The final installment of my Fusion adventure.
Picture Links
Time Jumps
1:40 Tradition
2:24 Uncensored Improv Games
3:26 Kinky Life Drawing
6:00 Humiliation
8:17 Bare Stories
10:37 Back Patch
11:27 CBC
13:40 In Demand
15:27 Stefanos
16:44 Another Rain Check
18:10 Wrap Up
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
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
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
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
– Fantasy
– Gifted
I could not have picked a better song than the one I randomly pulled out of Lee’s bag: Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Ever Getting Back Together.
I’d already gone over the basic idea of a skit with Shay and Stefanos. Now with this song in mind, we changed it to fit the lyrics while still going with the essence of my idea.
Stefanos is a performer; I knew going into Dirty Pig having him help was going to be invaluable. Shay, functioning as my handler, was a big reason why I did so well. She kept me calm throughout the competition, but never more so than leading up to my fantasy. She kept rubbing my back and checking in. I felt safe in her care.
Bribes were thrown at the judges left and right, my antics included. Once, I quietly slipped to the judges’ table and offered cigars and cigarellos, as well as prep service to each judge. Only Gray took me up on my offer.
However, as I passed by one judge, she stopped me.
“I like your true-excited-you more than your sex kitten. Authentic you is sexy.”
I was humbled, shocked, so grateful for her encouragement. I thanked her and then hustled back to the Green Room tent.
I recruited my friends for countless bribes that evening: alcohol service, tobacco service, bootblacking, massages, sexual favors, and one friend even just wrote ‘Vote for Poetic’ on her ass. Magically, one person recruited herself to help me even though she had just met me that camp in a class. It really does take a village to run for a fake leather title, and I am so immensely grateful to everyone who helped me that night.
As it grew nearer for my turn back on stage, my nerves resurfaced. I channeled my energy into encouraging my fellow contestants, who were also tied into knots, or just spending moments with Shay stroking my back.
When Pig #4 went up, it was time for us to warm up. Shay kneeled down and tested the waters; I was very wet and very ready.
Once Pig #4 finished, our trio kicked into gear preparing the stage for our show.
Our props: three cardboard stars, a small crescent wrench, a marshmallow skewer, a plastic ring (about the size of a hand), and a camouflage rain jacket.
I wore my red teddy (because the night before Gray said it did great things for my ass) and a chain with a lock around my neck.
Shay and Stefanos pinned their stars to their clothes on the left in back. I clipped my star to my right boot. (For those who don’t get the joke, we were flagging ‘Starfucker’ & ‘Star’.)
We placed a piece of sex furniture on stage, draped the jacket on the sex furniture where Shay would be sitting, and put a chux pad on the floor of the stage where I would be seated. Also on the floor beside me, I sat a buffing brush, a tin of Black Lincoln shoe polish, and my jar of Huberd’s Shoe Grease. Both Stefanos and Shay were pre-gloved. We were ready.
Shay placed her boot on my chest and I began loving on her leather. We waited for the music to begin. The wrong song cued up. Stage crew quickly fixed it and Taylor Swift’s familiar guitar riff pumped through the speakers.
I kissed on Shay’s boots as she smiled and reached down to caress my face. Stefanos stood on the back of the stage, watching, the skewer in his hand.
Suddenly, he rushed forward. Screamed something. Grabbed me by my collar. Pushed me down to the floor with the skewer. Shay started screaming, too. Stefanos shoved me onto the sexy furniture. I remember hearing Shay yell, “You told me you were single.”
In response, I gestured back and forth between Shay and Stefanos, and said, “But you’re hot. And you’re hot. And boots.”
Stefanos took the plastic ring, with a handkerchief tied to it, and forced it in my mouth as a gag. He grabbed my tin of polish, pulled up my nighty, and began beating me all over my body, smearing the black over my skin.
Meanwhile Shay took the wrench, which was pre-condomed, and started fucking me with it. Quickly she grew tired of it, proclaimed it too small, and tossed it aside. Reaching into my Huberd’s jar, she yelled, “You don’t even deserve lube,” and easily slipped her entire hand into my pussy, already previously warmed up by her fist.
Not done with their hate fuck of me, Shay and Stefanos switched. Shay came by my head; Stefanos went down to my feet.
