I've been missing. Luckily it isn't my health this time. I've just been busy starting a business. You don't know hard work and time commitment until you start a business, believe me. For the most part, my products are mainstream, but I am starting a line of kinky items that I may put out there for sale at some point. When that happens, you'll know it!
Anyway, it would seem everyone else is either busy or missing in action somewhere. Mistress is busy with Roller Derby, Ms. Reina moved across country recently, and just about everyone else has evaporated at least temporarily. Stormy and I are spending what time we can together, but not a lot of pony play is happening.
Boo.
But there are plans. I'm hoping the Flea will be a bit better this year. Everyone was talking about how much they missed the ponies last year, so there should be some support for a paddock this time around. It kind of depends on Mistress at this point.
Nudge nudge...
Stormy and I are planning on Camp next May. It has been two years and enough is enough! Time to have some fun. I'll keep all of you posted on what happens next on that. And if our determination pays off, you'll get those stories as well.
In the meantime, keep an eye out here to see what I'm making in the way of kinky toys. If you don't want to wait, you can check out my FetLife page. Look for PonyboyRusty and friend me if you want! The more, the merrier.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Submission
I start the evening in a chair but it isn't going well. I feel fine, but I'm tired and I keep dozing off. That's generally not a good idea at this sort of party, but I can't help it. She is sitting next to me on the sofa and notices my "inattention." We had talked that afternoon and from the tenor of the conversation it was clear that we were going to end up scening. But I never know what form that will take, which is part of the fun of it. Still, dozing off is probably not in the cards or even acceptable.
She suddenly reaches over and yanks on my pony tail. The one on my head, that is. I'm not in pony gear this evening. It's not that sort of get together and I'm not with my Mistress. I haven't had quality time with Her in ages for various reasons, and I miss Her terribly. Still, I observe the rules and don't play pony unless She is there or I have Her express permission. I didn't seek it for this evening because I didn't need it. I can do dungeon play at will. I'm a big boy.
The tail pull brings me around quickly. Suddenly I am wide awake and apologetic. She is understanding and asks if I would like to put my head in her lap for a while. I can't do that without upending myself, so I sit on the floor and put my head on Her knee. For what seems like hours, she sits there and gently strokes my hair. I may nod off from time to time, but I sense and feel Her presence. At turns, it's reassuring and unnerving. At this moment, I am Her property to do with as She pleases within the bounds of our negotiations (and those are pretty permissive). These gentle ministrations may be just that or She may be lulling me into a false sense of security.
Either way, what bliss!
I have watched Her play with another. She will sit and look idly about the room watching other play scenes or talking to people while Her sub sits next to her or on the floor in front of her quietly. Suddenly there is a bellow of pain and the sub is writhing about in an effort to adjust to the pain she is undergoing. I have never been able to see what was causing the pain. Whatever it was, it was subtle.
Tonight, I find out. We have had some food to eat and one of the plastic utensils has been called into service. She has broken off a length of the handle and now secrets it in Her hand. She reaches over and takes my hand in Hers, gently massaging it. I feel lulled again. Briefly. Then the business end of the broken plastic handle is suddenly jammed into the web of my thumb.
Now I'm the sub who is bellowing out in pain. The jab ends almost immediately and the massaging continues. Then the plastic handle finds its mark between two fingers. I howl again and instinctively try to pull my arm away from the source of my torment. Trouble is, She is stronger than I am. She is also an artist at making certain that any attempt to escape will hurt even more.
So here is the predicament. It hurts to remain still and it hurts even more to pull away. And I can't get away anyway.
She releases my hand and I have a look. Lots of marks, but no broken skin. It's amazing how much pain you can endure without ever crossing a hard limit.
She pulls my pant leg up a bit and starts using the sharp plastic to scratch my lower leg. This results in more cries of pain and struggles to pull away from the source. Again, attempted escape just makes it worse. But lying there and just letting it happen isn't an option that my body is willing to consider. I think that's a good thing. The struggle seems to be as much fun for Her as anything. Watching a sub in a predicament like this can be very entertaining.
I notice that others in the room have tuned in to watch. That is how I draw the conclusion.
"Why don't you take off your pants?" She asks. I have played with this Domme enough times to know that She is not being contemplative. She is issuing a command. Take your pants off. I do.
I am wearing flannel lined jeans this evening and the room is warm. I have also been struggling and under some stress for some time by now, so my legs have a thin sheen of perspiration on them. No matter. Before long, they also have some handsome scratch marks all over them. She has a fondness for scratching. I'm not crazy about it, but I have never told Her that She can't do it. So what does that say about me? Duh!
Gradually She works Her way down to my feet. The plastic handle finds its mark between a few toes with the predictable result. But then She gets another idea. I almost wish that She had stayed with the plastic handle.
If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that my feet are terribly ticklish. I mean violently so. If you want to tickle my feet, you had better have either the strength of ten men or a willingness to get badly bruised up.
She had the strength thing going for Her. She tickled my feet unmercifully until I about turned blue from laughing. She allowed me to rest for a short time and then She was at it again. I contorted and twisted myself in any way I thought would get me away from the torment, but to no avail. I don't know if it was frustration or just a desire to 'do something' about my situation, but I was inspired to shout, "Why can't you just tie me up and flog me?!?"
Laughter all around. Actually, I really was making light of the situation. She laughed harder than anyone else in the room. Really, in the end, it's entertainment. So why not put some effort into being entertaining?
What came to be known as Round 1 ended with me in complete shambles across Her lap. I was scratched up from my toes to my groin. I was a sweaty mess, and I was breathing as though I had just run the one minute mile. Then She gathered me into Her arms for a few minutes to bring me back down to Earth.
Her aftercare is second to none. I mean that. As I sat there, my head held in Her arms, She stroked my hair and told me what a wonderful pony I was. True, we weren't playing pony at the time, but that is the context in which She sees me at times like this, and I love it. But She doesn't just complement me. She leads me on a guided meditation to a meadow that She designed just for me. She turns me loose to run all I want to. Under Her gentle suggestion, I feel the warm sun on my face (no small deal given the harsh winter we have had) and the warm breeze in my mane. She lets me live in this reality for as long as I want before gently letting me wake up and open my eyes. Then She finds me some water and sits quietly with me.
