Rope, Beatings, and Service

February 10th, 2017

I had a really nice time at WW last weekend. I got to hang out with many members of my chosen family, and one even offered me a bed, so I didn’t have to drive home in the middle of the nights. It was fun to hang out and snuggle and go to classes together.  I even got to do some rope with him when we went to afternoon classes, including one very intense, randomly generated groundwork tie.

I had two scenes over the weekend, one each night. One a reprise of a last year’s scene with an old friend. This time with more pressure points than body drumming, but a good mix of both. He pulled much writhing and many squeals of pleasureful pain out of me with pushing his nails into points on my calves and thighs.

The other, with him, our usual, extremely enjoyable flogging, beating, whipping mixture. Pounding my back to the beat of the music. Spinning me round for whip kisses while he looks into my eyes. And a good few hard shots with a leather cock to lay some nice defined bruising on my thighs. I even asked for a light dragon tail tip cool down to settle me back to earth, since there wasn’t enough room for the full whip. Then we went to the rope room to sit and chill while I rested my head on his thigh and he occasionally stroked my hair. We saw many beautiful rope scenes while we relaxed together.

There was also service throughout the weekend. Fetching drinks and chocolate, monitoring his space when he flogged others, helping with tools and clean-up, watching his bags when needed. I also did a little bootblacking for the friend who scened with me. He had shiny boots, so I actually got to use polish on real leather boots that weren’t my own.

One of the classes I went to in the morning, before he arrived, was on Service, given by Mollena. It was a really fun, engaging, and educational class. She spoke not only about giving service gracefully, but receiving it gracefully, as well. She talked about how service is part of a power Exchange – heavy emphasis on the exchange. If you, as a service giver, are not getting anything from the one receiving service, then it is not an Exchange. There are many ways to create this exchange, and it’s important to figure out what you need, not just what you can give.

Sometimes what you are getting is the attention of the person you are serving. She gave a great in-class example. She asked someone in the back for a glass of water, and while they got it, she went on talking. When the woman handed her the water. She then looked right at her and asked for another, and then paid full attention to the woman the entire time she went and came back with the glass of water. Holding her with her eyes when the woman gave her the water and as she thanked her for it. The entire class felt the difference.

She also talked about being your True Self. How some of her early service relationships/trainers had her providing service that she was unfit for or uninterested in providing. She told some really horrible stories about the results of that service. She advocates for deciding for yourself what service you have to offer, and finding the person who wishes to receive that service. Being a slave, she told us, isn’t about becoming what someone else wants you to be, but about being yourself and connecting with those whose needs match what you can offer them.

Let’s not forget the Prime Directive either, which I have talked about here in other words: “It is the primary responsibility of the slave to protect the master’s property at all times, up to and including protecting the property from their master.” This is not only about speaking up for yourself, and making sure that you are being taken care of, but it is also about self care. That is one thing I struggle with every day.

It was an excellent class, and I still have more processing to do on it.

All in all, it was a very good weekend.

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“You Are Loved and Desired”

November 24th, 2016

He does a very good job of making me feel loved. When he sent me the above message today, I nearly cried. But let’s be honest, I cry so very easily, especially in stressful times. He always makes me feel loved and appreciated. Desired, however, is a harder one. Do I know that he enjoys playing with me? Yes. Do I know he enjoys my company? Yes. Do I know he enjoys both my suffering and my service? Yes. Do I often feel desired by him? No?

Desired is a loaded word, for me, I guess.  English Oxford Living Dictionary defines it as: 1) A strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen, 2) strong sexual feeling or appetite. My overthinking, self-judgmental brain tends to focus on the latter of these definitions, and as he and I have a “non-romantic/sexual” relationship, desire is not a word I often use for his feelings for me. I desire him in this way, always have, always will, but I put it on hold and keep it at bay, to keep expectations managed and balanced. Over the years, it has wobbled up and down, depending on what’s going on, and his testing various waters. But it tends to return to this balance.

Today, he sent me that message. Tonight, after his initial plans were dashed by unexpected class set-up, he got me aside for a flogging.

