There are many many good posts out there about safewords. What they are, types of safewords, how to use them, when to use them.
This is not one of those posts.
Because for all of the beauty of safewords, the concept has a flaw. It’s not because safewords don’t work, or they aren’t useful. They absolutely 100% are. I would never recommend playing without one, especially for people with not much experience in BDSM activities.
It’s that some people use a lack of a safeword as an excuse when they harm someone. And we aren’t talking about that enough.
A safeword when properly used in typical BDSM play is a safety valve. It’s an emergency stop feature that communicates unambiguously the intent to end a scene. Or at least, that something really big needs to change or things are going to go south. And fast. But unless you have explicitly negotiated ahead of time that a safeword is going to be your only form of communication it should never, ever, be the only method to stop a scene.
It’s like a fire alarm.
If you’re in a burning building and you see flames and you smell smoke you don’t go “Oh, well, the fire alarm didn’t go off, guess there must not be a fire!” Right? Because that would be pretty stupid, and you’d probably end up dead. Instead, you should be checking for other signs of a fire and preferably getting the hell out of that situation. A fire alarm is simply a tool to make it easier to tell something is wrong and you need to evacuate. Same thing with a safeword.
If a scene is going wrong and a bottom is flinching, avoiding eye contact, or stops reacting to stimulus at all, you should never go “Oh, well, they never used their safeword, so I guess this must be okay.” WRONG. Unless you are doing some prenegotiated no-limits, CNC type shit, ANY significant and unusual or distressing change should warrant a check-in. You don’t need to stop the scene. But you should be looking for other signs of a fire, and if you need to get out of this situation. And maybe everything is okay. But the point is you should still check in. Because at best, you’re risking loss of valuable feedback as a Dom. At worst, you’ve crossed someone’s boundaries (communicated prior or not) and are now actively harming them.
A safeword should not be an excuse for lazy, passive Dominance. Scenes should be negotiated under the hope of creating a mutually beneficial experience. Not merely just letting the Dominant do whatever the heck they want up until the submissive or bottom finally eeks out their safeword as a last resort to stop the agony. Dominants should always be attentive, mindful and focused during scenes. After all, they are literally putting that bottom at risk in both life and limb. Shouldn’t we expect more?
I think there are many factors in the community that contribute to this mindset that makes it extremely difficult to actually rely on safewords as the sole form of communication. Let’s discuss those:
1. We Put Safewords on a Pedestal: We treat safewords like the “in case of emergencies only” hatchet behind a thick pane of glass. As a culture in general, we don’t encourage liberal use of safewords. Needing to resort to a safeword is seen as shameful, and damning for both bottom and top in that scene. And so, many bottoms believe they are only allowed to use safewords when things are really really bad. Low blood sugar? Tingly toes? Allergies? Tolerance getting low? Suck it up. And by the time things get to that really really bad place, many are no longer in a mental state to even communicate at all.
2. Competitiveness: We love having submissives compete with each other. Who can take the most canes, who can do the hardest suspension, and who can stand to kneel on the rice for the longest amount of time. A submissive who is competitive and has a desire to please will often put beating “the competition” above their own physical safety so they can feel like a good sub. To do anything less is failure.
3. Fear of Disappointment and Abandonment: This is certainly not true of all subs, but many have a fear of being a disappointment or being a abandoned. This leads to a submissive not using a safeword, because having an abrupt end to the scene can leave the sub feeling like they have let their partner down. Or worse, it activates the fear that the Dominant will abandon them. This is particularly true in power exchange relationships with a high level of authority transfer but a low level of existing trust. To use a safeword is to put the existing relationship itself on the line, and risks changing the relationship to the core. Rational? Maybe not. But we certainly don’t do enough to absolve this fear or address why it exists. And fear is often powerful enough to keep people silent.
4. Altered States of Consciousness: New submissives are particularly vulnerable to this. Whether it be getting lost in a primal, little or animal headspace, sinking into subspace, or being so overcome by fear your body freezes, BDSM can bring out many unique and complicated states of mind. If a submissive is not operating a fully functional brain, let alone potentially not having access to verbal function at all, how are they going to communicate a safeword? Even when they really need to? It’s entirely possible someone in a deep in an altered state of consciousness may forget who or where they are, let alone remember they have a specific fancy word to use to get out!
