Pressure Points and Pain

February 8th, 2016

First-time partner.

So, whatcha wanna do?

I dunno, whadda you wanna do?

I dunno, whaddya like to do?

Let’s go ask my wife.

Hey, what should we do?

Pressure points and pain.

So, off we go to try to find a spot. Quiet dungeon full. Main dungeon full. Side dungeon full. Wet and Warm dungeon has a few open tables. Sure, why not. We grab a table away from the fire players.

I start sitting up. We starts with some light touches and smiles. Wraps an arm around my neck, I turn my throat into the crook. Pokes become a bit more insistent. Kisses the back of my neck. Soft noises and shivers.

Lie down, face down. I turn and settle in, forehead on my hands. Rubs my shoulders, squeezes the tight muscles. Hard pokes, and nails dragging on skin, pulling moans from my throat. An occasional strike, a gasp and a groan. Trying not to tense, tense muscles hurt more. Lifting the leg he isn’t hurting, groans of mixed pleasure and pain. Fingers clenching as his dig into my flesh. He lifts my head gently by the hair and presses into my sternum, hard. I groan and try to fight a bit and he presses me back down.

Turn over on your back now. I smile up at him as he works my chest. Pressing strong fingers into tight points of pain. Groaning and arching my back as he works from shoulders to chest to sides. He pokes the top of my hand, because it’s me. Poking my arms, finding the points and then light slams of his fist. I flex my tingling fingers and grin up at him. He works down to my hips, eliciting deeper moans and more arching. Down to my thighs, strikes coming more often. Feet? Yes, they are just ticklish. He presses into my arches, exquisite pain. Back up to my thighs.

Now he is drumming. The strikes coming fast and hard. Arching, moaning, so intense. I grip the table, shaking and moaning, lost, almost flailing with the power of his strikes. Gasping as he stops, and pulls me gently back to sitting. Teeth find the back of the side of my neck, biting not-too-gently, as I cling to his arm, moaning softly, happily. When he’s done, I lean against him, breathing. Thank you.

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Friday 1: Catch and Release… and a Cattleprod

February 9th, 2015

It started in the hallway, waiting for the dungeon to open. Arm wrapped around each other, as another friend walked up. Look what I got, he says, showing off a brand new cattleprod. The man in my arms asks to borrow it, while I try to keep him from grabbing it. Too late. Nonononono. We head towards the rope room where he is getting ready for his first scene.

Hey, you’re going to let him hit you with a cattleprod before I get to? He asks me. Nononono, I reply, but ex-lover drags us over to him, and with some help, he gets it put together. Sit, he commands, and I do. Squirming and shrieking as he tests it out. Then hands it back to ex-lover and we head over towards the doors again, me still trying to get it out of his hands.

Doors open, and we head straight over to the mats. I strip down and he gets ready. Setting the prod aside for now. I don’t see him grab the first hank of rope, and give him a hug to start our scene. In seconds, he slams me to the mat, and I squirm, but he is too fast, pinning me down, sitting straddled across my back. His foot so near my mouth, but no, no biting, my brain tells me, as he wraps my left leg in a tight futo.

Then he’s up to grab the next hank. I scramble to my knees, seeing him tuck the hank into the back of his pants, Ah, that’s where it was. We circle for a bit, I note the gathering crowd, laughing at my awkwardness, and I just grin. Circling, until he comes in, spins me around while I try to shove with the little leverage I have. I comment that I should have bitten him when I had the chance. Oh really? He pins me down, yanking an arm behind me tying the wrist and wrapping the rope around my belly.

We’re up again, circling. The crowd is growing. More shoving and squirming as he takes me down a third time. I think I lose my remaining arm and leg this time, I’m no longer sure. I end up in quite a swirling mass of rope by the time he’s done. One or two more lines go round, I haven’t got much mobility left.