Leather mop warm-ups. Good and steady, get me bobbing and swaying, into the zone. Eyes closed, just feeling it, and him. Fingertips make me shiver. Then off to get the big deer flogger, gods, I’ve missed that. But solid thumps. Heavy sounding thwacks. Pounding me into the wall. Knocking groans out of my chest. Then snaps. Sting. Not the whip, not the tips, heavier. Squeals of pain. I have a vague notion, but it’s not until he lays it over my arms in front of me that I’m sure it’s the dragon tail. A few more heavy hits, and then the deer flogger is over my arms, as well.

He bring up the rubber mops. Ready for this? It’s been a long time. Too long. Let’s find out. Surprisingly, I am. They feel good, heavy, solid. Slamming out more groans, eyes squeezed shut makes balance occasionally hard, but keeps me deep. Tipping Florentine brings out more squeals, then heavy, deep double blows, rock me into the wall. He counts me up to orgasm a few times. Thank you, Sir! Do you feel desired? He asks between them. Yes, Sir. And we go right back into it. I last a lot longer than I expect to, though we both know our old endurance challenge is probably a bad idea. It feels so good, slamming my back, pulling out screams with the tips, groaning with the big hits. I know he lifted me by the hair at one point, but I can’t even place where that was. Finger tips on hot flesh send me gasping. He spanks me to another counted orgasm as we finish up. Kisses and hugs and thank you. He grabs my back a few more times in the evening, even another counted orgasm before we’re through. A very nice Thanksgiving night.

That’s what desire means for us, between us. A different kind of energy – the smack of flogger on flesh, the screams and groans, the rocking and tapping and swinging. The pushing back and forth of our energy. The gleam in his eye as a crumple against the wall, squealing at the lash. The grin on his face when I pop back up and present my back again, and again. The one, two, three…. Thank you, Sir. The touch of fingertips on burning skin, and the rough grab and squeeze to get one more squeal.

I forget that sometimes, when I let my brain run on. It is still very programmed with societal norms. There are things I still want to find in my life, to add to my life. But I am extremely lucky and blessed by what I do have. A partner who loves, appreciates, and yes, desires me, in our own special way.

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Scened All Night

February 8th, 2016

It started in the social area. Friends with a stun baton. She’s negotiating, afraid. Wants to see someone else be hit with it first. He of course, volunteers me. Zapping my leg, making me scream and squirm away, and scream some more. Her face in shock. His eyes light up.

Grab it. He holds it out. Grab it. Tears streaming down my face in an instant. Hand making grabby motions six inches above it. Grab it. Crying harder, more grabby motions. 3. Put your hand around it. 2. Do I need to give it back to him? 1. Grab it. More grabby motions and crying. Counting doesn’t overcome my fear, that’s not wired into me strongly enough. That Voice: Are you going to grab it or should I give it back to him. I look at his eyes, crestfallen. That’ll do it. Should I give it back to him. no… I couple more breaths and I wrap my fingers around it. Keeping my thumb on top, so I don’t get stuck clenching it.

Now, he says, turning to her. You have to push the button. I’m still twitching, and she’s shaking her head. You have to push the button, or I’ll hold it down much longer. I can’t, she says, I don’t hurt people. You got her into this, you have to push it. Do you want me to hold it down, I’ll do it much longer than you. I didn’t mean for it to be her, she looks terrified. Maybe you should ask her if it’s okay. She does, I tell her yes. If you don’t press it, I’ll hold it down for at least three seconds. Okay, she agrees, but she’s still twitching almost as much as me. Do it, come on, press the button.

She does, and I scream, and jerk my hand away, shaking it rapidly. She covers her face, aghast at what she has done. He pulls me against his chest in a tight hug. You okay? Yeah. I squeeze him tight. I shake my hand a bit more. Hey, it’s okay, it really is, I tell her. And now it’s her turn to play with her partner at it.

This gets his energy up and we go get dressed and bring the toybag up from our room.