5. We Don’t Practice Safewords: Let’s say you have been doing BDSM for 10 years. In all that time, you have had the fortune to never need a safeword before. Then, one night with a new partner, something goes wrong. How likely are you going to be able to evaluate correctly that you need it, or when, or even know how to say it? It’s like a fire drill. You can talk all you want about where the evacuation spot is, and what route to use, but unless you have regularly practiced using the route before, you are liable to forget it in a panic situation. Even submissives with a decade of experience can blank out and forget their safeword in a crisis.
6. Daddy Knows Best: This one is the most insidious of the bunch. For new submissives especially, they can be cowed into believing that the Dominant should have the final say and to trust them completely. Negotiated or not. This leads to unscrupulous (or just inexperienced) Dominants functionally using their relationship authority to dictate a submissive’s limits for them. It removes the submissive’s ability to fairly judge for themselves if and when they need to safeword. Or if they are allowed to. Imagine a situation where a submissive is new, and has a hard limit around canes. Then Daddy brings out the cane. By quieting the protests with a “Daddy Knows Best” and or a “Why Don’t You Trust Me?”, a Dominant can cut off a submissive from feeling safe from using their safewords. A Dominant should always be aware of the power and influence they have over a submissive’s psyche. It is very hard to say no to someone who you respect, who is older or more experienced, or who pays your bills – and a safeword is often subconsciously viewed as a “no” to that activity. Add power exchange to that on top, and you’ve got quite a mountain to climb.
…. and I am sure many many other factors too. There are so many to list.
Point being, a safeword is a tool. But a complicated one – and only as good as the people using it. Human emotions, fears, and desires all intertwine to make “simple” communication very complicated. And until we can unpack some of the baggage we have lying around about using them, safewords will never be the only way to effectively communicate in a scene. And unless you have negotiated otherwise, plain English communication and body language should always be monitored for other signs things are going wrong.
To try and hide behind “but they didn’t safeword!” as a defense when someone is harmed by a scene is weak, and shows a lack of understanding of how hard communication can be when endorphins are flying. Responsible partners look at actions and reactions, not just words.
Stay Safe,
Evie
PS) While I stick to talking about submissives having their consent violated or safeword use complicated in this post, this is only for the sake of making the text easier to follow. Dominants, tops, bottoms, slaves, Masters, switches, littles, anyone, can have their consent violated or have difficulty using safewords in scenes.
I agree with every word of this article. I wish that I could be as eloquent and complete!
First, you handled the situation with your asshole “friend” impeccably. And it most likely did trigger something; as a victim of abuse she probably had a long and bumpy journey trying to find her voice. Engage her in conversations about things that she likes to talk about. Do it often. Draw her out bit by bit. “What do you think about X?” That sort of thing. You have your work cut out for you, but you seem like you are the kind of Dom who is equal to the task. Good luck.
Absolutely, kudos for your handling of the situation.
In addition to 144′s advice above, I think it would help if you made an extra effort to show how much you enjoy listening to her, setting aside any distractions when you’ve managed to encourage her to open up, giving her your rapt undivided attention, and so on.
This ^^^
As a woman who is outright bouncy (like Tigger), and is a total nerdy geek who’s spent decades in a traditional “male” world in work and sport, I got told to shutup in as many abusive as fuck ways as you can imagine. I just happen to be a completely hardcore bitch in those circumstances – I left most of them neutered.
But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell or leave me humiliated. If I weren’t so pissed off and have the up armored spine my father instilled, I’d have likely shutdown and withdrawn.
My two cents:
Tell her what you wrote. Tell her you WANT to hear everything she thinks about (passionate topic here). If she’s holding back, stifling, or self censoring, call her on it. Let your Dominance be both her shield and her motivator.
On another but related note …..
Dear Male Persons,
If you want female persons to WANT to fuck you like a greedy, wanton, wild whore ….
STOP SHAMING US WITH YOU WORDS (pussy, cocksucker, whore, slut, cunt, etc. used as angry/insulting l/perjoratives) AND YOUR ACTIONS.
Ever notice how often it happens in order to “show off” or “prove manhood” to other male persons?
Kinda makes you wonder why a bunch of cocks is more important to you than hot, eager, wet pussy …..
Well, at least that’s how we (female persons) talk ABOUT you and this behavior when you’re not around.
Where has the time gone!? It’s already summer! And Rebecca came up with the bright idea to pass her passion for gardening on to Anna, who has discovered that potting soil tends to get quite heavy when wet! 😉
He made sure to show her the footage afterward. Not the induction, although he filmed that as well–no, the part he wanted her to see was when she was so deeply hypnotized that even with her eyes open, she looked drunk with vacant, foggy bliss and nodded eagerly at his every word. The moment when he brought his friends in and said, “Who wants to be a good little cocksucker for Master?” The moment when her eyes lit up with pure, unmitigated pleasure and she nodded like an excited puppy.
