I love the drumming at camp. Having no rhythm myself, I still love to move to their beat. Last year I circled the Burn with Him. This year I did not, preferring to sit, but still the drums moved me. But they had another part to play in my Tryst journey, as well, this year.
We discussed our desires and wants for this year, landing on a couple things, depending on timing and opportunity. When our drummer friend brought her drum to the central camp fire, and another friend joined her. He knew what he wanted. Grabbed me and His bag up and over to a nearby low beam, illuminated in the dark night by a nearby spot.
The drumbeat immediately set my head to nodding, my hips to swaying as I settled myself into position. Finding a grip on the beam, setting my feet, as He chose the first set of floggers. Catching the rhythm of the drums, the tails began to fly. Now nodding along to his beats, matching the drums. Sinking into the sensations, the leather against skin, my tight dress hugging my body, but tassels swinging with the song we built together.
Warmed up and dancing together, He switches up to mop floggers. Heavier pounding, Keeping the beam, pulling more sounds from me. Punctuating the beats with moans and gasps. Hard hits pulling groans and the beginning of screams.
Switching again, to the rubber tails. Drumbeats pounding into both of us, and the tails sting my skin. A wrap too high and I shriek and twist, the tears now flowing. Back to the beam, forehead against it now. Focus on the beat, the drumbeat pulls me onward. Gasping for breath, trying to find my grip, hard strikes sending my screams higher. But I stay at the beam, stay in the beat. The song, the dance, it is not done, yet.
His hands on my hot skin, pulling shivers and moans of delight. Checking in as I shake and sob. A break of pure pleasure, before the strikes return. Sending me higher as the drums are reaching their end, screams of pain and release, growls and moans of pleasure. Tears still falling, breath ragged, as his hands return, soothing and stimulating all at once.
Go thank the drummers.
I go and say Thank You to her, but I do not know him and am too far gone to ask. She are happy to contribute to my suffering pleasures.
I return to him, a hug and a kiss, and the floggers are returned to the bag. An experience to remember for life.
