In the Hot Seat

Last night was TGIF at the local dungeon. I was hesitant to attend. After events earlier in the week, I chose not to attend the munch the evening before and was very seriously considering staying home for further hermit-like self-care.

Then, my roommate had friends show up and I decided I'd rather be in a dark dungeon with friends than in my bedroom sanctuary hiding from the crazies.

One woman in the community brought her Hot Seat last night and a friend of mine asked if I'd ever experienced it. Having explained that while I'd heard much about it, I had not taken the opportunity to sit on the stool myself, he tracked Janet down and asked if she would facilitate my first Hot Seat experience.

Sitting on a stool, fully clothed, that turns your whole body in a conductor for electricity is one of the coolest things I've ever experienced. I had a general idea of how the device worked and having experienced therapeutic electrostimulation, I had a very good idea of what I was getting myself into regarding the sensations.

By necessity, the Hot Seat was set up in a public space used for socializing. Again, I am NOT an exhibitionist and this aspect of the experience was incredibly uncomfortable for me. A number of individuals - some I knew, some I did not - filtered over to see the new girl experience the Hot Seat for the first time.

I also knew from others' explanations that the use of the hot seat would require me to sit on the Hot Seat while someone else - in this case Janet - off the Hot Seat touched me with metal implements. This was the single most uncomfortable part of the experience for me.

I am, generally speaking, extremely touch averse. Depending on a number of factors, even handshakes can be too much for me. I've been seeking intentionally this summer to grow more comfortable with touch, but much of my willingness to open myself to that is circumstantial and person specific. The few people I initiated touch with in the course of the summer have been people I've felt safe enough with to seek to expand that boundary and while that experience has, by and large, been awkward for me, I'm willing to continue trying in a safe and highly controlled fashion.

Yet, there I was, sitting on an electrified metal plate, having removed my sweater and put my hair up, about to have a woman I'd met twice before and whom I had never touched run metal implements over my body.

Removing the emotional discomfort from the situation, the physical experience of being on the Hot Seat was incredible. The skin sizzle of electricity leaving your body at a single touch point is shudder-inducing in extremely pleasurable ways. In particular, having the implements run up my arms, across my shoulders, down my back, and around my chest was absolutely delightful.

I did not, however, enjoy the sensation on my inner thighs. This could be simply because my inner thighs are generally more sensitive to all types of stimulation or it could be that the bruise on my inner thigh made me more sensitive last night. I do not know, but it's something I'm willing to try again when I am not bruised for the sake of comparison.

Physically the entire experience was quite good. It was completely non-sexual for me. There was pleasure, to be sure, but it was not sexual in nature for me. Though I had moments of incredible discomfort because of the physical proximity of another person I do not know well and the audience, I was largely able to focus my attention on what was happening in my physical body. This kept me grounded in the now, which is incredibly helpful on a number of levels.

All of this would likely have been the end of my time in this particular Hot Seat. I experienced it. I enjoyed it. The whole of the experience was similar to a really good back-scratching session. It just felt good and tingly-sharp-not-quite-painful and satisfying. However, all of the extant factors left me feeling that this is an experience I would only want to repeat with my partner in private.
Then, Janet brought out the scalp massager. A convulsive shiver ran the whole length of my body as I yelled, "Oh, my GOD!" It was like having my scalp massaged and my hair brushed with the pleasure sensation factor increased a hundred-fold.

Turns out I'm a total Zap Slut.