Some things from my trip to see @doctortease:
1. I’ve received further confirmation that I’m a tough cookie.
2. Because it turns out I, uh, really like electricity. Particularly in the form of TENS units. (It’s a really fun form of pain!!!)
3. That said I totally can’t cum when a TENS unit is switched back on at the last minute.
4. Until I, um, can? Because it’s gotten that intense?
5. Another fun insight: if you get a rope wet and hit me with it, I’ll actually bruise. In like a pretty, firework-y kind of way.
6. It’s really fantastic to have nice friends in cool places, but it’s also great to be home.
7. (That said, I am so fucking jetlagged.)
It’s also fantastic to find nice places in cool friends.
In french, you call a person you love your “pomme de terre” which literally translated means your “hold on the earth,” or the one who keeps you here on earth, the one who keeps you grounded.
Handoff, Part Five
How do you feel?
That’s all right.
Oh yes? Not a big girl right now?
It’s not like being… young, for me. Just small.
Like something I could hold in my hand?
Like I’m doing right now.
Do you feel safe here?
Do you feel all used up? All worn out?
Or do you think you can take a little more?
A little more what?
Oh, so you are coming back to yourself a little.
“Maybe.” Well. Maybe I want to do a little something you won’t bounce back from so fast. Maybe I want you to be thinking about this for a long time.
You think I won’t? Or you think I can’t?
Maybe I want you to beg before I let you leave this room.
I bet you can’t make me.
Guess we’ll have to see how much more you can deal with, then, won’t we?
It wasn’t far from the armchair to the bed; I stood up, took a few steps and dropped her back onto it. She made a little show of squirming to one side. I retrieved her and administered several blows with the flat of my hand. Despite several nervous statements earlier about how she was actually a bit of a pushover in the pain department, Ivy stayed mute and stubborn: the bratty side resurgent.
She’d also made several claims about her own tightness, and how she had to be really wet to take any kind of thick penetration, even her own fingers. The speculum exam had borne that out to some degree, but I decided that the hypothesis needed another test.
My fingers are noticeably larger than hers, but as before, she took the first two just fine.
Ivy’s wrists were still tied together at this point, which made it entertaining when she wriggled up onto her elbows and tried to crawl away. Her reward for that was being dragged face-down across the bed again, and another series of smacks. I hooked my thumb into her vaginal canal and, using the wetness that had transferred to the base of my first two fingers, worked on her swollen clit for a little while. Judging by her vocal reaction, this seemed to produce a complex emotional reaction for her.
“Are you ready to—“
“No, Mister,” she cut me off.
I don’t know if she knew she was taking three fingers, after that, but she did begin to emit muffled sounds of distress.
The series repeats: I’m not sure if it was in the same order, but the basic series of squirming, spanking, stimulation and penetration, making her take a little more with each step. She wasn’t wrong about being a tight fit. She had no trouble producing more than sufficient lubrication, though.
Around the time you get four fingers inside a human being, you start needing to contend with the basic skeletal structure of your recipient. The vaginal canal is a flexible structure composed of elastic muscle, which can be shifted and stretched, but the bone and ligament of the pelvis are fundamentally stronger and more rigid than that of the hand.
“How does that feel?” I asked, testing to see how far I could push the tapered shape of my fingers, whether I could press against her clit from inside. “Too much for you, little girl?”
“No, Mister.” (I’ve omitted the onomatopoeia which would have lengthened this statement considerably.)
“Oh, then you think you can take more than this.”
“I don’t know, Mister,” is what I think she was attempting to say.
“Don’t worry, Ivy,” I said. “I believe in you.”
I don’t know if she quite understood what was happening—being face down and all—but when I pushed all five of my fingers into her cunt, she took it like a champ.
Fashion is an imposition, a reign on freedom.
I get off on fashion
Handoff, Part Four
(Parts 1-3 here.)
Every weekday morning, my bus to work passes the hotel D took me to. I’ll look up and, subconsciously, shift a little in my seat. It’s almost become a part of my commute now, seeing the hotel and remembering being spread open, being made small and helpless. I have felt myself become wet before, the sharpness of my memory manufacturing another sort of Pavlovian drooling entirely.
It wasn’t some sleazy hourly motel. Inevitably, I’ll see professionals in neatly pressed suits with their efficient black suitcases rolling along on the pavement behind them. Not to say that it was particularly swanky either. But I suppose my point here is that when I pass the hotel, I realize that I am perhaps the first and only person to have ejected a speculum onto its sheets.