What are you up for? I asked you to beat the stress out of me. Okay.

He grabs me from kneeling and pulls me over his lap and starts pounding on my upper back. Still chatting with those around us. Drumming with his hands. Punching the persistent knots. Knocking the breath out of me more than once. By the time he’s done, I am more than warmed up. Grinning up at him. Alright, now we’re ready to go.

We head to the dungeon, looking for a good piece of furniture. He sends me to the other one, to find the ladder he likes. I find the wrong one, in the right spot and wait. The right one is being used. I stretch and bounce, and he arrives with his other scene. I set out the floggers while they prepare, then kneel to watch and guard for unwary walkers. They have a good scene together, and I clean up while he escorts her back to her partner.

My Turn.

He starts with the soft pair. Thumps and rhythm, florentine. It feels good, rewarming my back. I bob my head to the music, but its strange in this space. We up to the next set of floggers, heavier. Still trying to bob to the beat, but he seems to be hitting on the up while I nod on the down. I sync up with him, groans of happy when he slams down hard. Florentine is sharper now, leading to louder moans. Floggers pounding me into the ladder.

Next pair, some long rubber ones. Sharp and stingy, have me screaming quickly. Writhing on the ladder. Squirming and dropping with screams of pain. He switches up again, to the thinner ones, he can make good thumps with these, but the florentine is so stingy I am screaming again. And too quickly, my back is bleeding, a small scab pulled off by the tips. He bandaids it and notices my bare ass, neither of us ready to be done.

Grabs up a Malaprop multi-layered stick. Strikes having me screaming and dropping, and standing up again. Double thumper, less stingy, but still pulls screams. Hold onto the ladder, don’t let go. Then he finds the devil pop, and lays about my ass and thighs, leaving its very distinctive marks with every scream. Next he pulls out a paddle, Five. Okay. Tap, tap, tap, tap, SMACK. Screaming and dropping, he motions me back up. Tap, tap, tap, tap, SMACK, scream, SMACK! Scream, tap, tap, SMACK, SMACK! He giggles as he digs for another toy.

Dragon tail! His grin is as wide as my rueful smile, as I face him, and hold on to the ladder. Snapping and screaming and twisting, and dropping. He motions me up every time I fall. My hands tight on the ladder instead of grabbing the places he hits, pulling myself up. Legs coming up protectively instead, and he just snaps them, too. Breasts and thighs and hips, and a few right down the middle. How’s my aim? Very good, Sir. Every snap pulling a scream or a squeal. Alright, turn around. Ass, and shoulders, and back and thighs. Snapping and cracking and screaming and squirming.

And then he is standing by my side, happy and hot. I lean over and kiss him. I love you. I love you, too. I reach for him and kiss him again. Thank you. He smiles, all bouncy and happy, and I clean up our toys.

We head back to the social area, find friends to sit with. He pokes around in his bag showing off some toys. Then comes up with the Irish 8s. Snaps them on my wrists as I smile. Oh, how I’ve missed these. A bit more chatting and he digs around some more. Comes up with the gas mask, shows it off a bit, and then onto my head it goes. Shows how it works. Then grabs some ear plugs, plops them in my ears. Then ties a blindfold around the eyes of the mask. Can you see? Only the lights if I look at the ceiling. He chats, and I can hear his voice clearly, but not the other ones around me, he is the only one right in front of me. Occasionally cutting off my airflow. Tightening the mask when it gaps. I have to keep my head down or the chin gaps when I breathe. So tight on my forehead. Chatting and playing with my air. Waiting til I just start to panic to let me breathe. The cuffs keep me mindful and I don’t reach up to stop him. Occasionally, though, I rub my forehead.

It gets late, and he asks if I’m done. Yes. He pulls off the blindfold, out the earplugs, and off the mask. I rub my forehead and work my jaw back into place. Take the bag back to the room, and bring the keys back with you. I stand and he pulls my dress down for me, and I set off. Halfway back to the room, my dress is back around my waist. Silly shiny thing. I get some compliments from a few in the hall. Thanks, I call back. Drop the bag, grab the keys, I can’t get the cuffs off to put on a robe, so I just throw it over my shoulders and head back, keys and robe edges in my hands in front of me.

