The final installment of my Fusion adventure.
Picture Links
Time Jumps
1:40 Tradition
2:24 Uncensored Improv Games
3:26 Kinky Life Drawing
6:00 Humiliation
8:17 Bare Stories
10:37 Back Patch
11:27 CBC
13:40 In Demand
15:27 Stefanos
16:44 Another Rain Check
18:10 Wrap Up
“I don’t have that effect on people.”
“Now I have to call bullshit.”
We sat in the Dining Hall. It was Monday morning, the final moments of camp upon us.
I was tired, having spent another late night out. I’d already finished eating my meal and was relishing the last few minutes I had before I was relegated to breakdown crew.
We chatted about nothing important at first. Movie reviews, mostly, of upcoming films. It was talk for the sake of hearing each other speak. I loved the sound of their voice.
And then we slipped into an actual meaningful conversation.
I finally had a retort for them. They had previously suggested that my going to so many events and having a grueling work schedule would keep me from having the life I wanted to live.
“I think that’s bullshit. What if I meet my Daddy at an event?”
“What if you’ve already met your Daddy? What if they met you, but they saw your life and said, ‘She’s too busy to start a relationship’?”
“That wouldn’t happen.”
“Why?”
“Cause I don’t have that effect on people.”
“Now I have to call bullshit.”
They used the perfect argument, an interaction I’d had just minutes before.
“If I told you, months ago, when you first met X, that you would end up playing with them, being at their side for most of a night, you wouldn’t have believed me.
“They came into this Dining Hall, sought out you, only you, and made it a point to hug you, thank you for that night, and say bye to you.
“Do you really think you don’t have an effect on people?”
Okay, I had to admit my excuse was bullshit.
But their argument opened up a whole bucket of worms. Yes, I want a certain life, but how much of me has to change to get it? I didn’t want to think about that quandary.
I wanted, truthfully, to hug them and fuck them in their chair til I came, screaming out their name. But there are no scenes in the Dining Hall.
Again, I was left with no other response.
But my time was also up. I had to go to work. We hugged bye, knowing we’d see each other in a few months.
My Fusion was full of amazing moments, from heartfelt to hard cocks, hard points and punches. Friends, chosen family, crushes and curses. A storm, so many scenes, and everything in between.
He stood beside me for a moment before his turn. He asked for a light for his cigar, which I gratefully gave.
Sitting down in my chair, the din of the event fell away. I picked up his boot and placed it on my thigh. I unlaced his leather and began working.
I was still in the bar shine mindset. I made myself slow down. I made myself take care with his leather. I cleaned each of his boots twice, making sure I massaged the flesh beneath the leather.
As I worked, he blew cigar smoke into my face and ran the cherry of his tobacco delicately near my skin. The intensity of our interaction increased.
He ashed into his hand and brought his palm to my eye line.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
I took his hand into mine and licked up the flecks. Some ash spilled onto his thigh. His hand clean, I bent down and licked the ash off of his leather kilt, all the while nuzzling my face into his crotch.
His kilt free of ash, I sat back. He flashed me momentarily. I gave a smile, but got back to work. I’d already cleaned his boots once and not gotten to the polish; I didn’t want to get sidetracked again.
As I reached down for my polish supplies, he stood, placed his boot on my thigh, and pointed. I bent my head down and licked all over his leather. I kissed. I caressed my face.
Satisfied, he sat back down, but then placed his boot in between my legs, applying intense pressure onto my clit. With the force of his weight behind him, he merely pulsed his boot as he fucked me with his leather.
I leaned back in my chair, moaning rather loudly. I begged permission to cum. He gave it. He allowed sweet warmth to pass through me three times, my hips bucking with the rhythm of his leather, before he ceased his delicious torment.
As I rode his boot, as I sunk into my ecstasy, I forgot about anything else going on around me.
When finally he stopped, I raised my head back up, regained my breathing, and got back to servicing his boots. I cleaned where his leather had met my pussy. I asked him what polish he preferred; Lincoln.
I pulled out my tin and popped it open. I rubbed the dark substance and applied some polish to his leather.
He took the tin from my hand. He built up saliva on his hand, so much so some dripped from his lips, rubbed his hand into my polish, and applied it to his leather.
