fallingsta		fallingtoh		Fallinglig

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Who Am I? 32 years old, in excellent physical condition (pictures coming in next few days), laid-back, open-minded, fanatically masochistic. I am not a newbie who's biting off more than he can chew here... I have extensive experience in the "Scene", and know exactly what I'm asking for, and the potential ramifications. Who Are You? You are a human being (age, gender, orientation, experience level, looks etc do not matter at all...) You're friendly, trustworthy, open-minded, sadistic, or at least curious about inflicting pain. What Am I Seeking? A lengthy, judicial-style, prison-type, bare-back whipping, with NO SAFEWORDS. I need to be clear here... I'm NOT looking for a gentle pinking of the skin with a deerskin flogger. I desire a severe, merciless, punishment-level beating which is designed to hurt as much as possible. I'm not looking for exposed muscle, Passion Of The Christ kind of ridiculousness, but I'm completely disinterested in anything "playful". I want this to hurt - a lot. I want to be regretting this almost as soon as it starts - that "oh shit... what did I just get myself into" kind of sinking feeling. The limits of how long it lasts, and how many lashes I get, should be agreed-on/negotiated beforehand. After that, I don't have any options for stopping it, and am completely helpless - forced to endure the entire thing, no matter how much I beg, regret it, scream, tremble, sob etc. Why Do I Want This? Because it's insanely exciting to me to be forced well past the limits of what I can voluntarily take. Ironically, I really don't have much of a high pain tolerance - when I'm whipped, restraints and a gag are necessities. If I were given the option, I'd likely tap out around the 10th lash. Relieved in the moment but ultimately disappointed terribly later on. For your enjoyment, I promise - I am NOT one of those boring masochists who just grunts with pleasure when I'm being struck. Imagine whipping somebody who wasn't "into it" at all, and who not only was in terrible pain from it, but was scared, terrified, desperate to find any kind of relief or mercy. Like I said, I'll need to be tied tightly, and gagged securely. What Will We Be Using? *Grin* I have an impressive collection of implements which I will be uploading pictures of shortly. I have tightly braided leather bullwhips of differing lengths, a genuine Australian stockwhip, bamboo canes, a sjambok, several different kinds of cats (everything from knotted rope, to thin, heavy wire cables) and a host of unique types of whips for every taste. For sound control, I have several different gags to choose from: everything from simple bit/bridle types, to a sturdy inflatable rubber gag that stops ALL noise. Restraint-wise, I have leather suspension cuffs, handcuffs, assorted ropes, chains, hoods, collars, shackles etc. Where Will We Do This? If we get along well, you seem like a trust-worthy, down-to-earth kind of person, and you feel comfortable doing so, we could meet at my place in the mountains. Barring that, we could meet at your place if you have a basement, shed, garage etc private enough that the neighbours won't be interested. If you have somewhere out in a rural area, even better! Final option, I can think of several ideal spots out in the national forest along I-70, or 285. Would be about 1-2 hours drive, and then a short hike to get somewhere reliably private. Being outside in the elements while doing this does appeal to me - I envision being left tied to something between beatings, while rain pours down on me, or the afternoon sun scorches a nasty sunburn... What Else Am I Into? Crucifixion, crucifixion, crucifixion! Not with nails, (I'm crazy, not stupid... :-) but ropes tying my arms stretched out on a cross beam. Being whipped raw before I'm hung on the cross, and then left for hours in the hot sun with no food, water, or mercy - my sore, aching back rubbing painfully against the wood, arms aching from supporting my weight, the sun burning my exposed skin. The "Rack": being either staked out, hung, or tied to some kind of bench/table, and having either the ropes tightened with a winch/pulley, or weights added incrementally, until I'm stretched painfully, agonizingly tight. "Interrogation" Either tied hanging for hours by my wrists, or maybe bound naked to a table. Having a leather belt repeatedly strike me on my exposed genitals. A rope pulled tight enough around my throat to completely cut off breath, until I'm bucking and straining for air, face turning red and/or purple - repeatedly, and after allowing only a breath or two. Burning cigarettes put out on sensitive areas of my body. Tied in a "strappado" position, my arms behind me and a rope pulling me higher slowly toward the ceiling - putting all the strain on my shoulders. Tied hanging lengthwise, with lit candles placed underneath me on the ground. Close enough to burn and cause pain, but not close enough to knock over. Being tied with either my palms, or the soles of my feet up. Caned on same repeatedly. Left chained to something in nasty weather - being rained/hailed on with my hands bound - unable to protect my face. Chained and whipped, then left outside for hours overnight in cold temperatures. Being burned/branded with coat hangers heated by a lighter. The Ideal Example Scenario: (This will be a bit lengthy, so all the pertinent info is above - this is just sort of a general example of how I envision it going.) We arrive at the location and park. I grab the pack out of the car and give you the keys. We hike about 100 yards in, enough to be sure we're not going to run into some picnicking family. At this point you handcuff or bind my hands behind