The subject of what would consitute one's "perfect life" came up in a femdom discussion forum, including characteristics such as age, looks, and style, and I found myself giving it a bit of thought...
Perfect? I don't know about "perfect". Life is such that with further travel down one's journey, "perfect" changes. Life is about change. But that leads to the first element of my "perfect", or perhaps "ideal" life, and that is to have someone to grow with, inside a D/s relationship and outside.
Age? My mistress should be old enough to understand that relationships are complex, that they are two-way streets, and that they require some work to be successful. Also, she should be old enough to know that dominance is an integral part of who she is, and that she has a desire, a need to play this out as a significant part of her life. She should be young and fit enough to be physically able to implement whatever her evil mind can conjure.
Looks/appearance? Doesn't really matter. The brain is still the sexiest, most erotic organ of the body, and the key to the beauty and intensity of power exchange. I'll choose a woman with some nipple clamps and a mischevious smile over a super-model any day of the week.
In my perfect life, I can fulfill the needs of my mistress on a variety of levels, from catering to her whims, serving her to make her life more pleasant and easier, to engaging her in discussions and experiences that will give her opportunities to live a richer life and to grow herself. Presumptuous perhaps, but I would feel that I would fall short of the mark if I would not be capable of such an impact in her life.
In my perfect life, every moment I spend outside of work is framed within the context of our D/s relationship. That includes any downtime my mistress requires. I know it's much easier to be submissive 24 hours a day than to be dominant 24 hours a day, and I respect the fact that my mistress might/would need some time on her own, and not be focused on me. I've never believed in many people's expectations of full-time slavery because it isn't realistic to expect to be followed around with a crop constantly. That being said, D/s should be tremendously important to her, and it should permeate our relationship to such an extent that even if we are not engaged directly in BDSM activities for hours/days/weeks, that the D/s under-current is always there.
In my perfect life, the power and influence I exert in the real world is something that my mistress feels empowered in capturing when I surrender to her. It doesn't threaten her, and it doesn't make her uncomfortable to dominate me.
In my perfect life, when I get back to work, I'm left to use my many skills to keep helping make our world a better place, and making the community we're in a richer environment to live and grow in. Those are my talents and abilities, and because I have so much passion for it, and compassion for those in need, I would like to be given some latitude with this, my second most important priority after serving my mistress.
In my perfect life, my mistress moves through spaces as easily as I do. I will always put her first, but she would understand that the community we live in would suffer if my lifestyle would be uncovered, as my accomplishments would be diminished in a world that doesn't understand the beauty and richness of D/s relationships.
In my perfect life, my servitude would extend to the intellectual plane, where I could bring her as much joy in discussing cultural, scientific, or political events with her as I would submitting to some fire play in the dungeon or cleaning the kitchen.
Of course, in my perfect life, my mistress would find power exchange exciting and the surrender of power to her intoxicating. She would also have a love of leather, exotic toys, exotic furniture, exotic places, challenging predicaments, bondage, and many BDSM activities. Finally, she would be as curious and excited about discovering where my limits are as I would be.
Is this all too much to ask? I know, I know...
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
A bit more than a fetish party: The Room
The fetish party was something J held at this club pretty much on a monthly basis. The dance floor, with three open sub-sections, was on the first floor along with the bar, restrooms, and two sets of stairs. The first set of stairs was right off the entrance, and led to the cloak room. The second set of stairs was near the back, right off the dance floor. The second floor was not much more than an extended walkway from where one could enjoy viewing the activities happening below. It had a much smaller bar, along with some seats and sofas, and to the back, a small room (perhaps 1000 sq. ft.) that had its own bouncer.If nothing else, the view from up there was absolutely spectacular.
J's fetish parties were probably the hottest in town for the kink-curious mainstream, and a nice crossover opportunity for those more confirmed kinksters that needed an occasional change of scenery. Mainly a 20-30s crowd, but with a few folks in their 40-50s, the main dance floors were a congestion of stunning bodies, short skirts, high heels, bare pecs, so-so leather styling, more PVC than latex, and a few crops or small floggers half-heartedly used in gestures that were more funny than kinky, more naughty than erotic, and more spur-of-the-moment than mood-inducing. The booming techno, dance, and electronica was loud enough to be as tangible to the senses as was the smoke in the air and a slight pungent smell of the humidity that hit whenever somebody dancing was within arm's reach.
A few individuals stood out in the crowd. Of course, there were many gorgeous babes and guys, but a few others were clearly not there primarily to dance or flirt. Some lurkers among them, but a number of the folks that didn't look like they fit in with the dance crowd were there for the small upstairs side-room.
L had been to many parties before, but none where she or her date for the evening had come carrying a bag with BDSM toys. It wasn't a large bag, but it held the essential for an evening away from home. A collection of leather cuffs, ropes, lots of locks and clips, a crop, a paddle, two floggers, and some nipple clamps, among other goodies. A perfect little First Play kit... stuff you need in case of an emergency...
Over the course of the next 20-30 minutes, we enjoyed the dancing and a drink from the main floor, all the while chatting with new people, introducing her to acquaintances, or catching up with older friends. After getting a second drink for each of us, we went upstairs for a little exploration, checking the dance floor from above as we made our way around the walkway. And then we came to "The Room".
The view to The Room was obstructed by two things: a thin curtain and a bouncer. Not just any kind of bouncer, mind you. This bouncer was were over 6' tall without counting the 4-5" heels on his platform shoes. He was wearing an absolutely spectacular latex dress, his make-up and hair were very well done, if not meant to fool anyone, and his boobs, while quite ample and well done, could not quite hide the muscularity of the individual underneath the dress. He turned away many people. most of them curious about what went on in the room, and despite the persona, nobody dared to debate the issue with him.
After a pleasant and short chat, he/she waved us on, and I felt L's whole body shudder when we took our first step past the curtain. The Room had maybe two dozen people in there, most of them standing, watching some of the activities going on. Those activities were happening on a few of the roughly 8-10 BDSM furniture pieces that were in the room, including chairs and seats, kneeling and spanking benches, a St-Andrew's Cross, overhead and side racks, a bondage table, and more. The Room was fairly well-lit in a warm yellow glow from the candle-flame shaped light bulbs that adorned the walls.
A few moans and yelps could be heard as we walked through; L was intensely observing some of the play going on, and I was examining the furniture, looking to see what would inspire me. As we made our way around The Room, I felt L walking ever-closer to me, squeezing my hand a bit more tightly with each step. I was feeling from her this wonderful vibe of discovery and fear, excitement and nervousness, anticipation and resistance. At the same time, we were being watched. She had already made jaws drop downstairs in her black high heel boots (about 4.5" with a 1" platform), tight black shiny pants showing off her now even longer legs and a beautiful ass, and a superb red lace-up corset that highlighted splendidly more of her stunning features. And she wore a beautifully simple leather collar to top it all off.
