Regret.

I wish I'd let Tommy stun-gun me.

I wanted it, sort of, but I'm kind of phobic about electricity, and when I heard the noise it made and saw the size of the spark I was terrified all the way into flight-or-fight physically-get-away mode. Spastic shrieks of "augh no I changed my mind safeword safeword no" is not considered "enthusiastic consent" by your more considerate doms, so it never happened.

Man, I hate panicking. (I also hate admitting to panicking, but confession is good for the soul, or good for getting attention, or something.) But there are a couple things that will make me panic at the thought of even touching them--fish, electricity, and skeletons. For some obscure reason they just set off the "run first, think later" switch in my head and it's impossible.

Which is why I wish I could have withstood it. I wish I could have that memory of looking down from the mountaintop and going "holy shit, I did that and I'm alive." I wish I could have the memory of looking in Tommy's eyes and thinking "I trusted him to do this and he didn't let me down." I guess I have those, sort of, about other things, but I wish I'd tackled a real challenge.

Confession: I often, often think about getting tortured with electricity when I masturbate.

I regret not doing it, and yet, I think if I got the chance again tonight I'd refuse it again tonight. Climbing a mountain is a good (if hackneyed) metaphor; it begins with making a decision, but it sure as fuck doesn't end there. To actually get there you've got to fight your body every inch of the way and it may turn out that you're just not strong enough.

I suppose it doesn't take strength to get stun-gunned, exactly. But to ask for it, to continue to ask for it after it's cracked like tiny lightning before your eyes, to hold out your tender pink skin for it, and to ask for it again even when the metal is cold against your body and a single finger flick would bring unknown pain, takes more than I have.

More than I have now.