Over a week ago, Master and i had the opportunity to do some playing, and Master thought some of my girlie-bits could use some tenderizing. To my horror, He retrieved a wooden spoon from the drawer. i don't know what it is about wood, but it makes me cringe, so i asked if He would be willing to use the evil white plastic spoon instead.
He consented, and proceeded to assault my breasts with the wicked plastic spoon. And i totally loved it. Eventually He began to fuck me while His wrist flipped that evil spoon against all the oh-so-sensitive flesh of my breasts. i think i cried. i know i begged.
Even though i heard myself begging Him to stop, i knew He wouldn't, and i knew i didn't really want Him to stop, anyway. The begging was soft and breathless...it sounded pliable to my own ears, and i knew He'd push me through the pain. He pushed, and soon, i wasn't begging for Him to stop, i was begging His permission to cum... i don't know how many times He pushed me over that edge, but it was amazing. When i wasn't begging to cum, those soft pleading noises were still pouring out of me, but i was living in the pain, and it was beautiful and bright.
After, we were able to see that His handiwork was going to remain visible ─ there were lovely contusions protruding from the mounds of my breasts and a few other stray angry marks of flesh.
He was pleased that He'd pushed me through the begging ─ and i can say that i was pleased because He was, and for my own reasons, dwelling in the afterglow of a heavy scene.
Two days after that lovely scene, after a quick round of afternoon sex, i suggested we steal a little more time and repeat the scene, perhaps adding some breast bondage into the mix. Master moved like the Tasmanian devil to prepare the scene.
However, despite my new-found appreciation for the evil white spoon, it was* missing...and Master chose a tiny wooden rod in its place. The difference in sensation was amazing. The second scene was also beautifully intense. Because of it's differences and because of the bruising that was already present, i never felt that i was able to sink into the moment as fully as i had the first time. But it was fantastic. When Master tired of flipping the tiny little wooden rod at me, He alternated between pressing my breasts against His broad chest and slapping them...
Again, both of us were pleased, the sadist sated and the masochist satisfied. And the marks left by the second round delighted me as much as the first. To see pictures taken of the marks after the beatings, you can head over to FetLife, and check out my profile or Master's.
Master keeps trying to find the time to treat my hind end similarly. (shiver) When that happens, i'll let you know!
* Unfortunately, as i write this post, the spoon is still missing. Don't tell my Master, but i has a sad because the white plastic spoon is gone.