Tuesday, July 31, 2012

I'm Done

I was already a little peeved.

I had waited for five minutes for the assistant to come into my room and check my vitals, a long delay that had previously never happened.

And then I waited on the exam table, naked with my gown opening facing backwards, for another ten minutes for my GYN nurse to come in, again a new occurrence.

And then my GYN and I had this exchange:

"Yes, it's my yearly checkup and I want a full STI panel."
"Has it been a year?"
"The last time I came was for an STI screening six months ago."
"Right, cause if that had been a year then it flew by. Kristen, how much does your STI screening cost?"
"With the few bills I get from the lab, about $150."
"Is that covered by insurance?"
"You know negative to positive test results take six months to occur."
"Yes, that's why I get tested every six months."
"But it costs so much money. And getting tested that often. Have you had any new partners?"
"Well, okay then."

I know she was just trying to "look out for me", albeit in a condescending I'm-older-I-know-better-than-you manner. I know she was thinking of the financial burden of my twice yearly testing.

But I walked out of the office pissed. And I'm still pissed.

I don't talk to my GYN about my life because she comes off as very judgey.

When I mentioned once that I'd had three new partners since she last saw me, I got the are-you-okay talk.

As if fucking three new guys in six months was a lot. As if my deciding to fuck three (it was more than three) men was somehow a symptom of a problem.

This was the same GYN who, after I broke up with my boyfriend, went on a small diatribe about black men and how culturally they don't want to commit to relationships.

My GYN nurse is white. She had been married to, but was now divorced from, a black man.

So no, I've never told my GYN that I'm a slut. I've never told her that I jaunt off on BDSM vacations with the intention of finding fun with whomever however we choose.

I didn't tell her that in fact, since I last saw her, I've had about six new partners, ranging in sexual activity from just kissing to fisting to PIV fucking.

I don't think that part should matter.

In my opinion, what should matter is her patient asked for an STI screening, so she damn well better give it and that be that. No opinions, no probing questions, no muss or fuss. She is not my therapist; she is definitely not Doc.

Why would a licensed medical practitioner try to dissuade an adult from an STI screening? It just seems so irresponsible.

Twice a year I give blood and my vaginal swabs get screened for a few more tests. Twice a year I make sure I am healthy, that I am safe for my partners (new and old) to play with. Twice a year I do my part to be a responsible kinkster, but more importantly a responsible adult.

I think today was my last visit to my GYN. She was great when I was young and just starting out in my sexual journey. Now it just feels like I'm beyond her.

Actually, more correctly, she is not who I need, nor who I want.

I'm done.

Monday, July 30, 2012

You May

"I like her. Can we take her home?"

Even though I was tired, having only gotten about three hours of sleep, there was no way I was going to miss the first class session Sunday morning.

I got up, quickly showered, put on my gray cotton stretch dress with mesh cut outs, laced up my boots, and almost skipped to the upper fire pit class tent. I was the first to arrive for WhipMasterBob and Bootpig's Puttin The Boot To Them.

I greatly enjoyed the lessons they taught in nonverbal communication using just your boots, but my favorite part of the presentation was the last thirty minutes.

The duo always left this time for student requests. Coming into the lesson, what did we expect to learn? From those answers, they would provide us with the final bits of information.

The consensus in the class was a desire to learn about rough body play with the boot.

Bootpig laid on a soft mat in the middle of the class benches. WhipMasterBob stood above her and spoke about different areas of the body to target. He stood on different parts of her body, suggesting that tops have something to hold onto to keep their balance.

But then he stopped. Bootpig was having back issues and could not demo the rest of the information. Could he have a volunteer from the class?

My hand shot up.

He waved me onto the mat. I got on all fours in front of Bootpig, who then didn't move off the mat.

"Oh, am I in your way," I asked.
"No honey. I'm just enjoying the view." Yeah, I wasn't wearing any underwear...

Bootpig complimented my ass before sitting on another mat to watch the rest of the demo.

Lying down on the center mat, WhipMasterBob now loomed over me. He spoke about how I'd positioned my body on the mat. I was flat on my stomach, my arms above my head, exposing my ribs. He then gave some swift kicks with the side of his boot to my torso.

Stepping towards my rear, he stood on my back, pushing my body into the mat.

Using the toe of his boot, he struck the lower portion of my ass with an upward angle. I started to softly moan as my hips ground into the mat with each of his strikes.

"Your welcome," he said.

With that as a warm up, WhipMasterBob had one more lesson to teach.

Slipping the toe of his boot under my clit, he inched farther and farther under me until my entire crotch was on his boot, my pussy right against laces. Using his other boot, he gyrated my ass, having me hump his leather. My moans grew loud as I rode his boot.

And then he stopped.

"What? I'm a Sadist."

The other students in the class groaned for me. Someone saw my pout and advocated to our instructor. WhipMasterBob looked down at my face and ah-ed.

"Can you beg with your eyes?" I did. "That's pretty good. Okay."

His boot was again on my ass, rocking my body against his leather, fervently humping his boot. As I moaned, I still felt the need to ask permission, but couldn't quite get out the words. WhipMasterBob, ever the experienced Dom, understood my garbled request.

"Yes, you may."

"Thank you," I panted.

And right there, in the middle of class, I humped his boot and came.

Not For Long

"Are you ready?"
"Are you ready?"
"For what?"
"Doom doom da doom, doom da doom, doom da doom. Doom doom da doom, doom da doom, doom da doom. Doomy doom, doom doom, doom da doomy doom, doom doom. Doom doom da doom, doom da doom, doom da doom."

Her rendition of the Imperial March was stuck in my head long after we parted.

As I drove around I-495, ferrying a Brit to the airport, we approached the bend in the highway just before the Connecticut Avenue exit and it loomed before us: the Mormon temple. I could not begin to guess how many times I'd passed the imposing structure, but this time was the most memorable.

Cruising along, Lil Sis sat beside me as I sped her towards Dulles, and away from us.

"Would you like a strawberry milkshake for the road?"
"How about Quiznos instead?"

Apparently there are no Quiznos in London; she had her last fix of toasted sandwich (and toasted cookie too) before we were off. She paid for lunch.

We chatted, small talk to get the through the unease I felt. I didn't want to let her go.

But she had to go. The last thing I wanted was for her to get into trouble with people who carried guns. I desperately wanted her to stay, but life isn't so simple or easy.

When I finally pulled up to the departure drop off, we hugged in my car. And then we hugged outside of my car. I held her tight, way longer than any normal interaction with a friend, because this was it. This was the bye.

When we finally broke apart, I had to keep my attitude upbeat. I spoke of the London Grue, and the Olympics, and seeing her other friends. I tried to sound light, hopeful.

As she walked inside, I stood at my car and waited. I watched her til I couldn't see her anymore.

I then took a deep breath and drove off. I played my music loud. I told myself I would see her soon. I reminded myself of the the London Grue and her fun with her other friends.

I didn't need to cry; I'd already done that on the floor in my basement a few days earlier, rope wound tight around me. I'd already wailed and lamented the suckage of life. I'd already mourned the inevitable.

Instead it was time to breathe, and to drive, and to make myself look forward, make myself focus on seeing my Lil Sis again.

And though a huge ass ocean separates us, I know it will not be forever or for long.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Cage Match

D3 stripped naked, save for his boots. I wore only a black strapless dress, a cute pair of underwear, and my boots. I told D3 how I like it when people take off my clothes.

"Mean or nice?"

He stepped in close. We kissed, our arms wrapped around each other.

He began punching me. I slowly, blow by blow, backed up into the wall of the cage. I looked into his eyes as his punches landed on my chest, my arms, my thighs.

He kissed me, turned me, and then stripped off my dress, unzippering the back and quickly peeling it off my body. He left my boots and underwear on.

He punched my back, my ass. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked my thighs. He swung his leg and landed his boot across my ass.

Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to the ground. Lying on my stomach, he put his boot by my face.

"Lick it," he demanded.

My tongue traced up, down, and around his leather as he continued to punch my back.

Using his boot, he flipped me over. He loomed above, stepping onto my body, using the cage for balance until he could apply his full weight. Adjusting his body, he intensified his weight into his heel, down onto my flesh. Turning my head with his boot, he stepped on my chin line.

Coming down to my level, he chose to sit on my ribs and once again punched my chest. Using his elbow, he applied pressure points to my chest and arms. Pulling out a knife, he glided his steel along my chest and over my face. He made me endure more pressure points.

His knife away, he leaned down and once again kissed me. He licked my eyelids. As we continued to makeout, he pulled me on top of him.  His body now laid below mine.

In an instant, the dynamic of our scene switched. I kissed him, teased him.  I danced my breasts in front of his face.  He pinched and sucked on my nipples.  I leaned down and bit his neck. He encouraged me to bit harder; I did so. He moaned with my increased pressure.

I kissed him more. Without realizing it, I'd begun grinding my hips on his leg. I was happy my underwear was still on.

Without warning, he hooked his leg and flipped me back onto the mat. Again we kissed. My legs grasped his thigh as I continued to hump his limb.

He sat me up, crossed legged. He punched my thighs more. Using his lead shot mallet, he attacked my back and thighs.

And then he asked a magical question.

"What do you want to do now?"

I answered bluntly.

