The Exhibit

Is there a better museum for rare and priceless experiences than words on a page?

I could try to preserve all the details – how we began, how many strikes from which implements, how he moved me about the room, how taut the rope felt on my skin, and the way my thighs ached as I squirmed in the stress position in which he’d restrained me.

Those details may convey my surrender, but won’t capture my emotion.

I could record the hearing of footfalls and whispers, soft murmurs of interest or (possibly) admiration lingering in the hallway, and my vague awareness of some shadows in the door frame as the intensity of a final powerful orgasm ripped through my soul.

Those details may convey my vulnerability, but won’t capture our connection.

It’s just three words I’ll keep in this museum of intangible artifacts. The three words I whispered when, toward the end of our scene, he leaned down for a kiss, and warm tears escaped the outside corners of my eyes:

I missed this.

I got to play last night

Visits to the dungeon are rare these days.

I like them. The public aspect of playing in a dungeon pushes me to endure just a little bit more than I tend to at home. People are watching, after all…

And that’s how my exhibitionism works.

I got to play last night.

Thank goodness I didn’t find out until this morning that someone entered our room during our scene. My partner ushered him out without me being the wiser.

I got to play last night.

But at one point, while trying desperately to hold on to the edge of an orgasm, I growled “Please tell the people in the hallway to shut the fuck up.”

I got to play last night.

But I couldn’t wait to get home. Being in public certainly pushes me.

…But public play when the others in attendance aren’t well-versed in dungeon etiquette is pushing all the wrong buttons.

And *scene*.

She wasn’t prone to blushing; hardly anything really embarrassed her.

But this.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked without a trace of bias one way or another. It was all up to her.

“I think so,…” she said.

“Think so? I think it’s better if you know so.”

She looked over at the other side of the room where the person in question sat chatting with a friend. She’d enjoyed chatting with him. She wasn’t emotionally connected, but she liked him as a person.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”



He’d already ordered her to strip down, which she did without delay. It wouldn’t be the first time she was naked in the dungeon, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She felt a shiver rush through her body as he stood with his back to her, arranging items from his toy bag onto the table. Damned place got the air conditioning fixed a little too well, she thought to herself.

Meanwhile, she saw the occasional person walking by, sometimes pausing to take a look. It was a slow party, and early still. Not too many people milling around. She didn’t make eye contact, but she kept note of how many paused and how many didn’t through her peripheral vision.

He turned to face her and smirked. “Turn around,” he ordered, and she did, facing the far wall of the cell. He came up behind her and pressed his still-clothed body against hers. “Are you ready?” he murmured in her ear.

“For what?” she asked, her voice barely registering below a squeak.

At once, one arm reached around her throat and put her in a choke hold while the other hand clamped over her mouth.

“Today’s the day,” he whispered. He pivoted her around to face out toward the hallway. They were no longer alone in that cell.



It’d been months since anybody but her lover had so much as touched her. And here was this man, this other man, running his fingers slowly up her torso and over her breasts. Her lover kept her in the hold, as if presenting his possession to a new friend.

Her pulse racing, she closed her eyes to try to relax. She sank back into her lover for support and shifted her thoughts to focus on the sensations rather than the context.

When she felt a warm, wet mouth surround her nipple she moaned. At that point, her lover’s arms released her from his hold and began caressing her skin, down her arms, over her hips, and down her thighs. The mouth had moved up from her nipples and over her chest and was now kissing her neck. She could smell his shampoo, and it was pleasant.

Just then, her lover’s fingernails dug into her thighs and she gasped, wrapping her arms around the other man for support as she breathed through the pain.

Her lover chuckled softly in her ear.

“Last chance,” he murmured quietly. “Yes or no?” he asked.

Breathlessly sandwiched between the two men, she answered in the affirmative. “Yes, please.”



Together they led her to the low, padded table, positioned against the padded wall. “Get up, on your back,” her lover spoke as he patted the table with his hand.

She did as she was told and lay her head back. She lay there, looking up at the winch over her head and began to shiver again. Where had they gone?

Moments later, she heard their footsteps returning and each of them grab her by an ankle and bend her knee up. In unison, they each cast a coil of rope and began tying her legs into position – bent, with her ankle to her thigh – and the spread and secured to the legs of the table.

