poeticdesires

Category: Leather

  • Wednesday

    It was cold enough that I slept with a hat on, my comforter draped over my face.

    When I woke up, it was still chilly.  I let myself snooze under my covers for a spell.

    But then I remembered the book.

    I’m reading an erotic novel for a book review to be published on this blog in one week.  I won’t give anything away just yet.  But what I will say is this: though I was worried I wouldn’t be able to finish reading it before the review was due, I was soon calmed.  The pages are flying by.

    ~

    “A friend sent me a package in the mail.  It’s a piece a leather I’m dying for him.”
    “That sounds nice.  Where does he live?”

    There’s a reason why that was the first question she asked me.

    I recognize it.  Shit, I’ve talked to Doc about it.

    I’m really good at keeping people at arm’s length.  At closing off myself.  Part of my latest session with Doc centered around my caution to open up, my reluctance at letting people take care of me.

    It’s easier in the short term to incite and nurture long distance relationships.  If I don’t open up to someone, if I only give love but never expect it in return, my head thinks my heart is less likely to get to hurt.

    But, over time, I’m left with an emptiness, a longing for a deeper connection than the long distant ones I find myself drawn towards currently.

    As always, I’m working on it.

    ~

    “I swear, if you get your exam back and it’s another 100, I’m gonna slap you right across your face.”

    It’s happening again.

    I’m taking a biology class as well as a chemistry class.  Chem is at 5pm; Bio is at 6:30.

    My chemistry class is a no credit refresher course for people who haven’t taken the subject in quite some time or are at a loss in general with chemistry.

    I’m smart.  I know I’m smart.  My chemistry class at times is challenging, but not really.  I read the material.  I take notes, both from the book and in class.  I study and do all the homework.  I’m doing well.

    My biology class is harder.  It’s actually worth four credits.

    I participate in a study group.  Often my study buddies ask me questions in class or lab; I’m usually able to answer them.  Even though it’s more challenging, I’m getting a 100% in biology currently.

    We just had our first lab exam today.  It was harder than I thought it would be.  I know I stumbled on a few questions, but I anticipate I earned at least a B.

    When I left the lab, I kept telling myself I’d be okay if I just got a B.  I voiced this concern to my study buddies, who themselves were nervous about the test.  And then one of them said that.

    It’s not the first time someone has been almost hostile towards my intelligence.

    I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but it does.  I know he meant it jokingly, but it’s stuck with me for the past four hours.

    Moments like that are why I’m hesitant to tell people how I did on a test.  Why I don’t brag about my accomplishments.  I feel like I need to lessen myself to make them feel comfortable.

    But fuck that shit.  Fuck him for saying it.  Fuck anyone for being pissed that I did well.  I put in the work, motherfuckers.  I put in the work.

    In just over two months, I won’t see any of them again.  I’ll move on to the next science class, a new group of classmates.

    How many of them will despise my intelligence?  How many of them are gonna be dicks because I keep getting A’s?  How many times am I going to have to deal with this shit?

    I’ve got, at minimum, six more years of school.  I guess now is as good a time as any to get used to the bullshit.

  • SEAF

    Daddy’s Baby Bitch

    It was a small sketch, easy to just pass over, easy to miss.  But, as I gazed upon it, blue ink on paper framed, just sitting on a wall, my eyes couldn’t look away.

    She sat on the floor, her head in his lap; her hair cascaded down her back.  It was as if she were holding onto him tight, finding comfort and protection with him there.

    You don’t see him; only his legs and hand are featured.  But you don’t need to.  You see her, her devotion to her Daddy.  It was a simple drawing, small and inconspicuous, but it was my favorite piece.

    Bootlicker

    Hot.  Just so simple, and yet so hot.

    Her eyes closed.  Her tongue sticking out.  Her hands holding up the boot she is licking.  All of her attention, her focus on this one act, for this one person.

