Category Archives: Relationships

SinfulSunday: Ladies Who Lunch

We don’t get out much, so it was beyond wonderful that we had lunch recently with (not of!) three of our favourite kinksters.

This was how Silverdrop prepared for it. Seriously.

Doesn’t she have the greatest butt ever?  OK, OK, I know I’m biased.


Lunch prep 2 Aug

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Sinful Sunday

SilverHubby and Silverdrop

Kink & Disability Part 2: Care and Feeding of the Dom Body

Part 1 can be found here.

Inspired by this post by Michael, in which he wrote from his perspective about caring for the Dom body.

I am assuming we can take as given things like water, paramedic scissors, straws etc. being available, okay?

Caring for the physical well-being of your sub/bottom is a subject I see written about often, as it should be. It was therefore refreshing to see Michael write about it from the other side of the slash. But what if, like me, you are a disabled SadoDom? Briefly: advanced osteoarthritis, fibromyalgia, asthma, living with chronic pain.

I am very good at reading my body and how it is from day-to-day. “You are very self-aware.” a doctor said to me recently.

I used to be mean and very accurate with a bullwhip. I’m talking taking the top layer off two-ply tissue off from 10 feet. I practised. A lot. No longer. My shoulder joints are shot, and that makes the overhand movement painful so, to PTP (Protect The Property), I don’t do it.

Floggers I can do, but not for extended periods of time. The repeated motions of my favourite figure-of-eight style eventually start to hurt me. Which is not the point, right? I also like the ‘flick’ style of throwing a flogger at my victim.

There are toys, such as the pin-wheel, that are little physical effort for me to use. This little beastie, for example…

This is a favourite – more for me than Silverdrop.

I like that toy. Probably more than Silverdrop does.  😉

My favourite play of all, not that I have to take care of my body, is verbal. I can weave a wonderful fantasy. I love to incorporate humiliation into it – if that’s your thing. Also, although I cannot use it as freely as I could years ago, I trained Silverdrop to come on command. Back when we were healthy I could, and did, use it anywhere, anytime. Now that she is physically weaker, i must use it with care, as there is a chance of it failing to work, and repeated failures would break the training altogether, as well as upset us both.

So what’s it like to play with me? Well, I’m glad you asked me that. There is a lot I can do, just not for extended periods of time if I want to PTP. So there are many different toys and implements involved in a typical session, so the mechanical effort my body exerts is spread around. There will also be a lot of verbal stuff, with much laughter at times. I will want to ensure you re enjoying yourself but, as a SadoDom, I’m also there to feed that part of my energy.

Wanna play?  😉

PS. This requires a follow-up regarding caring for a disabled sub/bottom, doesn’t it?


Kink and Disability Part 1: Some Background


SilverHubby and Silverdrop

Kink and Disability Part 1: Some Background

Did you know that people with disabilities have a sex life? Many people assume they do not. Shockingly, it is sometimes medical professionals (and other ‘caring’ professions) who make that assumption. This is so disheartening, and it infuriates us. As I was taught in the Air Force: Assume makes an ASS out of U and ME.

We are both disabled. We have sex. Whenever we are able.

Silverdrop is a wheelchair user who is otherwise bed-bound by severe fatigue and pain. I walk with a stick, as I have had osteoarthritis attacking me for more than 25 years now.

We were both able-bodied when we met almost 20 years ago. We soon found ourselves in a 24/7 BDSM relationship. For new blog readers: SilverDom is a dominant and sadist, Silverdrop is a submissive and masochist. We both also suffer from Fibromyalgia which, amongst other things, causes nerve endings to send the wrong messages. This is a huge problem when you want to beat a masochist.  *understatement alert*

The (sometimes extreme) nerve sensitivity caused by Fibro means that, over time, it has become almost impossible to do anything but the lightest of impact play with Silverdrop. I recently commissioned an extremely soft cat o’ many tail flogger from @HT_Honey (featured in a recent Sinful Sunday post). Still too much. 🙁

We recently got into a DM/e-mail conversation with a person about this subject. They were asking for any advice or experience we might have on the general subject of ill-health (or disability) and kink. Although in their case, the partner is healthier and less kinky. Below is an large part of our side of the exchange (somewhat edited) where we think about how to communicate our needs.

