Pack a bag, put in at least four hanks of rope and three toys you want to play with tonight.
I picked the toy bag without the shoulder strap because it was easier to empty out and refill than the full rope bag. It was not easier to carry down to the dungeon, but in the end, I got a ride back to the tent.
I pulled five hanks of rope, just to be sure. The suspension ring, but not the strap, and a handful of carabiners. The leather mop floggers, the rubber mop floggers, one of the wide-strip leather warm-up floggers, the big deer skin flogger, and the donkey dong. I was looking for a good heavy thud scene and knew he could add sting as he liked with anything he has.
We circled the dungeon and its unfamiliar furniture. Wanting the good lighting for suspension work. We settled on one of the low beams. Stripping naked in the cool night air. Realized we didn’t have the strap for the ring, and set to work anyway, it was a big low for that, anyway.
Chest wraps and up to the beam. try it out, feels secure. Then to the waist and thighs. A harness not was familiar to me. Felt like my thighs were being sewn together. He wants to go sideways, and this will spread out the weight more evenly.
First try – so much pain. The weight is all on one set of ropes on one thigh. The chest wrap has slid up into the armpit. Down and adjust. Retie the lower hanger in the opposite order. Thigh to hip instead of hip to thigh. This works so much better. We can even out the lower body. Especially when he ties up my lower ankle, leveling out the entire lower body. The chest wrap is still not quite right, still cutting off blood flow and painful. But we got it half figured out and comfortable.
Back on my feet. No flogging while suspended, but the height of that might have made it tricky anyway. Wrists tied to the beam instead, and then through the sides and down to ankles. Spread wide, but not immobile. Plenty of slack for reacting and moving to the beats. I wish there could have been a photo, I felt sexy, but I think his red band kept the photographer away.
I lose time here, as always when impact is involved. Gentler at first, warm up the skin, get the head out of rope and into impact. Cold chill of wind with each flogger swing. Bobbing to the beat of the speakers right beside us. Grunts of pain as the hits grow harder. Ducking beneath the beam, holding tight. Sinking into the hits. Occasional screams, hard breathing, losing myself in his rhythm. Leather and skin and pain and soft touches that send the chills just as hard. The loud thwack of the deer skin. The heavy thud of the dong. The tight pull of the rope. The sting of the rubber mops. The growing scream from my throat that turns into growls and gasping breaths.
Until I’m toasted. High on endorphins. Barely conscious of my body. Breathing and floating, and the ropes are being untied. And I cling to him as I settle back down to earth. We clean up, and I redress.
We head to the fire where I sit between his feet. Staring at the flames while he strokes my hair. I lean against his knee, absorbing warmth and drifting in a love-filled haze. He talks to people, I see some of them, but mostly I just float my way slowly back into myself, basking for as long as I can in him and us and the firelight.
