Two Hours of Bliss

September 17th, 2014

Getting ready for the party. She wants a long slow burn. Do we want beat together or separately? Together seems like a better chance of a longer scene, trading off. We go in search of furniture, but end up in an alcove, against a wall, side by side.

That wall becomes my friend, my anchor, my focus.

He has 8 new wooden toys, plus all his floggers, and the cocks, and the dragontail, and the stun gun. He uses them All.

We start with floggers, warming up the skin, sinking into our heads and our bodies. I am nodding, hands searching the wall for purchase, for best position, shoulders tense and tired. We find our stride, slow and steady.

He comes forward, pulls our shirts off our shoulders, for a better view. There is more moaning and screaming now as floggers hit bare skin. Arms trapped, my hands now have a place, forehead sometimes against the wall. Heels tapping and body rocking and head nodding with the strikes.

Skirts pulled down next, revealing asses for the new paddles. Screams and jumping, twisting, but keep facing the wall. Falling deeper inside now, there is some growling and more stomping.

He pulls giant rubberbands down our bodies and around our asses. Oh, the screaming and swearing, whimpering and arching. Stop turning! Am not trying to turn, am bracing against the pull, but I don’t argue. He is giggling so much.

Put in the corner, marinating, breathing, sinking, floating. And he is back.

Toys keep switching, turn around, time for thighs and breasts. The joy and huge smile on his face is excellent. I grin right back, she is sobbing. I freak out a bit at heavy breast hits, hard to kept my hands down. Wall sits. What? She shows, okay. Beating thighs. So good.

Zap. Zappity, zap. The stun gun makes me twitch, a lot. The horrible noise of death. Even him zapping her, I am whimpering and twitching. Choice time, stun gun or dragontail. She takes stun gun. I take the tail. Her first, I cringe and twitch in the corner, and then leaves her holding it. So many kisses of the tail. Nope, no blood. The shirt is slipping, so I let it drop. Oh really? He snaps my hip. Fuck you! What? Sir… many more snaps and much screaming.

Turns us into the corners. I am so high! The texture of the wall is super interesting, feels so good on my fingertips. This is how people describe ecstasy. My whole body is humming. And we are not done. Skirt is completely gone, when I did that happen? Before the shirt fell, I think.

Paddles, floggers, and whips, oh my! Up and down we go. Filling the space with screaming and pain and giggles and tears. Floating and shaking and now, I cannot see the texture of the wall. My eyes and words don’t work.

We just keep going. Sticks and cocks and paddles and popper and floggers and dragontail. Oh, his nails and hands feel so good on raw flesh. So deep in my body, gone from my mind. The wall is so comfy and nice to lean on.

How am I going to blog this, with pictures of all the toys? And now I am giggling again. Or a running description of the wall? Hey, look, I can see the wall again.

She is screaming and crying, and I am giggling. We are facing him again. He snaps the rubberband on my thighs. She is begging no. Knees. We don’t get it. On Your Knees. We both drop. Come here. We each curl up on an arm as we come down. I am feeling great. Happy pool of goo, covered in pretty red and purple. 

 

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Stun Guns and Happiness

January 24th, 2014

It has been over a week, so I’ll do my best. That is why I should always write asap after a scene, also this.

It started with rope. Can you do a box-tie? Yes. Arms behind the back, wrists tied, wrap the rope around the chest. All nice and tight and comfy. Out came the stun gun. I back away, and he grabbed me by the hair, hauling me back. I whimpered and thrashed, and he pulled out a blindfold. I whimpered and tapped my foot, trying to stay calm in the tight chest ropes. He dragged me out to the center of the room.

Down. I knelt. Not here. He dragged me off to the side of the room. Laying on my back, arms going numb. Tormented me some more with the stun gun. I curled up on my side, arm still numb. Onto my belly. Much better. For him too.

He grabbed more rope and my ankles are tied. The rope comes up around my neck. So, is this hot. I say yes, but he isn’t asking me. Yes, I hear. Is this hot? Yes. Yes. The other riggers in the room have all agreed that it is hot. Does she need a gag? No, she’ll be quiet. He ties it off to my ankles, zaps me a few times to watch me yank on the rope. Counting so I orgasm just before he zaps me. Then leaves me to stew.

I hear him tying the engineer as I sink into my ropes. There is noise all around, but I am tied and secure and free to just be. He checks in a couple times, pouncing with stun gun, to make sure I’m okay. Once he puts the prongs on either heel. You going to choke yourself? Probably not. Zap. Fuck me! The jolt goes all the way through my legs. Apparently, I am. He laughs. A short while later I tell him my knees are giving up. The jolt and yanking made them angry. He lets them down a few minutes later. Much better.

