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Posts Tagged ‘BDSM play party’

  1. We Play Well with Others

    September 4, 2013 by Heather Cole

    Last Saturday was another first for LH and me. Although we had both attended play parties held by local kinksters, we had never gone to one as Master and Slave. Armed with buffalo chicken dip, raw veggies and a 30 lb toy bag, we headed over to the beautiful home of a kinky couple. The RSVP list featured 100 people at least, and I was a bundle of butterflies with thoughts of meeting new folks and having a public scene with sir.

    Once I plunked down the food, I was relieved to see familiar faces in the crowd. LH and I said hello to the people we knew, and I introduced myself to the hostess. In some ways, the play party looked like any other kind of party except there were naked people and others in fetish wear or lingerie. There was the usual party chitchat and sometimes a spontaneous spanking. As we walked through the house, we were able to peek at other scenes. I saw a Domme with her submissive in a sex swing, and I was a voyeur at a double-penetration scene. One of my favorite things to watch was needle practice for a future demonstration. The submissive stood with her back against a St Andrews cross as needles were inserted in a neat row down the side of her torso. I got goosebumps watching them. I found needles equally captivating and terrifying which is why I preferred to be the observer. Another turn around the room and LH was inspired to play. And to my surprise he brought reinforcements.

    LH chose an upstairs bedroom decorated in shades of pink, but any thoughts of cupcakes were banished by the large metal tripod erected in the middle of the room. A steel bar hung at the top, and he instructed that I strip as he pulled out my leather cuffs. I watched him and my co-Top of the evening, Kuma, begin pulling out their toys. I didn’t have the opportunity to see much, because LH slid the blindfold over my eyes. My hands moved automatically to grip the cold steel bar, and my awareness became focused only on the things I could hear and feel. Kuma asked what my limits were, and I couldn’t hear LH’s response. My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “no punching please.”

    “And let’s keep her face pretty.”

    It was a joke that LH liked to make, and we all laughed, but I couldn’t stop a flare of anxiety. My master would keep me safe, but he was also the one who enjoyed hurting me the most. The tension between my trust and my nervousness strung through my body, my muscles quivering from the strain. There was a soft shushing noise, and I felt the keen edge of a knife arc across my back. A second knife traced the line of my breasts, twisting its way to my nipples as I stood completely still. I was afraid to breathe as the blades danced against my skin. I was caught between laughter and fear, and then a knife found its way to my mons. I stopped breathing altogether as I felt metal scrape near my clit. “Maybe I’ll give you that trim you’ve been asking for,” he murmured.

    The knives disappeared, and the first blow was a hand to my ass. I jerked with surprise, making the metal jingle on my cuffs.The bare-handed spanking rapidly crescendoed until my ass was burning hot, and finally I couldn’t hold still any more. I shifted to the side to make the next hit glance to the side and sighed with relief when it stopped. There was no respite, because the fronts of my thighs were then hit with something small, round and hard. At the same time, LH’s rattan cane reacquainted itself with my ass. I could recognize the feel of that damn thing anywhere. Both men hit me repeatedly, and I was caught like a butterfly in a net. Finally LH leaned close to my ear and gave me permission. “You can dance,” he said.

    No sooner had he said the words, but I picked up my feet. I squealed and turned, trying to find relief from the beating. Suddenly warm hands grasped my nipples, and I went completely still. Chest heaving, I shook my head although I didn’t speak a word. Nipple torture was a favorite for LH, and mine were highly sensitive. I was going to have a strong reaction, and I dreaded it as much as I anticipated it. When I played in public, I tried to reign in my deeper emotions. In other words, I tried to keep my shit together for the most part, keeping the play light and fun. Nipple torture, however, managed to break through any safety walls I might have had in place. My reactions were visceral and immediate, and although I offered my breasts willingly, I also braced myself for the emotions that would bubble to the surface. I felt the familiar pressure of clover clamps, and tears leaked from under the blindfold. The worst pain wasn’t the clamping itself, it was the pain after my nipples were released. Kuma asked if I was done, but LH said I only needed a moment to regroup.

    He was right. The heavy weight of LH’s arm snaked around me as his hand found my clit. With a few expert turns of his fingers I orgasmed, my nose buried into the crook of his neck. “You’re my good girl,” he said. My heart soared at the praise, and as the golden undulations of my orgasm faded, I knew that I wanted to continue, to please sir as much as myself.

    The next round of blows came from a heavy-duty rubber crepe turner and a leather paddle. The individual strikes blurred together as the pain built. The intensity was overwhelming, and then I heard LH exclaim with surprise. My weight dragged against the restraints as I tried to catch my breath, and the most excruciating pain lanced through my nipple. The pain felt piercing like a needle, but I knew that LH wouldn’t attempt such a thing during an impact scene. A sob was ripped from my throat before my mind could process what was happening.

