Capes and Corsets: my first play party

It's been a long time, my loves. I haven't died. I promise. Life has been a little hectic of late. I will do my best to catch you up. 

The weekend of July 9th, Master and I went to our first play party. It was such an amazing night. Please forgive me, Master likes to get me drunk and I'm not sure how good my recollection is going to be. I spotted this event on Fetlife a few months back. I could barely contain my excitement. 

"Capes and Corsets: Halloween in July" 

Not just a play party, a costume play party. Aaand, I have a thing for corsets. What is Catlytt Black going to be for halloween? A black cat... of course. C'mon guys. I have several corsets in my collection, but I wanted something... naughtier. So, I did a little shopping. A black satin underbust corset and a very very very short skirt. I had the tail and ears ready to go already. 

Master looked completely dashing. He went as a circus ring leader. Suit and tie, top hat, red cape and a riding crop. Slay me. 

I was so nervous. So so nervous. The party was located in a haunted house venue. I recently had a conversation with a friend who insisted that sexy people cannot be shy. I would have to vehemently disagree. I'm certainly becoming more outgoing as I get older, but I still have some social anxiety when I'm out in groups of people I don't know... with my tits out.

I came to the party wearing a grey satin trench coat over my costume. Even where I live, me outfit would have drawn unwanted attention. 

There is one thing that I am finding to be true pretty much across the board with openly kinky people. They are kind and accepting. It really makes it so much easier to put yourself out there. They love new people and will come up to introduce themselves. 

So, with social anxiety in full swing, we walked in. The place was huge... We walked through a little bit of the place. The setup was really neat. All the play spaces were demarcated with fluorescent marks. And the whole party was lit by blacklight. 

The next big hurdle was the coat check. I mean... my tits were going to be out in... public. You all are probably laughing at me because I have no trouble posting things online, but there is something a little different about looking people in the eye while they stare at your tits. 

"You don't need that anymore," he said gently but firmly. There were no ifs ands or buts about it. So, I took off my coat. Much to my relief no one batted an eye. This was normal. Oh good, this is normal. Luckily, coat check came with a gin and tonic (which totally glows under blacklight!!). But, it wasn't until about halfway into my second that I suddenly realized that I was damn sexy and had no reason at all to not feel every bit a goddess. 

I guess I will give you the events in vignette form... because I don't really remember much of the in between. 

• There was a rubber band wall. I remember walking by it the first time, looking at it and thinking...  well that seems interesting. I used to snap myself with rubber bands to stay awake in class, way back when, so I didn't think much of it. But then Master asked me to crawl underneath them. After a little bit of shuffling, I was held firmly against the wall by long strings of rubber bands. He pulled my skirt up so that my ass was in full view. (At this point, I was still quite sober... this did nothing to help my anxiety.) Snap. Ouch! Snap. Wait a minute, that really hurts! Snap. I turned to him. "That really hurts!" Snap. "Really, Sir!" Sensing my distress, which I felt creeping up the back of my neck like white, hot panic, he let me off the wall. 

For pain to be pleasurable in a sexual situation... there is a period of "warm up." It's going to hurt someone a whole lot more if the first spank is as hard as you can, than if you warm up with a few slaps first. The brain produces chemicals in response to pleasurable and painful circumstances. In my college psychology course, the professor explained to us that the brain chemicals that deal with the survival instinct are really all the same. He called them the 4 Fs. Fight, flight, feed, and... mate. The difference is in how you interpret them. Jumping straight into pain is like going zero to sixty in 2 seconds and the brain doesn't have time to catch up. 

So yeah. OUCH.

We made quite a few new friends at the party. We met a three self-proclaimed nudists (a couple and a single) who we both thought were completely darling. We also met a Dom/rigger who is now a dear friend of mine. 

In a small room off of the food area, there was a rope/rigging demonstration going on all night. We kept returning to the area to get more drinks (for me mostly) and looked in periodically to see what was going on. I was vaguely aware of Master talking with the rigger... I was too busy being fascinated to be social. I did not find out what they had discussed until later. 

