I woke up, opening my eyes, and at once searching for Tessie. It's what I do almost every time I wake up. Sometimes, with my occasional tossing and turning, he ends up on the floor. But then, a millisecond later, when I saw him sitting next to my knee, looking right at me, I felt this urge to do something.
I quickly took off my necklace and held it in my hand for a moment, the metal dangling by my eyes, before wrapping the jewelry around my wrist and locking it there.
Yes, that could work, I thought.
But then I missed the weight around my neck. I missed the feel of the metal against my skin. I missed the easy motion of playing with the ring absentmindedly.
I tried to unlatch the necklace from my wrist, but as if to mock me it wouldn't come off easily. It was almost as if the metal wanted to remind me how tied to it I am, how much of myself I have poured into this one symbol.
I finally got my necklace off my wrist and put it back around my neck (where it lays now). And though the idea of wearing it around my wrist is still a bit appealing, I have time before I need to make a decision regarding the adornment at events.
So, the cause of my mild morning freak out...
All while I was at Rope Camp, I think I was asked about "my Top" or "my Sir" or "my Dom" about a dozen times. There was nothing wrong with these questions. I, in fact, was happy people asked me instead of holding onto their assumptions.
But that doesn't mean the questions didn't get to me.
I don't have a Dom, a Top, a Sir. (Wow, the tears have started to come already. Okay, locking it down.)
I am unpartnered. I mean that in the broadest sense. No one in my life calls themselves my partner.
I have so many friends I love and cherish, who I would never give up for anything. I have people that I care about and love, so many connections, but I have no partners.
When I spoke to Gray about the reoccurring question at Rope Camp, shortly after we'd left, he wasn't surprised. My necklace, though it is just a necklace (not a collar), conveyed an idea to those who did not know me. He liken it to wearing a black handkerchief in my back pocket and being upset about heavy S&M questions. I suppose it's closer to wearing a gold band on my left hand's fourth finger and being upset when people think it's a wedding ring.
And I get that.
I've gotten the question ever since I first bought my necklace and put it on. I've had this piece of metal since I started in the greater public kink scene, since my first event, since before I joined Fet. So yes, the question comes up.
Still, it doesn't make it any easier as a person who is searching for the life she wants to lead and trying to find people to fill the major roles she hopes to someday have in her life to have to always correct the unintentional mistake.
And, I wonder, how many have not thought of me in that way, not pursued something with me, because of their assumptions, because seeing my necklace made them immediately think Hands off. Is it a subconscious thought in the back of people's mind, a quiet barrier to possible connections, possible partners?
Each time I was asked about my Dom/Top/Sir, each question was a little needle in my side, a little reminder of what I don't have.
It's not set in stone, just an idea, but I don't know if I'll keep wearing my necklace at events, at least around my neck. It may dangle from my wrist. It may jingle in my pocket.
It won't go away, that much I do know, but maybe a change of place will ease the frequency of the confusion and possibly lessen my occasional small heartaches.
Maybe.
It was the longest time in a row that we'd spent together. Every night we slept in the same bed (though not always just the two of us). We ate (almost) every meal together. It was eight straight days of being around each other, eight straight days of time together.
When he left, when I hugged him goodbye, even though I knew I'd see him in just under three weeks, I got into my car, drove just far enough to be out of sight, and started crying.
Eight days.
It was as if I was hit by a box truck to my chest. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond trying to regain my composure. My heart actually hurt, ached in fact. It was a severe dull pain that didn't go away until I made myself drive.
I made myself go play dodgeball.
I left him at that specific time so I could make the game. The thought had occurred to me that I could skip the game and drive him to the airport; I'm glad I didn't.
I arrived just as the opening horn sounded. I stood on the sidelines and cheered on my team before being allowed in to play. I ran around. I caught a few balls. I smiled and was happy to see my friends. Afterwards a few of us went out for a beer and greasy food. It was what I needed.
Little moments over the course of the week still punctuate my memory.
A locked intense stare while demo bottoming for his Military Style Bondage class. Following his rhythm for push ups (which I hate) but my unwillingness to let him down.
Sitting on the ground while he and others stood around me, smoking and chatting, patiently waiting til I again received his ash.
My head on his chest at night as we slept. His arms around me when we adjusted. Hearing his heartbeat in my ear.
Listening to him talk for hours, twice.
His smile, when it appeared every so often, even when it wasn't because of me.
My forehead on his boot, my hands cupped on his heel, as he slipped his foot out from his leather.
And, yes, there was sex and play. But there is always sex and play.
Eight days. Eight straight days of Gray in my life.
Even with the eventual hurt and the occasional frustrations, even with the drop all at once. Even with it not being perfect, because we are not perfect people. Even with the tired and tedium and sometimes some bullshit, I could not be more thankful.
Eight days of Gray, eight days of my Teacher in my life; really can't beat that.
It was Friday night at Rope Camp.
Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate was winding down; fewer than a dozen people remained in the Pavilion, though we all stood around smiling and chatting, still enjoying each others company.
The social had gone well. Even though I arrived late. Even though I had to run back to the cabin for supplies. Even though I didn't black one boot. There was laughing, good conversation, chocolate, some whiskey, and of course cigars.
Funny enough, there was also coconut rope.
As per Gray's standing request, whenever I took his ash into my mouth, my boobies had to be out. For this particular evening I wore my black-top-gray-skirt dress and was easily able to free my chest for his amusement.
But somewhere during the social he decided he wanted me in coconut rope. Dictating that I should just pull my entire torso out from my outfit, I pushed my dress down to my waist.
And then came the rope.
He wound it around my chest, over my nipples, secured it under my piercings, and placed knots in wicked spots all over. Just wearing coconut rope is a predicament in itself. You feel it dig in with each and every breath.
Throughout the evening, the attendees of the gathering would approach me with one of two requests: may I touch it or may I pull on it. I granted both, either slipping into to teaching mode or willing bottom space.
To make up for the lack of bootblacking at the get together, Gray instructed me to lie on the floor of the Pavilion. Then he and Rough provided the necessary boot action by suffering my body with their leather.