She felt the warmth of a tongue on her clit and moaned. Without knowing whether it was her lover, or the other, she was at their mercy. It didn’t take long, however, before she knew the answer to her silent question.

With a hop onto the table, the other positioned his now naked body in a straddle over her face. He leaned forward against the padded wall to guide his cock past her lips.

There it was. The point of no return. In her thoughts she took a mental picture of the scene. She checked in with her emotions. And she realized…

…she was enjoying it.

As the shock wore off her instincts kicked in and she began rolling her tongue and suckling at the cock in her mouth. She reached her hands up and placed them over his ass and gently urged him to push deeper. He moaned.

Her lover laughed. “There’s my whore,” he said, jamming his fingers into her cunt.

Her first orgasm happened just as the other’s cock pushed past the barriers and into her throat. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of his ass as she writhed, unable to shut her legs or shift the weight of him off her chest.

With a low groan, the other pulled out of her mouth and climbed down. She heard the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open just as her lover had leaned over the table to kiss her mouth. With one hand still rubbing her clit he filled her hungry mouth with his tongue, and she reached up to cradle his face lovingly.

He moved his head back to inches and looked into her eyes. They held their gaze locked, just like that, as the other penetrated her cunt slowly.

It was like that when the second orgasm came. Her lover’s fingers circling her clit, his eyes recording every movement and emotion in her face, as the other took his pleasure from her dripping wet and open cunt.

“God damn,” said the other as her cries and moans echoed off the walls.

“My good whore,” her lover responded, as he climbed up onto the table and took his position inside her mouth.



She’d lost track of time. She remembered some time passing with her lover in her mouth and the other in her cunt when she heard the question being asked, “Does she take it up the ass?”

She remembered the two of them working to unsecure the rope from the table , and unwrap her legs from their binds.

She remembered being moved off the table, fondled and kissed by the other while her lover put a condom on and lay himself down on the table.

She remembered climbing on top of him and lowering her cunt onto his cock.

And she remembered the look of pure, hedonistic joy as they both felt the other’s cock enter into her ass without too much difficulty.

She’d lost track of her orgasms.

She only knew when she’d shifted from “yes, …fuck yes….more, more…” to “Ohmygod please come…please, please come….”

Other came first. He pulled out and stumbled over to sit in a chair. Lover was next. She lay there, with his cock still throbbing inside her, her face buried into the nape of his neck.

When she lifted her head up and looked into his face, he was all smiles. She smiled, too, and kissed him passionately.

Slowly they disconnected their bodies, and she looked over at other, who was drinking from a cup of water and seemingly enjoying the view.

“So…hello. Nice to see you again,” she said with a glimmer in her eye.

“Nice to see you too!” he responded cheerfully.

They all laughed and began picking up their clothes and the rope and cleaning off the equipment.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple of the spectators quietly and respectfully shuffle off and leave them to decompress alone.

Priorities

I’m falling.

I was laying on my back on some sort of exercise bench that was rickety and only long enough to support me from ass to shoulders. My head was hanging backward off one end, and I was struggling to find a position or some leverage that would stabilize my legs without aggravating the highly-invasive crotch rope that was digging into my ass and cunt.

I’m falling. I thought, but all I could muster out loud was a minor squeak.

My arms were bound in front. My everything was bound in front, with his rope crisscrossing to contain my shoulders, arms and chest in a firm and constant embrace.

He was standing behind me. When I opened my eyes I could see the black of his jeans as he leaned over my body to grope and touch and prod. The bench wiggled again and I squirmed to compensate. Without the use of my arms, i couldn’t brace myself for a fall. I could get my wrists out of the cuff, though, if I had to. Free up enough of my arms to grab hold of something.

I looked up again. I became aware of the closeness of his crotch to my face. In my struggle to find balance and composure I’d not noticed the physical position I’d placed myself in.

By the time his fingers had traveled down to unfasten his belt buckle, I’d forgotten about falling. My mind became of singular purpose. I watched with growing anticipation.

I’m choking.

Instinctively, I pulled my wrists from out of their binds and reached around to grab his thighs from behind. Not to brace myself.