The moment was perfect... As she had her complete attention on a flogging scene happening on a kneeling bench a bit to our right, I startled her a bit when I whispered in her ear to wait for me. I would be back in just a minute or two. She drew closer to me, her grip on my arm and my ribs firmer, as she looked at me with pleading eyes not to leave her alone. I gave her a hug, lifted her chin, and gently told her I would be right back for her. I just needed her to give me a few minutes, and with a smile, I added, "...and keep out of trouble".As I broke away, I headed to the cloak room. I hadn't planned on carrying the bag any longer than necessary, but it was time. I checked it out, and I went back to The Room with it. When I arrived, she was engrossed in one of the spanking scenes, and I quietly came up to her side. She quickly squeezed in nice and close as soon as I was there, and we enjoyed the next round of spanking that was dished out on one of the participants before us.Maybe two minutes later, I asked her if she was ready. No explanations were necessary. She was nervous but I knew that she was dying to do this. She turned towards me, and moved her eyes down, looking to the ground, and she clasped her hands behind her back. I led her over to the St-Andrew's Cross, which had become open just minutes before.
I told her to remove her shiny black pants, which she did quickly, facing the wall next to the St-Andrew's Cross. I think she kept from facing the crowd because she was made nervous seeing people looking at her. I asked her to move on to the cross, facing it and the wall behind it. I took her hands and gently placed them on the upper part of the cross. I encountered no resistance. Then I pulled out a couple of leather handcuffs, which I looped around her wrist, locked with small padlocks, and clipped to the large O-ring at the top of the cross. Next was the blindfold, as much to help her get away from the crowd as to get her to focus on what she was experiencing. I moved down to her ankles, where I tapped on the inside for her to move her legs into alignment with the cross. Reaching into my bag, I retrieved out two large ankle cuffs, attached those to her ankles over her boots, and clipped them to the O-rings at the bottom of the cross. She was ready, and evidently, so was the small group of people that had started to gather behind me, some looking on with slight smiles on their faces, anticipating something that they would enjoy watching, without being quite sure what or how, and others looking in with an intense, almost nervous expression of wondering what was next.
This public setting was a new experience for her, and knowing there was some tension and emotions not normally present in our play time, I wanted to start a slow, take my time, and be present in her mind the whole time. Reaching in for a soft flogger, I immediately placed it inside the back waistband of my pants. I came right up close to her, covering her bound hands with my own, bringing my hips right up to her backside. There was a slight shudder, and then a release of tension as she opened her hands and reached back with them, gently trying to trap my fingers between her own. L also pushed back and moved up against me, enjoying the cool feel of the leather pants against her backside, covered only partly by lacy red thong panties that matched her corset.
I drew my hands down her arms, over her shoulders, down the sides of her corset, to the front of her hips, just lightly touching the skin, or corset, the whole time. My hands stopped right at that wonderful groove just inside the hip bone, one of the sexiest curves on a woman's body. I brought my hands back up, and down again, several times, slowly, each time taking a different route, making different caressing stops behind her neck, inside her forearms and elbows, on the edge of her upper back, around her breasts and nipples, and around the cheeks of her backside. Then I moved on to the legs for a few moments, again never running my hands twice along the same path, and again, putting a little more emphasis along favorite spots, like behind the knees and the back of the legs (hamstrings region).
Barely breaking contact, I broke into a gentle open-hand slap on the right side of her backside. Still enjoying the gentle skin stimulation that I had started with, she barely reacted when the type of stimulation changed. The next slap was on the left cheek, and then I alternated sides, very gently increasing the intensity over the next 20 or so slaps. With both hands I rubbed her backside gently, starting to feel a nice growing glow of warmth.
I reached behind my back for my soft flogger, and at once gently started to work her backside again. I was a bit more unpredictable in my pattern as I could feel her moving a bit to anticipate my next blow. She was moving towards me to intercept the blow, and I knew that meant I could increase the pace and the intensity. Over the next few minutes, I focused mainly on her backside, which was becoming nicely pink over a fairly large surface, but I also moved on to the back of the legs, and the inside and outside if the thighs, as well as moving up to the back of the shoulders with some gentle strokes.
I went back to some slow, open-hand spanking as I traded my flogger for a flexible leather paddle. Without missing a beat, I came in with a sharper sound as the paddle could impact an area easily twice the size of my hand. I paddled her for the next few minutes, changing the pacing, changing the rhythm, but slowly increasing the intensity impact, sound, and of the color of her cheeks, now well into a nice, deep red.
I came back up against her, and I could feel a sudden exhalation of her breath when my leather pants touched her skin of her backside, cooling, and perhaps soothing the skin. During this brief intermission, I could feel the warmth that came from all over her body, and noticed a few drops of sweat, one of which had just started its way down the side of her neck. I reached over to gently lick it, enjoying the saltiness, but also taking in the spicy fragrance of her skin. I reached around to tease the area around the nipples, and then the hard tips of her nipples, which I could feel through the corset. While I usually keep my fingernails quite short, with what I had available, I scratched tenderly the inside of her biceps in one long stroke, getting as a reaction her biting gently down on her lower lip.
I went back to my floggers, and grabbed once of my favorites, a small flogger with short latex lashes. Despite its length, there's a bit of heft to it, and the strokes feel like hundreds of little pinpricks. From broad, flat-strokes, in the first part, I moved to sharper, more localized sensations, and L moved as she didn't seem to know if she preferred to reach toward me some more or just lay back and enjoy the ride. The short length of the latex flogger allowed me great control, and I worked her backside, legs (back, inside, outside), shoulders and upper-arms.
After a few quick caresses, I moved back to the flexible leather paddle for 2 dozen strokes on her backside, and then came back with the latex flogger for a few minutes. I could tell that the contrast was just driving her to the edge. I finished up with the soft-flogger, but this time with some heavier strokes to the backside. The lashes are nice and soft, but they carry quite a bit a weight when swung with enthusiasm. I had increased the intensity pretty gradually throughout the whole time, with a few quick pauses, and I realized that part way through the last segment, L's moans and movements had become louder and wider, but slowed and somehow became uncoordinated with what I was doing. I realized at that time that she was in her own zone, and that any stroke rhythm I would take would not matter much anymore.
