Category: DOWF

  • By Chance

    So much of my WinterFire happened by chance.

    After my scene with CandleLover and PrudeNate, I rushed back to my room to shower. Refreshed and changed, I headed downstairs for next round of class sound checks.

    I randomly popped in on multiple different presenters who hadn’t actually asked for AV assistance. I was inquiring anyway, just in case.

    Heading towards the small side ballroom next to the Champagne Room, I ran into Gray. He was helping Chey, Stefanos, and Nerine setup for their Playful and Predicament BDSM class.

    Chey informed me they did not need sound. Gray grabbed my boob because, well, he wanted to.

    Assured that they were okay, I continued my rounds.

    Satisfied all the classes were good, I was struck with a thought. It was my plan to attend the Introduction to Aerials class, but it occurred to me, “Hold on, I’m about to tie up two chicks, and they are going to fight each other. That is both playful and predicament. I think I should go to that class instead.”

    Slinking in mere minutes before it was about to start, the trio had quite a large crowd. However, there were many seats in the front row that were empty, including a few next to Gray. I excused myself to the front, passing through the attendees. Approaching Gray from behind, I poked him in the back.

    “Someone’s poking me.” He turned around and saw me.

    “Can you move please? I want to sit in front too.”

    “Do you want to sit at me feet?” My eyes grew wide. Hmm…Um yes, yes I do.

    “Sure.” I scooted past him and sat in between his legs.

    Glancing up, I watched as Chey and Stefanos setup an interesting predicament for Nerine, giving her the choice between only a teasing amount of riding the Hitachi or pulling off a line of clothespins on her breasts.

    As the presenters prepped, Gray and I asked if it was okay for me to be seated where I was, seeing as I was quite close to the action. Chey said, as long as I didn’t mind being in the “splatter zone”, I was okay.

    I opened up my notebook, took out my pen, snuggled into Gray’s legs, and grinned widely as the class began.

  • Tradition

    Sunday morning had me continuing a tradition I started with a few of my friends last WinterFire. At 9:30am, after I completed my sound checks for the first class session, I ventured up to the hotel room of PrudeNate & CandleLover. It was time for my Sunday morning fisting.

    Standing outside their door, I was a bit nervous; we had not played in some time. However, I was put at ease quickly as they greeted me with smiles and an offer of a mimosa.

    I disrobed and sat on a chuck on their bed. We all sat and chatted, sipping our morning drinks; they had Bellini’s. Everyone was having a good events, and we were happy to continue our play from last year.

    To get the fun started, the couple had me stand in between them as PrudeNate kissed and caressed me from the front and CandleLover gave attention from behind me. I had forgotten how well the two of them play off each other, keeping me forever guessing.

    Without warning, PrudeNate flung me around, pushing me off balance. I was now given the pleasure of CandleLover’s lips while PrudeNate clawed at my back. I felt lost in their touch, engulfed by their lust.

    Sufficiently warmed up, I laid on the bed as they pulled up their seats. Gloved and lubed, it was time for them to begin. Since they both are right handed, the couple snuggled together to accommodate both their arms.

    They began slowly, PrudeNate starting with clit stimulation and CandleLover easing just a finger into my ass. Quickly PrudeNate was able to ease in a few fingers, my first orgasm a result of his actions. CandleLover was then able to insert another finger, and then another. PrudeNate slid in more of his hand. Soon his fist was fully inside me. CandleLover stuck with her three finger penetration. I felt full.

    The couple played off of each other, lightly pressing together or away. CandleLover was careful not to insert herself too far in, worried the friction between the two hands would cause problems. As PrudeNate continued his fist workings, more orgasms followed.

    About forty minutes into our scene, I knew I was almost spent. With a final flourish, the couple pumped their hands and gave me my eighth and final orgasm for the morning.

    Pleased, I laid on their bed for a few minutes before sitting up into their combined embrace. I sipped a fresh mimosa, thanked them for another lovely experience, and suggested we do it again next year.

