Yes.

I just spent a pretty intoxicating evening with Roman Cool. What an amazing man. I mean, I know lots of men who can tell stories about the Mineshaft, but when Roman Cool mentioned in an offhand way that he knew Robert Mapplethorp, I was plunged deeper into awe of the man.

And the play?

Best bondage ever! No, seriously. I was hooded, in a suspension harness, and tied down in every which way to Roman Cool's ladder-like frame. Basically, I could wiggle my toes and that's about it. Cool used a vibrator thingy on my nipples (that drove me nuts), and he electrocuted my balls some. Just as the testicular electrocution was building, I noticed that my arms were starting to hurt. A lot. A whole lot. My hands were in bondage mits, and my wrists were bound so that both of my palms were facing out in the small of my back, so my elbows were at right angles. There were ropes that were pulling my arms together wound tightly around my biceps, and there were also ropes that were pulling my arms apart attached to the bondage frame. So my arms were immobilized, and my muscles were tensed, and suddenly it was like I was trapped mid-bicep curl. It really really hurt.

But that, I guess, was the point.

Cool let me writhe in agony for a while. A long while. Then he said that he'd untie me. I breathed a sigh of relief. And then he said he'd be untying my arms last. Even after they were untied, they were still pretty sore. My deltoid muscles were as hard as billiard balls.

Once untied, we sat and drank water for a while. And I smoked a cigarette. I felt great. I said something like, "Gosh, Cool, this was really great." And he smiled at me and said, "I'm not done with you yet. Drink your water."

When I got tied back up to the bondage rack with my back facing the room, I kinda knew what was up. Somebody was gonna get whipped.

This made me verrrrry nervous. I've only been whipped once. And yes, it was great, but for weeks before hand (eight, if I recall), I was preparing myself mentally and physically for it. This was pretty much a surprise. And here's the other thing. I've seen Cool in action. We are talkin' severe. Among the most severe I've seen ever. Anywhere. I was definitely not up for that.

But Cool was... uh... cool. He warmed me up with the stingier tools in his amamentarium. Braided cats and quirts and such. So when I felt the whip falling across my back--no crack, just brushing, which still stings a lot--I was ready.

And I was really making some noise. That's one of my favorite parts of getting whipped. (I know. Listen to me, would ya? Mr. Whipping Bottom.) All my life I've had people tell me I have an awful singing voice and would I please shut up. But when I'm getting whipped, fuck yuz all. I'm gonna sing out.

Cool held back. A lot. A whole lot. I know I took more when I was whipped by ARt back in October. But like I said, I wasn't ready for this and I was pretty nervous. I did alright though. And Cool did a great job of moving me ever onward. He asked for three more. I said alright. He said, I'm gonna take four. When the four were done, I said I'd be good for three more. And in that batch, I let two count as one. Then, he said, I'm gonna take one more. I knew it was going to be a doozie. And it was.

Brief. No blood. But I do have a few good marks. Ought to get some attention at the gym tomorrow.

And speaking of the gym, it's a damn shame I'm not better at getting whipped than I am. Because I have a great back. Just now, here at home, studying the marks from Cool in the bathroom mirror, I got a hardon looking at my own back. It's so nicely defined.


And another development. I am pretty taken by Punchpig. I have no idea if he says these things to all his punchmeat candidates, but I am totally eating out of his hand. Beyond being very good at what he does, he looks to be a pretty amazing man. I'm really looking forward to meeting him.

And on that note, off to bed. To sleep on my belly.

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