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Scene Report: Vegas Beatdown

January 15, 2010

When I was still a baby in this scene and when I say baby I mean I was only 6 years in a member of my leather family showed me this photo album he had from when he was younger in the scene. Inside was pictures of the old Inferno days. A camping play event for gay leathermen. The pictures showed me play that was above and beyond anything I had seen before.  It was visceral, primal, no holds barred. Naked men tied roughly to trees and getting whipped to blood.  I found myself fascinated. I wanted it.

When I moved to NYC I got to witness more play like that and learned alot through watching. All it would take with one play partner was to have him whisper into my ear, “show me what you learned from watching the gay boys play,” and I would sink. Able to take more than I ever could before. I used to attach it to a more “boy” side of my persona but through the years I have learned it’s not attached to gender for me. It’s simply who I am.

While in Vegas I found myself craving it. All I did was look at Sir and say, “I need you to beat the living shit out of me Sir.”  he nodded knowingly and decided that it could definitely be something he could do. The party was getting late, still filled with alot of people trying too hard to be “in”. We joked that it could clear the room of the “wannabes”.

We set up at the suspension rig in the main room and I started getting nervous. Sir and I had never done a “scene” before. Our play is always attached to boots or to spur of the moment actions. This was going to be something different and it was going to be rough and I knew it.  I was placing myself into his hands and I had no idea what was going to happen. Any sane person would have been terrified by this prospect but instead I found myself rather at peace. I trusted him wholly and completely.  He was going to throw me off the edge of this abyss and I knew he would be there to find me and catch me.

What made this scene even more intense was that my voice was shot by this point. I had lost it the day before due to head cold and talking over the loud music the night before. So I wouldn’t be able to scream, I wouldn’t be able to safe word. There was no real escape. When he tied my wrists we worked out a signal for safewording. I heard him, I understood, but a part of me knew I would never really reach for that escape.  I needed this. This was like a giant reset button for myself. I hadn’t gone down it what felt like forever.  I could not see myself tapping out early.  Before it started he pulled me in and stated quite matter of factly, “you asked for this, but this is not for you.” I understood it all very well and the hits began.

I don’t know if I can really truly put to words what it was like. hard slaps, punches and kicks to my body. No part of me was safe.  I would try to pull away only to be forcefully pulled back to take more. The tears flowed freely, the pain was exquisite. I was shaking, I was terrified and then I would find peace and take every hit without so much as a flinch and then it would ramp up to a point where I thought I would break in half.  Only one toy was ever used on me and I will kill the bastard who ever thought up graphite evil sticks.  Other than that it was just his fists.  I never saw the hits coming as I was blindfolded. I never saw what it was doing to him or the look in his eye. I just felt the intensity of his actions.

Next thing I knew I was being taken down and told “we’re not done.”  I knelt and held on to my girl for dear life. I was shaking, sobbing  and waiting for what might come next. When he returned I was informed that a security issue had happened and it pulled him out of his headspace and that we were going to have to stop. It was then that the tears were unable to stop.  I was able to finally tell him. It wasn’t because I had reached a cathartic release, or because I was in severe pain, it was because we were done and I wanted more. I was being beaten down like no other where I felt fear and release all at once and I was crying because it was done.

Me = sick fuck

I was hoping to dance to calm down but when all the skinny porn “talent” hit the dance floor I became harshly aware of my body and decided no. The room did thin…there wasn’t as many people. I don’t know if that was our doing but I liked it.  Aftercare was simply conversation with people who watched, a clove or 3 and some quality curled up at Sir’s knee time.

I was one giant bruise and it felt painfully delicious.   Dark purple and red covering my hips, thighs and ass. Sitting hurt, leaning hurt, people hugging me and giving me love taps on my ass hurt. I loved it. And it still sits in my mind as one of the best beatdowns I ever had.

I’m already looking forward to round two.

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