The last time someone spit in my face was in eigth grade, and we were having a heated discussion by the gym. He got in real close to me and as he was yelling, he was slobering on me like a drunken St. Bernard. I got right back in face and said through my teeth, “Don’t spit in my face.” I hit the sibilants real hard, making sure he got some of his own medicine. I was pretty hot-headed in my youth, so I got into several of these confrontations throughout my middle school career, and generally didn’t think too much about the consequences of my actions. He responded to my growled request by spitting a loogie right in my face. I punched him in the chest and he fell down a short flight of stairs. He got up, charged me, and the whole thing deteriorated into a good old fashioned middle school donnybrook that was quickly broken up by various classmates.. What a difference 17 years, fifty bucks and a wedding makes, huh?
My wife and I filmed a spit video yesterday. It was one of many aggressive/dominant videos we shot. Most of the day I was playing the role of foot sub, mostly doing foot and sock worship. The photographer asked if I would be okay with doing a spit video. The photographer had been trying to get content for a spit video request for almost two years. My wife would say degrading and humiliating things and spit on me for 6-8 minutes. The requester of the footage is almost always interested in the most extreme aspect of the fetish, which in this case would be Mrs. Marvel hocking a loogie and dripping it into my mouth. The noises are pretty much for the sake of the camera, she wasn’t really trying to bring anything up, and she was drinking root beer to make them look worse. I made it a goal to not shy away from things on this trip, and to at least give it a shot. We swap spit all the time, and various other bodily fluids, how bad could it be?
Pretty bad, when that’s all the mental barricades you set aside in advance. We did a dry run(not really the best descriptor when spit is involved, but we’ll roll with it) with no camera rolling, and when it dripped into my mouth, I was okay. At first. And then I started to gag. I came pretty close to hucking right then and there. I took a minute to regather myself, and the photographer grabbed a teeny little vase to catch my forthcoming involuntary protein spill. Mrs. Marvel lost it at this point, the thought of her large husband trying to contain a large quantity of vomit into a tiny little vase too much for her sleep-deprived brain, and collapsed into giggles. At that point, I didn’t think I would be able to continue.
I told them that I needed a minute to reset, and they assured me that if I didn’t do it, that it was okay, Most people aren’t able to shoot spit fetish, it was why she hadn’t been able to shoot it for almost two years. I went in the next room, took some time, checked myself and reminded myself that it was okay, went back in and did the shoot. I took it like a champ, about 10 minutes of verbal beration and a whole lot of spit, mostly in my face. She dripped a couple of long ones into my mouth, and I pretended to swallow them. The photographer wrote a message on her phone that I could spit them out as she panned away, but I was okay. Thoroughly drenched in spit, I went to change my shirt and wash my face off, and they were laughing and high fiving that I made it through and pleased I was able to do it.
It has been a lot easier doing some of these things than I previously thought. You just kind of get in this zone and stay in character, and then when the camera clicks off, you’re you again. It’s almost like it happened to another person. When she talks to me, I know that she is acting, I know she isn’t really the things she does, and she uses a different tone of voice than when we normally interact, so that makes it easier to keep the separation as well.
Maybe the next person who spits at/on me won’t get knocked down a flight of stairs. I definitely feel like these experiences are giving me thicker skin, and that my wife and I are closer than ever. Tomorrow, she pulls and twists my ears, walks on me, and maybe a few other surprises as well. Who knows what the next day will bring?