    “It’s ok,” LH murmured, catching my body against his. “We’ve had an intense week.”

    He was right. My dog had been put to sleep, and my ex-husband had revealed his marriage plans. I had every right to sob my fucking guts out. And I did. Kuma eventually took LH’s place, his deep voice a comfort in my ear. He then left to get me some water and LH decided it was a good time to end. He unhooked my cuffs and wiped the tears from my cheeks as I began to gather myself.

    The release of intense emotion I experienced was an echo of my week. Our scene gave me the opportunity to focus solely on physical sensation, the pain disintegrating the leash I kept on my feelings. In my day-to-day life, I had to stay level-headed and positive for my child and work. But for this one sliver of time, I gave up control of my body and did the same for my emotions. I didn’t know how it would all play out, but I trusted the Dominants in the scene to usher me through it safely. I felt no embarrassment for coming apart, and instead, I sat in a haze of giddiness and satiation. A broad smile spread across my face, and I thanked my tormentors. As I looked into their faces, I could tell that the shared energy of our scene had been good for all of us. Damn good.

     


  2. Ask Heather about Kinky Parties

    September 19, 2012 by Heather Cole

    Dear Heather:

    I was wondering if you could invite me to a fetish party as an observer some weekend.

    Thanks in advance,

    Mr. RSVP

    Dear R:

    Considering that I have never met you in person, I must decline your request. I’m flattered that you’d want me to be your hostess into our kinky community, however, I’m so new to it my own damn self that it would be the newbie leading the newb. Babes in the canes, my dear!

    This is what I suggest; we both attend a munch. We pull on our big girl panties and RSVP on Fetlife to meet other like-minded folk at a restaurant wearing *gasp* regular clothes. We slap on our nametags and eat a grandslam (I require extra bacon) while listening to others talk about the goings-on of the lifestyle and we answer get-to-know-us questions. I’m certain that before we finish our last bite of pancake, there will be an invitation to a party. Providing that you’re not a sex offender and that I don’t laugh loudly like a donkey. (It happens when I’m nervous.)

    The thing about play parties is that they most often happen in private homes. Because of this, no one has to invite us to anything. The host or hostess may only extend the invitation to people they’ve known (and liked) for a while. It’s their party so they can invite whomever they wish and cry if they want to.

    Parties vary depending on who is hosting, but there are some general things to expect. Nudity is one of them. Remember, dear R, there are no rules that say you must attend in your birthday suit. Although if you feel inspired to tie a bow around your *cough* this is the crowd that would no doubt appreciate it. You will not be expected to get naked, nor will you be expected to play if you don’t feel comfortable. Do expect others to get naked or be in various stages of undress or lingerie or nipple clamps and plastic wrap. I like to wear a dress, but my girlfriend often brings several changes of lingerie. If we choose to play, we usually get naked. Or as Liri likes to exclaim, “why are you still wearing clothes?!”

    There may be a sheet hanging in front of the door so that Old Neighbor Jones doesn’t peek in while walking his cockapoo and see Sally from carpool tied to the St. Andrew’s cross. Walk past the sheet and you will find people chatting, food and snacks and maybe music. If people are playing, typically they don’t mind others watching. After all, they came to a party. However, give them space and try not to interrupt unless they actively encourage you to ask questions or get in on the fun. I’ve had a couple moments where I had to stare a little bit before realizing, “hey, those people are fucking.” Then I was like, “oh, spinach dip!”

    My first party actually began as a traditional housewarming. I brought a pie that I had baked, I circulated and chatted and met new people. I traded BBQ tips with a grandmother, petted the dogs and took a tour of the house. Eventually the co-workers left and the grandmother said goodnight, and an extra-large rubbermaid container was brought out, chock full of floggers and dragon tails. Rope appeared and clothes vanished, and the party moved to the basement.

    I played that night. It was the first time I attended a party on my own, and it was the first time that someone other than my Master (now ex) flogged me. I was nervous and giddy, and I felt a little out of control. For the first time I was going to scene without my M, but I had rules. There were boundaries that I wouldn’t cross, and I made sure that the person topping me knew them. If he had tried to coerce me beyond those boundaries, I would NOT have submitted. And here lies the most important rule of a play party, dear R. No one should try to convince you to do something that you don’t want to do, whether it’s to use a toy or leave the party with them. Coercion of any kind is unacceptable. A creeper is a creeper is a creeper; no matter if you’re at a bar with friends or a play party.

    Play parties give us a good cross-section of the kinky populace, all up close and naked. When we attend, we learn about others just as they learn about us. It’s a way of establishing ourselves as positive members of the community. It can be social and educational. It can be a boatload of fun. However, it’s just as easy to brand ourselves bad play partners, or even worse, dangerous ones. I intend to be the former, R dear, so I’ll see you at the chips and dip. Bow optional.

    Smooches,
    Heather