..and usually it's the beautiful drawing of two women bound together at the top of the stairs, or the strategically placed holes in the bannisters just waiting for anchorage points. But this weekend it's a multi-coloured bottom with matching stripes down my back!
We'd plotted a little you and me - we kind of knew we both needed the release, the laughter, the endorphins and the re-connection so I was aware something was coming. But I could never have imagined how brilliant it would be.
Home relatively early on a Friday night and you weren't there (due to late running work commitments) but your little hint 'do you want to eat now or after' (After what?!) got my juices flowing. I was full of bravado as normal but that started to wane as I heard you getting the kit bag out, moving the furniture and listened to the clink of steel as I had my shower.
I came downstairs - you'd been busy! A neatly laid out pile of floggers and knives, canes and needles. It was going to be a night to remember that was for sure, and I wasn't wrong.
You secured me in leather cuffs - I hate being restrained. Not because I normally move when you are doing what you do, but because it means I'm usually uncomfortable because my wrists start to hurt or my hands go to sleep. I 100% understand that you wanted to get me in the right mindset but it makes me grumpy as I can't relax. But also I know that I am a little demanding so it was probably the perfect thing for you to do. Naked, restrained in the corner, my back to you. So vulnerable. I hate the way I look at the moment and my back view is probably the best of a bad lot but even so I was rather self conscious. Nails up and down my back, a few strategically placed leather strands of the flogger. "Are you going to be moody?" you said. "No" I snapped back. Not a great start. But you know me, you understand me and you love me. Kisses on my neck and hands around my body, the gentle touch of your mouth on my face. I began to relax.
Then the flogger hit my still healing nipple piercing. OWWWWWWWWW. Not good - just painful. Oh god, I thought, this is going to be hard. Maybe I've forgotten how to be submissive, maybe my tolerance had gone, maybe I wouldn't be able to cope tonight, maybe maybe maybe......Doubt and worry crept it. I hate that. I want a clear head, I want to be able to stand there and take what you want to give and not be a 'do me (but only this way please)' sub.
You unclipped the cuffs. I bent over the sofa. You picked up a cane. And that's when the mood, and my headspace, changed.
God did it hurt. You caned my back - gently, evenly - strokes that massaged rather than hurt. It makes me fall into a deeper plane (plain?), it relaxes me - I love it. Then with a deft flick of the wrist, that beautiful cane suddenly made contact with my bottom. I heard the swish, I felt the heat, then the pain emanating from the point of contact. I shot bolt upright, accusation in my voice "that hurt". "Good" you said in your gentle even tone "now get back in position".
As normal the rest is a little bit of a blur. You caned my arse - again and again and again. Sometimes rhythmically, sometimes striking in a harder, less even way. Some hurt, some stung, some were wonderful. And all the while I could feel myself slipping deeper and deeper into oblivion. Deeper into that mindset that shouts "I love you so much, I want to do all I can to take what you want to give".
You changed from the cane to your nails, raking and raking them down my back. I felt the blood swirl in my head as the pain took over. I suddenly wanted the cane again, just as much as I suddenly want your nails again as soon as you stop. I could feel the heat between my legs, I was dripping wet. And just as I thought about that, you put your hand between my legs. "Oh you complain that it hurts but your body tells it differently doesn't it my baby?" I blushed, but you couldn't see as my head was bent over.
Then you tied my breasts. I hadn't opened my eyes before but now I did to see you and me in the mirror - you smiling and looking so handsome, me looking dishevelled and not entirely with it but wow did my breasts look amazing with your rope around them.
I was back over the sofa again - this time you pulled my hair as you caned me - I thought I would come there and then. I even heard my voice deepen, my breathing become ragged as you pulled my hair and my head back and again and again struck my arse with your cane.
Then a knife - the cold steel against my hot flesh. Then a drink and a kiss. Then a hug. Then the inability to form sentences.
But you weren't finished. I was lying on the table, my tight, hard breasts pushing into the cold wood when I first heard the familiar 'pop' of the needle being pushed out of it's sterile wrapper. I panicked a little, I hate needles, I hate needles, I hate needles was the refrain running through my head. I hate the pain. I really hate needles. I breathed in as the first needled pierced the skin on my back - fire, heat, calm, bliss. It's an incredible feeling. Hot, cold, space. Again and again. Sometimes they went in easily, sometimes they didn't.
And then suddenly you were between my legs, forcing an orgasm out of and then another....there was no resistance. You had worked your magic.
Needles out, breasts untied, blood mopped up. Giggles and inability to hold any kind of train of thought. Your laughing, happy brown eyes. My smile reserved solely for you.
It was quite a night. It was quite a weekend. And as you decided to reopen old wounds by spanking and scratching again and again, it all came flooding back just as I floodingly came.
I love you daddy - always and forever.
xxxxxxxx
No comments:
Post a Comment