The Bathhouse

I enter the steam filled room and allow my robe to be untied and slipped off my shoulders. It is hot and as I stand there acclimatizing to the humidity and the dim lighting my hair is coiled gently at the nape of my neck and pinned in place.

Tendrils of steam entice me further into the room and I can hear the gentle sounds of running water. My body is glistening with moisture as the water condenses and forms droplets on my sensitive skin. Licking my lips and immediately there is an ice cold bottle of water in my hands. I sip gratefully at the refreshment, icy trickles down the inside of my throat to rest in my belly.

I am guided further in and there is a woman waiting with a pile of cloths and two containers. One contains white crystals and the other is full of clear water. She invites me to stand in front of her with my feet shoulder width apart, miming how she wants me to stand. I have the feeling we share no spoken language, but body language and gestures are universal, I know what I am to do.

She grabs a cloth and scoops up a handful of crystals, holding them in her cupped hand she drops some into the rough cloth and rubs it into my glistening skin. The abrasive crystal are rough and she is through. Her hands are sure and as she feels me relax into the rough caress of the salt scraping she slows and rubs in tiny circles.

She adds more salt as the first batch has rubbed away and she rubs all over my shoulders and down my arms, scrubbing my wrists and hands. I am tingling and feel so clean. She continues scratching at me with the abrasive, down my back now.

She pauses to add more crystal to her cloth and then rubs over my buttocks and between them into my deep cleft. I nearly cry out as she rubs my sex, but her touch remains impersonal and I must surrender myself to relaxation instead of allowing it to become a sexual event.

My vulva is tingling at the manipulation and I nearly cry when she moves on. Down my legs as she picks up each foot and scrubs the sole.

She turns me then and scooping up more salts she scrubs over my collar bone and down my chest. Rubbing my breasts and nipples with the coarse salt. She swirls the salts over my belly and then rubs over my mound to the tops of my thighs.

She drops the cloth as she has completed the scrubbing and picks up the ewer of clear water.

She drizzles the cool water slowly over me and I sigh in delight at the sweet trickles washing over my lightly abraded skin.

Amazing how the cool water serves to only intensify my arousal.

She tsks at me and points to a door in the distance.

I leave her and walk into a steam filled room. There are other bodies here, reclining on wooden benches. Everyone is fully naked and there is an elderly man dumping water onto the hot rocks in the center of the room, billows of steam cascade and tumble away from him. He gestures to an empty bench and I cross to it. Lowering myself to the wet, warm wood and then reclining.

The steam encloses around me and I am wrapped in the smothering heat. soon it is to much for me and I get up. The man pointing to another exit.

The next room is taken up with a large stone pool. There is no one there, so I walk down the stone steps into the cold water. It is refreshing and I linger only for a few moments before crossing the pool and exiting through the last door.

I am back at the beginning and there are lockers where my belongings wait for me.

I sigh and dry off with a soft fluffy towel, dressing and returning to the outside world.  Calm relaxation my new state of mind.

Anniversary

This time of year will always be special to me. My birthday, and several cherished family members birthdays. My ex husband and I were married in October, it was a pretty ceremony and full of the love we had for each other at the time.

More importantly it marks the anniversary of telling my three teenagers that I am bi-sexual. I cried when they accepted me so openly and told me they loved me and that they had kind of guessed as much. I wept tears of joy and relief at finally being able to admit to them, and then the world who I am. They each held me until we ended up in a huge group hug. Wiggling and giggling at each other while they kissed and hugged and tickled my tears away.

Soon after I advised them that a good friend of mine was indeed my girlfriend. They had guessed as much as well.

I am so grateful everyday for my gorgeous kids and their capacity to love. Thank you goes out to them everyday for being the amazing people that they are.

No shame, no embarrassment, no judgements, no name-calling, no harsh phobias.

Love, joy, acceptance and understanding.

Who could possibly want for anything more?

Bruises

I play hard.

I Top pain loving and sensation loving bottoms who will play hours with me and I love every minute of it.

I bottom to some very sadistic Tops who wield pain like a mighty sword and carve my flesh into beautiful murals that are reflective of the intensity I like to play.

A photograph of the bruises from play that is 48 hours in the past is able to illustrate my masochistic nature.

So an explanation of the photo is somewhat important I think. I wouldn't want to leave to much to imagination! HAH!

The photo was taken by my Wulfie (thank you darling, you are always so accommodating!) I would like to point out that not all the bruises are yet visible as they are so deep they haven't all surfaced yet.

So to point out first the bruise on the top of my right buttock (along my hip etc) this bruise is from a flogger beating against my ass repeatedly. There is another bruise that is slowly forming on the other side in approximately the same spot.

The person who was flogging me for those bruises, tends to strike in an overhand motion thus striking the top of my butt and across my hip. The night of the scene my right side swelled quite large and was a shadowed purple, the bruise did not start surfacing until this morning.

The bruise that is directly in the centre of my left butt cheek is from my rubber flogger. I had just purchased it and was showing it off. There was a group of about four people sitting conversing while I showed it off. One of them was a very large black man. He handled the flogger lovingly and told me how nice it was.