    It reminded me of the times I licked boots, and did other things to leather.  As I stood in the gallery, staring at the drawing, all I could do was sigh and rest in my immediate and sustained arousal.

    Two Parts of a Threesome

    They stare out at you, one with his eyes and the other with his presence.  The two of them, both beautiful, staring at you.  Through the lens, they pull you in.  Through the photograph, they grab your eye, your attention, your desire.

    You know who the missing part of the threesome is.

    Burlesque Beauties

    As I strolled around the gallery, I happened upon prints for sale.  Most were out of my price range.

    But then I saw a pack of post cards.  The backgrounds were earth tones, a favorite color scheme of mine, and the small drawings were delightful.  A dozen lovely ladies in various burlesque performance attire.  From the subdued suits to the flashy feathers, each had its own personality and prowess.

    I bought the pack, knowing I wouldn’t ever mail the cards.  These images would be for my enjoyment, my own small pieces of art.

    Gym Socks

    Again, it was something so simple.  Black drawing on a white background.  Very little detail.  More of an outline than a solid sketch.  But the artist uses his sparse lines perfectly, indicating the curve of the body, the form, the nakedness.  Naked, save for the socks.

    Two pony tails fling out to the side and her body is twisted, indicating movement, as if she had just turn away in shyness or, more likely, in glee.  It is simple, yet brilliant.  As soon as I saw it, I thought Yup, that’s me.

    ~

    As I walked around the gallery, taking in the art, I looked down once and saw boots.  Doc Martens.  The signature yellow lacing.  They were immaculate leather, possibly worked on before the patron came out to the showing.

    Their owner was on the other side of the art wall, behind the paintings, drawings, and photos I wandered past.  I never saw who owned the boots, never saw the form above the knee.  Just those pair of boots tempting me behind the wall, whispering for me to get on all fours and lick them.

    ~

    There was art you could touch: a book with pages sown in, a block of ice melting with each new hand on it, a smooth stone with twisting folding forms.  There were performances; the one I happened to catch was of a woman in geisha attire dancing with a fan.  There were films playing on screens.  The one I will never forget involved giving fellatio to a pistol.

    The Seattle Erotic Arts Festival was much more than I expected.  Photographs, paintings, sculptures, films, and live performance pieces spread out over a space for people to mingle and muse as they wished.  I saw a few friends featured, which made me smile.  I was captured in moments, captivated by work that I am still in awe of.

    There are many reasons why I loved my time in Seattle.  SEAF was the icing on the cake.

  • Memories

    The first night of Rope Camp featured Midori’s Meat Market, a fun little event to introduce folks to one another and start the dialogue for play.

    After the get together concluded, I eased my way over to Rough.  He was showing off his Fat Ass Rope, and I wanted a taste of the experience.  I asked for the pleasure, and leaned myself over a nearby table.  Instead, Rough called me over to an open area.

    First he gave me a few whacks, which stung a bit and turned out were his warm up.  He then hit me hard on my back.  Then my ass.  Then my thighs.  And my chest.  I starting yelping and eventually wailing.  I fell to my knees.  In a moment of clarity, I took off my glasses and slid them across the floor towards a small group of friends.

    Rough continued to attack my back as I continued to cry.  He grabbed me, pulled me up to sitting, and wrapped the rope around my neck.  In a moment, his blood choke took hold.  I felt my muscles give way.  He released me before my eyes closed.  A bit of drool leaked from my lips.

    When I brought my head up, when he knew I was back, he began beating me again.  And blood choked me again.  And my muscles gave way again.

    He went for my inner thighs, one of my most sensitive spots.  He regretted not being able to hit my cunt.  His rope was natural fiber and I wasn’t wearing underwear.

    When he finished, I got up, thanked him, introduced him to NYRCherryBondage, and went back to chatting with friends.

    ~

    “Ha ha, I made you have feelings.” – an attendee at Midori’s Negotiations class

    ~

    Sometimes I like to fly under the radar.  I know intrinsically that’s not what’s happening, but in my sub-y mind that’s how it feels.