me, me still carrying the pack (it'll have all the whips and gear, and we can bring water/snacks for you). You slip a rough rope lead around my neck, fitted with a slipknot that tightens when pulled on and loosens when released. I'm forced to remove my shoes and place them in the pack, leaving my bare feet exposed to the sharp sticks, rocks, and occasional cacti of the forest floor. You give the rope a sharp tug, and I obediently follow a few paces behind you. Any slowing, or tripping on my part earns a nasty jerk on the rope, choking me slightly and pulling me along. We hike a while until we reach a medium-sized clearing with two aspen trees near the center. I'm ordered to remove the pack, and then you yank on the rope until I'm forced onto my knees at your feet. You obtain a pair of ropes from the pack, and pull me along by the leash on my knees until we reach the pair of trees. I'm ordered to stand with my arms outstretched between the two aspens, standing on a short log stump that I was told to drag over. A rope slipknot is fastened around each of my wrists, and then tightly tied to the trees. My ankles are bound tightly together, just before you kick the stump away. I drop down and my arms are jerked tightly up into a wide "Y" shape over my head, leaving me standing on tiptoes stretched and spreadeagled. You jerk the rope around my neck taut, pulling my head sharply back at an awkward angle, the rope tightening around my neck and leaving my coughing and sputtering for breath. Keeping it tight, you slip a foot over the end of it on the ground, leaving your hands free and keeping me choking and bent backwards. As my face turns slowly red with the rope digging into the soft skin of my neck, you tightly bind a bit gag into my mouth. Repeated tugs and jerks on the straps leave it bound in place, painfully tight, the straps biting into my cheeks. You keep the rope tight, standing there sadistically as I gag and struggle to breathe. As my face starts turning slightly blue, you finally release it - my head snaps forward and I cough, gasping for air, panting heavily around the bit gag. Without any ceremony, you take firm hold of the collar of my shirt, and tear it down the back. Repeatedly tearing at it, my shirt is ripped off and I'm left stripped to the waist. The breeze dances across the goosebumps on my stretched, aching arms, and I'm reminded uncomfortably of how incredibly vulnerable and helpless I am right now. Nothing between my tender skin, and the biting leather of whichever whip you choose to start with. My hands are turning white from the strain, my wrists are already chafing from the rough rope digging into them, and my feet are getting tired from attempting to stand on tiptoe to relieve some of the tension in my arms and upper back. The breeze kicks up again, uncomfortably cool now, and I shiver. Slowly, the serious nature of my predicament begins to set in, and the first note of fear wells up uncomfortably in my stomach. I turn my head to try and see what you're doing - watching you methodically lay out a line of whips on the ground, weighing each one in your hand, deciding what I will be hit with first. Hesitantly, fearfully, I try to muster a few words through the gag. I attempt to say, "Hey... you know, I'm starting to have second thoughts here... not sure I'm going to be able to do this after all. It's really cold, and I'm not that excited for this anymore. My arms also really hurt... I think I want to stop" All that actually comes out past the gag is "Mmmpphhh!!" and a series of guttural noises which you completely ignore. When I realize I'm not getting anywhere with talking to you, I turn forward and resolve to wait until you're closer. Maybe you didn't hear me? Finally, after what feels like a very uncomfortable eternity, I hear footsteps as you slowly walk toward me. With mounting dread, I'm aware that you've chosen your whip, and it's dangling from your hand. It's got a 2 foot wooden handle, and several thin, 3-foot long, heavy, flexible rubber-coated wires hanging off it. My stomach flips, and my heart begins to race. I turn my head over my shoulder to try and get your attention - trying to speak more rapidly now, but discouragingly aware that no intelligible sounds are making it past the gag. You don't even seem to be acknowledging that I'm trying to talk to you! You step up behind me, and suddenly my head is jerked roughly back again, the rope constricting tightly around my neck and cutting off my air entirely. I struggle to breathe, gagging and coughing, my heart pounding in my ears as my face turns red and I begin to panic. Taking no notice of my discomfort whatsoever, you slowly tap the handle of the whip on my bare shoulder repeatedly. I'm seeing bright stars in my vision as I struggle desperately to breathe. Finally, you speak... With no ceremony or buildup, you inform me that you've decided what my punishment will be. I am to receive a series of beatings over the course of the day and afternoon, each increasingly severe. First, the first few sessions I will receive in this current position - arms stretched, standing on tiptoes (or hanging by my chafing wrists, if I can't support my weight on my aching toes - you tell me it's my choice). They will be spaced roughly an hour apart - not to give me time to recover, but to ensure that my pain tolerance goes completely back down between each whipping. Endorphins to begin to kick in after a while, and it would be a waste if I wasn't feeling each agonizing stroke. Secondly, I will be staked out face up on the ground, when the afternoon sun gets it's hottest. My arms and legs will be tied in an "X" shape, stretched painfully tight between 4 stakes driven into the ground. During this time, I