Note: We have anonymised the conversation to remove gender and other clues as to whom we were talking with.


Most of our BDSM is now mental. I re-collar Silverdrop most nights when she’s OK, and say The Words that go with our collaring ceremony. We also do a lot of verbal BDSM. This is usually during sex, and often consists of humiliation stuff. Perhaps oddly, given what I’ve already said, we often have very rough sex, in terms of thrusting.

The spankings I can give her are purely symbolic, but they still matter to our dynamic.

My disabilities limit what I can do physically…. I can no longer wrestle her into submission, even if she could take it.

We are both hard wired into our BDSM. We have often said “BDSM is something we are, not something we do.”

Silverdrop, who is a plainer speaking ‘murrican than this Englishman, had words from her perspective:

For us, it’s all about communication. I tell him when things are too painful for me, or if they cause problems the next day – (the reason we had to give up impact play was because the fibro wouldn’t let the impact areas heal easily, even if it was a very light flogging.) He trusts me to tell him if my body or mind is not well, and I trust him to listen and understand.

We have our desire to protect each other (mostly me) pushing us apart sexually, but we have our obvious libido pushing us together. Having a vanilla partner (in your case) means they are getting a lot more of the desire to protect than any desire for kinky sex.

My advice is to sit them down and go over exactly how kinky sex might be impacted by your health. What might go wrong (be honest!), and what is most likely to happen. Then compare it to what happens if you *don’t* have kinky sex – THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!!

Make it clear that kinky sex is NOT something that you are willing to go without. When people become disabled, they have to give up things, one at a time, and there’s always something that is the last thing. People usually think of that ‘last thing’ being something like driving or walking, because they think of their independence, but driving or walking isn’t nearly as important as sex. If they think that sounds crazy, ask them if they’d rather have a lifetime driving ban, or permanently lose the ability to orgasm.

So there you have it, a small glimpse into our reality of trying to live as hard-wired kinksters around also living with chronic pain and other effects of our illnesses and disabilities. I apologise if I have shattered any illusions about our lifestyle.

This post is somewhat disjointed – not just because it is based on a conversations somewhere else. We could write so much more on this subject. Feel free to ask questions – we’ll answer anything – in comments. You might even trigger a further blog post.


A section of my denim jacket.


Hailing Frequencies Open…

SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

Back in September, it was with regret that we announced that this blog was going on hiatus. Various things, mostly health-related, were severely interfering with our ability to keep blogging.

Well, the health stuff hasn’t gone away. It has, if anything, got worse, with my recent diagnosis of fibromyalgia.

But we’ve been doing some BDSM stuff during this time too. We are both disabled to varying degrees – SIlverdrop is in a wheelchair. Our disabilities were (and are still) making it very difficult to get back to the 24/7 BDSM dynamic we once enjoyed and loved. But we wanted to see what we could do, not what we couldn’t.

Our old written contract, written twelve-ish years ago when we were both relatively fit and healthy,  was more or less completely invalidated as our health deteriorated, so we wanted to see if we could work out a new contract that would focus primarily on what we still could do. We looked on the Interwebz to see what other disabled people were doing and you know what? There is almost no literature out there!

So we’ve thrashed out (pun semi-intentional) a new contract and are still working hard at it. We may even publish it somewhere soon.

Here, as a teaser, is something we just added to it:-


Something to remember when you do, or think about doing, any of these things:

  • Bring your collar to me
  • Bring a toy to me
  • Initiate sex
  • Anything related to our BDSM dynamic

None of the above constitute ‘topping from the bottom’. They are you letting me know, in a direct yet submissive way, that you are able for some sort of interaction. This can range from full sex at one end of the spectrum, to a symbolic spanking while collared at the other.


