“You know the cruelest thing you can do to an ex after a break up?” I shook my head no. “Live well.”
 
Last night, I went to a party. I carpooled with the roommates, DeepEnd and SkinnyBitch, as well as NYRCampSlut, who came along for the ride. I was somewhat excited for what laid ahead. I had only planned a beating from DeepEnd, leaving room for things to unfold as fate would have them. The only possible hiccup to the festivities was the presence of FlapJackSlim, the former partner of DeepEnd & SkinnyBitch.

Now, a little bit about me, my brain, and my emotions. If you hurt someone I love, we’re done. Period. I flip a switch, you go from column A to column Z, and I often avoid you like the plague. FlapJackSlim hurt DeepEnd & SkinnyBitch, hence the dissolution of their triad. In doing so, I had relegated her to column Z, not worthy of my time or energy, not deserving of anything more than a head nod (which is all she got), and to be avoided at all costs.

So…we got to the party, peppy and excited for what was to come. SkinnyBitch dressed as a sexy nun, rosary around her hip like a belly chain, wearing boots I had blacked just a few hours prior. DeepEnd dressed as a demon, complete with full body cloak and a scary as hell, literally, mask. NYRCampSlut was a victim of JacktheRipper, or a cannibal who liked to play with their food. Her outfit did not come to full fruition until we arrived, as it involved lots of fake blood.

The party was large, but not so crowded as to be uncomfortable. We sat down our things and made the rounds of hugs. As the rest of my group made their way more into the party, I stayed behind to put down my things. I had packed quite a few fun items: my bootblacking kit, a cigar for DeepEnd for later, and, of course, rope. When I stepped out of the personals closet, there she was, FlapJackSlim, having brought her own group of friends. I recognized her, gave her a head nod, and moved on.
 
I found DeepEnd & SkinnyBitch, confirming they knew she was there. They did, but seemed unphased.

I sat on the couch and began chatting with RockStarIsis, dressed as a McKinley High School cheerleader from Glee. As we talked, DeepEnd assisted Slut with completing her costume. First he took out his knife and mangled her stockings. Next, using the tube of fake blood she provided, he smeared the bright red concoction all over her body. She wore a tight black dress, leaving her face, neck, chest, and thighs well stained.

With everyone now fully ready, the fun times proceeded. SkinnyBitch wanted a picture of her standing over DeepEnd, boot on chest, showing her beating down the nasty demon. FlostonParadise assisted.

I wanted a drink, so I retrieved a sugar free Red Bull from my things and added some of the Stoli vodka we’d brought. And though I do not usually like energy drinks, I found this particular combination worked for me. I downed about two shots worth of vodka along with my 8.4 ounces of Red Bull.

Next, I ventured downstairs. The group had naturally migrated in search of more fun. We ended up in the middle of the space, chatting and watching, when MollyWren decided she wanted to see what it was like to stand inside of the tall-and-skinny cage. Once she stepped in, we refused to let her out. Instead, we poked and tickled her mercilessly. She yelped and squealed, thrashing as best she could with the restrictive bars keeping her from turning too much.

“Do you know what spell to cast?” I was dressed as a Gryffindor, the same costume I’ve had since college. I tormented her with the secret, the spell she should have known since she’d read the first three books. SkinnyBitch, Alice, and I delighted in extending her predicament.

DeepEnd looked on and smiled that wry grin he has. He then warmed up, bending and stretching. It was time for him to start beating some bitches.

“Molly,” he began. “If you get out, you know I’m going to beat you. Are you sure you want out?”

“Yes.”

“Is a beating from me better than the cage?”

“Yes.”

Relenting, I asked, “Should I tell the spell?” The group agreed to let it be known.

“Molly, it is Alohomora. Now, do you want out Molly?”

“Yes.”

“If you want out, cast the spell.”

“Ok.”

“Molly…say it.”

“Alohomora.” We released her from the solitary cage into the waiting hands of DeepEnd, who almost immediately took her down to the ground and began his work.

I sat on a stool by the cage, giving them their room, but also wanting to watch. This particular party was excellent for my voyeurism. Slut was nearby getting worked on. In fact, she may have had the best line of the night. “I’ve seen your biceps; you can do better than that.” I love my Sis.

As I took glee in watching the ongoing scenes, I happened to look at a gentleman’s hip as he passed by, and noticed quite heavy duty carabiners.

“Who is that? Look at those carabiners. I should know him.”

N3rddom, ever the good friend, introduced me to PenBeatSword, who allowed me to touch and marvel at his carabiners.

