Just Hands

November 8th, 2012

Blindfolded. Eyes closed beneath the cloth. Waiting on her knees before him. Listening to his breathing while he strips then sits.

“Okay, you may touch me now. Hands only.”

She reaches forward, fingertips brushing his legs. She slides her hands around his calves, running her palms up the sides of his legs to just below the knees. Her fingers massaging the tight muscles, as she works her way back down to his ankles, thumbs tracing the shins, finding old divots from childhood soccer games. She works back up the calves, like play scales on a sticky keyboard, trying to work the knots away, as he sighs softly.

She wants to lean forward, add her lips, kiss his feet, or his knees. No, hands only this time. Just touch and explore.

Running her hands over his knees. Fingertips tracing the cap, running over it to press her palms flat. Up and over his thighs, straight to the hips, and back down, dragging knuckles to troll for stress. Squeezing massage from knee upward, thumbs working the inner thigh, fingers kneading the outer, heel of the palm back down the center. Listening to his breathing to hear the tension melt.

Kneeling up, she runs her fingers up his chest, tracing the skin and trailing through the hair. Hands pressed flat, she explores every inch of his hips, stomach and chest. Pausing to roll his nipples with one finger each. Runs her hands up to his shoulders and down his arms, teasing his own fingertips, and then back up again. Fingers, arms, shoulders, chest, belly, hips.

Massaging again, she slows down. Working up his sides to his pecs. Gentle circles, pushing the stress away. Up to the shoulders, pushing the knots down the arms and out the hands. Fingers and knuckles digging out the pain. Neck, shoulders, arms, wrists, hands.

The energy buzzes. Light touch, fingertips just above the surface, barely brushing the skin. Exploring him anew. Every inch of skin exciting and full of energy. Pushing deep into it, running her palms over his chest, down his stomach and over his thighs. It feels so good.

Starting at the bottom, fingertips on his feet, up his shins, over the knees, across the thighs, she pauses, but not yet, up his chest, over his shoulders, up into his hair, fingers trailing through his hair, down his checks, a light touch across his lips, down his chin and throat, chest, belly, to his cock.

 

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COPE 2012 was Amazing

September 17th, 2012

What an amazing weekend! I didn’t get to do everything I wanted to do, but that’s the nature of life, and what I did get to do, more than made up for anything that we didn’t manage to squeeze in. The best plan falls apart upon encountering the enemy, and that was the case for several of my friends, but for me, this time, nearly all my plans survived, and some of them far better than I ever anticipated. A lot of people are saying it was the best COPE yet, for me, this is entirely true. I have never had so many scenes, I have never stayed at the hotel, let alone with my partner during the event, and I’ve also never been so well fed at an event. About the only thing that was “on par” for my other experiences, were the classes. They always bring in great presenters to teach really fun classes. I had an incredible weekend.

What happens at COPE stays at COPE, they say, no outing other people by talking about their scenes. But that’s not what I do here, as you all know, I talk about what I did, and my experiences. So let’s begin at the beginning.

Our con began with meeting up with friends, helping out, and getting registered. We found quite a lot of our usual crew and gathered up for a nice dinner at Buca di Beppo. We even got to sit in the Pope Room, because there were so many of us. We talked about crew and the con ahead and even about the upcoming Trauma. Enjoying time together as a family, and then we took food back to feed the rest of our family who couldn’t make it out. Being a group with the volunteering spirit, many were working the con, too.

Back to the hotel, I had a scene right up front, so I didn’t even change, but went and found my ex-Lover, and we took our place for my requested “challenging, transitional suspension.” That, will be a post later on. Afterwards, I went back to the room, got on my shiny kimono and boots, and went in search of him. He was bringing down a suspension, so I knelt nearby, helping clean up rope until he was done. The engineer was nearby scening, too. After that, we sat with friends for a time, until he retrieved us, stun gun in hand, to go back to the main room for our suspension scenes with him. Another post to come. He tormented us both with the stun gun while we waited for the high point, but the battery died out as he tried to keep tormenting me as he began to tie her. We played on the rig in the corner until they turned the lights on that night, and then headed back to our room to take care of each other, with massage and orgasms, and cuddling to sleep.

Morning dawned quietly, but I was awake early. I really wanted to attend class right from the start, so I was up, rinsed off and dressed in a sari while they were still gaining consciousness. They said they’d catch up, so I headed out, grabbed an apple(I was too late for bananas), and found a seat in Bondage for Punishment and Pain. They joined me sooner than expected, but before the class changed rooms in favor of a high point, and we knelt beside him, as much as we could manage, for the entire entertaining class. I found myself able to manage for 15 minutes or so at a time, not wanting to distract myself too badly from the presentation. 4mm rope, a high point, and a flexible bottom, made for quite the class. Stopping by the vendors on the way out, he found some great new toys to buy, a dragon tail and three leather “cocks.” The latter being woven leather cylinders of various widths, with rounded ends, that work great to bludgeon your partner with. We headed back to the room to test them out, and were quite happy with the results.

We then headed off to brunch at First Watch. The second class session not holding our interest more than finding food did. Waffles, bacon, pancakes, eggs and coffee later, we were satisfied and heading back to the afternoon classes. I did wear my bratty shirt, and very short skirt, but I took my sari as a wrap to stay warm, as well. Extreme Bondage was up next, with more kneeling from us, though the presenter invited folk to come close and watch, so he was up in front away from us most of the class. This time, I found the tops of my feet beginning to hurt much faster than I was losing circulation. The class itself was quite interesting and entertaining in its own right, with a handful of really restrictive ties. The next class period, the engineer headed off to a latex class while he and I wandered back to the vendor area, this time picking up a book, a new suspension ring, swivel and two hanging straps. The final class of the day, Predicament Bondage, was the same couple as our first class, we all sat in chairs this time, and had a blast watching (and helping with) the crazy stuff the presenter came up with. Electricity, water, rope and weights and everything else he could grab from his bag of toys. Such fun.

We headed off to dinner, then, Fish Market our destination. Got a seat quickly in the bar portion and, though it was noisy there, we had quite a nice meal together. We he asked us if we’d seen anything that day that we’d like to try, we grinned and said all of it. I took my leftovers back to the event, but couldn’t find anyone in need this time. We attended closing ceremonies, complete with lube-tossing, auctions, NCSF and gratitude. And then the final play party began.

