Today I was a slut.
I am a slut everyday, but today was a magnificent day to be a slut.
Attending our local Renaissance Festival, I donned garb befitting the occasion: a black wrap dress with ample cleavage shown, a chain mail diadem atop my mound of curls, black tights (for I knew it would be a bit brisk), my sexy sexy boots, and a belt which held my fox tail.
I left this morning and arrived on the grounds around 11am. Accompanied by DeepEnd and RockStarIsis, we immediately set out to find food and beer. After a steak on a stake and a cider mixed with wine, I was more than happy to have just shown up for the day.
As we mingled amongst the crowd, we lampooned ourselves as well as those around us. Inappropriate commentary abounded as we entertained ourselves in our not-at-all-politically-correct way. I was quite happy to spend time with my friends.
As the afternoon crept up, RockStarIsis and DeepEnd departed but Amethyst arrived. Once again, meat and alcohol were needed. As we mingled, chatting and having a good time, the subject of boots arose. I escorted Amethyst to the seller of my boots, where she was happy to try on their wares and discuss adornment options. As she shopped, I stood around and watched.
And then, randomly, a work friend appeared. I greeted him with a hug, introduced him to Amethyst, and we chatted. As Amethyst enjoyed her shopping, I enjoyed my time with my friend.
We chatted as he stood next to me. On occasion I leaned into him and found that he would return my subtle advance. Feeling bold, I glided my fingertips against his arm. Again positive feedback. When we left the boot seller's, we walked hand-in-hand. Later, when we parted, after yet more subtle cues, we exchanged phone numbers.
Though I've known him for over a year, this was the first time we'd interacted outside of watchful eyes. I suppose it was best it happened this way. Though I am open at work, no else should feel like they have to be.
Happy to have connected with my work friend, Amethyst and I jaunted on.
Randomly, we ran into a few of her friends. I introduced myself and was happy to make the acquaintance of two beautiful women and one handsome man. As we talked, I soon learned one of the women was kinky, the other a lesbian, and the man was kink aware and kink friendly. This opened up our conversations and relaxed my need to censure myself.
As we drank and traversed the Faire grounds, I found myself giving subtle advances to all three of them. An errant brush of an arm. A lean into the body. A smile. A hand hold. I found all three of them very attractive and saw no need to let that be hidden.
As we nested by a tree near the elephant ride, more laughter and chatting ensued. I found myself in the beautiful position of one woman to my left, snuggled up next to me, while the other sat by my feet caressing my boots. The gentleman crouched near us, laughing and joking as we all took in the many Faire attendees.
Sensing the perfect opportunity, I retrieved all of their info (phone numbers, Twitter, etc.). I will be honest: I felt like the shit at that moment.
Since it was getting late, we meandered closer to the exit to buy ourselves more time. None of us wanted to leave. But, as with all things, soon it was time to go.
Our hugs were drawn out. At one point I clung tight to the lesbian. At another, I found myself with the gentleman at my back and the other woman to my front, the sweet center of their embrace.
Exiting Faire eight hours after I'd entered, I could not help but feel joy and happiness. From the food. From the alcohol. From the laughs and good conversation. But, mostly, from being a slut and not feeling any shame about it.
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.
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.
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.
My roommate DeepEnd makes the BEST Long Island Ice Teas.
Haven't done this in a while. Blogging while I'm drunk. But I didn't want to go to bed without blogging, cause if I wait til tomorrow morning, I'll either blog or run on the treadnill, but not both cause then I'd have to wake up way early.
I was SO horny today that I masturbated for like an hour. And then my roommates made fun of me because I was worried they'd be like offended by the noise, cause I can get loud, what with the screaming and stuff. But then SkinnyBitch was like, "The first time I hung out with you a guy hand his fist inside you for like two hours." And I was like, "But ya'll know I'm uber polite." And it was funny.
Amethyst makes the best Crescent rolls. They were just what I needed when I was lying on the couch watching Private Practice for a few hours.