  • The Doctor

    So…

    My moment journaling in my room took an hour and fifteen minutes. With Jim and Gray fresh on my mind, I had a lot to write about.

    When I ventured back down to the play spaces, I looked about but could not find Gray or his play date. Instead, I sipped an energy drink and sat in the lobby, chatting with friends.

    During my conversations, the Doctor approached with a n95 mask. We had previously planned to have a rope scene, and the moment seemed right to bring our promise to fruition. I told the Doctor to go look for an open arch or hard point. He returned, unable to satisfy my request, as there were still quite a few people playing, even at the late hour. It was coming on 2am.

    We looked around, trying to find room. I suggested, instead of the planned partial suspension, that we try some floor work. Just as we were about to find some open space on the carpet, an arch in the Dungeon hallway opened up. We quickly claimed it.

    As is my preferred way, I asked the Doctor to remove all his clothing, save for his underwear. I rigged my ring to the arch and we began. As I tied, two of his friends sat nearby and watched. Occasionally he spoke to them as I wound my ropes around him.

    I secured the Doctor’s arms behind his back, tying a simple chest harness around his torso. I left his wrists knot open, just in case. Next, I tied a cuff around his left ankle. He said he felt stronger with his right leg, and I wanted him to last as long as possible. Asking him to bend his left leg, I raised the rope up and through my ring, securing it. He held himself up only with his right leg.

    So, we began. I attacked the front of his right thigh, slapping, punching, and abusing it as I wished. The Doctor remembered, from our first play date, that I could be quite mean.

    I pulled out my riding crop and smacked his muscle. Once, I missed, and the Doctor mocked me. I attacked his thigh harder, laughing as I inflicted my pain. He laughed too, as he tried hopping away from my blows.

    I pulled out my drumsticks and beat on him more. The Doctor truly hated my drumsticks.

    The thing I love about playing with the Doctor are his constant stream of comments. When we play, and I beat on him to my heart’s content, he never ceases to make me laugh. When I am topping, I have to laugh. I am causing you pain and it is just so much fun. With the Doctor, he gets my meanness and plays up the hilarity of the scene.

    When the Doctor’s wrists needed attention, I released his hands, but continued to pound his thigh. When he fell, and consequently had all his body weight in my ties, I grabbed his body and righted his footing. Soon, I knew it was time for him to come down.

    I sweetly released him from my binds. He had some pretty bruises from my ropes on his arms, as well as an awesome big bruise forming on his targeted thigh. We hugged. I gathered my things. We finished just as the play spaces closed for the evening.

    I helped gather the iPods and made my way back to my room. As I relaxed on my bed, Slut warned me that Murphy needed some tying and sexy time. I assured her that, with my headphones in, I would easily ignore their amorous affections.

    At 4am, my eyes closed and I passed out. Around 5am I woke to their moans and screams. Soon after, I drifted back into my slumber.

  • Boots

    I started his bootblacking like I had many times before. Lightly lifting his right boot onto my thigh. Cleaning it twice. Scrubbing the catwalk with a toothbrush. Checking for frayed threads to singe down. He, however, decided to not treat me as he had before.

    He lifted his left boot and placed it on my free thigh. He pushed into my flesh. When I lifted his right boot to clean in close, he lightly rubbed my face, my chin. I kissed and caressed his leather as I continued to work.

    He brought his left boot from my thigh to my chest. He pressed into my breast, stepped into my nipple. He kicked my chest, rocking me back. He used his left boot to spread my legs and began lightly kicking my pussy. I had no choice but to pause my work, marveling in the arousal from his torment. His kicks subsided mere seconds away from my orgasm.

    “I was a few breaths away from asking permission.”
    “Then I did you a favor because I would have said no.”

    Finished with his right boot, I began cleaning his left.

    “I was hoping I’d make you loose your place.”

    I smiled to myself, happy to have again risen to a challenge. He continued to press into my flesh, torturing me as I loved his leather.

    When I finished cleaning, I asked if I could kiss his boots. He replied, but I couldn’t hear him. Grabbing me by my nipples, he pulled me up and into his arms.