Both men stood on my body in various places (back, thighs, hair) and marveled at my ability to take all their weight with my flesh. Gray also thought it fun to kick my crotch. But as I laid on the floor, Rough's boots on my hair, and the toe of Gray's boot occasionally connecting with my cunt, I heard laughter from the attendees. As I learned later, Gray decided to dance in between his crotch shots.
When I stood, I let both men in on a small detail they failed to realize: with each of their movements, my nipples rubbed up against the floor. Not only did I feel their leather bound blows, I also contended with the abrasions of the rope and the floor. Personally, I think I was bad ass to have taken so much.
With just over half a dozen people left, Gray removed my box tie. And oh, it hurt just as much coming off as it did going on. Gray made sure of that. Gliding the rope along my skin, whipping my body around, push and pull. If ever there was any doubt, yes Gray is most definitely a Sadist.
When finally the last inch of rope was gone from my body, he rubbed all over my skin. I slumped forward, relieved at the soft and caring touch.
However, with my coconut rope gone, I now felt the cool of the evening. I pulled my dress back up and slipped on my jacket. Our small group continued to chat.
I don't remember how we got on this topic, but there was one conversation exchange I will not forget.
"How about making a bottom cum til they pass out," someone suggested.
"No," Rough argued. "How about making me cum until I pass out." I grazed Rough's left bicep. He turned to me.
"Hi," I said with a wink and a smile. Everyone burst out laughing.
And then it happened, my last highlight of the get together.
To end the evening, and once again I don't remember how this happened, but somehow we all ended up in a group hug coalescing around Rough. I stood behind him, my face on his back.
And then people, while still in the hug, started hurting me.
Rough stepped back, pressing the heel of his boot on the top of my right foot. And Elf pinched the back of my neck, right where he had bitten me before. And another pinched my left arm. And I think Gray went for a pressure point on the right side of my jar. I can't really be certain because my eyes were closed for almost all of this, but fuck did it hurt.
My face sunk into Rough's back as new sensation after new sensation took hold. I screamed and yelped as they all laughed and enjoyed my pain.
And yet, we were all still hugging, throughout the entire time. It was funny and odd and... something. Something.
A good time. It was a good time.
"The goal of the captive is to escape. The goal of the captive is to escape. The goal... of the captive... is to escape."
Oh, I realized. I was suppose to try to escape.
I looked on as Gray's minions (volunteers from the class) began to stand. I back pedaled, rushed to the right, saw a side door, and took it. The day had grown cool, my skin almost prickly in the air, but I only noted it as I ran as fast as I could.
In my periphery, I saw someone coming from the right. I swung left, but the chain link fence surrounding the tennis court was in my way. Before I could traverse its length and rush towards the asphalt path, I was down in the grass. Soon two guys were on top of me. Gray, along with the rest of the class, slowly walked over. He congratulated me for getting farther than any other before.
Grabbing my ear, he demonstrated a technique to control a prisoner. First he gripped my right ear, then switched to my left. I quickly assessed my surroundings and realized I had a shot to get away again, so long as I didn't mind the pain. His hold on my ear was strong, but I knew I could get out of it if I tried.
With a burst of energy, I rushed away, essentially ripping my ear from his hand (and loosing an earring in the process). Again I ran, but not very far before one of his minions took me down.
Gray once again sauntered over, never in a rush. This time, when he knelt down, he riped up grass and dirt from the ground and held it over my lips. I refused to open my mouth. He held his hand over my nose. When I finally needed air, I thrashed my head back and forth. Gray then pulled up yet more grass and mashed it into my hair. He finished with a warning: if I tried to get away again, he would put something in another orifice.
Instead of pulling me up by my ear, he let me stand on my own. I stood for a very long time before I moved. I thought maybe I could get into a favorable position to run again, taking my time with my steps. Instead his minions read my actions and positioned themselves in my way.
Gray encouraged me to quicken my steps, and I was the first one to enter the Dungeon.
I immediately broke for the side door again. Bracing my arms, I swung through the opening in the hand rail and sped along the grass on the side of the building. Out of nowhere, a minion tackled me. He held me down as the rest of the class again surrounded me.
Gray loomed over me, holding two pine cones. He ordered a minion to go get a condom.
Sitting on me, he said I had two choices: my pussy or my mouth. Again I took a long time to weigh the options before finally opening my mouth. When it came close to my lips, I bit the condom and tried to wrench the pine cone from his hand with my teeth.
Gray swiveled, trying to open my legs, trying to force the condom wrapped pine cone inside me. I struggled. I screamed, guttural and full of rage. I would not let him succeed.
Before I knew what was happening, I was standing, stumbling forward, pulled along by Gray back into the Dungeon by my hair.
A minion now guarded the side door. I was flung onto the mat, held down by Gray's knee on my head. Even though I knew it was almost impossible, I still tried to calculate a way to run, but there was no way to wrench my head free from his knee. For a good portion of the ordeal, I had a splitting headache.
Soon his rope was on me, unforgiving ties on one wrist and both ankles. With my free hand I tried to untie, tried to get away, but he held the power now. When he threw the rope over the arch and pulled my body up, I screamed, not like my combative yells of before. I was in pain, real not-fun pain.
"What hurts?"
"My left ankle."
He let me down. I cried a little. I no longer thought about escape.
Gray, at this point, told the class how, as in all scenes, both tops and bottoms have the option to safeword. He was not going to let me hurt myself in a way that would lasting or jeopardize my job.
For all intents and purposes, I was broken.
PS. Afterwards there was giggling (on my part) as I untied the ropes and Gray went on with his class, talking about and demonstrating hog ties, strappato, hojojutsu, and other mean mean ropey things. The experience was awesome.
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."
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.
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.
"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.
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.
My final Rope Camp Memory...
Around 7am, I awoke to lips against mine, a kiss pulling me from sleep. My eyes still closed, I kissed back, the thought of ill intent never arising. Our embraced ended, I heard, "Best Cabin Bitch Ever," whispered to me. I opened my eyes in time to see Murphy's dreads as he walked out the door. He had apparently stayed with his friend that night in the half of the cabin that was mostly unused. I snoozed a little longer, not wanting to get up just yet.
When I did eventually rise, I threw on some comfy clothes: my Invader Zim t-shirt that had "Deal With It" written on the front (my go to shirt for the last day of events) and a pair of shorts. I grabbed my Hello Kitty bag, as well as my bottle of champagne, and headed up to 1/2. When I arrived, everyone was prepped and ready to go to breakfast.
