poeticdesires

Category: Fire Play

  • Studio 58

    I hadn’t been to the space in quite some time. Drama and yuckiness aside, my life has been far too busy to fathom going out to a random Saturday night party at any play space, let alone the one I found myself in this past Saturday night.

    But there was more than one draw that got me out to a town almost an hour away. Merely looking on the RSVP, I could see so many of my friends were venturing farther than I would need to, and the sheer number of my friends in attendance was more than enough reason for me to go.

    I’m glad I did.

    My night had no play by design. I wanted chill time with friends.

    I spent the majority of my fun in the Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate area. I started off with a cigarillo, but then progressed to a cigar. It was small, but it lasted much longer than I thought it would. I spent nearly an hour slowly shrinking my stick. The taste was smooth and light. The smoke smelled great. I enjoyed the mellow the tobacco imparted me.

    From my vantage point in a camp chair towards the back, if I merely looked to my right I was given a framed viewed of two friends scening. Fire danced across flesh about fifty feet away from me. For about ten minutes my head rested on my hand as I watched them play.

    Once my gaze turned forward, I was greeted with the sight of a hot bootblacking scene not ten feet away. It is a heady thing to be a bootblack in a scene with three other bootblacks sitting near you. I gave encouragement while others heckled.

    During my CBC time, I had a conversation with a friend from Philly. Plans were made for fun in just over a year.

    When I ventured away from the CBC area, in search of a restroom, I found myself giggling with a Bambi while we waited to relieve ourselves. As we fidgeted, I caught peeks of a CookieMonster dancing in rope.

    As my night trudged on, I enjoyed more conversations, more giggles, and more hugs. There was a split second touch of a knife that promised more to come. A random conversation about random things, because that is our way and I like it. A hunt to procure play for friends with a 1 out of 2 success rate. And my perving said one successful pairing.

    More friends dropped by. There was fun had by many. I even squeezed in a poi practice session.

    My night ended with yet another hot scene to be perved: two very pretty people with very pretty knives.

    All-in-all, Studio 58 had a great re-naming night. I hope to make my way back through its doors for many more times to come.

     

  • Winning

    “Your blogs have been pretty intense lately.”

    Yeah, about that…

    I realize as of late that my entries have been heavy. Life, contemplating my place in this world, how I got here and where I’m going, heavy. And I realize that is not what one would instantly expect from this blog.

    Don’t get me wrong, and I will just say this to be blunt: I’m gonna write whatever the fuck I want here. That has been my goal from the start, and if that ever changes I don’t know if I’ll blog anymore.

    Still, I don’t want to give people the wrong impression. My life is pretty fucking good. Occasionally I’ll have these moments when it is actually pretty fucking awesome. Not perfect, but definitely awesome.

    Case and point (and bringing the sexy back, as it were), there was definitely a good hour and a half at Winter Fire where I was absolutely winning.

    I had arranged a playdate with Shay Saturday evening. In the lobby of the hotel, we discussed what we wanted from our scene. She was interested in fire play and positions training. That sounded great to me, my only stipulation being I was not in the mood for penetrative play.

    Heading down to the dungeon, we found a massage table by the far wall and setup. My friend Alice came by to watch and practice her fire play, to which both Shay and I consented.

    We started our scene with me just in my black wrap dress. Shay was pleasantly surprised at how accessible it made me as she took the single piece of cloth off to reveal my nakedness beneath the fabric.

    Shay inspected my body as she ran me through several poses. She wanted my feet in specific configurations, as well as my hands. There were variations between service poses versus more sexual poses. It all rung my service/submissive bells quite well.

    As Shay went through the poses, she constantly rubbed all over my body both with her hands and her boots. I was incredibly turned on by the end of her instructions and quizzing.

    Transitioning to the table, she had me start on my stomach. Though we had had a brief fire play encounter during the opening ritual, this felt more connected and definitely more intense.

    Shay traced lines of flame over my body, down my back, my legs, gliding the curve of my ass. The warmth was intoxicating. Alice practiced with Shay’s supervision. I moaned from both their touches.

    And then Shay got mean. Instead of softly swiping the line of flame, she began smacking my skin. “What? I have to make sure it’s out.” I yelped and cackled through the pain.

    Flipping me face up, Shay again danced fire across my skin. Bringing out her cups, she tried her darnedest to make my skin look like I was attacked by an octopus: no luck.

    She smacked my nipples with her fire wands, and then smacked my nipples with her hands, again “making sure the fire was out”. She danced flame down my legs and over my cunt (talk about a mind fuck).

    Back on my stomach, she pulled out a spritz bottle and blew balls of flame in the air. The heat came in bursts, warming my body.

    Shay again went for my ass. No more hair and no more dead skin as a barrier, her smacks to the extinguished flame were stingy tortures. Soon I could take no more heat on my cheeks. Happy with her torments, Shay decided we’d had enough pyro pleasantries.

