So this weekend, I'm visiting two doms in Detroit, whom I've known for over a year and trust very, very well. They've been very kind to me during this time and have introduced me to a lot of new things. And they're very talented at it to boot. :) Last night was one of those nights where I tried something new. I didn't know it would end up being EPIC.
After seven years in the bondage scene, and after doing some reading, and talking to some friends about it, I finally decided to break some new ground. I asked my Sir if he would flog me. The grin on his face made me a bit nervous, but something in me was pushing me. This was something I just had to do. I needed to prove it to myself that this was something I CAN do. For the life of me, I don't know what drove me to that conclusion, but I just had to do it.
We went to The Detroit Eagle. Nice place. It happened to be the night of the Detroit Bondage Club's meeting, so there was a decent crowd, at least, decent for this place from what I'm told. I was rather nervous about it, because if you've read my blog or looked at my profiles, you know that I'm really not much into pain. After a couple drinks, I took my clothes off except my spandex shorts, went over to the St. Andrew's Cross there, and one of the rope doms tied my arms in the air, facing it. My Sir slipped a a cloth blindfold over my eyes, and my heart was pounding. I was nervous. But my Sir was very kind to me, he told me that I would be fine, I wasn't gonna be killed, we would get through this together. It was very reassuring, but still, I was nervous.
Then it started. He took the flogger and began to whip it against my back. He started slow and worked his way up. At first, it didn't hurt much, which was sort of a relief, but after the first couple swipes, I knew that it was going to become painful very shortly. Sure enough, I was right. My back was on fire before long.
It hurt. He would stop once in a while and rub his hand all over my back, which just enhanced the tenderness. After a few more swipes, it was really starting to hurt. I began to moan a little with each hit because the pain was too strong for me to stay quiet. I wish I could say this was a sexual thing for me, but in that moment, horniness couldn't have been further from my mind. This was test of endurance. I had to do this. I HAD to.
At a certain point, my moans became yells. The yells weren't a stereotypical gayboi twink yell. It sounds stupid, but I rather surprised myself. They were really deep toned, basal, earthy yells. The kind that churns up from deep inside you, bypasses your vocal cords, and projects out from the force of your lungs. My mind was racing. The thoughts I had tumbled down so fast that I couldn't pinpoint any one of them. I was thinking so fast that I just stopped. My actions were no longer calculated, they were just instinct and reaction. At this point, my Sir started to untie one of my wrists. Imagine my own surprise when my voice said, "Sir, please, don't. I want you to keep going, Sir. Please."
I was scared, but I didn't want it to end. I think it surprised him too. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes. Please Sir."
He went back and started flogging again, but harder now, and faster. My wrists were still pulling against the rope and my back was tensing up as hard as I could get it too. And my yells kept getting progressively louder, louder, and closer together. Finally he landed one well timed crack on my back which made me yell louder in pain than I probably ever have in my life. A few softer but still very painful cracks came after, which I took. Then he stepped in an ran his hand over my back again.
And I started to cry. It wasn't a wince-your-eyes-in-pain, grin-and-bear-it kind of cry. I started sobbing. It was a deep, soulful, cry. One I haven't had in a long, long time. I was in pain, yes, but I'm sure it wasn't the pain that was making me cry. I was somewhat glad I was blindfolded, but as my Sir found me sobbing like this, he started to untie me again. Through my tears and sobs and emotions, I found myself still saying, "Sir, I don't want you to stop don't stop please don't stop I don't want you to stop."
But my Sir was firm. "No. This is where we stop."
He untied my wrists, but left my blindfold on. Then he just put his arms around me and held me against his chest as I sobbed and sobbed. I didn't know what I was crying for. It didn't matter. Still I was telling him, "I don't want you to stop."
"Shhhh. Just let it out," he said in his deep, gruff voice.
And I did. For another three or four minutes I just stood in his arms, blindfolded, and crying as my back finally started to cool off.
I slept amazingly well last night, needless to say. I kept thinking about it of course. I've never once cried during a scene before. In fact, I haven't cried that hard in years. But apparantly, most guys do if they get flogged until they're broken. I understand that. Crying actually felt like a fully appropriate emotion to display at the time it was happening. Why is it scary to me?
It's scary because of the fact that all of this came from inside ME. It was my idea. I asked to keep going. I didn't want it to stop. It's not like anything I've ever done before. It's something I've never wanted to be or do. It's a piece of something that's hiding within me. Maybe I'm not really the person I think I am. I'm scared of the person that I've been denying. I'm afraid of losing touch with what I currently hold dear to me in the kink world.
I'm afraid of the Fox I may yet become.