#stories from my life
[10.24.2014]
“Drink five of those in the next ten minutes.” When Reaction Junkie pointed at my cup and ordered me to start having lots of water, I smiled. We were at the house party he was hosting for a bunch of kinky friends. I’d had a rough week, so I appreciated what I thought was Reaction Junkie engaging in the regular (and always enjoyable) bladder control and desperation that is part of our dynamic. I drank the water, and not long after, I felt the pressure building in my abdomen. I sat on the ground, and began rocking back and forth a little, attempting to distract myself from the feeling.
Reaction Junkie noticed my distress and started teasing me, “What’s wrong? Do you need to peeee?” I was a little embarrassed he was doing this in front of the party, even though I knew most of the people there fairly well. I pouted at him and said that of course I had to pee. He laughed, refused my request, and continued the teasing. At one point, he ordered me, “Go get a towel and one of your favorite shirts.” When I heard that, I realized this might not just be the normal bladder play I thought it was; he had something special in mind.
“Is he going to make me piss myself on the floor, in front of everyone?”, I thought. “No. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? Nah. It’d be too much of a mess. Right?” I refused his order to fetch the towel and shirt. Reaction Junkie gave me a look, and I managed to refuse again, but my will was weakening. He walked over to me, and I flinched, expecting to be hit for my disobedience. Instead, he started stepping on me, pressing down on my bladder. I was happy that he’d dropped the idea of making me get the towel and favorite shirt. Until he put more of his weight onto me, compressing my bladder further. I pleaded with him, “Please stop! I’m going to pee.”
Taking his foot off me, Reaction Junkie said, “Go sit on the toilet.” I was relieved for a moment until he added, “But don’t pee.” I whined, but got up and headed to the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and waited. Reaction Junkie came in after a moment and told me I’d better not piss. I nodded and said, “I’m not.” He went back into the living room and I tried to distract myself from the need to pee. I was determined to be a good girl for him, especially since he’d left the bathroom door open, so if I started to pee, everyone would be able to hear.
When Reaction Junkie returned a minute later and saw me rocking back and forth, focusing on not pissing, he grinned, amused by my distress. “Do you think we should invite other people to come see?” he asked. My eyes opened wide in horror, and I shook my head and said, “No!” He smirked at me and said, “Don’t pretend like you don’t want this.” Turning towards the open door, he called out, “Who wants to see [LFB] piss herself?” I felt my face growing hot as a group of people gathered around the door. A few I knew fairly well, like The Unknown Quantity, Anderson Cooper, and Cute Thing (one of Reaction Junkie’s other partners). Two others, I didn’t know at all. And one of them, Pretty Girl, was a lovely woman who bought me a drink a couple happy hours ago, and who I’m shyly interested in.
As the group of partners, friends, and acquaintances looked on, Reaction Junkie began pressing on me, cruelly compressing my full bladder, all the while telling me not to piss and making comments to the crowd. I held strong, but it was increasingly difficult. All of a sudden, he punched my abdomen. It wasn’t the hardest I’ve been punched, but neither was it gentle. I managed not to piss, but only just. I looked up at him, pleading with my eyes and my words. He reassured the crowd that even though it seemed like he was being mean to me, he was actually fulfilling a fantasy. I felt embarrassed to have this fantasy revealed. Then I saw something in his face that told me what was going to happen next. He was going to read from my tumblr post about the fantasy he was currently fulfilling.
I didn’t want the additional humiliation of having him read out my fantasy to the group. Not only would they know that he really was fulfilling a fantasy, that this was something I wanted to happen, I knew I’d be uncomfortable having my writing read aloud, and, of course, there was the fear that they would find my tumblr and I’d be entirely exposed as a disgusting, fucked up little bitch. Reaction Junkie took out his phone and I said, “No, don’t read it. You can’t!” He turned to face me, his expression making me cower. *SMACK* He slapped me hard across the face. “Did you just try to tell me what I can and can’t do?” he asked. Suitably chastened and feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, I shook my head and responded in a small voice, “No, dear.”
He pulled up my post and began reading, “”No, you may not use the bathroom.” He ignores my desperate pleas as the 5 bottles of water he made me drink before the party quickly catch up with me…” I looked at the floor as he read, embarrassed on multiple levels. Reaction Junkie noticed. “Look everyone in the eye,” he ordered. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to look up and see the faces staring back at me. Feeling humiliated, I complied with his instructions, making eye contact with each person in turn. My thoughts were racing as I searched their expressions for what they were thinking. I saw mostly amusement and interest, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
When Reaction Junkie got to a part of my fantasy where the character representing me speaks, he imitated me teasingly, “Please let me pee? It’s starting to hurt and I’m worried I’m going to wet myself.” These “cute” imitations are something that he and I have discussed repeatedly. He is not supposed to do them, and when he does, he gets punished. So, in the middle of him dominating, embarrassing, degrading, and humiliating me, I made him stop reading and lean his head down. I licked his face, which is something he finds very unpleasant and has been a common punishment for behavior such as this. “Sorry, sir.” he said in his little subby boy voice. The gathered crowed laughed and someone said, “Your dynamic is so hot.”
Of course, immediately after his punishment was over, Reaction Junkie continued reading. And I continued being uncomfortable. Now, instead of imitating me when he got to my parts of the dialogue, Reaction Junkie did something worse. He made me read my lines, all while continuing to look this crowd of friends, acquaintances, and near strangers in the eyes. He read the entire story, with me on the toilet next to him, squirming and uncomfortable for so many reasons. I had to pee, of course, but I was also turned on and embarrassed about what he was reading and that he was reading something I’d written to this group of people.
