Scene Stealer

I’ll finish this nostalgic review of my last decade of kink with the story of the strangest thing that happened to me in a session – the time I did someone else’s scene.

I’m not going to reveal who the domme was. I’ll just say that this wasn’t my first session with her and this was some years ago. Our pre-scene negotiation over email had been, as is usual for me, pretty short and simple. I don’t remember my exact words but the gist was that medical play with staples and needles might be fun. What unfolded during the session itself was a little different.

In hindsight, putting all the pieces together, it was fairly obvious what went wrong. Before I arrived the domme had opened her email folder and clicked on someone else’s session request. I obviously never got to read the original email, but based on what transpired, I’m guessing it went something like this:

“I love lots of bondage with straps and rope, particularly if you keep adjusting and tweaking it, as though you can’t quite find the perfect way to hold me. I want a heavy caning and I think it’s really sexy if the domme is very vocal about how excited and aroused she is by the marks she’s leaving. Oh, and I’ve got a thing for hair, so if you could work that in somehow that’d be great. Thanks!”

Given this email slip-up, there was obviously a fairly significance gulf between  between what I was expecting and what I was about to receive.

The first thing that struck me as weird as we started the session was that the domme seemed to have developed an OCD issue with bondage. I couldn’t figured out why she kept screwing around with it. She’d mutter about needing to get it exactly right, I’d carefully suggest that it was actually fine, and she’d still keep reworking it. Then there was all the sexy moaning and dirty talk to go along with the canes she was wielding. We’d done corporal play before, and I didn’t remember my ‘hot as fuck’ marks having quite this effect on her. Finally, why did she keep touching her hair onto my back and butt? I mean I like hair, I think it can be very sexy, but it seemed an odd thing to intersperse between cane strikes.

My initial assumption was that this was just an unusual warm-up to our medical scene, but as the time ticked past the halfway mark, it was obvious something had gone awry. Should I stop it? Given we were already over an hour in, it seemed awkward to do so. Plus, I was feeling pretty buzzed from the endorphins and she seemed to in the zone and having fun with it. I figured it was easier to roll with it and I’d only yell stop if things got a little crazy. I wasn’t about to get fisted or vomited on for the sake of avoiding awkwardness. Fortunately it turned out that my unknown scene choreographer hadn’t put in a request for a spectacular finale.

The post-scene discussion – after I mentioned what I thought had happened – was an amusing one. The domme was torn between apologizing for the mistake and expressing incredulity that I hadn’t said anything. My answer of ‘well, you seemed really into it…’ got a laugh and the response that my bruised butt was therefore my own fault.

I did wonder what happened later, when she did the scene again with the original client. Did she tell him? Or did he just get a really awesome version thanks to the  dress rehearsal I’d filled in for?

I think this is technically a birching rather than a caning, but this artwork by Jay Em still feels appropriate for the post.