A Busy Night

It was a busy night in the Dungeon...I had just completed a Tantric session with Arjuna. We were in aftercare, and I was fucking him while eating Sage's ripe pussy when I remembered that I had also been invited to hold space for Seelie, while she journeyed into surrender. I said a very rushed yet sincere goodbye, and left the warm nest of Arjuna and Sage to go to Seelie.

Seelie is my friend, my lover's lover, and my sometimes lover. Our relationship is not exactly clear to either of us, but she is special to me. Dear to me. She asked me to be there with her, because she wanted to go very deeply into surrender and wanted to know that I would hold her, and that I would encourage Rascal to take her deeper than he would normally dare to go.

And as I arrived, I found Rascal atop the St Andrew's Cross, flogging Seelie on her back, reddened by the multiple touches with the mooseskin flogger that Rascal favors. I looked at him, "where do you want me?" I mouthed. "Here." He quickly came down from the cross, and placed me in front of Seelie, my back to the cross.

Passers-by gaped. The photographer shot a bunch of stills.

"Seelie, beautiful Seelie. I am here." I took off my top so our breasts were touching. Mine: heavy. Huge dark nipples. Hers: gorgeously assymetrical, nipples that are so firm and so erect that I long to take them into my mouth, and do, while Rascal beats her with his mooseskin flogger. The purple one.

Seelie in her stockings and heels and me barefoot in my leather skirt.

"Make him hurt me" she whispered.

I gave him the hand motion. That one that says bring it on. She needs. She wants. More.

He loves her deeply. I am aware of this, and while it sometimes pains me how very much he loves her, I support him in this love as best I can. His love for her sometimes keeps him from taking her as deeply as she wants to go into the surrender to pain. Ergo the invitation to me. Hold space for me, help him take me where I need to go.

Some know the exquisite surrender, the purging of everything, the presence only of the sensation that some call pain. Those of us who know this intimately know what she wanted. What she needed.

Come on Rascal, bring it on. This is what she requires of you now. Serve this goddess, this Goddess as she shows up for you here. Shows up in willing surrender to your arm, your will, your mooseskin flogger.

And she is crying, but not quite there. ‘More’ I motion. More.

"Seelie," he whispers, " I have a surprise for you."

And out it comes, a cane. Bamboo. Flexible and thin. He lightly taps her. Too light I think, but she reacts instantly, reflexively. Pulls back, jukes.

One.
"Sweet Seelie, Stand there. Take it."

Two.
"Don't flinch. Yes. Relax into this sensation."

Three.
"Yes, breathe it in. Yes, you can take this."

Four
"Brave grrl. Oh you are so beautiful."

Each time he strikes her, I love her. "Yes yes yes," I coo, "this is for you. How beautiful you are! Oh yes, so beautiful, so lovely. Here just for you."

After 10 or so strikes, he stops to stroke her. He is loving with her. And we whisper into her ears, words of love and acceptance, and appreciation. And she collapses against me, finally empty.

We gently untie her, and lead her to the space we've prepared for her. A soft cushion. A blanket. We spoon her, hold her, kiss her, appreciate her.

"Oh beautiful grrl. Oh Beautiful Seelie."

Water, and eventually a chocolate. She sits up and we gather our things. We lay in their great bed, and as her breathing deepens, as she drifts into sleep, I kiss Rascal, and slip away, go to my own bed. And welcome sleep to join me on my pillow, dreams to crawl in with me under the covers. Drifting into Yes.

The Healing (warning; disturbing content involving child abuse)

The sky above her head was Brilliant. Blinding. Blue. Her eyes in mine brown and golden and green. Seelie Eyes.
The Seelie-Eyed Grrl held my eyes in hers. Rascal behind me in the clear late summer sky, holding my head, my hands, stroking my face, my breasts, murmuring sweet words of encouragement and praise.
And Seelie between my legs. My legs open and afraid and lost in childhood memories, stored deep within the tissues of my legs, my pussy holding onto events from oh so long ago.
For fifty years I have sought, without knowing, a woman to hold me in love. To hold me in this tender place, my vulnerable child crying hysterically.
Rascal stroking me with his voice and his hands and Seelie between my legs. The masculine to hold me, the feminine to love me.

Two fingers. Three fingers. Four fingers. Fist me. Fist me. Fist me.