We encamped again at the corner table (which I believe needs to be claimed in the name of NYR). Setting up their equipment, both Gray and Dov were to record podcasts. Everyone got a plate of food, and filled the table. Gray, Murphy, Dov, Amy Morgan, Lqqkout, MargoEve, CabinCowboy, and I all sat together.
Before settling down, I opened my bottle of champagne and began making mimosas. After providing drinks for the people at our table, including myself, I gave out mimosas to many others around our area. The drinks distributed, and Gray's coffee delivered, I settled in to eat and chat.
The podcasts actually started before I sat down, but they were not too far in before I joined them. As I ate and listened, I realized everyone was talking. For some reason I thought only select people from the table would be speaking. So, since everyone was chiming in, I figured I was allowed to, as well.
Gray and Dov steered the conversation, touching on some of the awesome things that happened at Rope Camp. They asked everyone about their cherry pops, as well as marveled at Lqqkout's burning hot scene with mecha-Kate. Gray talked about our Rope and Cigar Play class. Quite a bit of time was focused on the Rigger vs Rigger competition, for obvious reasons. The men went over all the awesome highlights.
I talked a little, complimenting Lqqkout on his scene and trying to get the facts straight about Rigger vs Rigger, but I was polite and didn't hog all the voice time. However, with so much fun to spout about, there was precious little time before we all needed to wrap it up. It was getting late and people needed to pack up to go home.
As we were close to finishing, Slut walked into the Dining Hall to get food. While she waited in line, the table did a toast to the NYRCabinSlut, chanting "Cabin Slut" in her honor. She then forcefully corrected us, noting she was the CampSlut. We corrected our error, chanting "CampSlut" for her.
Another toast, to end the podcast, was to the NYR Cabin Bitch For Life. I was quite proud.
The podcasts ended, we cleaned up, and went off to pack our things. I hurried to my cabin, and was able to quickly stow all my gear. Since I had spent most of my time at 1/2, most of my things were still in their bags. I was able to have my car loaded quickly and re-parked up the hill. I then headed back to 1/2 to help everyone clean up.
Once I arrived, I jumped into helping Dov and Murphy. However, I felt the wave of emotions starting. I went over to Gray, informing him I was completely packed and asked if I could help in some way. He informed me I was, indeed, not completely packed. He pulled out the red tubed cigar that I'd purchased for him and handed it to me. He told me to hold onto it, saying we would enjoy it later. He also asked me to hold onto his lighter for him.
One gift deserving another, I gave Gray something as well. Pulling out a plastic bag, I handed him mementos from our cigar play class, my burnt tank top and underwear. Apparently he'd forgotten about his request to have them, seeing as I kept the set from our workshopping session.
Gray now fully packed, he piled all his things outside. I went back to helping Murphy.
But I felt the emotions rising again. I told Murphy he needed to give me tasks to do. I needed something to help focus my mind on something other than my impending drop. He started giving me small jobs. Pick up this. Grab that. Murphy was the last to finish packing; he had that much stuff.
At a certain point, though, I knew I needed to leave. Murphy mentioned the upcoming anniversary of the Rope Bomb in New York. I agreed to come up and see the crew again, as well as participate in the festivities. The Bomb-iversary happened to fall on the day before FetFest, which was kind of perfect timing.
I started my hugs goodbye, embracing Murphy, CabEx, Cabin Meat, and Dov. I headed outside and grabbed my last few things, including my camp chair which I'd left at 1/2 the entire week.
I went over to Gray. I told him I was going to go walk the Labyrinth and then leave. He gave me a big hug, then grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me. I found myself up on my tippy toes. I felt like a little bird in anticipation of taking flight. It was sweet, cute, an awesome little moment at the end of my camp.
Our kiss ended, I took a breath, and started walking.
I entered the sacred space, dropped my things, took off my shoes and socks, stepped to the start of the path.
As I walked the twisting road, my journey was very different from the walk at the start of my camp. On Wednesday, my steps started as a struggle. I felt ever footfall acutely, but I completed my journey in giggles. On Sunday, my walk to end camp was full of happiness.
I felt light, almost floating. I recalled all the people who were a part of my Rope Camp: Gray and our experiences, Murphy, Dov, Slut, CabEx, Cabin Meat, Darian, Phoenix, Murphy's friend, mecha-Kate, Cabin Thug, Lqqkout, Lochai, Deiter and his girl, Lew & Drea. These people all touched me in some way. I thought of all the great things I had experienced, all the amazing people I'd met, all the fun times I'd had.
When I entered the center, I was filled with tons of positive emotions, and I found myself saying "Thank you". Normally I'm silent as I walk the path, but I whispered breathy, quiet thank yous, five total. As I continued along the path, I again was silent, but I continued to say thank you with heart, mind, and soul. When I walked out, I felt, I was, happy. So happy I'd taken the leap to come to camp, one of the best decisions I'd ever made.
I put my shoes and socks back on, headed back to my car, and drove home.
You know, I'm good. I'm really good.
I was so tired once I got home that I dropped my stuff inside the front hall and fell asleep on the couch closest to the door.
I was happy I'd had the experience of Rope Camp.
NYR Cabin Bitch for Life.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
Written Raw, a poem
My tears wait on the edges of my lids, permission for their exit pending. Overwhelming emotions, conflicting joy and sorrow, push and pull my heart to pieces. Hiding the tornado of feelings, my face gives the world a smile, or a grin, or a smirk, all lies to appease the soft sensibilities of the herd. If only they knew what my true face looked like: twisted, wrenched with a pain so deep it takes physical form in my puffed cheeks, my tense forehead, my wailing eyes. This version of me I hide from them all.
Alone, my only company the croaking of frogs and the chirping of insects, I still don't allow the tears to come. Even now, I lock away my pain, but from who?
I know I aimed too high, lived too fast, loved too quickly. And so I'm stuck, the unhealthy thoughts drowning my heart, the weight of their constant barrage pulling me down. When will my life be all that I hope for, all that I wish for, all I dream of? When will I really, actually, truly be happy?
