Fire Hug

The night was cool, cooler than any other since we'd arrived at camp on Wednesday. It was the last night of Rope Camp; it felt fitting that it be spent by the fire.

Elf had prepared the wood earlier and now tended the flames while a smattering of people sat on the benches around him. I rested at Gray's knee as he smoked his cigar.

Looking beyond our circle, I saw a small flame on the ground. For a moment I wondered what it was for. I did not have to wait long to learn.

Elf walked over, quickly spun a can through the air, pulled out fire poi, and lit them. Tonight would truly be a night of flames.

Elf danced with his poi far enough from the circle to be safe, but closer than I'd ever been to the act. As his poi whooshed through the air, the sound amazed me. I never knew it was so loud.

His movements were powerful and fluid, almost magical. I was in awe. Lines of burning orange and glowing blue traced across a black background. His body's form came into light and laid in darkness time and time again.

When his poi finally went out, I marveled at the act. And then a friend sitting next to Gray and I at the fire made a suggestion.

"You should get a fire hug."

When Elf returned to the circle, I asked. He agreed, but wanted to know if I had experienced the act before. I had not.

He described the protocol of how I would approach him, how he would take the last few steps, and noted I needed to be wearing natural fiber clothing. Of all that I wore against the chilled air, only my leather boots would be fitting for this endeavour.

Elf and Ember took multiple turns spinning before it was time for me to experience the hug. In those intervening minutes, Gray finished his cigar and retired for the evening.

When the time came, I stripped. The cool of the night tickled my skin. Elf lit his poi, stepped back to where he wished to spin, and called me forward.

"Walk straight towards me." My steps were measured, even; it felt as if I were entering a sacred space. "Stop." Elf took the last few steps towards me.

We were now nose to nose, our bodies less than a breath away.

"This is how the earth feels. One side of her body is always towards the Sun."

I found my eyes locked onto his. The sound of the flames was even more intense than I imagined.

"This is called butterfly."

I could feel the heat pattern change, could feel the increase in temperature as he spun around us. I closed my eyes, felt his flames, felt a connection. I leaned my forehead onto his chin. He kissed my forehead, then nuzzled my head up and kissed my lips. It was magical.

He stepped back, taking away his flame. My hug ended, Elf continued to dance. I had had my moment.

As I hurried back to my spot, Rough called me over. On his phone were two photos of my hug which he sent to me.

Shivering but gleeful, I re-dressed and said to my friend as I rejoined the fire circle, "I need to learn poi."

Service

As I drove in my car, having just picked up Gray from the airport, I asked him what his expectations for Rope Camp were, specifically surrounding how we would interact.

"Well if you wanted to be in service to me it would be helpful, but it would only be for the duration of camp."
"Ah...no. No no no. No. No."

So... my problem with the idea of being in service to anyone:

It is very obvious that, most times, I acted in a service bottom manner. My latest catchphrase is, "Happy to be helpful."

I like asking if I can clear people's plates, holding doors for people, helping Gray with his classes, carrying things. I like, truly like, being helpful.

However, a big part of my enjoyment is my having the choice to offer my service but always having the option of not doing so. I have to be able to say no, anytime, for any reason, period.

I suspect this has to do with my relationship attachment style. Doc and I came to the conclusion that I am anxious/avoidant when it comes to connecting with people.

I am so fucking independent. I need to be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I want. Otherwise I feel trapped, and I suspect I would grow resentful.

In this is a fatal flaw simply because I want a Daddy/Dominant/Sir. I want a life partner who is in charge, period. How the fuck am I suppose to accomplish that when I can't let go? I want to be in control, and yet be controlled.

Once, at some meal this week at Rope Camp, I offered to take Gray's plate. I'd been doing it since we'd gotten to camp, along with checking in with him, making sure he had things for his classes, and other very service subby activities.

Instead of the usual "Thank you" and my taking of his plate, he stood and said, "No thanks, I've got it. I need to learn to be more self reliant. Besides, what happened to, 'No no no'?"

I will not lie: I felt like shit at that moment. Not because of Gray or what he said, but because I wanted to pick up his plate. I wanted to be helpful to him. I wanted to perform that service.

Is there such a thing as service lite? What about service with caveats? Service with the option to say no?

Because I like being helpful. I like being there for him. I like clearing his plate.

And yet, when he asked me, and even when I think on it now, it scares the shit out of me, the thought of being in service to, well, anyone.

Worth It

I deserved it. I totally deserved it.

Celeste swung and smacked my back hard with her rope, testing the technique Rough had just shown the class.

It hurt. A lot. I deserved every bit of the pain.

The day before was the first of two of Roughinamorato's Rough Body play classes. He spoke about different parts of the body, the ways to hit it, the best places to hit, and those to avoid.

But there was one topic he said he would get to at the end of class that he almost forgot: the feet.

As we all worked in pairs, practicing the information Rough had imparted, it dawned on me that no one had brought it up.

I like Celeste a lot, but I wanted to learn what I knew would be an incredibly mean set of techniques. With a need to give myself an excuse, I saw Elf was about to talk to Rough. Spiriting over, I leaned against him and whispered into his ear.

"Ask Rough about feet."

Spiriting back to my partner, Elf immediately stepped up to Rough and spoke.

"Rough, could you talk about feet?"

"Poetic!" Celeste exclaimed.
"What?" I said with a mostly straight face.

The pairs dissipated, returning to their chairs. Everyone wanted to see this part of the lesson.

As Rough worked on Celeste's feet, French curse words fled her lips. She squirmed. She yelped. Though her face had been very expressive during class, this was the most vocal Celeste had been that day. It was wondrous to watch.

So, when she struck my back hard, multiple times, I knew I deserved it, knew the pain I endured was recompense for my attempt at underhanded ways.

But, for those precious fifteen minutes, hearing her screams and seeing her squirm, it was worth it.

Rough

"Do you want to play?"
"Yes. When?"
"Now."
"But I'm playing with a friend once they get back with their rope."
"We'll play til they arrive."

Gripping the side of my neck, right where I'd been bitten not ten minutes earlier, Roughinamorato pulled me forward. Just as we were to find a space, my friend walked into the Dungeon and approached us.

A dilemma.

I suggested we combine the two activities, but Rough's plans for me involved my ease of movement. They asked which I preferred first. Of course, I could not choose.

It came down to a coin toss. Heads, my friend; M, Rough. The coin landed on M. My friend stepped aside and patiently waited.

With an enormous amount of room in the middle of the Dungeon, Rough saw where he wanted to work. He found a nearby table, sat down his things, and requested I disrobe down to my boxers and remove my necklace. I could leave my moccasin boots on.

Leading me to the middle of the empty space, he paused for a moment, looking into my eyes, before slamming his fists into my chest. I rocked backwards, but them returned to in front of him. He did it again. And again.

"Welcome," he said before continuing his assault, punching me, gripping my hair, bringing me back, and hitting me over and over.

This, it turned out, was his warm up.

After a few minutes of chest punching, he stopped and walked back to his table. Pulling out two coils of rope, he began weaving his chord around his fists.

"You could cook something on my chest," I said, happy floaty-high already. He smiled.

As he constructed his rope fists, I grew nervous. I'd seen his video demonstrating the technique, but now I would feel the full impact of his cleverness.

Finished, he again brought me to the center of the Dungeon. He stopped and once more looked into my eyes.

I steadied my breathing. I tried to prepare myself. I knew the next however many minutes would be, well, rough.

Punches to my chest. Punches to my back. Open hand smacks to my shoulders. I rocked forward, backward. I almost fell to the floor. I began crying.

And then with one blow I was bent over, sobbing. He grabbed me by my hair, brought his lips to my ear, and quietly whispered, "Shh..."

I caught my breathing. My sobs eased. He hurt me, and hurt me, but I kept my cries to high pitched low volume close contact utterances.

He lifted my arms out to the side and then came down hard, opened handed smacks to my ribs. I screamed and hugged in my arms back in.

He walked behind me and kicked my ass (literally kicked my ass, though technically using his thigh), coming across my rump with multiple blows.

And then I was on the floor. He hit me so hard somehow, but I don't know how, (I actually can't remember if it was from the front or the back) I collapsed down to the ground.

Once on the ground, I knelt before him. Rough came down to my level and rested on one knee. And as he did, he just stopped and looked at me again, a small smile electric and alive on his lips and in his eyes. He looked on me. And looked on me. And then spoke.

"Say, 'Yes please.'"
"Yes please."

Both his fists slammed into my chest. I rolled back and to the right, my body landing half face down on the floor. I pushed myself back up and immediately returned to kneeling, returned to being in front of him, and waited.

