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Prince Chaosti
Human Googlebot
Level 4: 337 points
Last Logged In: October 24th, 2014
TEAM: Team octo-pancake TEAM: Fetlife BART Psychogeographical Association Rank 1: Commuter EquivalenZ Rank 2: Human Googlebot The University of Aesthematics Rank 3: Graffito Humanitarian Crisis Rank 2: Justice Society For Nihilistic Intent And Disruptive Efforts Rank 2: Trickster
15 + 11 points

The Treasure Hunters by Prince Chaosti

June 30th, 2013 10:48 PM

INSTRUCTIONS: Hunt for treasure. Document your search and any treasure you find.

Some people spend their whole lives searching for the treasures that make their lives valid, worth living. Some people live for the thrill of the hunt. Sometimes, they just fall in your lap, and sometimes, you have to fight to find them.

"If you would like some legroom, you might want to clean out the front of my car." My Dom said to me before we left for a pre-munch dinner. Ever the polite Southerner.

"You know, as your submissive, instead of saying 'If you would like,' try, "Bitch, go do this!" I sassed back, because I am a snarky bird.

"Fine, go clean out the front of my car." She replied with a smile. And I found my first treasure.

In the car we had discussed the merits of naming a dildo "Antagonistic Bone" So you can make jokes about how you either have or don't have an antagonistic bone in your body. And my second treasure presented itself.

At Renegades, I stripped down to my underwear, and people were invited to write on me with sharpies. "Would you like to write on my bird?!" I cannot even explain how happy being able to play, to exist, to be *embraced* as a bird makes me. Every time I have a toy in mouth and m'Lord grabs it for a round of tug, my heart flies. Another treasure is unearthed.

There was a man out who is a creep. I had been spending my night being blissfully sharpied up, toy in mouth, when I inadvertently ended up in a tug of war with him. My brain shut down, and my body took over. So I pulled, my face contorted into a snarl. I do not know if she saw the rage and fear on my face, or if my clenched fists gave me away, or whether some other subtle clue had contributed to her feelings, but our eyes locked. And when she called me, I stumbled to her, and found my next treasure there in her arms.

When the beatings started I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. I could not have been more wrong. As the sensations in my body grew, the treasures I had found were growing, too.

"You are so beautiful." She says quietly in my ear before biting my neck and grabbing the next toy.

I have had these words said to me, in different contexts, and by different people, but never had those words resonated so deeply within me. And I found another treasure.

One by one each of these treasures that I have found gathered themselves and filled me until I could hold no more, and they spilled forth. I moaned, I writhed, I screamed. I sobbed uncontrollably, body jerking, whimpering.

And I felt her hands on me. Gentle, loving, protective. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to bring you closer to normal?"

"I'm okay. These are happy tears. I'm overwhelmed, but I'm okay." I chocked out through my closed throat, and even in that moment, with all of my treasures laying themselves out in my tears, I had found another treasure to join the rest.

I had come to a point where I was feeling **so much** that I had just *ceased* feeling.

By the time our scene had ended the table cover and my face were soaked, my skin and hair saturated, dripping. I couldn't breathe, could barely stand.

Then I felt a sharpie on my back!

As I lay with my head in her lap, she showed me a picture of me, bent over the pool table, my fresh ink standing out starkly against all of the faded marks that had been beaten off of my flesh.


This treasure came and went quickly, a few tears falling silently. I simply could not process any more in that moment.

In the car on the way home, my processing had not gotten my very far, and I was unable to truly articulate what I had wanted to say, but I had to say something. I felt I had to put voice to how I was feeling. I was so drained of emotion at that point that I could not even manage to put any emotion into my words, and in a deadpan, I started to speak. "You know how sometimes you think you want something, and you don't realize exactly what it is you want or how badly you wanted it until it gets actualized? That's happening to me with about 20 things right now." That was as coherent as I could vocalize the thoughts that have become this writing.

I have been thinking, and processing, and writing, and I feel content with how this writing represents what I had wanted to say in those moments.

I have never felt so dominated or possessed. I have never felt so protected or loved. I have never felt so owned or claimed. And I have never felt so treasured.

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