Sexuality Happens

So it finally happened. I got to play with that person I’ve been lusting over for the last month or so, and pursuing for what, two weeks? Now, maybe I’ll stop blabbing on and on about my ability to get some.

Particularly because the “some” that I got would qualify as one of my top three sexual experiences…ever. Not solely because it was incredibly hot, and because I’ve never come *quite* like that before, and because this was the first time I’ve come without a vibe/mouth in oh, forever (possibly ever). This was more than that; it was about trust, and about learning new things about myself, and pushing my boundaries.

I’ll call him K, for ease of conversation.

We took the train up to NY. I really enjoy his company; he has some of the same sarcastic streaks as I do, and doesn’t mind laughing at me (not with me, AT me), and has interesting things to say. Something else really interesting is his eye contact; he has these incredibly piercing eyes (no pun intended), and he actually makes eye contact…even when you’re not talking to him. Granted, I too am an eye contact person, but so few people are, so it’s almost unnerving to have his gaze going through you.

We got into Penn Station just fine, and headed over to the party.

Thought of the day; shoes you THINK are comfortable are NOT when you’re walking in NYC.

Once there, we checked our coats and my purse, and took a look around. It was a very interesting space, a maze of sorts. There were many “private” and “semi-private” rooms, but they all had little peepholes looking into them, for those voyeurs amongst us. There was a public room with a giant bed, one with a sling , one with another sling, a bed, and a hanging/swinging padded platform. Additionally, there was a medical room, a shower, a cross (and other things to which one might tie someone), and little rooms with beds/slings/chairs/all manners of places to play.

We walked around a little, seeing what this space had to offer. And got a glass of water in the social room. K left me to go figure out his plans, and I enjoyed people watching, although I was quite a bundle of nerves. Finally, he came back, and let me to a vinyl table with straps, out in the open, and in the pretty much best lit (only lit?) section of the place. He told me to choose a number between 1 and 20. I hate that game; you can never second guess people properly. I chose 11…he explained that he had brought 30 needles, and since I had chose 11, he would be placing 19 into my flesh.

He told me to take my top and bra off. This is when it was do or die…I could have backed out, I could have let the nervousness in me take over, let my fears control. Fuck that; my shirt was thrown in a corner, and my bra followed quickly. I lay on the table face down, with my boots, fishnets and red vinyl skirt still on.

Almost tenderly, he moved my hair, and lightly bit me on the neck (what with Florida, I wasn’t ready to be explaining a multitude of incredibly obvious marks to my family). I sometimes forget how much I love this kind of thing; it sent a wave of electricity down to my cunt.

His hands ran over my back, and then, suddenly, something was hitting me. It stung. I kept my mouth shut; as much as this was “just” a play session, it was also a test for me to see if I could really let go and embrace things in which I might be interested, but was too afraid to go in depth with.

K exudes dominance, especially when he is in his element. His posture, his stance, his glance. I was aware that he was also quite sadist. However, he also has this…caring (tender?) streak. He make sure I was comfortable, to the point of putting a towel under my face. Moreover, he asked me how I felt about the number of needles planned. I don’t know if I could have taken what I did if there wasn’t that small hint of compassion. Then he told me if I moved, he’d add a needle for each time.

I felt a cold sensation on my back as he cleaned it. I could tell it was in a curve, but couldn’t tell where it sat on my back. Was it on my shoulders? Mid-back? After cleaning me, he stepped away for a moment. I couldn’t feel his touch, or even sense his presence. My mind went a million miles an hour; stay still, no you’re not alone, don’t you fucking dare move, be a good sub. I didn’t move.

Again, I felt his hands on my back, a firm touch. And then, the first needle, on my right side, a prick, and then slightly more pain as it slid in and then out of my skin. I breathed deeply; in, out, in. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected. More importantly, it didn’t feel medical, or “meh” or anything like that…possibly being topless in the middle of a public play space had something to do with that. Or the fact that I was incredibly attracted to the person gently shoving them into me.

The left side hurt a lot more than the right. I guess my bodyworker knew what she was talking about when she told me the car accident had caused some nerve damage resulting in hypersensitivity. Honestly, the left side was about 5 times more painful than the right…as I found out when one or two on the left brought me to the verge of tears and ragged breathing.

His hands pressing on me as he slid his metal beneath my skin reassured me. I don’t know if that was the point; he might have been holding me still. Regardless, with that touch, I felt I could take more, that I could handle as many as he put into me.

After the 9th needle (10th?), the towel was falling, and he had already moved away. I moved to fix it, and froze when I heard “that just earned you another. DON’T move again.” Fuck. It wasn’t like I had moved to get more comfortable, or to get away from the pain…didn’t matter. I had no control in this matter, and now I was up to 20 (although I appreciated the evenness of this number).

He went back to piercing me. I tried to count; I lost count once or twice, and tried to regain it. Some really fucking hurt going in (on the left), and there was one the right that I didn’t even feel. Sometimes, I forgot to breathe through the pain, but then his voice would cut into me as he reminded me to breathe.

His voice is powerful. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s not high pitched, nor is it deep, but whenever he said anything, it resonated deeply inside me. Sometimes reassuring, other times simply dominant, there is just something about it that gets me dripping.