"Say, 'Yes please.'"
"Yes please."

He did it again. I fell, rolled up, and returned.

"Say, 'Yes please.'"
"Yes please."

And he did it again. And I came back.

There was no hesitation, no moment between when he made his request and when I spoke mine. No time for rest, no need for it. I knew what was coming, knew the pain I would endure, and knew I wanted it, no doubt in my mind.

He put his hand on my shoulder, pulled me in close, and stroked my hair. We hugged. I nuzzled his chest. I thanked him and he thanked me.

It was rough, just how I like it.

Teeth

I looked at him, smiled, and asked a simple question.

"May I smell your jacket?" He returned my grin and stepped into my personal space. As my feet dangled from the short stage, I felt lost in the wondrous aroma.

"I got this in Florence." Real Italian leather, soft and supple leather. I rested my face against it, wanting to melt into him.

Bringing myself back, I had to ask.

"So, do you want to do anything?"

He did, but... he had event duties and other dates already set. Still, he acknowledged the desire was there, as was the feeling that if we played it would be fun.

For a second I stuck out my finger, but then I pulled back.

"Do I have permission to touch you?" He looked on me quizzically, but then gave his consent, provided I stayed on the outside of his clothing. I poked his exposed tummy, just above his belly button.

"May I touch you?" I gave him carte blanche, but then he wondered what my definition of touch was.

"You can touch anywhere, including under clothing. You may take off clothes, but not rip off without consent." A devilish grin crept across his face. Out popped his small knife. "Dammit! I'm not wearing destroyables."

I gave my usual caveats: no broken bones, no load bearing rigging from my piercings, no riping out of piercings.

He looked at me, seeming to come to an understanding, and said, "Okay."

Slipping his hand into my hair, he gripped and pulled. My moans started.

Tilting my head to the side, he brought his face to my neck. I could feel his hot breath just before he sunk down, his teeth gripping my flesh.

I yelped at first, squirming, before settling into the pain and pleasure, my hands finding his hips, holding him to me. My moans grew loud. Symmetry being important, he graced the other side of my neck as well. Pulling my head back, his teeth found the front of my neck, gripping down not as hard, avoiding damage to my wind pipe.

Stepping back, he looked on his work. His impressions laid in my skin nicely, but he decided to make them beautiful. Attacking each side of my neck again, his teeth once more found their places in my flesh, staying in their spots for much longer, digging in further. My moans, in turn, grew deeper and longer. The pain and pleasure was exquisite.

To commemorate his work, he photographed each set.

Later, as I stood around, chatting with him and another friend while coming down from watching an intense needle scene, he slipped his hand to the back of my neck. His fingertips grabbed around my tattoo, pinching the flesh in, intense pain coming from his touch. I whined, high pitched and longingly.

"What? It's a neck massage."

Gripping my hair, he sunk his teeth down into the back on my neck, framing my tattoo. I screamed, yelped, and then finally moaned as the delicious pain swept through me. I wiggled, squirmed, but again found myself inside his space, leaning into his body, diving into this moment with him.

And, once more, he took a picture.

It is now about twelve hours later. No matter how I move my face, my neck always aches... just a little.

Safely

When he asked me to tie him, I was a little taken aback.

"I've seen your work and was wondering if you would suspend me?"

Seen my work? People have seen me tie? It all felt other worldly.

Still I was elated at the idea of playing with someone. Going into Summer Camp, I had made no plans whatsoever. No demands. No unrealistic expectations. Just camp.

We decided I would rig him in the Barn on Thursday in the early afternoon, just after lunch.

When the day came, I was feeling great. Going along with the no planning part of my Summer Camp, I had decided to also treat it as a real vacation. I would sleep when I wanted or needed. I wouldn't push myself, wouldn't force myself to stay up until all hours. I could spend as much time with my friends as my new leisure-self desired. I would enjoy my time at camp instead of trying to cram into every single minute excitement and fun and play. (Frankly, it's been getting exhausting.)

As I sat in a camp chair outside my cabin, I wore my thin black kimono with my pink and white obi around my waist. I laughed and chatted with my cabinmates. I smiled a lot, happy to just be there, happy to just have time with my friends.

As the day meandered to the time for the tie, I grew gleeful. I grabbed my rope bags and strolled to the Barn.

Having arrived, I saw there was no one inside the space. Taking advantage, I setup my ring, clipped on my carabeners, and set out my rope. I slipped off my obi and kimono, happy for the attire but knowing the fabric would get in my way.

Taking advantage of my knowledge of the sound system, I plugged in my iPhone and turned on my Dungeon mix. The scene was set.

Soon he arrived, happy and smiling. We began.

I took him through some stretches before inviting him onto the mat.

As is my usual routine, I started with bands across the chest, a stem at the middle for my first point. Moving down, I tied a Swiss seat around his hips, encouraging him to adjust my rope up or down as would best fit him. Moving still further down, I secured a cuff around his thigh.

Not fully understanding my methods, he attempted to lean into my tie already. I asked him to take his body weight back up. It was almost, but not quite, time for him to fly.

Tying an ankle cuff, I stood and prepared him. I assured him, once I tied off his second leg, I would adjust for his comfort. He leaned into his ropes once again as I brought his ankle up, securing it above the rest of the points.

Quickly tying off, I asked where the most pressure was; where did he feel uncomfortable? First I needed to lift his hips. Wrapping the lifting line around my hand, and slipping my free arm under his body, I used my own body weight to lift him up. Next I adjusted his chest, again using my body weight to pull. His legs lines were fine.

As he settled into the now adjusted ropes, my webbing drifted some, giving him a small sway. I stood beside him and held his rope so he would not move. After a few minutes, he turned to me.

"Could you step away for a bit?"
"Of course."

I sat on a nearby bench and waited. He lazed in my ropes, the sway in them gone, seemingly in a quiet meditation. I pulled out my fighting fan and created a small breeze for myself as I patiently sat and watched.

When another camp attendee entered the Barn, I brought my finger to my lips to quiet them. I didn't want the moment ruined.

After some time, he called me back over, saying he was ready to come down. I freed his legs, brought him back to standing, released his hips and chest, and sat him down on the mat.

As I untied the rope around him, I was pleased and he seemed quite content. I got him up; I got him down, safely.

Care

It was the simplest movement, the simplest motion. A submissive sat with her head on her Dom's knee. Then lightly, gently, she brushed her cheek against his knee. That was all it took to bring me to tears.

I quietly snuck my way downstairs, located the bathroom, leaned against the wall, and cried.

I wanted that. I missed that. I yearned for that.

Something so simple as my head on a knee, such slight affection. I had, for some time, forgotten how much I loved that, how much I ached for it each day.

I let myself cry, letting my sorrow spill out. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at my eyes, wiping away my tears. I took a breath. I let myself cry again.

And then I regained my composure. I contemplated leaving the gathering, but I knew that would only make my heart hurt worse. Instead I steeled my resolve. This place was full of friends. I would be okay.

Slowly easing back upstairs, I again stayed on the periphery of the gathering. Looking over to my left, I saw a woman sitting on the floor working on a pair of leather shoes. She used products and techniques I had no seen before. Curious, I sat in a nearby chair and watched her work.

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Poetic, can you let down your hair." My curls were pulled up in a tight bun. I pulled off my hair tie.
"Come with me." I followed Scotty to the adjoining lounge area.

Standing in the spot where he led me, I was surrounded by Scotty and three other friends. My head bent, their bodies close to mine, they all blew smoke into my hair, over and over again. And just like that, I felt better.

Relaxed, I nestled on the floor. PrincessA sat in a chair behind me. Softly, tenderly, she caressed my head and pulled on my hair. I let myself float on the feeling of her hands in my curls.

As I sat, having falling into the atmosphere of the gathering, a friend asked if I would black their boots. For a tip, their girl offered up his ashes to me. I assured her she did not need to tip me, but she insisted all the same. I accepted her gesture with gratitude.

As I worked on his leather, I took my time, giving care and attention to his boots. He blew smoke into my hair and onto my skin. After I finished, he and his girl thanked me for my efforts, saying his boots looked almost new. He then offered up his ash as my compensation. I ate it from his hand gratefully.

Finished with my first pair of boots, I turned to PrincessA and worked on her leather. As I gave her boots attention, I realized I felt right again. Whereas before I had been sorrowful, dejected, once again I felt the care and love of my friends. I felt like I belonged.

Aftercare

We were all wiped. It wasn't even two hours into the After Grue when Inretrepida and I spoke of leaving. I dutifully sat in a comfy chair, scribbling out notes from my day and my time with Gray and Symetrie, yet I actively worked to not fall asleep.