I kept at the soft-flogger for another 60 seconds or so, diminishing the intensity, and then came up next to her. She pressed back against me as much as she could, still bound to the cross. Reaching for our dark-grey fleece blanket, I noticed that almost all the people in the Room had come over to our station to watch us. Nobody else was playing on other furniture. Somewhat suddenly, I noticed a growing din as they started talking among themselves as our scene seemed to end, while still keeping an eye on us. I brought up one finger to my mouth, in a signal to give me just a few more moments of quiet. Not wanting the awareness of the crowd to bring too sudden an end to our scene, I left the blindfold on L, unclipped her hands and her legs from the cross, and wrapped her in the blanket. With one hand around her waist in support, we walked through the small group as they move to the side to get out of our way. The looks on their faces was priceless... and everyone was either smiling or nodding.
Just outside The Room, we found a sofa with space for the two of us. As we sat down, the third person, who was already there, was nice enough to move on, leaving us a bit more space. A waitress came by within a few seconds of us sitting, and I got some water for both of us. L was completely relaxed laying back in the sofa in my arms. As she turned her head to lay it onto my shoulder, I gently removed the blindfold. She kept her eyes closed, and snuggled up, still in a daze.
The water came, and we each had several big gulps. I kept her warm, I told her how well she had done, and slowly, over the next 15-20 minutes, she came back down to the actual moment and place... mostly. After finishing our water, she put back her pants, and I led her through the throng of bodies bouncing to the beat, to the front of the club, and up to the cloak room to get our jackets. As we checked them out, and headed downstairs, a middle-age couple stopped up just as we were about to step out. They told us the scene we had done upstairs had been one of the sexiest and most sensual scenes they had ever witnessed. We both smiled, and I said thank you, that we were just having fun.
On the way to the car, L asked me if they had been watching. I said that I guessed so. She asked, somewhat embarrassed if anyone else had been watching. I replied that a few people had come to watch. "They come and go... you know how it is... station hoping". And then I was glad I had left the blindfold on...
J's fetish parties were probably the hottest in town for the kink-curious mainstream, and a nice crossover opportunity for those more confirmed kinksters that needed an occasional change of scenery. Mainly a 20-30s crowd, but with a few folks in their 40-50s, the main dance floors were a congestion of stunning bodies, short skirts, high heels, bare pecs, so-so leather styling, more PVC than latex, and a few crops or small floggers half-heartedly used in gestures that were more funny than kinky, more naughty than erotic, and more spur-of-the-moment than mood-inducing. The booming techno, dance, and electronica was loud enough to be as tangible to the senses as was the smoke in the air and a slight pungent smell of the humidity that hit whenever somebody dancing was within arm's reach.
A few individuals stood out in the crowd. Of course, there were many gorgeous babes and guys, but a few others were clearly not there primarily to dance or flirt. Some lurkers among them, but a number of the folks that didn't look like they fit in with the dance crowd were there for the small upstairs side-room.
L had been to many parties before, but none where she or her date for the evening had come carrying a bag with BDSM toys. It wasn't a large bag, but it held the essential for an evening away from home. A collection of leather cuffs, ropes, lots of locks and clips, a crop, a paddle, two floggers, and some nipple clamps, among other goodies. A perfect little First Play kit... stuff you need in case of an emergency...
Over the course of the next 20-30 minutes, we enjoyed the dancing and a drink from the main floor, all the while chatting with new people, introducing her to acquaintances, or catching up with older friends. After getting a second drink for each of us, we went upstairs for a little exploration, checking the dance floor from above as we made our way around the walkway. And then we came to "The Room".
The view to The Room was obstructed by two things: a thin curtain and a bouncer. Not just any kind of bouncer, mind you. This bouncer was were over 6' tall without counting the 4-5" heels on his platform shoes. He was wearing an absolutely spectacular latex dress, his make-up and hair were very well done, if not meant to fool anyone, and his boobs, while quite ample and well done, could not quite hide the muscularity of the individual underneath the dress. He turned away many people. most of them curious about what went on in the room, and despite the persona, nobody dared to debate the issue with him.
After a pleasant and short chat, he/she waved us on, and I felt L's whole body shudder when we took our first step past the curtain. The Room had maybe two dozen people in there, most of them standing, watching some of the activities going on. Those activities were happening on a few of the roughly 8-10 BDSM furniture pieces that were in the room, including chairs and seats, kneeling and spanking benches, a St-Andrew's Cross, overhead and side racks, a bondage table, and more. The Room was fairly well-lit in a warm yellow glow from the candle-flame shaped light bulbs that adorned the walls.
A few moans and yelps could be heard as we walked through; L was intensely observing some of the play going on, and I was examining the furniture, looking to see what would inspire me. As we made our way around The Room, I felt L walking ever-closer to me, squeezing my hand a bit more tightly with each step. I was feeling from her this wonderful vibe of discovery and fear, excitement and nervousness, anticipation and resistance. At the same time, we were being watched. She had already made jaws drop downstairs in her black high heel boots (about 4.5" with a 1" platform), tight black shiny pants showing off her now even longer legs and a beautiful ass, and a superb red lace-up corset that highlighted splendidly more of her stunning features. And she wore a beautifully simple leather collar to top it all off.
The moment was perfect... As she had her complete attention on a flogging scene happening on a kneeling bench a bit to our right, I startled her a bit when I whispered in her ear to wait for me. I would be back in just a minute or two. She drew closer to me, her grip on my arm and my ribs firmer, as she looked at me with pleading eyes not to leave her alone. I gave her a hug, lifted her chin, and gently told her I would be right back for her. I just needed her to give me a few minutes, and with a smile, I added, "...and keep out of trouble".As I broke away, I headed to the cloak room. I hadn't planned on carrying the bag any longer than necessary, but it was time. I checked it out, and I went back to The Room with it. When I arrived, she was engrossed in one of the spanking scenes, and I quietly came up to her side. She quickly squeezed in nice and close as soon as I was there, and we enjoyed the next round of spanking that was dished out on one of the participants before us.Maybe two minutes later, I asked her if she was ready. No explanations were necessary. She was nervous but I knew that she was dying to do this. She turned towards me, and moved her eyes down, looking to the ground, and she clasped her hands behind her back. I led her over to the St-Andrew's Cross, which had become open just minutes before.
I told her to remove her shiny black pants, which she did quickly, facing the wall next to the St-Andrew's Cross. I think she kept from facing the crowd because she was made nervous seeing people looking at her. I asked her to move on to the cross, facing it and the wall behind it. I took her hands and gently placed them on the upper part of the cross. I encountered no resistance. Then I pulled out a couple of leather handcuffs, which I looped around her wrist, locked with small padlocks, and clipped to the large O-ring at the top of the cross. Next was the blindfold, as much to help her get away from the crowd as to get her to focus on what she was experiencing. I moved down to her ankles, where I tapped on the inside for her to move her legs into alignment with the cross. Reaching into my bag, I retrieved out two large ankle cuffs, attached those to her ankles over her boots, and clipped them to the O-rings at the bottom of the cross. She was ready, and evidently, so was the small group of people that had started to gather behind me, some looking on with slight smiles on their faces, anticipating something that they would enjoy watching, without being quite sure what or how, and others looking in with an intense, almost nervous expression of wondering what was next.
