Saturday night was party night. I’d spent my day making endless cups of tea for the guy installing our new bathroom vanities, going shopping with Master for the weekly food supplies, moving and restacking the bookshelf, tidying the kitchen and at around 6:30pm started getting ready to go out. A whole chunk of time was lost somewhere in the afternooon during while I’d hoped to be able to ‘get myself in the mood’ for the party. I still don’t know where the time went and I’m not exactly sure what I was planning to do to ‘get myself in the mood’ but by 9pm when we headed out the door I felt woefully unprepared.
After approximately two and a half hours of boot lacing, bathing, applying makeup and corsetting I looked like this:
Obviously, it take me a lot longer to squeeze my ‘larger than life’ legs into boots so putting these suckers on took a good 30 minutes:
Five minutes after arriving at the venue I barely had time to say hello to the host and take a quick glance around the house before Master was pulling out the pony head harness, strapping me in and parading me around the room. Apparently no-one else had started playing yet and so the crowds started gathering. There is little wonder that we have now earned ourselves the nickname of, ‘last to arrive, first to play’
After a cursory trot around the room, Master summarily placed me on one of the St. Andrew’s crosses in the room and went to work playing his little “What implement is this?” game.
In no time at all Master had used nearly every single implement in the room and I’d managed to guess about three quarters of them. A failure to guess meant anotherten strokes or so until I did guess. My ass was warmed up nicely and it wasn’t long before you could of used it to fry yourself an egg.
After botty-beating session number one, Master released me from the head harness, cuffed my hands behind my back and allowed me to go and socialise. It’s kind of awkward to strike up conversations with people when you’re sitting there with all your bits hanging out and when they’ve seen your ass being beaten long before you’ve exchanged even a ‘hello’. It was during the socialisation time that Mistress Blair and pup arrived and it was great to see them again. We exchanged some light banter about men who are crap hoarders and decorating dramas.
Then it was time for botty-beating session number two. This time Master hooked me up to the other St. Andrew’s cross in the room and handed the reins over to another dom, R, who I knew as the ‘scary cane man’. First of all I just thought R was going to warm me up and then Master was going to take over, but after a really solid and I mean solid spanking (that man feels like he has planks of wood for hands!) Master suggested he continue with whatever implements he wanted.
Now, I’ve seen this guy in action on
. I also know what sort of things he has in his toy bag. When Master suggested he continue, I was so terrified that if I ‘d been wearing underwear I would have crapped myself. He started out by removing his leather belt and whallopping the bejesus out of me. Then he progressed through a series of canes of different thickness from thin twiggy ones up to the 13mm and a birch. He covered my ass from top to bottom and side to side with strokes and headed well down my thighs for good measure. Then he tried out some ‘bacon cuts’ which are vertical strokes that slice downwards.
It hurt. Bad. Really bad.
But I didn’t make a sound. There were copious amounts of lip-biting, foot tapping and breath-sucking in but I didn’t move and I have to say I was proud of myself. It really is a pride thing for me when I’m up there. I’d be mortified to ‘shame’ Master and myself in front of a room full of people. R said numerous times that I was ‘very well-trained’ which really made me laugh on the inside. I mean, you really don’t want to be openly laughing at a guy with a cane in his hand while you’re strapped to a cross now do you?
I was just getting to the point when I thought that I was going to keel over that Master stepped in and ‘saved’ me. I had that feeling that I get every now and then which I think is a bit like a sensory overload. I wonder how he knew I’d reached my point….Was I grimacing more than before? But fortunately, a few minutes later I’d recovered and snuck off to the kitchen for nibblies and a drink of water. I felt great. Sore. Really sore. But great.
In the kitchen I was treated to a display of pup’s bottom (I just love humiliating other subbies!) and then Mistress Blair took pup off for a cropping and returned later with a naked pup for some boot licking and face-slapping. Obviously the flashing light was stuck on “Evil” for most of her night. We stayed until about 2am and then snuck off home where Master ravished me and I collapsed into bed. I think a good night was had by all.
On Sunday my botty and thighs were looking like this.
I’m feeling it literally everytime I move. I don’t know implement caused what marks (other than the obvious cane strokes of course!) or who did what, but they’re all pretty trophies for me.
P.S Thank you Master for giving me the opportunity to experience other types of play with other people! I know how hard it is for you not to be the one tormenting my botty (^v^)