poeticdesires

Category: SkinnyBitch

  • My Bootblacking Shift

    Because of Friday night’s storm, there was some confusion and a handful of things not going as planned at camp. The Pamporium was up and running though, albeit without hot wax, so I made my way over after lunch, a host of much needed calories after my abduction, in hopes of working my bootblacking shifts.

    As I rolled past Oink’s cabin, I saw TheatricalToy there, along with others waiting to be let back inside to retrieve their things. She informed me she would not be bootblacking, but if I wanted I could still try.

    When I arrived at the Pamporium, Amethyst consented to my endeavour. I pulled two folding metal chairs over to a clear spot in the tent nearest the asphalt path. I found two small empty matching garbage bins and flipped them over.

    I unzipped my kit, a piece of well packed carry-on sized luggage, and I sat.

    As people walked in and out, I looked for anyone wearing boots. However, with the hot day, there were none. Me, in my cotton dress and knee-high boots, seemed an anomaly.

    As I waited, D3 came by. He was to be the experienced bootblack on shift (to my novice spot), but he wanted to check on Toy and help her through her current ordeal. He said he would swing by when he was again free.

    And so I went back to waiting.

    I scanned folks walking by, hoping to see leather. And then, a bite. I saw a gentleman walk up the lane in a pair. I called to him, asking if he’d like his boots blacked.

    As he sat down in my chair, he introduced himself. His name was B, and he was also suppose to be on shift with me. I’d signed up for two back-to-back slots, giving me boot time from 2:30pm-6pm.

    Now with a pair of boots to work on, I started. As I worked, I enlisted his aid. It was agreed he would stay by my side, just in case, answering any questions I had and giving me pointers along the way. He, in fact, could not black that day because of some shoulder issues.

    While I worked, my friend Phoenix came over. She saw that I was bootblacking and asked if I could teach her. I was more than happy to help. She scurried away to grab her Master’s boots.

    As I finished up B’s boots, he said he had another pair for me to black if I so wanted. I did. He left as well. Both soon returned.

    As another pair of boots sat in my chair, I explained the basics of bootblacking to Phoenix as she worked on her Master’s boots on the ground to my right. Meanwhile B sat on my left watching my work. I was both the teacher and the student.

    Later I blacked B’s second pair of boots, and he taught me a method for spit shining. Out of gratitude for his aid and tutelage, I asked him if I could kiss his boots. He agreed. Gripping his leather, I brought my lips to his boots, kissed and caressed both sides, and gently parted from his leather.

    At one point SkinnyBitch, who was inebriated, sat in my chair. She wore shiny flip flops and asked if I could black them. I looked through my kit, found a clean toothbrush, sprayed it with water, and dusted very carefully, making sure to not remove her sparkles. Challenge accepted and accomplished. She giggled with delight.

    While waiting for another customer, Stefanos happened to walk by. I turned, saw him, and smiled. I offered to black his boots, but he was on his way to a class. He suggested later, to which I gleefully agreed. I would meet him after the Circus that evening.

    As my shift grew near it’s end, D3 came back to check on me. After chatting with both my mentors for the day, D3, B and I agreed to come back the next day for another shift, as well as setup shop for the Dirty Pig leather contest. Phoenix and B then departed.

    D3, however, stayed.

  • Tradition

    I pulled my gold fabric up over my ass, opting to not remove my toga. I had intricately placed my two pieces of long fabric and didn’t want to try to rearrange them. My diadem stayed put fine. My sandals and chainmail belt were not an issue. My golden wing earrings dangled from my ears. My outfit garnered multiple compliments throughout the evening.

    The group had provided a chair for the spankees to lean on. Hoop had already had her licks. Her birthday was the day before mine, so it seemed fitting. I had waited patiently on some stairs above, ushering people down in the room for the show.

    And then it was my turn.

    But my spanking could not be simple. Is my life ever simple?

    There was the tradition set the year before: DeepEnd’s hockey stick enjoyed the honor of #29 and the one for good luck. LadyAisha wanted to get a comparison from me with her pool cue stick, so she claimed #27 & #28. N3rddom brought his cricket bat and wanted equal treatment; he would swing #25 & #26. Big Sis wanted to go first; she would be #1-#3.