    She helped me from the massage table, making sure I stood up without tipping over. Running through the positions again, I remembered them well. I love rising to the occasion and all.

    Shay brought me back to standing and aftercare ensued.

    As we were finishing up, Stefanos ventured over. With another set of eyes to watch me to as I came back down to earth, Shay went about gathering her things and cleaning up our area.

    “You look like you were set on fire,” said my pinch supervision.
    “I was,” I said, smiley floaty happy.

    Stefanos was in the dungeon awaiting his next playdate. He came closer to me, brought his leg in between my thighs, and asked, “We’re suppose to have a playdate, aren’t we?” He lifted his leg up and down, massaging his leather chap against my crotch.

    “Yes, we are.  We still need to schedule it.” I let my hands and chest rest on his body, trying to not lose my wits in the moment.
    “What did you have in mind for it?”
    “I was thinking we’d try me sucking your cock and then you fisting me.”
    “You want to try it or you want to do it?”
    “I want to suck your cock and then you fist me.”
    “Fisting, you say. You want to schedule that?”

    Stefanos raised his hands to my arms, softly pushed me back to the table I had just occupied with Shay for fireplay (the same table she was in the process of cleaning) and encouraged me to sit on it. I did so, lying back as before.

    “Fisting, hmm?”

    He reached over to the safer sex supplies on a nearby table, gloved up his hands, and poured four packets of lube onto one.

    Standing by my crotch, he looked over my body, locking eyes with me.

    “Fisting, yes we can schedule that. How about right now?”

    Stefanos rubbed his excess lube onto my crotch, at which point Shay returned.

    “Hey baby. What’s up?”
    “Oh, just your normal spontaneous fisting.”
    “Really, cause poetic said she’s not in the mood for penetration.”
    “It’s good! We’re good!” I exclaimed.

    I quickly rattled off something about how I wasn’t in the mood before but I was certainly in the mood for what was about to happen.

    Thinking while horny, I asked Shay to snag a chuck to put under me before we got too far into my “aftercare”. Slipping it under my hips, Shay happily joined in on the fun.

    By then, Stefanos already had multiple fingers in me. “I’m just doing want the pussy wants,” he explained to Shay. Truer words were never spoken.

    [For those of you who are counting, this makes the second time I’ve been randomly fisted as aftercare (the first being when I met Ava Amnesia at Summer Camp 2011). Did I mention my life doesn’t suck? Yup, winning.]

    Stefanos, having two hands gloved, put his second hand to use when he asked, “Poetic, do you like a thumb up your ass when you’re fisted?” Is there any other answer to that quesiton than, “Yes.”

    As Stefanos stimulated two of my holes, Shay asked if I liked vibrators on my clit when I’m fisted. I mumbled something about liking them but they were not necessary, though I enjoyed clit stimulation. Shay, being ever so kind, fulfilled this desire. Hopping up onto the massage table, she reached over my body and massaged my clit while her husband was almost to the point of being full inside me.

    As per my usual, I was quite communicative with both Shay and Stefanos during my “aftecare”. Soon the magical moment came when I told Stefanos, who by now had four fingers in, to push. He did, and slipped his full fist into my cunt.

    And then I was gone. Lots of gibberish ensued, including some of the hottest dirty talk I have ever experienced. Shay (Did I mention she is super hot with a sexy sexy brain?) started talking dirty to me, asking me if I liked having Stefanos’ fist in my cunt. Of course I moaned my pleasure at having his fist in my cunt, how I was a dirty whore, how great it felt when Shay rubbed my clit, how full my pussy felt with his hand inside me.

    By now Stefanos had inserted a second finger into my ass as he also worked inside my cunt.

    At one point I was so excited I lifted my pelvis up, bridging my body, as I fucked his hand. And somewhere there is a picture of this very moment (I know because I saw it on a projector screen in the Atrium the next night).

    I’m fairly certain at some point a crowd of onlookers formed, but with so much stimulation going on my attention was absolutely not on the individuals who wanted to watch the show.

    Needless to say, that hour and a half was so many different levels of awesome. I couldn’t tell you how many times I came. I can’t quite articulate how mind blowing it is to have two amazingly hot people all about you and your pleasure. And the feeling of having my pussy be so full and pleased… I really do love fisting.

    Saturday night at Winter Fire was absolutely full of win.

  • Fire Hug

    The night was cool, cooler than any other since we’d arrived at camp on Wednesday. It was the last night of Rope Camp; it felt fitting that it be spent by the fire.

    Elf had prepared the wood earlier and now tended the flames while a smattering of people sat on the benches around him. I rested at Gray’s knee as he smoked his cigar.

    Looking beyond our circle, I saw a small flame on the ground. For a moment I wondered what it was for. I did not have to wait long to learn.

