Getting blog posts out without obsessing over them too much is always a goal. So when I started writing this night down and was 3 pages but less than halfway through the first scene, I decided we'd focus on that. Also, the NEXT Boston Invasion event is coming up, and I figured I should get the one from FOUR MONTHS AGO out of the way before going. :)
10/6/12. Just a week after our incredible, extended shenanigans from Photo Night (and the sleepover with AmHypnotic and MentalConfetti the night before) was an event at Our Local Dungeon(TM) called “Boston Invasion”, where kinksters from the scene came down in droves (read: tens) for a night of play and activities. I knew it was going to be well-attended, and DaSade (a member on the board, who I'd played with before) had asked me, a while beforehand, if I wanted to help provide entertainment for the night.
Namely, he was looking for someone to be a “victim” in a predicament bondage scene that was to be a “dinner show” of sorts for the guests.
When I got the invitation from him, I think I had to bite my lip around a squee. A predicament bondage show? My kinky, exhibitionist self was overjoyed at the idea. I accepted readily, and so, we began to make plans.
It turns out that DaSade wanted a lot of it to be more theatrical than a normal scene, and more planned out. It was, of course, a show for an audience. And, he wanted AmHypnotic and MentalConfetti to be involved in some capacity. We discussed much of it and how it would play out in the weeks prior, though he wouldn't share details. I ended up purchasing a $3 dress at my local thrift shop, since he wanted my outfit to be destructible.
Yeah, I was pretty pumped.
It didn't really hit me fully what I was getting myself into until they handed me my membership card at the door (oh hey! I'm a member!), and I pranced down the hallway to see DaSade setting up for our later scene, tying paracord in various places around the wooden archway in the middle of the space that I had made myself familiar with last time. He asked for my ankles and wrists to check how they would fit as we said our greetings to those around the space.
Slipping my foot into a loop of rope, I realized I was nervous. Butterflies-in-your-stomach, sweaty-palmed nervous.
DaSade pulls me aside to the “quiet room” – a small lounge behind a closed glass door – and we go over what the plan is once more. MentalConfetti and AmHypnotic follow, as they're to be a part of it too. By now, I notice that some number of people have begun to populate the space.
“Are you nervous?” DaSade asks, with a small smile. I can't look him in the eye.
“Yes!” I exclaim, shrill. My pulse seems too quick and too loud. I don't know what to do with my hands. “I mean. It's just very real now.”
He abates my fear with his quiet words and gentle cheer. AmHypnotic and MentalConfetti offer their support as well, and while I'm still nervous, I have a sense of confidence, and anticipation.
“So at the end,” DaSade says, “I'd like to lead you back here, while you're in trance, and then have you scream, like you'd hear in a B horror movie, you know?”
“Like any of the female companions in old Doctor Who,” I have to say, giggling, and launch into a short, shaky, nervous tirade of how shrill Zoe was. “I'll try, but I'm really bad at that sort of thing.” Truthfully, I'm a bit worried that it will come out sounding strange.
“We'll see how it goes,” says DaSade, still smiling. And we decide to grab some food ourselves, before the show.
It was a lovely potluck dinner, as it often is, and we all grabbed plates and a towel to sit on, as the meal was to be a sort of picnic on the floor of the main dungeon space. As we sat there, merrily eating and chatting and me trying to maintain composure, people began to follow us, and the room really did become a cheerful space for a meal.
AmHypnotic, MentalConfetti and I had already finished our food, and made pleasant conversation with the folks around us. And then, through the speaker system, “O Fortuna” or something similarly sinister began to play.
I glanced down the hall to see DaSade looking back at me, having just turned up the playlist from the music closet. I couldn't tell what the look he was giving was; he gave me a small nod, and I was a little bit scared.
This is it.
“I think it’s time,” said AmHypnotic lowly to me.
I took a deep breath, and knew that this was my part.
“No,” I said. I was supposed to protest against falling under his spell, for show; to get the audience's attention.
