~LAFF-CUE-ARCHIVE: sf-trip-8.Z
~Subject: Alex and Laylah's trip to SF - part 8 (March 17)

    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!

    Wed, Mar 17

    The trade-fair portion of Uniforum starts today, and technical
sessions continue, so I'll have to start juggling things around to
be able to catch both.  I wake and leave early, leaving my beloved
still slumbering, to beat the crowd at the queue for the conference
proceedings handout; this leaves me time to thumb through the
proceedings book, noticing what papers missed the deadline and
aren't in it, so I can make sure to be at the appropriate sessions
to pick them up - there aren't many, this is, as always, a well
organized event.  Big scoop of the day is the COSE announcement,
maybe the last chance of the Unix industry to beat back the NT
threat, but none of the booths of the many participants has any
handouts or further details on that, yet - one more thing I'll have
to make sure and pick up in the next days.  There's still a highish
amount of chaos at the fair - apparently it hasn't yet recovered
fully from the effects of last weekend's East Coast blizzards, and
the canceled and delayed flights they caused.

   Lunchtime.  I have an appointment with Kayvan Silvan, and go
wait for him outside: he arrives in his car, and I hop in.  We had
never met yet, except a fleeting contact at the party last Friday
night, but we've been feeling very close to each other from net
contact for a while, so it's nice to have a chance to chat and see
each other.  I'm struck at once by one more similarity, one I've
never seen him admit on the net (sorry to out you, Kayvan
dear...:-): he's ALSO wearing a beautiful blue suit of Italian
make, just like mine.  A-ha!

   He proves to be an inspired and lucky parking-place-seeker,
finding an excellent street parking spot nearby (a super-human
accomplishment!), and we walk, arms on shoulders, back to my hotel,
to wait for Laylah, Onyx and Gus, who have been spending the
morning together. While waiting, we talk densely and deeply of many
things we share, and many more about which we could learn from each
other; time flies, and soon they arrive.  Kayvan and Onyx and Gus
know each other well, and greet warmly.  Onyx and Gus have had a
large breakfast, and feel a bit tired, so they prefer to skip lunch
and stay in the hotel room to rest, while Kayvan and Laylah and I
go out for a byte.

   We find a nice coffee-shop on Market St, and get tea, coffees,
juice and sandwiches, deciding to sit down and eat them there
rather than while walking back to Moscone Center (there would be
*two* nice suits at risk otherwise, after all:-).  I see Kayvan and
Laylah strike up an excellent rapport right off the bat - stands to
reason, after all her right thigh is still swollen and painful
partly from his own attentions last Friday... we agree that we'll
definitely meet tomorrow night at the 'munch, so I and Laylah can
meet his wife and kids, and then again, we all hope, at STella's on
Saturday (although he, too, seems hard put to believe that STella's
place can be made fit for a party in just a few days).

   Time for me to rush back to work, but Kayvan decides to walk
back with Laylah to the hotel instead, and he'll get to Uniforum
later. I leave him with a few tips about the hottest "must-see"'s
there, and we part with big hugs.

   Things are a bit less hectic in the afternoon, which proves very
productive.  I get back to the hotel a bit late, expecting to find
there Laylah, Onyx and Gus tired but happy from an afternoon of
play.

   Wrong - poor Gus isn't there, he's had to rush to recover his
car, which has probably been towed away; Onyx is extremely worried
and anxious, quite understandably since her notebook computer was
in the car with much material of her new novel, and we aren't even
sure that the car WAS towed away - it could have been stolen, for
all we know.  Laylah has apparently been trying to soothe her, but
not with much success.

   I bend myself to the same task, soon hitting upon the right way
to do it: have her talk about her writing.  It IS a very
interesting subject in any case, but, in particular, one that no
author can ever resist...

   I have finished reading her story in the magazine she gave us
last weekend, and we soon lose ourselves in details about what she
meant in it by this and that, how others interpreted it instead,
how and why the plot took that particular turn, and so on.  Soon I
see her eyes shining and some colour back on her cheeks... 
Meanwhile, Laylah is also finishing reading that story, and also
shows enthusiasm for it.

   Finally Gus phones: yes, the car had been towed away, and yes,
everything is still in it undamaged (the computer in particular);
he has paid up, and will now be driving back here.  A big
collective sigh of relief leaves our chests!  We continue our
discussion about Onyx's work, her new novel in particular, but now
healthy amounts of reciprocal flirting are mixed in it.

   Gus soon arrives, and we still have time before Cassandra is due
to come pick up Laylah (they'll be spending the evening dining,
then going for a sauna, with a group of women), so, of course, we
start playing.  From a sort of joking challenge, it turns into a
session of Gus topping all three of us at once... challenging
indeed, but, as I expected, Gus is well up to it - at least as I
and Laylah judge the scene; he makes us three lie face-down on the
bed, holding each other, in various states of nakedness (Onyx won't
remove her green panties - she claims that she _must_ be wearing
something green on St Patrick's day!), and he does his impressive
best, alternating several whips, to make sure none of us feels
neglected.  I finally get to feel the little soft black velvet whip
I bought last Saturday as wielded by Gus, and I was right: he
_does_ manage to make it hit quite hard, with full use of
wrap-around effects and that whirling "machete technique" of his!

