I saw many expressions of camaraderie on Sunday.
My mind was spinning. We’d had a busy day running Smut Market on Saturday, had to improvise part of the tombola for Kage after accidently leaving several essentials in a bag at Miss T’s. Doh and a world of other stuff was wafting about. It’s how my brain usually is. Filled to the brim and constantly buzzing.
Kage was busy and the tombola was really busy, there were gifts to hand out and I was feeling a little bit drained, truth told. But then we were gathered up for Little Snowflake’s birthday treat. I felt honoured to be among the number invited to lavish love and good things on my great friend. Who was bound naked to 4 posts and blindfolded. I’ve never seen anyone else smile so widely at being in such a predicament.
It was intense, silent bar the noise of fingers and mouths on skin. I am, unfortunately for me, all kinds of straight but I do very much enjoy making people happy and Snowflake brings me out in waves of submission. So I enjoyed running my fingertips up and down and over her skin. Sometimes scratching, sometimes softly skimming over flesh.
There was a dance of moving bodies, as the people lavishing attention moved around to touch new places. We were all grinning, not really at each other but at the centre of our attention. We were all incredibly happy to be in that room. All intent on pulling out moans and gasps from the captured birthday girl to break the silence.
It was incredibly hot to watch my husband touch, kiss, bite and pinch another beautiful woman. It made me proud to see him lavishing his loving skills on someone else. In fact I was proud to see this group of people coming together to bring pleasure to one body. Such focus, such love.
My favourite moment, I think, was when I was caressing her hand and she grabbed onto me as waves of pleasure took over. I felt a real connection in that moment. Love comes in many shapes and sizes. And I love snowflake dearly. She is one of my closest friends. It was my pleasure to be part of her pleasure.
After the climax of the scene, we kissed and hugged her, sang happy birthday as she was still tied down (that made me smile) and hugged some more. Then I had to go back to the tombola to relieve friends who looked after it for us.
I was then witness and part of another scene of love. This time one of comfort and care for a person who was upset and in need. It was another beautiful expression of friendship.
It was a little while after all this Avalon Isle came over to ask if I was ready for play, whilst the dungeon was relatively quiet. I got the nod from my lovely hubby before eagerly trotting off. I’d been looking forward to being beaten but as I walked downstairs my mind was whirling. I was thinking about one thing and another thing and also something else. None of which were connected or really terribly relevant but my brain just wouldn’t shut up.
Even as I lay down on the rack (it seems I’ve had most of my beatings there at Kage of late) my mind was still filled with questions and worries and responsibilities. I got myself comfortable, told AI about the demo caning I’d done the night before and settled in for my beating.
Avalon’s rhythm is a wonderful thing, and after lifting my light chemise out of the way, he set to spanking my butt and thighs with his hands. It always makes me smile. I can’t help myself, I know I’m in for a good time. But even through this, my mind was chaotic. Thoughts bubbled and coalesced. Worries and responsibilities duelled for dominance and as all these woes combined together I felt more and more panicky, like I needed to solve everything right then and there. I knew it’s ridiculous but that’s how my brain goes sometimes.
I was close to calling it. I didn’t think it was fair to AI and I didn’t know what might happen if I let him go on. I didn’t want to cry or do something that would ruin the scene. But before I called halt to something that I knew would be brilliant I had a mental word with myself.
Basically, I convinced myself to concentrate on his hands and nothing more. If I’d have not managed it, I’d have told him to stop but once I focused in on his hands, the one spanking me, and the one rested on my back or in my hair. I relaxed. I’d be lying if I said it was instantaneous, that I went from crazed worry wort to zen spankee in a moment, but as I kept reminding myself to concentrate on the hands and then the slightly spiky paddle, I felt the panic recede and I settled into the beating.
Even if the slight spikes impacting produced my squeaky disgruntled noise. It’s a little bit like the non-verbal version of ‘Really? There? You hit me there?’
I think AI likes that noise. Why? It made him chuckle and he remembered which spots made me squeak and kept going back to them.
AI had said before the beating commenced that he had his usual gear but as he rummaged around he found a spiky brush. I’m pretty sure it was some kind of scourer.
“Wanna give it a go?”
Well you know me, folks, of course I said yes.
It tickled. A lot. It hurt too in a scritchy-scratchy way but yeah, mostly it just made me laugh like a loon. Even when I tried not too, I couldn’t help it! He traced it up and down my butt and thighs, slowly and purposefully, digging in the bristles and it was evil and tickly and the laughter just bubbled out of me. It lifted me and lightened my mood.
So I got the mean stick next. And hell, is it mean. So’s the man who wielded it. It’s a thin, thin, thin cane. Hits hard and stings like a bitch. I started to yelp and ouch and wriggle with the application of the mean stick, not just horizontally but vertically too – ow.
I love the way AI is an evil wicked sadist with one hand but is a soothing comforter with the other. When I yelp and wiggle he strokes and pats me to calm me. It’s a balance that helps me to endure more and keeps me in the moment.
“You’re not laughing now, are you?” He said as he bent past me to pick out the next weapon of choice.
I tried to say no but I’m not sure what came out was actually that coherent. He kept his hand on my head as he grabbed the next torture implement. I think the next thing out was a chunky ball kinda thing. Hit with a focused thump. Hard, thuddy with a sharp edge that shook me to the core.
