Chapter 15

Eddie showed my son how to spread Ellie’s pussy lips and bind them with clips so that her clit was exposed while she was tied to the chair. The technique is called “Eagle Mounting” because the pussy lips are spread like an eagle’s wings. Hooks are used to clip them in place so that the clit and pee hole is fully exposed.

It is a very humiliating position to be pinned like that. I’ve always felt like a butterfly having her wings pinned back when it happens to me. It’s also excruciating to have your inner parts exposed fully, and your pussy lips stretched to extreme conditions while others walk around as if you are merely a decoration and look into your body.

I once had a young gentleman approach me at a Kink-friendly camp-out in Florida while I was Eagle Mounted. Peter had left me on a chair similar to the one my daughter was on right now, with my hands bound, mouth gagged and exposed outside. Anyone at the campground could have walked past and observed me or even touched me and there was nothing that I could have done about it.

Obviously, the participants of these events know about consent conditions, and outside of designated free-use zones at these events (if they have them at all), it would have been a no-no to touch me in my condition. It was still a lesson in surrender and control to be left all alone, spread like that, and the vulnerable feeling can be intensely arousing to a submissive like me.

He stared into my pussy for so long without looking at my face or eyes. If I wasn’t gagged, I would have told him to “throw a coin in and make a wish” or asked him how my ovaries were looking.

I am kidding, of course; I would never have said that. I followed the accepted pony speech protocol at events and only made wisecracks when I was alone with my husband. There are some ponies who only whinny and neigh at these shows, and they stay in persona for the full twenty-four hours. Most participants will take little breaks to recover and unwind. That’s when Peter and I could talk normally as husband and wife instead of Master and Pony.

I had the distinct impression that this time, we’d be attempting a full 24/7 immersion stay at Camp Crucible for Ellie’s first event. Peter likes to drive the Winnebago up, and I usually do a little submissive roleplay during the trip. That might be interesting this year, given that our kids will be going with us, and it’s a very cramped Camper.

My family has taken many wonderful vanilla trips to places like Disney World and the Grand Canyon in the same old Winnebago. I was looking forward to making some new memories with them this year on the way to their first BDSM event.

There used to be an old cartoon segment about a Canadian Mountie on Rocky and Bullwinkle that I watched as a little girl. In the Cartoon, the dastardly villain Snidely Whiplash always kidnaps the hero’s love interest, Nell Fenwick. He’d tie her to a buzz saw, or a train track, and I found myself sexually attracted to that scenario without knowing why. It was a children’s cartoon, so obviously, the hero Dudley Do-Right, arrived just in time to save the day.

The running gag was that while Nell appreciated being saved, she didn’t care for Dudley. As an impressionable young girl, I didn’t either. I liked Snidely and was curious what he might do to Nell (and by extension me) next week!

Being Eagle Mounted at a campground felt like something Snidely would have done to me, and I brought that up only to describe how sexually intense the feelings can be when you are bound and helpless like that. I was envious that my daughter was the focus and not me. It was her turn to be Nell today.

I was merely standing, bound, and ignored. Ellie was starting to groan and agonize over the sensation of being pulled and stretched. In that exposed position, a woman will either start squirting copious amounts of pussy juice, or her pussy will start to dry out. Squirting is a little humiliating, but when I am Eagle Mounted, if my pussy starts to dry out, it recedes and starts to shrink away from the clips holding my labia open, and it can be quite painful.

It’s good training for women who need to learn to get wet on command.

My husband entered the workshop and saw her exposed while Eddie and Jeff admired their work.

“Eddie, I see you couldn’t wait to get hands-on with my daughter.”

“That’s not your daughter, or so I’ve been informed. That’s the Dancer who can only dance when she has hot sauce poured on her cute little asshole.”

“You didn’t pour hot sauce on her?” Peter chided him.

“It was just Cholula; I didn’t put the extra hot ass-buster sauce on her; she was running her mouth without being spoken to first.”

That was a relatively mild hot sauce, but I still wasn’t sure how I felt about my son being able to make that call and punish his sister and me.

“Dancer?” Peter looked down his nose at his daughter.

“I am sorry, Master. I misbehaved and was corrected.”

