Nuit Demonia 8

Después de varios intentos fallidos, este año, por fin acudí a la fiesta de Demonia, formalmente llamada “Nuit Demonia 8”. Después de todo, más vale tarde que nunca y tan sólo me había perdido las siete anteriores. Afortunadamente iba bien acompañado así que la espera había merecido la pena.
El calendario, parecía a primera vista bastante completo, ya que podría asistir a diversos eventos, desde el miércoles hasta el domingo. Sin embargo, la fiesta principal (Nuit Demonia) sería el jueves día 6. Eso por no mencionar las dos exposiciones ajenas a Demonia que bien se merecerán una mención especial en este blog.
Total que allí estaba, puntual a la cita cuando el taxi paró en la puerta de “La Loco”; una enorme discoteca que desde fuera te hace pensar que se trata de un cine de barrio, justo al lado del famoso “Mouline Rouge”.
Si bien el sitio resulta algo más que viejo, tiene cierto prestigio. La organización, fue bajo mi punto de vista adecuada a una fiesta de estas características, aunque con tres graves excepciones.
En primer lugar daba la sensación de que el aforo se había excedido con creces. Costaba moverse por el local y a algunas zonas era simplemente imposible acceder. Esto implicó no poder disfrutar de algunos de los espectáculos que se organizaron y entre los que sin lugar a dudas destacó el de la mujer que hizo un autobondage en suspensión (sí, lo he escrito bien). Fue simplemente espectacular.
El exceso de aforo hizo que los no fumadores sufriésemos más de cuenta. ¿Para cuándo una Ley Europea que nos proteja?
Y por último, sin lugar a dudas el gran fiasco vino del uso indiscriminado de cámaras de fotos; muy a pesar de que estaba prohibido introducirlas en el local, pues había fotógrafos acreditados (enhorabuena Jan).
Sin embargo, con estas excepciones, la experiencia fue fantástica, en particular desde un punto de vista fetichista voyeurista. No sólo había auténticas bellezas enfundadas en látex, sino hasta un señor disfrazado de Latexbarbaroja del Siglo XXI con su bucanero uniforme. Me muero de ganas de vestir algo tan original.
Como en todas las fiestas a las que he asistido siempre hay algo que mejorar pero la experiencia me dice que organizar eventos, particularmente tan multitudinarios no es tarea fácil. Por eso, antes de continuar quisiera dar la enhorabuena a los organizadores por su valentía (va por vosotros Laurence & Francis).
La cena, rodeados de tanta belleza fue algo puramente circunstancial. Había que comer algo y comimos pero, el cerebro y, sobre todo, los ojos estaban persiguiendo enfermeras, dominatrixes, piratas, muñecas, corsets, interminables tacones y por supuesto; persiguiendo a todas esas damas que se sentaban a nuestro lado y que por respeto no menciono aunque me consta que ellas se dan por aludidas.
Tan sólo eché en falta algo de juego que por necesidades del guión y exceso de participantes no fue posible.
Por último, quisiera mencionar a quien sin lugar a dudas fue la estrella no de una, sino de las dos veladas; nuestra amiga Nicole, Demonia no hubiese sido lo mismo sin ti. Eso sin mencionar que el concurso fue una farsa vestida de látex.
¿Y el año que viene?, volveré, sin duda y espero retornar con menos ansiedad.

iGasm

Apple's tenacious protection of its iPod brand took a new twist last week when the company's legal eagles swooped on the high street retailer of 'adult' products, Ann Summers.

According to the News of the World, Apple objected to a poster for the iGasm product which reworks the famous silhouette of the iPod ads for a somewhat different purpose: iGasm is a vibrator that responds to the music being played.

Or as Anne Summers puts it: 'Go at it hard and fast with a pounding drum 'n' bass track or chill with ambient classic.'

Apple demanded that the retailer withdraw the ad or face legal action.

Ann Summers boss Jacqueline Gold refused.

'Perhaps I can send them an iGasm to put a smile back on their faces!,' she quipped.

It is not the first time that the sex toy industry has left Apple a little frustrated. It has also objected to ads for the iBuzz, a product not dissimilar to iGasm.

