Eh, there are worse things that could happen.

And speaking of worse things that could happen, Jake's trip out of town while Deb is in Germany has been cancelled. That means no three days of wild continuous sex for me and Sara in May. It also means Jake doesn't get to go hang out with her work buddies in Texas.

But mostly it means NO THREE DAYS OF CONSTANT, WILD SEX. Hmmph. Stupid Jake's employers.

Best Google hit from yesterday: bingo + bondage. What really surprised me is that I'm NOT the first suggestion for that search. I'm 13th.

Had a grrrr-eat date last night. We played with Julian and Eleanor, but it was less about the vampy aspect and more about the mind game aspect.

Julian basically took Eleanor on a tour of her darkest fantasies. I already knew several of them, so I led the game there, and she also provided some of her own, which was a nice, subtle way of letting me know what she was in the mood for.

In one portion of the date, I leaned her up against the St. Andrew's Cross with her back to me and whaled on her (well, not as hard as I could) with half the implements of pain that I own.

I started with the flogger (that's the one with the wide, soft leather straps), then the stinger (shorter, harder, narrow strips of leather�the name says it all), then the razor strop (a three-inch wide strip of leather that's about as hard as a shoe sole, with a strip of canvas on the back that makes a thwop sound when it lands), and finally the knife trailed along all that sensitized, bright pink skin. I turned her around and added clothespins around her breasts and on her nipples.

It's probably by far the most sound beating/torture session we've done together, but she told me later that I still didn't push her as fas as I could have. If we experimented more frequently with that kind of pain than we do, I would have a better feel for gauging what she could take on a particular day. But just going on her facial expressions last night, I thought I had pushed it as far as I dared.

I know that anyone who doesn't really "get" the pleasure/pain thing will have a hard time understanding what either one of us gets out of this.

The best analogy I can think of right now is that you could think of it as sexual rock climbing, except what we do is a lot safer. A rock climber gets a rush from what they do, what they achieve. And it wouldn't be as fun or rewarding if they never challenged themselves, pushed the limits, dug deep.

When Sara and I play together, we're a team. I've got the ropes, and she's swinging out over the void.

After I put the clothespins on, I fucked her where she stood, hanging onto the crossbar, and she ejaculated hard (good thing I had a canvas mat down on the floor). I removed the pins a pair at a time, then took her in my arms and slowly led her back to the futon. She felt so vulnerable and so trusting. I felt proud of her for taking so much, and proud of myself for being able to dish it out.

It's a tough call, knowing where to stop. I tend to err on the side of caution. So it's a big deal to me when my top-self can get as brutal as Sara's bottom-self wants it. Well, almost as much as she wanted. She never had to call "yellow"* on me or anything.

And we weren't even near done. We kept going for about another hour. I convinced her to latch on to my throat a bit, and, oh MAN, that felt good. I think my throat is the most sensitive area I've got.

Casualties: the bottom sheet, the eggshell foam, the futon, five or six towels (I haven't counted), a canvas drop-cloth, one bed pad, my undershirt (she had some distance projection going), one glove.

I'm thinking I should just start covering the futon with bed pads, put the sheets over them, and work with just towels on top. I seem to have no patience whatsoever for setting up another pad after we've wrecked the first one. Lucky for us, the super love juice dries as benignly as a water spill.

We finished up just before Deb got home. I was feeling all strung-out (like after a really good workout) and satisfied. Had a couple smokes on the front porch, ate some ice cream while Deb had a snack, and read a bit before hitting the sack.

A great day.

*"Yellow" is a safe word meaning "slow down; ease off; you're about to go somewhere I don't want to go or harder than I can take it, but I'm still okay, so you don't have to stop completely".