A Velvet Thought – Mistresses Musings: Fruit flies like a banana

When I started this blog on the 22nd November 2011, I never expected much from it. I had never been much of a ‘blogger’ and most of what I was doing back then remained invisible to anyone outside of my circle.

They say “Time flies like an arrow” (and “fruit flies like a banana”) and indeed it has; this past year (and a bit) has pretty much been a whirlwind farrago of kink.

In fact, the kink has been such a distraction that I had forgotten to create this post back in the November of 2012.

So here it is! Enjoy these moments when they happen because they do not happen often and it is better late than never.

I wish to send out heartfelt thankyou’s:

Firstly to my blog followers: 161 to date and steadily growing. You people are the lifeblood of this little nook of the web. Without you all, this place would die a pitiful death rather quickly. Thankyou for helping me to realise that doing this blog is not (and has not been) a waste of effort (and if you are not a follower, Why the hell not?).

To those who have commented on this blog: Comment and critique is always welcomed and appreciated. These are the things which offer possibilities to learn, grow, feel appreciated and even meet new acquaintances. Thankyou for having the courtesy to comment or the ‘balls’ to critique.

To those who have clicked the ‘Like’ button on any of my posts: It takes a matter of a second to click that button, and every time it is clicked I know that my efforts are being enjoyed by someone, somewhere on this wretched cesspool of a planet that we live on; Which is one of the reasons for doing this blog in the first place (I also get a warm fuzzy feeling every time I get that little resounding ‘ding’ that says someone has clicked the button. Think of clicking that button as flicking a nipple; it gives a wonderful, though short lived, little buzz of sensation which is highly addictive).

To those who have signed up to my Facebook fan page or following my Twitter by using the links through this blog: I am still (very slowly) starting to realise that for a lot of people, Facebook or Twitter are the only online social networks that they will ever choose to participate in. These social network sites would probably get more of my attention if I had more of a following on them or if they were not so mundane. It is a way to follow this blog without actually ‘following’ this blog, but it is still appreciated. I will do my best to make visits to these profiles more frequently, but in the meantime; thanks for the love.

To my partner: Who convinced me to start this thing in the first place. Love you baby. x

To my Benjamin: Without his help, support and encouragement, a very large portion of what has been written this past year would not have been written. It takes two to play and I am very lucky in that respect. Thankyou my sweet sweet Benjamin.

So, in summary: I plan to make this next years allotment of postings as entertaining as the last (moreso when possible) and hopefully I will get posts out on time in the future.

Feeling the eyes.

Whump, whump, whump, whump.

Time tends to slow down when you are in the moment. Everything seems to be in high definition and the only things that matter are the sensations. The sound and wind created by the dual floggers cutting through the air, the scent of sweat and leather, the feel of every impact sending vibrations through the body and the burn that penetrates every muscle from the exertion.

You can feel the eyes on you. The excitement in the air is like a drug. Addictive for an extrovert like myself.

With the beat of the music pumping through the club and influencing motion and impact, it swiftly turns into a dance. Erotic and sensual. This in turn attracts more eyes and the play becomes heavier. More visual. A performance to feed the spectators who are in turn feeding the extroverted desires.

By this point, the only way to stop the cycle is for the music to end. I am having too much fun.

Whump, whump, whump, whump.

With his arms raised and restrained to a Shibari ring that dangled from the ceiling, his back and shoulders are taking the majority of the beatings. Florentine style to be exact. Rash reddened and sore, he will bruise. But he too is being emotionally fed. Everyone is.

He raises his index fingers to the sky. Our prearranged signal that I am pushing beyond his threshold. I am oblivious to it. I know him and what he can take. The music had not stopped yet. He could endure. He ‘would’ endure. Limits are always best when at their extremities.

Now the thuds are louder than the music.

Whump… whump… whump… whump…

As the beat slows, so do the impacts. Breath is heavy. Sweat sheens the skin. The heat is comfortably uncomfortable as the world around phases back.

And then the music ends. I twirl the floggers to untangle them before clipping them to my waist. A spinning motion like a carousel. An elegant way to end. Aesthetically pleasing.

With a sure foot and gentle hip sway, I close the distance towards him to inspect the damage more closely. The skin looks tender. Tempting. Inviting. I gently run my claws down his neck and back. He shivers and groans at the sensation. A perfect finale.

With a short motion, I unclip his wrists and he slumps forward slightly. Drained. He turns, rests his head on my breast and I gently stroke the back of his neck. He had taken more punishment than originally intended. He deserved my gentler touch and aftercare. He had done exceedingly well.

Nothing needed to be said. Actions always speak far louder than any word. He attentively kissed my cheek. A “thank you”.

After a cigarette and a drink, maybe we would go at it again with a new song.

I do so love an audience.