The Latest One
So at last we come to Saturday night, the night I topped alla y'all.
We were at Bordello. It was a Kinky Kamp Out, with s'mores and tents and spanking machines outside. Inside it was the regular deal, except the deej was spinning techno and there were people with colored LEDs on strings. Not the usual thing at a play parties I attend. But after awhile the latter-day raver kids calmed down and the music shifted into a more regular darkwave/industrial mix with the occasional pop song thrown in, like Rhianna's S&M. It's funny -- at home I can't stand that song but at Bordello I lip-synched and danced around like a goofy club kid.
Mr. Tungsten was eager to play. It was our fifth scene in public and already he was worlds away from number one. For one thing he'd been talking about it all week.
"We're going to Bordello this weekend, right?"
"Yes, we agreed."
"You won't be too tired after Hollywood, right?"
"I"ll be okay."
And so on. Somebody wanted his ass beat. ^_^
At the venue, my man even inspected the big main room for the station he most wanted to use, going so far as to bounce on the balls of his feet once he'd found a sort of prayer bench with a padded knee rest and padded top. I didn't mind. I pretty much sneer at those pervs who feel like it takes away from the scene if the victim's not kicking and screaming, or needs to be standing with his head down and hands clasped, respectfully. I mean, sometimes those things are great, but variety is the key.
I spent a long while tying Mr. Tungsten to said bench with our longest piece of rope, maybe 100 feet or more. I started with his neck, securing it with about a foot and a half of slack to his paired wrists. Then I tied his wrists to the top bar and then his ankles to the bottom. In that position he could either stand bent over, or kneel. Either way looked delicious. I loved the way his his backside filled out his new, slimmer jeans and how he couldn't really raise his head too much.
I began by tracing the elegant musculature of his back with my folding-knife as well as drawing vertical and horizontal lines with the dulled point. The blade long ago lost its edge but the very tip can still be a tease or agony depending on how hard you press. I also flogged him for awhile and paddled him through his jeans with a lovely wood hairbrush that we have. I try not to over-use it on bare skin because it hurts like hell. But through jeans and boxers the brush is fair game. It makes a nice popping noise when I use it.
Mr. Tungsten is a sucker for nipple play, so that night I tormented them with my riding crop. If his hands hadn't been tingling in their rope-ties I could even have taken him further. He was deep down in subspace and ready for whatever was coming. But safe and sane means he's okay / to want your love another day. Thank you. Enough with the bongos and the snapping already.
Afterwards Mr. Tungsten was very high-energy man. This is the complete opposite of me after a scene. If I was topping, I end up calm and clear-headed with a dash of gratitude for whoever's with me. If I just got my ass beaten, I'm mind-drunk on my own endorphins, wanting to cuddle and rest. But my guy was zipping around, cleaning the station with alcohol solution, drinking water, and consuming an enormous banana-walnut-chocolate chip muffin that he swore was the best in his life. Once he finally calmed down we held hands and sat thigh-to-thigh until it was time for my next scene with G's partner D, or StoryofD online.
It was my first time meeting D, but she already had a gift for me. It was a shot glass from The D hotel and casino in Vegas, in recognition of our shared name and predilection for sin. I liked her instantly, not because of the gift, but because she was a geekgrrl. Her laugh was easy. She liked talking about the Higgs boson. She wore a pair of men's boxers over her lacy black panties. The boxers had ping-pong motif and "Paddle Me" across the seat. I ask you -- how could I not be friendly towards that? But the main thing was she expressed honest enthusiasm for my company. I'm so tired of women that hold back, that find me intimidating, or goofy or lame. Just give me someone with shared interests, who's down when I invite her to something and expects the same.
G tied StoryofD to the same bench that we'd used, with his own set of ropes. Their spanking scene was savage yet kind. However he asked me to step in in and tantalize his ladylove with the suede floggers he'd so enjoyed two weeks ago. D was responsive, especially when I brushed the soft tails of the flogger across her skin. I gave one to G and together we caressed the hapless (or hapful? is that a word) D with the pungent suede. Our combined attentions made her practically purr.
Geeeeee himself went third. It turned out that he'd rarely been topped in public. Up until a few months ago G's relationship with D had been strictly Me Tarzan, You Jane. But now he was rethinking things and you've got to admire that because it seems like that transiiton is more difficult for a man in our society to make. I asked G if he had any special requests and he all but rubbed his hands together before asking for some actual power exchange.
This surprised me, but I wasn't put off. "You know I'll be meaner to you if we do this, right?"
He sort of tensed and sort of got that eager look in his eye.
"Well all-righty then!"
I went out to get some soda and ideas. Pretty soon, if you'll excuse the turn of phrase, it hit me. G had confessed to using many of the implements in his toybag on StoryofD, without having felt them himself. This could not stand. So I came back and methodically tried out every one of the impact toys he had against my palm, my inner arm, and my thigh. Some of those things were absolutely wicked and a lot worse than anything Mr. Tungsten and I owned. I arranged everything in order of meanness on a wrought-iron patio bench.
While I was doing all this Mr. Tungsten and StoryofD were winding G up. Mr. Tungsten even went so far as to say that I'd been in a really bad mood that day -- patently untrue. I'd had lots of fun shopping and was now quite happy to be doing this third, more theatrical scene. Mr. Tungsten knew this, but it amused him to tell our friend otherwise.
I strung up some leather restraints on an X-frame and announced to G that I was ready. The patio bench was nearby with a coat thrown over it. The toybag was on the floor at my feet.
"Look at this," I nudged the duffle with my boot. "You think this is organized? What kind of dom keeps his toybag in a condition like this?"
In truth, there was pretty much just rope in there now. But I'd actually had a rough time sorting everything out and what is overlooked in friends can become a key point for punishment if the participants are willing.
G tried to be flippant, but I wasn't having it. Very soon he was yes ma'am, and no ma'am-ing me just as he should. As I blindfolded G and secured his wrists to the X-frame I told him and the assembled onlookers the rules. I was going to give him three strokes with each of the implements from his bag. This would allow him to guess what they were. If he guessed incorrectly he would take more and harder strokes until he got the answer right.
It was actually surprising how little G knew about his own toys. There was only one implement out of ten that he could identify impact. I had to stroke many of the others across his back after the initial three hits and before the next however many. He was also missing some words. For awhile I thought he might even be sandbagging to get more out of the experience, but he later confessed that this hadn't been the case. So in addition to having a fun time together, I actually really was teaching him some things. Everybody else seemed to like it too -- Mr. Tungsten, StoryoD, and all the people standing around, who laughed at all the right moments because it was a game and we were all involved.
I did trick G, however. One of the implements was the crop from my violin case. It was the very last toy and I worked on him with it for the longest time before he figured it out. He protested that this wasn't fair but I insisted that it was because I was the top and the top makes the rules. Soon afterwards I let him go and we hugged it out. He'd been an amazing play partner and had really stoked my creativity. It felt like ten years ago at Bar Sinister where people would just line up to be worked on and every scene was different.
Afterwards we all went outside to get some air and chat. Not long after that, though, I started to crash. The night before had been filled with epic insomnia and I was working on just 5 hours of sleep. So Mr. Tungsten gallantly drove us home, enthusing about everything that had happened all night and proclaiming that he would begin topping me in public very soon -- something I can only hope happens soon because he's an amazing top at home.