'Life is good' is so much more than a tag line. It's a realization, an affirmation, and a statement of determination.
Tonite at the Wet Spot we had a Bondage Only party. In this world of fetish and decadence that I live in there are factions. The drag queens and the leathermen and the Gorean slaves and the vampires and the Stand & Model kids and the 24/7's and on and on. One schism that often is blurred over is the different styles of the sadomasochists - people swinging whips, swatting with canes, piercing and beating and scratching and screaming and other such loud and violent things - versus the contrasting style of the bondage purists - quieter, more cerebral, different questions of trust than the s/m'ers, an alternative collection of technical skill issues, more subtle styles of play that often get stepped on in a full service dungeon. Tonite was a night devoted solely to bondage.
Several well known and respected bondage tops showed up who normally play in private [largely because of issues mentioned above]. Many of the Usual Suspects showed up, folks I saw at the regular pansexual party Saturday night, but with different agendas and different toys. There were many folks there who I've not negotiated journal mention with, however I did see Mistress Matisse, Pantherand her clan, Rayce and her partner, White Jade with one of her husbands, and a host of others. Kevin I hardly saw, as he was already in the back room putting the lovely Coyote into a hemp rope harness.
My date for the night was the lovely Omaha. Her hubby Elf dropped her off at my place just in time for me to serve her a chicken bulgogi stir fry. [More experimenting after my most recent visit to Uwajimaya, and she pronounced it delicious!] Elf took their little one back home to bed; we really have to conspire to get him out more often himself. He's too darn cute to just be the baby-sitter all the darn time.
We arrived at the Wet Spot an hour or so after the party started and things were definitely in full swing. Overhead suspension, parachute line harnesses in the style of Midori, leather sleep sacks, and other fun stuff. Viktor was just finishing working on Annika on the piece of furniture I'd wanted, so we were able to move right in.
Omaha had mentioned some trust issues she wanted to work on, working on feeling safe in full bondage, and mixing some erotic work in while we're doing it. I started by doing a full body saran wrap with her standing up, and then with Sol and Viktor supporting her a foot or so off the ground, I pallet-wrapped her torso and legs to the large St Andrew's Cross, and then wrapped her arms to the uprights. She slid down a bit to where her feet did touch the ground, but she was definitely immobilized [as well as blindfolded; we left her without headphones so she could use the ambient music of the room and chatter as 'white noise'].
We did no breath control, as I found that any covering of her airway invoked immediate panic. I covered her entire head, but left her nares and a small mouth opening exposed. Having her mouth open soon turned out to be a Good Thing. After a few minutes I exposed her nipples and let them air out [Me: "Everyone knows that nursing mothers don't have sensitive nipples..."; Her: "Snort!"]. Well, ok, I did chew on them a bit, and rubbed them now and then, but just a little bit, really. I also exposed her crotch, lubed up a gloved hand, and began to explore her fore and aft. When I began to advance a rippled butt plug into place she told me that she would probably be much more receptive if I had a vibrator... and darned if a friend didn't hand me an extension cord for my Hitachi.
This is where having her able to speak came in oh so handy. Let me tell you - kneeling in front of someone saran wrapped to a large piece of furniture and reaching under and behind them where you really can't see is a lousy way to try to gently and sensually insert a butt plug, especially if you want to (a) get it in the right place and (b) have them enjoy it. "Move the vibrator higher on my clit please... oh, gently with the plug please, forward a little, back up a bit, there, that's it... the vibrator is on my leg, not my clit... oh yes, yes yes right there ohmygod...oh, God, shove that thing up in there!!!"... and about this point she went into about a five minute full throated moaning and screaming verbalization of her orgasms that [I was told later by several interested observers] froze the room. I don't know, I certainly wasn't looking around at anyone or anything further away than 3 inches from my nose. I just know that whatever I was doing that worked, I kept on doing til she hung limp from the supporting saran wrap and I damn near collapsed myself.
Anyone who tells you that the top has the easy part of it has never tried that particular collection of muscle skills that I had to use there... my tshirt was saturated and my arms were shaking as I started to cut her down and wrap her up in a sheet. The worst part of the whole thing, though, turned out to be that Alikat's brownies were all gone by the time Omaha needed sugar, and she had to settle for a commercial made powdered donut hole. Yuck.
After cool down and clean up, Omaha and I decided to head on home; we were both depleted and exhausted. It still took 20 minutes to schmooze our way out the door. I drove her on down to her place in South Seattle, and bid her good night. When I turned around and headed north I heard the local classical station on the radio start a fascinating show examining Bach's 'Tocatta and Fugue in D-Minor', so I settled back in the seat, picked the slower long road home, and indulged myself in a totally different pleasure, that of fine music played well.
And continued to muse all the way home about how rich and good my life is.
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