We headed back to the room to get dressed, the engineer donning her blind contacts and me my straitjacket over lacy bodice with garters to red fishnets and shiny boots, he even wrapped my pleather skirt around my waist. I was to be her eyes, and her my hands. We headed back to the dungeon, all grins and giddiness. He showed us off down the hall, through the social area and all around the dungeon. Then we headed to the back rig for him to do his scenes and assist in others. I tried to keep her informed of the things going on around us, and once he sent us to fetch water and candy from the adjoining room. After his scene, she wrapped up the rope for him and I returned it to his bag. When these scenes were complete we headed back to the room for more private fun.

Back in the privacy of our own hotel room, the engineer and I stripped down, but she kept in the contacts. We rearranged some furniture, and sat down side by side, facing him, for an incredible needle scene. Post to come. How I didn’t freak out or pass out, I’m really not sure, let’s just say I’m stubborn, and they were incredible in supporting and encouraging me. We thanked him with massage and curled up for a well-deserved, good night’s sleep.

The engineer had to head off early the next morning for school, and we hung around to help tear down and load out the dungeons. After many good conversations and goodbyes, I headed home to check on the internet, crash for a couple hours and then went out to dinner with hubby and friends. Home again for the last two episodes of BSG, some Lactaid ice cream and then crashed out completely for at least twelve hours. Amazing weekend of awesomeness. Thank you to everyone who made it possible and who made it great.

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How to Melt an Imp

August 2nd, 2012

Sitting outside at a bar in Boise a few weeks ago, I mention to the guys I’m sitting with, that I miss bass singing voices. That there just aren’t a lot of guys with deep voices around at home. All three of them immediately launch into Swing Low Sweet Chariot… but only the intro line and I duck my head and blush, and come up giggling. It reminded me of a party a couple years ago when a guy I sorta knew wrapped his arms around my shoulders and sang into my ear. I melted. Not that he and I did anything after he stopped singing, but instant melt. It’s a daddy thing, no, not that daddy. When I was a child, I loved sitting next to my father while he sang, baritone most of the time, but some days managing the deep bass. I was always enamored of the basses in the choir, little girl crushes that never went anywhere. To this day, it still gets to me. I could easily lay my head on the chest of a bass singer for hours, and be a happy melted puddle.

Massage is another one of those melty things, I think for a lot of people. I told my first boyfriend once, that I’d do anything for a massage. He was polite enough not to test that offer. Everyone who has ever rubbed my shoulders knows I have knots that just won’t quit. I don’t have a lot of meat on my upper torso, but what’s there is knotted tight. Even the professional masseuse didn’t get very far because I’d bought a full body massage. So, I love massage, but I have to be careful. That “do anything” vibe it puts me in is rarely appropriate, and I sometimes feel a bit awkward in receiving a well-meaning rub from a friend. But when I just let go, relax and enjoy, the melting is wonderful.

Really Good Food that I didn’t have to make myself. I am such a picky eater, and my body is even pickier. That when I get a delicious meal, where everything is wonderful, and as close to perfect as can be. I’m in heaven. Freshly baked bread with soft butter. A steak right off the grill, seared but still mooing. Still warm and gooey cookies or brownies. Asparagus, grilled and lightly salted. Sea salt-crusted baked potatoes with soft and fluffy insides. Pot roast that falls apart with a fork. Light and fluffy waffles with sizzling bacon. Bright green, fresh salad with strawberries dotting the bowl. Jack Daniels chicken strips. Cheddar Bay biscuits. Crispy chicken or eggplant parmesan. Grilled pizza, deep fried turkey, juicy beef brisket or pulled pork. That perfectly ripe watermelon. Large-chunk guacamole from his wife’s recipe. Delicious food can make me melt with joy.

Adventures. There are Things that I like, Things that I want. But what I really enjoy are new experiences and adventures. Going out to hike a trail I’ve never seen before. Going to an amusement park and riding new rides (and old rides with new people). Taking a canoe down a river. Exploring a cave. Finding a new place to stargaze. Visiting other cities, states, countries. Shared joy is multiplied, and the wonder of a new experience is like nothing else in this world. Adventures melt away the ordinary and fill my heart with happiness.

I wasn’t sure where I was going with this post. I knew where I wanted to start, but I didn’t know where I was going to end. There are a lot of things that turn me on, I talk about them all the time. But that’s not what this is about. I wanted to write about the things that really get to my heart, as well as my loins. For me, melting is more about my romantic side. Which is a side I often ignore, as unimportant, or something for when there’s more time. But these are some of the things that really speak to my heart, that make me warm and fuzzy and happy. And I am fortunate and grateful that, excepting the first one, these are all often in my life.

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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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Broken Not Fragile

September 22nd, 2011

One of the first times I answered “the heath question” before playing with someone, that’s what I said. I’m not fragile, but I am broken. I have RA, so I have fussy joints. Hubby has a badly injured back. He has had surgery twice in the last two years. Toy has a myriad of problems, treatable and mysterious. And we all get injured, ill or just plain exhausted. So, what then? What do you do when your play partner, your loved one, is not feeling up to snuff?

He once asked me if I could be happy not being suspended by him for a whole year (at the time he was suspending me three nights a week), and suggested that such could be the case some day due to health. Now, I have not gone a full year between suspensions, but often it is months. And yes, I’m still quite happy with him. It isn’t about what we do together, but more about being together.

There is a lot of service in my submission to him, so taking care of him when he’s not feeling well comes naturally. I’m not really the maternal type, but fetching food, giving massages, just sitting and stroking his hair, all feel good to me. Hubby and I are making time to take care of each other more now, too. We plan out our date nights, but sometimes, one or both of us is feeling rough, and we just take care of one another in the same way.

Toy has a unique way of taking care of the sick. She likes to be the Get-Well Fairy and goes to the store and drops of little bags of whatever is needed or wanted. She likes to help people out, and even remembers to let us help her when she’s ill, too. She does ask for help when she really needs it, but sometimes we have to push past her reflexive “I got this, guys.”

So, this is all good and nice and happy. What about the parts I don’t do so well? This is two-fold for me. One, I don’t take care of myself. Two, I over-protect those I love. So, let’s take these in backwards order because the one leads into the other.

