ph_logs | sticks and stones may break my bones (OTA 18+)

sticks and stones may break my bones (OTA 18+)

Who: George Elsworth (

stonecoldtop) & anyone 18+
What: George's birthday and pumpkin hollow's first kink party
When: evening of 22nd December
Where: VAS
Warning(s): NSFW with a focus on kink, more specifics on individual prompts

Invitation and venue
A flier goes up on the community noticeboard a week in advance, advertising an adults only party for George's birthday, with more specifics to be found at VAS. The specifics being that it's a kink play party. An opportunity meet and play with like minded individuals in a semi-public environment.

On the night, there's various toys and furniture for use placed in key spots, with cleaning supplies nearby. A variety of snacks both sweet and savoury are laid out on tables by couches, and one room has been designated the 'quiet room' and has lots of cushions and soft blankets in it.

Welcome
George greets most people as they arrive, with another of VAS's staff taking over if he's otherwise occupied. He'll take newcomers on a brief tour of the space, pointing out anything of note and giving a rundown of the rules: Be respectful, use safewords, clean up after yourselves, and any questions or concerns should be brought to George himself or another member of staff, each of which is pointed out.

Once the tour is concluded, he smiles warmly adding, "And of course, please enjoy yourself. Do you have any questions?"

Birthday Beatings

(impact play and masochism)

This is the main event for George, and a tradition he's held for a good five years or so. An excuse to test his endurance and enjoy the bite of pain with each strike to his stone skin.

Typically, the arrangement is one strike per year of age, but only two people on the island actually know how old George is and he intends to keep it that way, so instead the rules are simply: Each person can hit him a maximum of 20 times, and it will continue until either everyone who wants to has had a turn or George taps out, with short breaks as necessary.

Those who were personally invited get priority, and after that anyone is welcome to have a go at him. There's a choice of implements available for use, or someone can use their own if they'd prefer, or even go without simply use their hands (though George doesn't recommend this, and the closest to an explanation he'll give is that he has "surprisingly hard skin"), and he's willing to be repositioned as desired.

(Note: this can be threaded or handwaved as desired. I'm open to both playing out the scene itself and the breaks and aftercare. If you want to handwave that a character took a turn without playing anything surrounding it, just let me know so I can keep track.)

Get Kinky
This is a mingle, get freaky with it. Just be sure to use additional warnings as necessary

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I was hoping to find one. Here's my thought--I hold you down to the couch and do whatever I want with you. And you can't stop me or get away. Short of using your safeword, of course."

Siebren lifts an eyebrow, a dare written in his silver eyes. "Care to try it?"

For a split second, the suggestion calls up the war—and his return to Vietnam at the mercy of that asshole, Podovsky. It sends a flash of fear across John’s face—

—but the word hold sticks in his head (“hold” not “bind” or “tie up”), and it almost feels kind of sick…but for a split second he remembers being tied up and sat in front of that fucking radio…

…and instead of being manhandled by the Russians, Siebren is straddling his lap, kissing him and touching him…

The fear gives way to heat, making John lick lips gone suddenly bone dry as his dark eyes go nearly black.

“Just you.” He clarifies—more for himself than for Siebren. His powers, even his hands, okay yeah that makes him regret tight pants in a really good way. The safe word thing had been explained to him, so he knows how to make it stop. He can make it stop.

If he wants to.

Swallowing thickly, the blush turning to a flush of excitement that creeps down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, John nods.

“Yeah. I do…I wanna try it.”

"Just me, love. I won't let anyone else touch you. You're mine, and mine alone right now. Remind me, what is your safeword? I need to know you'll use it, the moment it's too much."

Siebren stands, starting to get his head in the right place for the role he's about to play. John's always been putty in his hands, but to add his gravity to the matter, that's going to be a special treat.

Mine, and mine alone right now.

For a second…John can’t quite describe what happens. Just that, for a good three or four seconds the words sort of echo in his head and he feels warm from head to foot. Like…warmth of a fire on a cold day, warmth of a soft flannel blanket, warmth of sunlight at dawn.

He’s not aware of the visible way his shoulders go slack, the deep sigh he lets out that seems to take all remaining tension with it—or the small, sweet smile tugging at his lips.

