How rife & I Created Our D/s Protocol. Plus: Invitation to the new Protocol ecourse

Take pictures of five different places you’ve had sex and send them to me with a short (2 sentence) description of each one.

Make a mobile.

Download the 100 Pushups app and go through the program, 3x a week for 4 weeks.

Record an audio mp3 of you masturbating to orgasm.

Write up five scene ideas (short, 2 sentences each) that you’d like to experience.

Before rife and I lived together, our relationship was long distance for almost a year and a half. We both had other partners that we lived with and we’d negotiated open relationships. We were experimenting with D/s and we both craved more intensity, more rules, more obedience, more opportunities to serve.

During this time, rife didn’t so much have “protocol” as he had “tasks”, and I’d send him one (like those above) either with a deadline, or tell him that as soon as it was done, I would give him another. Sometimes that meant he was done the next day. Sometimes it took a few weeks to complete the task.

I see protocol as something done routinely that is triggered by an action. Whenever x happens, do y. For example: Whenever I get home, offer to remove my boots. Whenever we wake up, make the bed. Whenever you need to pee, ask my permission first (if I am available). Before you go to bed, make sure the dishes are done. Whenever you address me, use my proper title.

Sure, there were a few protocols that we had set up while we were long distance—he was always to kneel and kiss my boots/shoes/feet first thing, before we even spoke to each other, whenever we had traveled apart from each other. He was to text me good morning and good night. He would reply to my emails or texts promptly, not keep me waiting. Those kinds of things. But mostly, we did tasks—one-off assignments that would thrill me to receive. I kept a long list of things he sent, the kind of love-gifts one creates in the beginnings of a relationship, and I would take note of the things I loved to receive and ask him to send more of them. It was thrilling for both of us to be giving and receiving orders, to have opportunities for obedience, to make requests and have them be met.

Then, we moved in together

When we moved in together, we wanted to up the protocol significantly. I wanted clear division of the household labor, and to set things up so it was clear who took care of what. I wanted clear schedules, clear date nights, clear ways that we organize our time together, doing work, playing, and apart.

We haven’t kept all of the protocol we set up. (Ask me about rife’s speaking protocol experiments sometime—and why we don’t have any restrictions on speech anymore.) There were times when I gave him too much to do, when I failed to monitor or enforce the protocol I told him to do, and when we both just completely dropped some of the protocol we agreed upon because things going on were just too much. And, eventually, we picked it back up again, I tightened the reigns, we check in, and we keep going.

The protocol part of our D/s was one of the most fun parts to play with, for me. I wanted to set up something really fun, and in-depth, and flexible; something that would keep the protocol as lively as it was when we were long distance and playing with all those tasks. So I started experimenting with forms, and this is what happened.

Making The Training Wheel

We were both a bit obsessed with it in the first year we lived together. We created a “training wheel,” areas of training for rife in his enslavement and submission, which we shorten to the acronym L-SHAFTS: Leather, Submission, Houseboy, Assistant, Fag, Trophy, Service. Each category has a short description of the intended ways that he’s “in training” for that subject, and each one has some ideas of what he’ll do to grow in that area.

rife's training wheel

Making The Protocol Game

After we had the training categories, I set up what we refer to as “the protocol game,” where I made little slips of paper with different protocols on them (roughly the same amount in each of the 7 categories, though some of them are easier for me to make protocol in than others).

It helped that we already had weekly check-ins about our D/s set up. At first, we would go over some specific questions: What was the most fun part of this week? What was the hardest? How did we do with protocol? How could we improve it? We would both reflect on the week past and plan the week ahead, gathering data from the experiments we were doing, and implement new protocol.

I set up a notebook, too, so that we could record the little strips of paper in the book and write a little about what each protocol was like. If there was one we really liked, we would implement it permanently.

protogolgame

Some of them, even though we really, really like them for a week, we don’t want to make into something permanent because they will likely lose their luster. For example, if rife had to wear a butt plug every single time he did house chores, it would get old and become ‘normal,’ but if he only does it occasionally, it’s still thrilling.

Making Protocol For Me

After we created 52 of these protocol slips and ‘played the game’ for a year, we reflected on the year and decided that yes, we did want to do it again, but with some changes. Namely: there were a whole bunch of protocol in rife’s set that were actually protocol that relied on me doing an action. For example, the protocol for rife to “wear jock straps every day for a week” he can do himself. But if the protocol is, “receive bruises every day,” that’s something I actually have to do. And we noticed, more often than not, that I wouldn’t actually do those things when he pulled that protocol.

It’s not that I don’t want to … but, well, between you and me? I’ve been struggling with my mental health balance a lot the past few years. I think it’s getting worse. I’m pursuing all kinds of avenues of support for this, but it’s making it very hard for me to do things I love, like write, work, teach, and be the badass dominant that I aspire to be.

(But that’s kind of a different post.)

So when we set up the second year of 52 protocol slips to pull, I also created a training wheel for myself and 52 of my own. Having my own protocol has been mostly challenging, but there have been some great things that have come out of that too.

