Whipping at the Chelsea Hotel, Written on a Plane from Charlotte, NC to LA 6:07 pm

     

New York just wouldn’t be as fun without my West coast friends to spice up, enhance, altar and enrich this money and success driven city. I am not able to find the underground artistic multi-dimensional experiences here that perhaps once happened during the Studio 54 days, or when Andy Warhol threw his famous art parties where everyone dosed on LSD. It takes a special someone in the know of the unknown to spark a trip down the rabbit hole with Alice and her Kinky adventures in New York Wonderland. I was in for just the treat.

I’ve known Jeffrey since my San Francisco play party days; he’s known to escort me to the most epic, over the top, themed sex parties in Los Angeles and San Francisco with the SEXIEST and most “conscious” group of sex-positive people I know. Whether I get play at one of these parties or not, I always meet a new friend in which to continue an ongoing friendship with. This time Jeff knew of the kinky party happening in NYC, and I was one of two of his dates.

The other is Veronica, a tall successful, model-gorgeous Professional from SF whose husband I fucked at her last play party I attended. She’s so solid in who she is and her relationship that it was barely a topic of discussion! All she said to me on the topic was how she tried to interject him at the party when he was doing the condom run while I was left naked on the couch waiting, on, well her couch, and he replied,

“Baby I’m about to FUCK!”

In which case the inquiry ended and her man sauce quickly returned to me with his beautiful hard cock…but that’s not quite the story I’m telling here. Back to NYC!

Jeffrey invited me over to Veronica’s sisters’ apartment, only 10 blocks away from where I was staying to partake in pre-party cocktails. These are not regular cocktails, but specialty pre-measured scientifically tested by him, that are usually….ummmm… well not always the most usual substances.

The Secret Recipe:

1. One half of one pill to stimulate the brain, which I end up doing a quarter. 

2. one-half dropper of a potion to stimulate the heart, 

3. one Deer Antler Pill for increased libido 

4. a 3rd of a gram of a mysterious liquid that makes you all around giddy. 

It’s the best cocktail I’ve had in NY; by mixing and under dosing with everything, you get a nice steady high without the bad hangover the next day.

Veronica, in her 5 foot 10 inch 120 pound frame is prancing around in 4 inch pumps and her new Agent Provocateur underwear set that Jeffrey purchased for her earlier in the day, with a cigarette in hand and a diet coke. It baffles me that she eats whatever she wants as far as processed sugars and smokes and can look so unbelievably HOT! We are sharing Jeffrey for the night, and there’s no awkwardness between her and I, it’s not even a topic in the air, it’s as if the pink elephant of sharing cocks has gone out of fashion like last season’s shoes.

We partake in our “virgin” yet sinful cocktail, and depart for the play party, which by Jeffrey has been built up to be an exclusive and sexy party crowd that has an extensive screening process, and that there will be a great selection of sexy people there.  I’m excited and intrigued to meet a single sexy man, but have no expectations nonetheless.

The directions are to go to the Chelsea hotel and tell the people at the front desk we are going to Robert’s cocktail party. We arrive at the dilapidated building with a lobby that looks like we are going to a hostel and I begin to get worried; I thought we were going to a SWANKY upscale sex party! Not a run-down piece of shit place?! We ride up the elevator to the 7^th floor and exit to stripped walls, for the hotel is undergoing a renovation, making our sense of unease even more validated than before. Then appears a pink light at the end of the hallway, an ode to cheesy swank. Is that such a term? Well it is now.

Robert, the Italian Aussie greets us three Californians at the door, and a shy Frenchmen takes our coats, a coat check number written by hand on a card and offers a tequila shot. We aren’t drinking due to pre-party cocktails, and it was an awkward moment, but our buzz was glowing in full swing and I didn’t really care.

Robert, short and stalky, charming with eclectic intelligence explains he has lived in the apartment for 20 years, and has lived in NY as a photographer. I find that hard to believe for some reason, as many people with boring jobs cover it up by saying they are an artist or sell pointless objects to make their income.

