poeticdesires

Category: Fusion

  • My Thoughts

    Going into Fusion, I knew I wanted an abduction.  I had previously attempted one at the last Fusion, but instead called off the scene. 

    For this year, I chose my friend N3rddom to organize and coordinate the affair with my approved captors to make this scene happen.

    As part of the process, N3rddom asked me to send him an email outlining my thoughts and ideas included in the multiple conversations we had leading up to the event.

    The following is the email I sent him.

    Fusion Abduction Ideas

    – Sunday

    I will leave the entirety of my Sunday free. Any classes I may want to attend I will inform you of, and should I deviate from said schedule I will text/call you immediately. This leaves the whole day for you to plan.

    After much thought, I’d rather the abduction happen on the last day. It will build up the anxiety and I will not have to worry about being so worn out from the scene that I’d have to cancel anything after it.

    [Note: I opened up both Saturday and Sunday due to scheduling conflicts from both myself and my captors.]

    – Clothing

    For the day, I will wear destroyables (save my bra) which can be torn, cut, or burned off of me. These scraps may be given away as trophies, left to me as mementos, or a combination of the two.

    – “Hey pretty girl.”

    I imagine the participants tormenting me all day with the code phrase, “Hey pretty girl.” This would be their greeting, and I would be obligated to come over and speak with them warmly, never knowing if this is the time when my abduction starts.

    – Participants

    List of people ok-ed to participate. I left you out because, well, that is obvious.

    1- Gray; 2- Murphy; 3- Slut; 4- SirRonC; 5- DarianIlRe; 6- BlackBeard; 7- DeepEnd; 8- Lochai; 9- Lqqkout; 10- PrudeNate; 11- CandleLover; 12- SkinnyBitch; 13- Celeste

    If you would like to have someone not listed participate, please run the name by me before Fusion and I will give a yes or no. No one may enter the scene unless I give pre-approval.

    Entering the scene also includes watching the scene in my eye line and talking/speaking so that I can hear them. If others wish to watch that I have not preapproved, they MUST STAY SILENT AND OUT OF MY FIELD OF VISION.

    People absolutely not allowed include X, Y, and Z.  [Names redacted out of courtesy.]

    – Aftercare

    Aftercare will need to be, at minimum, water and human contact for ten minutes to possibly include hugging, cuddling, head stroking, back rub, etc. If it is chilly, a blanket would be preferable or one of my hoodies.

    Names of possible aftercare folk: 1- Amethyst; 2- RockStarIsis; 3- Celeste (talk of hair time); 4- persons listed above if they wouldn’t mind/could do it after being in that dark headspace.

    – The Scene

    “Hey pretty girl,” a friend says to me. I walk over and greet them, chatting happily.

    Then, either through brutal force (knock me off my feet) or slick threats (knife to the throat; arm bar; etc) I am restrained.

    You mentioned you’d like the use of a hood. Whatever way you choose, I want my eyes to be covered and my wrists & ankles restrained. This will take, at minimum, five people. (Note: Please take care with my glasses.)

    I am carried off, either on people’s shoulders, dumped into the trunk of a car, the back of a cart, etc. I will, most likely, be crying, pleading for help, etc. BE FOREWARNED: I may fight back, hard.

    I am eventually dumped on the ground somewhere in the woods, or just in the grass in the middle of camp, or by the lake; it is somewhere different. I am restrained to a tree or rock or something to keep me from running away. Of course this assumes you don’t want me to run away in panic. If you do, dump me, I’ll stumble up, etc.

    When I am finally bound/circled to where the hurt can begin, I can be punched, face slapped, kicked, elbowed, flogged, caned, whipped, spanked, scratched, hair pulled. NO ELECTRICAL.

    I have a phobia of my nipples being torn off. You may pinch and twist, but NO NIPPLE CLAMPS.

    Cigar play is allowed.

    Breath play is allowed.

    No watersports or scat. No vomit. No spit.

    You asked about insults. Anything sexual is allowed (cunt, whore, slut, bitch, etc.). However insulting my intelligence or my body will not fly. I will most likely end the scene right there, or at the very least call black [see Safewords below]. Taunts are fine. Interrogations are awesome.

    You may force me to do sexual acts (oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, hand jobs, fingering, fisting, titty fucking), but all parties must be wearing proper STI barriers and there must be lube if there is anal. Strap-ons are more than welcome, as well as vibrators.

