|This is more rigid|
than it looks
and it really hurts
The title of this entry is from a Sinterklaas song, since it's almost 5 December again and since it fits for another reason as well, as you can find out by reading on.
I'm feeling a bit sore and I have some bruising, all reminders of a nice evening.
Another Friday night, but no demonstration this time, just a regular meeting at an unusual day and time.
Was I early again? What do you think? At least this time I didn't have to wait for more than 10-15 minutes.
Quite a lot of the faces this night were people I'd seen before, which made me feel right at home. The people I didn't know yet, introduced themselves while we were having our first drink at the bar. I'm very happy they took the initiative, since I'm an introvert and have difficulties mingling. I try, but it doesn't come easily to me.
I went to the changing room, took off my long sleeved, demure blouse and put on a little black lacy see through one over my black bra, along with some high heeled shoes, before unbuttoning my long skirt until the knee, thereby setting off my legs and stockings while I sat on a barstool, with my legs crossed. It surprises me that I'm comfortable doing that, even though I normally don't dress explicitly sexy.
It was very nice to see the gentleman I'd played with before, see My First Munch, and yes, we ended up playing again.
He started with cuffing my wrists and ankles and we went to the play area before I undressed to my underwear, taking off my bra as well. He took out a rope and engaged in (Japanese) bondage. As I stood there, hands on my head, I could feel the rope sliding over my body, which felt very sensual. My partner made sure my breasts really stood out, and my nipples signalled how much I enjoyed this, as did my crotch: yes, I was more than a little horny. And being taken to a mirror to look at myself, only made it worse (or even better, according to your own opinion).
What was hard for me was seeing myself as he saw me: as beautiful. I know I'm good looking, attractive, but I also realise only too well that I'm middle aged and over weight. I guess it's easier for me to see myself as beautiful if I have a real life partner who does that as well, something I've missed for too long. *shrug*
The cross was occupied, so we went to the massage table. Since my hands were now cuffed behind my back, I had to be helped on there. So there I was, hands behind my back, just in underwear, shoes and rope, lying on my belly, getting flogged, spanked and caressed. Hmm: how can hands that soft spank so hard?
Then I was turned over and my front got a lot of attention and pain, with amongst other things a bundle of rods (see picture) and a riding crop. I really got close to my boundaries, luckily my playmate watched my reactions closely and made sure he didn't go too far.
When we stopped I was shaking from cold, not because of the temperature, but as a reaction to our play, so I was happy to wear his jacket, over his rope artwork. After a drink and a smoke, we sat down to watch other players, him on the couch, me kneeling at his feet. I didn't mind that, well, not until it became uncomfortable, but it didn't do anything for me either. He kept teasing me, checking between my legs to find out how excited I was, stroking my breasts and pinching my nipples.
So it seems that I'm more a masochist than a submissive. It's something I've been thinking about, asking myself questions like: Is it normal? Hah, what's normal about BDSM anyway. Will it change? Perhaps, just wait and see. Will I feel differently when I meet "the right man"? No idea, let's find him first. How will I feel in 5 years time? I don't know (yet).
I made sure I was untied and dressed with plenty of time to catch my bus back and arrived home a very satisfied woman.