Vignettes

When I dropped off Gray at his cabin, off loaded his things, and made sure he was good, I stepped up to hug him. I kissed his cheek. He turned his face into my kiss. He wanted more than a peck.

His lips met mine. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed. I stood up on my tip toes. My arms around his chest.

Eventually he ended our embrace.

"You better go. My cock's getting hard and you have to work." 

He slapped my ass and sent me on my way. I, regretfully, went back to setup duty.

~

"I just wanted to ask for your advice on running for Dirty Pig."

"Well, you've seen the show before. You know what to expect. I think the only thing that might harm you is wanting it too much."

Brakes screeched in my brain.

FULL STOP, yelled a voice in my head.

~

"Maybe I'm trying too hard? Maybe I'm taking this too seriously? I'm gonna stop. I'm not going to talk about Dirty Pig for the rest of the night. And as far as bribing the judges..."

"When it comes to the judges, I think they need to get to know you. You can't just be the next person offering them something. Not just another pretty face. They need to remember your name."

"You know, I was thinking. I went to Del's class at GKE. And I saw Carol at CatalystCon. And I just got an email about possibly getting a short story published. What if I spoke to them about those things first? Make myself a person instead another contestant just trying to get a vote."

"I think you've got this, Lil Sis."

~

"I just wanted to thank you for teaching Top of the Boot at the first GKE. I was fairly new to bootblacking then, and it was the first time I'd seen a class from the perspective of the person receiving the blacking. I really appreciated the presentation.

"Also...A little birdie told me you were one of the judges for Dirty Pig. I'm running for Dirty Pig. How would you like me to bribe you?"

~

"Yes, you can use rope for breath play. You can use twine. You can use piano wire, but then you'll run into other issues."

"Mmm," I moaned, while stroking my neck.

"You are one sick and twisted chic."

~

"Other fun activities can also be used for breath play."

"Yeah, I know." Rough turned me, noting my sly smile as I stood in front of the class.

"Really?"

"Yeah, last night."

"Good on him."

"Indeed," I said.

~

"How do you want me to prepare for your Basic Suspension class?"

"Don't eat a big meal beforehand, and don't die in Rough's class."

~

"Now, I'm at a disadvantage for my class. Poetic is an experienced suspension bottom. She's suspended herself and others, and can make up for any mistakes or discomfort this suspension may cause."

Wow, I thought. People, even Gray, actually notice my rope-y-ness. I may be kind of good at this.

~

"Now, what if she fainted in her suspension?"

I let my body go limp in his ropes. Listened as Gray explained how to get someone down to the ground quickly. Felt as familiar hands lifted my frame, loosed the ropes, and rested me on the floor. Kept my eyes closed, and my body unmoved, as people "scrambled" around me.

"Okay, you can get up now."

I popped up to sitting, smiling at the class.

"Okay, everyone spread out on the frames and try your suspensions." Gray looked down on me. "Can you...?"

"Yup." I scooted my butt across the floor, ropes still tied to my body. In the corner, I started untying his ropes and leaving them in neat-ish lines to be coiled.

~

"If he were at Summer Camp, he would totally win Fresh Meat."

"Well, it's not exactly a competition."

"Well no, it's a popularity contest."

Rough looked at my friend.

"Can you hold this please," he asked. My friend took up Rough's bag.

Rough's fist slammed into my chest before I had time to register his movement.

"Thank you," he said, taking back his things.

"Thank you," I said to Rough as he left class.

I was a smiley-happy-floaty girl again.

Menage-a-trois

* If you're free, rough & I have some cigar ash here at the tiki bar with your name on it.

- Be there is a quick moment.

I had no plans for my Wednesday night. Class practice with Rough had me riding a cloud of glee through dinner into my prep for the evening. Even without any plans, I showered and put on a cute outfit, just cause.


As I gathered my things to head out and find something fun to get into, I got Gray's text; perfect timing.

I grabbed my cigar play box, as well as my bottle of red wine, and headed down to the tiki bar.

When I arrived, I found Gray and Rough sitting at a table near the center of things, smoking their respective cigars. I sat my things down, draped my hoodie on the concrete, and knelt next to Gray.

"Only naked girls get ash."