• I looked into the room. The rigger was standing back watching... He was tall, taller than my Master. He looked rather dashing, the ends of his mustache curled. I watched the ease with which the lifted the girls he tied. I blame it on evolution, but something about strength turns me on. He had two women in suspension, and they had begun eating eachother out. When they came down, he beckoned to me. I glanced at Master with apprehension and was given a nod. The rigger bent and whispered in my ear, "I need you to do a taste test for me. These ladies would like to know which of them tastes better." With Master's nod in my mind, I followed. I knelt down before the first and buried my face in her pussy. She was sweet. As my tongue flicked over her clit, I felt her move in appreciation. I moved to the next, her muff tickled my nose. Her taste was completely different... I don't know another word to use but gamey... but it wasn't bad. Just completely different. Blame my virginal tongue for missing subtleties. So, I had my first experience giving cunnilingus... in front of a crowd. Hot.

• We walked by a play area featuring a violet wand, behind bars, like a prison cell. There was a man tending the area who was operating the special toys. He called us inside, and I willingly entered with Master and friends by my side. There wasn't any question who was going to be on the table. Eagerly, I scrambled up and laid out flat. The wand felt like an electric tingle... a tiny sting. He moved around my body, shocking here and there, my legs held by friends and my hands held by strangers. I couldn't help but giggle. The curious sensation made me laugh. After a few minutes, he switched from violet wand to TENS unit. He placed the pads on my nipples and one on my clit. More than the violet wand, it felt like a little burst of electricity. The guy took it really easy on me... the sensation was delicious. He really only barely crossed over the line into pain.

And then he let Master have the reigns, something to do with a hitachi. I've never used a hitachi before... it's just... wow. So much power. Master flicked the riding crop a few times on my clit. I let out a howl. That's when the crowd started to form, at least I am told. He handed Master a slapper... which Master applied directly to my clit. With every falling stroke, I let out a screech. The people holding my arms and legs had to earn their keep because I'm sure I began to struggle.

At some point, the person holding my right hand became someone else. He was wearing a solid black body suit that covered his face. I only remember that he held my hand tightly. At some point during my torture, I remember turning to him and whispering a quick "Thank you, shadow," before my attention was quickly drawn back by sharp and stinging pain. 

I have no idea how many times I came, as many times as Master commanded me. When Master was finished with me, we discovered that he had vibrated my clit piercing right out with the hitachi. He searched inside me for a minute before he found it in a fold in the table. I don't know how he did it... but he put that piercing right back in. There was applause. I didn't really appreciate how badass this was until later when I tried to put it back in myself. Those little threads are tiny, and he did it in the dark. 

It really was a fantastic party. Master and I were a huge hit (probably the best looking/dressed couple there.) In one of the back rooms of the party there was a Sybian and a fucking machine. We got back there just as these things were being packed up... next time. While watching the fucking machine, I was approached by the first of the girls that I had eaten. She asked Master if she could return the favor. He agreed and she sank to her knees in front of me. She smiled, looking up at me, when she saw my piercing. Her tongue slid over my clit and I let out a moan. I tilted my hips forward to ease her access. She swirled her tongue around. She felt delicious. Finished, she stood before me. I thanked her, but I didn't catch her name. I'm still kicking myself over it. 

We said our goodbyes, and Master walked me out, holding me tight against him. You can bet your ass that we fucked when we got home.

Train wrecked (I cannot resist a pun, sorry.)

While I was riding a train across Italy, Master tasked me with an edging assignment. What you will read here is based upon the scenario he presented to me.

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The gentle sway of the train is comforting. Its low, regular rumble comes up through my seat. I can feel the slight movement of my clit piercing inside my jeans.

My reverie is broken by a train stop. When the momentary hustle fades, I get up to find the restroom. It is at the far end of the car. I press the button to open the automatic door. Nothing happens. I hear someone stir inside so, I sit down to wait. I can feel my pussy mildly throbbing from the stimulation of my short walk.

Finally, a woman comes out of the restroom. She shoves open the sliding door manually, with effort, and leaves to find her seat. I pull the door shut behind me only to find that the door doesn’t lock. Ugh, you know? I just don’t care. I sit down to pee. Finished, I stand to button my pants, and the toilet automatically flushes behind me.