Over-protectiveness. If someone is not quite up to their full health, or feeling tired or sore, I assume the role of care taker. Which isn’t a bad thing, but it also means I don’t ask them for anything I might want. I feel that their health is more important and it would be selfish to ask for anything. This happens a lot on Wednesdays. If he comes in late from work and looking worn out or complaining of headache or pain, I won’t ask to play, even if it has been on my mind all day. I don’t want to push him if he’s not up to it, I don’t want him to feel bad for saying no, or make himself feel worse by saying yes. I’m taking away his ability to make that decision for himself by not asking. Bad me. There’s a bit more baggage around that one than just health issues, but that’s not today’s topic.

So, that also leads into not taking care of myself. Just because the desire mentioned above is a want instead of a need (I hesitate to call anything defined as play or sex a need), doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have it. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t ask for it. I don’t often ask for things I want, because, I tell myself, I don’t really Need them. I put those I care about first, my assumed responsibilities second, and myself third. It’s why I stopped Tai Chi and Yoga, it’s one of the reasons why I can’t get back into kneeling regularly. Those things all came to be “about me.” I’m doing them for myself, so they aren’t as important as the things I’m doing for others.* The only thing that over-rules that is exhaustion. I do veg on the couch when I’m too tired to do anything else, until I fall asleep. With taking on a second job recently, exhaustion is winning out more, and the second job is taking all the time usually reserved for “my things.” Only illness and injury slowed me down this week and did not provide for productive “me time,” and I took extra shifts to make up the missed days. So much to do, it’s hard to find the proper balance.

*As I reread this, I decided some extra discussion was, perhaps needed, to define how this ritual came to be “about me.” Roughly a year and a half ago, he asked me to kneel for him, to get up to thirty minutes a day and to reflect on our relationship during this time. Tai Chi and Yoga became part of this ritual to take care of myself, to be healthy for him. I wrote a post about this just a few weeks ago, about what I could do to reclaim this habit. However, the changes in our relationship, and the problems I had with the kneeling, and my efforts to overcome them, have cast this ritual in a different light. Yes, once upon a time, he asked me to do it. But it no longer feels like a part of our exchange. It is something I do to center myself, or to take care of myself. Not something I do for him. And so, when I fail to do it, it’s just one more thing I don’t do for myself because I don’t have or make the time after everything else I put first.

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1950s Monday

September 15th, 2011

Nervous anticipation. We have Plans, it’ll be alright. We’ve gone shopping and have everything we need. Packing, checking, dressing, checking again. Don’t forget it at home! Go back, get the food out of the kitchen. Okay. I’m there. Need to calm down. Kneel on the wooden floor til toy arrives. It only takes her a few minutes, still bubbling over. Cleaning first. Put away dishes, wash up a couple. Floors, sweep and vacuum. Toy does the tables, couches and garbage. What else? Spot check the house. All looks good.

Okay, clothes. Latex panties first. Ah, Mother Nature, why do you hate women so? All shined up, but for how long? Stockings, not too bad considering their age (they got progressively worse as the night went on). Okay, corset-y thing. No support at all, but it’s cute and lacy and it has garter-y things. Toy, help, I can’t get the top hooks closed. Okay, now for those garter-y things. Strangest clothing accessory ever. What’s so sexy about suspenders for stockings? Success. Okay, dress. Toy, need your help zipping it up. Shoes and it’s too hot for the sweater.

Out to the kitchen, it’s nearly six, hurry hurry. Aprons on. Coffee, toy. I fiddle with the oven and we decided 350 will just have to do. Coffee, toy! She starts cutting up the chicken. Can you do the coffee, Miss? Okay, 8 scoops? Can’t get it to turn on… oh, hey, what’s this piece? There, that works. Coffee. And the cookies go in. What else? Steam the broccoli. Won’t that ruin the coffee/cookie smell? Oh well. He isn’t on time, thank gods, hurry coffee! Pans found, chicken wrapped. Cookies done. Wait, not long enough, falling apart. Wait. Better. Coffee done. Plate two cookies, mug of coffee, robe. It’s way too hot for a robe. And here he comes.

She with his coffee, me with cookies. He comes in, and takes us in, all grins. Hug and a kiss, hug and a kiss. We flutter a little over a spill and then head down to the couch. Sweater on now I’ve cooled off. Pulling off his shoes and socks, toy cradles his feet and we snuggle and talk about our weekends. Quite a lot to talk about, and then it’s late and dinner isn’t cooking, yet. Where’s my dinner, toy? Not cooked yet, Sir. And she’s over his knee for a spanking. He lets her up to go cook and I stand to follow, and follow I do, right over his knee for my spanking. Ah, the echo of smacking latex mixed with moans, delicious. Ass warmed, I head upstairs.

Turn the oven back on, cut the bread, garlic butter it and pop it in. Apron, Miss? Oh, yeah. Salads next,lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and croutons. Dressing on the table so they don’t get soggy. Stir the boiling pasta, make the sauce/chicken/broccoli mixtures. Toy is minding all the pots on the stove. Five minutes, Sir. Set the table, plate the pasta, put out the bread. Toy sauces their plates and I sauce mine. Marinara to their Alfredo. On the table, aprons off and call him up.

We begin discussing work, and toy drips something. Napkins! I realize and get up to get them as he realizes their lack as well. I return and toy is looking upset. Why’re you upset, I was the one that set the table. But he misunderstands, thinking it was her job. Out by the hair and over the couch he takes her for another spanking. She returns, fidgeting with her dress and garters, and distracting, forgetting to Sir him. He offers me a chance to help her and I try to give her a hint, but it doesn’t get through, back to the couch for another and he leaves her there a moment.

Deciding the spanking isn’t enough deterrent, he gets the flyswatter. We both whimper and twitch as he brings it to the table. Is this the thing he owns that makes me most skittish? Those weren’t the words, but they got lost in the following conversation and I can’t remember them exactly now. Yes, Sir. But, Miss, what about needles? No, toy, those take time, preparation. This he can just whip out and hit me with. But he catches the thread and runs. Hey, an idea. You both roll a d6 and whatever number toy rolls, Miss takes that many needles, and whatever number Miss rolls, toy takes that many. I’m shuddering, but game. Toy, however says no, Sir. He goes on about increasing the die each week, eventually getting to doubles. Toy just keeps saying no, until she finally says it’s upsetting her stomach to talk about it, so he stops, reminding her that if she tries to throw me under the bus, she’s falling, too.

