September 17th, 2012
He has a lot of boxes, has been tormenting us with the thought of 18s all weekend. We set up the massage table to sit on, he gets a bench in front of us. Sitting side by side, naked, she’s still blind. He picks up a box with three boxes inside: 22s, 20s, 18s. Asks her to pick. She points at the 20s. He grins and sets the box down. Alcohol pads, I turn my head and start twitching, he wipes down my left thigh and her right. Thigh? Yep. Then the iodine, painting a wide swath yellow. Two each, he tells us. 25, 22, 20, and 18. I don’t know about that, we’ll see. I’ve only ever done two before. I just don’t know.
Her first. I close my eyes as he pops the first cap, kicking my foot against his bench. She screams a bit, and then it’s my turn. Her hand on my back. Did you orgasm? What? I look at him. I counted to three. I… no, sorry, Sir. Pay attention, are you ready? Yes, sir. I close my eyes again.
Breathe in. 1. Breathe out.
Breathe in. 2. Breathe out.
Breathe in. 3.
Freeze. Pain, screaming, orgasm. Thank you, Sir. Gasping. Tears.
And he’s counting for her again. Breathe in. 3. Good job.
Small orgasm numbs the pain. Thank you, Sir. I calm a little as he returns to me.
Breathe in. 1. Breathe out.
Breathe in. 2. Breathe out.
Breathe in. 3.
Less pain this time, squealing, orgasm. Thank you, Sir.
Time for the 22s.
Panic, fear, adrenaline, shaking, please put your hand back. Her hand on my back.
He counts her third. I orgasm, thank you, Sir.
I shake my head, try to get a grip. Deep breath and settle.
Breathe in. 1. Breathe out.
Breathe in. 2. Breathe out.
Breathe in. 3.
Screaming pain, orgasming, shaking, oh yeah, breathing. Thank you, Sir. Crying.
You can cry all you want.
I know, Sir.
Counts her fourth in.
Orgasm, twitching, thank you, Sir.
You ready? Sobbing, breathing, settling to be still. I look at him, so happy.
Breathe in. 1.
Breathe in. 2.
Breathe in. 3.
Pain. Screaming. Orgasm. Gasping. Thank you, Sir.
Time for the 20s. Oh god.
He runs his finger over the needles, it feels funny.
He jokes a bit, I can’t remember the words.
Can I swear at you, if I call you Sir?
I’m not sure how I haven’t sworn yet, but I know it’s coming. Twice as many already as ever before. He does her next one, and she screams louder than any of the others.
Thank you, Sir. It sounds funny, me thanking him for my orgasm after he tells her she’s done a good job.
Are you ready?
Breathe, settle. Stop kicking. Squeeze her hand.
Breathe in. 1.
Breathe in. 2.
Breathe in. 3.
Scream. Gasp. Thank you, Sir. Fuck me. Ow. Tears.
Back to her for number six.
Thank you, Sir. Still sounds odd.
Deep breaths, look at his eyes, glance down at my thigh, back to his eyes. So happy.
Yes, Sir. How in the hell am I okay. I’m they don’t hurt once they’re in. Too much adrenaline and endorphins to freak out. Remembering to breathe.
Ready? He pops the cap, I squeeze my eyes shut, grab her hand.
Breathe in. 1.
Breathe in. 2.
Breathe in. 3.
Screaming, Why do they hurt three times? Hold my breath and writhe through the orgasm. Thank you, Sir.
Time for 18s. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
She’s never even done them before. Me first? Oh gods no. No, he’ll do her first, he wants to see how they push and drag. Oh god, stop talking about dragging.
She takes her hand away to brace herself. And screams a lot.
Thank you, Sir. Oh god, that sounded horrible.
You’re not going to give up on me now?
No, Sir. Kicking the bench. Breath, relax. Oh god.
I close my eyes and look away. Grab her hand.
Breathe in. 1.
Breathe in. 2.
Breathe in. 3.
Scream, scream, scream. Oh god that hurts. Ow, ow, ow. I don’t think I remembered to orgasm. It didn’t stop hurting. I tapped my foot. Breathing. Fuck me.
