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Tag: pain not pleasure

Saturday, June 13th, 2009

Playing Favorites: Nipple Clamps

As I told you, “D” sent me a big box of goodies (or should I say “badies” because they weren’t all nice in the usual sense of the word! *wink*) Anyway, “D” said I should share the further exploits of the contents of the box here at the blog, and he’s been waiting probably longer than he expected to read any of it — but even if I didn’t take my toy talk seriously, Blackie’s extremely dedicated to his use & evaluation of new toys & tools. This is all to say that there’s no “better late than never” attitude in this (or the following) posts, but rather an attitude of giving things their proper attention.

I briefly mentioned (& displayed to members) use of the Japanese Clover Clamps before, so let’s start there.

The first clamps we tried were clothes pins; amazingly wicked things for being so old fashioned, for the porous wood can nearly become one with your tender flesh too quickly — making removal of just the wooden clothes pin tricky. And sometimes Blackie just isn’t in the mood for “delicate removals.”

After that, we tried some alligator nipple clamps (rather expensive vibrating one’s too); but the angled bit doesn’t work well for these big breasts & nipples (the narrow side pops the nipple out the other end faster than Blackie can lose his temper!).

supergrip-spring-clamp-with-padFrustrated, Blackie walked into the local hardware store and bought some cheap plastic spring clamps with flat flexible square grooved “pads” (I say, “pads,” because they are not at all padded), more or less like these. These are about as torturous as clothes pins… They are larger, clamping down on more area (as in “entire smashed nipple”); but the larger size also limits the number of clamps which will fit in one area. However, they can be more quickly (and painfully) removed without taking skin with them. So the cheap plastic spring clamps from the hardware store were the ‘”go to” clamps here for quite some time… Until…

Until “D” sent the Japanese Clover Clamps (with chain!).

japanese-clover-clamps-with-chain

These things have a big bite — which Blackie says is only fair with such big tits.  They have, and I quote Blackie here, “a nice heft to them by themselves — plus they just look wicked.” But for me, that’s mostly “bark” and, because I’m the one who has to deal with it, more worried about the bite.

The bite has to do with the pressure, I’m sure (and I’m no engineer or scientist); but it’s the “non-stick ‘pads’” which just about kill me.  Again, “pads” because I don’t consider anything that barely gives when pushed with a fingernail to be padded. Plus, the raised dots, which may be there to prevent slipping, are deceptively fierce in their diminutive size, leaving added injury to injury. OK, so technically I’ve not been “injured” by these clamps; but they leave a lasting impression — on your nipples (and other parts ) as well as, indelibly, on your mind.

The fact that they sorely test my tolerance would be enough for Blackie to dub them his favorite clamps to use, but then there’s that chain…

Those silver links aren’t just jewelry, you know; they are A) added weight, B) the mechanism for tightening the clamps (even the slightest tug makes them bite harder), C) a nice leash to lead me about by, and D) the means by which Blackie loves to remove the clamps — first increasing the bite then yanking them off.

That chain also has other creative uses…

For example, Blackie loves to place the chain in my mouth after he’s placed the clamps on my nipples.  Doing so makes me a purposeful slut (a holder of my own leash) and provides me a reminder to keep still. And then when Blackie yanks my hair, pulling my head back, I take the chain along with it. Ouch!

Blackie’s also used the chain to help make a “zipper” with the plastic spring clamps on my pussy.  First he puts the clover clamps on (one on each side), then lays the chain along my pussy lips, and clamps the plastic spring clamps over the chain… Then, when he’s ready, he yanks off one clover clamp & then quickly lifts the chain up, ripping (”unzips”) all the remaining clamps off. (I involuntarily shut my legs when I typed that from the memory of that pain!)

Blackie considers all of this fabulous additional points for my points and other places — which bumps the Japanese clover clamps up into first place in his book. And because they are his favorites, they are now the most used. (Or maybe I should say they are the first choice; the other clamps & clothes pins are still used in other places.)

I am slowly learning to wear the clover clamps longer — on my nipples and elsewhere.  I don’t think Blackie’s minding the shorter amount of time I wear them, really; the tenderness lasts long after the clamps are removed, making me one sore slut to use and abuse. (Which is the whole point, right?)

Both Blackie & I thank “D” for giving them to me — you might want to to thank “D” too, when you use them on me. *wink*

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Monday, May 25th, 2009

Memorable Memorial Weekend

I don’t know how you’ll remember Memorial Day Weekend 2009, but I’ll remember it as an exhausting painful one.

