Yesterday was no exception. When the kiddos were safely tucked into bed, Master and I took our chance. It's been a while since we had any substantial play...a quickie here and there, maybe...but a distinct lack of leather and rope. A distinct lack of (my favorite kind of) pain.
Before Friday the 13th gave up the ghost, Master had me cuffed in leather, stringing paracord between the cuffs, making me one of my favorite things: helpless. I can't really adequately describe how Master had me bound, so you'll just have to pop over to FetLife where he'll be posting some photos like this one. We've really enjoyed lactation play, so we've worked to keep my production going (it's slowed way, way down, but there's milk no little person needs for us to play with), and last night Master crushed the milk from my breasts. It was deliciously painful and yummy, but "made" me need more.
He moved me to his bed, and took me from behind, leather belt crushing my middle, which for some reason makes it nearly impossible for me to orgasm. At least for me. Not sure why exactly, but with a belt crushing my abdomen, I just can't topple over into le petite mort from yummy, yummy sex. I have no idea when the day tipped into Valentines, or how long Master teased me about being unable to orgasm, while intermittently teasing me with the taser, making it cackle next to my ear before shoving it against my thigh, asking if he should use it...
I lay under him, gasping and twitching, and wanting more... And I apparently felt brave, because I asked for more. The Sadist in him was definitely delighted, and in moments, he had bound my breasts tightly with paracord, delivering five hard slaps to the top of each before shoving me back onto my face, forcing me to crush my tormented tits under me. It felt so wonderfully painful, I wanted to cry, but it was too...good. He shoved one of the steel jeweled plugs up my ass, and drove himself back into me...All that pain, and the pressure of him...and I twitched and wanted to be given permission to fall over the edge...
And then he teased me, loosing the belt, and then tightening it right when I wobbled on the precipice of orgasm. The bastard. ;) He went on like that for what seemed like forever.
Eventually, he gave the permission I so desperately wanted to be given (or desperately wanted him to withhold...either way, really)...
We tumbled together on his soaked satin sheets, spent, well out of Friday the 13th and on to the day of sweethearts. My chest was already blossoming into bruises, and Master said that he hoped I enjoyed the "blooming rosy bruises" for Valentines, as they'll be the only flowers I'll get this year.
Today they are glorious mix of purple and pink, with deep dark spots here and there, and I feel every earned little bruise...and I feel in love.
No comments:
Post a Comment