poeticdesires

Category: Breath Play

  • Recharge

    “What are you looking at?”

    “There are these bees…”

    My Fusion was full of many moments, both large and small. My first moment happened with Roughinamorato while standing on the porch of Oink.

    After fully nesting in my cabin, I could think of nothing more fun than to begin the process of delivering invitations to my gang bang. I slipped on a comfy, yet conforming, shirt and the key article of clothing for the afternoon, my TARDIS boxer shorts.

    Before I left for camp, I had invitations already created and printed (on pink paper no less, being the dirty pig and all) ready to be passed out. I numbered the invitations not to create a particular order but so that I knew how many people I’d invited. The first inviation went to TruthInRope, who slept in the bed pushed next to mine. Another went to a cabinmate who was also an early arrival.

    Armed with fun clothing and cheerful personality (I was at camp!), I wandered around campus looking for invitees. I saw them as I passed by, stopped to chat, handed them a cute piece of paper, and moved on with my fun.

    Eventually, my walk took me to Oink. Three invitees, plus one of my concierges, was staying in the cabin.

    When I approached, I saw a few people out on the porch, including Rough. He was dressed in only his boxers, given the heat of the day. Looking up at the roof of the porch, he seemed fascinated by the movement of rather large bees seeming to attempt to enter holes that were presumably their homes.

    Odd conversation set aside, I offered him his invitation to my gang bang, and checked off his name on my list.

    I can’t remember how we got into the conversation about hair, but somehow I ended up against the railing of the cabin, Rough gripping my mane, my head tilted up, his leg in between my limbs, and his sly grin on his face.

    “You dirty girl.”

    I’m known for the way I react when people pull my hair. The sounds I make. The look on my face as my eyes close and I sink into the moment. I really like it when people pull my hair.

    Rough teased me, drifting his face close to mine but not ever touching.

    When he released my hair, a thought came to me.

    “Rough, could you choke me sometime this weekend?”

    He got an almost whimsical look on his face. He removed my glasses. Moved to stand behind me. Wrapped him arm around my throat.

    “Shall I lift up my arm?”

    “If you want.” I did.

    He squeezed. I felt the usual pressure, the tingle in my body. The lightness of my limbs.

    I saw an anime: a blonde pretty-faced male superhero versus a dark green reptile-like villian. I rooted for the villian.

    Rough stroked my hair. I sat on the floor on porch with my legs in a pretty position; I fall sweetly without even trying. My head was down turned. I leaned against Rough’s leg.

    I remembered why I liked hanging out with Rough so much. No beating around the bush. No delay. You ask, you get, you move on.

    He helped me to standing. I thanked him for the recharge. I was set to get back to my wandering.

    But then Gray and Naiia returned. Another invitation was given (lucky number seven; no I did not plan it that way) with a smile before I departed.

     

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Second Wind

    We met in the Dungeon soon after parting by the pool. He chose the suspension rig to the left of the stage. I sat down my things, slipped off my sandals.

    “Should I take off my clothes?”

    “I like to unwrap my presents.”

    He unrolled what he had dubbed his ‘big bundle of ow’, a blanket with implements nestled inside of it. One of them included his piece of graphite (shit), but one of his toys was not the Twisted Bitch (thank Christ). He had two floggers, including his big whomping flogger, as well as three or four canes and some rope. I stretched, prepared myself for what was to come. He rigged his ring to the frame.

    I stepped to the center of the rig, relaxed, hands resting behind my back. He uncoiled a length of rope. Dragged the chord across my chest. Wrapped it around my neck. Stepped behind me. Pushed his body against mine. My hands felt his cock through his pants. Massaged him as he ran the rope along my skin and breathed into my ear.

    He pulled my hair tie from my head. Let it drop to the floor. Let my locks flow down my back.

    His hands slid down to mine. Raised them. Bound them. Brought my hands into the air above my head. Secured them to his ring.

    He kissed my cheek. Punched my back. Stepped in front of me. Punched my chest. Kissed me more. Traced his fingers from my face down to my chest. Pulled my strapless dress and bra down. Wrenched my boobs. Pushed my dress to the floor. Grabbed my ass. I kicked my dress away. He unhooked my bra. Tossed it aside.

    He slapped and punched my chest and ass.

    Picked up his flogger. Attacked my back. My ass. Hit my boobs. Went for my nipples, occasionally catching my rings for a split second.

    He picked up a cane. Wailed on my ass. Grabbed my hair. Pulled me into a back band. Caned my breasts. Came across my nipples. I cried out.

    And then a hand was inside me. He fingered my pussy, dancing his digits in my wetness. And another strike came from his cane, burning sensations on my ass. More fingering. More pain. Alternating the mean with the sweet.

    He put down his cane. Picked up his paddle. Again attacked my ass. But, again, his fingers found my cunt, working his magic inside me. I begged, pleaded to cum.

    “Not yet.” He had one specific demand. “On the third strike.” I knew they would be brutal. I always had to earn my orgasms. One hard smack. A second. And then finally a third.

    I pulled myself down onto his hand. Rode his fingers for every single molecule of my cum. Screamed and cried out my ecstasy.

    He stood. Loosed my wrist rope. Dropped me down to my knees. Kept my hands elevated. Secured the rope again. Pulled out his cock.

    He grabbed my hair. Pushed my face onto his cock. Fucked my face. Sunk deep into my throat. I relaxed into his will. Until I had to breathe. Until I could take no more. Until I pulled away. But he held my head. But he insisted. But he wanted his cock inside me.

    He pulled my head back. Let me breathe for a moment. Then did it again. And again. And again. I gagged, yet yielded to his will. Took all of him in me.

    He rubbed his cock against my face. Let me suck on his balls. Let me play with his cock with my mouth.

    He reached up. Let down his rope. Brought it between my legs. Pulled me down into a reverse hogtie. Secured my wrists to my ankles.

    I felt his cock rub against my pussy lips and ass cheeks. Felt how hard he was. Felt as he reached over to his bag. Slid on a condom. Slid inside me. I moaned my pleasure. Moaned his name. He grabbed my hips. Pulled my body onto his cock. Fucked me hard on the floor as I took all of him, yet wanted more.

    He came. Slid out of me. Reached his fingers inside me. Finger fucked me til I begged for his permission. He gave it. With his yes, I felt the race of orgasm through my pussy out to his hand. Out to my lower back. Down into my thighs. Up my spine. My thank you. My sounds. My cum.

    He untied my ankles. Untied my wrists. Pulled me into his lap. Stroked my hair as I curled up into him. Lightly kissed my head. Sunk into his exhausted state, his second wind spent.

  • 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.”