I feast on my salty tears, now. Maybe I will be able to fall asleep tonight.
~
I wrote this poem, sitting in HQ, the dim illumination of a clip light guiding my hand. Bugs swirled about, and the frogs sung me a lullaby, as I scribbled my thoughts in eloquent phrases, trying to give beauty to my sadness.
It took me putting these words to paper to understand the pain I was in. I had not realized how much I'd come to love my adopted cabin, and how much I would miss them when we all had to part ways. With my takedown now scratched, and the ache of the hurt and disappointment still raw, there was no other adventure to look forward to, no other scheme or scene to plan or play. All that was left was breakfast and goodbyes.
I fell asleep soon after completing that poem, the dam of emotions inside me broken, my outward masked face washed away. That night I cuddled with Cabin Shell, pushing the sadness from my mind, allowing myself to sink into a denial of how hard the next day would be.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
The last moments of my last night at Rope Camp were difficult.
Yes, I had had an amazing scene with Murphy and Gray. I was high from all the attention, not to mention the aluminum ring. Later, I had time alone in my rope, dancing in a frame all by myself, meditating in the moment. There was plenty to be happy about.
However, nothing in this life is perfect, and eventually you come down from the high.
After dancing in my rope, I settled on a mat to journal. I had plenty to write about (see above), and knew this would take a spell. I intentionally positioned myself facing the door to the Dungeon, wanting to not be distracted.
As the night wound down, Gray came over and asked if I would bring Murphy's things back to the cabin. Apparently he'd left some on the stage from the circus. I of course said I would. Gray then informed me he would not be sleeping in the cabin that night. He needed quiet to rest and his back was still in great pain. That was the last time I saw him that evening.
After he left, I grabbed Murphy's things and placed them beside me on the mat. Soon after, Murphy, along with Dov, showed up to retrieve the items. I wasn't finished writing, though, so I stayed behind, still resting on the mat, as they headed back to the cabin.
It soon grew late; the Dungeon was almost empty. Darian, the taxi driver for the night, came in and asked if I needed a ride. I told him I was okay and would just walk. He then asked if I wanted one more entry for my journal. He pulled out his cock and I began giving him head.
Though he is a beautiful man, though his cock is gorgeous, and though he fucked my face and made me gag, I was not completely fulfilled by our interaction. Darian did not react, at all, to my manipulations. No signs, no moans. I had no idea how I was doing, if he was enjoying it. It wasn't until later, after camp, when we spoke at a Happy Hour, that he informed me he does not give vocal feedback during oral. He had, in fact, enjoyed my work, and praised my skills. But until I got to talk to him, about four days later, I felt like I had done him a disservice; I thought I had given him a bad blow job.
Once we finished, Darian walked with me back to cabin 1/2. It was evident as soon as I entered that the entire cabin was down. Everyone lumbered around, tired, sleepy. I had missed Slut's takedown, a muddy affair. Murphy and Dov were in towels, having just gotten out of the shower. Slut was passed out on her bed.
As I settled into the empty bed next to Murphy's, CabEx informed me Gray would not be sleeping in the cabin that night. Coming from Gray's lips earlier, the news had barely scratched the surface. Coming from CabEx, it felt like a annoying little jab in my side. I told him I knew, but thanked him for the consideration.
I sat on the bed, chilling next to Murphy as he worked on his computer editing photos. I journaled some more, recounting my time with Darian.
After a few minutes, Murphy looked up at me somberly. I asked him what was wrong. He said, quietly, that he wasn't able to get to everything he had wanted.
I knew what he meant. I was not going to have my takedown.
I told him it was okay, I understood. I hid my hurt and disappointment.
As people lazily lumbered towards their inevitable crash for the night, a run to Waffle House was the last thing I wanted. Around 2:30am, when Waffle House was officially nixed, I headed back to cabin 20. But I couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts and emotions were swirling through my head.
So, instead of forcing sleep, I dropped off my things, carried just my notebook and a pen, and wandered around camp trying to find a place to write.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
As Gray hovered close to Cabin Meat, he asked her if she found him intimidating. She, in fact, did. Gray then turned to me, and asked me the same.
"Yeah, sometimes." He grabbed me by my tie, pulling me close, his face a breath away from mine. Gray asked again. I let out a breathless yes.
Murphy, by my side the entire time, commented, "You know what's intimidating? Doing the Care Bear hug." Gray looked at him quizzically.
Murphy reached from behind me, placing his head on one of my shoulders, his arms encircling me; the care bear hug. Murphy then moved me forward, and beckoned Gray to try it. Gray hugged me from my front, his head on my other shoulder, both boys now completely encircling me. I didn't know how to react, other than to giggle.
With their affection finished, Murphy wasn't sure if it was intimidating anymore. Murphy grabbed me by the hair and asked if his current action was intimidating. Gray, who looked on, said it wasn't. In fact, he said I looked pre-orgasmic. Wrenching me from Murphy's grasp, Gray turned me around and pulled my hair as well, showing Murphy his previous view. Murphy agreed with Gray's assessment.
Murphy then began hitting me from the front while Gray hit me from behind. They then flipped me around again, switching targets, but continuing with their blows, each man punching me, rocking my body this way and that.
Murphy mentioned, "Yah know, there is something softer we could be hitting."
Gray pulled open my shirt, quickly unbuttoning and pulling it off of my shoulders. He started punching my boobs, and then decided to rip off my shirt completely. Finally understanding what was going on, I quickly took off my glasses and threw them aside onto my shirt, which had ended up on the edge of the stage. Gray, with two quick snaps, unbuttoned my bra and flung it off to the side, as well. My black tie, however, stayed on. The boys continued to assault me from all sides.
Once again, Big Bro had an idea. "Yah know, there is a better spot on people of color that you could be hitting."
Gray pulled down my skirt, bent me over, and commenced punching my ass.
Murphy mentioned how he liked to leave marks. His nails against my skin, Murphy scratched the top of my left boob. Gray said he also liked to leave marks, but he liked to use tools to do it. He went to his toy bag, which I'd laid out for him earlier, before the circus had started.
Gray grabbed a small bat, and talked about how he didn't need much effort to give a lot of pain with it. Murphy placed his hands on the front of my shoulders, and braced me as Gray hit me from behind.
