It was late, and we had been out all day running around town. I hadn’t been feeling well, but I needed some kind of scene. First, he decided he wanted to tie me up. When he asked what I wanted to do, I just responded with “hard stuff”. I never feel like I do suspensions well, despite the fact that he’s constantly telling me I’m a badass and that I can hang in positions that most people couldn’t even think of doing. But I wanted to keep challenging myself, and he was happy to make that happen.
I got wrapped up in pretty red rope and stayed up in the air for about 45 minutes. He made sure to put the rope directly on top of all of the massive bruises I had on my legs. Of course I spent most of that time upside down, as I always request. There were a lot of back bends and weird twisted positions. I hung from a single futo for a few minutes, and he spun me around really really fast. That was the best part. He really pushed me this time, because he made sure that the positions I was in were more painful than they had been in the past. A lot of them restricted my breathing or pushed on pressure points. Eventually I had to come down, and my arms were killing me. He always says I’m one the best rope bottoms he’s ever worked with, but as soon as I come down I always wish I would have done better, whatever that means.
Like usual, I felt a flood of emotions right after I got out of the rope. It’s like a security blanket that holds me together, but when it comes off my defenses come off with it. I didn’t cry, but I had try pretty hard not to. We got into bed and I wrapped myself around him. I had mentioned earlier that week that I wanted him to beat me again, which really suprised him. We had gone to a play party a few days before, and he strung me up and hit me a whole bunch. Unfortunately, I was sick, and I wasn’t in the right mindset, so I really didn’t get the emotional release I needed. I felt a little desperate, so when we were laying in bed I brought it up again. He asked me if I was sure, because I had been miserably sick the whole time I was there. I figured he would just hit me a couple times, get a few tears out of me, and call it a night, but I was very very wrong.
I asked a sadist to make me cry. I should have known better. I regretted it the second he told me to bend over the bed. There was no warm up, no comforting words-just pain. He said he wanted to give me tiger stripes, so he took a thin plastic cane and went all over my body. It stung like I bitch and I hated it. I kept running away, and he kept making me come back. He just hit me with it over and over and over without a second for me to breathe. I started crying within the first two minutes. I wasn’t expecting the tears, because I had been in a really happy, playful mood before that. I figured I would be able to hold back the waterfall for a little bit.
Once he was done with that, he got out a thick wooden cane and hit me a number of times. The worst part was that he was hitting right on top of the bruises he had already given me. After the first hit I screamed and tried to move to hide in the corner. He obviously wasn’t having that, so he dragged me back and hit me a few more times before he swung so hard he broke the damn thing in half. I always feel proud when I break his evil toys, but this time I didn’t even notice.
Last, he picked up this giant fucking thing, and I was so freaked out I can’t even recall what exactly it looked like. It was like a bat, but made out of harder, denser wood, and was shaped more like a big, thick cylinder. I was already crying like crazy, and this whole thing had only lasted a few minutes. He hit me with it once, and I screamed so loud it sounded like someone was being murdered. I lost it. I got up and ran to the wall and when he told me to come back all I did was cry and stare at him like a terrified animal stuck in a trap. Then he told me that if I came back right then he would only hit me with it once more, but if I didn’t, it was going to be least three more times. I knew I couldn’t handle that, so I ran back to the bed and bent over. I could see him pull his arm all the way back out of the corner of my eye, and he swung that thing so hard and so fast that I fucking lost it. Like, I completely lost it.
All I could do was stay there. I didn’t move an inch. I was shaking like crazy, ugly crying, and freaking the fuck out. He didn’t say anything, he just went to put all of his terrible instruments up, turn out the light, and got in bed. I still couldn’t move from the end of the bed. I was bent over, frozen in pain and fear. He grabbed my hair, and pulled me up onto the bed. The feeling of him grabbing me like that made me freak out even more. At that point, I started hyperventilating. Not just a few sharp, short breaths- I literally could not stop myself. It went on for what felt like forever. He had pulled me into his arms but I had to sit up because I couldn’t breathe. I was just sitting there at the end of the bed, staring off into space, and he started getting really worried. He tried to help me slow down my breathing, but it didn’t work. I had no control over it, and it was scary. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen, my hands were tingling, I felt dizzy, and I’m suprised I didn’t pass out. It was bad.