    The room was dark, save for the two lamps at opposite ends shining blue light, and the porn I’d set up on a projector at the far end of the entertainment area. The positioning was a brilliant idea; you could look into the room and see the fucking all the way from kitchen.

    It seemed fitting that my ass was about to get abused in our Family Room.

    Big Sis started, smacking each side once and finishing with both hands on her third. After her a stream of friends, new and old, stepped up for their turn. I was thankful SkinnyBitch gave me a reprieve; she merely punched my ass, a bit of thuddy pleasure in an ocean of stingy pain. Others, however, enjoyed their lashing, enjoyed my yelps, enjoyed making me hurt. My ass was thoroughly warmed up before the experiment started.

    Throughout the love fest, I was very happy I was leaning on a chair, but never so much as when the big boy toys came out.

    N3rddom stepped up holding his godawful cricket bat. His first blow utilized the stingy side. I counted out the number, 25, a tear gliding down my cheek. His next blow switched to the thuddy side, but my ass was too raw to register the difference, 26.

    LadyAisha stepped up, her pool cue in hand. She swung, connecting mostly on my right cheek. It was thuddy burny, a sensation I had not felt before. Again I collapsed into the chair and called out the count, 27. She repeated her swing, now with my knowledge of how much it would hurt; 28.

    As the affair had gone on, DeepEnd had loomed at the top of the small set of stairs leading down to the Family Room, observing our revelry. Now it was his turn.

    The crowd parted as he stepped down and approached my ass. I braced myself, assuming he’d follow his normal pattern: 1, 2, 3Hit! Instead he took a back swing and landed his blow, no countdown. I screamed out my count, 29!, and then pipped about keeping to pattern.

    “Everyone, on the count of three, yell Happy Birthday to Kristen. One, Two, Three. Happy Birthday!” At least he stuck to pattern on the last one.

    My ass was more than warm. When I glided my fingertips over my rump, I could feel the bruises and bumps that had formed from my abuse.

    There were hugs, and later photos (check my Tumblr or Twitter feed), my analysis of the comparison of the big boy toys, a conversation about odd impact implements, and my dumb ass volunteering to be a demo bottom for their uses, eventually.

    Happy Belated 29th to me.

  • 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.

  • Drunk Blogging

    My roommate DeepEnd makes the BEST Long Island Ice Teas.

    Haven’t done this in a while. Blogging while I’m drunk. But I didn’t want to go to bed without blogging, cause if I wait til tomorrow morning, I’ll either blog or run on the treadnill, but not both cause then I’d have to wake up way early.

    I was SO horny today that I masturbated for like an hour. And then my roommates made fun of me because I was worried they’d be like offended by the noise, cause I can get loud, what with the screaming and stuff. But then SkinnyBitch was like, “The first time I hung out with you a guy hand his fist inside you for like two hours.” And I was like, “But ya’ll know I’m uber polite.” And it was funny.

    Amethyst makes the best Crescent rolls. They were just what I needed when I was lying on the couch watching Private Practice for a few hours.

    Before I was downstairs practicing my self suspension, before the Long Island cause only stupid people rig when they’re drunk. Yeah, so I practiced tying myself and I totally rocked it. I got myself in a sideways suspension and was on the ground tying my left leg into a Futomomo (learned that term at Shibaricon), and then pulled myself up and secured my hip harness and tied my leg up and was like, “Yeah. This is awesome.” And I tied a one-handed ankle cuff on my right leg and attached the wraps around my chest to my ring and pulled up and ankle and it looked so cool. And then I realized I had no one around to take a picture, and that kinda sucked, but then I remembered I’m going to Fusion and I was like, “Yah know what, I’ll do this again there and get someone to take a picture.” Cause I don’t have any pictures of my tying myself and no one knows you’re a rigger, let alone an awesome one, unless you have pictures of your work.

    I’m suppose to be tying two of my friends at Fusion. And tying myself. And hopefully getting tied. Yeah, I think my Fusion gonna be awesome.

