Queen of Heaven
By Cherie Ann Turpin
James was showering for our night out with his ex-lover Eve at a Dungeon in downtown San Francisco, while I put the last touch to my red dreadlocks. As I stood in front of the mirror admiring my plaid miniskirt, Eve knocked on our hotel room door. I opened the door and greeted Eve, a petite blonde woman in a short leather skirt and skimpy but tasteful black top. Her large blue eyes sparkled as I reached over to briefly hug her and offer her a seat.
James called out from the bathroom that he’d be out soon–and he did exactly that, completely nude. He was happy, very happy, from his shiny, wicked grin to his rapidly turgid member. Eve and I laughed and shared a caress of his happy cock before he quickly dressed for our night out–after all, we weren’t going to just end our night in the room. We loaded up in Eve’s Ford SUV, and took off into the night on Freeway 101 towards downtown.
Eve parked in what seemed to be a very dark and lonely parking lot, and briefly spoke a tiny spell rendering her vehicle invisible to thieves and nosy police. As we sauntered towards the dungeon it occurred to me that even on a night after the Pride parade, the three of us looked somewhat odd as companions. Or perhaps my East coast anxieties were creeping up on me. Still, it must have been odd to see the three of us: Eve, who was conventionally attractive; me, a dark-skinned, dreadlocks, voluptuous woman in a plaid miniskirt and 5-inch heeled platform boots; James, a tall, thin, middle-aged man with long red hair, pale skin and dressed in all black with a leather hat.
The front door of the club was locked, but the lights were on upstairs, so Eve rang the bell and watched a bald man dressed in a black leather kilt and Doc Martins–and bare-chested–descend the steep staircase to the door. His small wings bloomed out behind him like a living fur stole. I could see traces of eyeliner around his grayish green eyes. He opened the door and said, “sorry, this is a private party tonight. This is for Queen of Heaven members only.” His voice had a strangely low but musical lilt to it, as if he was accustomed to singing his words instead of speaking it.
Eve, James, and I groaned in disappointment as the Angel-man shrugged his shoulders. We began to turn away to walk towards downtown San Francisco. Angel-man cleared his throat first, and piped up, “but, hey, you guys look like fun. Come on up, it’s just 20 dollars per person, just join Queen of Heaven tonight.” As Eve, James and I followed him we saw translucent blue and yellow swirls surround him, as if he had a sort of trans-dimensional entourage protecting him. It made an impression on me, anyway.
We walked up to the sign-in table, where two women sat with piles of pamphlets, condoms, and lube. The one on the left was a full-figured woman about 40, and the other one was a tall, slim woman about 35. Both women were wearing see-through halter-tops and were as far I as could tell fully human. I noticed that some of the participants were either half or fully Angel. We were in for a treat. I wondered if some of the party-goers were magical like us. The night looked promising.
The larger woman explained the house rules for the party: “all sexual contact must follow the rules of safe sex, so oral, anal, and vaginal contact must be covered by latex and gloves. Women may be dressed or naked, but the men must be completely nude. That’s because we want the men to be as vulnerable as the women.”
“Can I wear my hat and shoes?” asked James, quickly turning pink, then red, though smiling. He was wearing a leather hat he’d just purchased at one of the booths set up for the Pride Parade.
“Oh sure, go right ahead,” she replied, and took the 60 dollars quickly produced from his wallet. I disrobed completely, seeing that most of the partygoers were naked and in various physical shapes, while Eve only removed her top to reveal her dainty bra and trim belly. Meanwhile, as I placed our clothes in the paper bag provided for us, I noticed James’ penis becoming quickly “happy” again. The women at the table applauded, and we three adventurers walked into the play-space.
The dungeon was a converted townhouse space with a playroom on the upper floor, kitchen and lounge area–and bathrooms, while towards the back, a set of winding stairs led to the lower dungeon area, complete with cages, partitioned play spaces, and a special room with a bed and restraints. Slings, St. Christopher Cross stands, and whipping poles were scattered throughout the dungeon, as well as play tables, day-beds, and chairs. Eve wandered off, while and I watched several couples play. This was truly a mixed crowd, sexually and magically, unlike our experiences back East at Leather Heart and Lustprinzip conferences.
Clearly, not everyone there was into BDSM, but everyone was grooving on consensual erotic contact and laughter filled the room–as well as squeals from those who were being spanked or fucked. We watched a tall burly man with gray hair, small horns and a long beard methodically spank a dark-haired man with pointy ears who lay on his stomach, grunting as the larger man provided him with a sound, loud spanking on his ass cheeks, which grew bright red with each blow.
After a while, the man stood up, and rubbed his behind, his stomach oddly round in contrast to his thin limbs, but seemingly matching his now dark red ass. He thanked the bearded man and soon ascended the stairs. I watched two model-handsome Angel-men, one blond, one black-haired, roll around on the carpeted floor with a slender brunette, who kept laughing as they kissed, and toyed with sheets of plastic wrap.
James and I played on three different pieces of equipment that night: a St. Christopher’s Cross, where he flogged my thighs and tits with his black leather flogger; he strapped me onto a sling in the play-space upstairs, securing my wrists and ankles with leather restraints and rope first, then flogging my inner thighs, mons, and buttocks, before donning gloves (safe sex, remember?) to deeply probe my insides and bring me; the coup de grace was when he finally took me from behind in one of the nooks, both of us extremely taken with the sex that seemed to permeate the air, as well as the spiritual lifting of the earlier invocation of the Goddess by those who organized this party as a celebration of Her rituals.
Eve had rejoined us, and we were talking in the space where James and I had earlier made love, noticing a young man with dark, curly hair and ice-blue eyes watching us intently. He had watched James and I as we played, and was quite aroused. Unlike the Angel-men, his wings were translucent with changing colors. Faery.
“May I rub your back, my lady?” he inquired with a strange formality. I nodded, and sat down in a small chair. He stood behind me, gently squeezing my back, then kneeled next to me and began licking my ear. James watched, amused, but relaxed–he knew my limits would only let this one go only so far. The man licked my breasts–and then I said, “thank you, that’s enough.” The Faery-man seemed taken aback at my abrupt dismissal of his attentions, but quickly stopped. He then melted away, and I felt a brief regret at my rejection of his further attentions. On the other hand, I knew that later on that night James and I would spoon together and sleep soundly after such sights and sounds of ecstasy.
Eve, James, and I deeply kissed each other, and ascended the stairs to dress and depart. We three walked into the night like we were drunk–and we were–with joy. We were empowered with this unique experience of seeing us all rendered undone by passion. I was Queen of Heaven, and I ruled my Court with pleasure that night.
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