Weekend wounds

I have a yellow bruise beginning to fade below my collarbone, the really only lasting remnant of a long, packed weekend.  The whip marks were gone by the time I drove back to campus on Sunday, and the other marks on my back gone as well when I checked in the mirror yesterday.  Thankfully the lines around my neck are gone too, preventing the potential for embarrassing inquiries.

Just as quickly the memories start to fade, though if I concentrate, details begin to percolate back into my mind.  The first night, at a Hampton beach boardwalk, the flashing, garish lights of an arcade, frisbee in the dark, and dashing into the cold salty surf in my underwear.  Experiencing the terror and thrill of being surrounded by four sadistic riggers (unbelievably, none of whom had rope with them), and then the aftermath of trying to get sand out of places sand should never have access to.

The second day began messily, with what should have been an 18-minute drive (according to Google Maps) taking instead one hour of missed turns, dead ends, and one very, very frustrated driver.  But we made it to the Bound in Boston con, just in time for a group ice-breaker and stretching session with a yoga practitioner.  The stretching calmed me down enough to heartily enjoy the next couple hours of rope classes, involving pegs and rings, bamboo poles, and some spectacular escape games.  I learned that I am a horrible rigger, but I also learned how to improve.

I sank into blissfully deep ropespace twice on Saturday, experienced my first play party with a fully decked out dungeon.  Suspension points in the ceiling, rows of whips, floggers, cuffs, and sex toys hanging along the wall, and lots of people dressed in fetishwear.  I was out of place in my tanktop and stretchy pants, but it didn’t matter because soon my top was forced off and I was being whipped, first my back and then my front, then my back again.  To hide from the humiliation I was graciously blindfolded and saw nothing of my surroundings for the next hour.

More humiliation was to come as I was ordered to grind against a proffered leg until orgasm.  I came, but quietly.

I floated in and out of consciousness in between bouts of whipping, flogging, biting, and hair pulling.  The upstairs kitchen provided a reprieve and boosters: soft drinks, alcohol, and table snacks.  I refueled with sugar and chips, then descended again to be tied while sitting in a half-lotus, my body folded up like a clam.  Hardened piano wires flicked across my nipples, sending sharp coursing pain straight down my spine.

My poor nipples.  I take it back, they are probably the most bruised and tender part of my body and remain sensitive to any friction from cloth.  They were whipped, twisted, bitten, rubbed, flicked, and pulled in excruciating ways.

And the sex.  Oh yes, the sex.  Sex that left me sore and tearing latex from around my throat.  By Sunday, I was too sore.  Sex hurt.  I resisted, but was fucked anyway.  I screamed and tried to push away, but a low voice whispered close to my ear that he like hearing me scream.  I whimpered, and he praised me for whimpering for him.

I begged in a small voice to be hurt, and he happily obliged.  He slapped my face till I saw stars, then tightened latex around my throat so I couldn’t breathe.  I convulsed, he convulsed, and the latex tightened more.

Afterwards I curled into a small happy puddle of endorphins and didn’t emerge until my stomach grumbled for attention.  A small contest of wills ensued with my bedmate (safeword: gumdrop) before I untangled myself to run for the shower.  I first stopped to admire the marks scattered across my body, then winced as the hot water hit my skin and reminded me where it hurt.  Namely, everywhere.

And when I’d returned and dried off in the room, he came over to admire his handiwork, and decided the bitemark below my collarbone should be emphasized.  I tried to pull away, really I did, my palm pressed against his head, pushing away as he leaned in and “emphasized” the bite.

And that is the yellowing, fading bruise I have left from this past weekend.

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