Pow! Right in the Kisser!

The other night, had a great conversation with PunchPig about the GMSMA Punching program on March 10th that we're doing.


Oh. Hadn't you heard?

PunchPig is on board for doing the demo, and I'm on board for being the demo bottom. And to talk some about the experience of bottoming in such a heavy scene as face punching.

Y'know, PunchPig does everything right. We spent maybe three minutes talking through the logistics of the presentation. ("Now, I have to drive home afterwards, so as much as I'd like a shiner, I won't be able to drive with one eye swollen shut.")

But we spent a lot of time talking about where my head was, what I wanted and needed out of the scene. What it all means. How I'm doing with the book.

PunchPig was being a Sir. Probing, puzzling, seducing.

Perfect.

So. Where am I?

Good question.

I'm deep into Top territory. Or I was a few days ago. My working hypothesis was that my bottoming jag had me a little freaked out. There I was, having a blast. But then, I sort of constructed for myself a need for submission. And along came a man with a plan. His idea of submission was fucking me raw, and shooting his poz load deep inside me. And I got pretty hot thinking about that. I mean, there's submission and there's submission. And given the choice, I'll opt for submission. (Well, I'm no Diabolique, but I do alright.)

And here's another theory.

Prior to the whole 'get you pozzed' episode, the prior really amazing--and verrrry edgey and deep--experience I had was with PunchPig. That was going way deep into submissionland, right into a dark and terrifying chasm that I found there, in fact, and it was good. it was very good. And what made it really good was that throughout, as I was on the floor--screaming, crying, begging for mercy that wasn't coming--I had this fundamental sense that I'd be okay. That I was in good hands. And I was. I definitely was.

(And then, I got to casually walk into Big Cup, the veritable hive of Gay Chelsea, order a latte, plop myself down in a chair in the middle of the place, and non-chalantly read a book, while every guy in the room did a hard-swallow-look-away because I had a huge black eye! Woof!)

So the same path lead to two very different destinations.

So here we go again.

Only different. In some ways. Verrrrry different. For one thing, we ain't not goin' to go that deep. Not there. Not then. And for another, it's public. Kinda beyond public. It's not even like we're in a dungeon space with a lot of other guys around. It's... y'know... in front of a live studio audience. GMSMA even.

And that particular audience is pretty key. I stepped down as Chairman of the group. I abandoned my responsibilities. I felt that there was resentment directed towards me, although I was assured that was not the case. (Obviously, I was projecting my own guilty conscience, no?) So this is about making a contribution to GMSMA, too. And maybe I'm romanticizing this way out of proportion, but, there's another aspect of that contribution. Y'see, getting punched in the face really freaks me the fuck out! It's not like getting tied up or whatever. Or, y'know, standing up and taking a flogging. It's really scary, man! At least, I'm scared of it. But let's be clear. It's going there. To the extent that this makes me hesitant and nervous, that is over-ridden by one key thing. Namely, will this be a great GMSMA program, or what?

How totally wild will it be when those GMSMA guys, most of whom know me as Mr. Non-Negotiable Top, see me bound in a chair, sobbing, and getting my face beaten? You could sell tickets to something like that, right? (Oh. Right. They are. Five dollars for GMSMA members, and seven dollars for non-members.)

Now, there's work to do. I have six days to prepare myself for this. Gotta get my head together.

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