“Let me guess,” Peter looked around at the metal collar on the table and asked if Eddie had shown Jeff the “rail spike lesson” that he had shown him years ago.

“The very same one,” Eddie admitted proudly.

“How long did you leave Vixen like this?”

“I don’t know; your groom is in charge,” Eddie smiled mischievously and blamed it on Jeff.

I was sweating, my nose against the concrete wall, my nipples were engorged, and my tits felt like they were about to explode.

“You are a bad influence, Eddie,” Jeff began untying me immediately and told Jeff to untie Ellie.

“I feel like I learned a lot, Master Peter,” Jeff said to his father.

“Just remember that when you think you have it all figured out, you still have a lot to learn,” Eddie assured him and told him that he learned something new daily. “I am not the same Master that I was twenty years ago. The lessons I taught you today are just one perspective, and you need to listen to sift through a lot of bullshit to find some truth, and then you have to question it and be ready to find a new truth when you discover that one was bullshit too and no longer applies.”

Jeff was confused, but he diligently untied his sister while my Master finally unsnapped my bindings and let me out. I breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed my wrists and tits to help the circulation return.

“I love you when you are purple,” Eddie admired his handiwork when I turned around.

I nodded politely and demurely.

Peter instructed us to go shower, get dressed, and come back downstairs quickly. I wanted to ask if we were dismissed as Vixen and Dancer but thought better of it. It seemed like we were.

I had a quick finger-fuck session in the shower, but I heard Jeff bang on the door and tell me to hurry up.

When I returned downstairs wearing street clothes, I saw that Ellie joined Eddie and the men of the family. Jeff had summoned Kevin over to the house, and mostly Peter was talking to him. Kevin was definitely nervous, as if he were in trouble.

I could tell from Kevin’s face that he felt like he was in trouble, but Peter assured him that he wasn’t. Kevin couldn’t even meet my gaze when he saw me come down the stairs and join the family on one of our couches. Fully dressed in vanilla clothes, I probably seemed like a completely different person to him now and far less approachable than before.

I didn’t catch all of the conversation because I was the last to arrive. However, it was clear that my husband was trying to explain something to Kevin.

“How come they aren’t naked anymore?” Kevin asked with obvious disappointment.

“As I told you, my wife and daughter don’t live like ponies 24/7. It’s a game they play, and you were not invited to play it with them.”

I took umbrage with Peter’s explanation; I wasn’t playing a game. However, it was probably a much more straightforward explanation that Kevin could understand.

“I understand, and I am sorry about that, Mr. Thompson.”

“I am sorry they were exposed to you, Kevin. This is a private matter that is by invite only, and it’s not something that we wanted you to see.”

Kevin seemed awkward and kept shifting in his seat. He kept stealing glances at Ellie and me. I was a little flattered but tried not to egg him on.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Thompson. I thought you liked being watched because you used to go outside by yourself all the time and strut around proudly. I didn’t mean to peep.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I am speaking to you now,” Peter said, saying that Kevin could talk to me later. “I want your full attention, Peter. This may have been a game, but it has serious repercussions if it gets out. Some people misunderstand what we are doing and even call the police on us.”

“Why?”

“They may think we are hurting the women or exposing ourselves to boys like you,” Peter said flatly.

Eddie, for his part, reminded me of an old salty pirate addressing a young Jim Hawkins who had just signed on for his first sea voyage. He sat back in a recliner like it was his throne and observed quietly.

“I won’t keep watching, I promise.”

“Son,” Eddie leaned forward, speaking slowly and methodically, “Never try to bullshit a bullshitter.”

Peter asked Eddie to stay out of it. Eddie frowned. He loves to solve problems and hear himself talk. He respected Peter’s wishes and remained as his trusted advisor off to the side (probably so he could make some wisecracks and see how this all went down). I think Eddie found the situation mildly amusing, while my husband was taking it quite seriously.

“I think what I should do is have a conversation with your parents and just be honest. I don’t like the idea of tempting you to watch. You are a teenage boy, and they are attractive. I don’t like the idea of giving up the use of my own backyard, either. I also don’t like the idea of threatening you to keep a secret.”