Once he has the engineer trussed up, he pulls out the dragon tail. I can hear the snaps and her screams. I feel him turning to me. It doesn’t take many snaps and I’m on my back again. So deep in space, and he’s hitting not to mark, it is easier not to scream. Back and forth he goes. A few strikes on her a few on me. She does have a gag to scream into. We both think he is hitting the other harder, ah perception.

Done with the tail, he lets her down and drags me over. Laying atop and between us happily we all wrap around each other. A momentary break, it turns out.

He then drags us to the other end of the room. I have clothes to protect me, she shouts at him about rug burn. He’s got the stun gun again. No, not for her, he promised. He starts counting and zapping again. I’m crying and begging, and thank you, sir-ing. Then he decides the stun gun should be three. According to ex-lover, he should be able to train that, right. I’m crying harder now, and I don’t do it the first time he leaves off saying three. Scolding, didn’t I say? No, you didn’t. Yes, I did. No, you didn’t. He does it again, this time I comply, sobbing out the thank you, sir. And again and again. More begging him to stop and writhing away from the stun gun and sobbing and thanking.

Someone is worried about me, maybe the engineer, I’m not sure, too far gone. He tells them I’m happy. Are you happy, he asks to confirm. That’s a complicated question, Sir. You know what to do. Uncomplicate it, Sir. That’s right, Yes or No. Are you happy? Yes. What? Yes, Sir. Why? Because of that fucking smile on your face that I can’t fucking see. Laughter. Then there is snuggling, and untying, and cleaning up.

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Catching Up and Introspection

January 24th, 2014

Wow, what a month. Sorry about missing posting last week. I was going non-stop all week, with breaks only for homework. We had a nice relaxed adult con over the weekend. Ex-hubby and his girlfriend taught body drumming. I spent the first hour heckling – sometimes with actually good questions, sometimes just suggesting new places for him to drum her. Then her screams actually pulled in an audience with questions of their own. There was also an excellent class in violet wands from our up and coming zapper extraordinaire – he kept doing scenes long after the class was over. I had a great scene last week with him and the engineer, which I will probably post shortly after this post goes live. But it has been a week of introspection this week, and I want to write about that first.

 

Fear is indeed the mind-killer.

I enjoy fear-play. I love the rush. I love the release of tears. I love that I can do that now, without feeling guilty, self-conscious or bad in any way (whether from fear or some other type of play). However, this often means playing with things(objects, tools) that I don’t love (why else would they cause fear?).

I enjoy orgasms. I enjoy control (mmm, power exchange). I enjoy orgasm control. Whether this means begging to come during sexual activity or using a vibrator, or being commanded to come via my number training or some other way. I enjoy being made to come while in pain, or through the use of pain (oooh, spankings). (Side note: remember Not all orgasms are created equal.)

Last week, he decided to combine fear play and orgasm control into one big messy pile of tears with a stun gun. The scene was awesome. I was happy. He was bouncy happy. And the week rolled on at high speed.

Monday, I realized I hadn’t posted about the scene, I hadn’t really stopped to think about the Friday party or the convention or really anything that had happened over the last week. So, after I got home from watching Seven with the polycule, I sat down with my journal and started writing.

And my brain broke. Hard.

Maybe it was the talk of too many people near me(but not close to me) passing. Maybe it was feeling weird for not being as disturbed by the movie as I thought I should have been (had seen it before, so nothing was a real surprise). Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was being with so many people so many days in a row and then suddenly being alone. Or maybe I just need my brain to break occasionally so I can figure things out about myself.

In any case, I recognized the downward spiral I was taking, and after one attempt to climb back out that took me deeper, I stopped. I put the journal down and went to bed. Tuesday I went to work, did homework and went to gaming. Wednesday, I finished my homework post and then sat down with an empty text document to sort through my brain.

Taking from my experience with both him and ex-lover, I decided to do a Q&A with myself. If I just write, it can get very spirally. If I keep my questions simple and my answers short, I can usually sort things out more logically.

It took me a little while to dig down into the fear (bad kind) and figure out why I was freaking out. I was afraid of loss. Afraid that in my fear, I would lose my orgasm control training; or in my orgasm control training, I would lose my fear. I had to then reality check myself – was either of these things likely? No. The training is deeply ingrained, and the fear isn’t likely to go away. Besides, if it does, he’ll just get something scarier (I’m looking at you, stun baton). Nothing to be scared of losing, nothing to be upset about, it’s all good.