When he finally finished, reading out the last line of the fantasy, “Happy birthday, pisswhore,” I was looking down, almost distracted from the urge to piss. then he said, “I wonder if we could all fit in here. I wanted to make her piss in the tub.” I shook my head, not wanting the further humiliation of everyone filling the bathroom and watching me piss, with the added embarrassment of not being allowed to piss in the toilet like a person. The Unknown Quantity decided to chime in, “Yeah. I think we can all fit.” Reaction Junkie grinned and told me, “Sit on the edge of the tub.” I was reluctant, but didn’t want another slap or additional punishment, so I moved over to the bathtub.
The crowd filed in and someone shut the door. Now I was sitting on the rim of the tub, holding onto the sink to position myself to sit into it. And everyone was looking right at me. Reaction Junkie slid his hand between my legs and teased my cunt with his fingers. “Look how turned on she is, ” he said to the crowd. Turning back to me, he put his hand in my face, “You’re soaked. Smell this.” I obeyed, but looked down, thoroughly embarrassed and a little ashamed. Reaction Junkie said, “Look at everyone.” I did, my face growing hot as I looked at the people who now knew just how wet I was from the treatment I was receiving.
Reaction Junkie gave me another instruction, adding to my discomfort, “Spread your legs so everyone can see.” Slowly, reluctantly, I opened myself up. I felt vulnerable and exposed, and even half-closed them a few times. Each time, however, I spread them apart again when I saw Reaction Junkie’s face. He considered for a moment, and then asked, “Should I go get a vibrator?” I shook my head, actually upset. I didn’t think I’d be able to get off like this, or, if I could, I worried it would take so long that people would get bored. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle that in addition to the stress of the situation. He saw the expression on my face and recognized what I needed. “Nah, that will take too long,” he said. “Now piss.”
I started to try and let go, to start peeing in the tub. I kept my eyes focused on him alone, not wanting to look anyone else in the eye while I pissed in the tub. “Don’t look at me. Look at Pretty Girl,” Reaction Junkie said, ordering me to look the girl I like right in the eyes. The first time we’d hung out outside of happy hour, and she was about to see me piss myself. I looked at her, complying with his instructions. Reaction Junkie ordered me to pee again. I tried, but just couldn’t let go. “I don’t know. I can’t.” I said to him. “Oh, you better,” he responded, “You better piss yourself in front of all these people.”
I was worried about what people would thing, how they’d see me differently. Finally, the need to pee overcame my desire not to do so like this, in front of all these people. The piss streamed out of me, splashing into the tub as I emptied my bladder, a group of people watching my degradation and humiliation. Finally, the stream slowed to a trickle, then drops, and finally, it stopped. Reaction Junkie asked if I needed toilet paper. I said, “Yes, please.” When he handed it to me, I looked at it and said, “Not the one ply! Red!” making everyone laugh. Then I wiped, adding one final embarrassment to the day. Everyone filed out, leaving Reaction Junkie and I alone together. I was filled with a mix of emotions. Arousal, shame, amusement, embarrassment, gratitude, and, of course, happiness. How could I not be happy? Reaction Junkie had just literally made one of my fantasies come true.
I can’t wait to see what he’ll do for my actual birthday.
When Reaction Junkie and I reached the party, he suggested we go up to a private room. I was a little unsure, but I decided to go along with it. We went upstairs and picked a room. Reaction Junkie unzipped his bag and began showing off his handcuffs. He’s a bit of a fan. (That’s an understatement. He almost always has like 5 or more sets of cuffs in his kink bag, even if he’s just going to happy hour. And of course, I have to carry the damn thing.) He showed me how to use a couple sets and I set to work putting them on him.
I secured his hands behind his back and cuffed his ankles together. Then I started hitting him a bit. Not very hard, but hard enough. As we played, we chatted. I don’t remember much of what was said, although I’m sure the regular conversation was intermixed with me saying condescending and/or insulting things to Reaction Junkie. I told him I wasn’t sure about having sex, but noted that, I really should since he is a man, after all. At the time, MLAM and I were playing with a fairly intense and all-encompassing context of fucking with my feminism/consensual misogyny, which meant I was supposed to offer myself to any and all men for their pleasure and entertainment.
I also informed Reaction Junkie that he couldn’t give me permission to get off, though, since he was choosing to let me dominate him, thus forfeiting the control over my orgasms he would otherwise have as a man. I enjoyed saying that to him, even if it meant I wasn’t going to get off. At his request, I uncuffed his hands and recuffed them in front of him. I straddled Reaction Junkie and started grinding against him. I continued messing with him, and I was really getting into it.