Just as our duo was about to depart, a saint emerged with sustenance. Pulling out coloring books and crayons, Inretrepida and I squealed. I put my notebook aside and joined a small group of Grue-mates on the floor.

There was a My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic book, so I immediately picked a Fluttershy picture. (She is my favorite.) Working together, Inretrepida and I colored the picture. I focused on the massive amount of hair, choosing a red and pink color palate. Inretrepida shaded the rest.

As we colored, we chatted with our Grue-mate, speaking on littles activities and the fun of our day. Once Inretrepida and I finished our masterpiece (because yes, it was that awesome), we decided I would keep it. (For those who are interested, later, when I had a moment, I took a picture of our art and posted it on my Twitter feed. Happy hunting.)

Exhausted, Inretrepida and I departed. Once again, back to the Naked House, I imparted my adventures to PrincessA in bed before we both passed out.

The next morning was made for Grue-cakes.

I woke up, still exhausted, feeling like I'd run into a wall. Inretrepida picked me up and drove us back to the space. As she made her way down to the basement, I stayed in the kitchen. I could see through the oven door bacon, delicious delicious bacon, cooking.

Gray, in his customary chef's kilt, came upstairs to encourage folks to come downstairs and eat Grue-cakes.

"But... there's bacon."
"No bacon unless you come downstairs."

I relented.

Descending, I saw many people in a similar state as mine, lounging about wiped from their previous day. Coming upon the food, I filled my plate with eggs, sausages, and Grue-cakes, and then found a spot on the floor next to Inretrepida, who sat on a couch.

On a large television screen to my left Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-Long Blog played. As per the name, many people were indeed singing along.

After my first round of food, bacon finally arrived. I happily ate the delicious delicious pork.

After Dr. Horrible, keeping to an apparent theme, Repo: The Genetic Opera was put on. It was... different.

As I sat on the floor, with most everyone's belly full, Gray took some time to relax. He laid his head in my lap while I stroke his hair, and he nuzzled Symetrie with his feet. She, in turn, was receiving a back massage from a fellow Grue-mate.

As the morning wound on, people veered outside on the back patio for cigars and more chats.

And then it was time for hugs. Gray was riding with Rough and they had to leave right after brunch. I said my farewells to them, knowing I would see them soon.

As the house emptied, Inretrepida and I contemplated staying a bit longer. There was to be a grappling get together, but we opted to leave. Later that night there would be cigars, boots, chocolate, and more time to commiserate.

Dirty, Nasty, Perfect

"It was dirty, nasty, perfect."

Yeah, so, it happened again. That moment where, in the middle of sex, I realized I was actually, surprisingly, yes again, having the best sex of my life.

I was slick with my sweat and his, mashing my face against and all over his balls while my tits caressed his dick. He reached up, grabbed my elbows, and shoved my arms behind my back. I held them there, held them tight. His mouth enclosed over my clit before he rubbed his beard up and down the length of my pussy. It was all I could do to not cum. The rule was his dick had to be down my throat if I wanted such enjoyment.

And there, not caring, lost in the moment of pure lust for this person, breath quick yet quiet trying not to wake anyone in the house, writhing in our pile of flesh, I just knew.

Fuck, this is the new best sex of my life.

It wasn't the position. It wasn't the sexual acts. All that we did was by no means new. But it was something in our manner, something in the intensity of who-knows-how-long we fucked (I didn't check, but I'm guessing an hour), something in how much at that moment I wanted him and he wanted me that made it all the best sex of my life.

I didn't start out the night expecting sex. I was just happy he was in town. I picked Gray up from the airport, endured traffic to help him run an errand, and we dined at Chipotle before heading to my home.

With quick re-introductions to folks, I gave him the ten cent tour and we soon found ourselves in the Sun Room, him smoking a cigar and me at his feet. Whiskey sat on a nearby table. We relaxed into the moment, relaxed into seeing and being around each other again.

There was play. There is always play when we are around each other. Ashing into my mouth. Eating ash out of his hand. As I rested against his thigh, he massaged my neck, my shoulders. He pulled my hair. He wrenched my head back. He kissed me. I sighed at his touch, felt breathless from his embrace.

At his request, I took off my shirt and bra. He slipped his unshod and sockless foot in between my legs. I hugged his calf to me.

The longer we chatted, the closer his heel came to my crotch. I wore no underwear. When finally he positioned himself with his heel against my clit, he told me to ride it. I pivoted my hips up and down, up and down.

He ran his cigar against my skin. He lightly touched his heat to my back. Quiet yelps escaped me. I clung harder to his calf. His heel pressed onto my clit.

"Cum for me poetic."

I gasped. I trembled. I rode his heel harder. He touched his heat to my skin. I lost myself in the pleasure and pain.

"I love to feel you tremble."

Even after I came, I still slowly kept riding his heel.

He broke off ash into his hands, bent down, and spread it all over my torso. I looked up at him, looked into his eyes. In the moment, I felt a joy, content, I had not experienced in so long.

Soon after it was time for bed. He would shower, but I wanted to sleep with his ash on me.

When he returned from his shower, he turned out the lights and slipped into bed. We cuddled. I kissed the length of his arm.

And then I just went for it. I had felt his cock grow hard while I had sat at his feet, had grazed my cheek against that which I so desperately wanted in my mouth.

And then it was. And then his hand played with my pussy, slowly easing its way inside me as I pushed back to sink further onto his hand.

Then, after such intensity, he grabbed me by my hips and pulled me on top of him. And his lips were on my clit. And my mouth lapped at his cock and balls. And we were sweaty and breathing heavy, and fuck...

When he picked my legs back up and off of him, I thought we were about to pass out, but oh no. He grabbed my hair and began fucking my face, my lips stroking the length of his cock. I rested my head against his thigh and happily took him into me, happily submitted to his will.

And then, fuck...

He got on top, straddling his legs over my face, sinking his cock into my mouth. I gripped his thighs, slipped his dick from my lips, sunk my face into his balls, and used my elbows to push my tits together so his cock could fuck them.

His lips returned to my clit, and then I couldn't stop it. Wave after wave of orgasm surged through me. Warmth, sweet warmth, mind blowing, holy-shit-yes ecstasy overtook me. It took every once of me not to scream, not to break free and just let my vocals chords soar as no less than three intense orgasms in a row pulsed from my abdomen out to my limbs and through the rest of my body.

He reached back, again stuck his cock in my mouth, and came. I gripped my thighs against his ears, fucked his face, and came hard with him.

And then, finally, we slumped over, sweaty and fucking exhausted.

Stood Up

I was stood up tonight, and, funny enough, I am the happier for it.

It was my work friend from Faire yesterday. We had arranged to hang out this evening, but he had to cancel; some bullshit he needed to take care of at home. We have already planned to reschedule for another day, though with Rope Camp so soon approaching it will not happen for some time. Still, it will happen.

Now you may ask why I find myself the better for not having spent time with my friend. It is not for an obvious reason. He is a friend, a good guy, and I know we would've had fun today.

The thing though is, almost as soon as I texted him the this morning, something told me he would cancel. This wasn't exactly a sixth sense thing. I don't claim to be prophetic, except occasionally in my dreams about inane things.

No, it was my reaction to the situation that I am (mostly) happy with.

When I initially texted him, he didn't immediately respond; sign number one. My mind took all its normal leaps (yah know, the script that plays in my head, the mean-no-good-very-bad thoughts, the shit that I'm working through with Doc).

At first I thought, Well fuck, he's blowing me off. That sucks. He was going to be my Monday night entertainment. (cue Mad Men)

And then came the shitty script.

He's blowing me off because he doesn't really want to hang out with me. He just agreed to because he was drunk yesterday. Guess the harsh light of day had him change his mind.

However, not a quick after but after, my active mind spun the scenario on my subconscious mind's head.

Hey, you're doing it again. You're jumping to a bunch of shitty conclusions with no evidence, luv. Don't we remember Occam's Razor's? He probably is at work and didn't get the message. Be patient. And, for that matter, how about you call him later (instead of text) to find out if you are still on?

I set a time to call him, deciding to push all thoughts (as best I could) to the side about the situation until that then. I got ready like normal and headed out to perform the few errands I needed to accomplish before our supposed meet up.

As I sat in my car waiting to pick someone up and give them a ride home, lo and behold I got a text. My work friend did indeed need to cancel because of aforementioned bullshit and wished to reschedule.

As I sat in my car, a wave of relief came over me. No, my work friend is not a closet asshole. No, I am not a piece of shit. Life is not as horrible as my little brain wants to make it out to be.

So no, I'm not happy that my brain did the mental jujitsu that it loves, spinning flipping kicking to the worst possible conclusion and making me feel like shit in the process.