   Apparently Onyx does not appreciate it as much as we do, since
she calls herself out after a while.  She doesn't safeword,
actually - she just informs us all that it's not doing much for
her, and turns around to lie face up, propping her head on the
cushions to stare at Gus rather defiantly.  Gus does try to help
her back to submission, with a few stinging blows to the front of
her thighs that make *me* wince, but, although each lash leaves an
angry red mark on her pale skin, and tears stream down her face,
her expression veers towards defiance even more.

   Gus quite wisely judges there's no time right now to handle
that, and concentrates on Laylah instead - she's visibly in orbit
and oblivious to other things, wriggling her delectable body
enticingly, and murmuring endless throaty renditions of the word
"yes", punctuated with not a few "aaaah" and moans - a little bit
more attention from our top's loving whip and soon she'll reach
some sort of apex.

   I take advantage of the fact to start flirting with Onyx,
murmuring sweet nothings in her ears and turning my perfunctory
"hold" on her (she's let go of both me and Laylah when she's turned
around) into light caresses and tender hand holding.  She doesn't
respond explicitly at first, not speaking to me and keeping her
gaze on Gus, but I can at once feel her body relaxing, her muscles
unclenching a bit, so I patiently continue, adding soft
lips-brushing almost-kisses to her neck, and am soon rewarded by
her smile and a softening of the expression in her eyes as she
looks at me.

   Gus does manage to push Laylah onto some splendid plateau of
pleasure, although not to a full orgasm (an orgasm purely from
whipping is of course a rare event anyway), and the scene is just
about over as we start relaxing, then making ourselves more
presentable.

   Cassandra arrives, and she and Laylah leave, while I and Onyx
and Gus decide to stroll to a burger place and take dinner up to
our hotel room again.  There's a soft, gentle rain, rather colder
than yesterday but still very sweet, and I appreciate the break,
and the refreshing wet kiss of the tiny raindrops, which help me
clear my mind and do a rather thorough switch from bottom to top
headspace - we have negotiated that tonight I and Gus will
cooperate in topping Onyx, and I very much want to be at my best;
it may well be my last occasion to play with them for a very long
while, as the Burgermunch will occupy tomorrow evening, and come
Friday they might have already left for the long trip back home.

   Back in the hotel, we negotiate details as we munch our burgers.
Onyx is very quiet; I think she's just getting turned on by
listening at two tops discussing what to do with her as if she
wasn't there... and this is helping her get into submissive
headspace ahead of scene, for a change.  I know she finds it
somewhat hard to talk about scenes in explicit and graphic detail,
but I've noticed that listening to such talk by others does wonders
for her, particularly when she's involved in the talked-about
scene!

   By now I'm not worried any more by her lack of input in our
toppish conversation, for several reasons.  I have learned a little
about her body language, enough to gauge something about what is or
isn't working for her; I have seen that she *is* strong enough,
physically and emotionally, to take a LOT of pain and enjoy it, at
least in its submission aspects even if the raw sensual input
shouldn't happen to be to her taste; moreover, this afternoon I
have seen she is perfectly able to communicate when things aren't
working overall.

   Besides, I feel pretty sure that much of what Gus is telling me
about the forthcoming scene's details reflects his perception of
her tastes, and of course he knows her well - and I trust his
judgment a lot; he may not be a very experienced top on some
absolute scale, but he's a fast learner, he cares for her
enormously, and he's "a natural" at topping, a real inborn talent.

   Which is all to the good, because it means we can let her drink
deep of her own submission to us, which is very much her bottoming
style.  When brought into this ideal headspace, she's the kind of
bottom who, when asked about what she would like, tends to respond
"Whatever pleases you, Master" - and MEAN it.  It's really awesome
to witness her making such a total gift of herself, well worth
whatever difficulty there may be in bringing her to that point in
the first place, well worth the amount of responsibility that such
totality does of course place upon the top's shoulders.  Oh, how I
love this wonderful woman!

   We unclothe her, collar her, gag her (her safeword, I think as
a standing agreement with Gus, is a certain rhythmic pattern of
moans), bind her long straight hair out of the way with ribbons,
and place clamps on her small nipples, cuffs on her slender wrists
and ankles.

   No chains or ropes this time either: for Onyx and Gus, a bit
like for me and Laylah, actual bondage is only an occasional
component of our scenes.  Holding her down will be my main
contribution to the scene, actually.  I really like this style of
whipping, with the bottom being held by another person rather than
bound.  Must be an ancient national taste of us Italians: even the
famous ritual whipping scene in the Pompei frescoes is like this!

   Oh, and the green panties stay on - St Patrick's day being very
important, apparently - although they get lowered at half-mast on
her well-rounded, silky thighs.

   Before I start holding Onyx, I do the warm-up, a sweet though
rather short one.  From what I've seen last Saturday, Onyx is not
really used to getting warmed up in this style (lashes that does
not hurt since the start, but really begin as intense caresses and
build up; a "making acquaintance" between whip and flesh, so to
speak), but it _does_ work for her at a physical level, making the
endorphin release more gradual and enhancing the overall effect.  

