A couple of Saturday’s ago, Neighbor Femme and I drove up to Seattle to spend some time together and go to the Blood, Sweat and Queers play party at the Seattle Center for Sex Positive Culture (formerly the Wet Spot).
First stop, Doghouse Leather. NF had a specific pair of cuffs on her list, and after finding those, we looked at and fondled a bit of everything there. I tried on a leather bar vest to see what my size would be… XL. She looked at some lovely implements of pain. I found a belt with metal studs that I liked — mainly because it was different from most of the ones I see everywhere else. She looked a devices to mash bits and pinch bits and otherwise torture bits. I looked at sexy Nasty Pig jock straps and decided I need one or two of those before I get a vest.. the better to contain my bits while exposing my ass in the dungeon. While we were meandering through the store, there was a steady conversation about the merits of various equipment, both with me and the guy working the counter. For example, NF displayed a knowledge of CBT devices that impressed the clerk. She was also dropping hints that I was supposed to be picking up on, but more about that later.
After ogling and fondling all the fun stuff at Doghouse, we headed over to Old School Frozen Custard for some creamy, custardy goodness. And wow, that kicks all but the highest quality ice cream right out to the curb. I had the daily special, Red Velvet Cake. Yummmm.
Once I’d had dessert, it was more and more apparent to my belly that I hadn’t had dinner yet. The original plan was to do dinner at a place of my choosing, but we’d lingered too long over the leather and it was time to get ourselves down to the play space. I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long for something warm and filling, however, because the hot dog man would surely be there with his delicious dogs to fill this boy up right.
I chatted up the hot dog man (I really should learn his name since he’s becoming such an important person in my life) and waited for my yummy dog to be ready for devouring. I ate about half of it and then went back into the play space to finish it. I was standing close to the boot black stand, enjoying the hell out of my dog, when I suddenly found myself attracting the attention of two very tall women. Suddenly, I was five or at most 8 years old, blushing at the attention and trying hard to act like the only thing I was interested in was the hot dog in my hands. Sure, maybe I should have been all suav-ay and figured out how to return the attention, but do you remember being 8? How smooth were you?
They didn’t descend upon me at the same time, I had chatted as well as I could with the first (a top I know from previous parties) and we were standing there soaking up the ambiance (I was specifically watching Neighbor Femme and the boot black). The second very tall woman walked up soon after with an obvious expression of interest and began chatting me up, very friendly, and I think wanting to be friendlier. I felt so out of my element. I glanced over at Neighbor Femme but she was very engaged in conversation with the boot black. I know I’m not 8 anymore, but standing there with my hot dog of happiness, feeling so very, very short and small, I might as well have been. I did my best to talk to the nice tall lady but it was hard with all the blushing and stammering and hot dog scarfing going on. NF later said I was cute, hilarious and adorable to watch.
The amazing thing about this is not that I stammered or blushed, but the very distinct feeling of being ‘little’. These women are tall, but right then they seemed to tower over me, like they were 9 feet tall at least. The hot dog, the child-like enthusiasm, feeling physically smaller — amazingly real effects for an identity that’s all in my head. That’s what not having my guard up feels like, that’s what letting myself react in the moment feels like.
Now that I’m going to a couple of monthly play parties on a more regular basis, I’m really getting a sense of the community around those events. Because Neighbor Femme was going to be busy with others in the early part of the evening, I had plenty of time to hang out and visit with people, which is part of what made that particular night excellent.
The BSQ party draws queer kinksters representing a broad range of identities, and kinks and presentations and affiliations. At first it was all a confusing kaleidoscopic blur with the few exceptions being people I knew by virtue of having met them once or twice before. Now there are always people who recognize me, who I want to take time to catch up with and who seek me out as well. Being recognized and sought out is exciting and still a bit unexpected. It’s happening more and more because I’m becoming a familiar face, especially with the overlap of attendees at the parties I go to. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that Neighbor Femme is introducing me to her wide network of friends, family and playmates.