"Fist me or fuck me."

We laid down a chuck; he gloved up. I removed my very wet underwear and got comfortable on my back.

We started slow. I asked him if I needed permission to cum. He said I didn't. I could have as many orgasms as I wanted. "I love to watch people cum."

I orgasmed a few times before his full fist was in.

Once inside, he used a turning motion to make room, sending my muscles racing. What he thought was to be our final flourish was merely about a third of the way into the fisting. I continued to fuck his hand and cum like crazy, pushing back as he rocked me forward.

Once, during a rather intense orgasm, I lifted my hips up off the ground, bridging my body high. "That was intense," he remarked.

My ass back down on the ground, I hooked my calves around his elbow and squeezed my thighs. I rode his hand as hard as I could. I came so hard, I cried. I asked him to vibrate his hand, and then came again. He tried to open and close his hand quickly. I stopped him, coaching him instead to do it slowly.

Soon, his wrist tired. He asked me how long I could go. I informed him this was a loaded question, as my record for a fisting was an hour and forty-five minutes with forty-two orgasms (yes, we counted).

He decided, with his wrist about done, it was time to pull his hand out. There was a final flourish, the delicious feel of his knuckles against my pelvic bone when his hand exited.

Ungloving and joining me on the mat, we cuddled and kissed, and almost fell asleep.

He then asked me if I wanted to help him orgasm. I gave a very enthusiastic yes.

I then gloved up as he laid back. As he masturbated, I massaged his asshole. When he came, I caught his cum in my glove and smeared it onto his lips. He licked off his cum, sucking on my fingers, all the while our eyes locked on each other. It was so very hot.

Gloves again discarded, we cuddled more before cleaning up.

When we checked the time, we could hardly believe it was real. We'd started at about midnight. The time had flown by.

We finished at 2:22am.

Friday, July 27, 2012


When I approached the Dungeon, I knew I was arriving a bit early. Since I'd finished my writing with some extra time, I figured I'd just wait for D3's arrival by the cage.

As I grew closer to the entrance, a small crowd meandered outside. Since I knew the people standing about, I greeted folks and struck up a conversation.

Skywolf and I spoke about bootblacking. He thanked me for aiding Phoenix in learning the basics of the skill, and asked me a specific leather care question. However, since I am still somewhat of a novice, I did not know the answer to his question.

As I spoke with Skywolf, Lynk (ever the ninja) sneaked up on me again. I gave a little yelp as he nipped my neck and then rubbed my shoulders. The group conversation continued as I melted away for a moment, relaxing into his touch. I was grateful his hands helped to soothe away some of my nerves.

When my mind again came back, I ended up giving a brief description of my night thus far to those standing about. Bendyogagirl them commented she suddenly felt her awesome night was not so awesome after all. However, when she described her exploits to me, I disagreed. I thought her escapades sounded like quite the kinky awesomeness.

As much as I would've loved to have stayed outside with the group, chatting and socializing, I had a scene to get to.

When I entered the Dungeon, it took me but a moment to find D3. He stood, by the cage, the ever prized play space claimed for us. He explained he'd actually waited and then held the spot just for our play.

As I looked around the Dungeon, I noticed there was a dearth of kinky folk about. When D3 mentioned it was almost time for Midnight Snack, my question was answered.

I set my things aside to use the restroom while D3 cleaned the mats on the floor of the cage. On my walk back, I happened to bump into N3rddom, who asked me what I was up to. I mentioned I was about to have a scene with a cute boy.

"You seem nervous."
"Your voice changed."
"You really like him."
"I gotta go," I said, scurrying back towards the cage.

As much as I cared for N3rddom, the last thing I needed was someone pointing out my nerves. I was, to be perfectly honest, incredibly nervous leading up to my scene with D3.

Stepping into the cage, D3 closed the door behind me.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Triple Booked

Rushing to head back to the end of the Circus, I ran to my cabin, dropped off my rope equipment, picked up my bootblacking kit, and quickly made my way to the Barn.

When I arrived, the event had already ended. I looked around but could not find Stefanos, who had emceed the Circus.

I spoke with Big Bro, who said I should check his cabin. Taking his advice, I headed in that direction. When I finally found it, after some confusion as to exactly which cabin Stefanos & Chey stayed in, I inquired inside, but still did not find him. Instead I found another girl who said she had a playdate with him as well.

With no other good idea coming to mind, we both headed back towards the Circus.

As I again approached the Barn, we looked around for Stefanos. We eventually found him kissing yet another beautiful girl. This was getting interesting.

As both myself and his cabinmate approached, Stefanos and the other beautiful girl stopped kissing. He took a moment, looked at all three of us, and suddenly realized his mistake.

I, also realizing the situation, could not help but start giggling uncontrollably. It wasn't the best time for one of my giggle fits, but it was definitely warranted.

Stefanos asked for a moment to go grab his things to prepare for each of our scenes. The three of us sat, chatting, waiting for his return. A permanent smile was plastered on my face.

When he came back, he brought Chey to meet us all. She recognized me instantly. After greeting us, she wished us each good scenes and headed on her way.

Stefanos then asked our trio how we wanted to handle the confusion. I was first to offer an out. I could wait until late for his bootblacking.

He wanted to know what I meant by late. Since I had my midnight playdate with D3, I offered 2:30am. He agreed, thanking me for my understanding.

With now a few hours to kill, i decided to catch up on my journaling. I had the abduction, my bootblacking shift, and my rope time to chronicle.

Slipping into the Barn, I sat on an empty massage table and pulled out my notebook. As I began writing, I heard some people enter behind me. When I looked back, I saw Stefanos and one of the ladies taking a spot on another free massage table. It seemed they would have their scene about twenty-five feet away from me.

As much as I wanted to watch, and I wanted to watch, I made myself turn back around. I made myself write.

As I continued to delve into my memory, the rest of the world melted away. I mined my mind's caverns, trying to recall small details, memorable bits of dialogue, and multitudes of tiny moments of my adventures.

Later, when someone asked if they could use my massage table for a scene, I quickly hopped off and transitioned to sitting on the stage. When I looked across the Barn, Stefanos and the beautiful girl were gone.

Finished with my writing, I headed to the Dungeon. A cute boy was waiting for me.


My third and final tie for Fusion occurred early Saturday night.

Nomad, Lynk, and I met up by the Barn, standing on the outskirts of an event, the Kinky Circus.

Nomad and I then headed towards the Dungeon as Lynk stayed a moment to speak to someone briefly.

As the two of us stepped onto the gravel path leading up to the tennis court, Lynk slipped up beside me. I jumped a little, not realizing he had caught up, and said, "Dude, you're ninja."

We'd decided to have our rope time at the circular truss on the tennis court just outside the Dungeon. When we initially met up, it was 8pm. The Sun was low in the sky, but still bright enough for us to work.

I emptied out my rope kit and began to rig my ring. As I threw up my webbing, Lynk offered to assist me. Leaping, he grabbed a lower rung of the truss and slipped my webbing threw.

As Nomad looked up, she wasn't sure how she would rig her equipment. She merely had two interlocked carabeners, along with a swivel, attached to her ring.

I asked her for a length of rope and decided I would climb on top of the truss to rig her ring. Again Lynk offered to help instead. He leaped, flipped up, and locked his legs above.

"You could use the ladder," I said, referring to the ladder portion of the truss I had begun to climb before his offer of aid.

"What's the fun in that?" He then lifted his body up and over and laid across the top of the truss.

Tossing up the rope, he looped the line through the truss and let it back down to me. I tied a knot on Nomad's ring and then tied a set of ascending half hitches. When I could no longer reach, Lynk took over, finishing off the rope for me.

Our equipment secured, Nomad started her self suspension and I started my practice with Lynk.

I explained to him the ties I wanted to perform. First I would give him a simple inversion with a hip harness and an ankle cuff. Then I would attach a chest harness and thigh cuff, giving him a face up suspension.

We began. Using a Swiss seat, I encouraged him to adjust the lines for comfort as I tied. The humidity did not allow my hemp rope to fly across skin as normal, but I made due. Attaching an ankle cuff, I was ready to lift him.

I tied a lifting line to his hip harness and picked up his center. I asked him if he was ready. He was.

I asked Lynk to sit into his harness and then lifted his ankle cuff, pulling the line all the way through one of my carabeners. He was upside down.

I asked him how he felt. He was good, except the hip harness was biting a bit. Lynk is quite fit. While up, he realized his frame possessed very little padding for my ropes.

I let him down slowly. He stood, and I eased down some stress on the lifting line of his hip harness. For future suspensions, he would ask for more lines around his middle.

We transitioned to the next tie. I wrapped rope around his chest creating a simple harness. I attached a line from his chest to my ring. Checking that he was ready, I lifted his chest and hips. Tying a line to his thigh, I lifted his leg. Finally again rose his ankle.

Once more, he was doing well. I asked about his neck, seeing if he wanted some extra support. Like my tie with EvilMike, I quaded my rope, slipped it behind his head, and took the rope to my ring.

Lazing in my ropes, Lynk remarked how he now understood why people liked suspensions so much. He said he could lay in it for hours.

As he gently swayed, quietly meditating, I looked back to check on Nomad. She was up in the air, suspended sideways, adjusting her ropes.

As she worked and Lynk lazed, I smiled.

