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Play at Rubber Ball II: A:s second evening

The first evening? Scroll down or click here

And now, the evening after.. Preparty’s done, I’ve inspected the bruising I’ve caused and am mighty well pleased with myself, or more, my first bruising and his reaction to it. My birthday is coming up any minute now, and it feels good. To share it with the people who are here. Mostly perverted swedes who flown in to have a depraved weekend, but also J. This post will give you a review of the event it self.

Since the dungeon is busy but also shut off for those who are not playing (everyone can still browse over the fence) there is plenty of room and I want to take my time. Now I have a toybag full of goodies and baddies and a sub with massive puppy-eyes. A big part of that toybag belongs to J, and every opportunity to use is a bit like gold.

A is once again at my feet, bowing his head down. I know the best of use of fake nails, the acrylic is hard and is sort of happy to eat on skin. A on the floor with a collar and a leash. His poor nipples is blue and have to leave them alone. In the corner of my eye I see a cross that is getting available. I need time. Heck, I’m no “fix everything in a second” dom. That only happens in novels. Not in my life. And then my head understands it all. I got the space here, got the time and got someone with me. Take a deep breath, focuses and let go.

So I ask him to crawl. Ask him to crawl over to the cross, and think about what I might come to do to him. When he crawls it looks kind of.. strange. I know there is a dom in here somewhere, and she is peaking out every once in a while. But the gesture of someone crawling for me…First time for everything and then seeing him sitting and waiting patiently, that was what strike me. With full force and then, focus, strapping him tightly this time.

Start lightly with a soft flogger, getting the breathing up, continuing with a heavier suede one (my favorite), resisting the temptation to stretch after his sore nipples and enjoying the heavy feeling of the flogger, feeling energy flowing right into his back as he both moan and sometimes yell out lowpitched scream. Again, I meet that arched back and sucking every inch out of it. Between a knotted hemp flogger that stings like the devil (one of those things I really sort of twitch everytime I think about it) and his now more and more high-pitched sounds I tap with light fingers over his body, stroking the warm skin, kissing, licking. Pressing my body against his, and that thought turns me on as well. Him being there for me, willingly.

Picture & flogger courtesy of TrussedUK.

In a slower part of the play he ask about permission to speak. I grant his wish, and he tells me that this is the first time ever someone put him to a cross and flogged him like this. Ever. First it that something that make me think if I should safeword, I always try to get as much information out of a possible playpartner, but this was something that had not come to my attention. I do a  check-up, turn down the tempo and we got going again. Alternating between the heavy suede flogger and a Eco-flogger (made by recycled inner tires from bicycles, very recommended!) that gives more of a sting and a bite.
Then, another gorgeous girl enters the arena, a certain someone who A has claimed that he does not have any problem playing with. The thought attracts me, double the mean things that can be done, and I come to think about the brilliant riding crop and the very thin dressagewhip.

We alternate in between hitting his now red and warm behind. He never knows what to except from whom, since we don’t count the strokes and hits. The reaction is more than wonderful. His confusion with the double strokes, the different sensations and us teasing and beating him is almost more than enough. It turns me on as well, seeing her work her crop an getting in to the same rytm as I have.

In a way, I don’t want to stop but the heavy breath of sweet, sweet A tells me to, that and the fact that this is his first time.

Slowly taking him down,and the same ritual again. Even if I support every step of a sub, the show is not over until I say it’s over. Again, having him kneel, kiss mine and her hand and feet and then. The show is over.
He is a bit unsteady, but blissful is the better word. He and his friend walks off together, and J is waiting for me outside. We chat a bit to a friend, talk about the evening and then decide to move around a bit more. In the other room there is a very familiar song played, Stina Nordenstams voice fills me with all , and I hold on to J as he hold on to me,  and we move slowly moving around to the music, maybe one could call it dancing. I don’t care if it is. I’m here with him.

Despite a wonky club-evening, despite everything, I am at peace. Okay, I’m in between languages, on a scene that many times makes me mad as fuck, but I’m not stuck. The world can also make me mad as fuck but the world is kind of manageable. Because of the people in it.

//

Ve


Play at Rubber Ball I

I asked him to drop his trousers at the cross and pull up the sweater. His sweat was salty. The cross is a favourite, legs and hands apart and strapped tightly, making moves impossible, or just allowing enough movement to make the submissive realise that he or she cannot move anywhere. The first night of our play I did not use the restraints, I did not want to.

Don’t move”

It should be sufficient enough, but he is not one of those ones. He is the type I want, the only type I can consider playing with.  A struggling kind, some fire, energy and resistance.

I started off stroking, then a bite every now and then, a nail scratching, heavier strokes, going deeper. Digging my palms into muscles. Made him moan a bit. Wiggle his cute, well shaped ass. I did not have any toys with me, except from my body and his. A canvas. as cheesy as it may sound. It is a canvas, and I am a creative person with muscles and a brain. And I’m longing for colour, blushing skin and guttural sounds.

I hit his buttcheeks, alternating between a cupped and flat palm of my hand, changing in speed and changing in how heavy I let the strokes land. I hit his back.

