First RT Meeting

Author: dina ©

This article is copyrighted to the stated author(s) and can not be reproduced, copied, reprinted, or posted without the consent of the author. It is used here with permission of the author.




This is the story of my first RT meeting. It is something that i would just assume put behind me, and try to forget, but i am putting it in writing to share with others. i am sharing it so that others can learn from it, and so they don't make the same mistake that i did. i was hurt badly, both physically and mentally by this experience, but also have learned from it, and am stronger because of it.

i was at a point in my life where i felt really alone. i had just broken up with my boyfriend, i was staying at my mom's house, but was never home, because of problems with her boyfriend, and i had just been forced to quit my job due to health reasons. i was extremely stressed and depressed. i was so depressed, that i had reached a point where i didn't feel anything, and i didn't care anymore what happened to me. i was even considering suicide, though i knew i couldn't go through with the thoughts that i had.

i tried to get a hold of my friends, thinking that maybe one of them would be able to snap me out of the mood i was in, but i couldn't get a hold of any of them. So, i rented a hotel room for the weekend. i stayed in the room alone, and fell deeper and deeper into depression. All weekend, i tried to no avail to contact my friends. i really needed to talk to someone. i found the number for a free chatline in a magazine, and i called it.

There was a man online. His greeting said he was a dominant male in his late 50s, looking for submissive females any age. At the time, i really knew nothing of D/s, but i knew what the words Dominant and submissive meant. i really needed to talk to someone, so, i sent him a message, and we talked for awhile. i was still in the mood where nothing mattered to me anymore. So, when he asked if we could meet, i agreed to meet him the next day. i told him to meet me at the convenience store near my mom's house.

The next day, i met him at the convenience store at the time we had agreed on. i was still in the same mood, and even more depressed. He pulled up in his car, and when he did, i took one look at him, and got a really bad warning feeling inside. i ignored the feeling though, because i just didn't care anymore. i figured the worst that would happen is he would kill me, and i just thought well, at least it would save me the trouble of having to try and do it myself. i got in the car, and we drove to his house. On the drive there, he told me everything that would be expected of me when we got there. i just quietly listened with a blank expression on my face, nodding and saying "yes Sir" when i thought it appropriate.

When we arrived at the house, i stripped off all of my clothes, folded them neatly, and put them on a chair by the door. i then got on my knees, legs spread apart, hands behind my back, head down, and eyes closed, and waited quietly, as he had instructed me to do. Cuffs wer placed on my wrists, and then were locked together. i was blindfolded and gagged, then i was led to a corner, and told to stand there with my hands up against the wall and my legs spread wide apart. Cuffs were then placed on my ankles, attatched with a spreader bar between them.

He then whipped me for about an hour with a whip and a flogger. Then, i was led to a chair, he sat down, and i was laid across his lap. He started to hit me with his hand, and i was instructed to keep track of how many times he hit me. It ended up being 100 times. Then, he did the same using a ping pong paddle, again, i had to keep track, and i was hit 100 times. Then, he used a big, thick, wooden paddle. He was going to stop with that one at 75, but when he asked me how many times he had hit me, my answer was wrong, so i got another 25 added on for being wrong. my mind had drifted, and i had lost track, but it really didn't matter at the time, because i couldn't feel anything anyway.

i was then taken to a bedroom, and bound to a bed. i was whipped again. Then, he put nipple clamps on really tight, and ripped them off, repeating this over and over, until my nipples were cut and bleeding. He put cigarettes out on my left breast, and put rubber bands around my right breast, snapping them repeatedly until they cut into my skin. i still didn't care, because i felt no pain. then he left me there, blindfolded, bound, and gagged to sleep for the night.

In the morning, he whipped me again. Then, he told me he wanted me to move in with him. i felt like i wasn't worth anything, nobody cared, and that i deserved to be treated this way, so i agreed. i asked him to drop me off at the convenience store, so i could go and get my things from my mom's house. i told him i would meet him back there the next night.

He then unbound me, got my clothes, and dressed me, then he took the blindfold off. Then he drove me back to the convenience store and dropped me off. i walked to my mom's, still not feeling anything. When i got there, i told my mom that i wouldn't be staying there anymore, that i was moving out. She didn't say anything.