As the Sun's light grew dim, I began letting Lynk down. By the time all my ropes were on the ground, coiled and put away, the light was gone.

Lynk went up and came down safely, a new convert to suspension. He was a successful, and my last, Fusion rope practice.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012


I asked D3 if he wouldn't mind blacking my boots, seeing as my shift was up in fifteen minutes. He agreed, sitting on the ground as I remained in my chair, setting up his kit as I stashed mine away.

He then asked, "Do you need to go anywhere?"

"No," I replied. My commitments for the evening didn't start until much later, about two hours from then. This was his tester, to see how much care and attention he could give to my leather. In my view, he had all the time in the world.

We started with my showing him how to unlace my boots, first trailing up the boot & around the rosettes and then back down over the rosettes & through the side loops.

As he began with his cleaning, I as usual slipped into my happy floaty place. His hands massaged my calves. Pressure and sensation mixed with the feel of having someone so close to me servicing my wears. My head rolled back and I sighed.

To condition my boots, he used a mixed of Black Gold and Hubberd's. I loved the visual of him rapidly rubbing his hands together and them applying the mixture on me. As again his hands kneaded into my flesh beneath my leather, my sighs grew into moans. My eyes closed; my head collapsed back. I fell into the feeling of the service, and got lost in his hands.

When I peaked, just once, I saw what looked like Hubberd's on his lips. I smiled, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to be lost again.

His work mostly complete, I explained how to re-lace my boots, a chore all its own.

His work finished, I offered him a tip. He refused. He knew it would come from the tips I'd made earlier. Instead he told me to put the money back into my kit.

Not able to compensate him monetarily, I asked if I could give him a hug. He stood up on his knees into my seated arms.

As our arms initially intertwined, we somehow naturally... gently... kissed.

And kissed a little more.

And a little more.

Our lips parted. Our tongues played. Before I knew it, we were making out.

My hands trailed down his back and gripped his ass.

He started sucking on my tongue. Normally, I hate it when people do this. It's only happened to me once before and it was not a pleasant experience.

But D3, when he sucked my tongue, and played with my ring, I was so fucking aroused I started grinding against my metal chair and panting like a begging puppy.

As he sucked and I bucked my hips, I came right there in his arms, the smell of Hubberd's still fresh on the both of us. I never wanted to stop kissing him.

But, eventually, we did. Our kissing ended, we then actually hugged, and then slowly broke apart.

I slouched back into my chair, the intensity from the past minutes washing over me.

D3 asked what I was up to that evening. I knew I was to black Stefanos' boots, and had plans for play during the Circus. I asked him his plans. He, in fact, wanted a playdate with me.

We settled on midnight at the Dungeon.

I spoke about how I loved impact and showed off some of my bruises, exposing my breasts. He asked permission to play with my nipples, which I gave.

His tongue flicked and licked. His lips closed around and sucked. He bit, hard. I took in the pain, let it wash over me, until I had to call yellow.

We flirted. We exchanged numbers. We parted.

We would see each other again, later that evening.

My Bootblacking Shift

Because of Friday night's storm, there was some confusion and a handful of things not going as planned at camp. The Pamporium was up and running though, albeit without hot wax, so I made my way over after lunch, a host of much needed calories after my abduction, in hopes of working my bootblacking shifts.

As I rolled past Oink's cabin, I saw TheatricalToy there, along with others waiting to be let back inside to retrieve their things. She informed me she would not be bootblacking, but if I wanted I could still try.

When I arrived at the Pamporium, Amethyst consented to my endeavour. I pulled two folding metal chairs over to a clear spot in the tent nearest the asphalt path. I found two small empty matching garbage bins and flipped them over.

I unzipped my kit, a piece of well packed carry-on sized luggage, and I sat.

As people walked in and out, I looked for anyone wearing boots. However, with the hot day, there were none. Me, in my cotton dress and knee-high boots, seemed an anomaly.

As I waited, D3 came by. He was to be the experienced bootblack on shift (to my novice spot), but he wanted to check on Toy and help her through her current ordeal. He said he would swing by when he was again free.

And so I went back to waiting.

I scanned folks walking by, hoping to see leather. And then, a bite. I saw a gentleman walk up the lane in a pair. I called to him, asking if he'd like his boots blacked.

As he sat down in my chair, he introduced himself. His name was B, and he was also suppose to be on shift with me. I'd signed up for two back-to-back slots, giving me boot time from 2:30pm-6pm.

Now with a pair of boots to work on, I started. As I worked, I enlisted his aid. It was agreed he would stay by my side, just in case, answering any questions I had and giving me pointers along the way. He, in fact, could not black that day because of some shoulder issues.

While I worked, my friend Phoenix came over. She saw that I was bootblacking and asked if I could teach her. I was more than happy to help. She scurried away to grab her Master's boots.

As I finished up B's boots, he said he had another pair for me to black if I so wanted. I did. He left as well. Both soon returned.

As another pair of boots sat in my chair, I explained the basics of bootblacking to Phoenix as she worked on her Master's boots on the ground to my right. Meanwhile B sat on my left watching my work. I was both the teacher and the student.

Later I blacked B's second pair of boots, and he taught me a method for spit shining. Out of gratitude for his aid and tutelage, I asked him if I could kiss his boots. He agreed. Gripping his leather, I brought my lips to his boots, kissed and caressed both sides, and gently parted from his leather.

At one point SkinnyBitch, who was inebriated, sat in my chair. She wore shiny flip flops and asked if I could black them. I looked through my kit, found a clean toothbrush, sprayed it with water, and dusted very carefully, making sure to not remove her sparkles. Challenge accepted and accomplished. She giggled with delight.

While waiting for another customer, Stefanos happened to walk by. I turned, saw him, and smiled. I offered to black his boots, but he was on his way to a class. He suggested later, to which I gleefully agreed. I would meet him after the Circus that evening.

As my shift grew near it's end, D3 came back to check on me. After chatting with both my mentors for the day, D3, B and I agreed to come back the next day for another shift, as well as setup shop for the Dirty Pig leather contest. Phoenix and B then departed.

D3, however, stayed.

Sunday, July 22, 2012


I pulled my gold fabric up over my ass, opting to not remove my toga. I had intricately placed my two pieces of long fabric and didn't want to try to rearrange them. My diadem stayed put fine. My sandals and chainmail belt were not an issue. My golden wing earrings dangled from my ears. My outfit garnered multiple compliments throughout the evening.

The group had provided a chair for the spankees to lean on. Hoop had already had her licks. Her birthday was the day before mine, so it seemed fitting. I had waited patiently on some stairs above, ushering people down in the room for the show.

And then it was my turn.

But my spanking could not be simple. Is my life ever simple?

There was the tradition set the year before: DeepEnd's hockey stick enjoyed the honor of #29 and the one for good luck. LadyAisha wanted to get a comparison from me with her pool cue stick, so she claimed #27 & #28. N3rddom brought his cricket bat and wanted equal treatment; he would swing #25 & #26. Big Sis wanted to go first; she would be #1-#3.

The room was dark, save for the two lamps at opposite ends shining blue light, and the porn I'd set up on a projector at the far end of the entertainment area. The positioning was a brilliant idea; you could look into the room and see the fucking all the way from kitchen.

It seemed fitting that my ass was about to get abused in our Family Room.

Big Sis started, smacking each side once and finishing with both hands on her third. After her a stream of friends, new and old, stepped up for their turn. I was thankful SkinnyBitch gave me a reprieve; she merely punched my ass, a bit of thuddy pleasure in an ocean of stingy pain. Others, however, enjoyed their lashing, enjoyed my yelps, enjoyed making me hurt. My ass was thoroughly warmed up before the experiment started.

Throughout the love fest, I was very happy I was leaning on a chair, but never so much as when the big boy toys came out.

N3rddom stepped up holding his godawful cricket bat. His first blow utilized the stingy side. I counted out the number, 25, a tear gliding down my cheek. His next blow switched to the thuddy side, but my ass was too raw to register the difference, 26.

LadyAisha stepped up, her pool cue in hand. She swung, connecting mostly on my right cheek. It was thuddy burny, a sensation I had not felt before. Again I collapsed into the chair and called out the count, 27. She repeated her swing, now with my knowledge of how much it would hurt; 28.

As the affair had gone on, DeepEnd had loomed at the top of the small set of stairs leading down to the Family Room, observing our revelry. Now it was his turn.

The crowd parted as he stepped down and approached my ass. I braced myself, assuming he'd follow his normal pattern: 1, 2, 3Hit! Instead he took a back swing and landed his blow, no countdown. I screamed out my count, 29!, and then pipped about keeping to pattern.

"Everyone, on the count of three, yell Happy Birthday to Kristen. One, Two, Three. Happy Birthday!" At least he stuck to pattern on the last one.

My ass was more than warm. When I glided my fingertips over my rump, I could feel the bruises and bumps that had formed from my abuse.

There were hugs, and later photos (check my Tumblr or Twitter feed), my analysis of the comparison of the big boy toys, a conversation about odd impact implements, and my dumb ass volunteering to be a demo bottom for their uses, eventually.

Happy Belated 29th to me.

Friday, July 20, 2012

A Love Abduction

There was lots of water for everyone; we all were sweaty and exhausted. I slumped over, chugging a bottle, and then another.

