Hell, it doesn’t really matter what he’s doing to her breast — I love this photo from Fucking Dungeon.
Tag: rough tit play
Thursday, March 25th, 2010
Is That A Suck, Or A Bite?
Tags: nipple, nipples, pain as pleasure, rough tit play
Thursday, March 25th, 2010
Protected: Fucking Bitch
Using and abusing a submissive woman isn’t about hating women, but, as Marc says, sometimes it helps. That’s a joke, people.
Well, not entirely.
Sometimes a person can be so rude, that fantasies are born. I’m not condoning anger as a motivation for actual abuse or rape, but fantasies are what they are.
In my business — the real stuff with my company, not the blog confessions and whoring on the phone I’m required to do to please my Masters — there are some uptight, stuck-up bitchy women who motivate men to fantasies of fucking the shit of them to put the women in their place.
Of course, if you add in the perceptions that many men have about women there are lots more men who feel this way.
There is a certain misogyny involved in men who just can’t (or won’t) tolerate a female boss, women with more money, females who wield more power in the spheres individual men would like to control; but there are also honest to goodness real bitches who, monied or not themselves, act like gold diggers and reject men for not being well-endowed enough in terms of wealth — men’s wallets must be this thick/high to get on this ride.
In my work, I run into so many of these women — especially at events. It’s amazing the number of women who are mindful of their manners at their day jobs realizing that anyone could be a client or customer — or refer one — but the minute these women attend a golf outing, a cocktail party after convention hours, a fund raising event, etc., they become the personification of snobby bitch.
I don’t think human decency should take any time off — and I’m not just saying that as a submissive, either. But some of these women are just plain bitches and their fit-to-be-tied tirades inspire the Dom in any man.
To illustrate such an example, I’m confessing events which occurred at an event just last fall.
A typical blond bitch at our table was making horrible denigrating comments about the service staff at the hotel. The waiter who had the misfortune of serving our table was doing his best to bite his tongue and keep a professional attitude during all of this, despite her eyeball rolls and nasty attitude. At one point, though, he was, in the blonde’s opinion, very slow in retrieving her requested drink — and of bringing the wrong drink. She had indeed ordered the white wine spritzer he had brought, but she insisted she’d ordered a carafe of white wine. And boy did she have a bitch fit.
She shoved her chair back and said way-too loudly how stupid and slow the staff was, that they must all be tired from swimming to this country. Then she turned to the waiter, arched her eyebrows, and — honest to god — she threatened him with being fired and deportation if he didn’t bring her the carafe of whine within two minutes. And she raised her watch to let him know she was timing him.
He obviously had to be struggling to remain professional, but he smiled and turned on his heel to go to the bar. Everyone at the table was stunned — except for the blonde who babbled on and on about how he’d better fetch quickly. For professional reasons, I wasn’t able to do anything more than give the blonde more than a disapproving glance and avoid conversation with her by speaking to others at hour table.
When the waiter returned (in the required time), she accepted the carafe and then waved him away like an annoying fly. Amazingly the waiter kept his composure and asked the table if anyone needed anything else.
I gave what I’d hoped was a sympathetic and apologetic smile to the mistreated waiter and said, “No, thank you.” No one else made any other requests, and the waiter left.
Blackie felt so horrible, that he left the table and went to talk to the waiter. I assumed he’d give him a big tip too. But what I didn’t know was that Blackie’s tip included more than some cash.
Later on, back in our hotel room, Blackie and I talked about the bitchy blonde. I asked him how it went when he went to tip the waiter.
It seems the waiter, full of righteous anger and pride over his shabby treatment, had not taken my smile as I had intended; he read it full of condescension. As soon as Blackie discovered this, he made no attempts to correct it but instead egged the man on.
“Why would you do that?!” I asked, horrified.
“Because if he thinks you’re a bitch too, we can help make it up to him.”
The sinking sensation in my gut held me silent while I waited for Blackie to explain.
“What better way to get back at a stuck-up bitch than to fuck the shit out of her.” He said it as a statement, not a question, and as he walked towards me the sinking sensation in my stomach grew.
Blackie stood before me and reached out to tenderly tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear before making announcement. “So, what we’re going to do, my love, is let he and his friends have their way with you.”
My eyes and mouth rounded in surprise. Friends? Plural? Strangers? Use me? But I was too shocked to actually form any words.