    (Exceptions to barriers if the receiver so wishes: Oral sex with Gray, Murphy, Helen, & Darian; also Gray has fisted me once without gloves or lube, he may do so again if he wishes)

    You had talked about walking away and leaving me “alone” to cry and wail for help; this is an option if you would like.

    Speaking of, common sense reigns the day on all things: no broken bones, no face bruises, no burns that will last more than a week.

    Knives are good. No cuts to the face.

    If you come up with other ideas, as always feel free to run them by me and I’ll give a yea or nay.

    – Safewords

    I want to follow the traffic light standard:

    Green means “good/keep going”. Yellow means “give me a moment” or “check in with me” or “not that implement/act” or “stop using that on me now”. Red means “END THE SCENE NOW”! I hope to not Red.

    (Added variations: Beige means “I’m bored/speed it up.” Black means “headspace trouble; check with me.” Orange means “I’m getting close to done.”)

    – Conclusion

    I hope this answers a lot of your questions. If you have any more, please ask.

    Reminder: This will be my first abduction, so I do not know how I will react or how long I will last.

    Hopefully this will be a lot of fun and a scene I am never going to forget.

  • Storm

    I could feel it coming. I had just gotten out of the shower, just washed away the sweat of the hot hot Friday, when I could just feel it. A storm was coming.

    Stepping outside onto the back porch, the wind had started to swirl. The skies had turned ominous. I think, then, everyone knew it was coming.

    The heat broke in a spectacular fashion as the heavens opened up and poured out rain. The winds were like the breath of God, battering tents and outside encampments. 

    After closing and locking all the windows, we all rushed to help who we could, bringing in tenters’ things, trying to dismantle the outside bar, and tossing folks chairs into our cabin.

    And then came the hail. Beating on my back, along with the heavy rain, I almost couldn’t believe it. Nature was not happy with us this evening. When it became too much, when my bare skin cried for an end, a ran back inside, hoping we’d done enough.

    The power went out. I clung to my crank flashlight. I was still naked, now drenched again.

    As I looked around our cabin, I realized not everyone was present. Where were SkinnyBitch & DeepEnd? They’d left for a walk before the storm started. Alice thought she saw SkinnyBitch take an umbrella.

    And then my thoughts drifted to all the others I cared about. Where were Big Bro & Slut? Where were Gray & his companion? I texted; no answer.

    I started freaking out. Where are my friends?  Are they okay? 900 people and no power.

    I laid on my bed, gripping Tessie tight, my flashlight still on, rocking myself back and forth.

    I got a text; Gray checking in. A part of me was relieved. 

    SkinnyBitch & DeepEnd returned; they had taken refuge in a friend’s cabin. Even more relief.

    And then DeepEnd talked of the reactions of the men in the cabin: seeing tree branches fall on tents and immediately running out to see if there were any people inside.

    I got very angry. Yes, he was okay. I could see he was okay. But what if one of the very large falling trees had fallen on him. He hadn’t run out on purpose; it was reaction. It was one of the reasons why he was a good friend, that instinct to help others. Still, I wanted to smack him.

    I laid back on my bed. I was still waiting for a check-in from Big Bro & Slut. Nothing.

    I heard people talking of another front coming. Inside, I panicked.

    And then I stopped. I heard people laughing and joking. There was mention of alcohol.

    Yes, I need to drink. Drinking sounds good. But something else. What else would soothe me? Rope.

    I pulled out my gifted hemp and wrapped it around my chest, waist, and thigh. I donned my kimono, which I’d never worn before, along with its obi. I pulled back my hair, securing it tightly in a bun. The constriction of the rope on my body, the obi around my waist, and my hair pulled back made me feel better.

    I cracked open a can of Sparx and joined my cabinmates outside.

    People chatted, laughed, drank, smoked. I sat, listening, trying to feed off their lighthearted energy.

    DeepEnd pulled me aside and showed me something I would appreciate: an incredibly large wolf spider in the back of our next door cabin.

    Having freed myself from our home, I decided to go visit friends. I made my way to another cabin, sat, and chatted with Lochai, Trailsinner, Bendy, Gray, and other friends. They had cigars and alcohol;  I had a torch and a flashlight.

    When word of the storm front’s clearing passed around camp, I felt immense relief.