This public setting was a new experience for her, and knowing there was some tension and emotions not normally present in our play time, I wanted to start a slow, take my time, and be present in her mind the whole time. Reaching in for a soft flogger, I immediately placed it inside the back waistband of my pants. I came right up close to her, covering her bound hands with my own, bringing my hips right up to her backside. There was a slight shudder, and then a release of tension as she opened her hands and reached back with them, gently trying to trap my fingers between her own. L also pushed back and moved up against me, enjoying the cool feel of the leather pants against her backside, covered only partly by lacy red thong panties that matched her corset.
I drew my hands down her arms, over her shoulders, down the sides of her corset, to the front of her hips, just lightly touching the skin, or corset, the whole time. My hands stopped right at that wonderful groove just inside the hip bone, one of the sexiest curves on a woman's body. I brought my hands back up, and down again, several times, slowly, each time taking a different route, making different caressing stops behind her neck, inside her forearms and elbows, on the edge of her upper back, around her breasts and nipples, and around the cheeks of her backside. Then I moved on to the legs for a few moments, again never running my hands twice along the same path, and again, putting a little more emphasis along favorite spots, like behind the knees and the back of the legs (hamstrings region).
Barely breaking contact, I broke into a gentle open-hand slap on the right side of her backside. Still enjoying the gentle skin stimulation that I had started with, she barely reacted when the type of stimulation changed. The next slap was on the left cheek, and then I alternated sides, very gently increasing the intensity over the next 20 or so slaps. With both hands I rubbed her backside gently, starting to feel a nice growing glow of warmth.
I reached behind my back for my soft flogger, and at once gently started to work her backside again. I was a bit more unpredictable in my pattern as I could feel her moving a bit to anticipate my next blow. She was moving towards me to intercept the blow, and I knew that meant I could increase the pace and the intensity. Over the next few minutes, I focused mainly on her backside, which was becoming nicely pink over a fairly large surface, but I also moved on to the back of the legs, and the inside and outside if the thighs, as well as moving up to the back of the shoulders with some gentle strokes.
I went back to some slow, open-hand spanking as I traded my flogger for a flexible leather paddle. Without missing a beat, I came in with a sharper sound as the paddle could impact an area easily twice the size of my hand. I paddled her for the next few minutes, changing the pacing, changing the rhythm, but slowly increasing the intensity impact, sound, and of the color of her cheeks, now well into a nice, deep red.
I came back up against her, and I could feel a sudden exhalation of her breath when my leather pants touched her skin of her backside, cooling, and perhaps soothing the skin. During this brief intermission, I could feel the warmth that came from all over her body, and noticed a few drops of sweat, one of which had just started its way down the side of her neck. I reached over to gently lick it, enjoying the saltiness, but also taking in the spicy fragrance of her skin. I reached around to tease the area around the nipples, and then the hard tips of her nipples, which I could feel through the corset. While I usually keep my fingernails quite short, with what I had available, I scratched tenderly the inside of her biceps in one long stroke, getting as a reaction her biting gently down on her lower lip.
I went back to my floggers, and grabbed once of my favorites, a small flogger with short latex lashes. Despite its length, there's a bit of heft to it, and the strokes feel like hundreds of little pinpricks. From broad, flat-strokes, in the first part, I moved to sharper, more localized sensations, and L moved as she didn't seem to know if she preferred to reach toward me some more or just lay back and enjoy the ride. The short length of the latex flogger allowed me great control, and I worked her backside, legs (back, inside, outside), shoulders and upper-arms.
After a few quick caresses, I moved back to the flexible leather paddle for 2 dozen strokes on her backside, and then came back with the latex flogger for a few minutes. I could tell that the contrast was just driving her to the edge. I finished up with the soft-flogger, but this time with some heavier strokes to the backside. The lashes are nice and soft, but they carry quite a bit a weight when swung with enthusiasm. I had increased the intensity pretty gradually throughout the whole time, with a few quick pauses, and I realized that part way through the last segment, L's moans and movements had become louder and wider, but slowed and somehow became uncoordinated with what I was doing. I realized at that time that she was in her own zone, and that any stroke rhythm I would take would not matter much anymore.
I kept at the soft-flogger for another 60 seconds or so, diminishing the intensity, and then came up next to her. She pressed back against me as much as she could, still bound to the cross. Reaching for our dark-grey fleece blanket, I noticed that almost all the people in the Room had come over to our station to watch us. Nobody else was playing on other furniture. Somewhat suddenly, I noticed a growing din as they started talking among themselves as our scene seemed to end, while still keeping an eye on us. I brought up one finger to my mouth, in a signal to give me just a few more moments of quiet. Not wanting the awareness of the crowd to bring too sudden an end to our scene, I left the blindfold on L, unclipped her hands and her legs from the cross, and wrapped her in the blanket. With one hand around her waist in support, we walked through the small group as they move to the side to get out of our way. The looks on their faces was priceless... and everyone was either smiling or nodding.
Just outside The Room, we found a sofa with space for the two of us. As we sat down, the third person, who was already there, was nice enough to move on, leaving us a bit more space. A waitress came by within a few seconds of us sitting, and I got some water for both of us. L was completely relaxed laying back in the sofa in my arms. As she turned her head to lay it onto my shoulder, I gently removed the blindfold. She kept her eyes closed, and snuggled up, still in a daze.
The water came, and we each had several big gulps. I kept her warm, I told her how well she had done, and slowly, over the next 15-20 minutes, she came back down to the actual moment and place... mostly. After finishing our water, she put back her pants, and I led her through the throng of bodies bouncing to the beat, to the front of the club, and up to the cloak room to get our jackets. As we checked them out, and headed downstairs, a middle-age couple stopped up just as we were about to step out. They told us the scene we had done upstairs had been one of the sexiest and most sensual scenes they had ever witnessed. We both smiled, and I said thank you, that we were just having fun.
On the way to the car, L asked me if they had been watching. I said that I guessed so. She asked, somewhat embarrassed if anyone else had been watching. I replied that a few people had come to watch. "They come and go... you know how it is... station hoping". And then I was glad I had left the blindfold on...
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The sensual side of D/s
I'll be the first one to admit, I've always had a taste for the dramatic: well-equipped dungeons, dark and shiny furniture, low-level lighting, lots of implements...
But I had a reminder recently of just how wonderfully inspiring simple gestures and actions can be.
Quite suddenly, she turned to me, stood up and reached over to pin my hands behind my back. I had barely walked into her office to see how she was doing when she just came upon me. She told me to keep my hands where she had placed them, and reached for my nipples, grasping them firmly through my shirt and undershirt, and leading me away from the office.