He wanted her to see what she was like, when she was captivated by the spell of his words and helpless to resist the constant thrum of arousal in her brain every time she thought about kneeling down and sliding a cock between her lips. He wanted her to remember all the things his suggestions made her forget, experience for the first time all over again the rush of sexual bliss she felt when her mouth engulfed the entire shaft right down to the balls. He wanted her to gasp in stunned amazement at the sound of her moans of unadorned pleasure when she sucked cock like a good slut for Master.
He knew what it would do to her, seeing her glassy, vacant stare as the cock fucked her will away with every thrust down her willing throat. He knew even before she did that her fingers would dip down inside her panties, slipping into the waistband without her consciously realizing it to tease her slick and juicy cunt as she watched herself bobbing mindlessly up and down, up and down on the shaft in her mouth. He knew that her stammered, bewildered protests would dry up into helpless, fascinated silence as she stared at the woman in the video and remembered just what it felt like to be her.
He didn’t speak to her while she gazed in mesmerized astonishment at her own face, smiling beatifically as rope after messy rope of semen splattered onto it. He didn’t need to. The only thing she needed to hear was the sound of her own voice on the video, purring with pleasure as she moaned out, “Thank you for turning me into a mindless, obedient cock-slut for you, Master. I love having my empty mind filled with cock and cum for ymmmmph…” The only thing she needed to see was the eager abandon in her eyes as she swallowed the next cock down in a single gulp, all the way to the base. The only thing she needed to remember was how much pleasure it gave her to become a blank, horny fucktoy under his hypnotic spell. That was more than enough.
But he let her watch the rest. He allowed her to stare and masturbate and focus her entire awareness on the woman on the screen, the deeply hypnotized slave girl whose entire consciousness was focused on pleasuring men’s cocks. He allowed her to sink deeper and deeper into helpless, captivated arousal as she watched men spurt their cum onto her naked tits, her belly, her face and all over her cunt. He let her sink into the pleasure of obedience, until all she could think of was how good it felt to be lost in the mindless bliss of her cock trance, until the craving to go that deep again overwhelmed the feeble resistance she tried to muster in that moment of shock and surprise at seeing the video.
And then, when her mind was at its most open and receptive, he asked her, “Who wants to be a good little cocksucker for Master?” As she bobbed her head up and down in mindless enthusiasm, and the men began to file into the room for another round, he set the camera to begin recording again.
I know how gifs work, but stick with me a second: the little skip between cycles on this one made me think of a dungeon with a time trap. Sci-fi, fantasy, whatever, just some method of consistently snapping the contents of one room back… say, thirty seconds or so…
See, Kiri here is a synthdoll: she’s wealthy, very wealthy, wealthy enough to have had a remote body custom-fabricated from the DNA on up. They’re legal, mostly, as long as you have a visible registration marker (like, say, those gorgeous fractal tattoos). Her original self is resting peacefully in a chamber, safe at home, her mind linked to this beautiful puppet via quantum entanglement.
The thing about diving synth is that it makes you reckless. There are automatic switches to cut out pain if it goes above a set threshold, and a maintenance contract to repair any damage you can imagine, to the point of growing an entire new doll if necessary. Rich girls like Kiri can taste the choicest poisons, cliff-dive without hesitation, seduce or be seduced by anyone they like and fuck away the consequences. Her synth doesn’t develop any bad habits, but Kiri is addicted to risk, the rush of danger with the safety of the automatic killswitch if anything goes bad.
So when a beautiful stranger at a glass-sheathed bar bet her she’d break in his little one-room chamber of delight and torment, she laughed and laughed and took him up on it.
He didn’t mention the chronoswitch, but then, she didn’t ask, did she?
They had the usual fun at first–dragging her in through the heavy door by her hair, letting her fight it a little, a rough kiss to bruise her lips and a grip on her breast to make her arch and gasp. None of it really hurt though, certainly nowhere near the safety cutoff level. Kiri was enjoying herself.
She squirmed and bit his tongue for fun, and he tore her very expensive little red dress getting it off her. Kiri bucked against him, and he had his wrists in her hand, pinning her back over a cheap block of plywood as his cheek brushed the tattoo under her arm. She was surprised to discover that she was sensitive there, very much so, but not unpleasantly. Somewhere, on a cushioned bodyrest, she smiled a little.
