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Posts Tagged ‘BDSM dungeon’

  1. The Sex Unicorn

    May 1, 2017 by Heather Cole

     

    I’ve been talking a lot about unicorns and sex these days. OK, I talk about sex all the time. It’s the unicorns that keep popping up. (So many dick jokes running through my head right now. Focus, Heather!) Just last week I had the opportunity to write a yummy post for SwingTowns about this one time at the dungeon when we made a willing submissive into a sex unicorn. What the heck is a sex unicorn?? Well, my friends, click here and find out.

    Happy reading!

    Heather


  2. Breaking the rules

    February 3, 2017 by Heather Cole

    Rules of the Dungeon

    Eve was a flexible overseer. She was the dominant in charge without question, but she let her assistants determine their personal boundaries and general rules of conduct. We all had to obey the dungeon rules:   no exchange of bodily fluids. And the second biggest rule: no PIV (penis-in-vagina) penetration. We used condoms on all toys, and we wore gloves if we touched a client’s genitalia. After a session, everything was run through the dishwasher or cleaned in a special solution that killed any bacteria. We wanted to create a fantasy, but there were physical limits to what we would do.

    Each assistant had a different personal set of rules that we used during play. My personal rules were 1.) the person had to always ask first if they could touch me–consent first before all things, 2.) I didn’t kiss the other person, 3.) the person couldn’t touch my vagina, 4.) I never lied about the size of a man’s penis 5.) and I didn’t see dungeon players outside of the dungeon, either in person or on social media.

    Surprisingly, a dungeon player didn’t always ask to touch me, because often they weren’t in a position to. Typically the player initiating the scene was the body being acted upon. In other words, Eve was the top giving us both orders, arranging the so-called chess pieces. I acted upon the victim… er, client, as she instructed. The person was often in bondage or rendered incapacitated in some way so that they could only watch me. Watch and wish they could touch. The push-pull of teasing and denial could be the most exquisite slow torture. My luscious body would be inches from a man’s mouth, and yet he was powerless to close that gap and taste the delicate curve of my breast. He may have squirmed and begged for it, but I rarely acquiesced.

    I confess that at first it was hard for me to dance cruelly out of their reach. I was trained to please by the dominants in my life. I was wired that way naturally as part of my Good Girl identity. But submissives didn’t flock to Eve because she was nice in the way that I was nice. They asked to play because she was sadistic and sensually generous in a way that brought them quivering to their knees and begging for orgasm. Gradually I understood her philosophy. She made them feel so good alternating pleasure and pain that they almost always wanted to return. The element that I was proudest of, that gave my work purpose, was that we were free of judgment. As long as we all consented to the scene (and everyone was over 18) we would help that person achieve the fantasy they had been dreaming about. The dungeon rules kept us safe, and my personal rules kept me from giving too much of myself to a fleeting moment of an intense sexual encounter.

    My favorite visitors to the dungeon were the ones that I had seen before. The ones that I had developed a rapport with and the ones that I knew something about, they were the ones that I opened up with more. We developed trust in those interactions, and no matter what skeptics may think, those moments of brief connection were gifts. It was a gift to accept someone in all their naked glory, no judgement, and to be able to create something electric with them. I was able to do all that with my rules safely in place. Until I met him.

    Play With Your Meat

    Eve described him as “a young piece of meat.” Translation: she was excited to play with someone younger who had a hot body. I didn’t feel as excited and was generally more circumspect around younger men. Not many of them chose the dungeon, and often when they did, they arrived with the expectations of fraternity boys in an Asian massage parlor. They typically needed a lesson in consent, and often they were all over the place regarding their sexuality, so that it made it difficult for me to get a read on what it was that they wanted exactly. I found them generally unsettling, but I figured I’d at least get eye candy for an hour. He did not disappoint.

    Guy was about my height and a decade younger. He started the hour by shedding his clothing in an expedient manner, but Eve slowed his pace. She requested that I assist him, and I happily complied, sliding my hands across the muscled planes of his stomach as I undid his pants. I held his gaze as my hands skimmed up his rib cage to pull off his shirt, and I breathed in his warmth and our closeness. I let my fingers roam down his muscled thighs as I sank to my knees, my face deliciously close to the bulge in his underwear. I was unable to deny the physical attraction I felt. It was such a novel feeling that I felt giddy, like Christmas had arrived early and Santa had given me my very own boy to play with.

