“Oh, I get it! Puppy Play is Fun!”

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Posting Puppy Play Plugs

I just want to put a plug on here for the NoSafeWord podcast at http://nosafeword.com/podcast/ .  The second episode (March 2; SEA-PAH, bow rorr rorr) has a really excellent discussion on puppy play.  It touches on a little of everything from headspace to gear, sex and moshing, toys and Woof Camp…  Definitely worth listening to!

And (another plug) if you are curious about puppy play and you are w/in striking distance of Charlotte, NC, Saturday, 3/23/13, Sir Loki is teaching a puppy play class/demo at CAPEX in Charlotte.  Stop by and say “Woof!”  Look here for more: www.capex.info

 And finally, I'd like to share a photo which I would caption:

      "Speak softly, and bring an Irish wolfhound."

Ow. Ow. And… Ow!!!

I don’t think I’ve been this battered and bruised since last year’s Frolicon.

Friday, after she got home from work, my fantastic Owner took me into our studio/play room, stuck needles in my pecks, bit me, beat me, edged me (I hadn’t cum in a week), and held a vibrator to the needles (which felt sooooo good).  So that was scene number one.

Saturday I dropped Shdwkitten off at her boyfriend’s place and drove on down to Sir Loki’s… where I found a hot tub full of puppies!  So after I sent my first text message (over Loki’s phone b/c only I had dry paws… Have I mentioned that I’m a bit of a Luddite?) I stripped and joined my packmates in the hot tub.  And that’s where we spent the next 2 hours.  And that’s where Sir got inspired to create the Olympic rings logo on my shoulder out of bight marks (and did an amazingly good job), bight me on the back of my calf (Ow!), use my penis as a chewtoy (no comment).  We’ll call that scene number two.

Next came dinner w/ Atlantarubber and his family.  I forget what I said, but I made some snarky comment that caused Sir to hit me… while I had a taco in my hand… which caused ground beef to fly everywhere, but mostly, I think, all over the beagle.  That doesn’t count as a scene.  We don’t count food play… unless it’s “eating something spicy w/ your ass.”  (Apparently something beagles do, I don’t know…)

So we went to 1763 where Atlantarubber had a private room which he invited us to come chill in… quickly resulting in a puppy pile on the bed!  (Well, three pups and a Cajun.)  Things quickly moved to “adult content.”  I soon found that I had one Top flogging me while I was laying on top of Tebow… and yet it was Tebow who red-ed out, b/c apparently I was crushing his junk.  *rolls eyes*  Eh… we’ll call that scene number two and half.

So it was time for Decadence to start at 1763… but nobody was playing, so I was volun-told to be the ice-breaker.  The party ice-breaker, as it were, was me being hung upside down by my feet (suspension cuffs) and used as a piñata.  I LOVED this!  I’ve never been beaten upside-down before.  It was soooooo cool!  Scene count = 3.5.

(Side note: While all that was going on, somebody managed to spill the soda I stashed under a bench… thus continuing last Dominion’s spilled-drink theme.  NOT my fault!)

Next, I was volun-told to participate in balls-vs-balls tug-a-war.  I did not love this quite so enthusiastically as the piñata scene.  You take two bottoms, put parachutes on each of their nut sacks, chain the parachutes together, and have them slowly crawl away from one-another.  Now I’m a pretty all-around masochist, but CBT – especially heavy CBT – isn’t really my favorite thing… so I was just a little apprehensive (i.e. shaking in mortal terror) at this whole situation.  The Tops tried to encourage me to crawl/pull by hitting me w/ paddles and dragon-tails.  Now, I know I can take paddles and dragon-tails all night, so I was like, “Fuck it; I’m not moving; I’m staying right here, and you keep hitting me.”  LOL.  I don’t think the chain ever got fully un-slack to tell the truth… but I was still quite grateful when Sir came over be close to me during this particular ordeal.  Scene count = 4.5.

That pretty much wrapped it up for Decadence.  After Sir enjoyed a cigar – which I would not let him blow smoke in my face (I’d rather go back to the f-ing tug-a-war) – and then we called it a night, because…

Sunday was the Dominion party at 1763!  Sir got himself warmed-up by beating the new puppy (we don’t have a name or a breed for him yet… he still has the new puppy smell!)… and apparently either Tebow or I managed to spill a cup of coffee Sir left in the corner before this scene.  I don’t know what’s going on w/ the spilled-drink-karma!?  I’m going to restrict everyone around me to sippy-cups.  Anyway… properly warmed up (and annoyed at the loss of his coffee) Loki more-or-less ambushed me and pinned me in the corner.  What followed was, I think, one of our more intense primal-play scenes.  Tooth and claw!  And tongue… and throat… and cock.  An old friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in a year was there doing a spanking-scene on the far end of the dungeon, and just hearing my barking and growling, was like, “Hey, I know that puppy!”  LOL.

