#stay in position
The Unknown Quantity and I found a space and started a brief negotiation. We’d done a fuller one the previous day. I told him where my new bruises were so he could hurt me, and told him I didn’t want my arms tied that day. Then he grabbed me and basically tossed me to the floor. As the scene started, I added a few more things that I didn’t want, including that I didn’t want my tits punched, only slapped. He listened and acknowledged what I was saying as he tied my legs.
When I was done talking, he started with the hitting. He didn’t think he was much of a sadist, but I can tell you that he very much enjoyed my pain reactions throughout the weekend. My poor inner thighs were already bruised from The Violinist, so when The Unknown Quantity started hitting me, it hurt more than it normally would have. I started struggling, and he grabbed my hands to hold me down. I squeezed his his thumb so that I could take more and move less. When I told him that’s what I was doing, he nodded and allowed me to keep holding his hand while he hit me.
Eventually, he needed both hands (the better to hurt me with, of course). When he returned to the grabbing and beating, I tried to be good and stay still, but I started thrashing. Reaching out in desperation for something to hold, I managed to grab the edge of the mat with my left hand, but my right hand grasped at nothing. I was trying not to kick, so I made a fist with the right hand and slammed it into the mat. The Unknown Quantity saw my half-failed attempts to control myself and stopped hurting me for a moment. I caught my breath while he stood up and grabbed a bundle of rope. He put it on my chest and said, “Hold this right there.” I clenched the rope in my hands and channeled my desire to struggle into squeezing it tightly.
He moved back to my legs and held them down. After he slapped my thighs a few times, the next thing he did challenged my desire to take as much as possible, physically and psychologically. I felt something digging into my leg. Something sharp. He was using the same thing he’d used the night before, but now my legs were even more sensitive. It felt like he was going to push the point right through my skin each time he jabbed it into my thigh. I was shaking with the effort it took not to move from the pain and the mental anguish. A bolt of fear shot through me each time I felt the sharp object pressed into my flesh. I trembled, part of my brain in a half-panic, part of it trying to be logical. He wouldn’t break the skin. We haven’t talked about it. We didn’t negotiate that. But what if he just pressed too hard? No, he must know how to use whatever it is he’s using. He definitely wouldn’t break the skin…Right?
When he put the thing away, I was relieved for a moment. Then he started using his hands again. At first he was just punching my thighs, maybe throwing in some smacks. Then he grabbed both of my legs, holding me down. He knew I’d react strongly to what he was about to do, and he didn’t want to get kicked. He started slapping my upper left inner thigh. He did this rapidly and repeatedly, the pain building as he brought his hand down on me. I writhed around, clenching the rope in my hands as tight as I could, trying to take the pain. I attempted to kick my legs, to no avail. He’s stronger than me, had a good grip on me, and I was beneath him. As he continued slapping, my pain noises started getting louder and louder until I screamed. Each strike hurt worse than the last and each strike ensured that the next one would hurt even more. Finally, I couldn’t handle anymore, so I managed to get out a “Yellow! Yellow!”
He stopped slapping and switched to lightly, very lightly running his fingers along my reddened inner thigh. I twitched. He’d made my thigh so sensitive, that the lightest touch hurt. The Unknown Quantity seemed delighted at this discovery, and increased the force he was using until I asked, “May I please have some water?” I was thirsty, but I also needed a break from the torture he was inflicting on my body. He stood up and told me to stay put. When he came back with my water, he instructed me that I was still not to move my hands or the rope from where he’d put it initially. He helped me drink some water, and I took a breather for a minute or so.
When I indicated I was ready to start again, he pushed me back down. I was still holding the rope, but now he wanted to hurt my tits. He reached for the rope and I slowly let go, loathe to lose it. The Unknown Quantity considered for a moment and then told me, “Put your hands on top of your head, and keep your elbows on the ground.” I did as I was told, assuming a position that left my breasts completely exposed and vulnerable. It was also a position that was impossible for me to hold properly as he slapped my tits, hit my battered thighs, and grabbed them to dig his nails in. Every so often, a strike or a squeeze would be so hard that I would lift my hands off my head for a moment. Each time, I returned them, wanting to follow instructions. I cried out and thrashed around, trying and failing to keep my elbows on the ground. Any time I lifted them up, The Unknown Quantity would give me a look and tell me to return them.
At some point, in the midst of the pain and the fight to keep position, something happened. I started laughing. He continued to hurt me, and I kept laughing. Reaction Junkie had pointed out that laughing is sometimes my response to getting hurt. This was different, though. I couldn’t stop laughing. I was cracking up. Holding position was a lost cause as I gave in to the uncontrollable laughter. I wasn’t able to tell The Unknown Quantity that I needed to stop, but by the time I managed to choke out, “I think I’m done,” he was already taking the rope off. “I know,” he replied, which gave me a nice little shiver and cemented my subby feelings. We cuddled and talked for a while as I finally managed to get my laughter under control. I felt warm and giddy and very contented. When we stood up, he said, “This time you’re going to do something for me.” “Clean the mat!?” I said in an excited tone. He replied that yes, that was what he meant, and I ran off to grab some wipes.
That was a fantastic scene, and I really enjoyed the feeling of being pushed until just cracked up, laughing too hard to continue. The Unknown Quantity is hella fun, and, just as importantly, I feel super comfortable communicating to him what I need, before, during, and after scenes. I told him what kind of rope I didn’t want that day and that I was okay with my tits being slapped but not punched during this scene. I let him know when I needed breaks, and that I wanted to grab something so I could take more pain. He’s also observant and perceptive, which is important and sexy.
After The Unknown Quantity and I hugged and went off to enjoy the party, I went to find a place to sit down and recover from the scene. I got sidetracked by talking to people, and wandered between a couple of groups. Then I started feeling very tired, so I found a chair and sat down. I almost fell asleep sitting up, so I got up and went over to another group of people I knew. The drop expanded from tiredness to me feeling sort of sad and down, and I decided to go be by myself for a little while to recover. I nabbed a spot on the couch, curled up, and took a nap. The sounds, of impact, groans, screams, moans, and background conversation were the perfect lullaby.