    In contrast there was the squirming thought that I was single without an eligible man in sight. It felt incredibly decadent to be so close to another human and to feel the overwhelming desire to sink into all that smooth, warm skin. I wanted this, not in the professional way that I was supposed to, but in a wolf that wanted to eat a sexy bunny kind of way. Devour was the word that I felt, and my body turned electric with every stroke of my hand against his muscular body.

    Somehow my clothes came off. I honestly can’t remember how exactly. And then we were both naked, facing a fully clothed Eve. I sidled up behind him to press my softness against his chiseled frame. He was deliciously warm, and I suddenly had the urge to dig my fingers into his hips and mark him as our pleasure toy for the time being. I may have asked Eve if we could keep him.

    It wasn’t only the physical attraction or instant sexual chemistry that held me off-kilter, I felt the alien urge to hurt him. Playing with Guy inspired sadistic urges within me that I had never experienced before without being coached by someone more dominant. But this sprang to life all on its own, and the only way I could describe it was that I felt like a wolf with a bunny rabbit. A bunny rabbit in a rock hard body that I wanted to sensually torture and tease until he begged for release. A bunny that you wanted to lick and bite and lovingly maul until you had both dissolved into puddles of cum. And then he asked to kiss me.

    Rule #2

    My common sense said no, but I found myself consenting. I said yes, and greedily accepted his lips on mine. He marked the time we spent together with a questioning, “yes?” And I continued to reply with my own enthusiastic “yes!” He asked at every stage of our play together, and I didn’t want to deny him. Not only because it was what he wanted, but because I wanted it, dammit. He stretched out on the massage table, and I marred his smooth skin with scratches and bite marks. He pulled at my nipples as we kissed, my hair falling around us in a curtain.

    Eve was busy with his bottom half. She had tied his cock and balls up with a shoestring into a snug bundle, and had then pushed his cock between two pieces of clear Plexiglas that could be tightened together with screws. I was only half-watching, distracted by the delicious man’s hands and lips. Eve interrupted with a simple command.

    “Use him to pleasure yourself.”

    She didn’t have to tell me twice. I fetched my favorite gold dildo (yes, we call him “Gold Member”) and rolled down a condom to the base. I made Guy put on a latex glove to hold Gold Member upright in his hand. As Eve started the hitachi on his trussed up balls, she slowed down how she screwed the Plexiglas sheet against his cock. I positioned Guy’s hand exactly how I wanted it, and then instructed him how I wanted to be fucked. It took only a moment to find a rhythm, and then the dildo slid exactly in the right spot. The first orgasm rolled over me, followed quickly by a second. But I was greedy. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t the dildo. I broke another rule.

    Rule #3

    I set the dildo aside and asked him to use his fingers.

    “Yes?” he asked as I leaned over him.

    “Yes,” I answered.

    My breath caught as his fingers slid into me, and I silently hoped that he would be as good with his fingers as he was his lips. Again I was not disappointed. Orgasm followed orgasm in a long line of pleasure. One arm was braced against his shoulder as I clung to the table with the other. I tried to remain upright, riding the waves of sensation as Guy experienced his own orgasm. It felt like my brain had been short-circuited. I was so high on endorphins and the power of topping that I lost myself a little bit. I remembered the rest of our time together, but I remembered it through a cotton candy haze of residual pleasure.

    I had difficulty pulling myself back together after that. Re-entering the world after intense play is like replacing your armor piece by piece. I was still trying to find my proverbial breastplate, and Guy had already cleaned up and pulled on his clothes. There had been only one other time when I regretted saying good bye, and this was now my second. We said farewell, and I felt the loss of that connection. Wistfulness, I suppose, tinged with regret. Coming down from a topping high was hard too. Looking back, I probably had a touch of top drop as well.

    Rule #5

    Later that night I thought long and hard about what I was going to do. Ultimately what I wanted to say was ‘thank you.’ I didn’t think there would be any harm in doing so, and I felt like he was the type to be polite and not turn it into something weird. Still, I was respectful of people’s privacy. Not everyone wanted to be confronted by a dungeon assistant in real life. I dropped him a short note of thanks on Fetlife. I had broken rules during our session, and I had loved every moment. I had felt sadistic and dominant all on my own, and I wanted to explain how grateful I was for all of it. To my surprise he answered, and not only that, he asked me to meet him for coffee.