What I write now I know from accounts both from those involved and those who saw the show: Stefanos dipped his hand into my Huberd’s, showed it to the crowd (big man hand and all), and in one fluid motion sunk his entire fist deep inside my cunt. My eyes were closed, so I didn’t see it, but apparently I got a standing ovation, including everyone at the judges table.
Stefanos pistoned his fist. I moaned, screamed, and squirmed, pleasure racing throughout my body.
As the song grew to a close, Stefanos slipped out, returned to my head. Grabbed my hair. Tilted my body up. Pulled my nighty up over my head, wrote P-I-G in polish across my chest, and threw my head away right on the last downbeat of the song. He and Shay walked away. We could not have performed better if we had tried.
Almost immediately Stefanos rushed back, asking me if I was okay. There was huge applause. I reassured him I was fine. He helped me to my feet.
I stood downstage center, with Shay and Stefanos genuflecting at my boots. Carol Queen threw a t-shirt up onto stage. Gray waved his leather gloves at me.
I didn’t know what to do except stand there and smile, as if to say, ‘Yeah, that just happened. That’s my cunt. Glad you like it.’
My Dirty Pig Experience
– Pep Talk
– Fantasy
– Gifted
“I was disappointed I missed your class. I was demo bottoming for another presentation at the same time. So, if you don’t mind me picking your brain, how did you get over piss play?”
“I’ve liked piss since I was a kid. The class was about piss play and different ways to use piss.”
“Oh, well… Um, then may I ask your opinion? How can one get over their hangups about piss?”
“There’s a few ways. Some people simplify it; think about it like it’s just warm water. Others will take the degradation route. Like, say… There are a few drops of piss left on my boots from my class, and only a filthy fucking slut would want to lick the piss off my boots.”
I met Boymeat last year. We spoke less then ten words during our initial introduction. Hellos were exchanged as Boymeat began punching a mutual friend. I quietly excused myself as to not disturb the two of them.
The Thursday night of Fusion, I patiently waited for my shift at Playdate with the Pros. I had arrived early in case Shay needed help; she didn’t. So I found myself with an hour to kill. And then in a conversation I desperately wanted to have. And then in a situation that both scared and thrilled me.
“Boymeat, do you want to sign up for one of my playdate shifts?”
“No.”
“Shit.”
“It’s so hard, the torture of deciding what to do. Knowing that you’ll have to ask for it. Get my permission to lick piss off of my boots. That I won’t give you any help. That you will have to make the decision yourself.”
I bent and twisted inside. I was wet, wetter than I wanted to admit. The idea of piss play had been on my mind for some time. Readers of this blog may have noticed its occasional appearance in pieces of erotica as of late. And now here was this sick-twisted-incredibly-hot man pushing me to do the things I wanted but feared.
And so, I leapt.
“Boymeat, may I lick the piss off of your boots?”
“Drop.”
I sunk down to my knees.
“All the way down.”
On all fours, I stared at his leather. At the drops that would soon be in my mouth. I crept towards his boots, stuck out my tongue, and licked. Lapped up his piss. First one boot, and then the other. The event swirled around us, but the people were far way. My world held only my body, writhing in pleasure, and Boymeat’s boots for my tasting.
When I finished, I stood, a huge grin on my face. Boymeat adjusted himself.
“The problem with not cuming after your pissing class, and then having someone lick piss off your boots.”
He must’ve seen my smile. Must’ve noticed the extra perk in my face. Boymeat is great at reading people.
“I’m gonna go sit on a bench over there and light a cigarette. Only a filthy fucking slut would randomly sit down, pull out a cock, and suck it from a guy she’s never met. Let’s see if a filthy little whore is going to come by and service me.”
As soon as he walked away, I dashed about looking for safer sex supplies.
“Where are the condoms?” I asked Shay in my rush. She pointed me towards a small table in the middle of the room.
“Poetic, what’s wrong?” asked Stefanos as he mingled among the guests.
“Oh, nothing. I just need a condom, now.”
I found the condoms, grabbed one, and scurried through the crowd.
Boymeat had just lit his cigarette when I stood in front of him. He looked up and smiled at me. I handed him the condom. He ripped open the packaging, pulled out his cock, and put it on.