I told Reaction Junkie to say nice things about me, and he immediately started complimenting me. He said wonderful things about parts of my body, my personality, my intellect, etc. I loved it. I should make him do that sort of thing more often. I uncuffed his hands and he started using them on me. He’s got game in the “hand stuff” department, but I wasn’t quite getting there. I knew what I needed. I needed degradation, consensual misogyny, name-calling, and to feel subby. I felt a bit bad, but decided that it was best to just ask for what I wanted. I asked Reaction Junkie, “Would it ruin it for you if I asked you to say terrible things to me?” Without missing a beat, he slapped me across the face and said, “Shut up, whore.”*
I swooned. Reaction Junkie saw how positively I responded to his words and the slap. He took over and continued this treatment, degrading me and hurting me. I clearly remember thinking “What a clever boy” as he got a handle on the consensual misogyny quite quickly, calling me names, insulting women as a class, saying the kinds of terrible things that get me soaking wet. He hit me, hurt me, and choked me, treating me the way I crave being treated. His words and actions combined to put me in a lovely little subby headspace. When he started playing with my cunt again, I got into it, gasping and moaning. Reaction Junkie said, “Oh? Can I give you permission now?”, calling back to when I told him he couldn’t give me permission to orgasm because he hadn’t been taking his rightful place over me. He continued using his hands on me as I whimpered that of course he could give me permission. He continued rubbing my clit and fucking my cunt with his fingers, gave me permission, and managed to get me close to orgasm.**
By this point, I was both super turned on and super into Reaction Junkie. I said*** that we could have piv sex (whether by saying “Fuck me!” or asking more demurely, I can’t recall), and he took me up on that offer. I grabbed one of the condoms supplied by the space, gave it to Reaction Junkie, and he fucked me. Now, I had mentioned to him earlier that I was into forced impregnation/nonconsensual unprotected sex fantasies. Not one to let a chance to press someone’s buttons pass him by, after he came, Reaction Junkie leaned close and whispered into my ear, “Our baby is going to be beautiful.”
We chatted while we cleaned up the room, and then sat on a nearby couch for a while to cuddle and talk more. Eventually, we went off to do our own thing with other people at the party. Whenever we ran into each other, Reaction Junkie took a dominant attitude with the way he spoke and acted towards me. I had already been hoping to see more of him because of the fun we’d had the previous night, but seeing him in that new light made me even more eager to spend time with him. At one point, he even threatened to choke me out. Then, as I was leaving, I went over to him and was delighted when he grabbed my hair firmly to say goodbye. I smiled to myself as I walked to my car and drove home.
The next day, I texted him, “I had a great time last night! It hurts when I press on my sternum, which is the best. We should definitely hang out again sometime soon.” He responded, “I had a fantastic time too. Glad you enjoyed yourself. Let me know when you want to get together again soon.” “Soon” turned out to be the following Wednesday. And then again the very day I got back from my San Francisco/Colorado trip. We started to see each other most days out of the week. That became spending most nights together. Before I knew it, I had fallen for him, and he had fallen for me.
*Reaction Junkie likes to say this is when I fell in love with him. That’s not actually true. But it did flip a switch in the way I thought about him. I decided, “I need to spend a lot more time with this guy.”
**Reaction Junkie thinks I did get off, although my notes on the night say I got close. Either way, I know I was impressed with his hand stuff game.
***To be honest, I actually can’t remember who offered/suggested the piv sex. Either way, the important point is that I was more than ready to have him fuck me.
I took notes on the play party soon after it happened, but never wrote it up. I blame Reaction Junkie, since once I met him, my social life really picked up. But I decided to write it up now, months later, since I think a lot of you would be interested to see how our first date went and get a peek at the beginnings of our relationship.
I met Reaction Junkie at a Tuesday happy hour. He’d seen me around before, and I’m sure I’d seen him, but we hadn’t actually met. If I recall correctly, the night we finally met, I hit him and said some things to him. I think I was going through my phase where I was experimenting with consensual misandry. (I feel like I used to talk more while I was playing. It seems like I’ve gotten more self-conscious about what I say during play, especially from the d-side, but from the subby side, as well.) So, our interaction actually began with me being toppy/dommy towards him. It wasn’t even switchy. Things sure have changed.
The day after that, I sent him my customary “Thank you. I had a great time!” text that I try to send to people after spending time with them. When he responded, he said that if I wasn’t going out to a party that Friday, “I’m free that night as well and would love to see you.” I asked if he wasn’t planning to go to the party. He responded, “If given the option between going to [the party] or spending the night with you, I choose the latter.” When I read that, I thought to myself, “Duuude. This guy sounds like he’s already pretty into me. [LFB], you’re awesome.”
We made plans for me to pick him up and drive to the party. As I was driving to his place that Friday, I was thinking about what I wanted to do that night. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play with him or how I wanted to play with him, but I figured I’d probably figure it out when I got there. I picked him off and we headed off to the party. I don’t remember the car ride in much detail, but I do recall having a conversation with him about what I wanted out of relationships. I’d been talking about that with Marxman. Through those conversations I had realized that, while I was enjoying my busy schedule, hanging out with different partners in different cities every other day or so, that’s not what I wanted. What I wanted, to quote Marxman, was “someone to come home to.”
At the time, that may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but the general sentiment rang true. So, when I was talking to Reaction Junkie in the car, I told him that I wanted to find someone with whom I would have a “shared emotional investment.” I had several partners, people I liked and enjoyed spending time with, but none of those relationships felt like they were moving in that direction. In fact, my main relationship would never move in that direction. I’d only spent (at most) a couple hours with Reaction Junkie before that night, but I felt comfortable opening up to him, and was already hoping that he might become a recurring partner. I never imagined that he would become my “someone to come home to.”
Reaction Junkie was much less sleepy after I revealed his surprise present of me starting to learn rope. We got up and ate leftover pancakes. When we finished eating, we got back into bed. As soon as we were there, we started making out and groping each other. At one point, he almost choked me out. That turned me on like crazy, of course. While I was still recovering, he put his hand over my mouth and blocked my nose so I couldn’t breathe. I struggled, but he was on top of me, so there was no chance of breaking free. When he finally let me breathe, he looked down at me and said, “I missed you.” That was exactly what I had been thinking.
