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.
Aw.
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.