pain play – Page 3

Hello Ivy, here is a submission of my tits with clothespins that my Sir ordered me to put on, which were super ow; let me know what you think 😉

If you or any of your followers would like to submit to my blog, it would be much appreciated in more ways than one 🙂

http://lace-and-ribbons-galore.tumblr.com/post/98197374674/submit-a-submission-and-receive-a-submission-in-return

– My Sir gave me the challenge of obtaining 10 female submissions to my blog. My reward: some well earned play time from him. It’s been a long duration of denial and I would like to end the teasing texts and pictures. So I’m offering a nude submission in return for a female submission to my blog. Help a sub end her denial period because her pussy badly needs to be fucked hard.

—

lace-and-ribbons-galore sends me the cutest submissions ever. Thank you for sharing.

While I don’t submit to other tumblrs, if any of you all want to support her cause, send along a photo.

So, I discovered yesterday that I enjoy figging.

Sir and I were skyping and I wanted to do something exciting and special for him. I hesitated at first, because I usually hate pain play, but I had the ginger root and I couldn’t hide the fact that I was a little curious. With clothespins on my nipples, I carefully exposed a little bit of the ginger and let him direct me.

He had me rub it onto my labia first. I was disappointed when the sting came on only mildly, but suddenly the burning swung into full effect. I felt like I was glowing. I usually hate pain, but this was absolutely amazing. I really, really liked it.

He directed me to rub it all over the hood of my clitoris before pushing the hood back and getting some on my clit. After a little experimenting, I discovered I really enjoyed carving out a little groove into the ginger with my nail and situating the groove over my clit. That was totally intense and really awesome.

I went off to my evening plans with my pussy still soaked and tingling, considering that maybe I’d found my favorite pain.

Halfway There, Part Six

Disclaimer: The content of this particular post includes some pretty harsh treatment. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I could always stop what was happening to me.

Flint had Lida climb off of my face and applied a pair of wooden clothespins to my nipples. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep my composure with them on while he beat me with all manner of things, some familiar and some looking like the antennae that used to be on top of a car in the 90s.

“They really hurt,” I finally admitted.

Flint gave me a look of ‘well, yeah’ before he leaned down and flicked one of the clothespins. I winced hard. “You want them off, then?”

I nodded frantically. “Please, please. It hurts too much. Please.” I continued to beg, my eyes pleading, my body squirming under the pain of the clothespins squeezing my nipples.

“All right, let’s get them off,” Flint conceded, raising a hand to slap the clothespins off of my nipples one by one. The first came off with a painful snap, but the second ended up twisting around the nipple. I wailed in pain. Flint smirked, “bet that really hurts, huh?” He raised his hand to slap it again.

At this point, I was in so much pain that I was barely thinking. While my legs were bound, my arms weren’t. Before Flint could smack the clothespin once more, I reached up and removed the clothespin myself. He stopped, arm still in the air, looking a little shocked.

“You seriously didn’t just do that,” he shook his head. “I’ve never ever had someone do that.” He called the girls over and I covered my face with my hands, feeling embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, “it just hurt a whole lot and I wanted it off.”

I thought he would hit me or give me a spanking, but he just stayed still. “If it’s too much, you use a safe word. Do you know your safe words?” I nodded nervously and he had me repeat them to him. “Otherwise, you take it.”

“But it was all twisted,” I complained.

He frowned. “You don’t think I know what I’m doing, then?”

I shrugged. I felt rather small, ashamed that I hadn’t just used a safe word or allowed him to keep going. I could have taken the pain, but I was having trouble giving off that last resolve of control that prevented me from the kind of discomfort that I didn’t enjoy. Sure, I enjoyed it because I despised it, but I hadn’t even let myself go there.

“I’m better than this,” I insisted.

Flint took out his phone and started scolding me. “I’m going to tell your owner what you did. And I’m not going to tell him that you should get another tally, but I’m certainly going to suggest it."

I groaned. Perhaps seeing that I was kind of beating myself up for it, Flint sat down on the floor and pulled me upright. He held me for a few minutes to make sure I was all right. I think he saw that the scolding hadn’t gone over all too well and I was sort of beating myself up over it. Later on, he’d check in about it and make sure I was all right.

But, at that moment, I kind of beat myself up a little. I’d been messing around like this for quite a while. I wasn’t trying to be a brat and I felt I was better than this kind of thing. I was embarrassed that I’d let Sir down by not demonstrating that he’d trained me well. I’m a perfectionist, even when it comes to stuff like this.

So, I rested my cheek on Flint’s shoulder and reasoned with myself that, at the very worst, I’d just end up with another tally.

