February 3rd


Panther has already done a fine job of describing our scene of Saturday night from her perspective in her journal of 2/3/02. I'm going to attempt to fill in some of what happened from my own perspective.

What we were doing is a unique form of breast bondage and piercing play, much more a ritual than a play, called Kavadi. Here and here are some photos of a more Westernized version. The first is the link Panther has in her write-up also. This, and this, and this are all more traditional Kavadi rituals in Singapore, India, Malaysia, and other lands. When I was first introduced to this particular device by the late Tom Finch, Kavadi is the term I was told and I mean no disrespect to anyone following a more traditional discipline by continuing to call it Kavadi. The Kavadi device Tom built is a much smaller device than the Eastern versions.

It had been a long time since Panther and I last played together, and we were both a bit anxious. We spent quite a bit of time talking, calming, relaxing, sharing breaths, creating a safe bubble - connecting. It felt good. I knew things would go well when she told me that her veins are hard to hit, but I drew a 10cc syringe out without a hitch.

The device Tom made is beautiful. Panther and I had done this twice before, described in my LIL report and as well one other time earlier that year. The base is beautiful carved mahogany, curved on top to cushion the breasts and on one side to follow the curve of the abdomen. The lexan piece screws on top of the breasts with wing nuts, and it's held in place by a back strap, and in place of the usual shoulder straps [which my housekeeper, Hazel, put away for me, and I'm still looking for them] I laced several lengths of parachute cord in their place. Panther has lost a good bit of weight of late, but says her lovelies are still FF, so there was a bit of pinch at the threaded posts on the sides. The lexan has holes with little tubes, and it is through those tubes that the spikes are inserted into the breasts. The spikes are 15-18" long or so, around 12ga, and quite sharp. We decided to set them quite firmly, seated deeply. The last time I seated them with blows of a large paddle, but we both agreed that that had been more brutal than ritualistic, so I placed each by hand this time. Deep. I pierced some in slowly, screwed some in, thrust a few in, dropped a few onto her skin lightly and then pushed them deep in. Every few spikes I'd stop and play with those in place. Gently finger the 'piano keys' of the tops of them, strum the 'harp' of the sides of them, and watch Panther hum, squirm, writhe, and cum. Gads, but she's a sensual beast.

Once all the spikes were in, each about a half to an inch in and fairly well distributed across the entirety of her breasts, I started one of her favorite games - Adventures In Citrus. I had a bag of a couple dozen baby lemons, and I began to insert one onto the top of each spike. This not only shoved each spike deeper, and kept a steady weight on top of each spike holding it down, but it also gave her the delight of lemon juice dripping down the spikes, through the tubes, and into her new breast piercings. Many folks spritz with alcohol on piercings for the zing - citrus juice is less forgiving as it doesn't evaporate. I squeezed some, double dribbled others, did what little I could do to help her along. Sometimes I'd squirt the juice and she would lap it up, or lick up the spikes closest to her. Oh, and the tuning fork. God, did she love the tuning fork. Rattling the sides of the spikes, vibrating the tops of the spikes, up and down her body front and back hitting chakras, seated at the base of her skull and over her sternum... everywhere. God, did she love the tuning fork.

At some point we moved out onto the main dungeon floor. There was little else going on so we wandered. Up onto chairs and hopping off, climbing the cross pieces of a rack, and dance dance dance. She was dancing all over the place, everything from a shimmy to a hornpipe. The smile, the happy and very very stoned-on-endorphins smile, was constant. She hopped up and down, she did a jig, she walked fast and slow. And every once in a while - quite frequently, to those watching closely - she would stop, squeeze her legs together, and shudder in orgasm. So sweet.

When she found it hard to stand, let alone dance, I took her back into the medical room to despike her. Of course, this included emptying the lemons of juice as they came off, and removing the spikes as sensitively as they went in. There was blood of course, which she dabbed with her finger to lap up. Waste not, want not, I suppose. Once she was over waiting for the shower to warm up, I pulled out the syringe I'd drawn as foreplay. She actually believed me when I told her it would warm her up while she was waiting, but of course it had been sitting on a table for a couple hours, so she made cold-blood-squirted-on-me squeals instead of warm-blood-squirted-on-me laughs.

Once the area was cleaned up in the medical room - and it was much more her ejaculate, well mixed with lemon juice, than any sort of bleeding - she moved on to bounce around the room for the rest of the evening, pinging off the walls and chattering to one and all. A very happy girl. A few minutes after we were done the calorie draining intensity of what we'd done hit me with a severe case of Top Drop. I staggered out to find Panther and she brought me a cup of M&M's where I found a place to go lay down. I was down and limp as a wet towel for about 15-20 minutes but the sugar picked me up eventually, and I rejoined humanity. Once Panther's husband Viktor was done playing with Chloe, I turned my lovely partner of the night over and headed on out. Got home, crashed hard, and it took a couple of days for me to write this whole thing. I wanted to give it the time and respect it deserved. I'll leave the entry date of February 3rd, which is when I once again realized how good my life is, my friends are, and my freedom to live it.






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