    I wondered to the Dungeon, where some lights were on. The building was running off a generator. Inside I saw wayward campers. The members of Oink had been displaced, a very large tree having fallen right on top of their home.

    I sat with those I knew, everyone looking exhausted or frustrated. News of progress for leaving camp filtered in. First trees that blocked the path were getting cut down. Then power lines that had fallen needed to be safely moved. It was projected they wouldn’t be able to leave for hours.

    They settled into waiting more. Cards Against Humanity was pulled out (good call Lqqkout). It used up some of the time.  Sweets and snacks were passed around. 

    And then, mercifully, Big Bro and Slut walked into the Dungeon, soaking wet, with others from the NYC Rope Bomb Crew. They had been bombing when the storm hit, people strung up in trees, with high wind and rain as their adversaries.

    The power was out, trees were down, and a half dozen cars were smashed. But thankfully no one, not a bomber, not an Oink member, no attendee was injured.  My friends were okay. 

    The storm had harmed, but not hurt.

  • No Rush

    He wore Spider Man underwear. Before we even began, I was smiling.

    On the walk to my cabin and then to the Dungeon, I gave Evil Mike a basic run down of how I wanted to proceed.

    He had come to me a few weeks before wanting to be suspended. I had accepted, knowing I needed practice on different body types.

    I informed him we would be chatting throughout; this wouldn’t be sensual or have a D/s dynamic. I would gradually introduce each tie, making sure it fit and felt well on his body. And then there would be the final lift. He could rest in the ties as long as he wanted; no rush.

    We started. As I worked, we chatted about our time at camp.  Mike had just arrived that day. Friday saw an influx of all the rest of the attendees, people with strict jobs or those who just wanted the weekend experience. It was the late afternoon; already he had had good vacation time. I bragged a little about my fun.

    I started with his hip harness. I gave him a Swiss seat and encouraged him to adjust the ropes to work well with his manliness. For his chest, I did three sets of wraps above and below his pecks. Having him lean back, I checked both ties to make sure they felt secure, and then attached them to my ring.

    Moving down to his legs, I used a simple cuff on each. Asking which leg was stronger, I secured the weaker leg’s thigh and lifted the limb. I had him hold onto my ring for support. Bending down, I placed a cuff on his strong leg’s ankle.

    I asked Mike if he was ready. He was.

    I had him sit into the ties, leaning back. I lifted his leg and secured the ankle line to my ring. I asked him which area of his body was supporting the most weight and adjusted the lines accordingly.

    Mike relaxed into the ties for a spell before asking about head support. My adjustment had helped, but he wanted to not have to hold up his head. Using a long strand of rope, I quaded my lines, wrapped the rope around the back of his head, and secured the loop to my ring. It was quick, simple, and perfect.

    Mike lazed in my ties, enjoying the gentle sway. I smiled, happy that I had yet another body in the air, pleased that I’d learned from my first tie and done better on my second, and feeling a teeny tiny bit more confident about my work.

    We chatted more as he enjoyed his rope time. Since one of my playdates had canceled, I was indeed in no rush.

    Eventually, when it was right for him, I slowly let Mike down. My piles of knotted rope littered the ground. “Ropekake!” I squealed in glee.

    As I started cleaning up, I taught Mike how I liked my rope coiled. We both felt great.

    I’d gotten him up; I’d gotten him down safely. Job well done on my second tie of the event.

  • In His Chair

    The cabin was dim, with all the lights out and it being mid afternoon, the Sun on its long slow descent. I sat in his recliner, having only a vague idea of what to expect.

    I’d setup the appointment before camp and settled on a time and day early. I had had a foot massage at the last Fusion a year ago, and having found the experience enjoyable jumped at the opportunity for another, albeit with someone else.

    He provided a fan that blew on me during the entire session. It gave a comfort from the sweltering heat.

    He sat at my feet, took off my shoes, my socks, and began.

    I apologized for the last of my dark purple polish still remaining on my nails. I’d read on his profile that he didn’t like dark polishes. He brushed off my concern.

    He started with a cleaning. A warm bath. A scrub. Even with the heat of the day, it felt wonderful, soothing.

    He then dipped my feet into hot wax. Hot, but not too hot. He bagged each foot. He reclined my seat back. I was already beyond words, lost in his pampering.

    After a time, he pulled off the bags. My feet felt fresh, new.

    And then he asked if I wanted foot worship. I did.

