I mention some of the things my sir does to me, and oh, FriendPup goes all wide eyed and wanting and jealous. "I wish!" she says, and the only thing keeping her from pressing for details is the return of the slightly more prudish members of our group. I'd be happy to tell her details, of course. She and The Lesbian tease me so with their exploits, it's only fair that I get to tease her back once in a while.
The above is in part inspired by the fact that I just rolled over onto my stomach to write, and shed the bra I've been wearing for too damn long, it seems. And my poor tits, oh, the arousal from reading Erotiterrorist earlier would be bad enough but FatherMaster does love to play with them so. Although perhaps play is too kind a word, summoning sweet fondling and gentle caresses.
No, he much prefers to *torture* my breasts, and the poor sweet nipples. He likes to grab, and pinch, to tease his mouth and his teeth just against the skin, to clamp...oh, anything he can find to use, he will! Chip clips, binder clips, plain ol' nipple clamps. The pain is fantastic.
And one of the things that I love about being a sub is how much more pain I wish I could take, pain that I want from him because he wants to give it to me. I can't always deal with the sharpness of clamps, but oh, how I yearn to please him, and so each time, I bite my lip and squirm and wince and see if I can take just a little bit more.
They'll make a proper sub out of me someday, I'm sure.
Somewhere in our evening, FatherMaster smiles at me. He had already caused my ass to break out in bright pink welts, by a few well placed smacks from a particularly brutal plastic kitchen spoon.
(Seriously, you would not believe the pain that thing provides. Small and round and sharp and direct, and leaves tiny bullseyes all over my ass. We took a picture, the first time he did it, and oh, it is a lovely thing to shudder at.)
But he smiles, perhaps at the slight discomfort I am displaying as I sit in the chair and shift nervously. "One of these visits, I'd like to spank you so hard you couldn't sit down on the bus home."
I damn near melted at the thought. Part of me is terrified --there's no way that I could possibly take that much pain. But the rest of me? Oh, mm, yes, PLEASE! I will suffer indignation as I walk the quarter mile to the bus stop, and endure the stares as I wince at every pothole the damned vehicle hits. Because being hit with that sort of love and pain? Oh gods, it would be such a delight.
And besides, it plays particularly well with another want I've got floating around the back of my head. I really _do_ want to know what it feels like to be spanked until I cry.