poeticdesires

Category: NYRCherryBondage

  • Sunday Brunch Plans

    The buzz of the house built as the perscribed time crept closer.  Metkat stood at the stove cooking his famous meat.  Clash prepped the coffee.   Amy took care of french toast, hot chocolate, and busciuts.

    Watching the bustle of the homemates around me, I felt the need to assist.  Amy put me in charge of pretty.  As things finished cooking/baking/brewing, I sat them out on the tables in a neat and logical order.

    Our first arrival was Kilawama; he brought fruit.  A lot of fruit: multiple melons and bunches of berries.  They were washed off, placed in bowls, and I found a spot for each sweet treat amongst the spread.

    Next was a friend with cookies.  And then a few more people, a few more food items, and a few more names.  Within an hour, the house swelled from four to a dozen, everyone hungry for food and company.

    We ate Metkat’s meat.  We drank Amy’s hot chocolate and Clash’s coffee.  We sat and chatted.  Eventually, the suggestion was made to transition out onto the back porch.  Also the not-at-all-subtle hint was dropped by Amy that she wanted to watch me give cigar service.  I ran up to my borrowed room, grabbed my kit, and scurried back to the group.

    Out on the porch, we settled into chairs in an amorphic circle.  I sat between Kilawama and Clash, with Keet, a late arrival, on Clash’s lap.

    Now, with everyone newly assembled, there was the question of who.  To whom would I provide cigar service?  To be honest, I sat in between three people I found highly attractive.  Luckily, one of them was chosen.

    I stood up, took off my jacket, and laid it at Kilawama’s feet.  Cigar kit in my hands, I knealt down and presented my selection of tobacco for his chosing.

    As he looked through the few sticks I had, we made a fun discovery.  NYRCherryBoundage had previously mistakenly purchased a cigar with the note Habe en Cuba on it.  It turned out, she had not purchased one of those cigars, but two.  This was the cigar Kilawama chose.

    I prepped the stick using my Hot Ash cutter and presented the tobacco to him.  As he smoked and I served, I introduced a few nuggets of information for his knowledge.  I spoke about ashing into one’s hand or into another’s mouth.  I suggested blowing smoke into my hair, one of my favorite activites in cigar play.  He gave me the privelage of both eating ash out of his hand and feeling his smoke in my strands.  People delighted in the display.

    As conversation picked back up, Paradise was on everyone’s mind.  Paradise is a local camping event held every year in Seattle as a fund raiser for the Center for Sex Positive Culture.  Most of the people sitting on the porch were going to the event.

    It was my plan to day pass on Tuesday and Wednesday.  Seeing as I had no place to lay my head, I was going to drive out both days and come back to the city each night.

    My plan was altered by two gracious gestures.  Kilawama owned a rather large tent and an extra air mattress.  He offered up his space for me to sleep.  Keet planned to leave for the event on Tuesday morning; she offered me a ride to the camp grounds.

    Amy, the person whose car I was going to borrow, had no problem with me borrowing her car less.  She would pick me up for the airport for my flight home Wednesday night.

    The plan was set.  I was going to spend a day and a half in Paradise.

  • Memories

    The first night of Rope Camp featured Midori’s Meat Market, a fun little event to introduce folks to one another and start the dialogue for play.

    After the get together concluded, I eased my way over to Rough.  He was showing off his Fat Ass Rope, and I wanted a taste of the experience.  I asked for the pleasure, and leaned myself over a nearby table.  Instead, Rough called me over to an open area.

    First he gave me a few whacks, which stung a bit and turned out were his warm up.  He then hit me hard on my back.  Then my ass.  Then my thighs.  And my chest.  I starting yelping and eventually wailing.  I fell to my knees.  In a moment of clarity, I took off my glasses and slid them across the floor towards a small group of friends.

    Rough continued to attack my back as I continued to cry.  He grabbed me, pulled me up to sitting, and wrapped the rope around my neck.  In a moment, his blood choke took hold.  I felt my muscles give way.  He released me before my eyes closed.  A bit of drool leaked from my lips.

    When I brought my head up, when he knew I was back, he began beating me again.  And blood choked me again.  And my muscles gave way again.

    He went for my inner thighs, one of my most sensitive spots.  He regretted not being able to hit my cunt.  His rope was natural fiber and I wasn’t wearing underwear.

    When he finished, I got up, thanked him, introduced him to NYRCherryBondage, and went back to chatting with friends.

    ~

    “Ha ha, I made you have feelings.” – an attendee at Midori’s Negotiations class

    ~

    Sometimes I like to fly under the radar.  I know intrinsically that’s not what’s happening, but in my sub-y mind that’s how it feels.