I am happy, though, that I actively worked against my learned training. I actively held out hope for the best. I went against program in my own little way.

When it comes to the emotional roller coaster I struggle with daily, I will take my wins where I can get them.

I'm A Slut

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.

Running

~ a story ~

At its essence it was innocuous. Merely pieces of paper folded and secured together with two staples. At its essence it was small, easy to loose, simple to destroy. But it was all that it meant that meant so much to her and now means so much to me.

Her passport told the story of her life, from the first days of travel with her parents, to her last days before her end.

As I flipped through her pages, I recalled the stories she told me.

Paris, where she grew up, mostly. It was the longest her parents stayed anywhere if you combined the multiple stamps shown in the little book. She was fluent in French, but that was true of other languages. That was something I loved about her.

Barcelona. She had a scar from a bull when she had, in her abrasive teenage years, decided she needed to really feel fear. She survived mostly unscathed, but my heart still quaked each time she spoke of it.

Sydney. Her skin was a cocoa brown, but I loved her pictures of her tanned complexion, a deep chocolate that brought out her eyes and stood in strict contrast to her dyed copper hair.

She loved being different, eccentric. She wore her complexities as badges of honor. Any who did not love the various parts of her never got to love her at all.

She was quick to back away, quick to shield her heart. I was surprised I lasted as long as I did, though I suppose there are always exceptions.

Home, her actual home, was Washington DC. Her extended family lived on the right coast, and she'd always visit in the summer. I met her one of those summers. With sunnies from down under, an Abbey Road vinyl purchased in London, and actual chopsticks from China, I found her enthralling.

When she invited me to go with her, to run to some far away country, I couldn't help but say yes. Yes, even though I couldn't really afford it. Yes, even though I wasn't the first. Yes, even though I didn't know if she loved. Yes, because I loved her and the rest didn't matter.

When she kissed me, in a dark alley somewhere in Amsterdam after we'd eaten pot brownies and spent the afternoon listening to jazz, I thought my life couldn't be any more perfect.

And it never, ever, got better than that.

Sitting here, flipping through her passport, remembering the trips I took with her and the ones she recounted on cold nights while sipping cocoa or over beers at a dive bar, I wonder if she traveled for fun or if was all just a ruse. Was she running towards a fabulous life or running from living a real one?

Now that she's gone, and I have no chance of asking her the hard questions that never came up in our adventures, I guess I'll never know.

Up High

When we arrived, our group disbursed, heading to their toy bags or directly downstairs. Since I had my things with me, I stayed in the upstairs, wanting to get ready.

I'd grabbed a simple black wrap dress that accented my cleavage well, some jewelry, a pair of daunting heels, and my tail. Though quite tired, I was still in a frisky mood. With no modesty needed, I changed in the living room.

Slipping into the restroom, I looked at myself. I decided to tone down some of the jewelry, lending a more subtle look to my attire. I knew, if all went well, I wouldn't being wearing my clothes for long.

My outfit mostly complete, it was time for the daunting part: the heels. Bought on a whim, they were taller than I'd ever worn before.

As per a friend's suggestion, I'd worn them around the house to practice. This happened only once. I donned them while making my dinner one night. Fifteen minutes, which included me walking down five stairs to set my food down. By the end, my ankles and feet were throbbing.

With this in mind, I stepped into the accessory, knowing my time in them would be limited.

Cruising around the house, I first joined the crowd in the dinning room, just outside of the main floor dungeon. The room was still crowded with bags from earlier that day as I spied the activities in the room just a few steps above us.

One woman was tied to a ladder with her breasts pressed together by a mean looking contraption. Others were moving around adjusting a fucking machine. Satisfied that this was not what I was looking for, I moved on.

Slowly, slowly, walking down the stairs to the basement, I immediately saw Rough sitting on the couch opposite the stairs.

"What's up with the shoes?" he asked.

And then it dawned on me: I'd forgotten this was a no shoe household. As soon I traversed the last stair, I slipped the shoes off. Of course, just as quickly, someone in the room asked, "Do you wear those outside?"

I huffed at the notion. Those heels would only be worn indoors for short periods of time. At this admonition, my shoes were approved for wear around the house.

Back up high again, I looked around the room. There was food in the small dining area, people lounging on couches cuddling and watching porn, and some activity in the dungeon. Slowly walking over to peek inside the play area, I saw Gray and Symetrie were playing around on the wrestling mats.

Quietly I eased into the room and sat just to the right of the door, trying not to be noticeable. It looked like they were having fun and I didn't want to interrupt.

But then Symetrie saw me and whispered into Gray's ear. With me now in both of their sights, I was beckoned onto the mat.

I'm Fucked

~ a story ~

Sometimes it's obvious, immediate. As soon as you meet a person, or even just upon first sight, you know.

Oh shit. Here we go again.

Something about them, you're not always sure what, but something grabs you, and in an instant you are done. You know you are destined for at the very least attraction. At the very least warm thoughts in those parts of your body you love to play with. And, of course, at its worst deep abiding drowning love. Those, I think, are the kinder encounters, the kinder intrigues.

Because then there are the ones that sneak up on you. The ones that simmer, slowly, warming up to a boil. Not a flash in a pan, but a smolder that turns to red hot flames.

That's how it was with Jacob. He was sweet, a warning sign I should've noted from the start. But I merely accepted his kindness, not realizing how from the beginning it had an effect on me.

The others were cold. They didn't like the idea of me being around. Didn't like knowing I even existed. Didn't want to acknowledge that one of "them" had some how made it into their midst.

But Jacob saw me. Not what I represented. Not some statement I made just by being there. He saw me. He befriended me. And I fell for him.

The first time I recognized it, the first time it dawned on me, the first time I knew I was fucked was a normal enough Tuesday. The air was cool; fall was fast approaching. I'd gone for a walk, but was back now for lunch. When I sat down and began to even think about food, he reached over my shoulder and laid a wrapped up sandwich on my desk. Roast beef with cheddar, my favorite.

I looked up, saw his smile, and knew.

I love him and hate him. I love who he is, how he is. I love the way he is helpful, so giving. I love how he sees me. I love how he is my friend.

I hate how he is my friend. I hate that I will only ever be a friend to him. I hate that no one here will ever be so good to me as he is. I hate how I have to pretend I'm happy just to be here. I hate that he makes it easier and harder to be here.

I hate how much I love him. Not just his smile. Not just his eyes. Not just his kindness. His teeth, with one just slightly off center at the top. His lips, and the way he licks them. His hands, how strong they are, how gently he uses them.

I hate him. I love him.

Yup, I'm fucked.

Closing

We all gathered back where we'd started, again amassing in the basement living room. I sat by the front this time, nestling on the floor. We assembled in a circle, everyone looking at one another.

Gray stood by the front again, all the sheets of paper with the class names in his hands. One-by-one he read off all the classes we'd presented. Flogging, canes, hitting people with swords. Tantra, formal place setting, knife play, blood play. Cigars, ass fucking, kissing, female orgasms. Fisting, video games, breath play. Whips, fear play, some rope, discussions of the public scene, and even a ten minute walk thrown in. In total, thirty one classes were given.

We did all this. We presented our passions, shared our love for these parts of ourselves with the people in this home and in those moments.

After a full day of classes, of effort, of hard work and fun, now it was time to take a moment to speak.

As we went around the circle, one-by-one people thanked others for their passions, for the time they took, for sharing themselves, for opening up, for showing others things they'd never seen before.

Some were pleased to have had such a great time without having to present. I was happy to have been one of those in the front, putting myself out there, giving light to passions I wanted to share.

As each person spoke, I was just able to keep my tears at bay. My day was a great high, a flying soaring roller coaster of moment after moment. And now I was crashing. Now our day was coming to an end.

I almost felt the need to run around hugging everyone there or for us all to hold hands and sing kumbaya or something.

"And I can now say this: You have all been eaten by a Grue."

Gray dismissed us to dinner, a two hour break before we would all be back. That night, as part of the come down, was the party afterwards. It was appropriately named the After Grue.

With such a short time, Inretrepida thought it best to stay near the house. The only thing was my After Grue attire was still at The Naked House. With my apologies and reassurance from my ride that it was fine, we settled on food, a quick trip back for my things, and rushing back for as much time as we could get for play.

With three more of our friends in the car, we first tried a chicken place, a mere fifteen minute drive away; fifty minute wait. Strolling around the corner, we then tried a supper club. I had visions of steak and potatoes. Alas, forty-five minute wait. Walking some more we found an Indian restaurant. We were seated immediately.