“In a few minutes, my dear, I’ll be escorting you to the favorite watering hole of our poor beleaguered waiter, where you will serve him and a few of his friends who have suffered similarly. A public service to help men get back at all those bitches. And, yes, before you ask, you will be serving more than beers to assuage their mocked manhood. If I were you, I’d expect a general invasion of your privacy.”
And that’s how I found myself serving seven members of the hotel staff later that night. The full details of this are for Member Masters only.
Tags: belt lashes, face fucking, humiliation, lessons for bitches, more than two tango, orgasm denial, pain as pleasure, pain not pleasure, Pinkie and Blackie history, power play, rough tit play, serving, tit fuck, toes and feet
Tuesday, June 16th, 2009
How To Keep A Slave In Love & Submissive
What I love about this story at Slaves In Love (titled Her Right) is not just the punishing abuse her Master gives out…
Or that she takes it all while sobbing so hard…
But that he takes short breaks from delivering the abuse to give her reassuring, comforting kisses of love…
It’s just those sorts of kisses which keep a submissive slave craving, trying, submitting.
Of course, there are times, like when he’s taking a rather large dildo to her ass while whipping her behind, that she’ll just have the memory of those kisses to get her through…
Psst, click the text links to see free clips!
Tags: anal, BDSM relationships, clamps, dildo, pain as pleasure, rough tit play, sub space is divine
Sunday, June 14th, 2009
Country Roads, Take Me Home
Blackie was so turned on by those photos of my ripe, round, ready-to-burst nipples, that he ordered me to prepare myself for picking him up at the airport by binding my nipples with rubber bands and to present them braless beneath a tight white tee.
Naturally I did as I was told. … But do you have any idea how long waiting for him to get off the plane was? Not only does waiting always seem long, but with men ogling your tits it’s twice as long… Then double it again when you factor in the pain of your tightly bound nipples.
When Blackie got off the plane, he was quite pleased with himself for the attention I was getting. He gave me a big bear hug — one part welcome, one part claiming his property. When I stiffened with the pain of having my bound nipples pressed so tightly up against his chest, Blackie mocked in my ear, “Not happy to see me? Or just too sensitive, my slut?” My deepening blush was his answer.
“To the baggage carousel — and other amusement rides,” he said grabbing my hand and half-dragging me along to match his big strides.
Once we got to the car, Blackie slid into the driver’s seat & doubled his pleasure by teasing both my tormented nipples through the t-shirt with his fingertips — his pleasure doubled again when such touches made me whimper.
“Time for a nice drive in the country,” he declared with a gleam in his eyes. I had no idea what he was up to until miles later he turned onto a stretch of unpaved gravel farm roads and began hitting every rut and hole with glee. I was forbidden to hold or otherwise prevent my breasts from bouncing & swaying. He needn’t take his eyes off the road to know of my pain, but he enjoyed the braless tit bouncing that caused my groans. If his driving was reckless (fast, eyes not on the road), things were only going to get more-so.
After a few miles, Blackie pulled over to the side of a long stretch of gravel road and told me to remove my shirt. As I prepared to lift it off over my head, I looked around nervously for a farmer or signs of humanity; there was none.
Not outside the car — not in it, either.
There, in broad daylight, he once again took great delight in using his fingers to apply not only touches but real pressure. He pinched and twisted ’til tears rolled down my cheeks. And he still wasn’t done.
He parted his lips — first in a big grin, and then in a terrifying gape as he carnivorously bent over my left breast and rolled the round red nub of nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth — and then between his teeth… Slowly increasing the pressure until he had a full bite. I went from moans and whines to yelping. His response was to bite it again & again, enjoying my yelps, and then slowly chewing along the hot bud, like he was savoring a fine meal.
Once satisfied with that one, he turned his attention — and his teeth — to the right nipple, abusing it as he had the first. Back & forth between the two he went until I was sobbing with tears streaming down my face.
He paused, sat still just looking at my face and for a minute and I thought he might kiss me, but instead he just stared intently into my weeping eyes and slowly reached for my agonized left breast, preparing to free the nipple…
He slowly removed the rubber band from my left nipple — I screamed.
Blackie unzipped his pants & pulled out his huge erect cock in reply.
Then he looked menacingly at the right nipple. My hands instinctively flew up to protect the nipple from the pain of release from the tight rubber band, but Blackie twisted the left one and growled, “Hands down, my cunt.”
My hands flew down, out of the way. (I was a surprised to find them there as he was!)