Want to join me for an experiment in making your own protocol?

If this process of creating, implementing, and enforcing protocols through this Protocol Game method sounds interesting to you, you’re invited to come join the Protocol Game ecourse that starts this weekend. There will be two webinars, one this Saturday, March 5th, and one the following Saturday, and in between you’ll have a workbook to fill out. I’ll walk you through this entire process where you’ll create a training wheel and 52 corresponding protocol, and then make a way to check in about it and enforce.

Click here and reserve your spot!

If you are a submissive or a dominant or a switch, you’re invited—you just have to want to create 52 protocol. There’s even a price for couples to take it together, and create 104 protocol for both of you.

I could tell you a whole lot more about it, but mostly all the info is over on the Academy of D/s Confidence page for the course—so go check it out.

I’m really excited about it! I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.

Taking It (Kai & DJ #2)

The boy is in the center of our bedroom, hands chained to the eyebolt in the ceiling, body stretched long. Their eyes are closed and head is hanging, just a little, and their arms are pulling up and out of their shoulders. They aren’t that tall—our chain was barely long enough. I suppose if you didn’t know better, you’d think this was a torture scene.

I guess it is, kind of. I slipped Tanner’s shirt off before we tied them up there, so their round belly and small chest with a smattering of fine light brown fur over them are exposed.

“You’ve done an excellent job today, Tanner,” DJ says, and swings their favorite flogger again, a hard thud against the boy’s body.

“Thank you, sir,” Tanner says, obediently, after they groan. 

“You have been a wonderful houseboy for us,” I add, taking my turn with my own flogger, this one with wide and flat leather tails—some call it a massage flogger. It’s my favorite to be hit with, so I use it whenever I can, when I top.

Tanner lets out a grunt when it collides. “Thank you, Kai.” We can’t decide on an honorific that fits me—sir and ma’am are too binary. So we just use my name. It still feels formal, and respectful.

Tanner is starting to drip with sweat. It rolls down their back and into the waistband of their briefs, tracing the contours of their young, strong muscles. They aren’t toned, but being chubby has it’s strength advantages too. It’s almost always a toss-up to see who wins when we wrestle, even though my upper back and chest and arms are pretty well sculpted, because Tanner has actual wrestling skill. They’re fast, too. Small, about the same height as I am.

Clearly we’ve got the heat up high enough. Tanner’s dark hair is starting to glisten from sweat, proof of their hard work—not just today, doing house chores, but also the hard work of Taking It. Orders, sadistic impulses, rules—you name it, Tanner took it today. This beating is the last of it, probably. Or rather, the last part of Taking It that is for us, and the start of Taking It that is for Tanner. DJ has a plan, I can tell. And I generally find it works best to just go along with DJ’s plans. 

“Go around Tanner and hold them up, will you, Kai?” DJ pauses the flogging to lightly touch Tanner’s back, trailing their fingers over the sensitive exposed skin, still dancing with sensation.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer, draping my flogger over my shoulder. I don’t usually call DJ “Sir,” but when they’re being sir to someone else, I get the urge. I brace my feet and legs, grounded into the floor, and press myself against the front of Tanner’s body. They immediately lean into me and sigh, some of the pressure lifting from their limbs. 

“How you doing?” I say softly, stroking Tanner’s hair. 

“So great,” they reply, words humming and high. “More?” 

I chuckle. “Sure. How about I stay while DJ flogs you for a while?”

Tanner nods, body limp and leaning on mine. 

“Go for it, Sir,” I move my arms out of DJ’s way and focus on being a tree for Tanner.

The boy stiffens when he’s hit, then collapses again; stiffens, collapses, stiffens, collapses. Their breathing catches, evens out, and catches again. I breathe too. 

I peek over Tanner to watch DJ. Their body flexes and heaves, shifting their weight back and forth on their legs, turning at the hips to get more torque into each blow. They are so elegant with a flogger. It looks like an extension of their arm, the energy flowing out and then fraying into the leather, colliding with another and emptying the charge down DJ’s arm, into the flogger, and out through the tails. DJ’s face is all concentration and precision—I’ve seen that look when they work me over, probably hundreds of times before. It makes me blush and rub my thighs together. It turns me on, hard.

Tanner sighs, body releasing, relaxing into me even further. It’s hard on a body to hold itself up and receive a beating at the same time. I readjust my feet to be more stable, so they can take the pressure out of their muscles and bones. They really did do incredibly well today. They showed up precisely on time (after the last time they were late, I would’ve been shocked if they hadn’t), and had clearly been working on the postures we’d wanted them to learn: kneel (when at rest and we are sitting), present (when they have something to ask or request), stand at ease (when chatting), stand at attention (when receiving orders). They even went through them all gracefully in a way that still felt masculine, not feminizing. 

