Marked

Went for a massage - the usual.
Got told to strip - ok, that's standard.
Climbed onto the table - face down, getting relaxed.
Was prompty kneeded with powerful hands - magic.
In fact, she was stronger than many and generous with both power and overall massage area.
Pointed out that I was hurting in particular spots - nothing strange there.
Was asked if I would consider having a... *splutter* just realized how this is going to sound, but was asked if I would consider having a bone used on me. I said ok, of course! Would I ever pass up something like that?

But seriously, it's some flat ebony-like thing shaped like a fin made of some kind of animal bone - I know because mum has several versions of them, but ivory - and I thought she was going in for the kill on those particular spots - my upper back.

She did, this is true, but she did much more.

She spread my legs apart, climbed up between them and put her weight into it. Working with the cursed guat, that is. I know it all sounds a bit... suggestive, but her position is nothing new really, not when it comes to getting worked on by eastern not-so-privacy-bothered masseurs.

Now normally I would consider myself someone with high pain tolerance, and as a rule I don't let on if any massage work may lean more to pain than comfort. It's some funny mentality that if you say so, they will ease up on the pressure and not give me my money's worth, on top of which I think there is such a thing as good pain. That, and I actually like some decent pressure.

This time, I was feeling it enough to tell her so.

She told me to bear it.

Which is all part of tolerance anyway, so I did.

The thing is she went on and on - so there I was, in that very vulnerable position, and her with her torture tool and dead-set insistence working to earn her keep by far more than even I expected of her.

That was my upper back.

Then there was my spine, and my lower back.
The sides of my body.
My waist and below.
My neck on both sides.
The area below my collarbone.
She had me flipped and turned and flexing every fifth degree.

I'm sure I told her it hurt more than once. A new personal record.
Each time, she said to bear it.
For a lot of it, she had one or both arms pinned to my back as well.
Now this is starting to sound more and more... S&M.
Prolonged S&M.

If I didn't know better, I'd think she were making geographical markings of conquest.

The end result, as T points out, is that were I to walk in to any Australian hospital with less than a word of abuse, he'd be long hunted down, beaten and locked up, no matter who said what. Yesterday.

If you see some diseased-looking person with dark purple bruises down the length of her arms who looks a lot like me, don't discriminate!