Let me be clear about something. I am a submissive through and through. But that doesn't mean that I submit to just anyone. You can call yourself a Dom/me seven ways to Sunday, but that doesn't mean I owe you anything. If no connection exists between us, forget it. Not that there is no possibility, but I need to get to know you and I'd prefer to watch you work at least once. It helps if we have friends in common whom I trust and who will vouch for you. But if I am going to offer up my body as your canvas, you had better know how to paint.
Respect is earned. So is my submission. Both are also conditional and can be withdrawn. She has my respect and my willingness to submit mostly because I know I have Her respect and Her willingness to care for me properly.
With that in mind, here I am once again on the sofa sitting next to Her and awaiting Round 2. It starts when I make the comment that my Mistress bought an evil stick at last year's Summer Flea and I didn't find it all that bad. I have a habit of tossing myself under buses that is outstripped only by my ability to toss other subs under buses. It's entirely inadvertent and caused by my inability to keep my mouth shut when certain ideas or topics are being bandied about. So there it is. I'll learn, so help me.
"Wait just a minute," She says. She goes into a bedroom and emerges with two bola-type objects. Each has a pair of small balls with crocheted coverings hanging from the ends of a string and held by a small handle at the string's midpoint. "Take off your shirt and get on your hands and knees." I comply. Soon I feel the almost constant sensation of four evil sticks across my back. Maybe I'm just warmed up at this point or something, but they don't bother me at all. In fact, they feel strangely good.
For fear of sounding bratty and antagonistic, I refrain from saying any of this.
Finally, She grabs my ponytail again and says, "Try and get away from me." Again, I twist and turn in any way that I can, but She has my tail and there is only so much I can do. When I am spent with rug burns to my knees and elbows, She relents. This time, she lies down on the floor with me and gathers me into Her arms again. That stunning aftercare finds its way to me and I float off again. When I open my eyes, She is looking right at me with a broad smile on her face. This has been good for both of us.
Still, it's not entirely over. The buses are still running. I notice that some other subs have been getting corset ribbons tied on their bodies using staples. My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask to experience one staple. It doesn't really hurt. But oh, what an idea this gives Her!
Stepping out briefly, She returns with a length of string and a safety pin. She ties the pin to the string and hooks it into the staple. "Bend your leg up as tightly as you can," She tells me. I do so, and She ties the other end of the string around my big toe. One false move and the staple will get yanked out. Not good. "This is what is known as predicament bondage," She tells me. So far so good. Then I get a sense of impending doom when She threatens to tickle me. It doesn't really happen partly because this was a mind fuck, but also because the string won't stay secured around my toe.
Thank the powers for Their small favors!
She says something about wearing the staple for a couple of days with the safety pin attached. I think She is offering me an idea. A choice. So when another sub offers to take the staple out, I let her. You know, staples hurt a lot more coming out than they do going in.
And what's worse, She was not offering me a choice. She returns to find the staple removed without Her permission. Now there are three subs in deep trouble. The one who asked if I wanted it removed, the one who said yes, and the one who did the removing. We are in for it.
I have no doubt that punishment will be on the menu the next time we get together. Only as I write, there are at least two Dommes who have one month to decide what to do with us.
I didn't mean to transgress - honestly, but I can't help looking forward to the consequences.
She suddenly reaches over and yanks on my pony tail. The one on my head, that is. I'm not in pony gear this evening. It's not that sort of get together and I'm not with my Mistress. I haven't had quality time with Her in ages for various reasons, and I miss Her terribly. Still, I observe the rules and don't play pony unless She is there or I have Her express permission. I didn't seek it for this evening because I didn't need it. I can do dungeon play at will. I'm a big boy.
The tail pull brings me around quickly. Suddenly I am wide awake and apologetic. She is understanding and asks if I would like to put my head in her lap for a while. I can't do that without upending myself, so I sit on the floor and put my head on Her knee. For what seems like hours, she sits there and gently strokes my hair. I may nod off from time to time, but I sense and feel Her presence. At turns, it's reassuring and unnerving. At this moment, I am Her property to do with as She pleases within the bounds of our negotiations (and those are pretty permissive). These gentle ministrations may be just that or She may be lulling me into a false sense of security.
Either way, what bliss!
I have watched Her play with another. She will sit and look idly about the room watching other play scenes or talking to people while Her sub sits next to her or on the floor in front of her quietly. Suddenly there is a bellow of pain and the sub is writhing about in an effort to adjust to the pain she is undergoing. I have never been able to see what was causing the pain. Whatever it was, it was subtle.
Tonight, I find out. We have had some food to eat and one of the plastic utensils has been called into service. She has broken off a length of the handle and now secrets it in Her hand. She reaches over and takes my hand in Hers, gently massaging it. I feel lulled again. Briefly. Then the business end of the broken plastic handle is suddenly jammed into the web of my thumb.
Now I'm the sub who is bellowing out in pain. The jab ends almost immediately and the massaging continues. Then the plastic handle finds its mark between two fingers. I howl again and instinctively try to pull my arm away from the source of my torment. Trouble is, She is stronger than I am. She is also an artist at making certain that any attempt to escape will hurt even more.
So here is the predicament. It hurts to remain still and it hurts even more to pull away. And I can't get away anyway.
She releases my hand and I have a look. Lots of marks, but no broken skin. It's amazing how much pain you can endure without ever crossing a hard limit.
She pulls my pant leg up a bit and starts using the sharp plastic to scratch my lower leg. This results in more cries of pain and struggles to pull away from the source. Again, attempted escape just makes it worse. But lying there and just letting it happen isn't an option that my body is willing to consider. I think that's a good thing. The struggle seems to be as much fun for Her as anything. Watching a sub in a predicament like this can be very entertaining.
I notice that others in the room have tuned in to watch. That is how I draw the conclusion.
