Bedtime stories.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Tits from space.

In Ontario, public toplessness (i.e., for women) was legalized in 1996 with the case against Guelph student Gwen Jacobs, who successfully argued that her walking down the street without a shirt did not in itself constitute a sexual or "indecent" act. This legislation has since become an important backbone to related matters large and small, such as a mother's right to breastfeed in public and nudist/naturist events such as the World Naked Bike Ride. The Topfree Equal Rights Association helps women in Canada and the United States who encounter difficulty going without tops in public places and serves as an educational resource on this issue to the public. Arguably, events such as SlutWalk and even the Dyke March during Pride festivities also reinforce a woman's right to do what my former partner, Diva, would call "taking (her) tits out for a walk."

But that hasn't stopped certain, localized places and events from, well, getting their tits in an uproar about tits being in public. Recently, organizers of a Toronto beer festival insisted that Jeanette Martin replace her top after removing it only to reveal a black lace bra on a hot summer day. In the past, representatives of the city of Oshawa had expressed its willingness to ignore the provincial legality concerning toplessness should any such shenanigans take place in their community. As if a local bylaw could supercede a provincial ruling.

Enter the Raelians. A spiritual association established by French auto racing journalist Claude Vorilhon in the early 1970s, Raelians believe that life on earth was created by extraterrestrials. They advocate world peace, human cloning, genetically modified organisms (the GMOs in your produce aisle), the idea that only persons of high IQ should govern world affairs, and that divine supercomputers record and process the DNA of the global human population.

And because they're also militantly sex-positive (so much so that sometimes they get into trouble for trying to supply condoms on Catholic school properties), they're also the people behind the international Go Topless Day event. Through this event, the Raelians and their supporters hope to make August 28 "National Go Topless Day" in Canada (the 20th in France and the 21st for the United States). So, tomorrow, organizers had planned to converge on Ashbridge's Bay Park in Toronto and filed for a permit with the city for same. And were denied.

"We're women who just want to be equal with men," responded Sylvie Chabot, the event organizer, in today's Toronto Star. Citing that when asked by parks representatives if "women participants will be topless" via email, Chabot retorted that such a "question is discriminatory (and) it (would be) like asking, 'Will black people partcipate'."

City officials have not detailed as to the reason for their decision other than to state that "the nature of the event" was "ascertained," and have so far refused to elaborate. There is no specific prohibition concerning toplessness in city regulations on acceptable conduct in public parks.

However, some sources have suggested that Go Topless events are employed as recruiting opportunities for the Raelian faith group. And, given that Go Topless events at least associatively link toplessness with the Raelian advocacy for sexual freedom, it's also conceivable that the perception of a pro-sexual element could be undermining its stated intention to simply promote gender equality. That the Toronto swinger's club Oasis Aqua Lounge recently stated support of the event through Twitter might contribute to that possibility. Nudist/naturist sites and events often are largely family-oriented affairs, and as such commonly seek to disassociate themselves from a sexual undertone.

Not to be deterred, Go Topless Day organizers have since stated that they intend to hold their demonstration anyway, but adjacent to, rather than in, Ashbridge's Bay. It's going to be an interesting weekend.

Couples of Toronto Leather Pride 2011.

Women on bicycles.

Women and their rides.

Women with cameras.

Because I'm tired of phony porn too.

Because I almost never, ever plug a commercial adult site, I like to think that if I'm going to tha you'll agree with me (if we share the same tastes) that it's pretty cool.

I like my porn to be genuine, energetic, and sensual. Amateur stuff does it for me the most, and the big reason is that I know I'm enjoying watching lovers who are having fun and that what I'm witnessing is the human, real pleasure that sex can bring. Yes, Emily DaVinci and Stephanie Swift and Belladonna are gorgeous, and I enjoy watching them fuck, but for me, even a split-second facial expression of shameless abandon from an "unknown woman as she's about to taste some thick cock she's really hot for will send me into the cosmos.

Surfing the web recently, I found Desperate Amateurs, for "when you're tired of phony porn." Like the Pierre Woodman Castings X series or Eric of Backroom Casting Couch, this site features new-to-film performers that include general interviews to introduce us to who they are as people before we watch them get frisky. I like that.

