After having me spend the day in locked leather ankle cuffs at the workplace, S and I returned to her place and engaged in our usual ritual of her putting on my collar and clipped leather wrist cuffs on me. As we relaxed to wind down from the day, at one point she laid one of her legs across my thigh, and I couldn't help but to start gently rubbing and massaging her foot.
As she was pondering her next move, I slowly brought her foot to my face, and inhaled its sweet, sweet fragrance. I gently started licking the sole of her foot and her toes, and I felt and heard her moan softly to the delicate treatment I was giving her. While I was very focused on her foot, and couldn't really see her at the angle I had, it felt like she lost her train of thought, leaned back, and enjoyed my gentle ministrations.
S exhaled deeply when I started to run my tongue between her toes while holding up her leg in the most comfortable way I could. I continued for a minute or two as I enjoyed the wonderfully delicate taste and smell of my side of the experience, and was completely taken over by the vibe she was emanating, one of relaxation, pleasure, and dominance.
Just a few seconds later, I was lying on the floor, knees up with my feet on the ground, and S had assumed a slighlty reclining position against my thighs while sitting on the lower part of my stomach. At first, I worked on one foot some more... smelling... massaging... licking... caressing... She pushed her toes gently into my mouth, and I struggled a bit to position my mouth in a way that would give me the best access to her toes, and yet, not force her foot into an uncomfortable angle.
Shortly following came the other foot, and I totally got intoxicated on the sweet fragrance overwhelming me from having both of her feet covering my nose and much of my face. I couldn't focus enough at that point to formulate a good plan to continue S' fetish spa treatment.
A whole body shiver overtaking me from the sensations and the dominating energy she was radiating, I let go of her feet for a moment while my cuffed hands moved over head for a brief stretch. As I accidently hit the wall behind me with my hands, not aware of how close I was to it, S used one of her feet and pinned my hands against the wall, maybe 15-18 inches off the ground.
Suddenly I was trapped, and the scene turned from sensual to gently sadistic in the time of a breath. With my arms pinned overhead and behind me, my body was stretched out, making me feel her weight much more significantly (for the record, S has a splendid physique, and she is quite light under other circumstances...). My breathing became significantly more demanding, and in such a vulnerable position, the veil of subspace was quickly covering me.
My mind lost in the sensations of her spur-of-the-moment dominant creativity, it exploded into fireworks as S reached for my nipples and started playing with them. Her exquisite torture of my nipples is always powerfully overwhelming, a incessant crescendo as her pinching brings on the reactions I know S craves. My moans and my gentle squirming escalate as she tortures them harder, and inevitably, the greater intensity of the torment brings on more of the reactions she wants to get out of me.
Partly immobilized in this particularly vulnerable position, my breathing getting more difficult by the minute, the intoxicating pain of my nipples being pinched, scratched, poked, and tortured harder and more intensely without reprieve, the feeling of her lust for my suffering almost palpable, the excitement of her creativity and this instantly improvised predicament ,and the view of her beautiful, sadistically smiling face from the bottom, I don't know if I've ever gotten into such deep subspace in so little time...
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Not your regular kind of nap
The sweet, gentle ecstasy of lying down next to my Goddess for a half-hour nap... that became 45 minutes, and then almost 90 minutes...
The warmth of her body against mine, her head resting gently on my chest and one thigh over my hips and mid-section, I savored every minute of our closeness tight under the covers. She had unclipped my wrist cuffs for us to be more comfortable, and she held my left hand as my right hand went around her back to her waist. I was careful with each movement lest I hurt her or wake her up dragging the buckle of the wrist cuffs, or the small locks that secured them, against her skin.
My legs were still bound by the ankle cuffs clipped together. As she occasionally shifted her position slightly, I could feel the restraints keeping my feet about 6 inches apart. The helplessness was intoxicating as I was not only limited in my movements, but worse, I could not risk moving or such awkwardness would surely wake my Goddess up.
