Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Behind the Scenes of a Scene - Part IV

As most of you know by now, our scene between Erica and I happened Saturday, but not without some drama along the way. Go read Erica's blog for what transpired beforehand. As for the scene itself, it started off a little slow. For a variety of reasons, I was a tad distracted. I want to point out my head was in the game. After some sloppy mistakes in a scene early on in which I definately didn't have my head in the game, and feeling very bad about what went down as a result of that, I made a vow to myself to never play if I wasn't in it. So we started slow.

In our favorite room we set up and started with OTK, Erica's favorite way to start a scene. I wanted to ramp it up slowly that night, so the spanking was a little frivolous at first. Nothing harsh. As that was going on, some visitors came in to watch and another couple came in to scene. By that time, I was ramping up the OTK with a thin leather paddle and a short strap. I also have a neoprene workman's glove that Erica just hates, so I switch to that just to torment her. In fact, when I put it on and began spanking her with it she screamed out, "Oh, I hate that fucking thing!" Made me grin. Once she was nice and rosy I stood her leaning over the padded bench, her backside facing into the room. I felt it was time to ramp it up.

Erica was still being her patented bratty self, but I could hear a moan or a groan entering into her vocalization, so I knew the scene was starting to take effect. But more people came into the room and it became more of a show. Erica is such a damn exhibitionist, it's almost impossible for her not to play to the room. I try to ignore the onlookers, but she was getting energy from them, feeding off them. Her brattiness wento up a notch, not down. So I decided to join in. I had a new implement that had been made for me a few months ago and I've been practicing with it off and on, not really ready to play with it on a person until I felt confident I knew what I was doing with it. It's a 3-foot whip with an 18" leather double-strap at the end, so it flicks like a whip and lands with a crackling snap! I knew the sound would be more dramatic than the pain, so I thought this would be both a good mindfuck for Erica and good show. I carefully laid into her, surgically landing that 2" wide double-strap with as much precision as I could muster.

I went on to a nasty 18" natural leather strap. It's so long and so flicky that I always place a hand or arm on the far side of the bottom to avoid wrapping. Aslo, Erica is a narrow target back there, so extra caution must be taken. Though she was still quite a bit bratty and vocal, she was starting to settle into her headspace, I could sense.

Nonetheless, she threw out some loud zingers (and I wish I could recall now all the hilarious things she said). She drew quite a few “oooh!” and “oh my!” and “watch out!” kind of comments from the onlookers, which got me smiling. Knowing my “arc” and the rough outline of a plan I had in my head for the scene, I knew I needed to get crackin’ on that sweet spot (pun intended). So I whipped out my trusty wood cane, one that’s been to ShadowLane and Florida Moonshine with me, one that’s been a part of almost every scene I’ve done at the Lair. I started to really give Erica a what-for (what’s that mean anyway???) and I suddenly I noticed a change in the feel and tone of the cane. I looked down and the damn thing had snapped. Now, I’ve never broken anything on anyone. I consider it bad form. But I knew Erica would love it. She takes pride in having things broken on that atomic ass. So I raise my voice and say, “Now look what you’ve done!” and I reach around and show her the cane. She starts laughing in that adorable, throaty, full-volume laugh of hers and everyone gets a good chuckle at the same time. “That’s one of my favorite canes!” I say. “Now you’re really going to get it!” and I unleash with a double-hand, two-cheek barrage that got Erica quiet quick. (And yes, Erica. I know the grammar is incorrect there, but I like the alliteration with two single-syllable words. Good God, if I didn’t write this note I’d hear about it later, folks, trust me!)

She was getting fidgety standing there and I could see once or twice her legs beginning to buckle a bit, ever so slightly. Time to move her onto the bench, I thought. So I moved some toys off the padded, waist-high bench that I’d covered with the usual ultra soft fur blanket and had her lie face-down on it. She was wearing thigh-high stockings with garters, which is super-hot, but it’s hard for me to get to her legs. I’m a scratcher and Erica responds so positively (or negatively, depending on how you look at it) to that. I’m very careful not to snag the stockings, so I get a little frustrated I can’t scratch all the way down to the heels.