But unlike Pierre or Eric, the people behind Desperate Amateurs are not only taking a straightforward approach as to why these women are consenting to be filmed (they need or want the money), but they approach the women with a real respect, supportiveness, and playfulness. They also enjoy shooting women of all body types and age brackets, which is something neither other site would ever remotely attempt. Castings X rivets me sometimes, but Woodman is often raw and mechanical, using film formulae indicative of the Private franchise. Backroom Casting Couch uses a (phony?) deceptive style, seemingly tricking the performers into their sex for supposedly nonexisting adult talent scouts, and often mocks about the women being seen on film. Reality TV meets porn, and while sometimes it catches my attention, it's more because it reminds me of a road accident than a sensual, visual experience.

So there's Desperate Amateurs, which not only is real, but seems to be "honest" and sex-positive in its way of working with performers. The women know why they're there, and they've bridged the chasm to be comfortable about sharing their play with you, the viewer. I think, more often than not, that seems pretty empowering. And once in a while, it seems, as in the case of Tatiana Kush, their performers sometimes actually do move on to bigger things in the adult entertainment world.

But by then, maybe they've become part of the 'phoniness' too. Ah, well.

Carol gives me her ass.

Kara was out on a date, of sorts, and I was enjoying some tea and futzing around on Twitter. I like to be selective about whom I "follow," but it's true that I have a weakness for interesting, sex-positive women involved in one element or another of consensual adult fun. For me, that usually means fellow writers, sociosexual pioneers and advocates, or local porn stars. Take Montreal's own online 'amateur' Carol Cox, a fiery mid40s blonde, for example. Her ballsy don't-fuck-around-just-fuck-me-goddammit attitude makes me smirk.

To me, Carol Cox is among an interesting, seasoned sex-positive internet elite. I'm intrigued with people who saw the internet's sexual potential early on, and she began sharing her saucy self long before the days of Twitter or Facebook. I think that's very cool.

So recently, when she tweeted about finding a past picture of herself, I couldn't help but peek.

@CarolCox Just came across an old promo pic for my website...



I can't help but notice the sparklybits barely hiding the girlybits on the other model. I'm in a goofy mood, so I reply. Does Carol know me? Nah. I'm just being a fun smartass.

@UrbanRoguery When I die, will I head toward the light?

@CarolCox The dark is always much more fun. ;)

@UrbanRoguery Oh, now, if you're offering me *that* option... turn over. ;)

@CarolCox hahahaha, I wasn't even thing about that, but it's all yours for being quick ;)

Mmm. All mine. Which, of course, gets me fantasizing about fucking this delicious blonde sexythang in her tightest places. Ain't I bad?

@UrbanRoguery Ok. Now I'm thinking about @CarolCox 's beautiful derriere. Be still my heart. Thank you, Twitter.

@CarolCox Thinking about my derrière? Just for you ...

I think I made a new friend.

In the happy countercultural house near the park.

I nearly panicked. A backhoe has been parked in front of the house, and as I looked down from the bedroom window, I heard a cluster of people talking around the glorious tree in the front yard. Was the city taking our fucking tree down?

False alarm, it turned out, but not before I texted Serene downstairs. She's been in this pad the longest, and between that and her (excellent) no-nonsense attitude, I appreciate her gentle but self-sustained role as resident quasi-matriarch and delegatrix. Sometimes we switch between playing Good Cop and Bad Cop when dealing with the maintenance crew. But I digress.

Earlier, as I sipped my tea in the quiet morning, I smirked to myself as I faintly heard Serene and her lover, the always-laughing black Becka, enjoying themselves beneath me. Serene has unapologetically told me before about how loud she gets when she cums, and between her and Lacey with her lover, I enjoy some audio entertainment on occasion.

You see, I live in a house full of lesbians. Sucks to be me, huh?

I'm on top. Serene and Lacey are below me with Becka as a regular visitor, but come next month, Lacey and her airline attendant fiancee Pamela will be taking the space on the main floor. They'll be replacing the breathtakingly delicious, shorthaired Sam, who has been the cunt-throb (ok, and cock-throb) of the house. A new woman, a spritely little pixiechik whose personality I have yet to learn, will be replacing Lacey as Serene's housemate. Confused yet? Add to that that sexy, outdoorsy Australian Lacey also happens to be Serene's ex-lover.

Me: No, wait, I'm mistaken. Our tree is fine.

Serene: I was just getting dressed to come investigate. Ok.

