Archive for the ‘Pain’ Category

Fun OTK night at Paddles NYC

Tuesday, June 5th, 2012

I had a pretty decent weekend. Saturday was the monthly OTK night at Paddles NYC. Rad and I went to the Moonstruck diner for the pre-party munch, hosted by our friend Bobbi.

We were the first to arrive after Bobbi, but gradually the table filled up. One rather boisterous gentleman arrived and boomingly asked, “Is this the OTK munch?” He then continued to talk loudly about spanking, before most of us at the table shushed him. We were in the back of the diner, away from most couples and children. But there was a table next to ours where three gentleman were sitting and eating, and none of us wanted our kink shared that openly. Our new friend got the hint and lowered his voice.

I’d exercised earlier that day and had not eaten too much, so I permitted myself the indulgence of a burger topped with blue cheese. No fries, so didn’t feel too guilty.

At the club I changed into my school girl uniform, which has the blazer, blouse and tie you see below, plus a pleated plaid skirt, black knee socks and preppy black loafers.

Rad had me present myself for inspection, and he found some parts of my appearance lacking. He said I should have shined my shoes, that my skirt was not freshly ironed and that my collar wasn’t laying flat. “Demerits!” he declared, and then put me over his knee. “But … demerits don’t mean spankings!” I protested.

“Be quiet, young lady!” He gave me a brisk spanking, painful enough for me to try to get out of it after he pulled my panties down. But he kept me in place and I held onto his ankle to stay in place until he was done.

After that I spanked three guys, all well-deserving. One of them asked me for a serious paddling (with wood), which I was thrilled to deliver. I think I was going at it for at least 20 minutes!

There’s been a dissatisfying lack of dominant male tops at the OTK nights recently. I don’t mean to disparage anyone, but a lot of the tops I’ve seen recently are more into sensual play, as far as I can tell.

So I sidled up to the soda bar to socialize with an old friend, Teseror. I hadn’t played with him in several years; we used to play quite a bit, way back before I even met Rad, but he’d dropped out of the scene for a while. He’s a switch, but on Saturday he was in a toppy mood. As soon as I started lamenting about “where are all the good tops,” he got this glint in his eye. I started to think, “Hm. Maybe…”

Before I knew it he had pulled this length of rope out of his bag. It was only around 9 p.m. or so, I think, and the “OTK only” period was from 7-10 pm. “Oh, you ARE going to be a bad boy tonight,” I said, smiling. He said he wanted to test my weight, so he asked me to fall backward into his arms. I let go and let myself fall; he was there to catch me.

Then Teseror began to tie me up, right next to the soda bar. I figured if anyone really cared about our violation of the ”spirit of OTK night,” they would tell us to stop. No one did.

He tied me up rather tightly, over my school uniform. He created a “handle” in the rope at my back. This is why he had tested my weight–he periodically used it to lower me to the floor, either face down or backwards. My feet stayed in one spot while he dipped me over. This took a certain amount of trust. My hands were not tied, but he’d ordered me to keep them behind my back or at my sides, so I had no protection for my face if he lost his grip. I like to live dangerously. He’s fairly solid and looked strong enough to hold me up.

I loved the rush! After a while he just put me up against a wall and spanked me. It was a lot of fun, a different type of scene, for sure.

Later Rad got me again for one final scene before we headed home. He got the thick London Tanner’s strap out, bent me over the bench up in the loft and gave it to me good. He, too, got all domly on me, pushing me back down onto the bench several times when I started to struggle. It really hurt! (Which was good … after it was over!)

 

 

 

The F. C. T.* strikes again!

Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012

There isn’t much to say. Got a good whuppin’ over the weekend, with the F.C.T. along with several other toys (Hate bath brushes. Hate them, hate them, hate them! … yes, I know, I keep returning.) The F.C.T.? I am terrified of it, yet I oddly love that I’m terrified of it and he still uses it on me.

The picture below attests to my stoned-out bliss when we were done. Not to mention sheer exhaustion. Bottoming to SincereM is a lot of work!


*Fucking Cat Toy. See the explanation on my old blog.

Delivering a good caning

Sunday, May 20th, 2012

I met “Subspaces” (“J”) about a month or so back at a small house party. He was rather quiet, but seemed normal and had a nice body. He said he was a switch and, because I wasn’t bottoming much that night, I agreed to top him.

It was my last scene of the evening, I think, and it was just one of those times where everything clicked beautifully. J is a mixture of mildly bratty, submissive and masochistic, and I was able to figure out what he wanted–he wanted me to push him, he wanted me to hurt him. I did. I didn’t want to play nice; I played a stern disciplinarian, and I could see right away that this pushed his buttons in a good way.

I told him when we saw each other at the Delco Spankos party (which was a month later) he could expect to be caned, and that it would be a serious caning that he would remember for a while.