But to pull him deeper inside.

Fantasy Spaces: Dungeon Aftercare Zone

Had a really interesting discussion last night about what an awesome benefit it would be to have designated “aftercare” spaces in public dungeons. Not only would this benefit people who are still coming off the rush of an intense scene, it would also benefit those who find themselves in the socially awkward position of interrupting aftercare in progress with unwelcome conversation.

For that matter, it could also be a refuge for introverts, though I’d be concerned that we’d end up with a corner full of individuals being not-social and not having enough space left over for the couples/partners who need a place to curl up and process their scene together.

In the dungeon I frequent most regularly, there are a few areas for socializing:  the patio, the lobby, the kitchen, and (albeit, quietly) the sofas in the main room, though those are often used to sit and observe as well as for aftercare.  But there’s no guideline for other people to not approach anybody sitting in the latter area, and it’s often crowded because they’re the only areas to sit and watch in the main room.

It makes no sense for the kitchen to be a location for this, because that is clearly a social area.

The lobby is often used for discussions and socializing as well, especially for pre-scene negotiations.  (This last weekend I found the very thorough negotiation happening beside me as I was trying to come off my scene high very distracting, though clearly I fully support the idea of negotiation and believe they were in the appropriate place to conduct it).

And the patio – well, it’s where everyone smokes.  It’s where the bootblacking gets done.  It’s where people walk in – and the most likely place to get a greeting from someone just arriving while you’re still orbiting Mars.  It’s a VERY social (and carcinogenic) area.

The rest of the space is used for play areas and bathroom facilities so there’s not really anywhere to put an “aftercare in progress: do not approach” zone without taking away from another equally beneficial space in the dungeon.

But it’s a nice fantasy, right?

Douchebag Revenge Fantasy

The following is a completely fictitious account of what it might be like if some clueless “dom” made one of their brazen attempts at “dominating” me in public, rather than hidden behind the safety and anonymity of their fetlife cockshot avatar.  None of this happened.  It was just a fantasy that tickled me on my way home from work one day.

“You will address me as Sir.”

I looked up in the direction of the voice that was addressing me.  I was sitting in the lobby area at the dungeon, catching up with a friend when this guy came over, hovering.  He’d interrupted my conversation.

“You’re not wearing a collar,” he’d pointed out.

“No, I’m not,” Captain Obvious, I thought silently.

“But aren’t you a sub?”

“I can be,” I responded. I could see where this was going and I vacillated between educating the bastard and destroying him.

“How are people supposed to know you are a sub if you don’t wear a collar?”

“I imagine they could talk to me…maybe ask?” I couldn’t hide the snark if I tried. At that point, I turned back toward my friend and picked up our conversation where we’d left off when the douchebag interrupted again.

That’s when he said it: “You will address me as, Sir.”

“I beg your pardon?” I felt the anger flare up.  I sensed my friend’s tension beside me, however, and pushed down the urge to throttle the bastard.

“You are a sub. You will show respect.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” I raised both my eyebrows.  Did he really want to carry this further with me?  My friend sitting beside me stepped in, “You might want to back away slowly,” he said.  He put a protective hand over my thigh.

“Oh, is she yours?”

I interrupted before he could answer.  “I don’t belong to anybody, and certainly not to you. Please go away.” I’d lost my patience with this douche and wanted to carry on with my evening free of him.

My volume had raised a little and part of my brain noticed the other voices in the room had stopped competing with my own.

“Don’t tell me what to do, whore.  Little slut like you should be taught her place – on your knees.  No wonder nobody owns you. You’d be too much work to train.”

At this point, several things happened at once.  My friend beside me stood up, as did another that I hadn’t noticed sitting several feet away on the other sofa. Three additional friends put out their cigarettes on the patio and stepped into the room.  I remained seated, crossing my legs as I watched the chess pieces move into place.

The douche was completely oblivious.

I took a deep breath.  “I did not consent to being dragged into your attempt at a humiliation/degradation scene.  I suggest, that unless you’re interested in being on the receiving end of one, you walk away now and don’t ever so much as look in my general direction again.” My eyes conveyed pure venom; my voice laced with ice.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but had by now become increasingly aware of the growing number of people standing ominously around him.

