Playing Around

The weekend before last, when I was with Heathrow and we went to the Peer rope workshop, the last person who tied me was this guy M. M had made a point of talking to Heathrow when we first arrived and encouraged us to drop our stuff with their stuff in the area they had staked out, which we ended up doing.

One of the best things about IC- for all that everyone complains about it, is that it's a really good reference for meeting people out in the kink scene. You get to talking to someone, etc etc, and eventually, "Are you on IC?" and of course everyone is so then follows, "So what is your name there?" and as often as not someone is recognizable, and sometimes they are only recognizable when you go look at their profile later.

So as we were leaving, M and I have this very same exchange and promise to look each other up online, as you do. And we did. And we've been email chatting ever since. We have some things in common, and share a slightly off sense of humor so conversation has continued at a fairly intensive rate.

Towards the end of last week, Friday I think it was, M said something about bringing me some of the best roast duck in London (he's Chinese) and I didn't think much of it but of course was also intrigued by someone making such a bold gesture within a week of knowing me. He texted to say that he'd call me later about the duck, but I couldn't tell if he was serious and didn't think too much of it.

At 11pm he texted me to ask if I'd eaten. I had eaten, and said as much and he said that was too bad, because he would have brought me duck. Which led to us texting back and forth a bit and then a phone call that turned into another phone call and before I knew it, we'd chatted on the phone until 5am. Needless to say, this didn't do very good things for my Saturday. But that's not really the point. The point is more I stayed on the phone chatting to a person I'm just getting to know until 5 in the morning. Although the last three hours I was in bed with my eyes closed, still.

So Monday the story sort of repeated itself. And although I had eaten, said that M could come over if he wanted but not to stay until 5am. So I gave him directions as he drove from Kings Cross and then he was here, with two containers- one of roast duck and one of roast pork. I had some rice from my dinner and put together some plates, a normal one for him and a taster one for me and we were just hanging out and chatting and eating pork and duck.

And at some point I should somehow insert into this conversation, that of course I met M at a kink event and M goes to clubs and of course this has been some of the conversation we've been having. In particular, M's current fascination is with whips, and he has four, or five (can't remember), made by someone on the scene for him. So he brought these whips with him and at some point in the kitchen, perhaps after the meal, so now around midnight, he was swinging it while I was doing dishes and tap tap tapping at my back and backside, over my clothes.

In the lounge, he was showing me the different whips and discussing technique, though my lounge isn't quite the right height for him to use the longest one. And somehow at some point I was leaning away over the far side of my sofa, and I knew that I was presenting a target, and part of me wants to say it wasn't really intentional, and in some ways it wasn't, and in some ways it was. Because in the doing of whatever I was doing (something on my computer I think) it occurred to me I was presenting a target, and I chose to see what happened.

And things happened. Whipping happened. Although that sounds more dramatic than it actually is. At least in the hands of someone who knows what they're doing. There isn't such a huge difference between a whip or a flogger or even a spanking, though I'd say the whip has the potential to be more sharply cutting, like a cane or a belt. It also can be thuddy and soft if the tail is changed (and it was), so it's more about the variety of the experience in a way.

At some point into this exercise he told me to take my shirt off. I'd like to say that he asked me to, but he didn't. He told me to. And I could have declined, but I didn't. So the game continued. He had smattered so much of my back at that point that he said he wanted to make the entire thing an equal shade of red (well, I have to take his word on it, I couldn't see it) and he did and I sort of zoned out and enjoyed the experience.

And then he was behind me, touching my back, and giving me a massage which led to a proper sort of massage which was very nice indeed. It's one of those things that isn't exactly sexual, but has sexual overtones. Which is probably what makes me feel slightly caught off by the whole experience. Because sexually, at the moment, I'm not really interested in other people, I'm somewhat fixated on Heathrow. But I realize that this is somewhat in conflict with my activities this month. I swear, if January is any indication of 2009, this is going to be one hell of a year.

But I digress.

So there we were, me shirtless, and him holding me and that was cool. Sort of an end to the play. And I know I put my shirt back on at some point because I needed something from the kitchen (and the walkway goes past my kitchen window so it's good not to be in a bra in the kitchen). And I came back and we were chatting some more and really probably some time passed, but I can't remember the blow by blow details, but I do know that I was being snarky (I know, big surprise) and he grabbed me and we were sort of wrestling at one point and he knows these pressure point things and ended up with his hands pressing into the underside of the back of my jaw trying to make me say something I didn't want to say.

Which was another little scene of activity, one I tend to be drawn to. Forcing and capitulation. Although I'm stubborn. So this became quite the battle of wills, and endurance. I was struggling as best I could, though it wasn't easy, and if my hands drifted to try to grab his away he would dig in which made me stop. I know at one point I shoved us so hard, we both fell off the couch, but he didn't lose grip, and eventually I gave in and he released me.

And the rest of the evening was spent talking about stuff, about me and Heathrow (who he obviously knows- but then most people at least know who Heathrow is, if they don't know him personally). And it was cool, and he went back to showing me his whips and cracking them and part of me wondered if the neighbors were going to kill me or if they wondered what the hell was going on with whip cracking at four in the morning, or really, what the hell that strange noise was at four in the morning.

And at 5 or so he left. Today, two days later, the back of my jaw is still tender to the touch, and I think I have some faint red marks on my back- though the worse ones actually were made through my jeans (which never came off).

I guess I haven't written about this yet because I'm sort of confusing myself a bit with what the hell is going on with my life. First the photographer, and now this, and all overlaid with things with Heathrow and I feel ever so slightly out of control, while understanding that I am fully in control of everything that is going on. I don't really know what the rules are. I think if I had to sit down and truly analyze it, what I would say is that if I could just see and be with Heathrow, then that would be great and I wouldn't want or need any other involvements. But there's this distance and uncertainty in what is going on. And then there's the oddity that because of his scene involvement, he will always play with other people. So what does that mean for me? Do I get to play with other people without it upsetting him? But as the bottom in such scenarios, I can see that it's more troubling. It's one thing to top other people, it's another thing to submit to them. I just don't know where the line is. Is it a sexual line? Is it an intimate line? Is it close in? Is it far out?

The thing is, I really don't want to screw up any potential with Heathrow, but I also have to be looking out for myself. He told me he doesn't want a relationship- isn't in the right place for a relationship. And on the one hand I think that if we aren't in a relationship then he has no say over what else I may or may not get up to. But on the other hand, I can't be involved with or interested in someone and not take into account their feelings. Because I certainly wouldn't want to hurt him, or by default, ruin any future possibilities. Certainly I can say at this point, I have zero interest in being particularly sexual with anyone else (which is going to make for an interesting conversation with the other couple), but I'm not sure that that's where the line is.

So my fun is a bit marred by this uncertainty. Though it is all fun, it seems dangerous and turbulent. I'm hoping to see Heathrow this weekend and if so, I intend to carefully broach the subject of play in clubs and gauge his response from that- figuring that what he says about clubs I can also apply to my independent pursuits. It's complicated. I know. I certainly don't have all the answers. I'm just living my life as it comes.