As I knew he loved, I gave the men a show as I disrobed. I draped my dress on the ground as well, giving me more room to move about comfortably. I sat up on my knees and patiently waited for my treat. Gray held his cigar above my outstretched tongue, then delicately rolled his ash for me to eat. After watching it sit there for his amusement, he gave me permission to swallow.

Both Gray and Rough bemoaned an unhappy circumstance: in the short moments between Gray's message and my arrival, Rough's ash had fallen to the ground; a true sadness.

I sat down on my hoodie, Gray's hand casually brushing my shoulders as I looked over at Rough.

"I asked Gray a question and now I'll ask it to you. What is your relationship with Gray?"

"And it's not like you're being judged or anything," said the voice behind me.

I could've been nervous. Any other time I might've been nervous. But having Gray behind me, and Rough being the person asking the question, gave the moment a calming air.

"We have our title, Sempai/kohai or Teacher/student. It's sort of a friendship plus."

"Is that like friends with benefits?"

"We do fuck; we do play. But... I have friends and then I have friends I can talk to. I talk to Gray. I care for him."

"You know, some people would use another word for that."

"Yes, I love him. He knows this. I've told him this."

"Okay."

I reached over, sipped my wine, washing the remnants of Gray's ash down my throat. Slightly awkward moment ended.

"What are you drinking," asked Rough.

I smiled, taking the bottle up in my hands, and tilting to towards him.

"Funny you should ask. Menage-a-trois."

Rough lifted his eyebrow, possibly only half believing me. He picked up the bottle, examined the label.

"Very apropos, no?"

"Gray, she's drinking Menage-a-trois."

"Really?"

"She told me what wine she was drinking temptingly." For the record, my selection was a happy accident, much like the entirety of my camp.

For the next hour, Gray and Rough alternated their opportunities for my cigar service.

Once, as I sat nearer to Rough, he held his cigar to my face. Close to my eyes. I stayed still, allowed his heat to fill my face. He moved his cigar closer. Closer. Until the tip touched right in between my eyes, leaving a small fleck of ash in its wake.

Another time, Rough grabbed my hair and pulled me close into his lap. He lifted my strands and blew smoke once, twice, thrice into my hair. Gray followed Rough in turned, bringing his lips to my head and blowing his smoke into my hair. Unlike Rough, Gray patted my hair, pushing small puffs out. He liked that trick especially.

Gray used several different ways to puts his ash on my body. One instance he had me lean into his lap. He dabbed his cigar along my back, five strikes on each of my shoulders. I jumped at each touch. After each set of five, he wiped the ash along my back, then scratched my flesh. Another time, Gray had me stand in front of him. Ash in his hand, he slapped my breasts hard, rubbing the flecks onto my flesh. Another instance, Gray rolled his ash into my hand. He then instructed me to rub the flecks all over my breasts while looking up at him as I did so.

During our evening, an individual sat next to Gray and struck up a conversation. While the two of them spoke, the newcomer also smoked a small cigar. They were interested in learning about cigar service, so I agreed to eat ash out of their hands, first the right and then the left. When I finished my service, they remarked, "I think my clit has migrated to my hand."

When Rough's ash grew long enough for a treat, I swiveled back towards him. But, in the split second before he was to lean over to deposit the ash on my tongue, again the head dropped, half on the ground and half on my jacket.

"Lick it up," said Rough.

Without thinking, I got on my hands and knees and licked up his ash. Licked at my hoodie. Licked at the concrete ground. Darted my tongue, strategically picking up as much as I could in the most efficient way possible.

I felt Gray's fingers against my pussy lips as I worked. Felt him massage my outer folds before inserting a finger inside me. And then another. And another. I moaned as I worked. Delighted in the moment.

When I finished licked up the ash, I turned to Gray, who stuck each of his fingers into my mouth. I lapped up my juices before he smeared the remnants on my face and in my hair.

With yet another head of ash for Gray to give me, I stuck out my waiting tongue. He rolled the ash; I held it. Gray then licked around my mouth, tickling my lips. Then I was allowed to swallow.

"Do you have anything planned tonight," asked Gray. I shook my head no. "Good, cause I want to beat on you. This week, I'm going to work on marking you."

Practice

"Poetic, you like breath play."

"Yes."

"And I know you."

"Yes. Rough, do you need a demo bottom for your breath play class?"

"Yes."

"We should probably practice."