    “You can after you kiss me.” Again our lips met, playing as we liked. Again he grabbed my hair and pushed me down to his boots.

    My lips softly caressed his leather. My hands massaged him through the barrier. He punched my ass, my back. For a split second, I found it funny that he attacked me from behind while Jim had attacked from the front.

    He reached down and started fingering me. He teased my clit before easing his fingers into my pussy. As his digits entered me, I immediately asked permission. He gave it, and I rode his hand hard through my orgasm.

    Removing his hand, he began slapping my pussy. Over and over stingy pain mixed with my hot arousal. I took his strokes, one after the other, not knowing if I ever wanted him to stop. Hit followed hit; I moaned with the pleasure. Eventually the pain went far beyond my pleasure, and I rolled my body over to avoid his slaps.

    Grabbing my hair, he brought me again to his face.

    “Kiss me. Kiss me. Once you kiss me, you can suck my cock.” He held my hair, keeping my lips from his. When he sought fit, we kissed once again.

    He pulled my head down onto his cock, and I gladly enjoyed his dick in my mouth. Within moments of my glee of finally having his cock in mouth again, I felt the first of his wicked cane strokes. He aimed for my ass, one of his favorite targets. He said he would stop when I stopped sucking his cock.

    I took his hits. In a moment of desperation, I switched to sucking his balls, hoping this was a loop pole in his order. I was given a moment of respite before he began again with his stingy strokes.

    I sucked and sucked, wiggling and squirming my body about trying to avoid his hits. I switched back and forth between his cock and balls, happily sucking away. He grabbed my hair, pushing me down further onto his cock. I practiced my deep throating as he fucked my face.

    He pulled me off of him. Sadly, he tucked his dick away.

    “You made my Punisher face uneven.”
    “He’s smiling.”
    “He can’t be smiling; he’s the Punisher.”
    “As if you couldn’t have a big grin on your face as your inflicting pain.” The vision of him torturing me with his Twisted Bitch during our first play date burst forth in my mind.

    I went back to his boots. Using my Huberd’s, I conditioned his leather. There were a few especially dry spots that I focused on.

    In a moment of pure silly, he used the toes of his boots to push on my breasts and nipples, jiggling them for his amusement. We both laughed.

    “You getting anything out of this?”

    As I continued my conditioning, he again pressed himself into my flesh.

    Finished, I rubbed his chaps, asking if I were to move onto them next. He sadly declined. He had another play date that evening.

    Grabbing my hands, he started to pull me into his lap. Releasing my hands, he grabbed me by my nipples.

    “Having trouble getting up?”
    “No. No. No trouble at all.”

    I straddled his legs; he rested his arms around my waist. Once more we kissed. Again he pinched my nipples. Gripping my breasts, he squeezed hard. With the pain and pleasure rising, I rocked my hips in his lap and asked permission to cum. He granted my request. I breathed hard, and he kissed me as I came.

    He asked me if there were any classes I planned to attend in the morning. I wasn’t certain, as my brain was rather foggy. We agreed to text to coordinate when on Sunday I’d be able to finish my service to his leathers.

    We stood. Surprisingly, he came in close and grabbed my breasts again. I leaned into his body, his chest, gasping. I begged permission. He said yes. I rested in his arms as I breathed heavy and came hard. We hugged.

    On my hands and knees, I collected my kit into my cigar boxes. Ever one for the wacky, he took his rolled up yoga mat and began smacking my ass with it.

    Our things collected, we set off in search of his next play date. With her nowhere to be found, we separated. Not a minute later, she found me. Searching the Dungeon and the Champagne Room, we did not see him. She said she would wait at the bootblacking station.

    I tried upstairs and found him in the lobby. Grabbing him, I brought him to her.

    They set off for their play date. I headed back to my room to grab my rope, and took a moment to journal.

  • Warm Up

    We found a spot by the far wall of the dungeon. There was no equipment, but there was enough room for a chair for him to sit on. He grabbed a seat while I ran to my room for my kit. When I returned, he sat there, waiting. In front of him was a yoga mat. It was to be my work area.

