[8/27 Update: I've combined this 4-parter into one post with a cut. I'm not sure why I didn't do that to begin with!]
I told Joscelin yesterday that I wanted to hurt him, tonight. I asked him how he felt about it – I was worried that he might feel dread at the thought.
“Passionate thirst,” he answered. “Thrill. Base, animal, red-vision, perverse, maniacal thrill.”
Fucking yum.
Even before the scene, he was in a really submissive and receptive headspace. We had been in the kitchen, and I’d turned around to find him standing very still, feet shoulder width apart, hands behind his back, head down – a posture. I adjusted his shoulders, inspecting from the back to confirm what position looked best. I adjusted his hands, stepping in front of him and facing away to show him what I had in mind several times, until we found the perfect position (right hand holding left wrist, which keeps the hands at a higher level, not covering his bottom). I touched him lightly with my hands here and there.
Being posed, inspected, and arranged for beauty and pleasure affects him strongly. He almost shivers from the delight of it. So when I asked him to follow me to the bedroom, he was already mine.
I had him strip and for the scene he wore his collar, plus cuffs (leather-type stuff with fleece inside) on wrists and ankles. I put the wrist cuffs on him myself, and took a moment to look at his hands. Upturned hands do a lot for me – they seem so vulnerable, and I think about rulers and stuff. He was sitting on the corner of the bed, feet on the floor, and after I adjusted his posture again I used a carabiner to connect the wrist cuffs behind his back (another small delight: bending his elbows to draw each hand behind his back) and had him move to the head of the bed and sit upright against the wall, with a pillow behind him.
“Is that comfortable?” I asked. There’s no point in putting someone into a position they can’t maintain.
“Completely.”
I spread his legs as far as they would go without danger of cramping, and ran a length of doubled-up nylon cord underneath the bed to connect the ankle cuffs together, so that he could not close his legs. (I am, in truth, so bad at figuring out the basics of tying that this was an accomplishment for me. What I enjoyed most was standing at the foot of the bed, measuring out the cord I needed from the spool, running my hands over it, and just watching him a little. Working with the cord in front of him felt sexy.)
I write this mostly as though I was silent, and the truth is, I wasn’t chattery, but I definitely spoke to him throughout. I like to imagine that someday we’ll have a scene where I roughly shove him into position, scare him, treat him harshly right from the start. But I’d have to warn him first, because my natural inclination is to be gentle and thoughtful as I’m setting him up, and really, throughout a scene. Even when I am hurting him, though I might be momentarily strict or insistent, I’m not mean or (emotionally) harsh. I would write more of my own words if I could remember them, but his are the ones that ring in my ear for days and weeks afterwards.
Ahem. Where were we? I had my beautiful boy sitting upright against the wall, hands cuffed together behind his back, legs held well apart with cord.
I was naked also. All other things being equal, I slightly prefer wearing clothes for a scene, but I am working lately on keeping the scenes sexual for Jos, for whom they tend not to be unless he’s very aware of my own sexual responses, and nudity is a bit sexier than, you know, pajamas, or whatever I would have worn.
I knelt between his legs. I was so thrilled to be there with him. I made sure he knew this. He looked completely calm, open, and accepting. I took off his glasses, laid them down, held the hair at the back of his head firmly, and slapped him, hard. I’ve wanted to do this lately. The second time I pulled my hand back, he looked scared.