    This is the part where I don’t really know what I’m doing. This is all new territory, and what if I majorly screw up? Part of me frets over it. And then there’s me who’s a wolf. And she doesn’t care about any of that. She wants the bunny. The funny part is that I don’t know which part of me will come out on top.

    TO BE CONTINUED…

    (I’ve always wanted to write that.)


  3. Before You Go Out To Play

    March 8, 2016 by Heather Cole

    Vagina Antics Dungeon

    Helping out at my local dungeon means that I see all types of people at play. Kink is a varied tapestry of body shapes, gender identity, lifestyle choices, and sexual preferences. And that’s just what I can see from the outside. Everyone brings their moods, their varying energies, and emotions to our extreme games as well. There is no “one way” to do kink, and on the days that I go to the dungeon, I’m reminded that I’m still learning and having new experiences. I doubt I’ll ever get to a place where I say that I’ve “seen it all” when it comes to kink. It was a recent dungeon encounter, and a new situation that I hadn’t experienced before, that gave me the spark of an idea for this post.

    Today, dear vagina fans, we’re going to cover a few basic concepts to consider before you go out to play. These tips aren’t only good for dungeons, but also for any type of sexual/kinky play. Whether you’re hiring an escort (Sydney escorts) for a special night, paying to see your pro dominant for a session, or renting some space/time at a BDSM club, there are some basics to keep in mind.

    Before you get on your high horse about me mentioning Jaipur escorts, pro dominants (i.e. dominatrix), or any other type of sex worker, you should know that I support sex workers and that I write from a nonjudgmental space. I condemn human trafficking. People who choose sexwork (for whatever reason) shouldn’t be criminalized for offering a service. If you want to read more about my views, you can click here. If you’re horribly offended… honey, this ain’t the blog you should be reading.

    Now on with our friendly, neighborhood kinky play tips:

    1.Cleanliness is next to… um, it gets you closer to the person you desire – This should seem like a no-brainer, right? You’re probably rolling your eyes, thinking, “of course I’m going to shower before getting naked with my special someone.” This is good. You absolutely should. However, if you’re going to the dungeon between meetings or slipping out for a spicy massage on your lunch break, you won’t be showing up shower fresh. In fact, a lot of body functioning could have happened between that shower you had first thing in the morning and the moment when the dominant is tying you up for some CBT (that’s cock and ball torture).

    Human bodies smell. It’s our nature to emit pheromones, and our bodies have a variety of odors depending on diet, etc. So do yourself and your play partner a huge favor, and freshen up, buttercup! Personally I carry around wet wipes. They’re not only for babies, and they’re handy for all sorts of situations (sexual and not). I promise you that the person you’re getting naked with will thank you too.

    Spruce up those genitals, y’all, and don’t forget your anus. Yes, I said it. Clean your anus. I’m being explicit here, because sometimes it gets overlooked if a person thinks no one is going to play with it specifically. Well, even if your anus is to remain virginal, if it’s unclean your play partner and anyone else in the vicinity will be smelling it. Of course accidents can happen, but being proactive and cleaning up before playing will win you huge points with your person/people of interest.

    2.  If you’ve reserved dungeon play space, or booked time with a companion, please show up when you say you will. If you can’t make the appointment, give the dungeon owner/monitors lots and lots of advance notice so that they can fill that time slot. Play space is often at a premium, so if you can’t use it, please give your kinky comrades a chance. The same goes for dates with Gurgaon escorts, and appointments with masseuses, pro dominants, etc. Just because it’s sexy, play time, it doesn’t mean that flaking out at the last minute (less than 24 hours notice) is acceptable behavior.

    3.  Paying money for a service doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want to once you get there. This is a personal pet peeve of mine. If you pay for time/space at a dungeon and need assistance creating the scene that fulfills all your fantasies, please don’t act like you own the people who are helping you. A person can consent to helping bind you in restraints and then torturing your nipples until you cry, but that doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want to them because they’re part of your fantasy. You must ask if you can touch them if you haven’t negotiated this beforehand. You may have paid for the use of the equipment, space, and time, but you do not control the people involved.