A little over an hour had gone by at this point. Time to move into the next part of the scene. With Erica face down, she was in a more passive position and there was less of a “show” to be seen, so people moved out of the room or onto their own scenes in the space. Audience gone, we could focus more inwardly. Paddles, straps, hand all were used. She was going deeper. To “punish” her for breaking my cane I pulled out a nasty whippy rubber cane that I continued to use to pummel her sweet spot.

I scratched her back from shoulders to buttocks. She moans not in pleasure but pain at this every time. She says it feels like knives cutting into her. Knowing this, I’d brought these medieval finger blades that look truly diabolical. I put them on and raked them gently across her back, her bottom, then dug them in to her sweet spot. She cried out at that. I followed it up with a fur mitt. The nice one. She breathed a sigh of relief.

There was more cropping, intense. I began checking in with Erica more frequently. “Are you getting centered?” I whispered into her ear through her now-wild hair. She needed more. More hands. More paddles. I brought out the cane she hated the most, my super-stealth carbon fiber cane. Unbreakable. She despises this one. Again, on the sweet spot, over and over without moving until she screamed out and said, “Oh, God, Craig!” This is not good. The use of my name. It’s like a “yellow light” I’ve come to learn. A pre-safe word. I leaned in again. “Too much? Are you centered?” She replied with something indiscriminate.

“You’re not going to like this,” I said, which I usually say before trying something new that I think may not work. I pulled out a bag full of brand new wooden clothespins. Someone in the group of onlookers said, “Uh-oh,” and I think that enough to get Erica worrying. “What’s that?” she inquired. I pinched a bit of skin on the right cheek’s sweet spot, clamping down on it with a clothespin. “Ow!” she yelped. I took another and showed it to her. “Oh, GOD!” she replied. But…and I’m proud of her for this…she did not say “Stop!” I applied a total of eight clothespins to both cheeks’ sweet spots. Then I tweaked them with a flick of the finger. She went over the edge.

With those in place, I pulled out the other fur mitt—the one with the bear claws. This I applied softly at first, then dragged the claws down her back to her buttocks. She groaned and moaned in displeasure all the way down. I tweaked the clothespins again, noting the time on my watch. Five minutes for them, tops. I continued with the sensation play until the five minutes were up, then I gently, carefully, gingerly removed each pin. As I unclamped them Erica screamed out, very loudly. It was torture. I put all the clothespins in my hand and showed them to her. “These are for you,” I said, putting them in her carry bag. “Are you centered yet?”

This time there was a longer pause before she replied, “Maybe.” But maybe was not a “no” and so I continued. I pulled out a zip-lock bag. “I have something else you’re not going to like.” Recently, Erica had posted a missive on FetLife about how Doms used oils like capsaicin oil on their unsuspecting bottoms as part of supposed “aftercare.” Erica rightfully pointed out this was not fun, just cruel. I had read about it and decided to use it for a headfuck in our next scene. I pulled out the bottle I had, careful not to show her the label. “I brought oil,” I said. Soon, I was applying peppermint oil (not capsaicin—what am I, a sicko?) with a cotton ball to the raw sweet spots. Having tried this out on myself after abrading my own arm at the inner elbow fold, I knew it would be cold, sensitive and later stingy. She groaned.

She was going into her headspace, so I knew now was a good time to start some counting exercises. I always start by spanking rather rhythmically, then asking her if she knew how many strokes I’d applied. “You didn’t tell me to count!” she pleaded, utter exasperation in her voice. I told her to count then, and would do my usual of changing tempo or switching without losing a beat from implement to hand to confuse the bottom into a miscount. I added five stroke penalties every time that happened, going from 25 to 40. I was really enjoying this, sensing her infuriation and exasperation. She was near collapse. This was a good thing. She kicked her legs up and I smacked her sensitive thighs, causing he to yelp again. “Keep those down!” I growled.

I went back to the cane on that sweet spot, then hand, then paddle. Erica screamed louder and more frequently. I wiped away the peppermint oil with a medicated wipe, which stung worse than the oil, I’d guess.

I’d brought one her most hated implements, a plywood paddle with wholes drilled out by my wife. I showed it to Erica. “Oh, no, Craig. Please, no!” Her pleadings were not good ones, fakery for the fun of it. I knew she was serious. “You’ve convinced me,” I said, putting away the paddle. “But you’ll have to be ‘centered’ a bit longer in return.”

