so wait, are there still people who haven't figured out that the notion of a "scene" or (god forbid) a "lifestyle" is some dogmatic bullshit?

i mean the notion of "true submissives" and "lifestyle dominants" should be as dead and antiquated as belief in leprechauns, ghosts, and god. the desire to participate in an immense imaginary tea party called "the bdsm scene" is howlingly, hilariously, sad.

dude, get liberated. the desire to gratify some base, primal, often violent urges is natural. sadism and masochism should be unchained and allowed to play with and off of each other without any imaginary constraints put in place by a "scene" of clucking do-gooders preoccupied with trying to turn the most urgent and desperate of sexual needs into a pta meeting following roberts' fucking rules of order.

I am conflicted, because I want to work out tonight but I've never been a fan of hotel gyms. I skipped last night, and I have a business dinner which means 1) I will have to eat something decadent and 2) I will not have time for a proper run. So either it's the gym or just do a couple of hundred push ups tonight before I jerk off. Life is uneasy, sometimes. 

Flew in on the redeye last night, and by the time I was checked in room service had stopped for the evening at my hotel, so I drove to a goddamn Denny's nearby and grabbed a vanilla shake and some hash browns. My waitress was this sort of punk rock looking girl wearing yellow canvas high tops. Her name was Denise and she was in her early or middle 20s, probably working her way through college. 

I had fantasies about us beginning to banter and her finally giggling and dragging me into the bathroom and sticking my head in the toilet. Tipped her an awkwardly large sum of money and left as inconspicuously as possible with a boner.

My arms and legs are completely numb and I can't see or hear and I'm trying not to think about the gum Justine made me chew off the bottom of her filthy Chuck Taylors, the gum that is now very much trapped in my mouth as I lay in the cold van wishing I could just black out. Of course Justine and Jenny had been feeding me uppers since St Louis, so blacking out was not even a vague possibility. All I could do was lay there sore, confined, hyperactive, blind and mostly deaf. I was getting used to the huge plug in my ass, but any time I moved even a little it still sent shudders up and down my nerves. When you have a plug too big to be comfortable up there you never get over the fear you're going to shit yourself.

I pissed all over the towel the rag that was under my throbbing dick, like they knew I would. Justine had put it there so I didn't "piss all over her van". They hadn't let me use the bathroom in a day so there was no way I was going to be able to hold it especially in the cold night air. My left leg cramped, twitched a little and then just went dead when I was helpless to stretch it out or even shift my weight.

At long last I heard the back of the van open. Equipment was loaded in. There were guys helping them bring back their amps and if any of them had even happened to glance over to the part of the van where I lay bound they'd have seen me. Jenny loved threatening me with the humiliation of discovery and tonight I could feel her sitting down in the very back just in front of me and having a needlessly long conversation with someone. My heart was racing and I was praying to God she wouldn't choose to move over just a foot or so so that whomever she was talking to would find me right in their line of sight. She knew how terrified I was everytime she pulled stunts like that and she would drag them out longer and longer.

When the van doors finally opened and shut, I had pissed myself again and was sweating despite the cold. My heart was racing and I couldn't catch my breath and Jenny and Kat both giggled.

"Ick" said Kat, "I smell pee".

"Guess we know what the bitch is getting gagged with tonight" said Justine, sliding into the back with me. The next thing I knew, Jenny was sitting on my ass again, tracing her fingernails over the lacerations where she had already drawn blood earlier. She tapped on the buttplug a few times and wasn't happy with how little I tensed and shivered. This was partially because I was absolutely numb and my muscles were exhausted even though my mind raced helplessly, but it was also true that I was getting used to the plug.

I could hear the two whispering something and I smelled another cigarette Justine must have been holding just under my nose. Then the plug slid out and I gasped and whined while Jenny tore up my ass by pushing it back in, hard, and pulling it out two or three more times. A minute later I heard Kat giggling from the front seat and then the two in the back started laughing as well. Justine passed something under my nose and I realized it was the buttplug, slathered in Icee Hot.

I tried to struggle but between the numbness and the hogtie there was nothing I could do except tense up, which I knew was going to make things worse. Still there was no way I could relax and as I felt the plug sliding in I tensed up my sphincter and the plug tore through, burning and stinging like my ass was on fire. Every quick jerk and shudder and spasm I could manage only made things worse but there was no way I could calm down. Justine was pinching my nose shut for a few seconds at a time so I couldn't even get a regular breathing rhythm and I'd already started to cry when I felt a gloved hand smearing something all over my cock shaft and balls and then a moment later they were on fire too.

I couldn't move, couldn't catch my breath, couldn't get any kind of relief and couldn't even make the choked, sobbing sounds that kept trying to come up my throat audible because Justine quickly muffled me with another two circuits of tape over the blanket over my mouth.

Helpless to do anything except suffer, Jenny and Justine slid over so that they were both sitting comfortably on my back, and one of them even uncovered my ear so that I could hear more clearly as the three of them spoke calmly about the gig they had just played and their plans for later in the night, once they had "dropped off bitch boy" at the motel and "had a little fun" with me. As I cried and shivered they bounced up and down on me and one of them, Justine I think, calmly stooped down far enough to spit right in my ear and giggled softly, knowing how queasy I must be under the tape and blankets.

Just read an awesome book that got me really interested in the BDSM lifestyle. Can't quite recall the name...it has a number in the title....oh right, 120 Days of Sodom by a chap named de Sade. Riveting stuff.

A perfect first date:

Seeing a movie Anthony Lane gushed about in the New Yorker.

Eating at a trendy Nepalese place.

Conversation over dinner about books and records.

Hands bound tightly with duct tape, locked in a car trunk.

In basically any order.