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“No, I’m not getting this out to play with you,” he said, as he moved the stack of erotica off the Neon Wand box, and took off his wedding ring.
“No fair!” I yelled, as I continued to go about my business.
“Why would I try it on you first? That’s dumb,” he retorted.
“You’re such a good dom,” I said, rather patronizingly. Master tries everything first. Video games, books, cooking some new recipe we’ve found…he sees it as his right as the master. I suppose he’s right, but I don’t have to be happy about it.
If you’re about to say I should be happy if he’s happy, just stfu. I know you know I know this.
“Well, if I’m going to cause excruciating pain,” he said, “I want it to be intentional.”
Gee, I thought as I watched him run the toy up and down his arms and legs. Thanks.
“There’s nothing here you can’t handle,” he said, and I smiled. It’s pretty amazing being known so well that he even knows my pain tolerance.
It’s pretty amazing that I was able to let my guard down so far that he was able to get to know me that well.
This is where I slipped up. I allowed myself to believe his, “I’m not gonna play with you,” bullshit. So when he was all, “Take your metal off, so we can test the Power Tripper,” I was all, “Oh no big, he’s gonna touch me a couple times, and then we’re gonna go watch college ball.”
So I started taking my metal off. Slowly. I took the opportunity to soak my tongue ring and earrings and clean my Eternity Collar. I dropped my wedding and Christmas rings onto the chain of M’s necklace (that I’ve worn pretty much the entire time we’ve been together), and then I stood there a minute trying to make sure I’d taken it all off.
When I walked into the bedroom, I understood why he allowed me to go so slow. Master had laid the toys he wanted to use out on the Cocoon, and was rifling through the suitcase that holds the toys we don’t use (pretty much ever) to see if he could find “the good blindfold” and some wrist and ankle cuffs that weren’t made with metal attached.
He asked me where “the good blindfold” was, and I honestly couldn’t remember a “good” blindfold. Most blindfolds leave gaps around my nose and cheeks, and I can see. I told him it was in the suitcase, anyway, and was pleased to find out I was right. Apparently, the good blindfold is made with a thick roll of cushion that presses against the cheeks and the bridge of the nose, blocking my ability to peek out the bottom. When he velcroed it to my head, and asked if I could see, I realized he planned to do much more than just touch me a few times and go watch college ball.
He tossed the cuffs that match the good blindfold and another pair that are hot pink (yeah, I don’t know, either) on the bed, and told me to put them on. I lay down in the middle of the bed, and just as I was trying to figure out how he was going to attach plastic clips to the Under the Bed Restraints System, I felt him threading rope through them.
Well, that solves that, I thought, as I laid there in the dark.
I felt the mood change the second my back hit the mattress. From lighthearted to serious. It got a little darker when Master yanked the rope tight on my first wrist. As he walked around the bed, securing me in place, it was obvious he was pulling rank, and I had better pay the fuck attention.
It’s really hard to pay the fuck attention when your limbs are tied to the bed, and all of your most tender bits are out there on display. Even if Master is the only person looking at them. Maybe especially if Master is the only one looking at them.
“Is that your pussy I smell, cunt?”
“Yes, Master,” I breathed, wishing for the gag that he almost never uses anymore. When I’m gagged, I never have to manage anything more than a grunt here and there.
He stuffed his fingers inside, testing me.
I tried to focus my thoughts on him; on what he was doing. I tried to quiet my mind. All I could think was, “This is gonna hurt.”
Which he happily confirmed.
“I’m gonna hurt you, bitch,” he growled in my ear. And then the cane came down on my breast. Or maybe it was the belt? He used both, and I don’t remember in which order. I was halfway to lala land when he pulled the rope tight around my neck.
“Gotta have something around your neck, since you can’t wear your collar, don’t you think, cunt?”
What else do you say to a man with rope around your neck but, “Yes, Master”?
Bondage always trips that trigger that allows me to let go and drift. Must be something about being helpless.
He whipped me hard and fast, throwing warm-up out the window. The strokes traveled from my breasts to my pussy to the tops of my thighs and back again.
“Keep those fucking legs open,” he said, as he pushed my thighs further apart, frustrated that I could close them.
He knows where my boundaries are. What kind of pain is too much. How long he can whip me before I need a break. And he pushed it with every round of blows.
He knows what my fears are. How badly the idea of an impact toy coming at my face freaks me out. So he intentionally brought the belt down on my cheek a few times. Oddly enough, not being able to see it made it less scary. No less painful and humiliating, though. Which, of course, only wet my pussy.
Almost as soon as he’d started whipping me, he stopped. He wasn’t even really interested in the whipping. His cock got hard, but it seemed like warm up. Like he thought maybe jumping into the main event would be too much for me.
When he pulled out the Neon Wand, I heard it. It snapped and crackled as he ran it over his own skin a couple times before applying it to mine.
Then I felt it. Barely there, at first. The whisper of a static shock, as if I’d dragged my feet on the carpet and touched the doorknob. And then it felt like needles stabbing into the bits he was shocking. Then it started to burn. Not as much as a cigarette touching the skin, but close to a cigarette being held a little bit off the skin. And I got wetter.
This time, he tested that by stuffing his cock in me. He alternated between fucking me and zapping various places from tongue to toes. He’d only let me put my tongue back in my mouth when it began to twitch uncontrollably.
“Good girl,” he murmured, as he trapped my tongue with his mouth. “Good girl holding your tongue out for me.”
Master untied one of my legs and shoved it up to my chest. He rammed his cock deep inside until he came. Then, he untied my left wrist and told me to get myself off. It was just one more way for him to challenge me. I’m a righty and I have trouble getting off with my left hand.
He took great pleasure in shocking me, describing his favorite part as “sending tiny lightning bolts into your clit.” When it was finished, he untied me, and said, “We’re going to have to dedicate a whole hour to the Power Tripper. That thing is so cool!“
Ever since, I’ve had visions of “little lightning bolts” shooting from his fingers to my clit. He keeps reminding me he’s going to finish what he started. He was lamenting his inability to tie me down tight enough to keep me from closing my legs. I helpfully suggested that he start with my knees. I’m such a good slave.