Moving his hand to my face, his fingers rubbed my lips. My mouth parted and I sucked on his fingers, sucked like I knew he wanted me to suck on his cock. I could hear him moan from my mock fellatio.
Upon his request, I put the tin in my mouth between my teeth. I vigorously worked the polish from the tin into his boots. I buffed his leather.
Taking my brush from me, he licked the bristles and buffed his toe caps. Once again I followed his lead, licking my brush and buffing his heel caps.
“Now you are in my leather.”
And you are in my polish.
“I can wait; she’s worth waiting.”
“Now you know what it’s like to be a presenter; everyone wants a piece of you.”
After the Dirty Pig Leather Contest, I packed up my kit and headed down to the Cigars and Services event in the Pavilion. It had already been underway for a bit, but I was the first bootblack to arrive. After retrieving a few chairs, I made a place for us at the edge of the stage, opened my kit back up, and waited.
While arranging the bootblack area, I happened to bump into SirRonC. He introduced me to his friend, Prophet, and inquired if I was doing cigar service for anyone. I informed him I was not, but that I was bootblacking at the front.
I ate ash from Prophet’s hand, a new experience for him. I also offered to check on him throughout the night to see how he was doing.
My first set of boots was a fellow classmate from earlier that day. As I worked on his boots, we chatted. His leather was new and needed little attention other than a standard cleaning and conditioning. My services were soon complete and he was on his way.
As I waited at the bootblack station for my next pair to work on, Rabbit approached. He was to be another bootblack for the event. He left to retrieve his kit and came back as I was working on my next pair.
My next set of boots were far more difficult than my first.
Pendragon sat down in my chair. As I looked on his leather, I silently cursed. He had been working to help bring the camp back from the storm. As such, his leather was beyond dirty.
I worked hard to clean all the mud and grass from his boots. I earned my tip from him.
As I worked on Pendragon’s boots, I heard people behind me. One voice I recognized was Stefanos. He was to be next in my chair.
At least, I thought he was to be next.
Once I finished Pendragon’s boots, his companion, who had quietly sat on the stage floor next to him, sat in my chair. Neither her nor Pendragon informed me she also needed my service.
Stefanos was not put off. “I can wait; she’s worth waiting.”
I informed Pendragon’s companion that I would be right back. I wanted to check on Prophet since it had been a spell since I last saw him.
As I stood up to step away, Gray, who had been chatting with Stefanos behind me, grabbed my attention for a moment.
“Now you know what it’s like.”
“What?”
“Now you know what it’s like to be a presenter; everyone wants a piece of you. Just remember, keep something for yourself.”
I took his comment with a grain of salt and rushed off to find Prophet. He was indeed good. His cigar was near finished, with no ash for me to eat though. I politely asked to be released from assisting him, my bootblacking obligation being more than I initially realized. He graciously agreed.
Back at my station, I worked on the companion’s boots. These were her first pair and they were beautiful. I consulted with Rabbit as to how I should condition them. Once done, both she and I were pleased with the results. She walked away happy.
And then Stefanos sat down in my chair…
It was raining only a little, ever so lightly, as D3 and I setup our space.
As we sat, waiting for anyone to sit in our chairs, Chey came over and sat in my seat. She wore shoes and didn’t want them blacked. But she did need them cleaned, having walked through the dirt and mud throughout her Sunday.
I used my saddle soap and towel to clean off her shoes, giving extra attention to massaging her foot as I worked.
Once finished, I turned back around in anticipation of the show.
“May I play with your hair?”
I gave my permission. She softly pet my mane, lacing her fingers through my strands. Quite quickly I was in my happy floaty place.
“I love your hair.”
I loved her hands in my hair.
~
“Have any of you heard of the red and blue parade?”
I sat on a piece of fabric on the ground. D3 and I had setup a bootblack station on the side of the small hill next to the Barn stage. He worked on a difficult pair of boots; aside from Chey, I had no customers for my evening.
SherynB, who was hosting the Dirty Pig Leather Contest, was stalling for time. Contestants needed to prep for their pop fantasies, and, with over a hundred people watching, time needed to be killed.
“I want you to come up here and show us your bruises.”
She didn’t need to tell me twice.