    I understand that going to a dungeon is a heady experience, especially if someone has never been exposed to BDSM practices. Everywhere you look there’s skin, writhing bodies, and people in the throes of emotional and physical dynamics that can be intense and arousing. To the average person, I’m sure it looks like a sex circus. But everyone there has negotiated their scenes, paid their fees, and are creating their fantasies while respecting others around them and giving consent. (Or they should be. Nothing will get you banned from a community faster than breaking those basic tenets. Also, public dungeons typically have strict rules regarding penetration and exchange of fluids. In other words, there aren’t any.) So please be respectful of those who are helping you experience your dungeon fantasy. You won’t go wrong by asking before you touch someone else and cleaning up your play space afterwards is a sign of common decency. A heartfelt thank you to your host won’t go awry either.

    There are some great resources in print now regarding the ‘how tos’ of playing with others. I have a list of good reads in the ‘Beginners Kink’ section. Play clean; play safe, sweeties.  


  4. Learning the Ropes

    August 23, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Sunday morning found me clutching my soulmateclone in the Orlando airport, repeating over and over again that I didn’t want to leave her. Our visit cemented what I had known all along–we were two parts of a whole and the idea of separating again broke my heart. Two men watched us with interest as we smooshed our boobs together one last time (That was all me. Nikki’s boobs are amazing.) and declared our undying love for each other. Then I dutifully stepped into line with the sea of tanned families embarking on their trips home.

    I had barely two hours sleep and my borrowed tank top was hiding red rope marks across my chest. My neck and cheek were decorated with bite marks, and I wore bruises on my ass and thighs. My nipples were sore from the friction of the jute traveling over my areolas, and if I moved a certain way, my skin still smelled of the Dom who had topped me hours earlier. I maneuvered through security in a golden haze of contentment, and not even the obnoxious woman with four overstuffed carry-on bags could penetrate my goodwill.

    My faith in Doms had been restored.

    Please don’t misunderstand. I know that there are thousands of good Dominants out in the world, and I know a handful of them personally. My faith was shaken regarding the right Dom for ME. I was haunted by the final conversation with my ex-Dom. He predicted that I would never find another Master with our kind of chemistry, and I believed him. My logical mind knew this couldn’t be true, yet the submissive in me, the slave that wished to be owned and possessed was afraid. Of course it won’t ever be exactly the same. Each Dominant and submissive possesses their own styles and personalities, but since my split from my ex-Dom, part of me despaired that I would ever find that spark again.

    Although I was in the land of commercial princesses, there was no Prince Flogger, riding out of the swamp on his partially trained alligator to whisk me off to his dungeon where I’ll live happily ever after, chained to his bedpost. I was OK with that, because I had my soulmateclone and a never-ending supply of vodka tonics. No, what happened, my darling vagina readers, was that I had an amazing scene. A-fucking-mazing! Let me tell you why…

    Nikki and I had been planning to visit The Woodshed, a BDSM club in Orlando, ever since we began our blog. It was going to be one of the highlights, we hoped, of our first weekend together as naked, power-ballad-loving bffs. I packed my black corset, black ruffled panties and platform heels and crossed my fingers that we would make the dress code. And we would have–if Nikki and I hadn’t put the damn things on upside down. During the ride to The Woodshed we’re both thinking, why is this corset digging into my thighs? Because that’s the sweetheart neckline, you dipshits!

    God bless kind, kinky strangers. As we stood in the crowded lobby of The Woodshed, filling out paperwork, two women approached us and asked in hushed voices if we were aware that our corsets were upside down. Nikki and I could only look at each other and laugh. We laughed until we cried while they hustled us into a dressing room to correct our fashion emergency. In the four hours we spent at The Woodshed, I learned more about corsets than I did from the website where I purchased the damn thing.

    The club was busy that night, because there were several birthdays being celebrated. There was cake EVERYWHERE and that reassured me. Because people who love cake can’t be awful people. It’s a proven scientific fact. The kindness didn’t end with our corsets. The first Dungeon Monitor (DM) we met gave us a tour and answered a ton of questions. So did the second one. They weren’t kitted out in Kill Bill leather outfits and thigh-high boots, looking like Barbie and Ken doing the Magic Kingdom the dirty way. They were real people who were generous with their time, indulgent of newcomers and educated about the lifestyle. As much as Nikki and I felt like clueless newbies, they welcomed us and offered to help in any way they could. Trust me, I had some ideas about that.

