Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Flying With Broken Wings and Falling From the Sky

At the start of this month, around Valentine's Day I was up at the SoCA Bondage Club with my friend Stephen,  we had been talking a while about him going to the club, but he needed someone to go with, and I was only too happy to be his club buddy.  

I had also encouraged a few other friends of mine who were newbies to the club to come up so I could show them around.  By the time the club started, and the initial 9pm meet-n-greet was completed, I had a small tour group started.  I began by explaining the basic dungeon rules, which are basically the universal rules of dungeon etiquette, but each dungeon has their own rules so where one practice is not allowed, it may be welcomed in another dungeon.  Here are the Socal Bondage Club's Rules.

Before I began the tour, another club member came up to me and said that "There's a puppy and a really cute boy outside, they said they have been texting someone who they were hoping to see here tonight."

I immediately excused myself, raced to the patio, and lept into Dizzy's arms.  My faithful puppy, Cockpit, had brought him all the way up from San Diego with him!  Even when very sick, my puppy gave me this wonderful gift.  He's just so amazing.  I urged him to go home and rest, and he did, but not before secretly handing me a set of leather restraints that he said we could borrow for the night.  I love my puppy!

I invited Dizzy to join the tour group and I then showed the boys my stomping grounds.  As the club was now in session, I guided them as silently as possible through the corridor, explaining things in quiet whispers where I dared, and silent gestures around scenes in play.  After releasing the group to do as they wished and have fun, I joined Dizzy outside for his cigarette.  I was joined by my friend and sub, Marc, and we talked for a while before someone urged us inside to play.  

Dizzy had brought his floggers with him, and allowed me to practice on his back.  I had attended Ms. Cynthia's class the Friday prior and we learned how to use singletails and floggers, and I was eager to get as much practice in as possible to work towards florentine flogging.  Dizzy is able to do it, and he always looks so incredibly sexy when the floggers spin in his hands.  I want to achieve it too!  I worked on his back with my non-dominant hand as I was taught, so I could build up a familiarity with it.  After a while he said we should switch so I could have fun too.

My harness came off, and I stood against the St. Andrew's Cross, and he began to flog me.  Slowly pushing me closer to euphoria with each slap of leather and rubber on my back.  The blows became heavier, and heavier, more and more frequent, in and out of order so I couldn't tell what would happen next.  Dizzy kept me guessing, a masterful display.  The flogging continued until I was close to my limit, he kept going, the strikes and blows very hard, and I reached my limit.  However something went wrong, I didn't communicate to him clearly that I was finished.  He struck me two more blows over my limit, thinking I was okay before I indicated I was done.  At this point I was sobbing, and in full subspace, however I was like a bird with broken wings,  I could fly, but not well at all.  The irritants of the night followed me into my subspace, and like sand in your eyes, it scratched away my paradise, turning it into a whorl of both positive and negative emotions.

Extremely concerned for me, as Dizzy had never seen me in subspace like this before, sobbing, thinking that he had hurt me very badly, he took me into aftercare immediately and lead me outside onto the patio.  I don't remember much, as I go into a drunk-like stupor, I remember laying face down in his lap, his comforting arms on top of me, stroking my hair.  I was emotional about drama of some kind.  All I wanted was "to show them all the light, and that they could all be happy", and I was sobbing in frustration.  We didn't stay long afterward, packing up our things and hitching a ride with Brandon Christiansen, a contestant at the recent Mr. Bullet 2012 contest I was a judge's boy for.  He dropped us off at the Bullet bar, and we took a cab ride home.  I happily fell asleep in Dizzy's arms that night.

The next day was the night of Puppy Love, but since I have already covered that here, I shall move onward.

The morning after Puppy Love Dizzy, and I had a very important talk, and it came to light that we needed to rearrange our relationship.  The best way I can describe it is moving around furniture in a living room shared by two people.  While one person may enjoy it that way it is, the other person finds it difficult to navigate through the room.  Through a long walk around Long Beach, and lots of talking, we arranged our room so we could both enjoy it best.  

However, the process still hurt.  My wings felt as if they were clipped in mid-flight, and I plummeted towards the earth.  I fell fast, and hard, my body punching holes in the clouds as the merciless gray pavement rushed closer and closer, until Dizzy caught me, and eased me to the ground.

That evening he stayed over once more, his bus had been filled without him, so we were gifted with another night together with a very pleasant supper, Jello shots left over from my party, and an episode of South Park.  The morning after, I watched him fly away, I smiled and waved after him, as I walked to work.

Once he was far enough, I turned away, and my eyes filled with tears.  My wings clipped, I was grounded until my feathers grew back again.


Now some time has passed since then, my heart has healed a healthy amount, my feathers growing back each day.  I still walk the ground, not ready to fly just yet, but in time I'll race towards the bluff and take a flying leap back into the sky.  Until then, I'll sit on the cliff's edge, fondly remember times I spent in the winds, and call up to my Leather Brother to see how his flights are, all while I smile up at him.


Remember, you do not damn the rose for having thorns, so do not damn love for bringing pain.


Play Safe, Dear Reader.

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