This actually does include a cowbell, but I’ll get to that part later…
We met at a Starbucks down the road from a dungeon that I had never been to. He had been contacting me to play with him for a couple of of months but with life being so busy and then my sister dying, I just stopped going. This was to be my first solo kink event after she died, and I almost canceled.
It didn’t help any that it was a stormy night and many parts of the roads were closed or traffic was horrendous through all the car accidents.
He walked in the door and immediately stated: “you look so vanilla.”
I was wearing a sweater that is appropriate for work, and jeans. I had asked previously if there was a dress code and he stated there wasn’t. “Well yes,” I was a bit taken about and briefly worried if I appeared too vanilla, “but I do vanilla well and we are meeting at a Starbucks.”
He agreed, ordered a drink, then we sat down and began negotiations. He had watched me play with others and also read my fetishes and notes on Fetlife, so I was already impressed with his coming to the negotiations informed. I had asked around about him, read his fetishes as well, but had never seen him play (hence why I asked around about him). I was told he was creative by others.
The scene last four hours…
He warned me that he brought a lot of things, and I parked behind him at the dungeon to help him carry in his bags. Once we entered, I saw some friends and we visited for a bit, then staked out a room.
By the time we finished the scene, it looked like a cross between a toy store and a torture chamber. Seriously, there are so many titles I could have picked…
“Violet Wands and toy swords”
“Floggers and paddles and toys, oh my!”
“Race tracks and nerf bats”
“Cruising a dungeon tied to a moving cart”
I undressed down to panties. He started with a posture collar that barely fit my small neck, and then with rope. Starting anything with rope is always a good move, as that’s my primary love. “I’ll give you a tour of the dungeon,” he told me as he tied me to a moving cart that he had modified by placing soft cushiony foam on and attaching tie off rings around all the sides. He tied my legs and hands to the cart, and then off we went where he dragged the rope attached to the cart all around the place, introducing me to people I had never met and showing me the different rooms. He would spin me around from time to time, and when we were in the entrance to the place talking to people the door opened to the outside and he shouted out, “good lord, woman, cover yourself,” and wrapped an arm around my breasts amid my laughter.
He was a very playful man, even more obvious once we went back to the room and I was bent over a bench while he opened up his play bag. My behind and backs of the legs were treated to what I consider standard sadistic implements like:
Paddles (okay if they thud), rods (nope, somewhat wimpy – “remember I hate sting,” I would remind him), a toy sword (“I dub thee…” he went on a serious voice at one point and gently touched both sides of my shoulders as he spoke).
Wooden spoons, spatulas, but then also a strange and large frosting knife (so cold when it wasn’t smacking me).
I was tied to a St Andrews cross, after he claimed I was far too short for it and he dragged steps against it so that I could stand up higher. A flogger rhythmically swiped at my back, thighs, and bottom, a relaxing moment that I appreciated. Hot wheels race tracks swung into those areas, and the plastic tracks stung and hurt so badly that I asked him to switch out somewhat quickly.
I was tied laying to a high platform and the violet wand came out, the noise always far more frightening than the actual feeling, and he began with larger implements that lit up beautifully but were hardly felt, down to the unseen pinpoints of pain from a pencil lead.
I wasn’t paying much attention to the doorway or what others were doing, being so involved experiencing different sensations, but I would still occasionally become aware of my surroundings a bit more, mostly because of noise. Often, we would have an audience in the doorway, but what really drew a crowd was the cowbell. I could tell because of the laughter.
Yep, this man had a cowbell.
When a good song came on, and I was bent over a bench, he handed me a hefty cowbell and told me to hold it at a certain angle. Then he sat himself down, took out drumsticks. and beat down upon my body in time to the music, every so often hitting that cowbell. The noise was…well, a cowbell. It rang alongside my ear and after awhile I began to like the sound as it signaled a hit reprieve from the drumsticks. The noise also drew the crowd, as earlier in the evening he was discussing how he had brought a cowbell, and people remarked they were curious how it would play out (see the pun?) in a scene. Once they heard the cowbell, their merriment in their laughter was apparent even over the sound of the cowbell.
I am glad I met up with him, as laughter is a bit fleeting for me right now.
*Last year, for the Christmas prompt set to the song, “Little Drummer Boy”, I shared a time my husband slapped my labia for the first time. This year, Exhibit Unadorned, is opening up the old prompts and I thought how much had changed in a year (a divorce, a new relationship, etc.). So I thought I had far more of an appropriate scene in playing with new partner for the first time that went with the prompt of drummer boy.