Before I was downstairs practicing my self suspension, before the Long Island cause only stupid people rig when they're drunk. Yeah, so I practiced tying myself and I totally rocked it. I got myself in a sideways suspension and was on the ground tying my left leg into a Futomomo (learned that term at Shibaricon), and then pulled myself up and secured my hip harness and tied my leg up and was like, "Yeah. This is awesome." And I tied a one-handed ankle cuff on my right leg and attached the wraps around my chest to my ring and pulled up and ankle and it looked so cool. And then I realized I had no one around to take a picture, and that kinda sucked, but then I remembered I'm going to Fusion and I was like, "Yah know what, I'll do this again there and get someone to take a picture." Cause I don't have any pictures of my tying myself and no one knows you're a rigger, let alone an awesome one, unless you have pictures of your work.
I'm suppose to be tying two of my friends at Fusion. And tying myself. And hopefully getting tied. Yeah, I think my Fusion gonna be awesome.
I was talking about it with the Gent today. He called me, cause I had a nightmare about him and woke up and texted him and he told me he was okay and that made me feel better. But then he was busy tonight so I couldn't see him. But then he called and my new iPhone 4s was being stupid and he mistakenly hung up on me and I was screaming at my phone in DeepEnd's care and SkinnyBitch was like, "You know that's inanimate (wow, I think I spelled that right) object and it can't hear you." And then DeepEnd was like, "Yes it can. My phone has an app that responds to when I yell." And I would have found their conversation really funny except I hadn't talked to the Gent in a really long time. But then I got him back. And we talked for a little.
He's not coming to Fusion. I had this awesome fantasy of him magically appearing, possibly at my abduction, but that's why I called it a fantasy, cause it's totally not going to happen. But at least I'll get to see him when he's back from his work trip.
So yeah, I'm gonna have an abduction at Fusion. That, I'm sure is gonna be an awesome blog post. This one...I don't know about. But then again the last time I did this, which was like a long time ago, people seemed to like it. So yeah.
PS. So my friend's blog, no two of his blogs, cause he has like three, were hacked and I'm not happy about that. I read his blog. I like his blog. I really like his blog cause then I get to read his thoughts on stuff and he's really insightful and wise. And it gives me a piece of his life while he's far away and busy. So whatever this Saudi Terrorist bullshit hacking of my friend's sites is needs to go away so I can have my blog posts back. Dammit!
Okay, time for bed. I have work tomorrow. And Sunday. And family obligations Monday. So I should, well, sleep. Yeah, that. And then wake up and run on the treadmill because it makes me happy. Not because I love it when people notice I've lost weight. Or when my clothes fit better. Or when it's easier for me to suspend myself. Or that I feel more sexually confident the fitter my body gets.
Yeah, sleep now. Stop typing, Kristen.
So SkinnyBitch introduced me to My Drunk Kitchen on YouTube. I'm probably gonna watch those tomorrow. And then read this blog, cause I'm not gonna spell check it or anything. Cause, well, I'm drunk and it's more funny this way.
Once every couple of months makes this refreshing, right? Not, like, stupid, I hope.
Bed now.
So there is this guy... NO! Bed now.
Sleep deprivation sucks.
Nausea. Short temper. Easier to tears. Micro naps while I drive. And, frankly, I stop giving a fuck, at times acting like a bitch.
It's the busy season; I am very sleep deprived.
When I woke up Sunday morning, my room was muggy and hot. I had gotten to sleep around 5am. It was 12:26pm when my body could not stand the heat any longer.
Even though I got a relatively good amount of rest, this followed multiple days of 3-5hrs of sleep and a few 20hr days.
As I laid in bed, I contemplated all the things I had to do. There were, in fact, many errands I wanted to run. It was my first day off since Tuesday.
I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to do anything. But I had a mound of dirty clothes that I absolutely had to wash, not to mention health care paperwork to fill out and Shibaricon packing to start.
Forcing myself out of bed, I grabbed my clothes hamper and lumbered down the stairs. I heard my roommates laughing and talking in the dining room, but choose to not say hi.
In the laundry room, I put down my hamper and opened the washer; clothes inside. I checked the dryer; clothes inside.
I huffed, and then headed to the dining room.
"Whose clothes are in the dryer," I asked, I hope not grumpily.
"Doesn't matter," said DeepEnd. "The dryer's broken."
"Really!"
I stomped my feet. I put my head against the wall.
"I have to go."
I could feel the tears coming as I went back to the laundry room, grabbed my hamper, and rushed back into my room. I stripped off my pajamas. I crawled back into my bed. I cried into my covers, squeezing Tessie tight, wanting the world to go away.