Her last one went better, thank you, sir, orgasm bringing the pain back down. And then it was my turn again. Needle number eight, on my god, was I seriously doing this? I couldn’t stop now. Just one more needle.
Breathe in. 1.
Breathe in. 2.
Breathe in. 3.
Screaming, gasping, orgasm. Thank you, Sir.
Runs his finger over them, feels funny. I look down. Not too bad, all capped. The caps had kept falling while I twitched, but I don’t remember when exactly. He took the caps off, wanted pictures. Of our legs, then us snuggled together. She got her eyes back so she could see.
Then he pulls out his TENs. Could we last or did we want the needles out. Once in they were fine. How was it fine? Ah adrenaline. Floaty happy. TENs was lovely, happy tingly TENs, writhing, moaning happily. Gods, I love TENs. All the way up to the top. I get distracted, poke my arm with three of the needles. Gives me gauze, hold it on.
Time to take them out. She hates this part. Stings a bit, but it’s not nearly as bad as in. Breathe through them, one by one. Oh god, they’re bleeding. It’s dripping. He wipes them up, cleans the table. Gauze, hold it tight. She clots much faster. I made it. We both did it. Her first time with 18s, my first time with so many needles and three of those gauges. So proud of us. I show off the marks to everyone who will look the next day. So happy and proud. Incredible scene.
March 8th, 2012
I may want tears tonight.
I smiled back at him, warmth filling me at the thought. I’d been aching for that, and we were both finally in a place where it would be healthy to go there. His boots needed attention, too. Having just gotten the soles replaced on both pairs. I hadn’t blacked the steel toed ones in a while. It was going to be a good night.
Arrive, hugs and snuggles. His boot toes are certainly dirty. The puppy is too rambunctious though, we head downstairs. My kit in hand, he sets up a chair in the back corner in a decent pool of light. Down onto the cold cement I go, think skirt barely any protection. Set out the kit, go get water. He gets distracted by a self-suspension and goes to offer advice and assistance. I wait patiently, preparing myself to serve him.
He returns and we roll up his pant legs. I unlace his boots, draping the waxed strings over my neck, bight towards the respective boot. Lather created while I waited, I head for the right boot, pulling it up onto my thigh. Snip a few strings. Saddle soap, brush, toothbrush and fingers, working into the soft leather. Switch. Left boot on right thigh. It feels good to have them in my hands again. Clean it up and snip a more strings. Switch. I have to sit at this point. Bare feet on cement with the added weight of his leg is doing no good for my feet. Black gold for the shine. Fingertips working every inch. The class has started behind me at some point, I’m listening, but the boots hold my focus. Switch. More black gold and work into the leather. China marker and I bring out the sole lacing, bright white beneath the gleaming black leather. Quick run with a cloth and done. Pack up and sit to his right. Arms around his leg, head on his knee for the rest of class. The engineer girlfriend on his left. He pets and strokes, and squeezes our shoulder knots as we listen and talk about violet wands.
Class over, I am responsible for a few minutes, organizing for the weekend. He warms up on the wall and then smiles over at me. Ready to go? Yes. I put aside my phone and glasses, toss my shirt to the floor below them and walk to the cross. Taking off my bra, I drop it against the wall and hug the beams.
He starts off with the short, soft ones, but they still sting a little with the power he uses. The music isn’t playing yet, he’s got mp3s playing in his ears, but I don’t know what song. I close my eyes and concentrate on the strikes. Catching his rhythm, I bob my head with the hits. The room is full of conversation, but I focus in on us. On the cross, on the floggers, the energy between us. The leather feels so good on my back. His hands beat into the muscles, fingers drag over the heated skin.
He rides the waves of the music in his ears. The strikes come harder and faster, bringing moans then screams. I bounce and stamp, my heel begins to tap with the beat. I am grateful for the mobility of the cross. I shake it and pull on it. We ride the wave back down. His hand in my hair, he pulls me off the cross and down to my knees. My hands on my thighs, I breathe and wait.