Even with all my screaming (the scene had lasted about an hour and there were few times when I was silent), my voice was not hoarse. I'd never pushed my voice that long and hard before. It was nice to learn something new about myself.

Sugary things were the next to come out. Bananas, Gushers, and fruit cups circled around the group.

People rubbed my back, played with my hair, and made sure I was okay.

As Gray stood up, I rested my head against his hip, reached my arm around his leg, and leaned against him. Later he stepped away so others could come in to hug me.  After a few parting embraces, I waved him back over. I hugged him once more before he had to depart.

We all gathered up our things. My tattered clothes were coming with me. I tossed around the idea of making a blanket out of all my destroyed clothing from the weekend.

N3rddom had an entire box of things for the abduction, from safer sex supplies to many toys that didn't get to come out. We picked up all our trash. We left the place as we'd found it.

The group disbursed. People had playdates, classes, and staff errands to attend to. N3rddom said he would walk me back through the woods to my cabin. My other captors walked across the small bridge towards the other side of the lake.

We had been in the obstacle course, a part of camp I had never visited before. I'd say my scene was an excellent introduction to the space.

As N3rddom and I trekked back up the rocky and muddy hill, I held his hand. Both of us were still high on adrenaline and endorphins.

We began talking about the experience. I laughed jovially that I would be bra-less for the rest of camp. Gray had, in fact, cut off the only two I'd brought with me.

N3rddom was slightly anxious. He very much wanted to make sure I'd had a good time, that his devious plans had been successful. I assured him that all went well; I'd had a splendid time.

N3rddom began mentioning all the things he had planned: an ass hook, clover clamps for my pussy. But the group never got around to his other implements because everyone was having so much fun just hitting me.

"You know Kristen, this was very much a love abduction. Everyone there was there because they are crazy about you...When you get down, when you feel like shit, remember everyone there loved you."

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Abduction part 5

My abduction had a special guest. They walked into my line-of-sight after all my limbs were restrained, somewhere in the middle of my pain. I hadn't heard their voice before then either.

They wore beautiful boots, black with red trim and buckles at the top. They used those boots to step on my stomach. They stepped on my chest. They stepped on my face and smeared the mud from their walk through the woods to my abduction onto my cheeks.

Murphy ordered me to compliment the special guest on their boots.

"I already did earlier." I had, in fact, seen the special guest wearing those boots before my class and remarked on how beautiful they were.

"We don't give a shit," yelled Gray. "Do it again!" He punished me for my sass. I screamed out in pain, and then in adoration of the boots.

"I love your boots, X. All I want to do is kiss and lick them."

"Now you are a filthy fucking slut," remarked Slut.

With her hand now free from my cunt, Slut transitioned to biting me all over: my chest, arms, legs, stomach.

With PrudeNate's hand inside me, I soon asked permission to cum again. I was refused.

I pushed through the pain, now not just the scratching and punches and biting, but also willing my body to not react, willing my muscles to not contract, willing my orgasm back.

Murphy said I would gain permission for my cum if I screamed out my name, Cabin Bitch For Life. I did. I came.

[Added thanks to PrudeNate:

As my torment continued, someone remarked that there was nowhere on my body that had not been punched.  PrudeNate, however, disagreed. 

"There's somehwere she hasn't been punched yet."  The group looked to him in astonsihment, asking where. 

"Here," he replied as he punched my cervix with his fist inside me.  There were many nodding heads of approval, as well as a few at-a-boys.]

During the duration of the scene, whenever I began to catch my breath, or Gray and Murphy thought I was getting too quiet (as in I wasn't full throated screaming or sobbing), the duo beat me more.

"We want your voice gone. You're not going to stop screaming." I don't remember which of the two said that.

N3rddom, who I'd barely seen throughout my ordeal, came into my line-of-sight, punched my chest, kissed me, and whispered into my ear, "Aren't you glad you asked me to do this?"

When he stood back up, he also remarked, "What happened to you mindfucking us?"

With PrudeNate fisting me, CandleLover's nails gripping my breast, and Slut's teeth sunk down into my stomach, it became too much. At one point, Slut bit hard, pulled, and swiveled her head back and forth.

I tried to break free. I was so sweaty it was hard for everyone to hold my limbs as I wrenched my body around. I got an arm out, but was soon restrained again.

I needed to get away. I was able to curl my body away from Slut, but she never let go of my stomach. She just wouldn't stop biting me.

Finally I had to scream, the most guttural scream of my life. "YELLOW!" Immediately people relaxed their grip. I curled into a ball away from Slut, away from her teeth. It happened to be into Big Bro's lap.

I just needed a moment. I just needed water. I just needed Slut to not be biting me.

After I chugged a bottle of water, I said I was okay. I thought we would go on.

Instead Big Bro called it. I was done.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Abduction part 4

Lying on my back, I was now completely naked. They pulled off all remaining pieces of fabric of my tattered dress, as well as slipped the strap of my Hello Kitty bag over my head.

CandleLover held my left arm. Cannonball gripped my right arm. My back rested on their thighs. Murphy was on my right leg and Gray on my left. I couldn't get away. There was nowhere to go.

Slut again drew targets, this time on my chest. The marker she used scratched my skin terribly, a mere warm up for their punches. With her targets drawn, Slut began fisting me while others gave me more pain.

First people took turns abusing my chest. Murphy intended to use his double barrel shot gun method, but he made me ask for it. The first time I asked, he said I wasn't loud enough. The second time I screamed as hard as I could.

"Murphy, please hit me with the double barrel shot gun!"

He slammed both his fists into my chest. I was grateful for CandleLover and Cannonball supporting my torso, even if I was their hostage.

Now it was Gray's turn. He told Murphy how Big Bro was mentioned in my interrogation. Gray said how he didn't punch as hard as Murphy, so he made up for it in number of hits and increased speed. Gray punched quickly all over my chest. He also struck my stomach and my thighs.

Gray again pulled out his cane, the one that was great for leaving marks, and continued to attack my chest. He hit my nipples and lashed at the underside of my breasts.

Then both Murphy and Gray sunk their fingers into my flesh, waves of pain surging from their pressure points manipulations. Meanwhile CandleLover's nailed gripped my breasts and scratched my skin.

I was given some reprieve as Cannonball poured water into my mouth. I gratefully gulped down the entire bottle, getting about a minute break before the torture continued.

With my short breather, I was finally able to start enjoying Slut's fisting, whereas before it had been a way to endure the pain. As she continued to work, I could feel an orgasm rising. N3rddom brought out a vibrator and placed it on my clit. The crew made me endure more pain before I was allowed to cum.

When I asked permission, Murphy insisted I beg for my orgasm. He made me scream out the names of the event organizers, but they were nowhere within hearing distance. Then he made me ask the photographers, who had been shooting the abduction the entire time.

When I begged the duo to allow me to cum, the male of the two replied, "In a minute."

"I like you. You can run with us," said Murphy.

Gray gripped my throat. My eyes locked on his. He began counting back from five. When he finished, I was allowed to cum.

Finally, finally, I felt lustful beautiful warmth surge through my abdomen. Finally I was rewarded for my pain.

Slut switched out with PrudeNate. Time for Round two.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Abduction part 3

"Whatever someone has done to you, they can do it again."
"Oh shit."

With my knowledge that Gray was indeed a part of my abduction team, the possibilities for pain, restraints, and all kinds of meanness increased exponentially. My level of dread for what was to come skyrocketed.

As the truck traveled, we passed over the uneven terrain of the camp. I had no idea where we were going.

When we stopped, I was pushed out of the truck onto the ground. I heard Murphy ahead of me and felt him tug on my chains, pulling me forward. I was to walk the rest of the way to my fate.

My Hello Kitty bag was still slung over my shoulder, a dangling dead weight as I was marched along.

My dress was in tatters, barely clinging to my body. Another bra had been destroyed (but, since Gray had ripped one of my bras before, technically it was allowed).

The terrain was a little rocky but mostly muddy; I guessed we were in the woods.

When we finally stopped, I felt a log under me as Murphy dragged me onto it. My legs straddled the large piece of wood. I was pushed down onto my stomach. My dress was ripped still more, exposing my back and backside.

My captors started with spankings. At first it was Slut's big blue cock smacking my ass playfully. Soon, though, Murphy had a better idea.

I knew Big Bro's love of firing squads, having experienced the Hitachi Firing Squad last year at Rope Camp. He suggested the entire team participate in a spanking fire squad. So many hands stung my body all over my back and ass. I screamed and tried to wiggle away. Of course, there was no getting away.

They turned me around on the log, pulled off my hood, and Slut's big blue cock was now in my mouth. Murphy gripped my hair and bobbed my head back and forth on Slut's strap-on, encouraging my efforts.

There was yet still more abuse to my ass. Punches, for which Slut drew targets before her and others inflicted their blows. A cricket bat, who strokes were at first wickedly stingy. But then N3rddom (I'm assuming it was him since I know he owns a cricket bat) turned the implement and began giving me thuddy hits. Those strokes were but a small respite as next out came a cane; more stingy pain eliciting my cries.

Again I tried to crawl away. Instead they just flipped me over, my back now on the log. Apparently one side was cooked enough. It was time for the front.

