More than a teaser - the prologue from The Society Series, book 4, Vanished!

Just as I might never have published at all had it not been for the man who's memory this book is dedicated to, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere as a published author without awesome readers like you!  I was just sitting here, thinking about that, and thought, 'Ya know what?  I ought to post something longer from one of the books.'  As I'm working my way through the as-yet-untitled fifth book in the series, this seemed appropriate.  I'd love to hear what you have to say!

In contrast to the drive to The Manor, the two hour drive home seemed to fly by, and before I knew it we were pulling up in front of the house. I had been gone so long that it was almost like I was seeing it for the first time. The fact that Sean was indeed seeing it for the first time only furthered this feeling.

“So this is home.” Sean said, gazing up at the house as I walked around the Jeep to stand next to him.

“Yes, it is.” I replied with a little smile.

“American Queen Anne. It suits ye, little girl.”

I turned and gave him a surprised look.

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“I guess I've never had reason to tell ya. I've a degree in architecture.”

“Well, in that case you're really going to love this place! Would you like the grand tour?”

The slaves Francis was lending me had already arrived and Derek was busy seeing that everything was brought inside and put where it needed to go. He nodded in greeting and we headed up the stone path to the covered porch that spanned the front of the house and wrapped around the left side. I pulled open the heavy front door, admiring the refinished stained glass panel, and we stepped in to the large foyer. The twelve foot, dark wood paneled ceiling had been refinished, as had the matching panels on the walls and the cream marble floor polished to a high shine. All of the dark wood in the room might have been too much if it hadn't been for the cream color on the walls in between.

The large staircase was a brilliant mahogany, the deep red carpet running up the middle and covering the small landing unchanged. We stepped through the sliding panel doors to the left – something I'd had replaced – and in to a parlor that could have been right out of a history book. My eyes went wide and Sean let out a low whistle.

“Ye must've had an incredible designer, lass. This has been beautifully restored.”

“What I had was a crew of workers that could follow detailed instructions. I did the design plans myself.”

“I'm impressed.”

Though my household colors were black, burgundy and gold, the room was decorated mostly in green and gold to match the window seat cushion and the oriental style carpet set in the floor. The drapes were the same green and gold brocade as the cushion, and the Queen Anne couch and chair set I had found had been reupholstered in a deep green with gold accents. The fireplace had needed no work.

Across the foyer on the other side was the formal dining room, which had been left as I had found it, with dark wood wainscoting and a striped gold wallpaper above it. A small gold chandelier hung in the middle of the room and again there was a fireplace on the far wall. A long mahogany dining table sat in the middle of the room and the matching chairs had cushions covered with black and gold brocade.

Going through a doorway off to the left of the staircase at the back of the room, we entered a small hallway with a half-bathroom off to one side. It lead to the kitchen in the back of the house, which was large and airy with windows on each wall framed in antique lace curtains. The walls had been painted a sage green and the floor was hardwood now instead of tile.

The cabinets were a natural oak, counter tops a black granite. There was a round, rustic wood table with matching chairs, an electric oven with a gas range, a very large refrigerator and a dishwasher. All of these had wood facades that matched the cabinets to make them blend in. Off of the kitchen was a small butler's pantry that opened in to the dining room on the other side with charming little white cabinets on either side of the room and a pull out tray for resting dishes before serving them.

Going back in to the foyer, we went up the stairs to the second floor. It opened in to a good sized, long hall way with the same carpet running from one end to the other. On the far end to the right, taking up one side of the house from front to back was the master bedroom and off of that through French doors a lovely little porch with brick railing topped with wrought iron. There was a fireplace on one wall and polished dark wood flooring. The walls had been redone in the same wallpaper as the dining room above the new chair rail, and below that was a gold and burgundy print. A door had been cut in the wall to give access to a smaller room next door that had been remodeled in to a large master bath where as the door to the original bath had been plastered over and a door cut in to it from the hall way. Across from the fireplace was a king size oak canopy bed draped with gold and burgundy curtains. The room also had matching dressers and a black velvet covered love seat next to a floor to ceiling book shelf. A flat panel TV had been hung over the fireplace so that we could watch from either the bed or the couch.

“So, this is our room, isn't it lass.” He said as he looked around.

“Yes, it is. What do you think of it?”

“It's perfect.” He replied with a smile.

