It’s playtime, and Himself has me bent over the bed giggling helplessly while he runs the Wartenberg wheel over my ass. I’m not intentionally being disrespectful, really I’m not, but the damn thing tickles! He retaliates by kicking my feet farther apart and attacking with a little more gusto. The giggles continue but they’re alternating with shrieks now, which seems to give him no little bit of satisfaction (the bastard—not a sadist, my ass!). The faster he rolls it across my skin, the deeper he pushes, the more those fucking little pins poke into my flesh and make me squeal. He likes it when I squeal, so he does it some more.
A few minutes in, he pulls my underwear down, kicks my feet apart again, and pushes me back down to the bed. Then he really goes to town—up and down the backs of my legs, over my butt, up to my shoulders and back down again. I’m giggling and gasping and squeaking and starting to slip into a nice, bottomy space when he orders me up onto the bed.
Presenting myself to him always pushes my subbie buttons, and I let out a happy little sigh as I settle into position. That earns me a swat, and then he’s back to turning my ass into a pincushion. He’s never used the wheel this much before, and I am thoroughly enjoying myself, moaning and wiggling and pushing my ass back in the universal sign for “more, please!”
And more is what I got. An unexpected more, a “more” from the “hey, it’s kinda fun to hurt you” side of Himself, who spread my cheeks and ran that fucking wheel across my smooth, hairless, and utterly unprotected asshole. That little trick elicits the first loud screech of the night, which makes him chuckle. And do it again. And again. And AGAIN. Until I’m begging and screaming for mercy and gasping “ouch ouch ouch dammit ouch!!”
Apparently, begging for mercy from a Dom who is happily exploring his sadistic side is an exercise in futility. o.O
The jukebox in my brain starts playing “the wheels on the bus go ’round and ’round,” as the wheel in my Sir’s hand strays down toward my labia. I freeze—no easy task with those pins sticking me!!–because this is not an area of my anatomy where I want to chance an accidental piercing. His evil laugh could give Vincent Price a run for his money and although I am indignant that he’s getting so much amusement out of my predicament, I stay frozen.
He runs the wheel up the crease between my thighs and my cunt a few times; then—carefully, gently—he rolls it up my labia, across my mound, and back down the other side. He repeats this circuit a few times. It feels surprisingly good, and being so utterly helpless makes me want to moan and press back against him; it takes all my willpower to stay still.
With no warning, he grabs my foot and starts running the wheel up and down the sole. I’m really ticklish so I go from not breathing at all to laughing, then screeching again as he runs it along the crease between my toes and the ball of my foot. Up along the arch, and I giggle; back down in the crease, and I’m squealing, and yelling “no no no no no no!”
He drops my foot and steps back.
“Your feet are dirty.”
Well, yes. I’ve been running around the house barefoot.
“You need to go wash them.”
I am boggled: we are in the middle of a scene and he wants me to stop and WASH my FEET.