Sunday, April 24, 2011

Return to Anvil

This would actually be my second experience with Anvil, a play party that is held I believe once a month at different venues around Southern California.  My first experience with Anvil was somewhat jarring, but I'll tell that story another time.

Last night I was invited to Anvil by Sir. C, the Canadian Soldier I proudly served under not too long ago.  I was ordered to wear my CHP uniform while my Sir brought his hockey gear, as the party's theme was sports gear that night.  The Anvil party was held at the same venue as Soca Bondage Club, Threshold.  After we arrived, he began to change into his gear in the lobby, transforming into an intimidating, yet very sexy hockey player in red.  I couldn't help but fall into his arms and embrace him.  The padding, the armor, the feeling of it all against my own body, enveloping me in a protective hug made me feel safe and secure in his arms.  He broke the embrace and led the way inside the tarp curtain, I followed as if lead by an invisible leash made of lust.

The main room was darkened significantly, the only light coming from the lamp above the bartender's table, the big screen TV showing a continuous loop of porn, and some very dim lights above.  The music in the air was quite erotic, dark in nature and very sinister.  (I'm actually looking for some good dungeon music and so far have not been able to come up with any that is enjoyable. If you know of any great music for dungeon play, or if you were at last night's Anvil party and know what CD was playing, please share this information in the comments, or email me at leatherfetishfox@gmail.com I'd love to get my paws on some very badly!)
The front room was filled with men in varying types of gear, some walking around in bare-assed jock straps, many in wrestling singlets, some in leather, but the only one who was in full hockey gear (and pulling it off in an amazing way) was my Sir.  The longer I stayed in the main room, the more I noticed the significant difference between the energy at Soca Bondage Club and Anvil.  Given it is the same exact location, with only a few minor differences made, a bar is set up in the center of the room, porn is being shown, the lights are off, but the energy is drastically different.  It is no longer a feeling of safe and consensual familiarity, but a dark and selfish feeling of lustful greed.

My Sir and I remained in the main room for a while, talking and enjoying each other until a gloved hand forcefully clamped over my mouth from behind and pulled my face into a leather clad chest.  At first I was completely caught off guard, but as I was pulled in I recognized the firmness, the forcefulness, the scent.  "Hello, boy!" a voice said.  Master! It was Master!  My mind immediately dove into full submission, he placed his hand upon my head and pushed me to my knees, my face in his boot and lovingly serviced them without hesitation.  They had been recently polished, the smell of it wafted into my nostrils.  I hear Master and Sir C's voices in the distance, as if in another room despite them being directly above me, my subspace state so strong my only objective being to service Master. 

"I'm sorry, forgive me for interrupting."
"Oh, how can you not?"

They flatter me, and my loyalty to them swells in my chest. Master pulls me back up to my feet and embraces me tightly to his chest, his heartbeat in my ears, and my body completely his to do what he wishes.  My memories a cloud of subspace, I recall sitting on the bondage table with both Sir C and Master, conversing until Master looks to my right and says "Oh, hello there." as I turn my head, Master forbids it and stands me up instead.  Looking behind me he asks "Are you ready to receive?" unsure if he is speaking to me or the man behind me I remain silent, head awash in submission.  A firm swat on my ass and my haze is broken. 

"Thank you, Sir!" I thank my unknown assailant, another one, and another one, faster now, harder, arrgh! Master asks me if I know who it is, I quickly analyze the feeling of the spankings and I know exactly who it is behind me.  "Sir J?" I answer, reeling ever so slightly.  I was spun around and so it was!  The same Sir J who is responsible for subjecting me to many fun experiences.  Suddenly I am overwhelmed, I am surrounded by three amazing dominant men who have not only shown me wonderful and fulfilling fetish and kink scenes, but who have all reached me on a deeply emotional level.  I could fall to my knees and weep, thanking the universe for such a grace. 

The evening rolled onward, I had my boots shined for the first time and I must say the complimentary boot black did a superb job.  Although during my shine, some man who has been following me around for some time at these sort of venues walked up and groped me without permission, asking if I wanted to be serviced while my boots were being serviced.  I declined immediately, wishing this guy would just take the hint and reminding myself to be more direct next time.  Afterward, Master ordered me to strip to my jock and boots, check my uniform in with the coat check, and placed me in a rope harness for the night.  Another blur, my memory is poor after intense nights, I apologize.  I had decided to explore past the curtain into the hall of rooms, Master asked if I would be okay, given the nature of the party and my current dressing he was genuinely concerned, knowing what had happened the last time I attended an Anvil party.  I assured him that I would be fine, I was confidant in my ability to express myself and to refuse or decline advances.  I am so thankful he looks out for my well being, he constantly upholds his title of Master as a proud and shining beacon of trust.