Or so I think, until he, finished tying, grabs the cattleprod once more. NONONONONO! I shout at him, he and the crowd just laugh, as I spin away, sliding across the mats much faster than I thought possible. Nonononono! I whimper as he chases me. Fuck! As he hits me with it. Again and again, I shove it away with arm and chin and body. Squirming and scooting all over the mat. That doesn’t look like eeling, he laughs. Nonono! Ow! I glare at him. If you want me to eel, you gotta stop that! My focus is totally on the prod and not one care given to the rope. He just laughs and zaps me again.

Fine, ugh, gotta figure out what I can do. Ropes are almost all tight, my arm can move quite a bit, but I can’t DO anything with that rope. FuckfuckNonono! He zaps me again and I scramble away, noting a DM has stopped by to check us out. I manage to slide a shoulder wrap up and off, it’s not tight, no trouble with my neck, but I try to distract him anyway.

Look, there’s a rope around my neck, it’s hot, right? Stop zapping me! He laughs some more. Sure it’s hot, keep going. I’m trying I’m trying! There is no try, only do. He shoots back at me. You’re Not Helping! As he zaps me again. This to much laughter from the gallery.

He sets the prod down to come bite me, and we growl at each other as his teeth sink in. But this is better focus for me, and I find another rope to work on. Eventually getting a wrist line to slide off my foot. He pounces and bites some more. And I scream, but I’ve gotten started now. And I kick the prod off the mat, to many cheers from the audience. Oh really?

He gets up and gets it back. I curse and shout and squirm away. Keep eeling he says, taunting me with the tips. I’m TRYING! I shout. Working frantically as he zaps me for kicking it away. I get a rope worked over my knee, and then another, and another, he didn’t lock down the futo. The knot it harder, as kicking my leg to squirm away from the prod only tightens it. Keep eeling and I won’t zap you. I glare up at him, whimpering, trying to focus. Good girl, good girl. As I finally get my leg free.

There is more biting now, and growling, and screaming as he goes for my foot, still bruised today as I write this. Whenever I slow down, he grabs the prod again, keep eeling. I’m trying! You’re not Helping! Are my shouts in return. The crowd grows and shrinks. The DM stops by a couple more times. We stop a couple times, to remove hair from my mouth, long enough to choke me. Once as I cough and gasp, he waits until I nod before zapping me back into action.

Good girl answers my small victories. A little more free and I start grabbing the prod. This only gets me zapped more. Let go, keep eeling, or I’ll keep zapping. Whimpering, as I try to ignore the prod reaching for sensitive areas, I writhe around the mat. Look, I’m eeling, I’m eeling. I glare at him. You’re not helping! He laughs and pokes, and bites, and prods some more. Good girl. You’re almost done.

I glare at the rope that is left, two wrist cuffs, not the horrible ones, but the ropes leading to them are all gnarled masses. Your stupid cuffs, I grumble at him, and he just laughs, holding me now. Biting my shoulders as I struggle with the last two knots. And done, there are some cheers and clapping.

I collapse back against him, a pile of rope in front of us. Good girl, he murmers one last time, holding me as we both relax. I have no idea how long it has taken, it doesn’t matter, I did not give up. Such a good scene. Our friend who bought the cattleprod gets snarky glares from me the whole rest of the weekend.

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A Good Start to the Year

January 6th, 2015

I keep wanting to write about last week, but I am not sure where to start, or where to stop, or what to say. I had a wonderful New Year’s Eve, playing Starfarers of Catan with occasional distractions, and then snuggling for warmth, and getting my New Year’s kiss from him, and nibbles from another.

I spent New Year’s Day playing “dress the monkey” with money my mother sent for interview clothes. I did not succeed in getting the skirt I intended to, but it’s still on the list. And he decided we’re going to another rope con later this month, so that’ll be fun!

I had a great time at Fet Night. Got shoulder bites from the bitey one, who I don’t think I’ve ever named on here. And much snuggling, light touches, back rubbing, hair grabbing, air blowing, and nibbles. They weren’t sure which was more entertaining, the noises I made, or my squirming. The people peeking in didn’t seem all that interested in three people still wearing all their clothes, though. Too bad for them.

