poeticdesires

Category: Fisting

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Velvet Fire

    “Come on. Give us some poetic desires. How does it feel?”- SkinnyBitch
    “Like velvet fire licking my skin.”- me

    I laid on the plastic drop cloth shaking, anticipation increasing. CandleLover, Diva, and I patiently waited for our audience.

    The chill from the basement floor rose up through the thin carpet and plastic sheet. I shivered. CandleLover rubbed cocoa butter over my chest and stomach, easing my nerves somewhat.

    Finally everyone came down and took their spots to watch.

    CandleLover dipped her spoon into her crock pot and hovered high over my body. “Now remember, this is hot but it will not burn you.” She drizzled the paraffin onto my chest. I screamed, the wisps of heat kissing my flesh.

    “Breathe girl. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” Diva coached me as she patiently waited for her part in the fun.

    Again CandleLover dipped her spoon into the liquid, rose the utensil high, and intermittently rained the hot substance down on my skin. I gasped, taking in the feeling of the heat. Not knowing when or where it would land, not knowing how much would wash across my body, made the experience that much more exhilarating and painful.

    “It’s just warmth, Kristen. You’re good.” DeepEnd knelt beside me, hovering to my left as CandleLover loomed to my right.

    I had watched DeepEnd suffer the same fate earlier. As I sat gazing SkinnyBitch delicately drizzle the paraffin on his body, I was mesmerized by both the act and his reactions. Now, on the floor, feeling the heat myself, I understood DeepEnd’s flinches, his gasps, his quickened breath.

    With each new spoonful of paraffin, I called out and writhed, the wax coating my body. CandleLover took joy in my screams, my intense reactions. But now it was time for Diva to have fun as well.

    Already gloved and lubed, she ordered my knees up and apart. Diva sat by my feet, getting into position. As I felt her start to rub my clit, CandleLover dipped her spoon into her crock pot once more.

    “Oh, no! We’re not doing this all at once!?!” CandleLover smiled a devilish grin, which she wore well.

    Diva inserted a few fingers in, massaging my clit and G spot, while CandleLover poured her entire spoonful across my chest. I cried out first from the heat, then from the arousal. Over and over, Diva mixed her accelerated fingering with CandleLover’s unrelenting spoonfuls of fire. Across my chest. Over my stomach. Catching my neck. Splashing my biceps. CandleLover was like a child with finger paints. Diva was in control throughout.

    As I felt my first orgasm rising, I asked permission to cum. Diva immediately said no. My audience groaned for me as I cried out in my pain.

    DeepEnd came to my aid. “But Mama, she blacked my boots so well.”

    “I don’t care, Daddy. She didn’t tell me she blacked boots. I would’ve worn mine.” Diva was none to happy to have missed out on my services.

    I begged, pleaded, “Please Diva. God, please let me cum.” CandleLover dosed me again with the paraffin, adding extra emphasis to my need.

    Finally, Diva relented and allowed my orgasm. My muscles contracted, clamping onto her hand, as my body jolted about.

    With Diva’s fist almost fully inside me, I said one word. “Push.” She slipped into me, now working herself fully in and out of me. Again I asked permission. Again she made me beg. Again she relented, with CandleLover’s paraffin licking my skin as I moaned in agony and ecstasy.

    Neither woman stopped in their torment. Back and forth, CandleLover poured while Diva pounded. On an especially powerful orgasm, my last, when I could take no more, I hooked my feet onto Diva’s shoulders and pushed her out.

    I breathed hard for a few moments, regaining my composure, before gazing at my chest. My torso was covered in wax; it looked like a second skin.

    With the layer to remove, it was time for knives. CandleLover had an assortment, but DeepEnd preferred his own sharp-and-pointy. DeepEnd brought his small pen knife to my skin and lightly scraped the soft substance away. CandleLover, apparently a size queen, produced a six inch blade with a wooden handle for her work.

    As DeepEnd scraped away at my extra layer, he produced a large portion and brought it to my face. I inhaled the creamy sweet scent and smiled.