The vibrations that had taken me over the edge were intense. At first, the speculum had rattled inside me when D lowered the head of the wand to the implement’s base. But I suppose I had clenched around it, because once it was still it was like a column of vibration, like something drilling into the earth. It went so deep that I nearly saw white. I don’t remember if I gave any cue that I was cumming – it’s become routine now for me to have to ask for it with partners – but I was before I knew it.
Afterwards, I had managed to steady my breathing. For whatever reason, over the past couple of years, I’ve been getting really good – if you can even call it a skill – at orgasming vaginally without clitoral stimulation. However, it’s often not nearly as intense. But my body doesn’t hold itself to its own rules. There’s this feeling that I get when I orgasm this way, like something in my head’s shifted just slightly and then something – endorphins? – is freed to rush out. Like twisting the kink out of a garden hose to release the pent up water. It’s more localized in my head than it is anywhere else in my body. But the feeling still lingered this time, made every part of me still feel alight and coiled. Even my clit was still tingling when I heard D switch the vibrator back on.
So I flinched at the idea of having more stimulation applied to it. I clenched up. And that’s when I felt the speculum slip out and found the telltale heat of shame crawling up the back of my neck.
”Ivy, we are going to finish this examination,“ I heard D say over the scrape of the speculum being closed. “Even if I have to bend you over the bed and insert it that way. Do you understand?”
I whined, but nodded nonetheless. The truth was that I was relieved to feel the speculum slide back inside me. I wanted it there, had missed the feeling of being held open almost immediately after the speculum had been pushed out. For as vulnerable and exposed as it made me feel, it also felt really, really good.
This time it wasn’t nearly as cold, and it slid home almost effortlessly. I wasn’t sure if he’d reapplied lube or if I was just that wet.
“Are you going to be a good girl and keep it in this time?” D asked, not waiting for my reply before he lowered the head of the wand to just above the hood of my clit. When D turned the vibrator on, I sucked in an inhale so sharply that it stung the arc of my hard palate.
D focused almost entirely on my clit this time, bringing me up near the point of orgasm before withdrawing once I neared the peak. A few minutes later, he’d done it again. Then again. Then again. Each time the window constricting slightly, even as he managed to get me closer and closer to plunging over with each edge. Soon, I was trembling, I was barely coming down between them. D was dragging the kind of cries out of me that scraped my throat raw as he worked me up and then withdrew, wordlessly, over and over.
For a while, it all blurred together. I don’t remember if I begged or not. I don’t remember when he withdrew the speculum. I recall being told to hold the vibrator against my clit by trapping it between my bent knees, but my legs quaked too hard for me to keep it still, even after two attempts and a sharp slap to my thigh. And I don’t even remember if he ever let me cum and, if so, how many times he did, though he must have. Because when he removed the bandage from my eyes, the room was for a moment soft and swollen. I felt like I was floating despite the heaviness in my limbs.
D had lain down beside me on the bed. As I blinked my vision back to steadiness, he pulled me into him. We’d take a break, he explained. He wasn’t done with me yet. “But I’m going to keep you just like this for a moment,” he murmured against my skin. “I want you to stay right here.”
Well now you really did hurt my feelings.
you almost feel bad running from the danger
like you will hurt the danger’s feelings
Kimmy Walters, Killer
After initial visual inspection and baseline vitals were established for Ivy (hereinafter “subject”), the session proceeded as per standard protocol. Subject was responsive and aroused. Subject was vocal despite attempted self-restraint.
Of particular interest for this exam were the subject’s orgasmic threshold, pain threshold, and verbal or physical cues to indicate their approach. The following techniques were employed to glean data.
- Subject’s glans clitoris and labia were stimulated manually.
- Subject, while sight-deprived, was allowed to hear a nitrile glove being donned.
- Subject was offered and accepted synthetic lubrication.
- Subject’s vaginal canal was penetrated with a single finger. (note: concern about diameter expressed here, unusually early)
- Subject was stimulated via vibrating wand fitted with silicone diffuser head.
- Subject was induced to choose between body weight on said wand or sustained stress posture. (note: she chose tiptoes)
- Subject was bent at the waist, and manual impact stimulus was employed.
- Subject was eventually persuaded to count manual impact stimulus aloud. Impact was extended to the upper thighs and the soles of the feet, in addition to the traditional posterior site, as part of this persuasion
- (Note that by this point self-lubrication had made synthetic reapplication redundant.)
- Subject was penetrated with two gloved fingers. Vocal protest increased sharply. Significant pressure noted.
