We Did the Thing!

August 27th, 2015

This past weekend was a really good one. We had our usual monthly Friday party, two rope intensives on Saturday, a Saturday party, and our monthly rope gathering on Sunday. It was so much fun, and educational, and we did the thing!   Both parties went really well, more attendees the first night, but that was to be expected. We had whip classes and bottoming classes and a superb performance to watch from our wonderful presenters.

The intensive that I attended on Saturday was really good and fun. We started out with a running man suspension, which I’d never done before, to learn a new way to attach to the point. The attachment was designed with vertical suspension in mind, and had three points on the chest harness, to keep the bottom from tipping over in one direction or the other. It worked really well. Then we worked on a particular style of 3-rope TK for the rest of the morning. The presenter joked that he tricked us all into yet another TK class, but this one focus a lot on the third rope, and the WHY’s more than the how.

After lunch we split up, the tops working on up-lines, and the bottoms having kind of a round-table on bottoming. Our presenter had some topics she wanted to discuss, and so we bounced around on them. She gave us some good stretches for rope, and a strengthening exercise for shoulders. We talked about choosing good rope tops, and safety, and Why we all choose Rope. It was a really good discussion.

Lastly, we all came back together to try a transitional suspension. One that began with the TK we’d been working on all morning, rigged into a side suspension. Next, each ankle was rigged in a single column tie, first going out to the side, and then up behind the bottom nearly all the way to the ring. This led to the next position, which was hanging by the ankles, by dropping the chest line completely. The finally position was re-rigging the chest from behind and bringing the bottom up into a face-down suspension. Getting down was a simple matter of dropping the ankles back to the floor. Only about half the class managed it after having spent the entire day working hard. We didn’t even fully get to the second position.

Sunday, however, was a new day. A decent amount of rest was had after the Saturday party, and we were ready to try again:

We worked on the TK first, getting it into place, the third rope on, and the bottom wraps not-too-tight. The previous day this had been our biggest difficulty, but we got it down better on Sunday. Once sorted, he rigged me up to the ring, left side down.

Then came the ankles. Single column ties, loose, but not too loose. I have small heels, and my left kept slipping out the day before. Right leg up straight out to the side and a little up. Left leg up behind it. Not so bad, a little rough without a waist line.

But now it is time to go the rest of the way up. Pulling my ankles up behind me to the ring seems like a simple thing, but my body doesn’t normally bend that way. Right away it becomes uncomfortable. Soon, it becomes painful. My lower back is confused as fuck – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you crazy rope bunny, we are not made of Gumby stuff. Oh god, I can’t breathe, what the hell? Shut up brain, we can breathe, see, we are moaning in pain, that’s totally breathing. He checks in. Yeah, I’m surviving, tie the ankles quickly please. I’m sweating and shaking and moaning, but he gets them tied off.

He checks in again, have you ever hung by your ankles? No. He calls in a nearby rigger to be a spotter in case I red out. I just want this awful pressure off my chest and back. He lowers my chest.

Oh dear gods, sweet sweet air. I’m am hanging upside down by my ankles. but my chest is free. Well, okay, I’m still in a TK, but the pressure is gone and I can breathe. My left hand is even getting feeling back again. So Much Better, I gasp. I don’t even care the my head is resting on the ground, I can breathe again. I am sure that I’m spacing out as they chuckle at me.

Ready to go back up? I take a few more breaths, and curl my head, going from resting on the back of it, to resting on my forehead, so he can pull me straight up again. He grabs the lift line and drops to the ground, zipping me up into the air. He tells the spotter we’re alright now, but I ask him to stay, upside down was easy, upright is the hard part.

You okay? Yeah, but my lower back thinks I’m crazy, I don’t bend into a V quite as well as younger folk.

Careful breathing as he lifts me fully up and ties me off. Oh dear gods the pain and pressure are back. Not Nearly as bad as the sideways twist, but my body really thinks I’ve gone insane. Almost there, I tell it, just a little longer.

He unties the line of one foot, our friendly spotter offers to do the other one, so both come down at the same time. Nah, he says, I want to fuck with her. We all laugh, and I groan a bit, as he lets one leg down slowly. I let out a soft curse as he gets that one all the way down and it can’t quite touch the ground. But he is quick with the second and I’m back on my feet in no time. Gasping for breath, grinning from ear to ear.

We did it! We did the thing! Thank you! So happy to have completed the challenge we set for ourselves. We’re both in a better mood, and I am bouncy the rest of the afternoon.

Such a good way to wrap up a great weekend.

 

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The Circle of Kink

May 17th, 2015

Sometimes, it is really nice to go back to the beginning.

