Um.

So I opened my mouth again, and Jay and I drove down to the Flea yesterday.

OH GOD IT'S PEOPLE AND OUT IN PUBLIC AND BALAHAHAHAHAHAH

Ahem.

We wandered a round for a while, just getting the lay of the land and adjusting to being in a kinky public space.  We don't do that very often.  But once we were feeling a bit more comfortable, we bought a few things.

The first thing we bought was a paddle.  Nothing large, just a small hairbrush-type.  It's small, and rather pretty.

And it stings like fucking hell.

Jay, naturally, is enamoured of it.  "Ooh!" says he.  "I can smack you a lot and my hand doesn't hurt!  And your ass turns red so much faster!"

Oh why thank you darling, that's lovely OW OW OW OW OW.

He also tried it out my my breasts.  It was still an OW for me, but a very different kind of ow, which Jay picked up on rather quickly.  Activities commonly referred to as "breast torture":  I LIKES THEM.

Regardless, I have the feeling that this, our very first paddle (how the hell were we kinky for ten years, and including so many spankings, and didn't have a paddle?  I don't know.) is going to be making a LOT of appearances.

Now all I need is a clothesline

So when I posted those stupid things I said over the weekend, what two weekends ago?

Completely aside, I remember desperately wanting to get older when I was a kid, and being pissed that time moved too slowly, and now that I'm older, holy shit, time moves WAY too fucking fast, okay?

Anyway, so I said those two things as, clearly, Jay was in the middle of beating my ass, which is what I have tended to use to refer to any and all BDSM-type activities. In this case, he did in fact beat my ass, but, you know, saying that he should beat me does not necessarily mean that I think he should find the nearest implement and whale away at my ass.

In this particular instance, Jay did in fact beat my ass for a while, but there were restraints involved as well. Now, being as I was restrained, I couldn't do much about the fact that Jay is a sadist. I may have covered that a few times here before, but just so that we're all on the same page, Jay is a sadist and frequently likes to remind me that he likes causing me pain. On this occasion, Jay decided to bring out the clothespins and experiment on my boobs.

Now, while Jay is a sadist (did I mention that he's a sadist? good) I am only kind of a masochist. I don't like pain, so much as I like discrete amounts of certain kinds of pain. Clips and clamps on my nipples are usually right out, if I have anything to say about it.

Guess what Jay loves to do? Well, he proceeded to do that, but not content with only using two clothespins from the bag full of them, he decided to put four more, making little compasses out of my boobs.

At this point I am deep-breathing, and in between deep-breathing, staring at him balefully. But I have to admit, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting it to be, said expectations being born out of past experience. I don't know whether it was because I got a very good warm-up, some wonky hormone deal, what, but... my boobs didn't hurt bad. Oh, they hurt, but I was almost kind of enjoying the hurt.

If you've ever read kaya's blog, you've probably seen the pictures of the boob flowers (and if you don't read her blog, you should pop over there). Jay decided to make boob flowers. He put all of the clothespins in the bag on my boobs, continuing those four single clothespins into four rows of clothespins. But there were only about twenty clothespins in that bag, and there were spaces between the clothespins in the rows.

It was at this point that I piped up with my helpful remark about having bought more clothespins. To this day, I am not quite sure what was possessing me at the time. Clearly, my rational mind was not in control at that point. Jay's face naturally lights up and he goes to get the new clothespins, and proceeds to put them on, for a total of 26 pins on each boob.

And I am enjoying myself. For reals, I am laid back and enjoying myself, because this feels kind of good. I was blatantly ignoring that they would have to come off at some point, and instead basking in the warm glow that can only come from being in pain. He twitched them with his fingers, and jiggled my boobs around a bit, and there were a few sharp intakes of breath on my part, but it was not bad pain.

Jay's kind of an asshole though, and he took them off. That sucked. I spent the entire time with my face screwed up tight and trying not to breathe. But still, this wasn't as painful as other times I have had clips and/or clamps applied to my boobs. I wouldn't say that I enjoyed this, but it wasn't that bad. Okay, well, the nipples were that bad, and I almost cried. However, I did not cry, which earned me a "I'm very proud of you; you are a good girl", which, if I had been standing up, I would have blushed, ducked my head, and scuffed my shoe, most of which did not work as I was lying back on the bed.

I don't know that I would ever personally volunteer for that treatment again (then again, it's not about me volunteering, is it?), because this really was a one-in-a-million, I think. Whatever alignment of stars or hormones or whatever happened that day, while I wouldn't mind it happening again, I don't know that I'm going to go out and test for it, you know? But... dammit, I liked it. Oh god, I liked it. And I had a pair of lovely boob flowers to go to sleep with.

gg french nm

Stupid shit I said this weekend:

1. "See? This is why you should beat me more often! Then I won't be as sensitive."
2. "You know, I bought more clothespins. They're over there on the top shelf."

oh shi-

Oh, my god, I bought a crop.

(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.