I let out a gasp of surprise as a hand claps over my mouth. I freeze. My thoughts flee in panic. I feel the cold of metal and a sharp twinge as he draws a knife along my neck.

In the momentary silence, I realize that we are not alone. There is a third person, a man from the sound.

“Shut up. If you make noise, this will be much, much worse.”

I feel the knife come away from my neck, and I am lifted roughly. My arms are pinned behind me, tightly, between us. I can feel his cock begin to swell against the back of my hand. His smell fills my nostrils. I am wrenched around as though I weigh nothing, and I find myself face-to-face with the second man.

I break out in a cold sweat. He is tall, finely muscled. A nylon stocking covers his face. I can just see the flash of cold eyes underneath. “Don’t fight, bitch,” he says as he steps toward me.

With a sinking feeling, I realize that there is no chance that I can escape. I nod vigorously. He roughly strips my jeans away. I feel the moisture from my cunt begin to drip down my thigh. I am angry at being aroused. Furious.

He briskly slaps the inside of my thigh. I feel a sting.

“Open.”

I cannot help but comply. He drags my legs apart, so wide that my pussy is completely open. I feel exposed. His hand violates my pussy. My juices flow easily. He gives a chuckle.

“Look at you! Wet like a fucking whore! You must be a pretty fucked up bitch, honey.”

His hand strikes with a resounding crack against my clit. Every fiber of my being screams in agony, but before I can make a sound, he rips off my shirt and shoves part of it firmly into my mouth. Again, and again, and again, he strikes me. I have lost count. My head is lolling on the shoulder of the man behind me, his fully erect cock shoved between my pinned hands. I cannot think. I cannot resist. I bite down hard on the shirt in my mouth to dampen my screams. I have no idea how much time has passed. My existence has become the stinging staccato of his hand against my clit. Through the searing pain, I feel my pulse begin to quicken, and I can feel the orgasm rising from my toes.

Suddenly, he stops. The orgasm slips away. I let out a shuddering moan of lustful despair. I am shaking, weak, tears streaming down my face. He wipes a tear from my eye, with a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. “Did you think I was going to let you cum?” His voice mocks me. He slowly unbuckles his belt, and draws it from the belt loops. It looks beautifully dangerous in his hands, like some kind of poisonous snake. Silently, he places it aside and withdraws his cock.

With a nod, the man behind me kicks my legs out from under me, and I fall on my hands and knees. The man before me grabs me roughly by the hair, and forces his full length into my mouth. My eyes widen as I splutter and cough. I attempt to pull away, but he just forces me harder onto his cock. I can feel him deep in my throat. I cannot breathe. Without warning, I feel the man behind me grab my hips and ram his cock into my dripping cunt.

They are talking to each other, but I cannot understand. I gasp for air between the thrusts down my throat. I’m crying. There is snot and drool running down my face and puddling on the bathroom floor. They seem to coordinate their efforts so that they each slam into me at the same time. I feel my back flex under the force. Over, and over, and over, and over, and over they thrust. My arms give out, and I fall into the puddle of my drool, snot, and tears.

For a moment, I feel no one touching me. My pussy aches. My abdomen is wracked with passion cramps. Then, there is a hand in my hair dragging me upward. A hand cups my pussy and lifts me from the floor. When they put me down again, I am straddling one of them. I cannot tell them apart anymore. He drags my hips toward him, and I feel his cock stabbing upward inside me. Someone pinches my nose. As I open my mouth to breathe, my throat is filled with another cock. This one is slimy and dripping with my juices. Somewhere in the back of my head, I recognize the taste.

They continue to ravage me. Without warning, an orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. I am struck, sharply, across the face. “Did I say that you could cum!?” I try to shake my head no, but my head is held firmly. I choke out something, it might have sounded like a “no,” but I doubt it. I recognize the voice. I look up and see, through blurry eyes, that it is my Master fucking my face. I have no time to feel relief, because another orgasm takes me. The world turns grey, and I slump down, unconscious.