He and I were going to work with the knots we have been practicing, but time got away from us. He ended up beating me with the devil pop instead. Hands tight around the window frame of the electric cubby, and nose tight against a penny. Don’t drop it, or I won’t play with you for a month. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. But I didn’t drop it, until he said. Okay, this time two months. But I didn’t drop it! I know. ShitfuckshitOWfuckfuckfuck. And I didn’t, again. You know I would have followed through. I know, and two cons within that time, it would have SUCKED!

This coming weekend I have completely free, then geek con, rope con, week off, kink con. Ah, welcome to convention season.

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Please

August 4th, 2014

(Part 1)

His lips left hers, and she gasped hungrily, her hands reaching for him. He caught them in his, lifted them over her head and held them there. Kissing her again, pressing his body to hers. She sucked his tongue eagerly, hearing him moan and feeling him hardening against her. He grabbed her wrists in one hand, tighter, and his free hand dropped to a breast. He pinched her nipple, pulling on it, to elicit a moan from her, as well. Pinching harder as he pressed her against the bed.

Please, she whispered when he pulled back from the kiss.

Please what?

I want you, she tried to pull her hands from his grip.

Naughty girl. He tightened his grip, pressing her hands firmly against the wall above her. But I want you, too. His free hand slid down her belly, one finger teasing between her lips to rub her clit. And I get what I want. His mouth descended on her nipple, teeth replacing fingers, biting and sucking as she screamed with pain and pleasure.

Please! she begged between gasps.

Please what? he asked between bites.

May I?

Please do, and don’t stop. His teeth descended on the other nipple as his fingertips slipped lower, rubbing faster.

She writhed and screamed and moaned. Orgasming against his hand, arching into his teeth, forgetting all about her trapped hands as she let go and let pleasure break over her body. Again and again.

Please?

Please what?

Take me.

I thought you’d never ask…

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Teeth

May 15th, 2014

Oh my gods, teeth. I mean, I know how much I missed them, but I didn’t really Know how much I Missed them. Sensual teeth, not just rip the flesh from your bones teeth, though I love those, too. But when three guys were nibbling on me all at once this past weekend. Dear gods, did I remember how much I missed teeth. Teeth on my neck, on my shoulders, on my wrist, inside my elbow….

And missed nails, and hands… Let’s just say it was a very good Friday night. Saturday wasn’t terrible either, though we were much busier with being responsible party hosts.

Once again, sorry for the massive amount of radio silence lately. I’d like to say it’s going to get better, but I’m not sure when. I’ve got one helluva schedule for the next three weeks, but I do hope to post more soon. I’ve put a lot of time and energy into this blog, and sometimes I just need a break. I’m told grad school does that to people.

So many things going on and possibilities floating around. Hopefully inspiration will be more plentiful, and posting will become more frequent once again.

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Monday Morning Microgasm

May 13th, 2013

She felt him behind her. She was wrapped in his arms. His hot breath on her neck. He sank his teeth into her throat.

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What I Like and Why

May 31st, 2012

So, let’s say someone new came up to me and asked, “Hey Imp, what do you like to do? And could you tell me why? What about those things interests you?” How would I respond, at this point in my life?

Hey, random person. Welcome to the community. I like to do a lot of different things, for a lot of different reasons.

Well, Imp, that’s not very helpful, could you be more specific?

Sure, random. I like bondage, sensation, deprivation, fear, pain, suspension, sexuality, dressing up, fire, electricity, corporal punishment, erotica, mind fucks, new experiences, serving, bootblacking, learning, teaching, submission, power exchange, biting, sucking, cuddling, challenges, sub space, and a whole host of other things.

Wow, Imp, that’s a lot. Could you tell me about all those different things?

Sure, random, let’s start at the top.

Bondage. I love bondage. Always have, always will. Cuffs, shackles, stocks, straitjackets, rope, saran wrap, or just mental. I love it all. But some for different reasons than others.

Cuffs, shackles and stocks. These are the stuff of erotic fantasies for me. Prisoner fantasies, slave fantasies, and the like. These are things for “bad girls” and as such, turn me on to that mindset. They are solid and secure and sometimes painful. They are a solid reminder that I am in bondage to the one who holds the key. I am at his mercy until he sets me free.