    He pressed. He bit. He sucked on my toes. He gnawed at my feet.

    I am not a foot person. I love boots. I love licking, caressing, being fucked by boots. But I am not a foot person.

    However, when he sucked on my toes. When he bit my feet. My arches. I squirmed in the way I always do when I play. I moaned. I yelped. I sighed. I loved every minute of it.

    When he finished, he returned my chair upright. My socks and shoes back on, he thanked me and I thanked him.

    He had reveled in his fetish. I had enjoyed the ride. I floated away from his cabin higher than I imagined I would be.

    If he returns to Fusion, I will definitely make another appointment to sit in his chair.

  • 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…

  • Fate

    He looked surprised to see me.

    “Why are you here?  I thought you were going to Chey and Stefanos’ class.”
    “Well, I was going to go their class, but I’ve never been to this class. And the only reason why I was going to their class was because I thought they were hot and that didn’t seem like a good enough reason.”
    “It sounds like a good enough one to me.”

    Still, I hesitated.

    “Pick a number between one and a thousand.”
    “Twenty-five.”
    “That’s not it; go to the class.”
    “Zero.”
    “No. We can do this, but you’ll be here for a while.”

    I had another solution.

    “Does anyone have a quarter?”

    It was time for fate to decide. 

    One of Gray’s attendees didn’t have a quarter, but he had a coin.

    “Tails.”
    “What is it for?”
    “Just flip it.”
    “Okay, but you’ve made the decision.”

    He flipped his coin. It landed on tails.

    I started walking away.

    “Oh, I see how it is.”
    “But you told me to go.”
    “Yes, go. I mean nothing to you.”
    “You’re mean,” I whimpered.

    Gray smiled his wry knowing grin.

    I trudged off up the hill towards the Dungeon.

  • Bondage Bullfight

    “You are using the rope to deliver your message; your receiver is your bottom, not your knot.”

    At the front of the class stood a whiteboard. The bottoms faced the back, unable to see what Dart, the presenter, wrote. The tops read the word and began.

    My class partner started softly, slowly. Immediately there was intense eye contact. Easing in closer, they pressed their body against mine and wrapped their rope around me.

    Bringing my arms up, they tied my limbs in front of me in an almost prayer position. They hugged me from behind. I felt safe, loved.

    Nuture.

    For the second word, the mood in the Pavilion immediately turned cold. My partner took the rope, which they had previously unwound from my body, and used the fibers as a whip, stinging lashes across my skin.

    “Do you like this?”
    “Yes,” I squeaked through yelps and cries, finding some solace in the catharsis of the pain.

    Quickly working, they cinched their rope around me tight, the fibers biting into my skin. They dragged the rope across my body, burning brutally.

    They pulled my hair. They forced me down to the ground. Their boots pressed harshly into my body.

    They tied one arm above my shoulders, the other below. And they tightened. And tightened. And tightened. I screamed. I cried. I dove into the pain.

    Dart told everyone to stop. He wrote something else on the board. We bottoms didn’t see this as well.

    And then everything changed.

    My partner slowly began untying their bindings. They eased my arms from their ropes. Again they pulled the rope across my body, but this time sweetly, soothing my skin.

    They joined me on the floor, laying their body against mine. They began caressing my hair. With a bunch of the rope in their hand, that massaged it against my face. With their body and the rope about me, I felt safe again.

    When Dart brought the group back together, my partner and I never stopped touching each other. Some part of me was always touching them; we needed to remain connected.

    As we began to talk about our scenes, what we noticed, how things affected us, Dart began with a rather surprising comment towards myself and my class partner:

    “You two over here almost brought me to tears. That’s a lot coming from a gay man.”

    People spoke about letting themselves fall into the words given, turning off parts of their brain to allow the scene to go where it needed.

    I spoke about the change in how my partner drew the rope across my body, the same action but with opposite motivations. How something so basic can be performed in vastly different ways.

    The second word Dart wrote: Ruin.

    Dart’s final words: I’ll Protect Your Forever.

    Class dismissed.

  • At That Moment…

    …my head was on his right boot. His left boot was on my back. I was naked, except for the ass hook in my ass. I was…pleased.

    At that moment, I heard him typing on his Mac, his goal near accomplishment.  And once he hit publish, he removed his left boot and turned the screen towards me.

    “I may misdirect, but I never bluff.”

