~LAFF-CUE-ARCHIVE: sf-trip-7.Z
~Subject: Alex and Laylah's trip to SF - part 7 (March 16)

    General disclaimer: there may be a largish amount of material
not directly related to a.s.b, and what IS so related may be not to
your taste, as we do a large range of play, from the sweetest D/S
and spanking to cuts, burns, &tc - and I'm just describing what
actually happened.  Flames welcome, but I may well flame you
back...:-)

   I tried to remember to get permission from everybody we met to
mention them on a.s.b ... but forgot in a few cases... and didn't
keep written notes, so if you find yourself unexpectedly
unmentioned here, I apologize, but it must be one of the cases
about which I was uncertain - sorry!  Incidentally, if anybody
wonders whether it's all right to mention me and/or Laylah in posts
here, go ahead - blanket permission granted.

   These posts will be cut up at some compromise between reasonable
length and chronological boundaries.  As there's so much to relate,
I have not been editing as carefully as usual, so I apologize for
any errors!

    Tue, Mar 16

    I had half a mind to maybe get a real breakfast today as well
(my diet is suspended for the duration of the trip anyway), but
this is not to be... Laylah also wakes early, and, thinking we have
five minutes to spare, I ask her to check what we have spent so far
on this trip - we always do this every night when abroad, a habit
we got since before our honeymoon, but we neglected that in the
last few days (having several more alluring ways to spend our time
and energy, as you may recall from the previous posts of this
diary...:-), and I think it will indeed be a 5-minutes chore.

   Five minutes later, I am shocked - money has been pouring out of
our pockets (well, hers, mostly) in the last few days at "interest
on national debt" proportions... and we haven't even been making
any major purchases yet!  Alas, this leads to a long, protracted
and fruitless discussion, so long indeed that in the end I have to
rush out of the room and run, not walk, to Moscone Center, afraid
I'll be late for work, although this leaves Laylah still upset and
crying and substantial points unsolved...

   Fortunately, the short run in the fresh air clears my mind a
bit. The session hasn't started yet when I arrive, so I have time
to grab orange juice and a coffee and phone Laylah, who is still in
our room, for a resolution - I apologize and concede most of her
points: it was a mistake on my part to treat this trip just like
any other, from a point of view of expenses, when it's actually a
once-in-a-lifetime treat; anything we buy NOW will be a reminder
forever.  I feel she's getting better.  I also make a mental note
to cut down sharply on my own buying of books and CD's - though I
haven't started yet - to leave more space for her to stock up on
trinkets and clothing.

   Sigh.  You'd think such mundane traps and pitfalls could not
ensnare us any more, after all these years and the intensity of all
we've shared, and share, right?  Wrong.  It doesn't happen often,
and it's brief when it does, since it suffices for either of us to
come to hir senses for such stupid unhappiness to end - but it
still happens, and I'm more or less resigned for it to go on
happening forever.  Oh well.  Time to get to work now, and I never
let stray thoughts remain in the back of my mind and distract me
from whatever it is that I'm doing right here and now.

   A satisfying and productive workday, and then, back to our hotel
room.  Laylah and Cassandra aren't here yet, so I have time for a
nice long sensual hot shower, which washes away whatever dregs of
tiredness or sadness might remain, and by the time they arrive I'm
suited up again, very much in the mood.  I learn that STella and
her hubby wjr won't be able to be here early - pity, but it does
mean that we three can do some light playing before they arrive.

   Only it doesn't turn out to be so light, despite the limited
time we have.  I find myself in a clear and lucid top headspace;
Laylah is deeply happy and submissive.  Soon she repeats her
begging for one more mark for her spiral, "just one little burn,
please, oh please Master...".  I check with Cassandra: yes, she's
very much interested and curious to see how we go about it...

   We have no bonds here, but Cassandra offers to hold Laylah down
as I ask her to.  We're also badly fixed for a source of heat, and
for a metal tool to use, but we do have the bare necessities to
improvise these: a golden ring, to be held with a handkerchief, and
a Bic gas lighter's flame.  The latter is irregular and tricky to
use, but this isn't the first time I've made do with it.