He pulls me up again. Stingy floggers, and I scream. Jumping and bobbing and writing against the cross. Falling deep into space. Growling with determination. I can feel the attention some of my screaming is drawing. I smirk, but it is swallowed by another scream. He pauses whenever I jump around. Waiting for me to come back to him. I hear the engineer beating the wall beside me. I know it is her, though I don’t look. Her strikes familiar. I feel his hands again, sending shivers through my body.
Now there are mop floggers. More solid hits. Hard, throbbing against the cross. I hear music, but it isn’t what he’s listening to, so it doesn’t matter. The mops beat into me and he goes faster. Six count and my head can’t keep up, it starts rolling as the flogs roll over my back. The scream builds low in my belly until it bursts free.
His hand in my hair, pulling me up. Your skin is breaking, we’re going to have to stop soon. How are you? I can only smile. I think I manage Good. Do I need to put you in the corner? I nod. He puts me back down. I nearly cry. My body betrays me.
He strikes again and I jump. Oh, we’re starting again, he grins. I nod and he hits. Hard and stingy. I scream and writhe. I hear the engineer beside me, singing. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abuse. I smile through my screams. Her voice a perfect compliment to the end of our scene. My head bobbing with the song as I scream and shake the cross. I hit my knee once and bounce quickly back up. I hear him start to count with his strikes. 1. Scream. 2. Scream. 3. I drop, but not to my knees, hanging from the cross momentarily in orgasmic release. I pull myself back up. And he finishes off with a few more strikes.
Then his hand is in my hair again, pulling me away from the cross. Around other people and then forcing me down to my knees sheltered by some spanking benches. Head down, eyes tightly closed, hands out. I’m too deep in space to be touched. I can hear everything around me, but it doesn’t matter. The energy is all I care about. The floating, happy, gasping, shaking wonderfulness inside me.
Slowly, I float back down into my body. The sounds around me start to invade. I hear him start in on the engineer. The people beside me talking about blow jobs. Noise and cold air. I’m not ready yet. I ignore it for a little longer, my eyes still heavy.
I’m numb from the knee down before I’m ready to open my eyes. I look around. Who are these people next to me? I still don’t know. He flips a flogger out of his grip and we smile. But I’m awake now, time to move. I don’t want to continue listening to the conversation beside me. I drag myself up onto unfeeling feet and make my way to my things. Glasses on, shirt wrapped around me, text messages checked.
I head over to the bishop’s chair to perch and watch the rest of their scene. She stands still. I am amazed and a little confused. Her happy place, she’ll later explain. But then she starts reacting. Screaming and curling up against the cross. He grins with glee, and goes after sharper toys, even the dragon tail, though he only slaps with it, doesn’t snap. She curses and screams until he is done. Then he wraps her up against his chest.
A few minutes and then calls me over to join them. Snuggling together by the cross, until we’re ready to move. I scoop up my bra and we head upstairs. The couch is taken, but he heads for the big chair and we sit at his feet again, heads on his knees. After awhile the couch is free and we pile on in. Snuggled against his chest and shoulders, arms and legs entwined. Relaxing together until it is time to go.
My shoulders are wet and tacky, a layer of skin is gone, but they only sting a bit, not hurt. The next day they’ll be cold. A new and confusing sensation. Hers are quite tender and it makes me want to poke them when I hug her good night. We head our separate ways with hugs and kisses. It has been a wonderful night for us all.
December 22nd, 2011
A silly little story for the holidays.
“Come here, young lady, sit on Santa’s lap.”
He didn’t look like any Santa she had ever seen before. Sure he was dressed in a fur-lined red hat, and black fur-lined boots, but that’s where the similarities stopped. He had on tight red leather pants and an unbuttoned red leather vest. And his short trimmed beard was far from white. Oh, his eyes twinkled with merriment, but his stomach certainly did not resemble jelly.
She walked forward slowly, chewing on her lower lip, eyes darting from the floor up to him and back down again. What was he playing at? She sat down on his knee, tugging belatedly on the hem of her very short red silk dress.
“There now, have you been a good little girl this year?”
“I…” She looked into his eyes, crinkling with laughter and made a decision. “I’ve been good at it.”
“Oh-ho-ho. Have you, now?”