I get back to where he was, but he’s gone. I head down to Cookies and Cocoa, but he’s not there, either. So, I head back to wait for him. Realizing he’s outside, in the cold, with the smoke. I wait for a while, listening to the muffled chatter and laughter. I can hear him. Eventually I get bored, and head back down for chocolate. He arrives a bit later, and I get him cocoa, only spilling a bit of water with my cuffed hands. We hang out and chat some, until we’re ready to go.

He grabs me by the hair, dragging me up onto tiptoe, pulling me down the hall beside him. Mouth open, moaning with pleasure. 1. 2. 3. Orgasm. Thank you, sir. He drags me up the stairs, through the halls, down the stairs and through another hall to our room. Groaning and squealing with pleasure and pain at the tightness of his grip as he pulls me along by the hair. Pushing me into the room. I gasp and shake for a moment, before he removes the handcuffs and we head to bed.

Amazing night full of pleasure and pain and love.

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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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Two Hours of Bliss

September 17th, 2014

Getting ready for the party. She wants a long slow burn. Do we want beat together or separately? Together seems like a better chance of a longer scene, trading off. We go in search of furniture, but end up in an alcove, against a wall, side by side.

That wall becomes my friend, my anchor, my focus.

He has 8 new wooden toys, plus all his floggers, and the cocks, and the dragontail, and the stun gun. He uses them All.

We start with floggers, warming up the skin, sinking into our heads and our bodies. I am nodding, hands searching the wall for purchase, for best position, shoulders tense and tired. We find our stride, slow and steady.

He comes forward, pulls our shirts off our shoulders, for a better view. There is more moaning and screaming now as floggers hit bare skin. Arms trapped, my hands now have a place, forehead sometimes against the wall. Heels tapping and body rocking and head nodding with the strikes.

Skirts pulled down next, revealing asses for the new paddles. Screams and jumping, twisting, but keep facing the wall. Falling deeper inside now, there is some growling and more stomping.

He pulls giant rubberbands down our bodies and around our asses. Oh, the screaming and swearing, whimpering and arching. Stop turning! Am not trying to turn, am bracing against the pull, but I don’t argue. He is giggling so much.

Put in the corner, marinating, breathing, sinking, floating. And he is back.

Toys keep switching, turn around, time for thighs and breasts. The joy and huge smile on his face is excellent. I grin right back, she is sobbing. I freak out a bit at heavy breast hits, hard to kept my hands down. Wall sits. What? She shows, okay. Beating thighs. So good.

Zap. Zappity, zap. The stun gun makes me twitch, a lot. The horrible noise of death. Even him zapping her, I am whimpering and twitching. Choice time, stun gun or dragontail. She takes stun gun. I take the tail. Her first, I cringe and twitch in the corner, and then leaves her holding it. So many kisses of the tail. Nope, no blood. The shirt is slipping, so I let it drop. Oh really? He snaps my hip. Fuck you! What? Sir… many more snaps and much screaming.

Turns us into the corners. I am so high! The texture of the wall is super interesting, feels so good on my fingertips. This is how people describe ecstasy. My whole body is humming. And we are not done. Skirt is completely gone, when I did that happen? Before the shirt fell, I think.

Paddles, floggers, and whips, oh my! Up and down we go. Filling the space with screaming and pain and giggles and tears. Floating and shaking and now, I cannot see the texture of the wall. My eyes and words don’t work.

We just keep going. Sticks and cocks and paddles and popper and floggers and dragontail. Oh, his nails and hands feel so good on raw flesh. So deep in my body, gone from my mind. The wall is so comfy and nice to lean on.

How am I going to blog this, with pictures of all the toys? And now I am giggling again. Or a running description of the wall? Hey, look, I can see the wall again.