   We all place ourselves on the big bed.  Another hankie goes
between Laylah's teeth, in lieu of gag - she's well practiced at
holding screams down, but will need some help for *this*.  I hold
the ring in the flame - the coolest part of it; I don't want to
overdo things!  I hold it a long time, to make it heat up
regularly, meanwhile speaking soothing words to Laylah in my best
deep baritone. Cassandra is holding her lightly, caressing her,
stroking her long strawberry-blonde curls.

   It's ready.  "Ready, Cassandra - hold her - now!", I say, and
with one smooth motion I bring the ring's flat, almost 2 by 1 cm,
heated gold surface in contact with my beloved's silken skin, right
on the spot where I want it, to continue the little spiral of marks
on her right flank.  I press down firmly, but not hard: I'll do a
fairly superficial burn, in proportion to the temperature to which
I have heated the metal.

   Laylah's muscles don't even tense, nor do her teeth clench on
the handkerchief in her mouth.  Hmmm, I've been a bit TOO mild,
maybe. Doesn't really matter, it will leave a nice little mark
anyway.

   But Laylah spits the hanky out and speaks - "Please - Master -
this was so light... has not this worthless slave deserved a REAL
mark...?".  I check her eyes' pupils - she's flying rather high. 
Yes, she can stand more, much more.  Shall I satisfy her craving? 
Why not!  She's perfect, as usual; I'm also in an excellent mood;
and Cassandra will be interested in seeing the two extremes of the
burns that can be done with these limited tools.  The first mark is
small and superficial enough that I can superimpose a second one
without risk... "OK, slave: you will be carrying this one for a
LONG time".  I put the hanky back between her teeth.

   I clean up the ring from the slight amount of soot it has picked
up (no pieces of burned skin; it *was* light), then I hold it right
on the tip of the flame for a while.  I can feel the difference
through the fabric I'm grasping it with...  "Cassandra, hold her
VERY tight... NOW!".

   I repeat my previous gesture, again bringing the heated ring
into contact with flesh, but this time the difference in effect is
dramatic.  Laylah's body buckles violently, despite Cassandra's
excellent hold, and her head jerks backwards, a deep, loud moan
escaping her throat despite her efforts and the makeshift gag.  I
did expect the sudden reaction, and I have no real trouble keeping
the position and the pressure of the metal steady.  I'm pushing
quite a bit stronger than before: this will be a far deeper mark.

   Laylah's body collapses soon to heaving and sobbing.  I'm still
keeping the ring there, for good measure, although it has probably
lost all heat by now.  Good, this will do; I remove the ring.  This
time it does have little pieces of burned skin on it.  The mark is
neat and satisfying, keeping for a brief moment the rectangular
shape of the metal it was done with - it will, of course, very soon
expand to a rather irregular "blob".

   I think Cassandra is worried for an instant, probably at the
difference between the first time and this one, but this soon
dissipates when she sees the effect this is having on Laylah. As
her teeth unclench from the gag, her mouth forms a heavenly smile;
as her eyes open, they stare right at mine, overflowing with love,
her pupils incredibly wide, black lakes of bliss.

   As Cassandra lets her go, Laylah grasps my left hand in both of
hers and brings it to her mouth, kissing it fervently, adoringly.
There is no need for words now; "good, GOOD slave" is all I choose
to say, putting the ring aside and grasping and caressing her hair
with my now free right hand.  "Thanks, o thanks, my Master, my
Lord", is the kiss-broken murmur from her lips.  We start hugging,
three-way, with Cassandra, all of us so moved that tears of love
and happiness come from our eyes.  It is a long, eternal moment.

    Afterwards.  We have just started arranging our clothing and
ourselves, when the room phone rings; STella and wjr are waiting
for us in the hall.  Soon we join them there, and greet and hug
them.  They know of a Mexican place near here, allegedly better
than Chevy's; we gladly agree to that, and start strolling towards
it, under a light, tepid rain, so sweet that we don't even bother
to open our umbrellas.

   Both I and Laylah have a long-time net.affair with STella, and
we'd really like to get to know wjr better too.  He's not very
chatty, nor very verbal in general - but he's gruff and sweet, coy
and strong, and a wellspring of sympathy.  I feel at once that this
man could become a REAL friend for me.