…then he realizes he’s—gotten a little lost and has to forcibly rewind the conversation in his head. He heard what Siebren asked, he was just…

“Uh—I don’t actually have one? But…maybe traffic lights would work.” He muses, shaking his head a little to clear it. “Green for good, yellow for pause, red for stop. That okay?”

He feels better about being able to use those—to just take a second if he needs it, rather than just an all or nothing stop to things with no other options. This way, he won’t feel bad if he does need to stop, if a pause isn’t enough.

"Traffic lights. Alright, get comfortable there for me. Though if you wouldn't mind spreading your legs slightly, that would be best."

Best for what? Just best. Trust him.

John nods again, shifting a little in his seat—and that does involve spreading his legs a little thanks to the fact that he’s getting hard. When Siebren asks him to do just that, he moves his legs further apart.

It’s not…indecent, but there’s something about sitting this way, hands on the seat on either side of him that makes him feel…

…sexy. Indecent has too negative a connotation, and this feels good. Really good.

Yeah—he feels sexy, and his next breath comes with a slight, but audible shake to it.

Siebren lays a hand flat on John's chest, and suddenly, he feels heavy, so very heavy. It's a little like when you're on a roller coaster, going down the hill and pressed into your seat, pulling multiple Gs.

No, it's exactly like that.

"How's that feel now?"

Whoah.

The rush of pressure that comes with the touch of Siebren’s hand is startling, but not scary. He’s felt the opposite, his power lifting him free of the earth, this is just the opposite.

He tests it, trying to lift his arms—no dice. They’re more weight than he can manage. There’s a flicker of fear, but when he takes a deep breath, it’s not impossible. He feels the pressure, but not suffocated.

I can’t move. He won’t let me move.

John opens his eyes (when did he close them?…) and can’t help but smile a little without really knowing why.

“Can’t move.” He replies softly. Thinking it is one thing but saying it out loud?

He’s…not afraid. He should be afraid, shouldn’t he?…

And Siebren moves quickly now, one shin coming up onto the couch right between John's legs, knee pressed gently against his groin.

"That's right, you can't move. You're under my control right now. Like a little toy soldier."

That hand moves from John's chest to card through his hair slowly.

John’s breath catches a Siebren moves, quick as a cat—and even if he wasn’t pressing his knee against John’s raging hard on he’d be tense and gasping with arousal because that is unfairly hot. He is absolutely teasing John, however, and he jerks against the impossible weight of his own skin trying to rock against that gentle pressure—

—like a little toy soldier—

—Dahlia’s toy soldiers.

The same terrible swell of feeling starts to rise up at those words again, but Neil’s voice is deadened in his head by Siebren’s fingers in his hair. John remembers that horrible feeling of wondering why he thought he could reach for good things to keep like his family and his partners…

But one of those partners is literally, physically holding him down. John’s head feels suddenly heavy as he lets it list into Siebren’s touch…because Siebren has control of him. He belongs to Siebren right now and no part of him ever belonged to…Neil.

For a second he can’t even remember the man’s name, and it’s so liberating he forgets he can’t move and tries to rock against Siebren’s knee again.

And when he can’t, it actually feels good…it feels so good he moans and tries to turn his head to nuzzle Siebren’s palm.

"Careful, you still look like you're doing too much thinking. If you want something, John, you're going to have to ask for it in words. You're not going to be moving anything for yourself right now."

But that palm comes down to rest against John's cheek, warm and tender, giving what Siebren thinks is wanted right now. He is a gracious and loving Baron, after all.

"So talk to me, my boytoy. What are you craving most, right now?"

Thinking too much? John almost wants to laugh, because it’s actually getting hard to think. Siebren is barely touching him but goosebumps are rushing over his skin and he’s breathing hard. He wants to move and he can’t, and when Siebren calls him ‘boytoy’ a shiver tries to race up his spine, but he can’t move…

It makes his thoughts feel slow and warm and fuzzy, loose and slack while his body feels like a bowstring pulled too tight.

“…kiss me, please?”

It almost feels like he thinks it after he says it, as he looks up at Siebren from under heavy eyelids that keep trying to slip shut.

"Of course."

The words are whispered before Siebren claims John's lips for a heavy, intense kiss, meant to be overwhelming. He is deliberately pushing hard, keeping everything at 11. He knows how long it took John to get past his touch starvation, and now he's rewarding him with all the touch, all the contact, all the passions in him.

