a touch of velvet
Last night was a challenge, of sorts, that I set myself a while ago: go to a predominantly ladies-only play party - Velvet in Mission Control - and have a good time, whatever you do.
A challenge, because the first time I ever went to a play party, just as my new-found sexual rebellion was blossoming (and under a different name), I was abused and taken advantaged of and assaulted. Ladies-only, supposedly safe from the predatorial gender, branded as “a good place for other ladies to try it out with another woman especially as a beginner” - and yet when I got preyed on even the host wouldn’t bat an eye. I ended up abandoning that persona, and everything I’d done in research, and having to start over from the beginning after some time regaining my confidence - partly fueled by a slut-like need to change the answer for “Have you ever slept with someone of the same sex” to “Yes and I LOVED IT”.
But I was determined to not let this stop me. Not this experience, not some recent drama from back home threatening to derail me, not any apprehension or fear. Even if all I did was sit in friendly conversation, I wanted to return happy and pleased, able to say “yes, I’ve been to a women’s play party, and I enjoyed myself.”
Oh boy (or girl?) did I ever.
There were some crucial aspects that made a hell of a lot of difference. Firstly, when I asked the organisers about their policy surrounding abuse (and telling them my story), they were very understanding and gave me a thorough answer of what they’d do in such a situation. This gave me confidence that, unlike the organiser of the first party, they would take me seriously and with compassion if anything should go wrong.
Velvet had a queer sensibility to it - besides women, the party was also open to other gender minorities: trans people (male and female), the intersexed, the genderqueer, essentially anyone that was not a cis male. The attendees ranged from straight-but-curious to butch & femme to just sexual to politically queer, everyone interacting with each other openly. In the other play party, which was implicitly bio-women only, I felt like none of them would have known was “queer” meant if it whacked them on the head. Most of the women there were straight wives of swinger couples, uninvolved or uninterested in queer politics - hell I was the only non-White person there. At Velvet there was a mix of backgrounds and races; sluttery crosses boundaries, after all.
I had half of my full-body henna rose vine done - the right leg and belly - and I wanted to show it off, so I didn’t end up wearing a lot. I wore my red & black bustier, banged-up after a number of performances but still wearable (even if troublesome to hook up) and the belt-like net miniskirt that I obtained for Kinky Salon a week ago, which made me feel like a rousing sexpot as soon as I tried it on. I had bought new shows that afternoon to show off the henna on my foot (my other shoes were covered) but they were a mistake - poor design meant spokes wounding the top of my feet and toes, and eventually I trekked half the way barefoot. Either I poke the bottom of my feet with glass, or the top with the sandals…oh well.
Oh and I brought my purple feather tickler too. The one that became charged with Sex Goddess Worship Power at Trickster Salon the first time I went to Mission Control. I waved it three times for good luck. At the very least it would be a good conversation starter.
And it was! Its presence intrigued people and its soft edges gave sweet pleasure to anyone within contact. It was a good way to get a smile, and also a sneaky way for me to show off my henna (using the feather tickler as pointer) while also getting some sweetness of my own. And in one case…it nearly brought me a playmate.
But I’ll get back to her in a sec.
At the Start
The night started off with Allison Moon’s presentation on Girlsex 101. It wasn’t really super-beginner per se - it was assumed that everyone in the room had at least one experience with a woman, or at least themselves - but it gave some really useful but often overlooked information on how to make girlsex even more fun and pleasurable. She was well-knowledgeable and quite thorough given her time limit; moreso than the first play party’s (pathetic) attempt at an “introduction”. She was very loving and affectionate to her demo model that it made us all go “aww”, and she also gave us some prize tricks - like using the wristband area of a latex glove as an instant dental dam (“worth the price of admission!” yelled one), bracing your hands and neck if they’re getting tired, and releasing your voice as a means of releasing pleasure and communicating with your partner. I certainly have picked up plenty more than I would have thought of…and was quite eager to give them a go. If I could find someone to try them on.