Blinding intense pain. A Physical Pain. An Emotional Pain unleashed in the memory/ in the rememory that fills the little girl, strapped to the kitchen table. The cold grey formica against her back, the mommy holding the child down with her strong hand, her face contorted in her drunken insanity, in her rage. Shoving objects into the little girl, screaming at the little girl, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? A broom handle. IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT? A rolling pin. TRAMPWHORESLUT! Her hand.

My back is arched so high I can see into his eyes. I see that he is weeping silently, tears running down his face, as Rascal holds my hands and holds the space for this healing. And Seelie's right hand deep inside me, reliving her own traumas with the feminine, sobbing.

And suddenly, I come back to myself, to the now of this scene here on the lawn at Summer Camp, my first fisting in 50 years. I am gasping with the intensity of the pain. Let me breathe you out, I beg, and she does.
Her hand from my vagina, her hand is blood-streaked, and we are both crying. I hold her as she holds me and Rascal holds me and we hold Rascal, and we rock together in the surrender of all women everywhere who have been hurt by another woman. All women who have hurt another woman. All the girl children who have been hurt, and all the boy children who have watched feeling helpless.

As an adult, I have done tremendous amounts of work to understand the memory, to accept and learn from it, to exorcise it. And everything I have learned about myself, about my childhood, about my mother, is suspended in this aftermath of this extreme surrender.

In the aftermath of this extreme surrender, the feminine, the masculine, and the child, together on a blanket in the sun, holding each other...Seelie and Rascal and dangerous in the space of our own and collective healings, from the physical tissues to the emotional vulnerabilities to the space of no-thing, no-judgment, no praise, no condemnation.

Nothing except the feminine, the masculine and the child, sleeping under a brilliant, blue, late summer sky.

In the Dungeon with dangerous: notes from Dark Odyssey Summer Camp

He had been in the dungeon before, but never with dangerous. His first experience subbing for Angel left him hungering for just a little more. He got cold, nakkid in the dungeon, strapped to the St Andrew’s Cross. He was shivering, he explained earnestly, that’s why he cried "red."

Arjuna, this sweet earnest loving magnetic dancer man, has been a friend and colleague of mine in the Sacred Sexuality world for years. We trained together to learn to channel sacred erotic energy, and have been on many retreats together. He has held me when I’ve cried about one lover or another, and I have held him when he has been uncertain, confused.

But a dungeon date with Arjuna was breaking entirely new ground.

Arjuna and I were lying on my bed at Dark Odyssey Summer Camp, aka, sex camp. We were connecting, cuddling, planning his next descent into sub-space. Our long friendship demanded authenticity from each of us, and we wanted to stretch this power and surrender play into an erotically charged sacred sexual experience.

When in surrender, dangerous totally dissolves. She is Present in her vulnerability. And when in power, dangerous rears her Beast and rides that Beast with almost total abandon.
This is what Arjuna wanted of dangerous…to ride her Beast, riding him. To knit together the submission, the breath, and erotic charge of surrender, and to take Arjuna on that ride.

“Take me where you go” he whispered into my heart, into my eyes, into my gut. Into my Beast.

SHE began to stir within me, this Beast. SHE began to stir and dangerous felt the stirring deep in her gut and lower. Pussy tingling with desire to feel this man’s flesh beneath HER strength. To push this man into real and complete surrender.

SHE takes him by the hand, and leads him to the ladder. SHE has no hesitation. SHE undresses him, this man once called arjuna, SHE pulls his pants down, and leaves them there, part of the submission. SHE blindfolds him with a silk scarf, and binds his cock with yellow silk cord. SHE watches as he resists the binding, and SHE ties his balls as well. SHE uses hemp rope on his wrists, a simple knot, but oh so effective, and secures each wrist to the ladder. He squirms and dangerous lays her body against him on the ladder.

“Do not move,” SHE hisses into his left ear, and his body stills.

In the place between in-breath and out-breath, dangerous coaches this man once called arjuna; where to place his breath, where to place his intention, and they begin this wild ride, this erotic sensation play, this roller coaster of pleasure and pain.

SHE stands behind him, him tied securely on the ladder, his pants around his ankles, sightless, immobile, he waits.