    Wednesday night a few of us had gathered on a porch for cigars and libations.  I sat in front of Gray and Rough as they smoked and talked.

    Rough’s feet rested on my right leg; Gray’s feet rested on my left.  I always had my torch at the ready, as well as a selection of cutters, boxes of wood matches, and a punch.

    They told stories.  Gray taught MissAmyRed about cigar service.  I sat and listened, content, the occasional small sip of strong Japanese whiskey on my lips.

    ~

    “I am the Dom and you will brush your teeth with your left hand this week.  Ha ha ha.” – Rough, during is D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Friday it rained.  And rained.  And rained.

    I’d wanted to wear my new red leather shoes, but I couldn’t abide getting them muddy.  I opted for my boots instead, which completely changed my outfit for the day.

    As the afternoon came, I decided to do something different.  I grabbed my newly purchased camp chair, took it outside under the pop-up, and pulled out my new voice recorder.

    In the rain, with the pitter patter of droplets above, I recorded a Fusion podcast.

    There was a breeze that made the day cool, blowing the chill of the rain towards me, under my cover.  Because the pop-up had been erected before the turn in the weather, the ground wasn’t muddy in my sitting spot.  I couldn’t help but be happy and bubbly, even as the drops continued to come down.

    ~

    “His desires are my priority and he is where I point my devotion.
    “I am his treasure and I am to be taken care of.
    “He is my King… my dragon.” – MissAmyRed, during Rough’s D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Ropetastic had pimped himself, as well as his two partners, during Midori’s Meat Market.  As per his name, I knew he was into rope.  And I wanted a rope scene.

    I happened upon him in the Barn.  Originally I was chatting with my friend Nomad.  She started spinning my LED poi to make herself feel better, so I took the opportunity to speak to a rope guy.

    As we conversed, I realized we were compatible for a scene.  Since we both had time at that very moment, we headed up to the Dungeon immediately.

    We chose a semi-private spot, what seemed to be a lounge room with a few couches but enough open space for us to work.  I stripped down to my underwear, as did he.

    I explained how I liked to be challenged, how I wanted something different besides normal rope forms.  He expressed a desire to explore ichinawa, which I was all for.  We began.

    He wrapped rope around me in asymmetrical patterns, twisting my body this way and that.  He did not make it pretty, but I loved the pain all the same.  He, at times, pulled on my hair, ran a shrimp deveiner over my skin, sucked on my nipples, and tickled my feet.  He rolled my body this way and that, changed his tie multiple times, added a second length of rope, and always kept me guessing.

    We only played for about thirty minutes, but when all was said and done, I felt high, full of erotic and emotional pleasure from being in his binds.

    ~

    “The greasy basement slave…the dirty basement whore.” – a talk on fantasy versus reality during Rough’s D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Friday night we pushed all three of our beds together.  Saturday morning I awoke to dragon cuddles before breakfast.

    ~

    “I want to be treated like a pile of gold.”
    “You want to be a heavy currency?”
    “I am valuable and worthy of protecting.” – an exchange between myself and Dov after a late night run to Waffle House

    ~

    I felt like a voyeur.  No, worse than a voyeur.  I felt like I was intruding.

    It was obvious there was a connection, a slow building of energy as they writhed on the mats.

    I hadn’t witnessed it all.  At times, I was lost in scritches, lost to the rest of the world.  Pulsing pleasure from my scalp kept my eyes closed, my head bobbing about, speech all but impossible.

    But when I came back, I saw them.  Saw the looks in their eyes.  Heard the yelp, the growl.

    I wanted to sit and watch more.  I didn’t want to look away.  That energy.  That pure energy beamed from the two of them.  And I was only, maybe, five feet away.  Had been there the whole time.

    But I did walk away.  Because I wanted them to have their moment.  Without an audience.