    I was talking about it with the Gent today. He called me, cause I had a nightmare about him and woke up and texted him and he told me he was okay and that made me feel better. But then he was busy tonight so I couldn’t see him. But then he called and my new iPhone 4s was being stupid and he mistakenly hung up on me and I was screaming at my phone in DeepEnd’s care and SkinnyBitch was like, “You know that’s inanimate (wow, I think I spelled that right) object and it can’t hear you.” And then DeepEnd was like, “Yes it can. My phone has an app that responds to when I yell.” And I would have found their conversation really funny except I hadn’t talked to the Gent in a really long time. But then I got him back. And we talked for a little.

    He’s not coming to Fusion. I had this awesome fantasy of him magically appearing, possibly at my abduction, but that’s why I called it a fantasy, cause it’s totally not going to happen. But at least I’ll get to see him when he’s back from his work trip.

    So yeah, I’m gonna have an abduction at Fusion. That, I’m sure is gonna be an awesome blog post. This one…I don’t know about. But then again the last time I did this, which was like a long time ago, people seemed to like it. So yeah.

    PS. So my friend’s blog, no two of his blogs, cause he has like three, were hacked and I’m not happy about that. I read his blog. I like his blog. I really like his blog cause then I get to read his thoughts on stuff and he’s really insightful and wise. And it gives me a piece of his life while he’s far away and busy. So whatever this Saudi Terrorist bullshit hacking of my friend’s sites is needs to go away so I can have my blog posts back. Dammit!

    Okay, time for bed. I have work tomorrow. And Sunday. And family obligations Monday. So I should, well, sleep. Yeah, that. And then wake up and run on the treadmill because it makes me happy. Not because I love it when people notice I’ve lost weight. Or when my clothes fit better. Or when it’s easier for me to suspend myself. Or that I feel more sexually confident the fitter my body gets.

    Yeah, sleep now. Stop typing, Kristen.

    So SkinnyBitch introduced me to My Drunk Kitchen on YouTube. I’m probably gonna watch those tomorrow. And then read this blog, cause I’m not gonna spell check it or anything. Cause, well, I’m drunk and it’s more funny this way.

    Once every couple of months makes this refreshing, right? Not, like, stupid, I hope.

    Bed now.

    So there is this guy… NO! Bed now.

  • Stress

    Sleep deprivation sucks.

    Nausea. Short temper. Easier to tears. Micro naps while I drive. And, frankly, I stop giving a fuck, at times acting like a bitch.

    It’s the busy season; I am very sleep deprived.

    When I woke up Sunday morning, my room was muggy and hot. I had gotten to sleep around 5am. It was 12:26pm when my body could not stand the heat any longer.

    Even though I got a relatively good amount of rest, this followed multiple days of 3-5hrs of sleep and a few 20hr days.

    As I laid in bed, I contemplated all the things I had to do. There were, in fact, many errands I wanted to run. It was my first day off since Tuesday.

    I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to do anything. But I had a mound of dirty clothes that I absolutely had to wash, not to mention health care paperwork to fill out and Shibaricon packing to start.

    Forcing myself out of bed, I grabbed my clothes hamper and lumbered down the stairs. I heard my roommates laughing and talking in the dining room, but choose to not say hi.

    In the laundry room, I put down my hamper and opened the washer; clothes inside. I checked the dryer; clothes inside.

    I huffed, and then headed to the dining room.

    “Whose clothes are in the dryer,” I asked, I hope not grumpily.
    “Doesn’t matter,” said DeepEnd. “The dryer’s broken.”
    “Really!”

    I stomped my feet. I put my head against the wall.

    “I have to go.”

    I could feel the tears coming as I went back to the laundry room, grabbed my hamper, and rushed back into my room. I stripped off my pajamas. I crawled back into my bed. I cried into my covers, squeezing Tessie tight, wanting the world to go away.

    All I wanted was to wash my fucking clothes. All I wanted was to get something, anything done. This was suppose to be my day off.

    I was angry. I was upset. I was sleep deprived.

    I needed to do something. I wanted to pound a wall, rip something apart.

    With a start, I got back out of bed, put on my workout clothes, and went downstairs. In the kitchen, I grabbed a banana and poured a glass of Silk.