After finishing my hot dog, I hung around the boot black station in part because it was a great vantage point for the room and also because other people I knew were hanging out there. One of these friends was Jason. We had a nice long conversation, catching up with each other and also going into deeper topics than we had previously. He asked how things were going with my Sir — he hadn’t been witness to catharsis scene but had read about it here. He’s a good person to talk to, being another strong guy who enjoys submission. A little while later he left to engage in a scene and I rode the social ebb and flow of people coming into and through the area. Eventually, I found myself sitting next to Jason’s husband, Matt, watching the boot black work.
We talked about this and that while watching a very animated and amusing scene where the bottom was cuffed to a chain coming down from the ceiling. This allowed her to move in a fairly wide circle, toward and away from the top. The top was tormenting her with a variety of stingy implements, including a single tail and a couple of floggers. What was truly entertaining is that she would sometimes lunge at him, grabbing the whip or flogger or cane and try to hit him back. For a while, they each had a flogger and were flailing away at each other. Lots of fun to watch, and they were obviously enjoying themselves very much.
Next, Matt and I found ourselves watching a very hot double-topping scene with a cute transmasculine boy at the bottom of the hierarchy. I was feeling some serious empathy as he took kicks, punches, and strikes from a wide variety of pain inducing objects. It was impressive. Later, as he and his top were walking by, I was able to complement them on entertainment value of their scene, and I especially wanted to tell him how impressed I was with how much he took. He was grinning like a fool and so happy and high. His top asked my name and introduced the two of them, then said she recognized me.
“Yeah, you presented at Butch Voices didn’t you?” she asked.
I puffed up a little, “Yes, I did.” and said a few things about the workshops I led. Then she said, quite authoritatively, “And you were also in a Good Dyke Porn.”
*sound of needle across record*
“Um, no… I uh… ” And here I had to actually pause for a moment to make sure I wasn’t lying. I know Bryn and we have talked about that maybe happening, or wanting it to happen, but it hadn’t, right? No. Definitely hadn’t happened. Putting on my best gentleman rogue grin, I answered “Nawww, it wasn’t me, it must have been some other good lookin’ butch.”
The evening wove on from there, more scenes to watch, more conversation with my friends, on a wide range of topics. I grew more and more antsy as I waited for Neighbor Femme to be ready for our scene. It got late, with early birds heading home and the space opening up a bit more. The last boots were blacked and a couple of NF’s friends were getting started on their scene when she appeared in front of me.
“Are you ready, butch?”
She had her business face on, and I jumped up quickly, because I was soooo ready. We decided to play near her friends and I prepped the space. I was already flying on anticipation and nerves but Neighbor Femme quickly brought me back into the soles of my feet with a wicked combination of knuckly chest punches and pinchy grabs. Seriously, the insult “hits like a girl” is ridiculous. NF hits like a girl and I’m left gasping and yowling, and bruised for days.
After warming me up and getting my head into the right space again, she turned me around. Details are somewhat foggy, except for these:
She hit me hard enough to get me riled up and howling. I was shaking my chains and the apparatus I was on and making a lot of noise. At one point she put her hand over my mouth “You are so loud!” and hit me some more until I was yelling into her hand. Later she told me that she didn’t mind at all that I was making a lot of noise, just that she wanted to play with the control of having her hand over my mouth. I do enjoy having permission to yell and curse and make lots of noise. It’s one of my favorite things.
She also grabbed my hair occasionally, pulling my head way back to talk to me and remind me who was doing all this damage. I really like hair grabbing and pulling. And I remember her pressing into me with her body periodically. I really liked that, liked the contact, liked feeling the connection. It’s hard not to get a bit disconnected when I’m facing away from my tormentor. I can’t see the look in their eyes, can’t anticipate the blow, so I get a bit floaty. When she grabbed my hair, or leaned into me, it brought me back down, into my body and it felt sort of possessive, which was a good feeling. She’d lean into me and I’d press back into her and we’d have that moment of connection and closeness and then she’d return to my beating.
