So a couple weeks ago I mentioned that I had volunteered as the demonstration model (“stunt bottom” as they call it) for a punching and slapping class. That went well. The instructor started off by asking what she could do to me with her hands, so someone shouted “stick your finger up his nose!” and of course, everyone agreed, so she shrugged, grabbed my head and jammed her finger up my nose.
After washing her hands, she came back to demonstrate all the punching, slapping, poking, grabbing and pressure points. I have a tendency to scream, yelp, growl, grimace and shake. I’ve learned that when I’m in pain, everyone knows I’m in pain. This is totally opposite to my other emotions, which for some reason my voice and body don’t want to communicate. It’s like when I’m in extreme pain, I can finally be myself and my body stops worrying about all the garbage in the world and what people think of me and just focuses on the moment and does what comes natural.
So anyway, everyone liked watching my reactions, so the instructor agreed to do a real scene with me the following Monday, Columbus Day. I told her I was probably up for whatever she had in mind, so she replied by saying “Okay, there’s gonna be some needles and some other stuff.”
So I showed up on Monday and she had me strip down and get up on the autopsy table they have down at the sex club. (Apparently it’s a genuine autopsy table donated from a local morgue.) Then she started pulling implements out of her bag: a strip of truck tire, two rubber mallets (can’t remember if she was worried she’d break one on my ass or wanted to beat me two-handed), a regular stun-gun, another stun-gun she’d built herself (cuz the real one wasn’t strong enough), a police baton, and a box of needles and the safety gloves and sanitation stuff that go with them. Naturally she took her time to build tension.
She started off by sticking four needles in my arm. Oddly, this didn’t hurt too much as they were the smallest gauge needle you can find. But then she took two larger needles and threaded them through the other four. That was notably more painful, particularly when she started poking at it.
Then she told me she wanted to stick a needle under my fingernail and let me choose the finger so I picked my left forefinger without thinking about it. So she carefully stuck this needle in there and I closed my eyes and gripped the other side of the autopsy table. I glanced down at it once or twice, then went back to cringing and hiding from it. She flicked the needle up and down, just playing with it, but when she flicked it side-to-side, that hurt a whole lot more, so naturally she preferred that. (Everyone reacts differently to different types of pain so that’s some of the fun for these sadistic types is experimenting on people and figuring out what gets to them and what doesn’t.)
When she was done playing with it, she said, “Take a look at it.”
“Yeah, I saw it,” I said, preferring to hide.
“No. Look at it,” she said.
So I looked closer and saw through the fingernail, the needle sitting just underneath, shoved almost to the cuticle.
I started getting a little silly at this point and don’t really remember the exact progression of events. I remember her hitting me with the mallet(s), the strip of tire, and she may have had a wooden paddle or something. It’s a little fuzzy at this point. I think she also beat the bottom of my foot at one point, with a stick or something. I kept squirming and trying to get away as she didn’t have me restrained, but every time I got moved, my legs repeatedly climbing the wall, she’d always find another spot to beat. I remember my screams and grunts getting louder and louder, but she just wouldn’t stop beating on me, so I think twice I finally had to make her stop, and several other times she stopped on her own, and each time it would be pretty awful when she was hitting me, and I would wonder why the fuck I’d signed up for this, but the moment it stopped, the whole situation became hilarious and I’d find myself giggling and praying that she wasn’t gonna let me have too much of a break.
At some point she reminded me that I still had a needle sticking out from under my fingernail and that I needed to be careful not to jam it down deep with my flailing. I told her I would be sure not to do any typing until she removed it. A while later she took it out, worried that I just wasn’t paying close enough attention. I don’t recall at what point she removed the six needles from my arm.
She brought out the stun-gun and of course taunted me with it for a couple minutes. It’s a pretty intimidating little device, but when she finally hit me with it, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. When she continued zapping me, over and over again, it got a bit worse. My main thought on this is how can these things be sold under the guise of self-defense? I can’t imagine one of these things actually stopping an attacker.
Then she wanted me to stick my tongue in it. She could have just grabbed my tongue and zapped it herself and we could have been done with it but no, she wanted me to do it myself, so I debated in my head, well, that’s electricity really near my brain… but she probably knows what she’s doing… probably… so I tried to force myself to do it but in the end I just couldn’t. Maybe next time… after I Google the effects of stun guns to the face.
To be continued tomorrow…
the good and bloody parts are coming in the next post 🙂… and pictures.