I’d been half-planning to stay at the party by myself after the discussion, to try and meet people without the safety-net of Sweetie, to see if I might try a little bit of playing with men if I could, but I felt lazy about that and just wanted to play with Sweetie, because I already trust her and she’s so dreamy with the knots. She was tired but glad enough to give it a whirl.
I spread out my fluffy silver blanket on one of those and drank a glass of wine, chatting with Sweetie and passersby. Except for one couple getting all roped up, people weren’t quite getting started yet, so we waited. I felt like a princess on my throne sitting there sipping my wine.
Once we’d waited long enough, I told her what I wanted. She’d learned plenty of knots you can safely use for a collar, so I asked her to do one. She’s averse to putting a leash on me, but I guess it feels okay for her with adorable pink ropes. She got the idea of tying the collar to the decorative cuff around my wrists and I thought that would be awesome. While I was presenting my neck to her so she could work on the collar, I tried to unbutton her shirt, and she smacked my hand away in a very reprimand-y way—and I burst into a huge giggly grin. I told her I’d never been happier in my entire life, and it was true.
Once she got the collar done, she took down the top of my dress and took off my bra. Besides the idea that I might be seen, my favorite part of being topless is the way I notice the softness of my hair on my back and shoulders, soft and warm and friendly. She guided me to kneel on the kneeler, my elbows on the upper part, so that she could tie my ankles. I was wearing fishnets and I opted for leaving my heels on.
Once I was all nicely bound, she pulled up the back of my skirt and started spanking. At this point, Chumbawumba came on the sound system, “I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again,” and we both laughed so hard. As I’ve said before, Sweetie’s spanking style is subtle and sweet. she says her hands get sore, though, so it’s time to start warming up to the idea of getting implements—I’ve since invested in a cute pink flogger, we’ll see how that works.
This is the time when I just totally relax. My face gets all relaxed and wide-eyed, like a little angel or a damsel-not-quite-in-distress. This is the part where I feel like a pin-up, all simper and flouncy hair, and always hope people are watching. She pulled my hair and I felt even prettier. Someday I hope to convince her not to stop or ease up when I say “ow.”
I turned over (no small feat with hands and ankles bound) and asked for my glasses back so the front of me could be exposed and I could watch what was going on around me: a girl in cute red sneakers looking dubious as she got smacked in the ass with a metal ruler. A queer-looking punk chick getting very loudly flogged by a dapper guy with a feather in his hat. In time to “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” You have to wonder who the heck made this playlist. Drinking my wine with tied wrists was pleasantly awkward. I wiggled my feet in the ankle cuff, which was now wrong side up. I sat there until I started to feel too exposed, and then we curled up under my blanket.
That was the first time that Sweetie seemed curious about what was going on in the room. We stayed for a bit and watched—I liked the couple with the big knife, she got us interested on the cute boy/sadist dripping wax onto a man’s chest hair and then peeling it off.
A guy who was in the discussion with me said the dumbest thing: “If you ever need a sadist, he’s your guy. and he won’t cross any of your limits, because he’s gay.” I couldn’t even begin to take apart all the things that are wrong with that statement, but I left that to meditate on for later.
All in all, it was a good adventure, and it was time to go home and go to sleep.
Next: Ropes and tears, not Sweetie’s favorite.