Even though Blackie was away, I was anything but neglected & ignored; two regular phone Masters, “D” and “MC,” made sure of that. On Sunday, I was even rented out for the day exclusively to a new Master who had lots of new tasks and training for me to do — it was the first time this new service option was put to use and I was so thoroughly used, pushed past limits of sleep deprivation, humiliation, and pain, that I spent the last hour just shaking, crying & desperately trying.

Between Friday and the wee hours of Monday morning, there were more clothespins used on me than I care to count, too-too many adventures with Ben Gay (after sp & a even!), an incredibly painful (and long!) session of service kneeling on dried rice, and a sordid assortment of services that, while I tended to with dedication, I am still too blurry-minded to be able to recall them all correctly…

And I do not have much time to recall and tell of them either because Blackie has returned and I must tend to him and his needs. But I will share this…

Breasts are remarkably resilient, taking punishments that have you crying and coming (or, when you are not allowed to come, have you struggling to hold yourself from falling over the forbidden edge) and leave you with tenderness and aches which are ever present whether awake or asleep — yet looking as if nothing much has happened to them. They are deceptive things.

But the insides of my thighs? Oh, they show their misery.

Since Blackie believes good submissives tell their Masters of their conditions, I had sent both “D” and “MC” photos of the bruising on my thigh. Both of them took great delight in adding to it by paddling (along with their other pleasures).  Here’s what it looks like today:

memorial-memory-thigh

Since I have suffered so much abuse this holiday weekend and Blackie’s long absence has made him miss me and wish to use me himself, I will have very limited availability for the next few days.

This is also to save myself for scheduled continuing training to learn a new task for “MC” as well as be able to service “D” when his gift package arrives. (He says the things inside that package will make me gasp just looking at them — so using them per his wishes will likely require stamina and strength that I currently do not possess.)

So after tonight’s hours (between 10 or 11 PM until 6:30 AM, central time), I will likely not appear as available for calls until Thursday.

If you wish to abuse my current painful state (including my abused tits & thighs), or if you feel you cannot wait a few days to use me, please call tonight, Sirs.

PS I will continue to blog during this time; so please, check back!

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Friday, May 22nd, 2009

Protected: Intense Nipple Arousal Or Torture?

I had a long, hot call from “D” last night which left me so sore that I couldn’t take any more calls.

Along with his special training, “D” opted to add the tit torture of sp & a (which is what I now call sandpaper and rubbing alcohol — because it hurts so much for so long that I can no longer even bear to say the words).

Since “D” made me sp & a my breasts & nipples, per Blackie’s rules I had to apply another application of liquid fire (the “a”) before bed. And that sealed a night of discomfort on hot aching 36 Es that seem to be everywhere — except anyplace comfortable. This, along with my other aches & pains, made me quite tired when I got up in the morning for my scheduled meeting.

While Blackie’s away, one of my tasks every morning when I wake is to apply K-Y’s new Intense Arousal Gel For Her to my nipples — and film myself rubbing it in on my cell and send the video to him. This way, he knows when I am awake and he gets the thrill of knowing my nipples still rise for him.

Being sore and tired I didn’t really think about what could happen when I started to apply the gel this morning. Normally it just feels good and slippery, the “arousing benefits” aren’t really noticed for a few minutes after my nipples are soaking in it, so to speak. Then it just keeps them “interested” & standing at attention (as if they weren’t already sluts!) for a few hours. But today, as I applied the two instructed drops and began filming my solo-nipple play for a delayed audience, I felt something right away…

At first it was cool & minty — but then it began to sting. Not just surface sting, but deeper too.

When I sent the two video files to Blackie’s phone, I texted him that this was not the usual Intense experience — that this time, Intense was too intense.

The result? Well, it certainly wasn’t pity!

I was instructed to take my shower, followed by the required alcohol bath (because you can’t do it the other way around — the skin has to be kept hot and sore as well as clean!), and then apply more of the gel — video-emailing him as proof.

I dutifully suffered through and then dressed for a morning meeting — one that “D” was already amused thinking about me, with my sore used self-conscious body, standing before a conservative male audience. (Let’s just say it was far worse than even he envisioned.) And then I had more to do for Blackie.

He wasn’t done with me or my nipples yet.