I popped up off the fabric and galloped onto the stage.
However, someone had beat me to the limelight. I stood upstage as Sheryn asked them how they’d received their marks.
And then it was my turn.
I stepped to downstage center, lifted my dress up above my cleavage, took two steps to my left, twirled, and then walked back to SherynB, who asked me the obligatory question.
“Well Monday night was biting while fisting, as well as Tuesday morning. I had an interrogation, a kidnapping…”
“Ladies and gentleman, Dirty Pig contestant number six!”
My eyes grew wide. I think my hands went up to my face as I cutely cowered. I very quickly, and sheepishly, scurried off the stage and back to the fabric on the hill.
~
Once, towards the end of the competition, I looked over and saw D3 playing with his knife. He held it inside his mouth, never touching his tongue, cheeks, or lips.
With the show ended, he packed up his kit. Slightly concerned, I asked him if he was okay. He explained he didn’t care for the show; that was all.
He then informed me he was leaving camp; this was it for him. As he sat in his chair, I got up on my knees to hug him. He sunk back down to the ground onto his knees for our bye.
We kissed, his lips and tongue now familiar. He sucked and played with my ring. He bit me a little. And we hugged.
As he walked away, I consoled myself with the fact I would see him at The Floating World.
And then it hit me: I liked him. Crap.
For a moment, it felt like my camp drop had started.
But I still had the rest of my Sunday night, and a pair of boots to attend to. I packed up my kit and headed down to the Pavilion.
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.
“I like her. Can we take her home?”
Even though I was tired, having only gotten about three hours of sleep, there was no way I was going to miss the first class session Sunday morning.
I got up, quickly showered, put on my gray cotton stretch dress with mesh cut outs, laced up my boots, and almost skipped to the upper fire pit class tent. I was the first to arrive for WhipMasterBob and Bootpig’s Puttin The Boot To Them.
I greatly enjoyed the lessons they taught in nonverbal communication using just your boots, but my favorite part of the presentation was the last thirty minutes.
The duo always left this time for student requests. Coming into the lesson, what did we expect to learn? From those answers, they would provide us with the final bits of information.
The consensus in the class was a desire to learn about rough body play with the boot.
Bootpig laid on a soft mat in the middle of the class benches. WhipMasterBob stood above her and spoke about different areas of the body to target. He stood on different parts of her body, suggesting that tops have something to hold onto to keep their balance.
But then he stopped. Bootpig was having back issues and could not demo the rest of the information. Could he have a volunteer from the class?
My hand shot up.
He waved me onto the mat. I got on all fours in front of Bootpig, who then didn’t move off the mat.
“Oh, am I in your way,” I asked.
“No honey. I’m just enjoying the view.” Yeah, I wasn’t wearing any underwear…
Bootpig complimented my ass before sitting on another mat to watch the rest of the demo.
Lying down on the center mat, WhipMasterBob now loomed over me. He spoke about how I’d positioned my body on the mat. I was flat on my stomach, my arms above my head, exposing my ribs. He then gave some swift kicks with the side of his boot to my torso.
Stepping towards my rear, he stood on my back, pushing my body into the mat.
Using the toe of his boot, he struck the lower portion of my ass with an upward angle. I started to softly moan as my hips ground into the mat with each of his strikes.
“Your welcome,” he said.
With that as a warm up, WhipMasterBob had one more lesson to teach.
Slipping the toe of his boot under my clit, he inched farther and farther under me until my entire crotch was on his boot, my pussy right against laces. Using his other boot, he gyrated my ass, having me hump his leather. My moans grew loud as I rode his boot.
And then he stopped.
“What? I’m a Sadist.”
The other students in the class groaned for me. Someone saw my pout and advocated to our instructor. WhipMasterBob looked down at my face and ah-ed.
“Can you beg with your eyes?” I did. “That’s pretty good. Okay.”
His boot was again on my ass, rocking my body against his leather, fervently humping his boot. As I moaned, I still felt the need to ask permission, but couldn’t quite get out the words. WhipMasterBob, ever the experienced Dom, understood my garbled request.
“Yes, you may.”
“Thank you,” I panted.
And right there, in the middle of class, I humped his boot and came.
