How This Article Was Born: A Forward

Originally titled “The Ultimate Threesome Featuring the HotBoxx,” the following story is a must read for anyone contemplating (or involved in) sado-erotic electrical sex-play. Here Mistress Kali Ward discusses her first glimpse of the latest kink craze, the HotBoxx, a sensual device with phallic appendages capable of applying electrical stimulation—torturous to tantalizing—on cunts, clits, ass-slits, and elsewhere on human anatomy, and—incidentally—on several “victims” at once!

Recently, Mistress Kali Ward, now a Las Vegas resident, revisited the PEP-Buffalo (New York) S&M Support Network she founded in 1998. The event was touted as “New York Unites,” a weekend fetish spectacular offering B&D/S&M lectures, demos, discussion, education, and camaraderie. There Kali reconnected not only with her group but also with her dear friend, Mistress Nona of New York City, inventor of the HotBoxx. Nona, an invited speaker, was at the pageant to show off her creation, her brainchild. Using metal pussy and ass probes, she wired—via their eager orifices—three naked conference attendees to her HotBoxx control panel. Nona poked and rotated the tampon-like plugs, then poked and rotated some buttons on the HotBoxx. Electricity sizzled. Thus the fireworks began…

Kali gazed from her front row seat. And, at that moment, the germ of this article was born…

Mistress Kali Meets the HotBoxx!

In a moment there would be gaping pussies and puckered assholes—wired up, helpless, zapped with electricity—three people revealing swollen wet cavities poked and stuffed with phallic plugs resembling fat metal tampons, ominous cylinders sprouting wires leading to a control panel for a sadomasochistic sexual device labeled the HotBoxx, the latest craze in fetish paraphernalia. In a moment: a rhythmic jig of sweat and torment while this same threesome squirmed and moaned before an attentive audience of people dressed in leather or donning spike heels; of people draped in chains; of tattooed people with pierced pricks, or clits, or nipples, lips, tongues; of men or women led by leashes; of gentlemen with rouge on cheeks, their falsies plump beneath silk blouses.

March 16, 2002—The event: The kick-off of New York Unites, a fetish extravaganza featuring demonstrations and lectures presented by headliners throughout the S&M underground. The weekend bash was hosted by the Board of Directors of PEP-Buffalo B&D/S&M Fetish Support Group. As I cased the big room—a ballroom, in fact—I ruminated how I had started this group over three years ago, on August 1, 1998—conjured it, built it, grew it and nurtured it—created this enclave for kinky folks to gather, to learn, to explore, and —sometimes—to fall in love. My eyes misted as I pondered, reminisced.

In fact, it was here, I recollected, at PEP-Buffalo, I first met Mistress Nona, famous New York City SM practitioner and devoted friend to the fetish community (and now to me). Nona—architect of the renowned HotBoxx—had this night returned to PEP-Buffalo to show-off her handiwork—to discuss and demonstrate the possibilities for this brainchild, this lovechild, this gadget for the electrical stimulation of humans, a thing born out of Nona’s passion and perversion and her flair for the sadistic.

Yes, Nona had returned to PEP-Buffalo and I—the founder of this unique group—had returned also, flying across deserts and mountains and the vast Midwest, skirting Canada to light here in Western New York, far from my new domicile in sunny Las Vegas. I had come back to embrace my former hometown, to hug and kiss my old PEP buddies, returned to find a burgeoning organization that grew from my own wet-dreams and sexual needs to this—an on-going hub of education and socialization for New York SMers and fetishists, highlighted tonight and, indeed, for this entire weekend, by a powwow called New York Unites.

The big room filled and bustled as Nona completed hushed conversation with the threesome earmarked for her pussy and ass plugs, the three volunteers designated for the HotBoxx demo. In the dim light, their naked bodies glistened—hesitant and hunched slightly like damp virgins awaiting sacrifice near the lip of a volcano. I grabbed a front row seat. The show was starting!

Nona—long hair caressing her shoulders, wearing baggy black and white camouflage pants topped by a HotBoxx t-shirt knotted at the waist—stood before the spectators, phallic do-dads in her hands.

“There are three isolated channels,” she began, “three sources of pleasure or, perhaps, three sources of agony. You can, for example, attach an anal probe on Channel One.” Here, she held up the tampon-like silver contrivance spouting wires from one end. “And,” she continued, “you can use a pussy probe on Channel Two.” Another metal tube—the pussy probe—graced the stage. “Or you can even hook yourself up on Channel Three. Each channel operates discretely from the others, providing separate stimulation or pain for three or more individuals.”

The person controlling the appliance, it turns out, orchestrates the charge meted to those attached by cunt or asshole (or elsewhere) to the HotBoxx.