Once the meeting had ended, from the bathroom stall in the client’s building, I had to video myself applying more of the arousing gel, send it to him and then call him when I got back to my office.

“So, what bra did you stuff those sore tits into?”

“One of my t-shirt bras.”

“To stabilize ‘em, hmm?” he knowingly laughed.

“You know it,” I replied.

“So the gel hurts my poor baby, hmm? But I bet those slutty nipples of yours are still standing up, begging for more.”

“Amazingly, even with this softly lined or padded bra, you can still see ‘em poking out through my blouse — I had to leave my jacket on in that warm office or risk looking like a slut.”

“Not looking like just any slut — looking like the slut you are,” he mocked. “But we’d better give those nipples what they want…”

“You mean washing them off? I’m not sure if even soap and water would remove this gel — it’s like an oil. It seeps right in there. I don’t think it would be worth the agony of scrubbing them.”

“Get rid of it? Why would we do that? I was thinking of applying some more…”

“No,” I laughed, “I think they are just fine.”

He lowered his tone a notch and softly growled into the phone, “I’m not joking. Pop out those sore titties and let’s torture those nipples some more.”

I paused.

“Now, Pinkie.”

With a sigh I began to gingerly remove my tender breasts from their holding place. I fumbled for the K-Y Intense tube in my purse and, as I dispensed two drops onto the index finger of my left hand, I tried one hopeless last-ditch effort to spare myself. “Are you sure? They sting pretty bad…”

Now it was his turn to sigh — a warning sigh.

So I gently placed the minty oily gel onto my left nipple where it oozed with a sizzle. I swear it sizzled, but Blackie claimed he couldn’t hear it — not over my own hiss.

“Really rub it in; pinch and twist hard,” he commanded.

“I’m trying, but it’s slippery,” I whined.

“And it hurts, right?”

“Oh gawd yes,” I moaned back at him.

He sighed again, but one of those contented dick-in-his hand sighs.

“Are you masturbating?”

“Damn right I am. It’s been days since I fucked you and looking at the videos I was imaging your cute coos, but hearing them now… ug.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me,” I giggled — pleased to be rising up above the physical hurt on a little cloud of affection.

“Yeah, baby — do the other one now.”

I dispensed two more drops on my right nipple & began rubbing, pinching and twisting the gel into it. I must have been making little noises of complaint & injustice, because Blackie said, “I love your little whispered grunty groans, my slut.”

“It hurts…” I breathed into the phone — nonsensically explaining what he already knew.

“If I can’t be there to elicit them personally, at least I can force them this way,” he breathed back.

“I love you too, Blackie.”

“Then show me, baby — get real rough with both of those hurting nipples. Make me come with those moans and groans of yours. Show me how much you love me, how much pain you’ll take for me…”

Thankfully it was lunch for everyone in the office — because knowing I was pleasing Blackie added passionate volume to the low hiss of my whimpers and I voiced my nipples’ displeasure with their treatment loud enough that I’m sure anyone just outside my office door could have heard.

It didn’t take too long, and Blackie grunt-groaned his release.

Satisfied with himself (and my dutiful service), he left me the following instructions:

* to video myself reapplying the gel at 4 PM and every 2 hours after (and email him the videos)
* to post a few of the videos here for Master Members

And then he ended the call with the reminder that I’m not allowed to masturbate unless it’s directed by a Master on the phone. “Just want to make sure you’re waiting & real good for them.” I could hear his wink, even if I couldn’t see it.

“And Pinkie?”

“Yes, Blackie?”

“I do miss you, my little cock slut — I love you.”

Member Masters, enter your password below to open the Bound Post to see the three videos and get an update on Pinkie’s condition.

(If you are not a Member Master & do not have the password to see all protected or Bound Posts, here’s how you get it.)

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Wednesday, May 20th, 2009

Protected: Not Just Any Furious; Bitch Wife Furious

Blackie was quite pleased with himself for what he called his “Stay In School, Kids!” Public Service Announcement, but now that the threat was passed, I was furious.

Not just any furious; bitch wife furious.

“What the hell, Blackie,” I snapped at him, stuffing my tits back into my bra. “I could have been raped, we could have been hurt, robbed or killed–”

I was met with Blackie’s uproarious laughter, but continued my tirade anyway. “Hey, two nicely dressed business folks from out of town gettin’ down in an alley? What easy marks–”

“Get over it, Pinkie, they were kids.”