“Walk away,” said my friend beside me.

“Now,” said another one standing behind the douche.

I wanted to smile.  I wanted to smile so badly!  But I kept my mouth in a stern line.  Couldn’t keep the smile out of my eyes, though.  One of other onlookers saw it and started giggling.

The giggle set the douche into a rage, his face turning read.  “You’ll be sorry, little bitch.  I have over 300 friends on fetlife, and I’m going to tell all of them what a disrespectful whore you really are!”

At this point, everyone in the room started laughing, including me.

One of the DMs, who’d witnessed a good portion of the interaction decided to step in and break it up.  “Alright, bozo.  Time to go,” she said, stepping between us and moving him toward the front entrance.

He blustered and spat, “She was disrespectful!”

“I doubt it, jackass.  Let’s go.”


It wasn’t until the laughter had died down and people had moved on with their night that I started to feel the shakes come on.  My friend had asked if I was okay right after the douche had been escorted out, and still high off the adrenaline, I had responded that I was.

But he’d gone off to have a scene with someone else and I was curled up in a dark corner in the main room, processing what had happened.

That’s when he came over.  My other friend – the quiet one. The one who’d stood up on the other side of the room, but never said a word.

“May I sit?”

I took a breath and tried to push the well of tears back down.  “Sure,” I said, smiling.  But my eyes are terrible liars.  He knew the answer to the next question before he asked it.
“You okay?”

“I will be,” I responded. I looked down toward my knees. My legs were tucked up under me, my shoes on the floor beside the sofa.

He reached over and gently touched my face.  He took hold of my chin with one finger and drew it up toward him.  My eyes met his.  The tears weren’t staying back.

His eyes searched my face.  Then I watched as his gaze traveled down – down the nape of my neck, over my shoulders and breasts,  down to the hands that lay folded over my knees. He picked up one of my hands and brought it up to his lips, planting a light kiss near my wrist.

“How hard to you want it?”

“Pretty hard,” I responded.

“Pretty hard, what?” he asked.

I smiled this time in earnest.

“Pretty hard, Sir.”

Splinters

It never really got off the ground with us. We agreed to end things soon after we’d given it a go. She’d moved on.  I settled back into my routine.  Life went on for both of us in generally positive directions.

Over time, we’d run into each other.  Nothing weird. We’d hang out. Crack jokes. Have conversations.  She was cool.  She was worth knowing.

She was also fun to watch. Maybe not as fun as being the reason those noises came out of her, but still an enjoyable experience as a spectator. I’d watched her before and many times since, and it always made me smile to see her have a good time.

I was walking past one of the private rooms that one time, though.  She was normally a public player. Nothing too intense. Nothing too intimate. She could have a great time with her panties on, that one.

This was different.


We’d been …can we call it dating?  For a few months. I liked him enough. Sex was fun. The kink was good.  But he wasn’t meet-the-parents cool.  Just “chill to hang with” cool. Friends with benefits is what people call it.

He’d never played in public before, but had heard (and read) about my experiences with growing interest.  He wasn’t like everyone else I played with – my scenes with him involved sex. It came as a surprise when he said he wanted to try it, and asked if I did. Of course I wanted to, it was on my bucket list.

I didn’t tell anybody else.  None of my other friends or play partners. We chose a traditionally slow night.  I figured that would make it easier for him, it being his first time in a dungeon and all.

He looked so relieved when I showed him the smaller private rooms that were available for use. I think he’d thought (understandably) that the main room was all there was, since I always described my scenes taking place there.

“No, we can use one of these,” I said.


I’d known she’d been seeing someone for several weeks, but I hadn’t met him.  We had talked about him, though.  He was a friend.  A fuck-buddy.  There was nothing serious between them outside of their activities in the bedroom and an occasional movie night.

I was acquainted with her other partners – all regular players at the dungeon. They all treated her with respect. I could see they all held her happiness in high esteem. She’d surrounded herself with good people. I assumed this new guy was probably like the rest of us in that regard.

I hadn’t known she was coming out that night. I was there just to get out of the house for a little while.  When she walked in with him, I raised an eyebrow.  She smiled and walked over.


