Mina Button's blog

kink and feminism and stuff…formerly known as Absinthe Cocktail.

Anniversary – Part 2

With my new collar secured, Garnet started looking for a spot for us to play.  She selected one of those suspended bondage bed thingies, in a corner that also had lots of Catholic-y religious paraphernalia.  I was unsurprisingly in favor of the religious paraphernalia.  We adjusted it to the right height, and she had me go grab a sheet of plastic to put down underneath myself.  I hopped up on the plastic-covered bed and she dug through a nearby compartment with all sorts of restraints.  She cuffed my thighs to the chains that supported the foot of the bed (which was ultra hot, as I’ve wanted thigh cuffs for ages now) and my ankles above them, so my legs were spread with my feet in the air.

She gagged me with red bondage tape and we sorted out a safe signal (raise one fist for “yellow” and both fists for “red”) since I would be gagged.  She put clamps on my nipples and started selecting implements.  I don’t even remember what she used…various painful objects, in various degrees of stinginess and thudiness, all over my ass and thighs and just above my cunt.  I had to call yellow several times and take little breaks.  I was sure, with one particularly thuddy toy, I could already feel the bruises forming under my skin.  And  then…then she went at the soles of my feet.

I know lots of people for whom bastinado (beating the soles of their feet) is a hard limit, and more people for which it is a dreaded punishment.  I was actually pretty afraid of it myself, having not a lot of experience with it. But when Garnet smacked the bottoms of my feet with the same toys that had made me squirm and squeal behind my gag when she used on other places I…was pretty unfazed.  I guess working in retail and walking everywhere for roughly ten years makes your feet bastinado-proof.  Or everyone’s body is different.  One of those.

At some point, I sweated so much under the gag that it slipped off.  At some point, I had to ask to have the clamps taken off my nipples, because I had PMS and they were really tender.  At some point, Garnet smacked my breasts with evil zappy tennis rackets of doom.  I was basically a big ball of whimpering and ow-ing and trying desperately to close my legs despite the fact that they were chained open.

Then she got a glove, and some lube.  I had lost the gag, and when she started to slip her finger into my ass I was soon asking for another (in the most awkward way possible, because I am super awkward “I could take another finger…I’m just sayin’…”)…and then there was another and then we were working on stretching my ass and I was wiggling and moaning and then she had all five fingers in my ass.  She couldn’t get the knuckles in, but, well…it would seem that her prediction about someday fisting my ass is going to come true.

After a little while she looked up at me.  ”I think your ass is just about done for tonight,” she said, and slowly pulled out.  I let her know that my feet had reached their time limit for being elevated, and she unhooked my feet from the chain so I could put them down.  Then she went off to get more supplies.  ”I want to gag you,” she said as she stuffed my balled-up panties in my mouth.  The cotton soaked up all my spit and my mouth was dry, but I could taste myself and it was really hot…then she pulled on her harness and smooth, curvy dildo and she started fucking my cunt hard.  She spilled hot wax across my chest (from a candle she’d lit earlier) as she started, and I gasped at the heart of it.  She had good leverage, since she was standing and I was at just the right height, and she connected my ankle cuffs behind her back and shoved the smooth cock into me hard and fast over and over.  I moaned behind the gag and wriggled as much as I could, trying to meet her thrusts.  It was so satisfying, those hard thrusts, in the way that only being fucked hard and fast and roughly is satisfying, even if it’s not something I can come from.  And as I was thinking that, and wish I could say it out loud but was stopped by the gag, she slowed…down…and slowly and carefully slid the cock in and out of me, working my g-spot, slowly and firmly, over and over.  I actually got closer to coming that I ever do from g-spot stimulation alone, and then…she stopped.

I let out a little wail behind the gag.  She looked at me and shook her head.  ”Surely that was enough?” she said.  She uncuffed my thighs and pulled out the gag and I explained about how I’d almost come.  ”Why didn’t you say anything?” she teased.  Then she led me into the room for my fifty lashes, that I’ve earned by making typos in texts to her and her on the blog.  We pulled a spanking bench in front of a mirror and she had me bend over and she got her riding crop.

Now, those who’ve been reading for a while may remember my last fifty lashes, at a party, with the same riding crop, through denim shorts.  Those made me cry twice and were very, very difficult to endure.  This time, I was naked, with no protection between the crop and my skin, and already well-tenderized by my earlier beating.  I bent over the spanking bench and squeezed my eyes shut, ready for it to be nearly unbearable.  And…well…it definitely hurt, but I didn’t cry this time.  I counted quietly, and Garnet coached me on when to breathe, and I took them.  All fifty.  By the time it was done, I was a little giggly and endorphin high.  With more work on breathing, I may develop a decent pain tolerance yet.

While I was still a little euphoric, Garnet led me into the medical room.  She had my hop up on the exam table and put my feet in the stirrups, and she laid out supplies to pierce me.  Now, she and I have done a bit of play piercing before, but this was going to be the first time she pierced me in a more permanent fashion.  I’ve wanted a labret stud since I was a kid, so as one of my gifts, she decided to give it to me.

It was almost exactly like getting a piercing done anywhere (except that I was naked).  She put on fresh gloves, she cleaned skin and marked where I wanted the piercing, then used those little clampy things to make sure the needle went through straight.  She told me to breathe, and then, well, she shoved a needle through my lower lip.  It hurt.  It hurt more than my other piercings (or at least more than I remember my other piercings hurting), but fuck I love the memory of her pushing the needle through my lip, with the blood on my face, in the medical room of the dungeon.  Then she popped in the fresh, sterile jewelry and grinned at me, exclaiming about how cute I looked with the piercing.  (I’m not gonna lie, it’s well-placed and quite flattering.)  ”I have 100 needles and two barbells left,” she said.  I begged off any more piercings that night, but we did talk about where else she wants to pierce me eventually.

Then we went upstairs to bed, and she let me masturbate with a new vibe we hadn’t tried yet (and ohmygoodness, it was strong!)…I kept having to reposition it on my clit to get the right sort of stimulation…it didn’t help that I was desperately trying not to squirt and finding the balance between enough stimulation to come, but not so much that I squirted was tricky.  I said as much to Garnet at one point, and she said “I know…you’ve almost come three times now.”  I asked how she could tell, and she said “I can smell it, that’s why I keep closing my eyes.”  I think the ridiculous, overwhelming hotness of finding out that she can smell when I’m about to come is part of what finally pushed me over the edge.  She clamped her hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t make too much noise, and I clutched at her hand as I shook.

We talked a bit before we fell asleep.  The next morning, we had breakfast (again, it was tricky to balance my plate while sitting on the floor), then loaded up the car and headed out so that I’d still be on time for work.

It was a completely amazing anniversary, and I love her and adore her, and I am a lucky, lucky girl.

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