I have this entire week off of work, and oh dear god it is wonderful. I get to wake up at 9 when Jay leaves for the day, kiss him goodbye, and then snooze for a bit. Then I get to do whatever I want. It is extremely awesome and I don't want to go back to work, like, ever.
Unfortunately, I still have not figured out a way to make money without going to work, so Monday's going to suck it.
Over the long weekend - well, Jay's long weekend; he is, as mentioned, working this week - we went to visit some dear friends of ours and stayed with them. There was much drinking, much movie watching, and much video game playing, as it was about A MILLION DEGREES OUTSIDE and none of us are fans of the heat.
Saturday night we made salsa and were drinking mojitos. I would not have called myself a rum fan - and still wouldn't - but oh lord I love me a good mojito. I lost count at 5, which was somewhere around 11 that night. Jay and I eventually went to bed around 3, and, being drunk, that meant I was horny. The problem is, I'm loud. Like, really loud. I am an extremely vocal person anyway, that doesn't stop during sexual activity, and my voice really carries. And we were in our friends' apartment, with four other people, so being loud wasn't an option. Jay being an asshole, he was doing things specifically designed to make me scream, such as trying to remove my nipples by hand (swear to god that's what he was doing). It's a lot more intense, I think, when you have to deal with the pain silently.
This went on for a while, and my control started slipping and I let out a whimper. Jay responded by putting his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, which was hot as hell for the thirty seconds it took my brain to work out that there was something on my fucking face ohohgodohgodgetitoff. Things on my face - like hands, scarves, masks, etc. - freak me out proper. So I freaked, Jay cuddled me, and we passed out. Dammit.
We did make up for it Monday night when we got home, though, so that makes me feel a bit better. But it was sober, which is a completely different sensation. Ah well. It's good to be home.
Showing posts with label nipples. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nipples. Show all posts
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Everyone loves mail, part II
Arriving in the mail today, courtesy of my credit card and the fine folks at Blowfish:
As for the previous mail, we did in fact try out the new clamps on Monday night. I was sitting on the couch wasting time and half-watching the football game (serious Patriots, that was not your best outing) when Jay walks in with the new clamps delicately jingling in his hand and says "Take off your shirt."
Oh. Well then.
I give him a conflicted look and took it off, then asked him why he said I should take it off.
"Because they you can take off your bra."
Oh.
The bra comes off and Jay moves over by me to put on the clamps. The good news: the clamps are adjustable and since this week is apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for my nipples, they felt fantastic. The bad news is that my nipples are bigger than I thought (and I will swear that they're bigger than they used to be) and so the clamps don't really fit on them. I stood up and they both promptly fell off.
Not to be deterred, Jay shooed me in to the bedroom and bid me remove the rest of my clothing, whereupon he clipped them to my labia, where they could again delicately jingle. They still felt really good (like, really good; it's just apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for all of my body) but the jingling kind of broke my head. Every time I breathed there would be this gentle chiming from the rings as they swayed and hit each other, and I found it juuust a bit disconcerting.
My head got broken even worse when he clipped the rings together. Oh goody, just what a sadist always wanted, a fucking handle. And yes, I do mean that in both senses.
- A miniature "I Rub My Fishie" - did y'all know that it comes with its own shower shelf? It totally does. I think it's going to live in our shower (ps living by ourselves is AWESOME)
- A Feeldoe
As for the previous mail, we did in fact try out the new clamps on Monday night. I was sitting on the couch wasting time and half-watching the football game (serious Patriots, that was not your best outing) when Jay walks in with the new clamps delicately jingling in his hand and says "Take off your shirt."
Oh. Well then.
I give him a conflicted look and took it off, then asked him why he said I should take it off.
"Because they you can take off your bra."
Oh.
The bra comes off and Jay moves over by me to put on the clamps. The good news: the clamps are adjustable and since this week is apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for my nipples, they felt fantastic. The bad news is that my nipples are bigger than I thought (and I will swear that they're bigger than they used to be) and so the clamps don't really fit on them. I stood up and they both promptly fell off.
Not to be deterred, Jay shooed me in to the bedroom and bid me remove the rest of my clothing, whereupon he clipped them to my labia, where they could again delicately jingle. They still felt really good (like, really good; it's just apparently "Pain is GREAT" week for all of my body) but the jingling kind of broke my head. Every time I breathed there would be this gentle chiming from the rings as they swayed and hit each other, and I found it juuust a bit disconcerting.
My head got broken even worse when he clipped the rings together. Oh goody, just what a sadist always wanted, a fucking handle. And yes, I do mean that in both senses.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Everyone loves mail.
Arriving in the mail today:
Jay spent some more quality time last night pinching and twisting them, to the same reaction. His comment was "You know, I've always been told that nipples aren't faucets, but damned if they don't work that way on you." It doesn't work that way all the time, but hooo boy am I going to enjoy it while it does.
