Not your teacher’s Apple
Years ago when I discovered kink and BDSM, a friend suggested that I chose a safeword. One that would be completely unrelated to anything sexual, but one that I would be sure to remember. This was well before the online kink community that exists now and while I was able to do a little research, there were really no suggestions for Safewords, just the same advice my friend had offered. One I could remember…. until I couldn’t remember it.
I have always been more than willing to push sexual boundaries. I used to ignorantly say that I would try anything once (never say that to a sadistic Dominant BTW). However in trying to push my personal limits I found my own masochistic side. The conundrum, when I push those boundaries I tend to skyrocket into subspace. Subspace is that magical existence when you feel like you are floating between fantasy and reality. And let me tell you apples are the furthest thing from your mind. So there I was floating on endorphins induced by erotic asphyxiation when I begin to feel myself go. There is a subtle moment just before passing out of immense clarity for me, but the problem is I am unable to speak. So fuck the apples.
It was obvious there was a communication breakdown. That Dominant had significantly more experience than I, but it did not stop me from overreacting thanks to my over-analytical anxious brain. I pulled away from pushing those boundaries for a long time, mostly out of fear. That play partner and I quickly grew distant.
When I decided to venture back into D/s, I knew I needed to have a better system of communication. Furthermore, as someone who enjoys breath play I knew verbal communication would not always work. Enter the hackey sack. For those that do not know what they are, a hackey sack is a small knitted ball loosely filled with rice or tiny beads used in a weird kicking game similar to how a single person will kick up a soccer ball repeatedly.
Anyhow, the plan was for me to hold onto the hackey sack. If it fell from my hand, or I dropped it intentionally, all play stopped. After a few trial runs (prior to approaching a hard limit) the hackey sack seemed to work. BUT, in situations where I still had my voice, I still had no need for fucking apples. What now? I went through a few other suggestions of people I knew before I stubbled on the light system. Green light, yellow light, and red light; the common street light signals that most people are familiar with. And red being the universal sign for STOP made complete sense. Why did it take so long to occur to me? I have no idea. I was young and more than a little kink sheltered.
In my current dynamic we have discussed the light system, though I have yet to have any need to use even yellow. And my submissive heart craves the day that he gets the courage to whisper, “Give me a color.”
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