Good morning Class.

Hello, everyone.

In today's class we'll be spending most of the lecture period on the syllabus--what I will be providing, and what I will expect from each and every one of you if you expect to get out of this class with an A.

Or, if you'd prefer, you can may use the syllabus as a field guide for how to find yourself bent over my desk, with large red hand prints on the soft skin of your ass and my voice asserting that in the future, it would be best if you were attentive. Your choice.

My name is Iron. I'm the dominant half of the relationship that inspired this little playground.

I met Velvet (the demure Teacher's Assistant you see in the corner who'll be your shining example in the months ahead) just as I was coming into my own, both socially and sexually. I'd recently taken a real job (which meant securing a real lease and a real vehicle), and I was hosting a party at the new apartment into which I'd just moved with my newly acquired roommate. We'd agreed to invite friends from our respective social circles, and when the dust settled, there was one pale red-headed girl with very little clothing and even less to say. She was the only person in the room that I hadn't made a friend, bedded, or conclusively determined to be male (and therefore outside my interest).

Across a room full of people she'd obviously never met, I told her to summarize herself to me in three sentences. She (predictably) answered that she didn't think she could. I told her that was one, and that she had two more at her disposal.

That evening we spoke at length of photography (a recent addition to my many passions), and I used her as a sort of object lesson for a friend of mine -- a visual explanation of how to woo a woman in an evening and have her hoping for more by the end of the night.

I was somewhat accustomed to the attention and deference of women in at least a few regards, but even my spoiled, casually arrogant self was somewhat surprised to find Velvet as willing as she quickly became. Before the end of the night, I had a very pretty young lady in my lap, and a firm conviction that if I really wanted my plans for that evening to include sex, it was optional.

I declined for a reason, and here is the first important lesson that I'll take the time to scrawl on the blackboard: Sex without emotional investment is wrong. I hadn't had time to become invested in Velvet yet, and I wanted to be sure I was, lest I waste our time.

So, I sent her off with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and we exchanged e-mail--which quickly led to dinner and a photoshoot. Within a couple of months, a relationship had blossomed.

In next week's lecture, "In for a penny, in for a pound," we'll talk about where things went from there, and how I slowly discovered that my outgoing, assertive nature made dominant roles rewarding for me, under the right circumstances.

I expect the class to actively participate in discussion as the term progresses, and to experiment with the things you read about here to the fullest extent possible.

Now, who wants to volunteer to be spanked to show the class what happens if they are insolent, irresponsible, or just nearby and too attractive?

In which we are introduced

Hi there, I'm Velvet. I'm a submissive girl in my early twenties and live in the Southeastern US. I think that, at some point in my life, I've challenged every word in the preceding sentence, but I'll save that for later. My history with D/s hasn't exactly been a sunshiney field of flowers, but hey, I burn easily and flowers make me sneeze.

When I met Iron, I did what I do with most local, “normal”-seeming kinds of men – I threw at him every word that I use to describe myself that could be considered “controversial,” and waited to see which one made him squirm.

“I'm polyamorous. If you ask me to be exclusive, ever, it's a deal-breaker.”
“Good. Me too.”
(But . . . that usually makes them run screaming, or ask if they can be a fuck-buddy.)

“I'm bi. I'll notice a pretty girl before a pretty boy any day, but I don't have the patience or energy to converse with and pursue women these days.”
“Interesting. I notice pretty girls too, but I like talking to them, obviously.”
(He passed over all of that and gave me a compliment!)

“I'm an atheist. You're a Christian. That bothers you doesn't it?”
“No, not really.”
(What? What about my soul? My precious precious toasty soul?)

“I've had a lot of sex. Have you?”
“Not a lot, but I'm not averse to the idea. You can teach me.”

“I don't do teaching; I'm submissive.”
“I don't think that's how submission works.”
(I know he's right, but maybe if I keep on trying to shock him, it'll work.)

“As an extension of the whole submission thing, I'm also a pain-slut.”
“Oh? Pain, so . . . like this?”
“OW! No, I can't move, and that hurts, like, a lot!”
“But it's pain, and it's forcing you to submit. That's what you want, right?”

That's when I realized that I needed to reevaluate and examine why I identified as submissive, and that I needed to learn how to be specific about pain and my tolerance for it, both of which Iron has been helping me to do for nearly two years now. In the interim, I've learned that I can teach by simply giving feedback, without stepping into a role in which I feel uncomfortable.