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There is little better way to begin an evening than at a very nice, if somewhat pricey, restaurant a short walk from dayo's apartment. One very delicious (pasta with mussels1 and clams, yum!) later, we headed back with happy tummies to her place, where some very nice vodka2 awaited.

And then, the kink.

One large roll of pallet wrap, two wicked sharp knives, a box of latex gloves, one small silver bullet vibrator, eight floggers3, and a giant-sized container of KY make for a very lovely evening indeed.

The floggers made the evening's appetizer. "Strip." I pushed her down onto the air mattress and stood behind her. A light, not too thuddy flogger for the opening, followed by two slightly heavier floggers simultaneously for a bit more of a warm-up, then a new, quite heavy flogger she had not yet deflowered for a bit more sensation...

Her backside was still slightly bruised from the previous evening in the dungeon, so it didn't take long to have her squirming.

After the appetizer, the pallet wrap. Pallet wrap is awesome for quick, easy, no-wait bondage; a few turns around her arms and body had her arms firmly bound to her sides. "It feels like being hugged," she said.

One quick push had her flat on her back on the mattress. The interesting thing about having your arms immobilized at your sides is that you can offer very little--for which read "no"--resistance to being manhandled around, and when you're toppled over, you tend to go down quickly. "Whuf!"

I was on top of her in a flash, and entered her roughly. Her hands were free, poking out from under the pallet wrap, but she was quite unable to move aside from that...in effect, allowing her only enough freedom to help me take her, but not enough to resist.

"I'm going to come now." There's something that's just really fun about telling her that while I'm on top of her, pinning her down, looking into her eyes. "Take it!"

There's something even more fun about doing it more than once. Arms wrapped tightly around her, feeling her heat against me, answering the heat inside me...it's intoxicating, and powerful. Three hard orgasms later, and I left her without warning, and watched her squirm on the bed.

"Quit pouting." Pulling on a rubber glove. "You'll get what you want soon enough." Probing with the tip of one finger. "My goodness, you're wet. I bet I could do this without any lube. But--" picking up the tube--"I like you squishy."

My hand went in with no resistance at all. Normally, it takes a bit of work to get it fully inside her. Normally. Not tonight.

"Oh, my god!"

"Yes." Pushing the bullet into her fingers. "Use this."

"You're in deep!"

"No, that's not deep. This--"


"--is deep."

Some time later, when she was limp and sweaty and spent, and I had drawn my hand free and discarded the glove, we lay side by side and I caressed her hair. tongue and fingers running over breasts, through tight plastic. "You'll like this."

The tip of the knife, razor sharp, gliding over the curve of her breast bound and flattened by the pallet wrap.


Some folks like using dull knives for knife play. I do too, sometimes, but for dayoI have a curved, twin-bladed punch dagger sharp enough to slice a hydrogen atom free of an oxygen atom. Her back still carried a hair-fine tracery of faint white lines from the previous evening.

"Oh, that feels good!"

"Does it, now?"

A quick flip of the wrist and the blades sliced under the pallet wrap and out, cutting away a section of plastic film, revealing flesh, the underside of her breast. "And how about this?" Tips tracing along glowing skin, sheened with sweat, feather-light.

"Oh god!"

"Now hold still!" Blade slipping under cling wrap, slicing more free, tickling lightly over sensitized skin, following curves.

It took quite some time to remove the wrap, picking it apart and slicing it away bit by bit, chasing bare flesh with pointed steel.

"Oh! That was fun!"

"Time to put you to bed. And--" grinning "--I'm not finished with you yet."

1 I'm not quite sure what's up with me and mussels. When I was a kid, I had relatives living in Florida and New Jersey, so I was exposed to seafood from an early age. I've always loved things like crab, fish, scallops, and lobster, but for most of my life I've hated hated mussels.

Well, a few years ago, I developed a craving for mussels. Shelly and I went out to dinner, I ordered some, and they were mmm mmm tasty. I've loved them since.

2 One of the things I learned from serolynne is the difference between good vodka and bad vodka. There's a significant distance between the two. Good vodka is one of life's little treats. Bad vodka is like flaming battery acid with a chaser of ground glass.

3 Yes, eight. Why eight, you ask? Well, there's a reason that dedicated perverts usually have large collections of floggers. They come in a startling array of sizes and styles, and each produces a unique sensation. They're like spice to a chef; you can mix and match them to tailor just precisely the sensation you desire.



Nov. 14th, 2008 02:51 am (UTC)
I beg to differ about your example concerning me.

First of all, I automatically assume that anyone who is interested in me romantically will find me attractive, so him "delaying" telling me that he finds me attractive doesn't do anything, since I've already assumed he does.

What I object to is people finding me nothing *but* attractive. And anyone who cannot think of anything to say to me except "ur hot" is a reasonable indication that he holds physical attractiveness higher in value than I do.

What I also object to is anyone who tells me "ur hot" when I explicitly request not to. I never hold anyone permanently responsible for doing or saying something that I have never explicitly said not to do. That would be unreasonable. I can't expect anyone to read my mind, so if I haven't said so yet, you get a free pass this time.

So when I get so upset at people emailing me with "ur hot", it's only partially because of my attitude about physical appearance. Mostly, it's because this person has just indicated to me that he does not listen to what I say and does not care for my feelings. And what *doesn't* make it into the public journals are all the emails I get where someone did *not* piss me off, many of which do compliment me on my physical appearance.

So, in your example, Pete not telling me that he is attracted to me only results in me not knowing that he is considering me as a potential partner - which will most likely result in me writing him off because I'm not getting any indication that he's interested.

If he had told me at the time, I could respond appropriately. The biggest way to screw something up with me is to not tell me something - that's a far less forgivable offense than simply complimenting me.
Nov. 14th, 2008 10:30 pm (UTC)
You're right. When I wrote about Pete meeting you for the first time, I implicitly assumed that this meeting was, in fact, the first interaction he had with you (that until this meeting he only read you, without trying to contact in any way). But now when I think about it -- why would that be the case? If he liked you so much based on your journal, he should have written an email first, or commented on your journal, or something. That way, he wouldn't create a situation in which potential misunderstandings could occur.
So, yes, when I look at the example from this point of view, it actually demonstrates how being open as early as possible helps avoid misunderstandings. You're right - my bad :-)