When it was Winggirl One’s turn to get spanked by Cute Master, I got all excited and offered to help hold her down—I’ve always wanted to do that! He thought it was a pretty good idea and I like being helpful.
So WO knelt down in the same spot I’d just been in. Pretty Slave held down her left shoulder and I held down her right. She relaxed into his strikes at first, but then started to buck and fight. I loved the tension of her body pushing against me. Forcing her back into position, I felt a real mean streak come out, all the way up from my belly. I didn’t really hurt her, but I was sure riled up to hold her down and I loved that PS and I were working on this together, as a team. I’ve always aspired to be a good team player.
When he offered to beat her up front, though, I had to tag out. I just don’t want to be a part of boob-hurting. I wandered off to where Old-Timey Guy and co were situated and caught the eye of The (soon to be) Puncher. His face lit up with an enormous grin and he said “Oh, I know that look. You’d better run.”
How to have complete and utter joy, if you’re me: be in bra, underpants and heels running as carefully as I could through the party (didn’t want to mess up anybody’s scene or get a stray single-tail in the eye) with a boy in pursuit. What a perfect moment, even after the Dungeon Owner called out “No running!” and I had to only pretend to run. “Run slow!” a member of the crowd called out helpfully, and that’s what I did.
There’s a bar in the corner of the party that they don’t use, and I’ve spent many a happy moment bent over against it. That’s where I chose for our scene. I realized I was still in my bra and had to go get situated—I ended up bonding with some new friends in the bathroom over my Hello Kitty tape, it never fails.
The Puncher was responsible and considerate (part of the reason I trust him is because he’s been guided by Old-Timey Guy) asking what not to do. Most of my limits didn’t seem like things that would come up, but I rattled them off anyway. They just don’t feel the way they used to, the limits. Should write about that sometime.
Aside from his youth, The Puncher is exactly my type--tall, big, and scruffy-smiley, and his big hands did not disappoint. They stung against my end-of-the-night tender behind. I grabbed hold of the bar and held steady, screaming my head off as I’m wont to do.
“Do you mind a little punching?”
“Go for it!!”
And that felt even better than the spanks. Deep, emphatic thuds I could feel all the way through my pelvis. I felt my hoo-ha swell up and get wetter and everything started to seem really out of control down there. I’ve never felt anything quite like it—aroused in like six directions at once and throbbing/pushing back in rhythm with his hits. It hurt so bad and felt so wild but I just kept white-knuckling the bar, braced myself and pushed my ass out for more.
He came close behind me and leaned up to my ear to check in. (Is there any better feeling? Well yes, but Dom-leaning-in-to-ask-how-I’m-doing is definitely close to the top of the (LOOOONG) list.) I was out of breath and flustered, sweaty and a little scared, but I said keep going, and he did for a while. It was one of the few scenes I’ve stopped because I’ve actually had enough. He said I hung in there longer than most.
We hugged a good long time standing up, but I knew I should ask for more snuggly aftercare. (I should’ve asked beforehand, bad girl, but I don’t always want it or need it.) I felt shy about asking because I didn’t know what his agreements were—aftercare just seems so much more personal than all the other parts.
But he was so sweet, and he said it was up to me, not him if we had aftercare, and we went to find a quiet spot. I was still flushed and panting and so was he. It was such a nice purely animal-comfort feeling wrapped up in his arms. His heart was racing so fast and I liked the vulnerability of that. Snuggling with The Puncher didn’t have the same emotional resonance as the CBATP cuddles from the week before, but I loved just feeling like happy animals with him.
He apologized for sweating all over me but I explained about Lesbian Island, how I’d been deprived of men so long that dude smell is always such a very very good thing. The Puncher’s Girl came over and I thanked her for lending him to me—she was so excited that we’d played.
***Note: I am a terrible feminist when it comes to handing out pseudonyms. I keep naming girls after the names I’ve given their boyfriends, when of course they have their own identities and could be named a million other things. But there are getting to be a lot of characters and it’s helpful to keep track of who belongs to whom. Also, I keep referring to women as girls, but that’s just because I like to.***
We all sat around and chatted for a bit before I realized that I was satisfied to the point where I kinda needed clothes back on. (“Boring!” said The Puncher’s Girl, who herself was back in her pretty, flowy dress.)
I went back over to where I’d left my suitcase and got dressed. Pretty Slave very helpfully took my tape off for me. It was time to start saying goodbyes, and in the process I found out that Old-Timey Guy and Punk Rock Girl have a party coming (at this house that I got chained to one time) and once I got myself invited I jumped up and down with little-girl glee. Old-Timey Guy always brings that out in me.
I squeezed Cute Master and Pretty Slave into a three-person hug and thanked them for everything.
“Keep inviting me to stuff, ‘cause I’m only gonna get sluttier!”
“We’d like you even if you weren’t.” said Cute Master.
The next day I realized I maybe had pushed myself a little too far. I felt a little like I’d smoked a cigarette, even though I haven’t in ten years, and a little paranoid that I’d messed up somehow, even though there was absolutely no evidence. I think partly I’m nervous about how well things have been going, that it somehow won’t be true, but I’m going to do my best to just keep letting awesome things happen, after a teensy little break to process and let all of those fantastic bruises heal.