It all started Saturday night…
“Move your hands. Move your fucking hands.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to punch you in your chest. Twice. If your hands get in the way, I will punch you more. If you take the two punches, that will be it for your sternum. Can you do that? Or do you want me to keep punching your sternum?”
“I can. I can do it.”
I held his other arm. The one not going to punch me. The one resting on my chest. He reared back. Landed his blow. I sobbed, and prepared again.
He reared back. Struck harder. I sobbed harder.
“Good girl. Such a good girl.”
Then came Sunday morning…
“Go ahead and partner up if you want to practice this.”
I looked back at him. A few head nods later and I was on my back as he hovered over me. Scott went over how you would initially look for signs of injury in someone. The head. The spine. The chest.
As I laid there, I remembered FrozenMeursault already knew this stuff. It was a part of his job. As Scott continued to talk, my partner sat beside me, not taking any notes. Instead, he got comfortable, leaning his elbow onto my sternum and resting his head in his hand. I started to screeched.
“Sh, we’re in class.”
And then there was after lunch…
Dragon needed a partner for two classes. I wanted to be in rope. And he’d tied me before. So I volunteered to be his rope bottom.
Our first class was Newaza to Fly. I found my happy place in his ropes. Our second class was Thinking Rope. Dragon worked on breaking down his TK and figuring out all the ways to make his tie better.
Once, during a slight lull in the class, he remembered where I’d been attacked the night before. And that morning. And now, by him. He fashioned a different TK, with shoulder straps that crossed right over my sternum. The fit was tight. It hurt like a bitch. He smiled.
But wait; there’s more…
At the end of Thinking Rope, people gravitated either out of the class or towards WykdDave & Clover.
Rough happened to look back on me as I was chatting about my day.
“People keep attacking my sternum. Every time I mention that I was hurt or show off my bruises, my friends, who are Sadists… Want. To. Hurt. Me. Why did I open my mouth?”
I saw the look in his eyes. The devilish glee. He crept towards me. I knew what was about to happen.
One hand went to my hair. The other formed a fist. Went for my chest. Burried his knuckles into my sternum. I wiggled. I tried to get away. I screamed.
“Why are you screaming,” he whispered into my ear. “We are in class.”
“I couldn’t help it. My lizard brain kicked in.”
“We are humans. You can overcome your lizard brain. Be a big girl and not scream.”
He dug his hand in again. I didn’t wriggled this time. I took his pain. My muscles convulsed. My mouth stretched open. My eyes pursed shut. But I didn’t scream.
“Now that’s a big girl.”
I heard the evil grin in his voice.
Not done yet…
“How are you doing?”
“I can’t tell you because you’ll hurt me.”
I was walking from class. It wasn’t five minutes later. I was going to meet up with people for pizza. I thought I was safe.
But then, somehow, Gray and Spicey were in front of me. And Gray asked that question. And I can’t lie to him.
They both stopped. My arms instinctively crossed in front of my chest.
“Everytime I tell people about how my sternum keeps getting targeted, they all hurt me.”
I whimpered my explanation. I’m sure it was like evil candy to his sadistic ears.
“Put your arms down,” said Gray. I did.
“Open your jacket.” I parted the fabric. My chest was on full display.
I saw his hand come close. I prepared for the blow. I flinched as he only slightly tapped my sternum.
“What’s been happening to her?” asked Spicey.
“People have been giving her sternal rubs.”
“Where’s the sternum?”
“This. See this. Right here.”
“Yes, that. That is the sternum. That right there.”
They both jammed their fingers into the center of my chest. I whimpered through my pain.
Spicey’s anatomy lesson done, we headed upstairs.
“My friends keep hurting me.”
“You know, if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t happen.”
“I can’t help it. It’s in my nature.”
I sat on the couch, waiting for people to show up for pizza. Nomad sat beside me. I was happy she was there.
“I keep getting hurt. People keep attacking my chest. It’s been, like, six people now.”
I looked to my right.
“Shit. Ava. I forgot. You’re a switch.”
I saw the look in her eye. Knew what was in store for me.
She scooted closer. Pushed her fingers into my sternum.
It was the lobby. There is no play in the lobby. My face contorted. My body shook. But I didn’t scream.
“If you’ll let me make you shiver and shake like that, I’ll fuck you.”
My chest was given a reprieve for the evening, but not for the rest of my visit…
It was time to go. The Closing Ceremony had ended. Rope given away. Money donated to charity. Time for the goodbyes.
I spoke to Dov, who I’d barely seen during my weekend. I started bragging about my bruises. After he said he wouldn’t hurt me.
I showed him my thighs. My arms. And then, my sternum.
“You have no idea how hard it is for me to not hurt you right now. Just give me one.”
“Oh, okay. Since you asked.”
I braced myself. He held his hand flat, parrallel to my chest. He bent his middle finger. Readying the knuckle. He swung back. Then forward. Connecting in the center of my chest.
“And, because it’s the sternum, I don’t have to hit you again for symmertry.”
And now, the last…
Our gradual exit from the ballroom crept like a snail up a tree.
Rough looked at me. And remembered. And stuck out his pinky finger.
“It’s just my pinky.”
“Yes, but your pinky is mighty.”
He came in close. Leaned forward. Drove his nail into my chest. Twisted one way. Then the other.
I scrunched my face. Splayed open my mouth. But again, I didn’t scream.
“Good girl,” he said, putting his digital weapon away.
He hugged me bye, one of many that afternoon.
I took a picture of my chest the morning after I got home. The bruise, because I proved that yes you can get a bruise on your sternum, looked kind of like a heart. Sweet, and fitting, for my Shibaricon adventure.
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