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OR Why I Got It Wrong and What I Learned From It
I'm a fan of Laurell K Hamilton's filthy vampire stories, so a club named Guilty Pleasures, after the first book in the series, had inevitable appeal. Couple this with the promise of goth, metal, alternative, industrial music and it's irresistibly enticing!
Before I went to GP I negotiated with BD that we would play together. Ever since we first met I'd been intrigued by his ability to turn on the Look and the Voice and make me blush and go all coy and drop my eyes. I talked first to my husband and then to N, and they were both okay with it. BD and I had a chat about what my limits are with men, and what sort of thing I might like and not like (which was a really difficult conversation to have, drawing as I was from an invisible pallet due to my lack of experience). He knew this would be my first play with anyone other than Ness, only my fourth play altogether, and my first play with a man. So I was pretty confident it would be a straightforward, enjoyable session for both of us. BD is a friend, and I trust him. Ness would be present all the time, and I feel safe with her. It was in a reputable public club. What could possibly go wrong?
I know you're all rolling your eyes, sighing and putting your head in your hands. I'm an idiot, okay?
The answer is - *I* went wrong. I made some mistakes, but I was learning, and I'm still learning about what can go wrong and how to do it differently next time.
I'd played with N earlier in the evening, but not hard. BD had found someone to play with earlier, too, and so it was quite late by the time he took me over to the A-frame, chained my hands over my head, and cuffed my ankles to the sides. So far, so good. Then he blindfolded me. I didn't really want that, but I'd dropped into sub mode already by then, so didn't protest. Unbeknownst to me, BD was very sweetly checking with N every time he did anything. "Is it alright if I pull her knickers down?", he asked. "Help yourself, love" I believe was the gist of her reply.
He started spanking me for a warm-up, and I must admit, that was quite hot. It's been 13 years since a man who wasn't a member of the medical profession has touched my naked bum, and under these circumstances, it was really rather saucy. He moved onto beating me, and as usual, I started to get quite cross, and swore, shouted, and generally carried on in an unseemly fashion. And naturally, he started to beat me harder as a result. It very quickly stopped being enjoyable and moved into the realm of something to be endured. I'm not quite sure why I had it in my head that there were only 2 options: A) grit teeth, endure until it was over OR B) call a safeword, stop play entirely.
There were, in reality, many other options, of which the favourite would have been C) agree beforehand a method of checking in on my pain levels - for example, asking me out of 10 how much it hurt, and agree beforehand a number above which I didn't want to go, e.g. 5/10. However, D) whisper 'it's getting a bit much, please back down a bit' to either BD or N would also have been sensible.
I'm very confident and assertive in areas of my life which I'm experienced in. But this is so far out of my comfort zone that I worry and fret and think that I'm getting it wrong, I'm cocking it up, I'll get a rep for being a nob-end and everyone will hate me. I'd heard about 'topping from the bottom' and 'bratty subs' and didn't want - couldn't bear to - be looked down on in that way by the friends I'd started to make in this new community. Everyone's been so kind to me, BD's been willing to give me my first play with a man, he's been a friend to me. It seemed that choosing option C or D would be a poor way to repay him. I realise now that there's a subtle but distinct - and vital - difference between trying to dictate the agenda, and letting your top/dom know when you've reaching your limits. I still struggle very hard with this, but I'm still learning, and I hope I never stop being open to learning.
Because I'm a friend, BD was speaking to me in quite a joking tone, and N had to encourage him to try and sound like he meant business, because she knows I like that. The pain got more and more intense, and I lost my temper, which just made BD bring out his cane and christen it on me. He was trying to make me guess what the toy was ('Is it a flogger?' 'no...whimper', 'is it a paddle' 'nooooo...don't...', 'what is it then?') and I was refusing to say, even though I knew what it was. He started caning me in time with saying in a ridiculous voice 'It's BD's new cane! It's BD's new cane!' which caused N to look at him and raise her eyebrows in 'have you ACTUALLY gone MENTAL?' semaphore. It just shows how much I've recovered from the experience that I was lying in bed between my husband and Ness the other day, started thinking about this, and was giggling hysterically but trying to keep quiet so I wouldn't wake them up and have to explain myself!
But the caning was far, far too much pain. N kept coming to my front and checking on me. She asked if I knew my safeword, and I said yes. She asked BD to tell me what my safeword was, so that I would know that he knew it. So why didn't I safeword? Why take option A over option B? I'm still not 100% sure. I'm stubborn by nature, and prideful. I had heard doms say that they think they've failed if a sub has to use their safeword, because they've not read them right, and I didn't want to let BD down. BD and N interact in a very teasing fashion and I didn't want BD think himself a stricter dom than N, more able to administer discipline and bring me in line when I started shouting and swearing. I had to carry on yelling at him, for just as long and as hard as I would with N. Wouldn't want him to think I'm scared of him in a way I'm not scared of N - it would be letting the side down. And once I'd sworn and shouted at him, I had to take my punishment. I'd made my bed, as it were, now I had to lie in it and get beaten. I couldn't escape by safewording. It wouldn't be fair or honourable.