DJ winds up and throws a few more times, hard, the smack of the leather jolting both me and Tanner. I can almost feel the flogging through their body, its impact reverberating through me like bass through a speaker. Tanner cries out and their breath comes in heaves, deep sighs and moans coming up from somewhere low. DJ presses their body up against Tanner from the back, arms reaching around to hold me too, and the three of us synch up in breath, in heartbeat. 

*

The boy is in the center between us, stripped bare, still sweaty, doing an excellent job of being holes for both of our cocks. Mine they are working over with their mouth, tonguing it and keeping their throat open, as DJ’s pushes in and out of their asshole. Don’t worry, we worked it in slow, with lots of lube, the way you’re supposed to. But Tanner was well-stretched and ready for it. They have been practicing with a butt plug in the weeks that we don’t play. 

We’re all piled on the bed, our dark blue comforter and crisp white sheets already torn from the bed and scattered. DJ has ahold of one of the tall, sturdy posts on our four-poster, and I’m entirely on the bed, kneeling up by where the pillows usually are. They’re only half-way on the bed, one foot planted on the floor and the other knee hiked up onto the mattress, perfectly positioned behind Tanner. The lights are dim in here, the walls are a soft suede shade of tan. Our furniture is crowded to two walls in this smallish bedroom, but that’s just so we can have room for the eyebolt and to throw a flogger. We’ve been slowly outfitting this room as our bedroom slash dungeon for a few years now, and I still have dreams of making it even better, but for now, it’s great.

DJ and I are stripped bare too, mostly because clothes just seem to get in the way. Don’t tell them I told you, but DJ loves being naked. They’re rarely clothed beyond boxers when we’re home alone. It is kind of hellish on our heating bill, but it’s well worth the eye candy. 

Each time DJ slides their cock in, the pressure pushes Tanner just enough that their mouth swallows my cock a little deeper. I barely even have to move, just the movement between us is enough. When I get my hips going, Tanner is like a ping-pong ball between us: I push them back to DJ, onto DJ’s cock, and DJ pushes them back to me, onto mine. 

Tanner is moaning and drooling and coming, eyes closed, limbs limp. We’ve been at them for probably an hour like this already. They have moved past the begging and screaming stage into the blissed-out sub-space that is practically non-verbal. They’re just about done. But we’re not. 

DJ reaches for me, catching the hand that’s on Tanner’s back, and pulls me toward them. We can just barely reach each other to kiss. “You’re going to come, Kai,” they whisper, mouth on mine.

I gasp, hips thrusting and contracting automatically when they talk like that. “Yes, Sir,” I manage to sputter. 

“You’re going to thrust that dick of yours into this boy’s little mouth and use it.” 

“Yes, Sir!” Harder now. Tanner chokes a little and opens up their mouth to get more air. 

“You’re going to come while I fuck this boy in the other end.” They thrust harder and I match their rhythm. DJ holds my head with one hand and Tanner’s hip with the other, their hips gyrating like a pop star. Their spine is snake-like, each movement rippling up. They grip my head harder. 

“Ohh, ohhh fuck, god that’s so good,” I keep one hand in Tanner’s hair, not forcing anything but more to feel the movement on my dick from a different angle, and the other hand is reaching for my clit under my harness, getting the angle as close to perfect as I can. I’m so close. 

“Do it for me. Come on.”

I don’t even know what I’m saying, if anything is coming out of my mouth aside from groans and whimpers. Maybe I said thank you or I love you or oh god oh fuck holy good god damn … all I remember is the explosion that started in my pelvis and radiated out, squeezing every drop of resistance from me and opening up every cell in my body. As if all at once, each proton and neutron and electron shivered, shaking off any old dust or residue, and when the haze settled, each one was shining, sparkling anew. 

I can barely hold myself up by my own thighs, they’re still quivering as Tanner looks up at me, one hand on my cock, licking the final drips from it, kissing it as they take their mouth away. DJ is grinning that cocky half-smile that suckered me in to a date with them in the first place, and I swoon and collapse and nearly start to cry with the adoration. 

I fall over sideways, collapsing and starting to laugh, still breathing hard. “Fuck. Fuck! Goddamn you two. I’m surprised I didn’t just have a heart attack. My whole body felt like it just … exploded.” 

DJ wraps around Tanner and they both reach for me. We’re all humming with vibration, pulsing with lust and thrusting.

“God, I love you,” I say, holding eye contact with DJ. 

“I love you,” they say back, soft, their eyes crinkling at the corners, licking their lips and looking at mine like they want to kiss but can’t quite reach me. 

“I love you both!” Tanner bursts. And we all laugh—not because it’s ridiculous, but because it’s so obvious and sweet, and we can all feel it alive in us.

“I love you, too, Tanner,” DJ says. 

“Yeah. Love all around,” I say, and Tanner hoists forward to cuddle against me, and we all rest and talk for a while, before sending Tanner on their way.


Featured image from Crash Pad Series Episode #98, Micah Riot and Papi Coxxx. Toys mentioned in this story: Bare Leatherworks floggers.