(Continued from this post.)
We’d talked about parameters, limits, desires, fears, boundaries & hopes, and then I put it all in W’s hands to arrange: a “kidnapping,” or “abduction” scene at Fusion. The year before he had set it up, but I had injured my shoulder just before we went, and we were both leery of allowing others to manhandle me, even with prior knowledge of the injury.
And we both wanted me manhandled.
Actually, thinking about what I wanted to happen in the scene, I don’t think I used that exact word. I had a hard time verbalizing what exactly I wanted, to be honest. Not quite a “take-down,” but not a gentle leading-by-the-hand, either. I wasn’t ready for an all-out battle, emotionally or physically. But I didn’t want to go down without a fight.
W and I often engage in resistance play, usually during sex, with me struggling against him, resisting but not actually fighting, and him pinning or holding me down with his hands, rope, or the weight of his body. It always manages to get my motor running, my body reacting and responding instinctively, even if I wasn’t all that revved up to begin with. If we wanted to get all psychological about it, I could talk about it being a “safe” place and way to fight back – and it is. I’ve been in a position where fighting back wasn’t an option, because it would mean being seriously hurt; so yes, this is cathartic and hot.
But I wasn’t thinking about that on that afternoon. What I was thinking was that I wasn’t all that bothered by watching W with this chick as he played his part in (what I thought was) her abduction scene. I wasn’t sure how exactly I fit in to this game, but since W had told me he wanted me there to be a fluffer, I assumed he would let me know when he needed me.
I was also checking out the 8 or 10 or 12 other men there, thinking about how I had told W once that I’d like to be the mouth in a glory hole, and wondering if maybe I’d be required to fluff more than him, and how would that work, and how would I react to that? Little did I know that in moments I would get to find out – but not as a fluffer.
As I stood on the sidelines, kind of keeping an eye on W but also making sure to do self-care by not making myself pay too close attention, as that might trigger some of my more negative, knee-jerk responses, Jr approached me.
“How does it make you feel when you watch W play with someone else?” he asked, apropos of nothing except what was in my head (which I assumed he couldn’t hear, so it was kind of odd to hear him ask me about it.)
I paused, thinking. If people haven’t read my thoughts and the processing I do here on the topic, to say outright that it makes me uncomfortable – especially in a situation and place where being uncomfortable with this kind of thing could cause issues for W later if he did want to play with others, would be unfair to him. I was still castigating myself over my earlier failure to deal with things in a non-destructive way when I had set up the situation with K, and I wanted to be very careful not to give any hint of a poor reaction again. But JR was (on the way) to becoming something of a friend, and I wanted to be honest. Also, perhaps getting to talk it through with someone “outside,” someone who I understood was familiar with sharing dynamics, would bring clarity to my own mixed emotions.
“Honestly, kind of uncomfortable,” I said. I paused again, then opened my mouth to expound a bit on it, especially on my burgeoning realization that I wasn’t as bothered by what he was doing now–
I never got the opportunity, because suddenly JR grabbed me by the shoulder and a handful of hair and pulled me around to face him. “You won’t need to worry about it,” he said. “You’re going to be too busy to worry about what he is doing.”
I stared at him, stunned speechless. I am sure I must have had the “deer-the-headlights” look, because I had no idea what was going on. Had W arranged for JR to play with me while he did the abduction scene? If not, would he be okay with me playing with JR? I couldn’t even remember seeing JR play before, so I had no idea what he might be interested in. But this didn’t feel like a “negotiation” anyway, this didn’t feel like getting “asked” to play. And, knowing what I did about this group that we had fallen in with at DO, it seemed really odd that he would be handling me like this if he didn’t have prior consent. A moment later he cleared everything up: I wasn’t going to be watching because they had other plans in mind. The other woman/abduction was a decoy, and this was actually my abduction.
At that moment, thinking about getting dressed and rushing W down to the barn, I almost laughed out loud. I had dressed up and hurried W along to my own abduction! He must be getting a good laugh. But then I looked around, and saw all the men that had been standing around converging on JR and I. And I realized that every one of those men was going to use me, either vaginally or orally, or both. I knew that they weren’t there to watch. My stomach clenched at that thought, but not in lust or excitement – not yet, anyway.
I looked around wildly for W. Was he sure he wanted this? I didn’t see him, and suddenly I was afraid. What if part of it for him was leaving me there? We had talked about parameters, sure, and I thought we had agreed that him being there, watching, was part of the hotness for us both, and something I needed to feel safe. But maybe he’d decided to make it scary for me. Maybe he had changed the set-up. Even while I was rejecting that thought, fairly certain that he would be there, somewhere, I couldn’t see him. I needed to see him, to know it was okay.