All these thoughts were at the back of my mind but I wasn't really thinking during the scene, just reacting. There was a point where I mistakenly thought I'd heard N's voice in the other room. I thought she'd left me alone with BD. I started sobbing, and he was banging on about being a dacryphile and how my tears would only turn him on. So I yelled 'they'll be tears of rage in a minute if you don't piss off and leave me the fuck alone!'
Not unreasonably, this got me a few seriously hard whacks, and I was quite prepared to suffer them as due consequence, when it suddenly occured to me I was about to black out. I'd been so pre-occupied by the pain and my emotional response, that I'd been unaware of the fainting sensations creeping up on me. I muttered 'feel wierd...faint...let me out' and I broke out in a sweat. The light darkened to a single spot in my eyes, there was a high pitched humming noise, and my heart was pounding. I knew it would only be moments before I passed out.
Within these rapidly passing moments, BD and N had me unchained and lowered me carefully to the floor. It seemed forever and a day to me though, and I had a powerful urge to pull wildly against the chains, but I had to flex my willpower as I knew this would only make it harder for them to release me. They both went into first aid mode, checking my reactions, giving me juice and a sweet when I was ready. My over-riding reaction was one of shame and guilt - I'd screwed it up, I'd made a nuisance of myself, I was looking like the biggest twat in the world. Poor BD and N, being lumbered with a mook like me. Everyone can see me making an arse of myself. it was the end of the night and the club organisers were trying to clear up so they could go home, and I was getting in the way.
Of course, everyone was kindness itself in reassuring me that this wasn't the case, that it happens a lot, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I wasn't being a nuisance - but that's how I felt at the time.
I got well enough to sit up, then stand, then be helped down the stairs by N, during which I came over all peculiar again. Every time I touched the memory in my mind, a fresh wave of sick dizzyness came over me. My mind was protecting itself, but trying not to think about it was almost as hard as ignoring the proverbial pink elephant. BD waited with me while N brought round the car. He held me close because I was shaking and so cold. I felt fresh waves of faintness; my body remembered it was this man right here holding me now who had hurt me. And yet, conversely, I also felt a yearning to be around him. I was strangely disappointed when he left.
I stayed with N that night and my mind and body were galloping headlong furiously, fuelled by body chemistry and unable to rest. It took hours, and N gently stroking my forehead, before I dropped into an exhausted and troubled sleep.
I woke the next morning feeling stricken, my thoughts and stomach churning. When I checked the mirror, the sight of the bruising nearly made me throw up. I've not got a weak stomach - I'm a first aider at work and have happily mopped up blood, piss and puke , I've bandaged up innumerable fingers sliced open by scalpels in the pursuit of art (don't ask...) but knowing you are looking at damage caused by someone which you asked them to do to you, you let them do to you - it's very different.
N settled me on the bus home. I'd been advised I might start feeling odd again about twelve hours after the event - and unfortunately this co-incided with an unavoidable one and a half hour bus journey. I rang my husband and asked if he could meet me at the bus stop and walk me home; only about ten minutes away but up six flights of steep stairs in an alleyway. I'd already given him a brief summary on the phone, and only needed to fill in the gaps in person. I was worried about how he'd react but simply wasn't able to cope with thinking about that too much as my brain was overloaded enough. I needed to rest and went to bed, but when I got up, I had to face up to him. He was absolutely furious, although he never raised his voice or acted as if he was angry - I just know him so well that he might as well have shouted, it was that obvious.
He said that from his point of view, another man had beaten His Wife almost unconscious for his own sexual pleasure, In Public, (there were definitely capital letters in his sentence), so much so that she could barely walk the next day.
We had the 'yes, I see why you might think that and be angry, but that's not really how it was, it was like this...' conversation. He felt plenty better after lots of explanation, reassurance and discussion. I, on the other hand, felt like shit. What the fuck was wrong with me that I would let someone do this to me? That I could hurt my husband so, for my own selfish reasons? I felt like a bitch, a slut, a sick freak. My husband refused to even look at the bruises - they disgusted and repulsed him. I was disgusted and repulsed by myself. For a few days I felt like turning my back on the scene altogether and never looking back.
But...time passes, the memory settles in, it no longer stings like a nettle every time you touch it. And the trouble with turning your back on something you really want is that it always ends up looking over your shoulder and whispering in your ear. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone screws up. It's what you do next that counts, as someone very wise pointed out to me. And what I did next was go to Club Crimson and have the most fantastic, hot as fuck play.