We walk through the small hallway resembling an old SF Victorian flat, all dimly lit with Boudoir settings; Antique dresses on mannequins and Baroque paintings on the wall. The lovely corner apartment overlooks the city, full of quaint charm that can keep an aesthetic person like me entertained for a while. The party is skim, meaning there were only 3 or 4 other couples there already at the time and none of them I labeled in my mind as “doable.” One slinky blond lady flirted with me quite a bit, overly horny and perhaps drunk and was imitating a school-girl wanting to be a porn star. Later she received the award for sucking the most cocks; I saw at least 7 go in her mouth in between pussy licking and fucking. I took a note to not go near her lips at the end of the night. I’m very cautious about whose cock I put in my mouth.

A few kisses there, a few strokes there, but no ones is grabbing my attention. We are all down to our lingerie now, and I’m in a light pink set with a black embroidered shoulder vest and wearing my 5 inch fetish heels. I’m getting looks but no real offers; most men are with the partners they came in with. 

Then Robert, the host, approaches me and my pussy starts quivering; he has a remote control vibrator in between my legs; I’m high and it feels much more amazing than any one else’s juvenile and lustful touch. We play in the living room, standing, him stimulating my pussy through my underwear….Robert has to attend some duties, leaves, then returns moments later to suggest we go in the side room. I agree. I sit down on an inlayed bench full of pillows, my legs spread wide, with the instructions that I get myself off with the vibrator. At first Robert is just admiring me, we exchange a few kisses. Then blowjob girl approaches with a riding crop and starts tapping my legs and pussy with it. I tell her to go harder; then robert gets the inspiration to whip out his toys; he caresses me with an 18 inch AMAZING flogger and starts using it on me. I tell him I enjoy medium pain, until I get pink and no bruisesJ

When I move to orgasmic waves, the flogging becomes more intense; I’m still facing him, I’m enjoying the whip hitting my nipples, down to my thighs, my pussy, then I move my head to the side and have him whip firmly on my neck. The flogger flies past my face, makes contact with the side of my neck, and reaches all the way around to my backside.  I hardly flinch knowing this object of pain is right by my eyes; my Dom of the moment is highly skilled and everything he’s doing feels amazing. robert does not break rhythm, and I am screaming in elevated pleasure, eventually gaining a crowd of on-lookers who are ultra curious as to how I like to get off. The pain is just enough to heighten my pleasure, about equal to my clitoral stimulation with the vibrator; if It was just a pain response, my body would be reacting and tensing up; I was in complete surrender and Euphoric release to the pain, each stroke and hit becoming better than the next; my vocal chords open, Jeffrey on the bed, his eyes peaking through in curiosity to my great pleasure. I’m proud to show him a side to my sexuality he’s never seen before. And quite frankly I’ve NEVER BEEN FLOGGED SO WELL! Perhaps it was the cocktail, the vibrator, how secure I am in my sexuality now, with my clit sending me to heaven, I came on that bench, now recollecting I’m not sure how long or how hard, all I can remember is the light going off in my brain.

Completely satisfied by the night. I relinquish control of this amazing vibrator, and exit the bench area, climbing into bed with Jeffrey and the other host Mistress of this Sex Party. She’s a very strong character, and prideful of throwing amazing parties; she’s trying to get me to say that her parties are better than West Coast parties by asking me how does this compare to SF. I’m too high to compliment the host, and tell her this space looks just like Sex parties I used to go to in Mission Control in SF, I’m not sure she got the answer she was looking for.

The party starts to thin out around 1:30 and that was the first sign that these are not hard-core partygoers. All of our parties go ALL NIGHT into the morning, in order to maximize playing with a few people. Jeffrey, veronica and I are still high, and I think they dose again on a few of the cocktail ingredients. I’m flying high and don’t need a re-buffer. We smoke cigarettes by the window, and a hot bitchy little Brazilian looking chic comes up to Veronica and they start reminiscing on how hot their girl on girl scene was; veronica ate the other chick’s pussy so hard she fell of the bench. Well perhaps talking about it got them going again, and soon enough veronica’s legs are spread wide open in all of her glory, and Nikki’s mouth is in between her legs, going to town, her fingers inside, veronica’s mouth grinning from ear to ear enjoying the pleasure. Eventually veronica makes it to the wooden floor, Nikki relentless in her giving, and her 4 inch heals up in the air, her legs towering above her giving her Agent Provocateur lingerie the best run for their money; one nipple popping out of the bra, screaming in orgasmic pleasure, her pussy getting eaten out by a total petite tan babe, I’m sure she could sell more underwear with that one shot than any of their other ad campaigns combined. I take a few snap shots of their experience, their washboard abs highlighted in red light, all blurred by their passion.