We had a whips class Friday night, with a very entertaining teacher.

Through the entire class, I sat watching the presentation on a massage table, while he stood behind me, flicking the whip across my back. Making my hair flick back and forth to find his range. Coming up beside me now and then, to runs his fingers over the welts, and check out a technique being shown. A class is going, so I keep my mouth shut, trying to keep the squeaks inside. Twitching at every sharp crack. He’s picked up a whip now and then over the last few years, but we’ve really not done much with them since that first club. Gods, I’ve missed that.

Every major event that has had a vendor with whips, we’ve looked at them. He knows which one he wants. But the expense… I even considered finding the money and having daddy bring one up when he was coming to visit, but neither the money finding, nor the visit ended up happening.

Later in the night he ordered me back up onto that table, hands and knees, and flicked the whip across my ass and thighs. I squirmed and shrieked and threw him dirty looks. Until he ordered me to stillness, and I hunkered down, head between my arms. Still screaming, but staying far more still, though not completely- it’s a whip for godsake.

Then the tears came. The fighting to be still, the sharp stings. Over and over in the same spot. And they burst free. He checked in a couple times, grinning, as I sobbed. Whipping them out more and more. Then he came to the head of the table and kissed me.

How’d that feel?

Good. But not so good on my shoulders.

I collapse down flat on the table. He grinned and ordered me to sit up on my ass, now covered in whip kisses, as well as the bite marks he’d left earlier. Wincing, I comply. And he returns to flicking the whip against my skin, this time the outside of my thighs, with an occasional arm-shot.

I am covered in whip kisses. This weekend. And we still have a rope class to go. So grateful for this wonderful life I live.

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The Best Scene I Couldn’t Ask For

March 8th, 2015

The night started out fairly normal. I’d asked to spend time bootblacking, and he’d even brought an extra pair of boots. He was wearing his new knee-high boots, still fresh and mostly clean. I I just did a basic saddle-soap clean. Rubbing his feet and calves with brush and fingers and micro-fiber. A massage to get him relaxed and shiny for the night. He had things to do, so he left me with his work boots. These got the full laces-out, saddle-soap, and Black Gold treatment. He took them out to the truck when I was done, they were not needed tonight. I was spending the night in service to him, but when he got back, we would have a scene first.

“Pick out a piece of furniture for me to beat you with this.” He handed me the burlap/bamboo stick of awesome.

I walked about a bit, there were a couple open benches and crosses. I hovered near the larger of the two benches, with an eye on a cross, not sure of his intentions. When he returned, I motioned to the bench and pointed to the cross.

“Bench.”

So, I knelt on the bench, legs only having just recovered from the bootblacking, but this was kneeling up instead of down, so I’d be fine. I lay forward and he pulled out a piece of rope. Happy surprise. I haven’t been tied down to a bench in years. Left wrist first, pulled it down to a good place for me to grip and tied in through one of the holes, then over to the right wrist, down to another hole. Then he pulled out the short bit of bamboo.

Damn, bamboo gag, alright, I tell myself, don’t forget to bite down while he’s tying. In it goes and I grab it hard with my teeth, he ties it in good and tight, and then pulls the rope down my back. What the? Interesting. I keep my head down, not wanting to strain my neck and throat by having my head tied back. He takes it down to my waist, knots it and then splits the ropes, effectively tying my waist down to the bench. Nice.

I’m drooling already. Ugh! Stupid gag drooling. Ah well, nothing to be done about it. And it makes him happy to take that control from me. Time for the beaty stick.

Gods that burlap wrapped bamboo feels awesome. He beats my ass a few times, lands a few blows on my back. As long as I remember to breathe out when he hits my back, it’s all good. Otherwise it knocks it out of me anyway. I arch my ass up, keeping tailbone clear as he swings. Moaning happily around my gag.

Then he puts it down for a moment, and starts in with his bare hand. And I’m soaring, heart and body. I love spanking, I’ve been wanting a spanking. On a spanking bench even. But it is one of those things, one of those very sexual things for me, that I am still very embarrassed to ask for. Oh, but he knows me so well.

Some more beating stick, some more spanking, his hand sneaks up and slides under me, grabbing a nipple and making me scream. I’m writhing and moaning and soaring, and drooling. So much drooling. He comes round in front of me and just grins. More beatings and spankings. He grabs me by the hair, lifting my head back, using his free hand to wipe up my drool and smear it all over my face. Ugh, so messy. And then he’s beating my ass again. Gods I love him.

Spanking and beating, and nipple pinching. I’m moaning and screaming and writhing and drooling and dripping.

