“It fucking hurt, what do you think, that’s what,” I paused. “I could try again,” I ventured with a grin.
“Good,” he was pleased with that response.
“Why the keenness?”
“Very useful for training subs who like to masturbate without permission,” he smirked.
“I will endeavour to avoid that then,” I retorted.
“The training or the masturbation?” he queried twirling the pen through his long fingers.
“Both perhaps,” I teased.
“I wouldn’t have thought you needed the training, a good quality sub like yourself.”
I was not sure if that was a genuine compliment. Face back to impassive. Damn, he gave nothing sometimes.
“Who knows, you're rapidly over stimulating my senses as we speak.” That last comment was true, I was seriously struggling down below.
Pen poised. “In that case, moving on. Menthol?”
“Fuck no! Can we draw a line under irritants? My experience of chemical play is limited and I don’t want to go there with you until we’re more familiar with each other. Your predecessors weren’t that experienced or capable.”
We discussed bondage, something I was more familiar with and happy to explore with him.
“Generally I liked pretty much anything. Apart from hanging upside down. No batman.” I really could not cope with the blood rushing to my head.
“Shouldn’t that be batgirl?” he retorted. “Ropes OK. What about bondage tape?”
“If you want mummification you can go to the British Museum,” I suggested.
“What if I don’t cover your head?”
“Mmmmm. Not sure. Let’s see if I cope with your rope play before we go exotic and Egyptian style bondage.”
“Water bondage?”
Crikey! Never been there before. “No experience. Ambivalence is what I’m feeling. Doesn’t that have more to do with breath play?”
“Breath control plays a big role. How do you feel about me controlling your breathing?”
“Ambivalent again. Hands only. No devices or tubes. Choking is out, although I don’t mind my neck been held tightly. Some manhandling is OK. Soft limit.” I was thinking aloud more than anything.
“That’s a lot of ambivalence, Gem,” he noted.
“You’re way more experienced than me, Jason. You’re going to have to be patient and guide me. I don’t mind trying stuff out as long as you keep safe-words in play.”
“I’m not playing without safe-words, Gemma,” he reassured.
I did not think he minded my ambivalence. It pushed the issue of my soft limits into his arena, for him to decide on and in all honesty, it was what I preferred in a relationship. However, my hard limits, which were borne out of phobias and
impenetrable fears, were for the foreseeable future, untouchable.
I asked him politely, if he had any hard limits. He smiled at my question, thanked me for asking and then implied there was nothing he had not tried. He thought it unlikely I would get near his hard limits.
“To some extent, some of yours mirror mine – anal fisting, golden showers. Others I just don’t do any longer regardless of who I play with,” he said simply.
After the limits list, he took me through lots of intimate questions about expectations and a few of them made me a little ill at ease, especially around punishments and discipline. They were going to be inevitable I could tell, in the early stages I was bound to misjudge a rule or misbehave. Would it please him if I was somewhat disobedient and defied him? Did I want to be perfect for him? Pain - the unknown and untested.