Monday, July 16, 2012

[e]lust #38

Photo courtesy of Lucy and Alex of A Couple of Wankers

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #39? Start with the newly updated rules, come back August 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ Top 3 ~

Wrong On Every Level - "If you wouldn’t ask them to borrow $20 bucks, how the fuck is it ok for you to ask them to fuck you? Oh right, it’s not."

Good Girl - "She nearly melted into me. When I finally released her, she exhaled–she had been holding her breath."

The Three Minute Game - "The timer went off and I breathed out, both a sigh of relief and disappointment that it was over."

~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~

Bitch- "I don’t let her run the show…but she’s always around. She’s in the background saying: Bullshit"

e[lust] Editress: Dangerous Lilly

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Kink & Fetish

Bondage Blowjob
Filling you up
Learn the rope of knots: Square knot
Public tease
Swinging in Paris
Switch: Between Dom & sub – A BDSM Interlude

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

A Porn and Masturbation Trifecta
Deal breakers
Deborah Sundahl’s Class & Female Ejaculation
How my pussy has changed On Rejection
Outgrowing One-Nighters (At Least in Part)
The Good, the Bad, but Never the Ugly

Erotic Writing

4 O'clock in the Morning
At the Campsite
Brutal Passion
Cold Hot Cold
I want to spoil you
I'm a Bootlicker, and That's Okay
I'll Take Two Please!
In the Soft Morning Light
Lolita Twenty-Twelve
My orgasm
Peter and Sophie on Holiday
Slow tease
Sodden Sheets
The Guide
The First Time Again
Week Night Sex

Abduction part 2

Big Bro had cradled my head and neck as he tackled me and we went down to the ground. Very quickly, a hood was over my head.

My Hello Kitty bag was still slung over my shoulder, lying somewhere on the ground, as they pulled my arms back and secured them with manacles.

"Ah, glasses please." Someone slipped up my hood just enough to grab my spectacles.

With my glasses safe, I began fighting back, trying to wrench my arms and legs free. Multiple hands gripped down on me. Once my limbs were secure, they tried to raise me to standing. I resisted.

"So, that's how you want to go."

They lifted me. I don't know how many people it took, but each limb was raised off the ground, bending my back into an arch. I felt like a cross between a sky diver and a pig on a spit being carried to dinner.

They threw/shoved me into the back of the truck I'd seen before. The bed was hot, the metal warmed from the day's Sun. They pushed me in further as others also hopped in.

"Ready." I heard a door close, the truck start. We were moving.

There was a rip; I think someone used a knife. The front of my dress was ripped down. My clothes were coming off.

They went for my nipples. They slapped and pinched; I yelped and fought back more.

As the pain began, I had a mini panic attack. For a moment, I thought I couldn't breathe in the hood. But then I realized I was screaming bloody murder, so obviously I could indeed breathe.

Someone, I think Murphy, shoved me to one side of the truck and into someone else's arms. I listened to the two of them speak and recognized a familiar voice.

"You motherfucker!"

Friday night, the night of the storm, the very night before, I absentmindedly made my way to the Dining Hall in hopes of Midnight Snack. There was none, but I did find friends to chat with.

As we spoke, the topic of my abduction came up. Gray, who I had listed first on my approved roster, pled ignorance. He said he never got any email from N3rddom. I tried to not show my disappointment.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, me in the hot truck bed, pushed into someone's arms, and then being pissed off beyond belief.

"You thought I was too busy to check my email?"

Such a mindfuck.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Abduction part 1

I had a feeling...

When I woke up Saturday morning, I knew from that breath on my abduction could happen at any moment.

After a quick shower, I donned my purple and black dress, as well as my purple flats, and headed down towards the Pavilion. I was to demo bottom during the first class session.

I was nervous. And I had a feeling.

Something told me my abduction would happen after my morning class. Looking at my schedule, I saw I had a huge block of time where I wasn't doing anything. For a few hours I had no obligations and no classes I wished to attend. I hadn't done this on purpose; it just happened.

So I had a feeling.

As the class finished up, I got my things together slowly. I had had so much fun demo bottoming, I was happy, gleeful. And, at a few points during the class, I had forgotten about my abduction.

I will admit, though, it did occur to me that because I was restrained the presenter could've left me bound on the matt, and the team could've swooped in, picked me up, and carried me away.

But that didn't happen...yet.

As I was hanging out with friends, chatting and smiling, Slut came over. She had a brilliant idea: Waffle House. I finished putting on my clothes and grabbed my things.

As we walked up the hill from the Pavilion, my mind drifted to thoughts of eggs, bacon, sausage, and waffles.

Strangely, though, I saw there was a truck parked on the grass above us. And the camp photographers were hanging out by it. And they were looking at me.

And then I heard the boot stomps. Clomp Clomp Clomp. "Oh fuck." BOOM!!!

I was on the ground. "Hey pretty girl," said Big Bro.

A hood went over my head.

"But I wanted Waffle House..."

It had started.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

His Plan

Having spoken to N3rddom A LOT about my abduction, as well as having sent him an email detailing my thoughts on the scene, he set out to contact and organize my would-be captors. After his initial inquiry, the following is the message he sent them.

Subject: Abduction of Poetic Desires Details

I have talked with Kristen a good bit about this. Much of our discussion ended up in a memo she wrote for me about how she imagined the experience would go. If you have comments or additions, just respond to all and we will discuss them. If you want to do something to her that is not covered herein or that you aren’t sure about, just ask me and I will put it to her or decide based on our discussions.

Call or text if you have any questions: xxx-xxx-xxxx



BYO: gloves, condoms, wipes, cigars, hurty things, Strap-ons, dildos, water bottles, knives

We need people to commit to bring the following from their personal stashes.

Zip ties
Handcuffs—preferably fuzzy ones.
One type of all-purpose silicon or water-based lube
Water for scene and aftercare
Clothes for Kristen after the scene
Rope for tie downs--but rope must not touch her body. This last part will be a surprise, but I think a nicely challenging one for someone who responds so greatly to rope.


No role playing is required. Kristen’s original idea was that her assailants were coworkers. Later, she rejected that and we came with the prompt "Hey pretty girl" based on her being hailed by men outside a bar after DO (or was it TNG) Happy Hour one night. Our latest discussions have determined that we are ourselves, her friends and lovers. I pointed out that, given the participants, it was likely at least one of us would make her laugh at some point. That’s OK by her. She brought up that she might try to mind-fuck us back by asking how people who claim to care about her could hurt her like this. For myself, I probably won’t engage her verbally in some sort of argument—I am thinking I won’t speak directly to her at all unless whispering sweet evil in her ear.

We all need to keep an eye out for other people getting too close. Kristen writes:

No one may enter the scene unless I give pre-approval.

Entering the scene also includes watching the scene in my eye line and talking/speaking so that I can hear them. If others wish to watch that I have not preapproved, they MUST STAY SILENT AND OUT OF MY FIELD OF VISION.


Time: Saturday, 11:31 AM outside the Pavilion. As of the draft schedule, no one is teaching at this time and Kristen will be finishing up demo-bottoming for a class. I think it will be a surprise.

We could totally spend days sharing schedules and deciding on the absolute best time for everyone. Let’s start with this time and see what we can make happen.

Place: The scene originally discussed involved Kristen being bound and left in the open for others to use. She decided that was a good idea for the second kidnapping experience, not the first. Given her concern for certain people involving themselves (I will take care of that part if they show up or lurk), I think the woods are a good idea. Since we will be starting by the Pavilion, an obvious place would be the obstacle course. We will carry/drag/push her there. We should look for a place with some decent attachment points.

Mood: Jovial sadism. Comfortable cruelty. We are a bunch of good friends having good times, laughing, joking, and fucking her up. Perhaps we should not indicate an interest in her pleasure, except as her experience of pleasure degrades her further.

Rising Action

Murphy will be directing the take down itself--more on this later.

As Kristen leaves the Pavilion, one of us, standing to the side of the steps in the grass, talking to someone she knows is not involved in the scene, will greet her: "Hey pretty girl." She will come over and engage the speaker in conversation. This person should probably be themselves—for the moment. The take-down team will move into the Pavilion and, blending with the crowd leaving the class, take position behind her. This team, led by Murphy, will then take her down. Kristen plans to fight. She will need to be restrained and coerced into going down the path to the obstacle course.

I will have a longish chain we could lock around her to maneuver her.  I kind of like the idea of chaining one foot and letting her try to get away. We could let her try to run away with the hood on and catch her a couple of times, if that appeals to you all. Kristen writes:

Then, either through brutal force (knock me off my feet) or slick threats (knife to the throat; arm bar; etc) I am restrained. You mentioned you'd like the use of a hood. Whatever way you choose, I want my eyes to be covered and my wrists & ankles restrained.  This is will take, at minimum, five people. (Note: Please take care with my glasses.)

I am carried off, either on people's shoulders, dumped into the trunk of a car, the back of a cart, etc. I will, most likely, be crying, pleading for help, etc. BE FOREWARNED: I may fightback, hard.


Kristen has made it explicit that Gray, Murphy, Slut, DeepEnd, and Darien have permission to do to her things they have done before in play. What they do should not be taken as permission for the rest of us to do the same. For example, DeepEnd can cut her as he has before. If anyone else wants to cut her, you need to ask first and make sure Kristen tells me it is ok. Similarly, Gray has burned her with a cigar. She’d like that to happen again, but maybe leave that up to him.