Peter regarded our son with derision for giving our neighbor’s son an ultimatum. At the time, I hadn’t seen it that way. I assumed that I’d hear some criticism from Peter after it was all over about why I didn’t intervene in this situation. I didn’t have a valid excuse for that. I had been stunned, but I could have spoken up and taken over the situation – I just didn’t.

“Please don’t tell my parents. They will think I am a dirty boy!” Kevin pleaded.

“Son, there isn’t a red-blooded teenage boy who likes girls that wouldn’t look out his window at two beautiful naked women. I can’t fault you for that, and I doubt your parents will either,” Eddie interjected again. Peter grimaced but didn’t disagree.

“Well, my sister will. She’s always calling me a pervert. She’ll have ammunition to say that I was peeping on her!”

“Were you?” Eddie asked with a knowing grin.

Kevin blushed and did as much as admit that he peeped at his sister from time to time just based on his body language and awkward reaction.

“Look, That’s normal curiosity. When you live in close quarters with someone, I can’t tell you what to do there. All I can tell you is that honesty is the best policy. I am just going to invite your family over and admit that we lead an alternative lifestyle, and sometimes we go outside naked. It’s up to them if they want to prevent you from looking out the windows. We aren’t running down the street naked; we keep our business strictly in our fenced-in backyard.”

“How about we go back to how it was, and I promise never to peep again?” Kevin countered.

“Problem solved,” Eddie slapped his knee and smiled with a jovial belly laugh. Eddie’s approach was to chalk it up to boyhood curiosity, laugh about it, and move on. That was not my husband’s style at all.

“No, problem not solved,” Peter glared at Eddie. “If we go outside again, and your parents or sister catch you, then they will figure it out. If it comes out that we KNEW that you were watching and didn’t tell them about it, then the shit will hit the fan, Kevin. Do you know what happens then?”

“Doo-doo gets everywhere?” Kevin said with a deadpan expression, causing most of us to laugh – you had to be there. It was funny. Peter and Kevin himself were the only ones who didn’t have a hearty laugh.

“Yes, that’s one outcome,” Peter remained somber, adding, “and your parents would have a right to be angry with me. If I were in your father’s shoes, I wouldn’t appreciate someone exposing my son to something that I didn’t approve of.”

“But I’ve already seen them, Sir! It’s done now, so let’s just drop it, and I’ll never look again, honest!” Kevin pleaded futilely. Peter had already made his decision, and I could tell that was that.

“It’s not up for debate,” Peter decided and ended the conversation. My husband insisted that we all go to Kevin’s house to talk to his parents about what his son saw today.

I was mortified that we were going to confront the neighbors together, but this decision was not up to me, and Peter left no room for debate. I supported him but remained silent while we all walked next door.

“Mr. Johnson, I am Peter, your neighbor!”

“Yes, I know who you are,” the man at the door replied. He introduced himself as Mike. We hadn’t really gotten to know them in the time they lived next door for years. We saw them come and go to work at times, but it was never a very close or friendly neighborhood.

“Can I come inside? We have something important to talk to you about?”

“What did Kevin do this time?” Mike was prepared to assume the worst of his son.

“We just would prefer to talk inside to everyone.”

“Karen!” Mike yelled for his wife as he led us to his living room. The layout was the same. I could see their fenced-in backyard through the glass pane. Karen was outside in a bikini with her daughter. The bikinis were normal-sized, and not very revealing at all.

Karen immediately became self-conscious and wrapped a towel around her body -regarding us as an intrusion or interruption. Her daughter Nadine was my daughter’s age. I had seen her at cheerleading practice when my daughter used to participate.

She had a decent body, freckles, reddish blonde hair. She wore a purple polka dot bikini and didn’t bother to cover up as she sat down.

“This is probably not for you,” Mike told Nadine, but Peter said it involved the entire family.

“What did the little squirt do this time?” Nadine pursed her lips knowingly as she assumed the worst of her little brother.

Kevin squirmed uncomfortably and seemed like he was wishing for the power of teleportation or invisibility.

“Mike, I don’t know how to explain this delicately, so I am just going to come right out and put it out there,” Peter said.