Striking up a conversation, Pen then introduced me to his companion for the evening, Digophelia.  Talk meandered through rope, knives, switching, labels, and all the normal pleasantries making new friends included in our culture. As this was their first time in the play space, I encouraged them to look around and find me later if they were interested in playing with me (which I knew they would).

My first drink finished, I went upstairs and grabbed another Red Bull. I didn’t want anymore vodka, as I suspected I might start playing soon. Venturing back down into the dungeon, I took my spot near the cage again, this time sitting on the carpeted floor, and started watching more scenes.  DeepEnd had started working on MaryLeonowens on the corner outside of the large cage, while MisterSean and Xoel had willing victims to torment inside of it.

As the scenes progressed, Pen & Dig reappeared, found room outside the large cage as well, and began their scene. MisterSean and Xoel soon finished, which then allowed Pen & Dig to transition inside.

I sat, sipping my Red Bull, taking in the sights, happy to just be alive and have a Saturday off. Dig was secured to a point in the corner of the cage by her collar, which Pen had led her by all evening. He tortured her clit with his battery operated vibrator.

Turning his head ever so slightly, Pen locked eyes with me. Lifting his finger, he beckoned me over. I handed my Red Bull to Slut, allowed my robe to lay on the floor, and scurried over.

Pen explained Dig wanted some rope. I was more than happy to help.

“Excuseme.Pardonme.Excuseme.Pardonme.” I quickly got back to the closet, grabbed my bag, and made my way back downstairs.

“That is a woman on a mission.” In my hurry, I still managed to give Amethyst, my Big Sis, a hug.

Returning, I spoke to Dig and Pen, asking what they wanted. Pen was interested in restricting Dig’s movements, suggesting a hogtie. However, he still wanted to torture her clit. I decided on three bound points, her wrists and each ankle. I tied her wrists together, brought the rope down to her right ankle, across to her left ankle, and back up to her wrists. The tie created a nice triangle piece.

Dig secured, Pen got back to work. I knelt down and watched, this time with a much closer vantage point. Pen tormented Dig for a little bit, but then looked down at me. He mentioned how he was having fun, but more could be done to Dig if I assisted.

I asked, very politely, if I could use his knife. Pulling out the implement, he warned that it was quite sharp. I tested it along my skin so that I would know how it would feel to Dig. I was very careful in my movements as I danced the sharp point along the side of her thigh, stomach, arm, and breast. Worried, Dig whispered to Pen, who thereby instructed me to avoid her breasts as she sometimes flinched and did not want to get cut. I happily honored her request, dancing still over her skin.

When she felt her orgasm growing, Dig softly begged Pen to let her come. Pen, in turn, asked me if I heard her. I said I didn’t. She begged some more; I relented.  She was soon doubled-over, lost in her ecstasy.

Dig, now needing a moment of respite, relaxed into Pen’s arms. I softly and slowly removed the ropes from her limbs. Completely unbound and her normal breath returning, she commented that she loved my ropes.

Buzzed off of my service top high, I turned around and found DeepEnd. Inquiring about when we would play, he said he needed to do something, but would attend to me after.

The something DeepEnd needed to do?  The man who swung a hockey stick gave a lesson to a lady holding a field hockey stick. And yes, it was fun to watch.

Meanwhile, as I found my viewing spot again, N3rddom and his partner began playing next to me. The kinky energy swirled throughout the party.

As DeepEnd finished up, I snuck upstairs, needing a moment of respite myself. Some small comment he made gave me a flash of self doubt. This was in no way his fault, merely my insecurity flaring up at an inopportune time. I leaned against a wall and stared off into nothing for a spell.

SkinnyBitch approached, asking how I was doing. I told her I needed to turn off my mind. She, being ever the good friend, helped. Lightly thumping my forehead, she then traced her fingers over my face, the line of my chin, my neck, across my chest, down my stomach, across my thighs, and back up my body, finding her way to my hair. The endorphins swam over me; the cacophony in my brain quieted.

As she finished, DeepEnd appeared from downstairs and said he was ready. I asked if he was sure, to which he again confirmed. SkinnyBitch inquired if she might watch. I readily welcomed her presence.

Descending downstairs once more, we returned to DeepEnd’s spot by the corner of the large cage. I stripped, giving my usual show to anyone who might’ve watched. I presented my ass each time I bent down, occasionally giving it a slight wiggle. I popped my knee as I slowly slid off one stocking, and then the other. All my clothes were in a small pile on the side.

