A virgin does Thunder.

So, this weekend was Thunder in the Mountains, a kink conference in my dear-old hometown. Essin Em had told me about it a few months ago, mentioning that she was going, and asking if I wanted to go as well, since she knew I'm into the BDSM thing. (Or, at least, I'm getting in to it.) After some negotiation - a key term for the weekend - I managed to get registered, and Em offered to let me stay with her in the hotel room her company was paying for. The convention hotel was about 45 minutes from either of our houses, so it was definitely great to have the room for a night.

The conference is composed of a few essential elements: There are classes by nationally-known presenters on various aspects of kink - I took classes on trust in SM relationships, playing with strangers, how to top when you're a bottom, brutal affection, and beginner's rope bondage. Nothing too terribly intense, but overall each class was enjoyable and highly informative. I had the pleasure of taking classes from the stunning and hilarious Midori, the hottest-woman-I've-seen-in-basically-forever Rita Seagrave, and a series of other fabulous presenters who were funny, compassionate, and knowledgeable.

There was also a vendor fair, chock-full of your kinkier-than-normal sex toys. While I wasn't interested in everything they had to offer, I was unable to resist a few purchases. Perhaps photos of those will go up soon as HNT photos. We'll see. :)

And then there were the play parties. Slash dungeon space. Which sounds way more intimidating than it really was. At least in my head (and this being my first public BDSM experience), a dungeon is this dark, dank place with elaborate torture devices (which may not be a bad thing!) and poor lighting. In actuality, it was a relatively well-lit - almost too well-lit in my opinion - conference room full of scaffolding, tables, benches, and, yes, some crosses to chain people to. There was music playing, which Em and I both agreed didn't quite fit the mood. Although it did serve as decent background music, but to be fair, I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to the music.

At the parties (there were two - one on Friday night, another on Saturday), I got to see some things I'd never seen in person. There was fire-play, which was fascinating to watch, blood-play, which I don't think I could ever do but was still morbidly fascinating, pony-play, which I don't get but totally validate those who enjoy it, and of course, the more standard beatings and tyings-up that accompany BDSM culture. Being so new to the scene, and certainly to the convention - I'm the youngest age they allow in the conference for legal reasons - I looked at the whole thing a little wide-eyed. I was infinitely glad to have Em there, who has been to kink parties before and at least knew what to expect. Not to mention, she's so much more outgoing than I am... I was happy to fall a few steps behind her and let her do most of the talking. I also knew I could ask her any question and she wouldn't look at me like I was stupid for not knowing it.

On a side-note here: Because we spent the weekend basically attached at the hip, people generally assumed we were a couple. While we aren't romantically involved, it was so utterly fabulous not to be automatically considered straight. And while there was one older gentleman who didn't quite understand that we weren't interested in him, everyone else was generally respectful of our assumed identity. Which was just generally a really pleasant experience. Now, back to the play parties.

So, the first day, Em bought a fabulous new flogger, which, of course, she needed to break in. I was happy to volunteer. So, we found an available cross (is that right, Em? Is that what they're called?... it's not like the religious cross, but like a 6-foot-tall wooden X) and tied my hands to the top. I kept on my super-hot 4" patent heels, and not much else. I think my lace underwear stayed on for a few minutes, but soon they, too, were in a pile on the floor. Amazing how my clothes have a tendency to do that. Anyways... After some adjustments to my cuffs since they were cutting off circulation, the beating resumed. The flogger felt lovely - just enough sting as it graced my back and ass. The leather was soft enough not to make me scream, but the force hard enough to make me squirm a little. And then she broke out the broom.

Not an actual broom, mind you, but the EVIL plastic kind. With something like five tiny...bristles?... anyways, that hurt like a fucking BITCH when swung across your ass. I might have gotten in trouble for almost buckling my legs with that one. And it definitely elicited more than a few yelps from me. So, lesson number one in my fabulous weekend of kink: I don't like the sting! I'm all about the thud. Also, apparently at this point, we had an audience, although I was unaware. I was unaware of pretty much everything except what was happening to my body. I should also point out here that Em was a very attentive dom, and repeatedly made sure I was OK, that I knew my safewords, and would run her hands and kisses down my skin after she'd beaten me. (Still doesn't mean I don't have a few marks, hehehe). After the flogging scene, we moved into the women's-only space, where we continued to play with various toys, both the painful and the pleasurable. I'm not exceptionally comfortable going into details here, but I will tell you why.

Our scene ended not when I safeworded (I didn't), but when I was close to coming, and started sobbing. Uncontrollably. Big, wet tears. That I couldn't stop for several minutes. Em wasn't hurting me any more than I wanted her to - in fact, what she was doing felt really good. At the same time, the feeling was really intense, and something more than I've felt, physically, in a while. I was imposing a lot of pressure on myself, and there was a good deal of physical pressure on my body. I think more than anything, it WAS a form of release. And it's entirely possible that I needed a good cry more than I needed an orgasm. Actually, I think that is probably what was going on. So, Em, please don't think you did anything wrong. You didn't. You were wonderful, and I just wasn't in the right headspace. (And, you may be right that maybe I shouldn't play in this context with women.) I think I have a harder time taking a beating from a woman, because I never have. I've taken beatings from men, so it's easier to accept. How fucked up is that?

OK, I know this post is getting really crazy long... so we'll make the second night a new post. Huzzah.