In a breath, I was down on my knees with his covered cock in my mouth.
As my mouth bobbed up and down on him, took all of him in. As Boymeat gripped my hair, guiding my lips along his cock, he spoke sweetnesses into my ear.
“Such a filthy little whore. Such a dirty little slut. Sucking on some stranger’s cock. You don’t even know me.
“You licked piss off my boots and we barely know each other. You want me to piss on you now, don’t you?
“Tonight, when you’re lying in bed, touching yourself, you’re gonna think about my piss in your mouth. When you masturbate tonight, you’re gonna cum to the idea of me pissing all over you.”
He fucked my face til he came.
“Are you one of those lucky few whose clit is hard wired for pain?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed my shoulders, turned the flesh. He hurt me as I writhed in his crotch. First my head brushed against him stomach, then lifted closer to his face. My body snaked across his chest. My hands rested on his thighs. My noises came. He enjoyed them.
He gripped my breasts, pulling, twisting at the flesh, deep under the muscle, rubbing against my ribs.
“Please. Please.”
“Please. I love to hear that.”
I was so wet, so slick from his work. I begged. Whispered my pleas.
He allowed me to cum. I twisted in ecstasy from my pleasure and his pain.
He started punching my chest. Concentrated on one side. And planted the seed of yet more fun to come.
“Sometime tomorrow, when you least expect it, I am going to find you, throw you to the ground, rip off your clothes, and pee on you.”
We landed, he texted at 6:52am. I didn’t get Stefanos’s message til 8:46am.
I’m having breakfast, came his next text. I scrambled to get ready.
As luck would have it, I caught a ride from a taxi all the way around campus.
But, just as we were about to make the turn towards the Dining Hall, the driver noticed a problem with the cart. My ride had me disembark by cabin 15/16 so that they could take the vehicle back up the hill.
When I turned around, I saw him. The leather kilt. The smile. I scurried up the hill and into his arms.
We hugged, and hugged, keeping hold of around each other.
He looked exhausted. His plane ride had been a red eye, so I was sure he needed sleep. But he wanted to chat with people who walked by. He wanted to be engaged. I delicately extracted him and encouraged him towards his cabin.
“You know, you could help me sleep.” His suggestion was music to my weary ears.
We crept into the cabin. With a gentle hand, I put down my bag. Shay was already in bed asleep, blindfolded and ears plugged. She was smart.
Shay and Stefanos had yet to receive their linens. Shay snuggled with a blanket.
I only took off my shirt, but kept my bra, skirt, and tall socks on. I was glad for my tall socks.
Stefanos and I got into the bed, got back into each others arms. Closed our eyes.
I snoozed, drifting in and out of sleep. As I rested, I imagined energy pulsing from me to him. Imagined a glow forming from my body to his frame.
We kept changing positions, kept trying to find the best way to arrange ourselves in the bed. But with each configuration we chose, some part of me was always touching some part of him.
I listened to their combined breathing, two people that I had missed so. I smiled, knowing I had four days to spend with them.
My first moments with Stefanos and Shay were golden.
“Your blogs have been pretty intense lately.”
Yeah, about that…
I realize as of late that my entries have been heavy. Life, contemplating my place in this world, how I got here and where I’m going, heavy. And I realize that is not what one would instantly expect from this blog.
Don’t get me wrong, and I will just say this to be blunt: I’m gonna write whatever the fuck I want here. That has been my goal from the start, and if that ever changes I don’t know if I’ll blog anymore.
Still, I don’t want to give people the wrong impression. My life is pretty fucking good. Occasionally I’ll have these moments when it is actually pretty fucking awesome. Not perfect, but definitely awesome.
Case and point (and bringing the sexy back, as it were), there was definitely a good hour and a half at Winter Fire where I was absolutely winning.
I had arranged a playdate with Shay Saturday evening. In the lobby of the hotel, we discussed what we wanted from our scene. She was interested in fire play and positions training. That sounded great to me, my only stipulation being I was not in the mood for penetrative play.
Heading down to the dungeon, we found a massage table by the far wall and setup. My friend Alice came by to watch and practice her fire play, to which both Shay and I consented.
