It started with a comment, Z would be coming to the party. An opportunity to play. We hadn’t since February. A holiday again. What could we do? A couple days to marinate and he came back with OTK beatings. Oh, how I do love those. The spark bouncing between us as we negotiated. No sex, we aren’t going there, and it makes the spark that much brighter and bouncy. We don’t talk implements, but general vibe. Manhandling and rolling around in the energy between us. It is decided.
I let Him know, and request poking, service, or rope. I have a volunteer shift late in the night, too. So timing might get tight. Need Him to take care of Himself, as well. We don’t settle on anything specific, He is juggling a few different folks and schedules. But we’ll look for the opportunity.
The night arrives after a few hiccups. The class is entertaining, and I’m now pondering new ideas. Always a good result of learning. But I get ahead of myself. The first opportunity occurred before class even began.
A young friend wanted Him to show off His Hot Shot prod. Wanted to feel it. So, He brought it out while we were chatting. Asked if she wanted to see it in me first. Of course she did. Flailing, He made me choose between a zap and a drag. Zap. A short Scream. Wave at the alarmed newbie fifteen feet away.
She tried it then. A zap and a drag. Then He wanted to zap her fingers, and she was unsure. So, my fingers. Much more flailing and hard breathing as He ordered me to put my hand down. Then ordered me to hold my thumb over the button. The safety was on, but so much flailing and whimpering. And stern glares. Until, eventually, I managed. Him tapping at my fingers, me jumping and twitching as he undid the safety, ordering me to keep my fingers still. A few more swats at my thumb, but still no zap. It doesn’t matter. Terrified.
He offered her the opportunity to press the button. She asked if I wanted her to. No! And so she did not, and he took it away. Then asked again if she wanted to try it. Maybe next time, but she did not feel ready just then. My panic is contagious sometimes.
Back to the timeline. Class and new ideas. Z arrived. Hugs and greetings and playing with his hair. Early evening social connections, and it’s time for our scene. A convenient loveseat right in front, a towel retrieved for cleanliness, and we check in on physical and mental wellbeing. All green and ready to go.
Z has a machete, a croc (oh, the indignity), and the metal tipped flogger from two scenes ago. An interesting assortment to work from, as I lay across his kilted lap in an outfit that covers only the important bits, and has a convenient open space, a window, one might say, on the hip facing him. That will quickly become his favorite spot.
Nails on skin, strong hands. We joke about warming up as he starts in with the sharp floggers, gentle sharpness across open back, and covered ass, and open thighs and hip. Gasps and growls quickly pulled from me, squirming on his lap. Chuckles mixing with squeals. A smack of his hand to double up sensations.
The croc is actually quite nice. A solid thud, slightly different depending on the grip. But mostly it makes us laugh. And is quickly traded for the machete. A nice heavy blade. Stingy on bare flesh, more of a thud over clothes. Arching my back to smooth my shoulders to receive it. Every tool is in how you use it.
And use it he did. Pounding back and ass and thighs. Smacking skin and pulling shrieks and growls from me. Point down into my flesh, a sharp pain made scream-worthy when twisted. And twisted and twisted. Gasps between growls and sharp squeals, trying not to bite the arm of the couch that is my headrest. He drags it across my back, and I writhe, trying to hold still for the blade that it is, fortunately, not sharp, and held firmly.
A hand in my hair, pulling me up, and the blade is now at my throat. Z’s voice in my ear. You want it? Yes. Of course you do. And other whispers about the primal fear, a blade to the throat, as he pulls it across. And I strain to be still, collapsing into growls as he lets me back down.
The flogger returns, but the blade does not leave. Trading and mixing sensations. Writhing, and growling, arching into it and giggling with the glee and sensation of it all. His focus on my hip pulling screams at the intensity of it. Same damn spot, but it’s right there, begging his attention. We joke that I have no where to get away but to sprawl onto the floor, and he would only follow me down.
My body overwhelmed with sensation, I am nearly vibrating. Every touch sending shivers. What’s this? I explain and he is thrilled at this new level of sensitivity. Reminding myself to breathe as I squirm, but mostly I growl. Still trading sensations, pressing the blade tip hard into my shoulders, talking about butchery. Longer snaps of the sharp tails. Writhing and he moves up and down my body, focusing on the open window, then dancing up and down.
Until there’s a pause.
His hand finds my throat, firm as I gasp. Lifting me up, arching my back, all my focus on that one hand. I brace against the couch arm, pressing into his hand. I think he still smacked my ass, but all I felt was pleasure rushing through me as I gasped and moaned in his grip. Surrendering to it all.
Then he let me down, and I was a puddle on his lap. Laying my head on his arm, and grinning up over my shoulder at him. Z returning one of his own. Delicious and delightful. Words of appreciation as I regained breath and body. I did spill onto the floor when I tried to move, but he helped me back onto the couch to snuggle for a few before cleaning up after ourselves.
The final window of opportunity of the evening came shortly thereafter. Time had gotten a bit away from me, but He found me. We ended up showing off new “massage” tools to Z. They compared tools, as He pressed them into me. Poking tender spots, punching pressure points, and dragging small points down some of the same trails as the machete had recently taken. And a few new ones, too. Dragging out squeals and gasps of painful pleasure. A few moments of happy poking to send me into my DM shift to end the night.
Happy Holidays, indeed.
