Switching at KinkCon

A pause, and rattling noises led to him concluding, "I can fix that."

Again, he was copying my ideas. I felt him run a chain through both rings of my collar, and down to my breasts. The clamps were expected, weighing my tits down and their pinches sending immediate jolts to my cunt. Then he held the chains and clipped them together - bloody climbers, always with a range of karabiners to hand...

Now not just my body, but also the chains, were taut. If I twisted my torso too much, a clamp would pop off. But what might make me unable to hold still? I was so relaxed I wasn't planning to move.

He massaged my breasts, working around the metal. So far, so good. Then along my shoulders and arms, careful to avoid tickling under the arms. A bit sore, but bearable. Perhaps he'd give me a head massage - that would be lovely. But no, the hood was in the way.

It didn't stop him. He stroked my cheeks and jaw through the leather. Very pleasant. And then he spoke. "Now, I want you to stay completely still and completely quiet. Got it?"

I nodded carefully, and tapped my thumbs and fingers together, twice. I'd forgotten that I was now ungagged.

"Good." He sprang up onto the table, and squeezed to kneel between my knees. It meant there was more pulling on my ankles, but didn't really hurt.

He reached between my legs, found the flange of the butt plug, and twisted it. I managed to stay still and resist being twisted with it. Then he did it again, lowering his mouth to my clit.

The guy is good at oral sex. Talented and very experienced. I silently blessed Cathy, who clearly ensured he practise regularly. I leant my head back and enjoyed myself thoroughly. Until, of course, it became too much, certainly too much to bear if I had to hold still. I tried to only thrust my pelvis into his face, so my breasts could be spared, but the tugging of my clamps confirmed I wasn't being very successful. So I had sore nipples, which is always like an erotic on-switch for my cunt, plus that mouth sucking and licking me below. It was brilliant! Intense. I wailed, helpless not to, "Aaah... So good! So good..."

He lifted his head a moment. "I told you, stay still, and stay quiet!"

I couldn't help it. I managed to mouth, "sorry!", but as soon as he replaced his lips on my lower ones, he added two fingers, sliding them easily into my wet cunt. I screamed out, "Holy shit!"

He slapped my thigh, as best he could without moving his mouth or other hand. I couldn't help it, though. I was yelling out incoherently, the knowledge that I wouldn't be waking anyone up, so for once I could scream as loud as I needed to, overriding any scraps of self-preservation or urge to obey. I could feel his fingers pressing inside my vagina, wonderfully firm, and then I felt pressure against my arse from inside, where he was rubbing against the butt plug through my cunt wall, squeezing my clit between his fingers and his face.

That was where I completely lost it. I was thrusting against him, twisting from side to side, making noises randomly, kicking against my restraints. I had no control of my body at all. The orgasm took me over, totally.

Two things happened. A clamp slid off one nipple, and I shrieked again as the circulation went back into it. Secondly, my legs were suddenly free, and John fell to the floor.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I heard John exclaim, clearly unhurt. He was like a cat when it came to landing on his feet. "It's OK, sweetie, you've just broken the mechanism..." He pulled my ankles around as I tried to catch my breath. "No, the ratchet's buggered. Clearly not tested properly... No worries, I've got more rope...stay there a sec... ha, as if..."

He applied more rope to my ankles, then removed the other nipple clamp and rubbed both of my tits better. Or rather, worse, and I yelled at him, but then it became better. Much better. Until the git stopped.

"Talk about bad timing. Anyway, you were utterly failing at being still! Or quiet. So, time to turn over and be punished." He helped me to roll over. He added, "Of course, I'd be doing exactly the same if you had somehow stayed quiet... 'Cos I want to! Love that you're letting me. Beautiful submission..."

My mind didn't really think of it as submission, but I supposed, I was agreeing to what he wanted. He continued, conversationally, "As long as you submit at the start, and then continue by not safewording, I don't care what you're thinking. Hate me and resent what I'm doing as much as you like. But I'll still know, you agreed to let me do it, because I want to."

He'd missed the fact that I craved it too, for some reason. As if reading my mind, he continued, "You want it, yeah, but it's going to be done my way, to my ends... And you're going to cry and curse me. And I'm going to get off on it..."

More sternly, he asked, "Do you agree?"

"Yes..."

"Amazing. Let's get you restrained again, use the legs of the table this time, enough of this modern mediaeval technology..." Some swift pulling of rope, and my feet were again held still. I pulled against the knots, but the rope held fast. It made me feel safe and secure, despite knowing what was about to happen.