    ~

    “You have a natural ability for connection…You seek out people you can connect with.” – Delano, to me, during his Bottoms class

    ~

    He held the balloon away from my body.  I was dirty, filthy from the grim on the stage.  I don’t like stingy, but I take it for the person I’m playing with.  I take it.  And there was the balloon, tied around my chest, and stretched taunt, ready to snap against my skin.

    He held it.  And held it.  And brought it back without snapping it.

    “Really!?”

    He pulled it out again.  I cringed again.  This time would be for real, I just knew it.  This time the pain would come.  And then he brought it back.

    I laughed and hated him at the same time.

    He used a pretty pink dildo on me.  He beat me with a pretty pink dildo, which stung like hell.  He used a collapsible baton and a plastic rod, too.  He punched me and wrestled me about on the dirty stage floor, attacking my thighs.  But it’s the balloon I remember the worst.

    Talk about sadistic.

    ~

    “If you are open to learning, you are open to deeper experiences.” – Delano, during his Bottoms class

    ~

    I spun my poi in the dark.  Spun my poi away from the group sitting in camp chairs out in the chilly night air.

    I stood in the middle of the road.  A cart came by once; I moved.

    I spun my poi and soothed myself.  I accepted my feelings, accepted that was how I felt.  Acknowledged the sad little girl inside me.  Acknowledged what little power I had over the situation except what I did in that moment.

    I spun my poi.

    Then we went to Waffle House, I ate some food, and went to bed.

  • DGG #19 Fusion 2013 pt 5

    The final installment of my Fusion adventure.

    Picture Links

    Pose #1
    Pose #2

    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

     

     

    listen to ‘019_DGG Fusion 2013 pt 5’ on Audioboo

  • Lessons

    I was driving.  Gray sat in the passenger seat.  I don’t remember how we got on the topic.  Probably one of my random non sequiturs.

    “The thing is, I have this harness now.  But.  But.  It makes me nervous.  I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

    “Don’t you have experience with a strap-on?”

    “Just strap-on blow jobs.  That’s different.  Fun, but different.  Less likely to be harmful.”

    “What about at FetFest?  Our threesome with NYRCherryBondage.”

    “Yes, but that was fucking a vagina.  Asses are more perilous.”

    “Well, you won’t hurt anyone if you listen to them and follow their speed.”

    “Yes.  True.  It’s just, to penetrate a guy.  To have that control.  And I’m not really toppy…”

    “You of all people should know an act is not inherently dominant or submissive.”

    “Yes.  Yes.  I know that.  I know.  It’s just.  It makes me nervous.”

    “Have you watched any videos on Kink Academy or PassionateU?”

    “No,” I squeaked.  He chided me for not taking advantage of resources I get for free.

    “As long as you listen to the person, you’ll be fine.  And just so that you know, yes, I am open to the idea of you pegging me, even though you danced around the subject.”

    ~

    The first time I licked Gray’s asshole was in London, the morning I was heading home.  The last time we fucked for months.  I didn’t even know what I was doing.  I licked and sucked on his balls.  Licked his taint.  Licked a little further.  And then I heard the moan.  It was different than he’d emitted before.  And I knew what I’d done.  I kept going.

    “Show me how dirty a girl you can be.”

    ~

    He stood in his leathers.  I was on the floor, rope harness around me, my hands covered in soap and shoe grease.

    As I worked on his chaps, I sunk down.  Slithered in between his legs.  My ass the last to drop down and through him.

    I sat.  Rested my back against his left leg.  Tilted my head up.  Massaged Black Gold into his leather as my tongue licked from his balls to his asshole.

    He bent down slightly.  Grabbed my hair.  Maneuvered my face how he wanted it.

    Later, when I finished his leathers, he asked, “Do you want to have some more fun upstairs?”

    ~

    At Shibaricon, he sat on my face, ass pressing against my cheeks, as he fucked my tits til he came.

