15 + 50 points
The Callouses on Your Hands by Markov Walker
June 1st, 2010 12:25 PM
Time for two truths and a lie.
To call this a battle wound might be a stretch. Battle entails a certain symmetry that was missing from this engagement.
I was 22, having a drink at the Ravari Room in Columbus, Ohio with my girlfriend. She was 20 with a winning smile that got her into bars without proper identification. I finished my drink and excused myself with a burning desire to relieve my bladder.
I returned from the restroom to see another guy, maybe in his late twenties, leaning over my girlfriend. He put his hand on her knee and she stood up and moved away. He pressed closer when I walked up.
"Can't you see she's not interested? Maybe you should talk to somebody else."
"Who are you?"
"I'm just concerned that you're harassing--"
I didn't get to finish because he had grabbed a bottle and smashed it into my gut. It knocked the wind out of me. Before I knew it, the bouncer was on top of him, choking him out. I got up and noticed I was bleeding. The bartender took me to the first aid kit at Hounddogs next door. There were only surface cuts, nothing to worry about, so I got it cleaned up, bandaged, and went home to cultivate a new scar.
These marks were a day after a BDSM play party at The Studio, a place on the south side of the Big Onion. I was tied to the cross (less blasphemous than it sounds, sadly), back facing out, and blindfolded while my girlfriend and our mutual friend had their way with my back. The poked, prodded, scratched, and smacked while I amused myself trying to undo this friend's rope work and escape. He had to retie me several times, and did my fingers so tight in the end that my hand was still slightly numb days later.
He was also quite excited because he hadn't "been able to carve [his] name into a hot guys ass in a long time."
It was one of those nights.
Once this exercise ran its course I was untied. I turned around and hadn't taken my blindfold off when my girlfriend whacked me across the belly with a studded belt. It was quite a shock. I basically doubled over and unblindfolded myself pretty quickly.
I found out a little bit about boundaries that night. All in good fun.
To call this a battle wound might be a stretch. Battle entails a certain symmetry that was missing from this engagement.
I was 22, having a drink at the Ravari Room in Columbus, Ohio with my girlfriend. She was 20 with a winning smile that got her into bars without proper identification. I finished my drink and excused myself with a burning desire to relieve my bladder.
I returned from the restroom to see another guy, maybe in his late twenties, leaning over my girlfriend. He put his hand on her knee and she stood up and moved away. He pressed closer when I walked up.
"Can't you see she's not interested? Maybe you should talk to somebody else."
"Who are you?"
"I'm just concerned that you're harassing--"
I didn't get to finish because he had grabbed a bottle and smashed it into my gut. It knocked the wind out of me. Before I knew it, the bouncer was on top of him, choking him out. I got up and noticed I was bleeding. The bartender took me to the first aid kit at Hounddogs next door. There were only surface cuts, nothing to worry about, so I got it cleaned up, bandaged, and went home to cultivate a new scar.
These marks were a day after a BDSM play party at The Studio, a place on the south side of the Big Onion. I was tied to the cross (less blasphemous than it sounds, sadly), back facing out, and blindfolded while my girlfriend and our mutual friend had their way with my back. The poked, prodded, scratched, and smacked while I amused myself trying to undo this friend's rope work and escape. He had to retie me several times, and did my fingers so tight in the end that my hand was still slightly numb days later.
He was also quite excited because he hadn't "been able to carve [his] name into a hot guys ass in a long time."
It was one of those nights.
Once this exercise ran its course I was untied. I turned around and hadn't taken my blindfold off when my girlfriend whacked me across the belly with a studded belt. It was quite a shock. I basically doubled over and unblindfolded myself pretty quickly.
I found out a little bit about boundaries that night. All in good fun.
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posted by SF0 Daemon on April 10th, 2011 10:17 PM
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Ravari Room is a shady place. My friend got into a knife fight with some skinheads there. He survived unscathed, but went to jail and that eventually led to his undoing.