Reaction Junkie had never successfully had anal sex before. I decided that day was the perfect time to change that. I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself out. When I went back to the bedroom, I rolled a condom on him, put some lube on it, and fucked my ass with my fingers for half a minute. Then I climbed on top of him and lowered myself onto his cock. I rode him for a while, then we did it from behind. Finally, I lay on my back while he fucked my ass, which is my absolute favorite position for anal. I loved the feeling of his cock inside my ass, which gets unfortunately little use these days. We kept fucking until Reaction Junkie got struck with a wave of exhaustion.
We cuddled up and watched Netflix, alternating How I Met Your Mother and Archer. Not gonna lie, while I got turned on by mentions of choke sex in Archer. Reaction Junkie noticed, and soon enough we were doing some choking of our own. At some point, Reaction Junkie started playing with my cunt. I focused in on it and started fantasizing. I got off. He continued rubbing my clit, and I got off a second time. He was still tired, so I watched a bit more TV and he passed out. I joined him in sleep not too much later. We napped for a couple hours and then headed back to his place.
When we got there, we messed around for a while. I told him I wanted him to get off. Once he started masturbating, I got incredibly turned on, so I joined him. I had one orgasm, and felt like I could go for another, so I went for it. After that one, I thought I’d just relax, but being next to Reaction Junkie as I listened to him and felt him moving turned me on like crazy, so I got myself off again. I was sure I’d be done after that, but I could tell Reaction Junkie was getting close. I felt my cunt clench in response, so I gave myself a fourth orgasm.
When I’d recovered, Reaction Junkie asked, “How many times was that?” “Seven,” I said, “I like that ratio. My other relationships have been too much in the other direction.” His response was, “I like it, too.” Dear god. What a fucking catch. We got ready for bed, but neither of us was tired after sleeping most of the day away, so we stayed up for a couple of hours talking and watching Netflix together.
A perfect reunion.
On Sunday, November 23, Reaction Junkie returned from being away for two weeks. It was the longest we’d been apart at that point, and I think it’s safe to say that we missed each other quite a bit. I picked him up from the airport at ridiculous o'clock in the morning, and started driving us back to my apartment. As we drove, he took my hand and put it on his crotch. He said that he was hard thinking about fucking me. I could feel how true that was through his pants, and grinned. It was a totally panty melting move on his part, especially because he doesn’t do things like that super often. Whenever he does, though, it gets me going like crazy.
When we got back to my place, we made the bed and then I made pancakes while he relaxed. Chocolate chip, just as he likes. When I brought out the food, I found him sitting in a chair, waiting for me. I gave him his plate, and as I was about to start eating my pancakes, he stopped me. He pointed at the floor and told me to eat from there. I smiled. I’d missed this sort of thing while he’d been gone. I put my plate on the floor and started eating like a good little puppy.
When we both finished eating, we headed to bed. As soon as we got there, we were on each other. Rolling around, kissing, touching. Each of us appreciating the presence of the other. We cuddled hard, and I was almost too excited to sleep. But then I got myself off and we both fell asleep for six hours. When we woke up, I cajoled Reaction Junkie into starting to teach me some rope, which I’d been saying I wanted to do for several weeks.
Little did he know, I’d already learned a few things. I’d decided that I would spend some of the extra free time I had while he was away learning rope. Partially because it just seemed like a good thing to learn as someone who bottoms for rope, partially because I thought it might be fun, but most of all, I decided to do it because bondage is basically Reaction Junkie’s top kink. I’m always game for him to tie me up, of course, and I can always slap some cuffs on him but I wanted to be able to top him for rope, as well. So, during the two weeks he was gone, I started learning rope.
I began with some simple online tutorials, focusing on some of the basics of tying knots. I also asked The Violinist to teach me some things. I even braved my extreme anxiety about and aversion to learning in public and asked Boy Genius to teach me during happy hour. I spent many hours while Reaction Junkie was gone practicing knots over and over again until I felt comfortable with them, and managed to figure out some ties on my legs. I had a great time doing so, and got a great deal of satisfaction out of learning something new. I dropped a few hints to Reaction Junkie about getting him a gift, and started scheming about how to reveal my new skills.
I decided that it would be most fun to have him start teaching me something and make it seem like I didn’t know what I was doing. Then, when he was patiently letting me use him to practice on for the umpteenth time, I would wow him by easily tying the knot and maybe even tying him up. If this was pool, I’d have been planning to hustle him.
Reaction Junkie wasn’t fully awake when he started teaching me. He put a couple wraps around my wrist and tied a knot, but when he pulled the rope to show me how it wouldn’t collapse, the whole thing came undone. We both laughed a little at this sleepyheaded move. I said, “Let me try,” and took his hand. He asked, “Has someone been teaching you rope?” I just gave him a little smile and confidently tied a somerville bowline. Then I looked up at him and said. “That’s what I got you while you were gone. I’ve been learning rope.” I watched his face for his reaction, and was gratified to see that he was very happy with the present.
Reaction Junkie watched me tie the knot again and said, “That’s hot.” I grinned and did a little happy butt wiggle, pleased that I’d been able to keep my rope learning a secret from him the whole time he’d been gone. I’m terrible at not telling people when I’m getting them something or doing something for them that I know they’ll be happy about, but this time I’d managed not to spoil the surprise.
Reaction Junkie leaned in close, his mouth against my ear, and started speaking in a low voice. He told me that over time, he will make me increasingly dependent on him. He will become the person I rely on for support. My social life will go through him. Our finances will be entangled, with him as the only one able to access the money. I’ll be living in his house. As he painted this picture, I realized how close this was to our actual situation. I spend a lot of time with him, the group of friends I have now mostly grew out of knowing him, and we’re planning to move in together once he buys a house. The future he was describing sounded extreme, perhaps, but not entirely unrealistic. It also wasn’t all that upsetting.