Finished with dinner, we don our aprons again to clean up. He decides they would definitely be enough coverage alone. I agree, but toy just keeps cleaning. We get the food put away and the dishes done again, and then head downstairs. He has cotton ropes and red silk strips laid out on the couch. I sit down by them. Toy takes his shoes upstairs and then we wait for him to reappear, with more ropes. He starts with ankles, one rope a piece and then pulls us to our feet. Time to play a game.

“Toy, what’s Miss’s birthday?”

She stares and stutters, as he counts down on his fingers from five. She cannot remember. Off comes my sweater.

“What was my previous nickname?”

Oh, I know I’ve heard this story, but I can’t remember either. Off comes toy’s belt.

“Okay toy, who is my kink hero?”

“The Insex guy…. JD?”

Nope, off comes my dress. He very much likes what he finds beneath, and realizes that’s as far as I’ve got without ruining the look, and ties my arms behind my back.

“Do you know?”
“PD.” I answer and he nods, my question next.

“How did I get my rank?”

I toss out a couple things, all wrong, and toy loses her skirt.

“What year did I meet my wife?”

“1995?” She tries.

“No. You?”
“2001?” I think.

“Nope.” And her shirt came off, to finish her under outfit.

Our underclothes revealed, he stops to enjoy the view and pulls us together for hugs and kisses. Blindfold next, he picks up a strip of the red silk and ties it around my head. I close my eyes behind blindfolds, so I don’t know how effective it is when he asks. It’s keeping my eyes closed, good? They murmur appreciatively at the site of white, black and red. Doesn’t she look sexy? Yes, Sir. He puts another strip over my mouth, but then decides to knot it up to make a gag. I panic for a few moments, coughing and gasping and he grabs my throat as I bite down on the gag.

“Are you going to panic anymore?”
“o, ir.” I mumble through the silk.

“Is the gag on top of your tongue?”

“o, ir.”

“Under it?”

“o, ir. I uh uhh.” I’m trying to say in front of, but the gag takes away vowels. I never let my tongue get trapped by a gag, I always pull it back and that was super easy to do with the silk knots.

He lifts me up and lays me out on the couch. Comfy? Yes, Sir.

And then goes to tie up toy. I hear the rustle of ropes, occasionally a tail tossed over my legs, dragged across the stockings. I relax, listening to the music and to him tying her up. Eventually I feel pressure on the cushion at my feet, she must have joined me on the couch.

The rattle of the plastic drapes and he returns with a cane. Swatting thighs, I squeal and squirm. Up to breasts, yipping with tender nipples. He pulls them free for better aim. Shrieking and whimpering. He moves down again. Shoes come off and he hits the soles of my feet, much better. Then he canes toy for a bit, and then back and forth. Kisses and caning. Shrieks and squealing. Squirming and writhing.

Silence and more drape-rattling. I hear something click open. I think it’s a TENS, but then zap. I squeal at the unexpected shock of the Violet Wand – paintbrush attachment. He paints up and down my legs and breasts. I squirm too much, and he takes firm hold of my right breast, painting the nipple, I can barely feel it over his grip, and then the left. I moan and squirm happily as he moves back down to my legs, again and holds my feet to tickle them while I squeal. Then over to toy. I listen to her whimpers, he goes back and forth a little and then puts that away, too.

I hear the rustle of a bag, oh god, my nipples are so tender. He attaches clips, they’re too strong for the cloverleafs, I don’t even register that there isn’t a chain against my chest. I scream and squeal and thrash, shaking my head, kicking my feet. They hurt so much, oh god they hurt so much. Gasping and crying and screaming, trying to process. Growling at myself because I feel like I can’t, because the rational side of my brain is screaming red, and the pain slut side is saying no way, not like last time, I will get through this pain. Toy’s done something. I hear her say she was worried about me and didn’t know where he was. She must have peeked. Really, toy? He can hear my screams just as well as you, he didn’t go far. Silly, worried toy. He comments about leaving them on longer. I squeal in panic. I start coughing on the gag and spit it out. Able to draw a full breath, I calm down. Breathing deeply, I stop screaming. My legs still swaying to process the pain, but not thrashing anymore. I try to get the gag back. Sticking out my tongue, no good. Pressing it against the couch, nope. He isn’t commenting or shoving it back in. Must be okay. I certainly appreciate the breath, so I don’t ask for it back either.

I focus back on them, a vibrator, he’s using a vibrator on her. Leaves her with it and comes back to me. Rubbing the latex with his fingers, whispering appreciatively. Toy, are you going to orgasm? Miss won’t get to unless you do. I’m tormenting her, but she can’t unless you do. You better convince her to. I beg and plead, to no avail. He goes back over to her to try to help, but she can’t, too much pressure. He adds another clip to each nipple. I scream and shake and breathe deeply to get it under control again. Toy, please, toy, please. I beg, it’s not working, he tries to help, but she’s not quite there. A third clip and I keep it under control, this last one only adds a little to the pain already blooming there. I change my tact. Reminding toy to think of the ropes and the (is she?) blindfold and the vibrator. He goes over again to help, asking her what she needs. She just moans, unable to answer. Toy, please answer toy. Apparently the clips aren’t enough, he gets the flyswatter and I scream. Toy, oh god, please toy, answer his question. He zaps me a couple times before she blurts something out. He goes to her, and together they figure out where she wants the vibrator and what she needs. She has two and then one more powerful to save me.

He returns to me, asks if I can have six. Yes, Sir. One after each clip? Yes, Sir. He pulls four off, one at a time, an orgasm and thank you, Sir apiece. Shaking and curling and gasping with the pain and pleasure. Two left. You enjoying this. Yes, Sir. I should do this more often. Yes, Sir. Are you telling me what to do? I mean, please, Sir. Please, Sir. Which one hurts more? The left, Sir. So that one last. Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. Right one, off and orgasm, thank you, Sir. So, any 10s for you? No, Sir. What then? 7’s, Sir. So what gets you to 10? Usually oral, Sir. So, if I was licking you? Yes, Sir. He repositions, grabs the last, rips it off as he licks. I scream and gasp, writhing against him. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir. I am nearly in tears as I keep thanking him, shaking and riding the wave back down.