"Yes."

Rough stood and beckoned me from the porch into the cabin.

It was early in the event; most people had yet to arrive. We crept through the cabin trying our best to not disturb Gray was napping before dinner. We found an empty quad in the back, new beds barely broken in.

Whispering in the empty room, Rough asked me about my previous experience with breath play. I informed him only one other person had used blood chokes on me: NHF in Minnesota. I described NHF's technique; Rough was familiar with it. I also mentioned how NHF had taken about 7-10 seconds to get me out.

Rough had me stand at the edge of a bed. He stepped behind me. Asked me to lift my head. Point my arm up and to the left at a forty-five degree angle. He wrapped his arm around my neck and squeezed.

I felt my body fall through the air, but I didn't feel the impact of the bed, though I may have heard it. It was as if I were moving through water, as if I were a marionette and the strings on my body had been cut. I never went out, never forgot where I was. But for a moment I lost control of my muscles, lost the ability to stand.

Rough stood over me. "That was faster than seven to ten seconds."

I smiled into the mattress. I talked to him about my experience. Explained what it felt like.

"You were in that sweet spot, loss of body without the loss of consciousness."

We decided to go a bit farther. Again, my arm rose. Again, his arm wrapped around my neck. He squeezed and I held my arm up. Held it with all my might. Held it until...

When my eyes opened, I had forgotten where I was. I don't know what I dreamed, but I know I dreamed something. I looked up and saw the ceiling. When I registered I was in a different place than I had been, that what I thought was real was actually a dream, my memory came crashing back.

I was at camp. Rough was behind me. And I was high as a fucking kite.

I was so gleeful, so full of the awesome with life, that I couldn't stop smiling. I picked my body up off the bed. Rested on my knees on the floor. Looked up at Rough. I couldn't remember feeling this good in so long. I was so appreciative of Rough for giving me this gift, for imparting these feelings in my brain, I asked him an odd question.

"If it is not against your dynamic, may I kiss your boots?"

"Of course."

I bent over and met my lips to his leather. I kissed both his boots in appreciation and adoration for my experience.

My Wednesday had been shit. Setup had been difficult. And hot. And full of starts and stops. And took so long. Before I laid on the porch of the cabin feeling dejected. My camp had just started, but it felt like all my possible glee was gone.

And then Rough's arm had been around my neck. And my world felt right again.

Rough had other material he wanted to go over before class. I stood, my back to the wall, Rough standing in front of me. With a quick move, he clamped his hand over my mouth and nose. I tried to hold back my lizard brain, tried to keep myself from struggling. But soon enough I couldn't stop my hands from grabbing his hold. His other hand found my face. I flailed about. I pulled; he followed.

And then he let go. And breath rushed back into my lungs.

For his next practice, he instructed me to give him a double tap when I wanted him to stop. Again his hands clamped over my mouth and nose. My hands twitched. My feet stomped. I held out for as long as I could trying to stop my lizard brain from reacting. But, eventually, I tapped on his arm four times.

"You know, since that was a quadruple tap, I shouldn't have let go."

He pushed me up against the wall. His fingers pinpointed on my neck. I slipped once, twice, before I felt my muscles about to give out. Rough slipped his knee between my legs to stop my descent.

"How are you?"

"Excellent."

"How do you feel about face slapping?"

"Absolutely."

Rough hit me hard across the face, left to right. He grabbed my head and bashed it against the wall. All the while, my arms lazed at my sides, scratching against the wall.

"What's with the gripping?"

"When I'm cuming, or when I'm about to cum, I grip. When I'm turned on, or wet, I grip. It's fun when I'm on a bed."

Rough sat on the bed to my left. I settled against the wall for a moment, perfectly happy, before transitioning to the bed on my right.

"Why would anyone take drugs when you can do things to make your body this high?"

I rested my head against the wall, lazing in my post play haze. In that moment, I was completely uninhibited, and decided to be bluntly honest.

"You have this look in your eyes. You always have it. It's... gripping. Intoxicating."

I saw his satisfaction at my revelation.

"You know I'm gonna write about this, right?"

"Kinda figured. Just wait til Tuesday."

In that moment before dinner, before it was time to wake Gray, I realized I didn't have my notebook on me. I needed to take notes, now. I made my way back to my cabin.

