When sex is an extreme sport – Here’s another great erotic and thoughtful guest post from James Mycroft – this time about a sporting injury that’s got nothing to do with running or rock climbing…
I’ve pulled something in my leg. Nothing major, but it’s enough that I won’t be running for a week or so.
“Must have been that last route on Saturday,” I shrug when a colleague asks why I’m limping a little going up the stairs.
This is not completely true.
I was climbing at the weekend. I did push it a little harder than usual, and it felt good. Loud music in my ears and the rhythm felt just right, so it’s possible I should have finished a few minutes earlier. But it’s not how I got injured. That happened on Sunday night.
‘Holding back the groan was difficult, but I had been told obedient silence would earn rewards’
“Hold your legs out of the way.”
I tried, but it was hard to keep my lower body steady with my hands tied over my head. It would have been difficult even if she had not been exploring, soft hands and the warmth of her breath inches from me.
“I gave you an instruction.”
I swallowed hard, shoulders aching and legs starting to tremble. She was so close, inspecting the effects of her work, that I felt her lips move on me. Holding back the groan was difficult, but I had been told that obedient silence would earn rewards.
“You know if I have to hold you down you’ll regret it.”
The tone was perfect… acknowledging my struggle, while making it clear who was making the decisions. Unfortunately, between the long teasing and the awkward position, my legs just couldn’t take it. Moments later my calf went into spasm and I had to safeword out.
A few minutes of massage – those wand vibrators aren’t just good for orgasms, you know – and the cramp eased off enough for me to be repositioned. A rather gentler pace still brought us where we wanted to go, although I was made to wait for my pleasure until she was quite satisfied. Which would have been perfectly appropriate even if she hadn’t been very much in charge for the evening.
‘Total trust is needed and sooner or later one of you will slip’
I’m not into pain for its own sake, mostly. Sensation, yes; there’s something about the thud of a flogger or the rhythm of a strap across my skin. Sometimes I’m tied securely so I can’t move, sometimes loose enough to encourage me to wriggle. Or maybe I’m earning extra strokes with each movement, her voice the only thing holding me in place. But it’s not the pain that does it for me.
Sometimes, though, pain is one of the consequences of this kind of sex. It’s just one of those things. It’s not because she doesn’t care; she does, intensely and attentively. Each different example has possible reasons. I could have asked for a pause sooner. I could have stretched a little before I was tied to the bed. There could have been more lube (pretty much always, more lube is a good thing: it’s not impossible to over-lubricate, but it’s much easier to underestimate). She could have paid a little more attention to the friction between me and the vibrator she put between us – wrapped around my cock with her vulva grinding against it – when she was understandably focused on how it was rubbing against her.
All those possibilities are ‘could’, not ‘should’. It’s not about fault, or blame. There are no blurred lines here between consent and reluctance. If you’re going to play these games, then you have to be able to reconcile what seems like a contradiction; that total trust is needed and that, sooner or later, one of you will slip.
‘Climbing is a mental as well as physical challenge and so is BDSM’
I think being a climber makes this easier to understand for me. Nobody gets into climbing to deliberately get hurt, but the risk can never be totally removed. Unlike many sports, climbing involves working with others in pursuit of a goal but with no opposing side. When you get injured – and you will – it isn’t personal. The cliff is not out to get you. And it’s only by working together that you can reach the top.
I’ve never finished a climbing session without some kind of ache, scrape or minor trauma. If I had, I’d know I hadn’t been trying hard enough. The good burn, the pleasant ache and the occasional injuries are the necessary price for the endorphin rush, and the achievement of getting somewhere you didn’t think you could. Climbing is a mental challenge just as much as a physical one, and so is BDSM.
‘I can still wriggle, and I suspect she’s going to make me do just that’
“Think you can hold the position better this time?”
I nod, a corner of my mind aware that she has taken a different approach from the last time I was tied. Each rope pulls tight to support the weight of my legs, so instead of having to hold them up I can tug against the bindings. I can still wriggle, and I suspect she’s going to make me do just that. Her finger strokes over sensitive skin and I prove myself right.
“You’re going to have to earn more than that, you know.”
I bite my lip, nodding again. I relax into the ropes at the same time as I press up against her touch, secure in the bindings and the care they represent. She gives me a firm tap, bringing a gasp from me, then leans to the side for something I can’t see. Moments later I’m blindfolded, listening to the rustle as she reaches into the nearby case once more.
“A new toy for each ten strokes, and if you can’t tell me which one… you get another five. Although one of the toys is just for me…”
Her sigh follows the first gentle buzz, her weight shifting on the bed. There is no hint, no warning, as the first stroke meets my skin, followed by a second, a third… she pauses after the promised ten, but my guess is wrong and she finishes the sequence before choosing another.
I’m going to ache tomorrow. And I wouldn’t change a thing.
James Mycroft was a Sherlock Holmes fan before Benedict Cumberbatch made him cool again. He reads, writes and enjoys adrenaline sports, including those that happen in the bedroom. Sadly he is much less interesting in real life than online.
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