    Wednesday night a few of us had gathered on a porch for cigars and libations.  I sat in front of Gray and Rough as they smoked and talked.

    Rough’s feet rested on my right leg; Gray’s feet rested on my left.  I always had my torch at the ready, as well as a selection of cutters, boxes of wood matches, and a punch.

    They told stories.  Gray taught MissAmyRed about cigar service.  I sat and listened, content, the occasional small sip of strong Japanese whiskey on my lips.

    ~

    “I am the Dom and you will brush your teeth with your left hand this week.  Ha ha ha.” – Rough, during is D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Friday it rained.  And rained.  And rained.

    I’d wanted to wear my new red leather shoes, but I couldn’t abide getting them muddy.  I opted for my boots instead, which completely changed my outfit for the day.

    As the afternoon came, I decided to do something different.  I grabbed my newly purchased camp chair, took it outside under the pop-up, and pulled out my new voice recorder.

    In the rain, with the pitter patter of droplets above, I recorded a Fusion podcast.

    There was a breeze that made the day cool, blowing the chill of the rain towards me, under my cover.  Because the pop-up had been erected before the turn in the weather, the ground wasn’t muddy in my sitting spot.  I couldn’t help but be happy and bubbly, even as the drops continued to come down.

    ~

    “His desires are my priority and he is where I point my devotion.
    “I am his treasure and I am to be taken care of.
    “He is my King… my dragon.” – MissAmyRed, during Rough’s D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Ropetastic had pimped himself, as well as his two partners, during Midori’s Meat Market.  As per his name, I knew he was into rope.  And I wanted a rope scene.

    I happened upon him in the Barn.  Originally I was chatting with my friend Nomad.  She started spinning my LED poi to make herself feel better, so I took the opportunity to speak to a rope guy.

    As we conversed, I realized we were compatible for a scene.  Since we both had time at that very moment, we headed up to the Dungeon immediately.

    We chose a semi-private spot, what seemed to be a lounge room with a few couches but enough open space for us to work.  I stripped down to my underwear, as did he.

    I explained how I liked to be challenged, how I wanted something different besides normal rope forms.  He expressed a desire to explore ichinawa, which I was all for.  We began.

    He wrapped rope around me in asymmetrical patterns, twisting my body this way and that.  He did not make it pretty, but I loved the pain all the same.  He, at times, pulled on my hair, ran a shrimp deveiner over my skin, sucked on my nipples, and tickled my feet.  He rolled my body this way and that, changed his tie multiple times, added a second length of rope, and always kept me guessing.

    We only played for about thirty minutes, but when all was said and done, I felt high, full of erotic and emotional pleasure from being in his binds.

    ~

    “The greasy basement slave…the dirty basement whore.” – a talk on fantasy versus reality during Rough’s D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Friday night we pushed all three of our beds together.  Saturday morning I awoke to dragon cuddles before breakfast.

    ~

    “I want to be treated like a pile of gold.”
    “You want to be a heavy currency?”
    “I am valuable and worthy of protecting.” – an exchange between myself and Dov after a late night run to Waffle House

    ~

    I felt like a voyeur.  No, worse than a voyeur.  I felt like I was intruding.

    It was obvious there was a connection, a slow building of energy as they writhed on the mats.

    I hadn’t witnessed it all.  At times, I was lost in scritches, lost to the rest of the world.  Pulsing pleasure from my scalp kept my eyes closed, my head bobbing about, speech all but impossible.

    But when I came back, I saw them.  Saw the looks in their eyes.  Heard the yelp, the growl.

    I wanted to sit and watch more.  I didn’t want to look away.  That energy.  That pure energy beamed from the two of them.  And I was only, maybe, five feet away.  Had been there the whole time.

    But I did walk away.  Because I wanted them to have their moment.  Without an audience.

    ~

    “You have a natural ability for connection…You seek out people you can connect with.” – Delano, to me, during his Bottoms class

    ~

    He held the balloon away from my body.  I was dirty, filthy from the grim on the stage.  I don’t like stingy, but I take it for the person I’m playing with.  I take it.  And there was the balloon, tied around my chest, and stretched taunt, ready to snap against my skin.

    He held it.  And held it.  And brought it back without snapping it.

    “Really!?”

    He pulled it out again.  I cringed again.  This time would be for real, I just knew it.  This time the pain would come.  And then he brought it back.

    I laughed and hated him at the same time.

    He used a pretty pink dildo on me.  He beat me with a pretty pink dildo, which stung like hell.  He used a collapsible baton and a plastic rod, too.  He punched me and wrestled me about on the dirty stage floor, attacking my thighs.  But it’s the balloon I remember the worst.