The objective had been set. I was going to serve her in showering her. As we stepped into the bedroom, she ordered me to strip naked, as she was getting undressed herself. My gaze upon her splendid body went thankfully unnoticed as she finished removing her own clothing. She came back into the bedroom, took hold of my nipples again, and this time led me next to the shower, where she entered first, and told me to come in right after her.
I knew her routine, but for her trouble, I did want to make this special, and I gave her all the attention and care I could. Washing her hair gently, I reached down to rub and massage her scalp every few passes. Despite the look of enjoyment she had from it, and the relaxed pose her body took, somehow I felt guilty that I was still getting the better of the exchange. As I was sure all of her hair was clean, I moved on to one complete massaging pass over her scalp, gentle enough to be enjoyable, firm enough to ease/relax mental and muscle tension.
Moving on to her face, we used her favorite face-soap, and I gently foamed it up as I delicately covered every surface and angle. For the second pass, I applied just a bit of pressure, relaxing the facial tissues under the skin as I cleaned the surface. I made sure that rinsing was thorough as my fingers once more went over all of her face, just barely touching, the lightest of caresses.
As we moved to the rest of her body, it came upon me that we forget how precious body parts like the grooves inside of the ear, the crevices behind the knee, or the spaces between the toes are when we don't visit often enough.
Truly a woman's body is something to be worshipped. There were so many beautiful and glistening limbs, parts, and surfaces to be washed, and every one of them turned me on to no end under the shiny reflection of the falling water. Each one of them required a different technique to clean and to massage. Long, sweeping strokes for her strong and lean legs. Small, expanding circular movements around her breasts and shoulders. Short, detailed movements inside and outside of her hands and between her fingers. Short, alternating straight and circular movements around her backside. Delicate and reaching around her private regions. There was a tinge of sadness as I left one part and I knew I would not come back to it until the rinse.
The time to rinse off whatever soap was left brought her some very long caresses over most of her body, and some gentle splashing from however much water I could gather in my cupped hands.
Finally, after the water had been turned off, I reached for her bath towel, I dried her off, patting her dry in delicate or small areas, drying her off with broad strokes over large body parts, and massaging dry her hair. She walked away from the shower in the most regal and confident manner, thanked me coldly for my attentive service, stepped in front of the mirror, took hold of her hair drier and brush, and told me I had to be done with my shower and dressed by the time she was done. I thought 15-20 minutes... plenty of time. As she got to work on her hair and make-up, I took in discretely one more glance of the beautiful and erotic sight she was presenting to me, and as I turned to my own shower, I was proud of my work as she looked relaxed, rejuvenated, and quite satisfied, if a bit smug, about the results of her actions.
And I knew that she would be deciding where we'd be having diner too...
Aaah... What spectacular and magical creatures these women are...
PS: lights turned low and candles are optional, but even better.
But I had a reminder recently of just how wonderfully inspiring simple gestures and actions can be.
Quite suddenly, she turned to me, stood up and reached over to pin my hands behind my back. I had barely walked into her office to see how she was doing when she just came upon me. She told me to keep my hands where she had placed them, and reached for my nipples, grasping them firmly through my shirt and undershirt, and leading me away from the office.
The objective had been set. I was going to serve her in showering her. As we stepped into the bedroom, she ordered me to strip naked, as she was getting undressed herself. My gaze upon her splendid body went thankfully unnoticed as she finished removing her own clothing. She came back into the bedroom, took hold of my nipples again, and this time led me next to the shower, where she entered first, and told me to come in right after her.
I knew her routine, but for her trouble, I did want to make this special, and I gave her all the attention and care I could. Washing her hair gently, I reached down to rub and massage her scalp every few passes. Despite the look of enjoyment she had from it, and the relaxed pose her body took, somehow I felt guilty that I was still getting the better of the exchange. As I was sure all of her hair was clean, I moved on to one complete massaging pass over her scalp, gentle enough to be enjoyable, firm enough to ease/relax mental and muscle tension.
Moving on to her face, we used her favorite face-soap, and I gently foamed it up as I delicately covered every surface and angle. For the second pass, I applied just a bit of pressure, relaxing the facial tissues under the skin as I cleaned the surface. I made sure that rinsing was thorough as my fingers once more went over all of her face, just barely touching, the lightest of caresses.
As we moved to the rest of her body, it came upon me that we forget how precious body parts like the grooves inside of the ear, the crevices behind the knee, or the spaces between the toes are when we don't visit often enough.
Truly a woman's body is something to be worshipped. There were so many beautiful and glistening limbs, parts, and surfaces to be washed, and every one of them turned me on to no end under the shiny reflection of the falling water. Each one of them required a different technique to clean and to massage. Long, sweeping strokes for her strong and lean legs. Small, expanding circular movements around her breasts and shoulders. Short, detailed movements inside and outside of her hands and between her fingers. Short, alternating straight and circular movements around her backside. Delicate and reaching around her private regions. There was a tinge of sadness as I left one part and I knew I would not come back to it until the rinse.
The time to rinse off whatever soap was left brought her some very long caresses over most of her body, and some gentle splashing from however much water I could gather in my cupped hands.
Finally, after the water had been turned off, I reached for her bath towel, I dried her off, patting her dry in delicate or small areas, drying her off with broad strokes over large body parts, and massaging dry her hair. She walked away from the shower in the most regal and confident manner, thanked me coldly for my attentive service, stepped in front of the mirror, took hold of her hair drier and brush, and told me I had to be done with my shower and dressed by the time she was done. I thought 15-20 minutes... plenty of time. As she got to work on her hair and make-up, I took in discretely one more glance of the beautiful and erotic sight she was presenting to me, and as I turned to my own shower, I was proud of my work as she looked relaxed, rejuvenated, and quite satisfied, if a bit smug, about the results of her actions.
And I knew that she would be deciding where we'd be having diner too...
Aaah... What spectacular and magical creatures these women are...
PS: lights turned low and candles are optional, but even better.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Wish we had stuff like this when we were growing up...
An outstanding clip made for... teen sex ed?
http://midwestteensexshow.com/2008/08/04/mtss-18-fetishes/
While they miss the mark slightly with some definitions, the producers more than make up for that in humor and providing a generally warm feeling to something most folks see as very scary.
Enjoy.
http://midwestteensexshow.com/2008/08/04/mtss-18-fetishes/
While they miss the mark slightly with some definitions, the producers more than make up for that in humor and providing a generally warm feeling to something most folks see as very scary.
