I had actually imagined that I would arrive at Chiaroscuro's birthday, share a drink or two then be on the last train home. Why I thought such a thing is beyond me. I think the turning moment might have been when I took off my dress and threw it at a young man's head, perhaps in a very basic sort of mating ritual.
So instead of the train, I find myself (a curious yet apt turn of phrase) happily between Dandy and Boy Wonder, all of us in our underwear, all of us running newly purchased pretty knives - including a tanto that I have slightly fallen in love with - on each other's skin. There are hot bi boys everywhere, and a beautiful girl. We are all, for want of a better word, fooling around. It is wonderfully explorative, especially given that there are people here I have never played with yet with whom I click very strongly.
I clearly have no intention of leaving. Especially once Mr Smith expresses his intent to arrive. At which point things get interestingly complicated. I am pleased that my boy is coming, but also cautious.
This will be a challenge for him, he will be out of his comfort zone. This would be the first private BDSM party for him, he doesn't know many people, the balance of play and players is against him (he's straight). This will be a challenge for me because his behaviour reflects upon my skills as a dominant and trainer. It's especially important here because the group is small and well meshed. Unlike loud and busy club environments, things will go noticed. This is a very D/s environment with relationships described in those terms first and foremost. Actually, it's a very pleasurable space for me to be in, a normalised D/s space where one is able to talk clearly and freely about the sort of rules someone is under before you might kiss or touch them.
But all of this is still alien for Mr Smith for whom submission is desired, but difficult and sex is still framed in a swinging / hetero-vanilla conquest context. The sort of protocol that Chiaroscuro can expect in his own house is very similar to the kind I enjoy and hence the sort that I want my submissive to eventually deliver. Then there is the fact that I understand how things work which is probably why the play we were doing felt instinctual and natural, and so might fall into the trap of not preparing my boy well enough because things were "obvious". I also didn't want to throw lots of house rules at him in case that triggered a fit of D/s induced panic. I wanted what we all wanted: to carry on having a great party.
All in all, it wasn't going to be an easy bar for him to reach, nor for me to help him reach. As it turned out, he did make mistakes, partly down to nerves and partly down to inexperience. The mistakes themselves aren't as interesting as what happened as a consequence: punishment. Together with Chiaroscuro we discussed and agreed what should be done, then summoned him.
It wasn't a complicated thing, fortunately. But I was anxious all the same, worried it would not be done, that I might have to force it and what if I couldn't? I knew that we were playing at the very edges of all the things he was deeply uncomfortable with, particularly around perceptions of himself as a submissive male by other men.
First came the public apology on reluctantly bended knee. Eventually. With a request for a repeat due to lack of sincerity. Then came the rest. A bare-bottom beating, in full view of all. And a thank-you. Teeth were gritted, and his awkward embarrassment and nascent impotent anger were evident. The punishment was hard won. It was nowhere near as gracious nor elegant as it could have been. He is not a natural submissive, which in many respects makes this whole process more pleasing and fascinating. But it was done. And the first time such a thing was done, which marks it as special and valuable in my eyes. As I watched I both winced in empathy and swelled with a certain pride. How he took it (mostly) like the man he will become, the one I see flashes of every now and then. The submissive I will make of him. That we will make together.
The needles go in. One after another after another after another. They are cool little slices of life, tingling and sparkling as they go. They sit next to each other, chattering with a buzzing pain that isn't really pain. Yes, the MDMA is helping them along in their conversation with my skin, with my flesh, allowing the spreading warmth to mingle with the shuddering chills and wrap me up in a full metal jacket of sensation. Once they are all there I float in them, as they seem to float in me. I get up, move around and let them take me where I might go.
Eventually they come out. I rest myself down on Mr Smith's chest. Chastised, leather mitts on to prevent any more unfortunate knocks. One by one by one, Chiaroscuro takes the needles out. I feel the blood slip down my naked shoulder. My eyes are closed. His body is warm. It is one of those absolute moments of BDSM perfection that you want to go on forever.
i am basically wallowing in my own personal piece of heaven. I haven't bottomed in a long time, and tonight just felt right. Full of moments of animal pleasures from all ends of the scale from the simplicity of kissing for hours, of almost constantly being held, stroked, of holding and stroking through to the deep thrill of the taste of blood and the almost reverence with which it was offered and accepted. Everything fell into place, without formula, planning or even intent. The balance of people, the space, the way we interacted. Freeform bodies in motion. Things were done because they were desired, connections created and acted upon. I am not sure whether it was the privacy of the event, and this for me is almost the definition of private play. An intimate group of people sharing kinky desires.
Abandoned to his fate in inescapable rope
3 months ago