The Ultimate Threesome: Plural Ecstasy!

Nona beckoned to the first volunteer—Karen, a petite blonde. Her bare body quivered as Nona, whispering and smiling, eased her prey belly-up on the examination table, spreading the thighs so on-lookers received a clear view of that pink pussy-hole, pulsating and moist. Karen twitched as Nona caressed her labia and clit, encouraging her to widen and welcome the pussy plug. Karen’s hips pumped as Nona inserted one cylinder, working it in and out, up and down, smooth and deep within the slit. Except for Karen’s groans, the hall was silent as we stared towards her cunt with its tentacles oozing out from the wet flesh and stretching towards the HotBoxx controls.

Nona shot me a side glace and we exchanged subtle smiles.

Jim, the second HotBoxx victim, stood at the head of the table, facing us, peering at the audience. He was clean-cut. If dressed in suit and tie, he might have been mistaken for a CPA or a lawyer. Hell! For all I know, he could have been a CPA or lawyer!

“Bend over. You’re next,” Nona told him as the anal device kissed his furrowed ass.

Jim’s head drooped and he murmured some phrase of approval as the butt probe poked, invaded, violated. He exhaled, eyes glazed, distant, aloof. His face hovered above Karen’s.

Nona turned her gaze to the last slut in the threesome, David. From my front row seat, I scrutinized his muscular physique, the round hard rump.

“Crawl on the examination table between Karen’s legs,” Nona ordered him, “and expose your hole to the audience.”

He obeyed, derriere high and brazen, revealing a rosy orifice as he leaned forward over Karen’s own flushed form—that tiny body—perspiring, prone, vulnerable, her cunt held wide. The crowd watched as Nona bent forward, plowed her hand deep between David’s cheeks and massaged, lubricated and fingered his distended anus. She then glided the final phallic plug up his rectum. His sphincter seemed to suck in the device, closing snuggly around it. Wires dangled from his rear, trailing towards the HotBoxx buttons.

Three probes! Three channels! Three perverts awaiting the power of the plugs! The fanfare was about to begin…

Nona adjusted Channel One for Karen whose soft laments became louder and louder, changing ultimately to frenzied gasps and stifled screams. Her body danced in rhythm, it seemed, with the burning frequency spit out by the HotBoxx.

Next, Channel Two for Jim. His eyes, already glazed and dazed, now shut down tight. Mouth agape, head tossing back and forth, Jim also twitched and moved in harmony with the jolts of electricity sizzling through the wires, through the metal butt plug puncturing his innards with tingles and explosions. In a wild dance of splendor, torture and delight, he clung to the padded examination platform, fingertips digging into its upholstery.

David knew he was next. And the audience, in anticipation, knew, too. His bloated sphincter bobbed and pulsed as Nona, jabbing at buttons, increased the frequency, the intensity—higher and higher. And thus David began his own spastic jitterbug on the table above Karen, the two of them looking like some crazy cartoon characters fucking off-kilter in fast-forward.

Beyond the stage, some audience members, I noticed, were themselves twitching and squirming in their chairs.

HotBoxx Heads to Vegas!

And then there must have been applause. I don’t recall it, however, nor do I remember exiting the room in, perhaps, some sweaty sea of humanity. The gasps and moans still resonated in my brain, throbbed within my genitals. Taunting me were images of cunt and asshole, reamed and rammed with metal do-dads, plus the fantasies of what I myself might do with such a toy like Nona’s—the sluts and slits and clits and tits I might burn or tease or torture! Like Nona, I could string up three or four at once, shocking each person separately while others awaited their fates, squealing—begging to be next… Or begging for mercy…? I could jolt them to the edge of orgasm, then stop them short with the touch of a knob and the subsequent cessation of electric current. Their pleas would take on new meaning, new tone, as my threesome or foursome prayed for orgasm, invoking not the name of God, but beseeching me instead for more—more stimulation, more hurt— so they could sway and swell and rock and tremble as they came and came and came!

Later that night, in a corner of the ballroom-cum-dungeon, a group of my New York PEP friends encircled me. They had, they said, a “special gift” for me, a gift proffered with love and with murmurs of gratitude and praise for me—founder of PEP-Buffalo. Then these dear buddies presented me with my very own, spanking new HotBoxx—a piece of New York to have and to hold and to carry back home with me—a memory for all time to light and ignite my new hometown, the neon land of Las Vegas!

Addendum

Two days after returning to the Southwest, Kali Ward, accompanied by her HotBoxx, attended a Nevada fetish gathering. There she impressed party-goers with her new plaything, testing it on Las Vegas S&M players.

“I hope to locate more ‘victims’ for my HotBoxx,” says Kali. “Perhaps YOU?”