She is screaming and crying, and I am giggling. We are facing him again. He snaps the rubberband on my thighs. She is begging no. Knees. We don’t get it. On Your Knees. We both drop. Come here. We each curl up on an arm as we come down. I am feeling great. Happy pool of goo, covered in pretty red and purple. 

 

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Rubber Floggers and a Dragontail

July 18th, 2013

Had a great night last night. There was some passing around of the stun gun because one of the girls wanted it, but didn’t want to do it to herself. Had my shoulders rubbed and some snuggles from a friend. Then was the demo bottom for him and his girl, while my boyfriend took random shots to show them what to do. He, of course, was using the rubber floggers to pound into me. It was the girl’s first time flogging, but she was gaining accuracy by the end. The guy is already pretty accurate, but my small back was a challenge. Then my boyfriend decided to six-count with the rubbers, and I shrunk away, grumbling that he can’t do that when I’m not allowed to scream. He let them go back to practicing until they were both tired out.

There was some chatting and he asked me how my back was. I said it was alright, and he asked if I wanted some more. I said sure, he said he wasn’t going to be nice, and I asked if he had a gag in the tubs. He came back with a Japanese washcloth which he knotted up and a leather strap to hold it in place. I choked a bit and he backed off one knot then strapped me in. I slowed my breathing, bit in and confirmed I could spit it out when I needed to.

Then up on the wall, and out came the rubber floggers again, well, off my arms, really, because he had me holding them from earlier that night (don’t let them fall). He was having a lot of fun with the tips last night. I screamed and swore into the gag, pounding the wall, stomping my feet, spinning in circles to see his grinning face and shining eyes, and dropping to the ground. Always to climb back up and put my face back to the wall. Well, almost always, once, I turned and had him hit my breasts for a few strikes, just to give my back a break. Tears fell, I ran headlong into pain space and there was some growling, and breathing. Sometimes I’d end up on the ground and he’d just keep swinging. I’d try to keep my back to him until I could get up again. Eventually, he told me to stop turning around and I curled up on one foot, the other against my chest, and breathed through the pain, til he tipped me something fierce and I started stomping my feet again.

I choked on the gag a few times, collapsing to my knee and spitting it out to catch my breath. I didn’t have any panic moments this time, only some choking. Crying and breathing on the ground, he asked my if I was done, I said no, and stood up again, and he got out the dragontail.

I turned to face him, eyes wide, hands behind my back. Oh really? I nodded, my back was so tender already. He took about five or six shots at my breasts before he really nailed a nipple and I screamed and turned around again. He was stuck on tips, still. Getting the super sting of just the tip. I screamed and cried, jumped and pounded, collapsed and bounced back up. He found a new favorite, super painful spot – hitting as close to the armpit as you possibly can from the back. Fucking hell, that hurts! A few stray snaps to the ass, the arms, the calves, the thighs and shins, as I spun dropped and danced around to the strikes.

I collapsed to a little sitting ball, and he tapped my forehead and I rolled back flat to the ground. He snapped my thighs a few times, whipping my skirt up higher and higher. I hardly responded. You done? I nodded and grabbed his ankle for physical contact while I lay there, just breathing and floating. He pulled my skirt down a bit and let me relax for a minute or two. When I let go, he picked up the stun gun, and I suddenly felt stabby metal bits in my legs. I writhed and squirmed, pushing it away time after time, until he pinned me a bit more and zapped me a few times while I screamed into the gag. I covered myself back up this time, relaxed for a few minutes until I started choking on the gag again. Somehow, I’d maintained a hold of on of the rubber sets of floggers this whole time, so I sat up cradling them. You alright? Yes. Happy grinning floating the whole rest of the night. Back all beautifully marked and tingly still today.

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Release & Creativity

March 29th, 2012

He flogged me to tears last night. The kind of tears that don’t stop when the floggers do. He pushed me hard and fast. Against the wall, into the wall, and through to release. My arms hurt from holding my palms to the brick, my back stung from his strikes. I fought the urge to fall – he would stop. I fought the urge to give in – I wasn’t there yet. I took strength from the wall against my palms, my chest, my forehead. Cool and solid. I screamed, I groaned, I swore and then I cried. He pulled me off the wall and squeezed me tight. Not quite done, he tossed me into toy’s lap to finish. So much better afterward. I giggled as a silly song came on, and sat back up. A chunk of pent up stress removed from my body by his floggers. So grateful.