Me: You mean I missed out on seeing you dash outside in your Wonder Woman underoos? Dammit! ;)

Serene: LOL! Indeed you did. I have been known to go out in just my robe many times. I wonder what the neighbours think. Don't care tho! :)

Me: *winking shrug*

Serene: Did you just feel the house shake?

Me: That good, huh? ;)

Serene: :D

Women of the protest rally.

In honour of the G8 and G20 Summits in Toronto

Chopsticks.

The scene: A discussion between co-workers in a silkscreening business.


Male Co-worker: "Hey. You have chopsticks in your hair."

Female Co-worker: "Uh, yeah. Pens sometimes too."

Male Co-worker: "I have this friend, he and I would go to karaoke bars, and we'd always see this one woman there who had chopsticks in her hair..."

Female Co-worker: (folding a shirt) "Uh huh."

Male Co-worker: "...so we got to calling her 'Chopsticks,' you know? Well, not long ago, this friend called me and was, like, 'Hey! You'll never believe what I just saw!'"

Female Co-worker: "Uh huh..."

Male Co-worker: "'I was at this strip club,' he said, 'and guess who was dancing in front of me? It was Chopsticks! Chopsticks is a stripper!'"

Female Co-worker: "A karaoke-singing stripper. Well, I guess if you're doing karaoke, you may as well push your exhibitionism all way, huh?"

Kara's birthday spankings.

She was already under the blankets, casually reading an erotic novel from my bedroom bookcase as I came in from work. I enjoy it when she lets herself in. She looked to me with a smile as I came upstairs, and the smile remained as I slowly stripped before her to get into the shower.

The day before, we strolled on Yonge Street to enjoy some birthday shopping. (Yeah. I'm a guy. And I shop. Deal with it.) At Northbound, we picked up a sharp black PVC evening gown and charming black satin corset, and later found some racy shoes to match both. Gradually, my little spitfire is creating quite the fetish collection, which is as it should be if she's going to drape her arm (or lap) over mine at deliciously sinful venues.

I had already given her a large box from Jacob the week before that contained a very sheer black sweater, a satin miniskirt and a shimmering bra and panty set. The metallic studs on the black and purple bra could easily be seen through the thin sweater, giving Kara an excellent dancefloor look. Our mission for the evening was to visit the store again and confirm my sizing choices, since we wanted her to be completely comfortable during the coming playparty before her impending fate made her completely uncomfortable.

Anticipation had been building up for weeks: Kara was to experience her first public birthday spanking session, and she had been left a-quiver as she waited for me in my bed. It had been at least two years since I last had the pleasure of administering birthday spankings with a lover, and so I thoroughly was enjoying seeing my waif whimper and whine for a while. She's so cute.

Despite how striking and precious the PVC is, she opted for the Jacob ensemble for the evening's play. Its miniskirt and panties would certainly make for easier access and more subby-appropriate vibe for what diabolical plans lay ahead of her. She had already taken it upon herself to polish the linked steel ringlets that adorn one of my favourite leather collars, and this fit charmingly around her throat to shower her upper chest with diamond-like glitterance.

Red attire was the theme for tonight's playparty, which I met with a sensual scarlet shirt under my leather officer's cap. Kara's contribution to redness would soon be her blistering, tight, naked and pert little ass.



Hands down, Goodhandy's is the most cosmopolitan venue I've ever been to. "Toronto's Pansexual Playground" is foremost a den for the local queer community, but is so adventurously openminded that people from any orientation or interest can and does taste its forbidden fruits and all in complete harmony with one another.

It was Dancing Nazi who first caught my eye as we entered the club. A buff dude grooving to DJ Jimi Lamort's tunage with his nearly naked partner, his Nazi replica uniform bugged me. Not because of what it was, mind you, but because the history buff in me was peturbed that he had mixed his insignia all wrong. Go figure.

And how often does one have the opportunity in life to watch a Nazi... dancing? Life can be so weird.

Leave it to Kara to steer my attention toward more topical eye candy. Nursing our ciders, we drooled at th sight of a sensual lioness n the dancefloor, a lithe and bald woman in a PVC gown very alike that which Kara chose not to wear for the evening. Alone, she swayed fluidly on the floor, and heartily beamed when we later shared how much we had enjoyed watching her.

Another couple, a plump Asian woman with a very athletic grunge blonde, kissed sensually as they swayed. Multiple couples of muscular men gyrated and filled the house with laughter. T-girls shuffled about in perfumed packs, eyeing one another enviously and each striving to command as much ambient space as possible. Kara and me took it all in, whispering to each other joyfully as we drank and moved to the tunes.

