I know, crazy right? I'm not one of those wonderful bloggers who post every few days for the entertainment and education of the masses. Enormous kudos to them. I just have to be in a particular mood to write. Having vented yesterday, I feel a bit better. I've also just been browsing IC and discovered that someone else has written a little about a night out I had last week. Which is cool, and makes me feel good. So I'll give writing about my play in the past week or so a go. I don't generally use people's names when I'm blogging (kinky or vanilla). But if I ever decide that I'm happy to let anyone I know personally into the bizarre workings of my mind as described here, you'll recognise yourselves.
Two nights, two very different 'scenes' (don't particularly like the word, doesn't seem to fit well with what I do, but can't think of a better one!) ETA: the second scene is in the next post, as this one got so long!
Last Friday, seems like eons ago now, I went to AntiChrist with a friend, and another of his friends, a girl who was curious. It was a slightly odd situation - I'd been promised play, which is obviously always great, and exciting, and generally not scary. I was a little bit scared though - I'd never been fet clubbing before, and as I understand it, AC is really the tip of the iceberg! I'd also never played in public, with people I didn't know watching, and I had never *properly* played with my friend. He's a sadist, and not really anything else, so I was torn between 'I'm scared of the pain' and 'I'm scared of embarrassing myself by not being able to take very much'. I don't like showing that I'm scared or unsure, so obviously I was attempting to just act cool and unphased, as I do in all unfamiliar situations. You'd have to ask someone else whether I'm successful or not!
We had a few drinks, and chatted with people - he's well known on the scene, so I got introduced to more lovely people than I can remember. I was definitely hopping with (probably) ill-concealed anticipation by the time he asked if I wanted to play. I nodded and grinned, but also wussed out a little bit, and said in a very small voice 'you do know I've never played in public before, right?' What I meant by that was really that I was scared of being a wimp in public, but I guess he took it to mean that I was shy of taking my clothes off, because he strapped me down over a bench and tucked my dress into the top of my knickers. I was facing away from the little crowd watching, and pretty much forgot that they were there.
I really have no idea what he used - there were definitely a couple of different floggers, and a cane, but I don't know if there was anything else. It *felt* like I got about thirty seconds of warm-up, although I'm pretty sure he was being gentle with me for a lot longer than that. I also don't think I was down there very long, but it felt like a very long time, and really hurt! The cane was particularly difficult - he was using it more on my thighs than my bum, which are much more sensitive. The sensation was that particularly horrible feeling of the cane boring into you for a couple of seconds after the stroke. A couple of seconds may not sound very long, but it feels it, especially when the next one is coming, and they're starting to blur together.
While it was going on I stayed unusually alert - I usually space out a tiny bit fairly quickly, and then occasionally end up completely out of it. On this occasion I was hyper-aware throughout the entire thing - anticipating every stroke, watching his feet move around, wondering what he was doing. I think it was probably caused by my nervousness about public play, but it definitely didn't help me get through it - it was literally just an endurance test.
At some point I started to feel queasy and dizzy - probably because I'd been up for more than eighteen hours by then, done a full day at work, and not eaten a great deal. I got a little panicky about that, which he thankfully noticed. He gave me a little more, and then helped me up. (All I could think about was how humiliating it would be if I threw up over the bench. And no, not humiliating in a good way.) He sat me down on a sofa, gave me a lollipop, and went off to have a cigarette. I ate my lollipop and showed off my marks. I love that part, when the pain is over, and I've stopped being scared, and I'm suddenly uber-happy, and want to show everyone. I have to stop myself from asking for more straight away, because I inevitably feel as if I could take on the world, despite feeling moments before that I can't take on a soggy rabbit, never mind another stroke.
A quick aside about me, in case you think that my friend is a truly evil bastard for buggering off for a fag straight after we played. When I first began to play seriously, I imagined that I would need masses of aftercare - hugs, kisses, reassurance. I've discovered that what I actually need depends a lot on how I've been playing. When I've not been particularly spacey but there's been a lot of pain I need a quick hug, an 'are you ok?' and a lot of sugar. And most importantly, a bit of room to 'take stock'. To see what hurts, and where, to make sure I'm not damaged, and to make sure I'm in a good place in my head. Somebody hovering seriously interferes with that. Another friend I play with (more on him later), tends to get into my head a bit more. It doesn't hurt so much, and I never need a sugar hit, or sitting down time, but I do need at least ten minutes of hugs and reassurance. I'm a many-faceted creature, I guess.