Deep in subspace from earlier activities, and S' wishes to enjoy a nap with me mostly bound at her side, I drifted in and out of sleep. My head was spinning from this gentle and yet powerful situation. I gasped quietly when during her sleep she reached up and took hold of the central D-ring on my collar with one finger. I wasn't sure how conscious that was since her deep breathing barely paused for an instant while she did that, and resumed immediately after. If my submission to her wasn't complete before that point, it was absolutely total when I felt the light tension on the collar, and I felt her asleep in this position. Now even moving my head had a risk of waking her up.
My on-and-off sleep with her, in this strangely immobilizing bondage, with my Goddess right next to me, in fact partly over me, was incredibly overwhelming. My headspace had nowhere to anchor itself, except in my submission to her and my love for her...
The warmth of her body against mine, her head resting gently on my chest and one thigh over my hips and mid-section, I savored every minute of our closeness tight under the covers. She had unclipped my wrist cuffs for us to be more comfortable, and she held my left hand as my right hand went around her back to her waist. I was careful with each movement lest I hurt her or wake her up dragging the buckle of the wrist cuffs, or the small locks that secured them, against her skin.
My legs were still bound by the ankle cuffs clipped together. As she occasionally shifted her position slightly, I could feel the restraints keeping my feet about 6 inches apart. The helplessness was intoxicating as I was not only limited in my movements, but worse, I could not risk moving or such awkwardness would surely wake my Goddess up.
Deep in subspace from earlier activities, and S' wishes to enjoy a nap with me mostly bound at her side, I drifted in and out of sleep. My head was spinning from this gentle and yet powerful situation. I gasped quietly when during her sleep she reached up and took hold of the central D-ring on my collar with one finger. I wasn't sure how conscious that was since her deep breathing barely paused for an instant while she did that, and resumed immediately after. If my submission to her wasn't complete before that point, it was absolutely total when I felt the light tension on the collar, and I felt her asleep in this position. Now even moving my head had a risk of waking her up.
My on-and-off sleep with her, in this strangely immobilizing bondage, with my Goddess right next to me, in fact partly over me, was incredibly overwhelming. My headspace had nowhere to anchor itself, except in my submission to her and my love for her...
Monday, February 9, 2009
Waiting for his Goddess
The butterflies he had been feeling all morning since he had awakened were now at their most intense as he started climbing the stairs to her apartment. From the moment he started seeing her several weeks back, the anticipation of any kind of meeting with S just overwhelmed him with excitement and nervousness.
He unlocked the front door and walked in looking for his Goddess. As he made his way toward her bedroom, he found her coming out because she had heard him. Her smile never failed to melt his heart, and she looked as radiant as ever, despite the fact that she had slept in a bit and had not yet finished getting ready.
S came up to him for a kiss and a hug, which he so looked forward to every time he saw her. As she pulled away after the renewal of their physical connection, touching again after difficult hours apart from each other, she had that mischievous smile and twinkle in her eyes that he had come to recognize as a sign of her wanting to express her dominance over him.
Whether he was ready to submit to her or not, she had already decided what he was going to be doing while she finished getting ready for her day. She took him to their little dungeon area they had improvised just the day before, and told him he was wearing far too many clothes. As quickly as he could, he removed every piece except for his underwear, and he fell to his knees, assuming a proper submissive she seemed to have found pleasing previously.
After giving him a delicate caress down both sides of his head, and planting a delicate kiss on his lips, she reached back to take the collar lying on the shelf behind her. He bowed his head as she firmly placed the collar around his neck and buckled it. She again reached back to take the leather handcuffs, and without delay, had placed and buckled those around his wrists. Grabbing hold of his hair, she backed him into position under the wire shelf that doubled as an overhead rack to which she clipped the leather handcuffs above his head, a little more than shoulder wide.
Quite satisfied looking down on her work, feeling a rush from seeing her prince helpless and in her power, she reached back once more to pick-up the blindfold. She lifted his chin to look into his eyes one last time, gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, and buckled the blindfold around his head. At that point, she teasingly told him not to go anywhere… she had a few things to take care of. And then she walked away, leaving him alone, bound, deprived of sight, and wondering how long she would be away. He felt himself give out slight whimper as his Goddess left him.