The master bath had golden and cream colored marble floor tiles and a matching counter around the his and hers sinks. The large, deep claw foot tub was set in to a corner, a loop of copper around the top for the shower curtain to hang from. There were little tile shelves along the wall behind the tub for candles, a a larger one with a towel rack for a washcloth. There was a warmer built in to the wall with a bath towel rack above it, and dressing room lights around a small vanity not far from the tub. A half wall covered in tile hid the toilet from view.

From there, I took him down the hall to the library. It was a cozy room with thick, deep blue carpet, dark wood paneling on the walls and ceiling, little brass sconces every couple of feet on the walls and a fireplace. This room also had French doors that opened on to it's own section of patio. A bit further there was a smaller room that had once been used as a nursery, with it's hard wood floors and pale blue walls. Next to it was a similar room with lavender walls. One had a fireplace and one didn't, and the Realtor explained that they had originally been one room that was the family's sitting room in the house, just as the master bedroom had been the mens billiards room in the house and the master bath had been the secretary's study. The small rooms I had left as they were for storage, or for when I had children of my own.

I explained how the previous owners had remodeled the second floor for the family instead of using the original family quarters on the third floor as we walked. That was where we went next and where the main staircase ended. The original master bedroom was right above the one on the second floor, running from the front of the house to about two three quarters back, where the original master bath was. It was very much like the newer one, with a huge claw foot tub and his and hers pedestal sinks with tables on one side of each and a towel rack on the other. There was also a lighted vanity as in the other one. Almost right next to the second master bedroom was the door to a bedroom that was only slightly smaller and also had its own fireplace. It was decorated in greens, blues and golds. I made the mental note that this would be Devon's room, since no furniture had been ordered for it yet.

Further down the hall were three other bedrooms, smaller than the second one. One of them had been turned in to a training room, one in to a room for Cunt, or whatever slave happened to be my favorite and the other in to a small guest room, all of them cream with dark wood accents. From there we took the servants stairs up to the attic, which was just one large room that spanned the entire house, with the ceiling slanted on either side. The whole thing had new insulation and drywall, as well as a refinished wood floor. There were several dormer windows that allowed plenty of light, with curtains to help keep it warmer or cooler as needed. At one end of the room two small bathrooms had been built, each with sink, toilet and shower stall. Slightly larger than normal twin sized beds took up the majority of the room, with enough space left for a nightstand by each and a path down the middle. Each bed had a chest at the foot of it for the slave's clothing and other personal items, if they were allowed to have such.

“Twelve beds? Ya intend ta have a large household, don't ya lass.” Sean said with a slight laugh.

“Well, yes, but also wanted to be able to provide someplace for the slaves of guests if they are not sleeping in the same room.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Ye have a beautiful house here, Annie, and I'm proud ta share it with ya.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I felt myself blush a little at the compliment.

“Now, if ya don't mind, I'm starvin'!”

I laughed and led the way back to the kitchen for our first meal in our new home.

***

The first week or so back at home I was busier than I had thought I would be. On the second day back I had taken Cunt to see Frederick and he had suggested that she be sent to the nearby slave maternity home as she was close to delivery. Without her at home, I found myself preparing most of the meals and enjoying doing so. I ordered a bed, dresser, night stands, lamps, book shelves, a desk with matching chair and a small couch for Devon, rush delivery, within three days of being home.

For the most part my days consisted of working on notes for up coming presentations and arranging to go to local slave auctions for household staff. In the evenings, Sean and I swam in the small pool in the yard and enjoyed the end of summer weather. Francis and his wife were frequent visitors, and the use of some of their household slaves was much appreciated. One evening, after being home about a week, Sean and I were watching the sun set from the front porch when a thought hit me out of the blue.

“It needs a name.” I said, catching him off guard.

“What does?” He replied, confused.

“The house. Most society houses have one.”

“I'd never really given it much thought, but yer right lass. We'll call it Julie.”

“What?! No, not that kind of name.” I said with a laugh.

“No, I know, 'tis just the first thing that came ta mind.”

I thought for a moment, tossing several ideas before I said,

“Stormhold.”

“Stormhold? I like it, it's regal just like the house. How'd ya come up with that?”

“It's from a fantasy movie that came out a few years back. We'll have to watch it some time.”

