Last week when I ran into Old-Timey Guy and Punk Rock Girl,
going back to the Regular Dungeon seemed like it would be an unmitigated joy,
and I hope it will be.
But I feel really smushy about it. It’s hard to forget that
the last time I was there, way back at the end of February, was my fourth date
with The Man and our best scene. I remember standing at the bar in a skimpy
nightie and pretty patent-leather heels I’d bought for the occasion, telling
him how happy I was to be there.
“You should be happy,” he said “You’re beautiful, you have a
beautiful wife, and now you have… me!”
I loved the idea that I “had” him and the energy between us
felt so good. We’d only kissed once before that, but I loved the way he rubbed
my knee in a proprietary way during the dungeon owner’s “don’t break your toys”
speech. He fumbled with his knots though—at one point during rope class the
owner came over and asked if he’d got the Somerville Bowline down and The Man
was all, “Yep, yep, got it.” but I exchanged a “not so much” look with the
owner—maybe that’s when I should’ve known it wouldn’t work…
I loved kissing The Man, even if he was a little withholding
with the tongue. I loved the way he expertly slapped his handcuffs on me and
shoved my head down when I “tried to get away.” That night he found a loophole
to the “don’t restrict my voice thing” he said “You don’t have to speak until
spoken to.” I can’t really look back and see that as a red flag, even though I
know now that I shouldn’t have trusted him.
But I was so happy to have his attention. During aftercare,
he told me he wanted a relationship, not just a play partner, and I had no
reason not to believe him. I sat at his feet in my fuzzy pink robe and he
stroked my well-pulled hair—I felt SO CLOSE to having my dream. Or, I guess
more accurately, my dream did come true, it just didn’t last.
He was fulfilling a lot of needs that night, not least the
need to have my head held down. The need that frustrates me and pisses me off the
most is the feeling of having everyone see that a man wants me, that I’m wanted
and worthy of his attention. Of course I am! Everyone is! But there’s something
so gratifying in having everyone see me that way, even as they’re quipping “She
got ARRESTED” as my arms are being pulled behind my back.
That need makes me more grateful, more desperate, way
needier than I’d ever want to be. I hate that need but I think it’s probably a
good thing to embrace it, to have compassion for the vulnerability of it.
At any rate, none of that is what this night is about.
Tonight I’ll be there to play with Sweetie, catch up with friends, reunite with
my Hello Kitty nipple tape, with the invincible feeling I have there sometimes.
If I can find a not-so-nice man to beat my ass for a while, then that would be
the icing on the cake.
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