He pulls out a paddle, pulling louder screams and harder writhing. He wipes my drool all over my face again and again. There is more bare-handed spanking and more beaty stick. One hand reaches under me and lifts me up by the throat. I don’t even know what he’s hitting me with at this point, as I soar higher and higher.

The devil pop is out. He is in front of me, grinning that huge grin.

“Time for your penance. What do you think? Twenty?”

My eyes grow wide and all I can manage is whimpering. I owe him, for not being prepared, for not having a skirt the night before. Fuck. Yes. Anything, for all he has given me. I twist my hands around so I am now grabbing the rope instead of the bench. Digging the fibers into my hands, anchoring. But I cannot speak, I nod.

“Twenty?” I nod again. “You can’t say no to this grin can you?” I shake my head. “You better hold on. Ten for each cheek.” I whimper, laying my head down in my puddle of drool, clinging to the rope. “Ten on the flat side and ten on the rounded.” He goes back behind me.

The devil pop lands and I am screaming. He alternates cheeks and I alternate kicking my legs straight out. The first ten go fairly quickly. Five on each cheek, I barely have time for individual screams. The creator of the pop is called by my screams and they laugh above me.

The next ten are slower. Each hit pulling a scream all its own. Writhing and arching, until I can calm and reset myself. He waits for each one. Letting me scream it out.

Twenty strikes complete. I am pushing the gag forward with my tongue so I can swallow and get a breath. I don’t even remember if he spanked me any more after that.

Then he was untying the gag and I almost forgot to bite down. Put my jaw back in place as he untied my wrists.

“You’re such a mess.” We’re both grinning at each other. “Dripping wet at both ends. You good?”

“Very good, thank you!” I am flying high all night long, as I kneel or stand ready with the beaty stick, helping with or just observing his other scenes. So very grateful for all we have together.

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High Point Flying

February 19th, 2015

He did it! He found the space. Got the permission. Organized the people. Hosted the event. We have a new high-point rigging space! Sixteen foot high I-Beams to swing full out on!

In total, we had 23 rigging points this past weekend. 22 of them were attached 16 feet above the floor. And 2 of them were full-out swing points with beam clamps, tow straps and all. It was Awesome!

He was teaching the drum tie, not my favorite, but I didn’t care. I was going to get to FLY. We had a very small class, having emphasized that people need to know what they’re doing. The beginner and beginner/intermediate classes had a lot of people brushing up on the basics. He taught, I helped, pointing things out, helping as best I could.

And then it was time to fly. We used a loop instead of carabiner, much more comfortable, but put me lower than usual, no problem though, plenty of height to use. And then I was swinging. Higher and higher.

Our spirits soared as he pushed me to the sky. Grinning and laughing and running. I was flying! There were exclamations from the watchers, but I barely heard them. He pushed me again, higher, jumping into the air. I arched my body, pushing myself even further. Oh, how I missed this.

He slowed me to a stop and helped me sit up, take the pressure off my head. Show the riggers the dangers of sitting. But the rig is so tight on me, it doesn’t move an inch. Lets me swing a little, and then back down.

Are you done? No, one more push, please.

And he does. One last flight through the air. Smiles so wide, glee filling us.

I reach out to him, and he brings me down. Back to earth, back to ground.

Thank you.

Until next time.

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11 Needles Plus Interest

February 10th, 2015

A year ago, I traded 11 needles for 3 Cheddar Bay Biscuits at dinner. Due to circumstances beyond our control (and even our imagination), those needles were not paid. During the past year, he kept teasing me about the interest I was accruing, depsite my various offers to pay that never quite panned out. We never did settle on a firm rate of interest. Now, needles were planned, and my debt would come due.

He had three of us sitting side-by-side, all there for different reasons. He looked at me, a wide grin on his face. So, your interest will be paid like this, you choose the gauge, and you will get that many needles. What gauges do you have, I ask, knowing part of the answer, in the 16s he had bought earlier. 25, 22, 20, 18, 16. I ponder, and math, and fidget, and freak, and ponder. NOT doing 18 or 16. 25 sounds like way too many. 20 isn’t really worth only getting two less. Alright, 22, I tell him. That’s not so bad, the one on my right comments. I’ve only ever done 8 before, I reply, trying to stay calm. My feet are kicking, like a little kid, I can’t stop them, nervous energy running high.

He comments on my having an awful lot of orgasms, since he counts out breathing to 3 as he puts them in. No, I can’t, I really can’t with this. He looks at me, and nods. I’m terrified, and terrified that I’ll move while he’s stabbing me. I just can’t. He has accepted it, but I feel a bit disappointed in myself. I’ll forget this quickly, however, as the needles begin.