Velvet is a relatively new party, and the room had a good number of newcomers - first-timers and those that may have come to one other Velvet or been to the space for other reasons (like myself). This meant that everyone was pretty much on an even keel: there wasn’t a wide chasm between the “regulars” and the “newbies”. Everyone was very friendly, and we got to chatting immediately; the newly-opened dungeon turned into our main social room, where we watched top-notch rope expert Madame Butterfly tie R up in a lush variety of self-made silk ropes, had a little fun with S’s hand-me-down spanking crop (it was given to her randomly at a party one time), and tried to catch the latecomers up on Allison’s class - which was a bit difficult given that we didn’t really have a ready body model at the time and we still were in the semi-awkward-but-friendly stage. Oh well.
To my surprise I ran into someone from back in Ausland who actually had lived very close to me and knew many of the same people - including some that were giving me grief from a thousand miles away. She had faced something similar and understood the headache of being temporarily disliked by a very tight small web, and reassured me that things aren’t necessarily as bad as I imagined and they’ll work themselves out. It was great to find someone who could really empathise - and what a magic coincidence that it was someone from the same social circle! Thanks H, you are fabulous.
Red for Me
Earlier I’d mentioned something about the feather tickler bringing me a new playmate - or almost. Cute awkward friendly redhead, I’d seen A before at a BDSM novices night and we’d recognised each other. She was at Velvet as someone’s “pet” - someone she’d only met a week ago, doing so as a favour in return for flaking out on her. A’s “owner” was nowhere to be seen, and she was mostly hanging out with us “Dungeon Social” people and her French-born friend…and me.
Our mutual silliness and awkwardness meant a very compatible flirting style, and soon I cottoned on that A did like me (and not just that she was very responsive to the tickler!) We talked a bit about getting together, and while she was very keen to spend time with me she was worried her “owner” would mind. It was pretty evident though that she was way more into me than her “owner” - she was willing to take the collar off, kept coming to me rather than her, and even while she and her “owner” were cuddling she kept reaching for me, looking at me, longing for my hands rather than hers. We kissed in the group sex bedroom - not once but two different times, passionately so, eager to go further, but neither of us wanting to disrespect her date.
Personally I felt rather odd about the date - she didn’t seem to care about A but got rather possessive and aloof about the idea of A having her own fun. I asked her if I could borrow A for a while; she said “that’ll cost you $300”. I thought she was kidding, but a little while later A told me her “owner” wanted to charge me roughly that much because I kissed her! (Thank goodness she never claimed this from me.) This didn’t seem like what I knew of ethical owners and pets, taking ownership because they care about their pet’s welfare and so they keep careful watch (here’s a better example from Fleur de Lis SF) - the only time she ever popped up was to make sure someone like me didn’t have a chance at stealing her “pet”. I used to be the jealous sort, which is never a good idea, and whenever I encounter someone with a jealous possessive partner it always spells trouble. It would have been one thing if A and this other person were able to negotiate limits and boundaries, with A’s date respecting her choices more, but my gut tells me hardly anything was talked about beyond “you owe me for flaking out, here’s my collar”.
We never did manage to swap contact details to play some other time, and searching for her is proving to be tricky. I do hope A managed to find the freedom she wanted, at least. I would love to find A again and pick up where we left off - there was a definite chemistry and desire there that would be shameful to waste. A, if you’re reading this, or if you know someone who could be A - please say hi, gorgeous.
A Pile of Purple
Halfway through the night Velvet’s organiser, Bix, told us about a Velvet tradition: the Girlpile. Everyone goes to the group sex room at the back - next to the dungeon, a lush red and black room with plenty of beds and cushion space, currently more used as a cafe than a makeout spot - and pile up on top of each other. Then we’ll see what happens!
No one seemed to be in a great rush to make a girlpile, which was rather disappointing. In fact, by the time we got to the room, I was the only one on the bed ready for a pileon. There had been a few couples (and threesomes, and one foursome) already well into their sex time by the time we were there, but most people were either lingering around chatting or standing by the wall watching.
"Come on," I said to the bystanders across me. "Who’s going to join me in this girlpile?"
Up comes J, a petite ashen-haired bespectacled lass in a purple corset and…well, she had a blue skirt, but after a joint stripoff (when I took off my bustier) she tucked that away too. She too was part of the Dungeon Social, one of the people we tried to give the Cliff Notes version of Girlsex 101 to. She sits next to me, shoulder to shoulder, almost back to back like compadres in crime-fighting.