I hear him cleaning up, putting things away. He unties toy first. I feel the ropes across my legs again. Then it’s my turn, ankles first, then sitting up for my arms. Gag off my neck and then the blindfold. I blink in the light, looking at toy relaxing by my feet. He finishes cleaning up and sets up the massage table. Toy fetches her lotion. We join him and work his tired muscles, back, arms and legs. He turns and we go for chest, arms and thighs. Then snuggle in together, holding him and him holding us, before getting dressed and heading back to the couch for aftercare cookies, cuddles and chatting.

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Negotiation Win

August 21st, 2011

It was the night. Finally time to fulfill our bargain for a 50 cent pair of scissors. Time to face the music and dance, literally. Bag packed, ready to go. He calls, needs help with the gear. We get it all loaded and head to the club. Wait for the owner and then lug it up and set the stages. The instigator is all bouncy and excited, she says she’s going to explode. Casting about, we finally decide everything is ready and drag toy off to the bathroom to change for the evening.

We can’t remember if there was any exact wording on the shirts, so we do our best with buttons, bras and tying. My skirt is even shorter than I remember. Instigator helps us both with our hair, pig tails for me, hello kitty barrettes for toy. Fidgeting and fussing, and we’re ready to go. Out the door and into the back corner where he sits with hubby, to show off our outfits and drop our bags. The grin in his face matches the light in his eyes as we stand before him. And only intensifies as he has us each turn and bend over to check for appropriate skirt length. Approval is granted and then the fire class begins and we gather to listen.

Class comes to a close, and our performance is announced, massage tables are cleared and instigator’s laptop is set up at the edge of the stage. I drag toy up as he explains what is happening to the curious crowd. There are a lot more unfamiliar faces than I expected, but I’m not really looking at them. Finally, it is ready, we take our places and press play.

The song is ridiculous. Japanese that toy and I have barely learned to pronounce about falling in love and seeing the world in a whole new way. We have macarana-esque parts, and kick lines and spins and air guitars. Everyone is laughing and his smile is huge. I try to look up from the screen when I can, but I’m terrified and don’t manage it nearly as much as I wanted to. But we got through the whole thing, and all fell down together at the end. Then curled up into a cuddle pile around toy, laughing our heads off. I don’t even know if they clapped.

Once we pulled ourselves together, we gathered our things for the bootblack competition. Now, earlier in the evening, instigator had asked if she could borrow my china marker for this, and I, feeling snarky for having to sing and dance, told her, but it’s a competition, aren’t you prepared? To which she replied did I want one boot to not look as good as the other? And I, feeling more snarky, said, don’t worry, I’ll fix it. So, still teasing a bit, we find a quiet space in the back to set up our supplies, turning a couch so the light is better, if not great.

He finished his conversations and came back with toy. Sitting down, he offered us each a foot and pulled toy down next to him for his entertainment while we worked. I’m not sure I’m a real bootblack, I just love his boots. Instigator’s far more inclined to clean up any boots that pass her way with a polite request for service. So we set in, scrubbing and rubbing. I start noticing some strings, but my scissors were broken. Instigator is burning the strings off her boot with a lighter. Hm. Hey, can you do that on this boot and you can use my china marker? She agrees, I can’t even just ask to borrow it, I’m phobic of sparks. She has a little extra fun making it spark to watch me twitch, burns her thumb and my arm on the hot metal as we are working in very close quarters. Then we oil and shine and whiten. Making them as shiny as we can for an oil tanned boot. Re-laced and done, he sets off to the front room for judging with toy, leaving us to clean up and drink some water toy has brought.

Returning a short while later, he says the reviews are mixed. Mine is a better shine, but speckled. Hers is more consistent, but duller and there are some buff lines in it. Toy just can’t decide who won and lost, so we give it up as a tie, both wishing we’d had better light.

Next up, massage, and there’s just the thing, a king-sized padded table nearby. Toy fetches her massage lotion and he drops his shirt and lays down. We surround him, them on his back and me on his legs. Their hands are stronger and his back is always the most knotted. In silence, we put all our focus on him, working his back, neck, legs and arms, circling around him, doing our best to pull out his stress. He turns over and we continue, upper chest, shoulders, arms, hands and legs. About the time my hands have given out completely, he looks up and smiles

Now it’s his turn to have fun. He grabs me in one hand, toy in the other, and pins instigator with his legs. I lose track of what is happening to toy at this point and only hear her moans and whimpers and Thank you, Sirs. Instigator is pinned by one leg and the other is being used to kick, poke and prod her. A boot-spanking, if you will. Me, he has by the throat to start, eyes closed, one of my hands clutching his arm and I gasp and squirm in his grip. He holds me close, turning to count occasionally, sending me spiraling into orgasm. Kisses and I love you were interspersed with numbers, the moans of the others, and the sound of his boot hitting flesh. He moved his grip to my hair, less of a fear reaction, rocketing up arousal and sensation. Still the round robin of pleasure, he raises me up to see his boot on instigator’s throat. Beautiful.

There was a moment, his grip maybe slackened or I opened my eyes a little too wide. I saw what was happening to the others, and I had a shot of envy for the physicality of what he was doing to them. Before I could process it much further than that, his hand tightened in my hair, and he counted to three. I buried my face in the mat and orgasmed through tears. When I came up again, the energy and reality of the moment reclaimed me, and the negative feeling was gone. I was in his grip, against his body, two of my best friends were sharing in this wonderful scene of pleasure, pain and orgasms with a man we all love in our own way. Just incredible.

I loved the sounds. The slap of his boot, the screams and moans and gasps, the words from his lips: I love you, 1-2-3, fucking your brainto go, taunting instigator as he found new places for his boot . The sound of his breathing as he took a moment for himself. Toy’s thanks.

We cuddled up together, me, instigator, him and toy. All lined up and snuggling. Still occasionally handing out orgasms, playing with programming, appreciating all that we had. Not someplace I ever really pictured myself ending up, but it was just right in that moment. The four of us together.