Prone, practically naked - well, breasts and bottom on show, even if my corset and stockings still covered over half of my skin, and my head still covered by the leather hood and collar - and restrained. It was my favourite place to be, mentally. Nothing to do but accept whatever happened. I snuggled against the table.

John ran a hand up my fishnets and over my arse, appreciatively. "So smooth. And your arse - so beautiful and smooth and pale, not a mark on it... Kind of virginal, really." He scoffed. "Virgins are overrated. Give me a woman who knows what she likes, any day. Oh look, I've got one!"

He was probably rubbing his hands in glee. Git. Then he replaced a hand on my bottom. And pushed, hard. Then on the other cheek. I moaned.

"Feel that? Inside?"

"Yes... It's pushing on the..." I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud, that I had a butt plug inside me.

"Yeah, best remove it before going any further." I felt fabric drape over me, which disappeared along with the plug. Like picking something messy up with a napkin. I hadn't felt a condom on the plug - it might be horribly dirty - too late to worry now, I supposed. My arsehole felt mildly sore when I clenched it. Lovely.

John leant his weight on my arse again. I could take it. Nice, warm pressure. Then he put his knuckles downwards instead. Not so nice - until he lifted his hand off. It produced the erotic soreness I craved. He took his time to cover my whole arse, shoving his knuckles in hard, swivelling them, moving a few inches, repeat.

Then he began to punch with his fist, knuckles first, starting close to my body, then with increasing swings, changing to the heel of his hand... The rhythm lulled me into acceptance as I concentrated on breathing, the restriction of my corset becoming really noticeable.

"Ow!" More punching, on areas he'd already poked. It kept going. Any muscle tension in my glutes vanished as my arse was kneaded into unresisting tenderness. My world narrowed to the expanse of my arse and the impacts on it. It was bearable, just, but some thuds hit parts already bruising and I'd yelp, pulling my arms against the rope.

As it got more painful, John helped me by interspersing his assaults with some fondling, gently kneading my hot skin. Which had me purring happily, then whimpering when he stopped, and again when the hitting started up again.

It seemed to go on for an eternity, as if I'd never known anything different and couldn't foresee anything different in my entire future, either. But then it did change. Cool, smooth wood slid over my burning bottom, soothing it. Followed by scratchy bristles digging into my rosy flesh and being dragged across sore red areas that were turning into bruises. Not just pulling across the skin - the stiff hairbrush bristles pushed deep into my arse and scrubbed it raw. I cried out.

Then I felt John's other hand squeezing my inner thighs gently. I tried to steel myself for scratching from my brush there, forgetting that the only way to cope with sadism is to accept it. He continued to be gentle on that white skin, in contrast to my arse which was being alternately scoured and whacked with the solid wood back of the brush. And he reached upwards, pushing his hand between the tops of my thighs, and a finger between the folds found there.

I tried to open my legs further, but couldn't. It didn't stop him getting two fingers inside me, curling them just as I liked, while a storm of blows continued only inches away. Now, with this to focus on, I could take much more.

Which was just as well, as my poor bottom was getting a sound spanking with my wooden hairbrush, which showed no sign of letting up. I cursed John loudly as it grew ever more painful.

He paused a moment, fingers remaining inside me. "Something you wanted to say, sweetie?"

It was a chance to opt out. But a third finger inside felt so good... He gave me a moment, then started hitting me again.

"Fuck you," I snarled, trying to push against his fingers and ignore the renewed assault. He stepped the beating up, seemingly never going to get tired. Bloody rock climbers and their supernatural arm strength... I could feel John's arm across my stocking-covered leg, and warmth from his body where he was leaning over me. His scent was getting stronger from working up a sweat. Fresh sweat - the best perfume in the world.

I was crying out, little squeals, with every stroke, and rapidly running out of breath to do so. My corset constrained my chest rigidly and every gasp pressed my body against it. I found myself twisting, uselessly trying to escape his weapon but hoping to push his fingers into where my cunt most loved to feel them. It was wonderful.

And then he pressed his thumb over my clit.

I was soaring above clouds. My covered eyes saw bright light. I vaguely registered that I was still being hit, but the sensation I was getting wasn't pain. All I knew was ultimate, extreme pleasure. I didn't know what was going on, just kept rocking against John's hand, never wanting this to stop.

