If you end up following this blog it you’ll discover that we are all quite multifaceted. It doesn’t take long to recognize that out of the three of us; the one that we never really have a total handle on, is our muse. She is the one who is always stirring things up, pulling pranks and generally keeping things lively. Not that we can’t handle her – we do a pretty good job of that, but it truly does take a village at times and we seem to have found a very good balance. She can be a handful and quite exasperating at times but she is also one of the most creative, genuine and loving souls I’ve ever met and though I’ve warned her I’ll nail her nut sack to my dining room chair if she ever dumps a bucket of cold water on me while in the shower; I can appreciate the effort behind a good practical joke.
That being said, I was warned long before we ever spent any time together that there was an aspect of her personality I needed to be aware of before we agreed to play. Within muse there is what I can only describe as an alter, named Ronin. (Noun: In Japan, under the feudal system, a samurai who had renounced his clan or who had been discharged or ostracized and had become a wanderer without a lord; an outcast; an outlaw.) Luckily I took the warning seriously as though I had never dealt with anything such as this I didn’t want to put either of us in any harm’s way. I had a dear friend come over and install ten eyebolts in the doorframe between my master bedroom and bathroom door and purchased a number of locks which were unfortunately, individually keyed.
I stripped her down and she was cuffed. Wrists, waist, thighs and ankles in my doorway. Chains and tiny locks. A hood over her head exposing nothing to me except her nostrils and mouth. When I had her in position I couldn’t help but admire my handiwork; this magnificent, powerful creature waiting to feel my lashes. I remember looking at her that night and admiring her standing there with her beautiful perky breasts and her boy parts exposed. We were friends, yes…on a casual level. But to trust me to this extent was something that people generally don’t do. I’d not played in a very long time and was honestly nervous about doing so. I didn’t want to disappoint her.
The lashes fell. Time and time again, muse collapsed. When muse collapsed, Ronin appeared. I had met Ronin for a brief moment the night before and the encounter had stopped me in my tracks.
Ronin is the protector. When muse would collapse from the pain, Ronin stepped in. To be more descriptive; when muse’s knees would buckle; suddenly a figure would appear in the doorway that would replace muse. He would extend fully, expand his full width, and he would wait for the next blow.
At this point, muse was gone. I was dancing with Ronin.
We did this for some time. Muse would collapse, Ronin would step in. I would scramble back and forth between her legs to check on her as she was tethered to my doorway. At some point I looked at muse and it was Ronin grinning back at me.
Keep in mind – muse is hooded, I can only see her mouth and nostrils. Ronin is like a bull. Nostrils flaring; mouth in a joker-ish grin. She is holding the key to one of my locks between her fingers and is waving it at me. I was shaken. And pissed. “That’s funny to you?” I ask as I take the key from her. I lay it on my bathroom sink, out of reach. And then I do something I’ve never done to another human being before. I ball my fist up, and sink it as hard and as fast into her gut as I can. She folds over, coughing and choking. While waiting for her to recover I’m thinking we’ve already crossed a line. If she pukes I’m just gonna have to wipe it up and keep on going.
She recovers and leans forward into me, and with this deep and ominous voice I don’t recognize says “Fear doesn’t become you.”
So I sink my fist into her gut again.