On his knees, wrists locked overhead, his bondage position was not difficult to be in at the start, but it was awkward to maintain for more than a few minutes at a time. He had to shift leg positions fairly regularly, unable to stand on his knees because of the wall behind him pushing his torso out with his hands above and slightly behind him, and unable to kneel and rest on his ankles/forelegs because the rack to which his wrists were attached was too high. He found a position in-between where he could cross his legs and lay his back again the wall that was the most bearable, but even this one was not one he could keep for more than maybe 4 or 5 minutes. In fact, very rapidly he realized he had lost his sense of time. In bondage, in darkness, teased by the scurrying of his Goddess a few rooms away, his shoulders and knees increasingly uncomfortable, he felt his hold on the real world begin to slip, and his submission to S deepen.
After an undetermined amount of time, S did come back to check on him. He had actually lost track of her activities, simply focusing on her in his mind. He could almost see her, almost feel her, and images and emotions from other encounters with her raced through his mind. He only realized she was coming up on him when she came into the room next to where he was bound, the sound of her boots against the carpet the only thing giving her away.
She entered their makeshift dungeon, and asked how he was doing. She was as pleased by his visible discomfort, and quickened and shallow breathing at feeling her there, as she was at him being fine. She crouched down, gave him a kiss, and ran her finger around the edges of his lips. His tongue darted out to find her finger, to feel the softness of her skin and the shape of her beautiful long nails, but she admonished him for the gesture, and as he fell back against his bondage, she resumed her teasing. She told him not to move a all, and then brought her finger into his slightly open mouth. He remained as still as could in order to not disappoint her.
After a few moments of running her finger over his lips, occasionally teasing his tongue with her beautiful long nail, she ran her nails down the front of his body, making sure there was extra pressure on his nipples. Coming back to his nipples, she pinched them, let go a bit, and pinched a little harder, repeatedly, until his moaning reached a level of intensity that sent tremors through her body. S so loved those sounds he made, and his reactions to her ministrations just excited her to a degree that kept surprising her after all these weeks.
S still needed to finish getting ready, and once more she teased him not to go anywhere, and walked away, shutting the closet door behind her. Locked in place, his mind reeling, his body still feeling the after-sensations of her every touch, scratch, pinch, and squeeze of the last few minutes, he was peacefully resigned to fall back into his bondage, to fall back into subspace. Bound, in darkness, sensorially overloaded, and with the door shut closed, unable to make out any more sounds of his Goddess' activities, his mind has reached the nexus he so craved, and the surrender he so wanted to give S.
An undetermined period of time passed... it could have been 2 minutes or 20... when S returned and announced they would have to be leaving soon. His mind was almost too far lost into her to be overwhelmed with the sadness that typically accompanies this moment, but he still felt a whimper come from his chest. But then he heard a familiar sound, one of his favorite, and despite his lack of ability to focus, he realized that she had lit a cigarette.
The smell reached his nose, and once more his breathing grew rapid and shallow in excitement. She drew her lips close to his, and he knew what was expected of him. He met her lips, tried to create as good of seal as possible, and took a deep breath in upon her exhaling into his mouth. Slowly, he took his turn to exhale off to the side, and once more confirmed in his drifting but peaceful mind just how much he enjoyed accepting that from her, how thrilled he was with the powerful symbolism of this simple action.
Before he could quite visualize the amazing scene, S closed in again, and repeated the cycle... several times. Each time, he felt that she was exercising her will over him, that she was enjoying the power that he had surrendered to her. He just could not get enough of what this... He just could not get enough of her...
He knew coming in at the beginning that they had about 40 minutes before they had to leave. At this point, when she put out the cigarette, before she would release him, he would only hope that S enjoyed expressing herself on the canvass of his body and of his mind.
He unlocked the front door and walked in looking for his Goddess. As he made his way toward her bedroom, he found her coming out because she had heard him. Her smile never failed to melt his heart, and she looked as radiant as ever, despite the fact that she had slept in a bit and had not yet finished getting ready.
S came up to him for a kiss and a hug, which he so looked forward to every time he saw her. As she pulled away after the renewal of their physical connection, touching again after difficult hours apart from each other, she had that mischievous smile and twinkle in her eyes that he had come to recognize as a sign of her wanting to express her dominance over him.