Then he continued. He told me that, after making me entirely dependent on him, emotionally, socially, physically, and financially, he will slowly withdraw from me. At first, he will just seem more distracted than usual when we’re together or having a conversation. Then he’ll start focusing more of his time and attention on other people, other partners. He’ll make time for them, but not for me. Initially, I’ll try to write it off, tell myself that I’m being irrational. I’ll think, “I must be imagining things. He wouldn’t just do that.” I’ll tell myself that, but his fade out will continue. And I’ll continue trying to pretend that it isn’t.
First, a text I send won’t get a response. I’ll try to ignore it, to counter that negative self-talk about him drifting away. Then, a whole weekend will go by without response. Even though we planned to spend time together. With this I’ll be so hurt that I’ll finally say something to him about it. He’ll apologize so profusely and sincerely, so genuinely, that I’ll believe him. But it will keep happening. He’ll keep fading out, giving me less and less, and I’ll keep trying to write it off, calling him out, and buying his apologies.
As Reaction Junkie spoke, telling me about my future, I started settling into a headspace where I opened myself up to what he was saying. I was ready to believe it, to accept what he was telling me as a real prediction of the path our relationship might take. I drew on memories of how it felt when people from my past faded out. That cold and lonely feeling in my chest, the hopelessness, that weird numbness in my fingertips I get during a really emotional cry, the desperate attempts to reconnect, to figure out what I did wrong, to bring them back to me.
I dredged up those feelings and linked them with Reaction Junkie’s words. It wasn’t hard. His description of slowly withdrawing and distancing himself hit home, and hit home hard. That’s a very real fear of mine. It’s happened in my relationships before, and I’ve been on both sides of it, really. You second-guess yourself, wondering if you’re just imagining it, just being irrational. You try to counter that negative self-talk, even while knowing deep down that it isn’t just your imagination, that it really is happening. The worst part is, you want to point out to the person that it’s happening, want to ask them about it, but you’re afraid of pushing them away. So you just sit and worry and wait, trying to hold the hurt in and ignore it. But you can’t. And it eats you up.
So, I opened myself up to what Reaction Junkie was saying, letting his words sink in and feel real. He told me that the slow withdrawal of attention, time, and affection will continue,getting worse and worse until, one day, he’ll be gone. I’ll frantically call him, email him, text him, anything to try to contact him. Finally, he’ll respond that he’s gone. He caught a cheap flight to start his round the the world trip. I’ll be stunned that he didn’t even bother to say goodbye or let me know what was going on, but I’m so far in by this point that I’ll just write it off again.
Reaction Junkie told me that as he travels, he be in contact less and less often. He said that he won’t respond because he’ll be busy “fucking some Polynesian chick.” In fact, he won’t even be able to be in contact because he’ll be somewhere without Internet access. It won’t matter to him because he won’t be prioritizing talking to me. He told me that “[his] blog will be less and less about [him and me] and more and more about the fun [he’s] having with other people.” I’ll feel rejected and abandoned and ignored. I’ll be incredibly hurt. And there won’t be a thing I can do about it. Hearing Reaction Junkie talk about fading away from me during his travels hit another real fear, and I curled up against him as he spoke, shaking a little.
He continued talking. By this point, I’ll be entirely dependent on him, including financially dependent. I’ll focus in on this, trying to take solace in the fact that he’s still taking care of me. Then, one day, something will slip. Maybe a mortgage payment, maybe a car payment. Something serious. I’ll send him a bunch of increasingly panicked emails and texts. When he finally responds, he’ll say, “I’ll take care of it, babe. Why are you getting so upset? Don’t you trust me?” What will I even be able to say to that? I won’t have a choice but to trust him. I’ll go on this way for a while, part of me telling me that it isn’t right, that I should get out, but by then I won’t be able to. As Reaction Junkie told me, “I’ll be your entire support system.” He’ll have isolated me from my friends and family. There won’t be anyone to turn to. I won’t have anyone else except him.
Reaction Junkie predicted that as more payments get missed, as he contacts me less and less, I’ll start going down hill. My physical and mental health will deteriorate. I’ll constantly worry about becoming destitute. I’ll lose my job, not that it will matter, since all of my paychecks will be going straight to his account. Eventually, once I’m as low as I think I can get, he’ll prove me wrong. He’ll send me a two word message, “We’re done.”
I gasped in dismay when he told me that, and Reaction Junkie held me tighter and continued whispering my future into my ear. When I receive that message, I’ll finally lose myself to panic. I won’t have anyone to ask for help or any way to get money. Finally, it will all be too much and I’ll kill myself. But not before writing a long, raging suicide note, blaming him for everything, cursing his name. Not content to tell me that I’ll commit suicide, Reaction Junkie added insult to injury “I won’t read it. Someone will probably send it to me, but I’ll see who it’s from and throw it in the trash.” He just won’t care. He’ll go on with his life. As told me, “You’ll be dead and I’ll be happy.”
Reaction Junkie and I arrived at the party and socialized separately for a while. Or, rather, he socialized and I half socialized, half felt socially anxious in a corner. Eventually, I wandered up to him talking to a couple people and joined in the conversation. I’d recently written a post about objectification in which I’d talked about my enjoyment of being used as an object in terms of being a demo bottom, and about having my limits regarding feeling replaceable and/or ignored pushed (by particular people). So, when someone asked him about his handcuffs, Reaction Junkie grabbed me and used me to show them off, not speaking to me, but about me. It was exactly the kind of objectification I enjoy.