We started our scene with me just in my black wrap dress. Shay was pleasantly surprised at how accessible it made me as she took the single piece of cloth off to reveal my nakedness beneath the fabric.
Shay inspected my body as she ran me through several poses. She wanted my feet in specific configurations, as well as my hands. There were variations between service poses versus more sexual poses. It all rung my service/submissive bells quite well.
As Shay went through the poses, she constantly rubbed all over my body both with her hands and her boots. I was incredibly turned on by the end of her instructions and quizzing.
Transitioning to the table, she had me start on my stomach. Though we had had a brief fire play encounter during the opening ritual, this felt more connected and definitely more intense.
Shay traced lines of flame over my body, down my back, my legs, gliding the curve of my ass. The warmth was intoxicating. Alice practiced with Shay’s supervision. I moaned from both their touches.
And then Shay got mean. Instead of softly swiping the line of flame, she began smacking my skin. “What? I have to make sure it’s out.” I yelped and cackled through the pain.
Flipping me face up, Shay again danced fire across my skin. Bringing out her cups, she tried her darnedest to make my skin look like I was attacked by an octopus: no luck.
She smacked my nipples with her fire wands, and then smacked my nipples with her hands, again “making sure the fire was out”. She danced flame down my legs and over my cunt (talk about a mind fuck).
Back on my stomach, she pulled out a spritz bottle and blew balls of flame in the air. The heat came in bursts, warming my body.
Shay again went for my ass. No more hair and no more dead skin as a barrier, her smacks to the extinguished flame were stingy tortures. Soon I could take no more heat on my cheeks. Happy with her torments, Shay decided we’d had enough pyro pleasantries.
She helped me from the massage table, making sure I stood up without tipping over. Running through the positions again, I remembered them well. I love rising to the occasion and all.
Shay brought me back to standing and aftercare ensued.
As we were finishing up, Stefanos ventured over. With another set of eyes to watch me to as I came back down to earth, Shay went about gathering her things and cleaning up our area.
“You look like you were set on fire,” said my pinch supervision.
“I was,” I said, smiley floaty happy.
Stefanos was in the dungeon awaiting his next playdate. He came closer to me, brought his leg in between my thighs, and asked, “We’re suppose to have a playdate, aren’t we?” He lifted his leg up and down, massaging his leather chap against my crotch.
“Yes, we are. We still need to schedule it.” I let my hands and chest rest on his body, trying to not lose my wits in the moment.
“What did you have in mind for it?”
“I was thinking we’d try me sucking your cock and then you fisting me.”
“You want to try it or you want to do it?”
“I want to suck your cock and then you fist me.”
“Fisting, you say. You want to schedule that?”
Stefanos raised his hands to my arms, softly pushed me back to the table I had just occupied with Shay for fireplay (the same table she was in the process of cleaning) and encouraged me to sit on it. I did so, lying back as before.
“Fisting, hmm?”
He reached over to the safer sex supplies on a nearby table, gloved up his hands, and poured four packets of lube onto one.
Standing by my crotch, he looked over my body, locking eyes with me.
“Fisting, yes we can schedule that. How about right now?”
Stefanos rubbed his excess lube onto my crotch, at which point Shay returned.
“Hey baby. What’s up?”
“Oh, just your normal spontaneous fisting.”
“Really, cause poetic said she’s not in the mood for penetration.”
“It’s good! We’re good!” I exclaimed.
I quickly rattled off something about how I wasn’t in the mood before but I was certainly in the mood for what was about to happen.
Thinking while horny, I asked Shay to snag a chuck to put under me before we got too far into my “aftercare”. Slipping it under my hips, Shay happily joined in on the fun.
By then, Stefanos already had multiple fingers in me. “I’m just doing want the pussy wants,” he explained to Shay. Truer words were never spoken.
[For those of you who are counting, this makes the second time I’ve been randomly fisted as aftercare (the first being when I met Ava Amnesia at Summer Camp 2011). Did I mention my life doesn’t suck? Yup, winning.]
Stefanos, having two hands gloved, put his second hand to use when he asked, “Poetic, do you like a thumb up your ass when you’re fisted?” Is there any other answer to that quesiton than, “Yes.”
