Release

There are a couple of riggers in my local community who do very firm therapeutic acupressure in play. At first, you think: Oh, that's nice, the rigger is going to give me a bit of a massage. That will help me relax in the ropes.

Uh huh.

Then, the next thing you know you're up there flying about in the harness with both feet suspended, completely unable to move, and the top has his thumb pressed all the way between two muscles in your buttocks, basically Rolfing and rerouting something as intimate as your basic architecture.

Ow.

I'm not sure if it's the pain, or the realization that I am no longer in control of something as simple and basic as my musculature. What I do know is that I went down, hard. So hard that a photographer friend asked after me to see if I was okay. Down, down, down. Unable to move. Unable to resist. Unable to do anything but allow my muscles to give way to a pressure right at the edge of bearable.

It was . . . pretty amazing. Massage school folk have just taken on amazing new properties in my mind. (Damn: another vanilla profession treyfed for me.)