Proposing Rules In A D/s Dynamic

Image is a screenshot of a Google Form titled "Puppy's Rules Proposals". It asks "What is the rule?", "Why is Puppy proposing it?" and "Are there any proposed consequences for breaking the rule?" and it appears there are more questions not visible onscreen.

I fucking love Google Docs, Google Sheets and Google Forms.

I have a Google Doc outlining my D/s protocols. I have a Google Sheet tracking my sex toy collection (with pie charts for materials, colours and method of acquisition). And now I am bizarrely excited to announce that I have a Google Form for proposing new rules and protocols to my Daddy.

I love Google Drive for all the obvious reasons (its ease of use, its availability anywhere at any time, the fact that it is impossible for me to misplace important documents) but I love using it for D/s in particular because typing up rules or proposing new ones can feel like an act of service in and of itself. Creating the Google Form for my rule proposals felt servicey; updating my rules document feels servicey; formatting everything consistently and neatly feels servicey. And proposing rules through a Google Form feels great because of how formal (pun not intended) it can feel: this method seems to carry more gravitas than just dropping into conversation that I’d like my nicotine intake monitored more closely, or making any other proposal verbally.

I’m going to provide an outline of the Form that I’ve created for my D/s dynamic that other people could theoretically use as a template or jumping-off point for something similar that suits their own purposes. Naturally, you might find that you’d like to include more detail, to ask different questions or to tweak the phrasing of a section, but this is how I’ve structured my Form to make it as useful as possible to me and my dynamic.

Question 1: What is the rule?

This is the most obvious question to lead with, and it’s where I outline the rule that I’m proposing (for example, “Puppy may only ask permission to use Daddy’s vapes once per week. They may not ask again and they unequivocally may not pout if the answer is no”). I like to input these in the third person for ageplay reasons (using my nickname of “Puppy”), but again, this is a tool to help enrich your existing D/s dynamic, so you can do whatever suits you and your partner(s).

Question 2: Why is Puppy proposing it?

I feel that this section is important even if the rule seems self-explanatory, because it can highlight any needs that I feel aren’t being fully met in my D/s dynamic and demonstrate a self-awareness to my Daddy that I sometimes have to work hard to achieve. It also prompts me to stop and think about how the rule is going to benefit me, so that even when I’m grumpy about having my substance use limited or a bedtime instated, I can look back at my own explanation for the rule and recognise its perks.

Question 3: Are there any proposed consequences for breaking the rule?

This question only requires me to tick a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ box, because an outline of the proposed consequences is requested in the next question. As a service-oriented sub with PTSD and not a bratty bone in their body, punishments are often quite challenging for me on a psychological level, so if I propose a consequence, it’s usually the removal of a fun thing (for instance, having permission to orgasm withdrawn for a number of days) rather than my Daddy actively applying an unpleasant stimulus. For the most part, though, my particular D/s dynamic benefits more from rewards for good behaviour than punishments for bad behaviour, which is why I have the option to select ‘No’ in answer to this question.

Question 4: If yes, what are the consequences?

This is where, if you are a submissive who benefits from punishments/consequences, you can outline what they might be – as long as your dominant knows you well enough to recognise when you’re cheekily suggesting a “funishment” rather than a punishment. (Funishments are allowed in this category, of course, but it’s worth talking to your dominant about what they’re hoping to achieve by setting you rules with consequences. If you’re trying to quit biting your nails and the ‘consequence’ for an infraction is a pleasant beating, you’re not going to be motivated to leave your nails alone. Like every other D/s tool out there, this should be used to facilitate conversations about your dynamic rather than to avoid them entirely.)

