It is surreal to me to work on stuff I shouldn’t be working on at school, but I have 5 more periods ahead of me with children working silently. Hm. What to do to kill the time…

I had odd mixed feelings showing up at the con in regards to playing with Boymeat. I hadn’t asked, he hadn’t asked… there were just some vague hints on lj. I don’t know this man. I have met him four times, but each time he is introduced to me because he has no idea who I am or what my name is. This doesn’t bother me at all because I’m not that superb with names and he meets a freakload of people. Of course I remember his name, but when a persons name is “Boymeat” it is hard to forget. Although, yes, I do know his real name.

I actually pondered long and hard if I wanted to ask him to play. I questioned my motives somewhat extensively. I swear to god I was not just thinking with my cunt. I like intense pain play because it helps knock all the chemicals in my brain into nice working order and I very rarely get to play intensely. I have been somewhat frustrated for the past few months that I haven’t been able to arrange the type of play I have been longing for. I was pretty certain that Boymeat would be ok with hurting me a lot. I know enough about his reputation to believe that he has the skill to hurt me a lot without harming me at all. This is a huge trust thing. He has enough ties to people who care about me that I believe he wouldn’t want to fuck me up and then ditch me–he would hear about it from too many sources. I really don’t want another incident like that shit with Steve. Basically, I have enough trust that I am willing to play with him in public. Private would be a lot more scary. And yes, he is damn cute.

Wow this guy has a whole lot of confidence in himself and his appeal. I confess to thinking once or twice that I would like to not respond to his taunting just to irk his ego, but I liked what he was doing and I decided that being a shithead would lead to me not getting what I wanted. You want me to be super slutty with you? Sure, I can do that. He pushed me around and took liberties that I would normally get really pissy about. Once or twice he came pretty close to stomping on personal boundaries considering that I have never negotiated with him. I ignored my impulse to rebel though. If I were likely to spend more time with him I would have stopped him and had a conversation as equals about what was going on and what expectations are so that his behavior would be what I expected… but dude. It was just a weekend. I bit my lip and tried to keep smiling. Tom wasn’t terribly happy with Boymeat grabbing my face and rubbing it into his crotch. I probably should have objected when I saw Tom’s face go blank and it is on my head that I didn’t.

All of this sort of teasing and flirting, and still no date set up. The anticipation was letting my stomach acids go nuts tearing me up inside. I finally just asked straight out. He commented that I had gotten over my shyness. Well, no. I’m just realizing that I’m going to spend the night sitting on my ass if I don’t ask–and that is no fun! In Patrick’s Enhansing Masochism class someone brought up that the top needs to be getting something out of a scene as well. I started wondering what Boymeat would get out of a pickup scene with me. He was already scheduled to play with several other people during the night with whom he has preexisting close relationships. Those scenes are likely to be far more bonding and interesting from an emotional standpoint, not to mention that at least one of those scenes will be with someone who is probably a heavier player than I am, so what can I give him? What is he likely to get from a scene with me that will make it interesting? I never could figure that out and it bothered me well into the scene. I felt like I had nothing to give and I was anxious and antsy about it.

When the scene started I had been talking myself down for a while (I am so stupid about some things) and I had trouble getting into the place I wanted to be. He hit me for a little while and then kissed me lightly. I responded with more enthusiasm than he thought appropriate. He told me that I hadn’t earned that. I was totally crushed. All of a sudden every strike of the cane made me want to hysterically cry. I started thinking that I was never going to earn anything, that I was going to bore him, that I was going to wuss out and end the scene and flee to my room in shame… I started crying in a bad way. I actually got really close to ending the scene because I wasn’t processing any of the pain and I was getting really upset. Then…

He noticed. I don’t know how he understood, but he knew that my head wasn’t in the right place anymore and he paused in what he was doing to talk to me. He asked me what I was afraid of and I told him in this huge emotional burst. He told me that he absolves me of the fear of disappointing him. He told me to not worry about what he was getting because he would take what he wanted. Wow. It was this really intense moment. I felt like he crawled into my head and knew about the hurt and could make the hurt go away. Everything became very calm. Immidiately the pain became good, and I could process. It was incredible. I’ve never done a scene with anyone who could get things back on track like that before. I have always ended the scene upset and felt terrible. How in the bloody hell did he know what was going on in my head? He just did.