Halfway There, Part Five

“So, which breast you want bruised, then?” Flint asked. He likes to punish people for hesitation, I’ve noticed, so I blurted out that I wanted the left one bruised for the sake of avoiding any additional pain than what I was already getting. He cocked a brow. “Left, huh? Wow. Usually people don’t have an answer to that. But you’re just like, fuck this one.” He grabbed my breast in his hand and shook it for emphasis.

He’s got this thing called a rute stick that he uses rather often, and it’s absurdly painful. It looks like a bunch of long matchsticks looped together with a band. On the breasts, it hurts like crazy. I was crying out fairly quickly, making uncomfortable pained eye contact with Lida as I was getting hit.

Flint must have seen me looking at her, because he gestured for her to come over. “Lida, sit on her face,” he ordered. She did, straddling my head and lowering her pussy onto my face. I leaned up and started licking, but nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt Flint push the hitachi against my bare clit.

I am way too sensitive for it without a barrier, and I was just about to scream feeling it against my unprotected pussy. “Hey!” I exclaimed, “I…I can’t do this when you do that.”

“Then you’d better get back to work,” Flint said, moving the hitachi to a more comfortable area, where it actually felt pretty fantastic, “or I’ll put it back where it hurts."

Lida, already sensitive from Macy’s attentions on her pussy, was squirming on my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and moaned against Lida’s pussy, focusing as best as I could on eating her out despite the vibrations between my legs.

Sweetheart’s trying so hard to be a big girl.

But, gosh, if learning to be a big girl doesn’t hurt.

“Do you know how to take a pulse?” Flint asked.

We were on his friend’s couch, my dress hiked up to expose my upper thigh. It was already red and swollen from a few tenderizing punches and a couple of nasty slaps. Upstairs, one of Flint’s partners was messing around with his friend, though we couldn’t hear them from down on the couch. Earlier that week, Flint had texted me about it, saying he’d bring me along as entertainment while he essentially whored out his partner (for free, of course), a shared fantasy of theirs. I’d blushed, but totally agreed.

He made me wait for him on a street corner and pointed out the spot I’d left on his seat the last time I had sat there. Later, I would clean it up with my mouth. But, for now, we were on the couch downstairs. Flint was attempting to disprove my previous claim that I didn’t bruise, which had made him smirk uncontrollably when I had declared it at the munch we met at.

“Yes,” I replied, taking my fingers and finding the artery. “It’s…it’s pretty even.”

Flint grinned and delivered another blow to my thigh. I cried out in pain. I was starting to discover that I just about hated the medium-strength slaps, but I had begun to really enjoy the few that tipped over into the harsher ones. I’d start wailing and collapse into the hit, but would end up coming up giggling. Something about the absurd severity of the pain made me giddy.

“So, this whole thing, hurting you, it doesn’t really bother me,” he explained. “That pout you keep putting on isn’t going to sway me. You know your safewords. Otherwise, I’m just going to hurt you.”

His hands were large and unyielding. He didn’t hesitate before the slaps, going right into them and following through with a violent clap. He had me count down for the particularly hard ones. When he’d gotten me to a point that it was absolutely certain I would bruise, he reached up my dress and pushed a few fingers into me with my thigh still hot and stinging.

“Look at that,” he teased, before pulling back and slapping me across the face. “Going to leak on my friend’s couch, now? After the talk we had about my car? You can’t help yourself. You’re disgusting.” I felt my cheeks flush and looked away, but his fingers slid in me with new ease. He chuckled appreciatively. “Well, that really got you.”

Eventually, the fingers came out and he had me rest my head on his chest while we unpacked the encounter, going over how I felt about it. My thigh was still glowing with pain. Flint reached down and brushed my hair off of my forehead. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Against my ear, I felt the thumping in his chest pick up in speed and grinned. “There’s the pulse.”

Piss Shy, Part Twelve

Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

Flint had devised the clever and totally mean plan of pitting WRM and I against each other with a little bit of impact play. He started by holding her still, kissing her as he let me hit her ass with a tool that looked like a lot of skewers bundled together.

While I was beating her with it, I got a little cheeky and scolded her for not cutting her nails. “We’ve been out, what, three times?” I reprimanded, “and still – still – you keep your nails that long. You need to clip your fucking nails.”

Of course, I was significantly less cheeky about it once Flint was holding me still while I cried into his chest as WRM beat me. I felt absolutely awful for hitting WRM with it once I knew how much it hurt, but she had been such a sport about it while I was a big baby about taking half of what I’d given her.

Then, Flint had WRM pin me back down while he aggressively rubbed my g-spot and clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push back the oncoming orgasm with just about any neutral, unsexy thought I could summon. “I can’t,” I pleaded, “I don’t want to drink piss, please.”