I was happy to be ensnared in DeepEnd’s trap again, eagerly anticipating his work on my body. Because of the confines of the small area and the throng of people, there would be no hockey stick tonight. He did promise, however, to use the mini-bat I bought him to more than make up for this deficiency.

He started slow, warming up my shoulders and legs. He punched and smacked lightly, then rubbed and massaged the flesh. DeepEnd transitioned to harder slaps, fiercer punches. He pushed me to screaming with his blows.

Next came his multitude of toys. He began with the boomerang, rubbing it along my body. First using the stingy flat side, he hit my thighs, ass, and back. Then he used the thuddy side, again all over my body, but also pressing into my flesh, concentrating his force over the dulled edge.

His next implement: his flat paddle. I hate the flat paddle. Once again, he rubbed it across my skin, letting me know what was to come. With this particular toy, he loves centering his worst over my left shoulder blade. He unleashed on that one area until I, again, screamed.

The following toy: his scarf. Wrapping it under my chin, he pulled my head up and back, his hot breath on my neck, right by my ear. Releasing me, he began flicking the fabric against my skin, quick pops all over my body. I screeched and yelped as the frequency and intensity of his little bites grew.

Next came the items he brought especially for me: his drumsticks. Yes, he had beaten other bitches with them, but I was the one who inspired him to include them in his pack that night. He started on my shoulder blades, then down to my thighs, then my ass. He played all over my body, finishing his work with a flourish of hard strokes on the sides of my thighs.

Last, but certainly not least, came the mini-bat. Oh, that bat. I had no idea how much fun, and pain, I would foster from that one impulse purchase.

DeepEnd did not disappoint when it came to his brutality with that bat. He savagely attacked my shoulder blades, ass, and thighs. He especially loved the sides of my thighs, hitting me so hard that our scene ended with my weeping, crouching down, unable to take any more for a moment (though ever ready to stand back up and accept more pain, if he so chose).

Dropping the bat, he knelt on the ground next to me, and welcomed me into his arms. I curled up my body, my tears still fresh on my face, allowing myself to fall into his embrace. My cries slowly quieted; I came back down to earth.

As I emerged from my sub space, I looked over at SkinnyBitch. She looked back, and in a gesture I plan to use again, pointed at her eyes, point at her heart, and pointed at me. I repeated the movements to her.

We then began chatting, as my breathing was returning to normal. SkinnyBitch rather enjoyed seeing my pain from the blows of the mini-bat. She has already informed me I have payback in my future for gifting DeepEnd with that toy. There has been mention of attacking me in my sleep. As the sign on my bedroom door says, “CUDDLES ALWAYS WELCOME.”

Our scene ended and my consciousness mostly back on earth, DeepEnd and I transitioned upstairs. I had purchased two cigars for him earlier in the week. He enjoyed one in our home dungeon earlier that evening as I blacked SkinnyBitch’s boots (now that is what I call pre-game).

We made our way to the smoking area, a cold room perfect for one of our favorite parts of cigar play, DeepEnd blowing smoke into my hair.  DeepEnd opened the door and beckoned me in first. I turned to walk in, saw FlapJackSlim, and immediately turned to walk away.

“No.” He said it softly, reassuringly. We stepped inside.

Instead of sitting with her and the gentleman with whom she chatted, we stood nearby. I sat down my water bottle and turned to face DeepEnd, not looking at FJS. I showed him the cigar, unwrapped it from the cellophane, and removed the label from the end. He took it from me and sniffed it. He then bit the end off, his preferred way to prep it.  After wetting the end, he held the cigar in his mouth, ready for my assistance. I took out my lighter and held the flame as he lit his cigar. He turned it, puffing away, and got a good burn started.

This cigar was different from the one I had given him earlier. It had more of a body to it. I liked watching him puff away on it, liked being in the cloud of smoke that soon hovered around him, liked the occasional exhale in my direction.

When he so chose, his hand slid behind my neck softly, and bent my head down.  He puffed a few times, and then blew smoke into my hair. After the first time, he beckoned me to turn around, forcing me to stand in the direction of FJS. Like any other scene I am in, I closed my eyes. I stood, my head bent, my hands held together by a few fingers, and relaxed into our play. FJS and the gentleman continued to chat, but I ignored them, instead eagerly anticipating the next time his hot breath blew into my hair.

About five minutes later, FJS and the gentleman left the room; DeepEnd and I were now alone. He decided to sit. He selected a chair, but I pushed my would-be seat aside, wanting to be at his knee. He at first protested, saying the concrete floor was too cold. I had my robe on, which I used as a blanket against the chill, but I also cared more about being at his knee than being warm.

