July 23rd - Erotic Exertions

Damn, but I come home from an evening of erotic exertions hungry!

Let me move back a bit. When last heard from, The Slut - that being me - had just noticed that Jane was arriving to teach him about FTP. Hazel was cleaning the kitchen and it was a pleasant little Our Damn Version of domesticity. Jim dropped Jane off and headed on down to the Wet Spot. Jane and I had dinner plans with Natasha and another lady after our FTPing. Jane covered everything necessary for me to upload my own journal entries, and she and I both realized that an in depth idiot-proof checklist was going to be a necessity. That'll come after we both get some sleep and take care of stuff in The Real World.

Jane and I abandoned the computer and I drove us down to Capital Hill to meet Natasha and another lady for dinner. It was in a nice yuppie restaurant in a place that was an old and dusty gay bar last time I looked. They'd been there long enough to put a decent menu together. Jane and I shared an order of wonderfully tangy clams and we each had an entree. I discovered what I want to do next lifetime. I want to come back as Jane's Personal Waitress - the girl tips like a drunken sailor!

We got to the Spot a tad bit later than planned, but so was everything else before and after. Natasha had flattered me with a request for a flogging. It is our first play. When I was first asked I hadn't realized that public play was a button she was intentionally invoking on herself. I was honored with the trust she showed me. I didn't bring all that many toys with me - no garden weasel, no sharp surgical instruments, nothing that operated on wall current. Just floggers in an assortment from soft deerskin to one motherfucker that is made from strips of steel belted radial, from a braided cat to a signal whip.

I had forgotten restraints so borrowed a couple lengths of rope from James to tie her off with. Jane had promised to be there to heckle but I never heard word one from her. Natasha and I had a nice gradual buildup into a nice introductory flogging. Her back was suitably scored and red and sensitive to a breath of hot air, so I turned her over on the cross and gave her front appropriate worship. A damn shame that the ropes of James', recycled from tying her ankles to cinching her beautiful breasts into the Whip Receiving Position, happened to be a rather rough and coarse natural fibre. Purple and abraded both; hehehehe.

After a tad bit of warm up to her ventral side I gave Natasha a small itsy bitsy introduction to a single tail whip. She said she had never felt one so I alternated between light teasing flicks and the gunshot-loud cracks; the flicks kissed her skin and the cracks caressed her fears.

She was marvelous. A blond lady with a smile that lights up any room she enters, she is just like Jane in one thing. No matter how hard or sincerely you try to convince her, she is unable to grasp the reality that she is beautiful. Truly and classically beautiful. During dinner we all took turns making her blush in joke and jest, and that was fun, but now with her skin all pinked up from fear and flogging, hair mussed and clothes thrown to the floor, rope indents on her wrist and bruises fore and aft, she was stunning. A brave lady who extended trust and in my mind was the clear winner of the night.

Once we were done, down from the cross and rehydrated and redressed, Natasha cuddled with Jane and the other lady and just kinda glowed for a while. After a bit I felt a bit third-thumbish, she in such good hands, so I said my "you're in good hands, I'll be wandering off now" and wandered off smack into the hands of Marion and her primary, who had come in and started having way too much fun in the back of the dungeon while I'd been working up in the front. I said hello and ended up assimilated into the fun-sharing they had already started. I reached to shake his hand and found a beautiful hard-on pointed at me, so shook that instead. Marion and I joined together in pushing her guy over the top into the OH MY GOD stuff [thank you, Body Electric !!!], and then they kinda put me down on a mattress on the floor and joined together in pushing me into that gorked out non-verbal making funny noises state with my tongue hanging out and my limbs flopping about out of control. Oh my.

Needless to say before too long this old man ended up sitting on the couch chatting with Jim and Georgette and Jane and Mistress Matisse and Sol and a bunch of other friends. Panther and family were there, recovering from a rough week by snuggling in the bosom of chosen family. We all watched others having their fun and we dished and planned future fun and just schmoozed and relaxed a while. Had some fun watching a local domme setting her girlfriend on fire with an alcohol spritzer and a violet wand - damn that girl can giggle!

At a certain point in the evening, fairly late, I realized that Natasha and Marion had all left, and I might as well move on as well.

I did my usual 3am grocery shopping on the way home, stocking up for both my Dad's visit later this week and for the weekend-long ritual at Al D's house next week. We're going to carve and eat and recycle just about every part of the 65lb beaver I gave Al, on ice, some time back, and he's planning on a buffalo skull drag. I'll be doing an elk stew for the event. A tad bit more mundanely, Dad and I have tickets for the Mariners two days in a row.

So I get home, put the groceries away, and realized that it had been 8 hours or so since that most excellent dinner with Jane and the girls, so I started cooking. Broiled steak, grilled teriyaki walla walla slices, corn on the cob, side order of kimchi and a bowl of cottage cheese with mayo and fresh sliced green onions. Licorice spice tea and an eclectic mix on the CD changer and life couldn't be better.

On the CD changer tonite:

Ruth Ann Swenson, Positively Golden [coloratura arias]
Rev. James Moore with the Mississippi Mass Choir [gospel]
The Inevitable Squirrel Nut Zippers [contemporary swing]
Take 6, So Cool [a cappella vocalese]
Feodor Chaliapin, Russian Opera Arias [a true bass, Boris Godounov and others recorded in the 1930s]

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