Mike Johnson seemed like the kind of guy who appreciated a straightforward answer. He was built with broad shoulders and a red mustache with some grey flecks. His wife, on the other hand, looked like she had just smelled something foul and wanted us to leave immediately. She had a short blonde haircut, which is the style of most women with the name Karen.

Her daughter also looked down her nose at us, well, not us, at my daughter.

“Mike, my wife, and I lead an alternative lifestyle of submission and dominance,” Peter started to lay it out.

“Oh no, we aren’t swingers if that’s what you are asking,” Mike was ready to ask us to leave immediately and clearly offended.

“No, that’s not it,” Peter assured him and smiled politely. “Sorry if I gave that impression. The reason that I bring that up is that not everyone understands what a safe, sane, consensual relationship with that kind of dynamic is, and I thought it may be best to lead with that. What I should have said was that today, my wife and daughter were outside in the garden, and your son caught a glimpse of them.”

“PEEPING TOM!” Nadine accused her little brother loudly.

“It’s not his fault; we have a privacy fence, but it never occurred to us that close neighbors might be able to see over the fence from the second floor,” Peter admitted.

“I see, and your wife and daughter were sunbathing topless?” Mike’s smile suggested he liked that idea. His wife’s elbow to his side quickly wiped the smile off of Mike’s face. “None of our business, I’ll see that Kevin never does it again.”

“That’s your business. I am afraid he saw a little more than topless, though.”

I felt bad for Kevin. He was blushing and trying to make himself smaller so that he could avoid his mother and sister’s angry gaze burning a hole through him.

“Oh,” Mike immediately knew that meant that we were naked.

“As I said, we lead a BDSM lifestyle, and they were outside marching around in leather gear and practicing for an event coming up,” Peter clarified.

Karen turned her nose up in disgust, but her daughter laughed out loud at my daughter as if there was something wrong with her. Ellie merely looked annoyed.

Mike tried to process that.

“I don’t want to stop using my backyard for that purpose. At the same time, I understand that it’s not your fault that your house is close enough that you can see down into my yard from the second floor. I was hoping we could have a discussion about it and reach an understanding.”

“Peter, I don’t know what to tell you other than I’ll make sure he doesn’t peep on you guys again.”

“Okay, that’s fine with me. I thought it best to tell you as soon as I found out about it.”

The two men shook hands, and I assumed that was the end of the conversation. We stood up to leave.

“Does that mean YOUR son can watch us outside sunbathing?” Karen was aghast.

Jeff laughed out loud at the thought he’d be peeping on the woman. Karen and her daughter were decent looking, but Jeff had seen enough nudity that he didn’t need to go peeping on them in their conservative bathing suits.

Karen took umbrage to that, and so did her daughter.

“It’s just preposterous, Ma’am. I don’t have any interest in looking at either of you.”

Karen found it hard to believe, and I think Nadine’s feelings were hurt, or at least she was slightly offended.

“I will assure you that no one from my family peeps in your backyard. That’s your sanctuary, and this is your castle,” Peter assured them diplomatically. That was good enough for Mike, but his wife remained skeptical.

“Be sure that your grandfather doesn’t stare at us either,” Karen said as we left.

Peter ushered us without a comeback. Eddie desperately wanted to say something smart to her, but Peter placed his hand on Eddie’s arm to indicate that he should watch his tone. We waved and left.

“Well, that was awkward,” Peter admitted as we walked back to our house.

“Do you think that kid will stop peeping on Dancer and Vixen?” Jeff asked his father as we entered our house.

“Not a chance,” Peter admitted but added that he didn’t want him in the house when we were training.

We didn’t discuss the matter any longer. Eddie took us out for pizza at one of his favorite Italian places nearby. He regaled Jeff and Ellie with many of his bawdy tales about raunchy times he had at previous BDSM gatherings and nudist parades.

All of Eddie’s stories begin with the phrase, “So no shit, there we were...” and then proceed to describe some incredibly unlikely situation with lots of naked women all hungry for his dick. The funny thing is that I’ve been there when some of those stories happened, and most of them are true.