I tried to lay down next to him, but my arms felt numb and I still couldn’t get my breathing right. He started breathing really slowly in hopes of getting me to do the same. It worked a little, but then a few seconds later, it started all over again. I sat back up, started hyperventilating more, and he started asking me if I needed a bag to breath into or something. Looking back on it, I think I might have genuinely scared him, and he’s pretty much seen it all.
The body sensations associated with hyperventilating triggered me unexpectedly, because the last time I had been in that position it was when I was reliving a lot of the abuse I went through when I was younger. There was this time where I tried to confront my father about something he had done, my mother started denying that anything ever happened, and it became such a mess that I ended up laying on the floor in my room hyperventilating, losing feeling in my limbs and freaking out. I never get triggered by anything, but this certainly did it.
He was trying to help, but I think he knew he needed to wait for me to lay back down with him. Eventually I did, and my breathing started to return to normal. Once I could breathe and I could feel my body again, the water works started. I started crying really hard, and there were about a million things going through my head. He rubbed my back and said lots of nice things to me. He told me he was proud of me, I had done well, I was a good girl, and that everything was going to be okay. Most importantly, he told me that I was safe, and that it was okay to cry. And let me tell you, I cried my heart out that night.
The tears started to slow down, and I calmed down a little. Then, another wave of emotion hit, and I started crying and breathing heavily again. I was laying on his chest, and I hadn’t moved. He put his thumb in my mouth, and it’s like everything was immediately better. I didn’t even think about it, so he knew what I needed when I didn’t. It seems kind of silly in hindsight, but it really did help. After I calmed down he took it out, and I was okay for a few minutes. When I started getting teary eyes again, he put it back, and I was better.
Once the tears stopped, I noticed that there was a lot of stuff going on in my head. First, I noticed that I was turned on beyond belief. I was confused by that, because I had just gotten beat into oblivion and cried for 30 minutes straight and all I wanted him to do was hit me more and fuck me. Second, I noticed that there were a lot of jumbled maladaptive thoughts running through my head about every sort of topic you can imagine. I think he wanted me to talk, but I couldn’t get it out.
I really wanted to have sex, and he knew, but he told me no. I had a terrible uti/kidney infection, which is why he vetoed it, but it still really upset me. I know he was looking out for my best interest, but I felt kinda rejected. So if course, more crying happened. I had to get up to blow my nose a couple times, and I kinda shut myself off from him. I was only like that for a few short moments, but he was still worried about me.
I’m pretty sure he thought he broke me. He asked me, “do you hate me?”, which he always does after he does mean things to me, usually in a cute joking manner because he knows the answer is always no. This time, however, he wasn’t so sure. I felt really non-verbal, so I couldn’t answer the question. Of course I didn’t hate him. I liked him more every time he did this to me, but I couldn’t get the words out.
Eventually, I was ready to talk, and I asked him if he would listen. He enthusiastically said yes, and I told him about feeling rejected, being worried about being sick all the time, and other weird feelings that came up during my apparent mental breakdown. I feel like some of what I said was a little incoherent, but he listened nonetheless and tried to reassure me. I couldn’t sleep, even though the tears had gone, so he put his thumb back in my mouth and I was finally out a few minutes later.
Suffice to say, it was a rough night. The first thing he asked about when I woke up was my emotional state. I felt fine, minus some embarassment due to the fact that I had let him see me like that. He gave me a million cuddles and kisses, and let me stay in bed with him until I had to get up and leave to head back home. When he asked me how I was doing, I felt like I wanted to cry again, but the feeling passed and I was fine. I was emotionally exhausted, but in a good way. I made sure to tell him thank you and that I most certainly did not hate him.
It was a totally new experience for me, one that I wasn’t expecting, but I’m glad it happened. It really did help me a lot. I never cry and I have a lot of crazy and not so good stuff going on in my life right now, so I guess this was just like him opening up the flood gates and refusing to let me close them back up. He made me feel safe and cared for, and I never once doubted my trust for him. I was terrified and in pain, but I never felt the need to use my safe word. It’s definitely a night that will stick in my head for the rest of my life, and I’m glad I got to share that experience with the right person.