“Indeed. I can'na remember the last time I watched a movie.”

“Well, we will have to do that soon. I should have it on the shelf in the bedroom.”

The next morning had dawned stormy, providing the perfect excuse for us to take a day for ourselves. We curled up in bed and spent the day watching movies, starting with the one that had given me the name for the house. We were on our third movie, some time after lunch, when the door bell rang. As Derek was at his own house, though he had an office in mine, and we did not have any borrowed slaves at the time, Sean offered to answer it.

“Ya look too comfortable there, lass. I'll get it.”

I listened to the soft pat-pat of his feet on the floor as he moved through the hall and down the stairs to the hall way, finding the sound comforting. When he reached the door he opened it without thinking, as there had been so many deliveries as of late. However, this time it was not a delivery. Standing there on the porch, soaking wet and holding an umbrella, was Devon. Sean unknowingly glared at him as he stood there dripping. Devon looked at him expectantly, and after a moment realized that Sean didn't know he was supposed to be there. A wicked little smile split his face and in a cheery tone he said simply,

“Honey, I'm home.”

Teaser Time! Brand new material from Becoming Charity

Now that the edited version is close to being available, I want to share with you, dear reader, some of what I added.  This teaser is the new prologue, revealing a bit more about The Society and Annie's journey to accepting the practice of "acquiring" slaves.  Enjoy!

At first it had been shocking. We're all taught that slavery of any kind is wrong. It's a dark chapter in the history of any country, one that most people seem to prefer not to think about. This hadn't seemed any different, and to be honest, when The Society was founded it really wasn't. Very few had come in to it completely of their own free will. The techniques were extremely primitive I was amazed that this underground community had made it more than a few years. I could barely get my mind around the ways people had brought new slaves in to it. There were no rules, no guidelines, nothing to protect those on either side of the whip. It was downright scary. As with all things, however, The Society had evolved with the times. The concept of one living creature being truly less than another began to fade and the concept of slaves and such began to fall more in to the sort of social hierarchy that has existed in all cultures throughout time.

Within two decades of the founding of The Society there were breeding farms producing high quality, willing slaves for those who could afford them. That was the catch, though. One had to be able to afford them, and at the time there were few regulations on the pricing. Unscrupulous traders set their prices so that only the wealthiest could afford them, claiming to have the highest quality slaves descended only from the very first slaves acquired when The Society began. Acquiring, or abducting, new slaves was still the more common practice. Some women were sold into Society slavery by their families in times of financial hardship - which was often - as an alternative to selling them to brothels. Some found themselves there after being unable to repay a debt or committing some sort of petty crime. The ones who to those who had known them simply vanished in the night could have been taken for any number of reasons. With the stark differences in the social classes of the times, this had been an easier concept for me to come to terms with.

Mind you that even before my formal training began I was more than comfortable with the idea of consensual submission and slavery. That's how I had found my way in to a Society Mentorship in the first place. But the idea of forcibly taking someone and making them a slave still weighed heavy on my mind. At least until I got through the first several chapters of Society history. It took nearly a hundred years, but eventually rules had been put in place. It took a little longer for there to be more than a couple that looked out for the safety of the one being acquired, but they were there. By this time there had long been rules and regulations for the sale of born slaves and auctions at the breeding farms had gained widespread popularity. With this came a downturn in acquisitions, making the problems with this tradition far more obvious to those in power. The cruelest methods of breaking down and training an acquired slave were outlawed and harsh punishments enforced on the Owners who used them. It helped that more people were finding their way in to Society slavery at least some what willingly.

The early nineteenth century saw a global downturn in the slave trade and as such forced The Society to take a good look at its accepted practices. Suddenly I found I had far less of an issue with the idea of acquiring slaves as this practice became less popular. With the new regulations, most found it preferable to attend the auctions and purchase slaves that had been born in to it, especially as a wider range of set prices were put in place, making this a more viable option for the masses. For those who did still use acquisition to add to their stables the rules were tightened significantly. No longer could these slaves be kept in dismal conditions, be starved or beaten within an inch of their lives. Clothing or covering of some kind was required for them in cold weather. While they were still essentially human livestock, before this it was common for their Owner's cows and sheep to be treated better than they were.