"Why don't you take off your pants?" She asks. I have played with this Domme enough times to know that She is not being contemplative. She is issuing a command. Take your pants off. I do.
I am wearing flannel lined jeans this evening and the room is warm. I have also been struggling and under some stress for some time by now, so my legs have a thin sheen of perspiration on them. No matter. Before long, they also have some handsome scratch marks all over them. She has a fondness for scratching. I'm not crazy about it, but I have never told Her that She can't do it. So what does that say about me? Duh!
Gradually She works Her way down to my feet. The plastic handle finds its mark between a few toes with the predictable result. But then She gets another idea. I almost wish that She had stayed with the plastic handle.
If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that my feet are terribly ticklish. I mean violently so. If you want to tickle my feet, you had better have either the strength of ten men or a willingness to get badly bruised up.
She had the strength thing going for Her. She tickled my feet unmercifully until I about turned blue from laughing. She allowed me to rest for a short time and then She was at it again. I contorted and twisted myself in any way I thought would get me away from the torment, but to no avail. I don't know if it was frustration or just a desire to 'do something' about my situation, but I was inspired to shout, "Why can't you just tie me up and flog me?!?"
Laughter all around. Actually, I really was making light of the situation. She laughed harder than anyone else in the room. Really, in the end, it's entertainment. So why not put some effort into being entertaining?
What came to be known as Round 1 ended with me in complete shambles across Her lap. I was scratched up from my toes to my groin. I was a sweaty mess, and I was breathing as though I had just run the one minute mile. Then She gathered me into Her arms for a few minutes to bring me back down to Earth.
Her aftercare is second to none. I mean that. As I sat there, my head held in Her arms, She stroked my hair and told me what a wonderful pony I was. True, we weren't playing pony at the time, but that is the context in which She sees me at times like this, and I love it. But She doesn't just complement me. She leads me on a guided meditation to a meadow that She designed just for me. She turns me loose to run all I want to. Under Her gentle suggestion, I feel the warm sun on my face (no small deal given the harsh winter we have had) and the warm breeze in my mane. She lets me live in this reality for as long as I want before gently letting me wake up and open my eyes. Then She finds me some water and sits quietly with me.
Let me be clear about something. I am a submissive through and through. But that doesn't mean that I submit to just anyone. You can call yourself a Dom/me seven ways to Sunday, but that doesn't mean I owe you anything. If no connection exists between us, forget it. Not that there is no possibility, but I need to get to know you and I'd prefer to watch you work at least once. It helps if we have friends in common whom I trust and who will vouch for you. But if I am going to offer up my body as your canvas, you had better know how to paint.
Respect is earned. So is my submission. Both are also conditional and can be withdrawn. She has my respect and my willingness to submit mostly because I know I have Her respect and Her willingness to care for me properly.
With that in mind, here I am once again on the sofa sitting next to Her and awaiting Round 2. It starts when I make the comment that my Mistress bought an evil stick at last year's Summer Flea and I didn't find it all that bad. I have a habit of tossing myself under buses that is outstripped only by my ability to toss other subs under buses. It's entirely inadvertent and caused by my inability to keep my mouth shut when certain ideas or topics are being bandied about. So there it is. I'll learn, so help me.
"Wait just a minute," She says. She goes into a bedroom and emerges with two bola-type objects. Each has a pair of small balls with crocheted coverings hanging from the ends of a string and held by a small handle at the string's midpoint. "Take off your shirt and get on your hands and knees." I comply. Soon I feel the almost constant sensation of four evil sticks across my back. Maybe I'm just warmed up at this point or something, but they don't bother me at all. In fact, they feel strangely good.
For fear of sounding bratty and antagonistic, I refrain from saying any of this.
Finally, She grabs my ponytail again and says, "Try and get away from me." Again, I twist and turn in any way that I can, but She has my tail and there is only so much I can do. When I am spent with rug burns to my knees and elbows, She relents. This time, she lies down on the floor with me and gathers me into Her arms again. That stunning aftercare finds its way to me and I float off again. When I open my eyes, She is looking right at me with a broad smile on her face. This has been good for both of us.
Still, it's not entirely over. The buses are still running. I notice that some other subs have been getting corset ribbons tied on their bodies using staples. My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask to experience one staple. It doesn't really hurt. But oh, what an idea this gives Her!
Stepping out briefly, She returns with a length of string and a safety pin. She ties the pin to the string and hooks it into the staple. "Bend your leg up as tightly as you can," She tells me. I do so, and She ties the other end of the string around my big toe. One false move and the staple will get yanked out. Not good. "This is what is known as predicament bondage," She tells me. So far so good. Then I get a sense of impending doom when She threatens to tickle me. It doesn't really happen partly because this was a mind fuck, but also because the string won't stay secured around my toe.
Thank the powers for Their small favors!
She says something about wearing the staple for a couple of days with the safety pin attached. I think She is offering me an idea. A choice. So when another sub offers to take the staple out, I let her. You know, staples hurt a lot more coming out than they do going in.
And what's worse, She was not offering me a choice. She returns to find the staple removed without Her permission. Now there are three subs in deep trouble. The one who asked if I wanted it removed, the one who said yes, and the one who did the removing. We are in for it.
I have no doubt that punishment will be on the menu the next time we get together. Only as I write, there are at least two Dommes who have one month to decide what to do with us.
I didn't mean to transgress - honestly, but I can't help looking forward to the consequences.
Friday, February 11, 2011
A Not-So-Live Journal
Some time ago I remember a glitch causing this blog to be suspended because a program routine with an overactive hypothalamus thought I might be peddling spam. That got resolved in jig time (thanks Blogger!) but still left me with the idea that a back-up blog might not be such a bad idea. So I started a duplicate blog at Live Journal.
I kept both blogs going side by side despite the fact that I found Live Journal to be somewhat obtuse and less user-friendly than Blogger. But after a while, I decided that I no longer needed to pay Live Journal for the account. It was pretty inexpensive at about $20 per year, but I could do everything here that I wanted to do there for free. So why bother paying for an account when free accounts were available?
So I dropped back to "Basic" account status at LJ.
