Play Party of the Imagination: 1
By the time Christine finally had her orgasm everyone at the party was watching our scene. Some had turned utterly white. Others were grinning like a maniac. Still more were covering their eyes and intermediately peeking through their fingers like watching a horror movie gone out of control. The orgasm itself wasn’t much to look at because Christine was trying to move as little as possible. (Well? For me it was a lot to look at but I just like the looking at the contrast of someone wanting desperately to move but not being able to.) The reason Christine was trying not to move was because she was surrounded in a layer of barbed wire.
The scene had started mildly enough with me cuffing her hands to a whipping post. With a pair of vampire gloves I had rubbed her skin all over turning it a lovely shade of red. When I took out the straight razor there was a small gasp from the few people who were watching us. But after I had blindfolded Christine, I put away the razor secretly, and took out my bandage scissors, there was no more commentary from the on lookers.
After rubbing her all over with the side of the bandage scissors, I put the scissors away, took the straight razor back out, and took off the blindfold. I whispered softly in her ear as she shook in anticipation that I had prepared her with the gloves and the razor to be ready for the feel of metal on her flesh. With grand flourish, I made her watch me as I put on a set of thick leather work-gloves. When I reached in with gloved hands and pulled out the roll of barbed wire, that’s when all hell broke loose.
Fortunately, I had told the party dungeon-master what I had planed to do. At first she balked at the idea until I showed off the barbwire. It really wasn’t actually barbed wire at all but rubber lacing. I had painstakingly constructed it myself by warping two lengths of lace around each other and tying a constrictor hitch around the two ever six inches. After I had shown the “wire” to be safe by smacking my bare palm against it, then the dungeon-master decided to give me a green light on the scene.
Luckily she was on hand during the scene. The people who reacted strongly in disfavor when I pulled out the wire were calmly taken aside and told the scene WAS safe despite its looks and WAS consensual. Word quickly spread about what was going on however and soon I had the entire party at a screeching halt while everyone watched our scene with amazement, disgust, and shock.
When the scene was over and I had cleaned up the plays-pace after myself, I wrapped Christine in a blanket and helped her walk back to the social room. I had just poured her a cup of Gatorade and set a tray of cookies in front of her while I helped her try to stop her hands from shaking when we were bombarded with questions.
The first wave was accusations. How dare you? What were you thinking? Don’t you know how unsafe that is? (I had wrapped two passes of the “wire” tightly around Christine’s neck) Doesn’t your subs safety mean anything to you? Christine wasn’t faring any better as people tried to give her phone numbers for domestic violence hotline and telling her that she didn’t have to put up with dangerous and unsafe doms like me.
The dungeon master helped us by stepping in at this point and reminding everyone that the scene was safe. I helped to alleviate fears somewhat by passing the coil of “wire” around the room so they could feel for themselves that it was made of rubber.
Unfortunately this caused a second round of accusations to fly our way. That wasn’t real? You were just faking it? Why would you do something so unnatural? If your going to do a scene like that why do you feel you have to fake it? If you have the desire to do such a scene why cant you just go with your own natural instinct and do it for real?
Christine was a little more down to earth by this time so I helped her get dressed and we both excuse ourselves claiming to have to be at work early the next day. Even as we left people still were debating among themselves. Half were saying the level of fear I had produced was uncalled for and swearing up and down they would leave their masters if they ever did something so real and terrifying. The other half were saying that I was nothing but a fraud and a phony and swearing up and down they would leave their masters if they ever lied about and faked a scene just to get a cheap thrill.
As for Christine? Well she loved the scene. We had met at the gym where she was an instructor for the climbing wall. We got to talking and she admitted getting a sexual “high” from the fear she gets when rock climbing. I expanded this idea out to her further saying that I also did “sports” where frightening thrills and an adrenaline rush were part of the fun. When we started sceneing together the feeling of being in danger was a big thrill for her. But actually being in danger would have been uncalled for. So I often “faked” situations for her where she could get a rush without the actual risk.
You decide. Are we a couple of wannabe posers who are just after a cheap thrill and don’t have what it takes to do bdsm for real? Or are we a couple of nutcase freaks who push too far and play with emotional, psychological turmoil when there is no need to?