Before this he had been caning my ass and the backs of my thighs. I was trying to process everything in my head on my own. After we talked he had me turn my head and look at him. He wouldn’t let me break eye contact. Things began to feel more personal. I wasn’t just taking pain because I am a selfish masochist who wants to get hit–I was taking what he wanted to give me. I was giving up what he wanted to take. I felt an energy exchange I rarely feel in scenes. He had me turn around and he worked on the front of my thighs for a while. It hurt so freakin much!!! I had a lot of trouble taking it. The fronts of my thighs is rather sensitive… He kept the eye contact; he looked very intense. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head. He switched to a single tail. It put more physical space between us, but somehow the intensity of his gaze never let me feel like he was more than an inch away from me. It was him that was hurting me, not an implement. Happily he built up the pain slowly and led me into some delicious orgasms. I kept thinking, “I hate this! It hurts! I love this! It hurts!” over and over. I started laughing at my internal monologue and he gave me a look that let me know how nuts he thinks I am. That’s ok. I probably am nuts–I let some guy I barely know beat the shit out of me. Not exactly the act of a sane person.

The scene went on and on. Each strike of the whip was an exercise in terror. I was so afraid that this time I wouldn’t be able to handle the pain, but I wanted it so much. I’m always terrified of pain, yet I like it so much. I don’t understand this. He finally wound down and I felt overwhelming disappointment. I liked it so much! Why are you stopping!! I confessed this selfish pig desire to a friendly girl who stepped in to bring water and pat my head. She of course felt the need to let him know that I was sad he stopped. Hm. Thanks. He decided to not be quite done with me yet. Yay!!! He grabbed a cane again. I was sitting by now, with my legs spread in front of me. He delivered some rather serious cane strokes to the fronts of my thighs. Not really full English cane strokes, but pretty damn close. I screamed!!!! I contorted. I had so much trouble taking in that much pain. I recovered and put my legs out hoping he would do it again. What kind of sick fuck am I?! He did it again. And again. The last stroke was so intense I couldn’t scream. The scream got caught in my throat and I thought I would choke on it. I hurt so bad that my vision went completely white and curled into a fetal ball. He didn’t let me stay there. He talked me out of it and rubbed my head. Such an interesting mixture of scary mean man and caring person. I don’t understand, but I appreciate it.

He gave me permission to lick his boots after this. I was so happy!! I licked them with all the enthusiasm and appreciation I felt towards him for hurting me so well. I might even have gotten a wee bit carried away. I couldn’t get to the inside of one of his boots, so I forcefully picked up his other leg and moved it aside. It was just an obstacle in my way… He let me know how very not submissive this act was. Oh well, no one is perfect.

The aftercare was rather brief and mostly done by other people. He went to pay attention to his partner. I had mixed feelings about that. In some ways it didn’t bother me, but I also felt rather dropped. I think that dropped feeling is why casual pick-up play is so hard for me. I actually looked around for Tom to see if I could get some emotional support and he was busy tormenting a wonderful woman. I let her know how happy I am that they played and went on my way. I wandered around in a dazed state and managed to get some head pats from friends.

I had good conversations the rest of the night and went to bed. The next day Boymeat pushed on my legs some to remind me that they were there. He teased me more verbally and I did let my inner brat out enough to not let him know if I was turned on or not. The real kicker was when I told him that he would never know how I felt about the taunting. He said yes he would… cause I would write about it. *giggle* I am so fucking predictable. Yes, I will write about it. But I still won’t tell.