As I skipped towards my temporary home, a giddy-happy-bubbly-girl, I stroked my neck and said over and over again to everyone and no one in particular, "My life doesn't suck. My life doesn't suck. I love my life."

Sternum

It all started Saturday night...


"Move your hands. Move your fucking hands."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"I'm going to punch you in your chest. Twice. If your hands get in the way, I will punch you more. If you take the two punches, that will be it for your sternum. Can you do that? Or do you want me to keep punching your sternum?"
"I can. I can do it."
"Okay."

I held his other arm. The one not going to punch me. The one resting on my chest. He reared back. Landed his blow. I sobbed, and prepared again.

"One more."

He reared back. Struck harder. I sobbed harder.

"Good girl. Such a good girl."


Then came Sunday morning...

"Go ahead and partner up if you want to practice this."

I looked back at him. A few head nods later and I was on my back as he hovered over me. Scott went over how you would initially look for signs of injury in someone. The head. The spine. The chest.

As I laid there, I remembered FrozenMeursault already knew this stuff. It was a part of his job. As Scott continued to talk, my partner sat beside me, not taking any notes. Instead, he got comfortable, leaning his elbow onto my sternum and resting his head in his hand. I started to screeched.

"Sh, we're in class."


And then there was after lunch...

Dragon needed a partner for two classes. I wanted to be in rope. And he'd tied me before. So I volunteered to be his rope bottom.

Our first class was Newaza to Fly. I found my happy place in his ropes. Our second class was Thinking Rope. Dragon worked on breaking down his TK and figuring out all the ways to make his tie better.

Once, during a slight lull in the class, he remembered where I'd been attacked the night before. And that morning. And now, by him. He fashioned a different TK, with shoulder straps that crossed right over my sternum. The fit was tight. It hurt like a bitch. He smiled.

But wait; there's more...

At the end of Thinking Rope, people gravitated either out of the class or towards WykdDave & Clover.

Rough happened to look back on me as I was chatting about my day.

"People keep attacking my sternum. Every time I mention that I was hurt or show off my bruises, my friends, who are Sadists... Want. To. Hurt. Me. Why did I open my mouth?"

I saw the look in his eyes. The devilish glee. He crept towards me. I knew what was about to happen.

"Shit."

One hand went to my hair. The other formed a fist. Went for my chest. Burried his knuckles into my sternum. I wiggled. I tried to get away. I screamed.

"Why are you screaming," he whispered into my ear. "We are in class."
"I couldn't help it. My lizard brain kicked in."
"We are humans. You can overcome your lizard brain. Be a big girl and not scream."

He dug his hand in again. I didn't wriggled this time. I took his pain. My muscles convulsed. My mouth stretched open. My eyes pursed shut. But I didn't scream.

"Now that's a big girl."

I heard the evil grin in his voice.


Not done yet...

"How are you doing?"
"I can't tell you because you'll hurt me."

I was walking from class. It wasn't five minutes later. I was going to meet up with people for pizza. I thought I was safe.

But then, somehow, Gray and Spicey were in front of me. And Gray asked that question. And I can't lie to him.

They both stopped. My arms instinctively crossed in front of my chest.

"Everytime I tell people about how my sternum keeps getting targeted, they all hurt me."

I whimpered my explanation. I'm sure it was like evil candy to his sadistic ears.

"Put your arms down," said Gray. I did.

"Open your jacket." I parted the fabric. My chest was on full display.

I saw his hand come close. I prepared for the blow. I flinched as he only slightly tapped my sternum.

"What's been happening to her?" asked Spicey.
"People have been giving her sternal rubs."
"Where's the sternum?"
"This. See this. Right here."
"That?"
"Yes, that. That is the sternum. That right there."

They both jammed their fingers into the center of my chest. I whimpered through my pain.

Spicey's anatomy lesson done, we headed upstairs.

"My friends keep hurting me."
"You know, if you didn't say anything, it wouldn't happen."
"I can't help it. It's in my nature."


Yup, again...

I sat on the couch, waiting for people to show up for pizza. Nomad sat beside me. I was happy she was there.

"I keep getting hurt. People keep attacking my chest. It's been, like, six people now."

I looked to my right.

"Shit. Ava. I forgot. You're a switch."

I saw the look in her eye. Knew what was in store for me.

