He covered me in a long coat, and I quickly put my boots on. Out into the car in the cold, anticipating. It was very strange. I withdrew into my own thoughts and expectations while we were driving.
We arrived at the carpark, and I felt ok. Aloof, but ok. Then as I realised we’d have to walk through a beachy bushland track to get there, I got scared. I was about to go down the rabbit hole, to push through the back of the magical wardrobe to a bushy land where everything is different. I became more aware of the trust issue. There was a dark hole in between the bushes, and he took hold of my hand and firmly lead me on. It was exciting at this point, trying not to be frightened.
After 10 or 15 minutes, we reached the rock. He undressed very quickly and then took off my coat (all I wore was my coat and boots), and pushed me: “tits against the rock”. That was when the nylon rope came out – probably the same rope that I’d used to tie down furniture on his ute last time I moved house. Cheap rope, nasty and utilitarian rope. Thick rope you don’t want to struggle against. Rope that has come from the back of the ute and is covered in gritty dust. Doubled over, 2 strands in the mouth, around the neck, shoulders, breasts and waist. Another moment of fear, catching myself wondering at my vulnerability. Who can see me? What if I this were all set-up for something more sinister?
I looked at where I was – surf behind me, bushland cliffs on all other sides. A 15 minute trek through another beach to get back to a deserted carpark. To a car I couldn’t drive even if I had keys. With a man who could easily outrun me and overpower me, even if I was fully clothed in daylight and knew the way back. My logical brain kicked in – what if this isn’t fantasy? What if this is actually dangerous to be here? I had two options: trust or fear.
I let myself surrender.
He grabbed something from the bag but I couldn’t see it.
He pushed me onto my knees my hair. That was hot, and I forgot about the fear and I felt the cold on my back contrasting to his warm body against my face and breasts. He pulled my hair back, and slapped my breasts, which were still bruised from the week before. He pulled me up by the rope: “against the rock”.
I felt the whip on my right side, and it stung so hard. Waves of adrenaline shuddered through me, making my legs wobble and my voice howl on its own. “Noone can hear you, let it out” he soothed. Only a few more strokes, and and I was yelling “no no no” and twisting my hips around after each. “Now, now. You know the rules.” I surrendered again and pushed myself back against the rock. More, and I felt each stroke before it landed with a cracking sound. I was twisting and screaming, but I didn’t want to use my safe word. I didn’t want it to end there. He could see I was confused and pushed his body against me, asking “No as in ‘no’? Just say ‘enough’”. I sobbed “I don’t know! I don’t know!”. 2 more strokes and I howled “enough”. I was shaking, wobbling and sobbing. Before I could relax, he turned me around and marched me to the water, which I struggled against because it would be cold, it would be dangerous, it would be wet. But he was stronger and had the rope to hold onto. We stumbled together until the water was about a foot high, and into the water. At this point, my head under, shocked with the cold and still gagged and with a rope around my neck, my vulnerability became so stark. As I began to twist and turn, not quite able to push myself up out of the water, he took my shoulders and hugged me above the water; “its ok, I’ve got you”.
As he lead me out of the surf, he said (about the cold) “at least you can’t feel your ass anymore”. I thought that it was over at this point.
Back to the rock, his hand on my back pushing me down, he gets out the thick black dildo and whacks each side of my ass with it. Hair pulled, head back, on the knees in the cold: I surrender again. Against the rock, open-handed whacks over the whip marks that make me cry. “Just say ‘enough’”, “I don’t want to!”. More beating with the black dildo, and it starts to seriously hurt, and I feel like I’ve given up when I call out “enough!”
He holds me. He turns me around and smiles into my face like a tender lover. He asks how I am. He puts the coat around my shoulders and breathes hotly on me to warm me up. We sit looking at the beach, and he asks how I am. I don’t know if I am too cold, or too sore, or too stunned, or if I want to keep going or to go home. “If you don’t know, then I’d better take you home”.
Then we fuck and fuck and fuck until the cold becomes distracting, and we go home to sleep but end up fucking and fucking and fucking.
In the moonlight, I thought the black marks were just from the leather. When we got back home, I realised that it was bruising and my skin was broken. I said “seeing that, I don’t feel like so much of a lightweight”. Understatement of the year.
