A few days before the party, Modulator and I negotiated a scene that involved an element of surprise and fearplay. I wanted to give up control and let him do as he wished. We negotiated hard limits about sexual contact, nudity, and other things (no squeaky clown noses!). As the host of the party, I wanted to be sure to tend to my guests’ needs before I played, so we had a signal of readiness. I wore a collar, and when I removed it, I was ready for him to attack me at any time. I warned a few guests, particularly the ones I am involved with, as well as some of the new kinksters, so as not to frighten them. And of course, I cleared this with Damascus too.
I took off my collar after the party was in full swing. I tried to forget about him looming around in the distance, I engaged in conversations and light activities with others, and yet I was always aware of his presence. In my periphery, I saw him remove his watch and glasses and set them on the table. I knew the time was close. I continued my conversation with a new friend, and before I knew it, mid sentence, there was a handful of my hair being grasped and an arm around my neck. There was some growling and I squealed a loud scared, surprised, excited squeal and I was overpowered and dragged backwards to the other side of the room. He is very tall and strong and I felt my body lift off the floor as this happened. He twirled me around and my back slammed into the planks of the waiting St. Andrew’s cross, I felt like a rag doll, unable to move or resist.
He stared into my eyes and growled something about me being a brat and getting what I deserve. I felt my hand being pulled up and attached to the cross with the soft twistie tie that was hanging there. I think I pouted and stuck my tongue out at him and he grabbed and clawed at my chest, sending shocks of pain through my body. He stopped clawing and started doing something at his side, and while he was distracted, I wiggled my one bound hand out from the tie. I was very pleased with myself and let out a very indignant “ha!”, which he noticed as I used the free hand to push him away. And then the sharp knife was held to my neck.
The cold blade slid across my neck and it felt so real and sharp, I had to do a double take and look at him. “Oh god, don’t cut me” I said, as it felt so real. I felt myself roll back into a sub spacey place, but he yanked at my hair and straighten my head so I was locked in eye contact with him. He continued with the knife, dragging across my neck and shoulders, and I alternated between starting to blank out in a spacey state and being pulled back sharply to look at him. I have looked deeply into his eyes many times over the years, so I can be brought back to a place of trust and safety by looking into them, but I had to look through the facade of the evil, angry veneer that he was wearing for the scene.
Most of the scene is sort of a blur. There was a lot of painful hair pulling, there was the scary knife, there was scratching and clawing at my chest, breasts, and back. His big strong hands pressed deeply and painfully into pressure points at my sternum I was facing forward sometimes and flipped around and pushed into the cross other times. When facing away from him, he had my head pulled back sharply by my hair and was growling close to my ear, occasionally whispering threats in a raspy voice. While I was not bound by rope or cuffs, I think one of my hands was always restrained by him. I sometimes had a hand free to fight and push him away, but he is way stronger than me, so it was mostly ineffective. When I was facing him, I felt more able to attempt to fight him off, when I was facing away from him, I was rather helpless.
While facing away, he was doing some breath play, with his hand on my throat, reaching around from behind. He pushed me to my limit and I spoke out, “yellow with the choking” and he loosened his grip. I needed him to know that I didn’t want to be pushed any further on that point. While losing control of my mind to subspace was a desire, the real threat of losing physical consciousness was a reality that I didn’t want to experience.
I alternated between fighting, trying to be still as to lessen my pain, and wanting to space out. I found out later that he was specifically trying to prevent me from reaching sub space. Twisted Fucker! He has recently teased me about being a “subspace junkie” so maybe this was his motivation for denying me that in our scene. In our other times playing, I have been able to space out and it lets the pain and fear wash over me, a sort of serene, surrendering effect. He did not let me do this, he would not allow me the moment to wash away into a spacey state, he snapped me out of it each time. When this happened, I think it would make me angry and fight and panic more. Maybe we were playing with fight or flight triggers. He did pause at a few moments to let me orgasm, which is different than being in sub space. Once, I was raised off of the ground, his knee imbedded between my thighs, as I ground my crotch into his leg, he was lifting me off my my feet as I came repeatedly while restrained with my head and eyes rolled back.
I am sure this only went on for about 10-15 minutes, but it seemed much longer. I think he sensed I was beginning to tire out from the sudden intensity that had been building up over the night. He clawed the side of my leg deeply, leaving a very distinctive hand mark, which has bruised heavily since then. The pain from this was confusing and intense, distracted by some other pain happening near my head, maybe a bite to the ear. It was excruciating. He quickly flipped me around and pressed me into the cross again, and I orgasmed several times, the pain being washed over by pleasure. He leaned in and growled, “I’m done with you” and he stepped back. I felt a wave of tension release and was relieved to reach the end of the scene and I relaxed, stepping down and away from the cross. And then I felt him violently and unexpectedly push into me again, pulling at my hair, clawing me somewhere, I can’t remember, it was so sudden and surprising. I heard a loud crunch as the wood base of the St Andrew’s cross snapped. Holy shit, what was that? I thought. “Now I am done with you.” he growled again and moved away.
I caught my breath for a moment or two and he came back, this time with a softer touch and caring eyes. Oh… there was the Modulator that I know and love, the friend who cares about me, the man that I trust. He led me to the couch, as I was a little wobbly, and got me a drink. He sat with me for a few minutes as my head swirled. I cuddled him for a short while as I returned to reality. I became eager to get up and move around, to shake things off, and to see my party guests again, so after a short while sitting with him, I moved to get up. A couple of hours later, as the party was winding down, I sat at his feet and we talked about the scene for a bit. I had the treat of getting to chat with him about it at length the next day, and the nice surprise of reading a journal entry he wrote about it from his perspective. This level of followup is what I have always received from him, and it brings me great comfort. It is just another one of the things that rings true when he told me, years ago, that he would spoil me for other men. Big sadistic teddy bear…
As an interesting side note about outside distractions… when I first hit the cross, I became aware of the music, which was playing loudly next to me. One of the charming things about this playspace is the choice of music, which is eclectic and often hilarious. I think I prefer this to some heavy industrial music that takes itself too seriously and I think it reflects the personality of the owner and the parties he likes to have. Nevertheless, I was keenly aware that “Fergalicious” was playing, and I cringed and I thought, “Oh please make that stop!”. The music, not the scene, heh. The imagery of the video, with all the sugary sweet candy imagery, popped into my head and was mixing with the violence of this scene in a surreal and bizarre way. I was somewhat aware of the next songs that played, and I told myself to remember the second one after the scene, as it had some significance, but I lost that memory. And yet, “Fergalicious” sticks. So there are candy cane swirls and pink frilly cake images that accompany this scene, in my mind, which is disturbing.
I lost awareness of everything else, like everyone else in the room, until after the
scene. When I came to and was seated on the couch, I saw that the room had cleared and I was self conscious about that. There may have been something more awesome going on in the other room, I don’t know. I am sure some people left out of discomfort, I am not sure. As soon as I recovered and was able to move about, I wanted to check in on my guests again and let them see that I was ok. I got lots of hugs.
From the start, I desired to hand over control to him, to allow him to create the mood of the scene. I wanted to put my trust in him and let go. He could have wanted a softer scene, full of orgasms for me, something more sensual, or a mix of rough and soft. Or he could express a more violent intensity if he wanted to, which clearly he did. I accepted this and wanted it. I may not understand this desire to receive and submit very clearly, but it was a deep desire I had and I feel the need has been satisfied. I felt very proud of myself for enduring that scene for him and I feel a deeper connection with him for trusting ME to trust him with this risk that I took to give him control.