“Speaking of my cunt… How wet is it?” he said as his fingers dove beneath the hem of my short khaki skirt. “Now, just look at that,” he knowingly mocked, holding up two wet fingers full of evidence, “See what a slut you are? No sense in denying it now.”
He reached for and released the right nipple — to the same loud shrill scream & tears as the the other one had.
Rolling my left nipple between his right thumb and fingertips, Blackie lowered his head to my left breast and slowly sucked the nipple into his mouth. Accompanied by my gasps and wails, he continued to suck that nipple with great force while his hand exploited the other nipple… Rolls turned to pinches, pinches to twists, until the pain was so intense that my fight or flight response kicked in and my body bucked to get him off of me, to get some relief. Blackie’s response was to place both hands on my arms to keep me still while he turned his oral attentions to the left nipple.
My legs began to tremble and my breathing was rough, my mouth & throat dry, from crying & screaming when Blackie stopped.
As I sat panting, Blackie opened the car door. “Get the lube from the glove box and sit on the hood.”
Shaking and sniffling, I opened the glove box & fished out the bottle of lube, then scrambled to join him outside the car. While Blackie stood with his arms folded, his erect dick sticking out of his unzippered pants, I sat myself down before him on the car’s hood.
There, sitting topless on the hood of the car with sunlight streaming down all around me, Blackie removed his belt, folded it in half, and began to color my breasts pink.
First he concentrated on applying the belt to the tops of my tits, above the areolas. My hands gripped the tops of my shaking thighs as I fought to remain still, avoiding the impulse to get up & flee before he took that belt to my nipples.
I tried to concentrate on the rhythmic belting & tune out the hot stinging, but then Blackie stopped, stepped to his right to work over the outside of my left breast and my concentration was broken — just those few seconds and everything I’d nearly blocked out came rushing in. The heat, the pain… The fear of what would come next. I looked at Blackie’s face, his brow furrowed just a bit in concentration, but mostly he just looked pleased. I tried to focus on that — on how all of this was worth it for his happiness.
When Blackie stepped to his left to color the outside of my right breast, his eyes met mine and he wiggled his brows playfully before getting lost in his delight at coloring & marking my breast. In that moment he reminded me of a child who smiles and waves at his mother on the front porch as he zooms by on his bike. Such thoughts of his pure happiness might even have made me smile softly.
But it was a brief haven.
Blackie harsh command broke my reverie. “Hold your tits up, nipples, out — present them as gifts to me and my belt.”
The moment I’d been dreading.
I took a deep ragged breath in, placed my hands beneath my breasts, and lifted them up and out — and arching my back as I’d been trained to do.
Blackie was slowly rubbing his hard cock, looking at his handiwork on my rack. “I’m not gonna kid you, Pinkie; this is gonna hurt like hell. But it’s got to be done — I’ve been thinking of doing this for hours, including a long annoying flight. It — I – can’t be stopped. So sit still and take it, like a good girl. And remember, if you move, you might just end up losing one of those pretty nipples of yours…”
I nodded, biting my lower lip. And then braced myself for what was to come.
The leather belt hit my right nipple first and I jumped & yelped. Blackie gave me a minute to settle myself again before striking it again. “You keep moving like that and you’re going to loose a nipple,” Blackie warned. “You know I’m not going to stop…”
Deciding it would be best not to know when the blows were coming, I shut my eyes & tried to concentrate on remaining still with my bare breasts up & out to receive Blackie’s belt.
Blackie resumed striking my already tortured nipples with his belt, back & forth, right one twice, left one once, followed by a brief pause and then three swift ones on the left — there was no particular pattern or even a rhythmic pace. Just blows of sharp pain followed by the angry heat of my objecting breasts. On & on, it went, for what seemed to be impossibly too long, with the occasional barked reminders from Blackie.
“Sit still.”
“Arch your back, bitch.”
“Hold ‘em out there for me.”
Finally, when he’d had enough — of barking his reminders, not of strapping my tits — he ordered me to lay back on the hood of the car, placing my hands, palm down, along the sides of my thighs.
Shaking & sobbing I did as I was told, my bare back meeting the heating metal of a car in the summer sun. Laying back like this, the heavy weight of my breasts slid each over to its respective side, leaving their insides & my breast bone exposed to Blackie’s belt.
Blackie loomed above me & began to strap the too-white-by-comparison flesh into his desired rosy shade of pink.
After a few minutes he stood back, appraising his work. He scowled briefly, then grabbed me by my legs and slid me down the hood of the car so that the upper half of my back remained on the hood, forcing me to arch my back and strain to support myself with my legs. It was not an easy position to maintain. I shuffled my feet, trying to find a better, more comfortable, way to brace myself.
