FrolicCon 2006

Yay! What a great weekend. I have bruises and cuts and memories to savor.

Got to play to three Doms at the same time on Saturday and we wore each other out. I think we all got what we wanted (only I got more!) It was delicious taking it all and wanting more, but knowing I was nearing the end when my muscles got to shaking uncontrollably. YUM.

Lady T and Mistress V and Sir tag-teamed me (after the first two had already had some time with me on Friday night) and between his knotted flogger and Miss V's single-tail on my back and Lady T's matching floggers on my breasts, I didn't really have any way to turn to avoid anything. Didn't want to, wanted all that energy. Like it best on my feet, not bound down. That way I can thrust myself back and tighten my grip on the chains to really throw myself into their rhythm. God, it was the first time in a long time when I felt I was giving something back, giving back some of the energy they were investing in me. Giving back to them who gave to me. I did it silently, my preference. Crying and groaning aren't my way, an occasional hiss, but I prefer to absorb it in silence -- the stoic side of me. I feel I go through an ordeal, challenge myself, and come out stronger. It was memorable and owe them all thanks.
More:
Friday night started us off. After getting off work, I sat in the front seat, passenger side, protected from his NASCAR-like driving only by my hybrid’s aluminum frame, crash-tested at, I’m sure, less than the 78-90 mph he was driving, the seatbelt, and the airbags. He likes to sit on people’s asses, which I interpret at anything less than 10 feet/10mph. This should have, by my calculations given us, at least at double wide MANUFACTURED home length of 70-80 feet. We were, by OHIO calculations, far enough back to only read the largest of the three bumper stickers of whomever he chose to follow. Let us say merely that both of us exceeded our limits, both hard and soft.
But, after we had each ground our teeth down further, we arrived at the Crowne Plaza for a weekend of .. frolicking? This didn’t actually sound like something that tow +40’s BDSMers would pay for. We had frolicked as infants and pre-teens, but at our age, we wanted something a little more hard-core than jumping about like bunnies and deer, never mind the other more orthodox reason for the weekend. But, frolic we would.
The evening started out with my frenetic unpacking – I don’t feel I’m inhabiting a room until I spread out my things in the appropriate place – i.e. where I can find them without rooting about in all my luggage, like some people I could name but won’t ‘cause they possess all the firepower in a BDSM sense. Then I registered. Being the dutiful convention-goer, I had already pre-paid which made this exceedingly painless. Then, to make everyone else at the convention more happy, I showered. All while my other sought out refreshments not normally listed on room service. He, also, came back legitimately badged and relaxed and we ordered in the usual overpriced, but sustaining, room service, too lazy to drive anywhere, before beginning the , for me, arduous process of ‘dressing for the evening.”
This is exacerbated by the fact that I am really a boy. Okay, not biologically, nor do I wish a sex-change, but I was raised by a mannish mother to who makeup was dishonesty and I dislike the feel of makeup, consequently I have never learned to properly apply it and I am a newby every time I open my moderately supplied (and old) makeup kit. Many of my cosmetics date from the mid-90’s, but are still functional. Having said that, that tells you how often I use them – for big dates and fetish events.
Now, hair is the next obstacle. I have very fine, though, thankfully, naturally blonde hair. Having naturally blonde hair has engendered even more laziness on my part since all I’ve ever had to do was grow it long, trim the ends, and wow most people with the blondeness of my blonde hair. And big breasts don’t hurt. So, there you are, the only things I like about dressing up is the clothes. I was a seamstress in theatre, college and semi-pro, for years and adore costumes. I started sewing at 6 years of age, so clothes are the thing that I can do, and he had bought me some really fine things in Amsterdam and for Xmas. That night we decided to wear his Xmas gift -- a turquoise brocade print of butterflies (chosen by me for my deceased sister whose animal was the butterfly.) I wear butterflies for good luck, and they brought me luck that night!
Shortly after application of all these things, after my analysis of myself in the mirror, after deploring, once more, my lack of makeup skills (and the fact that I had left any wigs or attachments back home by mistake) we sallied out to find friends (some from b.com, others from Chattanooga and Atlanta.) Not fifty feet from the crowded elevator (after a brief visit to the 2nd, party floor) we found C, Mistress V and Lady T of Atlanta, the first two friends dating back to Fantasm 2004, and Mistress V being the person who had given me my first single-tail whipping in Nov. 2004 at DomCon. (Something I had fantasized about all my conscious life.) After about five minutes he turned to them and left me in their ‘care.’ They all looked at him and asked, “Any limits?” He looked at me and smiled his evilest grin and then muttered some gibberish at them that amounted to , “Whatever you desire.” Or something so close to that it didn’t matter. Ye gods.
But, it took hours before we decided to check on those limits. We sashayed to the pool, C flirting with a handsome bisexual man that seemed to have the hots for anyone and anything. She was happy he sought her out, but then he seemed to wander off. Fickle.
We ended up in V’s room, After having shamelessly exposed myself at the some Tattoo Parlor’s room party, to get some wine for refreshment. After much catching up on gossip we went to T’s room where, while changing to more comfortable shoes, she lamented the fact that there didn’t seem to be anyone to ‘play’ with. Every one of the men she had flirted with or contacted seemed only to want to fuck. She was even considering calling in someone she hadn’t seen in a while just to have a target for her new dual floggers. She appeared to be so woe-is-me that I, valiantly I thought, offered myself as a substitute if she had no gender preference. We hadn’t seen my Dom in hours and they wondered if he had meant what he said. I assured him he wouldn’t have made the offer if he wasn’t sincere, but we decided to make the traverse to our room to make sure he wasn’t up there worrying.
He was there, and being it was nearly one a.m., was tired and offered me as a gift, so long as they didn’t break me. The two Dommes (C. had wandered off to sleep, having to man a booth in the a.m.) smiled Cheshire cat smiles and promised to bring me back ‘more or less’ intact. I shivered, but was very wet with the idea of two playing with me. We stripped me down in the room and clad me in a velvet cloak. I trusted them both. And my trust was more than repaid. They were fabulously kind. I had asked them to start me off slow, but put no real limits on them except penetration, That, so far, belongs to him. They chained me to a St. Andrew’s cross, the first thing we saw available when we walked into the mini playroom, and the object with the most space about it for Miss V’s whip. They allowed me my pony gag (my favorite), had no blindfold, but closed eyes work well, and I didn’t want to stare into the eyes of the handsome long-haired man opposite me. The fun began.
First with a gentle spanking that soon all three of us doing the ‘bump’ in time to the music as they stood astraddle my spread legs on either side and ground their mounds on my thighs while increasing the tempo and power of their hands. After properly warming me up T began teasing me with her floggers, gently, lightly, then increasingly with sting, working my back from shoulder to thighs as I thrust my ass back, begging for more. The tempo in my head combined with the rhythm of her strokes and the cries around us to make it all wildly deliciously, I began to glow.
Not unexpectedly, but suddenly there was a brief silence as V unwound one of her working whips, then the crack near my ear as she warned me of her intent. Then she began to tickle me with light, stinging lashes, like fire ant stings without the aftermath. Quick tongues of flame that burned so briefly, then left a pleasant aftermath, not like the canes which I also love and dread. Canes hurt too long after the strike, so that you have a brief moment of “oh, no, then is going to hurt.” I don’t remember how long it went on, increasing in severity, though I know she wasn’t really trying to make me flinch, just teasing me and it was delightful. I felt like I was floating, watching all this from aloft. And though a few were more intense, it was never something I wanted to stop. I wanted more, and adored the crowd that had gathered when I opened my eyes. Exhibitionist.