Straitjackets and saran wrap or mummification. These are the all encompassing, all enclosing, complete restriction of movement. They can be comforting, a big huge hug from the one who put me in it. A place to sink into myself with the outside kept at bay. Or they can be complete vulnerability. I am trapped, only allowed that which he gives me. Whether that’s simply air or pleasure. Only free when he allows it. And oh so helpless and available to whatever he wants to do. An excellent power exchange.

Rope. Glorious rope. I didn’t know how much I would love rope until it was used on me. I didn’t know I would fall in love until I first smelled hemp, and then he suspended me. And I was done. Forever a rope slut. Rope is a multitool. It can be used for sensation, for decoration, for bondage, for suspension, for pain, for pleasure, for service, and if you have enough, even for mummification. Rope makes me incredibly happy. The bite of the rough natural fibers on my skin. The taking of my power bit by bit as each limb is confined. The sense of freedom when I am held in its complete thrall.

Sensation and pain. So many different types of sensation. Floggers, whips, paddles, canes, drumsticks, clamps, clips, clothespins, slapping, spanking, body punching, kicking, biting, pinching, pressure points, scratching, knives, violet wands, stun guns, TENs, massage, wax. I’m sure I’m forgetting some.

Corporal punishment. Spanking, floggers, whips, paddles, canes, punching, kicking and drumming, all excellent examples. Let’s start with rhythmic fun. Floggers, canes, and drumming can all be used to beat someone to music, to a rhythm. This can take us both into space. Feeling connected as one as we flow and move with the same beat. Relaxing and soothing, it can also send me into the most incredible high. Spanking and paddles, also belts, are in the fantasy category for me. They send me into that “bad girl” headspace that I find so arousing. Pain space. This is where whips, body punching and kicking come in. They don’t fit in the first two categories for me, but if I want intense sensation for the purpose of going into pain space, they are added to the list of all these other tools. Pain space, for me, is a place where I fall into the pain, and enjoy both the pain and connection to the one causing it. Catharsis is another part of corporal for me. All these tools can be used to cause me such intense sensation that I am pushed through pain space into an emotional release.

Body manipulation. While I’m talking about spaces, and body punching and kicking. Let me go quickly to pressure points, biting, pinching and massage. These, for me, are direct, personal intense sensations. Biting goes into arousing fantasy, vampires and the like. Pressure points and pinching and focused intensity. He is close up, exploring my body and reactions. Some of them are painful, some of them are pleasurable. But they all make me want to kiss his hands afterward. I like the closeness, I like the personal intensity. The direct energy exchange. Massage has this, too. The closeness, the energy. It also has the element of service that I enjoy when I’m giving it. Or when I’m receiving, it makes me feel cared for and appreciated.

Sexuality. We are sexual beings. And we all express our sexuality in different ways with different people. Depending on my mood and my partner, I enjoy kissing, hugging, cuddling, nibbling, licking, orgasm control, masturbation, oral and sex. Physical connection, intimate connection, can be soothing, energizing, or just plain crazy fun.

Deprivation. On the opposite end of the physical, is the lack of input. Sensory deprivation. Sensory deprivation makes me depend on whatever I’m left with. I sink into my body away from the senses that were taken away and if I have anything left, all focus goes to that. If it has all ben removed or reduced, I’m often able to just float away deep inside. It’s incredibly relaxing. And can also be used to intensify whatever sense is left. Touch becomes so much more intense when you cannot see, hear, or smell. You are focused on the only thing you have left to sense the world around you. Pain in such a state is so much more intense for me.

Clips, clamps and clothespins. I’m not even sure how to categorize those. Pinchy things, I guess. These can be great fun and are usually a test in endurance. Last night, he showed up with two bags. One of 50 teeny tiny clothespins, and one of 24 two inch long clothespins. He decided our faces were his canvas, and went back and forth between all three of us, putting clothespins all over. It was crazy and intense and fun. I had to walk in place and keep touching him to ground, so I would keep breathing properly. These are an interesting category. They are intense sensation, and it just ramps up as you go along, without even having to do anything. And when you’re done, the fun isn’t over. You still have to take all those little things off. Which hurts a heck of a lot more in an instant than they have the whole time they’ve been on. This is why zippers are such great fun. Taking a whole line of them all off at once, can send me into such a great pain space high. This is one time when orgasms are especially appreciated for me, as a way to channel the energy created.