“Done yet? I’ve got work to do here & it would be better for you if you were still,” Blackie said, annoyance clearly in his voice.
I froze and hoped I could maintain the position as long as required.
Blackie’s left hand reached for & grabbed the swollen & too-slutty-not-to-be-hard-and-begging nipple on my right breast. I groaned. Fiercely holding that nipple, Blackie began to lift my breast up and back, towards my face, exposing the bottom half of my beast — the only milky part of it left. I began to writhe from the pain, but his hold was secure enough for what he wanted to do. With his right hand he strapped away in earnest, dedicated to making all of my breast (saving the red & raw nipple, now hidden in his hand) the same shade of pink.
When he was satisfied, he released his grip and my pink tit plopped down to my body, bouncing and swaying. Blackie watched it until it was became still — relatively still, save for my ragged panting & choked sobs which made my chest heave. Then he cruelly, but with purpose, grabbed the left nipple and proceeded to strap the underside of it pink while I sobbed and writhed.
Satisfied with the color, he unceremoniously released the left breast, placed the belt next to me, & pulled me by my arms into a standing position on shaking legs. He took his hands to the hem of my skirt & tried to hike it up, but it was too tight. So he undid the button, the zipper, and tugged it down my hips. I was now completely nude, except for my sandals.
“Sit on the hood of the car, with those legs spread.”
I turned and gave a little hop to sit on the hood, and spread my legs wide, with my sandaled feet on the front bumper.
Blackie eyed my bouncing pink tits hungrily & positioned himself directly in front of me, widening his own legs and squatting a bit so that his hard cock was near my cunt. With his hand, he slid his cock up & down my pussy lips, enjoying my wet slit as much as reminding me of the overwhelming evidence that I was his little pain slut.
“I’m ready for my tit fuck — where the lube?” he asked.
I looked around, in a bit of a panic because I knew I had brought it out with me — but it must have been bounced from the hood of the car while my tits were being tortured. My eyes scanned the ground until I spotted it and pointed, “There it is.” Blackie strode the three paces to claim it, and returned proffering me the bottle.
I flipped the top open, squeeze-poured a generous amount into my hand, and began to apply it to Blackie’s hard cock. Normally he closes his eyes and sighs a bit when I apply lube, but today, he didn’t take his eyes off my hot swollen breasts with their abused & begging red centers.
When I was sure his cock was slick enough, I went to put the rest of the lube from my hand onto my chest, like I usually do — only my hand stopped the minute I touched the angry hot skin. “Better put it on, Pinkie; the more lube, the less it will hurt… I think!” he added with a playful wink. As gently as I could, I wiped the remaining lube off between my breasts.
When I removed my hand, Blackie moved in. He stood before me, grabbed my ass and scooted me to the edge of the car’s hood and placed his rigid cock in the slick area I’d just made between my breasts. Then he grabbed as much tit as he could in each hand and wrapped the red hot pair snuggly around his hard cock. I gasped — then whimpered when I fully realized how much this was going to hurt.
Before I was just trying to get through all the pain Blackie was inflicting; but now that I had, it was clear to see that it was all just preparation for this — a very painful tit fuck.
Blackie pumped himself, slowly, in the slick tight swollen hot space he’d just created. He was satisfied. “Hold ‘em there, tight like that,” he directed.
I grabbed the red hot angry sides of my breasts and squeezed them together, groaning as I folded them around his wet hot hard cock. Biting my lip, I prepared myself for what I thought was to come next. I expected him to start pumping — and hard; but Blackie had other plans first.
He slide slowly a few times, “Press them hard, Pinkie; I want this to hurt. And I want to hear your moans and cries, or I won’t think I’ve punished them enough and will have to take the belt to them again,” he said as he started to pump a bit faster. I mashed my tits as hard as I could around his cock, wincing and moaning between jagged breaths from the pain it caused me.
Then, still thrusting, Blackie reached his hands, palms out, each just to the side of my nipples, and, using this thumbs, grabbed a hold of my aching raw nipples, pinching them between his big thumbs and the meat at the side of his hands. I gasped then grunted — and felt my pussy contract hard. Blackie dug his fingertips into the meat at the top of my pink punished breasts for a good measure. I groaned and let my head fall back, in full submission to whatever would happen.