   Gus, it is my impression, prefers to start out with blows
already rather heavily stimulating, and as I mentioned it's
important for Onyx to submit to whatever style works for her top. 
Well, my style and tastes are broad and varied in this as in many
other things (indeed, as a bottom, I'd say I somewhat prefer a
faster ramp-up myself), but I do indeed love this: the total
blurring of boundaries between pleasure and pain, between caresses
and blows...

   I do keep it short because I sense a bit of impatience to "get
down to business", in Gus more than in Onyx this time.  I place
myself to hold Onyx, face down on the bed, her arms forwards of her
head.  I hold her softly, almost symbolically; thanks partly to
what happened inside her head before the scene, partly to my own
ministrations, she's now deep inside her submissive space, as well
as flying high on endorphins, so I figure she won't actually be
needing that much holding-down, and I'll concentrate on stroking,
caressing and generally touching her, on making her feel loved and
desired at the same time as she's being beaten and dominated.

   It does start like this, but soon Gus heightens the pace and the
strength of his strokes, and starts deliberately breaking their
naturally regular rhythm into an irregular and unpredictable one.
Now this is a beating style I personally love to receive, but it
does interfere with the body's ability to let go and just accept
what's happening, particularly when delivered so strongly; sure
enough, Onyx's body is soon buckling and struggling.

   I can't hold her down everywhere at once, so I'll try another
tack instead.  I place a hand on the back of her neck, tighten it
just enough to be well perceptible, and push the neck down hard
towards the cushion below it; in this way I give her body itself a
somatic submission signal, one that gets processed deep down in the
brain below "mind" level - and sure enough Onyx lapses back into
acceptance, although Gus isn't letting down on the beating.

   And so it goes on - for a long while.  Gus has stamina, as well
as his other qualities...

   The whipping is a heavy one, as well as being long; Onyx's skin
is beyond "marked" and more like "flayed" by now... loud moans
escape her gag continuously (not in the "safeword" pattern - I've
been paying close attention to that, obviously!), and her body is
starting to thrash around again, despite my best efforts.  I look
straight into Gus's eyes, mouthing an unvoiced question - how much
more? And just as wordlessly he answers - not long, not long, hold
on!

   What more can I do to help my beloved Onyx take the finale of
this whipping?  I have given all I could as signals of submission
to her body, I feel her mind is in the best possible way - the only
thing left is to cow her spirit, too... so I speak one single word
to her, and in that one word I put all of my strength, all of my
love for her, all of my masterfulness - one word: "DOWN!".

   And she obeys.  Her sweet, tormented body stops its desperate
attempts to escape the pain; trembling uncontrollably, yet it is
now still, offering its soft flesh to the cruel kisses of her
master's whip.  It's the effect I was aiming for, and it is
glorious to behold - body, mind, soul, all in one sublime whole,
all offered and open to his will.  A sudden sense of wonder wells
from my heart at this perfection - a renewed, burning love of HER
perfection.

   A few more nasty strokes, and it is over.  I see Gus happy,
satisfied, and very tired; he gestures to me that it's my turn
again, to handle the wind-down, as we had planned.

   But I'm not going to strike her any more - she's had all she
could take, and more.  I remove the gag, untie her hair, unclamp
her nipples, and hold and kiss and caress her as delicately as I
can, my lips and hands as light as a soft breeze on her.  Silent
sobs rack her whole frame.

   I start whispering Italian love poems to her - she cannot
understand the words, but the tenderness of the sounds is not lost
on her ears, nor is the tenderness of my feelings lost on her
heart.  I trace with my fingertips the angry-red welts
criss-crossing all over her body, touching her skin not directly on
them, but nearby, lightly, very lightly, as if to acknowledge her
pain and exorcise it from the worst-hit spots, diffuse it, dilute
it more widely.

   While intent on this task, my fingers happen to touch one of her
areolas, and I feel her body answer in a sudden shudder, and not of
pain either.  So I concentrate my caresses on her areolas, and see
her writhe and moan with pleasure in response; she is so
sensitive...  Later, after she's back down to earth, we talk about
this, and she claims she's never been that sensitive or responsive
before; I guess the sensory overload of the heavy whipping, as
sometimes happen, has heightened her response to sensory stimuli.

    Wonderful scene, and it takes proportionately long for us all
to get back to earth.  But eventually we do, and we say
"arrivederci" to each other, with suitable accompaniment of hugs
(quite careful ones to Onyx, of course:-), and they leave for the
drive back home; they'll pick us up here tomorrow afternoon and
drive us to the 'munch.

   Laylah is still not here, and I planned to wait for her, but I'm
so wonderfully tired and emptied of energy, that I slumber off. She
does arrive eventually, very late in the the small hours, full of
enthusiasm for all the new friends she's made, but she sees my
eyelids drooping despite my best attempts to stay awake and listen
to her, so she stops telling me about this and just asks that I
don't wake her up tomorrow morning.  I nod, and slip back into
sweet soothing sleep.

    Alex