    “Hun, what are you averaging? An hour of sleep a night?” It seemed SkinnyBitch had an idea of my problem. I gave her a grunt of an answer.

    Quickly finishing my food, I went into the Sun Room.

    On my iPhone, I started up my Dance/Pop Mix. I turned on the treadmill and started walking. After a minute, I increased the speed. And again. And again. Each minute or two I kept making it go faster, until I was running. Really running. My feet flying up in the air, breathing heavy running.

    It was the first time I’d really ran on the tread. My workout is normally a mix of fast walking and jogging.

    As my feet pounded on the tread, I imagined my footfalls pounding away my problems, pounding out my anger, pounding away all the bullshit that was my life.

    After a few minutes, I lowered the speed. Slowly I came down. Slowly I returned to walking.

    And, somehow, it made it all better.

    I joined my roommates at the dining room table, feeling more like myself.

    I completed no errands Sunday, and, frankly, I think I am the better for it.

  • Girl Fight

    So… after Gray’s edict. After Chey & Stefanos & Nerine. After laughing and screeching, boots on flesh and twisted faces of pain. After all that, I still had a scene to oversee.

    It was time for some chicks to fight.

    My whole point for going to Playful & Predicament BDSM was to germinate possible ideas for what was to be my early afternoon: Girl Fight 2.5.

    Girl Fight 1.0 happened before I met SkinnyBitch and PrincessA. I heard the story of the incident, an amazing scene that the two women wanted to repeat. Unfortunately Girl Fight 2.0 was scheduled but did not occur.

    As WinterFire approached, and planning of scenes started, SkinnyBitch mentioned Girl Fight, saying she wanted to have another. With a roommate and friend like me who just so advantageously had rope, and would love to watch two of her friends go at it, I most humbly, joyous, jumping-up-and-down-screeching “Me! Me! Me!” volunteered to help make this happen.

    Since PrincessA would not be at WinterFire, SkinnyBitch had to figure out who else she could rumble. After a few thoughts, she settled on HoopFlyBurn.

    Now looking at the two women, they are somewhat evenly matched. SkinnyBitch ran marathons. HoopFlyBurn was currently slogging her way through the Insanity workouts. And though SkinnyBitch was smaller than HoopFlyBurn, SkinnyBitch was scrappy. In my mind, it was a toss up.

    When I entered my roommate’s hotel room, I was lent a special prop for the scene: SkinnyBitch’s rape whistle. As it hung on my neck, I felt so proud.

    Heading down to the Dungeon, the only open play area for us was the small side Dungeon across the hall from the classes, the first afternoon session just underway. We laid out three large mats. I set the ground rules.

    No eye gouging.
    No closed fist punching.
    There would be three rounds, five minutes a piece. Person who held their opponent down twice would win.
    They had the option of tapping out for a round.

    In attendance for the festivities were DeepEnd, RockStarIsis, Alice, Cairo, LooksRDeceiving, and Amethyst, as well as the other scenes going on in the small room.

    The ladies removed their clothing, down to just their underwear, and we began.

    For each round, I gave the ladies rope predicaments to deal with. For round one, both ladies had their right legs bound. I whistled the start and they began. Surprising only to me, the ladies did not last long. I had not anticipated five minutes being too long of a time span for their rounds. However, all the same, HoopFlyBurn landed the first blow, pinning SkinnyBitch around the three minute mark.

    For round two, SkinnyBitch’s leg remained bound, but HoopFlyBurn now had her arm tied instead. I gave the ladies a little time to breathe before I whistled the round to start; only three minutes for this one. SkinnyBitch, now with the advantage, bested HoopFlyBurn, scoring a pin. They were tied, 1-1.

    It was time for round three.

    Somewhat mimicking the rope in Girl Fight 1.0, I secured crotch ropes on both of the ladies. I then tied simple chest harnesses to each and attached the harnesses to the opposing person’s crotch rope. Because of the extra rope work, again the ladies were given a breather.

    With their binds secure, I whistled the start. Once again, they scrapped on the mats, rolling and twisting, each trying to get an advantage on the other. But, after the three minute round, no woman had bested the other. Both were exhausted, and their audience was left with a tie.

