A Strop

Last weekend, a bit of harmless fun yet again forced me to look at myself and discover things about me that I never knew. It seems that this is happening a lot lately, and I think that it links back to my Dark Past. 

Myself, my boyfriend and two girls that we occasionally play with went out to a club last weekend. I had a fantastic time sitting in a cage and chatting and laughing until about 1am. Then my boyfriend dragged me off and fixed me up to a cross. This was fun, but I felt that he was a little distracted. I think this was for two reasons: a) I wasn't fighting back too much and that is exactly what he was in the mood for (I was just craving pain and intimacy) and b) he was distracted by the fact that he hadn't bought any nasty toys with him and that is clearly what I wanted. After a while, he disappeared for a minute or so, and came back with a leather strop that he had borrowed. Now, I love love LOVE the feeling of leather strops, tawses and belts. But they were also one of my ex's favorite things to use on me, and I haven't really used one in play since. I told my boyfriend (You know what? He needs a blog name. He is Doc) all of this before he started, and I said that I wanted him to use it on me and that I was liable to safeword. So he hit me. And it felt amazing. So he hit harder, and harder. And it still felt amazing. Eventually, I broke into tears and I couldn't take any more, so he got me down. It was at that point that it hit me that I had managed to overcome something that I had been fearing, and I had enjoyed it. I felt so amazingly proud of myself.

After about 10 minutes, I suddenly suffered from sub drop. This usually doesn'y happen to me so quickly - it is usually a 'morning after' affliction for me. I think the problem was that I was very emotional. The strop had bought up a lot of memories for me, and, although I didn't realise it at the time, my mind associates it with feelings of inadequacy and incredibly low self esteem. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by the surroundings of the club. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and when I tried to I broke into tears. By this time, Doc was playing with one of the girls who we came out with. I love this girl to bits, but all of a sudden I became insanely jealous. I was watching how much she was taking, and I felt like a whimp. Her play looked far more exciting and dynamic than mine had done - I'm sure that that wasn't the case, but that is how I saw it at the time - and I began to wonder whether he had wanted to play with me at all or whether he was just getting me out of the way. I felt physically sick watching. 

When they had finished, I told Doc that I needed to go home. But the two girls we came with were crashing at our flat, and so we needed to wait for them. At that point, I felt like I was walking around the club in an angry daze, totally lost. I was angry at Doc, and at both of the girls, and especially at my ex. I felt totally worthless, de-valued and like I wasn't wanted because of what he had done to me. I refused to speak the whole way home until I was alone with Doc. At that point, I burst into floods of tears. 

I know that I have had my confidence knocked, but I didn't realise until this happened just how badly this has affected me. I now feel awful about what happened that night, and have profusely apologised to all involved. 

I want to play with a strop again. But I want to do it in a more controlled environment, and I want it to be something that makes me feel special.

Sentimental Violence

*Originally written 31st October 2010*

I very rarely write anything that is all sentimental, but my brain is a little bit floopy today and so if this turns out to be really sickening, then I apologise. 

I think that I should start with some background. A few days prior to this, I had played with a very lovely lady. Through no fault of her own, it had gone a little bit wrong. I'm not going to go into the details here, other than to say that the play involved some slightly edgy punching which made me a little angry at the time and left me in a bit of a negative space afterwards. After this, I was feeling a little aprehensive about going out to AntiChrist and playing on Friday (but extremely excited nevertheless).