Whether he was ready to submit to her or not, she had already decided what he was going to be doing while she finished getting ready for her day. She took him to their little dungeon area they had improvised just the day before, and told him he was wearing far too many clothes. As quickly as he could, he removed every piece except for his underwear, and he fell to his knees, assuming a proper submissive she seemed to have found pleasing previously.
After giving him a delicate caress down both sides of his head, and planting a delicate kiss on his lips, she reached back to take the collar lying on the shelf behind her. He bowed his head as she firmly placed the collar around his neck and buckled it. She again reached back to take the leather handcuffs, and without delay, had placed and buckled those around his wrists. Grabbing hold of his hair, she backed him into position under the wire shelf that doubled as an overhead rack to which she clipped the leather handcuffs above his head, a little more than shoulder wide.
Quite satisfied looking down on her work, feeling a rush from seeing her prince helpless and in her power, she reached back once more to pick-up the blindfold. She lifted his chin to look into his eyes one last time, gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, and buckled the blindfold around his head. At that point, she teasingly told him not to go anywhere… she had a few things to take care of. And then she walked away, leaving him alone, bound, deprived of sight, and wondering how long she would be away. He felt himself give out slight whimper as his Goddess left him.
On his knees, wrists locked overhead, his bondage position was not difficult to be in at the start, but it was awkward to maintain for more than a few minutes at a time. He had to shift leg positions fairly regularly, unable to stand on his knees because of the wall behind him pushing his torso out with his hands above and slightly behind him, and unable to kneel and rest on his ankles/forelegs because the rack to which his wrists were attached was too high. He found a position in-between where he could cross his legs and lay his back again the wall that was the most bearable, but even this one was not one he could keep for more than maybe 4 or 5 minutes. In fact, very rapidly he realized he had lost his sense of time. In bondage, in darkness, teased by the scurrying of his Goddess a few rooms away, his shoulders and knees increasingly uncomfortable, he felt his hold on the real world begin to slip, and his submission to S deepen.
After an undetermined amount of time, S did come back to check on him. He had actually lost track of her activities, simply focusing on her in his mind. He could almost see her, almost feel her, and images and emotions from other encounters with her raced through his mind. He only realized she was coming up on him when she came into the room next to where he was bound, the sound of her boots against the carpet the only thing giving her away.
She entered their makeshift dungeon, and asked how he was doing. She was as pleased by his visible discomfort, and quickened and shallow breathing at feeling her there, as she was at him being fine. She crouched down, gave him a kiss, and ran her finger around the edges of his lips. His tongue darted out to find her finger, to feel the softness of her skin and the shape of her beautiful long nails, but she admonished him for the gesture, and as he fell back against his bondage, she resumed her teasing. She told him not to move a all, and then brought her finger into his slightly open mouth. He remained as still as could in order to not disappoint her.
After a few moments of running her finger over his lips, occasionally teasing his tongue with her beautiful long nail, she ran her nails down the front of his body, making sure there was extra pressure on his nipples. Coming back to his nipples, she pinched them, let go a bit, and pinched a little harder, repeatedly, until his moaning reached a level of intensity that sent tremors through her body. S so loved those sounds he made, and his reactions to her ministrations just excited her to a degree that kept surprising her after all these weeks.
S still needed to finish getting ready, and once more she teased him not to go anywhere, and walked away, shutting the closet door behind her. Locked in place, his mind reeling, his body still feeling the after-sensations of her every touch, scratch, pinch, and squeeze of the last few minutes, he was peacefully resigned to fall back into his bondage, to fall back into subspace. Bound, in darkness, sensorially overloaded, and with the door shut closed, unable to make out any more sounds of his Goddess' activities, his mind has reached the nexus he so craved, and the surrender he so wanted to give S.
An undetermined period of time passed... it could have been 2 minutes or 20... when S returned and announced they would have to be leaving soon. His mind was almost too far lost into her to be overwhelmed with the sadness that typically accompanies this moment, but he still felt a whimper come from his chest. But then he heard a familiar sound, one of his favorite, and despite his lack of ability to focus, he realized that she had lit a cigarette.