I thought my night was over, but amongst all of this pussy licking delight Wesley’s cock got all turned on. He’s extremely high, going on about how he’s not sure whether to….take me out to dinner, caress my face or fuck me. His brain is in a frenzied feed-back loop, going in and out of being aware of the moment; perhaps a side effect of being overly genius most of the time. We roll around on the floor in high flirtatious conversation, him telling me I’m the best, and appreciating how present I am. My friendship with jeffrey precedes our Romance, and once I’m a friend with someone it’s difficult for me to be romanced by them, which is completely different than being seduced. Him and I have only made love, fucked, had sex or whatever you want to call it twice before; all induced by various inspired psychedelics. Again, I have no idea how his cock ended up in my pussy, as in I don’t remember the making out before; but damn once it was in my entire body shot into outer space. The room completely disappeared; I knew there were at least 5 or 6 onlookers, but I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. I had never felt his cock so hard and full, driving into me, and with each drive I scream out in delight. The onlookers distracted him once or twice, and he reported later that we had a cheering audience clapping to the rhythm of the fucking! His curiosity detracting from my pleasure, then he would return to his driving with fervent focus and willpower sending enlightened pleasure throughout my whole body.  Lights going off in my mind, I melted into a Euphoric Love Puddle.

We end the night by going back to Maggie’s sister place and having yet another 3-some…details left up to your imagination.

May 16^th Urth Café, Los Angles,  8:20pm

Examining, portraying and describing enlightened pleasure so that my reader may understand, feel, embrace and perhaps even receive someday is a task that I’m not sure I can fulfuill. What makes pleasure enlightening?! To the best of my Tantric ability I will attempt to describe the illumination of godly consciousness in every cell, an expansive peace penetrating my body; the feeling of trying to feel fading away, and this all-pervasive peace entering and filling my entire being. The Buddha wore an inner smile, and this deep inner smile overcame my being; yeah I was screaming with each force of Wesley’s cock hitting the edge of my pussy and physiologically not a whole lot is going on here. But the tantrics knew there is a psycho-energetic realm that is connected to the Infinite hard-wired into our being via the chakra system, which is just the arrangement of higher life intelligence inside our beings. It was as if his cock was reaching all the way up inside of my brain, spraying his come, which in the tantric system is called “Soma”, which the cultivation of and experience is the ultimate goal of yoga practice. It is the nectar of the gods, the substance that the demons and the angels fought after in Hindu scripture, a nectar so valuable that the demons and angels would have destroyed the entire universe seeking it. What laymen don’t know is that with subtle cultivation of energy whether through mediation, yoga, or drug-induced loved making, this Soma quality is released into the body, bringing greater awareness and a unity with reality which is ultimately euphoric!

We finished on the floor, packed up our belongings, and said our good-byes at the party, an ode to the human experiment of how animalistic we can actually be. I would say that I witnessed some random acts of human sexuality, of cocks pounding pussies, dicks in mouths and saliva dripping tongue-licking fun. But what touches the spirit and is imprinted in our psycho-energetic memory is the penetration of spirit through our sex; the millions upon millions of nerve endings communicating with the most complex known structure in the universe; the human brain.  The orgasm has the potential to be a transpersonal experience that bursts through the normal reality construct, melting down duality and giving our human brain a glimpse into Ultimate reality; where we are One, where our innate peace and Euphoric intelligence of orgiastic light pervades all time and space. This is the ground of the Sky Dancer; the Dakini, the realm of the Enlightened Feminine that can dance in between realms. 

How a Mistress Fell in Love with Her Persian Slave Boy

How a Mistress Fell in Love with Her Persian Slave Boy

On a warm Tuesday afternoon I found myself Relaxing into reality, allowing the universe to lead the way.  surrender to the flow of life has it's advantages, and perhaps I allow the Universe to steer the boat more than I should.

It was a fateful afternoon day, exactly a week ago that we met. I was returning from a Vegan Café down the street, said good-bye to another boy that I could have taken home and cuddled with. Instead I opted for the great unknown; my house, which was 4 blocks away, and rode my bike back to my beach studio apartment. As I was Lingering with my tobacco, taking in the Venice vibe, He pulled his car up right out front. I noticed him immediately; he had a sharp charisma about him, and I thought he was attractive. Not many men dress in crisp shirt and tailored suits and drive a Porche SUV. My first ill assumption was that he has money.