I’m going to a house party this weekend. It feels like it’s been ages since I last did that. This will be different though. Going alone, not going to play with anyone. Though I might wear my straightjacket for a while. I thought I might figure out someone to play with, or at least someone to tie me up and let me go. But I think that if I still want that, the straightjacket will suffice. Last night really did help quite a bit.

The reason I’m actually going to the party instead of the club is MDQ. It’s the dungeon for the next issue of Modern Dungeon Quarterly. I’ll be interviewing the owner, and taking lots of pictures beforehand. Then getting to see first hand how much folks enjoy the dungeon. Might even take a few quotes from the guests. I can see it now, voice recorder in the crook of one restrained elbow, business cards in the other. You might have to tune in over at MDQ next week to find out how that goes.

Publishing the magazine has really got me motivated to write and publish more. I’m thinking of making up little ebooks of erotica. Using the stories I’ve posted here (what’s Your favorite?), as well as creating new ones for each ebook. Themed and all. After all, an erotic blogger from the UK has fast become the most wanted author here in the Midwest and got picked up by Random House. If only I were that good at social networking. 😉 Anyone have tips?

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Round Two

March 22nd, 2012

“Now for what I want.”

“Yes, Sir.” She gripped the cross legs behind her thighs and grinned back at him.

Crack Snap Crack.

He landed a hit on each nipple and a teasing mid-air snap in front of her nose. She squealed and tensed trying to remain perfectly still. Clenching her hands on the boards lest she reflexively cover herself.

Crack Crack.

Crack Crack.

She let out her breath in a scream when he finished, barely able to keep her hands down, as he laid two lines across each breast. Bright red kisses pointing to her nipples. Mumbling curses as she caught her breath, gazing up at his giddiness.

Crack.

She howled and bounced on one leg as he caught her thigh.

Crack.

He stopped her bouncing with a strike to the other leg.

She gasped and half-glared, half-grinned up at him.

Then she saw the light bulb and he turned to get a different toy.

“Close your eyes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her breath quickened as she strained to hear a hint of what he was getting. She could tell where he was, but there were so many toys there, and he was being careful.

She felt him return, closer than before, and he wasted no time.

Thwap!

She yelped as rubber floggers slammed down on her breasts.

Thwap. Thwap.

She groaned into the hits, keeping her eyes closed and her chin up to avoid the falls.

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap!

Left. Right. Both. She gasped and moaned at the hits.

The he picked up a beat. And the rocked together. Single hits per beat. Double. And then triple. Six-count to the beat of the music. She started with a groan, building into a moan and ending with a scream.

He pulled back down. Double and then single hits per beat. Quarter notes on her chest. Pounding out gasps and moans.

“Can… I… Open… My… Eyes… Sir?” She managed between gasps.

His response was to pick up speed again until she screamed and tried to collapse, but there was nowhere to go. Pausing for a moment, he answered.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She managed through ragged gasps, and she opened her eyes to see his glowing face before her. Tears filling her eyes, but her smile matching his.

He returned to simple beats, staring into her eyes now. They moved together, breathed together, energy flowing free and joyful between them.

A new song came on, and he picked up the pace. Not too fast, but fast enough to send her humming into space.

Thwap gasp. Thwap moan. Thwap gasp. Thwap moan.

Into six count, her head fell back, eyes closed, hardly remembering to breathe in as it all came out in a long, moaning growl, fingers digging into the wooden cross.

Thwap!

A downbeat to end the song and she nearly falls, but he is there, hand in her hair, holding her up, kissing her.

“Good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulls her off the cross and against his chest.

“I love you, Sir.” She wraps her arms around him.

“I love you, too.” He kisses her forehead and leads her off to blankets and cuddles.