As we waited for our food, I gulped down water. When my lamb finally arrived, I ate it hungrily. About half way through my meal, I realized a slight flaw. My food was somewhat spicy, and I had no idea whether or not there would be cigar play later that evening.

With a sigh, I replied, "I'll eat ash for Gray or Rough. I'll take pain if I like you enough."

Of course one of my friends pointed out the rhymed.

After dinner, with a general fatigue setting in, we hurried to The Naked House. I ran inside, grabbed my things, and just as quickly I made my way outside and back into the car.

We arrived at the After Grue about an hour after its start.

e[lust] 40

Photo courtesy of @iSlut_ of A Slut's Memoir

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Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Begin rant
Communication Breakdown
Family Planning
Great Expectation
My Fantasy
Rituals, Symbolism, Kink, and of course ME

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

How You Know You Are On The Rag
Intersecting

Kink & Fetish

Anal Slut
Belted
Flogger Use and Safety from a Beginner
Janet's Magical Toybag
Protest Much?
Property of Seven
Playing With Fire
Please
Tonight I am going to fuck your (slave) ass
The Long-Anticipated Gangbang Post
Welcome To The Club

Erotic Writing

Almost Broken
Alive
A Bad Habit
A Sinner Sits for Sacred Sunday Service
BBQ & Beer
Birthday Sex
Cap D'Agde -spit roast with a stranger
Dirty Talk
Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Five
Lush
Matched
Oral at a Sex Party
once in a while
Revelation
Random memories: First love
Saturday Morning Pussy
Stress Reliever – Lubed Fingers
The shopping assistant
The Sting of the Crop
You

Full Contact Improv

"An orgy without sex."

"Free form modern dance."

"Presense through movement and touch."

I couldn't completely trust. I couldn't completely let go. I couldn't completely extend my arm.

The exercise was simple: let your partner take your weight. I held Inretrepida's hand and leaned back, but there was a bend in my elbow. Gray had instructed us all to fully entend their arms, trusting that our partner would be able to balance and take our weight.

With Inretrepida and myself right up in front on the wrestling mats, he came over and pointed out my caution. He instructed me to full extend my arm. And I did... for about a second. He called out my hesistance, but still moved on.

We all sat in a circle. This exercise would be a round robin. With two people inside, they would dance, allowing themselves to move with the pressure and point of contacts of their bodies. When one person felt it was time, they would ease out of the center and another person would enter, continuing the dance.

As we began, Gray started with one of the students. The pass came. Gray eased out and another eased in. And then the second pass happened. And then the third. Inretrepida, who had sat beside me, flowed into the movements. She, along with the other person in the middle, seemed adrift in a beautiful synchronized flow. Their interaction lasted longer than the others.

Gray then felt it was time. He opened up the dance, encouraging everyone to start however they felt. I looked left and then right. All of a sudden pairs and triads formed, bodies moving to some unknown beat. And there I sat, alone, no one close to me.

I felt lost, out of sorts. I didn't know how to enter, when or where to enter. I didn't know how to begin. And just when I thought I would slip away, just when I contemplated leaving the mat and never being a part of the dance, Gray extended out towards me. Feeling him as a point of contact, I glided into the movements.

Throughout my time on the mat, as soon as Gray eased me in, I made myself close my eyes. If I didn't, I knew I would think too much, knew I would over analyze, trying to find the right move to make, the best way to go somewhere. I knew I needed to not think, but instead be. I knew I needed to let go.

As we moved, I could hear breathing, feel flesh, and let myself fall into movement and presence. I remember my back against anothers, my hand and forearm against anothers, my head against anothers. I remember my breathing, full and deep. I remember the feeling of being fully in my body.

And then somehow, naturally, the dance ended with most of us either sitting or slumped on the mats, breathing hard and tired.

Fisting Is Fun

Before we began, we had a little laugh. This would be the first time we fisted using a glove and lube.

When I walked upstairs for my Fisting class, I was a little nervous. Inherent in the premise for my presentation is a slight flaw: I needed a demo fist.

I knew this, and hoped that someone I knew, a friend, someone I was comfortable with would show up. When I walked into the room, only one person was there, a gentleman I had not interacted with before. Uh oh.

I walked back downstairs and found Gray. I explained the situation, saying my class may turn into a discussion since I was not comfortable with someone I did not know fisting me. He said that would be okay but he encouraged me to wait, saying he'd heard some folks talk about attending my presentation. Also it was still early, with other classes soon to let out.

Taking the opportunity to ask a small favor, I inquired if he could possibly be my demo fist. He said he would try to make it, allowing that the other classes needed to be in a good place for this to happen.

I took Gray's advice and headed back upstairs. I informed the gentleman we would wait for about ten minutes before starting. As I spoke, two more people entered. Already things were looking up.

After the waiting period I had about five people in the room, so we began.

I started talking about why I wanted to present on fisting. I mentioned how people in the past have told me this particular sexual act to them was scary because they'd only seen it in porn. I talked about how I loved fisting and how it is one of my primary sex acts.

I talked about intention, how it had taken me many years to learn to take a fist. I warned against self sabotaging a session, going in with only the intention of having fun. I spoke about how much fun I had when I did it.

And then Gray arrived.

After our snicker, we began with the demo. Soon enough, Gray's full fist was inside me.

Through my orgasms, I spoke about the different ways I've found for achieving orgasms using a fist (vibrating, "fucking", rotating, pulsing).

After a question from one of my students, I spoke about different body positions for fisting. Working together, Gray and I rotated to show fisting from the side. Slipping out, I got on all fours and Gray was able to fist me doggy style.

We covered different spots to stimulate (the G spot, above and below the cervix, as well as the cervix itself).

I mentioned ways the bottom can assist in the sex act. I personally love being able to push my hips against a fist, in essence fucking the hand.

Above all I stressed communication, the bottom constantly talking and asking for what they needed as well as the top consistently checking in.

Many orgasms and screams later, Gray slipped out, needing to check on the other classes. Demo complete; class dismissed.

Almost Gone

It happened in an instant.

I was teaching my first class of the Grue, a presentation centered on cigar play from the bottom's perspective. Gray consented to helping me, taking on the role of my demo top. We had already demonstrated a few fun aspects of play (smoke kiss, smoke rise, and eating ash) when Gray noted he had more ash to give.

Since I'd already eaten ash out of another's hand, Gray asked if anyone else was interested in tasting the treat. My students didn't seem eager.

And then I volunteered my chest. Inretrepida piped right up.

However there were two problems. One, we were outside. I couldn't just take off my shirt for fear of snoopy neighbors. Two, the shirt I wore had a button up collar but did not completely open down the front.

Fixing the conundrum took a group effort. Gray held open the collar of my shirt. Rough held my necklace out of the way. Gray then spread the ash across my exposed chest and Inretrepida licked up the flecks.

This was, once again, one of my Minnesota moments where I felt spoiled. In that moment, my life absolutely did not suck.

But just as quickly it all tumbled away.

When the group stepped back, happy and gleeful from the experience, I sat up straight. Inretrepida had ash on her lips, so I took her head in my hands and licked it off.

And then I could feel it as it happened, yet I had no control to stop it. My necklace slipped from my neck onto the patio floor. Thankfully the chain mail caught on my Zim jacket, which I had been sitting on during my class. But my pendant and ring, which normally hung from the necklace, slipped through the wooden slats and landed under the patio.

"Oh no!" I cried. Tears welled in my eyes as I scurried off the patio and under the deck.

I saw the pendant through the slats when it first fell. With the assistance of one of my students, I was able to easily retrieve it. But then I realized the ring was missing too. Thankfully he saw it as well and pointed it out as I crawled over prickly wood to grab it.

Back on the patio, I remade my necklace. Chain mail again around my neck, my relative's ring and my Love pendant again kissing my skin, I felt right with the world again.

Sometimes I forget how attached I am to my necklace. It is a symbol of me, kink me, all of me. People have recognized me just from the metal around my neck.

On occasion that reality feels cumbersome, like a weight bringing me down. But in those moments, I reassure myself that my necklace is a symbol of my choosing. I can always take it off and set it to the side, a symbol of me I can pick up and put down at any time.

But when it fell, when it was almost gone, the realization that so much of me is associated with those pieces of metal came crashing into me.

I own me. That necklace is a subtle way of me projecting my own personal power over my life. And that symbol was almost taken away.

For a moment, I felt lost. For a moment, I was so near to crying an ocean of tears. For a moment, I felt like a part of me was almost gone.

Watcher

~ a story ~

Behind it was the real me. Behind the clothes, the smile. Behind the lilt in my soft voice, the coy look in my eyes. Behind it all lived me. And I never let any of them see it.