Some of the hitting was actually ass-kicking, in fact, I think that was what she did most. She kicked me all over the damned place with her boots. Let’s be clear about something, kicking hurts a lot. Especially when it’s done with intention, skill and expert targeting. And she was very thorough, getting all over my ass and thighs and up in my business. She’d nail me with her boot and I could feel the shock wave radiating out from me through the room. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rack I was chained to didn’t move a few times on impact. I yelled a lot about being kicked. It hurt, it was unpleasant, it was heavy impact and heavy pain. On the other hand, it was some of the biggest thuddy you can get from another human being, and I do like thuddy. Mixed feelings for sure.
Oh! I almost forgot about the special extra somethin’-somethin’. On our way to the dungeon, we had stopped at a convenience store so she could get smokes, I think that’s what she said, or maybe it was a beverage. I didn’t know it at the time, but she also got something else, something ‘special’ for me. Right after she turned me around and clipped me back onto the post, she reached down the front of my briefs and told me she had something special for me, a surprise. I was simultaneously thrilled/excited (did I mention her hand was down my briefs?) and terrified (she’s a sadist, you remember that part, right?). For the briefest (heh) moment, as her fingers rubbed against some of my most sensitive parts, I was off and running to my happy place. Then the rubbing stopped abruptly and she was pushing her fingers into my mouth. OK, I thought, I’ll play and sucked them in. Then, all to quickly, her fingers were gone again and I was standing there with a growing dread. My tongue was all tingly, and fresh. Not even seconds later, my most sensitive parts began to tingle in the same way. I realized that they must also be fresh. And by the time her hand was sliding into the back of my shorts, I was almost hopping from all the fresh tingling going on. Soon my ass was in on the action. All tingling, all fresh and ALIVE WITH FEELING. That stop at the convenience store? She’d gotten a package of Listerine strips and, yep, she’s pressed them into my various soft parts to help perk me up. It wasn’t as burning hot as the figging I got from Big Poppa Saynine, but it definitely had staying power. Especially when she paused to move them around a bit and inflict the FRESHNESS on new areas.
I have to say that so far, no scene between us has been the same twice. No interaction we’ve had has been the same twice. I literally don’t know what to expect, except for a few favorite moves on her part. She keeps me guessing, she has a lot of tricks and ideas, and that’s awesome. That element of surprise makes it all the more interesting. First surprise of the night was the Listerine trick — which she’d hinted at by talking about it to the guy at Doghouse Leather, I just hadn’t realized it was a hint I should be picking up on. The second surprise was tickling. She came up close, leaned against me and started tickling my ears. My ears are very, very VERY ticklish. And when my ears are tickled, I GIGGLE. No, not a strong, manly giggle (is that even a thing?). No, no, I giggled in a high-pitched, 5 year old girl kind of way. NF was delighted, I felt like a dork. Who giggles like that after having their ass kicked for over an hour? Apparently I do, and apparently she liked that reaction very much because she kept tickling me.
If I remember correctly, we ended the scene not long after that. I took a few more well aimed and very, very hard kicks. My gawd, she kicks hard and she had some fricken hard boots to help her do it. My ass had large black spots on it for a while after. Sitting was an issue. Thank you, Neighbor Femme, for making sure I would enjoy my beating for days after.
Our scene ran for about an hour and a half. Toward the end, some ‘catharsis’ began to roll down my cheeks. Unlike the previous time, though, crying did not undo me. I didn’t try to stop it, didn’t condemn myself for it, just felt it and felt where it was coming from and let it happen. It was cleansing, rather than debilitating. Once I’d cleaned up and packed up, and she’d had her post scene cigarette, we cuddled on a couch together and chatted with her friends, who’d also finished up their scene. It was very late, it had been a very long day and I was tired and satisfied. Nights like this, with a community I’m getting to know and beginning to love and scening with someone who knows more and more what makes me tick, is helping me feel more whole. I feel more comfortable in this skin all the time, more steady on my feet, more open to new experiences. Finding community, contributing, reaching out and making connections — these are all very important to me. This is what helps ground me, helps me cope with change, and gives me a sense of continuity. I am not alone, I have support, I have friends who love me and want to see me. Life is pretty good.
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