Until it was time.

I took her hand and led her upstairs to the play area. A blonde twink tended bar (yes, a 'drink twink'...) there, around whom a few voyeuristic dudes watched the dancing below from the balcony. A robust, mulatto woman with long, golden dreadlocks was receiving a light whipping on her naked ass by a muscular dark black dude as she rested on all fours on a table. A lesbian couple relaxed with their drinks in an alcove. Numerous individual men, gay and not-so-gay, enjoyed the action.

I made our way for a reasonably empty spot near the other end of the balcony where an unused spanking bench sat lonely and isolated. It wasn't very long before Goldielocks' nearby flogging came to an end and the area began to clear of most of the voyeurs. Once the space opened some, I commandeered it by turning the lonely spanking bench into a position that suited me, with its upper tier facing what I knew would become new voyeur space and its rear close to the back wall but allowing me plenty of safe movement room. The area was dim, with the blended scent of cologne, bodies, and drinks. Shafts of light from nearby spotlights in the rafters beamed down to the dancefloor but yielded an ambient glow to the area. The thumping thunder from the DJ's work below pulsated through the floor.

I sat Kara down on the bench as I lay my bag of tricks on a shelf that ran along the back wall, moving some candles and empty beer bottles. I went to Drink Twink for some ice, and he looked at me with that slight sneer that gay boys are wont to do when they feel like being judgmental, but his attitude cleared up rightquick when it dawned on wee li'l him that he was being addressed by a Top that wasn't just looking for free fucking ice.

I stood before Kara and held her head in my hands, giving her a slow and wet kiss.

"How do you feel?"

She smiled.

I grasped the short, dark hair at the nape of her neck and slowly pulled her around and upward until she was in position, on her hands and knees on the two-tiered spanking table. I rested her forehead all the way down to the polished wood before turning away to stand behind her and near my bag on the shelf. Leaving her there untouched, I knew the voyeurs would begin to gather around again as I set my toys in a neat little row along the shelf while my back was to her. By the time I turned around, a gathering had come but nicely remained at a respectably workable distance. Among them was Goldielocks.

I didn't waste time. After a few gentle shoulder rubs, I went for Kara's backseat jugular and hoisted her hem up and over her pert heiney. Her panties framed her most nicely, and with only the minimal amount of warm-up, I began an openhanded assault on her delicious little ass. I wanted her to see stars. I wanted her to twitch and yelp aloud. I wanted her writhing and her face looking at me from over her shoulder with a shocked and embarassed expression, wide-eyed and stunned, as she received her birthday spanking. I wanted her to thoroughly entertain every hungry pair of eyes, male and female, gay and straight alike, with her public punishment.

And I got what I wanted.

I had count aloud, marking each of her years with every spank. Of course though, my memory lapsed from time to time... seventeen does come after thirty-two, right? Oh well. Damn that grade school I went to. Better start over.

Kara's ass was bare and red and glowing by the time I paused long enough to slip some ice into her mouth. She was panting yet breathless, her face even redder than her posterior as she strained to keep her forehead against the wood. She looked at me pleadingly.

"Are you alright?" I smirked.

She nodded slowly, blinked, panted some more, and gratefully swallowed the water that melted along her tongue.

Behind her again, and now I pressed against her lower back to guide herhips even closer to the edge of the upper tier to the bench. This raised her butt even higher, giving her lithe body a pretty but uncomfortable S-curve. By now her bare knees were feeling the wood too.

I drank a swig of my cider, and looked around me. Some looked right back, smiling and nodding most approvingly. Others couldn't take their eyes off of my pet. One man sat nearby, slowly stroking his cock. One of the lesbians gently played with her partner's earlobe as they watched.

I retrieved one of my slappers and began giving my pet a series of loud, cracking smacks on her raised behind. Kara wiggled and squirmed, especially when I used my other hand to hold the crotch of her panties and tug them upward to apply pressure to her swelling and drenched clit. I rained punishment along her thighs, which sent her into jolts. I held her head up by tugging her hair, forcing her to look at the crowd which so enjoyed seeing her suffer.

"I love you. Are you having fun?"

She smiled and nodded. "I love you too."

I paused. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

I smiled and returned to my cider. I took a long look at Kara's glowing ass, round and red but still somehow ready for more. I turned to one of the lesbians who had moved closer to me.