“And so then you decide to give them a lewd show? A misogynistic sex show?!

“Oh come on now,” he laughed. Then after a brief pause during which I fumed, he said, “You loved it, you slut.”

My fear had already turned to anger, but his accusation made me get really angry. “You’re an ass,” was all I spat at him, riding in silence the rest of the way to our hotel.

At the hotel, I sailed past him in an Ice Princess freeze-out, heading to our room. Sure, he was just a few strides behind me, but I was smug in the knowledge that he was forced to walk in my icy wake.

Once I got into the hotel room, I kicked my shoes off and headed for the bathroom — but before I could get there, Blackie grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me onto the bed. Before I could even gasp, he had me on my back and was on top of me, forcefully ramming his knee between my legs, hiking my skirt up, ripping my blouse open. Even though my clothes were technically on, all my sweet spots were exposed.

This is a Bound Post. To view it please enter your password below. (See how to get the password at the Bound Post link at the top of the site.)


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Friday, May 8th, 2009

Protected: Torment Continues

Sleeping sucked; every time I rolled over, I woke up due to such sore and sensitive breasts. It reminded me of how much I dreaded another shower (even if it was cooler than the one I’d just had) — and wearing clothes. What bra could possibly be comfortable? So even though sleeping was horrid, I was dreading getting up.

===

I managed to make it through a cooler shower. I dried off and dabbed my tender breasts as best I could to minimize the pain.

I went to the medicine chest for what I imagined was my only hope for some comfort, Whoop-Ass Healing Balm. But the tube was gone — in fact, Blackie had cleared the entire house of any & all lotions and creams. No wonder he got up so damn early this morning.

So next it was time to suffer the torment of stuffing angry raw skin into bra cups. Nothing lacy (that would be unbearable!); something with large soft cups to snuggly hold them, so there’s be the least amount of rubbing from the bra and clothing worn over it.

If I solved my immediate breast discomfort, I knew it would only be a few hours until I met Blackie for lunch.

He’d said not to be late, so I knew he had something in mind.

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Wednesday, May 6th, 2009

Protected: Miserable Morning

Follow-up to last night’s tit torture and emotional humiliation.

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Wednesday, May 6th, 2009

Protected: The Most Humiliating Hurtful Punishment Yet

Blackie’s so angry at my earlier embarrassing failure with the UK Dom’s instruction that he hasn’t touched me since that domesticated kiss of perfunctory purity on my cheek before bed. Even though I pleased the UK Dom last night, I can feel Blackie’s cold anger & disdain growing daily…

I wish it was a hot anger, combined with a cock full of unspent come, which would make him mount me and use me for his pleasure; but it’s not. I think it’s my forced posting of my shame here which continues to shame him — even thought it’s not is fault in anyway; I and my services are a reflection of him.

But now that I have met the UK Dom’s task, Blackie has set himself to seriously punishing me himself.

And this is the worst thing yet.

To read the complete story, enter the password (or see Bound Posts for info on how to get the password).

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Monday, May 4th, 2009

Protected: Secret Diary, Secret Fears… Secret No More

Ever since my intensity for BDSM grew, I’ve been keeping a secret diary. It’s written to Blackie because I was hoping to share my dark, shame-filled secrets with him — when I was brave enough. Only that brave day hasn’t really arrived yet…

Of course he knows about the diary — and likely nothing in there will surprise him much anyway — but I’ve never shared it with him because the intensity of my fantasies and fear of what they mean are still sometimes larger than my desire to submit. I feel too vulnerable…

I suppose it’s the last bit of my control… Some secrets that I still have — that left unexposed I think can will protect me.

But Blackie has decided that one of my punishments (from the ill-fated call from the UK Dom that didn’t go through) is that I must select one of these deep dark secret diary entries and share it here, as a Bound Post, to assist the men who use and abuse me.

Ah, the humiliation at exposing my secrets — and the horror of having my own secrets turned weapon against me…

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  • Pinkie and Blackie...
    The colors of our love... Not just our shopping (which is what primarily what will be covered still at the old blog), but the colors that I as a pain slut prefer to wear...


    I am not called Pinkie because my coloring is naturally pink -- but I am naturally a pain slut, and love to be made pink from spankings & other physical abuse which leaves marks, welts, and, sometimes, cuts... Blackie also thrills to make me flush pink with shame, humiliation and arousal.


    He was called Blackie long before I met him.

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