I am awakened by the sting of the belt across my ass. I haven’t been moved. The man beneath me continues to obliterate my pussy. I moan, because it is the only sound that I can make. The belt stripes my flesh several times. It stops, and I feel a cool liquid dribbling into my ass crack, running past my asshole and dripping off my pussy. I feel the warmth of his cock against my asshole. He swirls it around once, twice, and then slowly begins forcing his way into my ass.

The man beneath me rhythmically pounds my pussy as my asshole is stretched wider and wider by the invading cock. I moan, unable to stop myself. He continues in, deeper, and then slowly takes up a rhythm. Each thrust takes him deeper into my ass. If I could think, or speak, I might scream, but I am unable. There is nothing but the utter, mind-blowing sensation of fullness. As the tempo of the ass-fucking picks up, I become nauseated. He continues to pound my ass harder. Faster. Harder. Faster. With one final thrust, he forces himself completely inside of me. I feel his body contract, and his cock pump cum forcefully into my ass. The man slides out from under me. I am facedown in my puddle, as before.

I feel my ass cheeks being spread wide. He takes my ass, again, and again. My face is pressed firmly into the floor, my saliva mixing with the urine and dirt and smearing over my cheeks. I feel another convulsion and another squirt of cum into my ass.

Then, there was nothing. I am left on the floor, my ass sticking high into the air, my asshole gaping open. Copious amounts of cum run down my crack and drip from my pussy. I hear congratulatory laughter and the click of a camera shutter.

Something warm is folded around me. My Master lifts me gently. He holds me against his chest. I can feel his heart beat. “I am so proud of you, little one,” he says as my consciousness fades.

Submission from across the globe, Part 2

“When you get up, beautiful slave, you will pee on the floor of the bathroom. Send me a picture. Then, clean the floor with your tongue. I want to see a second picture of a sparkling clean floor.

Master told me that he would not make me drink piss until I got home from Italy. But, he thought I was ready. “Yes, Sir” I said as I closed my eyes in sleep.

I woke early the following morning. The bright sun was streaming in my window and falling across the bed. A rooster crowed. I laid sleepily in bed. I checked Fetlife for updates. I responded to a few messages. I crept out of bed, taking my phone with me. My pajama pants swished around my ankles as I stepped up into the bathroom. I stood there, looking at the floor, trying to get up the courage to do as I was told.

The first task was not so difficult. I removed my pants and top and laid them across the toilet, which I would not be using. I removed the rug from the bathroom floor. I squatted beside the toilet and peed. I angled my hips to keep the piss from running  all over the floor. I moved my foot away from a wayward drip.

The urine felt warm as it left my body and splattered on the floor between my feet. The widening yellow puddle was daunting.

When I was finished, I stood.  I stared at the vast sea of yellow that was my little puddle. I took a deep breath. I knelt. I could smell it. I fought back my disgust as I extended my tongue, leaned down, and licked the floor.

UGH! The taste was salty and bitter. My revulsion, or maybe it was the taste, got the better of me. I gagged. I gagged again. I bent over to lick again… I smelled the smell. I couldn’t do it. I waited a minute to regain my courage. I bent down, my face close to the floor… Nope. Nope. I can’t do this. Oh god, I can’t do this. What if Naomi hears me gagging?

I tore a sheet of toilet paper. With relief and disappointment, I laid the sheets in little rows across my yellow puddle. It took many, many more than I expected to clean the floor. By the time it was done, I had piss all over my hands. I dried the floor and replaced the rug.

“I couldn’t do it, Sir,” I texted when I got back to my room. I offered my pitiful excuse.
 “You know that it is in your best interest to do as I say, little bitch? The consequences of your disobedience will be much, MUCH worse than the original task. Do you understand?” “Yes, Sir.” “I had hoped that you could handle this, little one. We will have to try again when you are home. I will be there by your side.” “Yes, Sir. I did try, Sir!” “I am proud of you for trying, but I WILL make you into a filthy piss-drinking whore. Get used to the idea.” 

I felt the disappointment rise inside of me… much like the bile had a few minutes earlier. I almost wished there were still piss on the floor in the bathroom, so that I could try again. I hate to disappoint Master. Tears came, unbidden, to my eyes.

