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My Master came into the bedroom Saturday night to find me kneeling face-down on the bed, naked, ass in the air (his favorite pose), wearing my collar and holding out his leather Master bracelet. The ritual of undressing, putting on my collar/cuffs, and posing puts me into a very nice place, but when he snapped that bracelet closed…wow. Strapping on his own leather meant he was about to claim me for his own, and it shot me straight into a deep submissive state.

I clenched my hands in the blanket and waited while he decided what to do with me. The toy bag rustled a few times, then I heard it start…the buzzing. Oooh, the violet wand!!

<BEG>

We’ve had our violet wand for years (and it’s OLD—Sears and Roebuck from the early 1900s, complete with an instruction booklet on using electricity to cure all sorts of ills). IMHO, we haven’t used it nearly enough. I am an electro-stim slut. I’ve been wanting to play with the wand and our new Wartenberg Wheel but that, of course, is up to him, and he had other ideas.

He started out fairly light, but gradually cranked it up until it was near the highest setting (Note: MDM says it was actually nowhere near the highest setting. Well, frack me. It sure as felt like it was!). It went from buzzy/warm/a little stingy to OMFG Jesus H Christ that STINGS oh please please please do it again!!! Which he did. So there I kneeled, unbound but holding position as ordered, with here a zap, there a zap, everywhere a zap zap…

His favorite targets are my nipples. Because I have large breasts, my nipples are squashed against the bed when I’m kneeling, so he gave me a little nudge on the side of my breast to get me to raise up a little. Then he put the wand near my right nipple… close…closer…CLOSER…until the arc shot out and I screamed. He held it there for a few seconds, then moved to the left one, then the right one again, back and forth, because he wouldn’t want one of them to feel left out, right?

Eventually my nipples were red and stinging and I was squealing, so he decided to move to a different target for a while. Down on the feet, back and forth, then up one leg, across my butt, down the other leg…all in close contact so there was just a nice warm buzzing. Next came an unexpected assault on my feet, one then the other, zapping up and down and across my toes. I am not allowed to move or even wiggle much, and curling my toes or (god forbid) kicking while he’s actually working on my feet is definitely Verboten. I had to just lay there and take it and squeal until he got bored again and moved on.

Note: “Squeal” may not be entirely accurate here. “Screaming bloody murder into the blankets clamped in my jaws like a gag” might be a little more on the mark. Heh.

Of course, my cunt was next. He’s so good at getting it just…close…enough that it arcs. Holy fuck, but that’ll wake a girl up! He zapped my clit a few times, then moved back to my asshole, then the labia, and back again. Every once in awhile, just to mix it up a bit, he’d move it in real close and hold it right against me—clit, vagina, asshole–so it was just warm and buzzy. As soon as I would unclench and start rubbing my pussy up and down the glass head—ZAP! I felt like Charlie Brown and that damn football, I just never learn. LOL

Round 2:

The nice zappy violet wand went away and there was more rustling in the toy bag. He waited long enough for me to relax, unclench my hands, unclamp my jaws, and stop screaming.

We have two custom floggers made by a guy named Tree in Houston. They’re made of thick, heavy, buttery-soft butterscotch-hued leather, one with (thirty-nine) 14” falls, one with (thirty-seven) 27” falls. The short one gets a lot more use, since it has a shorter throw, but I am especially fond of the long one.

Master grabbed the short one and gave me a good whack across the ass. I yelped and jumped a bit and then stuck my ass back out, just begging for another one. He went to town with that for awhile, across my butt, the backs of my legs, my nipples, and my pussy.

Pussy-spanking. Mmmm. That deserves a little detour.

I have recently (very recently, in fact) come to terms with the fact that I seem to be a bit of a masochist. I’ve always liked a little pain with my pleasure, but I thought it was all in the context of the kinky D/s dynamic. IOW, if he wanted to do it to me, then it would make me hot, and I could enjoy it. At some point that changed (or my awareness of it did) and it appears that I now like pain (mild pain, but pain nonetheless) for pain’s sake. It’s taken me awhile to wrap my head around this, because I’ve never thought of myself as a masochist of any type. Hmmm.

MDM figured it out long before I did, so he’s been incorporating more pain into our play for awhile now. In the last few months, he’s started flogging/slapping/spanking my breasts and pussy. It makes me stupid hot. So glad he pays attention to these things!

Anyway, back to the flogging. He’s also figured out he can flog me harder, now that I’ve come to enjoy pain, and boy, does he take advantage of that. Used to be, he’d flog me for awhile, and I’d maybe yip a couple times, but mostly just bask in the warmth spreading across my butt. Now, there’s a lot more screaming involved. A LOT more. I bite down on whatever is close when that happens—blankets, this time; the straps on my wrist cuff, last time—but it’s still a really good thing that we live in the country or I’m sure we’d have the police at our door. Weirdly enough, I love the screaming. Instead of trying to stifle it, I just go with it, as loud and as long as I need to, which he likes, which leads to more flogging, which leads to more screaming, and so forth and so on. It’s a lovely vicious cycle.

