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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Bruises and Stun Guns

April 25th, 2013

And for something a little more fun, a little less serious, and a bit more kinky. Yay, bruises! I’ve got a collection of little bruises from our play last night. Right thigh bruises from his punching. Left arm bruises and a bit of missing skin from his pinching. And a few stray rope lines from the 8mm tight TK he put me in. No marks from the stun gun that I’ve found yet, that’s more about the fear, anyway. So glad he’s feeling better these days.

I had a hard time controlling my hands last night. He commented that I had forgotten my training, was being disrespectful, grabbing his hands when they came near me, squirming away from the stun gun, and such things. I’m out of practice, lost a bit of my calm, reptile brain reacts faster than the subbie brain. Fight or flight reactions need to be tamped back down.

That damn stun gun, though… and he wants a cattle prod, too. You put me near a Violet Wand and I’m all for it, top or bottom. TENs Unit, I love it. But fly-swatters made me whimper and stun guns make me lose it. It takes Serious Voice to make me still, and the whimpers have to be covered with hands or breath holding. And still, anywhere but an arm or a leg, and I’m more likely to beg than to submit. I’m not afraid of the pain, it’s the Idea of the thing. It’s the noise, and the knowledge that these are used for self-defense, to put someone down on the ground, to disrupt bodily function. That shit doesn’t belong near my heart, spine or brain. Freaks me out. Oh, and toes and fingers? Just hurt like hell, and usually spasm my hold arm or leg.

It’s a good toy for us though. I enjoy the hell out of fear, and he enjoys the hell out of my tears when I lose my shit. This post is a bit more swearing than normal, but trust me, it’s a lot Less swearing than I was doing last night when he had the thing out. It was an excellent evening.

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Bondage, Electricity & Trust

March 24th, 2011

It started with a cage. A dog kennel set in the middle of the room. All lonely by itself until he ordered me into it. I crawled in, shut and latched the door behind me. The locks were there, but not needed. A small crowd began to gather, sitting on the couches, as I settled in. He was setting up Godzilla, the lovely, long-corded violet wand, casting about for just the right straight rod, which ended up being a ball-chain set. And begin.

He dragged the chains across the cage, setting of sparks to make me cower and the crowd grin. The cage does not carry the current very far, but I whimper anyway, and keep my head down. He dangles the chains through the bars and I curl up into a ball. The chains dance across my back and I squeal, trying to condense more, but there isn’t room. He giggles above me, and then pulls them back. Legs! He goes for the sides of the cage, spinning the chains in to zap my calves and thighs. I squeal and move to the far end, squirming and writhing to the audience’s delight. Feet! He aims for my toes, but I hide them quickly. He gets lower, snaking the chains on the floor of the cage, zapping my ass as I squirm away. I have too much room, something must be done. Cattle prod?

Someone says they have one, and returns with a stun gun looking thing, that makes no noise. Odd, but I don’t want to touch it to find out, so I stay at the door end of the cage. He opens the door and flails me with the chains. I scream and yip, but stay still. The unknown of the other toy keeping me at bay.

Time for a break. He lets up and I relax. She comes and sits in front of me, plopping down like a little kid to see how I am. He sees us talking and thinks she might be taunting me or something, and orders her to join me. She only puts up a little resist, and climbs on in. We settle together, comfortable for the moment, and he returns with Godzilla.

Less room now, squirming and squealing and yipping, and shoving and squeezing and pushing. We collide with each other and he dances the chains down through the top. We compress as much as we can as he attacks one end or the other. The crowd laughs and cheers him on. He grabs hold and spins us around, show us to everyone in the room. Another attempt at a cattle prod, this one a modified flyswatter. He takes hold and pokes us. Thighs and backs, he goes for the toes but we hide them. He opens the door and herds us to the far end. Squished against the bars, I can get no smaller.

He gives us a break, going after a third victim, and she takes off her high heels to give us more room. I’d forgotten my laces at home, so I’m already barefoot. The third victim doesn’t want to play so he returns to tormenting us. Her hair gets pulled through the bars and attached to the cage by helpful members of the crowd. She can’t move her head now, but she squirms just as much. Godzilla dances around the cage and through the bars. Squeaking and squealing, we writhe and contort for his pleasure.

Another break and he wanders about. We keep eyes on him, every time he goes by, but hands are empty. She likes the cage so we stay. Relaxing together. He moves on to other scenes. Her friends decide to have a bit of fun, and now I’m part of the audience, though inside, as I watch them play with her, untouched.

Then we snuggle together, spent and happy. Finished with other scenes, he comes and lets us out. He directs me to take a break and wait for our table. He has tighter plans for me.

A little while later and a massage table has replaced the cage in the center of the room. He snaps, and my dress comes off. A sheet on the table and another snap, and I’m lying naked on my back. The leopard print sheet is wrapped around me and tucked in nice and tight. Ah quarters. He pulls out three quarters and the duct tape. The sheet is reopened and the quarters are placed over tender bits, one for each nipple and one above the crotch. Rewrapped and away we go.

He has red duct tape and starts at the feet, wrapping tightly and quickly. The room is dark and the energy is high. Tonight is not about clean and comfortable, but quick and dirty. I shift my feet, offsetting ankle bones, and he wraps quickly up to my calves. Flexing my thighs to keep my knees from being crushed too tightly together as he lifts my legs. She is helping with the wrapping and lifting. My ass is difficult, lift higher, bend up, more tape. Can I sit up yet? No, not quite, lift again, pass the tape. There we go.

