One other Shibaricon story…And another story to file under: “Do as I say, not as I do.”

It was Friday night at the dungeon party. I had just played, and I was feeling pleasantly endorphin-buzzed. I was taking a stroll around the room, looking at the other scenes, and walked up to a group of people who fall into the category I call conference pals. Conference pals are folks from other cities that I tend to encounter a couple of times a year at the big kink events. Not close friends, but I enjoy them when I see them, and we occasionally swap an email here and there.

So a dozen people, give or take a few, were milling around one of the suspension frames, and it was obvious that some sort of scene was about to happen. So I stopped and began chatting with various people, waiting to see what was going to unfold.

Now, I’m not really sure how the next step developed. As I said, I was pretty endorphin-buzzed, and I was making no real effort to process anything analytically. I was just letting sights and sounds sort of flow over me. It was pleasant.

But somehow, a cute girl was bouncing up and down in front of me, saying, “Matisse! Matisse! You have to single-tail them! Will you single-tail them?”

Uh, what?

The story was thus: three guys were going to do hip-harness on themselves, much in the manner of climbers, and suspend themselves, next to one another, from the suspension frame, and lean back so that they were hanging upside down. Their female friends had announced their intention of tormenting them with whatever kinky implements were at hand.

The whole situation had a rather charming touch of adolescence to it. The guys were showing off their rope skills and their ability to endure a physically strenuous position. The women were testing their mettle by upping the stakes, while still rewarding them with a lot of feminine attention. It reminded me of being a kid on the playground. And while this certainly wasn’t your traditional BDSM scene, we call doing BDSM “playing” for a reason. It is play, for grown-ups.

And then one of the ladies decided: hey, there’s Matisse! She should be the one to apply the sting to the suspended boys.

So let me get this straight: three good-looking men are going to hang themselves upside down, and you want me to hit them with a very nasty whip? Hmmn, do I want to do this? Let me think about that.

One nano-second later; “Sure!”

The whip was fetched. Now, what I knew but did not say was: it was a friend's whip, which means it was a four-foot single-tail. The single-tail I usually use? A three-foot.

Also: I’ve never single-tailed anyone while they were upside down. They were all wearing pants, which meant that their legs and ass would be less vulnerable. (Although a single-tail can bite you through your clothes, for sure.) But their backs would be at an unusual angle, and fairly low.

So, a longer whip than I’m used to, and a different angle of attack, and three guys who I have never played with and don’t know the first thing about. Oh, and let’s not forget I’m endorphin-high.

Does this deter me? Not at all. It’s not like a girl gets this kind of opportunity every day!

“You guys consent to this, right? Good.” I went and stood behind them as they swung into their positions. The frame resembled a child’s swing set: V-shaped supports with a long pole in the middle. They were lined up like bats getting ready for a day’s sleep. Only I was going to keep them from resting easy.

Before I could strike, though, a friend appeared beside me. “Take off your top,” he suggested.

“What?” I was wearing a very sexy Dolce and Gabbana leopard print bustier, with matching panties, and black boots. “Why? They’re facing away from me, anyway.”

“Look, you’re gonna beat the guys, the least you can do is do it topless.”

I rolled my eyes slightly. “I think you’re sympathizing with them a bit too much. And with this long whip, I’ll probably catch myself on the backswing, too.” But there seemed to be some crowd support for the idea, so I shrugged, popped open the tiny hooks and eyes, and discarded it.

So there I was, the Topless Top. I started slow, getting my range and also getting a sense of how much each man could take. It was fun to see if I could catch one man with a good sharp stroke and make the other two react in sympathy/anticipation.

It was also interesting to see how much I respond to verbal feedback. Two of the men were being pretty stoic. One of them, B, I’ve seen play before, and I know he’s a high-capacity guy, so that was all right.

The other, L, I have never seen bottom ever. In fact, I hadn’t even known he switched until then. So I had no idea where I was on his pain-scale.

But the fact that they weren’t making much noise made me inclined to hit them harder. The third man, though, was giving me much more of a reaction, moving and making noises, so I found myself easing up a bit just a bit on the strokes I gave him. Neither reaction was wrong, but if definitely informed my level of intensity.

The scene didn’t last long – there’s no way it could have. Hanging upside down is stressful enough as it is, and I caught them all some pretty stingy strokes. So, maybe fifteen minutes or so? My sense of time wasn’t at its sharpest.

The amusing coda is: because someone present was the official Shibaricon photographer, photos exist of this little event. I haven’t seen any – I imagine it’ll take awhile before the photographer is able to process through all of them. But I’m sure some will float my way sometime, and if I deem it appropriate – and get everyone else’s permission – I’ll put one up…