The play party went well. 🙂
The Doll had told me ahead of time what he was going to wear, but ended up arriving with a small selection of tops and shoes and asked me to choose which items he should wear with his long black PVC hobble skirt. Yay – I like having my opinion asked! I ended up choosing a black-and-red latex t-shirt and red spike heels and was about to indicate where the bathroom was so he could change, but The Doll just started stripping down right there in the living room. Which gave me simultaneous feelings of “Ooooh…I get to sit fully clothed on the couch and watch him strip and then put on clothes I chose” but also “Eeeeek I’m not sure I’m ready to see this boy mostly-naked!”
But the too-much-nudity issue ended up being moot because underneath his unflattering pleated work pants The Doll was already wearing black latex leggings. My heart may have skipped a beat. 🙂
Once he’d donned my chosen outfit (with a bit of my help when the shirt got all caught up on his shoulderblades), it struck me that the shirt was not as form-fitting as I might have hoped (though I didn’t say this out loud) so I had him add the corset he’d brought as well, to cinch things in a bit. And can I just say, when The Doll wears a corset he doesn’t fuck around. He laced it tight and when he was finished his waist had an hourglass curve I wouldn’t have believed possible. Remember, he’s painfully thin to start with – 6′ and 125lbs. It’s not like he has any fat he can just smush inward. He must’ve displaced all his organs.
So I may have spent a certain amount of time running my hands up and down this new curve in his waist. And kissing him. And smacking his ass, whose layers of latex and PVC magnified the slapping sound quite pleasingly. And walking around to the back of him so I could throw an arm around his chest, yank him back against my body, bite his neck and hump his ass.
Oh – I forgot to mention – on our first bunch of dates, The Doll had facial hair (a neatly trimmed moustache and beard but with a stripe shaved down the middle of his chin…if there’s a name for that I don’t know what it is). I thought the facefur looked decent on him – obviously it’s not a dealbreaker for me or anything – but on Play Party Night he showed up cleanshaven and OMG TEH CUTENESS. Big spike in attraction levels. I couldn’t stop kissing and touching his face.
Also! I asked him what sort of play he and his (male) friend would get up to that night; turns out the friend wouldn’t be at the party, after all. But I’m still curious about the fact that he plays with other boys, and asked him questions about his experiences and headspace to try to figure out where he was coming from. At one point I was like “would you ever do anything overtly sexual with a guy during a scene? Like would you give fellatio, for instance?” and he looked at me with an expression of vague surprise, like it was a strange question for me to be asking, and said mildly, “I have given fellatio.”
And I giggled like an idiot for about five minutes, only barely managing to choke out a “Tee hee hee sorry what you said is so hot that my brain doesn’t know how to process it tee hee.” He didn’t seem offended or freaked out by my giggle-reflex, so that’s good.
I really love how comfortable he is with his kinks. I asked if he spits or swallows and he said “I’ve swallowed in the past when I was asked to. It wasn’t terribly enjoyable, but not the end of the world, either.” I asked if he can deep throat and he thought about it and said “Not very well.” And, I mean, his tone was just so matter-of-fact, filled neither with bravado nor defensiveness. I can’t even tell you how fucking hot that is.
Speaking of the hotness of quiet self-confidence, I also love The Doll’s effortless acceptance that I find him attractive. A lot of not-conventionally-attractive guys aren’t used to receiving compliments or being thought of as sexy, and will interpret my attentions as mockery. The Doll did not. He completely trusted that my feelings are what I say they are, and loved being ogled.
Meanwhile, I was still in my pink cupcake pyjamas, so I ducked into the bedroom to change. If anyone cares, I wore a close-fitting sleeveless velvet minidress, black, with little silver studs around the neck and arm-holes. I spontaneously added a red PVC corset overtop so The Doll and I would have matching colours. No hosiery of any kind. Black PVC combat-style boots.
I’d been worried about The Doll getting harassed on public transit, but I forgot that his winter coat is one of those long wool(?) overcoat things. Once he was in his coat and fedora he mostly gave the impression of being manly in a classic/retro way – unless you noticed the bondage collar visible at his throat or his bright red stilettos (and from what I can tell, most people didn’t). Which, again – hot as all hell.