Enjoy.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Act 4, Scene 2: Of bondage and mind games
Mistress A ordered him to stand up and to take a step back, positioning him under the winch system, and to raise his hands. After getting him to grab the handles that were part of the leather restraints for his hands, she proceeded to secure his hands to the long bar, likely around 24 inches, that was attached to the winch cable. She reached back to activate the winch and pulled his hands a bit higher. Mistress A then placed a spreader bar between his feet, maybe 30 inches long or so, and cuffed his feet to the bar. Naked and bound in such a manner, he had flashbacks to some of the covers of the old Centurian publications of the late 70s and early 80s. It occurred to him at that moment how far he had come on his journey, held in bondage in a position he had fantasized about for decades. He felt at that moment a warm rush come over his body once more, and ironically, somehow felt liberated as he resigned himself to his situation in the care of his mistress.
Not yet satisfied with her handiwork, Mistress A brought out what had to be the heaviest posture collar he had ever seen, and placed it around his neck. It was very rigid and constraining, and it limited his head movement, and yet, he found it very comfortable and supportive of his head. As he was slowly slipping into a different state of mind, he could not tell anymore if he appreciated the posture collar because of how well it was designed, or if it was that special and secure feeling he had when in bondage at the hand of skilled and irresistible mistress. Edgy as he was when he showed up and the session started, and somewhat unnerved at the beginning by the prospects Mistress A had promised him, there was no tension anymore in his body or his mind. Secure in bondage, intoxicated by her words and her attitude, he could let go completely and let his mind run in a place where submission is freedom and dominance is caring.
Walking around to the other side of him, Mistress A retrieved a flogger from one of the pegs that held so many wonderful implements of torment and pleasure. She started flogging him lightly with what felt to him like a horsehair flogger. The sensation was very fine, very stringy, and occasionally stingy on some strokes. She worked most of his back with this fine flogger, providing somewhat of a warm-up for what was to come.
She switched to what felt to him like a single-tail for a few strokes around his butt and back of thighs, and then Mistress A moved on to a flogger with thicker strands. She worked him over with this one for a while. It’s a good thing he wasn’t asked to count strokes… his eyes closed during the flogging, he had lost his focus on everything but her voice as he was sinking into subspace. He couldn’t really remember how much of each type of flogger she used, or where they landed, although he did remember Mistress A telling him to stick his ass out once or twice. Not that he wasn’t feeling the strokes… but their effects were more general than localized, serving as a rhythmic counterpoint to her voice. Her voice was his only hold on reality at that point, her firm, haughty, condescending voice that was teasing him, making fun of him, making fun of him for some of the things he had done in the past, and making fun of him for what she was still going to do during the course of the evening.
The strokes stopped. The bass line of the flogging to the siren-sound of her voice came to an end, and this jarred him back to closer to reality. Mistress A stepped back closer to him, and temporarily turning her attention to his nipples, tweaked them, and held on to them as she ordered him to turn around to face the other way, in the direction of the bondage bed. Now satisfied that he was in the next position for her to continue, she reached over into one of her drawers of surprises...
Not yet satisfied with her handiwork, Mistress A brought out what had to be the heaviest posture collar he had ever seen, and placed it around his neck. It was very rigid and constraining, and it limited his head movement, and yet, he found it very comfortable and supportive of his head. As he was slowly slipping into a different state of mind, he could not tell anymore if he appreciated the posture collar because of how well it was designed, or if it was that special and secure feeling he had when in bondage at the hand of skilled and irresistible mistress. Edgy as he was when he showed up and the session started, and somewhat unnerved at the beginning by the prospects Mistress A had promised him, there was no tension anymore in his body or his mind. Secure in bondage, intoxicated by her words and her attitude, he could let go completely and let his mind run in a place where submission is freedom and dominance is caring.
Walking around to the other side of him, Mistress A retrieved a flogger from one of the pegs that held so many wonderful implements of torment and pleasure. She started flogging him lightly with what felt to him like a horsehair flogger. The sensation was very fine, very stringy, and occasionally stingy on some strokes. She worked most of his back with this fine flogger, providing somewhat of a warm-up for what was to come.
She switched to what felt to him like a single-tail for a few strokes around his butt and back of thighs, and then Mistress A moved on to a flogger with thicker strands. She worked him over with this one for a while. It’s a good thing he wasn’t asked to count strokes… his eyes closed during the flogging, he had lost his focus on everything but her voice as he was sinking into subspace. He couldn’t really remember how much of each type of flogger she used, or where they landed, although he did remember Mistress A telling him to stick his ass out once or twice. Not that he wasn’t feeling the strokes… but their effects were more general than localized, serving as a rhythmic counterpoint to her voice. Her voice was his only hold on reality at that point, her firm, haughty, condescending voice that was teasing him, making fun of him, making fun of him for some of the things he had done in the past, and making fun of him for what she was still going to do during the course of the evening.
The strokes stopped. The bass line of the flogging to the siren-sound of her voice came to an end, and this jarred him back to closer to reality. Mistress A stepped back closer to him, and temporarily turning her attention to his nipples, tweaked them, and held on to them as she ordered him to turn around to face the other way, in the direction of the bondage bed. Now satisfied that he was in the next position for her to continue, she reached over into one of her drawers of surprises...
Reflections on committed BDSM relationships
It was with sadness in my heart that I read this morning the latest blog entries for two good friends from the scene that live across the continent, and who have been in a relationship together for the past several years. I can't presume that I know everything (or even much) that there is to know about what is going on, as I've been away from them for almost 4 years now, but I have followed some of their blog entries over that time. The stress that they are going through right now brought me into a mood for a few reflections.
I would say that despite how things may feel like right now, they are undergoing something normal and positive, in a weird kind of way. I realize that this may not be very reassuring on the surface, but the fact that differences come up, differences in frequency, differences in intensity, differences in mood/energy, differences in interests, differences in availability (physical as well as emotional), and that's a good thing. It means that they are still growing, growing as individuals and growing as a couple. Change and growth are the normally state of the universe. Anything that stops changing and growing dies.
The danger with growth for people that are married/collared/or otherwise committed to each other is that sometimes the changes can happen faster than we become aware of them, faster than we can understand them, and inevitably, communications will lag behind. Sometimes people feel/think that when there is commitment of the heart/mind/emotions, the growth curve for both individuals locks-in and will be parallel forever. Life, and people, are so much more complicated...
It does happen that growth and change happens so fast that by the time people realize it, come to terms with it, and talk about it, the differences are irreconciliable. But we all have to focus of what common threads have brought us together, step back emotionally, and talk about where we stand at the moment. From that point, it is possible to see what can be worked out in terms of what I would call "supply-and-demand", especially as it applies to a D/s relationship where dominance and submission are so different in so many ways, and at the same time, such an important part of who we are.
