The Party, Part 2: Tenderized

Continued from part one

I had just been tied up, scratched, beaten and drooled on. I was a very happy boy. I was standing around trying to keep a big silly grin from taking over my face.

Troy came up to me and said “Hey how’s it feel to finally play at a play party?”

I wanted to say “good” or “fine thank you” or something that sounded more cool but what came out was probably something that sounded like “awwwwwwweeeessssoooooooooommmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”.

That was when Troy mentioned that the party would be coming to an end soon and then added, “Lets whip you first”.

This was to be the second time Troy had whipped me at a play party. After the first time she mentioned how everyone stopped what they were doing just to watch. I can’t say that I blame them. People probably stop to watch Troy put butter on her toast.

She had me take my shirt off and face her A-frame mounted on the wall. My hands gripped the wood as she started to make rhythmic beats on my back.

This is where things get really foggy for me. When I’m experiencing this kind of pain, everything else goes away. The only thing that exists is me and the other person but there’s no time involved. There will be moments when it feels like it is lasting forever and others when it feels like it just started a nanosecond ago.

I only remember emotions. Sometimes I get angry. Not at the person doing the whipping, but at the pain. Sometimes I get angry that it’s not always there when I need it and sometimes it’s because it just fucking hurts. Maybe anger isn’t the right word. It’s just a release of emotion when I feel that kind of pain. I was a little embarrassed when I realized everyone was looking at us. (Ok maybe more Troy than I, but hey…I was the sidekick to this little show).

For me, bdsm is more about the person than the act (not that it’s not about the act as well..but…well you know what I’m getting at). Troy almost becomes the whip– she’s not using an implement as much as she’s making the whip an extension of herself. The whip isn’t whipping me, she is.

It was raw. It was hot, it was…yummy.

She’d build up the pain so I was on my tiptoes, moaning and conflicted. My natural instinct to move away from the whip was muted by the desire for more and to get closer. My back would arch when she’d repeatedly hit the same spot again and again. Even though I had half of my clothes on I still felt naked and raw.

I have no clue how long it lasted.

Afterwards, I gave Troy a big hug (dropping down to kiss her feet would have been a but much but it was my initial thought) and a few people came up to me and shook my hand.

Shook my hand?

One guy said “that was some show…good job”. I had no clue what to say to that other than “thanks, it’s…what I do”.

I think there’s some chemistry that comes across between Troy and I. I trust her and she knows how far she wants to push me and she knows that I’ll go that far.

Later I walked to the subway, the cool air coming up under my shirt. Rope marks still on my arms and possibly even on my face.

I sat on the subway feeling stronger, more confident, powerful even.

And very turned on.