D3 stripped naked, save for his boots. I wore only a black strapless dress, a cute pair of underwear, and my boots. I told D3 how I like it when people take off my clothes.
“Mean or nice?”
“Whichever.”
He stepped in close. We kissed, our arms wrapped around each other.
He began punching me. I slowly, blow by blow, backed up into the wall of the cage. I looked into his eyes as his punches landed on my chest, my arms, my thighs.
He kissed me, turned me, and then stripped off my dress, unzippering the back and quickly peeling it off my body. He left my boots and underwear on.
He punched my back, my ass. Using the toe of his boot, he kicked my thighs. He swung his leg and landed his boot across my ass.
Grabbing my hair, he pulled me to the ground. Lying on my stomach, he put his boot by my face.
“Lick it,” he demanded.
My tongue traced up, down, and around his leather as he continued to punch my back.
Using his boot, he flipped me over. He loomed above, stepping onto my body, using the cage for balance until he could apply his full weight. Adjusting his body, he intensified his weight into his heel, down onto my flesh. Turning my head with his boot, he stepped on my chin line.
Coming down to my level, he chose to sit on my ribs and once again punched my chest. Using his elbow, he applied pressure points to my chest and arms. Pulling out a knife, he glided his steel along my chest and over my face. He made me endure more pressure points.
His knife away, he leaned down and once again kissed me. He licked my eyelids. As we continued to makeout, he pulled me on top of him. His body now laid below mine.
In an instant, the dynamic of our scene switched. I kissed him, teased him. I danced my breasts in front of his face. He pinched and sucked on my nipples. I leaned down and bit his neck. He encouraged me to bit harder; I did so. He moaned with my increased pressure.
I kissed him more. Without realizing it, I’d begun grinding my hips on his leg. I was happy my underwear was still on.
Without warning, he hooked his leg and flipped me back onto the mat. Again we kissed. My legs grasped his thigh as I continued to hump his limb.
He sat me up, crossed legged. He punched my thighs more. Using his lead shot mallet, he attacked my back and thighs.
And then he asked a magical question.
“What do you want to do now?”
I answered bluntly.
“Fist me or fuck me.”
We laid down a chuck; he gloved up. I removed my very wet underwear and got comfortable on my back.
We started slow. I asked him if I needed permission to cum. He said I didn’t. I could have as many orgasms as I wanted. “I love to watch people cum.”
I orgasmed a few times before his full fist was in.
Once inside, he used a turning motion to make room, sending my muscles racing. What he thought was to be our final flourish was merely about a third of the way into the fisting. I continued to fuck his hand and cum like crazy, pushing back as he rocked me forward.
Once, during a rather intense orgasm, I lifted my hips up off the ground, bridging my body high. “That was intense,” he remarked.
My ass back down on the ground, I hooked my calves around his elbow and squeezed my thighs. I rode his hand as hard as I could. I came so hard, I cried. I asked him to vibrate his hand, and then came again. He tried to open and close his hand quickly. I stopped him, coaching him instead to do it slowly.
Soon, his wrist tired. He asked me how long I could go. I informed him this was a loaded question, as my record for a fisting was an hour and forty-five minutes with forty-two orgasms (yes, we counted).
He decided, with his wrist about done, it was time to pull his hand out. There was a final flourish, the delicious feel of his knuckles against my pelvic bone when his hand exited.
Ungloving and joining me on the mat, we cuddled and kissed, and almost fell asleep.
He then asked me if I wanted to help him orgasm. I gave a very enthusiastic yes.
I then gloved up as he laid back. As he masturbated, I massaged his asshole. When he came, I caught his cum in my glove and smeared it onto his lips. He licked off his cum, sucking on my fingers, all the while our eyes locked on each other. It was so very hot.
Gloves again discarded, we cuddled more before cleaning up.
When we checked the time, we could hardly believe it was real. We’d started at about midnight. The time had flown by.
We finished at 2:22am.
When I approached the Dungeon, I knew I was arriving a bit early. Since I’d finished my writing with some extra time, I figured I’d just wait for D3’s arrival by the cage.
As I grew closer to the entrance, a small crowd meandered outside. Since I knew the people standing about, I greeted folks and struck up a conversation.
