Earlier I wrote about Glenn and I doing the takedown scene, which was the start of the “50 Freaks” weekend for me and left me sore, marked and flying. Going to parties around the country, especially Shadow Lane in Las Vegas and this new “off-season” event that our friend Joe (“DrLectr“) organized, gives me the opportunity to play with people I can’t see the rest of the year. There are great tops in New York City, but in the spanking world, I have a few favorites and these weekends give me the chance to interact with them.
One of them is a long-time Shadow Lane friend, “D.” I probably met him some 10 years ago, at my first or second Shadow Lane party. There were a bunch of people hanging around in someone’s suite, and I watched him spank a woman who seemed to really enjoy it. He had done some spanking movies for Shadow Lane so I was a bit shy about approaching him at first. Someone I’d already met introduced us. I don’t know which of us asked the other to play, but there was mutual interest and not long after that I was over his knee getting spanked. Wow. What hands! Amazing. He gave me a terrific walloping that left me breathing mighty hard.
But more was to be revealed. Soon I was introduced to D.’s belt and straps. He claims that during our first “serious” scene I turned to him after a few belt strokes and said, “Hm. You know what you’re doing.” The rest was history. We try to make the time to play at every party we’re both at, if possible.
There are tops who are great physical tops, and there are tops who are good at getting into your head, and D. is both. With me at least, he’s dominant. He takes charge, and I love when I connect with someone in that way. It’s rare. He lives in L.A., and about a year ago he commented that if I lived there he’d consider me as a submissive. Honestly, I was extremely flattered and honored to hear that, but I had to take it for what it was: a fantasy scenario. I don’t live in L.A., and if I did and we saw each other more often, maybe our dynamic would not work on an ongoing basis. One never knows. But I do know I can’t do long-distance domination with any degree of satisfaction, and he probably feels the same way, so we leave it at that. We indulge in our connection the one or two times a year that we do see each other.
We played this Friday night. I had an appointment with another dom who, due to some personal issues, had to cancel. I was disappointed and slightly confused about the turn of events, not to mentioned annoyed at getting all dolled up with no denouement!
I had it in my head that it might be nice to play with D. right then to get the “need” out of my system. There were people hanging out in the main suite of the party, and two of the first few people I saw were Miss Chris, a popular domme from Arizona, and D. I said hi, talked to a few other people, then wandered back to them. Miss Chris said, “Would you like to play with D.”? Odd that she was asking me, not him. I looked at him, her, then back at him, and said, “Yes. Yes, definitely.” Turned out he was ready to go right then. Talk about serendipity!
A few minutes later we were in his hotel room and I was over his knee, submitting to a spanking and anticipating whatever else he might do to me. He is a “nice guy” in every other way, but once I’m in that position with him, he takes control.
He spanked me for a while (those sublime hands) then used several small straps, including The London Tanner’s OTK strap. It has a soft, unfinished side and a stingy finished side, and D. alternated between the two. Then he moved on to a harsher piece of leather (probably also a London Tanner piece). I was yelping and wriggling. He held me in place.
At one point he grabbed my hair. Do I need to go into what this does to me? I must have talked about this before. It sends me into another head space almost immediately. If I haven’t felt like I was submitting earlier, when someone grabs my hair I melt. I succumb. It is crazy, how it feels like I am being claimed, like some caveman is saying, “This is my woman.”
He grabbed my hair and didn’t let go. I was held that way, over his knee. He abandoned the straps and resumed spanking me with his bare hand. Harder and harder and harder. He switched back and forth, cheek to cheek, for a little while, and then settled on one area of my left cheek. He spanked me over and over in that spot, till I began to struggle a bit and sob. It really stung. I cried and wriggled while simultaneously glorying in what might be a nice bruise later (bottoms will understand). The question of “Can I take it?” was mixed with “Make me take it!” and “I want to take it.”
I was already bruised on my thighs from Glenn’s caning the prior evening–but I could take more; I usually always can take more. Wicked D. finally eased up. He wrapped up the spanking, released my hair, and left me with an aching head and bottom. He said, “It’s only Friday night. I don’t want to wear you out for the weekend.”
I was screaming inside, “Yes, wear me out!” but in the submissive mode I was in, I didn’t beg, I didn’t brat, I accepted his judgment and his power to not only hurt me but to declare when the scene was over. I dressed, then walked down the hall with him to rejoin our friends in the party room. On the way, he said he would finish the job later in the weekend.
Visions of myself naked on all fours, grabbing tightly to the bedspread to maintain position while he belted me ferociously filled my head. I had that swoony, after-play feeling where you feel you can bare all your secrets and open up to someone. I looked dreamily up at him (he’s really tall; I have to look up at him). “Promise?” I asked. He leaned over and kissed me.
P.S. Part two to come: promises filled…