My second Lockdown experience was a more somber one than my first, and in the interest of authenticity that is the only way I can write about it.

I recognize that all of the feelings and emotions I went through are my own. I got exactly what I asked for, I learned to say stop, and overall, it was a strong educational experience that I really needed to have.

To all the Takers I was with: Thank you.

That said, here is the experience, moment-by-moment. It's dark. That is why we play these games. If you can't handle dark, don't read it.

The Hostages and Hostage Takers were separated into our respective rooms and debriefed. Typical safety protocols: safewords were Yellow and Red; No scat, urine, blood, or wax; barriers to be used at all times for any penetrative act. Once the doors were closed, we would be locked in for the next 3 hours.

At the first Lockdown, I had gone in with "no limits", and it had been incredibly exhilarating. I was pushed way into my yellow a number of times, and had gone the whole party without using any safewords. So it was with this level of enthusiasm that I put myself down for "no limits" a second time; this time, even encouraging Takers to "Go for it". My one caveat was: Clothing removed- but not cut off- by Hostage Taker. I had worn my favorite panties- the ones that said LOVE across the front.

And for the weeks leading up to the party, a voice nagged in the back of my mind- 'What about hair cutting? That's a thing.' And I had thought- naively, it turns out- that everyone going into this event would consider the overall person behind who they were at the event; that people would choose to refrain from making long(!)-lasting permanent changes to others' bodies, changes that would have massive repercussions in terms of career and the ability to navigate a world that is obsessed with physical beauty, changes that would still be ongoing at the next Lockdown, and the one after that, and the one after that, long after the Taker has forgotten about it.

But that's not what the rules say. The rules say: State your limits.

I had brought my brush, so that I could brush my hair afterwards, for comfort.

In my first scene, in the first five minutes, I was shown the pair of clippers, and the party ended for me right then and there. Now it was real.

It was fear of inauthenticity- that fear arising from having stepped over my own authenticity in lieu of pride- that made me not end the scene right there. I know that now. In the moment, it was an internal screaming- "Yes, you agreed to this, you must" versus "No, stop".

And at the last second, I broke, completely. I shouted Red. I broke down and cried.

I had failed, utterly. I had failed, in the first five minutes. Nothing that happened from that point on mattered. When I was ground into the floor with heavy boots, it was good, because I was worse than nothing. I resented myself for squirming. When someone came with a knife and shredded my pants and panties [rules broken], it only served to punctuate the cruelty I deserved. So much for love. When I dropped to my knees from being whipped across the backs of the legs, I was stupid because I was weak. When he was done, I said Thank you, and I meant it.

When I was given 30 lashes with a bullwhip, I felt I was flinching at practically nothing. I screamed and cried. He took breaks for me. I was grateful for his kindness. When I was in the cage, I sobbed, and sobbed, while my cage-mate tried to console me. She was taken out, and I continued.

When the next Taker bit me 30 times, such that by the 5th it seemed impossible that I could ever survive to 30; such that, when I crossed eyes with the Hostages in the cage, they looked at me with sympathetic horror, I let her, still clinging to a desire to not have to safeword out twice.

She brought me upstairs, bent me over a couch and told me I would be fucked. The strap on was huge. Cake was smeared in my face, clogging my nostrils and choking me. Another Taker sat on the couch in front of me and took out his cock, and I was told to get him hard. Me, with my cold hands, and not allowed to use my warm mouth until he was hard enough to get the condom on.

I failed to get him hard, and was reviled for this; told that I was stupid and worthless, told affirmations of the things I was already telling myself inside. She lubed me up and penetrated me. I pushed against her as hard as I could, knowing that trying to close up would only make it worse. They continued to verbally humiliate me, my face still covered in chocolate cake, as I cried as she fucked me. She fucked deep into me, until it felt as if I would have a new hole torn in me.

I cried out Red again. She pulled out, smoothly, and I curled into a ball. He continued to humiliate me, to mock me for giving up, and she joined in.

"The scene is over, shut the fuck up!" I screamed, curling into myself once more, and sobbing.

They both apologized, and I could tell they were being sincere, and that made it okay. He excused himself, and she dropped out of character and held me while I wept out the worst of it. She took me to a cage. My wife was there. My wife held me as I cried for the last half hour. We both declined any scenes for the rest of the night.

I guess I had figured that, since everything I had experienced had been nothing, that I wouldn't really have any marks on me. I felt as if everyone I was with had been going easy on me. It wasn't until afterward, when the Taker who had lashed me told me that he had gone as hard as he would be willing to go with anyone in 30 lashes, that I started to realize that I had actually undergone quite a lot. When I got home, and looked in the mirror, there were huge purple bruises on the backs of my thighs, my back was covered in jellyfish-tentacle marks and my whole body covered in deep purple bite marks.

The first Lockdown energized me; the second Lockdown transformed me.

While rules may have been broken, and feelings genuinely felt, these things do happen, and always, the universe is unfolding as it should.

Thank you again, to the organizers, for putting this together.

I brushed my hair today, and cried; softly, thankfully.