22 (this happened five years ago)

October 29, 2010

I can’t believe I never posted about it here. It seems pretty important, now that I think about it, because this happened before I ever had (p-in-v) sex, and in fact probably was one of the first steps to opening up my mind about the concepts of virginity and what it means to actually have sex, and thinking back it is what started to change my thinking about concepts of monogamy, sexuality in general, my sexuality personally, and how it affected my spirituality (which it did, in the end, drastically).

So without further ado (and copypasta’d from my old blog, like other entries, and of course all names have been changed):

I did my first scene last night.

I had two weeks to be nervous about it and that had pretty much worn off until I was actually in the club, in front of everybody, waiting for the Dom, Chris, to put his claws on and tie me up.

Still with me?

As I mentioned in [a previous entry in the other blog], I found myself at Bound (a DC BDSM club) a little over a month ago, and since I was very intrigued by the whole thing I’ve been going back almost every Friday This Friday was no exception, but there was a slight twist, in that I had made up my mind to actually try this whole thing out and see what the big deal is. I’d watched a lot of the activities (scenes) and was very impressed and pleasantly surprised to find out that it’s not all about beating people up and getting beat up for fun (I get enough of that in martial arts anyway), but that it’s more about stimulating the body in different and creative (sometimes VERY creative) ways, pushing into the realm of pain but not just for the sake of it. There’s more to it too, but I’m still learning about that and it’s fairly irrelevant to this entry. Anyway, I’d watched Chris do a scene with this other guy the last time I was there (used claws and a knife, leaving no marks) and that really got my attention. So I asked him to do me next. Was too late that night so we had to wait until last night.

Fast forward two weeks past lots of discussions about my nervousness, desire, fear, lust and guilt (lather, rinse, repeat), and I arrive at Bound with (my friends) Val, Sid, Sam, Jim and Ron around 10:45 last night. Danced, talked with Chris, watched Sid and Val dance (droollll…. ^_^ ) and after watching a few scenes, it was finally my turn. I waited in nervous anticipation as Chris put his claws on, then he stood up from his bag of tricks, looked me straight in the face and said “Lose the shirt.”

Had no problem with this; nothing was going to work with it still on. Then he looked me straight in the face and said: “Are you wearing underwear?”

“Yes…”

“Lose the pants.”

He had this wicked grin on his face as he said it. I recalled the words of my friend Rain saying “I know how you are… you’ll get caught up in the moment and you’ll end up with your pants off too.” She wasn’t wrong. I heard lots of “wooooooo”-ing from the small crowd behind me. Good thing I had my one pair of sexy undies on.

I let him guide my body as he adjusted the height of the restraints. The last person who’d been up there was a lot shorter than me and my arms made it so that he had to put the cuffs up even higher. After I was locked in, he gave me the scabbard to his knife. “If at any point things get too intense, drop this to signal me to stop.” I nodded to indicate that I understood, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.

When the first blow landed, I know that my mind was still “on.” I could hear the music, I could feel eyes on me, and I remember thinking that there was something rather ironic about the song that was playing at the time, but I don’t remember what it was. As things continued and the strokes kept falling, my cognitive thought process became more and more blurred and soon the only thing I could hear were the lashing sounds and my own voice as I reacted to everything I was feeling. I knew I was being double-teamed, because I was being electrically stimulated from the front (accomplished via some very interesting electric implements which had a distinct feeling all their own) and clawed and flogged in the back. Only a few things I remembered thinking very clearly after that: I knew that I was being lit very briefly on fire, because I’d seen it done on someone earlier in the evening and the sensation was different, being a brief sting then sweeping warmth, accomplished via said electric implements and rubbing alcohol. I knew that the claws were being used on me and I very much enjoyed that part because I could feel my entire body relax when they ran down my back, and immediately tense when they were on my stomach. And of course I could think VERY clearly when my right nipple (normally not very sensitive at all thanks my old girlfriend Gina; fun story I’ll tell you if you want know) was being stimulated to the point of intense pain via electricity and a jet black survival knife. I only know that the knife is black because I saw it before things got started. I had my eyes closed the whole time, though. Anyway, it was at this point that I dropped the scabbard and things wound down. The fact that they didn’t see me drop it and another few seconds went by before they realized it was funny in retrospect but I thank their use of peripheral vision or whoever said “Hey he dropped it!” because it was at this point that I REALLY couldn’t take anymore.

Chris did a little cool down on me with the claws and then untied me. I pulled my pants back up and heard applause, but I was very dazed. Chris has a rule that whoever he works on has to kiss his boot when finished. I’d told myself earlier in the evening that I wasn’t going to do that, but I was too dazed to care at that point so I did a kind of “Last Emperor” style kowtow and yes, kissed his boot. *shrug*

Once I found a seat, it was all I could do to take deep breaths. I heard voices all around me, quotes ranging from “You were up there a long time” to “That was awesome!” to “First time? Wow you did a great job” to “Invigorating, isn’t it?” I couldn’t respond to anything. I only know I was slumping over because I could see my navel. I’m an outtie so you’d think that that would be a typical thing, but I mean I was looking, like, *into* it. Sid was rubbing ice on my back and I think someone else had a hand on my shoulder.

Then I started to cry.

I really don’t know why. I think my brain was just overwhelmed with everything. Chris came over and gave me this big hug while I just bawled. First time crying since [a very strange situation with a girl from my hometown]. Funky timing since that all went down just a little over a year ago. Same time of night, too. After one am, Friday.. huh… one year and a few weeks, to the day. Interesting… same (probable) reasons too. Brain just couldn’t take it all.

After I was done crying and got some water, I was feeling better. After about 20 minutes, my knees were still jelly but I could stand. I cleaned off my glasses and grabbed the last of my ganked-from-work chocolate chip cookie and chomped it down.

Hell of a night. It is likely that I’ll do another scene. I’m curious to see how I’ll react the second time around. Or third. But I’ll guess I’ll find out then.

Definitely a different experience than anything I’ve ever done prior.

Ah, memories. ^_^ Looking back on it now i realize that this opened my mind up on a lot of levels. I’d never considered polyamory before, but after some thought I realized that wasn’t out of bounds for me. After all, if I can trust someone who is not my partner to deliver pain and pleasure in this context, why then could I not do the same with sexual activity? And for that matter, how was this NOT sexual activity (trust me, I learned just how sexual it is just a few week later)? Also, this was a man pleasuring me this way, so why should I not be open to the possibility of same sex partners at some point? So the logic, for me, simply followed that since this guy was not my partner, was male, and was giving me exactly what I needed in a manner and setting which all parties were *safe, sane and consensual* (a term that quickly became part of my permanent lexicon), there was no reason for me to be so uptight in adhering to the sexual mores drilled into me via my christian upbringing.

Of course it followed after much thought that since those mores were no longer applied to me, why would anything else from those decades of churchgoing apply to me either? Save for what I knew in my heart was right (since I have a conscience, and was never going to knock over a bank) why did I need my morals dictated to me in loose translation from someone who doesn’t know me?

I didn’t. And I don’t.

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