will have the "lucky opportunity" (you chuckle sadistically here, ignoring my desperate attempts to breathe as you tighten the rope around my neck) to feel the lashes on my chest, belly, underarms, ribs, and groin. I will receive several sets like this, until the sun begins to lose it's heat in the late afternoon, and I'm badly sunburned on top of the whip marks. Thirdly, I'll be tied bent over a log, my arms stretched tightly in front of me, and my ankles tied bent up to my knees. Finally, my jeans and underwear will be torn/cut off, and I will be left completely naked and vulnerable. In this position, I'll be caned with a bamboo rod and then a sjambok, on my lower back, tailbone, buttocks, and thighs. Following the "cooldown" from this, I will be beaten with a thinner cane, on the soles of my feet, then my ankles, toes, tops of my feet, and calves. (Even as the air is coming in increasingly smaller, ragged gasps, choking through the rope around my neck, I shudder uncontrollably at the thought of being beaten on my toes...) Fourth, my final "gift" will be to be hung naked by my wrists from a high branch, left hanging high enough that my feet can't possibly touch the ground and relieve any of the strain in my aching arms. I'll receive two portions of this sentence - each at a much higher lash count than any of the previous sessions. The first will be with a sturdy cane - starting on my shoulders and working down to my toes, then slowly up the front of my legs until I'm being struck on my collar bone and underarms. Secondly, without the benefit of a break this time, will be a heavy leather bullwhip. This will be used to "fill any remaining empty spaces" between welts on my body, and will be applied for significantly more lashes than any of the other previous sessions. Finally, you release the rope around my neck, and I gasp desperately for air - my heart pounding in my temples, my entire body trembling with fear, apprehension, despair, and the terrible promise of impending agony. I hear you stepping slightly to the side of me, measuring the distance. A few practice swishes with the whip, and my entire back is a mass of goosebumps. I tremble in a mix of anticipation and abject fear and dread. Nausea sweeps over my as I realize that you had promised to ignore me no matter what, and that I was GOING to be tortured - no matter how desperately I wanted out now. I shiver from the cold wind on my bare skin, and the fear welling up in my gut - so distracted that I barely hear the whip whistling through the air. It lands with a loud crack on my right shoulder blade, and I gasp thru the gag as I bite down hard. My hands clench into fists involuntarily, and my toes curl, as a red hot line of fire wells up from my shoulder to the middle of my back. I've scarcely caught my breath before a second lash lands - directly on top of the welt you just created. I gasp again, and a slight involuntary cry escapes my lips. My shoulder blade is burning, and the pain is radiating through my entire back. With no time to reflect, a third stroke hits, then a fourth, and fifth - all on top of each other. My breath is knocked out of me from the white hot pain, and before I can draw a breath to scream - the lash snakes around and cuts across my waist - trailing fire along my belly and right hip bone. The tip reached such speed from wrapping around my tender skin, that it burrowed into my belly and left a small surface cut. Finally, a scream erupts from me - muffled pathetically into quiet moaning by the gag. My entire body goes rigid, and my head snaps back in agony. The lashes begin to rain down on my naked back now, hard and fast, burning angry red welts from my neck to my tailbone. My ribs are a mass of ugly, blackening bruises, and I'm bleeding from several small cuts to my chest and belly where the tip wrapped around my side. When mercifully you change sides, I expect it to hurt slightly less on the unmarked skin. I was so wrong... now, instead of just being whipped on my left side, the welts are beginning to crosscausing more pain than I had thought possible. I scream, I beg, I plead, and my body writhes around in agony - desperately and helplessly trying somehow to avoid the repeated strikes on my most tender areas. It is all in vain however, and as you continue to viciously, methodically, and rapidly beat my naked back, my screams are slowly reduced from attempting to cry out words, to a wild, animal desperation. My entire world is pain, and a demon is pouring moulten fire onto my bare back and shoulders. The breeze forgotten, my entire body breaks out in a cold sweat - arms shaking and trembling, wrists chafed bloody and raw from straining against the rope bonds, and my back arches repeatedly and involuntarily in a spasm of pure agony with each stroke. Finally, you stop, and I'm in so much pain I'm barely aware. My shoulders ache internally with the strain of my struggles, and supporting my writhing weight. My entire back, most of my ribs, and all across my shoulder blades, is a throbbing mass of fire. I feel my heartbeat in my throat, and I am hoarse from screaming. I'm covered in a sheen of sweat from the agony, and my entire back is a lattice-work of crossing welts, blackened bruises, and reddened flesh. I shake uncontrollably as small exhausted sobs escape my lips, and I hang from my burning wrists - completely exhausted, helpless, and hopeless. Suddenly, my head is jerked back again and I feel the rope constricting tightly around my throat. My breath completely cut off, I spasm and writhe desperately in my bonds - trembling and quivering. I can feel the whip tapped against my welted shoulder, as you quietly and slowly inform me... "Rest up.... you have one hour until the next session."