Photo de Lavinia-Elena Mihai sur Unsplash

I had a nightmarish wet dream last night… it was terrifying yet hot. It wasn’t with Master or it would have just been hot. It was with someone I both knew yet did not know – a stranger who was at the same time my ex dominants combined. How freaky is that? Let’s call him Strange Dom. When Strange Dom did something to me that I linked to a memory, he would resemble that particular person. And then he would do something else and he would change. The transformation was subtle and inobtrusive; I remember being startled when I noticed he was someone else. I have no idea what I consumed during the day, media, drug or drink, that could have influenced such a dream, but one scene stands out in my memory and ties to a topic I want to write about today – triggers.

We were in a room, not quite a whole apartment, but also not as small as just one bedroom. A studio apartment, maybe? Anyway, Strange Dom had a D-ring mounted on the wall and he had attached my ankle cuff to this with a long chain. In my dream, I was cognisant that I was supposed to be with Master and not Strange Dom. I wasn’t happy to be his prisoner, but I didn’t want to show it so I was very casual about everything. Meh, there’s a chain but guess what, I can reach the couch so I’m just gonna chill here and not give a fuck about whatever. Clearly, Strange Dom wasn’t too happy about that so he walked over, grabbed my nipples between his two thumbs and forefingers and pinched. Hard. I remember the intoxicating rush of pain and arousal and me doubling over and onto my knees on the floor.

I have the first Dom I ever met in my life to thank for this memory. I was 17 when I met him for a scene. I was young and stupid so I hadn’t set up a safe call nor ascertained that he wasn’t a serial killer. The scene didn’t go so well, but I lived. But what I will never forget is how he ‘broke the ice’ with me, pushing me from super-shy-to-meet-you to yes-please-let-me-serve-you in a matter of seconds. I hadn’t even removed my clothes; I’d barely assented to start the scene when he pinched my nipples through my blouse and squeezed hard, just like in my dream. I have really sensitive nipples so it doesn’t take a lot for them to hurt. He went from zero to over the limit in seconds, but what it also did was kickstart my submissive engine and push my endorphins to overdrive.

Over the years, I’ve identified many other triggers that help push me into submissive headspace. My neck is a hotspot, regardless of whether Master has a hand around my throat or nape. My nipples continue to serve me well, but so does a well-timed slap to the cheek. A tug of the hair, a knee between my thighs, and of late, anything to do with my chastity belt. Triggers are such delicious things once we know and learn them. It always melts my submissive heart when Master plays me with such… mastery. I feel like a well-oiled machine or instrument that only he knows how to get going. Sometimes, I feel that it’s unfair. Even if I were mad or upset at him, I wouldn’t be able to prevent him from using one of my triggers against me. Of course, Master never does… He’s too much of a gentleman to play dirty, although I sometimes wish he would.

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