Today, I went to see when I last posted to the LJ blog with the intention of bringing it up to date. Guess what? I got a screen with a goat's face staring back at me that read "PURGED ACCOUNT."
Well, I don't recall doing that. I'm not sure why I have disappeared. And it's not just my journal that went away, it's my entire account.
Not saying I didn't do it, but if I did, it isn't what I meant to do. In any case, It's been far too long to do anything about it now, so the Live Journal copy of this blog is history.
So be it!
I kept both blogs going side by side despite the fact that I found Live Journal to be somewhat obtuse and less user-friendly than Blogger. But after a while, I decided that I no longer needed to pay Live Journal for the account. It was pretty inexpensive at about $20 per year, but I could do everything here that I wanted to do there for free. So why bother paying for an account when free accounts were available?
So I dropped back to "Basic" account status at LJ.
Today, I went to see when I last posted to the LJ blog with the intention of bringing it up to date. Guess what? I got a screen with a goat's face staring back at me that read "PURGED ACCOUNT."
Well, I don't recall doing that. I'm not sure why I have disappeared. And it's not just my journal that went away, it's my entire account.
Not saying I didn't do it, but if I did, it isn't what I meant to do. In any case, It's been far too long to do anything about it now, so the Live Journal copy of this blog is history.
So be it!
A Flea in my Ear
Ok, last December I expressed doubts about going to the Flea this year. Well, I reconsidered and so did Stormy. It's going to be odd this time around, though.
We are going as humans.
There will be no organized pony activities at the Flea, which is a shame, but Mistress could not commit this year and alternatives did not work out. I didn't feel comfortable or capable of organizing anything - and after all, ponies aren't the organizers most of the time. So there really is no pony reason to travel the six or seven hours to get to Providence.
Well, except for the chance to spend some quality time with Stormy. That's incentive enough.
I'm also going to meet up with my pony pal Clover and his Good Wife (no accident on the caps there). We had some fun last year and are looking forward to having more this time around.
So yes, we will be going to the Flea. No, we are not planning on doing any pony activity. We may actually get a chance to attend a class or two, which is something ponies don't often get to do. That could be an eye opener. Well, at least it could open something...
We won't be staying at the Westin, which is the host hotel for the Flea. We just can't afford it at $150 per night. That may be a price break, but it breaks my bank. We have had a REALLY tough winter up this way and it isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. I take a risk every time I pull out of the driveway. That would be the driveway that is currently costing me about $60 a week to keep clear and has pretty much shredded a set of tires that are not yet a year and a half old.
Nest year...studded snow tires. I hope.
The Flea will not be a bore, however. Stormy and I are playing things by ear, but we will see a lot of friends. And in an expression of the hope that springs eternal, we are still packing our tack. We don't expect to use it, but when you're a devoted pony, it becomes a part of who you are. To leave your tack at home is to leave an important part of yourself behind. Neither of us can bring ourselves to do that.
Besides, Mistress did say She might be in on Sunday to see Foxy Davis. Apparently he has a pair of custom gloves for Her to pick up. I didn't ask what those gloves were, but I hope to find out. It's unlikely that we will play pony on Sunday, but the option is open however remote.
That's pony hope. I'll let you know how things go.
We are going as humans.
There will be no organized pony activities at the Flea, which is a shame, but Mistress could not commit this year and alternatives did not work out. I didn't feel comfortable or capable of organizing anything - and after all, ponies aren't the organizers most of the time. So there really is no pony reason to travel the six or seven hours to get to Providence.
Well, except for the chance to spend some quality time with Stormy. That's incentive enough.
I'm also going to meet up with my pony pal Clover and his Good Wife (no accident on the caps there). We had some fun last year and are looking forward to having more this time around.
So yes, we will be going to the Flea. No, we are not planning on doing any pony activity. We may actually get a chance to attend a class or two, which is something ponies don't often get to do. That could be an eye opener. Well, at least it could open something...
We won't be staying at the Westin, which is the host hotel for the Flea. We just can't afford it at $150 per night. That may be a price break, but it breaks my bank. We have had a REALLY tough winter up this way and it isn't over yet. Not by a long shot. I take a risk every time I pull out of the driveway. That would be the driveway that is currently costing me about $60 a week to keep clear and has pretty much shredded a set of tires that are not yet a year and a half old.
Nest year...studded snow tires. I hope.
The Flea will not be a bore, however. Stormy and I are playing things by ear, but we will see a lot of friends. And in an expression of the hope that springs eternal, we are still packing our tack. We don't expect to use it, but when you're a devoted pony, it becomes a part of who you are. To leave your tack at home is to leave an important part of yourself behind. Neither of us can bring ourselves to do that.
Besides, Mistress did say She might be in on Sunday to see Foxy Davis. Apparently he has a pair of custom gloves for Her to pick up. I didn't ask what those gloves were, but I hope to find out. It's unlikely that we will play pony on Sunday, but the option is open however remote.
That's pony hope. I'll let you know how things go.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Pony Thoughts
No Flea this year by the looks of it.
I'll miss it, but without Mistress (who is currently working on Her thesis), there isn't much point in bothering. Oh, there are friends who will be there and who I would dearly love to see - so the thought of a road trip isn't entirely out of the question.
But no tack. No prancing. No play.
Fact is, it has been what could fairly be called an off year. Other than Ponies in the Park (detailed in two posts), there wasn't a lot to tell in the way of stories. We did the Winter Flea in February, which went well. We marched in the 40th Boston Pride Parade in June with Ms. Nikki and Ponyboy Blaze - the drenching rain doing little to curb out spirits. We appeared at the Summer Flea with Mistress and went to a great play party after that. Stormy and I went to TFW in August, but again without Mistress - Ms. Nikki again taking us under Her wing. Stormy and I went to a nice play party up this way with permission and had a good time.
Yeah, stuph happened. It was fun. But it felt different somehow.
But my relationship with Stormy has certainly deepened. If nothing else happened this year, that alone would suffice. We had some time together on the past two weekends attending holiday parties at Centaur Stables and at Mistress' home. Both glorious times. I hope to have more time with him in the coming months.
