the scene that almost wasn’t

Last night, Joscelin began our scene by asking me to get something to use as a dropcloth (!), which he then draped over the foot of the bed.  He had me lie over the foot with my feet on the floor and most of my body on the towel I had brought.  And he gagged me.  I had shackles on my wrists, and these were attached by long chains to the eye bolt at the head of the bed.

Right away, I noticed that this was hurting the arches of my feet.  I don’t have very sturdy feet, and resting on them with them spread at all can be a problem, plus we had hiked earlier in the day.  So when he started to attach my ankle shackles to the corners of the bed, I pulled the gag out, safeworded (just so that I wouldn’t be blatantly disobedient in removing the gag), and let him know.  It turned out that he did intend to keep me in that position for a while, so he had to rethink.

He moved the towel up the bed then and had me lie down on it, on my back, with my knees drawn up.  He was trying to put a chain between my wrists and behind my knees, with my feet off the bed surface, and he was trying to get this chain as short as possible.  I didn’t really understand what he was trying to do, and I kept kind of “forgetting” parts of my body in space.  Some of the positions he put me in were straining.

At some point, the lock that was on my left wrist shackle scraped my leg a few times, and I let him know about it.  He fixed it, I assumed by replacing the lock with something non-sharp like a carabiner.  But a few minutes later, as he was having me hold my legs and arms in some impossible position while he fiddled with the chain, as I was already shaking a bit from the strain of it (but assuming that soon a chain would be attached and I could relax and let it hold me), the lock again scraped my leg, a bit fiercely.

“Ouch!” I said.

He didn’t respond.

“Ow!”

And then I kind of lost it.  I said something like, “God damn it,” and I dropped my feet and arms and said, “Do you mean for the lock to be scratching me?”

And he said, “No, I didn’t know it was.  You should have told me.”

And I said, “I did tell you, like five minutes ago.”  And then I think I moaned loudly in anger and tears.

He lay down next to me, but where I couldn’t see him.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“It’s all right,” he said.  “Thanks for letting me know.  I’m just thinking about how I want to proceed.”

So I lay there, feeling a little guilty for having lost my temper over something so stupid, worrying a bit about him and whether he was really all right (because having your bottom blow up at you is not very nice), but also extremely headspacy and kind of blissed out and very content to just lie there.

A couple of minutes later, he reassured me that he was just thinking about what to try next.  But I also heard some sighing that sounded like he wasn’t doing so great.  I asked if I could go to the bathroom and he said yes.

When I came back, he admitted that he wasn’t doing so good.

I wanted a scene more than anything – I was completely primed for one – but I knew I had to completely let it go.  When your top is broken you have to really shift your mental focus onto your partner and not be a self-centered asshole.  So I lay down next to him and apologized again for hurting him.

“I’m not hurt,” he said.

“Are you angry?” I said.

“No, I’m not,” he said.  And then, “Yes.”

And, amazingly, I stayed perfectly calm and all right and just talked to him reassuringly.  He was angry that I’d felt the scratching and hadn’t said anything (which wasn’t, in fact, true; I had said something, assumed it handled, then not felt anything more until the time I blew up).  He felt like I was actively resisting him by not moving my body in ways that would be helpful for what he was trying to do.  He felt like I wasn’t telling him things he needed to know.  He’d started getting rough with me, which was a really bad sign.  He was frustrated.

So we just talked for a few minutes, and I did my best to take care of him and make him feel better.  I was compassionate and clear-eyed – kind of my best self.  It was good.

When things were clearing up, I said, “Master, I want to ask you something.  If this – me, everything – were just a simulation.  If this were the holodeck.  What would you have happen right now?”

“Funny, I was just thinking of telling you that,” he said.  “If this were the holodeck and you were my holoslave, I think I would want to try something like a hogtie.  If that worked, I would just sit down and watch you writhe for a few minutes, because that would be hot and also really relaxing.  And then I would try some ideas I have about hurting you.  If it didn’t work, then I’d go right to hurting you.”

“Well, Master,” I said.  “I would love to be your holoslave.  But!  I want you to know…if the fact that I’m a real person changes your answer to ‘I’d rather just watch a movie’ or something, I will totally understand.”

“No, let’s do it.”  So we talked a little bit about what he had in mind.

Next I was face down, again on the towel.  I was encouraged to please, please let him know if the bondage was making me uncomfortable or about anything else he needed to know, even if that meant being a little less headspacy.  I agreed.

He put our spreader bar across the top of my thighs (right where it made my orgasm-deprived self crazy to press back against it) and attached my wrist and ankle cuffs to it.  It was somewhat like a hogtie, but not pulled together as tightly as a hogtie is, and thus not much of a strain.  But the position of the spreader bar did make me wiggle in helpless lust, so that was all right.

Then (always my favorite part) I got beaten with a variety of implements.  He beat me harder than he ever has so far, and I writhed and screamed into my gag (replaced after the hog-binding was finished) quite a lot.  I knew he wanted to see the writhing, and anyway couldn’t help it much, so I let myself struggle as far as I could without actually getting severely out of position and without panicking.  I also wanted it, badly.

He used candle wax on me for the first time, which was scary because I wasn’t sure, before the first drop hit my skin, that that was what he was doing.  So I screamed a lot.  It burned (not that bad) and it was hot in the room and more than burning it itched like a motherfucker as it cooled.  One drop fell into the crack of my ass and I then I really did holler.  He took out my gag and I confirmed that that area was too much, and he wasn’t sure how to avoid it, and I suggested he put a cloth there, and he did, and then proceeded.

Only once the gag (which was the plug gag) was out did I realize how comforting it had been, having something to bite on and struggle with and to prevent me from speaking words.

After he unchained me, he fucked me, gagged again, reminding me I would not come that night.  When I said “Please” through/around the gag, he told me not to ask him again.  And then he came, and took off my gag, and told me it was aftercare.

“Please,” I said.

“Are you asking me to let you come?”

“Yes.”

“I told you not to do that,” he said.

“I know, Master,” I said.  (I had known.  I deliberately disobeyed him.)

“Lean over the bed,” he said.  “I’m going to punish you.”

And I did, and he got the crop he’s been punishing me with, and said, “This is not too bad.  This will be 3,” which was more than I had expected.  And the three came and they were pretty hard and hurt a lot.

When he let me get up, I crawled back into bed and started bawling like a baby.  It was really primal crying, the kind that you do every so often where you cry about that really fundamental thing that you don’t usually think about.  (I’m sure someone will know what I mean by that.)

He held me, and eventually asked, “Should I be concerned?”

“No,” I said.

“I just want you to love me,” I said a bit later, and he reassured me voluptuously.

And after a while I calmed down and was able to tell him how fantastic and mind-blowing the scene was.  And, even later, I was able to tell him how disobeying him right at the start of aftercare, and being punished, made me feel like I failed the scene, but that I had done it deliberately, and that I didn’t know what to make of that.

He was just amazing, like he is, and we had some chocolate ice cream with sliced strawberries.  And I went to bed horny.