It's kind of a pity that Monday Night Football is on, because otherwise I'd so totally be in bed convincing Jay to try out the nipple clamps on me.
Actually... we live by ourselves, and the shades are closed. HMMM.
- An assortment of spreader bars, including a couple of 4" ones, for which we have some very specific purposes in mind
- Adjustable nipple clamps with 1" metal rings dangling from them
- A small bottle of Liquid Silk lube
Jay spent some more quality time last night pinching and twisting them, to the same reaction. His comment was "You know, I've always been told that nipples aren't faucets, but damned if they don't work that way on you." It doesn't work that way all the time, but hooo boy am I going to enjoy it while it does.
It's kind of a pity that Monday Night Football is on, because otherwise I'd so totally be in bed convincing Jay to try out the nipple clamps on me.
Actually... we live by ourselves, and the shades are closed. HMMM.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Seriously, what the hell.
Why is it that some times, Jay pinching and twisting my nipples makes me scream in pain, and some times (like last night) it is the HOTTEST MOST WONDERFUL THING EVER.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
(not a) Pain Slut
So after Jay and I had talked about me not wanting him to live with me again, I promptly offered for him to come over last night and have dinner with me, and possibly stay over. You know, no strings attached, but hey, just because I told you 'no' doesn't mean I don't want to see you. That sort of thing.
Of course he accepted. He's not that dumb.
We managed to find a new restaurant and actually go and eat dinner, which is a first. I love the idea of finding new places to go and things to do, and then usually freak out at the last minute and want to stay home in a ball of cranky. But it was good. I ate ribs. And we talked through dinner, which we never do, and it was a rather novel sort of experience.
When we got home, Jay was laying on the bed in a bit of a steak-induced food coma, and I was puttering around, cleaning up small bits and bobs. My room is a hot mess, but I figure if I can at least get a few small things put away, that makes it a little bit better. Maybe.
I was cleaning off my nightstand, and came across a couple of clothespins I had taken out a while back, on one of the few occasions that I had masturbated. Naturally, being a snot, I couldn't help but make the comment "Oh, how did these clothespins get here?"
Jay more or less immediately woke up, and started questioning me on just why they were out, which turned me into a giggly wreck. It's like, I want him to know what I'm doing, but I don't want to actually tell him. He should just read my mind and know this shit, you know?
He eventually got out of me that I'd used them on my nipples, told me that was extremely arousing for him, and I thought the matter was over, since he was starting to fall asleep. Except, oh wait, no, and suddenly my clothes are off and Jay is digging around in the drawers. He comes out with the collar that we have matching cuffs to, puts it on, and then puts just the wrist cuffs on. He links the cuffs together and puts my hands over my head in that way that says that just because he didn't secure them there, doesn't mean I get to move them. I am waiting with baited breath to see what else he comes up with.
I am not entirely sure what he is doing until he starts pinching my nipples, which means that clothespins or other clamps are surely in my future. Now, I have somewhat sensitive nipples, and I am wholeheartedly not a pain-slut, so Jay usually puts the clamps somewhat behind my nipples, so that they're not the only thing clamped. No such mercy this time, the pins go directly on the nipples, and mother of GOD IT HURTS. I am doing deep-breathing exercises to deal with this pain, okay? Being a bit of a sadist, Jay is enjoying every minute, and decides to up the fun by adding a pair of clothespins to my labia, and hey, what's one more clothespin between friends? He puts it on my clit. I hate him.
He is toying with my g-spot in a way that raises goosebumps on my flesh, and I am desperately, desperately trying not to have an orgasm, because when I do, my tits will move, and it will hurt. Lots. At this point, I am probably about as happy as I can be without being happy at all, for whatever sense that makes.
By now my nipples have been tortured for a good fifteen or twenty minutes. This shit hurts. I probably cannot repeat that enough. I am also incapable of coming up with a good metaphor for the pain, so you'll have to take that. Anyway. He takes the clothespoins off my labia, and that's fine, not really too much pain there, nothing I can't handle. Then I see him going for the tits. Now, I wanted them off, I really did. But I didn't really want them off, because I knew that it was going to be horrible. He waits just long enough that he knows that I know it's coming, but not nearly long enough for me to psych myself up for it, and off they come and oh my god my world is black and focused entirely on the fucking pain that is radiating from my nipples and dear god it is never going to stop and jesus fuck i am about to cry.
Apparently at this point, I had an extremely sad face on. I wonder why that was?
He says that he is very pleased that I did not scream, and that I did not actually cry, although he could tell that I was close. He cuddled me for a bit, reassuring me, all of that sort of thing, because I needed it. For someone who I have frequently labelled as blind when it comes to non-verbal cues, he certainly does just fine reading them when we're playing together.