I put a lot of effort into my outfit, partly because I wanted a project. I decided that the most appropriate outfit to wear to a goth-fet crossover club on Halloween was that of a virginal angel. I felt sexy and stunning. I played for a short while with a wonderfully sadistic woman who left me with some delicious scratches and promises of an evil violet wand (which I still need to cash in on). Then, finally, after a good few months since we had last played with each other alone and properly, I got led to a bench by my boyfriend. He wrestled me to the floor, cut my wings off and threw my halo away. He stripped me of my virginal white underwear. Then he lifted me to the bench and cuffed my legs down (I think so that I couldn't kick him in the face - he knows me well!). Having symbolically torn away my mythical innocence, he began hurting me fairly gently by his standards. Already sensitive from the earlier play, I was quite quick to drop into a bit of a euphoric state. Then he got harder. I can't remember what he was using, but it was either a cane or his evil flogger, and it hurt. So, being me, I wriggled and screamed. After that point, I don't remember much of what happened. I know that there was lots of hard punching. At one point I think I was thrown to the floor and kicked between the legs. It was the same kind of edgy play that went so wrong earlier this week. And I reacted in a similar way - anger built up within me. But this time, I felt like the anger was pointless. I knew I was safe. I was able to get totally lost in it, the helpless feeling slowly overcoming me. That is the first time that I have become spacey from that kind of play. I was in tears and he still didn't stop, and it just got more and more intense. I was still fighting back, but it was feeble and pointless and I was floating. Normally, that kind of play would freak me out but this didn't at all. I knew that it was safe and controlled and all for my pleasure as opposed to being an angry attack on me (that is NOT what happened earlier that week, but it has happened in the past which is why I sometimes get scared and why I reacted like I did in the previous play). I felt extremely loved, and I got quite emotional about it. I think that I was crying more because of the fact that I felt this overwhelming sense of belonging than because I was in pain.

Later, I found out that this particular session did not feel as wonderful for him as it did for me. In fact, he felt incredibly frustrated and wound up with the crowds in the club and was taking it out on me a little bit. Normally, I would have flipped at this. But, again, I didn't. I couldn't bring myself to. I knew that he felt horrible about it, that it wasn't his intention and that, whatever happened, I was safe. Bizarrely, knowing how he felt took nothing away from how special it was for me. As I hugged him, I felt all of those things that people tell you that you are supposed to feel about your boyfriend but I had never experienced in the past - pride, an overwhelming sense of wellbeing, a giggly, childish happiness, and a feeling of belonging. On top of that, I felt physical pain at the thought that he didn't enjoy what he had done and that I had caused him to feel guilty. Ridiculous, I know, but that is how I felt. I am still slightly overwhelmed by it all - both the play and the aftermath. I wish that he could feel how I felt about that session, because for me it was one of the most amazing play experiences that I have ever had.

Just a Couple of Piddly Orgasms...

*Originally written 7th September 2010*

Anyone who knows me will know that, once I am aroused, my body becomes incredibly sensitive. This results in lots of fun, especially after sex when I am ready to curl up and sleep (yes, I am a man), and he decides its time to play with my nipples. Last night, this is exactly what happened. I was innocently lying on the bed, and suddenly I was being stroked, caressed, fingered to orgasm. Yummy. And then again. And again. I was begging for him to stop before he even started fucking me. And he can go for a while. I was pretty much dead when he pulled out, and was expecting to collapse, but no. He started playing with my nipples. Unrelentlessly. I couldn't stop cumming, it was an orgasm frenzy. It bought me to tears. My body has never been that overwhelmed before, its natural reaction seemed to be to shut down everything. I couldn't see, I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, I was crying and hyperventilating and could barely breathe. I felt totally paralysed. It was terrifying. And yet so so SO hot. 

Except for one thing. I couldn't explain how I was feeling. When he started asking me questions that I couldn't answer (really complicated ones, like 'what's two plus two?') I was unable to communicate the fact that I was completely overwhelmed and terrified and this was compounding it even more. Quite naturally, he took my feeble groans as happy ones, when really they were all that I could muster. He could see that I was out of it, but he couldn't see just how out of it I was and how scary it was for me. So, quite naturally, he said 'I'll be back in two seconds, I'm going to get you a drink.' He couldn't tell that, as thirsty and in need of sugar as I was, I was feeling isolated and terrified by the fact that I couldn't see or move. I just lay and sobbed until he got back. Not just cried, but sobbed. The kind of crying where you gulp in air, you can't focus on anything and you feel helpless as the tears keep coming. It was incredibly cathartic, but I still can't decide whether I really enjoyed it or whether it was too much. I'm leaning towards the former. But it was one hell of an over-reaction to a couple of piddly orgasms!

