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After the Sushi

The three of us made it home from our sushi run almost six hours after the moment when I first said "Hey, why don't we go get sushi now?"

The last ten minutes was the most harrowing; we'd opted to cheat and call a cab from Sushi House, which took us to the train station one pint nine miles away, as the Google Maps crawler crawls. From there we went to the subway station ten minutes from home, where a decidedly non-poly-friendly car awaited.

During the sushi, the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees, and David seldom wears anything save for shorts and sandals. This made leaving him at the station while I ran dayo home, then returning to pick him up a decidedly less than attractive option. So, we all three squeezed into the car, dayo on David's lap (to both of their delight, judging from the sounds), and we prayed for no intervention from meddlesome law enforcement types on the drive home.

No meddlesome law enforcement intervention presented itself.


dayo was quite keen to try out the Monkey Rocker, so we wasted little time getting it, and her, suitably prepared. Properly stripped, lubed, and sat upon it, she judged it quite delightful at first go, particularly with the added benefit of being able to make out with David while I sat behind her and felt her up in various strategic and sundry ways.

And, things being what they are, it was not long after that dayo, hereafter referred to as "our heroine," found herself not only naked and seated on the Monkey Rocker, but also blindfolded and gagged, and with a vibrator 'twixt her nethers, as the character Kaylee on the occasionally brilliant but sadly short-lived TV show Firefly has so eloquently said.

Some minor adjustment and tweaking of the Monkey Rocker soon proved to be necessary, as even the most well-designed of fucking machines might need a certain degree of fiddling when its victim user is blindfolded and not in control of the machine's actions. (Have I mentioned how awesome it is that the Tango version of this particular machine has not one but two handles to control speed and vigor, and our heroine had not one but two people manipulating it?)

Once properly tweaked, it proved quite capable of eliciting a most delightful array of shudders, squeaks,a nd muffled moans. I'm sure the occasional teeth on the neck, nips on the shoulder, nipple twists, and unexpected touches from unknown sources helped as well, but no small measure of the credit goes, I think, to the design of the machine itself.

We tormented her in that way for quite a length of time before finally electing to show our heroine some measure of mercy, at least from the tender affections of a tireless mechanical dildo.

However, there is a very unfortunate circumstance that presented itself quickly thereafter, and one that needed fixing post-haste; David had, as it turned out, never used a flogger, or indeed even seen one used.

So, the long rolled-up carrying case of floggers and such came out, our heroine found herself bent naked over the reclining chair, and the lessons began. "Hold it like this," I said. "Strike her here--"

"Ooonfh!"

"--or here--"

"Eeep!"

"--and turn your wrist as you do it, so that you can keep up a steady rhythm, see?"

Now, a brief segue is necessary here. I keep my floggers in a padded canvas roll-up carrying bag, designed to be slung over a shoulder (or, more often, the end of my bed) to store them in a convenient and easy-to-access way. I unrolled the carrying bag on the couch, and the kitty Liam took rather a fancy to lying on top of the unrolled case, as he apparently quite likes the padding:



Anyway, the lesson proceeded apace, with David proving to be a quick study. We went over the various types of sensation produced by different styles of floggers, with suitable demonstrations on our heroine's lovely backside, and discussed the finer points of conventional floggers vs swivel-handled and poi-handled floggers, the latter being something David was reluctant to use without greater practice. Our heroine's ass turned a most lovely shade of red under our combined attentions.

But still something was missing, it seemed.

So, back into the bedroom for the crop. And the cane. And...well...

"On an overall scale from one to ten, a crop is probably about a seven or--"

Thwack!

"EEEEEEEENGH!!!"

"--an eight. You can use it like this..."

So, yes, did I mention that her ass welts up very nicely, too?

"Though if you want something with a bit more bite to it, you can use a cane. This one is about a ten, isn't that right?"

"Well--"

Thwack!

"AAAAINGH! Yes!"

"And there's a sweet spot, just below the curve of the butt, right about here..."

A considerable amount of live demonstration, accompanied by a more than fair amount of squirming and a certain volume of noise, entailed. But still, something was lacking...

"Now a lot of folks say a cane is about as painful as it gets. They're wrong. This paddle here--"

"Oh, no. Oh, no, you aren't!"

"--looks very innocent, but on a scale of one to ten, it's about a fourteen."

It does look innocent, too. It's made of deeply polished cherry, and it's about a quarter of an inch wide, eight inches long, and an eighth of an inch thick. Most people who've felt it once won't let me near them again with it.

Thwack!

"Aaaaaangh! Hee, hee, hee, hee!"

That's what was missing, the giggly, floaty endorphin high. I do so love when my partner starts laughing at every stroke.

"So show me how you do fisting."

"Okay. Let's grab the pallet wrap first, and get her all wrapped up..." Our heroine and I had tried this for the first time on my last Chicago visit, and it worked quite well. Particularly when she has a vibrator in her hands while my hand is inside her.

"So you pull the glove on like so, and you point your fingers like this, and slip your hand in like this, and..."

And dear god. With David holding her and kissing her, my hand buried deep inside her, and the vibrator doing its magic, I thought I was never going to get that hand back again, except perhaps in somewhat disassociated condition.

There's a postscript to this story. We all went to sleep soon after, with the Monkey Rocker, the box of gloves, the floggers, the lube, the crop, and all the various other implements still scattered about the living room. Now, that wouldn't much matter, except that David and I had both completely forgotten that we were scheduled for pest control the following day.

We found the note saying the apartment had been serviced stuck on the door when we got home from work. I have no idea what the pest control guys thought, but I imagine there were probably some amusing stories told at pest control headquarters that evening.