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Wonderful Night

March 8th, 2012

I may want tears tonight.

I smiled back at him, warmth filling me at the thought. I’d been aching for that, and we were both finally in a place where it would be healthy to go there. His boots needed attention, too. Having just gotten the soles replaced on both pairs. I hadn’t blacked the steel toed ones in a while. It was going to be a good night.

Arrive, hugs and snuggles. His boot toes are certainly dirty. The puppy is too rambunctious though, we head downstairs. My kit in hand, he sets up a chair in the back corner in a decent pool of light. Down onto the cold cement I go, think skirt barely any protection. Set out the kit, go get water. He gets distracted by a self-suspension and goes to offer advice and assistance. I wait patiently, preparing myself to serve him.

He returns and we roll up his pant legs. I unlace his boots, draping the waxed strings over my neck, bight towards the respective boot. Lather created while I waited, I head for the right boot, pulling it up onto my thigh. Snip a few strings. Saddle soap, brush, toothbrush and fingers, working into the soft leather. Switch. Left boot on right thigh. It feels good to have them in my hands again. Clean it up and snip a more strings. Switch. I have to sit at this point. Bare feet on cement with the added weight of his leg is doing no good for my feet. Black gold for the shine. Fingertips working every inch. The class has started behind me at some point, I’m listening, but the boots hold my focus. Switch. More black gold and work into the leather. China marker and I bring out the sole lacing, bright white beneath the gleaming black leather. Quick run with a cloth and done. Pack up and sit to his right. Arms around his leg, head on his knee for the rest of class. The engineer girlfriend on his left. He pets and strokes, and squeezes our shoulder knots as we listen and talk about violet wands.

Class over, I am responsible for a few minutes, organizing for the weekend. He warms up on the wall and then smiles over at me. Ready to go? Yes. I put aside my phone and glasses, toss my shirt to the floor below them and walk to the cross. Taking off my bra, I drop it against the wall and hug the beams.

He starts off with the short, soft ones, but they still sting a little with the power he uses. The music isn’t playing yet, he’s got mp3s playing in his ears, but I don’t know what song. I close my eyes and concentrate on the strikes. Catching his rhythm, I bob my head with the hits. The room is full of conversation, but I focus in on us. On the cross, on the floggers, the energy between us. The leather feels so good on my back. His hands beat into the muscles, fingers drag over the heated skin.

He rides the waves of the music in his ears. The strikes come harder and faster, bringing moans then screams. I bounce and stamp, my heel begins to tap with the beat. I am grateful for the mobility of the cross. I shake it and pull on it. We ride the wave back down. His hand in my hair, he pulls me off the cross and down to my knees. My hands on my thighs, I breathe and wait.

He pulls me up again. Stingy floggers, and I scream. Jumping and bobbing and writing against the cross. Falling deep into space. Growling with determination. I can feel the attention some of my screaming is drawing. I smirk, but it is swallowed by another scream. He pauses whenever I jump around. Waiting for me to come back to him. I hear the engineer beating the wall beside me. I know it is her, though I don’t look. Her strikes familiar. I feel his hands again, sending shivers through my body.

Now there are mop floggers. More solid hits. Hard, throbbing against the cross. I hear music, but it isn’t what he’s listening to, so it doesn’t matter. The mops beat into me and he goes faster. Six count and my head can’t keep up, it starts rolling as the flogs roll over my back. The scream builds low in my belly until it bursts free.

His hand in my hair, pulling me up. Your skin is breaking, we’re going to have to stop soon. How are you? I can only smile. I think I manage Good. Do I need to put you in the corner? I nod. He puts me back down. I nearly cry. My body betrays me.

He strikes again and I jump. Oh, we’re starting again, he grins. I nod and he hits. Hard and stingy. I scream and writhe. I hear the engineer beside me, singing. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abuse. I smile through my screams. Her voice a perfect compliment to the end of our scene. My head bobbing with the song as I scream and shake the cross. I hit my knee once and bounce quickly back up. I hear him start to count with his strikes. 1. Scream. 2. Scream. 3. I drop, but not to my knees, hanging from the cross momentarily in orgasmic release. I pull myself back up. And he finishes off with a few more strikes.