Wanna see more?

Oh! Happy New Year to you all.


SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

WickedWednesday: Nothing to see here. Move along now.

Ah shame, I know knew your name, old friend enemy.

I grew up in a house where everything not ‘normal’ was expected to be hidden. What do I mean by that? Things that were expected to be hidden from the all-seeing “they” were strong emotions at both ends of the scale i.e. from anger to love. Any problems, big or small, were to be kept quiet about, lest “they” find out. A front of happiness should be kept up at all times. The thing was, this was expected inside the house (it was never a home to me), not just in public.

Consequently, I was in some ways even more fucked-up than the average teenager. I had the usual rampaging hormones and feelings, but was even less well equipped than most of my peers to deal with them. So I became ashamed of some of the things I was feeling.

Then something made the shame worse. At 15, I realised I was pretty much equally attracted to boys and girls. A short time later, all the many shades between boy and girl joined my mental list of desirables (remember, dear reader, that gender largely rests between the ears, not the legs). Soon after, I met my first boyfriend. I also met my first serious girlfriend around the same time. She was from the Indian subcontinent and her skin was almost ebony on colour. She was beautiful, and I think she may have been the first girl I loved. Then my parents met her. That was when I discovered my family were racists. More shame.

Shame barely begins to describe what I felt if I allowed myself to think about all this back then. So, mostly, I buried it. But it was like the bubble underneath the wallpaper. You can push it down, but unless you deal with it, it will just pop up again somewhere else.

It took me years to get straightened out. I self-identify as pansexual now and feel no shame about it. The old shame is like a memory of a memory now, almost gone. Almost.


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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

WickedWednesday: Hotel

The lovely Rebel has set “Hotel” as this week’s WickedWednesday prompt.

We were in a trans-Atlantic LDR for almost two years at the beginning of our relationship. This meant a lot of flights in and out of the US and into Heathrow. We met on the Interwebz back when that was relatively unusual – yes, we’re middle-aged old farts now.

We have both written more about how we fell in love without ever having met in 3D before on here, so I won’t repeat that part. What I will write about for the first time is the first time we had (non-cyber) sex. Silverdrop’s apartment was an hours long drive from the airport, and there was no way we wanted to wait that long for sex, so she’d booked us a hotel room right by the airport.

It was winter and there was snow and ice on the ground. The hotel had only one room left on the ground floor and that had a heater that was due for maintenance AKA bearings in the fan shot, making it very noisy.

We didn’t care. I have some very vivid memories of that hotel room:-

  • Coming out of the shower to find you, legs wide open, waiting for me on the bed.
  • Me being so erect it fucking hurt and the relief I felt after pouncing on you and fucking you hard with no foreplay. Not that you minded, you were very wet and as horny as I was.
  • Me being so excited I thought I would come within a couple of strokes. I held myself under such rigid control that I didn’t come at all that first fuck. You did, several times, at “Somebody call the cops!” volume.
  • Sitting in the armchair, you on your knees after being collared for the first time.
  • In that same armchair, demonstrating how an uncut cock worked – you’d never seen one before. I remember the look of wonder as you watched – followed by the look of lust after I ordered you to suck it.
  • I remember how comfortable we were with each other from the beginning. Not just the sex, but also the normal everyday stuff of doing things together.

There were other hotel rooms for a couple of years, until we could finally be together forever, but I remember that first one the most vividly.


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SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

WickedWednesday: Together

The theme this week is “Together”.

What does that word mean to me? Let’s see:

  • There were many obstacles to use getting together and even staying together, but we have overcome them all – together.
  • We are both disabled to different degrees now and live our lives in varying amount of pain, to the point where I’m not sure we remember what it’s like to be pain-free. But we’re getting through this too – together.
  • Our income is much reduced now you can no longer work and I work from home so I am here for you. We’re working it out though – together.
  • It’s likely that life is going to throw some more medical shit at us over and above what might reasonably be expected from the natural ageing process. We’ll get through that too – together.
  • When we first met, we had a 24/7 TPE BDSM relationship. That went away for a while as we became ill. But we’re finding ways to bring it back (which is what we both crave) – together.
  • Traditional penis-in-vagina sex is often not possible for us any more, but we’ve sure as hell found ways to have an amazing sex life – together.
  • We are both convinced (quite rightly) that we can get through anything – together.

