Saturday night, I had a play date with a Top I had only played with for a short time once thus far. Let's call him S. We had both enjoyed the time we had together the last time but it was cut short because of how late we got started that night. We had soon scheduled Saturday's play date and I think both rather looked forward to it.
In the meantime, I've still been analyzing myself and my feelings when it comes to impact play. I've experienced it with a couple of different tops and my feelings about it have been mixed. I've been spanked lightly, even teasingly and found pleasure in that. I've been spanked till I cried and found a great release in that. And frankly I was starting to see how being spanked as a form of punishment or motivation would feel for me as well. Because of all this, I actually started to have doubts about whether I wanted to play with S that night because I still wasn't sure I understood what it meant for me.
I arrived at the party right when it started and I relaxed and socialized with a bunch of people. That alone felt good and set me at ease. When S finally arrived, I found that for once I wasn't jumping to have him get started but instead that I could sit there and talk to him and let him take the lead about when and how we would start.
It was probably at least an hour before we began but I soon found myself naked except for panties, doing various stretches on a sheet laid out on the floor. Then he started wrapping rope around me and yet I found it funny that we kept talking about random other things. As he tied a complex box tie binding my hands behind me, I also took note of the way he held me; it was almost like we were cuddling while he tied. After tying me in a couple other places and tethering me to the hard point, he began by testing pressure points on me. Some of them tickled, most of them hurt, all of them made me squirm and squeal.
He eventually applied a blindfold and slowly worked into impact play. He used his bare hand as well as various canes and floggers. He was attempting to warm me up and yet I was already screaming. I found that fact amusing. Yes I could take pain and yes I may enjoy it in some way and yet I reminded myself that my threshold for pain was probably much lower than most. After giving my ass a beating, S soon found my kryptonite: my thighs. Sometimes I feel like you could slap my butt all day but if you start hitting my thighs, the level of pain goes up exponentially for me. I am pretty sure he figured this out by the way my screams changed when he began hitting me there.
The thing about caning is you can hit very lightly and at first it feels just fine but when you start hitting that same spot over and over, the level of pain goes up quite fast. I found myself screaming, crying, and even trying to squirm away from him. Part of that was a natural reaction of trying to get away from the pain and part of it was actually done while giggling in an attempt to amuse him because I could obviously not really get away. He'd laugh and pull me back and start caning again.
He actually laughed periodically throughout the scene and I liked that he wasn't Dom-serious the whole time. Interestingly enough we had a conversation mid-scene about his Teflon cane and I asked him if that meant you couldn't use a metal spatula on it and we both laughed. That being said, I also found myself giggling at random points at things he said. And I found that quite curious...here I was screaming and crying and then suddenly randomly giggling???? I guess it kind of shows the light-heartedness that was still happening amidst the darkness of the scene.
Now most of you know that I don't make it a habit of cussing but a few times in the scene I started saying 'fuck' in between screams. Not fuck you, not fuck off...just fuck....or maybe even 'fuck that hurts!'. I think I once again amused S though because he was not used to me swearing lol.
At one point, he untied me, stood me up and led me over to the spanking bench and tied my hands and legs to it. I think by that time I was more than warmed up and the high point of the scene happened on that bench. I found myself sobbing in between screams and the screams were real screams. I don't think I had screamed like that before. Each hit brought me from moan to whine to shriek to scream and I'd struggle and cry continually. Something I didn't notice till after the scene is that whenever I reached the screaming point, he'd stop or move to a different area to give that area a breather and not send me too far over the edge.
Something else I took note of much later on is the fact that I was nowhere near needing to call a safeword. It wasn't even in my mind as an option. It wasn't needed. Yet there were times, previous scenes before in the beginning where I monitored the level of pain and wasn't sure if I could take much more. But here I was taking the most pain I'd ever taken to date and calling a safeword was the farthest thing from my mind...in fact I can honestly say I was enjoying the scene *gasp*!
Did the pain translate to a sexual 'turn-on' feeling? No it hurt like hell and I made that clear to everyone else in the room by my screaming. But I enjoyed it nonetheless. I enjoyed being helpless and at his mercy, I enjoyed knowing that my automatic reactions (screaming, squirming, crying) were pleasing to him, and I enjoyed the release of crying even if it was for no apparent reason other than the fact that I was in pain. And the crying actually brought out the little girl inside of me as well.
Finally there came a point where S decided the scene was over. I was pretty much unmoving on the bench. He slowly untied me and helped me off the bench and back down on the sheet on the floor. He got me a blanket and cuddled next to me for a while. He kept saying that I was 'awesome' and that made me feel good. I felt similarly about him just then. I felt like I could fall asleep right there and yet I was also completely starving. After some time, he got up to go smoke and I got up, got dressed, ate some gummy bears and drank some more water. I decided I was going to stop by Taco Bell on the way home because I was way too ravenous not to.
So where does this leave me? Well I don't know really. I feel like I learned some things about myself and there were a lot of surprising things going on in that one little scene. I did thoroughly enjoy myself and would do it again in a heartbeat. Meanwhile since then, I've tried to continue saying I'm not a masochist and people have given me knowing looks as if I'm lying to myself. Maybe I am.
The dictionary says the definition of a masochist is:
1. a person who has masochism, the condition in which sexual or other gratification depends on one's suffering physical pain or humiliation.Oddly enough, I'm finding myself somewhere among those words. Who would've thought?
2. a person who is gratified by pain, degradation, etc., that is self-imposed or imposed by others.
3. a person who finds pleasure in self-denial, submissive