He removed his hand.

"You fucking bastard!" I yelled at him.

He stopped, and came up by my head to unzip the hood. "No tears? Aren't you brave?" Mocking me as he removed the leather, letting cold air attack my face.

"OK. Enough of that brush. Ha! Found my favourite sti-ick!", he sing-songed happily.

"Oh, shit..."

He whacked my red arse with his short fat cane, a two-foot fat garden support wrapped in gaffer tape, popularly known as the evil stick.

"Fuck!"

He brought the three-inch bat to my bottom again. I'm told it was pretty bruised already, but this added another patch of dark colour. And again. And again. My reflex was to curl up in a ball, but I could only pull my wrists and ankles against their cuffs, that feeling of constraint that got me more aroused.

"Aaah!" Why was my pussy so horribly empty?

He kept going. I was panting and couldn't get enough air, getting more light-headed and high. Only when he let up for a moment could I actually scream.

And then he replaced his hand in my cunt, and I was back on Planet Happiness. Even when the cane crashed onto my arse again and again, I thrust against him, yelling wildly, "don't stop, yes, fuck, god", until I ran out of energy.

A quiet pause, and then he struck me again. A whack angled across my bum, crossing several other welts.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Mind your language, pet," I heard. Followed by four more blows landing.

"Fucking Mary mother of motherfucking Jesus!" I had no idea where that came from. I'd never invoked Mary before in my life, nor would I be so crass as to refer to Jesus that way, even as a crude atheist. I guess the Catholic Sunday school had more influence than expected. Some subconscious association with martyrdom and pain, maybe?

"Oi! You're asking for it now!" Painful strikes rained down on me, without any pleasure at all to counteract them. I screamed soundlessly, then shook with shock, tears coming to my eyes.

He reached his hand between my legs, but only to claw my inner thighs, yet more pain where I'd been praying for good stuff. "Fuck you!" I screeched, my voice breaking.

And the cane kept going, and he squeezed and kneaded my bruising bum in between each whack, as I shivered involuntarily, loving what his hand was doing, unable to cope with the impacts, all resulting in me being a sobbing mess. My yelling was only gulping cries, now, quiet compared to the crack of the stick landing on my arse.

Time passed. And, as all things must, it eventually ended. John dropped his cane, and replaced his hand protectively over my pussy. I shuddered. Then my whole body jolted, thrusting myself against his palm, collapsing with rippling orgasm as my strung-out energy dissipated. Tears ran down my face. The gentle hand over my vulva was too much, emotionally.

He stroked my arse, all red and purple, and I trembled again, shivering. Coming. Shaking. Finally, I reached a motionless peace.

I noticed light getting brighter. I sniffled.

"Time to clear out, now, guys."

John's voice was forthright. "Fuck off. She's not moving anywhere, yet. We'll be down in a bit."

"It's closing time. We're getting everyone's transport sorted."

"Tell Cathy to call a cab, then."

"She has. You've got ten minutes."

"Well why didn't you fucking say so? I've got my sub to look after! OK! I'll have her ready in ten."

He bent back over me. "Sorry about that. How you doing? I've got water."

"Fine." I drank deeply. I really was fine - high as a kite. "The timing could have been so much worse, if he'd spoken any earlier."

Cathy's voice: "He's been waiting, watching, for the last fifteen minutes! Along with a good twenty other people. Your yelling drew quite a lot of attention!" She sounded amused.

I shrugged, as best I could. "His fault." I turned my head and snuggled down on the table. I could fall asleep right there. I yawned and closed my eyes.

"Let's get you free," John said, starting to untie my feet while I dozed. Cathy undid the rope round my wrists. She made to remove the wrist cuffs but I shook my head.

"No. Want keep."

"Fine. I need to take my other cuffs off, to get your boots back on," John called up to me. He waggled my stocking-clad feet into the shoes. "I've loosened your corset an inch or two. Can you sit up?"

I couldn't have done, without his help. Swinging my feet downwards was OK, but my head was dizzy and ran cold as he hefted me up. The hard surface brought home how sore my bottom was - and would continue to be, for much of the week. I winced while also rolling my arse round on the table, enjoying the intense sensation. John caught my eye and we shared wry smiles, each knowing how the other felt.

He pulled my skirt back on, up to my thighs. Time to stand up. One, two... I was vertical, dizzy as hell, and held up by him and Cathy.

