After getting into the kink scene, I got pulled into volunteering. Clearly I went willingly given how many things I continued to help with – but it was funny how it played out. “You are kinky – you are dependable – you must be on my team.”
I still do the erotic art ate one place. But I used to do a lot of volunteer work at a kink party at the same place. I would talk to people in attendance who didn’t understand kink, explain it to them, help them with their questions, and keep people safe. It entertained me, because, at the time, I was not the image of kink that most swingers thought of. Most were like, ” I have questions, but you clearly aren’t kinky so maybe you can’t answer.” Then I would chuckle, correct them, and explain what was and was not happening. It was hilarious.
His partner, at the time, was out of town; so he had opted to come to the club where I was volunteering. We had spoken a few times, and about 2 minutes before the end of my shift, we engaged in a conversation. Someone tried to join, then the clock struck 10, he grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me off to a spanking bench as I tried to apologize to the person I had been talking to. The other guy was offended, but honest, I didn’t care. I was ready for some fun – and this was going to be fun.
He pushed me over the bench, then unzipped my skirt. I laughed to myself as he did it because my friend and I had discussions about how much men would love unzipping it. And, well, it was clear he loved that aspect of my skirt.
I felt his hand – warming me up. I was swaying to the music the DJ provided and the beat he provided. Then I felt paddles. I moaned, I laughed, I swayed. He would check in – and I could hear the amusement in his voice.. He had such a bag of toys that after the paddles came other toys, then came canes.
The canes were intense. It was the first time I had canes strike me. I loved them – I hated them. And he knew how to make them more intense.
“When you hear me say it, take a deep breathe, then hold it. Don’t exhale until you feel the cane,” he told me in my ear.
I followed it – then almost screamed.
I wiggled and moved and tried to dissipate the pain. It was more intense than it had been.
And I heard him chuckling behind me before he said, “Do it again.”
And I did.
It stopped, though, after a few strikes. Cane marks, on top of thuddy marks, resulted in blood. Blood was prohibited in this dungeon. He stopped. I looked behind me to see him talking to 2 DMs as they looked at my ass assessing the damage.
In the end, they concurred.
We were done.
To have the fun stop because of a little blood?? UGH! (And yes, it was a little.)
(A friend who was also a DM was funny about it – she was like “why didn’t they slap a bandaid on it, and let you play on?” No idea – it was what it was – and I was on the ride, not controlling it.)
We had connected in the past, and this confirmed we had something good. We have had more scenes like this over the years. While others are afraid of him, he is one of the few I feel safe with. After a long absence from bottoming, I asked him to Top me – I trust him to not take me where I wasn’t ready to go. And he didn’t – hell, that scene had commentators after telling us how jealous they were of our chemistry.) Scenes aside, he has always been a great friend.
Tonight, just like many years ago, he knew what I needed. Hugs. I got so many of them. It was nice. He hugged me – let me be where I was at, but introduced me to others.
“She’s good people,” he would explain.
It was nice. It was unexpected. It was good feedback from someone I have known a long time – and someone I have trusted.
And I appreciated it – more than he may realize.
Hell, I was just happy that I had climbed out of my cave.