“Yes,” AmHypnotic grinned. I shook my head and gave him my best frightened look. The space had become quiet save for the playlist, and while I wasn't looking at them, I knew the rest of the room was looking at me.
“No! No.” It was easier to fall into the role now, and as he advanced upon me my objection became louder and more pronounced. MentalConfetti jumped behind me and gripped my arms behind my back tightly. I struggled against her, but she held fast.
My pulse was racing.
“No! No, no, no, no!” He was over me, looking down at me with those eyes, that face, the one that made me want to go all soft and submissive, the one that almost made me want to cease my struggling.
Those eyes, staring back at them, knowing that I was looking for just a little too long as everything grew dim, and dimly realizing that the room had gone silent around us. Feeling myself sag a little bit into MentalConfetti's hold, feeling my mind slow and quiet down as I stared into AmHypnotic's gaze... That feeling of just...
Everything slowly... becoming black.
I'm semi-aware of being dragged to my feet and led somewhere by the both of them. My limbs are being positioned in certain directions, feet being stepped into rope, legs akimbo, hands being bound together behind me, straight. AmHypnotic crooning words of encouragement into my ear and keeping my mind a little bit melty the whole time.
But finally everything stops, and his voice is right next to me again, giving me suggestions, and my mind is absorbing them like they are the only thing that matters.
He tells me the reactions of the crowd will create sensations inside of me.
He tells me that if he says a trigger, my feet will feel as though they are on very hot sand.
I accept both of them, distantly.
And then DaSade is finishing up the tie, and I don't remember if my eyes are open or closed, but I do remember feeling that it is time to open my mouth and hold what I know is the knotted end of a rope between my teeth. And I also know that there are weights on the other end of that rope, assuredly held as if by pulley through a suspension ring.
I remember smiling a bit as I open my mouth to accept it.
So, this is the game. Don't let go. Opening your mouth means surrender.
A tiny thrill shining through as I begin our challenge.
The blindfold was certainly off shortly after, and I'm out of trance, but still a little fuzzy and, at this point, feeling overwhelmed. Everything feels drastically more intense than it should, and that begins to push my brain to withdraw into itself in a way, and focus very intently on the immediate moment. The crowd dissolves in my awareness and it's like the only things that exist in the world are the four of us.
DaSade is there, holding a safety hook like he had in our previous scene. He gives me a grin and bends down before me, and I blush as he punctures my dress in various places, and begins ripping it. The sound of cloth tearing, not wanting to and not being able to look down as he shreds it. Wondering how much of it is in tatters as he's behind me and ripping the back.
And then I feel him tug on my panties, presumably to make them tearable with the hook, but instead of just cutting them off, he yanks hard on them from behind me and rips them off of me. There is a sharp burn against the front of my hips where there is friction, and I cry out from the pain, surprising and startlingly intense. And I'm left naked save for the remains of the dress, trying to push my knees together for some semblance of cover, even though it's futile. My face is flushed. I feel exposed, almost uncomfortably so.
I finally glance at the rigging – I'm tied under one archway, but the ropes I'm attached to are running over and across the room to the other archway in front of me, held, as I guessed, through a suspension ring like a pulley, complete with weight on the end.
DaSade looks at me with the hint of a smile, reaches up, and pulls on one of the ropes that's running across the two arches. I feel my arms being pulled upwards, the rope he's tugging on clearly the same as the one binding my hands. Realizing my positions, limbs tied to separate lines above me, I have the sudden, silly sense of being strung up like a puppet.
He walks away momentarily and returns, pleased, holding an iron weight on the end of a chain. Holding the carabiner at the top open with his thumb. He gives a purposeful look to the lines of rope above us, and smiles.
And that is how we started.
The scene felt long. Obscenely long. DaSade pushed me with each addition of weight, moving them from line to line, pushed my pain thresholds, pushed my stamina. I didn't notice the audience after the first few minutes. AmHypnotic took liberties with his suggestions at times, telling me that the music was causing sensations, or causing vibrations through the rope. He didn't use the “hot sand” trigger, which he said later was because it looked like I was having enough fun. Him and MentalConfetti would tease my body along with DaSade's torture.