Gaining speed with the thrusts of his cock between my sore tortured breasts, Blackie used the painful grip on each swollen nipple to yank my breasts up & down to suit his tit fucking needs.
“God!” he spat, then he lowered his gaze to my face and crooned, “I love hearing your cries, baby; I love how you hurt for me. You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”
I managed to choke a dry whispered, “Yes, Blackie,” out of my sore throat, ragged from crying and breathing so hard.
His lips curled into that sold smile-sneer and he replied, “My little whore to fuck — right here, naked on the side of the road. Such a slave to me & my cock she’ll let me fuck her abused tits while she cries… Beg me even.”
To drive home his point, he twisted and yanked my nipples, making me cry out in pain, “Please, please, Blackie, fuck my tits!”
“Fuck your tits while you what?”
“Please, fuck my tits while I cry because it hurts so bad,” I cried.
“You know what? I think I will… You asked so nicely, it would be rude not to fuck your tits now,” he grunted. He continued to yank & twist my nipples, to fuck my tits to hard that I had a difficult time holding myself upright (I couldn’t use my hands to support me; they were mashing my breasts around his cock). But in a few minutes, I found myself moaning different moans…
“Blackie,” I panted, “Can I come?”
No reply.
“God. Please… Blackie?” I whispered.
Still no comment. Just his panting thrusts.
“Blackie — I –”
“No.”
I tried, but the prolonged & painful play had me so worked up. It was a huge struggle to hold it back.
“God, I’m trying, Blackie, but… But, Oh, God!”
It wasn’t a coherent question, but Blackie replied anyway.
“If you must, my greedy come slut; I’m not going to stop my fun just so you can control yourself. But if you can’t stop yourself, you’ll pay for it later…”
I had my warning, not permission, so I continued to try to hold back an orgasm. I told myself that Blackie was so hard, hot & aroused from all my pain & crying that he couldn’t last much longer… But I was wrong. He has great control in general, but I suspect that he also had recently masturbated to this fantasy… He was in no rush.
My body, on the other hand, was.
Fueled by pain, endorphins, reunion after separation, and shame, my body couldn’t remain on the brink — not without stopping, anyhow. And Blackie refused to stop or even slow down…
I battled against the orgasm, but eventually I failed. And it was all I could do to remain sitting with my breasts pressed tight around Blackie’s cock as instructed.
As if to taunt me & my lack of control, Blackie soon began to make those moans that indicate he’s close to his own orgasm. “Open your mouth, slut; I’m about to give you a load to swallow…”
I opened my mouth and waited two more strokes of his hard cock between my tits before he moved and I could lower my my head so that he could put that hard cock in my mouth. I wrapped my lips around his shaft as he pumped my mouth, once… twice… three… four times before he crammed it forcefully all the way in & shot his load, setting off my gag reflex — just enough to contract & spasm around the head of his cock but not to actually force out any of his hot load.
With his cock still in my mouth, I swallowed the bulk of his wad and then used my tongue to sweep for any remaining fluid before swallowing again. Then Blackie withdrew his cock, holding it near my face so that I could lick & suck it clean before he put it back in his pants.
“Good girl,” he breathed. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Get the lube, get dressed, and get back in the car,” before he got into the car & slid behind the wheel.
I removed my tired sore body from the car, retrieved my skirt from the ground, and stepped into it, covering my still dripping pussy. I grabbed the bottle of lube and returned to the car to join Blackie and get my tee shirt on.
While my arms were up over my head, Blackie reached over & twisted my left nipple. “But no stopping those tits from bouncing,” he ordered as he started the engine.
I braced myself for more bouncing along the ruts of the unpaved road as Blackie began telling me all about his trip. By the time we reached the city streets, we would have seemed like any other couple — unless you were able to notice…
My breath smelling like cum…
My face streaked with makeup & tears…
My red swollen nipples still obviously protruding from my t-shirt…
My cunt smelling up the car.
Blackie drove home, contentedly chatting all the way. As we pulled into the driveway, he sighed, “Ah, home, where I can get a proper welcome…”
Tags: big breasts, cock sucking, nipples, orgasm denial, pain as pleasure, rough tit play, strapping, tit fuck
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!).
Frustrated, 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
Until “D” sent the 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*
Tags: clamps, nipples, pain as pleasure, pain not pleasure, pinching, pussy lips, rough tit play, tools and toys
Friday, June 12th, 2009
Protected: How Some Masters Use Me In Messages
One of the perks of using NiteFlirt is the ability to pay for services in Pay Per View messages — like this.