I screamed louder and longer this time than I ever have before. My throat was raw. But it felt so primal and I was so damned proud of myself for not having to safeword.

Which leads to another detour. I’ve never safeworded. Never. There have been a few times when I’ve gotten, maybe, to chartreuse. Never all the way to yellow, and certainly not to red. So I’ve just sort of assumed I never would. Not that I don’t have limits, but they seem to be expanding at the speed of sound, so I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually hit one. That will be important in a bit.

MDM put down the flogger and commenced to tickling me. I’m extremely ticklish and never enjoyed it until MDM started doing it. Of course I’ve always protested because, well, because I did. Tickling my feet is actually less difficult for me than tickling the sweet spot right where my ass meets my thighs (don’t tell him I said that, he doesn’t need that kind of intel! LOL). He wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted out of my feet, so he moved up to my well-flogged, red, sensitive, bottom, and holy cow did that tickle! I was squealing and jumping around as much as I could and still maintain The Position. OMG did I get the giggles from that! I love giggling in scene.

Round 3:

He asked if I’d had enough. I responded, like a good sub, “It’s up to you, Master,” even though I wanted to scream “No no no! Never enough!” Then he used his lovely deep Dom voice and said, sternly, “I asked whether YOU have had enough.” I replied promptly, “No, sir!”

Then he brought out the long flogger. This one is as heavy and thick as the short flogger, good for thuddy play, which is my preference. But since MDM has to stand farther away, it tends to actually be a lighter stroke, distributed over a larger area, and more likely to induce the warm-happy-fuzzies that I love most about flogging. This especially happens when he flogs my back with it. The throws are long enough to cover my back from shoulder to butt, and it’s such an incredible sensation that I feel, with every stroke, that I am just-that-close to coming. Delicious. Oh, I love my floggers, and I was definitely in my happy place. IMHO, it didn’t last nearly long enough. But then, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had “enough” flogging.

He put the flogger down, and walked out of the room. I focused on unclenching my hands and spitting the blankets out of my mouth. Then I heard it—the freezer door, opening. His hand, in the ice box. The freezer door closing again.

And I started whimpering.

A few weeks ago, he decided to make me perch my pussy on an ice-cold can of soda while he flogged me. OMFG. I like sensation play, including temperature play, but christ, that was cold.

Saturday morning, he decided it was time for me to get up and since I wasn’t cooperating, he brought in an ice cube, stuck it in my underwear, and told me I couldn’t take it out until I got my ass up and into the bathroom. I moved fast, lemme tell ya, but I think it’d already frozen some of my dangly bits.

I was not looking forward to a repeat experience!

He started out slow and gentle, though. A little on the nipples, just enough to make ’em perk up and take notice. Then my ass, where the heat from flogging made it melt—really fast—and trickle icy water down my legs and onto the bed. I started relaxing, thinking hey, this isn’t so bad.

A word of advice: Never, ever let yourself think “This isn’t so bad.” The universe just sees that as a big, fat challenge.

Just as I started pushing my butt back into the ice cube, the Man ran it down between my cheeks, then held it firm against my asshole.

Oh. Fuck.

I screamed. Man, did I scream. The soda can had nothing on that ice cube for sheer cold torture.

He laughed. A deep, low, nasty little chuckle, actually. That chuckle is never a good sign for me. I gulped.

He moved it, thank god. Right to my clit. Where he held it. For a long time. Wait, why did I want him to move it again?!

I screamed some more. Wiggled a lot. Just about bit through the blankets.

He moved it again, and used his hand to push it just inside my cunt.

OMFG. OK, I know I said that already, but seriously, I’m running out of descriptors for just how sadistically fucking COLD it was. I started screaming and didn’t stop, just one long scream, and I actually pushed away from him, trying to get away from that fucking ice cube. He growled “Get back in position,” which I did, screaming and whimpering.

Back to my asshole. Back to my clit. Back into my cunt. Holy jesus.

I have no idea how long that went on. It seemed like hours but since he only used one ice cube, it was probably actually about a minute. I remember screaming “I’m really close to safewording!” and hearing that chuckle again. The ice went back on the clit and stayed there and it was too fucking much. I screamed “Safeword! I’m serious, safeword!!”

The ice disappeared. My screams trailed off into whimpers and I collapsed down on the bed, rubbing my pussy against the blankets, trying to warm it up.

He stood at my head, rubbing his hands up and down my back, warm and gentle and strong. Comforting. He chuckled. I chuckled. I squeaked out “Holy fucking safeword, Batman!” and started giggling.

We sat up In bed together after, talking. He was surprised I safeworded. I was surprised too. He asked if I was OK and I just sat there with my eyes half open, a goofy smile on my face, floating happily on the endorphin rush.

I think I may have asked when we could do it again. But next time, no ice cubes. Please? Please, MDM?

Wait, is that a chuckle I hear? ::twitch twitch::