    Talk about sadistic.

    ~

    “If you are open to learning, you are open to deeper experiences.” – Delano, during his Bottoms class

    ~

    I spun my poi in the dark.  Spun my poi away from the group sitting in camp chairs out in the chilly night air.

    I stood in the middle of the road.  A cart came by once; I moved.

    I spun my poi and soothed myself.  I accepted my feelings, accepted that was how I felt.  Acknowledged the sad little girl inside me.  Acknowledged what little power I had over the situation except what I did in that moment.

    I spun my poi.

    Then we went to Waffle House, I ate some food, and went to bed.

  • Hot Ash

    My hands shook as I held the match box.  I could feel all the eyes in the Barn on me.  Could hear my breathing loud as thunder.

    I struck the match against the box; no light.  Struck again; no light.  On the third try, it lit.  I warmed the cigar with the match.  Once it burned out, I used another still to warm the tobacco.  With the third match, I placed the cigar to my lips, held the match by the tobacco’s end, and puffed.

    Gray informed me of the Hot Ash competition about a week or two before Rope Camp.  I remember standing by the door of the Craft Room, the words “Hot Ash” coming out of his mouth, and immediately banging my head against the wall.

    I was already going to be in the Roperlesque for two acts.  I suspected I would also be bootblacking.  And now I knew I would be in the competition as well, held in between the acts.  Just one more thing to add to my crowded plate for that evening.

    When Friday night came, so too did the heavens.  All day it rained, in fact.  The weather woke me in the morning, kept me in bed through the first class session, invited a friend under my covers for snuggles and dragon cuddles, and permeated the camp’s mood.

    I intentionally left all my things in the Pavilion for Roperlesque (rope, my bootblack kit, supplies for the fantasy, and cigar accoutrement) during the early afternoon.  As the hour of the event approached, I headed down the hill to help setup for the festivities.  When I arrived, Gray turned me away.  The event was being moved to the Barn.  He walked my luggage across the river of mud in front of the Pavilion, and asked that I spread the word to whomever I passed.

    As people hustled to stage the event in the new space, I helped move tables, arranged a few chairs, and generally pitched in as we brought everything together.

    Roperlesque was low key, as Gray had intended, with shared alcohol, cigar smoking a plenty, a game of poker in one corner, a rig for the performances in the middle of the room, and one chair on the stage for my bootblacking.  It seemed almost the entire camp came out to relax and enjoy the evening.

    Just about every bit of my night was unnerving.  I performed an ichinawa scene with NYRCherryBondage, an act we had never practiced.  I re-created my Dirty Pig fantasy with assistance from Roughinamorato and NYRCherryBondage, another time in front of the crowd.  However my heart beat hardest during Hot Ash.

    I was the first called upon to demonstrate my service.  I had my kit prepared, a towel for my knees, and I exuded calm as best I could.

    When Gray called my name, a hush settled in the Barn.  I stepped to the middle of the room, laid down my towel, sunk to my knees, and became focused on my demo top.  I offered them a selection of a few different cigars.  I offered various ways of cutting the cigar.  Did they want it warmed?  Did they wish for me to wet the end or would they prefer to do it themselves?  Butane lighter or wood matches?  I specifically catered what I had available to their desires.

    When the cigar was prepped and ready, I handed it to the demo top, thanked them, rose, and stepped away.

    As the evening grew later, after my Dirty Pig reprisal, Gray called all four Hot Ash competitors to the center of the Barn.  Lochai took the microphone in hand, then distributed the inaugural Hot Ash certificates to the participants.

    For Most Entertaining Service: NYRCherryBondage.

    For Sexiest Service: EmberBliss.

    For Best Mashturbation: Roughinamorato.

    And the inaugural Hot Ash: poeticdesires.

    I smiled, sunk to my knees, and accepted my certificate.  I turned and stood before Gray could instruct me to not rise.  To my right was MissAmyRed.  In her hands was a piece of rope with a cutter attached on the end.  She draped the rope around my neck, my Hot Ash medal.

    I still have the rope.  The cutter is in my cigar kit, but the rope is my new favorite necklace.  It is a reminder of that night, of those people, of those moments I will not soon forget.

    And, as Gray put it, I am now a dual title holder.

    I am, indeed, a hot piece of ash.

  • Lessons

    I was driving.  Gray sat in the passenger seat.  I don’t remember how we got on the topic.  Probably one of my random non sequiturs.