Sometimes I wonder, when I say things like this several weeks prior to a party, if I’ll still be in the mood when the party rolls around. I felt pretty confident that I would be. I liked J and felt we had a good energy exchange, and I like caning.

The night of the party was the night before my appointment to bottom to NB in Long Island (that’s in another blog post). So I was not planning on bottoming much that night. I wasn’t really planning on topping that much, either; I’ve been pretty selective with play partners lately. But I was in the mood to top J, and I had the canes.

When we entered our private play area I was nice and gave him a warm-up OTK hand spanking. I had lots of toys at my disposal and I could have used any of them. I was even briefly tempted to use a strap. But I wanted this scene to be just a caning and so I stuck to that. If you give someone a nice caning and then strap or paddle him, sometimes the lines are blurred. One has to consider aesthetics as well as pain!

It was beautiful. J was submissive but not completely quiet and not completely still. As the pain intensified, he reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing my left hand so tightly at points that it was hurting my ring finger! I shifted my hand a bit and let him keep holding on. I liked the connection.

Several times J moved after a stroke and I had to push him back into position so I could aim properly. I was patient and waited in between strokes, except for a couple of moments where I gave him a fast two or three in a row. I used three different canes, delivering about 30 strokes with each. Confession: I am terrible at counting, since I’m constantly getting distracted. So I think he had received about 90 strokes at this point, but I never did get an exact count. We were tying up the room, which was sad for the other folks who were waiting, but I wanted to be selfish right then and give him what I’d promised. (Mr. Rob and Miss Lisa, who run DelCo Spankos, can spank and forgive Sandy later …)

I gave J the option of choosing his cane for the last 10. One hundred nice, slowly delivered but solid strokes was plenty for the first time. I can give him more at a later date. For the last batch, I held his hand again. He counted the last ten; I made the strokes count …

And then I let him rest on the couch awhile and I sat down next to him, rubbing his back and then eventually applying lotion. Lotion’s always good for aftercare … and it can help highlight the cane stripes and make a better picture. Hey, he wanted pics! It wasn’t just for ME!

It was a very satisfying, enjoyable scene. Thanks for letting me hurt you, J.

 

Shakespeare and spanking

Monday, March 5th, 2012

The last few weeks have been so crazy that I never even got to write about the hot scene I did a few weeks ago with Spike_NY. I had posted on FetLife, just for the heck of it, that I wanted someone to spank me while reciting Shakespeare (I get ideas in my head and sometimes I just put them out there. I mean, I’d also love someone to recite poetry to me–something good like Bukowski or Ginsberg; I’d like someone to speak to me only in Italian. What the heck, a comedy routine would be amusing–then again, I sometimes get that when I play with Rad. I don’t think people understand what’s going on when he’s spanking the bejeezus out of me but I’m howling with laughter. We have our own little role plays…)

But in response to my Shakespeare request, Ian of The London Tanners responds on Fet, “Can do–will do it in Spain–Clarence’s speech from Richard III.” I am embarrassed to say I have not read Richard III and I’ve never seen a full production of it.

My introduction to Richard III was Richard Dreyfuss’s over-the-top portrayal in “The Goodbye Girl,” a movie which is over 30 years old, as sappy and tear-inducing as Neil Simon plays/movies tend to be, but I loved it and I loved Richard Dreyfuss in it.

So — what’s “Clarence’s Speech”? Here’s one celebrity impersonator’s interpretation of it. Ian used to be an actor, so this is something he’d probably memorized. It starts “O, I have passed a miserable night, so full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights…” Yes, kind of dark.

I hope Ian has some other Shakespeare memorized for when we get to Spain this fall, because Spike decided that would be a good scene to read while he caned me. Fuck! As always, these things sound good in concept. Spike had me lie on the bed, and he tied my wrists to the foot board. He had all his canes out. He has a lot of canes: Some normal. Some nasty. Some really nasty.

He read the first line and “whoosh!” delivered the first stroke, hard. Yow! He continued reading, one line at a time. “Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower” Thwack! “And was embarked to cross the Bergundy.” Whuuuup!

I’d seen the printed piece before he started. It was long. We were going to be here a while. And, while he’d delivered one stroke per line for the first several lines, suddenly he gave me three fast strokes with the next line. I squealed.

He switched canes every few strokes. He wanted to keep it exciting. I was beginning to get scared. It was a nice experiment but I wasn’t sure I could make it through. Several of the strokes had me howling in pain. He finally said, “I’m not sure I can keep this up. It’s getting hard to read while paying attention to the strokes.”

It’s hard to explain this. I don’t even understand it myself, because while it was happening, I wanted it to stop. I didn’t want any more. It f***ing hurt! But I also didn’t want to quit or utter a safe word. Far be it from me to wimp out half-way through a scene.