I'm a fan of Laurell K Hamilton's filthy vampire stories, so a club named Guilty Pleasures, after the first book in the series, had inevitable appeal. Couple this with the promise of goth, metal, alternative, industrial music and it's irresistibly enticing!
Before I went to GP I negotiated with BD that we would play together. Ever since we first met I'd been intrigued by his ability to turn on the Look and the Voice and make me blush and go all coy and drop my eyes. I talked first to my husband and then to N, and they were both okay with it. BD and I had a chat about what my limits are with men, and what sort of thing I might like and not like (which was a really difficult conversation to have, drawing as I was from an invisible pallet due to my lack of experience). He knew this would be my first play with anyone other than Ness, only my fourth play altogether, and my first play with a man. So I was pretty confident it would be a straightforward, enjoyable session for both of us. BD is a friend, and I trust him. Ness would be present all the time, and I feel safe with her. It was in a reputable public club. What could possibly go wrong?
I know you're all rolling your eyes, sighing and putting your head in your hands. I'm an idiot, okay?
The answer is - *I* went wrong. I made some mistakes, but I was learning, and I'm still learning about what can go wrong and how to do it differently next time.
I'd played with N earlier in the evening, but not hard. BD had found someone to play with earlier, too, and so it was quite late by the time he took me over to the A-frame, chained my hands over my head, and cuffed my ankles to the sides. So far, so good. Then he blindfolded me. I didn't really want that, but I'd dropped into sub mode already by then, so didn't protest. Unbeknownst to me, BD was very sweetly checking with N every time he did anything. "Is it alright if I pull her knickers down?", he asked. "Help yourself, love" I believe was the gist of her reply.
He started spanking me for a warm-up, and I must admit, that was quite hot. It's been 13 years since a man who wasn't a member of the medical profession has touched my naked bum, and under these circumstances, it was really rather saucy. He moved onto beating me, and as usual, I started to get quite cross, and swore, shouted, and generally carried on in an unseemly fashion. And naturally, he started to beat me harder as a result. It very quickly stopped being enjoyable and moved into the realm of something to be endured. I'm not quite sure why I had it in my head that there were only 2 options: A) grit teeth, endure until it was over OR B) call a safeword, stop play entirely.
There were, in reality, many other options, of which the favourite would have been C) agree beforehand a method of checking in on my pain levels - for example, asking me out of 10 how much it hurt, and agree beforehand a number above which I didn't want to go, e.g. 5/10. However, D) whisper 'it's getting a bit much, please back down a bit' to either BD or N would also have been sensible.
I'm very confident and assertive in areas of my life which I'm experienced in. But this is so far out of my comfort zone that I worry and fret and think that I'm getting it wrong, I'm cocking it up, I'll get a rep for being a nob-end and everyone will hate me. I'd heard about 'topping from the bottom' and 'bratty subs' and didn't want - couldn't bear to - be looked down on in that way by the friends I'd started to make in this new community. Everyone's been so kind to me, BD's been willing to give me my first play with a man, he's been a friend to me. It seemed that choosing option C or D would be a poor way to repay him. I realise now that there's a subtle but distinct - and vital - difference between trying to dictate the agenda, and letting your top/dom know when you've reaching your limits. I still struggle very hard with this, but I'm still learning, and I hope I never stop being open to learning.
Because I'm a friend, BD was speaking to me in quite a joking tone, and N had to encourage him to try and sound like he meant business, because she knows I like that. The pain got more and more intense, and I lost my temper, which just made BD bring out his cane and christen it on me. He was trying to make me guess what the toy was ('Is it a flogger?' 'no...whimper', 'is it a paddle' 'nooooo...don't...', 'what is it then?') and I was refusing to say, even though I knew what it was. He started caning me in time with saying in a ridiculous voice 'It's BD's new cane! It's BD's new cane!' which caused N to look at him and raise her eyebrows in 'have you ACTUALLY gone MENTAL?' semaphore. It just shows how much I've recovered from the experience that I was lying in bed between my husband and Ness the other day, started thinking about this, and was giggling hysterically but trying to keep quiet so I wouldn't wake them up and have to explain myself!
But the caning was far, far too much pain. N kept coming to my front and checking on me. She asked if I knew my safeword, and I said yes. She asked BD to tell me what my safeword was, so that I would know that he knew it. So why didn't I safeword? Why take option A over option B? I'm still not 100% sure. I'm stubborn by nature, and prideful. I had heard doms say that they think they've failed if a sub has to use their safeword, because they've not read them right, and I didn't want to let BD down. BD and N interact in a very teasing fashion and I didn't want BD think himself a stricter dom than N, more able to administer discipline and bring me in line when I started shouting and swearing. I had to carry on yelling at him, for just as long and as hard as I would with N. Wouldn't want him to think I'm scared of him in a way I'm not scared of N - it would be letting the side down. And once I'd sworn and shouted at him, I had to take my punishment. I'd made my bed, as it were, now I had to lie in it and get beaten. I couldn't escape by safewording. It wouldn't be fair or honourable.