Me being the girl I am asked him if he would do the honors as I had not yet had the delight of feeling it strike me.

He was happy to oblige.

I lined up at the rack again and he started gently striking the pre-reddened curve of my ass. This was my third scene of the night now and I was keyed up so very high I thought I might just touch the ceiling!

He asked how it felt and I moaned rubbed hips against the rack and saying it felt really good.

Then I called him on.

I have a good habit of asking for what I want and when I told him to hit me about four times harder with it he was more that willing to test it. His laughter was music to my ears.

He lined up and asked if I was ready. "YES"

The strike was hard and I rocked into the rack moaning and screaming at the same time. Delicious pain obliterating the world around me in a bright red blur.

He struck me again, again, and again. I was babbling a bit and whimpering. Then he really let loose.

I ran away from him and the rack and he looked amused as I danced around the room and wiggled and shook my body all over. The intensity was so high I thought I might die in pure painful bliss.

I came back to the rack and he joked that he could see why they tied me down.

I laughed back and told him, I might run away for a second to absorb the pain but I ALWAYS come back for more.

His laughter was low as he asked if I would like some more. I told him yes one more. Gasping as I braced myself.

He swatted at me lightly and I peeled laughter merrily. Oh I adore people who PLAY! We bantered back and forth joking about how he gave me one more.

I stomped my feet in mock frustration and called out loudly so the entire party could hear me. "Oh PLEASE PLEASE ONE MORE!"

He gave me one last stroke and I gasped and crouched low holding myself tight in the reverberations of the last strike and the pain it blessed me with.

Oh right I was explaining bruises (oops I lost myself there for a moment).

The remainder of the smaller bruises are from various impact implements ranging from fists, hands, paddles, canes, and straps.

Needless to say the evening was eventful... as usual!

Rope

For almost two years now I have not willing submitted to any scenes involving rope. I am rather impatient person, after all. Having to stay still while a rope enthusiast tied me up was just something I wasn't interested in at all.

When a man who is known in the community for his amazing rope work approached me to negotiate a scene I admit I hesitated.

I didn't wait to long though. I selected the rack to be tied to and left the rest to him. We have played before and I knew I could trust him to bind me and beat me to the exquisite golden glow of sub space.

I crossed the room to stand in front of the rack. I am dressed in purple fishnets, a waist cincher, black lace panties and a black fishnet dress. Black satin gloves encase my hands to my mid forearm.

Two more people I know and trust jumped into the scene as well, "warming me up" they declared while he worked on tying me.

My wrists and ankles cuffed, as they put clothespins on my tits and then swatted them off with a cane and a nasty piece of neoprene shaped into a thin strap.

I am now facing the rack and they are swatting my ass alternately with strap and cane. I am screaming at them in wild obscenities. They continue taunting me and telling me that swearing and name calling is not a safeword. I laugh and toss my hair at them dramatically.

There is no sense of decorum and no dignity in this scene! I am completely at their mercy and I am now struggling wildly against my bonds. Tied by wrists and ankles in a spread eagled position. All the defense I have is to twist and plunge my body back and forth on the equipment.

Not effective.

Especially once the rope master realized I required more rope to be securely bound. He tied me into a chest harness while my tormentors slipped under the rack and tortured my tits.

I was screaming with laughter by now and the sadistic giggles were erupting from my friends as the rope slipped between my thighs and I found myself humping and grinding into the binds.

One grabbed a vibrator and started rubbing it all over my labia and all over that damned rope. I squirmed and gasped and moaned.

Now they ramped up the pain. Beating me mercilessly with floggers and canes and crops. The harness was now fixed to the rack. I thrash against it and the knowledge I am truly helpless overcomes me. I struggle harder feeling the ropes biting into my tender flesh.

DELICIOUS!

I was gasping and giggling and cumming all over that blessed rope. Moaning and flying way off into sub-space.

Amazing, gasping and groaning. The man bearing rope has now taken over the scene and is hitting me with heavy strokes from his flogger.

Cumming and feeling my juices soak my panties and drip down my thighs.

The scene continues for some while. The pain and pleasure rushing over and through me in intense fiery waves. His hands tangle in my hair and I press back into him. He is giving me exactly what I want, more and more pain, pushing me ever higher.

I am gasping for air now. Breathless and hot. He senses that I have reached a limit. Stopping to check on me. I am at the edge of my endurance for bondage and express this to him.

Quickly he has released me and turned me so I am in his arms. He holds me tight as I gasp in air and relax in his embrace.

Our scene is over, he leads me to a sofa and I sit there, trembling and recovering. Minorly senseless and majorly ramped up I cast around for the pain slut I have brought with me.

Spotting him I tell my rope loving friend I need to ask him to tie a bottom up for me. He agrees and off he goes to re prep the scene space while I drink water and recover. I am floating back down and my sadistic side is coming to the surface.

I eye up the man in the collar.

He is next...

To be continued...