Electricity. Ah, electrical energy. In this category we have TENs, violet wands, electric flyswatters, and stun guns. TENs is a lot of fun. It can be therapeutic to tense or sore muscles. It can be silly giving over of control. It can be used to make Jenga a hilarious game. And it can be used to cause intense sensations and pain. Violet wands are one of the few things I top, for the crew. Anywhere for gentle vibrations of a massage, to sharp jolts of pain. Happy tickling sensations, to skin burning zaps. So versatile and fun. Electric flyswatters and stun guns are the next step up. Sharp, painful sparks when there’s a gap. Muscle jolting when held tight to the skin. For me, just the noise of these sends fear shooting through my body. Sends adrenaline racing, and depending on what he’s threatening, can drive me straight to tears. Delicious.

Fire is another of those adrenaline rushes. Someone is lighting you on fire FFS. It’s a nice warming sensation, which can also be slightly painful, but the fire is generally gone before the pain really starts. I’m not into burning/branding of the skin. But the fear. The primal fear response to being light on fire, is intoxicating. It brings my focus in to just that. Nothing else matters when you’re on fire. Then there’s sparks. Not electrical sparks, those don’t bother me. Fire sparks. A lighter, a sparkler, a log popping in the fire. Terror. Pure terror for me. This will bring me to tears faster than a stun gun, if I’m forced to be close for more than a couple sparks.

Fear. Oh yeah, fear. Sparks, needles, snakes. Fire, stun guns, flyswatters, gags, being in pain and helpless and abandoned. Fear is delicious. Adrenaline rushes are great. Phobias will bring me to tears and panic and breaking points. So they are dangerous to play with, but so far, have all gone well. Being brought to the point of panic, and then pulled right back to keep going can be an amazing power exchange, as well.

Power exchange. Submission, serving, mind fucks. All the mental stuff. To take me out of my head, to give up control. To take care of him and his boots. To dress up for him. To just simply be for him. To challenge myself. To be forced to think and use my brain. To be turned around so hard and fast that I don’t know where I am. To be scared and aroused and dropped all through the power of his voice. So many different head spaces and power exchanges. It can be absolutely amazing.

New experiences. Learning something new. Teaching someone something new. Trying something new. Helping someone else try something for the first time. There’s nothing like it. The joy, the excitement, the energy of new is unique and incredible.

And then there’s this. There’s writing about it. I love writing about it. Writing erotica about it, blog posts about it, journal entries about it. Sharing, processing, explaining. Teaching, learning. Writing it down gets it out of my head and into a place where I can look at it. Where I can share it with others. Where I can learn about myself and really see my own thoughts and reactions. Down on paper or screen, it’s not all jumbled up anymore. It’s clear and it’s wonderful. I hope you all think so, too.

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Drumbeats

January 5th, 2012

Just let go. Let it all go. Just be who you want to be, be who you are, deep down inside. Let the beast out. Let the animal play. Don’t think, don’t rationalize or make excuses. Just do it.

She had arrived, there was no going back. The forest loomed black before her, she stepped out of her shoes, slipped off her socks and let her feet sink into the soft grass. Her coat fell from her shoulders as she let her head fall back. The stars above looked down at her, unblinking. She tossed her shirt aside and stepped out of her shorts.

And then she was running. Into the forest, into the night. She could hear the others, ahead, behind, to either side. All of them running with abandon. It was a night for the wildness. It was a night to be with the Earth and the Nature and the Beast.

Ahead there was fire. In the center, far from the world, crackling in the night. They made for it. Drawn to the light, the warmth, each other. Breaking through the trees, they found it.

Clasping hands, wrapping arms around each other. Greeting with hugs and kisses and strokes and bites. They crushed their flesh together, breathed and touched and tasted each other. All around the circle of fire, greeting everyone, touching everyone. Groups formed and broke apart in waves. No one spoke, this was not a night for words, only actions.

