École des Bro-ArtsSurprised the boy with a branding scene this weekend. Told him we were going out to dinner, then surprised him with his three favorite Sirs clomping down the stairs, grabbing him from behind, and working him over. We took turns paddling his ass, pissing down his throat, choking him out. One man holding and reassuring him, coaching him to breathe, while another took a bison mop to his back. Then we dragged him down to the basement. Candles everywhere, a ratty blanket on the floor.
The four of us held him down. Wrists and neck in heavy irons. Legs and knees cuffed and held apart by spreader bars. R & R sitting on his chest, ordering him to breathe; that it was time. "I'm ready", he said, not fully knowing what was to come. Then the fear in his eyes as I snapped the propane torch on. Flick / flick / flick / fccchhhhhhhhhh. Pleading silently with me as I heated the brand to red-hot in front of him. Passing it over the hairs on his forearm, letting him feel the heat.
T & I knelt over his spread thighs; held him firm. Sprayed him down with isopropyl. "Keep absolutely still, boy. You'll mess up the brand." Gave him a final count: three, two, one--then plunged the iron home. The hiss of searing flesh and the scent of burning hair; little flames dancing on his furry leg. Then it was all over, and I bandaged the wound in gauze and vet wrap. Boy ecstatic, sobbing, beaming. So happy. So relieved. We brought him to the couch and held him for an hour, blissed out.
I have never seen him that peaceful, that content before. It was the fulfillment of so many dreams for him; the men he wants to matter to, the ownership he needs. About forty-five minutes in he started to realize what had happened.
"It... It doesn't really hurt, Sir. Should it hurt?"
"Unwrap it and take a look, boy."
He gingerly peeled the bandage off, and found no mark, no burns. Just a few singed hairs.
"How did you do that, Sir? I FELT it!"
I don't want to spoil this scene for those of you who might want to experience it someday. Like many tops, I have a limited repertoire of these mindfuck scenes, things which (ideally) appear scary and real, but which place the boy in no serious danger. Stories you can only experience once, but which--hopefully--become a treasured part of your life's narrative.
I'm honored, grateful, and so happy that he trusted me to do this with him, and that he took it so well. Couldn't ask for better.
Spent four months laying the logistical and emotional groundwork for this scene. Getting everyone's schedules aligned. Negotiating with the boy to let me override his safeword, without letting him know what and when was coming. Kindling the desire he expressed for a permanent mark. Most importantly, building the trust between us. Scene after scene where I took him past what he thought was the edge, and showing him Sir had his back. Practicing emotional recovery.
I'd planned on him delaminating from the scene--losing him to raw panic, and calling red, red, red. Talking through that with the other Tops, trying to explain the intuition I'd draw on to handle that moment, and the paths the scene might take. How the best abort was most likely going to involve escalation, pushing *through* the terror and delivering the "brand" regardless. If we had to end the scene, he would have crushed himself with guilt and disappointment; felt that he let us all down.
He didn't lose it. Scared but ready. Trusting. Never lost his connection to us, to the moment. And I have the other Sirs to thank for that, who instilled in him the love, care, and belonging that this kind of scene is all about. Who anchored him, voices unyielding and calm, to his breath and body. And I thank the boy himself, who placed his faith and open-hearted yearning in our hands. The scene flowed so easily and naturally through that climactic moment that it felt over before it began.
I'm a happy Sir and he's a happy boy and all that work was absolutely worth it. What a beautiful experience. 💙
AspiringDom [Cubed]@aphyr you humble me. Thats incredible and inspirational