Cue the modern era. Protocols were put in place to ensure the safety of The Society, the Owners within it and any new slaves they acquired. Groups were formed with the sole intention of tracking acquired slaves who managed to escape or to help cover the tracks of an Owner acquiring a new slave. At this point in my education I had acquired slaves pointed out to me by my Mentor. I didn't even need that to be able to see the differences between them and those who had been born in or come in on their own. Some were happy and relatively well adjusted, but most seemed to have a haunted look in their eyes. Most of them had visible scaring that I could identify as having come from a variety of tools and some even had clearly displayed brands of such low quality that I had to wonder if they had been cared for at all while healing. It seemed to me that there had to be a way to make sure that your newly acquired slave didn't spend the rest of their life behaving like a scared, semi-disfigured animal, but hours of research resulted in very little. That's what set me on the path to where I am today.

Looking Back at Becoming Charity

I let myself have the weekend off from actual writing, thinking I could give my brain a bit of a break.  You see, when I really get going, the scenes seem to play in my mind and it's as though I'm simply a fly on the wall, watching, my hand furiously typing away to get it all down on the page.  Sure, I start out on a new piece with a basic outline for the plot, but that's about it.  I love when this happens.  I'll go back and read over what I have and often find myself thinking, 'wow, I wrote that?'.  Ok, back to that whole giving my brain a break thing.  Yeah.  It didn't happen.  As has become more and more frequent, I found my mind wandering back to the first book I published, The Society: Becoming Charity.  What I was once so proud of has become a literary thorn in my side.

I began writing it nearly seven years ago.  It was a release, a way to deal with some things that were going on in my life.  I had no intention of it being published, ever.  I shared bits on a couple of different sites and with a few friends, and that was it.  Then my friends who had read it began telling me I should look in to getting published, and finally I did.  I worked hard to get the book to a good ending point, found a publisher who would take something that didn't have a romantic sub-plot and that was written in the first person instead of the third.  I was thrilled when it was accepted, waiting eagerly for it to go live.  Then came the second and third books.  It was somewhere between their publication dates that I began to wonder about the first book, started to think it might not be the best it could have been.

It really hit me when I had the compilation book The Society: The First Three published.  I went back through all three to double check for typos, continuity errors, etc.  I found myself reading through the first one and cringing more often than not.  Now, I know most artists are their own worst critics, and that people say you'll never be completely happy with your work.  Since I can be a perfectionist, I set a goal for myself in order to know when a piece was ready for publication.  It's when I can read through and have it be something that I would buy, read and enjoy myself.  I'm a picky reader, especially when it comes to erotica, so this seemed a reasonable goal.  It's worked.  Unfortunately, that goal was set after my first had been published and now I find that it doesn't live up to that standard.  Now, after a long while of thinking it over, I've finally started.

I copied the original content in to a new file and dove in, scalpel in hand.  Overly harsh or extreme scenes will be reworked.  Repetitive scenes will be cut and glossed over.  New scenes will be added to give the book a good, solid plot as well as to allow the characters to become more fully developed.  I refuse to be embarrassed by the book I was once so proud of any longer, and it is my sincere hope that you, dear reader, will not hold this against me.  I was young and angry when it began, and in my determination to be published, I gave you something sub-par.  Believe me when I say I can hear the voices of my English teachers back through the years, and they're all saying the same thing.  "What were you thinking!!"  I am not sure when the edited version will be available, but hopefully it will be soon, and followed by the fourth book in my The Society series, Vanished!

To those of you who actually read the original first book all the way through, you have my thanks and my apologies.  For those who put it down after the first few pages, I understand completely, and I sincerely hope you might give it a second chance when the edited version becomes available.  I'm planning to post some of the edited bits here so that you can decide if it will be worth it to you or not.

Now, enough living in the past!  Time for me to get back to work, the sooner to give you wonderful readers something you can really enjoy!

Teaser for my fourth The Society book, Vanished!

Wow. Once again, it's been entirely too long. To be fair to myself, I did just start another business venture, and that's been taking up much of my time. About two weeks ago, the writing bug bit me again and I went from having around 4,000 words written for the fourth book to nearly 60,000. Yeah, it's been a productive couple of weeks! I'm very pleased with where this one is heading, though it's taking the series in a different direction. There may be some major editing of the first books when this one is done. There's a bit more romance, some intrigue and espionage, and if you're as much a fan of Annie and Sean as I am, some scenes that may well tug hard at your heart. Of course, you can expect more of the hot, kinky fun as well! Anyway, here's a little teaser for you, taken from chapter 10. Enjoy!