SHE strikes with a sudden fierceness, that first blow. It’s a deerskin flogger, and SHE wields it mightily. It makes a thunderous clap and snap against his flesh, and he is startled, crying out, and SHE reaches out to him again. And again, and again. At times the fingers of the flogger just grazing his shoulders, his gorgeous ass. At times laying into his flesh like a ravenous beast, which of course, SHE is.

He wanted to meet HER, he invited HER in. And he was not disappointed.

There are times when dangerous forces HER to step aside. When dangerous checks on HER boi, caresses his ass so red from HER ministrations. Dangerous rides HER and this thrills dangerous. Dangerous is sweating in her leather and her red fluevogs, her hair loose and wild and free, her cunt filling with desire for this boi, and for HER, the Beast dangerous rides to take this man once called arjuna to this place of surrender and bliss.

Dangerous is breathing him, this boi, through his chakras; breathing him, in-breath, out-breath, and as pain surrenders to pleasure and the breath carries this exquisite pleasure throughout their bodies, SHE steps forward, roughly shoving against dangerous, and dangerous steps aside, smiling at HER, giving way to HER need, HER fury.

SHE pulls the horsetail flogger out, the one that matches HER hair, and lightly soothes his back with it. He purrs against that sensation, he relaxes into it, he surrenders. And SHE stands poised, flogger in her hands, hands high above HER head, gathering the power, allowing the energy to build in HER hands, waiting until he is ready. Waiting until his body wants it, asks for it, demands it, pleads for it. And into that place of want SHE strikes, quickly and powerfully as a black bear, HER claws extended, SHE rakes the horsetail across his back, his shoulders, his butt, his thighs.

He begins to cry, great racking sobs, and SHE is relentless. Dangerous caresses him, breathing him, spreading the energy, but SHE beats him. And he cries.

SHE taps his balls with HER hand, SHE grabs his cock, SHE fucks him with HER thigh as dangerous whispers loving encouragement, words of praise and admiration for this boi, so courageous as to invite HER to play with him.

Please he said, I am cold. SHE suspects he wants to divert attention from his cock, from his balls, but dangerous lovingly pulls up his pants. And SHE takes over again, pushes dangerous aside and bites his shoulder in that sweet vulnerable place just below his scapula, his angel wings, SHE takes his flesh into her teeth and it is all dangerous can do to keep HER from tearing that flesh triumphantly, tearing it from his body in a victorious cry of the warrior goddess SHE is.

But dangerous says no. “No” to HER who does not respond well to no, and dangerous prevails.

And then it is over. Over for dangerous. Over for this man once called arjuna.

As dangerous unties our boi, as she dresses him, as she leads him to a safe quiet place, his friends gather round him, around dangerous as well, and hold them carefully lovingly and tenderly, as dangerous takes him on a journey of breath, whispered instructions, as they breathe, and then the oh so quiet stillness of sub-space. He is drifting contentedly, dangerous drifting as well in the victory of having once again unleashed HER, ridden HER to this power place. The power of HER energy still flowing,

And dangerous turns to him and her intense desire acts freely. Dangerous poises over his face and when he sniffs her, she lowers her cunt onto his eager mouth. He is licking her cunt, sucking her clit. She cums, her squirt running down his face, forming a puddle on the cloth. She is sucking him and nibbling on him and she finds a condom and suddenly is riding him. His cock deep inside her, and dangerous cums again.

Dangerous is beside him, and the others as well: Seelie and Sage and Rascal on top, all kissing and licking and sucking and biting this beautiful man made more beautiful, beatific in fact, from his encounter with HER and they love this man back to Arjuna and he cums at last; a sweet stream of cum, his gift to HER and SHE finally surrenders to his cum, licking it from his cock, from his stomach where he has sprayed it. It is full and thick and white and sweet and oh so warm.

And SHE joined dangerous again and we drifted into that place of nothing and everything.

Later, a sip of water, a few sweet hello kisses, and we gradually disengaged, gathered our things, and returned to my bed, where I held Arjuna and he held me, and we slept together until long past dawn.

The Accidental Orgy

I was making out with The Red Headed Boy at the Birthday Party. We had already eaten our dinner, and served the cake.

Snake’s Hand: Here’s a tale to tell, although it is not central to this story. Tales like this are known as snake’s hands (with a quiet namaste to John Crowley). They aren’t so necessary to the telling of a story, but add something to the atmosphere. Like background music.