As I parted the tarp curtain and stepped into the hallway, the true nature of this party revealed itself.  As the tarp closed behind my back, I was faced with a darkened hallway, once familiar, now shrouded in a dim blue light. The air filled with a dirty energy, a filthy vibration.  It made me close myself off, and seal up my mind.  I passed by the open doors.  I pass by the open door to the chain spiderweb room, a pair of men are together, fucking inside.  Not making love, not having sex, but fucking.  An audience built around the door and spilled inside, closing in around them with no permissions asked or boundaries observed.  I continue onward, passing by the throne and suspension room.  A group of men are inside, huddled together, kissing lustfully and preparing a scene.  I pass onward once more, the sounds of primal moans and grunts fill the air, but these testosterone sighs are different than the ones I've heard before, different from the ones I was so very fond of.  These are ones that are tinged with a rasp of filth, a twisted echo.

Nothing seemed to feel right at all.  I felt contempt. Why? What the hell for? I didn't understand why I would feel such a thing.  What a terrible thing to think of others! Shame on me! The nagging feeling refused to leave my head.  The energy spoke volumes, but was I simply ignorant of what was going on?  My gut told me to tread carefully.  I kept my back to the walls when standing still in observation, but I didn't wish to stay long in any specific place.  My voyeurism was not entertained, but instead turned away in discomfort.  I escaped the hallway and returned to the main room, leaving the dark lust behind me.

My mood was sullied, I saw an empty bondage bench and looked at it in the darkness, the light of the TV showed wet spots.  Grabbing a bottle of medical disinfectant, I wiped the whole bench down.  I felt eyes upon me, I didn't care, I had become angry, they could take their gazes and blind them for all I cared at that moment.  Satisfied with the wipe down, I sat upon the bench and relaxed.  The night continued, I returned to Master at one point and became a teaching subject of physical touch for a handsome and quite muscular gentleman.  His biceps like fleshy stone, his pectorals a broad and beautiful achievement of discipline, despite his power, his touch was soft and featherlight.  Fingers floating upon my skin, broad arms rising and falling, he confessed to enjoying my rear.  He was more than welcome to touch it, he was polite and I felt a restrained lust from him.  He wanted to do more, but he was behaving himself.  Given what I had seen before, I was proud of him for holding back.  He hugged me once I told him what a big fan of muscular men I was.  Oh it was bliss, two large forearms of power wrapped around me from behind!  Squeeze me! Crush me! Make me feel your raw power!

Unfortunately when someone else had come up and I was shared between them, he faded away, wandered off and vanished through the tarp front door.  I didn't see him again, much to my dismay.  I hope to encounter him again someday soon.

I returned to Sir C and we went into the hallway together, my attraction and yearning for my Sir led us to the farthest corner of the hallway at the very back, hidden from immediate view.  We embraced and kissed, energy flowing strong and libido inflamed.  Then, something new rose to the surface.  My energy mixed with the vibration of filth that saturated the hallway, and I felt a slutty, whorish side of me awaken.  I wanted Sir C in a new way, I wanted to tease him.  I wanted to tantalize him.  However, I did things a stereotypical twink slut would do.  Looking back, if I had seen myself acting in such a way, I would have slapped myself across the face, disgusted with my own behavior, I know that isn't me nor someone I want to act like.

We eventually wandered on to find a room for ourselves, one room was left in a horrible condition.  A beer can left on the bondage table, empty lube and condom wrappers beside it, and a used condom crumpled and left on the table nearby, the rubber coated in semen glistened disgustingly in the dim light.  My former feelings to suppress and scold myself for feeling contempt dissolved immediately.  This was inexcusable and absolutely disgusting!  Pick up after yourselves for fuck sake!  Slobs!  The jail cell room was left in similar condition, and my Sir made sure to sanitize the bondage table in there before ordering me up on it.

I eventually relaxed again and put my anger aside, Sir C gently pleasured me and I closed my eyes to enjoy his touch.  I felt shadows passing closely, watching briefly and then moving onward to the next scene.  It wasn't until I felt two hands pleasuring me that I opened my eyes.

There was someone else touching me.

I was caught in a mix of submission and disgust.  Sir C was so focused on me that he didn't realize someone else had approached and invaded the scene.  My immersion faded and I just felt slightly violated.  I wanted to yell out,

"You fucking pig! Get your slimy hands off of me!  We didn't invite you! Get the hell out!"

I could only squirm in discomfort unable to express myself, thankfully Sir noticed the bastard and removed his hand from me immediately. 

Never, ever, ever invade a scene.  I don't care what you may be thinking at the time!  It is invasive, rude, and disgusting to just step in or hover closely over a scene in progress!  Regardless of the venue, or the nature of the party, you WAIT TO BE INVITED.  It ruins the moment completely when someone comes up and helps themselves.

Thankfully, we were able to continue, and Sir protected me after the scene climaxed.  The rest of the evening was enjoyable and relaxed and even given the unpleasant instances, I had a good time.  Although I don't think Anvil is my kind of party element. 

I'm still caught between two feelings.  A feeling of contempt and a feeling of shame for feeling the contempt.  I'm not sure how to close on that thought.

Please play safe.

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