    I sat down and pulled out the cigar boxes holding my materials. I mentioned to him that I still had my gifted raw hemp, if he was in the mood. I asked him if I should keep my boots on. “Yes.” I asked him if he wanted to take my clothes off. “Yes.” We got started.

    He owed me a kiss. At the Cigar Social, he was sick and could not demonstrate for the class smoke kisses. He repaid his debt, pulling me in for an embrace. As our lips played, he lifted my dress up over my hips and began fingering me.

    “You’re ready. Are you wet from your last scene?” I nodded yes.  “How can I compare to that?”
    “There is no comparison.”

    He pulled my dress up and off my body. He teased me with kisses. He flung my garment to the side.

    He pushed my face down towards his crotch. I gladly nuzzled him through his Punisher underwear. He unhooked my bra; it fell free from my arms.

    “Did you miss my cock?”
    “Yes.”
    “But it was just in your mouth two days ago.”
    “Doesn’t matter. I miss it as soon as it leaves my mouth.”

    As I nuzzled him, he pulled my hair and eased his boot in between my legs.  I rode his leather while caressing him still through fabric.

    “What part of bootblacking is this?”
    “Warm up.”

    Gripping my strands, he pulled me in for another kiss.

    “Maybe after you finish a boot I’ll pull my cock out and let you suck it.”

    He forced me all the way down to the floor; time to start my work.

  • Jim

    I wore my boots because I knew he’d like it. I wore my gray and black Delicious dress because it hugged my curves just right, making me feel sexy. I ran to meet him because I was running late.

    Once again music requirements made my evening’s start hectic. I was to meet Jim at the bootblacking station at 8:30pm. I made it at 8:35. I apologized profusely for my tardiness.

    He held a black baton. The leather wrist strap laid beautifully across his skin. I wondered what he had in store for me.

    We made our way to the Dungeon. It was rather full, busy with multiple scenes started. He, however, went straight for the cage. Stepping inside, I set my bag in a corner along with his things. He had me retrieve two chucks. I gave them to him. He closed the cage door behind me.

    I leaned up against a side of the cage. He came in close, looming over me. I could feel the heat of his body, just inches from mine. He began lightly punching my chest. He asked what my limits were. I had few. No bathroom funsies. If he fucked me in the ass, please use lube. Don’t cut off any body parts. “But I can destroy your hair.” I liked that he sought out loop poles.

    My arms rested at my sides. My hands gripped the chain-links. His punches increased. I gasped with each blow. He asked if this was too much, or was I just highly reactive. I noted that was an excellent description of myself in a scene.

    He continued his punches. Normally I would have closed my eyes, but I found myself learning Jim’s rhythm and instinctively tensing, waiting for his blow. Often he’d pause, then hit me.

    Unlike my normal scenes, I endeavored to keep my eyes open. I looked up at the ceiling, able to glean Jim’s next hit through my periphery. Occasionally I ventured a glance at his face. I looked into his eyes, saw the quiet concentration, and rested back into my pain.

    I made my body relax. I un-tensed my muscles as hit after hit came. He concentrated on my chest, punch after brutal punch.

    With his now harder blows, my body curled forward. I explained crying was good, in case it came up. I anticipated its occurrence; Jim punched hard.

    I told him how I, when in need of a moment of respite, would curl my body away, taking from him his target. With a breath or two, I would be back for more pain. He understood my gestures, but warned unless I verbally safeworded that he may not heed my body language. Instead, if he felt so inclined, he might go after me more. I acknowledged this as a possibility.

    He had me disrobe, but keep my boots on.

    Jim was oh so close as he punched. One arm rested above my head as he too leaned against the side of the cage. One leg stood in between my thighs. His head just above mine. His free fist working my chest, over and over again.

    He stood back, now wanting to change up a bit. He punched the sides of my arms. He punched the sides of my thighs. He took my face in his hands and slapped it.