    I loosed their chest harnesses, giving the ladies more time to breathe and take a quick drink. With their crotch ropes still on, it was time for sudden death.

    Two minutes. Winner take all.

    I had the ladies start on the mats at opposite corners. Breathing heavy, ready to see who would win, I threw a length of rope between them. “Have at it.”

    I whistled the start. HoopFlyBurn got to the coil first. SkinnyBitch tried her best to wrench the cord away from HoopFlyBurn. In a desperate, and rather clever effort, HoopFlyBurn flung the rope away. (Later she mentioned how she had no skill when it came to tying and figured her best bet was to just get rid of it all together.)

    The two women grappled, tired, but neither wanting to back down. Finally, with mere seconds left on my iPhone’s timer, using the crotch rope as leverage, SkinnyBitch pinned HoopFlyBurn to the mat. We had our winner, oh scrappy roommate of mine.

    After the laughs and hugs, and cleaning and putting away of the mats, and finding the piece of SkinnyBitch’s nipple ring that fell off, we all happily made our way back to our regularly scheduled WinterFire Sunday.

    I returned the rape whistle, grudgingly.

  • 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.

  • Hugs

    In conversation recently, I’ve heard about a study that showed Americans are not touched enough. As a person who is in fact a “hugger”, I tend to believe this.

    Often we all need our personal space. I wouldn’t want an unwanted individual breaking the minimum eighteen inches around me that I view as “my air”. However, for the people I love, I don’t want us to be farther than eighteen inches apart when conversing, sharing, or just being in each others presence.

    Winter Fire, and its subsequent aftercare, have all included important hugs to me. Yes, hugs are important; don’t believe for a moment that they are not.

    The first official day of the event, when everyone was checking into the hotel and gearing up for massive amounts of kinky fun, I was stressed. This event marked the first time where I was on staff, working for a con. My job included equal parts delight and worry. I was bombarded with these feelings on the first day, not ready for all the work that lay ahead.

    But then, magically, as Murphy and I won the registration lottery (finding a moment when the line was a quarter of its usual length), my roommates arrived. I saw them from the balcony above, and my heart filled with joy.

    I asked Murphy to hold my place, scurried over to the railing, and emphatically jumped and waved, grabbing their attention. They eventually walked up to the registration area, and I attacked my people with hugs.

    I first latched onto to DeepEnd, who is tall and broad. I sunk my head into his chest, closed my eyes, and let the feeling of holding my friend, and my friend holding me, wash over and through me. I breathed out. I relaxed. I didn’t want to let go. In fact, as the registration line moved, he and I moved with it, dancing our way along.

    After an almost-awkward-but-not-quite-because-we-are-friends amount of time, I turned to SkinnyBitch and attacked her. I held her tight. I soaked in the scent of her perfume. I rested my head on her shoulder. I relaxed more. Again, I danced my way down the line with them. I felt better.

    Seeing them, hugging them, reminded me why I showed up to Winter Fire in the first place. I wanted to spend time with the people I care about. I did the work because I wanted to make the event better for them. Sometimes people need to be reminded what the struggle is for.

    Days later, towards the end of my Winter Fire, I received another significant hug. It was part of a scene I had with Gray. It was comforting, forgiving, accepting, caring. It was what I needed for what we had just gone through in our play. And though I worried about tears and snot getting on his leathers, I didn’t worry about our friendship or our connection, which is most important to me.

    On the last night of the event, I gave a friend a hug. They felt jarred and needed comfort. I would’ve held onto them longer, but it was just a few breaths in my arms that they required. I was happy to give them ease.

    My final hug of note came from my Big Bro. I saw him last night before he had to venture back up north. I don’t know when I’ll see him again, but I’m sure our paths will cross soon. And I’m certain, no matter the time or distance, we will still be family.

    Hugs are important folks. I hug when I greet and I hug in our parting. I hug because I feel happy. I hug because I feel sad. I hug when I need it, when others need it, or just because. I hug because I know my world will better afterwards, no matter the circumstance of the few seconds beforehand.

    I hug. And you know what would be nice? If you hugged too.