Gray then reached down, and started fingering me. He remarked on how wet I was already. As my body's ecstasy swelled, and I could feel an orgasm growing, I asked permission to cum. The boys said I had to ask God for my pleasure. "Oh God, Oh God, please."
As Gray continued to finger me, I started cumming, the waves of pleasure racing through my hips and down my thighs. As my ecstasy subsided, Gray removed his hand from my pussy and inserted his fingers into my mouth. I licked my juices off of him happily.
Continuing their mirrored actions, Murphy reached his hand down to finger me, as well. Once again, I asked if I could cum. Murphy said I had to get permission from Gray. I begged, pleaded to Gray, and, thankfully, he let me. Murphy, though, said I had to scream out my title, scream out NYR Cabin Bitch for Life so the whole Dungeon could hear me. With orgasm number two surging through me, I did just that.
Gray grabbed me by my hair again, and pulled me up onto the stage. He ordered me to hold onto the aluminum ring and to not let go. He bent me over, my ass sticking out. Both boys remarked how good my ass looked, which pleased me.
Gray started using his flogger, which compared to the bat felt like a rough massage. I loved the thud of the soft leather. Unfortunately, he brought out the Brat bat again, and wailed on my ass once more. Somehow, I knew I would not get off so easy.
The boys tied my wrists to the ring, and Gray began fingering me again. As my third orgasm grew, the boys felt a small competition had started in the Dungeon. Multiple scenes were happening at once, with many subs and bottoms screaming. The boys wanted me to scream loud enough to out yell the others around us. I came, and I screamed.
Finished with giving me pleasure, I was to receive yet more pain. Gray pulled out his cane, saying it was time for them to leave marks. I was going to receive fourteen strokes, one for each person in the cabin, to be evenly divided between the two boys.
Gray started, lashing my ass three times. With each stroke, I thanked him for his kindness. Murphy, in turn, gave me three more.
From the beginning of the scene to the very end, the boys kept talking back and forth, pinging off of each other. Gray once mentioned how I probably thought the scene wasn't going to happen, and that that would make them liars. He asked me if I thought they were liars? I desperately said no.
He also noted how, because of this blog, I was probably already writing the post about the scene in my head. Well, kind of... Some of the time, yes. Most of the time, no. You guys were quite distracting.
With each stroke of Gray's cane, I was ordered to count. As I counted, Gray got a little confused by my method, as I totaled their strokes individually instead of combined. Testing me, he asked if I knew the overall total. I said I did, noting that in college I was briefly a math major. Gray then asked if that made me smarter than him, seeing as he was a dance major. I exclaimed that of course he was smart, saying all dance majors were smart.
"If you were a math major, what's the square root of eleven?"
"The square root of eleven is the square root of eleven."
Murphy sighed, "Yeah, she's right."
"Well, what's the square root of twelve?"
"Two times the square root of three."
Murphy again sighed, "Yup, she's right."
Finally, each had gotten to their last stroke.
Gray took one side, Murphy the other. With their final flourishes, they lashed my ass one last time. I will not lie: their attention was difficult to take. I even cried a little, a very good sign. I was happy to be co-topped by them.
At the end of the scene, the boys started tickling me. They had both experienced my giggling fits before, where I am unable to stop myself, lost in the playful painful haze of endless laughter. Thankfully, this didn't last long.
The boys let me down. Murphy stroked my hair. Both of them hugged and comforted me. "You're our Cabin Bitch for life," Murphy began. "We claim you."
As I was coming down from my high, I realized Gray lashed my left cheek, and Murphy hit the right. Left cheek, right cheek. Left cheek, right cheek. If you know the song, you're probably black or really like hip hop music. Booty Wurk was instantly stuck in my head, and I started laughing again.
Gray instructed me to go into his toy bag and pull out the dark chocolate, yet more Ghirardelli. We shared the treat between us three. As we enjoyed our sweetness, a bottom came on stage and asked for some, as well. We popped a piece it into their mouth, and they happily scurried away.
As the boys walked off, Ammre showed BendyYogaGirl how to do a trick on the aluminum loop. If you flip your body up just so, your weight will rest on the back of your hips and it will look like you're floating. After Bendy successfully performed the maneuver, I tried it. The best way for me to do it, as Ammre instructed, was to just have faith and flip.
So, I did. I was instantly cackling. It was amazing. Flipping back down, my head was deliciously floaty. But just as I was about to walk away, Ammre told me Gray was coming back over and I should do it again. Once again, full of faith, I flipped onto the ring and showed Gray. Murphy, who was still with him, took a picture, which is now featured on my FetLife page.
Back down on the ground, I was high beyond measure; I was gone. I sat on the edge of stage, blissfully floaty, as Gray came over to chat. We watched Celeste self suspend inverted, and jack off Slut with a Hitachi, as the favor was reciprocated. That night was a good night for many at camp.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
As the boys finished cleaning up, I sat by the corner of the stage, talking to Cabin Meat. I showed her the photos I took of the acts, pleased at my work. When I looked up, at the frame on the ground across from the stage, I saw a bit of a really hot scene with Lqqkout & mecha-Kate.
I then looked to my left, and saw Murphy with Janice and Gray with another girl on his lap.
I was triggered.
I was trying to brush off Dov's comment, having heard it only a few minutes prior. I knew he didn't mean to hurt me, but he did. But then I saw the two guys supposedly co-topping me that night hanging out with two other beautiful women. I felt the emotions swim up on me, like a heavy wet blanket.
You motherfucker. You're happening again. You're happening again? Right now? Why are you doing this to me? Why?
Waves of insecurity came back in one quick rush. Feelings of inadequacy, of not being good enough, pretty enough, skinny enough, submissive enough, anything enough flooded my brain.
I immediately went into self soothing mode. I looked at my photos again. This didn't work.
Thankfully, I looked up and realized I should watch Lqqkout & Kate's incredibly hot scene. It was, by far, the closet thing I've ever seen to fucking with a guys pants still on. Lqqkout suspended Kate high up on the arch. With gloves on, he began to finger her, which then translated to fisting her. He slowly let her tie off, lowering her down, so that all her weight was supported by was her chest harness and his hand in her pussy. She began screaming and cumming, squirting on the mats below.
