Running away
July 16th, 2007Puzzled, I watched the boy strapping up our mattress. In twelve months of creative fornication, he had never tied me up, except to cook the occasional dinner in handcuffs. It seemed a matter of both principle and no minor disinclination.
This rig was a recent gift, nothing more than four nylon straps with rings. If our mattress were more rigid I would’ve felt good about my chances of breaking the hardware right off. He insisted on the included Velcro cuffs, which really completed the picture. Barbie’s First Bondage!
(If you find anyone with a Velcro fetish, do let me know.)
I settled on my stomach, spreadeagled, as he cinched down arms and legs. Aww… how honeymoon! But this was not Barbie’s first caning, and behind my heckling I was getting seriously worried.
“Do we have a safeword?”
He laughed, which was what I should’ve expected.
“Don’t laugh!”
He started to cane me instead.
Not being able to move scared me severely. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity of it; I’d become accustomed to the right to run away. And much of the time, the boy tops like a little fourteen-year-old shit. I like laughter, but practical jokes are unwelcome when I’m tied up.
At least he was calm. He didn’t seem like he was trying to upset me.
I burst out crying in minutes, which I did not expect. He waited as I blinked mascara out of my eyes. I realized I had never cried during a scene with him — at least not one that didn’t end in a hurry. (If you believe that only bottoms have limits, ask your top what they think about tears. Or puke.)
“Is crying a safeword?” Unbelievably he was still calm, still at cane’s length. Still with me.
I shook my head. No, please.
He broke the cane.
I put my face in the pillow — something else I never do, because he feeds off my reactions — to cry. I wasn’t upset at all. It felt self-indulgent to cry, and cry, and be encouraged by more pain to cry, and have no one telling me to pull it together.
When he was done, he pressed my smudged face into the sheets and fucked me soundly. I came until I sobbed. Afterwards I felt strangely docile, as if a storm had left me, if the worse for wear, clean in its wake. The world was peaceful and I could sleep.
The Velcro cuffs came off with the same panache with which they had gone on.
“How did it make you feel when I cried?” I asked him later, drowsing.
“I got hard when you told me not to stop.”
July 16th, 2007 at 7:48 pm
As usual, a much, much lovelier picture than I could ever create.
Glad things seem to be on the mend?
July 17th, 2007 at 12:01 am
OOOH. Wow. Surely this was not written for my benefit. But I’m going to pretend it was.
July 17th, 2007 at 11:36 am
It was written because of you, because you were the awesome generous person who gifted the underbed straps.
So in a roundabout way, it’s all your doing anyway.
July 18th, 2007 at 9:44 am
I love how you write about these experiences. You always seem to be able to put into words things that I have no idea how to frame or conceptualize.
I miss you lots, and I’m glad you’re having fun…
July 23rd, 2007 at 12:01 pm
Thanks for writing this, it does a lot to calm me.
I had my first scene with a woman the other night, and after she had taken much more pain than I would have thought possible for someone of her tiny size, she started to sob and cry. I was a little shocked, a little guilt ridden, and could only keep going for a few more minutes before ending the scene, even though she asked that I keep going.
Hearing it explained so eloquently will help me to stop worrying about it in the future. Thanks much.
July 23rd, 2007 at 6:43 pm
CoasttoCoast -
Crying is scary, isn’t it? I’m glad you are feeling better about it.
Something that helps me: I like to be asked where I want to end up (or where the top wants to go). Fucking off the endorphins? Beaten to exhaustion? Beaten to begging? Beaten to tears? That way, the end of the scene is no surprise.
I mean, the worst thing that can happen is that I scare off a partner who thinks he’s hurt me. She probably feels the same way about you.
(Thanks for reading!)
July 23rd, 2007 at 7:42 pm
This is a hot story…
Me, though? I love tears.
July 23rd, 2007 at 8:16 pm
Hexy, you’re not alone…
I was out to dinner a couple nights ago, and we all bonded over that embarrassing moment of getting inappropriately turned on by crying. Like, you know, in the middle of a heated fight with your partner.
July 30th, 2007 at 4:51 pm
In the number of scenes that I count as having “seriously” bottomed to (there are only about a half dozen, I would say), I’ve cried during every one. Something about it makes me cry and it’s always a good thing.
July 31st, 2007 at 8:41 pm
I used to never, ever cry when I bottomed. Now it happens easily half the time (and I kinda enjoy it). I don’t know whether I’m going harder or just getting wimpier.