It makes the lack of playtime far more tolerable.
I also hope to be back regaling you with more stories of my adventures. I'm just waiting to have some right now.
Patience, ponyboy...
I'll miss it, but without Mistress (who is currently working on Her thesis), there isn't much point in bothering. Oh, there are friends who will be there and who I would dearly love to see - so the thought of a road trip isn't entirely out of the question.
But no tack. No prancing. No play.
Fact is, it has been what could fairly be called an off year. Other than Ponies in the Park (detailed in two posts), there wasn't a lot to tell in the way of stories. We did the Winter Flea in February, which went well. We marched in the 40th Boston Pride Parade in June with Ms. Nikki and Ponyboy Blaze - the drenching rain doing little to curb out spirits. We appeared at the Summer Flea with Mistress and went to a great play party after that. Stormy and I went to TFW in August, but again without Mistress - Ms. Nikki again taking us under Her wing. Stormy and I went to a nice play party up this way with permission and had a good time.
Yeah, stuph happened. It was fun. But it felt different somehow.
But my relationship with Stormy has certainly deepened. If nothing else happened this year, that alone would suffice. We had some time together on the past two weekends attending holiday parties at Centaur Stables and at Mistress' home. Both glorious times. I hope to have more time with him in the coming months.
It makes the lack of playtime far more tolerable.
I also hope to be back regaling you with more stories of my adventures. I'm just waiting to have some right now.
Patience, ponyboy...
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Another Romp in the Park - Part 2
What can I say about New York City that I haven't said already? I have seen it in all four seasons of the year and under many different circumstances, but to be there in the spring on a warm day with the sun shining is as close to Heaven as it gets.
Well, Heaven with graffiti, traffic, noise and a bustling throng of people anyway.
But there is something about the Big Apple that causes me to put away all those concerns - or put up with them, at least. It's a place where you can get anything you want at pretty much any hour. It's a place that contains so much of our history. It's a place that challenges you to stay for more than a few minutes without finding something that piques your interest. It's a place where a bunch of people dressed in leather tack with tails on their butts can haul carts around the public park with no fear of a bad reaction.
These people have seen just about everything and they are always willing to be amused by the unusual. Ponies, of course, love to be the unusual things that get attention.
On May 1, Mistress, Stormy and I drove to the meeting place - headquarters if you will - of the 2010 Pony Romp. We met at the same location as we did in 2008 when last we roamed the Bridle Path, giving the ladies out front of the Redeemer Lutheran Church a giggle in the process. Times change everywhere, but in NYC, times change almost constantly. The little restaurant that had occupied the store front of this building was no longer there. Nothing had come to take its place as yet. Probably a sign of the economy. Those little hole-in-the-wall cafes tend to be here today and gone tomorrow or the day after. It's just part of the rhythm, but it's a sad commentary on our times.
Not to wallow in our grief, we wasted no time getting our stables, tack, toys and other apparatus out of the van and into the meeting room. There was a lot to do, so Mistress busied Herself with logistics while Stormy and I tacked each other up.
Tacking up is something of a ritual for Stormy and me. If we are tacked by another person, we tend to go much deeper into head space. If we tack ourselves up, we feel more like a couple of guys putting on costumes. Getting into pony space takes a lot longer and sometimes doesn't really happen. But today was different. Head space is less of a concern when you are going out in public. While it's highly desirable, the schedule was pretty tight, there was a lot to do, and the ponies needed to get ready quickly. So Stormy and I set about the task.
It wasn't long before everything was ready and we all headed for the park. We got there just about on time for the romp and piled out of the vans. Ms. Nikki and Blaze from Centaur Stables were there as were Foxy Davis and Sherifox of Native American Exotics. Wow...Foxy and Sherifox had traveled all the way from Florida for this day in the park. Ponygroom Tim and his ponygirl Lindsay were there - also from Florida (!). So was Pepper. There were others who play rather privately and who probably would not want their names listed here. But there was quite a crowd ready and raring to go.
I once noted that New Yorkers generally don't get phased by much. They have been through a lot over the years and get exposed to a whole lot of stuff you and I probably see once in our lives if ever. But I suppose a couple of ponyboys putting the wheels on a cart might be a bit unusual. The crowd gathered quickly and the cameras came out just as fast. Stormy and I put Mistress' cart together as quickly and efficiently as we could, relying on Her to make the final adjustments. Once hitched up and ready, the romp began.
This romp would be different for one big reason...it was heavily documented on video! You can find lots of snippets on YouTube, but here are some of my favorites:
La Dresseuse Maureen (that's my Mistress!) discusses what She likes about pony play.
Doctorcharley of Pleasure talks about pony play (with yours truly in the background!).
Ms. Reina Darkness talks to Doctorcharley about the three parts of pony play.
Heck, go to YouTube and put "pony play" into the search box. You'll be amazed!
After the romp and subsequent rest period on the green, we headed back to headquarters for our barbecue and party. That trip was uneventful until we came close to Times Square. That's when we encountered the road blocks and the detour. Huh? Well folks, it was May 1, 2010 and although we didn't get the full story for a couple of days, it seems some crazy decided he would try and blow a few people up that particular day. May Day. What timing. Thanks Faisal, you really made our day.
Ms. Reina certainly does put on a fantastic spread! I think you would have to go back to the barbecue at the Central Texas Kink Ranch in November 2008 to match what we found awaiting us in the small room behind the defunct patisserie. We ate, socialized, compared stories of what we had seen on the bridal path, explained a few things to a few people who were mystified about something this pony or that pony did or didn't do, and put our stalls together for what would prove to be a splendid play session.
I have to tell you about a very special gift that I got from ms. Reina. I was seated on the floor at one point following a scene I had done with a friend when I noticed Her holding not one but two single tail whips. They were brand new, She said, and needed to be broken in. Was I up for it? I think a very quick look at Mistress told the whole story. Rare is the night that I get to play more than once, and I had not felt the sting of any single tail other that the one Mistress holds, so yes! I was ready and willing!