But it was enough. I was shaking halfway through. There were times when I didn't know if I would make it. Each time he removed and added a weight it was like having to win a battle within myself against the pain. I waited for when they would stop coming, but they never did. Over and over, cracking a little bit more, getting a little bit more desperate each time.
At a certain point, I knew that one of us was going to have to make everything end soon.
I'm fuzzy from trance and shuddering with effort to hold the position I've been in. The previously dull ache in my back and arms and everywhere has intensified to a uniform but almost blissful sort of pain. Everything hurts, everything is tense, unforgiving and more intense than I can remember ever feeling. But I would be damned if I let that rope out of my mouth.
He removes the weight from the line it was on, and I make a noise in relief and move my position, panting. Teeth clenching hard around the knot, sweating, struggling to stand. I can feel that I'm beginning to slip.
I look up at him, breathing heavily, feeling gratitude spill out of me though I am unable to express it, begging him without speech to keep that weight off just a little bit longer.
We make eye contact and his face says, calmly, ‘I like that you are begging.’
Oh my god...
‘But I am going to keep hurting you, because I enjoy it.’
I whimper, and there is nothing I can do to stop him. The thought makes me feel so small and submissive and accepting that I almost want him to do it, to push me further. To test my limits, as much as it hurts.
He looks to the weights in his hand and goes slowly, deliberately, to put them on a rope that I know pulls hard and directly on everything.
More intensely than before, I feel a soft twinge, somehow enjoyably, of panic.
NO! Not that one!
I don’t know why I decided to beg for him to take the weights off instead of just letting go of the rope in my mouth. I don’t know why the thought never occurred to me. I realized this about 8 hours after the scene. But at the time... it was like letting go wasn’t an option.
Through the rope in my teeth, I beg.
“Please, no, please...” Jaw still clenched. I know that it is ultimately his decision whether or not he puts those weights on. And I try, desperately, to convey what I am feeling to him as best I can with just my eyes. I glance at AmHypnotic, who is studying my face intently, and giving me that look while he’s at it. And then I look back to DaSade, unable to even articulate speech, and trying to plead with my expressions instead.
He appears to pause for a few moments and appreciate what I am trying to say to him. But then he brings the carabiner to the rope, and everything becomes frighteningly real, and I know that I must accept what he is trying to get me to endure. I cry out uncontrollably; a choked, bewildered sob, my body steeling itself for the strain it knows it is going to experience.
I lock eyes with him as he slowly brings the chain down, letting the weight begin to pull on the rope. I can feel my arms being pulled further upwards, my feet being pulled further apart, and I am forced to almost double over, trying hopelessly to find some position that relieves any of that tension even a little... As the weight gets let down more.
Moaning and panting with strain, I look to see that the iron disc is resting on the ground. I’m shaking, almost violently, holding my neck as high as I can to look up at DaSade.
Really, honestly desperate.
I try to say “please”, but I can’t quite make the word work, and it comes out as a half-moan instead.
AmHypnotic leans into my ear, and I make a very different sort of moan to feel him so suddenly close.
“What was that, my dear?”
I whimper, overstimulated. But the deep need inside of me to plead for relief forces words out of my throat, without even letting me think about it.
“Please! Please take the weights off!” It is a frantic wail, far louder than I would have wanted it to be. They are utterly and simply the words of my desires, unrefined, unprocessed, no thoughts given and no control over how to make them sound more composed. But my teeth stay clenched the entire time.
“Please take the weights off?” he asks, and even though his voice is smooth as honey I know he is checking in with me, really him, through the scene that I had almost forgotten I was in.
I nod quickly and whine, glancing from him to DaSade.
“You know,” AmHypnotic says, and my eyes are drawn to his, “you can give in at any time...”
I can give in...
I have never been so happy to have that thought in my life. I could end it all, all the pain and tension, and give in. To him, and his control; to DaSade, knowing that I had pleased him with my submission in the scene; to the giggles and aftercare cuddles of MentalConfetti.