I was shy, quiet. I was never the first to do anything. I hung back, stayed away, an actual wallflower. And I watched. I always watched them, always saw them. And I remembered.

As they played. As they kissed. As they fucked, I remembered. As they yelled, screamed, cried, I remembered. As they lied, cheated, hated and loved, I always remembered.

They never tried to force me to do anything or be anyone. Occasionally I gave them the smile or the coy look, just enough for them to know I was still there. Just enough for them to realize my actions were a choice. They would quickly forget I existed, that I had not engaged, that I was watching.

There were some more than others I looked upon. The ones who were the worst. The ones who lied like it was breathing. The ones who cheated like it was a part of their relationship. The ones who got what they wanted, whenever they wanted, no matter who they harmed in the process. I made sure to watch them closely, to remember all their exploits, and to never, ever, engage with them.

I came close to revealing myself, once. His name was Oliver. He was chocolate skinned and bald headed and had a tattoo of fire ascending up both his arms meeting at his chest and back. I sometimes wondered how much pain he was in as he took that ink.

Once, when we were all warming ourselves by a camp fire, sweat shirts and hoodies covering muscles and cleavage, Oliver sat beside me. I'd chosen a log just on the outside of the circle of camp chairs, the barest amount of warmth drifting back towards me.

Holding my mug of cocoa, I softly blew across the top and sipped slowly. His hands held coffee that smelled better than I suspected it tasted. He too warmed his hands with his drink while partaking of his beverage.

For a moment, he looked over at me. My gaze, normally down or to the side, lifted for just a few seconds to meet his. He had beautiful green eyes, eyes I'd never seen so close before. His smiled started at his lips and ended at those eyes.

"You're always here, but you never really... engage with us. Why is that?"

Why was that? Because I knew them. I knew them too well. I knew the mean ones, the nasty ones, the pathetic ones, the spiteful ones. I knew who did what to whom when and how long. I knew it all.

I even knew him. Knew how much he loved her, the one all the guys loved. I knew how she had hurt him. I knew his heart still ached for her scent. Knew he hated her boyfriend, and hated her other lover more.

Knowing them, who they were, what they'd done. It never made me want to be a part of them, but it also made me want to never stop watching them. They found me useful, to be utilized. Most didn't care that I hung around because I was always around.

His question hung in the air, a weight pulling me towards him. Of all of them, he was the one I watched not because of his faults but because of his qualities. He should've been the one they all ran to, aspired to, loved. And yet at times it seemed he had it no better than me.

He was beautiful, honest, sweet. He was kind, caring, giving. And they knew it, and exploited him for it. And yet he stayed.

In that moment, the question in the air, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to connect with him. I wanted to... connect.

But when he stood, his question never answered, my desire quickly melted with each of his steps away. He sat next to her, offering a blanket. She turned him down, opting to instead snuggle up to her lover as her boyfriend lay passed out on a nearby log.

Once, I almost showed myself. Once, I almost revealed...me. Instead I finished my cocoa and then drove all of them home.

A Kiss

A moment later, my pouting somewhat subsided, MattP and Roughinamorato announced they needed a nipple. Of course, since I was right there and am always happy to be helpful, I volunteered. I quickly disrobed, removing my school Gir shirt, tie and bra, standing in front of them in just my Gir booty shorts.

To show what he wanted to demonstrate, Matt needed small diameter rope. He stepped away in search of the proper chord.

With just Rough and I standing there, I then realized I didn't have my glasses. I walked back over to the side of the room where we'd spoken just five or ten minutes earlier. They weren't there.

Turning to Rough, I wondered if he was hiding them.

"Do you have my glasses?" Stepping back towards him, I saw he held his hands behind his back.

"Do I have your glasses?" he asked. And then I saw them... hanging from his shirt. Once again, something was hidden right in front of my face.

Just as the revelation came, Matt re-entered the room. He could not find the rope he wanted, but he had found a twist tie. Matt twisted around one of my nipples and then pulled it towards the other. I asked if I could push them together to make the process easier. They both consented.

With both my nipples now connected, Rough instructed me to put my arms out to the side. I slowly let go, allowing the tie to take the weight, pulling my sensitive flesh, until the twist failed, one wrenching free.

Matt decided they needed another and quickly found a second twist tie. This time Rough connected the twist ties and then applied them to my nipples, again with my assistance. Once more Rough asked me to let go and I did. This time the twist ties stayed, pulling my nipples together.

Success achieved, Matt stepped away; Rough remained.

"What did you ask me earlier?"
"May I kiss you?"
"Louder."
"May I kiss you?"
"Louder."
"May I kiss you?"
"They can't hear you in the other room."
"May I kiss you!?"
"I don't know. Can you?"

With my arms still out to the sides, I slowly leaned into him. I danced my lips close to his. I softly brushed my nose on his. I was but millimeters away.

Slap!

He smacked me across my face. My head whipped back, but my lips quickly returned. Again I danced near him. Again I played so close to his mouth, our lips so close to touching.

Slap!

"You can do better than that."

His words drove. Unhindered from my soft restraint, I moved faster. Tried harder.

I rushed in to kiss him. Slap!

I stepped forward, my lips so close to his. Slap!

I brought my arms up to block him, grab him.

He took hold of my throat and turned me, pushing me backwards even as I continued to urge myself towards his body.

Thunk!

He slammed me against the back wall. My left leg instinctively wrapped around his waist, keeping him close, holding him where he'd put us, trying to pull him into me.

"That's better," he said.

My mouth now found his lower lip, just softly touching it. I could feel a hint of stubble.

Releasing, my mouth immediately found his lower lip again, gently caressing it.

I wanted more, so much more. I wanted to ravage his lips with my mouth, for our tongues to dance, to loose my breath in his kiss. But just this, the slightest of touches, the most subtle of kisses, was what he granted me.

In that moment, I was out of breath. I felt the passion bubbled up in our violence. For those brief seconds, I was lost in the sphere of the wall, my body, and his lips.

Letting go, Rough stepped back, picked up my glasses from his shirt, and handed them to me.

"Thank you," I said. For, well, everything...

He placed his hand on my forehead as I leaned against the wall to regain my composure. Soon I righted my breath.

With me somewhat back to normal, Rough simply said, "Time for lunch."

A Good Time

With my current class dismissed, I drifted back down to the basement where I found lunch had magically appeared. I wasn't hungry yet, so I wandered into the dungeon next door.

MattP was finishing up his Dropping Bitches class and I was able to catch a bit of the knot he used to secure his ring, the knot which allowed him to "drop bitches."

As I watched, I noticed Rough was also in the room. He sat on the floor at the edge of the large wrestling mat working with some webbing.

"Are you making your rope fist?" I asked. I had remembered seeing his demo video of the technique.
"No," he said simply.

Instead he asked Inretrepida for assistance, who was sitting on the mat near him. Scooting over, she now sat cross-legged in front of him.

Rough had knotted the long webbing piece, creating a ball at the end. Swinging the webbing, he hit Inretrepida on the thigh once, twice. Grabbing her shoulder, he pulled her torso down and landed two blows on her back as well.

After his strikes, he asked her how they felt. She said the hits to her thighs were stingy while those on her back were more thuddy, but both had lots of weight behind them. Experiment complete. Rough returned the webbing to Matt and sat back on the floor.

From somewhere inside me came inspiration and a boldness I didn't think was possible. Easing towards Rough, I asked him if he was busy. He asked me why I inquired. I knelt in front of him, setting aside my notebook and glasses.

"Could you kiss me?" A questioning look crept onto his face.

I explained that Symetrie had dismissed the class, encouraging us to go practice what we had learned. The expression on his face changed yet again, but before he could say anything, I decided to be totally, bluntly, brutally honest.

"Okay, really I wanted to kiss you and I needed an excuse."

And yet again, before he could say anything, I turtled, growing more and more self conscious and nervous and embarrassed by the nano-second.

And then I ran away.

I scurried out of the dungeon back into the basement proper. But just as soon as I escaped, finding my Hello Kitty bag beside a nearby couch, I realized I had left my notebook inside the dungeon. I had to go back.

As a peace offering, I searched my bag and grabbed a piece of gum. I also tossed a piece in my mouth just in case I hadn't totally ruined my chances for the day.

Creeping back inside, Rough had stood up and was talking to others in the room. I swung my arm towards him, quietly and non-verbally offering the small stick of gum. He playfully batted my hand away.

I walked back over to where I'd sat, picked up my notebook, and drifted back to the group. Using my words, I officially made a peace offering to him with the gum. He accepted. I relaxed a little.