Finally, all the needles were in; I was surprised, I thought we were still on 18 or 19. Then he pulled down my skirt and fishnets, and alternated spanking me, and hitting me with whatever the hell that stingy thing was. I hated that thing; it hurt more than anything else we did all night, and when he used it on the soles of my feet (as I yelled various versions of “oh god,” “owwwww,” “holy shit” and “fuuuuck), I was the closest to saying yellow that I ever was.

But when you’re really attracted to someone, and part of that attraction is to their dominance, it almost gives you a second wind for pain. I think if J had hit me like that, I might have used a safeword. But K is almost an antithesis of J, and knowing that it was K in charge, I felt like I almost had to take more, to prove to myself that this was what I wanted. And it was what I wanted. As he ran his hands over me, and hit me, I was grinding against the table in desire. In fact, I was so “squirmy” that he had to remove the bottom three needles…but when I apologized, he said in my ear “I didn’t say that it was a bad thing.” Jesus; that was like an electric shock to the clit. Whoever said that pleasure isn’t a good part mental is insane. I think he could murmured things in my ear for a while, and I’d be just as close to coming as if I had used the Hitachi.

He moved away for a moment, and I felt something on my lower back and ass. It felt sharp…I started thinking about what it was. Did he grab my Wartenburg wheel? No, it didn’t feel like that. Was it something like an ordinary pen, or paperclip, that with all my heightened sensation, felt like an unbelievably sharp edge?

Then it struck me. I was playing with K. K likes knives. A lot. A shiver ran down me, but it certainly wasn’t one of fear. Someone I’ve known for all of 2 weeks had me naked on a table with needles glinting in my skin, and was now running the point of a knife up and down me…and I was so incredibly turned on. I never had even considered liking edge play. It just wasn’t in my thought process. But here I was, body trembling from the sensation play, dripping wet, craving MORE of that blade.

From all the sensation play, my body was out of control. Shaking, shuddering…I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe it. It almost felt like an orgasm, but one that wasn’t genitally oriented, or even related. I had that same type of “high” from an orgasm, and was there quivering on the table. It was like a full body orgasm of sorts…and he’d never touched me between my legs.

At some point in all of this, he bit me. HARD. We’d talked about this; he likes to bite, and I like to be bitten. However, I was still conscious of being in a bathing suit in front of my family for the next week, and wasn’t ready to explain my BDSM preferences in order to prevent them from calling the authorities, thinking that I had been abused. So I told him my ass, breasts, hips, and stomach were fair game. He chose my ass. I’d NEVER been bitten this hard. The pain was visual; I had flashes of light pass before my eyes; I grabbed for his hand. I’m sure that wasn’t allowed, but I needed something to handle it. It hurt SO much and I screamed….and then it was over, and he rubbed it, and my clit was THROBBING.

Eventually, he told me he needed me to hold still for a few minutes, and I tried my best as he removed the 17 remaining needles.

Then he was hitting me again. A lot. Especially on my feet. I tried so hard to not move, but have you ever had leather slapped across your soles? Yeah, you try not to move. He grabbed them, and held them to him, and hit them a few times. By this point, I’d figured out that he liked making me (people) scream, and the only times I had screamed were with my feet being hit, and being bitten. I figured I could vamp it up if I wanted to, make more noise, etc, but then I decided I’d rather just play this time 100% authentically, and see what happened from there.

Finally, he told me to get up, gather the trash, throw it away (finding out what to do with the sharps container was a bit difficult), and to find a place that I’d like to be fucked. I apparently missed two pieces of trash…I need to work on getting my head back together after a scene.

I considered the public sling, but I wanted SOME semblance of privacy, even if people were still going to be looking through the curtain and peepholes. I settled on a mattress in a small alcove. I sat, waiting for him, on edge, my body on fire.

He found me, and inquired as to what I had in my bag. Fuck, I had everything in my bag; if I thought I MIGHT have been able to have it used on me, I brought it. Cuffs, Wartenburg wheel, the Gigi, the Ideal, clothespins, nipple clamps, Pjur Aqua (the lube), and a few other random things. He had me take out the clothespins, the wheel and the clamps.

Then he pushed me back on the bed. God, I love being pushed, held down, etc. I had my hair straightened, and in a pony tail, and so far, he’d grabbed it a few times, sending that feeling of want and need directly between my legs. Now, he pulled the hair tie out of my hair (I am such a Femme…in the middle of all this, I thought for about 3.5 seconds “well, now what the fuck am I going to do with my hair after this!?”) and wound his fingers in my hair, pulling me up to him. A nip here, a few breaths between us, and possibly a quick touch of the lips, and I was on my back again.

Fuck. I forgot that I had mentioned how much I liked nipple play. Over the next period of time (minutes? What are those?), I had his mouth, his teeth, clothespins, the wheel, and his knife (oh god, his knife) torturing and pleasuring my nipples. He had me cross my legs at the ankles and hold them up in the air (reminiscent of that one pin up picture) as he hit my ass and thighs, and slowly slid a finger into me.