Propped up on the end of the table to do the torso. Someone is bracing it, but not well enough. I’m sliding, panicking. My ass is sliding too far down, I tell him, I’m tipping. He braces and laughs and keeps wrapping, then tosses me back up on the table to sit. Chest is covered, now for the throat. He wraps more carefully, but still quickly. I have no brace, so he avoids direct wraps. Breath is still quickening, and then he is to my face.

Top of the head first, difficult, but tight, over the eyes and nose, and down to the mouth. Panic! Can’t breathe! Well, I can, but barely. Please. Please can I breathe? Please? He cuts a hole for my mouth and I gasp my thanks. Finishes up and tosses me flat on the table. The head end is tilted up a little and I relax into the position, joints settling into the tightness. Spacing now that the frantic energy of wrapping is complete.

Now, where were those quarters? Left one first. Tap, pinch, poke. Ah, there it is, he slices out the coin and yanks the nipple through. Right one next. Pull it out. Pinch, poke squeeze, slap. She wants the whole breast, but it’s a small hole. He pulls and yanks, pulling them all the way out. I scream and writhe and gasp. But they are free and she is happy.

Electricity returns, the modified flyswatter. Zapping, I yip and squeal and struggle. Ow. Hurting my nose. He cuts the mouth hole a little bigger, freeing my nose. Much better, thank you. Zapping and squealing and rolling. They stand on either side to keep me from falling off. Oh Toes!

He scurries down to my feet and cuts another hole, carefully, pulling away the cloth to find my feet. Ohhh, this little piggy goes to market! Zap! I scream and curl up my legs and slowly put them back, whimpering and squirming in my bonds. Where does this one go? The porn store? The strip club? This little piggy goes to the strip club. Zap! My whole leg spasms and I struggle. What the fuck was that? Hey, what was that? What did you hit me with? What the fuck was that? She checks in, but doesn’t answer. Yes, I’m okay, but what the fuck was that? He zaps once more, but I barely notice.

There’s another quarter, we should get that one. He comes back up to my side and pokes around for the crotch quarter. Finds and cuts it out. Zap, squeal, zap, yip. Three holes to poke and play with now. Where’s the sparkly cock? My hands are completely numb now, just so ya know. He cuts them free and I can’t feel my thumbs, but feeling returns quickly. Might as well, he keeps cutting and my chest is now free, breasts to crotch. My head hurts, it’s tight on my temples, but not enough to complain about. Keep your hands down. I grab the cocoon by my thighs. Pinching and smacking and zapping. Squealing, yipping, screaming, writhing, squirming, gasping.

Someone offers new electricity and shows her how it works. Gel and probes, zapping around the breasts. Full contact feels good, Spark gap is zappy. I writhe and moan and squeal. I can feel him chatting away at my feet. The hips are interesting and nerves run spasms down my thighs.

Hey, everyone wanna see something fun? Who wants to count with me? He calls to the crowd, ready for the finale. One, Two, Three. I orgasm and writhe on the table. One, Two, Three whispered in my ear. You’re orgasming in front of all these people. One, Two, and another girl whispers in my ear Three, three, three, three three. I arch and moan and orgasm to his delight and her voice. And done.

He cuts away the tape, quick and easy with the rescue hook. And I am free again, but not moving. I grab his hand and get a hug. Thank you. Thank her, too. Breathing, someone gets water. He tosses my dress over my body. I am still, coming down, looking up at him. Happy, satiated, satisfied, loved.

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One Year Ago

May 27th, 2010

Last week’s post marked one year exactly, of this blog being published. It also was the first post directly posted here.

A lot has happened in a year, and I am working on pulling all my blog entries, journal entries, emails, chats, and random ramblings together into one work. I have come a long way, and there is a long way yet to go. I have grown and learned and done so much more than I ever thought I would even have the opportunity, courage or ability to try.

Last night, I asked him to flog me. I wanted some stress relief from the week to purge and prepare me for the convention we are attending this weekend. He started with the thin tailed rubber flogs, moved on to a dragon tail, Uncle, a quirt, slapping, smacking, punching, drumming, caning, an electric flyswatter and a taser. He took me into object space and attacked me mentally as well. I was in tears nearly the entire scene. It was wonderful and painful and incredible and brutal. When he was done, when he had broken me down to the single thought of “maintain the position,” he picked me up and carried me to the bed. He took care of me with a blanket and two women to stroke me. He left me in object space for a while, before he asked for his girlfriend back, and I served and took care of our things. Afterward, we talked about the scene on the drive home.

One year ago, I would not have taken half the beating, and probably none of the electricity. One year ago, I would be a tired, worn out, droppy mess today. But as I write this, I am about to head to a hotel for a weekend long convention and I am feeling great. One year ago, I would not have been able to talk about the scene so quickly nor say I would have been happy staying in object space had he so chosen to leave me there. One year ago, I was in a very different place in my journey, and I am grateful to everyone who has helped me get to where I am now. Thank you, Husband and Master. Thank you, Lover and Top. Thank you, Boyfriend and Dominant. Thank you, friends and family.

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