"Hi," I said. "So, it's her birthday... would you like to help me out?"

One of the things I learned when I was bouncing and supervising playparty scenes back in my pro-dom days was how to raise the bar of fun in a safe, well-considered way. If you're going to seek "audience participation," it's healthy and wise to know how to read body language and observe that someone understands a sense of protocol. If a Top is going to offer the utmost in generosity and actually offer his or her pet to a stranger, intuition and resilient observation is vital.

But this woman only blushed and stammered, smiling in her quiet and polite refusal. Oops: I had picked a submissive. Still, it was adorably cute. But I was undeterred and wanted a sharing. Somehw I knew I wouldn't be turned down again if I sought a guy. Call it a wild guess.

Greek Guy looked presentable and intelligent, and he had been enraptured with my handiwork. When approached, he almost came in his pants at the opportunity to participate, and I gave him a crash course in certain ground rules before squatting down near Kara's head. I gave her a sip of cider and more ice. Her ass remained high in the air. Caressing Kara's head, I kept a watch on Greek Guy as he stood behind my pet and began with a series of very light spanks.

He had a (shall we say) interesting technique, beginning with a rapid fluttering of his outstretched fingertips that only barely met her skin. Her firm ass jiggled slightly under each series of rapid butterfly swats, which he would then finish off with only a moderate final smack. He was completely enjoying and behaving himself, but for Kara this treatment was a cool-down. Not entirely a bad thing, but not where I wanted to take her yet.

(Later, Kara and I would call this the "good kitty" technique, and mimicked it while rapidly patting one of her cats on its head. "Goodkittygoodkitty...")

It was Goldielocks who helped me make the evening. Even though I had seen her on the receiving end of a lash, somehow my instinct told me that she was an experienced, sex-positive switch. I was right: she positively beamed when she was invited to help me wish Kara her happy birthday.

Goldielocks was an earth mother. Those long, golden dreads rained down her light brown back like a lioness' mane, and her eyes shimmered with sharpness and wit. Buxom and broadshouldered, I could easily see her gyrating with thunderous feet around a bonfire as djembe players resounded on a lakefront beachhead. I could see her smoking cigars. I could see her downing whiskey. She resonated with fun. I liked her instantly.

I gave Kara a break and let her kneel up, sip some more cider. I introduced them.

"How shall she address you?" I asked Goldielocks. "Ma'am... or Sir?"

She chuckled deeply. "Sir."

Smiling, I looked down to Kara and back to Goldielocks. "Have fun." I walked aside and leaned against the back shelf, confident my pet was in good hands.

And she was. Goldielocks' hands were soon all over Kara, caressing and stroking and teasing her little faerie titties. Kara was in bliss, like a little domestic kitten caught by some wild mother tigress, and soon found herself back in position as her new friend had her way. The nearby lesbian couple sat up with rapt attention. Submissive girl practically drooled. The crowd of men doubled, and soon I was standing to maintain acceptable distance as I supervised what went on and guaranteed my lover her safety. With eye contact and the occasional ear whisper, Goldilocks and I handled the scene as though we had been partners for years, keeping it smooth and safe and fun. It was a treat.

Goldielocks spanked Kara's smart little ass to a glowing amber, and it glowed even under the red spotlighting. Each swat was decisive and true, and my poor little dear cried out with whimpering, gasping breaths. Her ass was squeezed. Her ass was gently punched, with Goldielocks smacking her bum with enclosed fists that would tenderize a slab of beef. We flogged her. We caressed her. We made Kara a shared little public playtoy, and when all was done, Kara was a puddle of living goo.

Goldielocks and I shook hands.

"We really need to do this again."

Her initiation in fire.

"Are you ready?"

She blinked as she adjusted her weight uncomfortably in those geeky clodhopper shoes. The pillory that her wrists were restained in left her arms at an oblique angle and forced her to bend over just slightly, making balance a hard thing to maintain. I smirked, stealing a fast glance to growing crowd around us and behind her. The poor thing.

Standing beside her, dressed in a long black coat and wearing a glistening black leather cap, I gently patted her tartan-covered derriere as she wobbled slightly on the tiny podium that held the pillory in place. The room was packed with minglers and dancers and voyeurs as the industrial music thumped against the walls, and as precious little had been happening in the scene until now, we had collected a small and growing crowd. It was in this setting that Kara, my sweet, found herself clad in a schoolgirl uniform, subjected to this public scrutiny, and felt the coarse material against her smooth, round behind give way to open air as I raised her hemline. For the first time in her life, her lovely ass was being exposed for complete strangers to see.