“Yes.” She sat up straighter.
“Good at what, precisely, little girl?”
“At being naughty, Santa. Isn’t that why you’re here?” She grinned at him as he laughed again.
“Yes, yes it is. You’re right at the top of the naughty list, and I thought a personal visit might be in order.”
“I’m flattered. The top of the list, you say? Very flattered.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed herself against his chest.
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” He snaked one hand up her back and settled it on her neck. “But I haven’t come for a demonstration.” He spun her around and over the knee she had been sitting on, and lifted her skirt. “I didn’t think coal would quite get the message across this year.”
She squirmed and spluttered, but he held her fast with his left hand as his right lifted the back of her dress and then pulled down her black silk panties. The first smack sent shivers through her body and she yelped. He did not pause, but when straight to his work, spanking her harder and harder, til her yelps turned to moans and her moans turned to tears. She writhed in his lap, not daring to put her hands behind her, crying as her ass turned as red as his clothing.
“Oh, and I must not forget your present.” He paused and reached into the sack beside him, pulling out a wooden paddle. Engraved on one side was the word Naughty and on the other, Nice. “Just so you remember.”
He flipped the paddle so that Nice was facing her already bruise bottom and brought it down hard. She screamed and flailed, but he held her tightly and brought it down again, in exactly the same spot. Over and over, creating a purple outline of Nice in the reddened flesh. She slumped in his lap, sobbing but accepting as he took a couple more shots, just to make sure it would last. Then he let her slide to the floor, and kneel with her eyes on his boots.
After a few minutes, she collected herself and looked up at him. “Thank you, Santa.”
“You’re welcome, young lady. Now, which list will you be on next year?”
“With that paddle, Santa, I think I’ll try and make the top of Both lists.”
He laughed and scooped her up into a hug and a deep kiss.
Merry Christmas, Happy Yule and whatever other holidays you may celebrate, may they be filled with love, laughter and kinkiness.
November 17th, 2011
I don’t know where to start. It’s been a week of crazy ups and downs. Excellent times together, and painful moments, too. Through it all, communication. Keep talking, keep expressing, keep feeling, keep reacting, keep it honest and open. We had great moments of connection. A wonderful flight on Saturday. Cuddle-nap-play time on Monday. And last night was the topper. That’s really what I want to talk about today. Conversations were all finding stabilization. Worry was hanging about. I was feeling a bit wobbly before practice. Okay and “fine” but not great.
Class is almost over, I’ve been fidgeting. Glancing at the clock, wondering if he’s upstairs. Worried about him. She says it’s all good now, toy seems happy, but what about him? He arrives with the tote and sits just outside the door. Looks happy, but class isn’t done. Patience. And clapping. Up for hugs, he’s grinning and wandering about greeting. I’m petting toy when I notice him at the table, looking over the new stun gun. Panic, I run around and jump onto the bed, hiding behind the crowd. Laughter and this is pointed out to him.
Whimpering, I get up and walk to the edge of the bed.
I hop off the bed. He crackles it and I jerk away in fear, breath already quickening.
I kneel in front of him, too terrified to put my hands where they belong, but my knees are spread properly. I hope this is good enough and he doesn’t object. He crackles it some more and I jerk away against the bed, whimpering.
I calm my breathing, steadying on the trundle. He snaps it by my ear and I lose calm, gasping in panic, trying to get a grip.
If you let me do it, then I get to zap her. He points up to a bystander. There’s some discussion and the crowd agrees this is what she said.
Do you want to do this?
He shocks my leg light and and I squeak. Then harder and harder til I squeal. But it’s not as bad as it sounds. It never is.
Ready? He pulls it away for a gap.
Steady my breathing, grab the trundle. Yes Sir.
Shock and scream and jerk. He giggles.
The bystander tries it after I explain the pain isn’t the bad part. Then he asks toy. She’s not ready. He crackles it at me and I whimper and cringe. Toy looks scared. More crackling, more whimpers.
I’ll torment your Miss, til you say yes.
He starts zapping the top and inner thighs. Making me jerk and squeal.
Don’t you want to, toy?