    Coming in close, he went back to my chest. Blow after punishing blow, my torso rocked with the force of his fists. I loved the brutal agony of withstanding his punches, loved the radiating pain, dull and powerful, through my lungs. With each breath, I felt the impact of his hands. I gasped and groaned. I almost cried.

    Stepping away, Jim grabbed a chuck and spread it out. I laid down.

    Looming above me, he used his own booted foot to guide my legs together. He held each boot above my face and asked if there was anything on the treads. I said they looked fine.

    Gripping the top of the cage, he placed one boot across my thighs and the other on my chest. Letting down his weight, the pressure of his mass pulsed through me. I loved the feel of being under his boot, loved the sensation of his weight through my body, loved feeling this new type of pain. I sunk into it. He slowly moved about, changing positions slightly. I moaned with the feel of him on me.

    He stood on my hands, lightly. He stood on my biceps, less lightly. His boots pressed down my hair. He took this opportunity to bend over and punch my chest.

    His weight returned to my body. One boot found its way to my chin, pushing my face back. Then it rested on the center of my chest. He stood balanced, not holding onto the cage, allowing his full weight across my thighs and torso. I looked up and saw his tall boot with its red laces, his long supple chaps, his flattering vest, and his ever-hard-to-read-yet-always-welcoming face, a tableaux I will not soon forget.

    Stepping off of me, he removed his vest and put on his black disposable gloves. My knees up, he knelt down by my boots. He used my lube.

    He started slow. Clit stimulation. Pulling on my labia lips. He inserted a few fingers. Within moments, I begged to be allowed to cum. “No. Too fast.” He worked more.

    My right boot found its way to the cage wall. My hands reached out for something to grip onto. I begged again, this time more fervently. He relented. I cried out, cursing, thanking him, screaming his name, and cuming hard.

    I asked him to push. He worked his hand all around, creating the space it would need. He pushed. I could feel my pelvic bones slowly separating.

    He pushed.

    And pushed.

    He was in. I asked for permission again. He obliged. I bucked my hips. He punched my chest hard.

    I loved the blended sensations. Pleasure and pain, writhing on the floor, my body gradually moving towards one end of the cage. We stopped, twice, his hand still inside me as I moved back towards the center.

    I endured the beautiful pain, asking him a few times to stop and start, finding a moment to breathe without the intense sensations of my now. The pain pleasure grew. I came close to having to stop. I mistakenly kneed his chin.  I apologized profusely.  Finally, I hooked my boots onto his shoulders and pushed him off. I loved the smooth feel of his fist escaping my body.

    He laid down next to me. He stroked my skin. He relaxed me. He admired the boot marks on my chest. I touched the treads in my skin affectionately. I breathed.

    I sat up. We hugged. We cleaned up.

    He bent down and picked up his baton. He’d forgotten to hit me with it.

    He thanked me. I thanked him. We spoke of IMsL and hopefully seeing each other there. He opened the cage door and we exited.

    I saw MaryLeo, SkinnyBitch, and DeepEnd had been watching. I walked over to them. Jim followed.

    I realized I never received any time during our scene to love Jim’s boots. I asked if I could steal a moment to do so before I had to leave. He granted my request. On my knees, I gave each boot just one kiss.

    Standing, I thanked him again, and then ran off for my next play date.

  • Fear Play

    As people meandered out of Gray’s class, N3rddom took Nomad up to meet him. Gray remarked how he liked her name, noting that he was the NYR Cabin Nomad.

    With little time left before I had to run off to do more sound stuff, I approached Gray and confirmed our play date for the evening.

    I scurried to check on the projector, said hi to multiple friends in the hall, took a moment to greet and flirt with Jim, and then ran up to a small ballroom for Marc B’s Fear Play class.

    As I have written about on this blog, I have an intense fear of the dark. I sat second row as Marc B spoke about fear play, the many ways fear can influence people, and how he liked to use fear as a joy ride to release waves of endorphins.