The smell reached his nose, and once more his breathing grew rapid and shallow in excitement. She drew her lips close to his, and he knew what was expected of him. He met her lips, tried to create as good of seal as possible, and took a deep breath in upon her exhaling into his mouth. Slowly, he took his turn to exhale off to the side, and once more confirmed in his drifting but peaceful mind just how much he enjoyed accepting that from her, how thrilled he was with the powerful symbolism of this simple action.
Before he could quite visualize the amazing scene, S closed in again, and repeated the cycle... several times. Each time, he felt that she was exercising her will over him, that she was enjoying the power that he had surrendered to her. He just could not get enough of what this... He just could not get enough of her...
He knew coming in at the beginning that they had about 40 minutes before they had to leave. At this point, when she put out the cigarette, before she would release him, he would only hope that S enjoyed expressing herself on the canvass of his body and of his mind.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
"So... do you actually enjoy pain?"
Well... for me, it's really a matter of context.
Toothache? No.
Nipple clamps? Yes.
Stub my small toe against a table leg? No.
Paddling/flogging? Yes.
Kidney stone? No.
CBT? Yes.
Accidental paper cut? No.
Paper cut inflicted by beautiful, dominant woman? Yes.
The bottom line is that the pain must be for someone else to enjoy if I'm going to enjoy it. My pain, my discomfort, my putting up with whatever I must endure, my ability to extend myself, must be for the benefit, the enjoyment, the pleasure, or the fulfillment of someone else. Without someone willing or wanting to receive that gift at the other end, it's just pain, and there's nothing erotic about it. It all comes back to the core of what makes BDSM and D/s what they are for me... an exchange of power. A gift. A surrender of control, of will, of being.
As a side note, I guess this also means I'm not a pure masochist. And as a second side note, this is all within, of course, the context of SSC, and RACK.
The person being given the gift of pain, the gift of submission might not even be around. They could physically be somewhere else and have ordered or are expecting the ordeal. They could have left you in bondage for a while, with or without clamps or spikey things. They may not even know about the pain you are enduring for them. They may not even exist... after a while the fantasy and the pain/stimulus can take a life of its own by association to real events or fantasies. But for me, the pain must be for someone else. And then, that makes it possible to enjoy pain, to find pain erotic, to find it fulfilling.
The pain left after someone has inflicted it can also be incredibly erotic, incredibly powerful. It can stay with me long after the actual encounter. It extends the encounter, extends the gift, extends the submission, and it keeps me in subspace nearly the whole time I can still feel it.
So the answer is... yes and no. I do enjoy pain if it is part of a larger gift I make someone. Someone who will enjoy that gift. Someone who wants to receive from me. Someone who may even want to take it from me. I don't enjoy pain outside of a D/s context, outside of a femdom context. I come across that kind of ordinary pain in my everyday life, and there's nothing erotic or intoxicating about it...
Toothache? No.
Nipple clamps? Yes.
Stub my small toe against a table leg? No.
Paddling/flogging? Yes.
Kidney stone? No.
CBT? Yes.
Accidental paper cut? No.
Paper cut inflicted by beautiful, dominant woman? Yes.
The bottom line is that the pain must be for someone else to enjoy if I'm going to enjoy it. My pain, my discomfort, my putting up with whatever I must endure, my ability to extend myself, must be for the benefit, the enjoyment, the pleasure, or the fulfillment of someone else. Without someone willing or wanting to receive that gift at the other end, it's just pain, and there's nothing erotic about it. It all comes back to the core of what makes BDSM and D/s what they are for me... an exchange of power. A gift. A surrender of control, of will, of being.
As a side note, I guess this also means I'm not a pure masochist. And as a second side note, this is all within, of course, the context of SSC, and RACK.
The person being given the gift of pain, the gift of submission might not even be around. They could physically be somewhere else and have ordered or are expecting the ordeal. They could have left you in bondage for a while, with or without clamps or spikey things. They may not even know about the pain you are enduring for them. They may not even exist... after a while the fantasy and the pain/stimulus can take a life of its own by association to real events or fantasies. But for me, the pain must be for someone else. And then, that makes it possible to enjoy pain, to find pain erotic, to find it fulfilling.