Just then, Murphy approached and stood next to me. Pushing my feelings aside, I showed him the photos I'd taken of the circus. Gray then came over, too, and I showed him, as well. But, I soon realized my efforts were not going to work, as Gray kept distracting me, poking me in the boobs.
Gray then poked Cabin Meat in the boobs, too. She, in turn, poked Gray back. His focus latched onto her. "Whatever you do to me I'm gonna do ten times back to you."
In an instant, my head went in two different directions. 40% of me was jealous Cabin Meat was getting this attention from Gray. But 60% of me couldn't stop looking at her. When Gray was up in her personal space (doing I'm-not-sure-what to her) her head rolled back, her eyes closed, and her face smoothed out.
I stood, scrunched up, a hand under my chin, my arms closed in on my chest. I just watched. All I kept thinking, as I took in this moment, was I want to play with Cabin Meat. I want to play with Cabin Meat.
And yes, there was a part of me that was jealous of the attention she was getting, but, at the same time, more of me was pulled in by how gorgeous she was, how much I wanted to taste her lips. All I wanted, in that moment, was to kiss her.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
After dinner, I headed back to my cabin to get ready for the evening. The only hiccup: I was scared my takedown would happen at any moment. I stood in the shower, worried that at any second someone would pull me out and it would begin. My fear went so far as I thought I heard people gathering, prepping to snatch me. But, alas, no. I got out of the shower, with no one else in the cabin. I put on a cute school girl outfit, and headed to 1/2.
As I stepped out of my cabin, though, it was raining. Not willing to wait, I thought Fuck it, and started walking. Fortuitously, a taxi pulled up after just a few steps. He gave me a ride up to NYR cabin, my rainy lifesaver.
When I arrived, everyone was prepping for The Circus. Murphy sat on his bed, drawing out Slut's award, to be bestowed on her after her takedown. With the letters penciled in, he handed it to me to fill in the color. Incidentally, I found a typo and got him to fix it.
With her award completed and hidden, and everyone packed and ready to go, I helped Murphy and Gray carry their things as we all trekked to the Dungeon.
Murphy Blue's Three Frame Circus
With the Dungeon filling up with people, both watching and playing, the NYRs descended upon the stage. In the rush to set up, we figured out who went where and who needed what.
The acts for the evening:
Cabin Thug: fire cupping
Dov: Trapeze act
Gray: magic
Murphy: aerials
We turned off the stage lights, repositioned some clip lights, and the show began.
Cabin Thug setup his area on a table at downstage center. Dov worked on the rig on stage left, prepping for his model to arrive. Murphy and Gray shared the stage right frame, with Gray going first.
As Cabin Thug began fire play with one of his girls, Gray setup a carabener rigged to his frame by just a single short piece of thin rope. Each of the four ladies who participated in the act came on stage with a chest harness already around their torso. As Gray rigged each lady to his carabener, he slowly lowered them down. Each woman eventually sat at a right angle, their knees bent, with their head resting on the knees of the person behind them. This created a box of beautiful women, all supported by a single piece of rope.
Gray then whipped out his knife. In a moment of clarity, I turned to Murphy and asked, "Where is your camera?"
"Fuck, we forgot the camera!"
With a flourish, Gray unfolded his knife, cut the rope, and all the ladies stayed. The audience applauded, but not one shot was taken to capture the moment. Lame sauce.
After his trick, we delivered the disappointing news to Gray. I then ran back to the cabin to grab Murphy's camera. Once again, my magical taxi was there, ready to save the day. It was as if I and the taxi driver had a mind-meld that night; we I needed him, he always appeared.
After Gray's trick, it was Murphy's turn. He setup the large aluminum ring on the frame and repositioned the clip lights. Handing me the camera, he told me to take pictures. I slowly moved around the stage, capturing Cabin Thug's fire work, Dov's trapeze act (his model had arrived), and Murphy's aerial display.
Murphy tied Janice to the aluminum ring, smiles and glee awash on her face. She spun around, floating in a blissful world above all of us. Meanwhile, Dov rigged Celeste to a bamboo pole hung off of his frame. She balanced on the back of her knees, hanging down as he tied her to the pole. I captured process shots of Dov's work, as well as Murphy's, slinking around the stage.
As Dov was finishing his tie, he asked if I got the shot. I was having trouble with one setting on Murphy's camera, not sure what I was doing wrong. Dov beckoned Murphy over, saying we were getting nothing but shit from his camera.
I know Dov didn't mean for his comment to sound like it did, but in that moment, I felt like he was disparaging my photography, not Murphy's equipment. Murphy adjusted the camera, took a few shots, and reassured Dov that the moment was captured. Murphy then handed the camera back to me.
As the boys finished up, I took some more photos, trying to not think about Dov's comment. I tried to stay in the moment, tried to stay giddy at the performances, tried to be pleased by the work of my friends.
Afterwards, I was happy with my photography, delighted at a few amazing shots I'd captured, but I wasn't feeling so great overall.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
Once Phoenix flew away, the group transitioned outside. In a funny turn of events, Dov ended up beating a woman with his Rope Camp water bottle because she called him Gramps. "This needs to be a new fetish; water bottle beatings, especially with the water, cause you get 75% more beating."
This was all fun and good, but I was trying to encourage Murphy away from the cabin. We needed to go for our supply run, and we were already late to leave because Murphy kept getting distracted. I did manage, with the help of his friend, to wrangle him into my car.
Using my fancy phone, I found a Target and a Walmart right next to each other, and headed in that direction. On the way, both of my passengers fell asleep, the exhaustion of camp starting to set in.
Unfortunately, Walmart didn't have anything on my two lists. I did impulse buy a Kit Kat, but that doesn't count. Murphy purchased supplies for the creation of Slut's award, the idea that it would be given to her after her takedown. Looking at my two lists, we realized we needed to go to a gas station.
On the way out of Walmart, Murphy and I chatted, and he offhandedly said, "You can just call me Daddy." I stopped him right there. I then informed him, indeed, I couldn't call him Daddy because I was, in fact, looking for my Daddy, and he wasn't him.
"I haven't met him yet, but you're not Daddy."
This seemed to shock Murphy a bit, I suppose because it was an unexpected reaction. I started thinking.