I am going to let Kristen describe the assault herself.

I am eventually dumped on the ground somewhere in the woods, or just in the grass in the middle of camp, or by the lake; it is somewhere different. I am restrained to a tree or rock or something to keep me from running away. Of course this assumes you don't want me to run away in panic. If you do, dump me, I'll stumble up, etc.

When I am finally bound/circled to where the hurt can begin, I can be punched, face slapped, kicked, elbowed, flogged, caned, whipped, spanked, scratched, hair pulled. NO ELECTRICAL.

I have a phobia of my nipples being torn off. You may pinch and twist, but NO NIPPLE CLAMPS.

Breath play is allowed.

No watersports or scat. No vomit. No spit.

You asked about insults. Anything sexual is allowed (cunt, whore, slut, bitch, etc.). However insulting my intelligence or my body will not fly. I will most likely end the scene right there, or at the very least call black [see Safewords below]. Taunts are fine. Interrogations are awesome.

You may force me to do sexual acts (oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, hand jobs, fingering, fisting, titty fucking), but all parties must be wearing proper STI barriers and there must be lube if there is anal. Strap-ons are more than welcome, as well as vibrators.

[Exceptions to barriers if the receiver so wishes: Oral sex with Gray, Murphy, Slut, & Darian; also Gray has fisted me once without gloves or lube, he may do so again if he wishes].

. ..

Speaking of, common sense reigns the day on all things: no broken bones, no face bruises, no burns that will last more than a week.

Knives are good. No cuts to the face.

If you come up with other ideas, as always feel free to run them by me and I'll give a yea or nay.

- Safewords

I want to follow the traffic light standard:

Green means "good/keep going". Yellow means "give me a moment" or "check in with me" or "not that implement/act" or "stop using that on me now". Red means "END THE SCENE NOW"! I hope to not Red.

[Added variations: Beige means "I'm bored/speed it up." Black means "headspace trouble; check with me." Orange means "I'm getting close to done."]

My one addition to this is Cigars: there will be cigars. Blow the smoke in her face, make her eat ash off your cocks—standard cigar play short of actual burning will be quite welcome.

It will probably be warm. We should be wary of Kristen’s dehydration and give her water as necessary.


I had mentioned the possibility of cutting souvenirs from her hair, and she said we could take locks that wouldn’t be seen—definitely no hair cutting that would be noticeable—but I am thinking we just skip that. Feel free to mind fuck her about shaving her head, though, because she REALLY doesn’t want us to do that. I have explicit permission from her that we may threaten absolutely anything as long as we stay within her stated boundaries.

When we are done with her, we leave her as she is when we’re finished, bound or not doesn’t matter. I want her to have the experience of feeling abandoned and alone, then calling out for help.

At that point, the aftercare team swoops in and takes care of her. Since we are crazy about her, the rest of us can then sneak back and check in. Regarding aftercare, Kristen writes:

Aftercare will need to be, at minimum, water and human contact for ten minutes to possibly include hugging, cuddling, head stroking, back rub, etc. If it is chilly, a blanket would be preferable or one of my hoodies.

PoeticDesires Abduction Cheat-Sheet

Explicit Yes:

Slapping face
Hair pulling
Breath play
Sexual insults and taunts
Hand jobs
Titty fucking

Explicit No:

Nipple clamps
Cuts to the face
Broken bones
Facial bruises
More than very minor burns
Insulting her intelligence
Insulting her body
Cutting hair
Sexual contact without STI barriers


Green ="good/keep going"
Yellow = "give me a moment" or "check in with me" or "not that implement/act" or "stop using that on me now"
Beige = "I'm bored/speed it up."
Black ="headspace trouble; check with me."
Orange = "I'm getting close to done."

Friday, July 13, 2012

My Thoughts

Going into Fusion, I knew I wanted an abduction.  I had previously attempted one at the last Fusion, but instead called off the scene. 

For this year, I chose my friend N3rddom to organize and coordinate the affair with my approved captors to make this scene happen.

As part of the process, N3rddom asked me to send him an email outlining my thoughts and ideas included in the multiple conversations we had leading up to the event.

The following is the email I sent him.

Fusion Abduction Ideas

- Sunday

I will leave the entirety of my Sunday free. Any classes I may want to attend I will inform you of, and should I deviate from said schedule I will text/call you immediately. This leaves the whole day for you to plan.

After much thought, I'd rather the abduction happen on the last day. It will build up the anxiety and I will not have to worry about being so worn out from the scene that I'd have to cancel anything after it.

[Note: I opened up both Saturday and Sunday due to scheduling conflicts from both myself and my captors.]

- Clothing

For the day, I will wear destroyables (save my bra) which can be torn, cut, or burned off of me. These scraps may be given away as trophies, left to me as mementos, or a combination of the two.

- "Hey pretty girl."

I imagine the participants tormenting me all day with the code phrase, "Hey pretty girl." This would be their greeting, and I would be obligated to come over and speak with them warmly, never knowing if this is the time when my abduction starts.

- Participants

List of people ok-ed to participate. I left you out because, well, that is obvious.

1- Gray; 2- Murphy; 3- Slut; 4- SirRonC; 5- DarianIlRe; 6- BlackBeard; 7- DeepEnd; 8- Lochai; 9- Lqqkout; 10- PrudeNate; 11- CandleLover; 12- SkinnyBitch; 13- Celeste

If you would like to have someone not listed participate, please run the name by me before Fusion and I will give a yes or no. No one may enter the scene unless I give pre-approval.

Entering the scene also includes watching the scene in my eye line and talking/speaking so that I can hear them. If others wish to watch that I have not preapproved, they MUST STAY SILENT AND OUT OF MY FIELD OF VISION.

People absolutely not allowed include X, Y, and Z.  [Names redacted out of courtesy.]

- Aftercare

Aftercare will need to be, at minimum, water and human contact for ten minutes to possibly include hugging, cuddling, head stroking, back rub, etc. If it is chilly, a blanket would be preferable or one of my hoodies.

Names of possible aftercare folk: 1- Amethyst; 2- RockStarIsis; 3- Celeste (talk of hair time); 4- persons listed above if they wouldn't mind/could do it after being in that dark headspace.

- The Scene

"Hey pretty girl," a friend says to me. I walk over and greet them, chatting happily.

Then, either through brutal force (knock me off my feet) or slick threats (knife to the throat; arm bar; etc) I am restrained.

You mentioned you'd like the use of a hood. Whatever way you choose, I want my eyes to be covered and my wrists & ankles restrained. This will take, at minimum, five people. (Note: Please take care with my glasses.)

I am carried off, either on people's shoulders, dumped into the trunk of a car, the back of a cart, etc. I will, most likely, be crying, pleading for help, etc. BE FOREWARNED: I may fight back, hard.

I am eventually dumped on the ground somewhere in the woods, or just in the grass in the middle of camp, or by the lake; it is somewhere different. I am restrained to a tree or rock or something to keep me from running away. Of course this assumes you don't want me to run away in panic. If you do, dump me, I'll stumble up, etc.

When I am finally bound/circled to where the hurt can begin, I can be punched, face slapped, kicked, elbowed, flogged, caned, whipped, spanked, scratched, hair pulled. NO ELECTRICAL.

I have a phobia of my nipples being torn off. You may pinch and twist, but NO NIPPLE CLAMPS.

Cigar play is allowed.

Breath play is allowed.

No watersports or scat. No vomit. No spit.

You asked about insults. Anything sexual is allowed (cunt, whore, slut, bitch, etc.). However insulting my intelligence or my body will not fly. I will most likely end the scene right there, or at the very least call black [see Safewords below]. Taunts are fine. Interrogations are awesome.

You may force me to do sexual acts (oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, hand jobs, fingering, fisting, titty fucking), but all parties must be wearing proper STI barriers and there must be lube if there is anal. Strap-ons are more than welcome, as well as vibrators.

(Exceptions to barriers if the receiver so wishes: Oral sex with Gray, Murphy, Helen, & Darian; also Gray has fisted me once without gloves or lube, he may do so again if he wishes)

You had talked about walking away and leaving me "alone" to cry and wail for help; this is an option if you would like.

Speaking of, common sense reigns the day on all things: no broken bones, no face bruises, no burns that will last more than a week.

Knives are good. No cuts to the face.

If you come up with other ideas, as always feel free to run them by me and I'll give a yea or nay.

- Safewords

I want to follow the traffic light standard:

Green means "good/keep going". Yellow means "give me a moment" or "check in with me" or "not that implement/act" or "stop using that on me now". Red means "END THE SCENE NOW"! I hope to not Red.

(Added variations: Beige means "I'm bored/speed it up." Black means "headspace trouble; check with me." Orange means "I'm getting close to done.")

- Conclusion

I hope this answers a lot of your questions. If you have any more, please ask.

Reminder: This will be my first abduction, so I do not know how I will react or how long I will last.

Hopefully this will be a lot of fun and a scene I am never going to forget.

Thursday, July 12, 2012


I could feel it coming. I had just gotten out of the shower, just washed away the sweat of the hot hot Friday, when I could just feel it. A storm was coming.