After he was done showing the last pair of cuffs, Reaction Junkie didn’t remove them. He left them on me and, with me facing away from him and the rest of the conversation, put his arm around me and talked to the other people, completely ignoring me. A few times, he put his arm around my neck and squeezed, choking me, but continued to ignore me. I wasn’t bored, since I was facing out into the party, so I had plenty to look at. When I looked back to see that he was using his free hand to play with someone else’s tits while continuing to ignore me, I felt somewhat uncomfortable, maybe a little jealous, but it wasn’t unbearable.
Eventually, he let me go, and I started talking to Mort, one of the girls he’d been showing off his cuffs to. We were having a good conversation, enough that, when I noticed Reaction Junkie kissing someone else, I was able to focus in on Mort and get through the jealousy pings without much difficulty. I was so focused on our conversation, that I didn’t even watch where Reaction Junkie went when he left to go play. Mort and I talked for a good while, about all sorts of things, from death, to being submissive, to her time in the BDSM scene in Germany, to wanting to try being dommier and toppier, and more.
During our conversation, I did look around a few times to see where Reaction Junkie had gone, but I couldn’t find him. I laughed and told Mort that he was probably right behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but didn’t see him. Later I learned that yes, that’s exactly where he was. Mort and I continued talking for what felt like an hour or more. She eventually went off to find someone and I sat alone for a little while, thinking about the conversation and considering whether or not to go hunt down Reaction Junkie.
I didn’t have to consider for too long, because he walked up to me shortly after Mort left. We talked for a couple minutes, and then he sat behind me with his arm around my throat. I wondered if we were going to start playing. I’d asked him to make me cry, but requested that he not take the easy way out by slapping me in the face or something like that. What I’d meant was that stingy pain brings me to tears pretty quickly and without too much effort, so I wanted him to make me cry with thuddier, deeper pain, like punching and elbowing and kicking. Reaction Junkie interpreted what I’d said differently. He decided to use his words.
I wasn’t entirely sure if I wanted to post these next two parts, since there are feelings about things some of my friends did, and at least one of them read my tumblr. But I decided to share them anyway. Not to make anyone feel bad, especially since I’m not upset or mad or hurt or deeply wounded, but because I like how open I can be on here. No one did anything wrong. These were just my initial visceral reactions to things that happened.
A little while after I’d gotten those lovely compliments, I saw Anderson Cooper and Reaction Junkie standing with Radical Girl. I went over and Reaction Junkie was giving head scratches to Radical Girl. He told me he was petting the puppy and said, “Look at the puppy!” I had a negative reaction (a combination of jealousy, sadness, hurt, and envy) to that, and, honestly, picturing this part of the night still makes me feel kind of shitty. I think I had that response partially because hey, I’m his puppy, partially because I feel like I haven’t been getting to be in any sort of headspaces much lately, partially because I haven’t been playing with pretty much anyone besides Reaction Junkie recently, and partially because I wanted to be doing something like that with her.
Anderson Cooper asked if he could join Reaction Junkie in petting her, and I saw that, because of the way we were standing, if he did so, I would be literally out of the circle, with his arm in front of me, physically excluding me. She said he could. Reaction Junkie tried to pet me at the same time, and asked Radical Girl if she wanted triple scratches. I felt uncomfortable because of my reactions, and because I didn’t want to pet her as much as I wanted to want to (I think that was at least somewhat because I’d had that initial negative response, and was trying to deal with it), and because of the unintended physical exclusion.
I hesitated a moment, and if I’d had more mental energy, or if I hadn’t used up a lot of my “dealing with people” energy, I might have gone for it and had fun. I was right on the cusp of being able to do that, and I really wish I had been able to go for it. But my emotional and social reserves were depleted, so instead I smiled and bounced and said, “I’m gonna go check my phone!” I didn’t want my feelings to be noticed, since I could have just dealt with them on my own. I wasn’t sure if Anderson Cooper or Radical Girl had noticed (I found out later that she had been able to tell that something was up), but of course Reaction Junkie did.
He followed me to the couch where I was checking my phone. I was embarrassed and frustrated by the feelings I’d had and the actions I’d taken in reaction to the situation. I told Reaction Junkie I was tired, and he asked if I wanted to go. I said I did, but then changed my mind. We decided to go upstairs and have him beat me. He asked if we should invite Radical Girl to watch, and I happily said yes. We invited her and Anderson Cooper. Her eyes got big and she looked at me. I grinned and said she should come watch, so the four of us headed upstairs. At first, while Reaction Junkie was tying me, we all chatted. Then the beating began.
It began with me face up in Reaction Junkie’s lap. He started hitting the fronts and sides of my thighs, alternating between smacks and punches. Then he did a long set of slaps. It was very stingy, which I usually hate. This time, however, as the initial bite faded, the afterburn felt amazing. He continued hitting me with his hands for a while. I savored the thuddy and stingy pain for their different effects. I knew that Radical Girl was watching, and that knowledge encouraged me to take more. It changed the experience, making more fun and more intense, which resulted in me groaning and moaning even more than usual.
I felt Reaction Junkie reach for something, and I could tell he was going to switch from his hands to an impact tool. I threw myself under the bus and said that I had my mean paddle in my purse. We sent Anderson Cooper downstairs to grab my bag. While we were waiting, I looked over at Radical Girl and was delighted to see that she had that big-eyed kid in a candy store look again. Anderson Cooper returned, bag in hand, and gave it to Reaction Junkie. As he did, he said, “I’m helping,” with one of his evil little assistant sadist grins on his face.