He could be my... hmm. Well, he's my bro. We're cool. We get along. We do stuff together.
"You know what, Murphy? You're my Big Bro. You do stuff that's gonna put me in therapy, but I love you to death. And maybe we've crossed the line of what's appropriate, but I love you anyway. You're my Big Bro."
We quickly swung by a gas station, purchased Darian & Gray's supplies, and made our way back to camp.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
As I left Lew's Predicament class, I wondered what Gray & Murphy spoke about. Well, it turned out Murphy needed a distraction, and Gray was his man.
As I returned to 1/2, Lqqkout, Murphy & Cabin Thug were all headed towards the Dining Hall, three men on a mission. Their task: Phoenix's takedown.
What Murphy had talked about with Gray was setting a trap for Phoenix so they could nab her. I followed the boys, eager to see what would happen.
We approached from the hill, out of her sight line. She was in front of the Dining Hall chatting with Gray. Murphy quickly cut around the building. With Lqqkout and Cabin Thug coming from the hill, they planned to grab her from all sides. The two waited til they saw Murphy was in place. Gray stood, talking with Phoenix, making sure she stayed put.
Quickly, all three NYRs swooped in, and encircled her. They picked Phoenix up and started tying her. All the while, she cursed Gray for holding her there.
Myself, Gray, Lochai, and some of our friends looked on as the boys ensnared Phoenix, binding her for transport. In response to her curses, Gray approached the boys and requested twenty spanks be given to her from him.
As the group watched, Lochai also smoked a cigar. Ever the good Cabin Bitch, Lochai flicked his ash into my hand. I politely asked him if he wanted me to eat it. He, in fact, did. I lapped up the small brick with glee. Soon after, the boys picked Phoenix up and took her away.
The group trekked back up to the cabin and deposited her on Cabin Thug's bed. Murphy and Cabin Meat were by Phoenix's face. Cabin Thug spanked Phoenix with his sword. However, most cruelly, he spanked her and counted the way Lqqkout liked. 1...1,2...1,2,3...1,2,3,4... The ordeal was so hard and intense for Phoenix that once they get to ten, the boys decided ten strokes on two cheeks counted as her twenty.
Murphy then beckoned me to grab a half of the broken oar from the Rigger vs Rigger competition. I then gave Phoenix ten soft strokes with the handle. There was no doubt; her count was now complete.
To reward Phoenix for her pain, Lqqkout brought out a Hitachi and started using it on her. But she whimpered that the toy was too strong. Instead, Lqqkout put on a glove and started fingering her. With his talented digits, Lqqkout made Phoenix cum.
As per Murphy's request, I got Phoenix some Gatorade. I knelt in front of her and opened the bottle for her. She sat up, and sipped a bit. She worked mostly at calming her breathing. He drank a bit more.
Murphy then formally introduced me to Phoenix, who I had seen around camp, but we had not yet gotten a chance to interact.
Battered, high off her orgasm, and now breathing regularly again, Phoenix had to run. The boys had nabbed her just before her DM shift; perfect timing.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
Lew continued his class, explaining and demonstrating simple predicaments. Using Drea for his bidding, Lew tied her into two different scenarios.
First, he showed the simple hogtie. He explained, once the person was in this position, the challenge would be getting them to fetch an object. Lew brought out some white nylon rope and bound Drea. We watched as she initially positioned her hands to try to give herself more wiggle room when Lew was finished. However, since Lew knew Drea;s tricks well, he adjusted her wrists down her back, eliminating the extra room she had hoped to create. He then tied her ankles together and secured her wrists to them. As she wiggled and squirmed, when it became to easy for her to get out of the rope, Lew first adorned Drea with a ball gag, then put electrical tape on the ends of the rope. This was a rather nasty set of tricks, making it impossible for Drea to slip out.
Next, Lew spoke about ice & key predicaments, where the top locked the bottom with cuffs and the key was encased in an ice cube above the bottom. For them to get out, the bottom had to either wait for the ice to melt or encourage the process along. There was a suggestion from the class of also turning the predicament into water torture, placing the cube above the bottom's head so that each drop fell on them. CabEx, ever full of mean ideas, suggested instead of using water for a predicament, one could freeze the key in hot sauce.
Lew then described, and demonstrated, the short leg predicament. In it, Lew tied Drea's thighs to her ankles, and tied her wrists above her head, using the swing set's frame as his arch. Lew noted, especially for this predicament, health issues were a factor. Drea's shoulders, knees, and wrists were heavily strained.
The especially nasty part of this predicament was the total lack of any relief. If Drea tried to rest her wrists, her legs hurt. When she tried to save her legs, her wrists were strained. She danced about, trying to get herself out. She was able to get a swing down to sit for a moment, but it only gave minor relief. When she used her teeth to untie the rope, Lew gagged her again. Soon, her legs were shaking, Lew's favorite part. He untied her enough that she was able to get herself out.
While Drea removed ropes from both of her predicaments, and in between his ties, Lew launched into his many stories. His first was a particularly sneaky predicament. Lew tied the bare wire end of an electrical chord to a woman's nipple rings. Next, he balanced a two-by-for across her elbows, holding two cups of water. Then, he "plugged" in the chord, and began fucking her. She was careful to balance the water, scared of the possible electrical shock. As she came, Lew "mistakenly" bumped the wood, spilling the water on her. He was sure she came harder in that moment then she had ever before.
Lew next spoke about a particular tie that pitted one bottom against another. Lew tied two subs down. One had to hold their leg up. The other laid under a knife, held high above, attached to the string on the first bottom's leg. If the first bottom let their leg drop, the knife would fall. Once again, her leg shook and could take no more. When it did drop, the knife fell, but stopped six inches above the second bottom's face.
Lew also described a fun predicament great for sex. First, he tied his bottom's legs off to the side of the bed. Next, he tied her waist she could only go up but so far on the bed. Then he tied her arms above her so she could only go down so far. She was stuck in a constant push and pull, where she could never get comfortable, but was optimal for him screwing her off the edge of the bed.
My favorite set of stories Lew imparted were his Hitachi predicaments. The most simple, and possibly the most hilarious, was a hogtie and a Hitachi thrown in the middle of the room. Even he was impressed by how far his bottom would go to find a way to get the Hitachi to a wall outlet and get them self off.
