Lately, my world has been very small.
Words have been difficult. I ran head-first into some undealt with trauma going through December and rather than burying it to face it again come next year I’ve been trying my best to actually FEEL everything. It’s much easier to just bury it for later. Burying it has always let me function. But I’m a wee bit passed functioning, and since the start of 2018 I have done my best to try to live. Improve my life. I’ve started a new job, been trying to eat better, sleep more, meditate.. All things that feed my soul.
The con of all of this is that my social anxiety has been wreaking havoc on my life. It’s flaired to a terrifying extent, severly impacting how I talk to people and maintain relationships. I’ve bungled communicating with Ryan more than once because of it. I’m blessed with people in my life like my roommate, Ace, and James that get it.. Ace to an unfortunately intimate degree. But. Writing messages makes my mind feel like it’s stuck in mud. Like each sentence is pulled bit by bit out of quicksand. There’s a weight on my chest as I talk to people that was never there before, and even small amounts of unfamiliar interraction is EXHAUSTING. It’s lessening, bit by bit, as time goes on, and it’s oddly comforting to finally have words and understanding of what is going on, but this whole thing has cost me friendships and romantic interractions. Which, as expected, blows.
It’s different with the public stuff. BaGG, Sanctum, the Citadel; these are all places that are part performance. I put on a show. I keep the show running and make sure things are taken care of. Because of that, for the most part interractions at BaGG and the Citadel are much easier for me lately than messages and texts, but even then unless I’m in scene my energy has been lower, and my ability to social less.
Typially at least one of my weekend days is taken up with a date with Ryan. We usually see each other about twice a week and that’s about all the romantic exposure I get for the week (my vibrator has become my best friend -__- ), but one of my metas through him was coming in from out of town. I’ve been missing Ace with an intensity that I don’t have words for lately… and the reality of our situation is that I don’t know the next time I’ll see him. Hold him. Kiss him. Knowing that ache, I kept my distance from Ryan this weekend when normally we talk fairly consistently throughout the day. Let him have his fill of my amazing meta and be able to fully focus on her while he can. I had a challenge that I had placed in front of myself for the weekend.
It was Master’s Den yet again, and I had not gone solo in a very long time. For about a year I had been going with Ryan, which was lovely and always resulted in amazing scenes, but my social circle had dwindled, and I was aching for some impact play. With Ryan occupied and Chris busy for the weekend I decided to get myself a new outfit, do my hair and makeup proper, and put myself out there for something that has never been my forte. Pickup play.
When I say I got a new outfity I mean I peacocked with the best of them. It was a lace one piece that unbuttoned at the crotch. The cups did runneth over in the best way possible, and I paired both with black lace heels and black tights. After changing from my mundane clothes I got James to do a damn double take at me. I felt good. Really good. I have the ability to come off as cute with quite a bit of ease. It’s sexy that I have to work for. I wanted to be wanted and desired, not just patted on the head, and as I walked through the Citadel to the orientation I felt eyes on me and beamed.
Typically, Master’s Den is made up of three different parties that rotate; Casino, Revelry, and Auction. That night was the introduction of a fourth component; Auction Machine. We submissives learned at orientation that like at auction, we would be put up for scenes with the winner, but unlike auction there wasn’t going to be any bidding. It was all random. We would fill out auction cards that would be slipped into the auction machine. The Dominants would then step up with a token that they won playing the casino games, slip it in the machine, and be given a card at random.
Whelp. I had wanted to push myself and I had wanted to attempt pick up play.
I grabbed a card for the 10pm auction, knowing that my play safety nets weren’t available. James had been pushing himself way too damn hard trying to work on a shoot for an upcoming show and his body was in no shape to play. He spent the night playing blackjack, building up his Den dollars with me periodically doing food and water runs for him so that he didn’t pass out. Ryan and Chris weren’t there. I was fully solo.
I filled out the card. Open to play and service. Interested in flogging, canes, whips, rope bondage/suspension, bondage, oral giving (marked to be negotiated), receiving sexual stimuation, paddles, hands.
The last part of the card is writing out two possible scene ideas. I grinned.