 

Yesterday, at work, I realized I was still carrying some childhood baggage. Part of it I was consciously aware of, part of it I had forgotten about, but kept internalized. I’m a younger child. My brother and I were very similar children. We played the same sports, we looked alike, we both did well in school, had the same teachers. I’ve always been aware of the sibling rivalry problems – he was older so he did everything first, so when I did it, no big deal. He got all A’s, so mine weren’t impressive, just expected. I always felt disappointment if I didn’t do something as well as he had done. This is why I went towards music and drama in high school, while he did Quiz Bowl and sports. But there was other damage I had shut away in my mind.

These last few years, I have found myself experiencing issues in my polycules when a metamour says or does something first. I don’t want to do the same scene they already did, I want a unique scene. (Yes, yes, every scene is unique because of who is in it and our different reactions even to the same stimuli, but you’re being too logical.) I feel awkward saying I love you after she has already said it to him, even though I feel the same way. If she suddenly cuddles him, I feel awkward about cuddling the other side of him. But while these feelings could be said to come from sibling rivalry issues, it didn’t quite mesh for me. I was thinking about something along these lines yesterday, when I realized something.

In my sixth grade year, we moved. We were both in the same middle school in the new town, and the 7th graders had some extra-curricular classes in common with the 8th graders, while we all shared a lunch hour. So, they met my brother first, and given our similar appearances, started calling me Re-Pete. Like I was just a copy, and I internalized the mocking tone to mean a poor copy.

It was literally an Ah-Ha moment. I had forgotten all about that. But my unconscious was still on guard against me copying other people. Telling myself that it made me pathetic, just another copy, not my own person. It is definitely high time I unpack that baggage.

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Rubber Floggers and a Dragontail

July 18th, 2013

Had a great night last night. There was some passing around of the stun gun because one of the girls wanted it, but didn’t want to do it to herself. Had my shoulders rubbed and some snuggles from a friend. Then was the demo bottom for him and his girl, while my boyfriend took random shots to show them what to do. He, of course, was using the rubber floggers to pound into me. It was the girl’s first time flogging, but she was gaining accuracy by the end. The guy is already pretty accurate, but my small back was a challenge. Then my boyfriend decided to six-count with the rubbers, and I shrunk away, grumbling that he can’t do that when I’m not allowed to scream. He let them go back to practicing until they were both tired out.

There was some chatting and he asked me how my back was. I said it was alright, and he asked if I wanted some more. I said sure, he said he wasn’t going to be nice, and I asked if he had a gag in the tubs. He came back with a Japanese washcloth which he knotted up and a leather strap to hold it in place. I choked a bit and he backed off one knot then strapped me in. I slowed my breathing, bit in and confirmed I could spit it out when I needed to.

Then up on the wall, and out came the rubber floggers again, well, off my arms, really, because he had me holding them from earlier that night (don’t let them fall). He was having a lot of fun with the tips last night. I screamed and swore into the gag, pounding the wall, stomping my feet, spinning in circles to see his grinning face and shining eyes, and dropping to the ground. Always to climb back up and put my face back to the wall. Well, almost always, once, I turned and had him hit my breasts for a few strikes, just to give my back a break. Tears fell, I ran headlong into pain space and there was some growling, and breathing. Sometimes I’d end up on the ground and he’d just keep swinging. I’d try to keep my back to him until I could get up again. Eventually, he told me to stop turning around and I curled up on one foot, the other against my chest, and breathed through the pain, til he tipped me something fierce and I started stomping my feet again.

I choked on the gag a few times, collapsing to my knee and spitting it out to catch my breath. I didn’t have any panic moments this time, only some choking. Crying and breathing on the ground, he asked my if I was done, I said no, and stood up again, and he got out the dragontail.

I turned to face him, eyes wide, hands behind my back. Oh really? I nodded, my back was so tender already. He took about five or six shots at my breasts before he really nailed a nipple and I screamed and turned around again. He was stuck on tips, still. Getting the super sting of just the tip. I screamed and cried, jumped and pounded, collapsed and bounced back up. He found a new favorite, super painful spot – hitting as close to the armpit as you possibly can from the back. Fucking hell, that hurts! A few stray snaps to the ass, the arms, the calves, the thighs and shins, as I spun dropped and danced around to the strikes.

I collapsed to a little sitting ball, and he tapped my forehead and I rolled back flat to the ground. He snapped my thighs a few times, whipping my skirt up higher and higher. I hardly responded. You done? I nodded and grabbed his ankle for physical contact while I lay there, just breathing and floating. He pulled my skirt down a bit and let me relax for a minute or two. When I let go, he picked up the stun gun, and I suddenly felt stabby metal bits in my legs. I writhed and squirmed, pushing it away time after time, until he pinned me a bit more and zapped me a few times while I screamed into the gag. I covered myself back up this time, relaxed for a few minutes until I started choking on the gag again. Somehow, I’d maintained a hold of on of the rubber sets of floggers this whole time, so I sat up cradling them. You alright? Yes. Happy grinning floating the whole rest of the night. Back all beautifully marked and tingly still today.