    Now it was SkinnyBitch’s turn. Gleefully, she knelt down and, using DeepEnd’s knife, slowly and carefully pealed away the wax. CandleLover, however, was not as sweet. She scraped at my flesh, pulling up lots of paraffin, allowing the tip of her blade to graze my skin. Occasionally the wax ripped up the hair from my flesh. I cried out from the pain.

    However, worst of all, CandleLover gave Diva a blade. Diva ran her knife on my skin not to remove the wax but to see me squirm. When it pleased her, Diva randomly slapped my thighs. As SkinnyBitch giggled, removing the wax from my nipple ring, Diva took pleasure in my many torments.

    Meanwhile, for whatever random reason, DeepEnd and MaryLeo decided they wanted to play with Nerf guns. Both took aim and fired at my body, their bulls eye my left nipple. With great accuracy, they hit their target multiple times. I turned my head away to avoid any eye issues, and vacillated between laughing from the Nerf shots and yelping from Diva’s thigh slaps.

    As the ladies finished up my wax removal, DeepEnd and MaryLeo decided to change their target, aiming now for my crotch. On rapid fire, they landed multiple rounds. One of my famous giggle fits ensued.

    As my laughs quieted, Diva’s slaps did not subsist. Instead, she increased the force and frequency of her blows. My throat and body were open from my wax torment and easily fell into cries again.

    Diva had me roll onto my right side. She wanted to attack my ass. With punches to my left butt cheek, she rocked my body on the ground. Instead of my sobs, I began moaning. Punch after punch sent warmth to my abdomen; gasps of painful pleasure escaped my lips.

    I looked up and again saw DeepEnd. Once more, he knelt by my side. Looking down, I saw the brass knuckles on his hand. For a moment, my eyes locked with his, giving my silent approval. DeepEnd and Diva alternated their hits, attacking the one side of my ass with no break from pain.

    Soon my moans changed. My body, which loved the thuddy bursts from their fists, could no longer just exist in the sexual pleasure of their hits. My sobs came back. The tears ran down my face. I took their blows, crying my eyes out as I had done so many times before. When my body could take no more, I turned away, pulling my body into itself. DeepEnd knew me well enough to know it was time to stop.

    I laid on the floor again, breathing heavy. My cries soon quieted. I regained my composure. I came back.

    Standing, I began flicking the wax off my body. I drifted upstairs. The party, which had already half died before my scene, was now on its last legs. People lazed across the couches, sleep soon near.

    PrincessA curled up next to DeepEnd. SkinnyBitch curled up next to PrincessA. MaryLeo took up the other side of the L-shaped couch. I sat on the floor, watching them all. Scurrying upstairs, I grabbed a blanket for the trio, as well as myself. I laid the warmth across their bodies while also wrapping myself up.

    Both DeepEnd and SkinnyBitch rose to bid the last of our guests a safe journey home. PrincessA bade me come close to her. She asked me how I came down from such a powerful scene. I couldn’t give her an answer. I don’t know how I go there or how I come back; I just know that I do and I can.

    PrincessA put her hand on my head and lightly brushed my hair. I laid on the floor next to her, relaxing into her fingers as they played with my strands. Slowly, her hand stopped moving. She had drifted to sleep. I lazed in a half-awake state on the floor next to her, not wanting to wake her.

    A short time later, LooksRDeceiving joined PrincessA on the couch. I took this moment to excuse myself.

    Creeping upstairs, I threw on my pajamas and brushed my teeth. SkinnyBitch had already settled into bed. Diva, DeepEnd, and I ended up meeting in the hallway. Diva would crash with us for the evening. She asked for a wake up once I left for work in the morning. DeepEnd and I bade her goodnight.

    Standing alone in the hallway, DeepEnd and I smiled at one another. Quietly whispered, like many of our conversations that evening, he asked if I had a good night. With naughty-girl-glee in my eyes, I said, “It had its moments.” He grinned a little wider at my remark. We hugged, close, long, and hard, and then said goodnight.

    It was 4:30am and I had to be up at 8:30am for work the next day.