All I wanted was to wash my fucking clothes. All I wanted was to get something, anything done. This was suppose to be my day off.
I was angry. I was upset. I was sleep deprived.
I needed to do something. I wanted to pound a wall, rip something apart.
With a start, I got back out of bed, put on my workout clothes, and went downstairs. In the kitchen, I grabbed a banana and poured a glass of Silk.
"Hun, what are you averaging? An hour of sleep a night?" It seemed SkinnyBitch had an idea of my problem. I gave her a grunt of an answer.
Quickly finishing my food, I went into the Sun Room.
On my iPhone, I started up my Dance/Pop Mix. I turned on the treadmill and started walking. After a minute, I increased the speed. And again. And again. Each minute or two I kept making it go faster, until I was running. Really running. My feet flying up in the air, breathing heavy running.
It was the first time I'd really ran on the tread. My workout is normally a mix of fast walking and jogging.
As my feet pounded on the tread, I imagined my footfalls pounding away my problems, pounding out my anger, pounding away all the bullshit that was my life.
After a few minutes, I lowered the speed. Slowly I came down. Slowly I returned to walking.
And, somehow, it made it all better.
I joined my roommates at the dining room table, feeling more like myself.
I completed no errands Sunday, and, frankly, I think I am the better for it.
It was wet, misting. DeepEnd arrived at 4am, just as we had planned. I hopped into his car and we were off. As we traveled down the interstate, we chatted about random things.
At 4:30am he exited, taking his normal way to the airport.
NIGHTLY ROAD CLOSURE 8PM-5AM
Hmm...
He tried going anyway. Seeing a cop in the distance blocking the way, he backed up and off the road.
We circled around, trying to find a way back onto the interstate. I stayed calm, quietly assuring myself I had plenty of time. The airport I was flying out from typically had a low volume of passengers. According to DeepEnd & SkinnyBitch, it would only take 45 minutes from my arrival to my sitting on my plane.
Eventually we found our way back onto the interstate. With his exit no longer a possibility, DeepEnd drove around and got off on a main road. The speed limit was 25mph. As we crawled towards the airport, I kept trying to not panic.
Arriving at the airport at 5am, I hugged DeepEnd goodbye and headed towards curbside check-in.
"Have you paid for your bag?"
"No."
"Gotta go inside."
I waited in a short line to get to the front. A roving attendant asked everyone when their flight left. Pulling out my journal, I checked. Thank goodness, my flight didn't leave til 6:30am. Deep breath out.
The attendant pulled all 6am departures to the front. After a few people cut ahead of me, I finally stepped up.
"Where's your boarding pass?"
"I don't know. I haven't done this before."
"Go check-in at the kiosk."
Stepping out of line, I made my way over to the small electronic island. I followed the computer prompts. I paid for my huge black Nike bag. I got back in line, which had now quadrupled in size and slowed to a painful crawl. I kept checking the time on my phone. I grew anxious.
The roving attendant came around again.
"Who has a 6:30 flight?"
I was pulled to the front. Nervous, I asked the man if my small rolling bag was carry-on size. He said it looked a little too big, but they could add the checked bag at the desk.
Stepping up, I piled my two bags onto the scale. I pulled out my ID. The man asked for my boarding pass. I had folded it and put it in my wallet, but for a split second I couldn't find it. When I did see it, my hands shook so badly I could barely unfold the piece of paper.
Extra bag paid for and tagged, he instructed me to drop off my luggage around the corner and head to my gate. Pressed for time, I lifted both, not bothering to roll them even with the weight, adrenaline fueling me.
"Do I just leave them here?"
My bags secured, I speed-walked towards my gate.
Stepping into the security line, I handed the attendant all the papers I'd collected.
"Who is Nicholas Polk?"
I was mistakenly given someone else's transfer ticket along with my boarding pass and checked-bag receipts.
I stepped up to the conveyor belt. I took off my shoes, took my netbook out of my backpack, and proceeded to remove all my metal (a process that takes way longer for me than for most individuals).
I slid my three trays onto the x-ray belt. I stepped through the metal detector.
I was prepared for a beep. DeepEnd already told me I might need to tell them I have body jewelry.