1: So far as I know, there is only one person in the Citadel right now that can still bruise my ass. Challenge accepted?
2: I love my tights. They’re quite pretty. But. They have a hole in them. So, they are pretty tights that need to die a glorious death.
And. I waited.
The first auction happened. I watched, and watched James watch. I perched by James for a bit and watched him play blackjack (submissives aren’t allowed to play). I nommed on the yummy sushi made by the caterer for the event (a Citadel regular that I clashed with, but that I have to give props to when it comes to cooking), and let myself get teased by a Dominant that has wanted in my pants for a good few months. He pulled my hair, nipped at my neck, and growled in my ear that I was a good girl, getting me ramped up just enough for whoever won me out of the machine.
10 pm. Auction time.
I stood, and watched, and waited as card by card was handed out. We were given numbers with our cards, and one by one they were called. I was, quite literally, the very last card to be chosen.
I am a picky bitch when it comes to play. It’s one of the reasons I suck at pick-up play. As the Dominants chose their scenes I judged each one that stepped up. There were one or two in the bunch that I was attracted to, but not many. And then I saw one, one that I had a thing for for over a year.
He was clad all in leather with a proper harnness, and internally I purred. Just enough scruff, a muscular build, and the ‘I can rip a submissive apart and put them back together’ look perfected. I had watched him play in the past and wanted to crawl into his toy bag and live there. Leather, wood, floggers, whips, a bunny pelt for senation play, and leather gloves.
Leather. Fucking. Gloves. An impact slut has not lived until they’ve gotten their ass tanned by a top sporting properly fitting leather gloves.
By the luck of the gods, Leatherman chose my card. He had his submissive, an adorable Bunny, with him that would be assisting with the scene, keeping sweat out of his eyes and helping hand him toys and the like. The Bunny was sweet and shy with a British accent. I was immediately comfortable.
He tied me to the cross, something that Ryan often does. I let myself relax as he pulled out huge wooden paddles and leather floggers. He slipped the one piece I was wearing over my head, leaving me bare outside of my stockings, and began flogging my back.
It had been far too long since I felt steady leather. I purred under the blows, and mewed, and yipped as they got harder. Leatherman keeps a good rhythm. He knew how to break up the thumps by switching up sensations, thumping on my back with his leather-clad hands, touching me softly, tickling me ever so slightly and pulling my hair. It was a style that James often used, and had me flying high in moments.
Feeling honest play chemistry from a long-running crush was a wonderful surprise. I moaned, and cursed, and came, and had the sadist smiling from ear to ear by the end of the scene and his submissive giggling at my comments and very at ease. Leatherman even managed to flip me over and pound on my tits, something that I usually cannot take. It was.. something I honestly really enjoyed. He held each breast in one hand while pounding it with the other, giving me the catharsis I was craving without overstimulating my way too sensative nipples. He found the tattoos under my breasts with my slave number and ‘As You Wish’ and understood exactly what it was without me saying anything. I watched him get hard at the connection and internally screamed ‘YESSSSSSSS’. My submissive side, my slave side, was still sexy. Not just cute. I wasn’t just an adorable little that was tolerated, or something people were used to. I. Was. Sexy. Dammit. And it felt so, SO good.
And yes, by the end of the scene I was butt-ass naked, and smiling. A need I didn’t know was there had been filled. Leather; gods how I had missed the feel of leather against my skin. The scene lasted a good hour, and while it didn’t end in bruises it did end in an established connection. Leatherman and I agreed to play together at the next party we were both at, and I made the choice to aftercare on my own and let him have some time with his submissive before the end of the party. I could see the lovely Bunny antsy to play, and didn’t want to take up any more of his time.
I spent the rest of the party purring, curled up next to James as he played his cards. I had done all the hard things, and it had gone well. I even made a friend out of it in Bunny, who I got to talk to again at the end of the party. I truly enjoyed their company, and felt very at ease with both Leatherman and Bunny both.
Sometimes, risks pay off. I’m slowly becoming myself again… or rather, a more whole version of myself. I look forward to more nights like I had the other night, more opportunities to be bold, and more chances the strut like the peacock I can be.