Normally I don’t quote entire long entries but this blog hasn’t been updated in a long time and the entry seems too good to be lost. He stopped blogging about the time I started doing so about BDSM. I’ve always hoped he’d return.
I awoke in the night about 4 times with attempts at nocturnal erections. It’s been so long since I’ve had any experience with a device, the body has fallen back into that habit.
This is no concern of mine today though. I get up for the day still very close to spacy from the the beating, capturing (collaring) and caging that I experienced last night. As I stumble out of bed to try to shake off my body’s straining against it’s new prison, I realize in my head that the center of my being, my energy, my focus, chi, power core, whatever term you will, is still knocked out.
I’m walking around in reality with a feeling of everything being surreal. Did everything that happened, happen? Did it happen the way I remember? Or has my imagination intensified or justified what has happened to make it more than what it is?
…Treated, just the way I’ve always wanted and needed to be, something kin to a wild and dangerous animal (nothing new), but this time pursuied and captured, collared and caged (very new) Had I told her those secrets?
Those fantasies and desires that I have envisioned for so long? No. I’m sure I haven’t. There are some things still to close to the center of myself I’ve yet to reveal. I still insist, even after ALL that has happened, on subconsciously holding on to that shield, hiding behind that wall, that foul mantra:
I’m a pariah.
But no amount of previous subconscious conditioning, or ‘evidence’ can deny the facts. And, knowing my enemy within, it seems more likely I would try to play down the events that happened into something less than the level of acceptance they were intended to be (see last post). Rather than, use them to build up my esteem and break down that wall, and split that shield.
I reach down and try to ease the ache. The design of these devices has still come a long way. I know that I could pull out of the back without the ‘points of intrigue in place’ But alarms go off in my head if I even contemplate trying.
On my feet, the discomfort of the CB3K begins to avast. Even though I can feel it around my neck without my fingers, I have to reach up and touch the silver chain choker collar that is locked in place around my neck. My head threatens to swoon into subspace as I remember the events that put it there.
I remember after the fact calling her the ‘Steve Irwin’ of dominants. I had arrived on Thursday for my last playtime before Mistress was to go out of town. I knew the CB3K had arrived. She had even made the threat to put it on me for while she was gone. But I didn’t believe her. Or, I didn’t want to at some level, because the “pariah” inside me could ill afford it.
She took me upstairs and changed to a sleeveless shirt while I retrieved the toys and stripped naked. She started me out in the usual warm up position of me gripping the bar of her weight bench, but she laid into me very sternly from the start. The same intensity as the last, more unique beating I got. The cane bundle, the viper lash, and the hairbrush warmed me up. After came the first of my surprises, a blindfold. This was new. She told me that she knew it wasn’t total (because of the design I assume) but it was enough to keep me from seeing what was coming.
In truth, though I never told her, it was a total blindness because the material of the fold was against my eyes and I kept them shut out of reflex. It’s the theory that blindfolds, gags and such increase the sensitivity of the body. Shutting down one or two senses awakens the others to a new sensitivity. I found myself to be no exception to theory as she clamped on the clover clips and bent me over the bed to continue what she started on the bench.
What was different was I felt bent over even farther than usual. I couldn’t tell if it was my skewed perception because of being blind, or if she had positioned me a step further back from the bed to bend me over.
I decided she had indeed done so when I felt her leg between mine gently kicking the insides of my calves to spread my legs out further. God I felt so exposed and vulnerable. I lost my grip on holding my shame down to the fingertips when she made comments on my position. I chided myself internally. I must be some more slut to be all but spaced so easily.
Out came the floggers. The opening swings being between my legs. I had never experienced CBT until the first time with the paint stir the other night. I had never even considered it. Now my sense of shame deepens and threatens to swallow me as I realize that I am liking it. I bend my knees just slightly, but nothing gets past her when she’s in this mode. She laughs and hurls several comments on what a slut I am. After, the beating of my back and bottom continues.
Again like the last play session, she has me get on the bed in the position of my knees under me and my face in the mattress. The second surprise of the night is that she tries the long, wide, wooden frat paddle on me in a bruising spanking on my stretched thin buttocks. When the blows fall I yelp and my head snaps up in a reflex action. A couple of times she pushes my head back in the mattress, finally just getting on the bed with me, coiling a strong arm around my waist to control my struggles as she works on me with yet another salvo.
She releases me and tells me to rest a moment….A rest break! I think. It’s been a long time since she simply took a break instead of stopping there. I collapse on the bed and curl into a near fetal position. It’s a strange reflex that I don’t realize I do until after the fact. She smokes a cigarette
and I think she speaks to me some, but I don’t remember anything said. I’m floating blindly a haze of deep subspace.
After a time she instructs me to lie down flat, face down. I comply in that clumsy manner I do when the connection between mind and motor function is so overloaded. Thighs and bottom receive not only the wartenburg wheel, but the hairbrush as well. I don’t remember all the toys used. But I do remember a long and stern beating from my back down.
Then, it happened. I felt her climb on top of me. Sitting on my hips she bends low deep into my ear. I can feel her breaths for several moments and feel something cold around my neck….
The collar! Oh my god she is collaring me like this! Like you would capture a wild animal. Darted, or hooked if you will then worn out on the struggle of a harsh and delicious beating, then dazed and helpless, captured and collared.
It’s almost over by the time I realize just exactly what’s happening. When she is done she has me roll over. I reach up with thick, almost numb, trembling fingers to feel the heavy chain on my neck. The silver is cold, but in my perceptions it feels like it burns. A significant symbolism I would think.
I start to rise up, thinking that this was the end of the scene for sure. But a “where do you think you are going?” quickly has me lying flat again. Time for yet another surprise.
I don’t know what the toy was. I can’t say I would have known if I had been able to see it, but the beating I took on my chest and nipple both BEFORE and after the clover clamps were removed was one of the most intense sensations I can remember. So much so I was physically struggling to hold my position. It was exquisite. And not yet over. Moving down my body she spanked at my thighs and sex with the paint stir, then with her words, in that tone of voice I has spoken so much of, even without knowing her gaze, She opened the world beneath me, though I thought I was at the deepest end. I don’t have words for the sensation that her remark brought. I don’t have anything in myself to compare it to. But I know without question It was the Coup de Grace on my power core.
“Spread your legs like the slut you are!”
I obeyed, but I was too numb, to overwhelmed, to even cry. She beat my scrotum and my thighs with what I think was the same ‘new’ tool she had used on my chest and nipples. It hurt. Oh how wickedly and lovingly it hurt. Everytime we play I have a new favorite toy, And this time, I can’t even identify it.
That was the end of the scene. At least all I will speak of. Some time later I stood behind her in nothing but one of my airbrushed tee shirts that says “Intercourse You”. I’m holding the box with the CB3K in it and my poor, hazed mind is trying to calculate if I will please her, or push her by asking if she indeed wants this deed done before I dressed. Like I said not thinking clearly. It would have been nothing to undress for it if she wanted to do it in her own time later. I don’t know why I do that. But she did indeed have me put it on to stay as she threatened. Again, I have underestimated her.
This morning I chatted with Mistress. It was a long conversation where she cinched shut any hope of my sexual freedom. Not only is this device padlocked around me, but so is her will.
She made it clear she was going to tease me mercilessly, and at her whims. And that anything unfortunate, or compromising happened to or around the device, she would be most disappointed. I was still spacy before we talked, her words drove me right back down into deeper space again. I assured her I would not even look at the emergency key left behind.
The 12 Days of Chastity – Day One