 I always secretly wish we, humans, acted on that first immediate spark when we meet someone’s eye from across the street, but we humans rarely have the balls to walk up to each other you and beg for your phone number. In this case he overcame that initial reaction of human fear and approached his future Mistress.

“Um excuse me, do you know where is Rose street is?” I think I laugh at him.

“You’re on Rose.” I reply like he’s a little incompetent

He’s obviously a little lost and confused.. Of course Lauviah Rose, the Love Angel would live on Rose Street.

His dark fingers pull a smoke from his Marlboro lights pack and he lights up; not because he even really enjoys the act of smoking, but because that’s what his habit energy tells him to do.

Martin has a heavy accent, looks like an Italian mix but I later find out he’s a skinny Iranian, almost looks Eastern Indian. He has dark almond eyes that he rarely reveals, because his personality out does his looks. He has a child’s smile, and slurs his words combined with his accent and confused train of thought makes him even more difficult to understand. I gather that he’s looking for a girl that has something of his, but her phone is turned off and she lives around this block. I laugh at the absurdity.

“Does she have your keys?” I ask intuitively.

“Yes I’m kind of errr…stuck. “

He keeps insisting that he knows me from somewhere, even though I know he doesn’t. This salesman is a natural liar, and he says that he’s seen me on the internet….even though he knows he hasn’t. The conversation progresses.

Well Apparently this girl that he’s looking for made off with his key; The key to his CHASTITY BELT

Martin and I speak some more and he flirts with me, implying that I should help him with his little problem. I mean how likely is it that a man parks his car, approaches you, starts sharing a cigarette then starts going off how badly he wants you to take control of his cock? Um….. yeah. Probably never. But apparently these things happen to someone like me who’s crazy enough to take him upstairs and help relieve his pain.

Martin wants to be mine, Submit himself to me, be owned and controlled by me. Curiosity kills cats, and GEMINIS AS WELL.

We get to my apartment, and he’s already incredibly built up from being in Chastity to someone else for 3 days. I just get the pleasure of him falling to his knees and wanting to worship me because he’s in so much tension and build up from having his cock locked for days.  I tease him by pressing my body up to his face. He begs to break the belt, almost crying in his plea and I agree if he gets a new lock and locks it back up in my name.

An inner plea progresees, one that I have never witnessed before, one that comes from his gut. There’s fake begging, and there’s real agony, and the sweet release that will come when a desire is fulfilled.  Another fascinating take on the psychology of BDSM; it tests your psyche to go to places that ordinary reality would not push you to. I fulfill that desire in him and slowly take the case off of his cock. I stop halfway through, his whole body trembling and focusing on the sensation of his cock stuck in purgatory; he can’t go up, he can’t go down, he’s completely at my Mercy, his Master, his Goddess, the Woman who…will rule over him.

His hands almost immediately want to reach for his cock, and he reaches without permission. I must punish his hands, which have not learned restraint from desire, for I have to order him the luxury of touching his now free cock. I get out my favorite tool for the purpose of punishment; the “Slut Slapper” and his hands, outreached now, greet the hard leather. I slap his hands cruelly. He flinches, his body tensing towards the pain.

“You will not touch your cock without asking permission from your Mistress first,” I state in a sweet Sadistic tone, for I do enjoy his pain very much.

“Yes Mistress.”

A few times in rebellion to me, under his breath, he would say, “Mistress you’re so cruel, you’re such a bitch!” I allowed him his words of choice, but not for long.

This tease and denial goes on for a while, I make him watch as I get myself off with my favorite toy; he’s still distracted by his own pent up desire.  I have the luxury of a sweet release while he is still repenting for his suffering cock. I lock him back up in his cage, this time with a new lock and key that is just for us.

Next; Sign our agreement

We wrote up our agreement for our terms. It is as follows;

“I, Martin, belong to my Mistress.

I am completely under her control and power. I will comply with all of her requests and demands. , I am beneath her at all times and it is my duty to please her in every way possible. She owns my cock and I cannot come without permission or touch my cock without permission. I am owned by her.” 

We sign and date the agreement, and I send him on his way, back out into the night, unsatisfied, writhing, and mine. Little did we know that this new relationship would go far beyond skin deep.