Rope Camp Memories continued…
As part of Graydancer’s RACK Roleplay class, I volunteered to be a demo bottom in a test for the top, which in this exercise happened to be Gray.
My role to play was whispered quietly in my ear. Gray was then instructed to give me a hard takedown and bind me in a constrictive position. He seemed pleased with this prospect, quickly securing me in an arm bar, and forcing me to the matted floor.
He tied me tight, ensnaring both my arms behind my back, wrapping a box tie around my chest. He sunk his weight into my back using his knee. My face was compressed down; I took no notice of the rest of my body. I was solidly pinned.
Following the script, my breath became labored. He grabbed my hair and barked in my ear.
“How does this make you feel? Are you wet? Am I making you wet?”
“Say it. Say it!”
“Wet! Wet. You make me feel wet.”
With my breathing slowed, he went back to his tie. With the intensity of this mock scene, which didn’t feel at all fake to me, one thought ran through my mind. Shit! Are you fucking kidding me? I have to end this now? Now!?!
I followed the script, even though it went against every fiber of my being.
I began hyperventillating. Gray put his hand on my back to try to comfort me. I increased my hurried breaths.
“Breathe with me. Breathe with me.”
“Don’t touch me! DON’T TOUCH ME!”
Again and again I yelled at Gray, using the same words over and over, panic in my voice. He stepped back, trying to calm me with soothing reassurances, but it was to no avail.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me.”
An “expert” stepped in to help, asking Gray what went wrong. Gray explained the situation and the “expert” got close to me, attempting to talk to me.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!”
Because of his nearness, my voice, which had quieted some, rose again to a scream. He backed away.
Neither man knew what to do. Gray had his safety shears, but my protestations were coupled with writhing. The last thing Gray wanted to do was risk cutting me.
In a stroke of quick thinking, Gray called over my “sister” to try to calm me down. The called upon volunteer knelt down slowly, got eye contact with me, and tried to talk me down.
“Don’t touch me.”
I still repeated my mantra, though quietly, as if I were trying to talk to her but I did not posess the words. She softly asked if it was okay if they untied me. I tearily complied.
Once free, I asked, “Are we done?” Someone gave an affirmitive reply. I bopped up and sat back in my seat, happy and bubbly from my performance.
Everyone else, though, was a little freaked out.
Yeah, I forgot to tell them I could act. Opps.
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