Originally posted 9/8/2016 at Love Bytes
As we all know, monikers can play an important role in BDSM and D/s play and relationships. However, the list can seem endless. Here is just a small sampling:
For the main characters of both Grif’s Toy and Wes’ Denial, I use only one: Sir. You may be wondering why I wrote two books in a series where un-arguably the primary backdrop is a D/s relationship but I only use the single moniker. On the surface, the answer is simple: Grif and Wes’ relationship is anything but standard D/s.
Grif and Wes engage in a pretty intense power exchange, but only at agreed upon times. In other words, they don’t lead a D/s lifestyle 24/7. As I’ve shared in prior blog posts, this is a dynamic shared by the Hubz and me. I would never address him as Sir outside of our Chocolate time, just as he’d never call me pup or pet. Those terms (roles) are designated for very specific times. Not that there aren’t folks who do live 24/7 lifestyles and find them just as fulfilling as the Hubz and I do with our arrangement.
Whenever they’re used, both in my real life, and in my books, they’re used with trust and respect. And, the first time they’re used in Wes’ Denial…it’s something very special, almost as special as when the characters use the ‘L word’ the first time. In the following excerpt Grif and Wes talk about monikers. Grif has offered to address Wes as Sir, but Wes is uncertain of Grif’s motivations; he wants to be sure Grif is making the offer because he wants to, and not simply because he thinks Wes will enjoy it.
Grif cheerfully—almost cockily—strolled into the kitchen and straddled my lap as he sat down facing me.
I smiled. I liked him like this: strong and confident. “Babe, you said you didn’t want me to be anything other than who I am, right?”
His grin faded and was replaced with complete seriousness. “No. I’d never want you to change because of me, Wes. I love you. Both sides of you.”
“And I love you too, Grif—just like you are. I appreciate respect and obedience when in Chocolate, but I don’t want you to be something you’re not. I thought you understood how much I admire your strength, your confidence, your pig-headed—”
There was a not-so-gentle cuff to the back of my head followed by a good-natured, “Be careful!”
With a deep laugh, I pulled him close and buried my nose in his neck. “I don’t want a submissive boy. I want you. I want to be with the man I love.” Pulling back, I said more seriously, “I want to see the uneasiness in your eyes. I want to feel the fight of warring loyalties. I want to know I’m pushing you to painful places and enjoy the experience of watching you struggle. That realness has…given me the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known.”
His eyes had grown glassy and he jerkily nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered.
I grinned. “No, thank you. Now, Chocolate?”
“In a minute. After this.”
Leaning in, he kissed me tenderly and his tongue sought entrance. When I allowed him in, my reward was his unmistakable flavor mixed with toothpaste. Eventually he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine. “Now Chocolate, Wes.”
With those words, heat instantly rose in my gut and fueled my overwhelming need to control the hale man on my lap.
I grabbed him by the throat and moaned with pleasure as I felt his fingers just as quickly wrap around my wrist.
“Oh…tsk-tsk,” I hissed with a demonic smile while watching in delight as his eyes widened and then slowly closed in resignation.
His fingers softly fell from my wrist as his hands came to a limp rest between us—but it was too late.
We’d agreed what he’d just done—his natural reflex to protect himself when I took him by the throat—was forbidden. I was surprised when he’d added it to the ‘offense list’ because we both knew it was an innately human reaction and not something he’d ever be able to overcome. We also understood what he willingly offered me by adding it: an open-ended reason to punish him whenever it pleased me.
I rubbed my nose along his before pulling back. “You’re a fucking small-dicked, disobedient fag, aren’t you?”
He nodded, unable to speak with my fingers around his windpipe, and I shook my head in mock disappointment. “I’ve repeatedly requested you use words when responding. I shouldn’t have to ask more than once, should I?”
Again, unable to speak, he shook his head.
“No, you’re right, I shouldn’t. I’m afraid we’re now at two infractions. Tonight’s punishment is shaping up to be quite painful.”
“Bu-but,” he managed to barely rasp out in protest while his hips pushed forward in undeniable anticipation.
“Are you going to argue now—disrespect me—as well?”
His head shook with more insistence this time and his full, titillated eyes finally spilled over.
I smiled as my cock strained with both need and pleasure. Fuck, I yearned for the feel of his sweet, wet mouth around me. I released my hold and lovingly, reverently ran my fingers along his now bobbing Adam’s apple as he swallowed several times.
“So handsome,” I whispered, “and you’re mine.”
“Thank you, Wes. Yours—all yours.”
My abrupt change in demeanor didn’t faze him in the least. I savored flipping back and forth; it not only felt good—being able to be both kind and cruel—but keeping him completely unsure and off-kilter as to what was coming next excited us both.
I leaned forward and grazed my tongue along one of his wet cheeks…the salty taste of his tears only added to the piquancy of the moment. “Damn, just fucking adore you, Grif.”
“Yeah? Well, the feeling is pretty mutual!”
After a tender kiss to his forehead, I took the head of his dick between my thumb and forefinger, squeezed hard, and hissed, “I’m gonna shoot before work. Get on your knees, cocksucker, and put that filthy mouth to use: make me come.”
Gratitude lit his shiny eyes and, while sliding to the floor, he tried out my new moniker. “Yes, Sir.”
Grif and Wes, like the Hubz and I, use monikers in a very personal way, in a way that fits them and their relationship. If similar terms (BDSM, D/s, or vanilla pet names) are part of your relationship, I hope they are as fulfilling for you as they are for Grif and Wes.