All these thoughts were at the back of my mind but I wasn't really thinking during the scene, just reacting. There was a point where I mistakenly thought I'd heard N's voice in the other room. I thought she'd left me alone with BD. I started sobbing, and he was banging on about being a dacryphile and how my tears would only turn him on. So I yelled 'they'll be tears of rage in a minute if you don't piss off and leave me the fuck alone!'
Not unreasonably, this got me a few seriously hard whacks, and I was quite prepared to suffer them as due consequence, when it suddenly occured to me I was about to black out. I'd been so pre-occupied by the pain and my emotional response, that I'd been unaware of the fainting sensations creeping up on me. I muttered 'feel wierd...faint...let me out' and I broke out in a sweat. The light darkened to a single spot in my eyes, there was a high pitched humming noise, and my heart was pounding. I knew it would only be moments before I passed out.
Within these rapidly passing moments, BD and N had me unchained and lowered me carefully to the floor. It seemed forever and a day to me though, and I had a powerful urge to pull wildly against the chains, but I had to flex my willpower as I knew this would only make it harder for them to release me. They both went into first aid mode, checking my reactions, giving me juice and a sweet when I was ready. My over-riding reaction was one of shame and guilt - I'd screwed it up, I'd made a nuisance of myself, I was looking like the biggest twat in the world. Poor BD and N, being lumbered with a mook like me. Everyone can see me making an arse of myself. it was the end of the night and the club organisers were trying to clear up so they could go home, and I was getting in the way.
Of course, everyone was kindness itself in reassuring me that this wasn't the case, that it happens a lot, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I wasn't being a nuisance - but that's how I felt at the time.
I got well enough to sit up, then stand, then be helped down the stairs by N, during which I came over all peculiar again. Every time I touched the memory in my mind, a fresh wave of sick dizzyness came over me. My mind was protecting itself, but trying not to think about it was almost as hard as ignoring the proverbial pink elephant. BD waited with me while N brought round the car. He held me close because I was shaking and so cold. I felt fresh waves of faintness; my body remembered it was this man right here holding me now who had hurt me. And yet, conversely, I also felt a yearning to be around him. I was strangely disappointed when he left.
I stayed with N that night and my mind and body were galloping headlong furiously, fuelled by body chemistry and unable to rest. It took hours, and N gently stroking my forehead, before I dropped into an exhausted and troubled sleep.
I woke the next morning feeling stricken, my thoughts and stomach churning. When I checked the mirror, the sight of the bruising nearly made me throw up. I've not got a weak stomach - I'm a first aider at work and have happily mopped up blood, piss and puke , I've bandaged up innumerable fingers sliced open by scalpels in the pursuit of art (don't ask...) but knowing you are looking at damage caused by someone which you asked them to do to you, you let them do to you - it's very different.
N settled me on the bus home. I'd been advised I might start feeling odd again about twelve hours after the event - and unfortunately this co-incided with an unavoidable one and a half hour bus journey. I rang my husband and asked if he could meet me at the bus stop and walk me home; only about ten minutes away but up six flights of steep stairs in an alleyway. I'd already given him a brief summary on the phone, and only needed to fill in the gaps in person. I was worried about how he'd react but simply wasn't able to cope with thinking about that too much as my brain was overloaded enough. I needed to rest and went to bed, but when I got up, I had to face up to him. He was absolutely furious, although he never raised his voice or acted as if he was angry - I just know him so well that he might as well have shouted, it was that obvious.
He said that from his point of view, another man had beaten His Wife almost unconscious for his own sexual pleasure, In Public, (there were definitely capital letters in his sentence), so much so that she could barely walk the next day.
We had the 'yes, I see why you might think that and be angry, but that's not really how it was, it was like this...' conversation. He felt plenty better after lots of explanation, reassurance and discussion. I, on the other hand, felt like shit. What the fuck was wrong with me that I would let someone do this to me? That I could hurt my husband so, for my own selfish reasons? I felt like a bitch, a slut, a sick freak. My husband refused to even look at the bruises - they disgusted and repulsed him. I was disgusted and repulsed by myself. For a few days I felt like turning my back on the scene altogether and never looking back.
But...time passes, the memory settles in, it no longer stings like a nettle every time you touch it. And the trouble with turning your back on something you really want is that it always ends up looking over your shoulder and whispering in your ear. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone screws up. It's what you do next that counts, as someone very wise pointed out to me. And what I did next was go to Club Crimson and have the most fantastic, hot as fuck play.