The fire-maker picked up his drum and began to play. The greetings began to change. Their bodies moving to the beat. Groups spread into a circle, hands or arms linked. And they began to dance. It was not uniform, there was no ritual, but the beat moved them all together. They turned about the flames, feet kicking, arms swinging, voices raising in wordless song.

The fire-maker, now drummer, picked up the beat, pounded away to the rhythm of their hearts. Spiraling higher and higher, the dancers filling in with the music of their bodies. Clapping, stamping, slapping and singing to the pull of the drum. Faster and faster, until they all crashed together again with a shout of pure ecstasy that filled the entire forest.

The drummer picked out a different beat, slower and heavier. They stepped apart, finding the rhythm alone or in pairs. Moving with purpose and showing the story of their hearts. Pulling out pain and worry, dancing it into the ground and the fire. Throwing stress into the air, to be carried off by the night wind. Tears fell, screams tore the air, the drummer beat on.

Their steps grew lighter. Their movements less strained. The drummer lifted his tone. The beats came softer, faster. They drew together again, joining hands and raising voices. The circle fully joined, they began to move together, hands raised, around the fire. Tears still fell, but the voices were filled with joy. The drum beat waned and the circle came to a gentle stop.

Breaking apart. Touching again. Hugging each other close. Pressing hearts together to share their joy. Kissing deeply to share their passion. Stroking skin to share their energy. The drummer picks up again, pulling on their energy to find a beat. Following instead of leading.

There is no dancing now. They find each other. Pulling to each other. Touching, feeling, sharing. Kissing, hugging, stroking. Letting go and being with each other. They find the ground, dirt and grass, and they are part of it. Bodies lying on the earth, bodies lying with each other. The drum their communal heartbeat.

Hours later, they lie still. All together, all touching. The drum is silent, the drummer has joined them. They stare up at the sky, the trees, the fire. They are part of it all. Part of the earth and the forest and the universe. Part of each other. Here and now, nothing else matters.

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Gratitude Day 2

January 2nd, 2012

I am grateful for:

1) Bite marks that show I’m loved

2) Latex skirt that rebounds nicely

3) Massage table to facilitate play

4) Creativity that makes scenes work

5) Compersion to share the joy

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In and Out of Space

November 24th, 2011

Monday. Contract day. He says he wants to get off work early to help us clean. The dungeon needs put back together. It’s been storage space since July. He wants to put up the suspension point again. Sounds great to me.

Toy is eager to arrive, but I’m not ready. Come to mine first. I finish eating dinner and we go over at 5. He’s aiming for 530. Toy is stressed out and grumpy. Grouching about cleaning for the first time in a months. But she does her share, as I do mine. He is waiting for the boss to leave so he can. Apparently the boss stayed late as he is a bit later than usual getting home. I remind toy of her promise, and she is appropriately dressed by the time he gets home, but not yet changed into play clothes as the dungeon cleaning awaits.

We greet with hugs and kisses and head down to tackle the dungeon. Tubs and tools and crates and wood scraps. Stage stuff and sawdust, and lots of bits of cloth. We clean and sort and move everything back where it belongs. A vise clamp comes out to play for a bit, fitting around our legs, my belly, and then making a nice breast clamp and head clamp. We reclaim his space and reset the furniture. Taping the mats together, we create a nice pad below the suspension point. He rigs it up and we each take a spin. Just right.

Toy and I go fetch some water and change our clothes, when we return, he has two candles lit and fits a new bulb in the socket. A nice dark glow fills the room. He kneels on the mat and invites us to join him. I drop down into my kneeling posture, toy beside me, him in front of us. After a couple minutes, it feels like silent prayer at church, how long are we going to kneel? Are his eyes closed? Is he moving? I glance through my eyelashes far too often, trying to relax, but eager with anticipation. He shifts to sitting, which doesn’t help, then grabs toy and pulls her into his lap. I listen to her whimper, and then he pulls her up and I hear rope hit the floor. This finally calms me. I sink into my position, eyes fully closed, relaxed and just listening to the rope and to their interaction.