We each pick our body parts. He prepares the skin with alcohol then iodine. Thighs for me, careful to choose the swaths that are clearest of bruising.

He starts on my left. I stop my feet, don’t rock the table. 1.2.3. Then to me. You ready? I clench my hands behind my back, tears forming. No. Breathe in. 1. Breathe in. 2. Breathe in. 3. It slides in easily, I whimper. Not so bad, I think, as he goes to my right. Then my left. And back to me. The tears are falling, but dry up shortly after the second one as I begin to fly.

We go one by one. He counts, we breathe. Sometimes we scream. Sometimes we yip. Sometimes we grumble or growl. Always we are joking and making each other laugh. All of us flying high. He is bouncing, dancing, and giddy. I am complaining about how close together the needles are, there’s plenty of space on my thighs. But he needs practice keeping them close because of the design work he’s doing to the left. Somewhere around ten, he takes a different strategy. Finishing off the one on my left all in one go, to let her settle in before the lacing. Then he comes to me.

My 11th. Counts, and I scream. That one hurt three times! Ready? He moves to the next row. What? No? He counts quickly and slides it it. You have to wait for me to breathe! I whimper. No, I don’t. I’m crying again. And another. And another. And another. Counting a little slower each time. He’s done five before he pauses. More? No! Please. He moves to my right, finishing her 18s. As I regain control and start flying again.

Back to me. Four more? Three, I counter. He counts three. Breathe in, 1, breathe in, 2, breathe in 3. And again, and again. Then back to my right to start the 16s. We tease her about them not hurting, because she said bigger ones hurt less. Hurt Less, she insists, not don’t hurt.

Back to me. Breathe in, 1, breathe in, 2, breathe in 3. Pain. Breathe in, 1, breathe in, 2, breathe in, 3. Pain. More? No, getting light headed. He goes back right. Back to me. Last two? Yes. Breathe in, 1, breathe in 2, breathe in 3. Pain. Breathe in, 1, breathe in 2, breathe in, 3. Pain. They clap for me. 22 needles, and I am done.

He finishes the left one’s pattern. I rest my head on the right one’s shoulder. Takes a picture on the left, then takes a picture of mine. Then goes back for the last few 16s on the right. And takes a picture for her, too. I ask him to run his finger along the flesh over my needles, it feels cool, but I can’t bring myself to touch them. He does. The others find me odd, but it’s a really interesting feeling. But now they hurt. I am rocking, flying on the pain.

He takes out the ones on the left first. You next? He asks me. No, still flying. So he goes to my right. Then back to me. Handing me gauze. You have to do this part yourself, no one else can touch your blood. He has changed gloves between each person. I know. He pulls them out a few at a time, and I plop down gauze pads. I can barely feel them coming out. I just breathe and cover the holes with gauze. All out. We all clean up, alcohol pads and gauze. When the bleeding stops, I wash the iodine off in the bathroom. Such a great scene, maybe I do like needles, after all.

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Saturday: Tortures of Edo Japan

February 9th, 2015

It started in the room… no, it really started weeks ago. Him dropping hints, having secret conversations, building things in private. He had Plans for our weekend. Saturday, he said, the monster was coming to play.

Then it started in the room. He wanted consent, so he told us his plans. Showed us a picture. Pulled out the kneeling “mat” he had made (omg that looks horribly painful… but I’m curious), and the beating stick – bamboo wrapped in burlap and cotton rope. He hit us with it a few times, she tried kneeling on the mat (I don’t want to start the pain so early, so I don’t). He showed her the pole he wanted to suspend her from. What else did we want to try? I like the shrimp tie (ebizeme, she corrects), and I’d like to try the mat, and yes, please hit me with the stick. It’s a really great stick, so deep and thuddy. We finalized our plans and head downstairs.

We find a spot, he goes to settle himself as we stretch. He returns, shoos people out of our space. Grabs me first, spinning me around, I assume the position – arms crossed behind my back. She pipes in, asking him for me, to put the blanket down before I sit, he agrees. He wraps the ropes roughly, keeping me tight against him, as I sink quickly in to rope space. Breathing in the scent of him, and the brand new rope, as we go. A simple box tie, just one wrap at the top, and two kunukis. His hand going behind the center of the chest wraps feels like it is crushing my chest, wtf, but it is gone just as quickly as he finishes the tie.