Chatting with MattP, the topic of Shibaricon came up. Flipping through my notebook, I finally found the entry for Wykd_Dave's One Rope class. I noted how I had so much written for other presentations but my notes from One Rope were short and simple, maybe five lines. Still, those were two very intense hours of learning.

Looking to my left, Gray approached the entrance to the dungeon. I stepped over to him and we began chatting. As we spoke, he poked my thighs and stomach. I jumped and yelped accordingly.

And then he began pressing into the cleft between my thighs and my crotch. I began moaning. Sinking into this moment with him, I leaned forward and our heads touched. My lips were by his ear, my sounds for him to hear.

"I'm glad you're having fun," Gray said.
"How could I not?" I asked.
"And just so that you know, I'm getting hard just from this."

I dropped to one knee from the pain... and from the possibility of helping him with his current physical state. His right hand still applied pressure while his left now gripped my hair.

"And no, you may not cum."

He let both his hands go and I dropped to both my knees. My lips immediately formed a pout.

"You can always talk to someone else about it." And then he turned and walked away.

I crawled over to a nearby bench, crossed my arms, and slumped my face onto the bench.

Meany.

Full Contact Kissing

She presented it in a way I had never thought about. She spoke about a passion one would not immediately think of: kissing. She pointed out how most people in the scene viewed kissing as a vanilla activity, but it didn't have to be. Kissing could be a scene all in itself.

As Symetrie spoke, she made eye contact with a blonde woman sitting a few feet from me. Symetrie talked about connection, creating contact with another human being, letting down all your walls. Symetrie sought to engage her entire self with this other person. 

As she approached the blonde, the intensity in the room grew. Getting closer and closer, Symetrie spoke about the delicious tease, the almost kiss being part of the kiss too.

As Symetrie danced her lips all around the blonde, and then finally let their lips meet, she spoke on how each moment was about learning from each other, constantly checking in, always being present. There kiss was about the now, this moment, this interaction. Their breathing had become synchronized. They were in and of each other.

In a rush, Symetrie pushed the blonde backwards, the blonde's back now against the couch I sat on, her arm touching my leg. As Symetrie continued the kiss, as she interacted with this woman, I put down my pen, tilted my head, and found myself enrapture by just watching them.

When their dynamic switched, the blonde pushed Symetrie down, sat on her, and took control. But, just as quickly, Symetrie again was the aggressor. Symetrie's kiss with the blonde incited emotions in the spontaneous bottom she did not expect. Symetrie ended the kiss, allowing the blonde to melt into the arms of her lover.

Symetrie then brought Roughinamorato to the front of the class.

For this particular part, he would be her demo top. Symetrie noted how Rough was known for his rough body play. She spoke about how impact can still be part of the kiss. Symetrie asked Rough to hit her in her solar plexus and then kiss her.

Rough started unexpectedly. Bringing her in close, he lightly kissed Symetrie's lips...and then pulled her back, punched her sternum, grabbed her hair, and brought her lips back to his.

This first kiss demonstrated, Syemtrie further explained what she wanted. She sought for Rough to knock the wind out of her, but asked him to be wary of her breasts. Rough, ever safety minded, encouraged her to disrobe, which Symetrie did (for safety). 

As her dress came off, Rough asked if Symetrie had ever had the wind knocked out of her from a hit in the back. She hadn't.

Rough grabbed her and swung her around. Using his forearm, Rough hit her once, twice, thrice in the back, knocking the wind out of her. Grabbing her throat, her swung her back around and kissed her, then slipped his hand over her nose. His kiss was now also breath play. As she began to struggle, Rough sighed out, his breath entering Symetrie's lungs, giving her the sensation of breathing while still depriving her of oxygen.

After Rough released her lips, Symetrie informed the class we were going on a field trip. Walking upstairs, we invaded Gray's Intro to Rope class. For this last lesson, Symetrie spoke about using implements as an extension of a kiss. Gray caressed his rope across Symetrie's body, using tension, his goal to convey the feeling of himself through his rope.

Finishing up, Symetrie left us with a few thoughts. What reaction did we want the other person to have? What sound did we want to occur?

Symetrie then released us to go practice what we learned.

Passions

We arrived five minutes early, groggy but excited. Inretrepida gave me a ride Saturday morning from The Naked House to the Grue, for which I was quite grateful. Otherwise I would've had to take three buses for about one and a half hours.

As we entered we deposited our shoes to the left and deposited ourselves to the right on a nearby couch. As more people filtered in, we crept downstairs for food: bagels, yogurt, juice, tea, and coffee.

I returned to my comfy couch and chatted with folks as they arrived. Soon, though, we were encouraged to make our way downstairs. It was almost time to start.

As I stood in the back leaning against a wall, Gray approached.

"Are you planning on teaching today?"
"Yes."
"Good, then I'll use you as an example." Always happy to be used.

With all the attendees ensconced in the couches and floor space of the basement, Gray began. He stood in front of a bookcase draped by a white sheet with various pieces of paper naming different spaces in the house taped to it. Otherwise it was blank. This, he explained, was our schedule.  We were going to create our day.

"Think about something you're passionate about. Hold that thought."

And then his example began.  Gray pointed to me, saying I would demonstrate the process for adding a class to the schedule as he narrated.

First, I pondered what I was passionate about. Putting my finger to my lips, I looked up and away, searching for my idea. And then it came to me. A smile burst onto my lips as my finger swung from my mouth and pointed to the sky, proclaiming my idea.

With the thought for my class acquired, I scurried to a coffee table full of pre-cut pieces of paper and sharpies. Selecting a piece of paper and a marker, I wrote the name for my class - Calling All Ashtrays: Cigar play from the bottom's perspective. Gray read the name for my class as I wrote it. Affixing two pieces of tape to my piece of paper, I chose a time slot and spot for my class.

With my example now finished, Gray opened up any and every one to add their classes to the schedule. I stepped back and watched as people filled the white sheet with their passions.

On my way back to my spot, Gray quickly spoke to me, saying if I wanted to teach another class I could. Since he mentioned it, I decided I would. Heading back to the table, I wrote on another piece of paper - Fingering 401: Fisting is Fun! I then added my second class to the schedule.

Almost immediately, there were changes to the schedule. I wanted to go to Inretrepida's Self Suspension class, so I moved my cigar play class back. Gray wanted to attend one of my classes and another presentation in the same time slot; more switching. Once everyone was happy and assured they would be able to not only teach their classes but attend the one's they found interesting, we settled back down.

With everyone's passions listed, and everyone ready to go, Gray sent us off to share and learn.

Ash Slut

"Would you like to come to cigars after?" - Gray
"Yes, but I'd need a ride." - me
"You have it." - Symetrie

"What are the seat belt laws in this state?" - me
"Put it on." - Gray

The Meet & Greet ended at 10pm with the last few attendees walking out together, among them Inretrepida, Rough, myself, Gray, and Symetrie. With hugs and kisses and see you tomorrows, we parted.

I felt like one of the cool kids as Symetrie drove myself and Gray to an after party, cigars at Scotty's house.

When we arrived, we found folks congregated in the backyard, sitting in a circle of camp chairs. I greeted Scotty with a big hug.

"Hi. I crashed your party," I said shyly, while pouting.
"You are quite welcome."

As our trio settled into the assembled camp chairs, Scotty pulled a few more seats over to accommodate the small influx. Two were tall director style seats. I took one. Rough took the other, sitting to my left. Gray and Symetrie sat next to each other across the circle from me.

Introductions were made, cigars were lit, and fingers of whiskey poured. I sat back and relaxed, slightly sad that I had not brought my cigar supplies but happy to be in great company. (And also happy I wore a hoodie; it was a bit chilly.) With good conversation and cigar play happening all around, I was quite glad I'd made it to Minnesota.

"Poetic." A friend called to me. "Would you like to take some ash?"
"Yes please."

I sat my glasses in my chair and scurried over. He instructed me to open my mouth. I cocked my head back and looked into his eyes. As he lightly rolled his ash onto my tongue, I closed my eyes, taking in the small amount of heat. I then opened my eyes, now looking into his, still holding his ash on my tongue and my mouth open for him to see.

He then leaned down and kissed me, the ash mixing on our two tongues. He thanked me for my service. I thanked him for the privilege.

Back in my seat, conversations continued. Then my friend had the wonderful idea of having his girl crawl around the circle, the flap on her footy pajamas down, her bare ass available for spanking. Everyone took their turn hitting her as she slowly circled around before again sitting at her Daddy's feet.

"Poetic, you should crawl over to me with your ass out," said Gray. "And you should make an entrance."

Always eager to please, I left my hoodie on my seat, stepped outside of the circle, hiked up my skirt over my ass, got down on all fours, and made my entrance.