Stepping outside onto the back porch, the wind had started to swirl. The skies had turned ominous. I think, then, everyone knew it was coming.

The heat broke in a spectacular fashion as the heavens opened up and poured out rain. The winds were like the breath of God, battering tents and outside encampments. 

After closing and locking all the windows, we all rushed to help who we could, bringing in tenters' things, trying to dismantle the outside bar, and tossing folks chairs into our cabin.

And then came the hail. Beating on my back, along with the heavy rain, I almost couldn't believe it. Nature was not happy with us this evening. When it became too much, when my bare skin cried for an end, a ran back inside, hoping we'd done enough.

The power went out. I clung to my crank flashlight. I was still naked, now drenched again.

As I looked around our cabin, I realized not everyone was present. Where were SkinnyBitch & DeepEnd? They'd left for a walk before the storm started. Alice thought she saw SkinnyBitch take an umbrella.

And then my thoughts drifted to all the others I cared about. Where were Big Bro & Slut? Where were Gray & his companion? I texted; no answer.

I started freaking out. Where are my friends?  Are they okay? 900 people and no power.

I laid on my bed, gripping Tessie tight, my flashlight still on, rocking myself back and forth.

I got a text; Gray checking in. A part of me was relieved. 

SkinnyBitch & DeepEnd returned; they had taken refuge in a friend's cabin. Even more relief.

And then DeepEnd talked of the reactions of the men in the cabin: seeing tree branches fall on tents and immediately running out to see if there were any people inside.

I got very angry. Yes, he was okay. I could see he was okay. But what if one of the very large falling trees had fallen on him. He hadn't run out on purpose; it was reaction. It was one of the reasons why he was a good friend, that instinct to help others. Still, I wanted to smack him.

I laid back on my bed. I was still waiting for a check-in from Big Bro & Slut. Nothing.

I heard people talking of another front coming. Inside, I panicked.

And then I stopped. I heard people laughing and joking. There was mention of alcohol.

Yes, I need to drink. Drinking sounds good. But something else. What else would soothe me? Rope.

I pulled out my gifted hemp and wrapped it around my chest, waist, and thigh. I donned my kimono, which I'd never worn before, along with its obi. I pulled back my hair, securing it tightly in a bun. The constriction of the rope on my body, the obi around my waist, and my hair pulled back made me feel better.

I cracked open a can of Sparx and joined my cabinmates outside.

People chatted, laughed, drank, smoked. I sat, listening, trying to feed off their lighthearted energy.

DeepEnd pulled me aside and showed me something I would appreciate: an incredibly large wolf spider in the back of our next door cabin.

Having freed myself from our home, I decided to go visit friends. I made my way to another cabin, sat, and chatted with Lochai, Trailsinner, Bendy, Gray, and other friends. They had cigars and alcohol;  I had a torch and a flashlight.

When word of the storm front's clearing passed around camp, I felt immense relief.

I wondered to the Dungeon, where some lights were on. The building was running off a generator. Inside I saw wayward campers. The members of Oink had been displaced, a very large tree having fallen right on top of their home.

I sat with those I knew, everyone looking exhausted or frustrated. News of progress for leaving camp filtered in. First trees that blocked the path were getting cut down. Then power lines that had fallen needed to be safely moved. It was projected they wouldn't be able to leave for hours.

They settled into waiting more. Cards Against Humanity was pulled out (good call Lqqkout). It used up some of the time.  Sweets and snacks were passed around. 

And then, mercifully, Big Bro and Slut walked into the Dungeon, soaking wet, with others from the NYC Rope Bomb Crew. They had been bombing when the storm hit, people strung up in trees, with high wind and rain as their adversaries.

The power was out, trees were down, and a half dozen cars were smashed. But thankfully no one, not a bomber, not an Oink member, no attendee was injured.  My friends were okay. 

The storm had harmed, but not hurt.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

No Rush

He wore Spider Man underwear. Before we even began, I was smiling.

On the walk to my cabin and then to the Dungeon, I gave Evil Mike a basic run down of how I wanted to proceed.

He had come to me a few weeks before wanting to be suspended. I had accepted, knowing I needed practice on different body types.

I informed him we would be chatting throughout; this wouldn't be sensual or have a D/s dynamic. I would gradually introduce each tie, making sure it fit and felt well on his body. And then there would be the final lift. He could rest in the ties as long as he wanted; no rush.

We started. As I worked, we chatted about our time at camp.  Mike had just arrived that day. Friday saw an influx of all the rest of the attendees, people with strict jobs or those who just wanted the weekend experience. It was the late afternoon; already he had had good vacation time. I bragged a little about my fun.

I started with his hip harness. I gave him a Swiss seat and encouraged him to adjust the ropes to work well with his manliness. For his chest, I did three sets of wraps above and below his pecks. Having him lean back, I checked both ties to make sure they felt secure, and then attached them to my ring.

Moving down to his legs, I used a simple cuff on each. Asking which leg was stronger, I secured the weaker leg's thigh and lifted the limb. I had him hold onto my ring for support. Bending down, I placed a cuff on his strong leg's ankle.

I asked Mike if he was ready. He was.

I had him sit into the ties, leaning back. I lifted his leg and secured the ankle line to my ring. I asked him which area of his body was supporting the most weight and adjusted the lines accordingly.

Mike relaxed into the ties for a spell before asking about head support. My adjustment had helped, but he wanted to not have to hold up his head. Using a long strand of rope, I quaded my lines, wrapped the rope around the back of his head, and secured the loop to my ring. It was quick, simple, and perfect.

Mike lazed in my ties, enjoying the gentle sway. I smiled, happy that I had yet another body in the air, pleased that I'd learned from my first tie and done better on my second, and feeling a teeny tiny bit more confident about my work.

We chatted more as he enjoyed his rope time. Since one of my playdates had canceled, I was indeed in no rush.

Eventually, when it was right for him, I slowly let Mike down. My piles of knotted rope littered the ground. "Ropekake!" I squealed in glee.

As I started cleaning up, I taught Mike how I liked my rope coiled. We both felt great.

I'd gotten him up; I'd gotten him down safely. Job well done on my second tie of the event.

Monday, July 9, 2012

In His Chair

The cabin was dim, with all the lights out and it being mid afternoon, the Sun on its long slow descent. I sat in his recliner, having only a vague idea of what to expect.

I'd setup the appointment before camp and settled on a time and day early. I had had a foot massage at the last Fusion a year ago, and having found the experience enjoyable jumped at the opportunity for another, albeit with someone else.

He provided a fan that blew on me during the entire session. It gave a comfort from the sweltering heat.

He sat at my feet, took off my shoes, my socks, and began.

I apologized for the last of my dark purple polish still remaining on my nails. I'd read on his profile that he didn't like dark polishes. He brushed off my concern.

He started with a cleaning. A warm bath. A scrub. Even with the heat of the day, it felt wonderful, soothing.

He then dipped my feet into hot wax. Hot, but not too hot. He bagged each foot. He reclined my seat back. I was already beyond words, lost in his pampering.

After a time, he pulled off the bags. My feet felt fresh, new.

And then he asked if I wanted foot worship. I did.

He pressed. He bit. He sucked on my toes. He gnawed at my feet.

I am not a foot person. I love boots. I love licking, caressing, being fucked by boots. But I am not a foot person.

However, when he sucked on my toes. When he bit my feet. My arches. I squirmed in the way I always do when I play. I moaned. I yelped. I sighed. I loved every minute of it.

When he finished, he returned my chair upright. My socks and shoes back on, he thanked me and I thanked him.

He had reveled in his fetish. I had enjoyed the ride. I floated away from his cabin higher than I imagined I would be.

If he returns to Fusion, I will definitely make another appointment to sit in his chair.

Fire Bug

"Who won Rock Paper Scissors today?"
"Oh, I gave up on on that."
"He kept winning."

"Sixteen people have witnessed you say I'm the Master."

"Fucking in panda suits; I should look at porn more often."

First, there was the lecture portion.

Chey and Stefanos talked about basic fire safety.

"Fire play is edge play. Unless you're Pyro, a flogging scene is not going to burn your house down."

They went over supplies, what to buy and the simple items you'd need for a fire wand.

They spoke about burns. "If your bottom safewords, it's already too late." They made the point that, going into any fire play scene, both parties should assume mild first degree burns may happen.

There was talk of hair: the ability or difficulty of burning it off and ways to avoid the pungent aroma.

They gave tips for negotiation, noting psychological factors were not obvious, as well as certain health conditions (diabetes, asthma) that would effect the play.

With most of the lecture complete, we all walked inside the sauna, I mean Dungeon, and the fire of fire play was brought forth.

In the shade of the building, we finally saw the blue within the flame, the hottest part of the fire. Warm ambers danced with the cool blue as Stefanos first demonstrated the heat on his hand, and then licked the flame across Chey's chest and back.

Still teaching, they talked about tool placement ("Don't light your table on fire.") as well as methods of laying down the flame and immediately putting out the heat.

The presentation ended with my favorite part: the hands on section.

Chey took us back outside to make our very on fire wands, using simply fondue skewers, 100% cotton gauze, and 100% cotton thread. I picked two skewers with black handles tipped in red, wove my gauze tightly at the forks, and bound the cotton with black thread.

