It’s 97 fucking degrees here, with a heat index of 101. Last night — which was no cooler than today — I went over to the playspace to help set up, and it was an inferno. B. says he was going to leave the ginormous fans on overnight and all day today, to cool it down, but — holy hell.
The REALLY funny part (to me) about tonight’s party, in the blast furnace heat, is that the demonstration scheduled for tonight is (I shit you not) FIRE PLAY. Now, while that sounds scary to me *anyway,* why in the hell must we increase the temperature by lighting submissives on fire? I ask you.
Perhaps it was scheduled that way in anticipation of everyone spontaneously combusting. Very efficient that way.
The out-of-town party went off without a hitch, and was a great time. Another sub came with us, so we teased M. about having a harem. (Uh, yeah — a harem of 2. Okay, it sounded cooler at the time, I swear.)
Anyway. We had a map to a location where we were to meet a limousine that would take us to the party. Honestly, atmosphere is everything, people. The limo was a really nice touch. The subs were blindfolded, and we drove to the party location. About 75% of the regulars from my BDSM group were there, which was nice, because that way I knew people. And because I like them. Simple as that. I’d say that our contingent made up almost half the party guests. So, after we all introduced ourselves, we got a brief tour of the house. They really went all out setting up different rooms with all kinds of BDSM equipment, and providing whips/floggers/canes/etc. for people who needed them.
I helped M. set up an area to do the electric demo, and, in talking about it, he decided that it would be easier for him to have just one of us to demonstrate on, so I let K., the other sub who came with us, be electrogirl, since she was so eager. M. said don’t worry, after the demo, he and I could play — electric, or whatever I wanted. I was digging through his huge bag o’ kinky props and pulled out one of his floggers — it’s a really really soft deerskin one. I said how pretty it was, and it was too soft to be evil. He said that even when he swings as hard as he can, it’s impossible to actually hurt the person he’s flogging. I was intrigued. Though trepidatious. But I asked, “Will you flog me later, then? With this?” He said sure.
It’s very weird for me to articulate what I want, and then to get it. I’m used to not getting what I want, or being shocked on the occasions when I do get what I want, so this whole ask-and-you-shall-receive aspect of BDSM is really weird to me. *Good* weird; don’t get me wrong. But still very unfamiliar to me. Which I suppose is a sad commentary on my life up until now.
Anyway. We talked about what I wanted, what he wanted, how far things would go, etc. (I’m not used to my boundaries being respected, either. This is all weird. Good — very good — but weird.) I laid down on my stomach on a padded bench (under different circumstances, I could have fallen asleep on it), and M. blindfolded me, but didn’t restrain me otherwise. And then he flogged me — there’s not really much in the way of detail to tell, really. The flogger really *was* soft, and thuddy — not painful. And he *did* swing really hard a few times, and it wasn’t painful. Then he asked me if I wanted him to try some other the other floggers/canes/paddles that were set out for anyone to use. I said sure, as long as he started out very gently.
And even though the flogger hadn’t hurt, it made my butt more tender, I guess, and some of the other whacking instruments were kind of painful. Not good pain, owie pain. And as soon as I yelped, M. backed off with whatever he was using. (Wooden spoon? PAINFUL. Rattan cane? Downright evil.) When we were finished, I felt kind of….drunk, really. Endorphins, I guess. There was a big spread of food upstairs, which I practically dove into — shrimp, cheese, strawberries, brownies. I felt all dopey and buzzed for a couple of hours afterward.
The Switch Is Not A Myth 