Sometimes things are hot and sweaty and sexy and fun.
And sometimes, things go wrong. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s not due to lack of skill or lack of desire or lack of anything else. Sometimes, things simply go to hell in a handbasket.
And I hate it. I rail against it. Even though I know I can’t change it, I want to. I want every scene to be hot and amazing and mind-blowing. I want us to be so sated and spent that we collapse into a heap of blood, sweat, and tears. I want to be so good at anticipating potential problems that none ever come to fruition.
But that isn’t reality. And nobody can make every scene perfect. This week, I had one of those scenes. It was not the scene I had in mind.
The rope was my enemy. It was tying itself in knots. It was underfoot. It was stuck on my clothing. And on top of that, it was unduly uncomfortable for my submissive. He’s very good in rope. He loves rope. He’s happy to be tied up and tied down and suspended and… you get the picture. He couldn’t get comfortable in a tie we’d already deemed “quite comfortable for suspension.” I fiddled with it and re-tied it a dozen times. In the process I tore up my hands so much that one of my fingers was actually bleeding. Nothing was working.
Disappointing, but sometimes you just need to go to plan B. So I did. I untied everything and did an entirely different tie for an entirely different suspension. One I’ve done many times. And it still wasn’t working. This rope was slipping down. That one was sliding up. And when one is suspended, it’s really not great when things are sliding around. By the time I got things still and mostly comfortable, there was so much rope on the wild thing that there was almost no skin left to do things to. That was somewhat disappointing. But I decided to soldier on. Sometimes you can still have a wonderful scene by working with the unexpected.
I tried a few things from the hands to the whip. His feet were in the way of his ass, so I decided to hit them instead. For me, not an especially fun target. They are very small, highly mobile most of the time, and involve some very small bones which are not usually the fun kind of pain when hit in the wrong way. In short, they are challenging. But the only other real areas of skin available were the shins and the lower back. Neither of which were going to be fantastic to hit.
I finally decided to give up on the hands, teeth, and floggers. I switched to the whip. Eureka! Something I could use that would ignore the vast quantities of rope and still hurt him! The popper promptly flew off.
I was, at this point, getting quite frustrated. Nothing was going according to plan. And on top of that, I wasn’t really able to get into any kind of groove. I was not having fun. Here is a beautiful canvas hanging helpless in front of me, and I’m not having fun. There is something fundamentally wrong with this picture. Once I realized that, I started to move from soldiering on to becoming angry. So I decided it was time to call it a day. I’d tried. I thought that the wild thing even managed to enjoy my fumbling ministrations. But I was very done. I moved around in front to give him a hug before letting him down from the suspension.
It was at this point that I managed to kick the ottoman leg really hard with my bare foot so hard I was afraid I’d broken a toe.
Yes, sometimes things go horribly, inexplicably, astoundingly wrong.