Ohno, I Fainted in the Dungeon

It’s possible that I have been pushing myself too hard. Student teaching is taking up almost every second of my life and it is rewarding but stressful.

I really needed to think about other things, so I was really looking forward to last Saturday, which for the most part turned out to be one of my favorite kink-themed days yet. Our regular dungeon was hosting a poly-and-kink day of workshops, and I went without Sweetie so I’d be more likely to talk to people—it worked! I got to sit and talk with people I usually only get to watch and be watched by. It gave me a wonderful sense of community, and I even made the acquaintance of another fire dom—I would have gotten to be set on fire, too, if it hadn’t been for some bad judgment on Sweetie’s and my part.

The DM had just built the above piece of furniture. It was meant for tickle play, but I spent a fair amount of the day daydreaming about ways to be tied to it.

As has become usual, I was the first one to strip down when the play party was even close to starting. Suspension frames were still being assembled when Sweetie started roping me up, as I danced a little bit to some (oddly appropriate) Chumbawamba: I get knocked down and (spoiler alert) I do, in fact, get up again.

I was feeling extra lovey-dovey with Sweetie and she put my harness on—I hadn’t seen her much during the week and I was full of endorphins from all of the poly chattering I’d done throughout the day. We stopped to kiss more often than we usually do, and I encouraged her to be a little more handsy—as long as she was careful with my Hello Kitty tape. I think it’s the sexiest she and I have ever been out in public.

Then it was time to climb onto the contraption. She strapped my arms onto the Y-shaped cross thing first, and then wound ropes around my waist and thighs to tie me to the back. She kept having to push my glasses up to keep them from falling off. She pulled the thigh ropes rhythmically, the way I like, and I moaned and sighed and nuzzled her. I felt so turned on.

She put the blindfold on me and tied my feet together, making sort of a spreader bar with ropes. She started to spank me right after that, but I told her my foot felt funny. I told her it was time to get down, but I was realizing it too late—I was starting to really freak out because I realized how much time it would take to get me free. I felt trapped, terrified—it’s a feeling that occasionally has to come out, but I would prefer it in less woozy doses.

“Get the blindfold off. All the way off.” I was getting really upset and I felt myself slip out of consciousness as a wave of nausea came over me—I really didn’t want to be the girl who throws up on the dungeon floor, and I didn’t. I became dimly aware that people were helping Sweetie unwind the ropes—it was the guy who spanked me with a star-cane a few months ago and his punk rock girlfriend—gentle voices and people working purposefully at the knots, telling me it was okay,

“You can get out now,” said Sweetie, but I was still tied to the frame.

“Nonono I can’t, I can’t get out yet.”

Finally I was able to climb/fall out of the contraption and into/onto the punk rock girl. I wanted to lay right down on the floor but I was still heaving like I was going to throw up, so Sweetie rushed me to the loo. I am not a heavy drinker, so this is the first time I’ve ever found myself sobbing into a bar toilet. I couldn’t throw up, but I couldn’t stand up without feeling sick. So I just stayed there and cried. More nice, soothing voices, kind people bringing a wet towel for my burning forehead, the Punk Rock Girl making sure we knew there was a spot clear to lay down.

There was something oddly normal about laying on a bench in the dungeon, crying my eyes out. I was covered in a scarf and shivering until I could find the strength to put my clothes on. A kind soul brought over a clean tablecloth to wrap me up in. I was too freaked out for Sweetie to even touch me, but the tears? They seemed okay. I felt like myself. So much myself that I cried because I worried that I wouldn’t be well enough to make lesson plans for my guided reading groups on Monday.

I feel fine as I’m writing this, even if I still feel stupid for kneeling in a constricted position for as long as I did. I might have to be a little vanilla for a few weeks ‘til the scare wears off, but I’m okay. Part of the goal of my adventures is to build a community, to make myself safer by making connections, and my stupid faint let me know that I am reaching that goal. Sweetie and I are not alone. There are nice people in special outfits who will help us when we need it. That is a big comfort.

I am completely exhausted about student teaching and about the other changes I have been going through. I think that Saturday’s shutdown was my body’s way of asking me to please find it some rest. I’ll really try to—it’s the least I can do.