Ms. Reina proceeded to use both single tails in the Florentine style. I had experienced Florentine flogging before, but this was something quite apart and exquisite. I also left me with some very impressive marks on my back. They stayed with me for several days and reminded me of the wonderful time and attention I received each and every time I toweled off after a shower.
Tired and exhausted after the party, the three of us drove back to Queens where we found our hosts awake and eager to hear about our escapades. To my delight, we had more conversation over a late night breakfast (I told you that you can get just about anything you want at any hour) at a diner close by.
Then back to the apartment and to bed. The next day we had another great breakfast at another great diner, then it was on the road for home.
Another wonderful time with wonderful people in a fantastic city.
Well, Heaven with graffiti, traffic, noise and a bustling throng of people anyway.
But there is something about the Big Apple that causes me to put away all those concerns - or put up with them, at least. It's a place where you can get anything you want at pretty much any hour. It's a place that contains so much of our history. It's a place that challenges you to stay for more than a few minutes without finding something that piques your interest. It's a place where a bunch of people dressed in leather tack with tails on their butts can haul carts around the public park with no fear of a bad reaction.
These people have seen just about everything and they are always willing to be amused by the unusual. Ponies, of course, love to be the unusual things that get attention.
On May 1, Mistress, Stormy and I drove to the meeting place - headquarters if you will - of the 2010 Pony Romp. We met at the same location as we did in 2008 when last we roamed the Bridle Path, giving the ladies out front of the Redeemer Lutheran Church a giggle in the process. Times change everywhere, but in NYC, times change almost constantly. The little restaurant that had occupied the store front of this building was no longer there. Nothing had come to take its place as yet. Probably a sign of the economy. Those little hole-in-the-wall cafes tend to be here today and gone tomorrow or the day after. It's just part of the rhythm, but it's a sad commentary on our times.
Not to wallow in our grief, we wasted no time getting our stables, tack, toys and other apparatus out of the van and into the meeting room. There was a lot to do, so Mistress busied Herself with logistics while Stormy and I tacked each other up.
Tacking up is something of a ritual for Stormy and me. If we are tacked by another person, we tend to go much deeper into head space. If we tack ourselves up, we feel more like a couple of guys putting on costumes. Getting into pony space takes a lot longer and sometimes doesn't really happen. But today was different. Head space is less of a concern when you are going out in public. While it's highly desirable, the schedule was pretty tight, there was a lot to do, and the ponies needed to get ready quickly. So Stormy and I set about the task.
It wasn't long before everything was ready and we all headed for the park. We got there just about on time for the romp and piled out of the vans. Ms. Nikki and Blaze from Centaur Stables were there as were Foxy Davis and Sherifox of Native American Exotics. Wow...Foxy and Sherifox had traveled all the way from Florida for this day in the park. Ponygroom Tim and his ponygirl Lindsay were there - also from Florida (!). So was Pepper. There were others who play rather privately and who probably would not want their names listed here. But there was quite a crowd ready and raring to go.
I once noted that New Yorkers generally don't get phased by much. They have been through a lot over the years and get exposed to a whole lot of stuff you and I probably see once in our lives if ever. But I suppose a couple of ponyboys putting the wheels on a cart might be a bit unusual. The crowd gathered quickly and the cameras came out just as fast. Stormy and I put Mistress' cart together as quickly and efficiently as we could, relying on Her to make the final adjustments. Once hitched up and ready, the romp began.
This romp would be different for one big reason...it was heavily documented on video! You can find lots of snippets on YouTube, but here are some of my favorites:
La Dresseuse Maureen (that's my Mistress!) discusses what She likes about pony play.
Doctorcharley of Pleasure talks about pony play (with yours truly in the background!).
Ms. Reina Darkness talks to Doctorcharley about the three parts of pony play.
Heck, go to YouTube and put "pony play" into the search box. You'll be amazed!
After the romp and subsequent rest period on the green, we headed back to headquarters for our barbecue and party. That trip was uneventful until we came close to Times Square. That's when we encountered the road blocks and the detour. Huh? Well folks, it was May 1, 2010 and although we didn't get the full story for a couple of days, it seems some crazy decided he would try and blow a few people up that particular day. May Day. What timing. Thanks Faisal, you really made our day.
Ms. Reina certainly does put on a fantastic spread! I think you would have to go back to the barbecue at the Central Texas Kink Ranch in November 2008 to match what we found awaiting us in the small room behind the defunct patisserie. We ate, socialized, compared stories of what we had seen on the bridal path, explained a few things to a few people who were mystified about something this pony or that pony did or didn't do, and put our stalls together for what would prove to be a splendid play session.
I have to tell you about a very special gift that I got from ms. Reina. I was seated on the floor at one point following a scene I had done with a friend when I noticed Her holding not one but two single tail whips. They were brand new, She said, and needed to be broken in. Was I up for it? I think a very quick look at Mistress told the whole story. Rare is the night that I get to play more than once, and I had not felt the sting of any single tail other that the one Mistress holds, so yes! I was ready and willing!
Ms. Reina proceeded to use both single tails in the Florentine style. I had experienced Florentine flogging before, but this was something quite apart and exquisite. I also left me with some very impressive marks on my back. They stayed with me for several days and reminded me of the wonderful time and attention I received each and every time I toweled off after a shower.
Tired and exhausted after the party, the three of us drove back to Queens where we found our hosts awake and eager to hear about our escapades. To my delight, we had more conversation over a late night breakfast (I told you that you can get just about anything you want at any hour) at a diner close by.
Then back to the apartment and to bed. The next day we had another great breakfast at another great diner, then it was on the road for home.
Another wonderful time with wonderful people in a fantastic city.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Another Romp in the Park
Two years ago, I wrote of the great adventure called the Romp in Central Park. While we had hoped to do that each year, it did not happen in 2009. From my perspective, that was not a bad thing given the general state of my health, but it was sorely missed all the same.
So it was with great joy that I heard that the Romp would happen again this year. The spring has been unusually warm, and a pony's thoughts do tend toward frolicking and romping...not to mention pulling carts, getting his picture taken and nuzzling noses with Firefox.