"Take off your hat. You're good."
The attendant had a warm voice and gave me a small smile. I felt better.
I grabbed my trays and slid them to the end. I put my necklace back on, my phone back in my pocket, my wallet with its chain reattached to my hip, my loud jangling keys. My Zim belt would take a minute to get back on, so I instead carried it to the gate.
It was 5:50am. Technically, scarily, I actually could have made it if my flight were at 6. Instead I used the restroom, put my belt back on, and waited.
When it was time for my zone to load, I stepped up to the desk and handed in Nicholas Polk's transfer pass.
Getting to my aisle, I had the window seat.
"Hi guys."
Two rather large men sat in the two seats between the walkway and my cubby hole. They stepped out. I eased in, dropping my back pack onto the floor and nestling my legs around it. I fumbled with the lap belt, but got it on. I turned off my phone.
And then I turned it back on. I texted DeepEnd my mother's phone number, just in case. I apologized if I woke him back up. I turned my phone back off.
I leaned back in my seat. My eyelids grew heavy even as my heart beat with excitement.
Looking out the window, I saw a familiar tableaux, one I had dreamed some time ago.
As we taxied to the runway, I saw the sky had turned from dark blue to deep purple. In the minutes before the plane lifted off the ground, the sky again changed, this time to slate. As we climbed, I blew a kiss to my home below.
Bye for now.
I slept for most of the flight, listening to a new favorite album on my iPhone.
I tried my best to pop my ears, but to no avail. I leaned forward, closing my eyes, pulling my earbuds out. I pressed my thumbs into my ears. Remembering my pain processing, I started counting to four, over and over again. I took deep breaths. I gritted my teeth.
I tried looking out my window. At first it didn't work. Though I marveled in the ocean of clouds, cotton waves extending to infinity, even the beauty could not subside my pain.
Gradually, painfully slow, the plane descended. Little by little, my pain lowered as the plane lowered.
Cutting through the clouds, my ears finally popped. The worst of it was over.
We landed with a thump. I turned my phone back on; texted DeepEnd & PrincessA.
Hello Minnesota.
1) "Do you know how to coil rigging rope?"
Do I know how to coil rope? Hmm...
One of my projects at work today was, simply, to coil rope. But not just any rope. 3/4 inch braided black nylon, with a blue accent. Two coils. 150' in length, each.
They sat on the warehouse's concrete floor, two mangled piles waiting for my manipulations.
I picked up the first, the less messy of the two, and began to unwind it. The coil was semi in tact, but would have still been a nuisance to the riggers if I'd just chucked it into a bin for them to deal with later.
Finding an end, I pulled. I ran the rope through my hands, knowing full well no part of this chord would be touching anyone's sensitive skin. But still, I remembered my training.
Getting to the other end, I began my coil. I grasped the end while creating a large loop that extended all the way down to my knee. I carefully matched my next loops to this same length. As I worked, the rope began to twist. With my free hand, I spun the rope, pushing the twist along as I went.
After about fifty feet, I transferred the rope to my fore arm, creating the loops still, the nylon draping across so much of my skin. I was just barely able to hold all the loops the long length required before it was time to finish off the coil.
With about fifteen feet of tail, I wrapped the end around the entire coil. The coil was so large, though, that I had to wrap half way, hold the tail between my thighs, and grab it from the other side. I wrapped around the coil about eight times. I then brought the tail up through the top of the coil and cinched off twice.
"This about what you were looking for?"
"Yes. God, the riggers are going to feel like they're spoiled."
I repeated the process for the other length, sat it next to its match, and took a picture for posterity.
2) As soon as I walked into the house, I recognized the sweet smokey smell. DeepEnd was home.
He'd been away for a few days, and had returned the night before while I was asleep. I heard the thump of his drums before I entered the house. As I set my things down, I could feel the rhythm he played on his drums in the basement through the floor. The music, along with the cigar scent, made me smile; it felt like my home was back to normal.
As I headed upstairs, DeepEnd finished his set.
In my room, I disrobed, wanting to get out of my work clothes. Thursday meant DO Happy Hour, and I didn't want to socialize in my work blacks. As I took my clothes off, I heard DeepEnd say my name.
