This post does contain graphic descriptions of flirting/men/leather/sex/&c., as well as navel-gazing, so feel free to skip it if that's not your cup of tea. If you do like those things, then this is the jackpot right here. I wrote this on Sunday night, and I'm putting it here largely unaltered as it captures the intensity of what I was feeling.
There are tears in my eyes. Tears of joy and relief and release.
This was not supposed to happen. The plan clearly was that I was going to go to Folsom, enjoy the eye candy, and just have a look around. That way I'd have my bearings when I was ready to dive in.
What did happen was unaccountably better.
There are still some areas of... unresolved-ness in my world. I've worked through most of them, but my real-life enjoyment of BDSM was one of the big ones left. The questions were building, but becoming more clear. A while back, I figured out that my main fear wasn't that I would like it: it was that I wouldn't. I didn't want all my leather interests to turn out to be a big pile of stuff for the "fantasy only" column, probably because that would cause me to question if I knew (or could know) what will genuinely make me happy.
For a long time, flogging was not something I thought I'd like. Getting spanked was something I tried and didn't like, and I figured flogging was pretty much the same. One of my partners and I did a tiny, tiny bit, and it was nothing like I expected. So my interest was piqued. My extremely experienced friend Chris had warned me that flogging can be done badly, so if I were to pursue it, he said I should be sure start with a pro.
Right below Kim's window was the Janus booth. It was clearly a big hit, as there was a constant crowd surrounding it. They were running a fundraiser where you would get spanked or flogged for charity, by any of a number of locally known tops. The was a big padded spanking chair, and some horses, but what caught my eye were the St. Andrews Crosses with the restraints. Mmmmm, bondage.
Kim asked if I were interested in getting flogged; I was hesitant, Chris' warning echoing in my mind. A few minutes later, she recognized someone down there named Dmitri as a well-known particularly good flogger, and suggested that I see if I could request him.
That sealed the deal. I went down, and Dmitri was just finishing up, cleaning off all the equipment. The emcee got his attention for me, and I explained that I'd like to get flogged, but had never done it before, and would he be interested? His shift had just finished, but for me, he would go one more round.
I took my top off, he explained his safeword system (essentially green/yellow/red), and I was ready. He put my hands in the restraints, and started flogging.
He's good. He's really good at what he does.
It was wonderful sensation. As good as I thought it maybe could be. Dmitri was very, very skillful at building up the intensity in small steps, and whenever I yellowed, he could keep things right at the threshold.
Then he had me turn around, still restrained, and started on my front; a nice surprise. That's when the turning point came. He gave me some instructions on breathing and focusing. There was no sharp transition, nothing I can really put my finger on, but following his words I could enjoy the pain more, and enjoy more pain. And he dished it out; somehow he could focus all the snap in the tails *right* on to my nipples when he wanted (did I mention he was good?). There were even some yells from the crowd on some of the strikes, but I barely noticed, for I had started to slip into subspace.
I'd read about it many times, of course, and it was almost always compared to a "runner's high". Well, I don't get those. Exercising provides me with no rush whatsoever. So one of my big BDSM concerns was that subspace would remain out of my grasp.
Dmitri got me there. And we kept going.
He switched to beating my chest for a bit, turned me back around for a bit more flogging, and then "the big finish": some truly intense slaps, a bit more than anything gone before. And I took them, and I loved it.
Dmitri was also good at bringing me back, helping me deal with the new energy we'd released. He could see I needed a bit more aftercare than others, and he provided: rubbing me down, talking, hugging.
I'm sitting here, and I don't have the words. 9 hours later, and I'm still shaking, still on a high. I know it's not yet showing through, but I'm glowing.
On the inside, I'm glowing.