He did a few more things to me, and after the fun was done, snuggled up with me on the bed. My nipples were decidedly unhappy, so that limited a few of my snuggling options. The point of the matter is, we discussed, and he informed me that oh yes, this was entirely not about me and what I wanted, and definitely all about what he wanted to do to me. He knows I don't like pain, he knows where my limits are, and he wanted to push them. He likes doing that. He told me how I was a good girl for doing so well, and right there, as he is telling me that I don't get to choose what I have done to me, as he is holding me tight and caressing me, I feel the most loved, most cherished, and safest I have felt probably ever.
Of course he accepted. He's not that dumb.
We managed to find a new restaurant and actually go and eat dinner, which is a first. I love the idea of finding new places to go and things to do, and then usually freak out at the last minute and want to stay home in a ball of cranky. But it was good. I ate ribs. And we talked through dinner, which we never do, and it was a rather novel sort of experience.
When we got home, Jay was laying on the bed in a bit of a steak-induced food coma, and I was puttering around, cleaning up small bits and bobs. My room is a hot mess, but I figure if I can at least get a few small things put away, that makes it a little bit better. Maybe.
I was cleaning off my nightstand, and came across a couple of clothespins I had taken out a while back, on one of the few occasions that I had masturbated. Naturally, being a snot, I couldn't help but make the comment "Oh, how did these clothespins get here?"
Jay more or less immediately woke up, and started questioning me on just why they were out, which turned me into a giggly wreck. It's like, I want him to know what I'm doing, but I don't want to actually tell him. He should just read my mind and know this shit, you know?
He eventually got out of me that I'd used them on my nipples, told me that was extremely arousing for him, and I thought the matter was over, since he was starting to fall asleep. Except, oh wait, no, and suddenly my clothes are off and Jay is digging around in the drawers. He comes out with the collar that we have matching cuffs to, puts it on, and then puts just the wrist cuffs on. He links the cuffs together and puts my hands over my head in that way that says that just because he didn't secure them there, doesn't mean I get to move them. I am waiting with baited breath to see what else he comes up with.
I am not entirely sure what he is doing until he starts pinching my nipples, which means that clothespins or other clamps are surely in my future. Now, I have somewhat sensitive nipples, and I am wholeheartedly not a pain-slut, so Jay usually puts the clamps somewhat behind my nipples, so that they're not the only thing clamped. No such mercy this time, the pins go directly on the nipples, and mother of GOD IT HURTS. I am doing deep-breathing exercises to deal with this pain, okay? Being a bit of a sadist, Jay is enjoying every minute, and decides to up the fun by adding a pair of clothespins to my labia, and hey, what's one more clothespin between friends? He puts it on my clit. I hate him.
He is toying with my g-spot in a way that raises goosebumps on my flesh, and I am desperately, desperately trying not to have an orgasm, because when I do, my tits will move, and it will hurt. Lots. At this point, I am probably about as happy as I can be without being happy at all, for whatever sense that makes.
By now my nipples have been tortured for a good fifteen or twenty minutes. This shit hurts. I probably cannot repeat that enough. I am also incapable of coming up with a good metaphor for the pain, so you'll have to take that. Anyway. He takes the clothespoins off my labia, and that's fine, not really too much pain there, nothing I can't handle. Then I see him going for the tits. Now, I wanted them off, I really did. But I didn't really want them off, because I knew that it was going to be horrible. He waits just long enough that he knows that I know it's coming, but not nearly long enough for me to psych myself up for it, and off they come and oh my god my world is black and focused entirely on the fucking pain that is radiating from my nipples and dear god it is never going to stop and jesus fuck i am about to cry.
Apparently at this point, I had an extremely sad face on. I wonder why that was?
He says that he is very pleased that I did not scream, and that I did not actually cry, although he could tell that I was close. He cuddled me for a bit, reassuring me, all of that sort of thing, because I needed it. For someone who I have frequently labelled as blind when it comes to non-verbal cues, he certainly does just fine reading them when we're playing together.
He did a few more things to me, and after the fun was done, snuggled up with me on the bed. My nipples were decidedly unhappy, so that limited a few of my snuggling options. The point of the matter is, we discussed, and he informed me that oh yes, this was entirely not about me and what I wanted, and definitely all about what he wanted to do to me. He knows I don't like pain, he knows where my limits are, and he wanted to push them. He likes doing that. He told me how I was a good girl for doing so well, and right there, as he is telling me that I don't get to choose what I have done to me, as he is holding me tight and caressing me, I feel the most loved, most cherished, and safest I have felt probably ever.
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I'm a 20-something feminist switch who tends toward the sub side, living with my hetero life mate/fellow switch/husband, and just trying to figure out what the hell's going on. This is a sex blog, but not strictly a sex blog, because sex is but a part of my life, even though it all ties together. Since I do talk about sex and other related topics, this blog is for adults only, please.