Then his hand is in my hair again, pulling me away from the cross. Around other people and then forcing me down to my knees sheltered by some spanking benches. Head down, eyes tightly closed, hands out. I’m too deep in space to be touched. I can hear everything around me, but it doesn’t matter. The energy is all I care about. The floating, happy, gasping, shaking wonderfulness inside me.

Slowly, I float back down into my body. The sounds around me start to invade. I hear him start in on the engineer. The people beside me talking about blow jobs. Noise and cold air. I’m not ready yet. I ignore it for a little longer, my eyes still heavy.

I’m numb from the knee down before I’m ready to open my eyes. I look around. Who are these people next to me? I still don’t know. He flips a flogger out of his grip and we smile. But I’m awake now, time to move. I don’t want to continue listening to the conversation beside me. I drag myself up onto unfeeling feet and make my way to my things. Glasses on, shirt wrapped around me, text messages checked.

I head over to the bishop’s chair to perch and watch the rest of their scene. She stands still. I am amazed and a little confused. Her happy place, she’ll later explain. But then she starts reacting. Screaming and curling up against the cross. He grins with glee, and goes after sharper toys, even the dragon tail, though he only slaps with it, doesn’t snap. She curses and screams until he is done. Then he wraps her up against his chest.

A few minutes and then calls me over to join them. Snuggling together by the cross, until we’re ready to move. I scoop up my bra and we head upstairs. The couch is taken, but he heads for the big chair and we sit at his feet again, heads on his knees. After awhile the couch is free and we pile on in. Snuggled against his chest and shoulders, arms and legs entwined. Relaxing together until it is time to go.

My shoulders are wet and tacky, a layer of skin is gone, but they only sting a bit, not hurt. The next day they’ll be cold. A new and confusing sensation. Hers are quite tender and it makes me want to poke them when I hug her good night. We head our separate ways with hugs and kisses. It has been a wonderful night for us all.

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Preparation & Gratitude Day 12

January 12th, 2012

This week I am preparing for two things. First, DeConpression. The adult relaxicon being held this weekend. I am part of the group that will be providing the alcohol and hosting the Saturday night party. The stage crew is also putting on some panels at the con. So, I’ve been helping get things a little bit organized for both groups, as well as getting myself ready to go. Tonight is load in, and tomorrow we set up and then have a good weekend.

The second thing is the inaugural issue of Modern Dungeon Quarterly. He put the idea in my head many weeks ago, and over the past month it has taken root and blossomed. I have mapped out the different sections of the magazine, found a POD vendor, bought the webdomain, set up a twitter account, lined up a photographer, and have at least one friend willing to edit with me.

The last two weeks have been spent writing the articles for the first issue. A featured dungeon, and the creator of its furniture, a featured furniture piece, an article on soundproofing, one on first aid kits, another on lighting, one on slippery floors and one on floggers. I’m not an expert, but I am a writer. So, I found experts, and discussion groups, and friends and gathered information to write the best articles I can. Last night, my photographer and I took pictures of the featured dungeon to finish out the main content of the first issue.

The next steps are getting the articles edited, populating the website and putting the magazine together. My goal is to have it on Sale by February 1st. I plan to order stock myself for local sales, and have it online for individual purchase, as well.

@PassionandSoul asked if I was going to be accepting outside submissions or writing all the content myself. I have articles planned for the first four issues, but some of that plan involves toy helping me out. I replied that eventually, I’ll be taking outside submissions. I just have to figure out how well things are going and what I can reasonably offer to writers. Writing it all myself is a big job, and I’m sure there are people out there who could really add to this projecct.

I am really excited about this project and as soon as I get my vendor’s license, I’ll be sorting out pre-orders.

I am grateful for:

1) Tight fingers in my hair

2) A lap to lay my head in

3) Sharp knives

4) Leatherman multitools

5) Community

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