Yelling from at the top of the steps, I asked him if he'd called me. Actually DeepEnd had been talking to the dog, hoping I was home instead of someone in the house trying to rob us. I then pointed out we had nothing worth stealing. He concurred.
"Oh, and by the way, welcome home."
As I finished undressing, DeepEnd called for me. Throwing my robe on and stuffing my cellphone and its charger into a pocket, I headed into his bedroom.
On his bed, there was an impressive array: about a dozen cigars in a few different bags, a small Tortuga wooden cigar box, and a large empty humidor.
He showed me his new humidor, which needed to air our before he could use it, as well as all the sticks he purchased while on his trip. I marveled at the display.
DeepEnd also pointed out his minor boo-boo. While looking at this humidor, the lid to the box closed, striking him on the bridge of his nose. A small red line, about a half inch long, graced his face between his eyes.
DeepEnd talked about the different cigars he purchased, most notably a few rather large diameter sticks and a Rocky Patel 15th Anniversary, the #5 cigar of the year.
As we had stood there for a bit, talking shop and my marveling his stash, I asked DeepEnd the time. It was 5:20pm. Play time over. We both rushed about. He needed to go pick up SkinnyBitch and I didn't want to be late for Happy Hour.
3) "So I need someone to be co-topped by Lynk and myself for needles. They..."
"Yes."
FancyDancer, HoopFlyBurn, and N3rddom all snickered. We sat in the McDonald's just a stone's throw from our weekly happy hour bar. Both HoopFlyBurn and I snacked on french fries. N3rddom and FancyDancer enjoyed milkshakes. Big Sis ate a chicken sandwich.
"Hey, she just spent how much time back at Happy Hour telling me how hot he is."
And we were in the middle of a conversation about blood play, how I'm so easy, and the endorphin highs to come from Big Sis upping the ante with our needle play.
What else was I suppose to say:
Maybe, after I've seen your work, I'll think about it.
Possibly, if my dance card isn't too full, and I'm not feeling itchy.
I don't know; blood weirds me out.
Fuck that shit. Hot people AND endorphins. I'm surprised I didn't say, "Fuck yes."
"Come on. Give us some poetic desires. How does it feel?"- SkinnyBitch
"Like velvet fire licking my skin."- me
I laid on the plastic drop cloth shaking, anticipation increasing. CandleLover, Diva, and I patiently waited for our audience.
The chill from the basement floor rose up through the thin carpet and plastic sheet. I shivered. CandleLover rubbed cocoa butter over my chest and stomach, easing my nerves somewhat.
Finally everyone came down and took their spots to watch.
CandleLover dipped her spoon into her crock pot and hovered high over my body. "Now remember, this is hot but it will not burn you." She drizzled the paraffin onto my chest. I screamed, the wisps of heat kissing my flesh.
"Breathe girl. In through your nose and out through your mouth." Diva coached me as she patiently waited for her part in the fun.
Again CandleLover dipped her spoon into the liquid, rose the utensil high, and intermittently rained the hot substance down on my skin. I gasped, taking in the feeling of the heat. Not knowing when or where it would land, not knowing how much would wash across my body, made the experience that much more exhilarating and painful.
"It's just warmth, Kristen. You're good." DeepEnd knelt beside me, hovering to my left as CandleLover loomed to my right.
I had watched DeepEnd suffer the same fate earlier. As I sat gazing SkinnyBitch delicately drizzle the paraffin on his body, I was mesmerized by both the act and his reactions. Now, on the floor, feeling the heat myself, I understood DeepEnd's flinches, his gasps, his quickened breath.
With each new spoonful of paraffin, I called out and writhed, the wax coating my body. CandleLover took joy in my screams, my intense reactions. But now it was time for Diva to have fun as well.
Already gloved and lubed, she ordered my knees up and apart. Diva sat by my feet, getting into position. As I felt her start to rub my clit, CandleLover dipped her spoon into her crock pot once more.
"Oh, no! We're not doing this all at once!?!" CandleLover smiled a devilish grin, which she wore well.
Diva inserted a few fingers in, massaging my clit and G spot, while CandleLover poured her entire spoonful across my chest. I cried out first from the heat, then from the arousal. Over and over, Diva mixed her accelerated fingering with CandleLover's unrelenting spoonfuls of fire. Across my chest. Over my stomach. Catching my neck. Splashing my biceps. CandleLover was like a child with finger paints. Diva was in control throughout.
