April 30th, 2000

Well, so it's actually near dawn on May 1st. Who really keeps track in the hours of never-never, the hours when most of the world is in that deep sleep and when armies plan their ambushes. It's the time when I realize, generally, that the night is passing and I had better get some work done.

Slept deeply today, after writing reviews last night. Kevin was hurting, so we had to put off his mummification til next week. I woke up around 6pm and noticed that Hazel hadn't been in yet for her weekly housecleaning, but then found an ICQ from her saying she'd be late.

The last day or so we've been exchanging some mail chatting about some rather brutal fantasies she's had. More or less spur of the moment, given Kevin's sore shoulder, I offered to do a small scene to help her realize some of what she's been looking for.

Rough, coarse, brutal, instilling a real fear and keeping her on an edge of threat while she's approaching orgasm. This isn't as easy as it sounds.

Most of what I do is much more mutually consensual and - since I don't do D/s, but rather S/M, tends to be more reality and sensation based and less role based. "Hey there, wanna flogging?" "Will you put some needles in my medulla oblongata?" Wanting to create that sense of fear, while maintaining - in MY mind - an absence of real risk, ain't easy.

I told her to stop by Value Village thrift store and pick up some disposable clothing. Sent off on that mission, I stopped at a local smoke-free bar and grill for a really tasty steak and some quiet minutes reading my novel before arriving at the Spot.

It wasn't a noisy or busy night, but it was good to see a few friends. Laura the voluptuous redhead had a new corset and looked tasty. White Jade was back from her latest trip - I really think she's channelling Charles Kuralt these days. She and one of her husbands gave me nice hugs and we chatted briefly. Jim was there - Jane was handling Domestic Goddess chores and I didn't see Georgette. Sparkle was looking bubbly as usual, as was Panther [wearing a Bucket of Blood tshirt I had given her, which emphasizes, more than covers, her endowment]. It's good to have friends, and these are a few of mine.

Schmooze, schmooze, schmooze. Social animal for an hour or so, and then I grabbed Hazel by the hair and pulled her out onto the floor. I duct taped her hands together, threw a piece of duct tape over her mouth, and gave an empty soda pop can to hold in her hand. I told her that I would ignore it, but if she could crumple it enough to get a DM's attention it could be a safeword for her. I had already told the DMs that I was going to tell her exactly this, but that of course I would pay attention if she did do it. It was just another little bit of instilling more fear and realism.

A rawhide lash between the duct tape on her wrists and an overhead hook and she was more or less immobilized. That's when I pulled out the straight razor and the hunting knife and took turns between them slashing her clothes off. Stuck a butt plug in without telling her it was coming - but at least I did use lube. Once the skirt was turned into a raggedy edged towel, I put her down on the ground on top of it, feet tied off to opposite ends of a piece of equipment and - by this time she had ejected the butt plug at some incredible velocity - put a condom over the knife handle and fucked her with it. Put it all the way in, left it there, and stimulated her clit vigorously. I ended up fisting her [after I'd removed the knife, of course] as violently as I felt safe.

There was much more - flicking her nipples with the point of the straight razor, holding her nose closed while fingering her clit, covering her face with her own pussy juices, and more. I forget all the detail and much of it was spur of the moment.

Now, there is recurring discussion on the mailing lists I'm on about rape scenes, which is close to what this was. Some rape survivors can't watch; some rape survivors are the opposite and re-enact, to put themselves back over control over it. This was more a case of trying to achieve the sort of fear/thrill edge that Hazel says she requires to really get off.

It worked to a degree. There was some suspension of disbelief, and some of the realism tricks I used - the coarse duct tape over the mouth, the rough type rope I used to bind her breasts, the rawhide lacings I used to tie her ankles with, the slashes with the straight razor - many of these things helped. Even so, I was too kind [Lube? How nice of you!] in some ways for it to totally work for her.

Absolutely invisible to her, of course, were the gymnastics I had to do within my own head. I am not a rapist. I do enjoy rough sex. I had to convince her I was crossing the line, without crossing it. Without allowing myself to cross it.

After we ended off I let her clean up the area and equipment. I scrubbed my arms to the elbow -- yeah, right, gloves are enough :) -- and started to work on hydrating myself. I burned off every calorie I'd just ingested in that fine steak dinner and had to start filling back up. Or, more realistically, as I panted to Jim when I came off the dungeon floor - "I'm getting too old for this shit!", channelling Danny Glover again.

Later Hazel - dressed again in another set of clothes - was asking about a flogging and I set her up with Sparkle, who had been through a fierce rope harness and tickling exercise earlier and who was eager to get back on top. I continued, old man that I am, to push pretzels and H2O.

At the end of the night we put on Rocky Horror as work music and pushed all the dungeon equipment into the back rooms, so the Body Electric folks, who are using the place during the day this weekend, would have all the floor space available.

Winding down, I gave Laura a ride to her place, hit Safeway, and on home. All in all, a tad bit of a weird Saturday - even for me - but not a bad one. Just different.

Life continues good.

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