I asked for the clover clamps. Asked. For. Them.
Hurt me, please, Master?
What is wrong with me?
He said yes, and he put them on my nipples, and it hurt every bit as much as it ever did, but ohhhh, the way it concentrates the mind wonderfully. The whole world in two spots of pain. He thrust in and out as I rocked on top of him. When he removed them I came and collapsed against his chest.
Much, much earlier:
It started with a foot rub for him. I sat at his feet and concentrated on my job. When he ordered it, I sucked him off and he came in my mouth.
After his orgasm (which did NOT taste like Snickers, despite what he had said the day before when I told him I was really craving one), he had me assume my position, standing and gripping the dresser.
He had the belt in his hand. I could hear it. Then I could feel it, working up and down my body, sometimes with a shocking gasp of snappy pain, like a wet towel as crack-the-whip, and sometimes with a softer flat slap. He moved to my front: my stomach, the front of my thighs and especially between my legs, my breasts, nearly every part, everything but my face and feet.
Then back to my ass, and I watched him out of the corner of my eye. The way his arm moved with the belt, so hard it came, it was so sexy. The feeling... indescribable. I was starting to feel less of it as pain and float more. I could see how hard his swing was, not snapping like a whip now, just using it doubled over.
His belt, my favorite.
He moved me to the bed. I lay on my stomach and he used the misery stick. This sharper pain of that thin cane cut right through my subspace for a few minutes, then I sunk back.
He rolled me to my back and began to hypnotize me. I relaxed easily, floating. It worked amazingly well. I'm sure the beating prior and the subspace played into it.
There is no way I can recall all the stuff he did, but it was all good. He was scratching me with fire fingers, and pulling orgasms from my ears and nipples, and all kinds of stuff that makes no sense in any reasonable world or scene.
He increased my orgasm by 5 times strength, and then 10 times, using a code word to ramp it up. A code word that he repeated to me dozens of times, but that when he pulled me out of the trance I could not remember the word, not at all, just a blank.
I remembered it started with the letter "T" but that was all.
He made it so I couldn't breathe. It was breath play without physical touch. When he said I couldn't, I just couldn't. He'd pinned my hands over my head, and I started to panic with the feeling of weight on my chest, convulsively grimacing and waving my fingers to signal my need to breath, moving my mouth in speechless begging. When he finally said "Breath and come!" it was such a relief to feel the air, but the orgasm hit right after and sucked up my next breath.
He fucked me again and he came again for the second time. After minutes of resting with my head on his chest, he pushed me down and told me to take him in my mouth to clean him. I did, and felt him start to get hard again. He told me to use my hand, stroke and talk to him. I told him an erotic story of angels and blowjobs, and when he was fully hard he had me ride on top. He began telling me a story, one that hit me hard in the emotions. That was when I asked for the clamps to be used. Emotional and physical all at once, overwhelming.
He pulled out at the end and frosted me. Like a glazed doughnut. Mmmm, doughnut.
Now, remembering all this again on a Monday morning with him gone to work, I'm having the worst cravings for being turned into a painfully abused and humiliated puddle girl once again.
I want to crawl to his feet.
I want to be kicked and hit and abased.
I'm missing him and those things that he does to me.
And I want a doughnut.
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