Once most of the students had their wands made, we again migrated inside the Dungeon. It was time for the live practicum.

After waiting in line, my nerves building, I approached a gentleman lying on a table I had never met before. With Chey watching over me, I carefully dipped one of my wands into the alcohol, rung out the extra liquid, and touched the cotton to the tea candle. Fire danced at the end of my wand.

I brought the flame to his body, traced a line down his chest, and followed my free hand behind, wiping away the heat. I did it over and over again, fascinated by the flame, but always very careful and concentrated, not wanting to break the bottom.

I switched sides. Again I traced lines of fire over his body. Each time I swiped away the flame. I topped in fire play.

But, well, I am a switch. This was to be a multiple cherry pop class.

I wanted to feel the flames on my skin. With my fire wands tucked away, I waited in line again. With few people left from the class, Stefanos soon called me up. I removed my clothes and hopped up on his table.

Lying on my stomach, my hair and necklace not an issue, I relaxed, making myself breathe.

He started slow, first blowing the heat onto my skin, letting me feel the intensity. Then he worked up and down my body, running lines of fire down my back, over my ass, and tracing my legs. His touch was at first gentle and slow, but then accelerated in speed and intensity of hits. Each time he wiped away the heat, extinguishing the flames.

I gasped and sighed and moaned, trying with all my might to keep as still as possible and let him do his work. The fire, the flame, the heat on my skin was new, and exciting, and surprising, and so full of yes.

Finished, he thanked me for my energy. I sat up and asked him for a hug. He granted my request.

To give, to receive. To place it, to feel it.

I went to their class because Stefanos and Chey are incredible people, both inside and out.

I left their class with a little fire bug inside me waiting to come back out.

And also an agreement to be a demo bottom for their fire play class on Sunday...

Sunday, July 8, 2012


He looked surprised to see me.

"Why are you here?  I thought you were going to Chey and Stefanos' class."
"Well, I was going to go their class, but I've never been to this class. And the only reason why I was going to their class was because I thought they were hot and that didn't seem like a good enough reason."
"It sounds like a good enough one to me."

Still, I hesitated.

"Pick a number between one and a thousand."
"That's not it; go to the class."
"No. We can do this, but you'll be here for a while."

I had another solution.

"Does anyone have a quarter?"

It was time for fate to decide. 

One of Gray's attendees didn't have a quarter, but he had a coin.

"What is it for?"
"Just flip it."
"Okay, but you've made the decision."

He flipped his coin. It landed on tails.

I started walking away.

"Oh, I see how it is."
"But you told me to go."
"Yes, go. I mean nothing to you."
"You're mean," I whimpered.

Gray smiled his wry knowing grin.

I trudged off up the hill towards the Dungeon.


I feel broken. Chewed up and spit out. Chewed up and shat out.

It's 2:17am when I started typing, technically my birthday. Not the best way to start.

"No, my brains and my bones don't want to take this anymore.../So, why you being a dickhead for?/Stop being a dickhead./Why you being a dickhead for?/You just fucking up situations."

I've been repeating Kate Nash's Dickhead for the past hour. On the drive home. And now in my room as I sit on my bed and write.

I cried in the car. I wailed a little, but then made myself stop. I can't wail in the house; I don't want to wake my roommates.

It was like I was knocked over, drawn down my the undercurrent, wrenched off my feet.

It was suppose to be fun, different. Instead it felt like I was used, drained to my last drop, left with almost nothing.

Today I ran The Rebel Race.

Me and my friends were pretty excited. Well really they were excited; I was nervous as all hell. I hadn't seriously ran since before Fusion. I'd never ran a 5k. Everyone around in the crowd seemed way more in shape.

But I had my friends. And we weren't going to leave each other.

So the race started, and not ten minutes in, we were fucked. The only guy in the group slipped off the monkey bars, landed first on his left arm, and then on his right ankle. His elbow and ankle were in no way good.

And where was the on site medic? Where was someone to say, "Sorry, you have to stop." Nowhere.

My friend, being who he is, kept going, hobbling his way along the rest of the course. I, being who I am, never let him out of my sight.

We'd already decided to walk the majority of the race, as there were bottle necks at just about every obstacle.

As we traveled along, we came to a rope ladder, wooden walls to climb over, but never any volunteer at the apparatus. Some in my group were afraid of heights. I was able to climb up and help to coax them over, staying at the top with them. But where was the volunteer?

And then there was the mud. Oh god, the mud. At one point I was fully submerged in it, multiple times. But no water to wash off my face until I trudged through a few hundred feet of a thick muddy path. I was blind, almost panicking. I wiped my face in the grass just to try and see.

There was no traction as we somehow scaled a mud high with an incline difficult in normal conditions. I fell a few times, but more scary was how many times I almost fell backwards.

And no one was on the course with a radio. No one was available to whisk me away if, heaven forbid, I did fall down that very large, very steep hill.

We didn't talk about it til after we finished, but there came the realization to us that we could've been seriously injured or died.

The scar that's lasted the most with me, though, is on my back. There was a quasi water slide portion near the beginning. The one time there was someone at an obstacle, the person holding the hose told us to cross our arms and slide down on our back.

Little did we know this slide was merely a tarp laid over ground littered with rocks. I didn't know I'd been hurt until my eventual shower at a friend's home a few hours later.

When I felt the sharp ache on my back from the warm water, I knew something was wrong. My friend gasped when I raised my shirt. I was bruised. Abraded. And one very long scratch down my back.

To add insult to injury, water stations on the course ran out of cups and water. Certain pieces of equipment were broken. Their "medal" was a cheap dog tag that for some reason I have not taken off. The free beer ran out, so we had to settle for two free meal tickets, the equivalent of a hot dog. But they, somehow, still had bottles of water to sell us.

As we tried to wash away the mud from our bodies, our clothes, our hair, it just never seemed to end. Piles of shoes, shirts, and other detritus littered the grounds. There was mud everywhere. Everywhere.

And they made us pay for parking, $10 in a field with grass up to our knees and no organization whatsoever.

And our walk away gifts were a cheap draw string bag and a plain white cotton t-shirt with black lettering.

I just feel used, abused. It felt like I'd somehow ended up in a physical impact scene with no consent and no aftercare.

But there was a saving grace: I was to see the Gent tonight. I thought, Okay, that will be my aftercare, spending time with a friend.

When I left Baltimore at 10:45pm, yes I was tired, but by the time I got to his place it would be my birthday. So I drove, preferring softer music this go round instead of my usual Friday night club mixes.

And as I arrived at a spot to leave my car, I was pleased I would get to spend some time with him.

But then he texted saying he was not home yet. And then he texted saying he didn't know how long he would be. Since I was already there, I decided to wait.

I reclined my seat back and let my eyes close. When they opened again, it was 1:15am. I was hot, achy.

I texted him, asking for an ETA. And then I thought, Why am I here?

I texted back, telling him nevermind; I was heading home.

I cried in the car on the way back.

Between the shit storm that was that race, and then waiting for a friend who couldn't be there because he was dealing with another friend's emotional breakdown, I was done.

I was...broken.

Today is my birthday. Happy 29th to me.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Bondage Bullfight

"You are using the rope to deliver your message; your receiver is your bottom, not your knot."

At the front of the class stood a whiteboard. The bottoms faced the back, unable to see what Dart, the presenter, wrote. The tops read the word and began.

My class partner started softly, slowly. Immediately there was intense eye contact. Easing in closer, they pressed their body against mine and wrapped their rope around me.

Bringing my arms up, they tied my limbs in front of me in an almost prayer position. They hugged me from behind. I felt safe, loved.


For the second word, the mood in the Pavilion immediately turned cold. My partner took the rope, which they had previously unwound from my body, and used the fibers as a whip, stinging lashes across my skin.

"Do you like this?"
"Yes," I squeaked through yelps and cries, finding some solace in the catharsis of the pain.

Quickly working, they cinched their rope around me tight, the fibers biting into my skin. They dragged the rope across my body, burning brutally.

They pulled my hair. They forced me down to the ground. Their boots pressed harshly into my body.

They tied one arm above my shoulders, the other below. And they tightened. And tightened. And tightened. I screamed. I cried. I dove into the pain.

Dart told everyone to stop. He wrote something else on the board. We bottoms didn't see this as well.

And then everything changed.

My partner slowly began untying their bindings. They eased my arms from their ropes. Again they pulled the rope across my body, but this time sweetly, soothing my skin.

They joined me on the floor, laying their body against mine. They began caressing my hair. With a bunch of the rope in their hand, that massaged it against my face. With their body and the rope about me, I felt safe again.

When Dart brought the group back together, my partner and I never stopped touching each other. Some part of me was always touching them; we needed to remain connected.

As we began to talk about our scenes, what we noticed, how things affected us, Dart began with a rather surprising comment towards myself and my class partner:

"You two over here almost brought me to tears. That's a lot coming from a gay man."

People spoke about letting themselves fall into the words given, turning off parts of their brain to allow the scene to go where it needed.

I spoke about the change in how my partner drew the rope across my body, the same action but with opposite motivations. How something so basic can be performed in vastly different ways.

The second word Dart wrote: Ruin.

Dart's final words: I'll Protect Your Forever.

Class dismissed.
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