As Stefanos stimulated two of my holes, Shay asked if I liked vibrators on my clit when I’m fisted. I mumbled something about liking them but they were not necessary, though I enjoyed clit stimulation. Shay, being ever so kind, fulfilled this desire. Hopping up onto the massage table, she reached over my body and massaged my clit while her husband was almost to the point of being full inside me.
As per my usual, I was quite communicative with both Shay and Stefanos during my “aftecare”. Soon the magical moment came when I told Stefanos, who by now had four fingers in, to push. He did, and slipped his full fist into my cunt.
And then I was gone. Lots of gibberish ensued, including some of the hottest dirty talk I have ever experienced. Shay (Did I mention she is super hot with a sexy sexy brain?) started talking dirty to me, asking me if I liked having Stefanos’ fist in my cunt. Of course I moaned my pleasure at having his fist in my cunt, how I was a dirty whore, how great it felt when Shay rubbed my clit, how full my pussy felt with his hand inside me.
By now Stefanos had inserted a second finger into my ass as he also worked inside my cunt.
At one point I was so excited I lifted my pelvis up, bridging my body, as I fucked his hand. And somewhere there is a picture of this very moment (I know because I saw it on a projector screen in the Atrium the next night).
I’m fairly certain at some point a crowd of onlookers formed, but with so much stimulation going on my attention was absolutely not on the individuals who wanted to watch the show.
Needless to say, that hour and a half was so many different levels of awesome. I couldn’t tell you how many times I came. I can’t quite articulate how mind blowing it is to have two amazingly hot people all about you and your pleasure. And the feeling of having my pussy be so full and pleased… I really do love fisting.
Saturday night at Winter Fire was absolutely full of win.
He stood beside me for a moment before his turn. He asked for a light for his cigar, which I gratefully gave.
Sitting down in my chair, the din of the event fell away. I picked up his boot and placed it on my thigh. I unlaced his leather and began working.
I was still in the bar shine mindset. I made myself slow down. I made myself take care with his leather. I cleaned each of his boots twice, making sure I massaged the flesh beneath the leather.
As I worked, he blew cigar smoke into my face and ran the cherry of his tobacco delicately near my skin. The intensity of our interaction increased.
He ashed into his hand and brought his palm to my eye line.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
I took his hand into mine and licked up the flecks. Some ash spilled onto his thigh. His hand clean, I bent down and licked the ash off of his leather kilt, all the while nuzzling my face into his crotch.
His kilt free of ash, I sat back. He flashed me momentarily. I gave a smile, but got back to work. I’d already cleaned his boots once and not gotten to the polish; I didn’t want to get sidetracked again.
As I reached down for my polish supplies, he stood, placed his boot on my thigh, and pointed. I bent my head down and licked all over his leather. I kissed. I caressed my face.
Satisfied, he sat back down, but then placed his boot in between my legs, applying intense pressure onto my clit. With the force of his weight behind him, he merely pulsed his boot as he fucked me with his leather.
I leaned back in my chair, moaning rather loudly. I begged permission to cum. He gave it. He allowed sweet warmth to pass through me three times, my hips bucking with the rhythm of his leather, before he ceased his delicious torment.
As I rode his boot, as I sunk into my ecstasy, I forgot about anything else going on around me.
When finally he stopped, I raised my head back up, regained my breathing, and got back to servicing his boots. I cleaned where his leather had met my pussy. I asked him what polish he preferred; Lincoln.
I pulled out my tin and popped it open. I rubbed the dark substance and applied some polish to his leather.
He took the tin from my hand. He built up saliva on his hand, so much so some dripped from his lips, rubbed his hand into my polish, and applied it to his leather.
Moving his hand to my face, his fingers rubbed my lips. My mouth parted and I sucked on his fingers, sucked like I knew he wanted me to suck on his cock. I could hear him moan from my mock fellatio.
Upon his request, I put the tin in my mouth between my teeth. I vigorously worked the polish from the tin into his boots. I buffed his leather.
Taking my brush from me, he licked the bristles and buffed his toe caps. Once again I followed his lead, licking my brush and buffing his heel caps.
“Now you are in my leather.”
And you are in my polish.