"I want ta kiss ye, little girl." His eyes had gone that familiar dark green.

"I'm yours." Was all I said, and then his lips were on mine. I pushed against him, deepening the kiss.

What fear was still there was battling with my growing desire, and Sean could feel it. Breaking off our kiss, he said,

“Are ye alright, pet?” Hearing that nickname again made me shiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Somethin' I said?” I nodded and he smiled. “My sweet pet.” I shivered again. “Ye like that?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice shook.

“There's somethin' else I've been wantin' ta say ta yew, little one, and I've a feelin' ye have an idea what it is.”

My breath caught in my throat, thoughts racing no matter what I did to try to slow them.

“I love ye, Annie.” As easily as he'd caused my thoughts to race, he stopped them in their tracks.

“I love you, too.” I whispered without hesitation and his lips were on mine once more. Desire was winning out over fear.

“I din'na want ta push ye.” He murmured when we came up for air.

“Please, Sir.”

“Are ye sure?”

“I don't wanna be afraid anymore.”

“Pull down tha sheets, love.” He got up and turned off the lights, the sunset coming through the sheer curtains the only illumination left. Shaking, I did as he asked.

I lay down again, the sheets cool against my skin. Sean stood by the bed, just looking at me for a few moments before he lay down next to me, propped up on his side.

“I din'na want ta hurt ye.” He said quietly. “And I'll nae go any faster than ye want me to.”

I nodded. He leaned in to kiss me again and I moaned just a little. I was fighting with the images in my head, trying to force them out and loosing. He felt the difference.

“Wha'is it?”

“Images. I need to hear your voice, please.”

“Please what, pet?” His voice was gentle, coaxing.

“Please, Sir.”

“Good girl. That's my sweet girl, my pet.” He spoke softly, his fingers tracing a path from my cheek, down my neck and around my left breast. I gasped, my nipple tightening more the closer his fingers came to it.

“It's puckerin' for me, lass. Dew ye want me ta touch it?” He was making large, slow, teasing circles around it.

“Yes, Sir.” His finger barely brushed over the tip and I groaned. The right one was starting to ache and I arched towards him. That same finger was making it's way to my right nipple, leaving a tingling in it's wake. He circled that one as he had done the left, and getting the same reaction.

“Please...” I whimpered.

“Please, what, pet?

“Please touch my nipple, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He brushed the right just as lightly as he had the left. I arched, wanting more and he pulled his hand back.

“Look at ye, little girl, so needy. D'they hurt?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Ye poor thing. My poor, sweet girl.”

Sitting up a little, he took one breast in each hand and began to squeeze lightly, almost kneading them. I moaned and arched, my hands making their own kneading motions on the sheets.

“How ready fer me are ye, pet?”

“I...I don't know.” I could barely think.

“You don't know, what?”

“Sir.” I couldn't quite manage a full sentence.

“Spread yer legs fer me, then, pet.”

Slowly I did as he asked. He could see me shaking.

“It's alright, little one. Just a bit more. It's alright, I'm not goin'ta hurt ye.”

His hand slid down across my stomach to cup between my legs. I let out a trembling moan.

“I can feel yer heat, pet. I bet yer wet fer me already. Dew ye want me ta check?”

“Uh huh!”

“Ye'll have ta dew better than that, little one. Dew ye want me ta see how wet ye are?”

“Yes, please, Sir.”

“Yes, please, what?”

I repeated myself, louder.

“Nae, pet, I think I need more this time.”

“I...I don't...” I was foggy with desire and confused.

“Say please, Master.”

I froze, and he could see me tense.

“It's alright, Annie, it's jest me. I jest want ta hear ye say it.”

“Pl...please, Master.”

He squeezed and I whimpered again.

“One more time, love.”

“Please, Master.” Much easier the second time, though my voice still shook.

“Good girl, Annie.”

Barely moving his hand, Sean slipped a finger between my lips, finding me not nearly as wet as expected. Moving it away, he lay down and pulled me to him, kissing me. I could feel his erection pressing against my leg.

“Yer jest fine, lass. I wont push ye, I wont rush ye.” He murmured between kisses.