Finally a yes. He gives her a taste. Not too bad. Just scary.
Back to me. Crackle and zap. Squeal and cringe. He grabs my foot, I’m panicking nearly to tears.
Hey, what about the shock collar? They try to put that on someone, but terror is enough, no shocks needed. Stray comment inspires him.
Stick out your tongue.
What??? Oh gods.
Stick out your tongue. All the way. All The Way.
Shaking, whimpering, leaning back.
Do you want to do this? Will you let me do this?
If you really want to, Sir, but I’d prefer you didn’t.
He giggles happily and someone suggest the nose and I rock all the way back to the floor at his laughter.
He lets me back up and crackles it a bit more for effect, then presses it against a breast and makes me look down at it. I don’t want to take my eyes off his. But eventually his command is forceful enough and I look down. He presses the button, but nothing. I whimper and he turns on the flashlight, I still cringe. A couple more crackles, a couple more whimpers and he’s done with that for the night.
He wanders off and I catch my breath. Scared to get up, still keeping tabs on him. He starts practicing on the wall. Toy wants beat and she wants practice. Hook them up and head over to get them started. Find some floggers, trade him for the ones he had.
And then I’m tossed up to the wall. Shirt pulled up and off. I slip my bra off to join it. No cross. I don’t have an anchor point. I fold my arms under my breasts and wait, about six inches from the wall. He starts out hard, but not too hard. I’m already high on fear, so I adjust into the floggers quickly. It’s harder to move with the beat like this, but I sway a little. Grunting into the hits, squealing at the harder ones. I fall into breathing before too long, quiet pain space. Until the six-count brings me back out with a squeal. The tips break through my concentration. I hit the wall and then back to my stance. He comes in and out. Hard, softer, tips, thud. It sends me higher.
The deerskin comes out. Huge thud, pounding me solid. So good. I breathe in and out with the hits. Relaxing, comforting. I am breathing with him now. And he starts making huge swings. Harder, but not tipping. I’m rocking with each stroke. Heaven.
Rubber mops now. Starting with thud. Solid, slightly stingy thud. It takes me a bit to get back from the grunts to the breathing. I find myself turning, favoring my left shoulder as it stings more. I try to stay straight, give him a flat target. My hands come up, cradling my chest, anchoring to myself. I’m not going to give in. Tonight, I’m breaking through the barriers of pain, and he is right there with me, not pushing too hard or too fast. I find the rhythm, tapping my foot and breathing with the strikes. Six count knocks me to the floor again, back up quickly. He stays with me. Stingy for a while, screams down to breathing. Pounding, thudding, stinging. It doesn’t matter anymore. Breathing, rocking, turning. Occasional screams just punctuate the scene.
Then his bare hands slam down on tender skin, pounding me to the ground in screams of pain. I try to get up, but he has followed me and I collapse, tears breaking free. The pounding continues and I crawl onto his lap, clinging to his leg through the tears. Eventually, I break through that barrier too, and we readjust, me a ball on the floor, him sitting beside me, pounding away with bare palms. I breathe with the hits, occasionally trying to adjust my body. Elbow not quite comfy, but it’s the best I can do. Head down, no, cement bad. Just maintain. Solid hits stinging my skin. Breathing through solid hits, squeals on sharp smacks. Pounding me down to a puddle of meat.
His hand in my hair, he pulls my face into his lap. My arms around his legs and I sink. The feel of him, the smell of him, the comfort of him. My glasses come off, and I anchor to him. Breathing, I can feel him breathing. Hearts beating. Reality slowly returns. I hear talking above me. Eventually he pulls me up.
How are you?
I smile a spacy smile. Very good.
Is that what you needed?
Yes, Sir. Thank you.
We both need to recover. Sitting next to each other, watching the room. Glowing, the energy and the happy still filling every ounce of me. Even as I finally return to the world and go take a look at hubby’s rig.
An excellent night, amazing play, and it pulled me right into balance. It was full of the love and energy and wonderful connection we share. Nothing else mattered during the flogging. It was us, sharing with each other. And when we came up, our other loved ones were right there, surrounding us. It truly was, exactly what I needed.
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.
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.