The pain left after someone has inflicted it can also be incredibly erotic, incredibly powerful. It can stay with me long after the actual encounter. It extends the encounter, extends the gift, extends the submission, and it keeps me in subspace nearly the whole time I can still feel it.
So the answer is... yes and no. I do enjoy pain if it is part of a larger gift I make someone. Someone who will enjoy that gift. Someone who wants to receive from me. Someone who may even want to take it from me. I don't enjoy pain outside of a D/s context, outside of a femdom context. I come across that kind of ordinary pain in my everyday life, and there's nothing erotic or intoxicating about it...
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Origins (2)
Childhood, as I've shared previously, holds some fascinating memories for me that have impacted my eventual D/s & BDSM orientation. Recent web discussions opened a drawer of my mind I hadn't looked into for a long time... comic books. As I gave it some thought, it just exploded in my mind that absolutely hands-down, the most significant is the above edition of Superman comics, Superman #261, titled "Slave of Star Sapphire".
Superman was my favorite superhero as a child. I don't know how often I read this story in my teen years (OK, OK... and later). For many years, I didn't understand its appeal, but later, once I had gained a greater awareness and a better understanding of my feelings for D/s, it clicked... big time. Did it contribute? Or does it explain?
With my gratitude going to Cascadian for his amazing post in Captain Comics, here is a synopsis of the comic book, slightly shortened/edited by me. Links to the cover image are provided below the synopsis.
The cover is absolutely amazing. Star Sapphire hovers several inches over the blacktop of Metropolis. Kneeling before her is Superman as she commands: “I command you to kiss my boot, Superman! Let the whole world see you’ve become my slave!” Behind her, Lois, Jimmy, Perry, and a crowd of Metropolitans look on in shock. The Grand Comics Database doesn’t specify who drew the cover so I presume it is Curt Swan with Murphy Anderson, the same wonder duo who provide the interior art.
The splash page for “Slave of Star Sapphire!” (written by Cary Bates and edited, of course, by Julius Schwartz) gives a very brief description of who Carol Ferris & Star Sapphire are. This is just in case the reader had never read an issue of Green Lantern. Which I hadn’t. At this point, my knowledge of Green Lantern came entirely from the Super Friends cartoon so I had no idea who Carol Ferris, much less Star Sapphire, was.
The story starts with Lois Lane at the Metropolis Museum, interviewing the curator about the Star Sapphire exhibit about to open. The exhibit includes the actual gem that provides Star Sapphire with her power. Lois remembers a couple of headlines about Star Sapphire battling Green Lantern and how she wanted to beat him so she could marry him(!). The curator loans Lois a replica costume for her article and recommends that she model it due to her resemblance to the villainess.
The Metropolis airport must be well outside the city, for Clark Kent is riding a helicopter shuttle from the airport to the city. Also on this short flight: Carol Ferris. Using his telescopic vision, Clark sees trouble on the outskirts of the city at a tavern called the Green Lantern. Inside the tavern is a wanted man, Max Fenton, wearing a vest of high explosives that could wipe the entire neighborhood off the map quite easily.
Clark hits an emergency ejection button that fires his seat out the side of the helicopter and then deploys parachutes for a safe landing, his sleeping seat-mate (an business man whose name is not given) is just along for the ride. As the stewardess on the chopper puts it: “They’re quite safe! One of them must’ve accidentally hit their chute-ejector button, that’s all!” Clark uses his super-breath to aim the falling seat to the roof of a skyscraper so he can change clothes without being seen. As Superman flies away, Clark’s seat-mate finally wakes up.
With the blessing of the police, Superman carefully approaches the Green Lantern tavern (which a footnote says appeared previously, in a 1964 Action Comics story). Watching from the helicopter using a handy pair of binoculars, Carol Ferris watches Superman’s actions. She starts feeling odd when she sees the name of the establishment Superman is walking towards. Superman inhales deeply and then blows just enough air into the building to cause it to collapse.
Fenton stands dumbfounded, scarcely able to believe that the building has fallen apart but left him standing unharmed. He threatens Superman with the nitro in his vest. It can’t hurt Superman, of course, but can still damage all the nearby buildings. Superman whips off his indestructible cape and flings it around Fenton. If the nitro detonates now, only Fenton will be harmed by it. The villain starts to collapse and begs Superman to catch him and prevent the explosives from detonating.
