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.