He sets out the blanket now, forcing me down, and I cross my legs. He ties the ankles quickly, wrapping up and around the back of my neck, pulling me down tightly, hooking in so the cinching lines are tight up against the sides of my neck. I keep breathing, it’s okay, I tell myself, it’s not against my windpipe. Relax. And then he shoves me back, up onto my talibone, head and shoulders against the wall. WTF? Oh, this’ll be interesting. No relaxing here. And then the burlap sack goes over my head (ooh hood, I like hoods) and I close my eyes to settle in as he goes to start her scene. Occasionally rocking and scooting tiny bits, trying to get further up my back to relieve the pressure.

He comes to me now and then, smacking with a small piece of bamboo, causing squeals and more scooting. I think he has her kneeling now, as the hits are coming more frequently, and I can hear her reacting, too. Voices murmur nearby, commenting on our scene, both famliar and not. Cracks of the bamboo have me squealing and yipping. Thuds of the stick make me moan. Stabbing with the far end of the bamboo have me screaming until he pulls it away. Long, hard screams as he digs it into my flesh.

Wait, I can’t breathe, I start to panic, gasping, no I can, it’s just thick, calm down. I get my breath back just before he starts hitting me again. Screams and squeals and moans. When he stops, panic sets in again as I try to take deep breaths. My eyes are open now, just to prove to myself that it’s just burlap over my head. Hole-filled burlap, plenty of space. I calm the panic, deep breaths. It’s okay. More hits and screams and moans. He’s gone again, replaced by panic. Stop it, you’re fine, I tell myself, squirming at the bag, scooting down the wall. My arms are on the floor now, so much better. See, look you’re fine, I tell myself. Deep breaths. More hits, more stabbing pain, more squeals and screams. I don’t know how long this goes on (I find out later that after she was tied, it was 25 minutes), but the cycle keeps repeating.

Until the panic wins. Until it doesn’t go away, even when he’s hitting me. And I start sobbing. Hard wracking sobs take over my body. And he pulls the burlap away. Oh gods! Fresh air! Lungfuls and lungfuls of fresh air. He pulls me down to sitting again, and quickly unties my and chest. I lean against him a little bit, and then he goes to get her off the mat and untied. Returning to me to finish.

People are talking at me and I’m responding, but I don’t remember what was said. I am shaking, and hugging myself, they are bouncing with energy. Ready to go on to the next. We have to wait though, for a point to put her up on. So, we talk. He tells her how long she knelt. I tell him about the chest, and the burlap, someone comments on watching me panic. We move our stuff over to near the point as the scene comes down, ready to go again.

He has to focus on her, so he’s going to put me down, and then I can get up when I need to. Okay, I’d like to try the bamboo gag, I tell him. We start with a simple box tie again. Then the gag, I forget to grab it with my teeth and he pulls to hard. I made sounds of protest as it pulls my lips to breaking, and he lets up. Bite it, he says. And I do and he finishes tying it off. He puts me down on the mat, and I glance up at her, standing nearby. Damn, this sucks. She nods. He ties a blindfold around my eyes and reminds me to get up when I need to. Then heads over to start the suspension.

My upper lip and teeth are bone dry already. I start to drool – oh yeah, that’s the other reason I don’t like gags. Dammit, nothing to be done, though, drool is the least of my problems. Man, my shins hurt. Pointy triangular slats poking the bone every couple inches. Thank gods he smoothed them down from sharp points. I lean forward, she’s right, the ankles are the worst, putting all the pressure at the top of my shins, head sitting on the floor support of the suspension rig. I hear him comment about it, but I cannot reply. Damn gag.

Then the real problem starts. My hips are on fire. Apparently the tie wasn’t the best lead up to this scene. Damn. I sit back up. Nope, that’s not any better. I try to relax into the pain, but this isn’t good pain. This sucks. I curl back down again. Trying to move the weight off my hips. No, this isn’t going to work. Back up, what happens if I kneel up? I only start to when I realize this will put my kneecaps into the triangles, no efing way. Back down again.

I’m frustrated now. I know I can stay here longer, if my shins were the only problem. He comments on me drooling, you know, someone else still has to kneel on that. I don’t make a sound, the gag keeps me from even grinning. Nothing I can do about the drooling. Stupid hips, stupid stupid hips. I try shifting my arms, rubbing my hips, trying to find a spot to make them feel better. To no avail. I know I cannot stay here, I know he doesn’t want me to injure myself, or endure bad pain.

So, I rock back and off. Sitting on the floor, I’d so recently asked a blanket to be put down on. But I don’t think about this just yet. I am mad at my hips. I just sit and fume for a few minutes. A scene is over, I want to kneel, but no, still can’t do that. Stupid hips.