She scooted closer. Pushed her fingers into my sternum.

It was the lobby. There is no play in the lobby. My face contorted. My body shook. But I didn't scream.

"If you'll let me make you shiver and shake like that, I'll fuck you."


My chest was given a reprieve for the evening, but not for the rest of my visit...

It was time to go. The Closing Ceremony had ended. Rope given away. Money donated to charity. Time for the goodbyes.

I spoke to Dov, who I'd barely seen during my weekend. I started bragging about my bruises. After he said he wouldn't hurt me.

I showed him my thighs. My arms. And then, my sternum.

"You have no idea how hard it is for me to not hurt you right now. Just give me one."
"Oh, okay. Since you asked."

I braced myself. He held his hand flat, parrallel to my chest. He bent his middle finger. Readying the knuckle. He swung back. Then forward. Connecting in the center of my chest.

"And, because it's the sternum, I don't have to hit you again for symmertry."

Thankfully.


And now, the last...

Our gradual exit from the ballroom crept like a snail up a tree.

Rough looked at me. And remembered. And stuck out his pinky finger.

"Oh god."
"It's just my pinky."
"Yes, but your pinky is mighty."

He came in close. Leaned forward. Drove his nail into my chest. Twisted one way. Then the other.

I scrunched my face. Splayed open my mouth. But again, I didn't scream.

"Good girl," he said, putting his digital weapon away.

He hugged me bye, one of many that afternoon.

I took a picture of my chest the morning after I got home. The bruise, because I proved that yes you can get a bruise on your sternum, looked kind of like a heart. Sweet, and fitting, for my Shibaricon adventure.

Three Ashes

The 1st
"Poetic, would you like some ash?"


She looked over at me, huge smile on her face, a two inch head standing vertical on her cigar.

"Oh God, yes," I said, my submissive voice squeaking out. "I've cried each time ash was flicked into the tray."

On my hands and knees, I crawled towards her. Stopped. Sat on my feet. Opened my mouth wide and put out my tongue.

She rolled the ash into my mouth. I held the lump for her and the rest near her to see. I looked at her. I smiled with my eyes. Made a small connection.

"Thank you," she said. "You can swallow."

I closed my mouth and grinned. Then crawled away, happy.



The 2nd

"Poetic?"

He had a pretty head of ash ready for my mouth. I extracted myself from my corner. Bodies squeezed together to fight off the chill in the air and the wind that assaulted us on the balcony.

I crawled towards him, head bent. Rested my hands on his knees to keep balance. As I was about to sit on my feet, his hand found the back of my head. Gently petted my hair. I stayed as I was. Head bent. Forehead near his crotch. A feeling of connection being built. I nuzzled a little. Purred a bit. Felt warmth even though it was so cold.

A small touch on my chin signaled for my head to rise. I looked into his dark eyes. Saw him, and his ash.

"Open your mouth. Wider."

I did as he told. Tilted my head back. He rolled his ash into my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened again. Looked into his eyes once more. Our gaze locked. I felt transfixed.

He brought his cigar to the side of my face. I felt the heat near my skin. Heard the burning of my hair. Didn't move because he didn't want me to.

A caress of my chin closed my mouth. His fingers traced across my cheek and back down. I closed my eyes. Leaned my head into his touch. Let myself get lost in our shared moment.

His hand stilled. I opened my eyes again.

He thanked me. I thanked him. And then crawled back to my spot.



The 3rd

He looked over at me, a knowing grin on his face.

"Poetic?"

He was only two seats away, yet he was the hardest to get to. We'd all huddled in close, trying desperately to fight nature. I backed out, swiveled around, and meeped as I sat in place in front of him.

His eyes were intense. His small smile almost mischievous. His hand reached behind me. Grabbed my hair. Controlled my head. Brought it forward.

I opened my mouth. Stuck out my tongue. He rolled his ash. I felt the heat of the cherry near me. He kept his eyes on mine. Saw his control over me. My submission to him. Had me close my mouth. Thanked me in his quiet yet strong voice.

I smiled and thanked him as well.

Crawled away. Found my spot. Snuggled up to those beside me. Happy to be around people I don't see nearly enough.

A Good Time

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Reprise

After tapping my pinkie toe and assuring Veskrashen I was fine. After dinner, Chicago style pizza with friends at a nearby restaurant. After showering, getting ready, and chugging a Sparx. After my afternoon, it was time for my evening.