John accepts the kiss greedily, making a sound against his mouth that’s little more than a breathy hum only because he’s not physically capable of whining due to the same nerve damage that renders his voice so deep. He tries to kiss him back, unconsciously strains against the weight of Siebren’s power—and when he can’t move it’s even better somehow.

He feels like he’s drowning in Siebren. Like his power is an extension of his body so he’s touching John everywhere. Like nothing else exists but his mouth and his voice and his…and what he wants.

Siebren wants him to stop thinking. So, when the kiss breaks, still breathless, John tries to find the words to say that he wants that, wants to stop thinking because that’s what Siebren wants…but the words are hard to find.

“Wan’…wanna—wanna be…”

…what words are right?…

“…wanna be good for you. Please?”

"Oh, sweet, beautiful boy. You are good, just by being. Every inch of you is right, is perfect." Siebren's beakish nose nuzzles at the side of John's neck slowly, before he takes a deep breath like he's smelling a tasty dish before digging in. The hand not by his face travels south, toying at the hem of that sleeveless shirt.

"I almost want to taste you."

John’s head lists to the side with a sigh, caressed from within by those words, by Siebren’s voice. Caressed from without by his breath and that brush of his nose and his mouth so close—

He doesn’t realize he wants it until Siebren says it, and another shiver tries to race up his spine and escapes his mouth in a shuddery moan when his fingers skim over the hem of his shirt.

“Please…”

Touch him, taste him—he wants either, and both, and anything Siebren wants to give to him.

Siebren needs no further permission than that. His teeth graze, and then chomp hard on John's trapezius. Not hard enough to break skin, but that will certainly leave a mark.

The careful rake of teeth tears another of those breathy not-quite whines out of him.

The actual bite, hard and stinging, makes John’s vision white out with pleasure.

It hurts, of course there’s pain, but he feels so much and feels so safe like this, he’s just shy of limp and it goes from pain to heat to sharp sensation.

John can’t think, only feel, for long, delicious moments, gasping and moaning peppered with a couple barely coherent utterances of Siebren’s name—and when there is an instant he can almost form a clear thought, he wonders if he could come just like this, pinned and barely being touched save for his hand on John’s face and his teeth digging into John’s skin.

Well. Barely being touched is a state that is subject to change, as Siebren grinds against John slowly, almost rutting against him.

He has not put complete thought into the fact they're both still wearing pants. There might be a couple messes shortly.

…definitely sooner rather than later.

That lone rational thought slips away as Siebren grinds against him and John is only aware of more feeling, more sensation, more pleasure. He can’t move and he needs to move and needs to be closer and he needs he needs he needs.

“Sieb…please…please—fuck, good—gonna…Siebren…”

John’s orgasm doesn’t hit him, or come over him. It rises like a tide and then it’s just everything. If he could move, he would collapse and writhe and buck against Siebren until the pleasure was spent.

He can’t move, though—he just comes, and feels like he keeps coming, and like he’ll never stop coming as it consumes him, and his thoughts, and everything that isn’t Siebren.

It is right after he comes that Siebren releases him from the oppressive force of gravity. John is his usual weight again--but after so much heaviness, he feels impossibly light. Like a feather. Like a soap bubble.

That sudden lightness feels precisely that way: still dazed and more than a little high on endorphins, he reflexively reaches for Siebren to hold onto him so he won’t fly away.

“Gonna float away.” He laughs, pressing his face into Siebren’s bare shoulder. “Mmmmmm…m’ I flying?”

"As high as you want, mijn speeltje." Siebren laughs as well. "Take a deep breath for me?"

John doesn’t hesitate to obey, still feels good doing what Siebren wants…still feels so good, trembling with little shocks of pleasure now that he can move again.

He turns his head so his face isn’t mashed against muscle and takes a slow, deep breath, then lets it out the same way. His lungs are full of skin and a little sweat and the scent of rock candy, and he wants to melt.

“Wha’s that mean? Is it dirty?” John hums, making a low sound akin to a purr. “You need to teach me Dutch…think I might be a little high. Not just flyin’.”

"Don't worry. I'll stay with you until you come down again." He is going to make sure John recovers from the intensity of that endorphin rush slowly, and isn't going to leave his side yet.

sticks and stones may break my bones (OTA 18+)

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CW: this is going to be a scene involving restricted movement, fondling, and D/s dynamic play.

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