Now, I remember that I don’t want to be sitting on this floor, and stand. I put my back to the wall. Stand there in the box tie, blindfolded and still drooling. I hear him put a third person on the mat. I know the suspension is up by now. My throat is so damn dry. I want to see the suspension, I open my eyes and can see some light at the bottom of the blindfold. I lift my head, but the bamboo pulls tighter on my mouth. I relax, sink into the ropes around me.

No, I really want to see, so I lift my head just long enough to catch a glimpse of how she’s tied and then drop my head again. Ow, but nice tie. I sink back into my ropes. Trying to ignore the drool dripping down my dress. Once tilting my head back to try and swallow some to wet my increasingly dry throat. I do like this gag, breathing is just fine, there is no moment of panic. But damn, the dryness of winter.

He finishes the suspension, and comes to let me out. Pulling the gag and blindfold and boxtie. You’ve drooled all over my new rope. I just smirk at him. Not my fault. I tell him that my hips are stupid and the shrimp tie was not my best choice leading into the kneeling scene. Then he unties her and I help put the ropes away. We try out the bottom side of the mat, the sharp pointy side. Damn, it’s such a good thing he sanded down the points on the other side. The tortures of Edo Japan are a huge success.

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Friday 2: Corporal, Please

February 9th, 2015

We head to the cross, blocked off by chairs, another scene just ending. He has his bag of toys, and an assistant to hand him things. Strip off my shirt, but leave the skirt. I step up and find my grip, making sure my back is as flat as possible. The mop floggers, first, he tells her. Fitting headphones onto our heads, so we can have the old club in our ears.

He starts of nice, easy hits to get me going. Bobbing with the music, into florentine. Relaxing into our energy together. My eyes close automatically, ignoring the world, focusing just on him. They become stingy faster than I expect, but I just bear down into it, vocalizing and squirming at the hits. He rides the waves up and down, finding our rhythm. I have missed this.

He steps away a moment and returns with one of the little sticks. Smack and squeak, smack and squeak. He attacks my ass and thighs, and back. I squirm and squeal for a bit. He returns to floggers for a bit after that. Back into the rhythm, hard and pounding. Sinking into it.

Another change, and I scream, the loopy bat already. I hear her comment, You remember when she helped? And I laugh and Scream again. He turns me around, and I realize I’ve got my eyes closed, I’m not blindfolded, and I open them, to see his big grin. He hits my thigh, still marked from Wednesday. And then my breasts, loop around my nipple. Fuck! Ow! I squirm and he places my hands up. It is very hard to keep them up. And then she hands him the pony pecker.

He comes at me spinning, and I cringe and yelp, but the loopy bat is so much worse that this is almost a relief. Almost. Pounding and squealing. While he bounces and grins to music only we can hear. Then she hands him the deerskin and I melt. Big solid thuds on my chest, and then he tips a few and I yelp. Turns me back around again, for soldi thuds on my back. Oh that one is heaven. Even the handle pounding into me is lovely.

The unbreakable paddle is next, he pulls up the skirt for a clear shot. There is much screaming, and dropping, and climbing back up the cross. And trying to keep my ass out and then falling again. He steps away again. And comes back with the dragontail.

Snap, scream. Snap, scream. I am bouncing as he is striking. He puts my feet in the holes at the bottom of the cross. Don’t move them. Snap scream snap scream snap scream. Twisting and writhing, but keeping my feet still. Then he turns me around again, hands put up to hold them still. Snap scream snap scream snap scream. He decorates my breasts and thighs with whip kisses. Where are you at? Throat is raw. Just over the crest of the scene.

He pulls out the demon pop to finish me off. Pounding my thighs as I wail in pain. Turning them bright red and purple while he smiles at my pain. Pounding me until I’m done. Hugs and kiss and time for clean up. Such wonderful pain, just what I asked for.

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Friday 1: Catch and Release… and a Cattleprod

February 9th, 2015

It started in the hallway, waiting for the dungeon to open. Arm wrapped around each other, as another friend walked up. Look what I got, he says, showing off a brand new cattleprod. The man in my arms asks to borrow it, while I try to keep him from grabbing it. Too late. Nonononono. We head towards the rope room where he is getting ready for his first scene.

Hey, you’re going to let him hit you with a cattleprod before I get to? He asks me. Nononono, I reply, but ex-lover drags us over to him, and with some help, he gets it put together. Sit, he commands, and I do. Squirming and shrieking as he tests it out. Then hands it back to ex-lover and we head over towards the doors again, me still trying to get it out of his hands.