So my lover Rascal had a Birthday recently, and The Seelie Eyed Grrl and I gave him a party. We schemed and planned and shopped and cleaned and decorated and cooked and at 8 o’clock, the guests arrived. We served wine and near beer and soda and seltzer. Then dinner out on the verandah. Brisket burgers (The Butcher has a crush on me and grinds it for me specially. That’s a snake’s hand itself, all wrapped up within a snake’s hand…), and sashimi and grilled asparagus and all the rest. Everyone was happy and everything was going real nice. Smooth.

The mosquitoes crashed our little soiree around 10 or so, so we headed inside. Up the stairs to the play room, and the party suddenly got interesting.

Seelie and I began teasing Rascal, taking off his clothes, stealing kisses and grabbing his crotch while the guests lounged about urging us on. We laid Rascal in a bed of whipped cream, and placed the cakes and icings out all over his body. Raspberries and chocolate nibs decorated the icings decorating the cakes decorating his gorgeous body. And the guests were invited to eat the cake off our serving platter.

No forks of course.

Well, not surprisingly, people started to remove their clothes. After all, chocolate butter cream icing is yummy on cake, even better on Rascal’s left nipple, but not too cool on a white silk blouse, or new leather pants.

It was after the cake, as I was saying. I was making out with The Red Headed Boy. He is a really good kisser, but his whiskers were a little rough on my tender chin. When I came up for air, I noticed other couples were making out as well.

That’s when I got it, “Everyone thinks we’re going to have an orgy!”

I am a little slow sometimes. We were mostly nakkid, some of us still covered in chocolate butter crème and raspberries, making out to really hot music. Yep we were about to have an orgy.

We took a five minute break to discuss boundaries, STI history and testing results, etc. One of our friends decided to leave. I don’t think she was really ready for an orgy. We helped her find her things and kissed her good-bye.

We had lots of lube and condoms and gloves. Rascal offered to stick his dick in me, banishing my fear (“What if no one wants to fuck me?”). The Red Headed Boy was fingering The Seelie Eyed Grrl, and Rascal was playing with her breasts as he fucked me. I had someone’s dick in my mouth—I think it was The Other Guy. The Other Guy’s date was doing something with someone, I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but I heard it when she came. That girl has some mighty vocal cords.

Folks began making sleeping nests around 3 am, seeking the comforts of pillows and blankets and each other. The Seelie Eyed Grrl and I snuggled one on either side of the Birthday Boi and we settled in.

The energy was running high, and I watched the sky becoming more and more bright, as dawn snuck around the corner. My hand was in my pussy, middle finger making smooth lazy circles around my clit, more for comfort than for orgasm. I finally drifted away in that majjic hour when what has been is more real than what may be, and no one would believe it anyway.

This is not a Snake’s Hand, but an aside:

Everyone has concerns about orgies. EVERYONE. It’s the logistics, not the moral question that gives most people pause.

Men worry, What if my dick gets shy, won’t show up? What if I’m not as skilled as the other guys? What if no one wants to fuck me?

Women worry, What if I am the fattest woman in the room? What if I don’t get off? What if no one wants to fuck me?

And everyone worries … do I have razor burn? How’s my breath? Is there’s a zit on my ass? What if no one wants to fuck me?

Here’s my advice about orgies: Once you’ve decided to play, once you’ve discussed sexual histories and you have discussed your boundaries with each other, turn off your head. Fall into the pleasure, Follow the pleasure. In breath. Out breath. Fall into the pleasure, Follow the pleasure. The rest will follow.

A Three Way with Adonis

We met at Summer Camp. No, not the YMCA day camp you attended when you were 8. Not the sleepover camp of your early adolescence, where you and your new best friend snuck out at night to paddle silently to the Boys Camp across the lake. And it’s not the camp where you were a counselor when you were 18 -- that year you were sent home for being a bad influence on the kiddies.

No this Summer Camp was one of wanton disregard for such small things as curfew, and street-ready clothing, and prohibitions against pissing outside. On your friends.

This Summer Camp was peopled by leather wearing sadists, and bois who will shine your shoes, if you ask their Daddy. And men who line up for the gang-bang, fluffed by a famous pornstar, and gorgeous women suspended in trees. The sex lounges are full of sweaty bodies, and you can watch or play. And trannys dressed so fine they outshine the sun goddess, and it is Summer Camp.