    The night of my birthday, he sat on my face, ass riding my tongue, as he came in NYRCherryBondage’s mouth.

    There is nothing so scary and so arousing as having someone fuck your face, not being able to breathe, and not knowing if they’ll remember to allow you air.

    ~

    He laid on my bed, still in his leathers.  His vest opened out.  His chaps put his cock on display.  His boots rested at the foot of the bed.

    “You need gloves, lube, and dildos.”

    I introduced him to my drawer full of safer sex supplies and masturbatory accoutrement.  I laid the dildos by his side.  Gloved up.  Knelt at the end of the bed.  Held the bottle of lube.  Tried not to shake from nerves.

    ~

    Now I remember how we got on the subject.  It was the butt plug.  The Mr. S Piggy butt plug.

    I asked Gray for anal stimulation in our fucking.  I wanted to get the plug in before next Fusion.  I asked his opinion on masturbating with my introductory plug, smaller than the Mr. S prize.  Any suggestions he had.

    And then I mentioned the harness.

    ~

    He had me lube my fingers.  Lube his asshole.

    “Too much is almost enough.”

    He was specific; press, don’t poke.  I remembered the tip from the two Kink Academy videos I’d watched earlier.

    I pressed my middle finger against his asshole.  I invited it to open.  I pressed, and then felt the release.  I slipped in, just a little.  And then a little more.

    Gray asked for more lube.  I reapplied lube, then reapplied my finger.  Glided in.  My whole finger was in his asshole.

    He wanted another.  More lube.  Again, slow pressure.  And then two of my fingers were inside him.  I felt his prostate; massaged it.  Had his cock in my other hand; licked it.  Inside, I reveled in the moment.

    He grabbed my hair.

    “Don’t you forget who is in charge right now.”

    He let go of my mane.

    He wanted to try a different lube.  I slipped my fingers out; too quickly.  I immediately knew I’d fucked up.

    “I’m sorry.”

    “It’s fine.  Just remember, you go at the person’s pace.  Grab the other lube.”

    I did.  We tried it.  He liked it better, but I made a mental note to buy anal lube the next day.

    I laid my ring finger across my middle and fore fingers; held the three together tightly.  Pressed against his asshole.  Heard and saw the pleasure I gave him as my digits slipped in.  Again, I massaged his prostate.

    His hands glided along his cock and rubbed his balls.  His voice uttered his pleasure, until finally he said, “I’m cuming.”

    I quickly readjusted.  Put my mouth on his cock.  Swallowed his cum.  Played with his cock.  Flicked my tongue along and around his head until he pushed me off.

    “My only critique: I love it when I cum in your mouth, but next time don’t change up what you’re doing as I cum.  Other than that, you were great.  Now, turn around.”

    He fucked me with one of my own dildos before we both passed out for the night.

  • DGG #17 Dirty Pig pt 2

    My fantasy, my moments, and my new reality.  The conclusion of my Dirty Pig experience.

    Time Jumps

    1:26 Prep for my fantasy
    2:40-5:18 TMI break: Grue Pitt 3 conversation – How to hack a period
    5:18 Props and planning
    6:23 Words of encouragement
    7:43 Setting the stage
    8:43 The performance
    13:30 Aftercare
    14:39 Tifereth’s fantasy
    15:54 The lull before the results
    17:06 The winner is…
    19:03 A perfect moment
    21:26 Congratulations
    21:59 Stefanos and space
    23:13 The rest of my night
    24:10 Rough realization
    26:23 Reflection

     

    listen to ‘017_DGG Dirty Pig pt 2’ on Audioboo

  • DGG #16 Dirty Pig pt 1

    Nerves, answering a question, bribes, and all the people who helped me. Part one of my competition experience.

