|Knife sharpener, buck knife, misery stick, willow cane (homemade), leather restraint strap (homemade)|
A few simple things make a night of memories.
A long and painful caning sent me into subspace. I remember babbling wildly about muffins for absolutely no reason.
Particularly memorable was the knife scratching words in my back and him telling me to try to guess what words. "Slave" and "Hole" were a couple of them.
He told me to close my eyes and spread my legs so he could cut my labia. Just a trim, he said. My heart was pounding, and I was telling myself "He's not going to really do that, just spread your legs", though myself was hard to convince, somehow I did.
Sharp cold pokes, some pulling of my little hairs, then a quick slicing motion. I jumped, my heart racing, a little whine of fright. It didn't hurt though, so nothing cut off. Some more sharp and cold poking. My heart continued to thump wildly as my brain tried to reassure my body that it would be ok. Then a sudden jab up inside my cunt and I shrieked, knowing that it was the knife for just a second. But it wasn't, it was a finger. Oh fuck. Fear is hot.