I could feel a low ache starting to build.

“Please, Master. Please touch me again.”

His hand returned to it's previous location, gently stroking from top to bottom, and I shivered. He focused on my clit for a moment and I could feel my arousal growing at a steady pace.

“There ye go, pet. I can feel ye getting' wet fer me. D'ye like that?”

“Yes, Master.” My hands were kneading at the bed again, and I brushed against his erection. An accident the fist time, I started letting my hand creep closer, brushing my fingers along it's length.

“Ye can touch it if ye like, pet.” He moved so that it was closer and I wrapped my hand around it. “Ah, god, Annie. Jest yer hand feels incredible.” He groaned. I could feel my wetness increase, his finger sliding more easily.

“Please, Master. I need something inside me.” I whispered. His finger found my entry and slid inside, my hips automatically rising to meet his hand.

“Dew ye want more, pet?”

“Yes, Master.”

Kink and the Real World

Just as fair warning, this is my first blog post using the app for my new phone.

I've spent the last couple of days working on a project for one of the roleplay scenarios my Dom and I use on a regular basis, and as usual I can't help but try to think of ways to take it further.  Namely how to take it outside our home or a hotel room.  With some of the jobs we've had, we have a tendency to get recognized when we go out, which limits what sort of kink related things we can do publicly.   This lead me down a road that I've been down time and time again since I discovered my kinky side.  How to deal with kink in the real world.

I know this is hardly an issue unique to us.  Most kinky people face this problem.  It is part of what drove me to begin writing kink erotica.  There have been many times that I have wished I lived in the worlds I have created in my books.  In those worlds, kink is the real world for my characters.  They live the way so many of us wish we could, where "real life" as we know it interferes very little, if at all, with their pursuit of their kinky way of life.  In The Society, Annie makes a very nice living teaching on the kink convention circuit, owns a slave or two and has an incredibly handsome, loving Dom of her own.  The sexy Irish accent is just icing on the cake.  Her chosen career and income leave them free to essentially do as they please, kinky or otherwise.  

In the Slut University books, Allie is completely immersed in a world where (at least five days of the week) all she has to worry about is being the best slut she possibly can be for her Master and fiance Jake.  Gangbangs are an almost daily occurrence, as is wearing very little clothing and almost always having a butt plug in her ass.  Sure, she's helping him plan their wedding and dealing with adjusting to having a third partner in their home, but the "normal" worries most of us face just aren't an issue.  Ah, the lives of fictional characters.

Sadly, we do not share their worlds and unless we are independently wealthy and live somewhere like Vegas or NYC (myself I'm stuck in the bible belt), it's highly unlikely that we will ever have more than the smallest glimpse at living that way.  But this has lead us to being a very creative bunch.  Personally it has lead me to a serious interest in the mental side of what it is that we do.  Over the years, I have come to appreciate and enjoy being in a relationship where the D/s nature of it is always there, lurking just below the surface.  Of course, we also enjoy the physical aspect a good deal, and enjoy the fact that mostly working for myself gives me the time to work on projects like my current one, and to do things while I'm working at home that I couldn't do if I had a regular job. 

As a whole, those of us in the kink world have found ways to bring our kinks into the so-called real world. There are any number of collar options that simply look like necklaces to the vanilla world.  Cuffs too, and I know quite a few people who make use of this.  A sub or slave having their clothing chosen for them is also common, or they do more what I do,which is nearly always dressing with him and his preferences in mind.  Around here that means going barefoot a lot and having a large sandal collection.  On a wider scale, we kinky folk have found ways to identify ourselves to our like-minded brethren without giving anything away to the vanillas around us.  These have changed and evolved over the years, just as the kink community has.  We host munches and play parties and weekend conventions that allow us that chance to live in our fantasy worlds even if only for a brief moment.  

We take weekend getaways to places where no one knows us for the chance to be who we wish we could be all the time.  We gather online just to be able to talk without fear, to share our fantasies and to remind us that there are others who share them. We dream of a world that fully accepts us for who we are, and take pleasure in finding creative ways to enjoy our kinks with the vanilla world being none the wiser. 

Each relationship and situation is unique, and we all have our ways of getting our needs met.  What works for one person or situation doesn't always work for another.  I'd love to hear what you do to keep the kink strong for you and yours in this crazy world.  :-)