man experience with him. Unlike her, I’d never explain my relationship by highlighting the similarities. S and I are SO different and at very different places in life, yet somehow we are perfectly compatible. This was difficult for my mother to get when I told her I was seeing someone much older. She was afraid I’d found one of those middle-aged men who’d never grown up. I mean, she took it even worse than when I told her I was into BDSM. But this was as far from the case as anything gets. S has been married and has kids and had never been in a relationship with more than a five year age difference before me. Though, I get where she was coming from—just watch the movie “Something’s Gotta Give.” Plus, it must be strange as a mother to find out your daughter is dating someone her age, right? It took a long time before I could talk to her about S without feeling a lingering awkwardness, and this leads me to the worst thing about an age gap relationship. The worst thing about age gap For me, there are two parts to the downside of an age gap relationship. One trivial, one less so. Let’s start with the easy part, which is worrying about being judged. I’m the type of person who tends to veer away from standard norms of living. With many things, this doesn’t bother me—like not wanting kids and spending all my money and time on the risky business of pursuing an author career. With other things—like my age gap relationship and being into BDSM—I worry about what other people will think. I know, I know, you shouldn’t concern yourself about other people like this, but this is easier said than done when it’s an ingrained habit. So, the hard part… God, I don’t even want to go there. I’m not naïve. I know that one day the age difference will become a problem for one reason or another. I really try not to worry about this because life tends to throw you some curveballs along the way, and I just want to live in the present and enjoy this wonderful thing we have. Who knows? Maybe we’ll tire of each other before the age difference becomes a problem. I’m not the type who thinks too much about happily forever afters—even though I insist on my characters getting them lol. I see myself as more of a serial monogamist, so even though I hate the thought of our relationship ending, this might end up being the way things turn out. Is it worth it? Hell, yes. But not because of the age gap. Like everything else in life, this small factor comes with both good and bad, but it’s not what determines whether I want to be with S. I barely even think about the difference when we’re together, and when I do, it’s in this sexy dang, I’ve scored myself a good man way. An age gap may spur on a relationship if you both are turned on by this dynamic, but in the end, it should be the chemistry that keeps you

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100 Shades of BDSM

Aftercare: A Tricky Affair

Leave a Comment / Aftercare, BDSM, Personal / wejde

Aftercare: A Tricky Affair When I say aftercare, you probably think about cuddling and intimacy right after a scene. But aftercare is so much more than an hour or two of comfort after a good beating. When I was still relatively new to the lifestyle, I had a first time scene with a guy I barely knew. It was in the safe space of a club—points for that—but we hadn’t really negotiated boundaries. Now, I’m not one for long contracts and setting meticulous boundaries, but you have to spend some time going over limits and expectations—getting to know each other, really—before delving into something so intense as BDSM together. But I was new and eager and the guy was completely green. The scene itself went well. More than well, in fact. Our chemistry was off the charts, and he was rough and naturally sadistic in the gruff way I like. He’d hit me with a cane, harder than most first-time sadists would dare, and when I screamed and said it hurt, he’d tell me in a mean voice, “I don’t care.” So hot!!! I was completely under his sadistic spell. It was probably the best scene I’ve had before meeting my master. But—yes, there’s a but—it was also the first time I felt the not so fun aftereffects of rough play. Letting someone beat you and tell you they don’t care that you hurt tampers with your confidence and strength. If that someone isn’t there to tell you he does care afterward, your ground wobbles and you risk falling hard. The guy did hold and comfort me after we played. But after we parted that night, I got nothing but a brief message saying it had been great. That was like a bandaid on a gaping wound. He didn’t even ask how I was feeling, and I really needed that kind of attentiveness after being treated like I was nothing. I felt lost and alone with all these intense emotions swirling in my manhandled body. His marks were a constant reminder of what he’d done—of him. And I needed to know that it meant something, marking me like that. That I wasn’t just a punching bag. Luckily, I had some good friends in the lifestyle that I could talk it over with, and that helped. But I think luck played as much a part. Thinking back on it, I’m a bit amazed that it didn’t hit me harder. I might as well have fallen into a deep sub drop, and that would have been a shitty thing to be alone with. Not long after this experience, I met my master and would learn what a severe sub drop felt like. Now, aftercare and reactions can be a tricky thing. My master did everything he could to ensure my wellbeing both before, during, and several days after a scene. But that didn’t stop me from dropping low. The first times we played went without a hitch. I was happy and excited about this new play-relation, my stomach all fluttery. But as we delved deeper into the rough waters of BDSM, I, too, would sink deeper in the aftermath. The drop would hit one or two, even three days later. I often made it home before it happened, lucky as I was—or maybe it’s like when your body holds back the flu symptoms until you have time for them… And then the crash would come out of the blue. Like a freight train without warning lights. I would feel this empty pit in my stomach, lonely and hopeless, without knowing why. I would cry like I’d been dumped over text, and everything felt hollow and meaningless. In my novice mind, the drop seemed completely unjustifiable, and I didn’t want to be a nuisance to my new Dom, complaining about depressing feelings. So I didn’t tell him. But we had already established a good text-communication, so it wasn’t difficult to reach out with some trivial text just to get in touch. Luckily, he saw straight through me and demanded that I tell him what was going on. So I did. I would lie on my bed sobbing, hugging my pillow with one arm, my phone in the other hand. Texting was by no means an easy fix, and it was really hard that we weren’t able to see each other after a scene at that time. But still, knowing that he cared made all the difference, and I would rise out of the drops a little stronger than when I fell in. So no, aftercare isn’t just for a single night. Human emotions and reactions are complex and tricky. Reactions may set in long after the scene has ended, and so, the Dom must be on standby long after the scene has ended—in whatever way life deems possible. So, what’s the takeaway from all this? Well, there are two. First, don’t dive headfirst into rough play with a new partner. Ease into it. Like all the good Doms I know would say, it’s better to go too slow than too fast. Second, know that subdrop may hit no matter how hard you try to prevent it. In BDSM, you play with stark, volatile emotions, and they may rear their ugly heads when you least expect it. When this happens, both you and your Dom have a responsibility, which is the same: Take care of you! For your part, start with reaching out to your Dom—text, call, mail, it doesn’t matter. Just reach out. Even better, tell him how you feel. If he’s a Dom worth his title, he’ll be all ears and give you all the support you need to get through those rough emotions. Next, go buy a tub of ice cream, slink under the covers, and watch your favorite movie. Give it time.