Eventually, he positions her on the bishops chair to the other side of me. And starts making passes back and forth in front of me. It takes a few for me to understand he’s taking the floggers out of the tub. I start to come back into my body at this point, wondering what’s going to happen next. I feel him kneel in front of me, I hear him rub his hands. I know he’s going to slap me, but when the strike comes down on my thigh, I’m surprised. He slaps my thighs, alternating. I crumple a couple times, and one of them, I move so that his strike bounces off my left wrist painfully. When I get back up from that one, my arms go behind my back, protecting the sensitive joint. He starts slapping my face. Harder and harder, until I’m gasping and moaning. I get my eyes back open at this point, and see his grin. He grabs me by the hair and pulls me off my knees and onto my back. I lay there gasping while he shows toy what face slapping feels like.

He pulls me up and stands me under the ring. I grab it for support, my right leg doing fairly well, but my left still half numb. Toy looks very good in her box tie chest harness, sitting happily on the chair. He starts tying a tabletop with jute on my waist. Tossing out the rope and yanking it against my legs when it gets tangled. Most things give into his will if he tries hard enough, eh toy? Yes, Sir. We fiddle with where my hips are and he threatens nice tight crotch ropes. When he finishes the lower half, he steps over to toy to give her the first taste of wax. Dripping it across her thighs. She gasps, and likes it. He lets her process and returns to me.

Chest wraps now, teasing about duct taping the remote control vibrator to me. He adds a little more wax to toy and she squeals as he gets closer to her inner thighs. Just before he attaches me to the ring, I ask if he really wants the vibrator, he does, but he doesn’t want the interruption of fetching it. Ties my chest and then tries something new with the lower lift lines. Up I go, but it’s not balancing on my hips right, so back down and rigs it the usual way. Up again and balance it out. He gets a cloth and ties a sling for my head. I’m already spacing and he pushes me into a gentle spin as he returns to toy and the wax.

I was fairly well gone. Occasionally my feet or legs would rub against him. I moved them up and down occasionally. He put wax on her and took it off with a knife. At some point he poured some over the bottoms of my feet. I squealed a lot and when it got really hot, I jerked away into a little ball. But it felt really good up to that point. He asked if I was still in there and counted me to orgasm once, biting me while I did. I remember him scraping the wax off my feet. Some felt good, some felt really good, and some just tickled the hell out of me. Whenever that happened, I clenched my hands against my face in an effort not to squirm against the sharp knife. He dragged the knife near more tender bits when he was done, causing soft moans and ragged breathing. I can’t remember when he tied my ankles up, if it was before or after the wax, it must have been before, it relieved the awkwardness and some of the pressure.

At another point he was flogging the wax off toy and took a few shots on me as well, legs and then crotch. I think that popped me out of space. I was getting dizzy but it wasn’t time to come down yet. So he stopped me spinning for awhile and then he started playing Open Sesame with toy. Eventually she did, and then he asked her how many more she could take. She said four. So he counted them out, sending me into orgasm at three, and then counting 1,2,3 again for her forth strike. He bit me again, I think. I dropped back into space and he let me spin a bit more.

Then it was time to come down. Dropped my ankles, then my legs and I was standing, leaning into the chest rope heavily. He pulled out the lift lines and then undid my chest. I stumbled a little, but held the ring until I got my balance. He started to undo my legs, but then told me to untie the toy so we could clean up the wax. Reminding me of how to wrap his rope now.

I started to untie her hands, she pulled out, and got scolded for her impatience and desire for modesty overwhelming safety. I finished untying her and set her to sweeping up the wax while I put up the ropes. He returned and we finished off the jute. Then he sent us off to change back into our regular clothes as he sets up the massage table. Down again and we set to work on his knotted muscles. Working hard on his back, my hands are fairly weak, but toy still has her strength and we work together to find what he needs. Energy all coming down as we work, pouring out gratitude for what he has given us into taking care of him. It ends abruptly when his wife gets home. But a wonderful night of reclaiming the space and connecting with each other.

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