    “The thing is, I have this harness now.  But.  But.  It makes me nervous.  I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

    “Don’t you have experience with a strap-on?”

    “Just strap-on blow jobs.  That’s different.  Fun, but different.  Less likely to be harmful.”

    “What about at FetFest?  Our threesome with NYRCherryBondage.”

    “Yes, but that was fucking a vagina.  Asses are more perilous.”

    “Well, you won’t hurt anyone if you listen to them and follow their speed.”

    “Yes.  True.  It’s just, to penetrate a guy.  To have that control.  And I’m not really toppy…”

    “You of all people should know an act is not inherently dominant or submissive.”

    “Yes.  Yes.  I know that.  I know.  It’s just.  It makes me nervous.”

    “Have you watched any videos on Kink Academy or PassionateU?”

    “No,” I squeaked.  He chided me for not taking advantage of resources I get for free.

    “As long as you listen to the person, you’ll be fine.  And just so that you know, yes, I am open to the idea of you pegging me, even though you danced around the subject.”

    ~

    The first time I licked Gray’s asshole was in London, the morning I was heading home.  The last time we fucked for months.  I didn’t even know what I was doing.  I licked and sucked on his balls.  Licked his taint.  Licked a little further.  And then I heard the moan.  It was different than he’d emitted before.  And I knew what I’d done.  I kept going.

    “Show me how dirty a girl you can be.”

    ~

    He stood in his leathers.  I was on the floor, rope harness around me, my hands covered in soap and shoe grease.

    As I worked on his chaps, I sunk down.  Slithered in between his legs.  My ass the last to drop down and through him.

    I sat.  Rested my back against his left leg.  Tilted my head up.  Massaged Black Gold into his leather as my tongue licked from his balls to his asshole.

    He bent down slightly.  Grabbed my hair.  Maneuvered my face how he wanted it.

    Later, when I finished his leathers, he asked, “Do you want to have some more fun upstairs?”

    ~

    At Shibaricon, he sat on my face, ass pressing against my cheeks, as he fucked my tits til he came.

    The night of my birthday, he sat on my face, ass riding my tongue, as he came in NYRCherryBondage’s mouth.

    There is nothing so scary and so arousing as having someone fuck your face, not being able to breathe, and not knowing if they’ll remember to allow you air.

    ~

    He laid on my bed, still in his leathers.  His vest opened out.  His chaps put his cock on display.  His boots rested at the foot of the bed.

    “You need gloves, lube, and dildos.”

    I introduced him to my drawer full of safer sex supplies and masturbatory accoutrement.  I laid the dildos by his side.  Gloved up.  Knelt at the end of the bed.  Held the bottle of lube.  Tried not to shake from nerves.

    ~

    Now I remember how we got on the subject.  It was the butt plug.  The Mr. S Piggy butt plug.

    I asked Gray for anal stimulation in our fucking.  I wanted to get the plug in before next Fusion.  I asked his opinion on masturbating with my introductory plug, smaller than the Mr. S prize.  Any suggestions he had.

    And then I mentioned the harness.

    ~

    He had me lube my fingers.  Lube his asshole.

    “Too much is almost enough.”

    He was specific; press, don’t poke.  I remembered the tip from the two Kink Academy videos I’d watched earlier.

    I pressed my middle finger against his asshole.  I invited it to open.  I pressed, and then felt the release.  I slipped in, just a little.  And then a little more.

    Gray asked for more lube.  I reapplied lube, then reapplied my finger.  Glided in.  My whole finger was in his asshole.

    He wanted another.  More lube.  Again, slow pressure.  And then two of my fingers were inside him.  I felt his prostate; massaged it.  Had his cock in my other hand; licked it.  Inside, I reveled in the moment.

    He grabbed my hair.

    “Don’t you forget who is in charge right now.”

    He let go of my mane.

    He wanted to try a different lube.  I slipped my fingers out; too quickly.  I immediately knew I’d fucked up.

    “I’m sorry.”

    “It’s fine.  Just remember, you go at the person’s pace.  Grab the other lube.”

    I did.  We tried it.  He liked it better, but I made a mental note to buy anal lube the next day.

    I laid my ring finger across my middle and fore fingers; held the three together tightly.  Pressed against his asshole.  Heard and saw the pleasure I gave him as my digits slipped in.  Again, I massaged his prostate.

    His hands glided along his cock and rubbed his balls.  His voice uttered his pleasure, until finally he said, “I’m cuming.”

    I quickly readjusted.  Put my mouth on his cock.  Swallowed his cum.  Played with his cock.  Flicked my tongue along and around his head until he pushed me off.