"I’ll join you."
We chill for a while, waiting for other people to join us, but it’s clear that either they’re shy or more interested in watching. I look around and ask: “Anyone here you find interesting?”
"You’re pretty interesting - you’re gorgeous."
Her sweet compliment softens me; we tenderly hold hands and kiss, like new lovers in flower meadows. She spends a lot of time stroking me, caressing me, touching every inch of my skin with care and love and pleasure - including my breasts, which ached for touch.
"Large, magnificent, and fun to play with!"
I was aware of the other people watching, and by this point we were surrounded by a few other horny couples and groups using my belly and shoulder as temporary pillows (did this count as an orgy?). None of it bothered me too much - I was soaking in J’s pampering, running her hands on every inch of me while she suckled on my breasts and I drew breath in deep desire.
I remembered Allison’s first lesson about voice. I’ve never been particularly noisy in sex, even though I can’t remember consciously choosing to be quiet. I’ve always been more of a breather, inhaling and exhaling strongly as my body quivers and buckles with pre-orgasmic touch. I made some effort to be more vocal, though I was probably drowned out by the screams and yelps around me - ah, didn’t matter, I was too busy feeling luxurious.
J moved down to my vulva and my body buckled against her hand, getting wet, straining hard to burst out of my red panties. I asked her if I could take them off; she offered to do so. Now I was clad only in my miniskirt (quite a sight), my body surrendered to her deft luscious fingers.
Then the voice came. Her fingers around my lips, my clit, into me, pressing inside and around and upon me, while we kissed and I stroked her seemingly-innocent face (ha!) and we held on to skin and breast and hand. The further she went, the more my voice was pushed out of me…and soon I heard myself moaning and squealing, primal and powerful and also powerless. I warned her I would get wet, and did; gushing strongly, floating in deep strong orgasmic waves, somehow both within my body and floating outside.
I asked her what I could do for her. She asked me to stroke her lower back - it was a sensitive spot for her. Off went her corset; she said she felt sexy in it so I let her keep it on, but truly she was sexy no matter what. Her breasts, though smaller than mine, were no less great to play with. I held her close to me, our mouths and lips and tongues together, me stroking her back and ever so softly brushing the pads of my fingers against her skin, up and around her sides, barely touching. Her moans were like cries, and a few times I was worried I was hurting her, but she kept affirming her delight and rolled more into me as I returned her earlier generousity.
then the group next to us left us with a vibrator; I’m not sure what brand, but it was white and about the same look and feel of a bowling pin. It was free-for-all, so we decided to make use of it. I used it up and down her back, and J told me that I could go lower, so I did; around her black-panty ass, around to her vulva, herself pulsing as strongly as the vibrator did.
We played around with the vibrator on her body for a while, and then decided to experiment with something that turned out to be the most delicious discovery. We placed the vibrator between ourselves, between our hot throbbing crotches, and straddled each other, find the sweet spot of comfortable seating and deep vibration.
The effect was immense, as told by how tightly we held on to each other’s hands. Our bodies rocking against each other and cradling each other, leg to leg and pelvis to pelvis and girl to girl; the vibrator buzzing between us, sending both of us to simultaneous ecstacy; the moans getting louder and louder, me feeling a major kick in my stomach - the kick of pleasure nerves turned on major - and shouting “OH FUCK oh FUUUUUUCK”, never before done. My body was doing things unfamiliar but delectable, in sync to J’s; we were orgasming close to the same time, pleasure building in between like a feedback loop.
Once we were tired out from the vibrator we lay next to each other - there was more space now - softly making out and enjoying each other’s glow. I was super relaxed and would have happily cuddled J to sleep then and there; however, we couldn’t stay in Mission Control forever (you’d think they’d let us do overnight! …do they?) and J did have a job to get to in the morning. But this was lovely. this was beautiful, and delicious, and amazing.
And it totally made up for that one night of horror, and all the pain thereafter.
A and J, and everyone else who gave me good conversation or cuddles or gentle caresses or even a glass of wine. Velvet and the crew. Mission Control. Thank you for a brilliant, excellent, glory-filled night. Just what I wanted and just what I needed.
(though I still hunger for more; ah, you greedy greedy thing!)