Doors open, and we head straight over to the mats. I strip down and he gets ready. Setting the prod aside for now. I don’t see him grab the first hank of rope, and give him a hug to start our scene. In seconds, he slams me to the mat, and I squirm, but he is too fast, pinning me down, sitting straddled across my back. His foot so near my mouth, but no, no biting, my brain tells me, as he wraps my left leg in a tight futo.

Then he’s up to grab the next hank. I scramble to my knees, seeing him tuck the hank into the back of his pants, Ah, that’s where it was. We circle for a bit, I note the gathering crowd, laughing at my awkwardness, and I just grin. Circling, until he comes in, spins me around while I try to shove with the little leverage I have. I comment that I should have bitten him when I had the chance. Oh really? He pins me down, yanking an arm behind me tying the wrist and wrapping the rope around my belly.

We’re up again, circling. The crowd is growing. More shoving and squirming as he takes me down a third time. I think I lose my remaining arm and leg this time, I’m no longer sure. I end up in quite a swirling mass of rope by the time he’s done. One or two more lines go round, I haven’t got much mobility left.

Or so I think, until he, finished tying, grabs the cattleprod once more. NONONONONO! I shout at him, he and the crowd just laugh, as I spin away, sliding across the mats much faster than I thought possible. Nonononono! I whimper as he chases me. Fuck! As he hits me with it. Again and again, I shove it away with arm and chin and body. Squirming and scooting all over the mat. That doesn’t look like eeling, he laughs. Nonono! Ow! I glare at him. If you want me to eel, you gotta stop that! My focus is totally on the prod and not one care given to the rope. He just laughs and zaps me again.

Fine, ugh, gotta figure out what I can do. Ropes are almost all tight, my arm can move quite a bit, but I can’t DO anything with that rope. FuckfuckNonono! He zaps me again and I scramble away, noting a DM has stopped by to check us out. I manage to slide a shoulder wrap up and off, it’s not tight, no trouble with my neck, but I try to distract him anyway.

Look, there’s a rope around my neck, it’s hot, right? Stop zapping me! He laughs some more. Sure it’s hot, keep going. I’m trying I’m trying! There is no try, only do. He shoots back at me. You’re Not Helping! As he zaps me again. This to much laughter from the gallery.

He sets the prod down to come bite me, and we growl at each other as his teeth sink in. But this is better focus for me, and I find another rope to work on. Eventually getting a wrist line to slide off my foot. He pounces and bites some more. And I scream, but I’ve gotten started now. And I kick the prod off the mat, to many cheers from the audience. Oh really?

He gets up and gets it back. I curse and shout and squirm away. Keep eeling he says, taunting me with the tips. I’m TRYING! I shout. Working frantically as he zaps me for kicking it away. I get a rope worked over my knee, and then another, and another, he didn’t lock down the futo. The knot it harder, as kicking my leg to squirm away from the prod only tightens it. Keep eeling and I won’t zap you. I glare up at him, whimpering, trying to focus. Good girl, good girl. As I finally get my leg free.

There is more biting now, and growling, and screaming as he goes for my foot, still bruised today as I write this. Whenever I slow down, he grabs the prod again, keep eeling. I’m trying! You’re not Helping! Are my shouts in return. The crowd grows and shrinks. The DM stops by a couple more times. We stop a couple times, to remove hair from my mouth, long enough to choke me. Once as I cough and gasp, he waits until I nod before zapping me back into action.

Good girl answers my small victories. A little more free and I start grabbing the prod. This only gets me zapped more. Let go, keep eeling, or I’ll keep zapping. Whimpering, as I try to ignore the prod reaching for sensitive areas, I writhe around the mat. Look, I’m eeling, I’m eeling. I glare at him. You’re not helping! He laughs and pokes, and bites, and prods some more. Good girl. You’re almost done.

I glare at the rope that is left, two wrist cuffs, not the horrible ones, but the ropes leading to them are all gnarled masses. Your stupid cuffs, I grumble at him, and he just laughs, holding me now. Biting my shoulders as I struggle with the last two knots. And done, there are some cheers and clapping.

I collapse back against him, a pile of rope in front of us. Good girl, he murmers one last time, holding me as we both relax. I have no idea how long it has taken, it doesn’t matter, I did not give up. Such a good scene. Our friend who bought the cattleprod gets snarky glares from me the whole rest of the weekend.

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A Good Start to the Year

January 6th, 2015

I keep wanting to write about last week, but I am not sure where to start, or where to stop, or what to say. I had a wonderful New Year’s Eve, playing Starfarers of Catan with occasional distractions, and then snuggling for warmth, and getting my New Year’s kiss from him, and nibbles from another.