There was something in that thump that awoke more than just the usual pleasure response in me. The rhythm and the focus and the deep, purposeful impacts rolled together to move me in the same way sexual touching does. Even though the impacts were landing on my butt and thighs and there was no other stimulation than the weight and odd stroke of Avalon’s other hand on my head, shoulders or back.
I can’t tell you precisely why that happened. I can’t tell you why the deliberate hits brought me closer and closer to climax with each hit. Weirdly, I was almost relieved when he moved to change implement before I came.
And you might be squinting at the screen right now but this has happened to me before. I have orgasmed from pain alone. I guess it’s all part of my masochism. It’s happened with different people and different implements. A couple of times have involved a whip, another has involved a heavy but stingy flogger and a couple more have been caused by hard paddle strikes. The only thing I can say that all instances had in common was a certain rhythm and headspace that leads to orgasm.
I thought as the thick cane was run gently across my bottom and thighs, and pressed particularly ruthlessly between the crease of the two causing moans of intense pain, that maybe the rhythm would be broken. That the pain would change and the pleasure would be more brain based than cunt based.
But nope. The hard, heavy, sharp hits and the long lasting pain that carries on after the cane has hit just continued to rock me. I moved a lot. I’m not sure if the movement started with the cane or earlier but I know I was bending and flexing my feet, climbing up onto my arms and rolling my head from side to side.
Each time AI would stroke me, or hold me with more pressure and eventually I’d calm again, take the breath and take the next wave of pain.
It was the next implement, the club like Venator that really pushed me to new heights. I remember him passing the implement across my flesh, the saw blade-esque edges digging and tickling all at once. I love that club, my heart jumps when it’s brought out and I hold my breath in a mix of horror and anticipation that I love.
I soon let it go. The first strikes were lighter than later ones but not a one was near gentle. I was rattled to the core. I held on to myself, dug my toes into the padding of the bench and groaned, yelped, squealed and gasped out in ecstatically agonising pleasure.
It was then a switch flicked. This doesn’t happen every time I’m beaten, in fact it has only happened a handful of times ever and I can only assume from what others say that it’s sub space. Because through the pain and the hurt and the terrorizing anticipation of the next rhythmic stroke I’m floating above it all in a calm haze. I feel the impact. I feel the hurt but that translates into ecstasy.
But it was the next implement, the paddle with purpose that pushed me over the edge.
So, I have different kinds of orgasms. Clitoral ones tend to be sharp and intense, sometimes they roll on into multiples but generally it’s one burst and I’m done. G-spot orgasms aren’t as intense but I can have many, many of them over and over and over with no dip to my desire. In fact, I often will want a clitoral orgasm to finish off, no matter how many times I’ve come from g spot stimulation.
These pain orgasms are like the internal, G-spot orgasms. They’re pulsing, once I have one I’m likely to have multiple and I can keep going with them without getting to the point of no return.
It was the heavy, hard impacts with the paddle that took the build-up and exploded it. Not once, not twice but three times and to be honest with you, it might have been more. I was not in a place to think and count right then. Each impact drove me further. I was still moaning and groaning and yelping. I don’t think I moved so much, I remember being less mobile but again, that could have been the wonderful floaty orgasmic feeling that was flooding me.
I was content.
AI started to bring me back down, implement first, hard then softer and softer ‘til he moved to his hands and the beating went full circle.
Honestly, I’m not 100% sure what he said to me. I think he asked if I was okay. And I managed a nod and an affirmative noise. I couldn’t open my eyes. All of me was heavy and languid. I couldn’t move. I must have shifted because he moved to stroke me and told me to take my time, I’d been through a trauma.
It didn’t feel traumatic to me. I was floating. I had to try to see straight. Once I managed that (ish) I could speak a bit more. We had a conversation. It involved grapes (he hadn’t brought any to peel for me. Pish) but I think I told him that the beating was better than grapes.
Which thinking back now seems faint praise indeed. But yeah, much better than grapes. It was perfectly what I needed.
Slowly movement came back to me. I raised myself up onto my forearms and Avalon stroked my arm, then placed his hand on mine. I covered it with my other. I needed to. I needed the grounding. To feel him there, to express some kind of thanks. I don’t know if that’s what he got, but it was what I was going for. I needed his touch or I was afraid I’d just burst apart.
Eventually I had to get up. I managed to stand, then slowly walk. I was so out of it, I had to touch the wall all the way to the bottom of the stairs and I wobbled up them gripping hold of the handrail.
I think he told me I’d enjoy my bus journeys this week.
By gum, I will.
And then AI got me a big glass of water and made sure I ate something sugary and watched over me until I was more capable of thought.
That is as important as all the rest of the process to me. He took care of me throughout all my vulnerability.
Another act of friendship – from the beating through to the aftercare.
The rest of the event I wasn’t quite there. In fact, I excused myself from the hot tub fun because I just ran out of energy and brain. The evening meal with several kinksters in spoons (a post event tradition now) was perfect. Ingested food and made energy and I still had people who understood around.
AI accidently kicked me once and apologised.
“It’s okay,” I smirked and tipped my head to the side, “you’ve done worst to me.”
“True.” He smirked back.
And all that, the smiles, the conversation, the laughter. That was another expression of love and friendship.
BDSM can be brutal but it is full of tenderness too. I am so glad to be part of the scene.