Anyway, for our next play he decided to go for my breasts. I can sometimes take quite a lot, particularly on my nipples, but only if it's built up really slowly. He sat me down on the edge of a bench and started slapping. Quite hard open palm slaps and some horrible backhands that made me feel all the knuckles. I wasn't tied down, and my hands were free, so it wasn't long before I was trying to stop him. He just gently moved my hands back out of the way and carried on. If there's one thing that's guaranteed to make me go funny in my tummy it's someone combining pain with quiet reassurance. Even better, if they're completely implacable about what's going to happen, but matter of fact and caring about me being terrified.
Something I really am terrified of - being punched between my breasts, just over the bone. No matter how many times I'm reassured that nothing will break, I'm convinced that it will. So when he put his fist there, ready to pull back and hit me, I panicked just a little. I think after the second one I sat up, ready to say I didn't want another one. He just pushed me gently down again and said 'one more'. At which, obviously, I just lay back and let him do it. Because nothing is better than just being told it's going to happen.
He finished off with a flogger, which was nice, even though he wasn't using it particularly gently. I probably would have been ok for a bit longer than I was, except that I happened to look down and see the amazing red/black colour that my breasts had turned. Funny how seeing the damage can make everything subsequently hurt so much more. This particular bit of play was really short - maybe five to ten minutes. It would probably have been longer if it wasn't for the way I start to mark up as soon as someone even *looks* at me with sadistic intent! The best part of it for me was listening to the spectators behind us. 'Look, he just slapped her!' 'Oh my God, he just punched her!!' It made me giggle a lot, even while yelling. A little later on I pulled down my dress to show the marks to a hot girl. (She asked, I didn't just randomly expose myself!) The look of disgust on her face was priceless, and I couldn't do anything except turn away laughing. I suppose it was bitchy, but really, if you can't take the heat, get out of the playroom. Or something.
A lot later on I was chatting with someone I've seen around a bit, but never really spoken to much. A scary looking ProDom, who asked how I was getting on, and if I fancied something I bit less painful. I was getting really tired by this time, but I still wanted more, especially now that I was on a definite high from my earlier play. My sadistic friend went off to get me a drink (Red Bull, fuel of teachers and kinky girls!), while we chatted. He asked if I wanted to try some rope, and reminded me that it didn't have to hurt, if I didn't want it to. My response; 'Rope would be lovely, but hitty things too please?' Which I hope reassured him that I wasn't being non-consensually beaten up!
Rope was so much fun. Exchange went something like this:
Him: how exhibitionist are you?
Me: very!
Him: ok, take your dress off while I find some rope.
He cleared a big space in the middle of the floor and tied me pretty tightly around my top half - tightly enough to restrict my breathing slightly. I should mention at this point that he was dressed completely in latex - feels really good pressed up close behind when you're naked! I'm not normally a struggler, but I did enjoy trying to make things just a little bit difficult for him. I probably would have tried harder, except that a) I didn't want to risk actually getting free, and b) I didn't want him to worry that I was freaking out. I guess there were probably 30-40 people packed into the spectator area by this point, and I was loving that.
I ended up face down on the floor, arms behind my back, legs up over behind me in a hogtie. At which point my sadistic friend stepped back into the fray. To borrow his wording; 'I took a hop and a skip and kicked you in the cunt.' Obviously I noticed the kick (he has very large feet, and was wearing steel toecaps!), but I also noticed the *amazing* reaction from the watchers. There was a massive gasp, and I think a lot of people sort of whispering to each other 'oh my God! Can he do that?? He just kicked her in the...!!!'
It was awesome.
A gorgeous flogging across my shoulders followed, which unfortunately I had to cut short because I noticed that all the fingers on one of my hands were numb. I have terrible circulation. I couldn't talk, because I had rope in my mouth, so had to wait until it was out to gasp 'can I have some more please?' At which they grumbled that they obviously hadn't needed to untie me after all, until I managed to explain about my fingers. So then I ended up getting pushed onto my face on the floor again, but without any rope :( Being untied before I was properly hurting made me a bit bratty, which fortunately I didn't pay for too severely. I didn't get any more of the flogger, which was sad, but I did end up with fingernail scratches all over my back, and my sadistic friend moaning that he had skin all under his fingernails. I don't think I was especially sympathetic!
All in all, a fabulous evening.
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