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“You will throw away all of your panties that you brought with you on this trip, right now.”

Well, that sounds extreme. Underwear are expensive! Surely, he cannot be serious.

“You mean that I cannot bring them home with me, Sir?” “Of course that is what I mean! In the future, you will do better to grovel and beg. Because you dared to question such a simple task, you will go into the bathroom, piss, and then dunk your head into the bowl filled with your piss and flush. I want to see a picture of your head and face dripping.”

I gathered my underwear from my suitcase and shoved them into a spare shopping bag. I took them into the bathroom and placed them, a little wistfully, beside the tiny trashcan, like an offering.

I removed my clothes and sat heavily on the toilet. I heard my urine splashing into the bowl below. I wiped the last drop from my pussy. I turned and knelt before the porcelain throne. I took my phone in my hand and positioned it so that I could snap the requisite picture AND flush the toilet. I dipped my head. As I flushed, the water rushed around the bowl splashing piss into my face and hair. I took the picture.

I also took a picture of the toilet bowl. The water level was is so low in Italian toilets that I had not been able to fully wet my head. It was my thought to send this to him in explanation.

I stepped into the shower, piss-water running down my body. As I washed my hair, I immediately felt less grotesque. But, even in my disgust, I felt a certain pride. I felt accomplished. I had completed my task.

When I got out of the shower, I sent Master the pictures along with my explanation.

“Good girl for completing your task, little one. However, in the future, I that if you are unable to complete a task as I have asked, you will do your best to accomplish what I intended. You are a very bright woman. You should have used your hands to bathe your face and head in your piss. Next time, you will do better. “

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“Send me a picture of your dinner… I would like you to cut everything into bite-sized pieces. You will take your dinner completely naked, and on your knees, from a dish on the floor. Don’t forget a bowl of water. From now on, precious slave, you will take your dinner in this fashion whenever you are at home.”

My poor traveling companion, bless her little heart. I can only imagine how weird this must have been for her. I did my best to make things easier on her, but I doubt that I succeeded terribly well.

We sat down to a dinner of fruit, cheese, cured meats, and bread. While she ate, I cut my food into little pieces. When I was finished, I informed her that I had an order which required that I eat alone. I picked up my plate and left.

I was feeling particularly ambitious. The light was fading fast… but I wanted to accomplish my task… outside. The house was situated in such a beautiful area with lush fruit trees and bushes all around. I found a place, I knelt to try to situate my camera, and… I heard voices. Disappointed, I set my meal outside of our room, and went to Naomi for the keys.

Still hoping to get a nice view behind me in the pictures, I opened the French doors wide onto the balcony. I allowed my dress to slip from my frame and puddle on the floor. I arranged my dish of food and water bowl, turned on the camera, and began to eat.

At first, I was acutely aware of the food touching my face. Humans don’t have a long snout, you know… That is why we have hands. But, I cast off my dignity like a dirty shirt and dug in.  About halfway through the meal, I was surprised by my inner animal. I grabbed a piece of salami and wolfed it down, much like a dog. It was surprisingly satisfying. Really satisfying.

When finished, I sent the pictures to Master and received the highest praise and accolade. It makes me feel so wonderful (like a princess) when he approves of my efforts. At his behest, I posted the pictures to my account on Fetlife. Master wanted the rest of the world to see my dehumanization and applaud.

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“Take off your bra, little one. I want to see a picture of your nipples through your shirt. While, on the train, I want you to twist those nipples ten times. The tenth time, I want you to catch the eye of another passenger, lower your eyes and then twist within full view of that passenger. They should see you. Do you understand, cunt?”

Yes, Sir. I planned to find a bathroom or somewhere private to remove my bra. Soon fifteen minutes had gone by. I was still out in the open. I was sitting on a concrete bench, waiting for my train, surrounded by dozens of people.

Well, fuck it. I slipped my left arm out of my bra strap. No one seemed to notice. I slipped my right arm out. No one was staring. I furtively reached behind me, and with a quick snap, it was off. I pulled the bra from beneath my shirt, folded it, and placed it in my bag. Still, no one seemed to have noticed.