By this time they were dragging me to a bench, where they started to tie my arms and legs down. I struggled and grew more frantic. I didn’t want to be pinned, I didn’t want to be unable to protect myself (and my rings) if W wasn’t there. There were hands everywhere, and men’s faces looking down at me – so many of them. I started to feel real panic then. What if they actually hurt me? What if W didn’t know they were hurting me? What if he wanted them to hurt me? Again, I didn’t know what he’d told them was okay and what wasn’t.
And there were so many of them. Looming over me, crowding me, staring down at me. My breath started to come harder, in frantic little pants.
Later, I would realize that that uncertainty – the not knowing what was going to happen, what specifically he had told them – was what made the scene hot. But at that moment, I really needed W there to tell me what to do, so that all I had to do was to obey, and whatever happened after that would be all right.
And suddenly he was there, grabbing me roughly by the chin, holding my face still so he could lean down and look into my eyes and speak very quietly to me. “You’re a slut, and these men are going to use you exactly as I want them to. I’m going to let them fuck your cunt and your mouth, do you understand?”
I gulped air and stared up at him. Yes. This was what he wanted, this scene, this way. This was what I had agreed to. I nodded; breathed in his calm. It was okay. This was the game we were playing.
So okay, I know I said I wasn’t going to get all psychobabbly, but I do have to take a moment to parse out what was going on in my head, before W came over with his calm, controlled presence. How, as sometimes happens, even when we know it’s a game, that it’s all in fun, that it’s what we want, sometimes our lizard brain takes over, and all that logic flies out the window.
I alluded to, and have talked in other posts about, having been in situations where I couldn’t fight back, and that is why being able to do so, safely, is something that I often seek out. That it also trips a sexual trigger is another interesting aspect. The person that this happened with was my first husband, someone I have talked about here occasionally (this is not “the Ex.”) I believe that I subconsciously sought out someone to fulfill my sexual and kink inclinations, that were even then – without me knowing it – deeply rooted in a desire for rough sex, for being overwhelmed, overtaken, manhandled, coerced. Unfortunately I didn’t know the difference between what we do and abuse, or rather I knew what he did was abusive, but I was still excited by it (and deeply ashamed of my excitement), and so for a while (almost two years) I lived on that roller coaster that is an abusive relationship.
Now I don’t pretend or intend BDSM play to be therapeutic. I don’t use it to chase away or conquer any demons. But if those demons happen to be in my way – and if I am able to use those demons to fuel my own and my partners’ heat – I am more than willing to use them. For some people, fear and anxiety can be a powerful aphrodisiac, and I’ve long since passed the stage where I am ashamed of those feelings/associations. They are as much mine as any other emotions and feelings, and when I can use them for something positive, well, that only increases my own power. One of those left-over demons involves an image: my first husband, so much larger than me (6’3″ to my 5’3″ and twice as heavy) looming over me, pinning me down with his gaze as I cowered before him, waiting for – whatever was to come. I never knew if this time he would lose control, or turn away and leave me alone. He used his size to intimidate me, and, I think, he enjoyed that power over me.
That was the image that crowded out reality when those men were crowding around me, looming over me. And in that moment of panic, that was where I went. Until W was there, who is always in control, is always calm, even in the deepest heat of the moment.
In thinking about it, I realize what a heavy burden that is for him to carry, and I am grateful all the more for his wide shoulders and bravery in being willing to accept that burden. And even more grateful to have found someone that likes to play on those same edges, because in him I found someone that allows me to play there as well, and return safely after doing so.
And so to continue on…
For the next hour or two they all took their turns with me, one after the other. Most times I had a cock in my mouth and in at least one hand while another was shoved into my cunt; sometimes I even managed a cock in each hand, in my mouth and in my cunt. That was a little frustrating, to be honest, because I have been trained to be a good fuck – and I like to fuck – but I couldn’t concentrate on any one cock, on giving any of them “good service.” But that is exactly what W wanted: I wasn’t there to fuck, I wasn’t there to pleasure them, I was there to have my holes used and be used in the most base way by these men. Any time I could get my head into that space, I got excited, and was able to come several times that way.
The afternoon, and all that happened is a little hazy. I lost count of the men, the cocks, the different times they used me. Occasionally I would get overwhelmed by it all, all those men, and JR or W would have to talk me into calmness again, into acquiescence, into remembering that that is why I was there: I was just a fuckhole, there to be used. Once it started to feel almost vanilla (except for the fact that there was a line of them waiting), and JR turned up the heat by manhandling me, by slapping my thighs open and then by putting me on my hands and knees on a mattress on the floor. This little bit of degradation, it turned out, was good for my twisted mind, because I was soon back to panting and grunting like an animal while they fucked me from behind. W even fucked me at some point, his fist in my hair and his nasty words in my ear. And, surprisingly, a girl with a strap-on joined in (the same one who had been the decoy) and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
And then, finally, it was over, and I was handed back to W, a little (or a lot) used, but not broken.
I had succeeded at my first gangbang.