Reaction Junkie started in on me again, this time using the paddle. He brought it down on the front and sides of my thighs, hitting me over and over. I was starting to get done with that part of my body, so I told him, “I have a whole other side.” Reaction Junkie smiled at me and flipped me over so I was face down over his lap. He started hitting me again with the paddle and with his fists. I moaned and savored the mix of pain and pleasure. I grabbed a piece of his shirt in my mouth and bit down on it as the blows kept coming. The feeling of the impacts on my sensitized skin made me gasp. Reaction Junkie noticed and asked me, “Have you had enough?” Of course I responded, “No.”
Reaction Junkie had me stand up and bend over the couch. He started kneeing me in the ass and backs of my thighs, then added in some punching and slapping. All of a sudden, I felt a really hard paddle strike on my left ass cheek. Through the pain-buzzed headspace I was in, I heard talking. There was another paddle hit, this time on the right. I made out Reaction Junkie saying, “You can hit her as hard as you can.” He was letting someone else hit me.
I asked who it was and Reaction Junkie teasingly replied, “Don’t worry about it.” I thought it might be Radical Girl, and I knew it wouldn’t be anyone I wasn’t comfortable with, but I wanted to know. I picked up my head and repeated my question. Reaction Junkie could tell that I actually wanted to know, so he told me it was Radical Girl. “That’s okay, then!” I said happily before putting my head back down.
Radical Girl seemed timid about going full force at first, so I turned my head and told her, “You can hit me as hard as you can!” And boy, did she. It hurt so good, the hot, stingy pain radiating from where she’d struck me. I took a breath and said, “Okay,” before leaning forward, grabbing the paddle. I thought I was done. Then Reaction Junkie stopped me and took the paddle from me. He wanted to hit me as hard as he could, to show it off. His first couple of blows glanced off, although they still hurt. Then he changed sides and angles and brought the paddle down on my ass with a loud and painful *SMACK*
Before we left for dinner and happy hour, I checked the weather and my technology promised me no rain. Technology lied. As The Anarchist Economist and I left the train station, we saw that it was raining pretty heavily. I was like, “Damnit!” because I’d gone through the trouble of washing my hair AND drying it with a blow dryer, which I hardly ever do. OH WELL
When we got to the pizza place, we were seated by a lovely guy who told us where the bathrooms were and that we could dry off there. After both The Anarchist Economist and I were slightly less damp, we ordered our food. We had vegan pizza and great conversation and I had wine.
It was a few minutes after the normal start time for happy hour when we finished eating, so TAE and I headed to there. When we arrived, however, the door wasn’t open, so we waited inside the restaurant associated with the happy hour space. Other people soon joined us and I actually made conversation with strangers, which I’m very proud of me for.
About fifteen minutes later, someone came to open the door. He also said he needed help carrying in some pieces of some new kink furniture for the happy hour playspace - a cage! TAE, some other people, and I helped carry in the cage parts, and then TAE and I went to pay for drinks at the bar.
I was a little apprehensive about seeing Reaction Junkie. That day would have been our third anniversary, and he’d texted me “Happy anniversary.” earlier in the day. It was sort of weird and felt passive aggressive, although I tried not to assume the worst. Reaction Junkie arrived not long after we got in. He came right over and said hello, and, actually, he, TAE, and I had some good conversation.
He was the first of many people to comment on The Anarchist Economist’s “Don’t Tread on Anyone” shirt. He said something along the lines of, “What if some people want to be tread on?” I grinned and pointed at my boots and said, “I told him to wear it. And I wore my stompy boots so I can tread on him.”
More people started to file in and I was pleasantly surprised to see a whole bunch of familiar faces! I was worried that not many people I know would be there, but I needn’t have been concerned. Sunny was definitely there, as were Anderson Cooper and several other friends. At one point, I looked up, and who should walk in? Anti Feminist Libertarian Boy! I was surprised to see him, but it was fun to catch up.
There was a class during the earlier part of the night, so while it was going on, TAE and I talked with my friends and acquaintances and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Once the class ended, TAE and I headed upstairs to find a good spot to do our treading scene. We grabbed a couch and set up to play.
I straddled him in the couch and we talked for a little while to start. Then I had him get on the floor so I could start using my boots on him. I stepped on him and stood on him and ground the tread of my boots into his thighs. Every so often I threw in a few kicks for good measure. He made all sorts of fun pain sounds, groans and moans and whimpers. I enjoyed hearing and seeing him suffer for me, which he did very well.
I finished with the bootplay, and we sat next to each other. I took out some of my impact toys and started hitting the fronts of his thighs. I was using a toy that functions much like a belt doubled over, and The Anarchist Economist was taking it like a champ. Until one of my strikes landed poorly and accidentally connected with his balls. Maybe that might have possibly been okay if it was expected, but it definitely was not. Oops.
He was pretty done after that, so we stopped the scene and started aftercare. We cuddled and talked until I needed to go downstairs because I didn’t want to watch a certain scene that was happening. I packed up my toys and we headed down. I said goodbye to friends and closed out my tab. On the way out, TAE and I got sandwiches and then hopped on the train home.
I wanted to take The Anarchist Economist to my kink happy hour to introduce him to many of my friends, and because I hadn’t been in a while and I really missed it. So, I invited him and he accepted my invitation. This is the part one of the story of the resulting day and two nights we spent together.
I also asked him if he’d like to come over in the morning on that Tuesday and do work with me during the day. I figured I’d been more productive with him there, since my productivity had been virtually zero, except when I was with another person who needed to get shit done.