I spent New Year’s Day playing “dress the monkey” with money my mother sent for interview clothes. I did not succeed in getting the skirt I intended to, but it’s still on the list. And he decided we’re going to another rope con later this month, so that’ll be fun!

I had a great time at Fet Night. Got shoulder bites from the bitey one, who I don’t think I’ve ever named on here. And much snuggling, light touches, back rubbing, hair grabbing, air blowing, and nibbles. They weren’t sure which was more entertaining, the noises I made, or my squirming. The people peeking in didn’t seem all that interested in three people still wearing all their clothes, though. Too bad for them.

He and I were going to work with the knots we have been practicing, but time got away from us. He ended up beating me with the devil pop instead. Hands tight around the window frame of the electric cubby, and nose tight against a penny. Don’t drop it, or I won’t play with you for a month. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. But I didn’t drop it, until he said. Okay, this time two months. But I didn’t drop it! I know. ShitfuckshitOWfuckfuckfuck. And I didn’t, again. You know I would have followed through. I know, and two cons within that time, it would have SUCKED!

This coming weekend I have completely free, then geek con, rope con, week off, kink con. Ah, welcome to convention season.

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Primal Futo

December 4th, 2014

This week’s class was on primal play. I’ve only done a small amount of this, but it is interesting to me. The presenter, the instigator, was entertaining as always. People talked about walking barefoot in the woods, about losing control, about the dangers of the beast within us. A very enjoyable class overall.

After, there were so many people in the room. He and I just stood their, practicing one knot over and over in the center of the room. But then there was futo confusion, so we settled down for a teaching/practicing moment. Figuring on evening out the pain, I gave him the opposite leg from last week. The other bottom being tied was just as confused as me by the pain. Yes, I said, it hurts on the inside, but it’ll hurt on the outside once you go up, don’t worry. I lay and relaxed into the rope and he tossed my leg back and forth. Then he sent me crawling for the lift gear. I brought it back to the point, and we rigged up.

Up in the air, fuck the pain, and why the hell does my jaw hurt? Ugh! Tense neck and shoulders, focus, cradle my head. You okay? Yeah, just, ugh, hate upside down. But the tie is working well, I entwine my free leg and try to relax. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back. Better? NO! Lets it drop, he pulls my shirt down over my face, and I settle into the darkness and pain. Fearful that he’s getting the dragontail, but settling deep.

Thud! Fuck! What the hell. A few more hard strikes, and I flail about freeing my vision to see he has the rhino cock. Fuck. My hip hurts without support, so he arches me back and ties my wrist to my ankle to give it some tension. Now my wrist And my hip hurt, but it’s better, as I twist my leg, settling my foot against my ass.

Spinning slightly as he takes aim for more strikes. I shove my free arm into my mouth to muffle the screams. And then I lose it, climbing right up and grabbing the ropes above me, growling and glaring out at him like a trapped cat while he laughs. He strikes again, and I’m kicking out and getting more tangled in the ropes. Fighting, but helpless.

He keeps hitting and I keep lashing out and arching and flailing and kicking. The subby part of my brain is confused by my fight response, but for the rest of me it feels right this night. More strikes and I curse and growl and glare, biting my arm to keep the noise low. As he circles and strikes. Settling into the pain, one hand on the ground for balance, as I try to keep my circle ahead of his.

Finally my body is angry, my hip is screaming louder than me and my back is pissed off from the torquing. I slump down, calling out for him. I’m done, back pain is bad. And he unties the lift line and slides me down. Down and grinning and happy. He unties quickly, and I flatten out, wincing. My foot got more numb this time, though the ankle was tied more loosely. So that’s how we turn me primal, string me up in a futo and beat me. He laughs and shares with the room. He drops the rope onto my chest and heads off to the other suspension in progress.

I cover my face with it for a moment and then sit up, bury my face in the hemp again, breathing deeply. I hear comments about it, and him explaining the true hemp smell of his rope. I don’t care, it’s mine right now, this moment.

Aware again, I start to sort out the strands, but I can’t my hands are still shaking. I stop and  dig them into the pile in my lap. Clench tightly to keep from shaking, I close my eyes and breathe. I can feel the tears at the edges, but he is busy and the room is full of strangers, so I hold on, breathe, feel the rope, enjoy the flow of energy returning to ground.

Finally back to calm, I sort the strands, and tie them up. Beautiful ligature marks on my legs, bruises forming on my ass and hips. I go to him and snuggle in against his chest. Thank you. Such a good scene.

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