Soliloquy

Chronicles of a Switch
2013-02-11 04:13:02 (UTC)

burn the witch!

Saturday was the night I finally gave in and popped my public play cherry.

My reasons for avoiding showing off my skills in public have begun to carry less and less weight, at least as far as my dominant side is concerned. My submissive side is still too shy, too vulnerable, to be set free anywhere other than a private, safe place. I have a terrible time getting into that headspace as it is; I can only imagine the kind of complications that would be added by loud music, random conversation, and potential interruption. I’m not an exhibitionist, not by any stretch of the imagination. The feeling of being watched turns me shy, even anxious, tears away my focus. But I also felt as though I was robbing my girl of a good time by not being amenable to taking advantage of equipment and space we don’t have at home, just because a few wandering eyes might find us. I’d been pondering such things for some time, but hadn’t really needed to come to a conclusion, as Kit hadn’t attended Aviary with me in months. When she informed me that not only would she come with us Saturday night, but also inquired oh-so-hopefully if there might be any sort of play, I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Turns out, I had already made up my mind. I just hadn’t realized it yet.

Once assured that I had every intention of stripping her bare and doing horrible, terrible things to her helpless body, Kit tentatively suggested inviting Grasshopper to join us. I had no compunctions about doing so, and, in fact, he and I had discussed such things while Kit wasn’t present. Given the bumps in their acquaintanceship, I hadn’t wanted to bring it up myself, but if she was willing, then so was I.

When I first approached him about it, Grasshopper admitted to a lack of ideas. I had a few, with one in particular that I was wary about suggesting to either of them. Grasshopper was thoughtful once I’d sent what I thought would be a fateful text. Thoughtful, and excited. The only difficult part would then be broaching the idea with Kit. Thankfully, I’ve already learned better than to dance around what normal folks would consider a “delicate” subject. I had no ill feelings about asking the woman I love if she would want us to abduct, torture, humiliate, and threaten to execute her for being a witch.

And Kit’s answer was an astonishing, resounding, absurdly emphatic YES. I’d accidentally stumbled onto one of her oldest (possibly THE oldest) fantasies, and the idea of playing it with the two of us made her shiver to the core. I teased her for hours that night; light touches, soft kisses, the gentle pressure of my claws in all the right places… Her mind returned to the anticipation of the scene, three days hence, over and over again. The excitement threatened to overwhelm us both, and when I took her that evening, I was frustratingly gentle. She would have her pain. On Saturday, and not before. Until that time, she was to be chaste, her pleasure waiting on mine.

Three days without being allowed to cum, teased by myself, by Grasshopper, even by Yuko. By herself, when the mood struck. Desperate, needy, full of anticipation. The setup could not have been more perfect. The execution… Well, that will speak for itself.

When Saturday came, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I teased Kit before we left the house, all through dinner, the entire car ride, and upped the intensity once we were in the venue. Her nervousness had hit its peak, and, in a way, so had mine. Not the anxiety over playing in public, but that I was going to take her oldest fantasy and ruin it. That I was going to do a terrible job. That WE were going to do a terrible job.

The scene went wrong almost before it began. I sent Grasshopper to restrain Kit, knowing that she was going to struggle, and, at the same time, asked D to claim a bit of equipment for us to drag her over to. Both were too slow, and in the time it took Grasshopper to wrestle Kit into submission, the cross just a few yards away had been taken. After a split second’s panic, we both decided that breaking the scene then and awaiting a more opportune moment wasn’t the best course of action. I asked Grasshopper to find us a space, and settled next to my girl on the bench, leaning over her for better access to her ear. Kit, bound and blindfolded, sat silently as I whispered terrible things. I had better things to do than babysit a witch. Save us all some time and just confess. Make it easy on yourself, because if I have to torture the information out of you, I AM going to enjoy myself. Taunting her when she didn’t even speak so much as to defend herself, profess her innocence, and that it was such a relief because hearing the same old litany all the time was tiring. Slapping her face, because you damn witches don’t fucking ignore me. Choking her when she remained infuriatingly silent. I couldn’t be more relieved when Grasshopper returned, with an affirmative on somewhere to play. I don’t know what threat he promised Kit to get her on her feet, but he succeeded in short order, and I handed him the cords binding her wrists and fell in behind.

When we had been planning to drag her only a few feet, the blindfold hadn’t seemed like such a problem. I considered removing it before we started through the crowd, but a (rather irrational) part of me both liked and needed Kit befuddled and disoriented. Grasshopper was never more than a handspan in front of her, and I kept a gentle pressure on her back the entire way. Once we arrived at the one area Grasshopper had found that wasn’t completely clogged with the press of bodies, we shoved Kit hard against the wall.