Master Jim sent a message for me take very small rubber bands and wrap them twice around each nipple — not very easily done with such large nipples & small rubber bands, especially when you have long nails. But the greater difficulties were still to come…
Once the rubber bands were on, my nipples began to sting — sending waves of desire in my hungry pussy. But Master Jim had ordered me not to touch myself (feeding my cunt’s desire & distracting me from the pain). I was to occupy my time by taking photos of my nipples & sending them to him for 15 minutes, until he called.
When Master Jim called, I greeted him as have been trained to and then I continued to do as I was told.
First, I was to sit with my knees up & legs spread wide in front of a mirror so that I could tell him every visible change in my pussy as well as describe what I felt. (I’ve never done that before; it added a level of emotional discomfort which Master Jim exploited further, using my own body’s reactions to pain to humiliate me.)
Thanks to Master Jim’s willingness to share, Member Masters can see a few of the photos & read more details when they enter their password below.
(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.)
Tags: bound, humiliation, nipples, no touching, orgasm denial, pain as pleasure, pinching, rough tit play, serving, tit fuck, tools and toys
Tuesday, June 9th, 2009
Ba-Da-Bing!
Carmella Bing gets her big tits manhandled…
And then she gets fucked while laying on her side — when Blackie fucks me in this position, it feels like he’s got a baseball bat in my pussy, so I understand her discomfort.
Tags: big breasts, bound, hair pulling, power play, rough tit play, tied up
Saturday, May 23rd, 2009
Protected: Member Master Update
Member Masters, below you’ll find three short videos of me using clothespins on my nipple — and some preview news.
(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.)
Tags: big breasts, Member Master Specials, nipple, nipples, pain as pleasure, rough tit play, serving, tools and toys, torture
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.)
Tags: big breasts, nipples, pain not pleasure, pinching, rough tit play, serving, tools and toys
Thursday, May 21st, 2009
Tidings Of (Dis)Comfort & Joy
There’s a lot of talk about pain in BDSM relationships, here and “everywhere.” That’s to be expected, I suppose. Not only is it a kink that seems exciting, even addicting to many masochists, but there’s the novelty of curiosity to those who “wouldn’t got that far” yet find reading about it (or viewing it) erotic as hell. But there’s also a tender side to BDSM — and I don’t just mean the parts that are twisted, spanked, clamped, abraded, etc.
There are sweet sides to submission.
There’s the exhausted elation of being used & abused which goes past endorphins & orgasms… Past the emotional joy of serving another… There’s something else which transcends those things, for those things are one-sided “all about me” feelings, and I am speaking of the sweetest sugar — the bliss of knowing that you fulfill the desires of another as they fulfill your desires.
You realize that you are not alone in some masturbatory pursuit of pleasure, but in a relationship. Even if that relationship is a temporary one of just a few minutes. For once you have shared in the satisfaction of sated physical & emotional needs, have you not fully “related” to one another? And when you repeatedly meet, share, relate, you build not only the knowledge and means to extend, increase & intensify one another’s thrills, pain, & orgasms, but you begin to rely on one another.
I can’t speak for Blackie or any other Dominant, I shouldn’t even dare to; but there must be a reciprocating sweetness for them too… Surely there’s some affection for those that serve & rely upon them.
As a submissive woman, I know that whatever joys I receive (be they direct physical ones, like orgasms, or the indirect fulfillment of my emotional desire to please) are achieved only through dedication to my duties — delicacies assigned & evaluated by those I serve. My joys are at the discretion of my Master.
I never forget that.
How can I forget it when so often I reach states of being so satisfied, exhausted, and full that I feel unable to take on more… Only to have a Master stimulate me & wring more out of me than I ever imagined.
Eventually, cycles of repeated stimulation, slutty neediness, satiation, release, and repletion (and, sometimes, back ’round again) brings a sense of reliance — even dependence.
I must rely on the one I serve to have such things. And I know I am privileged to have such joys. I am indebted. And no amount of dedicated service to however unseemingly, sordid, painful, &/or humiliating tasks or any sordid treatment can really measure up to such gifts as I receive.
I happily return to pay the price — over & over again. I surrender willingly to whatever Master seeks in satiating his own desires via an “any means necessary” sexuality.
Even if what abuse I take today, tomorrow, the next day, etc. just offers the chance for a “someday” of such gifts to be given again.
All images from Slaves In Love.
Tags: BDSM relationships, power play, rough tit play, serving, sub space is divine