   We get to the restaurant.  I and STella are the only smokers,
and I join the others in outvoting her so we go sit in the
non-smoking section.  Hey, our right to poison ourselves must
definitely take second place to others' right not to be poisoned in
turn, right? Besides, this way we'll have an excuse to steal
outside together, I tell her in a theatrical aside with a broad
wink - and she laughs and agrees.  We're given a table in a neat
separe`.

   The food is, indeed, simply delicious, by far the best Mexican
fare I've eaten during this trip (I'm told that the restaurant we
went to last Sunday is even better, but I didn't have much of an
appetite that evening).  The conversation turns to parties and
other play opportunities: I and Laylah have promised STella to mark
a star on her body, but when shall we have a chance to do that?

   It doesn't look very promising: a party that was scheduled next
Friday for Charles Haines' birthday won't take place, and it looks
quite possible that there will be no party at all before we leave.
Well, we can always meet privately, but I really wanted the loving,
supportive atmosphere of a group of friends to help us through that
ritual...

   Unexpectedly, wjr speaks up.  "I... I do want it VERY much that
there be a party for Alex and Laylah!  Since nothing else seems
possible, I can make order in our house, make it ready to host a
little party... not in time for Friday, but maybe by Saturday
night...".  STella and Cassandra look at him, unbelieving.  We're
told STella's and wjr's house is proverbially cluttered, so much so
that offering to put it in order for a party is something between
heroical and foolhardy... but wjr insists.  And STella soon agrees
and also volunteers to help.  I see Cassandra still doubtful that
they can make it with just four days of work, but we do arrange for
the party, tentatively, to take place on Saturday night.

   He clams back to his usual smiling silence after that, but I
look deep into his smiling eyes.  This is not just a friend - this
is a brother; I can hardly doubt this - but, why...?

   And in a wordless flash it comes to me: I know, now, whence
springs the soul-brotherhood that I and wjr are clearly feeling for
each other, despite the many macroscopic differences between us -
me always so wordy, he so silent, and so on.

   Deep in his soul, like deep in mine, lies - I suddenly
understand and perceive, through his shyness and his gentle quiet
smiles - a hard, dark core of violence, or maybe more precisely, of
anger, of rage, of fury.  It's little use to suppress it, to hide
it: it will well out.

   Some endeavour to transform it into something completely
different, sublimating it into raw energy.  Me, I have learned to
accept, cherish, and _use_ it instead - rather than letting it use
me:  like other emotions and features of our minds, it's often a
useful servant, although always a dangerous master.

   I don't know if wjr also has learned this acceptance and
control, I don't even know how clearly he realizes it himself, but
I'm sure this is the soul-bond between us.

   I soon get a chance to check verbally on this intuition, with
STella as we smoke a cigarette just out of the restaurant's door:
yes, wjr _is_ like me in this; yes, he _is_ learning to accept and
control this; and, yes, he _has_ read some crucial posts of mine,
ones where I tore open the flesh of my breast to bare my heart to
all, and they _have_ been of some help to him on this.  My cup
runneth over... this knowledge pays me back of all the time and
energy I have ever expended to post to the net, if such a payback
was needed.

   It's with such a joy-filled heart that I stroll back to our
hotel with the others, that I don't even recall if the Father Sky
is still sending the Mother Earth His tender kisses-raindrops. 
Euphoria seems to be permeating all of us - we all laugh and hug
all the way.

   Cassandra must soon leave, and we get up to our room with STella
and wjr.  STella has a present for us: a sort of short whip she has
invented. It's built out of a several loops of a sort of "brass
cord", made up of little metal balls connected in a thread.  This
sort of cord, she explains to us, is sold in hardware stores; she
shows us how to shape it properly, winding the loops, cutting the
excess cord with a nailtrimmer, and fashioning a neat handle and
keeping it all together with cotton thread (she's using red and
blue thread, I guess in our honour since these are Bologna's
colours).  She takes very few minutes, although I'm not sure I
could duplicate it. STella, dearest, you really must post a more
coherent explanation: it's really *such* a wonderful toy!!!

   This is a toy of total *thud* - no sting at all.  It must be
used *strictly* on muscles and fat _only_: hitting a joint or bone
would be very risky, and could damage or even break it.  But on fat
or muscles, STella explains to us, it causes a thuddy pain which
sinks very deep, hardly affecting the skin at all.