Needles and Topping

*Originally written 8th August 2010*

To follow up this post...

Needles

I recently volunteered myself to a very lovely lady who wanted a needle bunny. It was a first for me, and I have fallen in love. They are just so relaxing! Now I am greedy for more...

Topping

Not so fun for me. I tried it, and I don't think that I will be trying it again. I got slightly dominant with two very lovely women (to whom I should stress that the way I feel is in no way their fault) at the U35 midweek munch, and regret it. I am embarrassed, I feel the need to apologise for the way that I behaved. I had had a little bit to drink, which didn't really help. Now, we didn't really do much play (aside from some friendly spanking), but for me the dynamic that I am comfortable with was totally switched around. It completely knocked my confidence. When I sub, I seem to retreat into myself and find all of the parts of myself that I love, and I end up with this amazing sense of self confidence. Topping had the opposite effect. My confidence vanished, I spent the following day really really hating myself for no good reason. I think that it was partly a bit of domly guilt, but not wholly - there was more to it than that. I spent the whole day crying and needed to be put back together again. I guess I can put it down to experience, but I don't want to do that again!

A Weekend of Relentless Kink

*Originally written 25th July 2010*

I love play, In fact I would describe myself as a total play whore. However, sometimes I play and it is somehow extremely powerful and very special, above and beyond the average play experience, and I feel the need to record what happened. This weekend was definitely one of those times.

To set the scene: I was at a house party, surrounded by people who, over the past few months, I feel incredibly lucky to have become very comfortable around. One minute, I am going to fetch myself a drink. The next, my boyfriend has his hand around my wrist. His other is hidden behind his back, but that doesn't stop me hearing the 'click' of the handcuffs. So, naturally, I pulled my wrist away. But, very quickly, he wasn't the only one who I was fighting, and I couldn't resist the combined strength of all of the people around me. My wrists were quickly cuffed to the railings of the mezzanine above me, and one of my legs wrapped in rope and also hitched up. I had clamps attached to my nipples, and two lovely men and a very sexy lady attacking my thighs with a cane. Now, I thought that that wasn't a very nice thing to spring on me from nowhere, so when they let me down I gave two of them a nice friendly, and in now way vicious, tap with my fist - just to make sure that they knew that they were both mean people. Apparently neither my boyfriend, the other bloke or his girlfriend appreciated it. Shocked looks spread across all faces; 'Ohooo, did you just punch us?'

Shit. Suddenly things had turned, and I knew that I was about to feel a whole new world of pain. Fuck balls bugger.

'Do you really think that you can punch us?'

Silence, and a pause. Then, suddenly, three or four people are manhandling me towards a spanking bench. I tried to escape, I really did, but I was totally outnumbered. My hands, thighs and ankles were forced into cuffs, and my torso strapped to the bench. An inflatable gag was shoved into my mouth. 

From that point on, I have no idea who was hitting me, what they were using or how long it lasted. There are a few little snippets that I was aware of. I know that, at one point, three people were holding canes and taking it in turns to take a hit. That hurt. Someone was florentining with a flogger for a while, which felt AMAZING. And there was an evil wooden paddle and a crop (my personal nemisis), which both hurt like fuck. In fact, all I really remember is being in a LOT of wonderful pain, and feeling like I was really going to take a lot. From the pain, I was drawing very intense feelings of physical pleasure, a massive endorphine rush, and an incredible feeling of totally losing control of my body to the crowd of people in the room. I didn't lose awareness of the pain, as can sometimes happen, rather each blow was more intense, more painful, and yet more enjoyable. I was vaguely aware of the voices in the room, discussing what they were going to use next on me, but they turned into a blur behind the wall of sensation that I was lost in.