"You get her down the stairs. I'll bring your bags and find her coat," Cathy commanded, efficient as ever.

By the time John had supported me down to the ground floor, I was feeling much more like myself, just amazingly tired. He had pulled my pullover from my bag, and I accepted gratefully his putting it on me - I was shivering from cold as well as emotion. When Cathy brought my coat, I added it and collapsed onto a seat with her.

While John was dragged off by a last clearing-up party, Cathy asked me, "Do you have anyone staying in your room with you?"

"Huh? No. Just me and Mr Hitachi. Why?"

"Well... Would you like John for the night? Richard managed to get here a bit ago, and much as John likes the idea of being banished to the floor while the two of us get it on, it's been a heavy night for him..." It was implied, that she and Richard might like privacy if it were available. She added, "He doesn't snore!"

"I know. Sure, if he wants to? I think we'll be zonking out immediately, though!"

She beamed. Then taxis arrived and shouting happened, and I ended up in between Cathy and John in the back of a car, Richard in front.

"Good night, then, was it?" It was the same driver from earlier. He seemed amused. I realised I was still wearing my collar, and wrist cuffs, though my lack of knickers at least would be hidden by the coat. John was topless and his nipples dark red. I hoped the cabbie hadn't seen his back. Rich had a hoodie hiding his bondage top, but the PVC trousers weren't exactly mainstream.

"Really good, thanks," Cathy said politely. The rest of us let her do the talking, dozing off. I must have snoozed as soon as my head was on John's shoulder, as suddenly we were back at the Premier Inn.

"Cheers, guys. You needs be careful, fallin' down stairs and whatever," he remarked to John. "See youse again!"

We stepped into the warm foyer. Richard attacked the vending machine for restorative snacks, bring the only one with cash to hand, and the rest of us ascended in the lift. "I'll send him along to you as soon as he's had a shower. See you at breakfast. Nine-ish? Night night."

"Night, Cath." I pulled my key from my bag, got the door open, and collapsed on the bed. After a minute, I got up to brush my teeth and set the door on the chain, but ajar so I'd hear John even if I fell asleep again. I hoped he'd arrive soon - I was having trouble unknotting the corset strings, and couldn't reach my boots with it on. I could have removed my collar and cuffs, but was enjoying their weight and the smell of leather mixed with my sweat.

I sent a text home. "Safe back at hotel. Had a great time. Love you. xxx" I lay down, hands near my face to enjoy the scent of sweaty leather, when the door rattled. I sprang up to let John in.

He was in fresh underpants, the usual black briefs, and nothing else. Despite attempted nonchalance, he looked most relieved to enter the room. "Ta. Could you text Cathy, so she knows I'm safely here?"

I sent, "Got him. Thanks."

A reply flashed up: a smiley emoji. And a reply from my partner: "Glad you had a good time. Tell me all about it tomorrow. Kids are asleep. I love you. xxx"

"Done. She's got it. Can you please undo my strings now?"

He reached over, commenting, "'Course. Despite the temptation to leave you in that gorgeous thing all night."

"I'd kick you with my boots."

"Or kick me out, even. Which would not be good, if Dumb and Dumber are on this floor."

I'd forgotten them. "Don't worry." I stretched in relief as the steel and fabric carapace was removed, beads of sweat running down my wet stomach. My whole torso was damp from sweat. John pulled off my boots; I removed my skirt and stockings so the corset could come free. "Ready for bed?"

John made a show of looking my naked body up and down. "God yes. I'm shattered! Do you want to take your collar and cuffs off, too?"

I'd forgotten about them. "Actually, they're fine. I kind of like them." He understood, in a way not many people would.

"Cool. Come here." We lay down and he embraced me, a long hug, finally skin to skin. Bliss, in completely vanilla fashion. Though then our hands crept round to each other's arses, feeling and fondling the welts and bruises.

"You're still hot there!"

"I'm always hot there," I joked.

"Let me see. Wow. Gorgeous! You were amazing!"

"I could say the same about you. Especially watching you fucking yourself... So pretty..."

"That was so good... So glad I managed to top you too, though." He pressed a bruise, and my cunt responded instantly. "Could I, may I, take a photo?"

"If there's no face in it."

"No problem - lie down." He arranged me face down, the white bedding wrapped around to highlight my arse, my hair pulled about enough to ensure my face and ears were totally obscured. He held my arm, deciding where to put it, and put both hands up by my head.