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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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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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Regaining Balance

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.

Come here.

Whimpering, I get up and walk to the edge of the bed.

Down.

I hop off the bed. He crackles it and I jerk away in fear, breath already quickening.

Down.

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.

You ready?

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.

You ready?

No, Sir.

Do you want to do this?

Yes, Sir.

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.

Miss me?

Yes, Sir.

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.

You’re welcome.

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.

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Masochist Brain

September 30th, 2011

So, Thursday’s story sent my brain off into more dark directions. It decided I was being too nice. That scene was made up of things I would do and enjoy (for the most part). My brain decided That for better fear and helplessness, the bondage chair should be removed. That somehow, the girl should be suspended in the air, touching as little as possible, but without the restraints causing undo strain or sensation. I ran through several scenarios, even drawing some out, until I decided the best I could come up with (between helping customers at work, I haven’t stopped thinking), was to tie someone standing up, spread eagle in the center of the room.

The blindfold stays, but not the headphones. For the specific reason that all the tortures needed to be upgraded. And all the upgrades required sound to have the greatest impact. Instead of the TENs, start with an electric flyswatter. The high pitched whine of its charging, and sudden jolting shocks. Move on to a stun gun instead of a violet wand. The crackling sound can make me cry faster than the pain it inflicts. The clothespin zippers being replaced by a dragontail or single tail. The crack makes me twitch even when it’s used on someone else. The final straw – well, needles terrify me, sure enough, hard to top that. But if we’re going for sounds, it would have to be sparklers.

Ah, the brain of a masochist. It also pondered a snake to top it off, they hiss and all. But then the animal brain kicks in, forgets it’s a fantasy and says, no way, that’s just too much at the end of a hard scene. And tosses the masochist in a cage.

She just tried to escape again. Talking to toy about make up and it being too messy. Masochist brain tried to grab that and run off to design an torturously gooey scene with my dislike of messiness. I quickly slammed the cage shut and decided to write this to keep it quiet.

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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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Day One – Define Your Kinky Self

January 1st, 2011

To start the New Year, I am going to attempt the meme: 30 Days of Kink. This is Day One, that I wrote as a guest post for Insatiable Desire.

Dom, sub, switch? What parts of BDSM interest you? Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.

The first question seems simple. The second question leaves things far more wide open. The third asks for specifics. And the last oversimplifies the whole thing. Defining oneself is an ongoing process made up of all the other questions. So, one at a time, shall we?

Dom, sub, switch? Sub. I am a submissive in my kinky journey. I am submissive to my partners to varying degrees. I relish giving control to those I love and trust. I have no desire to be dominant. I have no desire to take control in a kinky setting. I do provide service topping for electric scenes, but even then, I am in the role of pleasing the person I am working on, providing for what they want.

What parts of BDSM interest you? Well, let’s break down that acornym. Bondage – yes. I enjoy bondage in rope, leather, chains, canvas, plastic, tape, and mental bondage. Discipline – yes. I enjoy having rules and penalties for breaking said rules. Dominance – yes. Submission – yes. As I said, I am submissive and enjoy giving control up to the dominants in my life. Sadism – yes. Masochism – yes. I am a masochist, and enjoy the sadistic tendencies of my partners. So, all parts of BDSM interest me in the very narrow definition of each of those letters, but let’s move on to more specifics.

Give us an interesting in depth definition of what that means to you. BDSM, to me, means exploration. It means pushing and learning and sharing and teaching. It means spending hours in ropes and straitjackets. It means nipple clamps and clothes pins. It means floggers and paddles and canes and drumsticks. It means blindfolds and hoods and collars and shackles. It means knives and needles and sparklers and snakes. It means single tails and dragon tails and stun guns and violet wands. It means giving up control of my body and my mind. It means kneeling for half an hour every day. It means standing back up after every strike that knocks me to my knees. It means relaxing in a cocoon of duct tape and saran wrap. It means pinches and smacks and slaps and bites and punches and kicks. It means cuts and bruises and scabs and scars. It means screams and tears and squeaks and laughter. It means massages and boot blacking and taking care of his gear. It means love and joy and connection. It means experiences so wonderful, awesome and intense that there are not enough words to express them. And it means trying anyway, because it is too important not to share.

Basically define your kinky self for us. I am kinky, submissive, polyamorous, a pain slut, a rope slut, a slave, a brat, a smart-assed masochist, a bottom, a service top and a service submissive.

My 30 Days of Kink

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