The Stone (by kôr)

The instructions were very clear:
“Upon arrival go to the British Airways counter and ask for an envelope addressed to Mr. Kôr.”
He took the lift to the first floor where the departures lounge was located and almost immediately could see the blue and red symbols of BA and a Lady behind the counter.
With a trembling voice he asked:
“Good morning Madam, May I have an envelope for Mr. Kôr”
“Certainly Sir, could I see your identification?”
He realised that Kôr was not his real name hence he had no ID he could use. How would he manage to explain to this Lady that Kôr was only his slave name? Was it part of Madame Kyra’s plans to make him go through this embarrassment? Who knows, he thought, perhaps this Lady dressing in blue is also a Dominatrix even though she didn’t really seem to be.
There was no way to convince her on his identity so he had no other choice but to call Madame Kyra and explain the situation to her. He passed the phone on to the BA Lady and they both seemed to engage in a curious conversation that he obviously did not understand as German is even a more difficult language when people are upset. At the end, the BA Lady hung up the phone and gave him the envelope. It was too obvious that she was not happy about it as she told him that the envelope could contain a bomb. A bomb, well, my bottom might explode like a bomb if I don’t get through this, he thought.
Once again, the instructions were very clear:
“slave kôr, from now on you are just that, my slave”
You are to proceed to the end of the hall and leave by exit 26, cross the street and on the other site you will see a big block of car parks. Go the le 5th floor and stand up by the big number 5 sign looking at the wall. You are not to see me till I allow you to do so. Then wait…
The parking was almost empty and nobody seemed to be there. Nobody but her, he thought, when he could hear a car coming in. The car stopped a few meters behind him and all he could her was:
“Do not look, turn around. Didn’t I say that you are not to see me until I decide so”
She approached him slowly while her heels would make an amazing sound on the pavement of the parking. He would have given gold to be able to see her but, he was not allowed so and, all he could do was to imagine her, trying to remember her face from the photos he had seen on her website.
“Put your hands on your back”
For the first time he could feel her touching his hands. The click of the thumb cuffs immediately put him in the right mood to start submitting to her. She then put a pair of blind glasses on his eyes so there he was, thumb cuffed, blinded, in a foreign city and following an unknown woman to an unknown car.
She put his luggage in the boot and grabbed him by his arms to help him to get into the backseat of the car.
Just a few minutes ago he was a “free” man in an international airport and all that freedom seemed to be away now that he was helpless in this car travelling around Düsseldorf.
“I must be crazy.”
He thought…
It took about 20 minutes to get to her studio in what it seemed to be the more relaxing experience of his stay in Germany. Even though the position was a bit uncomfortable, he was at least given the chance to speak to her about the forthcoming events. She clearly stated that it would be an unforgettable experience and indeed it finally was.
When she removed the dark glasses and released the thumb cuffs he realised that they were in the middle of a Düsseldorf’s busy street, so at least he thought somebody would hear him screaming and save him should he be in trouble. He obviously later found out that nobody would have been able to save him and that, after all, he wouldn’t have even be bothered to be saved as, to be in her hands was worth it the worst of the sufferings.
Madame Kyra’s studio was in a small but beautifully decorated apartment of Düsseldorf. There were three rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. The main room perfectly served the purpose of introducing slaves to their new status as an old wooden table would make you feel it was sort of reception room. Quite unsurprisingly, there was only a chair for her and a small stool by the table that made kôr feel very small. In the same room there were a massive iron cage and school bench that made him feel the consequences of not following her rules, as the canes and other correction devices were visible all over the place.
He was then taken to the red room, as she used to call it, where the main throne stood at the end of it. A few not so comfortable pieces of furniture also decorated the room, including a pillory, a St. Andrew’s cross and whipping bench.
The initial inspection started and took about 15 minutes in which kôr were to take his clothes off very, very slowly, while she was sitting on her throne. Once naked, he was given the first rules to be followed at all times while in there.
“kôr, I am not to see your bottom at any time. That implies you will never show me your back or else you will receive 10 strokes of the cane.”
He counted the first 70 or 80 strokes and quickly learnt that it was much safer to follow her rules.
“Position stone”
“Whenever I enter the room I want to see you in what I call the stone position. That is on your knees and arms with your bottom up and your face down.”
It is quite likely that I will prefer to see your bottom to spank it and not your face, hence this position. It also means that as a stone you are not to move a millimetre of your body. I am not even supposed to feel that you are there until I decide otherwise.
Not to accomplish my instructions will equal the same punishment than to show your bottom hence, it seems to me that I will have lots of fun with my rattan canes. Don’t you agree, slave kôr?
