Tight Ends


Football fun! The kinky version of “Family Feud”, newly coined “Submissives Feud”.


Watching football while at a kinky event with kinky friends as well as kinky hotel roommates leads to….well….kinky goodness.

Yes, we were at an event this past weekend. Yes, it was a hotel stay. The where and what won’t be discussed here, but I will say it was an excellent event, one we have been to before, just not in a while. We met our good friends there, Ms. J and her boy, lucky. I’ve written about them before. We decided it would be most fun to share one room with two big beds since we have all played together. This is not to be confused with swinging, for that is not what we do and not what we did. But certainly, we shared playful naked, D/s laden, protocol filled weekend together.  So much I could write about, but for now, I will concentrate on football since we ARE in New England, and we DO root for the Patriots, and it WAS a playoff weekend.

So, instead of joining a big, kinky party Saturday night, we made our own party in the hotel room. Four quarters make for the game, and there were four of us. Perfect.

Ms. J and I decided that each of us would have a quarter, and for that quarter of the game, we could each individualize our own set of rules/games to be played. All of us chose something unique and fun. I’ll write about mine. Here was the game we played based on my rules:

I googled a trivia game. I actually searched for “football trivia for kids” and found a great trivia questionnaire. It was perfect for the range of football knowledge that had amassed in our room. I made john and lucky kneel in front of a bench. On that bench before each male contestant was large dildo. Larger than they could comfortably swallow.

The objective was this: I would read a trivia question, confirm the stakes and whomever knew the answer had to deep throat the cock to the best of their ability. Think ‘Family Feud’, only instead of buzzers to hit, there were cocks to swallow. If they both swallowed cock, then whomever swallowed deepest won. I would start by reading the ‘prize’, then read a trivia question, and then watch one or both heads slam into the cocks, mouths wide open, gagging sounds shortly thereafter. Here is an example:

“This question is good for 5 cane strokes. If you swallow first and win the round, you can either keep the cane strokes for yourself or give them to your opponent. Ready? Here is your question:

Which of these teams is NOT a team in the National Football League?
  • Detroit Lions
  • San Diego Chargers
  • Green Bay Packers
  • Chicago Bulls”

And so it went. Round and round.  Different questions each time. I am not entirely sure how many trivial questions I ended up asking, but I CAN tell you that a 15 minute quarter is not a 15 minute quarter.

Oh my god, the laughter!! The silliness! The playful arguing, cheating, bribing, whining, begging. It was all fun and games, and only a few got hurt. :-)

The quarter ended, and then someone else presented their game for the next round. I will say this: I got caned. I got spanked. No one was unscathed. No matter who’s turn it was, we laughed until we cried. We cried until we laughed. We spent 3 solid hours in that room, and all of agreed that we have never had a better time watching football, and never quite like this.

I can only imagine what a Superbowl would bring, if we make it that far (Go Pats!).

It certainly got me thinking about baseball. I love that game too. And to think….. 9 innings of tortured glory! Oh my….the possibilities!



Once upon a rain storm

Another episode in the continuing series of flashback posts that Chloe has been doing. This time, John makes a contribution.

Chloe wanted me to contribute to the “Once upon a… ” posting set and I will go back to one particular scene she engineered at a camp we attended.

It was our first time at “camp”, having been lured there by two friends in kink who were beautiful and wonderful people. And were great at helping to engineer an good abduction and torture scene.

Chloe had rigged up a nice spot down on the lawn near the pool and dining hall. A high traffic area. We had this kind of spanking bench we had brought with us. I brought it down to the area she designated, she posted a sign or two, as she is famous for her signs. To this day, I don’t know what the signs said. But I do know that they invited people to do things to me. There was some measure of cock sucking involved, there were people who beat me, there were people who fingered my ass and people just wanted to touch. And that was all okay and it was what people did for a good hour or more.

It was a very hot summer at camp. Temperatures in this section of the mid-atlantic were well into the 90’s and people lived in the pool. And with such temperatures and summer heat, it was inevitable that summer storms rolled through. There I was, bound hand, foot and neck on the spanking bench, having had people doing terrible* things to me. Chloe was sitting nearby in the shade while I, out in the sun, was used and abused.** There was a veritable parade of people who stopped in, some of which we play with to this day. But more to the point, the weather turned. I was in the sun, she in the shade. Lube had dripped down my ass and down my thighs. My cock, tortured and teased also dripped. The sky darkened. The high traffic area became low traffic. We were on a downward slope and little risk of lightning where we were, but the storm blew in quickly. Chloe sat in the shade while the rain started. I remained bound to the bench, rained on. The rain became hard, even painful as it struck my body. It was almost at the point where you stick your arm out of the car while driving down the highway in the rain. All the heat and anxiousness of being laid out in public to be used was washed away. All the concern, all the worry, it all simply was washed away as the rain pelted on my back and ass and legs and feet.

Having already been in a head space where I was floating and heated, the rain washed through me, a cleansing bath, one of the more public instances of my being abused out in front of others. And the rain baptized me in the society of kink where my sins were… well… part of the life I was in. My sins had no forgiveness in this baptism, as there was nothing to forgive. But perhaps it was any misgivings I might have had, any doubt I might have had, any worries about accepting my kinky self were washed away in that rain. I was born anew, baptized in the waters of the camp and welcomed into the church of the inherently kinky and accepted into a tribe.

Man in rain

Man in rain

I was unclipped from the bench. I was so spacey, so drifty, so much head space… and she escorted me up the hill, the rain still pouring down over both of us. I naked, her not nearly so. We returned to our cabin space wherein our roommates had already taken refuge from the storm relishing in the relief of the temperature drop from the rain. And here she was, walking her dog up the hill, in the rain naked. His body chilled from the outlay of energy into others, washed off from rain, dripping with wetness… and she lay me down on the dog pillow beside our bed, a towel roughly drying me, then a blanket covering me. And all through my laying down and coming down I heard the soundtrack to Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, by Bob Dylan.

To this day, the soundtrack of Pat Garrett exists between Chloe and I as a beautiful soundtrack to our life together. And it all comes back to this scene at a beautiful camp when she was able to craft a wonderful and perfect scene, one that began innocently enough, with me, her and a couple signs. And it rose and roared in the heavens, rained down upon us to wash so much away, but left us together in our space to come back to each other again later… recovered, rejuvenated and so deeply attached to each other.

Even as I write this, I’ve called up the soundtrack on my computer to listen to, just so I can hearken back to some of the wonderful feelings I shared with her on that day.

Since then, we’ve been back to this camp countless times, joined the staff, met many people, had so many scenes together there. We know this camp far more intimately than many of its participants and we are continuously drawn to it. And we share these memories with each other across so many miles and years and can only smile at the thoughts of them.



*By terrible I mean delightful wonderful and deliciously tortuous things… ;)