A couple of months ago I had a special type of session, providing more fun than I had any right to expect.
This was not about pain, though it is fetish. An activity that I don’t think I’ll understand but find I’m happy to cater for, for a number of reasons.
It’s also about new experiences, popping cherries so to speak. And a domme who can push every button I have to take me to these new places. It’s also about melody having identifiably different inhibitions (or lack, thereof) to her male side.
My domme has a another arrow to her bow in that she enjoys sploshing. It takes a lot of effort to make video clips for this fetish. Venue setup and clean up are a serious amount of work. Just bring your own ingredients.
One of the big changes as part of the evolution of melody is that now the body is no longer as large as it was she wears normal female attire. Off the peg sizes now fit. Some of the more silly dresses she wore before are no longer appropriate for who melody is now and is evolving in to.
If I was going to do this, why not destroy one of the silliest dresses ?
The other new aspect for me was the filming. I have to say that the male part of me has a pathological antipathy towards cameras.
He’s avoided being in pictures all his life (he once persuaded the HR of a US company that bought us that a picture of Father Jack was really him to avoid taking a real picture. It remained his official company picture for several years). Then there’s the aspect that often worries people, they might like the idea of their activities being filmed, but they do not want to be recognised.
I have to admit that for a long time I’ve had some of those fears and the impact that recognition would have on my professional life. Those fears are not just about a picture causing recognition but more generally the possibility of leakage between the different spheres of my life.
Some indicator of melody’s different outlook and the internal strength she’s acquiring, is that within reason, she couldn’t care less.
him: I don’t like being in front of any camera.
melody: Tough, I want to do it
him: What if I’m recognised – in a maid’s dress? Think what that might do to my career.
melody: So what. The face will be obscured within 10 seconds underneath messy stuff, anyway.
You might have already worked out who won that discussion.
There I am with a car full of stuff that she can use. What sort of stuff do you take to something like this ? It shouldn’t be a surprise, though it was. There’s the old adage that no fetish is so weird that there isn’t a web ecosystem for it.
If you remember Noel’s House Party (for UK readers), the first port of call has to be gunge, powder or ready mixed. Seemingly a mainstay of these activities.
All the theatrics are available, foam, slime, mud, all in a multi-coloured cornucopia and varying viscosity. Quite eye opening if you’ve never looked before.
Although she never said what to bring, other than encouraging me to order more gunge than I thought, to make a video clip to interest others requires variety of stuffs and delivery.
This is the list of what I arrived with at the dungeon:
- 30 litres of gunge in 3 colours
- 12 cans of foam spray
- 1 can of spray cream
- 2 pints custard
- 2 pints single cream
- 2 pints double cream
- 4 cans rice pudding
- 1 pint tomato and basil soup
- Flan bases
That list looks a bit excessive, and I certainly thought so too when I pitched up and lugged it all in to the dungeon thinking that it would give her some variety in front of the camera.
I’d given her a choice of outfits she could destroy and now I was changing in to the one she chose. Pink – everywhere. A petticoat with an immense amount of ruffles. Pink satin panties with white lace frills.
She decided to go with the wig and I was soon grateful that she did. Moments later I was sat on a stool surrounded by a large area of coverings to protect dungeon and limit the range of the mess. A short time for her to adjust the camera and she was ready to go – I was now being filmed and melody was loving it.
His unobscured face worry was solved immediately with the application of the pie in the face move, mountains of spray cream on the flan bases. Never mind me being seen, it was the last time I could see anything until she was done.
She worked her way through the food items, one by one. Over the head, down the front of the dress and in to my lap.
The wig justified itself in that although it was now plastered down it kept most things from dripping under the collar.
I don’t know how many cans of spray foam she used, but I was thickly covered all over in some artistic manner accompanied by lots of giggling.
The gunge she kept for last and the new toy I’d bought much to her excitement. Like a robust water pistol, the blaster gun is for those who really want to act out the scene from Bugsey Malone.
Gunge is fairly viscous and this thing will easily shoot it 25 feet. From much closer it can hit you with a bit of force that’s a surprise, especially when it can come from any angle and you can’t see a thing to be prepared for it.
What struck me at this time, apart from gunge, was that without sight I was sensitive to sound, like I often am when blindfolded in that same dungeon. I’ve learned to tell when she’s really having fun and enjoying herself. There was something new in the voice, the laughter wasn’t faked for the camera and her aura palpably grew.
At some point in this sequence we came to the part which was my symbolic reason for being there. Out came the scissors and she cut the dress before completing the gesture by ripping the rest of it off. Nothing fake or setup about it.
That left me with a still relatively clean chest and breast forms and a largely undefiled petticoat which she proceeded to rectify immediately with lots more foam and then back to the gunge blaster.
Thirty litres of gunge takes time to use up, especially when there’s more options than just pouring it over someone’s head. The different angles she achieved gave her something new to play with. However, eventually the buckets of gunge are no longer deep enough to fill the gun and the final resort is to pour the dregs over the head.
And it felt like there were a lot of dregs, pooling on the head and in the lap, getting pretty heavy.
The only call on my acting ability during all this time was obeying the stern admonition to fight the natural reaction when the face is covered to raise the hands to clear it, especially around the eyes. That’s a lot more difficult than it sounds. Apparently, the target audience hate that sort of thing.
And then she was done. Finally stripped naked and led to the welcome safety of the shower. Gunge gets everywhere ! It sticks to everything. This was hammered home in that the shower was like an oil slick from the previous gungee.
Washing off gunge and rice pudding was a very strange experience and I’d be destined to shower a couple of times more once I got home. The oddest thing was that for a while during the drive home I could lick my lips and find a hint of tomato and basil soup.
What a day. What an experience. I may not do this often, but I know I will look forward to doing it again.
[Clip available: Mess The Dress]