Time to rejoin the rest of the party. We gathered our stuff and headed back out to the front room. Put away our gear and gathered around in the electric area. His boots are “dirty” from kicking instigator. She offers to lick them clean again and starts to work. Toy and I look on, not really boot lickers ourselves. Then he grins and points me to the nearby violet wand. A straight rod and turned on. I hand it to him and he zaps her a few times, insisting she keep working. Tormenting her until he gets a better idea. Handing me back the wand, I’m to shock her at his direction. She stays more focused on his boots when the rod is coming from the other direction, but it’s still fun to make her jump.

Boots shinier. What else haven’t we done from the agreement? Bondage. He takes instigator’s tie and secures her hands, tormenting her with one hand and holding her other until he finally hands the tie off to me, wanting both hands free. He puts a mask over her head and we are all impressed that it fits over her hair. Then moving me around the wall to hold her hands above her head so he can return to using his boots. His tool of choice on her for the evening. He asks if anyone wants to take her place? Absolutely, I reply, unable to see what exactly he’s doing, but not really caring, her moans are delicious. He finishes her off, and sets her free after she starts squirming her hands as though the tie has become uncomfortable.

Then orders me down on his boot. It’s been a long time since we’ve done that. I kneel on his boot and he goes to work, rubbing and kicking as I moan gasp and writhe, focusing on staying on my knees with hands on my thighs. Alright, time for your favorite part, you have permission to get yourself off on my boot. Thank you, Sir. I ride the boot more intentionally now, moaning and arching into an orgasm. One more. He moves with me a little and I curl up, my head against his leg as another orgasm washes over me.

We are interrupted then, and he has to go move his truck. I sink into my position. Knees wide, hands on thighs, palms up, back straight, head down, eyes closed. Calm, satiated, joyful. I sink hard. I’m aware of instigator beside me, and only barely of toy curled up on her lap. He is only gone for a few minutes, but he doesn’t come right back. I hear his voice throughout the room. I sneak glances beside me, I can still feel instigator, but I want to see that toy is still there, too. His keys jingle louder and he returns, standing in front of me, a single kick to the crotch and I’m awake. How are you feeling? Aside from the eyelets digging into my left foot, I am very good. He motions me up and we all settle in, curled up and relaxing waiting for the club night to end.

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Birthday Wishes

July 21st, 2011

So, this extra post is inspired by a several things. One, it’s my birthday on Sunday. Two, toy was giving me a hard time about not asking for things I want (for my birthday). And three, he made a comment the other day that a lot of our play has been about things that he likes(it’s awesome and fortunate, that our kinks match up so well), and due to various things over the last week, he’s curious to try some of the stuff that I like. Thus the straitjacket on Monday. So, without further ado, here’s a short list of scene ideas that came to mind when I thought about my upcoming birthday… while at work… and bored… in the order they came to me.

 

    1. Obviously, over the knee, barehanded birthday spankings. This one’s just a given. It’s tradition in all parts of life, to give birthday spankings. So, I want bare hand on bare ass and dear gods, please over the knee, but hey. Girl’s gotta have something special.
    2. Clothes cut off. I have had this in my head for a while now, but I never really thought too much on it. But when I was writing this list it was second to come to mind. I realized that Every kidnap fantasy I have, they cut off my clothes. This is one I’ve never indulged (it requires pre-planning or the sacrifice of cute clothes), but apparently is a huge turn-on for me.
    3. Suspension. It’s just all kinds of wonderful and always on my mind. He suspended me last week, quick and dirty, but oh so nice, and spacy. Lovely. So, I think this wish has been nicely fulfilled.
    4. Sex. Oral. Masturbation. Well, duh, it’s fun. (I’ll get a little more creative further down the page.)
    5. Intense rope scene. You know the kind. Tied up tight, rope after rope, losing freedom bit by bit. Digging in, dropping down, nothing but you, him and the rope. Eeling optional. The kind of eeling that when you get something free, he just ties it down tighter. And you’re both exhausted by the time the last rope is removed.
    6. Electric oral. I’ve been curious about this for ages. Since the first time he mentioned it. In that kind of terrified, but oh so curious kind of way.
    7. TENS masturbation. I want to find the right places. I’ve played with TENS units on various occasions in various ways, but I’ve never found The Spots. Yeah, we’ve turned me all tingly and what not, but I hear stories of more and better. Of getting it to cross the clit. Of getting it to cause orgasms. So very curious.
    8. Vibrator orgasms until collapse. Writing this made me laugh, then blush. There’s nothing like a Hitachi going on and on until you’ve had so many orgasms that you’re begging for it to stop. And then being forced to have more.
    9. Clothespin challenge. I wrote this at work with ?’s around it because most of my thoughts were not around painful scenes. The idea popped into my head, inspired by Monday, and spurred on by memories of a game show. How many clothes pins would it take? How many is too many? I think lying down I could take more than standing up. I have this problem with breathing. And then what about taking them off? One by one? Or a big long zipper?
    10. Sensual flogging or drumming. The rhythmic kind, meant for spacing out and massage. Not the pain of catharsis, not looking for tears or challenge. Just music and thumping and letting go.
    11. Full body massage. This goes on the same line. Just soft sensation, of touching and caring and love.
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Fourth Monday

July 21st, 2011

Fourth Monday. Finally. Only three months to get here. Such busy, crazy lives we lead. He asks me to bring my straitjacket and blindfold. My turn for isolation. Picnic on Sunday, so some cleaning is already done, but there’s different things need doing. I set to the dishes and the grills, Toy grabs the recycling and trash. Floors are given a once over and the playspace is cleared up a little. Dressed and waiting, he’s got the collar in the truck.

Chat and chicken and dinner. We head downstairs to curl up and flip through the television. Toy heads up to get coffee and he and I discuss my jacket. Doesn’t really work with a skirt, but I’ve got underwear in the bag. Put them on and bring the jacket.

So I strip down to bra and panties – look they match. And he jackets me up, nice and tight. The straps crisscrossing between my legs. Blindfold next, then earplugs. Sound is deadened around me, and then headphones – blocking out most everything else. He puts me down on the couch, laying back on some pillows. I fold my legs, but he soon pulls them straight and shackles my ankles together with something I’ve never worn, hard metal, that seems to crank down.