    Elf walked over, quickly spun a can through the air, pulled out fire poi, and lit them. Tonight would truly be a night of flames.

    Elf danced with his poi far enough from the circle to be safe, but closer than I’d ever been to the act. As his poi whooshed through the air, the sound amazed me. I never knew it was so loud.

    His movements were powerful and fluid, almost magical. I was in awe. Lines of burning orange and glowing blue traced across a black background. His body’s form came into light and laid in darkness time and time again.

    When his poi finally went out, I marveled at the act. And then a friend sitting next to Gray and I at the fire made a suggestion.

    “You should get a fire hug.”

    When Elf returned to the circle, I asked. He agreed, but wanted to know if I had experienced the act before. I had not.

    He described the protocol of how I would approach him, how he would take the last few steps, and noted I needed to be wearing natural fiber clothing. Of all that I wore against the chilled air, only my leather boots would be fitting for this endeavour.

    Elf and Ember took multiple turns spinning before it was time for me to experience the hug. In those intervening minutes, Gray finished his cigar and retired for the evening.

    When the time came, I stripped. The cool of the night tickled my skin. Elf lit his poi, stepped back to where he wished to spin, and called me forward.

    “Walk straight towards me.” My steps were measured, even; it felt as if I were entering a sacred space. “Stop.” Elf took the last few steps towards me.

    We were now nose to nose, our bodies less than a breath away.

    “This is how the earth feels. One side of her body is always towards the Sun.”

    I found my eyes locked onto his. The sound of the flames was even more intense than I imagined.

    “This is called butterfly.”

    I could feel the heat pattern change, could feel the increase in temperature as he spun around us. I closed my eyes, felt his flames, felt a connection. I leaned my forehead onto his chin. He kissed my forehead, then nuzzled my head up and kissed my lips. It was magical.

    He stepped back, taking away his flame. My hug ended, Elf continued to dance. I had had my moment.

    As I hurried back to my spot, Rough called me over. On his phone were two photos of my hug which he sent to me.

    Shivering but gleeful, I re-dressed and said to my friend as I rejoined the fire circle, “I need to learn poi.”

  • Enemy Of Love

    They asked us to give voice to our enemy. Name it. What kept us all from love?

    Symbolized by a wood carving pulled around the fire, people confronted their enemy. They gave it a name. They shouted, screamed, cursed at it. I stood on the edge of the circle, barely able to contain myself.

    I closed my eyes, tilted my head to the sky, and let the tears trickle down my face. And then I whispered it.

    “Jealousy. Fear. Despair.”

    As I let the pain wash over me, more came.

    “I am more than my mistakes. I am not worthless.”

    I said it as much to myself as I did to the enemy of love.

    I am my own enemy. Even with the work I’ve done with Doc, even with the emotional growth I’ve had, I can’t deny those feelings linger. I can’t ignore the constant soundtrack in my head belittling myself.

    But then the chorus started.

    “Burn him! Burn him!”

    They set the enemy of love onto the fire. The flames licked up and over came it. And, for a moment, I let out a breath. I wiped away my tears with the sleeve of my hoodie. For a moment, for the night, I let go.

    I repeated a mantra in my head.

    “I am more than my mistakes. I am not worthless. I am full of worth.”

    People danced around the fire. Loved ones hugged and rejoiced.

    I stayed on the edge of the circle, stayed my distance. Like most of my camp, my heart was there and not there.

    The ritual completed, they invited people to play and fuck as they pleased. I crept over to the body painter and just like last year he adorned my flesh. His artwork complete, I watched people spin fire poi. And, when I was ready, I crept back up to my cabin.

    Though I knew my enemy wasn’t conquered, for a night I felt some of the weight lift. For brief moments, I smiled and felt almost light. And, as I slipped into my sleep, I repeated my mantra from the ritual.

    “I am more than my mistakes. I am full of worth.”

  • Blood

    They gave a warning for the squeamish before they began. I, with a front row seat, wasn’t going anywhere.

    Chey laid face down on the table to my right. Stefanos prepared his tools for the demo: a glass fire cup, his fire wand, a lit tea candle, a cup of alcohol, and a scalpel.

    Working on Chey’s back, Stefanos sliced five incredibly small scratches into her skin. So small, in fact, were his marks that I could barely see the lines of blood.

    With a quick swish of his wand inside the fire cup, he placed the glass on top of the tiny wounds.

    And then we all watched as the blood began to seep up and out. Chey’s flesh raised from the burnt oxygen inside the glass. The lines of blood trickled down to the edges of the cup.

    Chey and Stefanos spoke about their blood cupping as we all sat watching.

    Somehow, because of Chey’s movements, the cup dislodged. Stefanos again spun lit accelerant into the glass and placed it back over the cuts. Again, we watched as physics pulled the blood out from her flesh onto her skin.