And when our primal play climaxed, so did I.  ;-)

(There’s just something extra-extra submissively hot about cleaning your cum of your Dominant’s boots.  Just putting that out there.)

Scene count = 5.5 + an orgasm.

And so it was time to get on the road home.  Besides, I was tore-up-from-the-floor-up!  Today I still feel like a walking bruise.

(But a happy one.)

J. Michael Strazynski's nephew

So, Babylon 5 is one of my favorite TV series, right?  And I had all of the DVD sets but one -- the B5 movie collection.  And Ma'am and I just finished re-watching the B5 series, so we figured, may as well go ahead and pick-up the last DVD set.  So we go to the book store and we get the last set we needed, and the check-out guy goes:  "Oh, B5!  J. Michael Strazynski is my uncle."

And I'm just looking at him like "What?"

And he says, "Really -- he's really my uncle.  He's my mom's step-brother."  And he goes on to provide other supporting details.

Very strange.

So, J. Michael Strazynski's nephew sold me my last B5 DVD collection.

In a bookstore in rural North Carolina.

Very, very strange.

Fake Fichus Flashback

So let me tell you about the love of my life.  I first met Shdwkitten at a mutual friend’s housewarming party.  We’d been roughly in the same, kinky social circles for a couple of years, but never before met.  But I spotted her at this particular party, and we were introduced or (I think) introduced ourselves around the fire pit.  I thought she was pretty hot, and she returned my interest.  (Time would reveal that she prefers tall, skinny men w/ long hair.  This, I am.)  The soft conversations around the fire punctuated by bursts of laughter fading into the background, everyone sipping drinks, both of us drinking pumpkin beer from plastic cups, I liked everything about her… except her smoking.  Legend has it that I started kissing her to distract her from her smoking.  She started making out w/ me and forgot that she had the cigarette in her hand until it burned down to a tinny stump of ash.  It could be true.  When we started dating, the second sign I had that we were perfect for one-another was that she quit smoking for me.  The first sign was when she discovered and revealed that my bike (a 2004 Yamaha FZ6) was the exact make and model bike she was thinking of buying herself.  (Legend also has it she just collared and married me for my bike.  It could also be true.)

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  First I need to insert a flashback.  Therefore, for your pleasure – or to test your patience w/ me – I am re-posting my 11/21/2004 post.  Enjoy… if possible:

*  *  *

This weekend was fairly fabulous. I spent Saturday just fritting away time w/ a fine book. Then I fled town for Charlotte to fraternize at Mystrys’s house warming festival. I arrived to find that Caravankidd was already rendered feckless by the fermented libations. As more and more frolickers partook of the featured field juice (filched pumpkin beer), we all found ourselves becoming frighteningly frivolous. It was fairly a fantasia of singing silliness. Oh, our faculties were failing, but there’s nothing like alcohol to forge a group of friends into a happy family at frightening speed.

There was a fearful moment among the fanfare when some faulty footwork almost felled an inoffensive fig tree… but our fabulous hostess flung forth w/ the reassuring cry, “Don’t fret, friends, that’s only a fake fichus! It’s all fine!” Our faith inflated. (Later the fake fichus was fairly freed by the Fake Fichus Freedom Front which fights fiendish fascists who bind their fake fig trees in fetters.) Aw, such fine flashes of fun may be few and far between at other festivities, friends, but Mystrys knows how to make her fans feel full of joy. To find this a mere fad is fully fallacious -- this fine lady can facilitate some fabulous frolics and fantasies, I say!

In addition to drinking, singing and the near-felling of fake fichuses (or is it fichi?), there was other fine naughtiness. A fearless few females flashed some fabulous frontage for waxing and flogging. (Far fetched, I know.) The famed Wax Whore of the South was featured, and he fulfilled anticipations for one and all. Yes, there was fun frolicking, fondling and *a-hem* well, another word that starts w/ f. Finally I flopped down on the sofa for the night – at around four. Mystrys, the party was just… fantastic!

Sunday began w/ further fun from British comedy on TV. At noon I swung by Lava Bistro for more fine festivities celebrating Rorie’s birthday w/ more friendly faces and first-rate food. A fine time was had by all. So glad I could make it.

For now... farewell.

     -- Fin