This is an adult blog, containing detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some situations are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
I stretch languidly, rolling to my back from my side, my arms reaching above my head. Obviously, I fell asleep. Huh. I didn't realize I was that tired. I crack a huge yawn, feeling my jaw pop, and then I hear Master chuckling beside me.
"Have a nice nap, pet?" he asks. I roll back to my side, facing him, and lean my forehead against his chest. His arm comes around me, and I feel his hand (so warm, so warm) stroking my back in long, slow slides. I love it when he does that. I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and allow myself to melt into him.
Several long minutes pass, during which Master indulges me by allowing me to rest against him while he continues to stroke my back. But at last, Master nudges my shoulder, pressing me onto my back once again. I shift to a comfortable position, and look up to catch his eyes. While holding my gaze, he reaches across my chest and grasps my right nipple between his fingers. He squeezes it, firmly, then rolls it in his fingers. My back arches and I suck in a deep breath. Damn, that feels far more good than it should. His gaze is intense, not letting me go, and he pinches my nipple again, causing me to arch up once again. My breath hisses between my teeth and my eyelids flutter, as I fight to keep them open.
Master shifts his position a little; his hand trails down my stomach and he plunges his fingers into my pussy at the same moment his mouth closes over my left nipple. Had he not been leaning over me, I think I might have arched clear off the bed. Holy hell. His fingers in my pussy are rough, on the very edge of painful as he finger-fucks me, and he alternately nips and then licks my nipple. I let my legs fall farther open, hoping to better accept his pounding digits, but my right hand is fisted in the quilt and I'm having a hard time not tensing against the assault on my tender flesh. God, am I ever going to be sore later.
He bites me, and it hurts; I moan, but it isn't a happy sound, there's definitely pain laced in it. I turn my head away and bite my lip.
"You are just soaking," he says, and I can admit to that; God knows I can feel the evidence coating his fingers and dripping between my thighs, but I do not actually enjoy pain, and this is too close to that for me. I give another muffled moan, and then I feel him slowly pulling his fingers out of me. And that is uncomfortable, too, but I'm relieved, and I turn my head back and lie there, panting, waiting, to see what he'll come up with next.
He moves off the bed and rummages through the duffel back yet again, then comes back with - wait, what is that? I can't quite tell - oh, okay, now I see: a small black chain, a metallic clinking sound. He's pulled the clover clamps out. I close my eyes briefly and swallow. Yeah, I'm not the biggest fan of these things.
Master climbs back on the bed and leans over me again. His mouth on my breast is gentle now, slow, careful, and his tongue laves over the peak. I whimper, and this time it really is because it feels so good. A tiny thrill of desire shivers through me, and I feel my nipple hardening, pebbling on his tongue. He pulls away, and positions the clamp over the nipple, allowing the clamp to slowly close over it. I wince and whimper as the tiny teeth dig into my tender flesh. Damn, damn, that hurts. Master sets the other clamp as well, then tugs the chain to test it. Goddamn! I whimper again, more loudly. I don't tolerate these things very well, and already I'm fervently wishing they were being removed.
And oh, lucky me, he has a second set of clamps. He winds the chains together, then attaches the clamps to my pussy lips, where I swear they dig deep furrows in my skin. Ow, ow. He says the chains and clamps look nice; I maintain (in the privacy of my head) that they are simply evil. He tugs at the entwined chains, causing all four clamps to bite harder, and I moan loudly at the flare of pain. Now, the true evil of these things is, when they are twisted together like this, any move I make causes the chains to tug and the clamps to bite, so basically, I'm being treated to new flashes of pain almost constantly.
Master's fingers begin questing in his pussy again, bumping the clamps where they are attached, and every little brush against them makes them shift, which again, makes them hurt. He rubs at my clit and slides a finger inside me, and now I am caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the pain of the clamps. When my body arches or bucks or shifts, the chains tighten and the clamps bite, and it's a tossup as to which sensation is prevalent at any one time.
Eventually, though, my body gives in, and I cum around his fingers. Yes, the climax feels good, but immediately my body also arches involuntarily, and the wave of pleasure is instantly speared and deflated by the clamps as they bite me. I give a sob, because this really is not fun anymore, and these things Fucking Hurt Already.
Master, I think, senses that I'm reaching the end of my tolerance, and he pulls his fingers free and holds them to my lips. I open my mouth and suck his fingers clean, and then - thank you, thank you - he removes each clamp. I can't help gasping and whimpering and outright groaning and flinching as each clamp comes free, because they hurt, again, coming off, but shortly I am blessedly clamp-free, and I can finally start to relax. My nipples are so, so sore, I really just want to cross my arms over my chest and curl into a ball to protect them. I feel wrung out, honestly.
Master sits with his back to the head board, and I scoot around so I can lie my head on his knee. He pets my head, carding his fingers through my hair, which I find soothing.
"Good girl," he says. "You did well."
And I, with my sore nipples and aching pussy, smile against his leg. "Thank you, Master," I say.
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