More on that later.
The date was set for May 1, 2010. Now it's always great to spend a day in Central Park, but Mayday! Of all the days, that one seems to touch chords in my psyche. It may be because it happens to be the pagan celebration of Beltane (yes, I'm pagan) or perhaps it's just because it would provide me a chance to spend some time with Mistress and Stormy. Maybe it was both...especially where Stormy is concerned. In point of fact, though, the date probably has more to do with the romantic notion of canoodling beneath the cherry blossoms with the New York City skyline behind you.
Or the thought of it anyway. The spring had been so warm that the cherry blossoms were pretty much gone by Mayday this year. There was an impressive carpet of them on the ground, however, so there was no need for dampened spirits on that count.
But I get ahead of myself.
I may be getting older. The last time, I was out of the house and on my way to Mistress' place by five in the morning. This time around, it was 6:30. Not a big deal since the people who would be hosting us this year would not get home much before 8:00 in the evening. I had had a scare the night before leaving that left me reluctant to believe that I would be able to make the trip at all, so getting underway was really important. Once on my way with a considerable amount of the state of Maine behind me, I relaxed enough to believe it was actually going to happen. I was on my way to a wonderful pony play event and nothing would stop it now.
The trip to Mistress' house went smoothly and I arrived in the late morning. There was the usual packing and rearranging of the van to do. We were asked to bring three stalls for ponies in addition to the cart and the usual assortment of whips, tack, stable supplies and evil grooming tools. Oh, and the treats. Never forget the treats!
Or anything else for that matter. The last time we romped in Central Park, I had forgotten to pack the tire pump. The wheels on our cart are air filled rather than solid. They give a better ride, but do tend to soften over time no matter how much gunk you inject into them. I don't know what got into me - or what failed to do so - but two years ago, I looked at that pump on the cellar floor and thought, "Tire pump..." and then left it sitting right there. Something I came to regret a day or two later.
This time, I remembered the tire pump. I made sure it was in the van and even asked Mistress about it just to be certain. Two sets of eyes are far better than one, especially if the one belongs to a very anxious pony. No mistake. It was there. So was the cart, the clothing, the tack bag, the stalls, the stable signs, the carriage whip, the toy box, the food, and the two of us.
Once we were all strapped in, Mistress fired up the engine. "First stop," She said, "air for the tires."
The tires.
I had forgotten the tires. They were still sitting on the ground just outside the cellar door. Well, it had to be something, I suppose. And at least we were still sitting out in front of the house. I would have looked pretty foolish holding up the rear of the cart on the bridle path because I didn't pack the tires. And make no mistake, I would have had to do that.
"At least I remembered the pump this time!" I said.
"Yes, because if you got winded, we could stick it in your mouth and pump you back up."
Really, She would have.
So, with everything finally packed, and me feeling very fortunate that She had mentioned filling the tires, we at last headed for the Big Apple.
We stopped to pick up Stormy and had a late (read very late) lunch. It was more of an early dinner, but it was not at all bad. Maggie McFly's is a pretty nice spot that doesn't cost a whole lot. That's important on road trips like this. Once sated, we were again on our way. This time, with three in the van.
I don't know how She does it, but Mistress manages to drive in places like New York City without losing Her cool. I suppose it comes from being raised and learning to drive in Boston. In fact, New York drivers are pretty tame compared to their counterparts in Boston. I'd be nervous about that comparison except I'm certain Bostonians are quite proud of that. Still, the liminal snarl of roads and bridges on the outskirts of NYC are some of the most counter-intuitive passages you will ever encounter. Just because you can see the big buildings doesn't mean you are actually headed toward them, and one moment of lost concentration will send you off course.
Truth is, I have a very troubled history with the outskirts of New York City. I have attempted the Triborough Bridge at least three times that I can remember, and have ended up in Queens each time. That's not a bad thing if Queens is your destination, but if you're trying to get into Manhattan, well, it's bad. It helps if you realize that the Triborough Bridge is actually three separate bridges, but not much. This was the first time I had ever been in the passenger's seat while crossing the first bridge. I knew there was supposed to be an exit to FDR Drive on the right side, but I had never been able to find it while driving. The best I could figure, you were supposed to drive over the right side of the bridge at some point and hope you landed on a road bed. But no, there is an exit. I just never managed to find it in all the traffic.
But let me tell you, I know how to get to Queens! Entirely by accident, but I can do it! But Queens is a lot like the land of the dead. In the words of Captain Barbosa, it's not getting there that's the problem. It's getting back.
Still, Queens was where we were headed, and with Mistress at the wheel, we made it without too much trouble. You can't help the glitches that Google Maps provides, so you just have to deal.
The friends we were staying with live in the Astoria section of Queens. It's a rather nice, upscale area that doesn't seem to take itself too seriously. There are a lot of restaurants - including a lot of Greek establishments. I happen to love Greek food and it's not very available in Maine these days. So I was looking forward to that. The area is also pretty handy to the part of Manhattan that we were going to be visiting in preparation for the romp, so everything was fitting together nicely.
When we pulled up to our friend's town house apartment, we found that there were three door bells. They hadn't told us which to push, so I did what any self-respecting pony would. I pushed the shiniest one.
It was the wrong one. Fortunately, that nice person had to get up at that point in preparation for his night shift. Oops. We asked which button would get our friend to the door, and he showed us. Once that was cleared up, we were admitted and spent some time visiting.
It wasn't a late night as we were going to be busy the next day. We had dinner at a lovely Greek restaurant and went back to the apartment to visit. Soon, we were hitting the hay for the night.
Morning came none too early. Stormy and I had shared a bed and slept well. That's odd as neither of us tends to sleep well in an unfamiliar bed on the first night. Then again, we are both very comfortable sleeping together, so maybe that compensated or something. Beatrice the cat came in to inspect us several times during the night, but that was about it.
Once we had breakfast and got showered, we headed into the city for the Romp.
That will be the next story...