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Pink Fluffies: My First Journey into BDSM

Leave a Comment / BDSM, Personal / wejde

Pink Fluffies: My First Journey into BDSM Fluffy, pink handcuffs. Those were my first encounter with BDSM. My first sex toy, in fact—even before dildos and vibrators. I didn’t know the term BDSM, would have frowned if someone mentioned sadomasochism, and would deny doggedly if someone asked if I masturbated. I bought those fluffies for the guy I was seeing back then—more than ten years ago—as part of a present. I just knew that I wanted to try something more. Something wild, exciting, maybe forbidden, and I sure hoped he wanted it too. But those cuffs turned out to be more of a present for me than for him. I really wanted him to use them on me, but he just didn’t get any of my many hints, and shy as I was about it, I couldn’t make myself say it out loud. So I ended up putting those handcuffs on him, hoping he’d return the favor. It went against my very nature to put him in cuffs. I’m submissive at heart. I’ve encountered male subs who thought they saw some dominance in me and tried to encourage me to top them. But it has just been my playful, slightly bratty nature they have seen. I love teasing and having fun, and boy, did I have to tap into that energy to make myself put those cuffs on the guy. I laughed and giggled like the teenager I was when I had him in those cuffs, and I think he laughed too as I teased him, nibbled and tickled—and whatever else my silly mind could come up with. But neither of us was turned on by it. And when the guy finally got the clue and put me in the cuffs, it was an anticlimax. I didn’t feel trapped, at his mercy, or any of the other things I’d hoped for. I could just flick the safety lock and nudge the metal off if I wanted, and that thought was as exhilarating as the guy putting me in them. The fact is, I probably wouldn’t have gotten more excited from a real pair of cuffs that can only be opened with a key. Because the guy didn’t have a dominant bone in his body, and after that first experience and many more like it, I slowly learned that you can be tied up, held down, gagged, and all kinds of fun things, but if the guy doesn’t have his heart in it, he might as well take me missionary style all night long. Today, those pink fluffies are long gone, replaced by my master’s red and black leather cuffs that he has made himself. But if my master were to put me in a pair of pink handcuffs and tell me—with all the intensity of his very dominant gaze—to keep my fingers off the safety switch, I sure as hell wouldn’t dare touch it—not for the life of my sensitive nipples.

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Ella Jacobs - author

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Asking for What You Need