Kara was at her first playparty.



It was schoolgirl night during this particular event, and Kara had impressed me by collecting the pieces for her attire all by her sexy self. Uncomfortably half-bent over, her crisp white shirt and smart little tie made an interesting contrast to the medieval device to which she was affixed. I raised the skirt higher.

The first few cracks of my hand were playful, love taps to warm her up and alert her senses to this new experience she was submitting herself to. As my palm warmed as well, I smiled to myself when I remembered that this was the same woman who sometimes had to make the effort to say the word "fuck" in a sentence, and here she was being publicly exposed for a spanking.

I cocked my wrist and began smacking her delightfully pert ass in quick succession, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the space between her blushing cheeks against my palm and flattened fingers. She squeaked and wriggled, her wrists pulling at the secured wooden holes that held them in place. I alternated cheek to cheek, and paused from time to time to caress her bum and enjoy the growing heat that I was responsible for. And then, in the spirit of the evening, I reach into my toybag and withdrew the foot-long wooden ruler.

The edge of the ruler was sharp and unyielding in my hand, and as I brought it down from on high, I enjoyed how the lightness of it betrayed any false sense of leniency that its size might suggest. This fucker stung, and Kara's squirming body responded as might be expected. She jumped slightly, the podium clacking as her shoes came back down upon it, and as my strokes continued with each just slightly harder than the last, she was practically leaping into the air and begging me to shift my target to another spot on her precious behind. I didn't.

But I did show her some mercy. I paused. I caressed her angrily red ass with a tuft of soft rabbit fur. I caressed her shamefully exposed flesh. I removed my coat and hid her face from public view by using her bent head as a coathook to hang it upon while I sipped my drink for a moment or two.

I noticed then that others had started to play elsewhere in the club, and I was reminded from playparties past how sometimes all it took was one couple to have the cojones to get the energy started, and everything else would fall into place.

Beside us, a giggling teen trio set a svelte little blonde on a spanking platform, and as she crouched upon it on all fours, her male partner raised her skirt as well and began delivering some staccato strikes of his own. A female partner laughed (in that way a newbie might be expected to) as she held her friend's head in place. It was cute. Me, I enjoyed the sight as I relieved my coat from its hook, raised Kara's head, and allowed her a sip of something cold to soften her lips.

We took a break, and I removed her from the pillory. The crowd parted to me as I led us to the bar, where I held her close as we watched others dance. We might have joined them on another night, but we had come with a specific purpose in mind, and call me oldschool, but I'm not usually one to Top and dance in the same night if the energy doesn't have just right vibe for it.

Maybe it was because of the venue, but this evening's party seemed to be overrun with poseurs and wannabes and urban whitebread kids looking to see a thrill rather than be part of one. Definitely not my preferred scene, and definitely a far cry from the cauldrons of sociosexual decadence that I've grown accustomed to.

But that didn't stop me from giving it the ol' college try at least once more before I was ready to call it a night. A few drinks and some schmoozing with old friends later, and I was leading Kara to a spanking bench not far from a second, and larger, bar. Nicely situated in a corner, the drag queen and her entourage who hung out nearby showed Me deference as I led Kara there and moved aside. Few others were playing seriously at this point, and I nodded to the drag queen as she showed her respects to this club veteran and His pet.

The drag queen took my coat as I collected some ice from the bartender. A small group of drinking fratboys there, very out of place and visibly uncertain of themselves in this environment, would have been a problem had it not been for the steel glance they received from me and the small wave of leatherclad fetishists that followed me back to the corner.

Kara received a long, lingering kiss. Not only had she been courageous enough to attend this her first playparty, but she had been carrying herself with complete decorum, respectful deference to my friends, and submitted hrself to desired public spanking without a whimper of complaint. Her safeword remained secure. Within herself, she observed and experienced with open mind and trust, and for that I swelled with pleasure and pride to have escorted her into this place and Top her. She was due for some reward, and for that reason more than any other, I would keep my eye and ear on the alert in this not-entirely-ideal venue while also bringing her another step closer to her desired ruination at my lustful hands.

I set her into position on the spanking bench, her head near the black wall, her skirt-covered rear toward the bar and the crowd surrounding it. A useful semicircle of space cleared itself between us and them. The scene was set.

