Fantasy Weekend of Fun!

So last weekend was an event we were really looking forward to. Lots of kinky folks. Lots of fun. Two enormous play parties. Excellent presentations and presenters.

But i can't tell you any more than "We had a awesome time." Maybe i could tell you for lunch the first full day, we met up with two wonderful friends, and had dinner with one of our first kinky friends. Maybe i could mention that we learned a lot about ourselves, though i can't tell you how the insight came about. Maybe i could write about the fact that  Master and i played hard . . . if i didn't mention the event (and maybe i'll do that later).

Because the event requires that we don't write about it. In fact, i pulled down our posts about last year's event, because the seriousness with which they take this "don't write about it" is actually frightening. 

i kind of understand why. The privacy concerns associated with the event are of course, at the forefront of the organizers' minds. No one wants to be incidentally outed. But it makes me angry that i can't talk about what Master and i experienced, or how we played. The event was still awesome. And we'll go back every year they have it. Maybe, in time, we won't have to be afraid to share experiences like this. But today, it sucks.

Today, Master and i are lamenting the lack of air conditioning that we enjoyed all weekend. We're lamenting that the fantasy the event inspires has vanished, and real life awaits. We have, as good friends put it, "con-drop" because the convention is over. (sigh)

Hopefully we'll be able to squeeze in some awesome kinky fun at home to share with you. After all, all these bruises on me are good "starting" points for new play. (grin)

Wake Up and Breathe:

(Warning: Breath Play. We practice Risk Aware Consentual Kink, and Master is CPR certified.)

i never sleep very well, or very long. My record for sleeping in in the last five years (that includes time before my pregnancy) is probably 8.5 hours -- my average is probably about 5.5 or 6. So even everything that came before that lovely morning in the hotel couldn't get me to "sleep in."

Waking up still bound and laying close to my Master felt absolutely wonderful though -- as if i do live a charmed life. Well...i belong to a man who knows the color and tint of my soul, who understands my drives and desires at least as well as i do, if not better...i do live a charmed life. But that morning, i really felt it.

And i moved against Him, kissing His bare shoulder, His lightly freckled skin at the base of His neck, and the beast in Him was awakened. He rolled over me, and possessed me in every way He is able. Gasping from the sorenesses all over my body, from the joy and pleasure of Him using me, the pain of new impacts.

Master paused for a moment and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab something. It crinkled. And even before i saw it, i begged, i whimpered...

But it is not my choice to stop, and it is Master's price for the occasional cigarettes He allows me to have. And all debts must be paid. The plastic goes over my head and i can feel it drive His excitement through His cock in me, and i hate it already. i hate the heat of it, my breath making the bag too warm. In just moments, before He even closes it, it is already too warm for the air to feel fresh. But that morning...that morning there was also rope to close the bag. Panic took hold of my body, and yet the rhythm of Him rocking in me, with me, kept me from doing more than clawing at His shoulder. His blood under my nails, and then air, real air, to breathe, cool, and full of the scent of us...and then the stuffy, hot, plastic...again...and His need driven ever closer to the edge.

And then we're over the edge.

A few more moments, breathing together, sticking together and listening to our hearts race before we had to think about returning to the mundane, before giving up the simple, lusted after Owner and property to the more complex roles of our life...

And it was worth it...We were refreshed.

No More Talking:

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Weekend of Refreshment:

Master and i were in desprate need of some time together. So much running about with school for both of us, His work, and of course, taking care of our little person had definitely taken its toll.

What better weekend to brave the adventures of our son's first overnight than the weekend of Master's birthday?

Thankfully, my concerns about our boy's first overnight with his grandmother were completely negated and he had a most excellent time, leaving Master and i to have our own fun in a hotel room.

While i expected to be fraught with concern for the kiddo, Master didn't give me time to do so. He immediately put me on the floor, while He sat comfortarbly at the desk/table, while we indulged in a rare treat: KFC. After slurping down energy drinks and letting our tummies settle, Master broke out our toybag. Since we don't really have the space at home, Master felt that first a heavy flogging would be a nice start.

It wasn't easy to sink into the flogging, the impacts, as it had been a long time since we'd had the opportunity to really get into some heavy play. It burned. And i wanted it to stop, but i didn't want it to end, either. i fought against the burning thud, fought to maintain the composure Master asked me to have, and at the same time, my body reacts the way it always does -- more, more, more, please, i want it, i want to hurt that way. i wanted it...

And more there was; Master eventually flipped me around, put spreader bars between my arms and legs, with the spreader bar holding my arms behind the recliner and trapping me oh-so-effectively. At His mercy, with clover clamps crushing my nipples while He whacked my thighs and breasts, clamped tits and whatever other target delighted Him with the evil white plastic spoon, smacked me in the face with His gloved hands, pinched, pulled and smacked my breasts with the same.

But more than the floggings, smackings, beatings, and clamps -- more than anything else up to that point, and maybe more than the pain and pleasure that came later -- was the talk.

Master's voice cuts through me. It just does. It always has.

He told me that He loved me, but that won't save me from His desires. It won't save me from the cruelities that dwell in His heart. He loves me, but as much as He loves me, He wants to hurt me. And i've given myself to Him, and now, now all there is for me to do is suffer through it. i chose to let Him hurt me, forever and a day.

And i made that choice, knowing what He wanted, made that choice because i want to be hurt, and more specifically, want Him to be the one to hurt me.

And that is the deepest, darkest truth in my soul. i knew what He was, and i wanted that.

Hearing that truth spill from His lips made me twitch in all sorts of tasty ways.

(Part one...There will be more -- for there was!)