Lew spoke more about his devious predicaments with this favored toy. One had his bottom tied, able to arch their back, but the Hitachi was positioned at a teasing height. It was just low enough that the bottom could reach it, but not so low that they would be able to apply enough pressure to get off. Another simple one: he plugged the Hitachi to a Clapper. Another: he plugged the Hitachi to a dimmer switch.
As the class progressed, I caught a glimpse of Gray roaming around on his DM shift. He ended up swinging through the class, and watched some of it. We made eye contact; I smiled at him and he smiled at me.
Later, Gray asked Lew what were his three biggest fetishes. Lew's answers: bondage, high heels & ball gags. Gray called these "the holy trinity of fetishes." Lew, in turn, was overjoyed that he had found a person who shared his loves, down to waiting til the very end to take off her ball gag each time she freed herself from his ropes. "As long as she'll have me, I'm with her."
Gray slowly meandered his way over, and came up behind me. In the simplest of cute gestures, he stepped on my foot. I looked up and smiled again, but made myself go back to paying attention to class. I didn't want to be too flirty with Gray while he was on his shift, but in my mind I kept thinking, We should totally do some of this. Can we do some of this?
Just then, Murphy walked down from his class, which apparently had ended a bit early. Gray walked over and met him. They both chatted, proceeding over the lawn towards the cabin.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
I rushed over to Lew Ruben's Predicament Bondage class, wanting to, as per usual, have a front row seat. However, when I arrived at the assigned cabin, no one was around. I waited for a few minutes, wondering which room he would choose and how he would setup the space.
When Lew & Drea showed up, they commented on the one hiccup I noticed for the class: the cabin was hot as balls. So, instead, they decided to teach outside. As people filtered in, we all transitioned over to the swing set, everyone carrying a chair pulled from the cabin. I wrote up a quick sign with an arrow pointing towards our new location, and scurried behind everyone.
Unlike my other classmates, I opted to lie on the ground, using my Zim jacket as a blanket. About a dozen people attended the class.
Lew first spoke about how there were no limits to what was predicament bondage. At its essence, it was ways to use bondage situations against people. Lew stressed creativity as the key to fun predicaments.
He noted it was good when subs tried to get out of their binds because it taught the top what to do to make it work. Creative and sneaky bottoms made tops work harder and be more imaginative. A good predicament bondage top found ways to adjust and problem solve on the fly. There was no way a top was going to think of every possible scenario to get out of their tie. Bottoms who freed themselves made their tops better because it forced the top to think more. Lew stressed topping in predicaments was all about the thought process.
Lew listed four things a top could use against their bottom: gravity, pain, exertion, and the mind.
Lew suggested playing a person a little at a time, to not go all the way to the extreme during your first scene. That way, you built and gained trust with each other.
Lew noted it was important to find out if the bottom was actually nervous during the scene. Some people wanted to be nervous, as this turned them on. Others couldn't have fun if they were nervous. He said you needed to find out what type of person you were playing with and adjust your predicament to better suite each scene. Basically, you played off what the bottom's likes were.
Lew stressed testing all of your equipment before you ever used it. You needed to know how it acted over time. He gave the example of a set of his nipple clamps. When first applied to Drea's skin, they slipped off easily. As they stayed on the skin longer, they became tighter and more difficult to pull off. For a scene, this was important; if a top were to pull and tug on the toy, thinking it would come off easily, they could instead cause serious damage.
And now that I've teased you with Lew Ruben's class, I will make you wait til tomorrow for the multitude of stories he imparted, including, but in no way limited to, Hitachi predicaments, using one sub against another, and the hardest orgasm one woman had in her life.
Rope Camp Memories continued...
After class I headed back to NYR cabin and went with the group to lunch. There, I sat with Gray and ate. Soon Slut joined us, but she was so tired she was falling asleep at the table. I started rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. Gray looked over, and, as I caressed Slut's back with my left hand, he saw I was still wearing his lighter from our class the day before.
I got a little scared and a little nervous. I worried he would want to take the lighter back again. Instead of confirming my fears, though, he just looked at it, made eye contact with me, and a smile appeared on his face.
As we sat, our group grew. Darian, Lochai, and Celeste joined us. I mentioned to everyone that I was going on a supplies run later that afternoon with Murphy. Darian and Gray both needed things. I got a list from each and corresponding cash.
Scott Smith and his girl then happened to pass by our table. Scott's girl wanted to purchase a copy of Gray's erotic novels, Nawashi & Jujun, which cost $15. Gray, unfortunately, did not have any change, but said he would some later when I returned from supply run. Scott's girl left with the book and the promise.
Soon after, Deiter and his girl also stopped by to chat. NYR cabin always seemed to have this effect at camp, like a magnet, constantly pulling people towards us.
Though I wanted to stay and talk longer, I needed to go for an ice run. My cooler still had Gray's ice cream, and I had brought a bottle of champagne, just in case a special moment arose. Gray also had a roving Dungeon Master shift to start, and the next session of classes was to begin soon. The group broke up.
I walked to the camp store, purchased my ice, and realized I had change for Gray. As I left the store, I spied Gray now in a safety vest, having just started his shift. I walked over to him and offered the five he had needed. He instructed me to deliver the change to Scott's girl, as Scott was about to start a class and she would surely be there.
As a bye, before I headed off, Gray reached over and pinched my nipple incredibly hard, "juicing me" as I like to call it when someone piques my sexual appetite but leaves me wanting. I then headed back to my cabin. Dropping off the ice, I walked up to the Barn where Scott was to teach his class.
Sitting and waiting til Scott and his girl arrived, I took a moment again to journal and engaged in a conversation with one of my Cabin 20 mates. I am not ashamed to say I enjoyed imparting the many fun adventures I'd had in the past few days. Sometimes, when I thought back on my Rope Camp, which still had not finished, I just stopped, shook my head, and smiled.
Scott and his girl soon arrived. I learned her handle was PyroticErotic and promised to find her on Fet. I gave her her change, and begged forgiveness for leaving. Though I greatly wanted to attend their class, I'd already made plans to take Lew Rubens class, Predicament Bondage.