    For his demo bottom, Kari, one of the event organizers, volunteered. She laid out multiple chucks, wore only a cute set of underwear, and brought a tub of warm water. Marc B was going to drown her.

    As the class progressed, with Marc B’s awesome stories and ideas percolating for what I wanted to experience later, I often found my eyes drifting to Kari. She grew jittery as the lesson wore on. We all knew what was coming.

    Marc had her stand as he tied her arms securely behind her back. She kneeled, and he held her by her bindings. A classmate asked what Kari was doing and feeling. She spoke about how she was trying to keep her breathing controlled and trying to stay calm.

    Marc B said he would begin on three. One…Two… Her head was in the water. Nobody actually believed he wouldn’t try to surprise her. She was okay at first, able to hold her breath. Marc B explained just about anyone can hold their breath comfortably for thirty seconds. He kept her down the first time for a long time.

    He brought her up, a splash of water from her hair catching those in the very front. She was only given a few breaths before he put her back under.

    Up and down. Up and down. Gasping then submerged. Marc must have put her under about a dozen times. Each break he gave her was filled with desperate breaths, a heaving chest, and a little less water in the bucket. By the end, she was drenched and out of breath and flying high.

    Kari tried to released herself from Marc’s tie, but he had neglected the fact that he secured here with hemp rope. Marc had to use his Marlin spike to remove the tie.

    The class complete, I spoke to Marc afterward, mentioning he had not talked about my fear of the dark. Marc then asked me if I had a fear of the dark or a fear of the unknown. Would I be just as afraid if I were kidnapped and dropped in the middle of the woods, not knowing where I was?

    I still don’t know the answer to his question. However, the dark still scares the shit out of me. And, one day, I will play with that.

  • Worth Staying Up

    I woke up Saturday morning, groggy and tired, but knowing I could not sleep through the first class session. For every class session at WinterFire, there were sound checks and projector requirements. I threw on a pair of black boxer shorts and wore my Zim jacket over my gray pirate t-shirt which I’d slept in.

    The plan was to setup a projector for a class and go right back to bed. The class was about Fem Domme images throughout history, a topic that seemed interesting but did not capture my attention enough to warrant the sacrifice of my sleep.

    As I setup the equipment, a lovely woman entered the class and complimented me on my ass. This was quite a nice start to my day.

    Having finished up, the presenter’s slide show projected onto the screen, I happened to see Gray on his way to his class. He was teaching Apocalyptakink, the new name for his RACK Role Play class that I took at Rope Camp. It just so happened that his class was right next door to the one class I contemplated taking for the first morning session, Claire Adams’ Rope Tops Boot Camp.

    As he passed by, he asked what I was up to. I told him I was contemplating either taking Claire Adams’ class or going back to bed. When I gave him the name of the presentation, he informed me I would probably not learn much from it. Later I found out he was quite right. The information given was geared towards those new to rope; it would have been an unnecessary refresher.

    So I stood at the corner between Claire’s class and his, wondering what I should do. I could take the chance that I would gain something from Claire’s class and go in, or I could just go back to bed. Lord knows my body could’ve used the extra sleep.

    But then a third option came to me. Why not just go to Gray’s class? Yes, I had taken it before, so I knew each scenario that would be given. However, I also knew it was a fun presentation. And, frankly, I was tired but I wasn’t sure if I was able to go back to sleep. I was at WinterFire; my body said sleep, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins screamed STAY UP.

    Instead of trying to force my eyelids closed, I opted to take Gray’s class.

    I sat next to Twisted View and K2. N3rddom, KnownUnknown, and Nomad also sat by me. As Gray welcomed folks in, he greeted a beautiful tall blonde woman. Her name was Chey.

    Gray sat and chatted with folks, wanting to sip his morning coffee. However, a conundrum. Gray had the coffee and his desired taste additives, but nothing to stir it with. Instead, he pulled out his new knife, a pretty piece of sharp and pointy. He snapped it open and stirred his brew.