Then he flipped her over and slapped a little lube on his hand, pushing a couple fingers into her, letting her squeal in mock dismay as he spread her lips and thoroughly, efficiently wet her inside and out. She was starting to wonder if he’d played with dolls before, and let her tart little tongue make a joke to that effect, which is how she got the ball gag.
She was breathing fast, pulse pounding, riding exactly the kind of risk she loved as she felt his cock nudge through his pants against her slippery pussy. Then he hauled her back away from the block, cuffed her hands up above her head, and kicked her ankles apart until autoshackles snapped onto them as well.
He stepped back, letting her glare at him as she shook her hair down over her eyes. What was he going to do? Whip her or something? That would end things quickly, kick her out and drop the doll limp until its retrieval company showed up. Not much fun… but no, he was doing something else, sliding a piston dildo under her and flipping it on.
The buzzing fuckrod slid into her easily, and she gasped and curled her fingers over the cuffs, letting herself enjoy it in the role-play of victim, damsel, toy. His hand traced her hip down to the little patch of fuzz, then found her clit, making firm circles in time with the machine as she struggled to tilt her hips.
It didn’t take long to bring her to the edge. She was panting around the gag, arching, dollbody stretched taut and trembling, certain she was going to come any second…
He stepped back again, just beyond a small ring of lights embedded in the floor. She was puzzled, but maybe he just wanted to watch. There was no stopping her orgasm now anyway. Fuck, she thought, oh fuck, oh fuck, here it was–
Then a skip, a hiccup, and her body twitched in a way she didn’t understand.
She was back on the edge, exactly at the point where he’d stepped away from her. The machine thrummed and thrust upward, stretching her, pushing her toward the edge–closer–closer–
Skip.
The edge reset and rose again, making her ride it. She was definitely going to come this time, no question. Oh my, oh god, her body just starting to clench and then–
Skip.
It began to dawn on Kiri that something wasn’t right.
He grinned at her from beyond the boundary marker and tossed a little ball of paper. Just as she arrived yet again at the point of no return, when the paper was about to touch her skin, it
Skip.
vanished.
Oh shit.
“How many edges do you think you can take?” he asked conversationally. “Me personally, I’d only last a few dozen before I snapped, but you’re a tough little double, aren’t you, girl?”
Skip.
“See, if you were really in there, your memory would reset every thirty seconds with the rest of your body, and this little trap wouldn’t have much of an effect at all. But you’re not. You’re tucked away somewhere nice and safe, ready to retreat at the first onset of pain. But I didn’t say I was going to hurt you. I said I was going to torture you.”
Skip.
Somewhere, Kiri was panicking. The pleasure was as real to her as anything, and the desperate need rising in her over and over again was unavoidable, the synthdoll reacting exactly as it had been when he first threw the switch. But there was no release, there would be no release: her doll wouldn’t get sore or tired in the timetrap, wouldn’t get thirsty, wouldn’t trigger any of the safety cutouts to get her back out. Not for hours. Not for days.
Skip.
FUCK, she had been close that time! No no no no, she didn’t think she could take two more of these, much less a dozen, but here it was again, the pulse inside her and the flood of electric need rushing up her spine before–
Skip.
“Takes a lot to afford a doll that flawless,” he grinned, “and I think you’re going to share it with me, girl. I think that before very long, you’ll break, and you’ll be willing to give me anything to unplug you. Your mind, your money, your cunt–this one or your real one, whichever I please. But you won’t be able to tell me where you really are with that gag in. Which means I’m going to have to get a list of registered dolls in the city and knock on doors… one… at… a time.”
The thought of actually being found did something to her, closed a short circuit in her dollbrain, and oh FUCK that was it–she was coming–the first microsecond of a massive, crashing–
Skip.
She screamed through the gag, thrashing, the machine still buried inside her as she was dragged back over the edge like a raw nerve, her orgasm ripped away before she could taste it.
“It’s going to be some time, I’m afraid,” he murmured, letting his eyes drink in the sight of her sobbing body once more. “But I’ll find you, girl, don’t worry. And by the time I finally let you out of this trap, you’ll be more than ready to be MY puppet. Once and for all.”
The door slammed closed on another desperate edge, and she was left staring after him, tears leaking from her synthetic eyes before they vanished as if they’d never been.
Uie's Cage 