How he could not agree? It was too obvious that She was already controlling his mind and at that point he would have agreed with anything.
The following hours and days seemed to pass quickly but intensively. He was thoroughly tortured and quite surprisingly he loved it. He continually passed from being very relaxed waiting in his cell to be in the most painful position adoring her. Yes, adoring her, because to adore a Lady such as Madame Kyra you have to suffer pain as, it is not something you can take for granted.
Many hours had passed since he had arrived and he eventually thought up to what point he would be able to take the whole of his training inside the studio. He was dying to go for a walk and indeed he went.
Let’s go for a walk in the forest.
Amazing, he thought. He was going to be taken for a ride outside the studio to a German forest. That appeared to be very appealing to him after such an intensive welcoming. Besides, nobody else but her and of course, kôr himself, would know the special relationship between them.
It was a short ride to a beautiful forest outside Düsseldorf. She parked in a small car park that was full of vehicles. Next to it there was a small entrance to a walking area and he soon realized that it was not only a walking path but also a jogging torture track.
Run.
What?
Run, now
At first he could not understand but, as soon as he felt the electricity passing through his bollocks he immediately started to run following the path.
He now understood why she laughed when the previous day they talked about the electricity remote control attached to his chastity belt. It was a perfect training device but he would have never thought it could be used for such a healthy activity.
Stop! Run! Jump! Stop!
Gosh! He would have killed her for making him sweat as much but, unfortunately he had no choice but to accomplish with her special training method. Kôr is not what you could call a sporty person but all the other people around were amazed at how athletic he was behaving that morning, particularly taking into consideration that he was wearing jeans and not a jogging suit.
She laughed, laughed and laughed while, he suffered, suffered and suffered. When an hour later they got back to the car he was completely wet and tired. On the way back to the studio she said:
Don’t you feel healthy today?
Wasn’t it beautiful to come to Germany to do some exercise.
He did not reply but told himself that he would never again get into a forest with a Mistress.
If in the morning he had spent many calories by running, in the afternoon he spent even more calories by stretching his body up to his limits.
She first hung him downwards and caned him thoroughly. She knew that he could not take much pain and as result it is very difficult to punish him while he is standing. Therefore, that position was perfect for the purpose of paying all the strokes he owned her for showing her his bottom. The caning was done with a perfect combination of strength and care. She stroke him uncountable times but, she left him relax from one stroked each other.
When she finished she allowed him to lie down for a while and started to attach some devices tom his testicles and penis. When she was done she pulled the crane up and make him adopt a somehow bridge position by pulling his genitals up. He had his bottom a few centimetres off the ground while the rest of the body was almost in the previous position.
He tried to adjust himself to his new way of relaxing when he felt the first discharge of electricity on his genitals.
Oh my Goddess! She is crazy.
The sophistication of his therapy was reaching and incredible level. He was forced to endure the position not to have his bollocks separated from the rest of his body but, at the same time he would feel the electricity going all the way through his dick. How the hell he was not supposed to move?
He would have given gold, once again but, this time; he would have given it to go back to the jogging path. At least, he thought, in there he could run out of the reach of the remote control but there, in the studio, with his bollocks attached to her “hell”, he could do nothing but to beg for mercy. Indeed he begged but, all he got was a full dose of her golden champagne to relieve his thirst.
A few hours later she was gone and he stayed chained to the wall for the night. He was exhausted and quickly fell asleep.
In the middle of the night he woke up and headed for the toilet. It was short walk as he could see that the chain attached to his ankle would not take him too far away. He had no idea what time it was but, he desperately needed to go to the toilet. He just didn’t even want to think what would happen if he had to release himself on the floor so he managed to reach the key of the cuffs by stretching his body, yet once again but, this time for a plausible reason.
He managed to release himself and went to the toilet but them realised that there was a small camera checking that he was behaving properly. She had left the camera in case of an emergency and certainly the need to pee would look like an emergency to her.
He wondered if she had seen him opening the cuffs and leaving the room and finally went asleep again.
She woke him up when he was in a middle of a dream and smiling she said to him:
Kôr, do you need to go to the toilet.
It was too obvious that he had been caught so he decided to confess his crime before it was too late.
He had lost count of the number of strokes he had received and was supposed to receive due to his continuous mistakes. Therefore, the following hours passed between being caned and being electrocuted. He still had many hours in front of him and already was exhausted.
Fortunately there was some relaxation in between punishments. He even ended up enjoying his new favourite position that would make him invisible to her canes and “volts”.
The Stone