Summer Camp where most of the sports involve blood, or whips, or ropes made of hemp, or flame or floggers. Where the zoo contains very pettable ponies, and Power is met with Surrender. Where sissy bois serve coffee and bourbon, and your cabinmate may wake up in your bed. Where the dungeon is a 24 hour affair, and the blinding rhythms spun by the best dressed DJ on earth rock your world.

I was fucking Rascal outside by the pool, wearing my gorgeous strap on (Leather By Danny) and my double header. We were on the Liberator Pad, and had brought the usual supplies…butt lube, Magnum XLs for Rascal and a bottle of wine, some chocolate and strawberries for later. We also had random blankets and pillows, which gradually began to fill up with spectators.

A couple of friends stopped by to compare technique, and to fondle Rascal. I got a lovely kiss from The Beautiful Grrl With The Innocent Smile, and we made a date for later that afternoon.

Adonis strolled by and sat down on a blanket next to us. Adonis is exactly the type of Boi-o Dangerous enjoys. He is tall and slender and blond, and sweet and painfully shy. I longed to touch him, and invited him to play with us. Rascal and me. Adonis was willing, and the juicy wet kisses began.

In that place of ignited sexy energy, it didn’t really matter whose lips were on my lips, whose nipple I was biting or whose dick in my hand, in my mouth. Juicy wet and hot, the consciousness shift, altered as though drugged. My dick in my cunt. My dick in Rascal’s ass. Adonis sucking Rascal’s cock, Rascal sucking Adonis’ cock. His cock in my mouth. My teeth in his chest. Him finally fucking my ass, while I fucked Rascal’s.

Sounds swirling around us all—Adonis murmering, Rascal vibrating, and me “oh!” and “oh!” again.

Dissolving into whose parts were whose. Teeth and lips and sighs and cocks and assholes, and all melting into Pleasure.

Pleasure.

And then a nap in the sun. And the admiration of the spectators and the passers-by.

Later we feed each other strawberries and chocolate, and passed wine between our mouths and someone brought us ice cream and we shared that as well.

Then, I gathered my belongings and threw them all on The Liberator and wandered away for my date with The Beautiful Grrl With The Innocent Smile.

My smile was dangerous.

Licking Ass in Sordid Hotel Rooms

Every once in a while I meet an asshole. In a world where a cock ring constitutes "dressed for dinner," it would be difficult to miss them.

When I am wildly outta control aroused, that is to say, when I am Dangerous, I like to eat ass. I'm ambivalent really about having my ass eaten. I love a nice rimming and really adore a good ass fuck, but the tongue thrusting in and out doesn't really do it for me. Frankly it is too small for that. But if you like my tongue in and outta your ass, well, we should talk.


The ass I most like to eat belongs to my boifriend, Rascal. Actually I like doing lots of things to Rascal's ass. I will penetrate his asshole with anything I have....my tongue, fingers, vibrators, dildos in strap-ons. Especially, dildos in strap-ons.

Once in a three way with Seelie Eyes, I fucked Rascal's ass with my finger while he fucked her with his bio-dick. I could feel and caress the root of his gorgeous cock as he was pushing in and out of her beautiful and wide open pussy. I was closer than a porn shot. I could smell the smells of their sex, and see her labia contract and relax as she rose to meet him and when she came, I got her juices all over my face.

Wow that was hot.


Oh even better, once when he was fucking DC Dakini, I licked both of their asses like a giant ice cream cone. Up over her rosebud, around her taint, gliding over his balls, his taint, then circling his asshole and back down. Over and over, that same slow languid way, licking and sucking gently, and perhaps not so gently, on his balls, then finally greedily down to her ass again. Then I fucked them both in the ass. Right hand for him, left hand for her (I am careful about things like that). I could feel his dick pounding in her cunt through her ass, and the root of his cock as he moved inside of her. She's the quiet type, and when she came it was sweet really, a big sigh, a spasm. He came with a bit more force, and with my fingers in his ass, I felt the entire thing. It sent me over the edge, and I came, too.

I am not especially the quiet type.


Later DC Dakini and Rascal and I played in the shower. Then we dressed for dinner, me in my leathers, DC Dakini in her girly stuff. What did Rascal wear?

Well, Rascal wore his cock ring, of course.



Aside: Thank you, kinky reader, for your patience when I was ill. Feeling much better now, and planning more tales of Once Upon Dangerous....your feedback welcome!