Terms and Conditions

This is probably the most optional part of the Form, but it’s my favourite. In order to be able to submit the proposal, I have to tick a box specifying that I understand that the purpose of our D/s dynamic is to keep me safe, happy and healthy, that I recognise my Daddy’s right to suggest changes to all or part of a proposed rule, that I accept responsibility for updating the Google Doc which details all of my rules and that I love and appreciate my Daddy very much. A nurturing, ageplay-centric D/s dynamic can often lead to ‘tough love’ situations wherein my Daddy has to say a firm no to late nights, booze, extra caffeine or any number of other things I want but don’t need, and ticking this box reminds me and him that I understand why he says no and that I appreciate it even whilst I’m pouting and whining and trying to explain why staying up til 3am on a schoolnight isn’t that bad, really, in the grand scheme of things… (I may not be bratty, but I am the first to admit that I’m cheeky as fuck.) Of course, you can rework this section or give it a miss entirely, but it works really well for the purposes of our dynamic.

And that’s it! Unfortunately, this post was not sponsored by Google, but if any of their people want to hit me up, they can find my details here – which is also where you can find me if you’re not a Google employee, so you can follow me on Twitter, email me with questions and, if you really want to boost my ego, let me know that you’ve used information from a blog post of mine to enrich your own kinky lifestyle.

Bratty Bottoms and Me

Image is of two brown, horned mammals (possibly goats) butting heads, both their gazes directed at the ground. The background is just beige dirt.

I used to identify as ‘mostly dominant’.

This probably comes as a shock to anyone who has known me or known of me (in real life or online) for longer than about 20 minutes. I’m collared. I’m in a 24/7 power exchange dynamic wherein I’m the submissive one. I’m very often cruisin’ for a consensual bruisin’ and I love bottoming in humiliation scenes. Nowadays, I identify as ‘a sub-leaning switch’, but the things I actually do paint me as a sub with an occasional willingness to do some service topping.

What happened?

Well, for one, I actually tried submission. When I was insisting that I was the Dommiest Dom™, it was on a purely theoretical basis – I’d not yet done any kink except some weird (and sometimes ethically dubious) text-based roleplay. I picked out the label of ‘dominant’ when I was fifteen or sixteen, absolutely bubbling over with teenage angst alongside my fascination with kink. When I started playing in real life, I gave submission a go “for science” and fell in love with it instantly.

I didn’t lose my love of topping and domming, though. When my first serious relationship became non-monogamous I almost immediately sought out cute subby humans to flirt and sext with. When that relationship fell apart, I ended up in my first triad, dating two other switches.

It was a disaster.

The thing is, some of the play was awesome. I did more impact topping, power exchange, butt stuff topping and humiliation topping than I’d ever done before, and some of it was amazing – hot, exciting, addictive. But some of it wasn’t.

The girl from that triad I’m no longer seeing was the person I beat up more often, spat on more often and more often demanded she call me ‘Sir’ (and, on occasion, ‘Mummy’ – but that’s another post altogether). This was partly a matter of logistics; our other partner (whom I’m still dating) was living a couple hundred miles away, whereas we were often within an hour or two of one another. It was also because she initiated play a great deal more often, in person and over messages, which eventually turned into pressuring me & our girlfriend into things… which is, again, another matter altogether.

She was my first sub, though that power dynamic wasn’t 24/7. She was also the person I’d impact topped most intensely, the first person I’d topped in a CG/l scene and the first brat I’d ever tried to top. The emphasis is on “tried”, because I wasn’t very successful.

I’m a Slytherin and a Leo. I don’t know how to process being unsuccessful. It’s something I’m working on, but if I’m unsuccessful at a non-essential activity or skill (like bowling, swimming or domming), I’ll usually drop it and conserve my energy and resilience for being unsuccessful at things it is essential I master – like referencing in MHRA format or crossing roads safely. When faced with a bratty sub, who was resistant to punishments and obsessed with backchatting me, I felt unsuccessful – especially since this was my first real-life experience of power exchange and topping. So, for quite a long time, I dropped it.