I arranged the scarf that I was wearing to cover my breasts. I sent a picture to Master. He chucked at my resourceful scarf placement and informed me that when I boarded the train, I was to make sure that my scantily clad breasts were exposed and in view of the other passengers.

It was a blustery day. I was wearing a thin white tank, which did not even hide the color of my nipples from view. It ruffled in the breeze like a flag. It was cold. Well, I was chilly once I removed my bra. With my nipples standing fully erect, the fabric of my tank rippling over them and playing in the breeze, I sat, on a concrete bench, waiting for my train.

The cool breeze and the sensation of the fabric blowing across my breasts sent shivers down my spine. As I sat at the platform, the handles of my handbag kept brushing against my nipples.

When the train arrived, we clambered aboard with our baggage. I settled into my seat and tied my scarf in the middle leaving my breasts exposed.

Through out the train ride, I occasionally reached up and twisted a nipple hard.  Before too long, they were hypersensitive and my cunt was throbbing between my legs. For the last one, I had a little more trouble. I had to catch someone’s eye.

I waited, scanning the crowd for eyes. The train was mostly empty now. The stop before ours, I caught the eye of a 60ish year old man. I looked intensely, averted my gaze and twisted. I didn’t look up again. With a devilish grin, I reported my success to Master.

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I am writing to you now on my endless travel day. It feels like I have been traveling for days. I’m totally out of juice. So, you should know how I love you dear reader. You are getting the last of me.

Now, all I do is focus, single-mindedly, on getting home to my beloved Master.

At Master's feet

Most little girls grow up dreaming of a fairytale castle and a charming prince on a white horse. I dreamt of this also… However, my fairytale castle had a dungeon. In fact, it still does. I’ve finally found a prince who knows what to do with it, who knows what to do with me.

My life has changed so much in the past two months. I met my beloved Master. In two months he has changed me so drastically. He enslaved me with his charm, laughter, love, power, strength, and dominance. I have longed my entire life for someone who could control me, debase me, use me like a filthy whore and still cherish me. I found him. So many rights and freedoms that I would never have given away, I threw at his feet. It was so natural. It IS so natural.

I never expected to find a love like this or a man before whom I wanted to kneel. At his feet, I feel a peace that I have not felt before.

Every relationship is hard work. It is no small undertaking to transform two people into one unit. This is more than that. I want to be an extension of Master, so connected that I am as close to him as his arms and legs. In order to achieve this, I bend my will to his. His desires become my desires. Anything and everything he asks will be accomplished flawlessly, without question or hesitation.

This is the type of obedience to which I aspire. This is the obedience that I will achieve. My service makes me joyful, and my submission gives me freedom. The blessed and beautiful thing about all of this is that we have our entire lives to accomplish it.

I am beginning my slave training in earnest. I know that this is going to be difficult, painful, grueling and sometimes even horrific. I know that all that comes with unending love, affection, respect, and care.

Master has told me that things are going to change.

My life will include bathroom use control, dietary restrictions/specifications, and a dress code both inside and out of the house, bed times, and exercise schedules. When Master is not able to be with me, I will not be under the influence of any substance. I will limit physical, spoken, and eye contact with strangers. I will not speak to strangers unless spoken to or given consent by Master. From now on, I will take my meals, when at home, from a bowl at his feet.

Strangely enough, I cannot wait to begin. That is the way that I love this man. I will give him everything that I am, and everything that I am not. I will be clay in his hands for him to mold, shape and form into something abjectly beautiful.

Master says that I am ready to meet his sadist. I am frightened. I believe that I should be, but I want to know every facet of him. Beneath all of my fears, there is a foundation of truth. I trust this man. I trust him with my life. Someday, I will trust him with our children.

I am frightened of losing myself in his shadow. Yet, I know that he will protect me. Someday, in the not too distant future, I will no longer fear. The emotional agony wrought by others will be overwritten.

Fear is the mind killer.Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit is to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.   

– from Dune by Frank Herbert

This is the first day of the rest of my life. I will face my challenges bravely. I know that each one will be rewarded a thousand times over. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life at the feet of my beloved.