I was having a great discussion recently with Mistress Saskia, for whom I have the upmost respect. Very intelligent, insightful, and amazingly sharp/witty, we got into a discussion on the performance aspect of being a great top. I'll spare you the details of why this came about, but she drew a splendid analogy to the pro-domme as rock star. The analogy was just brilliant in terms of the demands and expectations placed on rock stars, and how it would be impossible for them to be doing it all the time, or in fact, being able to give so much of themselves for anything else beyond that. I'm not doing her monologue justice, but that's the core of it. And going back to my own experience topping, while not anywhere close to what she does, I could certainly see where she was coming from.
But this discussion got me to think much more deeply about the contrasting needs and expectations of dominants and submissives. I think that the elements of frequency, intensity, interests, pacing, and physical/emotional availability not only vary from one person to another, but I would say that there are major differences almost structurally built-in between the role of submissive and that of dominant.
I still get a huge thrill from topping, when the mood, energy, and circumstances are right, but even if this would be my only orientation in BDSM, I could never take it on at a "play" type intensity for hours each day. I don't even think I could have the energy and the creativity to do it each day. Eventually, I would likely want to expand my repertoire or my interests. Would this match up this with those of the submissive I was engaged with? Also, depending on what happens in my real life (RL), I may or may not be physically/emotionally available at certain times.
Taking on a submissive role is something that is much truer to who I am, my desires, and probably, the Freudian bagagge of my life. It's also a much deeper experience for me. Outside of my professional life, I could really see this consuming my every hour of being awake. And since this is not possible for me in my present circumstances, I can say that as a submissive, it's very lonely... just so very lonely. I have this burning desire, this powerful yearning inside of me all the time, and these are answered so rarely. Then, when do I have opportunities to submit come my way, I live through experiences so intense that they only fuel my hunger for more such experiences.
So I find these huge gaps, these huge differences inside myself between my needs and desires as a sub, and my needs and expectations as a top. Of course, allocations must be made for the fact that I clearly feel an affinity in the BDSM scene for surrending power much more than accepting it (a complete reversal of my RL situation), but despite that, I still find that there's something there that can't be neglected. If someone like me can have such differences between "personas" within himself, how can two different individuals match up in a perfect way for eternity and a day? Of course, they can't. They'll have to work and adapt to the changes and differences.
Maintaining a vanilla relationship healthy is already more of a challenge than most people can handle. Considering what I think are the even greater depths and complexities of BDSM or power exchange based relationships, I think none of us can underestimate the incredible obstacles we all face in keeping those relationships alive and well. And it is critically important for each of us, regardless of the roles we take on, be understanding of those who take on opposite roles on the power exchange spectrum.
I would say that despite how things may feel like right now, they are undergoing something normal and positive, in a weird kind of way. I realize that this may not be very reassuring on the surface, but the fact that differences come up, differences in frequency, differences in intensity, differences in mood/energy, differences in interests, differences in availability (physical as well as emotional), and that's a good thing. It means that they are still growing, growing as individuals and growing as a couple. Change and growth are the normally state of the universe. Anything that stops changing and growing dies.
The danger with growth for people that are married/collared/or otherwise committed to each other is that sometimes the changes can happen faster than we become aware of them, faster than we can understand them, and inevitably, communications will lag behind. Sometimes people feel/think that when there is commitment of the heart/mind/emotions, the growth curve for both individuals locks-in and will be parallel forever. Life, and people, are so much more complicated...
It does happen that growth and change happens so fast that by the time people realize it, come to terms with it, and talk about it, the differences are irreconciliable. But we all have to focus of what common threads have brought us together, step back emotionally, and talk about where we stand at the moment. From that point, it is possible to see what can be worked out in terms of what I would call "supply-and-demand", especially as it applies to a D/s relationship where dominance and submission are so different in so many ways, and at the same time, such an important part of who we are.
I was having a great discussion recently with Mistress Saskia, for whom I have the upmost respect. Very intelligent, insightful, and amazingly sharp/witty, we got into a discussion on the performance aspect of being a great top. I'll spare you the details of why this came about, but she drew a splendid analogy to the pro-domme as rock star. The analogy was just brilliant in terms of the demands and expectations placed on rock stars, and how it would be impossible for them to be doing it all the time, or in fact, being able to give so much of themselves for anything else beyond that. I'm not doing her monologue justice, but that's the core of it. And going back to my own experience topping, while not anywhere close to what she does, I could certainly see where she was coming from.
But this discussion got me to think much more deeply about the contrasting needs and expectations of dominants and submissives. I think that the elements of frequency, intensity, interests, pacing, and physical/emotional availability not only vary from one person to another, but I would say that there are major differences almost structurally built-in between the role of submissive and that of dominant.
I still get a huge thrill from topping, when the mood, energy, and circumstances are right, but even if this would be my only orientation in BDSM, I could never take it on at a "play" type intensity for hours each day. I don't even think I could have the energy and the creativity to do it each day. Eventually, I would likely want to expand my repertoire or my interests. Would this match up this with those of the submissive I was engaged with? Also, depending on what happens in my real life (RL), I may or may not be physically/emotionally available at certain times.
Taking on a submissive role is something that is much truer to who I am, my desires, and probably, the Freudian bagagge of my life. It's also a much deeper experience for me. Outside of my professional life, I could really see this consuming my every hour of being awake. And since this is not possible for me in my present circumstances, I can say that as a submissive, it's very lonely... just so very lonely. I have this burning desire, this powerful yearning inside of me all the time, and these are answered so rarely. Then, when do I have opportunities to submit come my way, I live through experiences so intense that they only fuel my hunger for more such experiences.
So I find these huge gaps, these huge differences inside myself between my needs and desires as a sub, and my needs and expectations as a top. Of course, allocations must be made for the fact that I clearly feel an affinity in the BDSM scene for surrending power much more than accepting it (a complete reversal of my RL situation), but despite that, I still find that there's something there that can't be neglected. If someone like me can have such differences between "personas" within himself, how can two different individuals match up in a perfect way for eternity and a day? Of course, they can't. They'll have to work and adapt to the changes and differences.
Maintaining a vanilla relationship healthy is already more of a challenge than most people can handle. Considering what I think are the even greater depths and complexities of BDSM or power exchange based relationships, I think none of us can underestimate the incredible obstacles we all face in keeping those relationships alive and well. And it is critically important for each of us, regardless of the roles we take on, be understanding of those who take on opposite roles on the power exchange spectrum.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Act 4, Scene 1: Warming up
He skipped a breath when she shut the door behind him. It was his first glimpse of Mistress A in person, and she was absolutely stunning... and so tall. Just about as tall as he was in her heels. Edgy and nervous as he was stepping into her studio, a rush came over him as he was contemplating the arresting beauty of her smiling face, her superbly sculpted body, and the rich mezzo voice that was inviting him into her web.