I settle in, trying to see what I’ve got left. I can hear whispers of sound. His voice raises in question – can I hear him? But it sounds so faint and far away. Is he talking to me? I turn my head towards the noise, but nothing else comes. I feel like I should have answered, but he doesn’t ask again. I can’t hear anything but odd whispers of noise. A creak of the stair, the ceiling, whispers of the tv that only sound like static.

Nothing else is forthcoming, so I relax into the jacket and the blindfold and the quiet. The tv hisses. Annoying. I hear little things, indecipherable, whenever I fully relax. But I can still manage enough. Keeping still, I feel my mind sinking into my body. I feel like I’m in my bones instead of in my skin. I keep thinking about Harry Potter whenever the tv hissing pulls me up. I try to stop, I focus on my breathing, on the heavy sensation in my limbs. I could move if I needed to, but it seems like too much effort to even want to. Little ticks of pain. A prick in my foot, my nose itches, my fingertips of my left hand are pressing uncomfortably. Little movements to relieve the little ticks. Sinking, comfortable. Mind wandering, recording the sensations, knowing I’ll be writing this. I wonder what they’re doing, but no way to know, so I don’t wonder long. I’ve read so much Harry Potter lately, why won’t it stay out of my mind. Breathing, sinking.

I hear more sounds. My breathing picks up. Clanking, like chain in a bucket. What is that? Are they back? I smell hemp. The pillow below my feet moves. It scares me at first, til I realize what it is. The clanking noise stops. I strain to hear where they are, what they are doing. What he is doing.

Music starts playing. I can hear it softly, but clearly. And I relax. I don’t know why, music signals playing, but I relax. It’s a continuous sound, and I focus on it and relax. My breathing slows to normal. He hasn’t come to me yet. I sink back into myself, more easily now.

I think I hear sounds from them. Indistinct. The pillow moves again. My heart jumps, but the music soothes. Then Uncle lands. Ripping me out of myself and back into my skin. And I scream and writhe. More strikes on my thighs. I curl up and he strikes the back of my thighs. I scream and moan. Then he is gone. I curl up whimpering. Then I hear her. Hear strikes at the other end of the couch. When they stop. I whimper and fidget, cowering, and the strikes come again, legs and breasts. Squealing and thrashing, the blindfold starts to slip, he pulls it back down, but it comes up again. The headphones are taken off and a hood forced over my head, squashing my ears. It’s a hood I’ve never worn, the area around the mouth seems to have a leather piece to it. I can breathe easily through it. More strikes with something different and writhing and screams, but this stays in place.

He goes to her again, I listen to the strikes and her squeaks. Straining to hear it stop, cowering whenever it does. More strikes, he lifts my legs to hit the backs of my thighs better and strikes my breasts as well.

Clips come. Along my thighs, left thigh first. I gasp and squeak, sinking into the pain as he steps away. Then returns, my right thigh now, and two above my panties. I rock with the pain, chewing on the leather by my mouth, breathing and moving my legs to take in in and process. More clips around my legs, and then…

A clamp – forcep? – goes on my left nipple and I scream and cry and writhe and shake. He takes it off. It takes me a bit to calm down and listen to them again. He returns and puts one on the right nipple. I scream and groan and moan and twitch my foot, biting hard on the leather, determined not to let this one beat me. He strikes off the clips with a flogger and removes the forcep and I scream and shake. He retrieves them and puts them back on. Having to dig between the cushions under my ass for some of them. As I write this I am not sure I’ve got the clips and clamps in the right order, but I can’t remember clearly.

I was scared of what might come next, gasping hard through my nose, trying to calm down so I could hear. Finally, relaxing enough to uncurl some, to feel the cushion at my feet again, to listen to whimpers from Toy. And then he’s sitting beside me, a blow to my crotch and then his fingers, working away at my clit. Rough and insistent, I arch and groan, pressing back against him. Gasping and moaning, finally I beg, pathetically. Please. Please. The words aren’t even clear to me, but he seems to ask what. Please may I come? He taps my chest twice. I take this as a yes, and let myself go. Orgasming, but he does not stop, pushes harder, and I orgasm twice more before he stops. And leaves me shaking and breathless.

But not for long. He unshackles my ankles, takes off the headphones and hood, and ear plugs. I blink in the light, fidgeting in the sudden brightness and sound. I come up and out again and he sits near my feet and waves me over. Rocking myself up, I turn and cuddle my head against his chest. He kisses the top of my head and asks a few questions. I assumed two meant yes? Yes, especially when he didn’t stop. Then he points out toy, tied up in the corner of the couch and we smile. She looks beautiful.

Do you think you can untie her with you teeth? No. Well, you better try, it’s the only way you’re getting out. You two have to untie each other. I blink up at him and his wide grin. He’s not kidding. So I get up and go kneel in front of her, assessing the situation. I start for a knot at her feet, but she thinks she can get out. I let her squirm for a bit, but she only gets one foot out. So I pull the other knot by her feet and she frees the second foot. Got anything more? She tries, but doesn’t get anywhere. Okay hold still. I’m going to pull the crotch ropes through your waist rope. She squirms a bit and I scold her til she holds still. He’s laughing and enjoying the show. I pull the crotch ropes out of her waist rope, though this seems to cause them to enter other uncomfortable places.

I stand and so does she. Still trying to get her hands free she squirms, but can’t. Okay, I can see a couple more I can undo. Hold still. I pull a couple, but that does nothing to help her hands. She’s turning and fidgeting, so I stand on the rope. He’s laughing his ass off on the floor by now, watching us. Hold Still! I pull a couple more knots out and she can free her hands and get the rope off. He insists I do the blindfold and she squirms and ends up on the floor in a ball. Alright stay there then! I bend over and pull the knot free with my teeth and drop the blindfold on her back.

Up on her knees, she makes quick work of the straitjacket buckles, even without her glasses. I toss it on the couch and sit on the floor with them. She’s trying to finish untying the rope and asks for glasses back. He gives them to us both. She untangles and I coil up the jute. It didn’t taste like much but fibers. He had me clean up. I put everything back in the tub and chest while he got ready for his massage. He came back over to us, sitting on the ottoman with Toy in front of him and me behind him, all happy and glowing.

