Something I don't think I've put here before.
(Also, I typed this in word, so all my capitals are of Word's doing...because I don't care to capitalize things in general. Lazy.)
- Someone ripped the “.” (period) key off the computer I use.
- I have had migraine headaches back to back for weeks at a time. They’ve been glorious – either crippling due to sound or light, or both, and tending to persist on the left side of my head as if someone is stabbing burning glass forks through my eye, temple and out the back of my head.
- Our small peoples have been keeping us busy: the littlest one has discovered she can reach the kitchen sink, therefore, everything goes there...the eldest is trying really hard to boss everyone else around because he wants his way. All. The. Time. (Perpetually going on teenager, here – he’s going to be a monster when he really is a teen. Hopefully he’ll be a happy monster.)
- I’ve been enjoying watching Master smile like a happy, sadistic, mad man as he and willinglittlepet begin to explore the potentials involved in the relationship. Seriously: seeing the way she makes him smile with a few words via text is just a beautiful thing. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed visiting with her when the opportunities have been presented. She’s engaging, thoughtful, and genuinely full of smiles.
But even though I’ve been in the grips of a migraine again, Master and I made the most of Sunday night… He’s been feeling terribly sadistic for a long while, and earlier, he’d been teasing me about my love of sisal rope (incredibly rough, bitey rope for anyone who hasn’t encountered it; fun for bondage, if you don’t mind slivers and puncture wounds, but bad for suspension, just FYI), especially as I can’t stand lace for reasons that many people would say “I don’t love sisal” – it tickles and its scratchy. (Antique lace is an entirely different thing, but that’s not often on lingerie or fetish-wear.)
See? I’m still in the throes of a migraine, I can tell because I am completely off track.
Regardless. Master kept mentioning sisal. And the gas mask.
But it didn’t happen like that. Master pulled out these pretty (though pleather) arm binders we’ve had forever (but haven’t used), and slipped them on me. I didn’t think I’d be able to bring my arms terribly close together, but turns out the widest gap was really only a few inches. Yay! It was incredibly blissful: I felt very contained, very helpless, and very driven. The severe arm bondage did show me just how poor my posture really is though, because after just a few minutes I could feel my abdominal muscles begin to reach the stage of hyper flexion – that painful burn in the muscle due to underuse and prolonged stretching.
I’m rambling again. Writing with a migraine is just brutal, let me tell you. I am *so* glad that it’s shifted to sound sensitivity…Moving on, yes?
Master fucked my face a bit, and then told me he was going to use clover clamps on me. He did not go into further detail, but began strapping the gas mask to my face, which made me a bit panicky because of the pressure to my head. It turned out to be pretty okay, though, and lots of fun when he wasn’t cutting off the air and making it collapse on my poor nose.
By this point I was pretty desperate. So when he opted to get out the tripod and make me wait for him to use me, I felt pretty pathetic and very beast like.
And then the agony of the TAZapper (that crazy looking triangular electric toy you so often see in kink.com videos). I hate that thing – really, it’s not like electricity to me, but like hitting yourself with a hot match. Oh, sure it makes electric sounds, and those are kind of scary, but it’s the feeling that I really don’t like. But because it drives my fear (of the sound and the stupid little fire-bite), I get incredibly aroused…
I’m really afraid of failing to hold off an orgasm before Master grants permission. Sometimes he drives them so quickly, I wasn’t even expecting it. It’s a “rule” I haven’t broken since the very early days, and he plays me so eloquently and well, I’m afraid he’s going to make me break it. If he’s fucking me and I stop moving it’s because if I twitch, I might not be able to wait for his pleasure.
That happened a lot on Sunday.
Master asked how many orgasms he pulled out of me…and I can’t answer that. Anymore, more often, it seems like I can’t remember how to count when he’s using me…
Anyway. Master scared me. He hurt me. He even made me cry a little bit. And then my shoulder popped. I don’t think it popped out of socket, but it popped. So Master asked if we needed to stop…but I told him we didn’t…so I cried more for him.
And despite the stupid migraine…I’m so blissfully happy right now.
I’m sure he’s going to slap the videos and pictures up on his profile. He gets off on “watching” people love his videos and pix, engaging in conversations about the moment… It cements the memory in his head more clearly, I think. Plus he likes watching them repeatedly himself. He’s a perv.
Go look. ;)
I can say that because migraine.
I can’t believe I just used that sentence structure.