Then, i went into the bathroom, and got undressed to take a shower. It was then that i first saw that my left breast had cigarette burn marks all over it, and a cut from where the nipple clamp had been ripped off. my right breast was bruised from the rubber bands and had several cuts that were bleeding. my legs and arms were all bruised too. i checked my whole body in the mirror, there was not an inch of it, save for my hands and face that was not covered in either dark blue and purple bruises, welts, cuts, or a combination of the three. i lost it, and started to cry hysterically. my mom came and started yelling and banging on the door, but i ignored her.

i stood in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, and crying hysterically. Then, i turned the shower on with all hot water, no cold. i got in the shower, and let the hot water wash over me. i figured what the hell, i couldn't feel it. i just stood under the hot water, thinking, tears silently sliding down my cheeks with the water and going down the drain.

i got out of the shower, dried off, and then sat on the floor with my back up against the door. i sat there with my knees up, my arms wrapped around my knees, my head down on my arms, rocking back and forth, and crying. When i finally calmed down, i got up, and got dressed. i was now even more depressed and confused. i felt like this was the way i deserved to be treated. After all, it was the way my mom, stepdad, and others had treated me when i was growing up, so it seemed to make sense to me at the time.

i left the bathroom, and set about packing up my things. my mom asked me what was wrong, but i refused to tell her. Later on, while i was packing, my mom happened to see one of the bruises, and she asked again what was wrong. i told her nothing was wrong. She didn't believe me, she grabbed me by my arm, and pulled me into the bathroom. She told me i wasn't leaving the bathroom until i told her what was going on. So, i went and sat on the edge of the tub, i wasn't going to tell her, she was the last person on earth that i would tell.

She walked over and touched my back, without realizing it, i winced, but she noticed it. She made me take off my shirt, and she saw all of the cuts, welts, and bruises, and she totally freaked out. my mom asked if the person that did this to me was the same person i was going to move in with. i wouldn't answer her, all i could do was cry.

my mom said she wasn't going to let me out of the house, i told her i was 19 and she couldn't stop me. We got into a major screaming match. i grabbed my stuff, and headed for the front door, but she blocked my path and wouldn't let me leave. i was so mad, i attacked her. Then she and her boyfriend held me down so i couldn't hurt anyone, including myself. They held me down until i completely exhausted myself trying to get free. For two weeks, they took turns staying awake to make sure that i didn't sneak out, although i tried many times. There was alot of tension and fighting in the house, but by the end of the two weeks, i had done alot of thinking.

i realized that i did not deserve to be treated that way. i realized that i was a good person, and i did care what happened to me. i was still depressed, but no longer having suicidal thoughts or wanting to hurt myself. After the two weeks, i contacted my friends, and with their help, i slowly pulled myself out of the depression.

The bruises, cuts, and welts all eventually went away, but i do have both physical and mental scars. The physical scars may never go away, and will always be a constant reminder of what happened. The mental scars in time may or may not go away. i will never forget what happened, but in time will put it behind me, and it will be a distant memory.

It hurt to write this story, but it also helped me face it, and begin to put it behind me. i have definitely learned my lesson, and will never do anything like this again, no matter how depressed i get. i not only wrote this story for myself, i wrote it to share with others, in hopes that they too will learn from my mistake, and think very hard and take all measures of caution and safety possible before meeting someone, and never meet someone when you are in the type of mood i was in, instead seek help among the safety of your friends, family, and/or professionals.
This is a true story, something that has actually happened to me, it is not something that i made up. i hope that those of you who read this take it seriously, and realize that things like this can and do happen. It can happen to anyone, especially if you are not careful, or meet someone when you are feeling like i was. You can never be too careful.

i learned many things from this experience. i learned that you have to be extremely careful when meeting anyone. i learned that you should never meet anyone when you are in the type of mood i was in. i learned that i am a good person who does not deserve to be treated that way, and many other things.
Now, i try to help and be there for others who may have or be having some fo the same thoughts or feelings that i did. i have two good ears for listening, and two good shoulders to cry on. i know how much it helps to talk to someone who has gone or is going through something similar. So, i do my best to make myself available to others for this purpose, just as i have friends who are always available to me. Everyone needs a friend at one time or another.





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