Then over to the table, back, arms, legs, feet, until our hands were getting tired, turn over. Chest, arms, legs, head and feet. Light touch when we can’t push anymore. Then toy starts to drop, energy gone. I wrap my arm around her and she lays on his chest a few moments and then up. Whispered conversation until she’s just about falling asleep on my shoulder. I lean down to wake him. We need to move to the couch. Clothes changed, tv on, coffee retrieved. We settle in to end our night cuddled up together. Most excellent experience.

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First Monday

May 12th, 2011

Tonight is Rope, maybe even suspension.

We arrive on time, head in and start cleaning. Check list complete, change clothes and cuddle up to talk and wait. He is home, a couple minutes to spare. We have a short talk about the cleaning and what it brought up. Toy and I go downstairs with tub #1, but he calls us back up because we’re giggling and he’s making himself dinner.

Down again when he’s done and into the recently cleaned playspace. I sit on one leg of the bishop’s chair and toy curls up at my feet. He likes the image of us there, and puts up the suspension ring.

Toy is pulled out to the mat, put on her knees, blindfolded and her arms bound in bondage tape. She immediately begins fidgeting with it. Up to the bishop’s chair, strapped in securely. Told to listen, be aware and think.

I am brought to the mat, stripped down, pesky new skirt takes some effort. He grabs a couple lengths of hemp. Arms bound behind the back, and then ropes around the upper arm, near the shoulder and then near the elbow. A simple box-tie, and then up to the ring. He grabs my legs and I’m in the air. Wow, interesting, ow, not so nice, squeezing the arms. Remember to breathe in between moans, and down again. So nice to be experimenting again, I tell him where it hurt and he moves some the ropes down a bit. Up again, the pressure shifted, better, but still uncomfortable, but oh so interesting. And then I’m upside down, and he’s giggling. Breathing ever so irregular, but it doesn’t really matter. I feel secure and bound. He drops one leg, but I don’t touch down until he lowers the other.

Order gets fuzzy here. He opens the chest of toys. I think the riding crop comes out first. Swats toy’s thighs and then my legs. Mmm, nice little riding crop. He digs deeper, finds the paddle with speed holes. A few swats on my ass. So painful, I spin and squeal. He digs again, nipple clamps this time, it’s a kind I’ve never tried. I yelp and he says he doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. My heart races. He digs out clips for toy as well. Uncle comes out then. Oh how I’ve missed it. Ass, thighs, breasts. Are you ready, toy? Toy gets a few swats as well. He scolds me to be quiet for the neighbors. He doesn’t have to be nice here, but I should be quieter. Yanks on the chain. One comes off. The other is for Uncle. I whimper, my eyes pleading. He doesn’t have to be nice here. No, Sir. And off it comes. Leaves me to stew. Something scary that she’s going to like, toy says. And he pulls out the TENs, puts in on her thighs. I watch intently, curious how she’ll find it. She doesn’t say much. Intriguing and a few whimpers.

Toy’s hand has gone numb from the tape. He cuts her out, unstraps her from the chair and sets me off the mat. Grabs the sawhorse to put behind me and lays her down on it. Ties one hand with jute and then comes back to me. Takes me down, unties the rope, hands it to me. I drop to my knees to coil it while he ties her more securely. Jute on the wrists and cuffs on the ankles.

We tickle her first, one at either end. He pinches her sore nipples, she squeals and squirms, quite trapped and helpless. He gets a Violet Wand. Paintbrush attachment. I hear happy trees in my head as he starts painting her skin. I tickle a little at first, but then notice I’m getting mild vibration in my fingertips, so I just run them lightly on her skin, not sure if she can even tell, or if her mind is totally captured by the shocks. He asks her questions and she struggles to answer. Teases, and plays, we grin over her helpless form. He threatens a straight rod, but grabs a bulb with a coil inside, playing over her skin. We circle her, still questioning. She loses track, forgets to answer, forgets the questions. He turns it off, torments more, she still can’t answer, forgets more questions. I know the questions, I can help, I mustn’t. We could leave her there, go for a drive… He turns out the light and we back off, watching. Waiting, tasty energy. She can’t remember the question, Sir. He sends me off for Gatorade. I return, still watching and get dressed.

The light goes back on and he unties her hands, sits her up on the horse. Bends me over the end she just emptied and pulls out the speed hole paddle again. Paddles me as I squeal and squirm. Quiet not forgotten, but nearly impossible. I even cover my mouth with my hands a few times. He has me hold the paddle. It’s light, Sir. What? Light wood, Sir. I want to apologize, it hurts like hell, but the wood and the holes make it lighter than I expected. Should she have more, toy? Yes, Sir. And more come, skirt up this time. Stings so much, and I start to slip into painspace. Yelps turning to moans and heavy breathing. But then he undoes her ankles and bends her over, too. Swats her ass some.

There are twenty more, toy. Do you want them? Or does she get them? Or do you want to share?

I want to tell her we should share, but he’s asking toy, I have to be quiet.

Toy’ll take them.

As hard as I can swing?

And then she starts using my name and I add to the torment.

Oh, no, Sir. She can have them.

I thought I was Miss, toy?

She can have them.

I thought I was Miss, toy?

Oh, no, sorry, Miss. Toy’ll take them.

All forty?

Oh no, Sir.

No? So, she gets them? I thought you liked protecting people, toy? Don’t you want to protect her? Her ass is already quite bruised.

Toy’ll take them.

All forty?

Yes, Sir.

Will you count for me, toy?

Yes, Sir.

And forty whacks, she counts beautifully.

Paddle goes down, he gives instructions for clean up and goes to the couch. Toy and I clean up, putting everything away but the cuffs on her ankles. He says they can stay. Then we join him on the couch. Snuggles, light chat, and Human Cent-Ipad. Toy is a bit traumatized, so we watch Children’s Hospital which is all sorts of odd, and silly. He sets up the chair and we start in on his back and shoulders. My wrists are being funky. He asks me to set up the table. We move over and I have a better angle. I mirror toy, her hands are stronger, but I do my best. Turns over and we finish working his arms. Then he grabs toy and torments her with logic, while I stroke his hair and giggle. She is aroused and I am amused. We finish aftercare between the kitchen and the couch. Talking, Dr. Who and snuggling, a great first night.

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