The problem is not with bratty subs. I love bratty subs – I love watching them interact with their dominants in play spaces, I love their energy, I love the idea of them challenging a dominant partner and helping that dominant grow. My personal style of submission leans away from brattiness, but I wouldn’t have a problem with topping or domming a bratty sub – except in a situation where the brattiness was unexpected. The above-mentioned girl I was playing with would sometimes be impeccably obedient and eager to please, and then, with no warning or negotiation or indication of why, she’d switch to brat mode and I’d get overwhelmed. The problem was one part me (a baby dominant, insecure at the best of times and very often riddled with Top Impostor Syndrome, struggling to understand brattiness from a sub’s perspective) and three parts lack of communication. If she had conveyed to me what she liked about being bratty, that I was doing everything ‘right’ and/or that she still respected me as a top, a Dom and a partner, I would almost certainly have relished topping/domming her in Brat Mode as much as I did in Obedient Mode. As it stood, scenes would end with me confused and frustrated, unable to understand what had gone ‘wrong’ and why I couldn’t get her back into Obedient Mode, and I didn’t feel able to voice any of it. I thought I was just a bad Dom.

So now I’m a little scared of topping or domming. I still love it as an idea, but I’m worried about having that same sense that I’ve done it ‘wrong’, leaving scenes hurt and insecure instead of happy and uplifted. It sucks to feel that you’re not good enough in any context, and topping/dominance is a particularly vulnerable context to feel that in. I’m especially intimidated by the thought of topping brattier bottoms, even though I’ve seen firsthand how much fun they can be, because I’ve somehow conflated brattiness with a lack of negotiation and even a disregard for my consent – just because the first and only bratty bottom I’ve played with was being bratty without my consent (and violated my consent in plenty of other ways to boot). That’s a whole bunch of My Problem, of course, and I recognise how illogical and unfair it is that I have this unease around bratty bottoms – but I wanted to write about it, in case any other tops out there had played with bottoms who were unexpectedly bratty and/or behaved non-consensually, and who felt or feel the same way I do. It’s pretty normal to mis-attribute feelings of unease, insecurity and hurt, but I know from hanging out with them that there are plenty of bratty bottoms who are good communicators, consent-conscious and respectful.

At least, they’re respectful outside of a scene. 😉

Smut Saturdays #8 – Okay, So I Have A Foot Fetish…

Image is of a pair of feet belonging to a white person (Morgan) bound together with hemp rope, some of which runs between the toes and binds one wrist to one ankle as well. Morgan is wearing teal nail polish on their fingers and none on their toes, and the background is a black patterned floor mat.

Every fourth Saturday, I’ll be posting erotica I’ve written, based loosely on my own real life experiences or fantasies, for your wanking enjoyment, and all under the heading ‘Smut Saturdays‘. If you’ve got any feedback or requests, put ’em in the comments or hit me up on Twitter @KinkyAutistic!

Content note: this post refers to a ‘Daddy’ but has no other explicit ageplay, and features foot stuff, consensual degradation and, y’know, fucking. Just so y’all are aware.


One of my favourite ways to flirt with people is to gaze longingly at them whilst licking and/or sucking on something. It works well enough on people with vulvae, who are (I hope) enticed by the intensity of my gaze and the thought of my lips and tongue on their junk – but it works even better on people with penises, because you can (if they let you) steal one of their fingers and simulate fellatio by sucking on it and moving it in and out of your mouth. You’ve got to already be at the physical flirting stage, and you’ve got to move their hand towards your mouth super slowly so that they have a chance to opt out of hand-to-mouth contact… but something about having fellatio imitated on one of their appendages makes them extra desperate to have the same happen to body parts further south.

Incidentally, one of my favourite ways to hang out with my Daddy is sitting on the floor whilst he sits on the sofa, in spite of there being two perfectly good armchairs only feet away. It doesn’t matter whether I’m so far into pupspace that I’ve forgotten how my thumbs work or I’m fully in Adult Human Mode™ after a long day at uni; sitting on the floor whilst a dominant partner is on furniture makes me feel small and secure. I’ll retreat to an armchair if my joints hurt too much to endure the floor or if I have things to do that require lamplight or similar, but otherwise I stay on the carpet while we watch Masterchef, Don’t Tell The Bride or various foodie vlogs.

D’you see where this is going yet?

My attention span is woeful at the best of times, and it only gets worse when I’m horny or stressed – and sometimes, reader, I am both of those things at once. Sometimes I’m cruisin’ for a (consensual) bruisin’ as a way of relieving both sexual tension and being-a-grownup-is-hard tension. And sometimes my Daddy lies on the sofa with bare feet, his toes just… there. Right there.