“You’d better drink a lot of water beforehand,” Macy said from the corner.

As hard as I tried to hold off, I came. Hard. Flint didn’t relent, continuing to assault my clit and g-spot with his fingers while WRM held me still. “Hey, think you’ll get another tally for each time?” He asked jovially. He wrenched another orgasm out of me before I pleaded with him to stop, my pussy was far too sensitive and tender to continue.

WRM let me go and I rolled over onto my belly, covering my face with my hands. I started to cry, overwhelmed by the idea that I was probably halfway to drinking a cup of my own urine, hating that I’d secretly enjoyed every second that led up to this, that I even liked the fact that I was facing these consequences.

corwinprescott:

“Rain on The Morning Bird’s Throat”
Philadelphia, Pa 2014

Corwin Prescott – Nicole Vaunt – Anastasia Arteyeva

Piss Shy, Part Ten

We moved back into the living room and Lida and I mercifully got a little break after the degradation in the bathroom. Flint pulled the blindfold over Macy’s eyes and had her lie down, while I helped Lida and WRM hold her still as Flint spanked her pussy. The slaps were so hard that her skin rippled, but she took the whole ordeal like a trooper. She even handled him hitting her with a toy that looked like the antenna on a car from the 90s.

Afterwards, Flint had me lie back down while the other girls held me. “You ever hear of a hitachi?” he asked as the blindfold went on. I groaned an affirmative and he laughed. “You know what it is, then?”

“Hell,” I replied with a huff. “This isn’t fair, I’m not allowed to cum.”

I heard Flint plug the hitachi in and felt its end push up against my pussy. “Well, then don’t.” He switched it on and I gritted my teeth, breathing hard and trying to keep myself under control.

I’ve never had a hitachi pushed up against my pussy before without panties or stockings to act as a buffer, and I soon discovered that I am entirely too sensitive for it. I kept arching up and away from it, exclaiming that it was just entirely too much. To add to the discomfort, WRM shoved some of her fingers into my pussy. She’s got long nails, which just do not work with fingering at all (I don’t know how the girls in lesbian porn do it). Overall, the whole ordeal was profoundly awful, so I guess I didn’t have to worry about cumming.

That is, until Flint took charge of the situation once WRM withdrew her fingers and, thankfully, the hitachi was removed from my pussy. “Macy, come here,” I heard him say, “Learning experience.” I felt his fingers – they were large enough that I figured they weren’t Macy’s – slip into my pussy, which was still sore from WRM’s nails. “Here’s how to make a girl cum.”

My eyes widened under the blindfold and I tried to squirm away, “no! I can’t!”

“Now, take two fingers and try to find the spongy part right up in the back,” he explained calmly, didactically, totally ignoring my protests. I whined as I felt his fingers brush my g-spot. He patted my pubis almost clinically, “it should be right here but on the inside."

His fingers slipped out of me and I felt Macy’s slip in in their place. Lida and WRM held me down while Flint took a cold water bottle and rolled it over my body. The low temperature almost burned, and the condensation left in its wake made my skin incredibly sensitive as he started slapping it.

"You’re a whore, you know that?” Flint said as he grabbed my throat, choking me while Macy ground her fingers into my g-spot. “You met these people, what, a week ago? Do you know anybody’s last name here?”

“N…no,” I stammered out as he let go of my throat. Something in me snapped out of the seriousness of the situation, and I started laughing. I didn’t know anybody’s last name, and I absolutely loved that. The whole situation was absurd, preposterous. I’d thrown myself into the belly of the beast, finally attended a play party in my new city, and suddenly I was involved in a fivesome (orgy?) with four people I’d just met. “I’m a whore,” I said between laughs, “I’m a whore.”

Flint grabbed hold of my throat once more, which pulled me back into the situation. Macy ground my g-spot harder, and I lurched forward as I felt a splash from the bottle of cold water being dumped onto my chest. I gasped loudly and Flint slapped my breast, the cold water intensifying the pain of the hit.

I forget what I said now, but it was something super sassy towards Flint. Suddenly, I felt pain tearing through my chest and upper rib, and I though that Flint had hit me with the bottle. Turns out, he just slapped me a little harder. Regardless, I curled up, groaning in pain. “You asshole. You’re a jerk.”

“Glad you figured it out,” Flint rolled me back into position on the towel and I felt the hitachi being applied to my pussy again. “Now, I don’t care that you’re not allowed to cum. You’re here to entertain us and we’re going to make you cum.”

“I’ll get in trouble!” I argued, arching off of the hitachi.

Flint applied pressure to my hips, holding me down. “Good.”

So I might be starting to like pain a little more.

Maybe.

So, ah.

This is gonna bruise.

Maybe.