Implements of Torture

To christen our new home in a new state I wanted to get Daddy something special, something to enhance our D/s lifestyle. We had seen a beautiful Bison flogger together when we chose my collar.  I had thought about it many times since then and he had mentioned it too. So, that is what I chose for him.  

While I was on the Stockroom website I looked around at other things too.  I found a beautifully made tawse.  I was so excited to find it.  Tawses are old school implements that teachers in England and Scotland used to discipline children.  They are usually made from one single piece of leather with a handle.  The long slapper is split down the middle and looks something like a tuning fork in shape. The split is supposed to give it a distinctive sting.  This one has a handsome pattern stamped on the handle.  It is very nice, very quality-made.  

Tawse from Stockroom

Daddy asked me to look around in Scotland when I was there for a tawse.  I never found one.  I researched them and found out that they stopped using them in schools decades ago.  So, I was doubly excited to be able to fulfill this desire.  

The Bison leather made the new flogger quite a bit heavier than his cowhide floggers.  It also has a smooth and shapely Granadillo wood handle. I loved the feel of it and really hoped he liked using it.  When we got to the house and unpacked I tucked both toys under my side of the bed for the right time to give them to him.  

Bison Flogger from Stockroom

Monday came and after our errands and lunch Daddy said he wanted to beat me.  “Is that alright with you?” He asked.

“That sounds perfect to me Daddy.”  He knows I will never turn down play time.  It is my absolute favorite pastime. 

I knelt on the floor on my side of the bed at his feet.  “I have a surprise for you Daddy.  I wanted to give you something to celebrate the beginning of our life here in this new place.”  I brought out the flogger first and then the tawse.  

He was very pleased with both of his gifts. “Thank you very much baby girl.  If you want to play now, go present yourself.”  I rose from his feet and went into the spanking room.

(I have no affiliation to the Stockroom.  I’m just a happy customer.  I hope by linking to their site that they will be okay with me showing you their pictures.)

Advertisements

Tea and Crumpets…or Pain and Suffering

Over the weekend Mr. D and I had several sessions of play. Each was different from the others. At different times, Mr. D used his bare hand, the cane, a riding crop and his heavy flogger on me. The cane he used in a rhythmic way. Tap, tap, tap then snap! Tap, tap, tap then snap! The tapping lulls me and primes my skin for what’s to come. It pulls some blood to the surface for the heavier strikes afterward. The bare handed spankings, oh how I love them. He had my ass cheeks nice and rosy. He gave me his hand to feel, it was warm to the touch. With bare hands, both the giver and the receiver feel the sting. I like the equality of that.

The last thing he used on me was the flogger. He whipped me with the falls of the flogger on my ass cheeks, my thighs and on my back. He swings the flogger up and over to hit the top of the ass and then reverses his swing to come up from below. The second swing brings the falls in contact with my thighs and the very tender crease between thigh and ass cheek. It is very sensitive there. He had me jumping.

At the end of the weekend as Mr. D and I were settling down for sleep, I told him that I was a bit off this weekend with my pain management. That sounds an odd way to say it but I think that’s about right, now that I’ve had some time to think. I didn’t do a very good job managing the pain. A couple different times during play, it felt really stingy and biting. I couldn’t properly get my head into the right space. I didn’t expect to go into subspace because we weren’t playing long enough at any time for that. But I usually settle down into a place where the pain is a catalyst for passion. This is the part of being a Pain Slut that I love.

Pain has an effect on me no matter what; whether I like it and want it, whether I’m willing or not. Mr. D does several things to me in the heat of passion that will make me cringe and cry. But they also make me gush. I’m learning that being a Pain Slut doesn’t mean you love and want the pain all the time. Many times, it hurts and I run from the pain. Still, he can see that it is working. This is why I’m not in charge. I’d probably run from the pain way more than I should, ha!

Once, during our play, I tried to use willpower to push myself into subspace. I wanted to slip into that place where the pain stops being stingy and I start loving it. Please, please, let me slip away! I tried to push my mind into that floating place, but it was not to be. It can’t be forced.

Edge play is an odd thing. I don’t have enough experience to understand. Daddy has a lot more than me and sees a lot more of where I’m at and how I am throughout a scene. On Sunday, I told Daddy, the pain felt stingier and just hurt this weekend. I suppose I could be female and say it was because I’m on my period but that’s a cop out. Whether with emotions or in physical play, I need to learn better how to let go. I want so much to explore the edge. 

I want him to push me physically and emotionally. I want to be thrown into subspace by his fierceness and his delivery of pain. But if I whine and whimper and can’t take it, I’m not giving him much of a reason to go there. He is a protective Daddy after all.

One day at a time, one step at a time. Oh, impatience, I am your fool.

Lessons in Recovery

Mr. D and I had an intense face fucking session over the weekend. We had a lot of cock sucking in general but I noticed my jaw felt that tired overworked sensation during the weekend.  

This morning I had a breakfast sandwich and wow, let me tell you, face fucking and sandwiches do not mix!  Damn!  Ouchie.  

One thing they don’t tell you about kink and edge play…recovery is a thing.  A real, time needed, force that deserves your attention. 

There is a very good reason for vanilla sex.  It’s what you do while you’re recovering from the BDSM play.  You just can’t take a beating then come back for another one tomorrow then the next day and the next.  

So, while I’m having soup this week, I’ll be fondly remembering this past weekend’s play.  😈

Injury

I feel like a bad partner.  We thought Mr. D was fully healed but last night we had sex before going out to an event.  I wanted him so badly I practically begged him because it would put us late and I just didn’t care about that.  So, we had fast sex, which was so great.  If I haven’t seen him for a few days I just get wound tight and I’ll do anything to have him inside me.

Sadly, though, his skin tore a little.  He has a sensitive spot that keeps tearing.  I looked it up online and there must be a tiny bit of scar tissue there that keeps ripping when we have sex.  So, ugh.  I think maybe we should let it heal all the way and I should massage the area to try to make the tissue pliable again. Either way, we need to use lube for a while to help the situation.

So, when we returned from the event we knew better than to do anything again.  But was I good?  Nope!  He started touching my neck, putting a light choke hold on me to torment me and damn it I couldn’t stop him.  I went into full sub mode, I don’t seem to have an ounce of control around him. I thought, Okay, he’s teasing me.  we’re trying new things lately, he’s talking to me and touching me, this won’t go further. Next thing I know his hands are inside me and I’m writhing under his fingers. I’m soaked and then he’s on top of me.  I froze.  I knew it would hurt him and so when he pushed into me I dried up.  Can my body really read my damned mind that fast?  Seriously.  

But then he was inside me and my little rebel body didn’t listen to me and I responded to him.  He began to fuck me.  My mind was all over the place.  Slipping into that passionate fuzzy space where all I want is more alternating with nurse mentality watching for any wince from him.  

Shortly he stopped.  “Damn, it stings.”  

I’m worthless to help this situation.  I’m going to have to tie my damned thighs together, I swear.

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.