From there, we kept to a very modest set of toys. Everything Kit was wearing was disposable, so we just literally tore her clothes off. Apparently she had been expecting me to cut them off slowly, and to be honest, that had been my intention, but ripping them away with my bare hands was also immensely gratifying. I let Grasshopper do most of the manhandling, while I tried to keep an eye on him, Kit, and our immediate surrounding area while simultaneously playing go-fer.

I couldn’t have known when we started that it would be too much for me. I’ve been playing with Kit for just over a year and a half, and learned everything I know mostly through error. Grasshopper has had her to himself only once before. Unfortunately, I don’t think to pass on information until the time comes that we need it, because the situation doesn’t occur to me. Even more unfortunately, I don’t know that the time has come until it’s too late. The things I know; how to turn Kit to butter in my hands, how to hurt her in pleasurable ways, what exactly to whisper in her ear to make the blood rush to her face and turn her speechless… that can’t be taught or monitored. It has to be learned hands-on, and he just didn’t have the experience with her that I needed him to to be able to have my attention cast in so many directions at once. We didn’t do anything to Kit that she hasn’t experienced a dozen times before.

And yet…

It didn’t come together, all the little things I’d missed, until later, when the scene was over. That the way Kit twisted away from Grasshopper’s blows weren’t her knees going weak, but her attempt to actively avoid him. That, with the blindfold on, I wasn’t able to read her face half as effectively as is my usual. That when Kit broke down and started crying, it was from the physical abuse we were inflicting, not a mental or emotional response. Half a million little signs that I should have picked up on, probably would have had it either been just the two of us, or had the three of us been alone. Probably. I can’t say that with certainty. But not being able to focus entirely on the scene made things go horribly awry.

What really broke things for me was overhearing someone complaining about where we had chosen to set up. A whole conversation, in fact, that drew nearer the longer we played. I couldn’t NOT hear them anymore, no matter how much I tried to concentrate on my scene. I asked Grasshopper to take over completely for a few minutes while I tried to get myself back where I needed to be. It wasn’t happening. I took back over. That helped even less. Finally, I leaned in and told Kit that we needed to stop, and how much I regretted it. But I’d already started crashing, the Top high and my adrenaline bottoming out as I leaned my head against, willing the tears not to come. To add to it, she was disappointed that we couldn’t do the one thing that she’d actually managed to enjoy that evening. At that, I felt the rest of my energy whoosh out of me, dropping me harder and faster. I’d done exactly as I’d feared. I couldn’t even give my girl a good time. I felt absolutely terrible, couldn’t shake the sense of blame. I should have known better. I should have known KIT better. I should have been more careful, more attentive. I should have…

It was an excellent learning experience. I learned a little about myself, and how much I actually do enjoy sexual roleplaying. I learned I can’t multitask worth a shit, at least in public. I learned that Kit would rather go through with something she’s not enjoying than risk breaking the scene; something I wish I’d known MUCH earlier, and have since left standing orders for her to never do again. I’d always rather start over, or re-establish a mood than find out at the end that the entire playtime was one long fuckup. Not only do I drop hard, I feel guilty for having enjoyed myself when Kit wasn’t. I found out that if I’m ever going to do another abduction scene with Kit, whatever character I come up with has to lean more to the lecherous side; at Aviary I’d thought that the gentle teasing beforehand would be enough to warm her up for the harder play. I was horribly mistaken. Anything repetition of this concept would need Grasshopper and I to play Inquisitors interested in using Kit to satisfy our sexual needs, slowly discovering her unnatural desires and slowly upping our intensity. More physical, less verbal. Until we tried, we had no way of knowing.

I always feel like my mistakes are on a grander scale than Kit seems to think. The sense of responsibility rests heavy on me when we play, and part of that responsibility is pleasing Kit. My job as a dominant isn’t to do things for MY pleasure, but for hers. And when I can’t perform to that standard, I always feel a bit disgusted with myself, probably feel more guilty than I ought. I feel like a disappointment. I feel like I should be able to anticipate the things that I’ve done wrong, and know before I do them that it isn’t right. Dumb, perhaps. Setting the bar too high, perhaps. But I can’t stop myself from feeling that way, and perhaps that, too, is part of the problem.

Which, I suppose, draws us back to the pertinent questions: Would I do something like this again? Would I play in public again?

Surprisingly, the answer to both is yes. I may get crushed by my errors, but because I take them so much to heart, I make it a point to learn from them. Now that I know what I am NOT capable of, I can plan a scene that caters closer to my strengths. I have a wicked imagination, a devious mind, and a heart that cares too much. If Kit is willing to try once more, so am I.




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