So it was with great joy that I heard that the Romp would happen again this year. The spring has been unusually warm, and a pony's thoughts do tend toward frolicking and romping...not to mention pulling carts, getting his picture taken and nuzzling noses with Firefox.
More on that later.
The date was set for May 1, 2010. Now it's always great to spend a day in Central Park, but Mayday! Of all the days, that one seems to touch chords in my psyche. It may be because it happens to be the pagan celebration of Beltane (yes, I'm pagan) or perhaps it's just because it would provide me a chance to spend some time with Mistress and Stormy. Maybe it was both...especially where Stormy is concerned. In point of fact, though, the date probably has more to do with the romantic notion of canoodling beneath the cherry blossoms with the New York City skyline behind you.
Or the thought of it anyway. The spring had been so warm that the cherry blossoms were pretty much gone by Mayday this year. There was an impressive carpet of them on the ground, however, so there was no need for dampened spirits on that count.
But I get ahead of myself.
I may be getting older. The last time, I was out of the house and on my way to Mistress' place by five in the morning. This time around, it was 6:30. Not a big deal since the people who would be hosting us this year would not get home much before 8:00 in the evening. I had had a scare the night before leaving that left me reluctant to believe that I would be able to make the trip at all, so getting underway was really important. Once on my way with a considerable amount of the state of Maine behind me, I relaxed enough to believe it was actually going to happen. I was on my way to a wonderful pony play event and nothing would stop it now.
The trip to Mistress' house went smoothly and I arrived in the late morning. There was the usual packing and rearranging of the van to do. We were asked to bring three stalls for ponies in addition to the cart and the usual assortment of whips, tack, stable supplies and evil grooming tools. Oh, and the treats. Never forget the treats!
Or anything else for that matter. The last time we romped in Central Park, I had forgotten to pack the tire pump. The wheels on our cart are air filled rather than solid. They give a better ride, but do tend to soften over time no matter how much gunk you inject into them. I don't know what got into me - or what failed to do so - but two years ago, I looked at that pump on the cellar floor and thought, "Tire pump..." and then left it sitting right there. Something I came to regret a day or two later.
This time, I remembered the tire pump. I made sure it was in the van and even asked Mistress about it just to be certain. Two sets of eyes are far better than one, especially if the one belongs to a very anxious pony. No mistake. It was there. So was the cart, the clothing, the tack bag, the stalls, the stable signs, the carriage whip, the toy box, the food, and the two of us.
Once we were all strapped in, Mistress fired up the engine. "First stop," She said, "air for the tires."
The tires.
I had forgotten the tires. They were still sitting on the ground just outside the cellar door. Well, it had to be something, I suppose. And at least we were still sitting out in front of the house. I would have looked pretty foolish holding up the rear of the cart on the bridle path because I didn't pack the tires. And make no mistake, I would have had to do that.
"At least I remembered the pump this time!" I said.
"Yes, because if you got winded, we could stick it in your mouth and pump you back up."
Really, She would have.
So, with everything finally packed, and me feeling very fortunate that She had mentioned filling the tires, we at last headed for the Big Apple.
We stopped to pick up Stormy and had a late (read very late) lunch. It was more of an early dinner, but it was not at all bad. Maggie McFly's is a pretty nice spot that doesn't cost a whole lot. That's important on road trips like this. Once sated, we were again on our way. This time, with three in the van.
I don't know how She does it, but Mistress manages to drive in places like New York City without losing Her cool. I suppose it comes from being raised and learning to drive in Boston. In fact, New York drivers are pretty tame compared to their counterparts in Boston. I'd be nervous about that comparison except I'm certain Bostonians are quite proud of that. Still, the liminal snarl of roads and bridges on the outskirts of NYC are some of the most counter-intuitive passages you will ever encounter. Just because you can see the big buildings doesn't mean you are actually headed toward them, and one moment of lost concentration will send you off course.
Truth is, I have a very troubled history with the outskirts of New York City. I have attempted the Triborough Bridge at least three times that I can remember, and have ended up in Queens each time. That's not a bad thing if Queens is your destination, but if you're trying to get into Manhattan, well, it's bad. It helps if you realize that the Triborough Bridge is actually three separate bridges, but not much. This was the first time I had ever been in the passenger's seat while crossing the first bridge. I knew there was supposed to be an exit to FDR Drive on the right side, but I had never been able to find it while driving. The best I could figure, you were supposed to drive over the right side of the bridge at some point and hope you landed on a road bed. But no, there is an exit. I just never managed to find it in all the traffic.
But let me tell you, I know how to get to Queens! Entirely by accident, but I can do it! But Queens is a lot like the land of the dead. In the words of Captain Barbosa, it's not getting there that's the problem. It's getting back.
Still, Queens was where we were headed, and with Mistress at the wheel, we made it without too much trouble. You can't help the glitches that Google Maps provides, so you just have to deal.
The friends we were staying with live in the Astoria section of Queens. It's a rather nice, upscale area that doesn't seem to take itself too seriously. There are a lot of restaurants - including a lot of Greek establishments. I happen to love Greek food and it's not very available in Maine these days. So I was looking forward to that. The area is also pretty handy to the part of Manhattan that we were going to be visiting in preparation for the romp, so everything was fitting together nicely.
When we pulled up to our friend's town house apartment, we found that there were three door bells. They hadn't told us which to push, so I did what any self-respecting pony would. I pushed the shiniest one.
It was the wrong one. Fortunately, that nice person had to get up at that point in preparation for his night shift. Oops. We asked which button would get our friend to the door, and he showed us. Once that was cleared up, we were admitted and spent some time visiting.
It wasn't a late night as we were going to be busy the next day. We had dinner at a lovely Greek restaurant and went back to the apartment to visit. Soon, we were hitting the hay for the night.
Morning came none too early. Stormy and I had shared a bed and slept well. That's odd as neither of us tends to sleep well in an unfamiliar bed on the first night. Then again, we are both very comfortable sleeping together, so maybe that compensated or something. Beatrice the cat came in to inspect us several times during the night, but that was about it.
Once we had breakfast and got showered, we headed into the city for the Romp.
That will be the next story...
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