    There it was, emblazoned on my blog. A momento of our scene. A token to symbolize the hour and a half we spent together, both of us gaining information.

    My arms were tired. My legs were tired. My nipples were sore. My clit was still warm. My head was still stuffed up.

    He let me put my head in his lap, rubbed my back, and caressed my hair. I didn’t need him to fetch anyone else. We remained there as we both came back.

    “I like your tummy,” I said. I just felt like saying it.

    He needed water. I crawled away from him, the glint of metal still in my ass as I swiveled my hips in my task. I stumbled a little, but made my way into the Dungeon, found his refreshment, and brought it back. My head returned to his lap.

    After a while, I sat back and smiled. I laid against the blue matts. We just kind of looked at each other for a bit.

    “You still have an ass hook in your ass.”
    “Yes I do.”

    It had been intense. More than intense. I had pushed myself further than I ever expected I could. I loved that he pushed me.

    And then he revealed a little secret: the pepper wasn’t a habenero, but it burned enough all the same.

    As we eventually gathered up our things, my riped off clothing and his toys, he wanted to try one more stimulus.

    He had three small hooks. One went into my nose. The other two went into the sides of my mouth. Using rope, he pulled them all taut.

    “I guess I shouldn’t have taken the ass hook out.”
    “No, you shouldn’t have.”

    I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to. I had no idea how much I would love it. Love it. But he was cleaning up, putting away his toys and recoiled rope. We were winding down. I was being polite, too polite.

    Something else to try, next time…

    Oh, and he found his Ow stick. It was in the grass, hidden by the dim light. He gave me matching ow’s on each of my breasts. Two more bruises as trophies from our scene.

    [For context (or for those who happened to miss it): At The Moment…]

  • Interrogation part 4

    Let’s review.

    It was a dripping-sweat-hot Thursday night.

    I had invited Gray to have an interrogation scene.

    For my trouble, I found myself tied tight in 4mm hojo rope, partially suspended with only my left leg for support. I wore heels and stood on two overlapping matts, both contributing to my general lack of stability.

    My arms were behind my back, my right thigh up in the air. My clothes were cut and riped off of me through his chest tie. There was a metal ass hook in my rear attached to my hair.

    A piece riped off from my outfit served as a gag. In that gag sat a habenero pepper, which I was instructed to not drop. If I did, there stood a threat of mean pincers or large gauge needles to keep it in.

    Nipple clamps dangled from my chest, their chain looped through my gag. If I bent my head forward, I pulled on the ass hook. If I bent my head back, I pulled on my nipples.

    Oh, and in the process of Gray’s layering of stimuli, I had been paddled, caned, kicked, slapped, and punched.

    All this, and Gray hadn’t even gotten to his inquiry yet.

    Pulling up a metal folding chair, Gray sat down just on the outside of the blue matts. He opened up his Mac and went to my blog, this blog.

    He then went to the blogger home page, typed in one of my email addresses, and asked one simple question, “What’s your password?”

    I stayed silent.

    Gray reassured me I would know exactly what he would post. He pulled up WordPad and began writing his diatribe.

    It was mean, calling out multiple riggers I knew, including him, and saying many not nice things, mentioning how I didn’t need them anymore since for this event I was now rigging others myself.

    Gray was especially hurtful towards himself, mocking his personality and his physical features, specifically his stomach.

    He said he was going to post that on my blog. All he needed was my password.

    Finished typing, he looked up at me and again asked for the information.

    In many things I am open. I write a lot about my life, both kinky and not, on this blog. But somethings I am protective of, one of them being my passwords. I use upper and lowercase letters, numbers, symbols, and I throw in a word. I like knowing and feeling secure about my Internet privacy.

    But here Gray was, sitting on a metal folding chair, Blogger up, wanting to know information I have never told anyone, ever.

    I hesitated. Looking at the email address he listed, I realized it was the wrong one for my blog. He had typed my kinky email address, which I’d acquired after I’d begun the blog.

    I didn’t want to give away more than I had to, and if I’d given up the password to the wrong address, that probably would’ve incurred yet more wrath from my captor.

    Through the gag, I was able to spell out the correct email address. But Gray still needed the password. Again, I hesitated.

    Sensing my unwillingness, even strung up and over stimulated as I was, Gray upped the ante. Using his blade, he cut off the tip of the pepper and made a small V.