    As I watched, my heart quickened. I don’t like coffee, at all, but I would’ve licked it off of Gray’s knife if he had allowed me. Instead, the knife came to his tongue. He ran the blade, forward and backward, lapping up the warm caffeine. I sat, gawking, and sighed, “That was worth staying up for.”

    Gray ran his class just as he had the instance I’d seen before. He gave three scenarios, asking folks to run through the mock situations. For the first scenario, Chey volunteered to be tested. It was a simple negotiation, where she was to be a rope top asking a bottom questions before their scene.

    As Chey spoke, I sat both in awe of her beauty and her intelligence. She is an ER nurse and was only the second person to pull from the bottom that they were diabetic. I noted her style of questioning for when I would negotiate for rope scenes later.

    The second scenario found Jocasta, a strong willed woman, dealing with a rude sub and a pushy individual touching her equipment and asking rude questions. She redded out of the scene, then learned the pushy individual was a Dungeon Monitor. The lesson I pulled from her ordeal, “Go away and live to play another day.”

    The third scenario was a test for a bottom, seeing when the over crowding of a space made it unsafe for a scene. The bottom was hit in the face with a flogger, had a puppy mock pee on him, two lovers in amorous affection by his feet, and a group of littles singing ‘Row Row Row Your Boat’ rather loudly, not to mention it seemed like his top didn’t care about the bothers and only half knew what he was doing. The bottom redded out of this scene as well.

    The point of the third scenario: bottoms can’t rely simply on their tops to take care of them. Bottoms do not abdicate taking care of themselves just because they have a top.

    For the last part of the class, Gray separated us into three groups: Bottoms, Switches, and Tops. He asked us to talk about different issues that have come up in our play, and possibly create a test around an issue.

    In the switches group, I sat on the floor and flipped my notebook to a fresh page. I asked people to come in close so we could talk. I asked what issues they had on their minds, what scenarios they had gone through lately as a switch.

    The idea of a switch negotiating a bottom scene, but then wanting to take over as the top was popular. I asked how they wanted to create a test from this, and who would be tested. The idea for testing the top seemed fuzzy. I tried to pull out a more concrete scenario, but time ran out.

    We as a group spoke to the rest of the class about the turning-the-tables scenario. It was agreed this was less of a problem and more just an example of switch play in general. The bottoms talked about tops who pushed their boundaries or ignored them completely, a thought that made me cringe.

    The tops actually had a test. Gray turned to the switches, asking if anyone wanted to be tested as a top. I threw my hand up, until I realized I needed to be in top space. I then politely declined. Gray jumped into the role.

    Chey volunteered to be the bottom, since she already knew the scenario. She had Gray tie her hands together and above her head. They spoke for a moment before she fainted.

    He called out her name, trying to get a reaction. He grabbed her body, took out his knife, and mock cut the standing line. He called over Twisted View and asked him to help get her to the ground. He asked Twisted View to elevate her legs. He continued to talk to her. She made sounds. Gray again asked her how she was doing. Lazily she sighed, “Gray, you’re awesome.”

    The test complete, Gray cursed himself for not having his safety shears right by his side. They were, in fact, on a table not fifteen feet away. He noted how, though he “used” his knife, it was to cut the standing line, NOT the ropes by her hands.

    Chey spoke about the latest position nurses used when an individual passed out: having them lie on their left side so that they are less likely to vomit, but if they did it would simply flow out of their mouths, thereby helping to prevent choking.

    I was very happy I didn’t volunteer to be the top in the scenario.

    At the end of the class, Gray noted that it was an open source presentation, welcoming whatever scenarios people came up with later. He also told us that all of his scenarios would change for the next iteration of the class, hence why I mentioned them here.

    I will, most definitely, take the class again.

  • Release

    Even with the experience of having my boots blacked and blacking another’s boots, I was still antsy. I wanted more.

    I ventured up to my friends’ Black Rage party, named so because the two inhabitants of the room were African American females. Not surprisingly, it was chill and relaxed. But I felt something stir in me.