As I felt my first orgasm rising, I asked permission to cum. Diva immediately said no. My audience groaned for me as I cried out in my pain.
DeepEnd came to my aid. "But Mama, she blacked my boots so well."
"I don't care, Daddy. She didn't tell me she blacked boots. I would've worn mine." Diva was none to happy to have missed out on my services.
I begged, pleaded, "Please Diva. God, please let me cum." CandleLover dosed me again with the paraffin, adding extra emphasis to my need.
Finally, Diva relented and allowed my orgasm. My muscles contracted, clamping onto her hand, as my body jolted about.
With Diva's fist almost fully inside me, I said one word. "Push." She slipped into me, now working herself fully in and out of me. Again I asked permission. Again she made me beg. Again she relented, with CandleLover's paraffin licking my skin as I moaned in agony and ecstasy.
Neither woman stopped in their torment. Back and forth, CandleLover poured while Diva pounded. On an especially powerful orgasm, my last, when I could take no more, I hooked my feet onto Diva's shoulders and pushed her out.
I breathed hard for a few moments, regaining my composure, before gazing at my chest. My torso was covered in wax; it looked like a second skin.
With the layer to remove, it was time for knives. CandleLover had an assortment, but DeepEnd preferred his own sharp-and-pointy. DeepEnd brought his small pen knife to my skin and lightly scraped the soft substance away. CandleLover, apparently a size queen, produced a six inch blade with a wooden handle for her work.
As DeepEnd scraped away at my extra layer, he produced a large portion and brought it to my face. I inhaled the creamy sweet scent and smiled.
Now it was SkinnyBitch's turn. Gleefully, she knelt down and, using DeepEnd's knife, slowly and carefully pealed away the wax. CandleLover, however, was not as sweet. She scraped at my flesh, pulling up lots of paraffin, allowing the tip of her blade to graze my skin. Occasionally the wax ripped up the hair from my flesh. I cried out from the pain.
However, worst of all, CandleLover gave Diva a blade. Diva ran her knife on my skin not to remove the wax but to see me squirm. When it pleased her, Diva randomly slapped my thighs. As SkinnyBitch giggled, removing the wax from my nipple ring, Diva took pleasure in my many torments.
Meanwhile, for whatever random reason, DeepEnd and MaryLeo decided they wanted to play with Nerf guns. Both took aim and fired at my body, their bulls eye my left nipple. With great accuracy, they hit their target multiple times. I turned my head away to avoid any eye issues, and vacillated between laughing from the Nerf shots and yelping from Diva's thigh slaps.
As the ladies finished up my wax removal, DeepEnd and MaryLeo decided to change their target, aiming now for my crotch. On rapid fire, they landed multiple rounds. One of my famous giggle fits ensued.
As my laughs quieted, Diva's slaps did not subsist. Instead, she increased the force and frequency of her blows. My throat and body were open from my wax torment and easily fell into cries again.
Diva had me roll onto my right side. She wanted to attack my ass. With punches to my left butt cheek, she rocked my body on the ground. Instead of my sobs, I began moaning. Punch after punch sent warmth to my abdomen; gasps of painful pleasure escaped my lips.
I looked up and again saw DeepEnd. Once more, he knelt by my side. Looking down, I saw the brass knuckles on his hand. For a moment, my eyes locked with his, giving my silent approval. DeepEnd and Diva alternated their hits, attacking the one side of my ass with no break from pain.
Soon my moans changed. My body, which loved the thuddy bursts from their fists, could no longer just exist in the sexual pleasure of their hits. My sobs came back. The tears ran down my face. I took their blows, crying my eyes out as I had done so many times before. When my body could take no more, I turned away, pulling my body into itself. DeepEnd knew me well enough to know it was time to stop.
I laid on the floor again, breathing heavy. My cries soon quieted. I regained my composure. I came back.
Standing, I began flicking the wax off my body. I drifted upstairs. The party, which had already half died before my scene, was now on its last legs. People lazed across the couches, sleep soon near.
PrincessA curled up next to DeepEnd. SkinnyBitch curled up next to PrincessA. MaryLeo took up the other side of the L-shaped couch. I sat on the floor, watching them all. Scurrying upstairs, I grabbed a blanket for the trio, as well as myself. I laid the warmth across their bodies while also wrapping myself up.