   My eyes shimmer at the thought... as I accept the completed toy,
I ask STella to try it out on me first.  She graciously accepts,
and I bare my buttocks and offer them (buttocks being by far the
safest target for this).  She expertly demonstrates, and the novel
sensation is just about to propel me to orbit when Laylah comments
that I've had my turn now, that she thinks she's understood proper
hitting technique with this new toy, and would like to try it out
- on STella, so she can critique and correct her technique.

   STella enthusiastically agrees (darn!), and suggests her
well-padded arm as a target, so she can visually check too.  I soon
find myself witnessing Laylah beating STella's arms - it barely
gets pink on the surface, but, as she explains, it rapidly gets
sore deeper down. At the end I'm asked to try my hand at the new
toy too, but I'm still halfway in bottom-space (is there a "beating
interruptus" equivalent to "coitus interruptus"?-), and it isn't
hard at all anyway, so I limit myself to a few strokes (STella
seems quite satisfied anyway).

   My deliciously clever sweetheart has managed to set things up so
that her own beatings now come naturally as the "piece de
resistance"... just to complete things between she, me, and STella,
you understand! (wjr is clearly happy to be with us, but just as
clearly does not want to play himself tonight; he looks a bit
tired).  Not surprisingly, Laylah is soon bare-buttocks and lying
face down on the bed.  I hit her a couple of times, almost
symbolically, and then hand over the "thud-toy" to STella, who
appears to be very much charged and ready to give Laylah all she
can take...

   ...which turns out to be suprisingly much!  On most whippings,
I would describe my beloved as a "medium-light" bottom - she marks
fast, she is extremely sensitive, and the amount and strength of
beatings which she can accept with pleasure is not very high
(although she will accept more in a "submission" mood at times,
more or less in the spirit in which I accept the knife, say).  But
it seems all this comes mainly from the exceptional sensibility of
her *skin*, since here, where the skin is hardly affected, she
keeps going "green!" and "yes yes yes!" until she utterly exits
verbal space...  STella looks at me wordlessly at this point, the
evident question in her eyes being, how is she, shall I go on?  I
check my beloved, and I know her enough to understand that she is
just swell, without needing to drag her back to words...  I answer
with a thumbs-up sign - and STella goes on.

   So it turns out to be a rather heavy beating overall, and seeing
my wonderful wife so happy and sensually aroused is enough to shake
me out of that sense of "grumble, grumble, I should have been hit
more!" which I had briefly let come over me.

   We must also finish negotiating all details regarding the stars
which we have promised to mark on STella at the forthcoming party. 
Laylah demurs from her original idea of a brand - she doesn't feel
prepared - and suggests that, rather, we could do a single star
between the two of us, cutting it with heated knives, as I had
originally proposed.

   STella accepts, as long as we make the star bigger, to
compensate.  We discuss dimensions and places, and finally I draw
the star with a pen on her thigh to make sure we agree exactly - we
do.  I draw a five-pointed pentacle, a shape which is very
meaningful to me, and one whose magical implications I well know
how to master:  actually, I *think* I could handle a six-pointed
star as well, since I understand it so much better after tonight's
powerful intuition, but it's still subtler and trickier - no reason
to run any risk.

   STella now explains to us again the significance for her of
burning pain, and how it came to be and why it's a limit for her,
and how she's frightened at the prospect but is asking our help to
overcome that limit.  We understand perfectly, and I also know how
to help her avoid any anguish of anticipation between now and
Saturday: I explain a few of the many facets and implications of
cutting with a hot blade, then I ask for Laylah's cooperation, heat
my pocket knife's blade on my lighter, and add a short burn-cut to
the many other marks which form a spiral on her right flank.  I see
STella witnessing the joy this gives Laylah, and her anxiety
diminishing, as I had hoped.  Finally, we agree that STella will
find a brazier, and a balsa-cutter with light, sharp throw-away
blades.

    It's been a wonderful evening, and it's a bit late when we say
goodnight and arrivederci to STella and wjr.  We're both charged
with wonderful energy, though, and what with one thing and another
we still haven't made love since we arrived here in California, so
we remedy that sweetly and languidly, letting our bodies pace
themselves to a climax rather than controlling and pushing the flow
of pleasure as we often do when more rested - and we slip from
orgasm right into sleep, a natural and very pleasant transition.

    Alex