Mistress A led him to her selected playroom for the evening's session. It was quite a fair size for a single room BDSM-play setting, and contained more than enough toys and equipment to provide an eternity of subspace. A fairly large padded chair with spreader, a suspension bar with leather cuffs attached to a winch, and a bondage bed with metal cage bars extending most of the way around it were complemented by thick piles of bondage equipment, toys, and implements stacked on long pegs on one of the walls. On the window sills were a bunch of finer and more prickly tools. Finally, filing cabinets, one tall (perhaps 7-8 drawers) and one short (3-4 drawers), were placed on diagonally opposite corners of the room. He never quite discovered all of what was in those drawers, but for what Mistress A pulled from them, he would know by the time they were done that they held wonderful objects of torture and ecstasy.
The introduction was brief... he had provided her with a fair amount of background, and between what she had read about him and a quick phone conversation the day prior, Mistress A clearly felt like she had all the information she needed to enjoy the next few hours. As she left the space for a few moments, he was expected to strip naked and place his clothes on one of the hooks on the wall that held so much enticing equipment.
He waited for her return kneeling and looking down at the ground. As she returned, and created a warm feeling inside of him by telling him what she would get from him that evening, she didn't quite seem satisfied with his kneeling position. She reached over for a tall glass container full of small, highly polished pebbles, poured out about a third of them from the container, spread them over a small area on the carpeted floor, and ordered him to kneel on them. The discomfort was definitely felt but it was quite bearable. It did increase a notch when she ordered him to straighten up, to stand on his knees and to look at her. She told him that respect was nice but she did not want her beauty to be wasted. In a flash of rationality, as his grasp on reality was already starting to slip, he realized that she would have a better sense of his reactions when he was looking at her rather than looking away. Not that he would mind in the least... he was still in awe of the beauty of her face, and now he would get more of those playfully expressive, mischievous eyes, and her great smile, a smile both enticing and scorning. And her voice... firm, tantalizing, and contemptuous, was a siren call to which he would be unable to resist. And yet, that voice would remain the mental lighthouse which would be his only link to his actual here and now for the next few hours.
Mistress A had already given his nipples a few tweaks from her gloved hands when she reached over to the top of the small cabinet and pulled out a cigarette. She then proceeded to light it in a way that was at once so sexy and contemptuous. Since his youth he had had a huge fetish for beautiful women smoking, and she sent his mind reeling with just this one visual. In fact, the single visual of her smoking would have been powerful enough, but the cross-imagery of this just stunningly gorgeous dominant woman looking down on him, contemplating what to do with his surrendered will, washed a first wave of subspace over him. Mistress A's smile to his reaction was pure enjoyment, and it seemed to him like she was definitely going to hold that against him.
As she stepped back closer to him, she played with and pinched his nipples harder, one at a time, as she let the smoke fill the space around him. Perhaps by that time she realized how pliable he would be to her will and her whims, and then she described how she was going to fuck him that evening. She was going to fuck his mind, fuck his body, and exploit his frustration of not having had release since she had ordered him to restrain.
Once she was done with her cigarette and her verbal tormenting, she came in even closer to him, pushed his chin up and ordered him to open his mouth as she leaned just a bit over him. She very slowly and deliberately spit into his mouth, and as it landed onto his tongue, a wonderfully intense burst of the sweetness of her saliva and the smokiness from the cigarette exploded in his mouth and provided him with a rush that ran from his mouth throughout his whole body.
Mistress A led him to her selected playroom for the evening's session. It was quite a fair size for a single room BDSM-play setting, and contained more than enough toys and equipment to provide an eternity of subspace. A fairly large padded chair with spreader, a suspension bar with leather cuffs attached to a winch, and a bondage bed with metal cage bars extending most of the way around it were complemented by thick piles of bondage equipment, toys, and implements stacked on long pegs on one of the walls. On the window sills were a bunch of finer and more prickly tools. Finally, filing cabinets, one tall (perhaps 7-8 drawers) and one short (3-4 drawers), were placed on diagonally opposite corners of the room. He never quite discovered all of what was in those drawers, but for what Mistress A pulled from them, he would know by the time they were done that they held wonderful objects of torture and ecstasy.
The introduction was brief... he had provided her with a fair amount of background, and between what she had read about him and a quick phone conversation the day prior, Mistress A clearly felt like she had all the information she needed to enjoy the next few hours. As she left the space for a few moments, he was expected to strip naked and place his clothes on one of the hooks on the wall that held so much enticing equipment.
He waited for her return kneeling and looking down at the ground. As she returned, and created a warm feeling inside of him by telling him what she would get from him that evening, she didn't quite seem satisfied with his kneeling position. She reached over for a tall glass container full of small, highly polished pebbles, poured out about a third of them from the container, spread them over a small area on the carpeted floor, and ordered him to kneel on them. The discomfort was definitely felt but it was quite bearable. It did increase a notch when she ordered him to straighten up, to stand on his knees and to look at her. She told him that respect was nice but she did not want her beauty to be wasted. In a flash of rationality, as his grasp on reality was already starting to slip, he realized that she would have a better sense of his reactions when he was looking at her rather than looking away. Not that he would mind in the least... he was still in awe of the beauty of her face, and now he would get more of those playfully expressive, mischievous eyes, and her great smile, a smile both enticing and scorning. And her voice... firm, tantalizing, and contemptuous, was a siren call to which he would be unable to resist. And yet, that voice would remain the mental lighthouse which would be his only link to his actual here and now for the next few hours.
Mistress A had already given his nipples a few tweaks from her gloved hands when she reached over to the top of the small cabinet and pulled out a cigarette. She then proceeded to light it in a way that was at once so sexy and contemptuous. Since his youth he had had a huge fetish for beautiful women smoking, and she sent his mind reeling with just this one visual. In fact, the single visual of her smoking would have been powerful enough, but the cross-imagery of this just stunningly gorgeous dominant woman looking down on him, contemplating what to do with his surrendered will, washed a first wave of subspace over him. Mistress A's smile to his reaction was pure enjoyment, and it seemed to him like she was definitely going to hold that against him.
As she stepped back closer to him, she played with and pinched his nipples harder, one at a time, as she let the smoke fill the space around him. Perhaps by that time she realized how pliable he would be to her will and her whims, and then she described how she was going to fuck him that evening. She was going to fuck his mind, fuck his body, and exploit his frustration of not having had release since she had ordered him to restrain.
Once she was done with her cigarette and her verbal tormenting, she came in even closer to him, pushed his chin up and ordered him to open his mouth as she leaned just a bit over him. She very slowly and deliberately spit into his mouth, and as it landed onto his tongue, a wonderfully intense burst of the sweetness of her saliva and the smokiness from the cigarette exploded in his mouth and provided him with a rush that ran from his mouth throughout his whole body.
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