The Fire

After the D/s formal Saturday night was the burning of the wishing tree and trope.   Everyone at camp had gathered, as it is an event not to be missed.  The trope looked like a little wooden house, about 6 feet tall beside the tree, a dry pine, both strewn with tied on messages, wishes, hopes, dreams, fears of any of the Tribe who wanted to contribute.  I had added three wishes myself, which I hoped would be carried up to the heavens in the sparks of the fire.  

The drumming called people in.  There is no designated drummer.  If you like to drum you just show up and join in.   The rhythm is primitive and powerful.   It is in our bones as humans and takes us back to pre-civilized times when this is how we gathered.  This is how we did community.  Once or twice a year we can still have Tribe this way.   It is a heart rhythm.   I felt that very powerfully and I asked my Master if I could dance around the tree and trope.

  In the space between the unlit fire and the gathered crowd others were dancing to the drums.  I joined in, feeling self conscious but driven to move my feet, my hips, my body. 

When it was time I sat down with my Master and Mystique, cuddled in a heap on our blanket, to watch the lighting of the fire.

As the sparks flew up to the sky, adding new briefly lit dancing stars to the heavens,  the emotions all around us were adding fuel and energy.  
There was crying, clapping, dancing, snuggling, anger, tears, joy, whoops, moans and expressed sexuality of every sort.   

I asked to dance again.   Master let me go.  He had slipped my dress down to my waist, so I took off my coat and danced half naked in the fire light, my chain looped over my shoulders and hanging against my chest.     Charged with joy and exultant sexuality I came back to my Master. 

I asked and he said yes.

He flipped me over onto my hands and knees, lifted my dress above my waist and fucked me right there to the rhythm of the drums.