Monday, January 16, 2006

Playtime With Phairy

I had no idea living in the Bay Area was going to be THIS much fun. I went to my second play party last night, and you know, I could get to liking this.

When I walked in, the hostess was being given her birthday spankings in the middle of the downstairs space, which centered on a large, padded black leather table about waist high. When people who know how to spank well, spank…it’s educational and not just a little hot. There was even some bare ass action during the spanking, which was errr… aesthetically attractive. Among other things.

Upstairs contained a very large four-poster curtained bed with a large mirror hung above it. Depending from the ceiling were several very thick steel chains which ended in a leather body sling (with attached pillow…stylish), leather hand straps, and a padded leather T bar, that could be raised and lowered.

Completely dominating one wall was an eight foot high black wooden X with heavy duty steel eyelets screwed in at precise intervals. The rest of the walls were hung with skeins of rope, handcuffs, neck cuffs, gags, whips, cats, you name it. There was a selection of canes in a brass can in the corner, and two full size stocks hung on the wire mesh railing that served as both wall and stair rail.

The place wasn’t a dungeon per se, it was elegant in a very spare, modern way. It was warm, but not overly so. Candles had been placed strategically, lighting up walk space like the stairs, bathroom, and kitchen. The food was California healthful erotic; fruits, cheeses, morsels of cake (birthday and otherwise), all cut small enough to be easy to feed to another. The fridge contained only drinks, but of every conceivable taste, alcoholic and not.

It was a friendly group of people. Imagine, if you will, having 20 of your good friends and their guests invited to a nouveau “dungeon” and letting everyone have at each other…for your birthday. It was a lot more fun than that sounded.

I saw my first flogging. It was…so much more artful, careful, deliberate, and sexy than I’d imagined. I feel slightly betrayed by Pat Califia, really. The floggee was cuffed to eyelets on the X and then what ensued was more a dance/seduction with pain elements, than pain in and of itself.

The flogger was a perfectly lovely lady about my age with great taste in footwear, incredible breasts, and a delicate whip hand. I asked her how one gets someone to be able to take increased pain, and she obligingly laid out her strategy. At this point I was given an assist by my buddy/wingman (we take turns at the winging…among other things) who informed said dominatrix that I probably could take a closer look at her cleavage. She thought that was a fine idea, so I took my glasses off and got some serious snuggling on. Bodice-diving is a wonderful hobby, I recommend it to everyone. Just remember that you can breathe through your ears, if you have to.

Since I needed to return the favor, and my wingman was having some issues with actually conversing with our host. I turned to said host, who was sitting behind me and asked her if I could rub her back. She agreed, but wanted to walk through the place first, and see how everyone was doing. I was just stunned that she agreed, so I waited.

She came back minus her leather shirt (still wearing a shirt…made of fishnet), turned a chair backwards and sat on it, bracing her arms. I started to knead her shoulders, and she stopped me, slid herself further toward me, and then braced herself again. I talked to her as I traced patterns of varying pressure from her neck to her waist. Well, at first I talked to her, then I sort of lost myself in the feel of her skin, the interplay of muscles, and the silky black fibers of her hair. This was fine, because my wingman was sitting in front of her and took the opportunity to have a conversation while she was mildly distracted.

She was so smooth, it was like the skin zamboni had just gone by. She had one of the finest backs it has ever been my privilege to manipulate. That girl had not only it, but every other pronoun, goin’ on. It did not help at all that I knew just how pink her ass got when being authoritatively spanked. I was so blissed out that I failed to see the next thing coming.

Earlier in the night, I had noticed another woman, with whom our hostess seemed quite taken, that I wanted to touch as well. She was tall, pale, and red-haired, which combination usually leaves me weak-kneed. Our stunning host looked up from my backrub as the other approached, and asked me if I would be so kind as to volunteer my services for her friend as well.

What am I gonna say, “No”? Come on, now. The only answer has to be “Yes, of course, happy to” (oh dear GOD, breathe, just breathe). At my first play party, I watched my friend’s wife just casually ask if she could stroke someone. I had simply copied her on a whim, and wow, does that work or what!

I had (what I believed was) a Nordic princess under my fingers for the first time, and damn it, I acquitted myself well. When I went back in the house to get her e-mail address, she hugged me hard, stroked my back, and held me a long time. I need to know her better. I asked her when she earned her first leather, and she couldn’t remember. Be still my beating…uuh…heart, yeah, heart…right. Ahem.

She had a stainless steel fixture holding her hair in a coil of copper fire. Oh shit, I’m starting to sound like Mercedes Lackey. If I start talking about gryphons, and/or antique polearms, please shoot me. Where was I?

I frankly have no idea how any of this happened. I was there, at the party, minding my business, then suddenly I’m touching two women who make me all crazy inside. What is that all about? When did I gain such powers of persuasion? What happened here? Why was I not previously informed?

I may not know what the bloody hell is going on, but I have to admit; I like it. It’s now 5 am and I’m still awake and dumbfounded. I got their e-mail addresses. Both of them. If I died right now, I think I’d be okay with that. My new year started out quite blissfully and seems to be proceeding apace. Maybe John Lennon wasn’t an idealist…


Blogger LNewsEditor said...

Badphairy! You bold sexual adventurer, you! Why didn't we hear about the first play party you went to? Yer holdin' out on us...

10:56 AM  

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