Uncommon Curiosity

(Continued from Folsom Fair 2009)

Arron and I arrived at the Citadel with just a minute to spare, and had a moment to sit down and catch a breather (and, in my case, pull on some slightly more sensible shoes.)

We were assigned sheet duty (covering all the couches, chairs and mattresses upstairs and downstairs with sheets, which was made a bit more complicated by the amorous couple who were loathe to vacate their spot on one of the mattresses.  There was much embarrassed giggling as we worked fast to return their mattress to them, newly re-sheeted) and then we checked each of the stations for safer sex supplies (bleach, condoms, lube, paper towels, etc.)  We finished early, and then went to help out the kitchen crew with getting all the amazing food ready.  I love helping out because you meet so many fun people, and we were soon joking and laughing with a really cool bunch of knife-wielding, watermelon-dicing sadists and masochists.

After we had finished setting up, we had a few moments before the party started, and, after I had put my dangerous boots back on, we took a tour downstairs, stopping to try out a big swing and a spanking bench.  Arron sat on the spanking bench and silently, cruelly challenged me to take advantage with coy smiles and pseudo-innocent expressions.  It took every ounce of control not to.  (Shocked?  Despite spending the day yanking his chain, quite literally, we hadn’t discussed playing together and I was actually trying to be sensitive and not push his boundaries.  Yes, I know, totally unlike me, but I was trying to be a conscientious host.  Humor me here, ok?)  I have to admit, it was kind of fun, this game of chicken we were playing, egging each other on without wanting to actually make the first move…a most delicious type of flirtation.

I had never been to an all-female and trans party before, and I was a bit like a kid at Disneyland (except without the long lines and with considerably more lube.)  There were beautiful women and drop-dead handsome studs, and I was a bit sad that Kyle couldn’t share the night with me, but determined to have a good time nonetheless.  Arron and I sat and watched a sharps/farm scene involving a pony, a pig, a lot of needles and a bunch of barbed wire.  I had to look away when a long needle was sent through one cheek, across the mouth and through another cheek, but Arron was sweet enough to console me with M&Ms.  (I returned the favor with some peaches – and these were no ordinary peaches, these were the sweetest, juiciest peaches anyone could remember tasting in a long time and led to a number of passionate discussions comparing peaches to women…)

After the first demo, there was a break and then a take-down demo involving a fantasy of turning the tables on a very bad trainer…and from the sound of the audience I don’t think there was a dry seat left in the house.  Arron and I decided to head downstairs afterwards to see if anyone was scening yet.

Downstairs at the Citadel is the dungeon, and they have a number of St. Andrews crosses, spanking benches, swings, beams, cages and the like.  There were a couple of scenes already going, and we settled in a spot where we could watch all of them.  It was clear Arron was enjoying himself, so I tentatively asked if he’d like to play, and he was really sweetly shy about it, even though I could tell he was interested, so…I had to insist.  After the other two were finished, I dragged him over to a cross in the back and asked him to flog me.  He was nervous because he’d never used a flogger, so I promised to show him how…and then I asked him if he’d like me to strip.

Damn, I wish I could have taken a photograph of the boy’s face right at that moment.

Needless to say, he said yes.  I stripped down to my skirt and boots and assumed the position on the cross.  Now, flogging is an intimidating art – when you’re just starting out, the tails never fall where you think they will, and the prospect of sending someone to the hospital after hitting them too hard in the head or the kidneys can be a bit daunting.  Arron, amazingly, picked up my flogger and took to it immediately – he was soon landing blows like a pro, varying intensity and speed and watching the movement of my muscles and the color of my skin for instruction on where to hit next.  Every now and again he would pause for a moment and rake his nails down my back, my arms, my thighs…and an involuntary shudder/growl would erupt from my gut. I was thoroughly enjoying his violent attentions when suddenly he wound my pigtails around his hand, pressing a cold fist against my neck, and pulled me back off my toes, half-whispering, half-growling in my ear…and then he bit my shoulder so hard it sent me to my knees with a cry of pain.

Which is to say, I nearly came right there.

Now, I have an awkward, if not somewhat confusing, response to pain – I giggle.  A lot.  In an ironically horrible way that usually just goads my tormentors on to more extreme and harsher punishment.  So, when he bit me so hard that I fell to my knees, I started laughing, which only encouraged a harder beating…which, in turn, made me laugh harder.  Suffice to say I was well and truly beaten before he stopped so I could go man the front door for my assigned volunteer hour.

…but that was only the beginning.

(Next:  The Eclipse After Party – Part II)