January 12th - Later That Night
We both arrived and caught up around 9pm or so, quite early in the evening. She came in while Kevin and I were chatting, and he was as glad to see her as I. I foretell good things to come of that. Tall, thin, with hair shorter than a marine, a spare but healthy body wearing cargo pants and a wife-beater tshirt, she looked like exactly herself. We chatted one on one a bit and I enticed her with the wildassed idea I had for the night. It turns out the last time she had played was in February, the last time she and I had played. I was quite flattered [plus wanted to help introduce her to more of my women-who-love-women friends]! She giggled pretty anxiously, thought about the plan, and gave her tentative ok. I had proposed some work both above and below her waist. She expressed absolute comfort with me not being a 'guy' who was going to cross sexual limits with her, but wasn't sure if she was ready for the severity of the sensation down below. Fair enough, and I went to set up.
Here, in video, is where clever editing would obscure my fuck up in planning. Had I thought I had everything ready in my bloodsports bag? Yessssssssssss. Did I double check? Noooooooooo. Twelve minutes home to pick up some instruments, 3 minutes at the house finding where Hazel had hid them, and ten minutes back to the Wet Spot. Double argh. She had plenty of stuff to catch up on at the Spot, but nevertheless Mea Culpa, and Mea Learna.We settled in to the gyn table in the back [settled in perhaps a terrible choice of words - forgive me], and got ready to go. Initially I started putting a mandala pattern of needles woven back and forth, over and under, directly over the scar of the circle & cross female emblem that I cut into her chest a year or so ago. Right from the first needle, and continuing right on through every needle after, to watch her you would swear that she was connected to a set of jumper cables, and every time the steel caressed her flesh she jolted and jumped and vibrated her entire body in response. Her face, as well - wearing every bit of the sensation and endorphin and pleasure she was vaulting through. No top could ask for more. We put a dozen or so needles there and she was quite flying, quite high, quite happy.
Enough warm up. I broke out the beads - large 1cm squarish white beads, from McPherson's Leather, designed to be used in doing leather crafts. I suppose that's actually fairly similar to what I had in mind. Next I got out a stack of sutures and suture holders and began. Two anchoring stitches on the outside rim of her left areola, string four beads across the areola, nipple, and to the inside margin of the areola, and two more anchoring stitches and then tie off. Sounds like easy times, eh? I've sutured enough to know what I'm doing, and not sutured enough recently to be really clumsy with my knot tying. I got it done, and you couldn't tell looking at her that I was embarrassed by my technique, but - well, like I say, I got it done. Attempting to repeat the same stunt on the other breast I picked up a heavier suture for easier handling, but didn't notice that this second one did not have a 'cutting' needle. I was barely able to force it through her skin twice with her yelling and me straining. I stopped, cut out the gut suture totally, and opened another Ethilon with a cutting needle. This went much easier, and confirmed me in what I'll look for in sutures in the future. Once done, she had two cute little rows of white beads running directly across - and stimulating constantly - her nipples. At this point she said that she was too high already and wasn't ready to have her nether areas sutured [I'd been planning on using a contrasting color of beads, and stringing them directly across from one side to the other, directly rubbing on her clit. Another time.]
She wanted some time to just enjoy her beadwork, so I proceeded to pull the needles out - causing some exquisite sensation and not a little bleeding along the way - and then clean our puddled and streaky mess. All the needles gone, suture needles disposed of, extraneous blood scrubbed and she was ready to to about her business in the club in an absolutely silly state of mind. While she was beginning her diddy-bop I cleaned the room for the next folks to use.Earlier in the evening I had asked Chloe if she would mind putting a tight braid into my hair so it would be curlier when down in the morning during my ritual. She said she was glad to do it, and we did so while Babydyke was out giggling. I was really grateful for the help, and that things appear to be slowly beginning to do better there. Close to midnight Babydyke came back to get the sutures out, so she could move on to meet some girlfriends and I could go meet my bed, pillow and sleep. Suture removal is really no pain and very little sensation, other than that absolutely stranger-than-tits-on-a-duck sensation when you feel the thread actually pulled through your skin. Not as bad-weird as fingernails on a blackboard, and not as good-weird as an unexpected spontaneous kiss from an old friend. Just plainassed weird-weird. I gave her the beads to take home and put away in her special place, and then eased her on down the road.
One of the joys about being one of Georgette's 'always on call' people is that as I was leaving, already late per my "I'll only stay til midnight at the latest" resolution, I got called to the entryway where a patron had fainted on her own way out to the parking lot. Another medically trained person and myself stayed with her, giving her sips of water and bits of chocolate as she could tolerate until we were finally able to help her out to her husband and their vehicle. I walked back in to get my stuff and Viktor & Chloe both did double-takes, thinking I'd left 20 minutes prior. Now, I did go, happy that the night had gone so well for all.And now, resting in bed, feeling grounded to the solid earth and working on slow calming breathing exercises, I prepared my mind, body & spirit for the ritual to come in the morning. My life is indeed rich.
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