Both DeepEnd and SkinnyBitch rose to bid the last of our guests a safe journey home. PrincessA bade me come close to her. She asked me how I came down from such a powerful scene. I couldn't give her an answer. I don't know how I go there or how I come back; I just know that I do and I can.
PrincessA put her hand on my head and lightly brushed my hair. I laid on the floor next to her, relaxing into her fingers as they played with my strands. Slowly, her hand stopped moving. She had drifted to sleep. I lazed in a half-awake state on the floor next to her, not wanting to wake her.
A short time later, LooksRDeceiving joined PrincessA on the couch. I took this moment to excuse myself.
Creeping upstairs, I threw on my pajamas and brushed my teeth. SkinnyBitch had already settled into bed. Diva, DeepEnd, and I ended up meeting in the hallway. Diva would crash with us for the evening. She asked for a wake up once I left for work in the morning. DeepEnd and I bade her goodnight.
Standing alone in the hallway, DeepEnd and I smiled at one another. Quietly whispered, like many of our conversations that evening, he asked if I had a good night. With naughty-girl-glee in my eyes, I said, "It had its moments." He grinned a little wider at my remark. We hugged, close, long, and hard, and then said goodnight.
It was 4:30am and I had to be up at 8:30am for work the next day.
In conversation recently, I've heard about a study that showed Americans are not touched enough. As a person who is in fact a "hugger", I tend to believe this.
Often we all need our personal space. I wouldn't want an unwanted individual breaking the minimum eighteen inches around me that I view as "my air". However, for the people I love, I don't want us to be farther than eighteen inches apart when conversing, sharing, or just being in each others presence.
Winter Fire, and its subsequent aftercare, have all included important hugs to me. Yes, hugs are important; don't believe for a moment that they are not.
The first official day of the event, when everyone was checking into the hotel and gearing up for massive amounts of kinky fun, I was stressed. This event marked the first time where I was on staff, working for a con. My job included equal parts delight and worry. I was bombarded with these feelings on the first day, not ready for all the work that lay ahead.
But then, magically, as Murphy and I won the registration lottery (finding a moment when the line was a quarter of its usual length), my roommates arrived. I saw them from the balcony above, and my heart filled with joy.
I asked Murphy to hold my place, scurried over to the railing, and emphatically jumped and waved, grabbing their attention. They eventually walked up to the registration area, and I attacked my people with hugs.
I first latched onto to DeepEnd, who is tall and broad. I sunk my head into his chest, closed my eyes, and let the feeling of holding my friend, and my friend holding me, wash over and through me. I breathed out. I relaxed. I didn't want to let go. In fact, as the registration line moved, he and I moved with it, dancing our way along.
After an almost-awkward-but-not-quite-because-we-are-friends amount of time, I turned to SkinnyBitch and attacked her. I held her tight. I soaked in the scent of her perfume. I rested my head on her shoulder. I relaxed more. Again, I danced my way down the line with them. I felt better.
Seeing them, hugging them, reminded me why I showed up to Winter Fire in the first place. I wanted to spend time with the people I care about. I did the work because I wanted to make the event better for them. Sometimes people need to be reminded what the struggle is for.
Days later, towards the end of my Winter Fire, I received another significant hug. It was part of a scene I had with Gray. It was comforting, forgiving, accepting, caring. It was what I needed for what we had just gone through in our play. And though I worried about tears and snot getting on his leathers, I didn't worry about our friendship or our connection, which is most important to me.
On the last night of the event, I gave a friend a hug. They felt jarred and needed comfort. I would've held onto them longer, but it was just a few breaths in my arms that they required. I was happy to give them ease.
My final hug of note came from my Big Bro. I saw him last night before he had to venture back up north. I don't know when I'll see him again, but I'm sure our paths will cross soon. And I'm certain, no matter the time or distance, we will still be family.
Hugs are important folks. I hug when I greet and I hug in our parting. I hug because I feel happy. I hug because I feel sad. I hug when I need it, when others need it, or just because. I hug because I know my world will better afterwards, no matter the circumstance of the few seconds beforehand.
I hug. And you know what would be nice? If you hugged too.
