A comment here on Drew’s blog touched on something I wanted to write more about.
Drew? I’m demonstrating that I’m naïve, but here it goes.
I think you and Thumper have been together twice, and both times it has read to be very natural and awesome.
How do you know not to be too rough? How does Thumper know when to use the safe word, in the future? Do you plan to have casual, intimate sessions in the future, or would that be too boring for the two of you?
I know I could read about bondage encounters elsewhere online, but I feel you would be sincere, and truthful with your reply. Plus I really like to read what you write.
Before I get to the bit I wanted to touch on, there was only one time I even thought of using a safeword with Drew the other day. It was when I was hooded and zipped up in the sleepsack and he was fingering my ass roughly and shoving his cock in my mouth. I know, hawt, but at one point he pushed his dick in as far as it would go blocking my mouth entirely (he has such a beautifully thick penis), triggering a bit of a gag reflex and, because of his position, covering my nose with his balls. So, no breathing. Breathplay is not a thing I kink on and I was unprepared for the momentary no airedness so I kinda freaked and bit him. I don’t even know if he noticed or thought anything about it (though he does have a small straight cut on the underside that may be a consequence). In that situation, I have no clue how I could have safeworded anyway. My hands were bound and hidden, he couldn’t see my face, I was already making all kinds of otherwise hot little mrphing-kind of sounds.
Thing is, I do want him to be rough like that. I want to feel like he’s really using me. But I also like to breath. I’m left trusting that he knows how what he does to me affects me when he’s doing it and won’t do things like keep me from breathing for too long.
Related to that is this moment I wrote about the other day:
I was near actual tears when something extraordinary happened. The twin fiery jets of pain I could actually see behind my clenched eyes flipped and transformed into streams of pure, liquid pleasure. I was no longer enduring the pain, I was revelling in it. I could not get enough. He could no longer hurt me. I felt the sounds from my throat change, too. From whining whimpering to growling to a kind of gravelly purr.
I’ve only been in that place a handful of times. Once or twice with Belle when she was beating my ass and a few times when I was on my own (is it still masturbation when no genitalia are involved?). In retrospect, it’s a scary place because, as I said, I did not feel pain. Not like normal. It wasn’t pain anymore. When it’s just me or when it’s with someone who doesn’t really get off on inflicting pain and only does it because I do, that’s one thing. But when I’m in that kind of situation (and really, that was the first time) where someone is hurting me who does get off on it and I know that and I’m being both masochistic and submissive and trying to show how much I can take for them while also trying to take more because I know they like making me feel it and I start to sink down into it and is all suddenly isn’t pain anymore and…and…oh, mama. I’m getting all hot just writing about it.
In that situation, I can no longer be trusted to even know where the line is. Even if I had a safeword, I don’t know that I’d use it. He could have done almost anything to me anywhere on my body at that moment and left any kind of mark or even drawn blood and I would have not said a thing. I would have only wanted more. So right then, when he takes me there, I have no choice but to trust him. He’s my designated driver, so to speak. He has all the control over both of us.
Like I said, scary. Because I can be taken to a place like that and lose my most basic safeguards. I am not one to drink to excess and have never wanted to do drugs and have only smoked pot once, all because I really, really don’t like losing control over myself. Not like that, anyway. But, oh god, do I so badly want to lose myself in that pain again. Drew knows the responsibility he has and I trust him to take care of me when we get there.
Sort of the two twin towers of BDSM happiness: Trust and communication. You really can’t have one without the other.