Impulse, Part Four

Standard

The circle went around once more, drawing cards and taking dares. By the time it was my turn again, more people from the party had joined in. And while I recognised some familiar faces, the group was still predominantly strangers.

Still, I was feeling a lot braver than when I had arrived, spurred on by my own nerve in letting half the room spank me and willingness of the others in the group. So, I drew another one of the cards that prompted me to bottom, and felt myself immediately blushing as I looked it over.

“What’s it say?” the host asked.

I tried to say it, but I felt myself stammering. I passed it over to a friend nearby, and she read it aloud. Ever since I have gotten in touch with some of the more specific and risky things I’m into, I’ve felt like I’ve been driving with the parking break on whenever I thought of them. It’s beyond trepidation; it’s more the fear that others will recognise how much I enjoy it and think that I should be more reluctant, more afraid. Even in an environment where people emphasise consent so heavily. That. And, well, I’m shy.

So shy I’ve been having trouble writing it explicitly here.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” the host said. “You can absolutely pass.”

I’ve been fairly honest on this blog about the fact that I like to be overwhelmed. And the scenario of being blindfolded at a party and left for everyone to manhandle has been one that I’ve referenced time and time again. But I’ve never been brave enough to do it, let alone attempt to organise it, and now I had the opportunity. Among strangers and friends, with Pup nearby, I could do it.

“No, I, um, actually.” I felt myself smiling. “I really, really want to.”