Thursday, September 16, 2010

Triumph Deluxe!


(Re-post from Freedom Through Discipline)

As many of you know, the Violent Fems hosted the first Attack Party NYC has ever seen.  We were all super excited, because it marked the first time we would all play in one space, and was also the first party of it's kind.  After much organizing, it all went off without a hitch, and everyone had a deliciously wonderful time.  Everyone got to play and/or watch play, and BillyMark's West even asked to be our official Violent Fems headquarters!  The picture above is me with a shit-eating grin on my face, having beaten many boys, having satiated myself with kink, and having all the Fems sign my shirt for posterity.

We really tried to make the activities as "gang specific" as possible, so as there was certainly a "spirit" of fetish, most of the attacks were a creative collection of homemade implements and spontaneous inspiration.  For instance, one lucky attackee got a pillowcase thrown over his head and spun around until he felt very dizzy.  We then passed him back and forth for fun, pinching his thighs and squeezing his nipples until he fell down on the ground, then we punched and kicked him.  He of course is very into pain.

Another attendee was stepped on relentlessly by four of us, and then had vienna sausages stuffed in his face!  Another attackee had all of his clothes ripped off and was beaten mercilessly.

Not all of the attacks were pain-specific.  One little victim was dressed in lingerie and gave us a lap dance.  He wore a wig, makeup, and a cute school girl skirt- we directed him to gyrate provocatively.  We then tied her up, gagged her, and made her watch the festivities while prone to a chair.  Of course there was also a tight bondage victim, which we covered in saran wrap while tied to a chair.  There were canings, shoe beatings, dildo sucking, trampling, rolled-up newspaper beatings, sploshing, sissymaid service, and best of all- girl gang generated havoc. 

One of my favorite scenes was with a sissymaid who I made pick dropped pennies up off the floor.  The other Fems participated by slapping the coins out of his hand at random points during the evening.  He did not manage to find all of my coins (very naughty!) so got written on with lipstick, spanked mercilessly, and made to suck my cock.

We had a drink special, which was called "The Black Eye"- a combination of purple liquids, concocted by the bar owner.  The Knife went around spiking victims drinks with her "poison", ha ha!  The only thing I regret is that we didn't get to hit anyone with the oranges we had hidden in socks.  Swing those babies around, and Ouch!  Some nice pain, with very little bruising.

While most of the victims were slaves we have played with many times, the Fems are always looking for fresh meat.  I also want to emphasize that no victim is picked out and played with thoughtlessly.  This should go without saying, but all victims are thoroughly screened and communicated with regarding interests and limits.  Like any session, the Fems take into account the attackee's interests and reconcile them with their own.  The result was highly entertaining, which I expect will be the case with each subsequent party.

~  Da Kingpin  xoxo.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Alphabet City Tale

While walking one day on the Lower East Side, cheerily humming a Blondie tune to myself, I came to a corner with a red light. So I did what any New Yorker does, I turned left on Avenue B heading north and, seeing a break in traffic, jaywalked over to the east side of the street. As I was crossing the street, I couldn’t help but notice an extremely striking looking woman on the sidewalk I was approaching. She was wearing a NYC Police cap, dark glasses and a blue jacket with police patches on the arms. But something was not ordinary. Her jacket was very tight. Rather than long pants, she was wearing tight shorts and high heels. But I could not take my eyes off of her! Her legs were long and beautiful as she stood with a jaunty stance. Her lips were ruby red. And she was staring right at me.

“Hey you,” she called as I came onto the sidewalk, “come here!” Oh my God. My compulsion to obey had nothing to do with her being a cop. My body was starting to tingle. My pants were feeling tight. I was feeling light headed. As I stared at her, those red, red lips spoke to me; “What do you think you’re doing?” “I’m sorry,” I stammered, not knowing what she was asking about. “You should be sorry.” “You look like a sorry specimen,” she said, glancing down at my pants. “First, call me Ma’am when you speak to me, second, what do you mean breaking the pedestrian traffic code right in front of me?” “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” I said sheepishly, feeling very small in front of her. With her in her heels, we were standing at about eye level to each other. But I felt small in front of her, almost as if I were kneeling at her feet looking up at her.

She considered me for a moment, looking me up and down. Then she seemed to come to a decision and informed me, “I could haul you off to jail and throw you into a pit with the sodomites. Hmm, judging by how you just reacted, maybe you’d like that. But I think I’ll have mercy on you. I’ll consider what you may have to offer me from your pants.” “Ah,” I thought to myself, relieved but also strangely disappointed, “she’s just a Dirty Cop wanting a bribe.” I reached into my back pocket and started to pull out my wallet. To my surprise, she started laughing. Taking my wallet she sneered, “You think I’m interested in your money?” She took out my driver’s license and, holding it in her hand, threw my wallet to the pavement. “I’m not that kind of Dirty Cop,” she chuckled. “I’m an altogether different kind of Dirty Cop. Here’s the deal, boy, take it or leave it. I’ll own what’s in the front of your pants, back of your pants, if fact, your whole body, not just your stupid back pocket. If you agree, kneel down right here on the sidewalk and pick up your wallet. Tell me that you belong to me. Do it, and it’s the last act of your own free will you’ll take. I’ll own you, body and soul. I may summon you or show up tonight. You may not hear from me for weeks or months. But you’ll think of me and only me every day, hour and minute until then, desperately longing for me to exercise my ownership of you. So, boy, what’s it going to be, the sodomites or me?”

As I listened to her, my body was actually shaking like a leaf. I dropped down so fast and hard I smashed my knees on the pavement. But the pain meant nothing. In fact, feeling it throb as I spoke seemed to add depth and sincerity to my words: “Please, Ma’am . . .” “Mistress,” she corrected me, “now that you’re mine.” “Please Mistress,” I pleaded desperately, “please take me as yours. I beg you, Mistress.” She looked at me for a moment, while I thought with what I realized was horror that she might reject me. Then she casually pocketed my driver’s license and spoke very softly, “Very well, slave.” before turning away and strolling down the block and around the corner. I knelt there on the pavement wondering what had just happened to me. I became aware of a few people looking at me, but found that I did not care. All I could think about was my Mistress. I stumbled to me feet and somehow found my way home, thinking all the way over and over how much I desperately longed for her to contact me soon. I’m not sure what’s in store for me, now. But I am sure that my life will never be the same. I realized that I didn’t even know her name. All I knew was that she referred to herself as Dirty Cop. “Dirty Cop.” The words echoed in my head over and over. I knew they would never leave.