Oh.  He was there that night.  It’d been close to a year since we’d attempted a thing and agreed it wasn’t in our best interest to continue. Too much….too much everything.  The intensity happened too quickly and we could both feel the cracks that would eventually lead to a painful break, so we backed away.

I still respected him. The good part was good. I valued our friendship and had often turned to him for advice along the way.

The introduction wasn’t at all strained.  Why would it be?  And yet, I felt …something.

A splinter. A tiny fragment of something long ago buried just under my skin.

Because I knew what I was going to do that night was different.  I knew he was going to see it.

And something about that quietly excited me.


They’d been in their scene a good twenty minutes when I walked by to take a peek.  I’d heard her moans earlier.  Sounded like she was having a good time, and as always – it made me smile.

But the sounds of smacking and moaning and laughing had subsided and curiosity got the better of me.  The room they were using was in between the main room and the kitchen. I could just go get a cup of water….


I’m not a big fan of receiving oral. I’d gotten used to it with this guy, though.  He was a huge fan of giving.  I couldn’t deny him that enjoyment.  It was always more of a precursor than a main event, though.  The climax took too long that way and I’d just stare at the ceiling or his hair bobbing between my thighs and wish he’d jam his cock inside me instead.

I wasn’t surprised that after spending a little time on the spanking bench he had me sit up on the edge of it and spread my legs. I was facing the hallway – his back was toward the door, with his face buried.  I lightly ran my fingers through his hair and sighed contentedly.

People were walking by.  Some would stop for a little while and watch, and I’d just avert my eyes. I liked being watched but it was still a little odd to look directly at them while my pussy was being eaten.

But then, when I looked up again, it was him.  Standing just outside the doorway.

Our eyes locked.


Now, I know it’s frowned upon to insert myself into someone else’s scene uninvited.  But…honestly, the look in her eyes when they met mine.  The invitation was loud and clear.

She wanted me to watch.

I wanted to watch.

I needed to watch.


He’d felt the change in me, I guess.   His muffled moans getting more excited as my pussy flooded with arousal.  I dug my fingers against his scalp and pulled his face in toward me aggressively.

Grinding my clit onto his tongue I started to feel the orgasm build.  It was going to happen.

I maintained eye contact with the man outside the room the entire time.

I was going to come.  From oral. In the dungeon.  While people…while *he* watched.


It was surreal.  I don’t know why, I just got the sense that it was for me.  That orgasm was mine.

I don’t know why, I just knew it was true.


“My turn,” my partner’s voice snapped me out of orbit.  Oh.  Yes.  Here.  With him.

He stood up and kissed me with a face full of my scent.  He groped my breast hard, pinching my nipple.  He reached around with the other hand and squeezed my ass, pressing on a bruise that was already forming from our earlier activities.

And then he grabbed me by the hair, pulled me off the bench, dragged me over to a wooden chair in the corner and sat down.  It was my turn to kneel now.

It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see him anymore. I knew his eyes were locked on. I knew he was watching.

It drove me to perform better. I was on autopilot when he pulled me off his cock, bent me back over the spanking bench and started fucking me.

The entire time he did it, I wished I’d been facing the door.


“That was hot,” I told her after we’d cleaned up all the furniture and gotten dressed again.

“Yeah.  How you feeling?” She was so spaced out, I could hear it in her voice.

“Awesome.  You?”

“Good. Thirsty…”

“Yeah.  Let’s go get some water.  You lost a lot of fluid in there,”  I teased her. She’d explained she was an exhibitionist a bunch of times, but I had no idea the key to getting her off with oral was to do it in public.

She smiled, eyes still glassed over. “Yeah.  Water good.  Much thirst.”

“Aww, did somebody forget how to words?” I pressed my hand into the small of her back. She nodded.

“You’re probably not the only one,” I said.  “You probably didn’t notice ’cause you were so spaced out, but that one guy you introduced me to when we got here?  He watched almost the entire scene. I think that dude actually likes you.”

“Mmm…..”  she responded.


We never talked about it.

The cracks were still there, radiating between us – all the reasons why it couldn’t work.  Shouldn’t work.

We’d tried running our fingers along the length of it once.

And the splinters were still there.