We had to run a few errands tonight. The play started then, with the scrubby pad being stuck up snug between my pussy lips. I don’t know the official name for the scrubby pad. It’s one of those pads used for scrubbing pots and pans, like a soap-less SOS pad. Anyway, stick that in there, with a tight pair of jeans to hold it secure and it’s a very effective little torture tool. Every move is painful. The twisted metal bites and scratches, pinches and pulls. A bumpy car ride can be excruciating. It set the stage very nicely. My pussy was red-raw, sore… and wet.
When we got home I knelt between His legs and sucked His cock for a long time. Lots of deep throating and gagging (which I love). He flipped me around and fucked me from behind, cracking my ass and thighs with His hands (which I hate). He pointed to the bedroom and said the one word that I hate to hear.
Crawling is basely humiliating for me. Leaving out the painful aspects of crawling across hardwood, it’s the most hated activity in my bdsm experiences. I don’t know why this one seemingly simple thing affects me so deeply but it does. By the time I reach wherever it is that I am crawling to, I’m thoroughly humbled.
Kneeling beside the bed, I was once again set to suck Him. I could hear Him rustling things around, out of my limited view. I knew that we had talked about some pretty painful things so I was a bit nervous. But for all the apprehension, He only held the small scalpel and while I sucked He slashed at my breasts. It seems to me that Daddy must trust me an awful lot to be slashing at my breasts with a scalpel while I hold His most sensitive bits between my teeth…
He pushed me away then, sitting me back a few feet from Him. I hate losing physical contact with Him during a scene. His touch keeps me calm and focused. When He walks away… I feel abandoned. Feeling Him near me, His body heat, His scent.. I feel loved..even through the pain. There is nothing but cold air to replace Him when He moves away. Very disturbing. (Not to mention that the closer He is to me, the smaller His swinging stance is…lol)
Standing back and looking at me… my mouth swollen and wet, my chin and nose covered with my own spit, my breasts marked with angry red streaks of blood… you can almost feel the change that comes over Him. Hear it in the air, a crackling of senses. His eyes narrow, He stands taller, His voice gets so cold. And I defer. Quiet kneeling, not able to meet His eyes, no fidgeting, no small talk.
He directed me on to the bed then, on my back with my head hanging over the side and I once again began sucking His cock. (It just occurred to me that I do a whole lot of cock sucking.) I knew He had the needles and He pinched and pulled up pieces of skin around my nipples asking me, “Here?”, while I nodded or shook my head against His balls. The attraction of needles has very little to do with pain for me.. it’s the visual stimulation after they are in. But this time, from this angle, I couldn’t see anything. Not being able to see it enhances the pain a bit.
He pinched my nipple and said “straight through?”…. I nodded around His cock… I felt the tip of the needle puncture and then… fuck me running… there was a pain like I have never felt before with a piercing. A deep, hard pain. I screamed.. He stopped and pulled the needle back and then the blood started. It dripped and ran, for a long time, a steady, warm , thick stream of blood. It probably would have been frightening if it wasn’t such a turn on…:). I couldn’t see it but I could feel it. Tickling my chest as it weaved it’s way down the slope of my breast… this was awesome. When He let me sit up the blood ran down my stomach and pooled in my crotch. It just bled forever. Looking down at myself that way.. smeared and sticky… I felt a shift inside, something darker nibbling.. wanting out.. Blood play always does this to me.
But not to be too far deterred from the plan, needles in place, I was cuffed, blindfolded and gagged and strung up on the wooden pony. I love the wooden pony. I hate the wooden pony. I love it til I’m on it, then I hate it til I’m off. And once I’m off, I’m whining to get back on. (Story of my life.) I stretched up on my tiptoes, easing the cruel bite on my clit, until my calves started to cramp… then the riding starts. Up and down, trading the pain of my cramping legs for the deep agony on my pussy, wiggling one way only to find it was better before. I could ride the pony for hours. Daddy went behind me… the flogger, the slapper… things to make me jump and jerk and slide back and forth along the wooden edge. His voice in my ear, “Dance.” But I must have danced too far and too fast, He snatched ahold of the pony and yanked it slightly up and backwards. I don’t think I moved at all after that.
The gag and the blindfold came off then, the pony was pulled from it’s snug spot between my legs. Daddy held the wet bar in front of my face, letting me see where I had soaked it down… ran it back and forth over my tongue, letting me taste… my musky flavor mixing with the wood, not unpleasant but different. I was laid on the bed then… and fucked. Wild and hard.. brutal. Daddy carefully holding Himself away from the tip of the needles still embedded in my breasts. Occasionally reaching down and pulling one out. I came.. and came.. and yes… came. He pinched hard on the pierced and bloodied nipple.. and it hurt so bad…I started to cry a little… then I came again. What an odd, odd thing. To orgasm while you cry.. not sure which one to focus on… or how to let one enhance the other.
He was determined to come down my throat… back to my knees I went. He fucked my mouth and throat for a long time. Steady, insistent thrusts. Deep. I drooled and gagged all over His cock and balls. But I didn’t pull away. I didn’t panic at not being able to breathe. I never do, He is brutal when He face fucks me. I sank into being used.
When He came, it shot down my throat, making me gag while I tried to swallow. Suddenly He shoved my head away and aimed His cock at the floor, spilling His cum on the floor in front of me. I watched it as it fell, immediately and simultaneously telling myself I would NOT lick cum off the floor while already bending over to do it.. His touch against my head pressing me down to the floor wasn’t needed, as I would have done it without prompting, but it was welcome.. and comforting. I licked the disgusting floor clean of Daddy’s cum and eagerly lifted my face to His cock, wanting more.
And I did it because I am a cunt. His cunt.
Now I must go to sleep b/c I don’t want the repercussions of Him waking and finding me not in the bed where I am suppose to be.