AllFreeNovel
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“Hmmm, well, but what about kink? How did you know that you liked that?” she asks me. It’s been an hour, but we’re ignoring the crowds meandering past us. We’re too busy talking to each other.
I’m generally not the type to seek out a kinky relationship. I don’t need a domme or a rigger or an impact dom. It’s something that arises after I trust the person, after we have a relationship. If you like to seek out kink, I am not judging, but it’s not my experience. I can only speak from my own experience. This story is a time when I didjust seek out a kinky experience, but it is unusual for me, so it’s not crazy or anything. Sometimes kink is described as a flavor of a relationship. Or something on the side. The icing on the cake.
As I grew in comfort, kink became less of the icing and more the flavor of the cake. I needed the cake to be substantive, but without kink, it was just a plain cake. Not a chocolate cake or a lemon cake. Would you want a cake that is just…cake flavored? Just eggs, butter, flour, sugar – that’s a pancake. It’s tasty, but it’s not cake.
My first experience where kink was the sole focus of the relationship happened around twenty-four. I’d had a brief exposure to kink during my first sexual experience at nineteen. I joined my friend and her boyfriend. He had some tools and such that I wasn’t familiar with, and he punished her by making her drink a cold cup of his cum. But I was merely the observer for that.
This wasn’t a relationship, either. Just one night of play. I don’t remember their name, though he was male. Older, I think. I probably shouldn’t have taken this risk, and I wouldn’t encourage anyone else to do the same, but this WAS one of my first times pursuing kink. May as well be honest about my stupidity.
I met him online. All I knew about him was his face and something that made me believe he would want this, too. I forget what. He came over, I opened the door to my apartment. One large room, with a bathroom off one side, and a kitchen area off the other side. Yes, I was stupid. No, I don’t think anyone else should do this. This was my mistake, and I am sharing it.
He asked me to strip naked with my arms held in front of me. He blindfolded me with a silk tie. I can’t remember how long I stood there, but eventually, he moved me onto my back. He tied a harsh rope around my arms and legs to restrain me. I felt an ice cube run up my body. Next, he told me he had some wax, that he wanted to pour on me. I remember liking it, can’t remember whether it as very hot. “This won’t hurt you,” he said, “It just simulates pain.” He then proceeded to run up a Wattenberg Pinwheel, tracing my breasts, down my stomach. He took a feather duster(?) and tickled me lightly all over. I love giggling during an experience. I may be neglecting a few sensations, but this is what I can remember of it, from about ten years ago. Afterward, he untied me, and he made sure I was okay, and he left. Never even took his own clothes off.
I don’t think I saw him again. I still remember how it felt. I wonder if he remembers, too.
* * *
“Then there wasthis one time I had someone shoot fireballs at my vagina.”
Our shared wistful storytelling is shattered. “I’m sorry, what?!”
“Yeah. Went to an event where they were showcasing all sorts of different kinks, and there was one station for fire play, where the presenter would literally create alcohol-fueled fireballs. So being the pleasure seeker that I am, I volunteered.”
She takes a gulp. “OK, so what was it like?”
“Well, David, Laura and a few of my kinky friends were with me, so they surrounded me, I took my skirt off, the presenter bent me over a table, with a bucket of alcohol behind me. I was pretty terrified, but David and Laura held my hand. The presenter would wet like a torch stick into the alcohol, light it up, and then blow air at it. It created a fireball that singed all of the extra hairs down there. It was like a laser treatment, but with fireballs. And it felt really good. Or maybe that was them holding my hand? No, definitely the fireballs were pretty good. And bonus, after he aired a few of them in that direction, I was ready to climax. So, David just leaned over and told me it was ok. And I did. Everyone was very impressed, including the presenter.”
Now I’m worried I overdid it. That I threw too much at her. Or maybe she’s simply processing. At any rate, I decide we might need a break.
“Would you like some ice cream?” I say. “My treat.”
“Sure!” she exclaims. “I really want to know how you let someone just tell you to climax and do it.”
“Awesome,” I smile. “And then…perhaps you can tell me about yourself?”
She smiles back, and we leave next door to get milkshakes. This has been a wonderful evening.
* * *
16
Jingle Bells, Mademoiselle
The Princess
She stamps her foot and says, “I am here, and I will not be quiet.” She wishes her domain run with a certain discipline. A certain grace breezing across her lands (or at least her side of the bed.) She does not care for chores, especially doing dishes, and she doesn’t like to wake up early. But, of course, all princesses must stay humble by reminding themselves of how their citizens live (and so she does do laundry and wipes down surfaces and even cleans bathrooms, ugh.)
She is a gracious princess and hostess, however. Without that quality, she is nothing but a spoiled brat (and not the fun kind). She is a princess because of her state of being, not because she possesses wealth (although that often helps), but she does want to give (it’s just sometimes she still feels like Cinderella when she was the pauper, not the princess).
She tries her best to be a benevolent ruler, drawing people towards her with a natural charm. She may get impatient at times- even much of the time- but she mostly just wants people to be kind and loving and to stop fighting over Every. Single. Little. Thing. She has no time for drama, there are too many problems- not only of the world, but of her friends– in desperate need of attention.
* * *
The Little
She is a child at heart,but she is far more than that. She likes to wrap herself in warm blankets to be safe, and she carries her precious stuffed animal with her in public and pretends it is a mascot for her group or her daughter’s stuffed animal that she happens to be carrying, because, well, you know how kids are (in this way, nobody suspects what it means to her).
She needs to be reminded of what she has to do, but once she is told, she generally follows through. Except when she is tired or hungry or when she just doesn’t feel like doing something. She doesn’t color (not every little enjoys crayons), but she does love to make crafts and she sings songs to herself when she thinks nobody is listening (or when she feels safe).