    Time Jumps
    1:23 Nerves
    3:40 Secret Weapons
    6:27 Gray, judge and Sempai
    8:59 The Rules
    12:19 The show begins
    12:54 Introductions
    13:57 Pig #5
    15:35 Combination Bribe
    17:05 Sexy Skin
    18:59 Pop Question cock tease
    21:09 My Answer
    24:17 My well framed ass

    listen to ‘016_DGG Dirty Pig pt 1’ on Audioboo

  • DGG #15 Fusion 2013 pt 4

    The pitter patter of rain fills the background as I chat more about my Fusion adventure (during a break in the middle of my Rope Camp).

    Time Jumps

    1:30 Boymeat
    5:29 Handfasting
    7:20 Rope with Bear (and a special appearance)
    10:03 Cigar Lesson
    11:14 Paying Dearly (canes with Gray & Rough)
    19:42 Warrior Kitten Memorial
    20:19 Poi Time
    22:00 My first bootblack shift
    23:38 Protocol Training with Shay & Stefanos
    24:35 Doug, the Dragon Girl, and our bootblack orgy

     

    listen to ‘015_DGG Fusion 2013 pt 4’ on Audioboo

  • DGG #14 Fusion pt 3

    Playdate with the Pros, D3, Bastinato, and a few fun moments in between.

    Time Jumps

    1:35 Playdate with the Pros
    3:48 a beer odyssey
    4:43 Poetic, the tour guide
    7:20 Waffle House
    10:05 D3 and his hotel room
    14:08 Carol Queen and Robert
    [14:28-15:02 podcastus interuptus]
    15:43 Bastinato
    19:50 Jon’s boots
    20:37 DM Training
    23:34 Black Beard’s leathers
    24:07 teaser

     

    listen to ‘014_DGG Fusion pt 3’ on Audioboo

  • Gifted

    Lee quieted the crowd.

    He said something about traditions in the leather community, especially the gift of leather.  He took back my sash (the harness) and my scepter (the butt plug).  He gave the microphone to Gray and stepped aside.

    My eyes watered.  I knew what was about to happen, but I couldn’t let myself believe it.

    Gray spoke.  He talked about our dynamic as Teacher/student.  About how proud of me he was.  How the highest hope for a Teacher is that their student will exceed past them.  How I had done just that on stage that night.

    He held leather gloves in his hands.  A pair of gloves he’d owned for a decade, bought in a store back in Wisconsin that didn’t exist anymore.  He spoke about how he had treasured the leather, taking it with him wherever he traveled.

    He turned to me, handed me the gloves, and hugged me tightly.

    It was all I could do not to cry.

    Sometimes there are moments in life where no script could exceed the brilliance of your reality.  I could not have imagined a more perfect way for that moment to occur.  And to think, I had had two of those moments in one night.

    As I held Gray’s gloves, now my gloves, in my hand I felt such joy and admiration, such pleasure that I had not only accomplished so much that evening but also done so in honor of my Sempai, who sat center of the judges’ table privately cheering me on.

    Lee returned my sash and scepter.  People came up to me and congratulated me.  I couldn’t move three steps without someone hugging me or patting me on the back or giving their felicitations.  And, of course, many spoke about my moment with Gray and my gifted leather.

    At one point, Stefanos stopped me.  He gave me space.  Got me to close my eyes.  And all he said, all he kept saying, over and over again, was “Let it go.”

    I breathed.  I cried.  I wailed.  I laughed.  I hollered.  I ended with a giggle.  And a look at him.  A thank you for giving me that space, that moment.

    As the crowd died down, I found myself back in Gray’s arms for a hug.  It was a big night for the both of us.

    Everyone drifted away eventually.  I wanted to head down to Carol Queen’s erotica reading circle.  Others had sex and play to get to.

    But, for one shining moment, I was on top of the world.  I was in the spotlight, nowhere to run or hide from it.

    And, for one year, I am the reigning Dirty Pig, real gifted leather to match my fake leather title.

     

    My Dirty Pig Experience

    – Pep Talk

    – The Rules

    – Introductions

    – Pop Question

    – Fantasy

    – And The Winner Is…

    – Gifted