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Comments

( 23 comments — Leave a comment )
(Anonymous)
Nov. 13th, 2008 11:17 pm (UTC)
I actually did LOL at the end of that. :D
roguebaby
Nov. 13th, 2008 11:19 pm (UTC)
Sorry, that was totally me posting. My computer must have logged me out...
hollyqueen
Nov. 13th, 2008 11:27 pm (UTC)
I once discovered that I had hung all of the floggers on the wall over the dining room table AFTER my landlord did a walk through checking to see how much damage a flood had done. She was such a nice, little Spanish lady who never looked me in the eye again.
james_the_evil1
Nov. 14th, 2008 12:04 am (UTC)
Well at least no one's parents showed up for a surprise visit LOL
ashbet
Nov. 14th, 2008 12:18 am (UTC)
Hahahahahahah!! The end = too perfect!

(Also? Totally hot. Very glad to hear that the visit went so entertainingly for all concerned!)

-- A <3
dayo
Nov. 14th, 2008 03:10 am (UTC)
Oh yes. Oh very yes. *squee* :)
catalyticdragon
Nov. 14th, 2008 12:22 am (UTC)
The "paddle", from your description, sounds more like a switch (to me). Perhaps my mental visualization is off? Is there a pic or some other place I can see this delightful instrument?
dayo
Nov. 14th, 2008 03:14 am (UTC)
It's more like a narrow, hard, flat board. Switches are bendy, this isn't at all flexible. Makes it hurt a lot more:)

Edited at 2008-11-14 03:16 am (UTC)
tacit
Nov. 14th, 2008 07:53 pm (UTC)
Definitely not a switch. It's a very narrow paddle carved from wood, and it's completely inflexible:



The pic doesn't really do justice to how pretty it is. It's a rich, deep red, and polished until it glows. :)
catalyticdragon
Nov. 14th, 2008 09:58 pm (UTC)
Oh, wow! OK, that helps. Definitely looks like it would pack a whallop. Thank you and Dayo for the clarification.

And it does look pretty...
kindredsgirl
Nov. 18th, 2008 07:25 am (UTC)
JOel says, It's not a paddle, it's a stick

Just FYI

:)

Laura
tacit
Nov. 20th, 2008 07:54 pm (UTC)
Hmm. I tend to think of sticks as round and paddles as flat. What definition is he using?
kindredsgirl
Nov. 20th, 2008 08:15 pm (UTC)
Joel's perspective :)
[12:10] kindreds_girl: Franklin says: Hmm. I tend to think of sticks as round and paddles as flat. What definition is he using?
[12:10] polydad8: Stick: Long skinny piece of wood.
[12:10] kindreds_girl: so it's the skinny that makes the stick, not the round or flat?
[12:11] polydad8: P's punishment stick was about 1.25" wide, by about .25" thick. Left *big* welts.
[12:11] polydad8: Correct. Round or flat, if it's skinny, long, and wooden, it's a stick.
[12:11] kindreds_girl: hmmmm
[12:11] kindreds_girl: ok
[12:12] kindreds_girl: I'll tell Franklin you said so :">
[12:12] polydad8: He is of course welcome to invent and/or use whatever terminology he pleases; I'm just providing you with the terminology *I* use.
----------------------------------------------------------

So there you have it! Such a controversy, don't you think? Im' not sure how we could resolve it. The only paddle I've personally experienced was about 3 inches wide, and it hurt like the dickens. . . . Although I don't imagine a stick would feel much better.

skitten
Nov. 14th, 2008 12:29 am (UTC)
oh wow... Is it getting warm in here? *lol*
7owti5
Nov. 14th, 2008 12:44 am (UTC)
THAT RULES ON SO MANY LEVELS.

And I do think you made the pest control guys' day. I would laugh so hard if I walked in to see evidence of such a good time.
heart_open
Nov. 14th, 2008 01:52 am (UTC)

Oh, I'm sure the pest control guys will be telling that story for quite some time...

How lovely for the three of you to spend some quality time together!

cjhm
Nov. 14th, 2008 02:29 am (UTC)
I doubt the pest control people care. We have cleaners in once a month and they do our bedroom with all of its stuff - even the first time in they didn't even blink - by now they're used to it and I'm sure they see it all the time.

BTW - your cat can't spell - time to send it back to skool.
sweh
Nov. 14th, 2008 02:53 am (UTC)
I keep wondering if I should get a maid in to take care of my house (since I'm so poor at dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms). But the thought of how they'd react to my toys (I have an area of my basement set aside where the floggers and cuffs and stuff all hang on walls; my bedroom is rarely free of chains or padlocks and so on) keeps me back.

The yearly bug inspection has me tidying up so the old guy doesn't get a heart attack :-)
(Deleted comment)
nallix
Nov. 14th, 2008 04:21 am (UTC)
There have been occasions where my job as a network technician has had me entering a student's room when they were away. I made a mental note of which rooms had cuffs on the headboard or the occasional vibrator on the nightstand.
cheerilyxmorbid
Nov. 14th, 2008 05:34 am (UTC)
*fans self, and is ever so slightly jealous* I'm glad that dayo had such a lovely visit, and that everybody had fun. Life is always better when everybody has fun. ^_^
I generally do not leave toys out, unless I know my roommate is going to be away. She really doesn't need to know what I get up to. Although the drawer I keep my toys in doesn't like to shut all the way, so she's probably gotten glimpses of them.
quaryn_dk
Nov. 14th, 2008 10:09 am (UTC)
*sigh* I could really use a good flogging right now...
(Deleted comment)
( 23 comments — Leave a comment )