Los cinco sentidos

Está oscuro, el silencio invade la estancia en que me encuentro. No oigo nada, no siento nada y sin embargo soy consciente de que mis sentidos están en tus manos.

Has empezado un nuevo juego, un juego en el que tú eres dueña de mis sentidos. Un juego en el que yo tan sólo puedo aspirar a disfrutar del sentido que hoy me hayas permitido utilizar. Eran siete, eran dos, eran cinco; no estoy seguro, hoy sólo se permite disfrutar de uno y quizás nunca vuelva a tener la conciencia humana de sentir todos de forma completa.

Sin embargo, esta reducción de mis sentidos no ha provocado sino una exacerbación de los mismos. Antes podía ver, tocar, oír, oler, etc. y mi vida era un conjunto de percepciones. Ahora, he de conformarme con explorar todos los recovecos que mi imaginación y el sentido que permanece liberado me permite.

Ayer pude verte, yacía inmovilizado cerca de ti pero al menos podía verte.

Antes pude oírte, oírte no sólo en forma de voz, sino a través de esos artilugios que rompen el aire antes de impactar contra mi cuerpo.

Otro día pude tocarte, tocarte, tocarte. ¡Qué sensación aquella de poder tocarte!

Hoy, es diferente, sigo inmovilizado cerca de ti y puedo olerte. Tu ser entra a través de mi conducto nasal y alimenta al resto de mis sentidos. Con tu olor puedo imaginarte, imaginar que te veo, que te oigo, que te saboreo. Nunca pensé que un solo sentido podría darme una visión tan amplia de ti.

Ha pasado mucho tiempo desde que me tienes levitando en algún lugar de tus dominios. Horas, minutos, qué sé yo. Mis sensaciones se limitan a lo que hay entre mi nariz y la máscara que llevo puesta. Estoy incómodo pero estoy en la gloria. Quién quiso ser libre pudiendo estar así.

Me citaste a las 12 y tras postrarme a tus pies fuiste privándome de los sentidos que hoy no iba a necesitar. Empezaste por las manos, unos gruesos guantes que a su vez, se unían entre sí me impedían distinguir lo que tocaba. Tan sólo sabía que mis manos estaban adheridas a mi cuerpo impidiéndome tocar cualquier otra cosa. El tacto había desaparecido.

Todavía podía oírte cuando cerraste la cremallera del saco que contenía mi cuerpo. El ruido de la polea me hizo sentir que éste era levantado y me encontraba levitando.

A continuación me pusiste algo en los oídos. Supongo que eran tapones de silicona pero nunca había experimentado tanto silencio.

Seguiste con una máscara que filtraba todo tipo de luz y me dejaba en la oscuridad más absoluta. Ya habías extirpado tres de mis sentidos y sin embargo los dos restantes no hacían más que sobreexcitarse como si previesen ser el próximo en desaparecer y quisiesen sobrevivir.

La saliva fluía de forma continua para aferrarse a uno de los dos restantes. Sin embargo, muy pronto noté como un objeto redondo e insípido entraba en mi boca y me impedía saborear. No comprendía lo que ocurría pues a pesar de todo podía respirar a través de él. Terminé deduciendo que quizás ese agujero serviría para introducir algún líquido, llegado el momento. Qué detalle, pensé, al menos no me deshidrataré.

Ya sólo quedaba uno y la sola idea de perderlo me hacía temblar. ¿Cómo sería encontrarse completamente aislado de lo que me mantiene conectado con el mundo exterior y por ende conectado a ti? La respuesta no tardó llegar cuando levantaste parcialmente la máscara que cubría mi nariz e introdujiste un tejido parcialmente húmedo.

De repente, el único sentido que quedaba empezó a volar al sentir tu fragancia. Ya no hacía falta ver, oír, degustar, ni mucho menos tocar. Habías entrado dentro de mi cuerpo y tu aroma paseaba no sólo por mis pulmones sino por cada una de las células de mí ser.

Para AC

Con los cinco sentidos

¿Cómo conseguir que un hombre se lave las manos?

Acabo de recibir esta foto y no he podido evitar compartirla con vosotros.

Gracias Terry

Ya iba siendo hora ...

... De tener mi huequecillo en el blogguerespacio.
Lo cierto es que era lo menos que podía hacer teniendo en cuenta que paso muchos minutos al día leyendo lo que mis favoritos contertulios publican por aquí.
A veces da la sensación de que me podría pasar horas delante de la pantalla hipnotizado por las parafilias de la mosca cojonera, por no mencionar a la loba Nina y a mi querida Delicatae.
Por eso, aunque sólo sea por solidaridad, me apunto al carro.