Ever the good little masochist, I said, “Would you like me to take over the reading, Sir?”

He agreed, and so I held the paper in my hands (the ones that were still tied to the bed) and continued the piece. “Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wracks … Yowww! … “…a thousand men that fishes gnawed upon … Eeeee!

After a few minutes Spike untied my hands. The passage wasn’t finished. There was still about a fourth of it to go. He told me to turn over. … Oh, shit. He was going to cane the fronts of my thighs. And so, I continued to read in a shaky voice as the fresh strokes landed. I held the paper close to my face, trying not to break down as the strokes seared into an even more painful area of my body than my butt and the backs of my thighs.

I focused on the words and pushed them out, speaking as clearly as I could under the circumstances. “… a legion of foul fiends environed me, and howled in mine ears such hideous cries …” I screamed at the next stroke. But then I caught my breath and kept reading.

When it was over, I relaxed and let him hold me. I was hurting a lot, and felt physically drained, but in a good way. This is the kind of fun scene I can appreciate. It’s not “serious,” but yet it’s a real caning and you can’t help but take it seriously. I still have marks from this scene–two weeks later–to give an idea of how hard he went. It’s not something I’d want anytime again soon. But I loved it for its uniqueness.

 

Weekend play

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

I posted some pics on FetLife from the session I did on Sunday with my former Dom, Richard (Spike_NY on FetLife). And I wanted to share them here, as well. It is now Tuesday morning and I’m still processing the scene, and still buzzing a little bit from it.

Spike and I played very briefly at a party last weekend, but we hadn’t played privately since December, since we decided to call our D/s relationship quits. I know I haven’t talked that much about that, either, because I wasn’t ready to say much in public. Truth is, things are going well. We are still talking a lot, but no one’s pressuring anyone else. I think we are really morphing into a good friendship. My feelings of jealousy about his other play partner/sub are dissipating as well. I don’t have to share in public now, and it makes it so much easier. It wasn’t even sharing play that had bothered me, it was a feeling that my submission wasn’t special. Truth is, his other girl likes some kinds of play that I don’t enjoy, and vice versa.

I like pain, I like being pushed into taking pain. The clothespins on my inner thighs and labia hurt, but after the initial pinch they melded into a mild throbbing. It’s hard to tell from this pic, but he’d put me into a straight jacket and had put a leather hood over my head, which buckled securely on. He blindfolded me and then shoved a leather gag into my mouth.

I think my scream were pretty audible, even through the gag, when he began to whip my inner thighs and pussy. He was using this thing called a dragon’s tongue, which feels very much like a single tail (I had thought it was a single tail, until he told me later). The pain is very harsh, very much like the single tail whip. Maybe technically it’s wrong to call a dragon’s tail a “whip,” but I was, in effect, being whipped, on a very, very sensitive part of my anatomy.

I was already sore. Prior to this segment of our play date, he’d used a hairbrush and a bathbrush on my ass. Yes, yes, I’m “into” domestic discipline, I’m “into” spanking. As anyone who’s into spanking knows, the hairbrush alone can be one of the nastiest toys around. I personally find it harder to take than a caning. My brush was hard, polished wood, with a slightly convex surface, so that the point of impact is very very small and concentrated. When he switched to the bath brush the impact increased. That implement is thicker and has a longer handle to allow much harder strokes. Spike used it on me while I was making his bed (he likes me to do a few chores when I visit) and it felt brutal.

He laughed and says, “Don’t be a baby!” This is a phrase he’s used a lot in our play, so I actually made him a t-shirt with that saying on it — and he was wearing it on Sunday, to my amusement. My amusement had left the building, however, during the bath brushing. I know he doesn’t really think that I’m a baby. I can actually take quite a bit. I just don’t often take it quietly. I can’t say there’s ever been an occasion that I’ve taken a bath brushing quietly. I will yelp and twitch and eventually cry or scream if pushed hard and long enough. His was a tease, he pushed me just enough to have me jumping and crying out, but then let me focus on finishing up the bed.

The straightjacket, the clothespins, the dragon tail were what he’d planned as the main course. … um, oh, yeah, there was this little bit of knife play first.
This was a sharp knife. He poked me with it a few times, inspiring some vocalizing on my part. I was already bound in position on the bed but had some mobility. I froze when I felt his fingers inside me, guiding it into my pussy. He told me later he only pushed it as far as his fingers could reach. Then he says, “Don’t move.” I was breathing softly. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do. He took a few pictures. (I appreciate that; it’s nice to have memories of intense scenes). I remember at the time thinking in my head, “I wish he would use the knife after he takes it out. I wish he would carve his initials, or maybe “Sir,” onto my stomach or thigh. I think a lot of things when I’m that floating subby place.

I’ll continue this shortly with more details about the whipping and what followed…

 


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