I intensified the ferocity of the scene, increasing tempo and impact. Erica began crying. I knew we were almost finished. Lots of intense hand spankings to really work up the sensitivity. She was really weeping now. We had to finish, soon. “Are you centered?” I asked again, quietly, for the umpteenth time in her ear. “Yes,” she sniffled. “Yes, I am.”

“Good,” I replied. “Then we’re almost done.” I pulled out the thick leather paddle, the truly most-hated implement in my arsenal. This was always the scene-ender with her. I told her there would be 50 strokes. Typically I do eight hard ones. Some of these were lighter, but I ended up putting my all into the last 15 or so. And I’ve got a lot of “all.”

She wept, hard, for the longest time. So long, in fact, I started to get concerned about her well being. She said she just had so many emotions at the surface that night, so much about the day and J and his migraine that had made her ill at ease. Again, read her blog about that stuff. It’s not for me to say.

Needless to say, she got “centered” and I was very pleased with bringing something new to Erica’s experiences and really delivering what she needed. Hopefully you all didn’t get bored with this long dissertation and really got to see my perspective on a scene. I look forward to your comments.


  1. That's "bionic bottom" to you, not "atomic ass"! Humpph! And I KNEW you were using more than your fingernails... bear claws, huh? You beast! :-)

    All joking aside -- it is so much fun for me to read your perspective of our scene, your thought processes, your concerns, your delights. You recalled bits and pieces that I didn't cover.

    I continue to be amazed at how much willingness I have with you, and how much trust. You bring that out in me. Thank you!

  2. Thank you for posting such a detailed account from the top's POV. You and Erica have an amazing connection!

    Not every sadist is so sensitive and thoughtful. Seems like a contradiction in terms, but it's really not such a paradox. We are all human beings first, and what happens is within a consensual context.

  3. Thank you again for trusting me. Gosh, what a wonderful mutual admiration society we have, huh?

  4. Dana:

    I say the same thing (NOT that I'm so sensitive and thoughtful, BTW): it seems contradictory to be a top and be so willing to serve the needs of the bottom, but that's how I was taught and that's just how I'm wired, so there you have it.

    None of this works, as I've said in previous blogs, without mutual respect.

    Thanks for the nice comment.


  5. Hi Craig,

    I absolutely love the way both you and Erica write about your scenes together, with so much detail and emotion. It's clear you have an amazing mutual trust and connection -- and a similar senseof humor, too!

    I'm so glad that Erica has pointed us toward your blog. A great read. I look forward to it now. And as the days continued to pass I thought you were never going to post this part!

    Littlehouser (Pam)
    * Sorry about the Anonymous. I couldn't figure out how to post with my name. I'm NOT a computer person.

  6. I love your attention to detail in this scene description. I don't mean just the descriptions of what implements were used when, or what you both said, although I love those, and you relate them well. I mean your attention to detail during a scene, and your close attention to the details of Erica's body language, breathing patterns, changing vocalization, etc. It isn't often a Bottom hears what goes on in the mind of a Top and what kinds of reactions he looks for as cues to direct his own actions in a scene. Thanks for sharing this with us as a counterpoint to Erica's thoughts and descriptions of the same scene. It has definitely made for interesting reading.

  7. Hey Littlehouser/Pam:

    Thanks for the comment! Welcome to the blog! Please share with your friends.


  8. Dear Jada:

    Thanks for the comments. Your articulate words are greatly appreciated.


  9. Craig,

    Women love a man with a plan, and yours are sensational! You have a few tricks that even my husband doesn't know (unless he happens to read this blog). I had to smile as I read both accounts. On a night when things could easily have gone very wrong, it sounds as though you handled everything right.

    As for your cane, didn't we all warn you about Erica's "Kevlar Keister?" Her reputation is well earned. :D

    Thanks for an excellent narrative! And thanks as well for helping our friend to get centered...


  10. Bonnie:

    Your note is very nice. Just to bug Erica all the time I pretend I forget her nickname is "Bionic Butt" and I act like it's "Atomic Asshole." She HATES that! ;-)

    Tell your husband to email me. I certainly didn't explain all my secrets on my blog, for God's sake!