Chapter 2

When I finally got out of the aircraft in Jackson, I met my online friends there. They are a lifestyle BDSM couple, although both are noted professionals in their fields. Even in their home, it would be difficult to notice those aspects of their relationship unless they chose to share it. They were also reenactors -- I'll skip the period to respect their privacy -- but I was fascinated to find that pieces of gear for their historical pursuits sometimes concealed bondage devices.

One of the reasons that I was visiting them was to help move BDSM gear to the hotel in New Orleans, where we were having a meeting of a number of our online friends.

My Royal friends

Anne is a woman, whom I can only describe, with respect, as queenly, assuming a queen that actually ruled. In their reenactment circles, she has a safety role, and when she calls a halt, professional soldiers and athletes freeze.

She is large and tall, carrying her weight well. I'm not especially turned on by boobs, but hers seem to be a place to bury one's face, but equally dramatic is her long, thick, mane of golden hair.

After we loaded the van, we had a delicious dinner, prepared by both of them. No one seemed dominant in the kitchen, but the two of them seemed to urge one another to excellence.

We settled into their living room. She excused herself, and then came wearing what I think of as a sort of medieval-inspired dress, long, but clingy enough to see a dramatically womanly figure. The neckline was low, and continued into lacing to her waist. I thought I could see some sort of corsetry peeping from the neck.

He sat in an almost throne-like leather recliner, and gestured me to take its mate. Gracefully, she sat at his feet. "I would like you to enjoy my slave, Lugh, and I know she would enjoy it. First position, dear."

Ann tossed her head, so that her chest was covered with her shining hair. I could see her hands working under it. With some drama, she swept her hair back, raising her head, and presenting her naked breasts to me.

"Neither of us likes heavy pain, but the anticipation is fun. I'm going to suggest that you start, if you wish, by fucking her mouth to warm up. Change to her boobs in a bit. Go gentle in a second round. You will need to tell her when she can have orgasms."

Ann spoke. "I'm not yet in role, so I'll mention that another part of our play is flogging. Henry has the greatest control that I've ever seen of several styles of whips. He can move individual sheets of tissue with a bullwhip." That scared me. "Oh, he can also use some lightweight floggers and paddles, which really don't hurt -- they are more of a caress. We'll show you that later.

"Right now, I agree. I want you to use me sexually and let me give you pleasure. Order me to do whatever you like. We rarely use safewords, but do like the simple green-yellow-red, which means respectively 'intensify what you're doing', 'reduce the intensity', and 'knock it off RIGHT NOW!'

"Do I remember correctly that you mentioned that you're turned on by extreme heels?"

My throat was dry. "Yes, Ann."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I've had foot surgery, for which the podiatrist required me to wear 4" heels for therapeutic reasons." She reached down and began to raise her long skirt. "Tonight, I went somewhat higher to my Louboutins. I have kinkier ones in reserve.

"OK, I'm going into role." Very deliberately, she raised the hem of her skirt, revealing legs in a most pleasing warm cinnamon set of stockings. She turned to Henry. "Warmup, sir?"

He pulled out what appeared to be a riding crop, although it seemed soft. "Yes, slave. Pull the heat into your core." He struck her repeatedly across the upper thighs, although I could see and hear that it was far gentler than his fierce expression. She began to moan, in rhythm with his strokes.

Ann turned to me and opened her mouth wide. With one hand, she also raised and separated her breasts, invitingly.

This wasn't really in my experience, but shall we say that I rose to the occasion? Opening my pants, my cock popped free and led me to her. Sensing what she liked, I put my hands, gently at first, on the back of her head. Henry grunted approvingly. Ann's tongue whirled around me as I moved forward. While I thought I just guided her head, she lunged toward me, taking me, it seemed, into her throat. The experience was incredible. It didn't take me long to explode into her.

With grace and elegance, she reached beside the chair and pulled out several lush cushions, which she arranged on the floor. Ann gestured for me to recline on them. When I did so, she kneeled over me, raising her skirt to her waist, and revealing the lower part of a corset and garters.

Mostly, I saw her glowing face, but also could see her raising her bare ass high and presenting it to Henry for his pleasure.

Henry slipped out and returned with a tray of vintage cognac and elegant glasses. Ann served us all, and we savored our friendship. I slept very well that night. Henry prepared a huge Southern breakfast, and we were on our way.

City of New Orleans

On arriving at the hotel, we met some of the early arrivals. George, the hotelier in our group, had been there first, along with his wife Eva. He had reserved most of a small, intimate hotel that was very lifestyle-tolerant. "I've gotten a couple of meeting rooms, one as the hospitality suite and one as the main playroom. They connect with a couple of the bedrooms, or at least there's a hallway between that we can secure."

While I knew them through the online San Francisco Dungeon scene, like me, they were more interested in kink, fetishes, and wild sex than hard-core BDSM lifestyle.

···· Flashback ····

On an earlier trip, I had visited George and Eva at their home in Houston. At the airport, they met me, resplendent in Western garb. Eva's cowboy boots had heels much higher and skinnier than George's did. Their denim was comparable in tightness, although he wore jeans while she wore a short skirt. Both had on silky Western shirts, with Eva stretching the pearl buttons of the one that she wore.

"Howdy, partner!" George called out.

I laughed. "Hey there. I do like the way you say that in a Massachusetts accent. Are we going to have chili chowdah?"

"Not a bad idea," George mused. Eva came up, threw her arms around me, and gave me a kiss with plenty of tongue.

Eva plastered her body to mine, admittedly a bit of a challenge given her very short and very busty build, "I'm going to have a girlfriend meet us at the club. She isn't extremely kinky, but loves straight sex. To go to the honky-tonk, you've got to be more Western than that. Oh, your jeans are tight enough. I'll lend you a shirt. But what are we going to do for boots? What size do you wear?"

"13."

"Hmm. My son is 11. Let's see how you do with a pair of his."

They were tight, although Eva distracted me while I struggled with them. For the honky-tonk, she had changed to a much lower-cut blouse, as well as heavier makeup and much bigger hair. I realized that her bigger hair was a wig, of the Dolly Parton style, with very deliberate dark roots below the platinum hair explosion.