    So there we were, standing in an ocean of BDSM and trying not to ogle the various scenes going on around us. There was a Domme whipping her boy tied to a whipping post. One lucky birthday girl was tied to a shibari wheel dangling from the ceiling as five sadists circled her and struck her with various ouchy things. There was a shibari frame with women tied to it for spankings and padded tables for needle and wax play. Off in a quiet corner was a circle of couches where Doms and subs cuddled in blankets for aftercare. It was amazing and a bit overwhelming.

    Then we met Master Cecil.

    We had spoken briefly in passing when Nikki and I were in the lobby, but I didn’t know who he was. I remember looking at him and trying to figure out what had caught my attention. I don’t talk about energy between people for fear of sounding like a hippie freak, but something about Master Cecil made me sit up and pay attention. It wasn’t until an hour later that we were all introduced (I believe I yelled, “we’re Vagina Antics!” at the top of my lungs or something), and then the three of us ended up in the parking lot having a chat.

    I have to give the man a lot of credit, because I grilled him. The only thing missing was the interrogation room and the bright light in his face. He answered everything with humor and candor, and after asking “what kind of scene would you recommend for a newbie?” I found myself agreeing to do a rope scene with him. It wasn’t until my naked body was being shoved against the St. Andrew’s Cross that I remembered that I had a safeword. Oops…

    Master Cecil explained to me that a rope scene would consist of him figuring out what the rope wanted to do based on the energy between us. He also warned me that if it went well, I would never look at rope the same way again. I had plenty of opportunity to negotiate and state my preferences, but I didn’t. His honesty and emotional integrity during our impromptu Q&A session convinced me that I was speaking with an honorable man and an experienced Dom. The slave part of me was jumping up and down and clapping her hands with glee. My verbal reaction was, HOLY FUCK YES!

    It was arranged so that Nikki would be seated four feet away on a couch, and she was in charge of any aftercare I needed. I was naked because I’ll get naked at the drop of a hat, but also because I didn’t want there to be any impediment to the rope. I felt safe and respected by Master Cecil. I trusted that whatever he dished out, it was going to be good for both of us.

    Inside the dungeon, Master Cecil was barefoot and had removed his shirt. He opened his arms and beckoned me forward. I was a little nervous, but the skin on skin contact erased it. I melted into him, and the way we came together, I was able to bury my nose in the crook of his neck. He took a deep breath that I matched, and his voice rumbled deep in his chest.

    “Good girl,” he said.

    I’m not certain that I have the words to adequately describe what I felt. There was an echo of my old Master-slave dynamic in that touch, that moment of openness. That unspoken communication that I would offer him everything, he only had to take it. I told Nikki later that Master Cecil could have done practically anything to me in that scene, and I would have met him willingly and given every ounce of myself. It was as if his touch had opened a door inside me, one that had been padlocked shut and ignored.

    The instructions he gave me were simple. I was to keep my eyes shut, listen to his voice and feel the rope. The jute rope was scratchy and rough. He wrapped it around my torso three times with my breasts sandwiched between the loops. It felt pleasant, the rope humming against my skin as he worked. I was safe within those bonds. Then he grabbed me by the hair and swung me around, shoving my chest against the cross. The rope tightened and the pain began in earnest. There was his deep voice, his broad hand striking my ass, gripping my thighs, and the rope. Always the rope singing its own tale.

    There was no sexual component to the scene (both the club and Master Cecil have strict rules about that), but his spanking made me orgasm. I was up on my tiptoes, my skin rubbing against the wood of the cross as his hand made contact with my ass. The pain blossomed, and my clit responded. The throbbing between my legs joined the impact of his spanking, and I was lost. Don’t worry, I always ask for permission to orgasm first.

    When we were saying our goodbyes, Master Cecil told me that I was what he had suspected. When I asked what that was, he replied, “you’re a very good girl.” I couldn’t help but feel pleased. I had an amazing scene, because for the first time since being un-collared, I felt that spark to open myself up again. I am deeply grateful to Master Cecil for working with me. Maybe it was personal chemistry, his experience, confidence or skill…maybe it’s a combination of all those things… What matters is that I felt the spark, and I now know without a shadow of a doubt, that I will someday find another Dom that shares that amazing chemistry with me. Yeah, I’m still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.