Eddie always adds a little flair and ends his stories on a happy note. He once had a slave who he likes to say, “puts the fun in dysfunction.” She was batshit crazy and kept running off with men, stealing from Eddie, and he would always take her back.

“The problem wasn’t that she deserved another chance. The problem was that I thought I could take the whore out of the trailer park and also take the trailer park out of the whore.”

That went over Jeff and Ellie’s head, but I remembered Susan very well. Eddie tried to discipline her into being a decent human being who respected others and appreciated what she had. It never took, and she ended up running off to Columbia and breaking his heart years ago.

Eddie’s version of that story is that she finally found what she really needed and doesn’t need him any longer. It’s a little bittersweet, but I do hope that crazy bitch did find happiness.

One entire genre of Eddie’s stories that he loves to tell are about “That time at Pennsic.”

The Pennsic war stories share a lot of common themes and plots between them. They always begin with Eddie filling up his van with rattan wood to make swords, duct tape, coolers full of ice-cold Irish ale, an old medieval style tent. He’ll talk endlessly about the supplies he brought with him. He also has a live-steel Scottish Claymore he is very proud of, and a collection of very sharp knives he always brings. Eddie wears a hodge-podge of medieval armor cobbled together from dozens of sets of armor that he calls “Frankenstein” which he is constantly modifying. Frankenstein is a hybrid combination of Frankish, German, Britannia, and Roman legionary pieces. He even has a Samurai piece bolted on somewhere.

I remember when he crafted the first version of it here at my house over twelve years ago, and I was Eagle Mounted just like Ellie while he and Peter designed it.

We kept the kids out of the workshop and didn’t expose them to anything extreme. They had seen me in pony regalia, and knew I liked to march and whinny, but beyond that, we didn’t discuss anything related to kink, fetish, or the lifestyle with them. It was just a fun thing that mommy and daddy did as a hobby. I would never have eaten with a feedbag or even removed my butt plug in front of them back then.

We still hadn’t exposed them to Eagle Mounting until a few weeks ago when Ellie first expressed interest in being trained.

Back then, Jeff and Ellie were outside playing and as far as they knew, Peter, Me, and Eddie were just working on a suit of armor.

Half of Eddie’s “That Time at Pennsic” stories involve the trip up there. He usually manages to invite one or two women with him. Peter teases Eddie that he has to either lure, drug or kidnap them to get them into his rusty old van, but Eddie is a charmer, and he talks a good game.

Eddie is a member of the SCA, the Society for Creative Anachronism. They are a large organization that likes to dress up in Medieval garb and recreate the Middle Ages. It’s not like a Renne Faire where they do it for money. They research arts, crafts, and music. They make their own armor and use rattan swords wrapped in duct tape to fight actual tournaments.

Peter and I have been invited, but we’ve never had any interest. However, a big contingent of SCA members are also into the BDSM lifestyle in one way or another.

Eddie’s “Pennsic War Stories” are about a place out in Pennsylvania where they have some of the largest mock medieval battles with hundreds of participants. They have tents, marketplaces, and big feasts, and then they set up for these competitions between Kingdoms, which are made up of different regions of the United States.

Eddie is old now, but he is a Lord or a Baron or a Captain at Arms or something. He always fights as a Mercenary for the “Trimaris Swamp Lords,” and usually, his stories are about turning on their employers when they find out they can’t keep their promise of payment (usually in beer or poles of rattan).

However, some of the stories are about what happens AFTER the battles, at night! Campgrounds with big fires and topless women, wine is flowing, and mandolin music is lofting through the air. It’s at times like this that Eddie likes to talk about mysterious women who seek him out and fuck his brains out because they heard he was a special kind of lover.

On the trip, he usually tells about a time when he ran out of gas, and the girls had to sell their ass to get them the rest of the way, or how he ran afoul of the law or had a confrontation with bikers. I’ve never been to Pennsic, but it’s funny how Eddie’s stories usually involve some sort of predicament that only he can solve, and usually, in the end, it always works out for the best.

