The Sparkly Festival of Awesomeness, Part Four: The Hair-Pulling Contest

Friends, in my everyday life, when I’m not running off to sexy festivals and writing about it, I’m a teacher in my very first year. As any teacher will tell you, the first year is kind of a nightmare. Yes, there are many happy and fulfilling moments, but also bucketloads of trial and error that comes down mostly on the “error” side, mistakes that make my soul hurt, and mountains of self-doubt and shame.

I’m telling you this so you’ll understand what the sheer rightness of this story is doing for me. I may be stumbling and sniffling determinedly through my professional life, but the way I got myself exactly what I needed that day in the woods gives me hope that I will someday float myself through it into confidence and grace. Plus, it gives me something nice to daydream about when I should be grading papers.

So back to the kissing. I’m not sure how Mr. Sweetheart and I got from that sweet cake flower kiss to him yanking the bejeezus out of my hair, but I’m thinking I probably instigated it. Sincere and soulful as he is, Mr. Sweetheart has a delicious mean streak when it comes to happy pain. As we kept on kissing, he reached his hand up into the back of my hair and pulled insistently, making me feel helpless/giddy/elated. The adrenaline pushed up through me, I groaned and laughed.

Snarling a little, he dragged me across the pavilion and the “She” half of Sheandhim got adorably concerned: “Why are you dragging my friend around?”

By way of answering, he angled my face so that she could see my expression. “And...she loves it. Okay.”

So on top of the fact that I was lucky enough to have this happen to me, I also won the friend lottery by having her check on me.

And ohboy, I DID love it.

It should be said that as I write this I’m not sure of the order of things—the timeline slips away a little as happens in regards to magical days. But I do know that while we were milling around sampling obscure liquors, I had maybe the best idea I’ve ever had. I told my two kissing-pals that they should have a hair-pulling contest, and they obliged. Ms. Sweetheart held my glasses for me and Mr. Sweetheart went first--was very unsweetheartlike. He pulled my hair down so hard that I was forced to my knees. I loved making a spectacle of us, doing something so nicely violent in such safe, lovey-dovey surroundings. I think I have him an eight.

When Mr. Shiny Eyes had his turn, it was more like dancing. Holding the hair at the nape of my neck, he steered my body this way and that, eventually into a precipitous dip. It was a very princessy feeling.

“Well, (Mr. Shiny Eyes) has finesse, but (Mr. Sweetheart) is not afraid to really hurt me. They went back and forth, getting stronger and snarlier. I forget which one of them I called “Sir” first, but they sure both deserved the title. They realized after a while that I wasn’t giving them tens because then the game would be over, but eventually it was and things got much more makey-outy. Mr. Shiny Eyes helped me try a delicious elderberry something by drinking it first and kissing it into my mouth. It was dreamy and soft and tasted like all the spring goodness. He kept kissing me and kissing me until I asked for some spanks.

He told me to lean against a post on the side of the pavilion, so I did. It had some nails in it so I had to be careful. The spanking soon went back to kissing, and as he held me there against the railing, his hands started to wander, as did mine. He played with my nipples, which felt like they’d been waiting for him all along. Likewise my hand had been waiting for his fantastically hard cock.

I noticed Mr. Sweetheart hovering off to the side, so I said “What are you doing over there?” He came close so that I could put my arm around him and I said “Can I?’ and when I got the okay (More like the “Can you what?” but still…) I ran my hands over the front of his kilt while still playing with Mr. Shiny Eyes and kissing the heck out of both of them.

And one-in-each-hand is of course so very very much better in real life than it is in search terms, dears. I felt like a millionaire. Like a goddess. Like a millionaire goddess with the wettest hoo-ha in the entire known universe.

Next: It’s possible I was born for this.

Another Pretty Pink Scene With Sweetie

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.

They have these nice red padded kneeler benches there. Like this, but red:

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.