He sat and smoked. I lightly rubbed my face across his jeaned thigh, occasionally kissing lightly or nuzzling it. I looked up at him.

“You know the cruelest thing you can do to an ex after a break up?” I shook my head no. “Live well.”
 
I then understood why he wouldn’t let me avoid the conflict. The moments that we shared in our cigar play were special, ours. He would not let another person corrupt them. We all were going to still live our lives, no matter what circumstance had put in our way. One should never let the energies of others effect the energy you put forth into the world.

As I looked up at him, his head tilted back, puffing away on his cigar, I remarked how he reminded me of a movie mobster. He then imparted a story from his childhood, involving people in his neighborhood and “made men.”

Xoel walked in and joined our small group. She commiserated on how her life was going and said I looked adorable on the floor at DeepEnd’s knee. Her friend then walked in. Happening to looking at his hand, Xoel commented how DeepEnd could use the ashtray right there on the small table in front of us.

“No, this is for a special purpose.” Soon after, DeepEnd finished his cigar.

I got up on my knees, making sure my range of motion was not impeded by the robe. I looked into his eyes, smiled, and began enjoying my treat.

I softly scooped up pieces of ash into my mouth, enjoying the salty gritty taste. I licked his palm, in between his fingers, getting into each crevice. I lightly kissed and sucked, licked and lapped at his hand, becoming so intent on my duty that I could feel a bit of the ash brush onto my nose and chin. When he decided my treat was finished, DeepEnd tipped his hand under my chin and tilted my head up for a kiss.

With more than I had anticipated for the evening already under my belt, DeepEnd and I made our way back inside. I mingled a bit more, but then felt the need to transition back downstairs. I thought I would get to see DeepEnd and SkinnyBitch play, but I turned around and they were gone.

It was getting late, but something inside me stirred. I needed to be in rope.

Finding an open hard point, I claimed the space with my robe and shoes, and retrieved my bag. Setting up, I strung up my Shibari ring at about chest height. I then began my tie.

This would not be like any other self suspension I’d done. I created a chest harness with a few extra wraps. I then adjusted my Shibari ring a little higher. Attaching one carabiner to my harness, I looped a rope through it, through another carabiner on the ring, and tied off.

I let go. Grabbing my ankles, I held my body weight with my chest. The pain and euphoria were instant and intense. I let my body be for a moment, then allowed my legs to drop the ground. I leaned, forced, pushed my body weight into the tie. I planted my toes and curved my body, arching up my energy to the sky. I groaned, moaned, grunted. I pushed myself with my pain; I gave it to them.

I danced in rope for the rope gods, thanking them for their generosity and care.

When I could take no more, I made myself stand, unclipped the carabiner from the ring, knelt down, and rested my head on the ground in supplication. I breathed. I let the pain wash over and through me. I came down.

Once at a point where normal seemed possible again, I sat back and began untying my ropes. One friend came over, but I was not in a head space to talk. N3rddom then approached, slowly, softly, saying Slut had told him about my scene, and asking if I needed anything. I inquired if it would be okay for me to lay my head in his lap. He gave his permission. I collapsed, allowing myself to be comforted. He rubbed my back, soothing me.

Now rejuvenated by his care, I sat up and finished packing away my things. The party was winding down, the dungeon mostly emptied. SkinnyBitch and DeepEnd, who had volunteered for the clean up crew, darted in and out with full trash bags, and put things away. I stood and chatted with N3rddom, as well as Pen and Dig, who had just finished a scene.

Though it was obvious we were about to get kicked out, Pen asked if I wanted to test drive his knife. I mentioned how I had used it on Dig earlier, so I thought that counted. He then explain, no, did I want to feel it from him. I, of course, said yes.

Stripping quickly, I turned with my back facing him, leaning against the arch from which I had just previously self suspended. His blade kissed my body, tracing over my back, my chest, my neck. His knife was two in one. He transitioned from one edge to the other, lightly scratching against my skin. I yelped and moaned with his slightest movement. Besides his blades, some part of his body was always near me, against me. I felt the energy flowing through and around us. I longed to have more time.

But we needed to finish. What small amount of time I did have under Pen’s edge was enough to leave me wanting more.

By now all but the clean up crew and my friends remained. The crew finished quickly and we all soon gathered our things and departed, a night well lived.

Categorised as: Cigars | Emotional | Friends | Rope | Wisdom

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