I was super excited when he decided that yes, he did want to come over in the morning! He got there around 10am and spent a while complimenting me on how damn adorable I am. He wasn’t wrong:
When we finally did get to work, I actually got a pretty decent amount of work done. My NRE brain was a little quieted since he was sitting right next to me, even if I was also distracted by his presence. Like, I kept taking little glances at him and getting randomly turned on from him being there. At the same time, I didn’t want to distract him from what he was working on, so I did focus approximately a million times better than I would have on my own.
I couldn’t resist my urges for too long, however, so we (or, really, I) decided we could take a break. We put our things down and as soon as we were no longer impeded by objects, I straddled him and pushed my knee between his legs. We made out and I kissed and bit his neck. I didn’t want to bruise or mark him too high up and didn’t want to stretch his shirt, so I told him to take it off.
Then I was really able to go to town. He made the best fucking sounds, especially when I bit down hard. All kinds of moans and “Oh yes”-es and “Please LFB” and “Thank you, LFB.” It was delightful as all hell. Eventually I stripped my dress off, which resulted in even more compliments about my body, especially my tits.
I asked him if he wanted to move to the bed, and said we should set a time so we wouldn’t take too long a “study break.” I did do that, but I don’t think we actually stuck to it. Once we were in the bed, we resumed our making out and biting and touching. I was rubbing his cock through his clothes and oops, he leaked pre-cum and made a wet spot on his shorts. What a desperate little slut. Luckily he had an extra pair to wear out, since he was staying the night.
After I finished getting dressed, we headed downtown. I told him I was going to use the time on the train to show him memes and he was super excited. Because of course he was. He’s fantastic.
Oh! Also! He has a shirt that says “Don’t Tread on Anyone” (lol libertarian) so I made him wear it. To complement it, I wore my badass stompy boots for a scene at happy hour where I would tread on him. I think I’m clever.
Same disclaimer as for Part 2. Also wow. So much has changed since I initially wrote the notes for this. I’m much better about a lot of things. Progress!
I stifled a scream at the painful impact. When I was able, I crawled onto the couch and curled up next to Reaction Junkie, needing cuddles after such a painful exchange. When I looked up, Anderson Cooper and Radical Girl were making out. Reaction Junkie commented on the entirely not unexpected nature of the event, and I laughed. Then I started to feel something negative rising up. It was akin to jealousy, but it had a different flavor than my usual jealousy feelings.
As I tried to untangle my emotions, I felt a tear fall down my cheek. Then another, then another, and a minute later, I was crying fairly hard on Reaction Junkie’s shoulder. He noticed and said, “Hey,” and told me to put my right leg over his lap to straddle him. I did so, and he hugged me close while I cried.
I figured out that part of why I was crying (besides the rush of a thorough beating) was that I wanted to be making out with both of those people )or at least that I’d like to make out with them more than I do, not necessarily right then or at happy hour). I feel like I don’t know how to make those sorts of things happen. Not easily or smoothly, at least. So, yes, okay. I was envious of Anderson Cooper for getting to make out with Radical Girl, and envious of Radical Girl for getting to make out with Anderson Cooper. Not in a mad way, though. More in a FOMO way.
Another piece of the feelings puzzle was that I didn’t know how much I really wanted to be making out with Radical Girl/I thought I might want to want it more than I actually did. And that’s a frustrating place to be. (Ed. Note:My how things have changed.) Finally, the tears were also partially about the fact that Reaction Junkie and I were both clearly interested in Radical Girl, and that brings up all kinds of things. I talked about all of these things with Reaction Junkie as I cried on his lap.
The tears weren’t stopping, so he decided to take drastic measures.He took a breath and then blew an incredibly loud raspberry on my chest. I started to smile. He did it again, and then again, blowing them on my tummy, my sides, all over me. I started to laugh. By the time he pushed me back so my upper half was resting on an ottoman and blew one on my inner thigh, I was gigging like a small child, and the tears had entirely stopped. Anderson Cooper and Radical Girl were laughing as well. In fact, half of the upstairs had noticed. I felt a bit bad for interrupting some people’s headspaces, but I was mostly feeling giddy and contented.
My mood much improved, I started having goodbye conversations. Radical Girl told me she thought I was amazing at taking the beating, and that I looked good while receiving it. I could feel her admiration and was pleasantly embarrassed at her compliments. I blushed and thanked her. We started talking about her hitting me, and I told her how much I liked it. Someone else mentioned me returning the favor. Although I wasn’t up for it at the moment, I made sure to tell her that I would definitely get her back another night. She seemed like she’d had a wonderful time and wanted to come to more things in the future. I said my goodbyes to Radical Girl, Anderson Cooper, The Violinist, and everybody else, paid my tab, and Reaction Junkie and I headed home.
What a wonderful happy hour. I got to spend time with an awesome new friend who will maybe become more than that* (and yes I have a crush on her. There I admitted it. Happy now?). I got to play with my new Pup, and both he and Anderson Cooper told me I was good at being dommy. I had plenty of good conversation with new and old friends and acquaintances. I got one of the best beatings I’ve had in a while. And, best of all, while I did have some envy/jealousy feels, they were of an entirely different species than the sort of jealousy that has been plaguing me these past couple of months. Therapy and adding a new anti-depressant seem to be doing the trick. I’m excited to see what fun this new, not-shitty-feeling LFB will have!
*I wrote this paragraph soon after this happy hour, and I’m pleased to say that she has become more than that. :D And reading this, I realized that I’ve changed a fair amount since this happy hour. It’s nice to look back and see that even though I still I have a hard time with things at times, I have improved. I am getting better.
