Thursday, March 13, 2014

Flash Fuction: A Predicament


As soon as he stepped out of her view she wondered why she had agreed to this in the first place. She was blindfolded, hands tied behind the back of the wood chair she sat on, naked, ankles tied to the legs of the chair, like the start of a bad interrogation scene with Tom Cruise or something. Yes, she had agreed to this. She wasn’t legitimately worried, but she had never done anything like this before and…well…she didn’t know what to expect. She was anxious and, she had to admit, excited.
She could hear him doing something behind her, setting things on the metal exam table she had seen as he had brought her into the room, one hand on the small of her back as if gently pushing her in. She stood there, staring at the chair and the table and at him as he closed and locked the door to the soundproofed room. She had known him a long time. He was older, but she had always found him intriguing, though she didn’t like to admit it, even to herself.
It had started innocently enough. They had been having a friendly conversation, one that—as typical—would veer into something titillating, whether it was about sex or about some kind of pain or domination scenario. It was never literally spelled out, always hinted at, hidden behind innuendo. Finally, after some back and forth like this with lots of eye contact he said to her, “I think you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” she said with a bit too much false bravado.
“Ready to try.” That was all he said. Then he changed the subject. A week later he invited her “someplace different” the text message had read. Evidently, this was the something different. Naked, in a room with a wood chair and a metal exam table. And fuck, she was hot.
He came around from behind her, looking her over, taking her all in. His gaze was piercing. She felt dirty—and yet she got hotter. “I think you’re a naughty girl,” she heard him say as he moved slowly toward her. Without a sound, suddenly she felt his hand slap her inner thigh. Hard. She was shocked at the pain and she yelped before she knew the sound had even escaped her mouth. The spot burned. She peeked down under the blindfold and saw the imprint of his hand on her skin, a red aura. It was near her crotch, so the warmth traveled up her leg and rooted itself in her pussy. She was surprised to feel herself tingling there.
She hadn’t known what to expect, but she certainly hadn’t expected him to slap her inner thigh. He slapped the other one next, just as hard. “To balance things out,” he said, sardonically. He reached out and grabbed her breast, roughly, squeezing it in his fist. His fingers found her erect nipple and he pinched it. She could hear herself intake breath sharply. A moment later he was twisting both her nipples to the point her eyes watered.
“Please…” she gasped. Again, to her surprise, she felt the palm of his hand connect with her cheek. Holy fuck, he slapped my face! she thought. She remained quiet. The moisture between her legs betrayed the shock of him slapping her.
“What are you begging me for?” he asked, his mouth so close to her ear that she felt his breath and the hair on the back of her neck tingled.
“I…I dunno,” she gasped. She felt him put something on her nipples. He was attaching clamps to them, pinching down on her pink flesh. Starbursts of pain appeared behind her closed eyes. She began to breathe heavily.
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. “Wha—what?” she nearly begged. A moment later, his throbbing cock was pressed up against her lips. She opened her mouth to accept it, and felt the warmth slide in. She took what she could of him. She could feel his heat. Her tongue felt it throb. She could taste him. He fucked her mouth, hard, using his hand to hold the back of her head, to force her to take him deeper. When he felt or heard her gag, he pulled out to allow her to catch her breath. This seemed to go on for the longest time. The pain from her nipples and the blindfold made time blur.
She heard him moan and pant. Knew he was close. But he stopped and pulled out, her saliva dripping down her chin onto her breasts. “You trying to get me to come?” he growled. “I’ll decide when to do that.”
She heard him pull away from her, go around behind her and rustle around on the table. He moved things, came back and gently removed the nipple clamps. She was shocked to discover the pain was greater with them off than with them on. New blossoms of pain filled her breasts.
He reached down between her legs and pushed his fingers roughly against her. “You are a wet slut, aren’t you?” he panted. She moaned an unintelligible response she felt was close to a positive acknowledgement. She found herself gasping again as he pinched her clit, roughly twisting it. Soon, his fingers were probing inside of her, her moisture lubricating his roughness. New moans escaped her lips. His fingers moved in and out of her rapidly and she felt the pleasure escalate.
And then he stopped. He slapped one breast and then the other. What was she doing? What had she gotten herself into? This wasn’t at all what she imagined. But what had she thought was going to happen? A playful little roughhousing? Perhaps. She certainly hadn’t imagined being tied up and having her boobs slapped! It hurt! But…she hated to admit to herself…she liked it. She liked being treated roughly. She knew he wasn’t a bad person. Knew he wasn’t going to genuinely hurt her. That made it better. The trust. Still…
He slapped them again, as if reading her mind.
She decided then to stop thinking, to just feel and to let him have his way with her. She released her will to him. And then he untied her, bent her over the chair and pounded himself into her mercilessly.

         She loved every moment and couldn’t wait for what he would do next time.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

BOLD 2014


I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to make this blog entry different from what I wrote on Black & Blue. There, I think what I talked about focused mostly on our involvement in bringing The Carter Johnson Leather Library to BOLD 2014. Pretty much all of my experiences at BOLD revolved around the Library in one way or another.

But...as I've had a week to reflect on my experiences at BOLD, I think I've figured out more to talk about—likely more about me than about BOLD 2014. 

BOLD, last year, was such an amazing, eye-opening event for me. I got to be with people just like me. People who were seeing the world through the same glasses I was. MDHL-fs people who wanted to commune with like-minded individuals all congregated together to discuss (as the theme was last year) MDHL-fs relationships. With Dom, Sub and Couples tracks to the conference, there was something for everyone.

This year, "Our Leather Roots" was the theme. Understand what a leather family is and where that came from, what the history of leather was (in general and specifically in Los Angeles) was explored. There were still Dom, Sub and Couples tracks—exploring everything from basics (scene negotiation) to navigating poly relationships to more complex subjects. 

I feel like a broken record when I say that just being around "my people" was extraordinary. Lizzie and I went to the Lair Saturday night. We were beat (no pun intended) from long days of hard word, but we went to relax, hang out with friends and talk about what we had been experiencing. That alone was worth the visit. But Lizzie and I also played—a shortened OTK and strapping scene (because we were both exhausted). A new friend we met at the MDHL Meeting a week earlier was there, and I mustered enough energy to give her an OTK spanking as well, which may have been the first time I ever felt a sort of spanking party energy at the Lair. Our new friend was awesome—I sincerely appreciated her writhing during her spanking. I could tell it worked! (Great feedback.)

The weekend finished too soon and by 3 pm Sunday we had begun with a team of volunteers to break down and load out the Leather Library. But we were happy. It had been an amazing weekend.