Apologies if that was all too squishy and personal for any of our readers, but the word triggers strong feelings for both of us.


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The female blogger Silverdrop, shown from shoulders to waist, nude, with her long brown hair covering her breasts.

Where we started from

Ooo and it’s alright and it’s comin’ ‘long
We got to get right back to where we started from

We used to be into pretty intense BDSM. I liked being caned. I liked it when it left marks. I liked it even when I hated it. I was into the 24/7 TPE (total power exchange) and everything it involved.

Then I fell ill and everything came to a screeching halt.

Fibromyalgia generally starts with a triggering event – an infection, an accident, a bad reaction to a chemical – something that looks like the normal ‘Oh crap, I’m going to be pretty bad off for a few days or weeks!’ It takes time to realize that the triggering event has ended, but the illness is still going on. Then it takes time after that for the actual diagnosis to come in.

So first, play came to a stop because I had what I thought was a bad flu. We’d start up again when I recovered, we thought. It was months and months before we learned it was fibromyalgia, and I probably wasn’t ever getting better. By that time, most of our kinky activity was fantasy only, because it was such a victory just to manage sex. Bondage? Kneeling? Pain play? Forget it.

Then as I slipped more and more into the role of a sick person, and SilverDom became more and more responsible for being my carer, we encountered another problem with power exchange. The sub/slave/bottom needs to have power before they can give it away. You can’t eroticise powerlessness if that’s where you started. That’s one reason (of many) that genuine slavery isn’t sexy. A book we’ve been reading recently called this the safety valve when referring to mindfuck play – a sliding mental state going from “I know I’m safe” to “But what if I’m not?” in the head of the bottom, allowing them to play on the edge of fear. With power exchange that “safe” setting is “I know we’re equals.

But what if we’re not? What if one of us is fully dependent on the other? What if one of us needs their food cut up, needs help getting bathed, needs help to dress, needs their wheelchair pushed? Can that person really surrender any more fully to their dominant?

There are many physical limitations in the way of enjoying BDSM the way we used to. Kneeling is a thing of the past. Sensory overload can be brutal. It would be impossible for me to endure the sort of bondage that holds me in a fixed position. But the emotional limitation was the most difficult. It may always be.

Finally, a few weeks ago, one of us said, “It’s like we’re beginners again,” and after that came the idea to buy a general kinky handbook to read together.

We’re making notes on how to re-introduce the dynamic into our relationship. We’ve started with a few minutes a day wearing a very light “collar” that’s really not much more than a leather thong necklace. I ordered some rope from Lovehoney, and I’m enjoying playing with it very much. Best of all, we’ve discovered that impact play – so long as we don’t overdo it, and make sure to use ALL sting and NO thud – is still possible.

It’s working. And it’s wonderful,

Love is good, love can be strong
We got to get right back to where we started from


The female blogger Silverdrop, shown from shoulders to waist, nude, with her long brown hair covering her breasts.

Holiday Travails (Fiction)

Gold, frankincense and myrrh.It started out bad and just got worse. Why do the holidays always bring so much stress with them? I’d really been hoping the baby would be born before we had to travel, but no such luck. Either junior was running a little late, or my fiancé wasn’t the father. You can just imagine how that would go over. He knew there’d been another guy around, but he didn’t know know. I’d sworn up and down that nothing had happened, that of course the baby was his, but the trip back home for the holidays was still tense. He wanted to believe me, but he didn’t. So there was that.

Then there was the bane of couples everywhere – which family do you spend the holidays with? If things hadn’t been so rocky between us, I probably would have just let him go by himself to see his family, but I had the feeling that doing that would be the last straw. And I really did love Joe, even though at the moment, I was having fond thoughts about strangling him.