Somehow, he managed to hobble down the two flights of stairs to the street and then geisha-step his way to the bus stop. While we waited for the bus, I explained to him that my social anxiety makes new places look confusing and chaotic at first and it would be good if we could stand in some unobtrusive place for bit while I got my bearings – especially if The Doll could kind of narrate the layout of the venue for me (since he’d been there before). I hate letting people know just how fucked up I am (especially since Minx made his disdain for my anxiety disorders pretty clear at times) and my voice was all squeaky and shaky as I explained things. When The Doll smiled and assured me that he’d help me, I damn near burst into tears…but managed to just say thank you and give him some kisses instead.
And indeed, when we got there The Doll did exactly what I asked – led me to a quiet spot and pointed out where everything was. The venue was much smaller than I’d pictured…when someone says the word “dungeon” I think of an enormous gymnasium-like space, but no. So it didn’t take long for the space to stop being a hellish wonky funhouse-mirror land and start being a structure that stayed constant and obeyed the laws of physics and stuff.
There were a couple of vendors selling floggers and rope and stuff in case people needed it for play, so The Doll and I checked them out. Then we just stood around talking for awhile. Nothing insanely sexy or special – I think we were discussing character development in Terry Pratchett books for quite some time – but The Doll’s eyes started getting all steamy and infatuated as though I were saying the most brilliant and endearing things ever. I do love when a boy looks at me that way. 🙂
At length, one of the crowded leather couches miraculously became free and I quickly claimed one end of it for our own. The Doll was happy to get off his killer high heels for a while. We talked some more, and then he began to caress one of my bare arms. It felt so good that I didn’t want to stop him, and yet I didn’t want to make a public spectacle of myself; I managed to keep my moans to a minimum by focusing on my breathing and squeezing The Doll’s thigh really hard when the sensations got intense.* I leaned my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes; the crowd-noise around me receded and was replaced by the sound of my breathing, a deliberately slow and deep in-out that occasionally degenerated into a gasp. I felt The Doll’s fingertips drawing delicate loops all up and down my arms. I felt my right hand kneading his thigh and my back rhythmically arching. Nothing else existed.
After I’m-not-sure-how-long, I remembered that we were in public and I forced myself to open my eyes. Some people had sat down on the other end of the couch and were talking animatedly to each other. On my other side, a woman knelt on the floor while a guy clinically and meticulously tied her arms in an uncomfortable-looking position behind her back.
The Doll put his fingers lightly on my chin, turning my head for a kiss, which I gladly gave him. And then another kiss and another and somehow I just didn’t stop after a few like I was planning to. So much for proper public etiquette; hopefully it’s not as gauche to make out at a play party as it is in, like, the grocery checkout line. I don’t really know.
The Doll has gotten better at kissing, or maybe I’m just enjoying how smooth his lips are without the moustache, or both…all I know is that we ended up making out for…I would guess a minimum of twenty minutes. Possibly as long as forty. And although we did nothing but kiss (and caress each other a bit, over the clothes, in totally PG-rated places) I still felt afterward as though I’d been wildly indecent because I just got so lost in it.
Waves of intensity moved through me as we kissed, each wave starting slow and gentle and then culminating in me feeling more and more dominant and feisty, biting his mouth and pulling his hair and squeezing his throat in my hand just enough to let him know I was there, feeling his moans vibrate against my palm…and then the wave would break, giving way to gentle sweet kisses and perhaps a brief moment of us moving apart, all disheveled and grinning at each other and trying to collect ourselves**…and then somehow we’d be kissing some more and the whole cycle would begin again.
At one point The Doll broke away, looked up at me, and whispered that he was my boy and my doll and my pet – I can’t even remember if I replied. I think I might have been too overwhelmed. He was giving off the most deliciously submissive energy – a vibe that says “I exist only to please you” – I’ve played with (alleged) submissive guys before and never felt someone yield like that. I was high on it. I felt like my insides were both melting and on fire. And The Doll rode each wave of tenderness and violence as it passed through me, seeming somehow to enjoy it equally when I got rough with him and when I pulled back and was gentle. He continued brushing his fingertips in swirls over my arms and whatever he could reach of my legs without actually going under my skirt.