Skywolf and I spoke about bootblacking. He thanked me for aiding Phoenix in learning the basics of the skill, and asked me a specific leather care question. However, since I am still somewhat of a novice, I did not know the answer to his question.
As I spoke with Skywolf, Lynk (ever the ninja) sneaked up on me again. I gave a little yelp as he nipped my neck and then rubbed my shoulders. The group conversation continued as I melted away for a moment, relaxing into his touch. I was grateful his hands helped to soothe away some of my nerves.
When my mind again came back, I ended up giving a brief description of my night thus far to those standing about. Bendyogagirl them commented she suddenly felt her awesome night was not so awesome after all. However, when she described her exploits to me, I disagreed. I thought her escapades sounded like quite the kinky awesomeness.
As much as I would’ve loved to have stayed outside with the group, chatting and socializing, I had a scene to get to.
When I entered the Dungeon, it took me but a moment to find D3. He stood, by the cage, the ever prized play space claimed for us. He explained he’d actually waited and then held the spot just for our play.
As I looked around the Dungeon, I noticed there was a dearth of kinky folk about. When D3 mentioned it was almost time for Midnight Snack, my question was answered.
I set my things aside to use the restroom while D3 cleaned the mats on the floor of the cage. On my walk back, I happened to bump into N3rddom, who asked me what I was up to. I mentioned I was about to have a scene with a cute boy.
“You seem nervous.”
“Yeah.”
“Your voice changed.”
“What?”
“You really like him.”
“I gotta go,” I said, scurrying back towards the cage.
As much as I cared for N3rddom, the last thing I needed was someone pointing out my nerves. I was, to be perfectly honest, incredibly nervous leading up to my scene with D3.
Stepping into the cage, D3 closed the door behind me.
Rushing to head back to the end of the Circus, I ran to my cabin, dropped off my rope equipment, picked up my bootblacking kit, and quickly made my way to the Barn.
When I arrived, the event had already ended. I looked around but could not find Stefanos, who had emceed the Circus.
I spoke with Big Bro, who said I should check his cabin. Taking his advice, I headed in that direction. When I finally found it, after some confusion as to exactly which cabin Stefanos & Chey stayed in, I inquired inside, but still did not find him. Instead I found another girl who said she had a playdate with him as well.
With no other good idea coming to mind, we both headed back towards the Circus.
As I again approached the Barn, we looked around for Stefanos. We eventually found him kissing yet another beautiful girl. This was getting interesting.
As both myself and his cabinmate approached, Stefanos and the other beautiful girl stopped kissing. He took a moment, looked at all three of us, and suddenly realized his mistake.
I, also realizing the situation, could not help but start giggling uncontrollably. It wasn’t the best time for one of my giggle fits, but it was definitely warranted.
Stefanos asked for a moment to go grab his things to prepare for each of our scenes. The three of us sat, chatting, waiting for his return. A permanent smile was plastered on my face.
When he came back, he brought Chey to meet us all. She recognized me instantly. After greeting us, she wished us each good scenes and headed on her way.
Stefanos then asked our trio how we wanted to handle the confusion. I was first to offer an out. I could wait until late for his bootblacking.
He wanted to know what I meant by late. Since I had my midnight playdate with D3, I offered 2:30am. He agreed, thanking me for my understanding.
With now a few hours to kill, i decided to catch up on my journaling. I had the abduction, my bootblacking shift, and my rope time to chronicle.
Slipping into the Barn, I sat on an empty massage table and pulled out my notebook. As I began writing, I heard some people enter behind me. When I looked back, I saw Stefanos and one of the ladies taking a spot on another free massage table. It seemed they would have their scene about twenty-five feet away from me.
As much as I wanted to watch, and I wanted to watch, I made myself turn back around. I made myself write.
As I continued to delve into my memory, the rest of the world melted away. I mined my mind’s caverns, trying to recall small details, memorable bits of dialogue, and multitudes of tiny moments of my adventures.
Later, when someone asked if they could use my massage table for a scene, I quickly hopped off and transitioned to sitting on the stage. When I looked across the Barn, Stefanos and the beautiful girl were gone.
Finished with my writing, I headed to the Dungeon. A cute boy was waiting for me.