“It’s just being beat on. I’ve had that loads of time. I can handleit.”
He said that now. But my guess was that it’d been at least seventeen or eighteen years since he’d been struck. I’d be surprised if, by the fourth or fifth blow, his mind doesn’t travel backwards to being under the hands of hisfather.
“Ryan, don’t be surprised if there are tears. It’s meant to be an emotional experience. After all, it will be an emotional, stressrelease.”
He nodded as his eyes shifted around the yard. I could see that the wheels in his mind were turning and more questions wereforming.
“So, do I have to be naked for it, or can I wearboxers?”
I considered his question, and how I needed to phrase my response. He needed to know that he had a choice, but he also needed to know what I felt would be more effective for what he’s trying to achieve from thesession.
“Every person is different, but most are naked for that type of session. Clothes give you a sense of protection; an easy way to hide. Being naked, you’re vulnerable, in a sense, and nothing is in theway.”
“Okay.” Ryan nodded. I could tell that he understood that naked would bebest.
“One other option I’d like to bring up, is that I can have a female bottom here. She can service you afterwards and help you have the sexualrelease.”
Ryan’s mind was working overtime. His eyes skated around the yard and his eyebrowsfurrowed.
“Ryan, relax. It’s not like she’s a prostitute, or that she’d be here against her will. She can give you a hand job or a blowjob.”
His wrinkled foreheadrelaxed.
“Okay. Will she see you beatme?”
“Only if you’d like herto.”
“I don’t. I don’t want anyone to seethat.”
“That’s perfectly alright, Ryan. She can wait in the living room until I signal forher.”
He smiled and reached for his water, then wiped his hands nervously on his jeans. Through his nervous mannerisms and general guard he had up, I knew with certainty that Ryan wasn’t comfortable with his body. This had me slightly concerned over how he’d react to having hands onhim.
From his email responses to my questions this week, I learned Ryan didn’t partake in physical intimacy. He didn’t hug, kiss, or cuddle after sex. My guess was that he had nothing but detached sex, where it was just an act, or a task, to him. Feelings weren’t involved. My gut was telling me that after sex was when he really detached. He needed to get used to handsagain.
“Ryan, have you ever had amassage?”
He shook his head, but then quickly stopped and lookedupward.
“Well, maybe. On the team in college, the athletic trainers would sometimes rub out a cramp I’d get in my calf,” he answered in allseriousness.
He drew a smile from me at his honesty. Someone rubbing out a cramped lower leg, isn’t much of a massage. I don’t believe I had encountered anyone else who held themselves in such a tight manner. Tension radiated from his body, and if there was someone who needed a massage, it was my newapprentice.
“Yeah, just leg cramps. Like, nothing else. Sometimes I’ll rub my neck,” headded.
So, no. Ryan had never received amassage.
“Before you come back for the session, I’d like for you to get a massage.” Slight panic settled on his face and his knees bounced again while tons of questions formed. “I have a regular guy who handles mine. I will arrange it foryou.”
“Okay. Do I have to benaked?”
I mused to myself; thirty-five years old, with what I’m seeing hints of, is a toned body. The psychological damage of the abuse is clearly far reaching forhim.
“No, Ryan. You can keep your underwearon.”
“Okay, good,” he said with a smile. I felt as though I needed to explain my reasoning for a massage. I wanted him tounderstand.
“I’d like for you to get a massage for two reasons. One, to help you relax. I’d like your muscles loose and relaxed when you arrive here for your session. It will take less impact from me to get you loose. Two, I want your body to not be shocked when my hands touch you during yoursession.”