I caressed Kara's shoulders as she relaxed. I blindfolded her. I whispered my evil plans into her lovely ear, and she nodded with a gasping, open mouth. I set my cup of ice on the floor nearby and raised her skirt over her pantied and still slightly-red bottom. Bringing my palms to her ass, I pet her flesh gently before beginning a new wave of cracking, audible smacks.

The fratboys stopped their nervous giggling and shut up. Their smirks faded where mine began. Their young men's eyes began to glaze over and their jaws dropped slowly as they took in the sight of my lithe girlfriend's ass receiving attention. Soon, they were gently eased aside from the scene entirely as fellow fetishist folk moved to get closer looks. I didn't miss them. A new wall of black, respectful and appreciating, surrounded us now and gave me the headspace to open up more and relax in my delicious use of my lover.

It wasn't long before Kara's ass was again a radiant shade of red, contrasting to the lilly-white schoolgirl panties that she wore under her raised tartan. Scarlet lines ran down the length of her thighs where my fingernails had raked. I tugged her head up from the cushion she rested her chest upon until she knelt upright on the bench platform below, and gave her a sip of water before undoing the buttons on her crisp white shirt.

I removed it, set her back in position, and undid the snaps of her bra. Setting its straps at either side of her, her back was now fully bared. Kara was completely dissheveled now, virtually topless, her skirt rolled around her waist, her panties tugged upward to fully reveal her ass, her bobbysocks and shoes the only articles of clothing completely untouched. She panted as she rested her weight.

I reached into my toybag. Her skin glowed seductively in the flickering light as I lit the handful of small red candles that I had withdrawn from there, placing one between each finger of my right hand and raising them high above her bare back. Kara flinched as blood-red droplets rained down upon her, and I could faintly hear her hiss and moan under the constant, thundering music. From the corner of my eye, I could see wide toothy smiles from the audience that surrounded us, and most especially from a pair of zoftig PVC- and rubber-clad women who squirmed with yearning interest.

I filled my other fist with ice from the cup below me, and Kara alternatively winced and shuddered as she felt a tapestry of sensation. Her back and bottom were flecked with crimson dots and fiery streams, and the moving light made the small rivulets of icewater on her skin shimmer like crystal. Kara's face was contorting in confused ecstacy, her mouth open wide in a silent groan.

I paused to look directly at our audience. Many of them looked back, their faces full of enjoyment, while the gaze of others remained riveted to Kara's writhing, seminude body. The gothettes, the PVC-clad women to my left, looked particularly happy.

"She would love for you to do that to her," said the taller one, a vampiric brunette in a black corset, motioning with a smile to the blonde BBW beside her. A wonderful invitation. But I was with Kara, we hadn't discussed any such possibility beforehand, it was her first night out, and we were mid-scene.

"Maybe next time," I replied with a smile, enjoying the sight of the blonde go crestfallen.

Yet they inspired me to show a little Top largesse, Paddles-style, and I crooked my icy finger and summoned them closer with a smirk.

"Do you trust me?" I whispered into Kara's ear. She swallowed and nodded, her blindfold still secure over her eyes. "I love you." She got an icecube to chew on and suck in reward.

The Gothettes stood around the spanking bench with me as they received a crash course in safe waxplay before I armed them with more red candles from my bag of tricks. So it was that Kara, my sexy schoolteacher clad in her sexy schoolgirl uniform, received hotwax attention from this dastardly trio of kinksters in a thumping Toronto nightclub, her reddened and virtually bare ass exposed to a crowd of slack-jawed onlookers, her back and shoulders scattered with scarlet droplets as we three consensual conspirators smiled and laughed and tortured her for our own amusement and pleasure. Our hands held the candles high over our heads, their glow radiating against our black leather and PVC clothes as we stood in that unholy circle, the red drops drizzling down from our perverse trinity. How Kara squirmed and wiggled as she felt fire and ice in a blurry, constant wave upon her submitting and tender skin.

When it was over, the Gothettes were breathless in appreciation, and Kara was breathless in sacrificial bliss. The crowd of onlookers had grown thick and impenetrable, but soon even they slowly melted back onto the dance floor or around the bars as I cleaned my worthy pet up and restored her shirt upon her.

The drag queen returned my coat. The door crew shook my hand as we left. I brought Kara home, where she fell into a long, deep sleep.