    Excusing myself, I headed back to my room. For WinterFire, I shared a double/double with Murphy, Slut, and their friend the Elf. However, it was made clear that I would get my own bed. As I walked into the room, a magical thought occurred to me: I was alone.

    Grabbing my toy bag, I pulled out all my masturbation accoutrement. I ran my extension chord to the wall for the “lawnmower.” I set out my other vibrators. I changed into my red teddy. I grabbed my dildos and took them into the bathroom to wash them.

    It randomly came to mind that my next door neighbors, all around, would probably hear me screaming. And then I remembered it was WinterFire, and, if anything, they would most likely cheer me on.

    Then I heard the door open. The Elf walked in. I cursed myself for not setting the latch. I quickly finished cleaning, threw all my things into a bag, and left.  The Elf wanted to take a shower and I was too polite to ask for solitary time in the room.

    I made my way back to Black Rage, now actually angry. As I let out my frustration, a stroke a genius hit. I looked at Tigerwong, and realized his room was free. He granted my request for some alone time, asking that I pull back the comforter and only fuck myself on the sheets.

    Alone, finally, I plugged in my power chord again, pulled out my toys, and started playing. I writhed on the bed, fantasizing about my still unrealized Daddy. I dreamt of beatings and fuckings. I breathed heavy, thrusting hard on my cocks, enjoying each raunchy moment. I pushed myself, holding the lawnmower in place well past my first, second, and third orgasm from the toy.

    As I finished, glowing from my cum high, I got a text. It was from Gray. That was when we set our date for the next evening. Yeah, good timing.

    The rest of my evening was spent in a haze, watching others play. Murphy suspended Tigerwong. Lochai tied up K2 (a scene which I am still fantasizing about).

    I eventually made it to bed around 3:30am, after we picked up the pods from the play spaces once they closed; I was exhausted but smiling.

  • Playful

    After Jim’s bootblacking, I looked at my phone. It wasn’t quite time for my next play date; I was to black MrBlackBeard’s boots.

    I ventured up to a cocktail hour for Amethyst’s birthday. There I found DeepEnd and SkinnyBitch relaxing with our friends. I sipped on my Sparx and eased into socializing with my folk.

    Then, a thought occurred to me. I texted Gray, wondering if he would like his boots blacked that evening.

    As I talked with DeepEnd, he spoke about taking this weekend to chill at the event. I liked spending time with my roommates, just us being, the stress of our everyday lives hopefully a lost memory for the moment.

    I stayed for a bit at the cocktail hour, but scurried off eventually. I had a pair of boots to love.

    Heading downstairs, I met BlackBeard at the bootblacking station. Venturing into the dungeon area, we found an empty spot on a futon in the hallway.

    He sat. I asked what kind of blacking he wished to have. He, quite succinctly, said, “These bitches are dirty and need some cleaning.”

    One of the reasons why people love BlackBeard is that you know exactly where you stand with him. This was not about D/s or service. He had boots that needed blacking and I had promised him a blacking.

    I stripped down to just my boots and a pair of underwear. (Yes, I know, me wearing underwear. Shocking. I was worried about the strict no nudity policy in the lobby, as my skirt was about an inch away from flashing my pussy as I walked.)

    I sat out my kit and got to work. As I loved on his leathers, I could hear my dungeon mix playing. I started lip-syncing to the music. I smiled, enjoying my time with his leather. I let myself play, let myself be, my focus on making his leather shine and pleasing myself in the interim.

    I loved the look of my boots as I blacked his pair. I loved the feel of giving this service to a friend, of enjoying this act as others interacted with him. Normally, when others talk into my scene, I get upset or annoyed or occasionally angry. This time, I truly didn’t give a shit. This was about me enjoying time with his leathers and BlackBeard enjoying his lounge time. Once I finished, he thanked me and we parted ways.

    Gray eventually texted me a few hours later, which surprised me because I had thought he was long asleep. He was not wearing his boots Friday night, but instead suggested we play Saturday night.

    Jim and Gray, the same night, back to back. I felt like a very, VERY, lucky girl.