Threshold

The last time Mr. D and I played he used a small, rubber whip it.  I don’t exactly know what it’s called.  It is short, has a thin handle and long stretchy rubber noodles coming out of the end.  He whips me with the noodles and ouch, do they sting! I brought Mr. D a gift that day. I had purchased some bondage tape and a small vibrator. He decided to bind my breasts with the tape. He sat in his big chair and had me lean forward over his lap. He wrapped the thick black tape around each breast and then bound them together. After he bound my breasts he had me lie on my back in the middle of the bed. Just getting to the middle of the bed was a challenge. My breasts were so heavy like that, standing out from my body. I had to support them with my hands.

After a few moments of getting into position and adjusting to the tape Mr. D raised my knees to my chest and climbed between my legs.  His pushed himself inside me and for a few blissful moments all I could focus on was the pleasure of him inside me. Briefly, he leaned forward and the weight of him on my bound breasts was intense. Once he was quite deep inside he told me to grab ahold of the bed frame.  His bed headboard has a section of posts in the middle of it that I can hold onto.  He commanded me to not let go.  He knows this is torture for me because I don’t get to touch him.  I honestly think that touch is a stronger sense for me than the other senses.  At least I feel bereft in some visceral way when I’m bound or commanded not to touch. After our sessions when I’ve been bound I feel a disconnected empty feeling until I get to touch him again.  It’s strange but I know it happens.  Aftercare makes that feeling go away.

As Mr. D took me, he began to whip my breasts.  Damn it hurt.  I love being under his control and feeling what he wants me to feel.  I can’t hold back how the pain feels like I used to.  I feel more confident that my reactions aren’t going to make him stop the play these days.  It’s actually rather amazing to be able to express pain or hurt to someone.  I’m so used to covering those feelings that I do it naturally.  I suppose most people do. But with the level of pain that he was inflicting on my breasts with the whip, there was no holding back.  I could barely stand it.  After a while, I was bearing it and wanted to call my safe word but I kept thinking, I can do this, I can stand it.  I was desperate to protect myself at one point and let go of the bed posts.  My whole body cried out for me to cross my arms over my burning breasts but I didn’t.  I let go of the bed and brought my arms down but didn’t cross them or touch him.  I kept them out of his way.  At that point he stopped for a few moments.

“You’re messing with Daddy’s head little girl. You have this tortured looked on your face but every time I start striking you again you get wetter and wetter. Makes me wonder.”  It makes me wonder too.  And he was right, too.  Once he said that, I realized that we were both slick with my wetness from belly to thigh.  I’ve only been that kind of wet a few times and each time it was when he was bringing me pain.

The odd thing is that if you gave me my choice, I wouldn’t choose this kind of pain. My thought is that I like long spankings where there is a lot of prep and warm up.  Then the pain builds and isn’t so stingy.  But I can’t deny how my body reacts.  There’s no faking that.  Somewhere buried deep inside me, I crave this pain and his domination.  I think a big part of the intense passion he provokes with this pain is from his dominance.  He demands I submit to the pain so I do and the result is me turning into a sodden mess under him.

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