And to the fantasy of it all.
I let out a long, shuddery sigh, see DaSade go to pull on one of the strings, and promptly let go of the end between my teeth when I feel the first bit of extra stress. The chain falls to the floor, and the weight falls over.
The world stops. The room is silent. The tension is gone from the rope. I look at DaSade and he looks at me and I am shaking with relief and arousal and everything and then right after, still in that moment when time is frozen, I look to AmHypnotic.
He takes my head in his hand, gently, and I melt into it, and the seconds slowly begin to tick by again.
“Good girl,” he says, softly. “Very good girl, you’ve done very well...” I moan softly into his chest, and then, blessedly, I feel his hand come up to trigger me into trance. As his fingers slide down the bridge of my nose, I feel my mind blank right out, those warm feelings of hypnosis just so inviting and perfect...
With my eyes closed I can feel myself being held, steadied. I sense DaSade cutting the ropes loose, but I am simply passive in the arms of AmHypnotic or MentalConfetti or the two of them. And then the ropes have been cut, my body is being directed to walk and follow them, and I obey.
There is dim knowledge of where we are going, but we end up in the quiet room, and I gather that there are other people in there. AmHypnotic is talking to them, but I am not concerned with what he is saying. But then he is talking to me.
“Such a good girl, you’ve done so well,” he croons, and I shudder with pleasure. “Now, I am going to count to three, and you are going to scream, just like we discussed, do you understand?”
“Yes sir...” I say, the response sliding naturally, familiarly, off my tongue. The instructions were there, but I was not thinking about them.
“Good girl,” he says, “now, 1... 2... 3!”
My lungs take in a big breath, and I scream just like Sarah Jane would when the Doctor was just too far away to save her.
I've often said that it's the little things about scenes sometimes that give me intense thrills. Realizing afterward, that I was able to do that, without any fear or nervousness at all, without any thought at all, exhausted as I was from the scene... That's a treat.
AmHypnotic calms me as soon as I’ve finished, and I relax into him as he holds me.
And then, he is saying “five” and telling me to wake up, and I open my eyes and blearily look up at him.
I don't have words for the racing thoughts I had as I came up. My mind was swimming with information, from input.
The room; bizarrely quiet, lit overhead by florescents. The faces of my friends around me, knowing we'd all just done something pretty cool.
It had all really happened.
I think I hugged AmHypnotic and sighed and shuddered and squeezeed.
I think MentalConfetti brought me a blanket.
I think DaSade came in, grinning just a bit more than he had been the last time we were in there. “As wonderful of a scream that was, I don't think they could hear it from the main space over the music.”
I giggle shakily, grateful for the change in tone; I'm beginning to come back to reality and conversation between the four of us. I feel a bit cold and exposed, even in the smaller side room that we're in, down the hall. MentalConfetti and AmHypnotic are warm and huggy.
“I was actually getting a bit worried at the end there,” says DaSade, amused. “The playlist I had on was coming to an end.”
I'm not sure if I've ever smiled that much. We chat lightheartedly about the scene. I'm unable to talk for much of it, having to settle for giggles and grins and nods. At some point, I ask, breathlessly, what time it is.
A clock is checked.
It's 8 pm or so.
The night's over at 2 am.
Walking back into my bedroom at 3 am, giddy and excited and jotting down notes. I take out the dress and squee and look at how DaSade ripped it. It feels out of place in the mundane space that is my apartment, but somehow, that's comforting.
The bottom was ripped up to the waist, leaving it in long swaths of fabric. And then I notice, the way he ripped it... There was a strip he'd left intact, right in the front, covering me where I thought I'd been exposed.
He knew that was something that made me uncomfortable.
He must have left it so that I wouldn't be completely... compromised.
And he neglected to bring that to my attention during the scene, leaving the small undertone of discomfort and humiliation for me to fixate on.
I don't know if DaSade did that on purpose, but... Yeesh. That's my kind of subtle mindfuck.