    “My only critique: I love it when I cum in your mouth, but next time don’t change up what you’re doing as I cum.  Other than that, you were great.  Now, turn around.”

    He fucked me with one of my own dildos before we both passed out for the night.

  • 30

     

    I awoke, my head on Gray’s chest, my body curled up next to him.

    And then it hit me.

    I’m 30.  I am 30.

    I don’t feel any different. Are you suppose to feel different?

    I’m me.  I’m still me.  Just me, and 30.  Okay, I still feel like me, so let’s go with this.

    ~

    Gray took me out for birthday pancakes, his treat.

    “You order first, birthday girl.”
    “Shh.  There will be no more mention of that.”

    Later, after we’d finished our meals, but had yet to receive the check.

    “That’s odd.  She gave me my to-go box, but not the bill.”

    I heard the clapping before I saw them.  Three servers with a bowl of ice cream walking towards our table.

    Oh.  No.

    I cowered, half-covering my face.  The ladies finished their song.  Our server left our bill.  Gray captured the moment in a picture, forever displaying my awkward-humble embarassment.

    I ate my ice cream.

    ~

    I’d already been to Best Buy and my local sex toy shop.  Next up on my list of errands was the liquor store.  I parked the car, hussled inside, chose a twelve pack of Yuengling, and walked up to the register.

    “ID please.”

    I smiled.

    ~

    “How old are you now?”

    I grimaced.

    “Thirty.  How old are you?”

    “More than thirty.”

    “Oh.”

    ~

    I invited about half a dozen coworkers over to my house for crabs, beer, and shooting the shit.  We ate.  We drank.  We shot the shit.

    And then NYRCherryBondage arrived.  I hugged her for so long at my front door.  She was here, actually here.

    She brought her stuff inside.  I introduced her to my work friends.  Took her downstairs to see Gray for a hug.

    Later, she opened up her suitcase and revealed the motherload: a ridiculous stash of chocolate.  All kinds of chocolate.  Everyone convened on my livingroom floor to marvel at the display.

    I created my own separate pile, chocolate I planned to hide away before the others descended.  It was my birthday, afterall.

    One of my roommates came down stairs; joined our group.  More chatting.  More laughs.

    For a moment, I stepped back and marveled at the disparate parts of my life together on my living room floor.

    ~

    I kicked my coworkers out around 8pm.

    The Sun Room was already covered.  Gray had been in town since Fusion; no need to take the fabric down til his departure.

    Gray, NYRCherryBondage, and I relaxed, the haze of their cigar smoke in the air.

    She extended her hand, ash in the middle of her palm.

    “It’s been a long time.”

    I leaned forward.  Licked her hand.  Ate her ash.  Shared that connection with her again.

    “Lift up your pussy.”

    Gray tossed about ash in his hand.  I planted my feet.  Gripped the carpet with my hands.  Lifted my hips.  He slapped his ash across my lips, a sweet sting to my wet cunt.

    She got on the ground.  Licked my thighs.  Licked up the ash.  And then licked my lips.  I moaned.  Relaxed into the floor.  Clawed at the carpet.  Enjoyed it.

    Gray stood; moved towards my head.  Knealt.  Held my wrists down.

    I writhed; breathed heavy.

    Gray readjusted.  Put his shins across my wrists.  Grabbed my shirt.  Pulled it up over my head.  Held fabric across my mouth.  Gagged me with my own clothing, certainly not a first.

    Still, I moaned.  And, eventually, begged.  Begged to cum.

    ~

    I was still covered in his ash and her saliva.  I was tired, but still smiling.  I had had a good birthday.  No, a great birthday.  And I had the both of them with me, soon in my bed.

    I curled up under the covers.  Waited for them to join me.

    Gray bounded into my room.  Slipped into my bed.  Snuggled up beside me.  He was cold.  Incredibly cold.  Had just taken a shower.  Pulled my body into his.  Shocked me from my sleepy daze.

    Helen joined us.

    And then, somehow, I was sucking his cock.

    And she starting sucking his cock. too.

    And I moved to his balls.  And then licking his asshole.

    “Someone needs to bring their pussy up here.”

    I turned my body.  Straddled his chest.  Tilted my hips towards his mouth.  Started moaning instantly.

    He came in her mouth.  She dripped his cum into my mouth.

    And then we were kissing.

    And he was fingering her, fucking her with his hand.

    And then he was fingering me too, almost fisting me.  And we were both moaning from his work.

    And holy fuck.

    Best.  Birthday.  EVER!

     
    An addition, in case you wanted to hear me reading the story.
     

    listen to ‘PD 7.27.13 30’ on Audioboo