For Sunday night, I donned a new dress. It was a black, tight, cotton stretch with ripped pieces of fabric woven like ladders on the front and back. And of course I wore my boots.

Casually wandering through the dungeon, I saw Veskrashen again. He greeted me with punches to my chest, a short little warm up for my evening.

My appetite wetted, he pointed towards Celeste, who was wearing a beautiful corset dress. After glimpsing her outfit, I stopped, leaned against a pillar, and watched a few scenes as they played out under a four point rig. A few of my friends were doing some suspensions.

After watching them for a while, I decided to be adventurous. Slowly I turned around, taking in the other scenes in progress in the dungeon. I glimpsed Scotty and NHF, but decided to keep looking.

And then I saw him again. Roughinamorato.

Directly across the dungeon, about thirty feet away. Once again, he only occupied an empty area with a sheet beneath him.

This time he played with a beautiful black woman with short hair. She too had her arms secured behind her back with a chest harness.

Like before, his play was all rough body work. He punched her, kneed and kicked her. He used the harness to pick her up and throw her down. He slapped her, but not just blows across the face. He mixed his hits with teasing kisses, lips so close, lips touching, and then a slap across her cheek.

Again, I couldn't take my eyes off of them. Again, I was mesmerized. And as I sat on the floor, my eyes glued to their scene, it hit me.

Yes! That is what I want.

The hard hits. The body thumping, brutal play. The teasing and denial. The meanness, but with connection. That was what I wanted. That was how I imagined my play with my Daddy...when he finds me.

My spot was great for watching them, unless/until someone decided to walk right in front of my eye line. Or didn't see me, because I sat on the ground, and lingered in front of my view. Or participants in the closer scene, on a rig slightly to my right, stepped into my gaze.

But, much like last time, I did not catch him at the beginning of his play. Instead I started watching somewhere in the middle. Rough's scene, while amazing and intense, still had to end at some point.

And, when he did, I had to find some other way to fill my evening.

Distraction

My scene finished with NHF, I again found my head on his knee. We both relaxed by the wall, he in his chair and me on the floor, coming down from the high of our intense interaction.

As I rested there next to him, by chance I had looked over in the corner nearest us and had begun watching an intense impact scene.

Noticing my locked stare, NHF leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"That's Roughinamorato. I love to watch him play."

I had never heard of Roughinamorato before, could not recall ever seeing his face, let alone watching him play. And yet as I sat there, gripping NHF's knee, I was mesmerized.

And even as NHF walked away, I stayed. 

I pulled out my notebook and began jotting down bullet points from our scene, my way of processing the play and solidifying the memories for later.

Yet as I wanted to write, absolutely needed to write, I found myself often stopping to watch Roughinamorato beat on a beautiful woman.

His target was the body of a gorgeous young lady with long brown hair, her arms secured behind her back in a chest harness. They played in a empty corner, just a sheet underneath them.

My gaze was first drawn to them because of a loud pop! that cracked throughout the dungeon. Rough was using long clown balloons in some odd fashion.

At first I was upset by the noise, annoyed even; I was, after all, coming down from an intense scene. But then again because of the noise I had looked over and saw them, saw him, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

As I watched him, he mercilessly punched the woman's chest. He kneed her ass. He pulled her this way and that, using the chest harness to toss her around, pick her up and throw her down. His hand around her neck, he squeezed, even as his lips teased her, so close to her mouth.

As I sat watching, a burning urge grew inside me. I wanted to see them kiss. Wanted to see his lips on hers. Even as he held back her breath, his mouth never quite touching hers, I wanted to see that release.

It was obvious I had begun to watch their scene more than half way in.  Still, I pulled my eyes away, quickly lowered my head, and walked myself step-by-step through the flashes of my scene in my mind. I worried if I watched Rough for too long, I would begin to loose bits and pieces of my own play. When I looked up again, the woman was folding up the sheet; their scene was over.

I was grateful for the now lack of distraction, yet sad that I'd only gotten a taste of seeing Rough's work. Soon after they departed, I walked upstairs to finish my writing, wanting no other scenes to draw my eye or mind away from my notes.

Saturday night, however, was not the only time I saw Roughinamorato play.