Carol Ferris has been watching all this but her fevered mind doesn’t see what is actually happening. Instead of home grown terrorist Max Fenton, Ferris sees Green Lantern. As far as she is concerned, Superman wrapped GL in his cape and used it to squeeze the life out of him. Although Superman’s real opponent has simply fainted in fear, Ferris believes that the Man of Steel has killed the Emerald Gladiator. This completely subverts the Carol Ferris personality, leaving only Star Sapphire. She swears revenge on Superman, vowing to make him her slave. Although currently lacking the power to do so, she can sense that his power gem is nearby. At the Metropolis Museum, the curator discovers that the gem on display isn’t the real one. He surmises that the actual gem was in the replica costume that he loaned Lois. Lois, meanwhile, is needling Clark about disappearing from an in-flight helicopter just prior to Superman appearing. Clark sees the Star Sapphire costume in the package that Lois is carrying and decides it might be fun to turn the tables on her. He lets her become comfortable in her office and then makes a flimsy excuse to go in and see her. He uses x-ray vision to find the costume in her desk and then heat vision to short circuit the transistors in her electronic desk, causing the drawers to burst open. He can’t help but see the costume now and appears shocked by the idea that Lois might be the infamous alien queen. She truthfully denies it and both are shocked as the “fake” gem rises, spinning from the replica costume’s tiara. It flies out the door and down the hall into the waiting had of its true owner, transforming her physically from Carol Ferris to Star Sapphire!
Clark had run down the hall after the flying gem and is the first to see the returned villainess. She blasts him through elevator doors while shouting, “I shall permit nothing to interfere with my hunt for Green Lantern’s killer!” The metal elevator doors would have stopped (and likely killed) a normal man but the Metropolis Marvel goes right through them. He’s unable to stop his fall in the shaft in time and the great force of his impact on the elevator car causes the cable to snap. Grabbing the broken cable, he flies back up and ties the two broken ends together while the terrified passengers escape out onto a safe floor.
As he changes into costume, Superman wonders how Green Lantern could be dead without his fellow Justice League members knowing about it. Already outside the Galaxy Broadcasting building, Star Sapphire has started a reign of terror to draw out her love’s “killer.” Sure enough, Superman finds the destruction on the street and is ambushed by Star Sapphire. “Your hour of judgment has come, super-murderer! Green Lantern’s brutal death will now be avenged!” she yells. Superman holds back because his personal code doesn’t let him strike a woman. Star Sapphire drops down on him from above, placing a chain with the gem of power around his neck. Even off of her body, the gem is still under her power and now Superman’s will is subverted by the gem.
She forbids him to remove the gem or to open his mouth and plead for help. Superman uses super-ventriloquism to call to Lois who is still inside the building. Lois looks out and sees a scene very similar to that on the cover of this issue: Superman kissing the boot of Star Sapphire! The Astral Queen’s next order is for Superman to “Destroy the Galaxy Building and everyone in it!” Superman literally can’t help himself and starts racing to fulfill his dreadful task but emerging from the building is…Star Sapphire?!? This Star Sapphire and the true one start giving Superman contradicting orders. When the second Star Sapphire orders the Man of Tomorrow to fly straight into the air, the real one orders him to fly straight back down. This causes the chain and gem to fall off of Superman’s neck and he regains his freedom. Star Sapphire catches the falling gem and teleports away, vowing vengeance once again.
The second Star Sapphire was Lois. She gambled that the similarity between her and the real McCoy would confuse Superman. It allowed her desperate ploy of having him fly up, only to be ordered down by the woman enslaving him. Lois worries about what Clark will say if he finds out about her being in costume. Superman assures her, “I promise, Lois…he’ll never hear it from me!”
The next day, Carol Ferris is going about her business in Metropolis. She sees the Daily Planet headline proclaiming that Green Lantern has saved an alien world from disaster and feels oddly relieved…although she doesn’t know why...
Saturday, December 27, 2008
The perfect life...
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...
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...
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