He says he can’t take it. I don’t listen. He says that he can’t take it, I listen enough to give a warm part a stroke with my tongue. I’m so gracious. There and then, in my frame of mind, he did deserve it. He wiggled and moved around, even when he was told not to do so. Perfect…

I pressed my body against his, let him know that I removed the bolero from my upper body and that I got sweaty because of him. Painting him in colours I love.

20 minutes later, after hitting his back and ass, and also slapping the back of his thighs I’m wrapping things up. He wanted to get off the cross, begged me, without asking about permission to speak. I ignored it.

Stand there, stay still until I say you can move”

I backed away from his body on the cross, monitored his deep breaths and still heard him whimpering every now and then. With my eyes fixed I took a zip of my water, got the clothes back on, adjusted the bolero so it only partially showed off my breasts and slowly moved closer. Took my time..

I was so aware of the audience it another rush travelled like electric through my body.

This is a scene, this is a show, and I can direct in any way possible.

Step down”

He stepped down from the cross. I asked for him to thank me. He kissed my shoe and I gave him a smile.

//

Ve


Skin Two Rubber Ball

Ve:

Last time I placed my well dressed foot at SE1, was at Torture Gardens Birthday Ball. A packed event, with great layout, cool acts, great feeling and heaving with amazingly dressed kinksters

Sadly, this is not the same when I enter SE1 this time. Or well, the amazingly dressed kinksters are still there..

The layout is well thought of, but leaves many empty spaces of “nothing” especially since it was so few people showing up. Hearing a lot about the Skin Two Rubber Ball, as being one of the highlights of the kinky calendar in London, I was a bit disappointed. But in the same time, it was easy to move around,easy to see faces and really buzzing with different languages. A big contingent from Sweden was there, partying hard and playing all weekend. Also heard german, french, spanish, and of course American.

It was an effective entrance, queuing not too bad, and fast cloakroom. Always thumbs of for that. Well inside, there was a Jazz Lounge of some sorts, several bars, a room dedicated to the runway with loads of shows, a big dancefloor, a couples room (which I missed) and a fully equipped dungeon which I had the opportunity to try out. The set up of the dungeon was a bit different with a small fence around, which prevented people coming and sitting on the dungeon-furniture, and also made it less crammed. Dungeon-monitors was on their toes, not interfering if it was not necessary, but still very aware and very approachable.

The furniture itself was brilliant. Well built, easy to manoeuvre (and if there was any questions, a DM was happy to help) and many times innovative.
I took a safe shot, the S:t Andrews cross. Spanking benches and suspensionthingybobs can wait until I know how to use them properly.
The scene me and A had during that evening and the evening before can be read about in this and this post.

It so happened that I for one of the first time actually saw the shows, and several of them . When going to bigger parties in London, like Torture Garden, there almost everytime fashion shows and other entertainment, but being me often makes me miss these. Getting stuck (figuratively and literally speaking) in the dungeon or on the dancefloor happens every once in a while.

Not this time. Unfortunately. I have seen a couple of different and really good burlesque-performances, which always seem to tickle that part of me that do love to create femininity that’s a bit more than the heterosexistic bullshit that creeps up every once in a while. Roxy Velvet is a brilliant example on a performer who creates her own stage and is very well aware of every move she makes and what kind of images she create.

Photograph©Gothic Image. Design©Pretty Pervy

Photograph©Gothic Image. Design©Pretty Pervy

Not counting an opera-singer, Pretty Pervys show
(everyone loves a latexbug!)
and a hilarious American with a bullwhip,
most of the shows was too long,
to dull and too serious.
Standing and watching not only the performers, but also the audience.
I saw more than one yawn a
nd several people just walking away.

And then,pardon my french, but what the f*ck is going on with the persons booking the acts? I have no problems whatsoever with women getting objectified, I know that they are all entertainers and choose to entertain. I can also sign up for the kind of drooling that I saw many did ( a couple of minutes with the ballerina, that’s all I ask..I can hold her..tutu) with me, but. Hey. Come on. Can it please be possible to objectify some hot men as well?! The ratio was horrendous on this point and made my blood boil. I started to think about politics, gender, and representation and power, instead of. Well. Partying. I got so mad, and still feel annoyed and also sad. I tend to distance myself from the normative fetish world, not being able to connect with it and not wanting to. But every now and then it pops up and I can’t escape.

I want more buffed or sleek men on the stage. Oily. Having to take their clothes off really slowly but only getting cheered on when they get more and more naked. Or have to bend their bodies in ways that requires a massive amount of training. Having outfits and props that cost a massive amount of money. Is it too much to ask?
I want porn with the same things, images that makes me question my lust and my connotations of what gender and power is, and in the same time, I want to see people fucking and enjoying it. I wan’t representation of as many different bodys as possible.

People say there is a time and a place for each and everything, but seeing all this makes me really happy that there is another scene as well. A diverse and open, that’s constantly seem to, even if being unaware of it, challenge gender and norms. I celebrate that.

Kisses to all who’s a part of that.

And no more Rubber Balls for me.

Pretty Pervy
Skin Two Rubber Ball
Roxy Velvet