Small Clothespins, I’d Read, Hurt the Worst
» Pain
Often I’d worriedly yearned to discover what it would be like when Alexandra’s sadism really connected with the effect cbt or nipple torture could have on me. My nipples got a bit of education last night.
She asked me if I’d like to try a little target practice. This was a happier surprise than even she could’ve expected. I was feeling stale and had avoided any stimulants planning to go to bed early. Caffeine and a beer (and baking soda: a full belly dampens my masochism) and I was ready.
She cuffed me to my seven-foot tall weightlifting rack and warmed my flesh up.
Then fixed a couple of the small clothespins BDSM Toybox had sent for Christmas.
Ouch! The wooden clips were a magnitude harsher than the ones from the dollar store. For a time their clutch competed with the swats Alexandra was laying up and down my thighs, buttocks and back.
My nipple pain abated and I winced and wriggled in response to her more piquant blows.
Until she slammed the Lucite cane into the clothespins: pure concentrated agony. Boy did she like that.
When she’s enjoying making me suffer my knees turn to water. My brain flutters. I’m so turned on. There aren’t words.
As is the way with clamps my nipples seemed to burn when she took them off.
Endorphins were flowing through me. I couldn’t tell if they followed her hitting the clothespins or removing them. For a short time I couldn’t really feel her lashes.
Endorphins - sadly - don’t flow forever. The pain came back and peaked with her four final swats dead on the center of my butt with the purple flogger.
When it was over I was serenely and ardently grateful. I wished I’d asked to give each of her heels a kiss. But by then she was back in comfortable clothes, her feet in plum colored socks.
We cuddled, kissed and hugged. Tired it was time for bed.
That hour left me blissed out (as we used to say).
This morning my nipples sting lightly if I touch them. I like having her mark on my nervous system.