His stories get wilder each year, and I am positive I’ve never heard the same story twice because the details constantly change. Yet, they almost always follow the same pattern. Eddie is just trying to get the most beer in exchange for fighting; he ends up fucking more than he fights; the battles are fearsome and muddy because it always rains, some women with big tits are topless either at the camp or on the battlefield, and “You’ve never seen titties this size. They were huge! Like watermelons!”, and whatever happens, his side ends up winning.

I am sure there are variations, but like those old Snidely Whiplash and Dudley Do-Right cartoons from my youth, in the end – the good guy triumphs, bad guy gets his, and he walks away with the girl(s).

In the story he was telling tonight, he brought up a plump older woman with pale skin and long black hair from Amish country with big knockers that he was training to be his “War Dog”. She was naked, with a spiked collar, and he apparently fed her raw meat and kept in a custom metal cage while they were at Pennsic. Supposedly, he took her out on the battlefield like that and she barked viciously, while he held her back with a big metal chain.

Keep in mind, that it was likely only 20% of this was probably true, and the fact that I’ve never met this mysterious woman; and Eddie comes over weekly should tell you that some of it is definitely bullshit.

“So, I brought my wrought iron dog cage. Do you know the one with the candle holders?” Eddie pantomimed as he set down his pizza. “I crammed a Roman candle up this bitch’s ass, and then in the morning, when I took her into battle, I lit that motherfucker up, and pointed her ass at the enemy and you should have saw their faces! I had six more Roman candles on each side of the cage, ready to shove up her ass when the first one was spent. I turned that cunt into a medieval siege weapon!”

Eddie can be loud enough that the people sitting next to us turn and frowned during some of the more salacious or brutal bits of the story. That irritates Peter because he doesn’t like to intrude on other people’s dinners. My husband has a soft spot for Eddie, though, and doesn’t interrupt; none of us do.

Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

“So no shit, there we were. Rained for three days straight, ground looked like one big giant shit-patty, with mud so deep, you’d sink two inches just trying to walk in it. We were fighting for Drachenwald, but those cowards were nowhere near, probably hungover about now because they can’t handle all the Applejack brandy that I brought up with me. So, it’s just me and the Trimarians from the Barony of Oldwater. We are outnumbered, but the Roman candle diversion had caused the An Tir advance to halt. We were all covered in mud from our heads to our toes. My vision was limited because I had that Frankish crusader helm with those two thin eye slits that narrowed my field of vision. You know the one? It’s pretty but not practical. Anway, no shit, there I was, and all I can see is that bitches huge ass, smoke, and mud, but I knew which way the enemy was, and all I had to do was break their line before they could regroup.”

Eddie will go so far as to draw elaborate maps of the positions of armies. I can never believe the scope and scale of people he claims show up for these things. I’ve always wanted to go but Peter tells me I’d be bored because nudity is allowed at the camp, but it’s rare. I doubt a pony girl would be turned away but it’s also an all-ages campground. If you hear Eddie tell it, every girl walks around with her titties out, and it’s a raunchy gang bang at night when the kids go to bed, complete with slave auctions where everyone roleplays medieval nobles bidding on captured (but quite willing) slave wenches and male serfs. During the day, it’s a violent muck-fest as thousands clad in Plate mail clash with rattan swords covered in duct tape.

He talks a lot about larger-than-life Tuchuk barbarian warriors. The way Eddie describes them, they are the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger but bigger and much dumber, drink nothing but beer and ale, wear two small rabbit pelts over their dicks (Two Chuks), and fight with two-handed rattan hammers, axes, and claymores, that they wield with endless ferocity and never run out of energy. I am sure the reality isn’t quite like that, but I wouldn’t mind getting passed around a camp full of them to find out.

“Those An-tir sumbitches didn’t know what to do! Run towards us and fuck her, or retreat? She probably would have taken all comers. That bitch could fuck and fuck for hours! We had halberdiers to the left and a horde of Tuchuk berserkers ready to charge. I called out, “Come on, do you want to live forever?” and we pushed forward through the rain and mud, uphill into the sun, which is what An Tir did not expect! So, we broke their column, and I yelled to the Yeoman to let loose another volley of arrows. That year, I brought up all the 125 PSI irrigation pipe tubing I could get my hands on and gave it to the archer unit and just said, “Go to town, boys!” and...”