As time went on, I was becoming more and more sensitive. Just when I was getting close to tears, out came the fingernails of one of the most sadistic women I have met. The scratching on my highly sensitised skin honestly felt more like knife blades than fingernails. I tried to wriggle away from them but couldn't go anywhere. She kept relentlessly scratching and gouging at my flesh until she drew blood. Somewhere in the fogginess I heard her complaints: 'Why does she bleed so easily? We were trying to play noughts and crosses. Now we have to stop and clean up.' I was so sensitive that even the feeling of the antiseptic wipes across my back made my whole body tingle. I don't really remember being untied and let down, but I assume I collapsed into an over-sensitised mess with a huge grin.

I'm not sure what happened next. I assume I regained composure for a little while and socialised. But it's all a big blur. I know that, when I was put into the gyno chair, I was still slightly wobbly from the previous attack. But not so wobbly that I didn't make an escape attempt. Now, I would absolutely never take the piss out of the person who was trying to cuff me, so when it took him three attempts to restrain my wrists I absolutely didn't point out that 'I thought he was supposed to be good at this'. Apparently that wasn't such a good idea. I very quickly found myself completely restrained, to the extent that my hands were in mitts, I was gagged and my head was strapped to the chair so that I could only look in one direction. Wow that felt good. The feeling of being COMPLETELY restrained and helpless, slightly uncomfortable and without having even a millimetre of movement makes me all gooey inside. Total loss of control and inability to do anything but accept whatever may be coming. And what was coming hurt. A lot. In the spread eagle position that I was in, there really was only one target, and it was flogged repeatedly. And much harder than it had ever been flogged before. It wasn't long before I was in tears. Now, I have been reduced to tears by play many times before, but what happened next was totally new. The fact that I was crying didn't make me feel that I had to stop. I didn't safeword. And, with each hit, more tears flowed. I have never felt that helpless before, I was completely out of control of my bodily reactions, I couldn't move, and I couldn't stop the pain that was inducing the tears. When it stopped and I was released, I was a complete mess. There was snot and dribble everywhere, and eyeliner and mascara streaked all down my face, and yet I have never felt sexier.

After all that I had been through, my body was ridiculously sensitive, and I was curled up in a corner thinking that no more could possibly come my way. I was a broken wreck. How wrong I was. My boyfriend very kindly decided to share the fact that, when my body is as sensitive as it was at that moment in time, just playing with my nipples makes me cum. That became my party trick, and everyone wanted to have a go. I didn't have the energy to resist, my only choice was to endure orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, so that everyone could be thoroughly entertained by my party trick. The more I came, the more sensitive my nipples became, and the easier it was to make me cum again. I was collapsed on the floor, completely helpless to my own body and unable to control anything, while everyone stood around and laughed. That moment was one straight out of one of my favourite fantasies, and was just SO HOT. I was barely aware of what was going on, everything was a daze, but it was still hot.

Bed that evening was very welcome, especially since we were going out to Sweet Torments the following night. After what had happened at the party, I requested a quiet night. I spent most of the night sat around with friends, chatting, and being a rope bunny very briefly. But then, towards the end of the night, my boyfriend got me on my own. I was feeling unusually subby and delicate, and didn't really put up much of a fight as he tied my hands above my head and raised me up onto my tiptoes. I also didn't put up much of a fight when he got out the sash cord flogger. But boy did I scream. I already felt broken, I felt like my body had no more fight left in it, and yet he relentlessly hit my back. I don't think he was hitting that hard at all, but it bloody well felt it. My body had no reserves left to fight the sting of the knotted falls. And it was a completely different play experience to anything I had felt before. Usually, even if I am completely restrained, my body is able to deal with the pain to some extent. This was different. Not only was my conscious mind submitting to the pain, but so was my subconscious. I had completely surrendered. And it was such a release. I was in tears, and yet I kept going. Eventually, he put his arm around me and asked 'Enough?' and I was unable to answer. I stuttered 'I don't know,' and I really meant it. I no longer knew what was best for my own body or what it could take. All I was aware of was that I felt totally in awe of the person who was wielding the flogger, who knew me so well and had managed to get me into this state. I felt pathetic, broken and worthless, and yet incredibly sexy, confident, loved and wanted all at the same time. I am always amazed at what this kinky shit can do to me.