So once, I wrapped my mouth around one of them.

The biggest toe. I laid my lips around it slowly so that he could stop me, but he just sort of… watched. I couldn’t tell whether he was turned on or bewildered or whether he was both. I dropped my tongue down a little and took his whole big toe into my mouth. It was broader than a finger, and rougher, but it wasn’t a challenge to give a mini blowjob to – so I did, for a few intense and strange moments, until he pulled his foot away.

I lowered my head, unsure whether I was in (consensual) trouble and unsure of how I felt. When I suck on people’s fingers, I sort of feel like a powerhouse of irresistible sexual energy – sort of how I imagine sirens must feel whilst they’re luring men to their deaths. With my mouth around a toe, though (and especially a toe belonging to my Dominant), I felt… smaller. Lower. Subjugated. And, even though his toes were clean and entirely neutral in smell and taste, it felt more like an endurance – like a sign of devotion.

I guess he was on that wavelength, too, because he tapped my cheek with the side of his foot. Gently, experimentally. I lifted my eyes to look at him but barely tilted my head, and I stayed stock-still as he tapped my cheek with his foot again. Harder. And again – this time hard enough that you could possibly categorise it as a kick.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been kicked by an impact top, but it was the first time I’d been kicked in the face by an impact top, and also the first time that so much of my attention was on the foot in question. I watched his expression change from detached amusement to sadistic glee as he kicked my face harder, and harder, until it was an effort to keep my neck steady and my head in place. The last kick was so hard that my teeth felt jarred, and I was so deep into subspace that all I could say was, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“On your hands and knees.” He was already sitting up and unbuckling his belt. My brain was too subby to process it fully, so I just shifted myself into doggie style and pressed my face into the prickly, acrylic-y fibres of the carpet. “You’ve got me hard, you fucking dirty bitch.”

Being called a dirty bitch is as inclined to make me do the heart-eyes emoji as being called “Princess” or “angel”. I half-lay, half-slumped there with my butt in the air, and I mumbled, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“No need to be sorry; it just means you need to fix it.” He got to his knees behind me and peeled my leggings off my waist and arse, leaving them bunched around my knees. I knew my cunt was wet but I couldn’t find my wits long enough to be embarrassed about it.

My own toes curled in anticipation at the sound of his zip coming down. It took minimal effort to cram his cock into me, but not minimal pain – I squealed and writhed, a familiar burning at the very entrance to my cunt, but he grabbed my hips with hands bigger than my head – so unless I safeworded, I was stuck. I took breaths in through pursed lips as he began to fuck me, and slowly the pain was replaced by deep, delicious A-spot stimulation.

How did I land myself in this predicament? I wondered vaguely, in between scrunching my face up and moaning. Oh… I sucked his toes. He likes his toes sucked. I like sucking his toes… a lot.

“Daddy?” I asked, in a small voice. The thrusting paused. “Do you think you could put your foot… on my face?”

It’s worth noting that my Daddy is 6 foot something and I’m about 5’6 on a good day. He’s also flexible, and strong, and obliging, so it was only sort of a surprise when his weight shifted behind me and then, still in doggie style and still with his cock buried in me, he managed to press the ball of his foot into my cheek, my head turned to one side and pushed into the carpet. It felt oddly right, like lots of other D/s things: all I could think was, Now I’m really getting under his feet. Heehee.

He carried on fucking me, and, whilst it was awesome, it would be very boring to transcribe here. Rock-hard dick going in and out, front wall of my cunt aching pleasantly, feeling his fingertips dig into my arse as he grew closer to cumming, etc., etc. When we came to a wet, panting, wonderful end, he lifted his foot from my face and brought it back towards himself, whilst withdrawing from my cunt. In the crossfire, I felt and heard a drip, and sat up to turn around.

Cum had dripped onto his foot.

Reader, I lit up with joy. I asked permission to lick it off. And I was forced to concede, as my tongue flicked its way between his toes, that I definitely have a thing for feet.