    And I sat, my eyes locked on this small cylinder of glass, mesmerized by the show.

    They then had us all stay quiet and watch the glass carefully. Chey braced as Stefanos popped the cup.

    It wasn’t what they’d hoped; no intense splatter of blood displayed on the glass, though there was a small pop of blood.

    The cup to the side, Stefanos poked at the hematomas on Chey’s back. Because the cup was placed twice, she had two differing sized hills of blood just under her skin. Stefanos played with them, moving the hills around like a cat gingerly batting about a ball.

    We asked how she felt. We asked how much it hurt. How long before the swelling would go done? What kind of a mark did she expect to have afterwards?

    Hurt, no. Felt, I can’t recall.

    Chey hypothesized the swelling would be down by the end of the day, leaving her with a rather large bruise for weeks.

    As they cleaned up and the class disbursed, one thing remained on my mind. I had never seen blood play live before, especially not that up close and personal. I did not squick. I did not shy away.

    In fact, I loved watching it. I wanted to touch Chey’s back (though I never asked). I wanted to play in the blood (though again I made no overture).

    I recalled seeing Stefanos pick up a large clot of blood formed at the edge of the glass cup. It looked like a wet red dead worm. And yet I wanted to touch it, push it around, play with it.

    Because of Chey & Stefanos’ Pyro Passion presentation, a majority fire play class, I learned that maybe, possibly, I want to play with blood.

  • Fire Bug

    “Who won Rock Paper Scissors today?”
    “Oh, I gave up on on that.”
    “Why?”
    “He kept winning.”

    “Sixteen people have witnessed you say I’m the Master.”

    “Fucking in panda suits; I should look at porn more often.”

    First, there was the lecture portion.

    Chey and Stefanos talked about basic fire safety.

    “Fire play is edge play. Unless you’re Pyro, a flogging scene is not going to burn your house down.”

    They went over supplies, what to buy and the simple items you’d need for a fire wand.

    They spoke about burns. “If your bottom safewords, it’s already too late.” They made the point that, going into any fire play scene, both parties should assume mild first degree burns may happen.

    There was talk of hair: the ability or difficulty of burning it off and ways to avoid the pungent aroma.

    They gave tips for negotiation, noting psychological factors were not obvious, as well as certain health conditions (diabetes, asthma) that would effect the play.

    With most of the lecture complete, we all walked inside the sauna, I mean Dungeon, and the fire of fire play was brought forth.

    In the shade of the building, we finally saw the blue within the flame, the hottest part of the fire. Warm ambers danced with the cool blue as Stefanos first demonstrated the heat on his hand, and then licked the flame across Chey’s chest and back.

    Still teaching, they talked about tool placement (“Don’t light your table on fire.”) as well as methods of laying down the flame and immediately putting out the heat.

    The presentation ended with my favorite part: the hands on section.

    Chey took us back outside to make our very on fire wands, using simply fondue skewers, 100% cotton gauze, and 100% cotton thread. I picked two skewers with black handles tipped in red, wove my gauze tightly at the forks, and bound the cotton with black thread.

    Once most of the students had their wands made, we again migrated inside the Dungeon. It was time for the live practicum.

    After waiting in line, my nerves building, I approached a gentleman lying on a table I had never met before. With Chey watching over me, I carefully dipped one of my wands into the alcohol, rung out the extra liquid, and touched the cotton to the tea candle. Fire danced at the end of my wand.

    I brought the flame to his body, traced a line down his chest, and followed my free hand behind, wiping away the heat. I did it over and over again, fascinated by the flame, but always very careful and concentrated, not wanting to break the bottom.

    I switched sides. Again I traced lines of fire over his body. Each time I swiped away the flame. I topped in fire play.

    But, well, I am a switch. This was to be a multiple cherry pop class.

    I wanted to feel the flames on my skin. With my fire wands tucked away, I waited in line again. With few people left from the class, Stefanos soon called me up. I removed my clothes and hopped up on his table.

    Lying on my stomach, my hair and necklace not an issue, I relaxed, making myself breathe.

    He started slow, first blowing the heat onto my skin, letting me feel the intensity. Then he worked up and down my body, running lines of fire down my back, over my ass, and tracing my legs. His touch was at first gentle and slow, but then accelerated in speed and intensity of hits. Each time he wiped away the heat, extinguishing the flames.

    I gasped and sighed and moaned, trying with all my might to keep as still as possible and let him do his work. The fire, the flame, the heat on my skin was new, and exciting, and surprising, and so full of yes.

    Finished, he thanked me for my energy. I sat up and asked him for a hug. He granted my request.

    To give, to receive. To place it, to feel it.

    I went to their class because Stefanos and Chey are incredible people, both inside and out.

    I left their class with a little fire bug inside me waiting to come back out.

    And also an agreement to be a demo bottom for their fire play class on Sunday…