    “This can easily go on your clit. What’s the password?”

    Reluctantly I said the first few characters, but then stopped. Angered, Gray put the tip of the pepper on my right nipple. Crying still more, I coughed up the rest of the information.

    But it didn’t work.

    Gray asked for it again. I spat it out through the gag, but it still didn’t work. He typed it over and over.

    I suspected he had one of those programs that blocks a site from loading, just another layer of mindfuck. He typed out the password, showed it to me, and submitted once more; nothing.

    He thought I was fucking with him. He thought I was misdirecting. He thought I was lying. I swore to him that I wasn’t lying, swore to him that I didn’t know what was going on.

    In the swirl of emotions, the pepper top dropped. Gray picked up the piece, rubbed its juices on his hand, and massaged my clit. The burning was immediate, as were my sobs.

    I didn’t understand why it wasn’t working. I told him that was the correct password.

    But then, in a flash, it occurred to me: maybe I wasn’t remembering it all. I use a mnemonic device to recall the intricacies of my passwords. Maybe I skipped something or used a number instead of a letter. Maybe I genuinely got it wrong.

    I asked him to switch a number and a letter; nothing. I asked him to try a different variation; zilch.

    Finally we’d tried enough times to enter a password that Blogger asked a security question. This, thankfully, I did remember. I gave him the answer and he was in.

    He closed his Mac, stood up, and began letting me down. He removed the pepper and the gag. He slowly lowered my right leg, which had gone numb. I cautiously put weight on it. He released my chest tie from the arch and slowly helped me to the ground.

    Unclamping my left nipple, I screamed; intense pain surged in my breast.

    “The right’s going to be worse.”
    “I know; just do it!”

    Again my cries filled the tent, echoing out over the lawn.

    “You know, my nipples, they never went numb.”

    He unwound his rope, my arms and hands numbed as well. Finished, he sat back in his metal chair. He instructed me to come and put my head on his boot.

  • Interrogation part 3

    “Yes, this will work great.”

    Having taken off his gloves, Gray again pulled out his butterfly knife. After examing my gag and approving of his plan, he cut two slits into the very damp piece of fabric.

    He then pulled out the pepper.

    I had heard the story earlier. One of my cabinmates had taken a class, presented by Dart earlier that day, in which Gray had on the spot volunteered for a demo.

    It started with Gray doing pushups, but that proved too easy. Dart had Gray stop, holding plank position. Dart then pulled out a pepper, that pepper, and put it into Gray’s mouth. Dart then used two long pieces of duct tape to keep Gray’s mouth closed and the pepper in place.

    For added measure, some mousetraps below Gray were also thrown in. Dart called this “introducing stimuli.” For his troubles, Gray received the pepper. Lucky me.

    “This is a habenro pepper.” He slipped the pepper into the slits he’d created in my gag.

    “Don’t bite down. And don’t drop this. If you drop this, I will use these.” Gray unzipped his little green pouch and pulled out one of its many treats, two very mean looking pincers.

    “And if not the pincers, I have large gauge needles. You know how those work. I go in at the top lip, out, through the bottom lip, out, and I bend up the needle, so you can’t open your mouth.”

    There was no way I was dropping that fucking pepper.

    “How’s that support leg?” Gray, ever the nice guy, kicked my left leg multiple times. I took the pain, bopped around, and then made myself stand up tall in an attempt to breathe easier.

    The one thing I had going for me was the heat, so thick you could cut it with Gray’s blade. For as long as I stood, with most of my weight on my left leg, I should have been in more pain. And though my treadmill time probably was also an aid, I’m sure the extreme heat helped keep my left leg from cramping.

    But wait, there is always more…

    Seeing me stand up, balacing on my heel, Gray wanted to add one more layer of stimulus. When he came back with the nipples clamps, the cursing began even before he put them on.

    As soon as he attached the clamp to my right nipple, I immediately started sobbing. My cries before from his blows were yelps and grunts, moans and sighs. This now was just straight tears and snot running down my face. It was some of the worst pain of my life.

    For an added bonus, Gray looped the chain of the clamps around my gag before attaching to my left nipple. Now if I bent my head forward I pulled on the ass hook, but if I bent my head backward I pulled on the nipple clamps.

    “Don’t worry. Your nipples will go numb in about ten minutes.”

    They never went numb.

    Such a sadistic fuck. And we weren’t done yet.