And finally, the big one. Literally. I was a big fat whale. I wanted sex, but it was just too damn uncomfortable. He wanted sex, but he found me about as attractive as, well, a big fat whale. The idea that there was a baby right there, ready to pop at any moment, was a major turn-off. The fact that we couldn’t stop fighting kept us from trying to fix the sex problem. The fact that we were sexually frustrated kept us fighting. It was ugly.

Everything will be better once the baby is born, I told myself. He’ll see that it’s his son; we’ll have our own family. Next holiday season, we’ll have a little one to focus on. We just have to get through this without killing each other.

“I need a pee break.” I said.

“What, again? We just stopped!” he said.

“Yes, again. I’ll be quick.”

“You’re never quick.”

“It’s not my fault I don’t have the equipment to pee standing up,” I snapped.

“It’s not mine either! The traffic is terrible, and we’re going to get there after dark as it is.”

“I. Need. To. Pee.”

There really wasn’t an answer to that, and he knew it. It was either stop, or I’d wet myself. When you have a full-term baby sitting on your bladder, you have the capacity of a thimble. The reproachful look he gave me every time I took a sip of water didn’t help the tension between us.

When the first headlights started coming on, and I could see the lights of his hometown below, I felt the first pains starting.

“Hey Joe?” I asked. “How much farther to your mum’s?”

“We’re not staying at my mum’s.”

“What do you mean?”

Joe mumbled something about us living in sin, and how she wasn’t going to let us spend the night together under her roof until we were lawfully married. “But it’s okay. We’ll stay at a motel, and then go have dinner there tomorrow.”

This started another fight. My cousin Beth would have let us stay with her. We’d come all this way and –

There was another pain, cutting me off mid-tirade. “Hey Joe?” I said. “How far to the motel?”

Maybe he caught something in my voice, because he sounded apologetic instead of defensive this time. “I’m not sure. I couldn’t get a reservation.”

“I think we’d better find one soon,” I said. “Or maybe a hospital.”

There wasn’t time to get to the hospital. The first hotel we stopped at was full. The receptionist called around to other places, but couldn’t find anywhere nearby. I was obviously not going to make it much longer.

Even the conference rooms were booked with holiday parties, but they made up a bed for me in the laundry room, and I grunted and pushed to the sound of industrial washing machines. Jeanette, one of the house cleaners, lit a gold coloured scented candle and set it on a cart near me. She had just received it in a Secret Santa thing. She said it was myrrh and frankincense and would help me relax. At least it helped to cover up the scent of laundry detergent. They searched their guest records to see if there was a doctor or nurse staying with them, but all they could find was a veterinarian. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve delivered lots of sheep.”

This was not terribly reassuring, but at this point, I was willing to take any help I could get. Every time I looked up, it seemed that more people had gathered around us. Don’t ever give birth if you value your modesty, I’m telling you!

Then I heard his first cry. My son. Everyone was telling me how blessed we were and saying prayers of thanks. I looked up to see Joe holding the child, and he knelt next to me. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Mary. This is the best gift you ever could have given me.” He whispered in my ear.

“But that guy… Gabe…” I blubbered. I’d spent months denying it, but I was too emotional to keep up the lie.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not here. I am. I’m his father.”

Jeanette helped me wash up and get into clean clothes, while the employees of the inn passed around the baby, looking at him with awe. “It’s a miracle,” I heard more than once.

And it was.

SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

Wicked Wednesday – Letter to My 10 Year Old Self

 This one’s not easy for me, but I’ll give it my best shot.


There’s some stuff you really need to know.

The bullying will stop.

You will get out of there.

Things will get much better.

Some of your dreams will come true.

You will find people who love you and who you love.

I know you’re only just starting to notice girls in a way you don’t entirely understand yet, but I want you to know that you will one day meet the one you don’t even know you’re waiting for.

In the meantime, hang in there kiddo.

Love you,


That was really hard to write. Eyes a bit wet here.

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