I just…this has got to be in the top ten makeout sessions of my entire life. Possibly #1. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
Eventually, the makeouts seemed to wind to a close of their own accord – probably because I desperately wanted to take them further, but not in public – so I suggested we leave. By the time we got back to my place, my libido had cooled enough that I didn’t jump him, after all (and I’m glad; it feels like too soon to have sex with him, or even be naked with him. If it had happened, I might have enjoyed it at the time but I think I would’ve felt pretty weird afterward). I suspect The Doll doesn’t want to take things too far yet, either, which is why we both made out with such gusto at the play party where things couldn’t go further, but then became a bit more reserved once we were in private again.
We did kiss a tiny bit, and I put my still-cold-from-outside hands up under his shirt (which, you’ll remember, is latex and had kept him toasty warm and mildly sweaty) and he shrieked in a pretty entertaining way.
And also, because I’ve had so many ridiculous experiences*** with “submissive” men and need a lot of reassurance now, I strove to get an actual confession from him, in words, that the BDSM stuff we’ve been doing is indeed okay with him and he’s not humouring me and/or secretly feeling like I’m being presumptuous or whatever.
I couldn’t bring myself to lead with a bunch of emotional baggage and earnestness. That would’ve made me feel way too vulnerable. I just said “So…it seems like we’re on the same page so far with the BDSM stuff…? The biting and roughhousing and everything…?” He responded that he’s been enjoying it. I said something like “Good, I’m glad – I’ve had some experiences where people claimed to be into the same things as me, but got freaked out and bailed when things actually happened. So, I’m kind of cautious about sharing my kinks with people at this point. But I want to! And as I become more comfortable with you, things will eventually kind of unfurl.”
To which The Doll replied something like “I’m not in any hurry. It’s a process, right? We’ll explore things a little bit at a time, and whatever seems to work for us, we’ll do more of.” And suddenly I realized for the first time how pressured subs usually make me feel – like they don’t believe I’m really dominant and they’re waiting for me to “prove” it to them by doing something super extreme and kinky and badass. I guess I’ve been simultaneously terrified of showing my kinks to The Doll in case he rejected me and terrified of going too slowly in case he dubbed me a “fake” and lost interest. His little speech about not being in a hurry is, without a doubt, one of the best things a partner has ever said to me.
Previous subs have also pressured me by trying to top from the bottom and push makeouts into sex – it’s like there’s this constant tension between what they want and what I want. So far, there’s none of that push/pull with The Doll. This is going exactly the way I’ve always believed it should – I get an idea of what he likes ahead of time, then do whichever of those things would please me, and he just goes with the flow without trying to fucking steer all the time. It’s lovely.
Another example of non-pressure: the day after the play party I was still all buzzy from the making out, and spontaneously texted The Doll with:
Your fingers and mouth are made of MAGIC. Just sayin’.
Within four minutes he texted back,
-blushes furiously- Thank you, Miss Cowgirl. I am pleased to have been of service.
At first I felt a brief twinge of disappointment that he didn’t give me any sort of compliment in return. Then I had the huge epiphany that what he actually said is way more awesome than any compliment on my kissing skills. He’s tacitly telling me that it’s not his place to judge what I do or how; he exists to do things for me, not the other way around. A compliment implies a critique – maybe a good critique, but a critique nonetheless – and that is not his place.
…This boy may be my perfect submissive.
*A note to anyone who’s not a regular reader here: my skin is stupid-sensitive and if you lightly draw circles on the inside of my elbow it feels like my arm is having multiple orgasms.
**In one of these troughs I seem to recall whispering goddammit you fucking bastard you’re killing me, or something similar…
***Experiences like various newbie subs insisting I could “do whatever I wanted” to them but then getting all weirded out by me doing basically the same mild dominant sadism makeouts I did with The Doll; and also experiences like Minx not letting me do that stuff at all because he had an irrational fear that I’d lose control and cross the line into abuse. Also, [vanilla] ex-boyfriends who made fun of any lusty behaviour I ever displayed and acted as though my sex drive was this hilarious, pathetic aberration – which to this day makes me feel like I’m opening myself up to ridicule any time I get really turned on with a guy.