50 Freaks 2016, Part 2
Upon further communications in social media, I’ve discovered there was indeed some sort of plague going around Vegas. With John and myself included, so far I’ve numbered seventeen people who are sick. Fascinating.
Friday morning, I got a text from SC, asking if we’d like to join her group for breakfast. She was rooming with her guy (I’ll refer to him as E for Englishman), Alex, another Alex (known as The Bad Alex), and one more woman whose scene name I don’t know so I will call her A, and the five of them had gone to a nearby restaurant. John Googled the address, but it was still hard to find, not knowing the area, and we took a while to get there. But once we did, it was definitely worth the effort! I love shared meals at these gatherings, where people are relaxed, happy, not in play mode, just kicking back and enjoying with friends. E & SC had to leave early because they were scheduled to do a straight-razor shaving demo (and no, we aren’t talking about E’s face), so A left with them while John and I lingered with the two Alexes. We caught the end of the demo, but discreetly positioned ourselves in back of SC so we couldn’t see anything. We adore our friend, but didn’t find it necessary to view her quite so intimately!! (I think she appreciated that. When John commented afterward that we’d seated ourselves out of the line of vision, she cracked something along the lines of, “Good, so I don’t have to avoid looking you in the eye for the rest of the weekend?”)
We hung out in the suite into the afternoon, and I did a scene with Tom from Chicago. After a lot of chatting and mingling, it was nap time. On Friday evening, a portion of our group was going to Caesar’s Palace to ride on the giant Ferris Wheel that overlooks the city, in a pod that Joe had rented for a half hour. Spanking was allowed, but skirts were to remain down and panties were to remain up, Joe was firmly informed. Afterward, people were going to hang out on the strip, have dinner, whatever. So John and I knew that Friday night we’d be on our own. I think that’s where I first had that disconnected feeling. In fact, I ended going back to our room for a while, feeling teary-eyed and at loose ends, wanting to play but not wanting to ask people, wanting to chat and yet not feeling like it. So silly, and such a waste of perfectly good party time. But it happens. Emotions run high at these events.
With John’s help, I picked myself back up and went back to the suite, and when people started coming back from the Caesar’s event, the party livened back up. I sat at the bar talking with R — I’d taken my glasses off and had them perched on my leg. He picked them up and began cleaning them, lecturing me on how dirty they were. Well! One thing led to another and we ended up doing our second scene. This one was quite lively — he then complained because he could see the tag in my panties. “You don’t like my glasses! You don’t like the tag in my pantie! Anything else?” I snarked. “Why don’t you just rip it out with your teeth if it bothers you so much?” “I would if I could!” he retorted. When he thought we were done, he said, “OK, up you go, kiddo.” No way! “What, that’s it?” I blurted for the second time that weekend. “Lightweight!” Accepting the challenge, he gave me more. Good.
From what I hear, after he got me, R went on to spank both SC and Alex in succession. I’d been telling them how much fun he was to play with, and this was the first time for them both. I didn’t see Alex afterward, but I watched as SC came staggering out of the bedroom with her hair disheveled (he likes to run his hand through hair, it seems), and the look on her face was one I will forever think of as “the after-R face.” Yes, she was pleased.
Soon after that, there was quite the free-for-all scene going on in one of the bedrooms with Alex, Adriana (Evans) and Fun Allowed. Adriana was sprawled face down on the bed, with FA whaling on her bare bottom, while Alex knelt on the carpet at her side, wielding a ginormous Hitachi wand. R and I joined in, sort of — he held down one of her legs, and I sat on the bed at her head, acting as a bumper to keep her from sliding forward as she writhed around. I stroked her hair while she reacted most vociferously to the Hitachi, over and over again. And if I had one picture, it would be of Alex’s face as she gleefully tortured Adriana — how does such a sweet girl look so diabolical?? 😀 I know there were pictures taken of this, but I haven’t seen any turn up yet. Oh, and a side note: While all this extreme hotness was exploding, what did R notice? That the Hitachi wand cord had a knot in it. LOL! Is someone just a wee bit OCD?
The night went on, and at 2:20 a.m., I was deep in conversation with The Artist Formerly Known As Ralph Marvell (AKA Tall & Strict on FetLife). As we chatted, Joe approached and said, “Erica! We had a 2:20 appointment!” I blinked, at a loss for words temporarily, and John chimed in with, “Yeah, honey! I told you about that!” Oh, sure he did. Well, who was I to argue — it was two against one, after all. “To be continued?” I said to T&S, and he agreed.
As it had been in the past few parties, the St. Andrew’s cross was up against the wall. I played on it last Shadow Lane, in an attempt to dispel the bad memory I had of a cross scene many years ago, and it helped. So when Joe suggested we switch things up a bit and try the cross, I was game. I needed to do something bold and different, get out of my head, with a trusted partner. This was it.
I took off my dress and stood at the cross in a brief thong and my bra, my hands gripping the upper part of the X, my back arched. I didn’t know what Joe was going to use, and I didn’t care. If I may, I need to stop for a moment and express just how much of a pleasure it is to know that a top is so good, so conscientious, that I can trust him with anything in his hands and know I can relax, carefree, fully into the scene. Only a select few can go there with me. Once we started, I closed my eyes and hunkered down for the ride.
The scene is a blur. All I remember is Joe’s hard hand, then a very hard strap, and some guttural moaning coming from somewhere. Oh, wait. That was me. More. More. Give me more. I want this. I didn’t care that it was only Friday night. It was Joe. It was OK. All was good. I felt him checking in, testing my skin, pressing his hand into me. I gave myself over to him. I think he ended the scene when he saw that my legs had begun to shake and was concerned that they might buckle.
He gently took me out of position, sat down with me in a nearby chair and held me in his lap while I shook all over and gasped for breath. I made him laugh when my first coherent words were “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“I’ve never heard you growl before,” he grinned. Somehow, with his help, I managed to stumble over to the couch and collapse on top of both John and T&S, and Joe brought me a blanket and a bottle of water. I was toast. Friday was done.
When I went to the bathroom to take a look, I did a double take. That couldn’t be me. I was marked. Not in weird spot off to the side or down below, but on my butt proper, both cheeks, fully marked. Holy crap. I couldn’t believe it. I had John take a picture, back in our room. For those who don’t like seeing marked bottoms, you might want to scan past this.
I know. It was Friday night, with two more nights ahead. How do I explain that I was OK with this? I can’t. I just know that because it was Joe, and because I love him and trust him, that this was good. I wanted it. From a casual play partner, no. From a stranger playing with me for the first time? Hell no! But from a friend, a top of Joe’s caliber? Yes. I told him, “Joe, I don’t care if I don’t play for the rest of the party; this is the weekend scene for me.” And I meant it. My head space had been all in turmoil; now I was calm. Now I was fully invested in the party. (And of course, I did play again over the next couple of days. What am I, an amateur? 😉 )
Even if you don’t like marks, you have to give credit to his flawless precision. Not one stroke out of bounds — nothing too high or too how, no wrapping. Equal attention to both cheeks. It doesn’t get any more perfect, kids. And no, I’m not talking about my butt. I’m talking about a top’s handiwork.
John put me to bed with ice packs and we went to sleep around 4:00, I think? And now I’m fading again. Damn this illness. But I should get some work done anyway, before my brain completely disintegrates for the day.
Part 3 coming soon.