After thanking my first two spankers, who were just to my right as I entered the circle, Rough stopped me, resting his boot on my ass.

"Take a half step forward," he instructed. I did. He then reared back and literally kicked my ass.
"Thank you," I said.

I took my time around the circle, pausing for each new person, giving consent to those I had just met, and making sure to thank each and everyone who laid their hand on me.

I quite enjoyed the compliments the assembled group gave about my rear as I slowly crawled towards Gray.

Stopping in front of him, I rested on my knees, my mouth open and ready for his ash. He too rolled his ash into my mouth and had me hold it there for him to see. I loved the look on his face as I obediently waited til he gave me permission to eat it.

As I continued around the circle, one new friend asked permission to squeeze my ass. I, of course, gave it. He quite admired my cheeks, firmly gripping the muscles. Once back at my chair, I sat down again.

As conversation and play went on, I found myself turning to my left quite often to listen to comments... but also to admire the incredibly hot image of Rough with his super sexy boots and an impressive head of ash. I truly didn't know what to focus on, which I suppose is why he didn't notice my figurative drooling at first.

But, finally, he did catch me staring at his cigar.

"See something you like?" he asked.
"You have a pretty piece of ash there."
"Would you like my ash?"
"Yes please."
"On your knees." My heart still flutters at the memory of hearing that.

"Stick your tongue out." I obeyed. I closed my eyes and he lightly touched his ash to my tongue.

"Bite down." I did so, piercing the top of the head of ash.

"Open up." I opened my mouth back up and opened my eyes, now holding his stare. He then allowed me to eat his ash, thanking me. And I thanked him.

Sitting in my chair, there was one more piece of ash for me that night.

Gray beckoned me over once more. Again I hiked up my skirt and slowly crawled towards him.

"I want you on your back."

I flipped around, laid down on the grass, and straddled my legs in his lap, my cunt now right in front of him. With one perfect sweeping touch, Gray ashed onto my pussy.

"Play with it."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my clit, feeling the ash on my sensitive nub, the sensation of the flecks against me. And then I felt Gray's cigar in my pussy as he began fucking me with.

"Cum."

Instantly my muscles tensed and delicious warmth pulsed from my abdomen. I writhed on the grass, cumming for him.

My orgasm finished, Gray brought the cigar back to his lips, the tobacco now flavored for his enjoyment. He thanked me, I thanked him, and returned to my seat.

With the night growing cooler still, the cigar circle soon disbanded. Hugs were given all around. Unfortunately some from the circle would not be able to attend the Grue, but could make it to Sunday pancakes or MN Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate.

Symetrie and Gray gave me a ride back to The Naked House.

As I crept into bed, I finally saw PrincessA. I briefly filled her in on my full and interesting day before we both passed out.

Meet & Greet

When I reached the top of the stairs and entered the restaurant's second floor lounge, his back was to me.

For a moment, I thought I shouldn't immediately go up and say hi. He was, after all, working, and he seemed to be busy talking with Symetrie, a woman I briefly met at Shibaricon.

But just as quickly I thought, Fuck that. I tapped him on his arm and he turned towards me.

"Hi."
"Hi!" Gray gave me a big hug. "I didn't know you were coming to the Grue."
"Really? Cause I joined the Fet group and it's on my page."
"FetLife? I don't look at people's pages."

Well there you go. For once, I surprised him.

He introduced Symetrie; we were re-acquainted. I then stepped away for a much needed drink after my day's trek and placed my dinner order. My cider obtained, I mingled about greeting Minnesota friends and making new ones.

Easing my way over to Gray again, he asked me who I knew in the room. Funny enough, Gray happened to be standing next to someone I sort of knew.

"Hi. We haven't actually met yet. I'm poetic."
"Yes," said Roughinamorato, pointing towards my heart. "I recognize the necklace."

Rough looked just as I remembered him, having watched him play back at Shibaricon. This time, though, was the first time I saw his face up close.

Chatting again with Gray, I pointed out different people in the room I knew. There were only a handful.

And then I felt arms wrap around me. Turning, I immediately squeed, hugged, and kissed Inretrepida tight. My attention shifted to her, catching up on all that had happened in the six months since my initial visit.

As we spoke, my food arrived. I sat at a high top table next to where we stood, continuing our conversation. When Inretrepida needed to walk away, I stayed seated opting to let whatever people and conversations that so chose to float towards me.

As I enjoyed my fried rice chatting with folks, Rough drifted next to me. With now five of us around the small table, funny and interesting topics pinged back and forth. I finally got to listen to Rough speak. I was pleased he shared a similar sense of humor.

Yelling above the din, Gray quieted the crowd for a moment for a few quick announcements: the start time for breakfast (8:30am), the approximate start time for the Grue (9:30am), and the introduction of the Grue-nomicon.

The Grue-nomicon, for those who don't know, is a moleskin journal containing quotes from every Grue. Anything anyone found witty, interesting, or funny Gray asked us to then jot into the Grue-nomicon.

"For instance, Rough, say something funny."

I loved the look of what-the-fuck-I-don't-know on Rough's face.

Of course, Gray sat the Grue-nomicon in front of me. As conversations picked back up, quite soon I picked up the pen and started jotting down quotes.

"What? I'm a writer," I said as I wrote down three funny lines from my table within ten minutes.

Gray then eased over towards myself and Rough, leaning against our two chairs.

"I can tell you two this joke. You'll still like me even though it's horrible."

And it was. And we did.

Sitting there, my Minnesota friends in the room, Gray and Rough next to me, I felt quite spoiled. Little did I know how fun my night would get.

A Public Transportation Odyssey

When it comes to travel, I am paranoid.

My alarm woke me up Friday at 3:30am. I had a 7:45am flight, but I still needed to bathe and pack my last few things. In my zombified state, it felt like my shower took forever. In reality it was more like thirty minutes.

Next came the shoving of things. With bag space limited, I found a way to finish off my packing even as my body screamed for me to get back into bed.

With my car packed, I was on the road on my way to the airport at 4:45am. I arrived at the airport, obtained my boarding pass, and made my way easily through security.

As I sat in a comfy chair outside of my gate, I realized my paranoia was both a blessing and a curse. Yes, I had made it, very much on time. I was, in fact, early. Too early. I sat in my comfy chair and checked my phone. It wasn't even 6am yet. Too tired and too paranoid to sleep, I lazed about trying not to hate the world.

A short chat with some nice people right before I boarded made me feel a little better. My nap on the plane made me feel a lot better. With Tessie snuggled in my arms and my music playing in my earbuds, my flight went smoothly.

My layover was short, with enough time to use the restroom and walk onto my next plane. I soon found myself sleeping again as I sailed through the skies towards Minnesota.

Arriving at about noon, I easily grabbed my one checked bag and texted PrincessA. After a brief conversation, it was then I realized she had to work for much of the weekend I would be in her state, including that day.

Thankfully public transportation was plentiful. With the assistance of an attendant at the airport help desk, I learned I just needed to take the light rail to a bus to get to The Naked House. With a quick hot chocolate and monkey bread in my belly, I was on my way.

At first I took the train in the wrong direction, but quickly course corrected. I traveled to the Metro Dome, got off, and waited for a bus. Out of curiosity, I GoogleMapped my travel. Of course it recommended a different route. Trusting the internet over only half of a map I had in my pocket, I walked three blocks to another stop and waited.

This was my first bus. During my second, I realized the helpful attendant's mistake as we passed by one of the light rail stations before the stop I used. I could have skipped one of my buses and a few of my stops on the train.

Still, I was heading in the right direction. And though the route was circuitous, I ended up being dropped me off only two blocks from my initial destination.

As I walked those last few feet, a wave of relief washed over me. It was now 2:30pm. I had made it.

I immediately dropped my bags and left right back out. I needed food. With barbecue obtained, I ate and watched YouTube videos in the living room.

Then I changed clothes. The Meet & Greet for the Minnesota Grue was set to start at 7pm. It was nearing 5pm and, having had not the best experience with public transportation, I decided to leave early.

One and a half hours later, having braved a bus in rush hour traffic, I exited and began walking. The address for the restaurant was about seven blocks from my stop.

As I walked, the wind kicked up. I shivered a bit. Fall had arrived. On the way, I found a small clothing shop and bought a pair of stripped socks for later.

Once I reached the address, I became confused. There was no restaurant. The entire area had transitioned from commercial to residential. Referring back to my email, I clicked on the map link for the restaurant. It was seven blocks back, right where I was dropped off. I had, in fact, passed it. Trekking back, I checked my phone. It was 6:55pm.

I arrived at the Meet & Greet fifteen minutes late, but I made it.