- Subject was turned onto reverse side to allow for tactile examination of breast tissue and, again, application of the wand.
- Subject’s legs were repositioned to allow for maximum exposure.
- The exam proceeded to phase three.
As audible cues had proven effective in exciting the subject so far, she was granted another one: the sound of a speculum being unscrewed and opened. While recent advances have brought some comfort and convenience to the apparatus, it remains apparent that the traditional steel-and-screw mechanism carries the strongest connotations. As stated at the outset, the objective was to establish thresholds, physical and emotional. Connotation was therefore considered paramount.
Subject’s vocal reactions increased in volume again and began to lose coherence as the device was secured in an open position. Visual examination of the canal, while not a focus of this visit, revealed healthy tissue. Subject was palpated deeply on the anterior surface of the lower abdomen while still dilated, which produced significant vocal reactions as well.
It may be that the reader wonders, at this point in the report, what makes it worth recording in such detail. After all, procedure according to protocol can be condensed to a terse note or two. But beyond personal interest in the subject, it is here that the events of the session become particularly noteworthy.
The subject was stimulated with the wand a third time, with the longest duration yet. In this case the wand was applied directly to the base of the speculum, which was still expanded internally. This led in short order to an orgasmic response, despite the fact that vibration was transmitted primarily to the internal body of the clitoris and not the glans. Subject voiced a sustained, high-volume response and displayed mild muscular convulsion.
Subject was evaluated verbally once verbal capacity appeared to return. Subject’s feet were also observed to uncurl as time went on. While she was engaged in light conversation and offered a lightly mocking taunt for her failure of self-control, subject was observed and evaluated for refractory period.
When it was judged that said refractory period was elapsing, subject—still blindfolded, restrained, and splayed open—was given another auditory stimulus: the sound of the vibrating wand being reactivated.
This is the part where Ivy clenched in fear so hard that she forced the speculum out.
What an interesting idea! I have not attended, and indeed wasn’t aware of it until this ask. I’d like to try it, but their website promising a return in fall of this year hasn’t been updated since last year. Thank you in any case, dear reader. I’ll have to keep an eye out in hopes that the organization revives itself.
With Carlo Spinoso, Bologna 2016
Handoff, Part One
“Take a moment and really LOOK at the diorama!” said the museum docent. “And close your eyes.”
“What?” I said. “Why?”
“Don’t just picture it! Try to feel it. Hear it,” she urged.
I peered at the fanciful nineteenth-century taxidermy case, which featured two lions fighting a probably racist caricature. Ivy, standing a few feet away, was waging her own battle with contained laughter.
“What do you hear?” said the docent.
“Screaming?” I said.
“Are you in creative writing?”
I looked at her, a bit furrowed. I realize that higher-education students come from many age brackets, but I am pretty far from passing for an undergrad.
“No?” I said, with a bit of hesitation; I mean, writing was—in a way—the reason I was here to visit.
“Well, if you were writing a story about this moment,” she forged on, “what would it feel like?”
I looked at the sand heaped around the bottom of the case, and the wild-eyed, splay-legged camel within.
“Hot?” I replied.
Ivy and Flora, actively pretending not to know me, were no help at all. It took me a few more minutes to escape and flee toward the larger east gallery, blessedly free of taxidermy, during which they were busy charming each other.
It was another hour before Ivy sidled up to me, alone, in a side room filled with burial artifacts that no one had ever bothered to sort.
“Usually when I’m considering whether to have a scene with someone,” I said, “I’d start with a conversation about our… you know, kinks and interests.”
“Right,” said Ivy. “But I think we’ve got that covered.
“Has it really been that many years since the first time we interacted?”
“Yup,” she said. “I was a baby.”
“Cheer up,” she said. “I’m all grown up now!”
Later still, at the hotel, I ran my fingertips down her arms and felt her prickle and shiver. She was standing very still, lips parted; I ran my fingers back along her thigh, drawing her skirt up, and up, and up—until it became clear that she had chosen to forgo her panties for this first meeting with a new old friend.
“Naughty girl,” I murmured, smiling. “Is it all right if I call you that?”
She nodded, and took a deep breath. “What should I call you?”
“Well, we are almost strangers,” I said. “Why don’t we try… ‘Mister?’”
“Okay, Mister,” she said, in a voice that didn’t sound very grown up at all.
Did something naughty yesterday with a certain somebody, and I feel all glittery and sore today.
I swear, the measures some people will take to get me back on tumblr.