Dear god; I wanted that so much. I didn’t even know how much I had been waiting for it until it happened, and then my body relaxed into it. He moved my legs down, pushing my thighs open. Adding lube, he put another finger into me, I think. He fucked me, while removing and replacing the clothespins, while biting the underside of my breasts, while running the wheel (and knife? Was that before, or now) all over my body. I do remember feel both the wheel and the knife on my vulva and labia, and trying so hard not to squirm or buck up into it.

He did that thing with his fingers, and I was on the edge. I asked to come, and thank god, he let me. I’ve not come just from fingers…ever? Well, maybe once at Dinah 07, but it is definitely not a common experience. I don’t even come from my own hand. And it was good. Strike that; it was fucking fabulous. I forget how loud I am when I’m really fucking turned on and coming HARD. I finished, and he kept fucking me, as I back up into the wall, trying to get away. Relentless, he kept moving his fingers as my aftershocks turned into a continuation of my climax. Finally, he let up, but never took his fingers out of my cunt.

Periodically, he’d add more lube, but he was like a machine, fingers going in and out, sometimes in different motions or patterns, but never flagging. I remember when he added a third finger; that hurt, because I was sore. But it was still a good kind of hurt, so I made it through.

At some point, he gave me the Gigi and said I could use it, but that I wasn’t allowed to come. I turned it on, and used it on and off for a bit, but I couldn’t really use it without pushing myself over the edge, and if nothing else, I do TRY to be as obedient as possible.

He put a fourth finger into me at some point; I don’t know when. He added more lube, and just kept fucking me, his body between my legs. I was riding this wave of pleasure, not quite an orgasm, but at this heightened sense of…of something. Finally, I was ready to come again, but when I had asked if I couldn’t come “in general, or unless I asked,” he had something to the effect of I just couldn’t. So I didn’t know if I could ask. I tried to hold off, but seriously, there was not slowing in the fingers, and they were back to relentlessly stimulating my g-spot, and I finally asked. I’ve learned to ask before I am at the point of no return, because usually they say no, and I’d rather them stop momentarily than get in trouble for coming without permission. He did say no…he told me I wasn’t convincing enough. I tried again, maybe two or three times, and then he told me I could.

Holy fuck. This was a ridiculously strong, all encompassing climax. I must have made a fair amount of noise; I remember looking up, and seeing someone from the next stall over peeking over the top of the barrier. Afterwards, I lay there shuddering.

I DO have a small cunt. People don’t believe me. But K has small hands, smaller than mine. I believe his response when I asked about 4 fingers was “I have small hands, but not that small.” Later on though, he did say that he thought I could have taken a whole hand, but that it would just have been very uncomfortable for me. It’s still a goal of mine.

After I finished shivering, he lay next to me, running his hands over different areas of my body. I held my breath has he ran them over my knees; not because he didn’t know (he does), but I think people forget about my disability, or intellectualize it (disability doesn’t matter; I like them regardless and can do _____ regardless), but then it stares them in the face, like my scars, and suddenly, I’m getting treated differently. It meant so much to me that it didn’t change (at least to me) my treatment at his hands.

He had bitten me again, on the other ass cheek. I don’t remember when, but I do remember it hurting just as much (if not more), and I remember screaming loudly, and I remember seeing those lightening strikes flash across my vision.

As we lay there, his hand crept up to my throat. This was one of those things that I was curious about, but also incredibly nervous about…not so much for the “normal” reasons, but because when I forget to breathe, it can trigger migraines. I wasn’t sure how much someone restricting my breathing might affect that, so we had negotiated that I had on my throat with little to no pressure was fine. However, he had placed it there, or near there lightly while fucking me, and I wanted more. I moved my neck up, exposing it, trying to communicate this, but, like any good top, he respected my hard limit. It wasn’t until this post-fuck play that I was thinking about how we have things like “red” (stop right the fuck now and get me out of this) and “yellow” (I’m in severe pain/really not ok with this situation, but want to keep going; please check in with me, or change to something else), but we don’t have anything for “OMG, this is really good, and I like it even though I told you I didn’t think I did.” And so then I was thinking that people should be able to use “green” for that, and then I started thinking of playing kinky red light/green light, and started laughing.

Many people are not amused if you’re laughing when they have their hand on your throat. K inquired as to why I was laughing, and when I tried to demur, he told me to explain. I did, to the best of my ability, and his oh so logical answer was that I should just start using green. Damn him and his impenetrable logic! Anyways, after that, there was a bit more pressure on my throat, and suddenly, my cunt was ready for action again.

As we wound down, he hit me with the damn double strap thing on my right foot. I screamed loudly…but then, like an idiot, asked him if he’d do the same thing to my left, so at least they’d be even. I AM aware I can be ridiculous. He acquiesced.

We finished, and I re-clothed, and wandered a bit. Some younger people were going through “kissing training,” where they were tied and blindfolded, and were getting kissed all over their body by other players. God forbid I impede someone’s training by not participating, so I kissed two of them before wandering into the room with the handing, padded platform. I decided that I really wanted to try it out, so out came the Gigi. Let me tell you; getting off while swinging/floating in mid air is an amazing experience.

As the party came to an end, we collected our belongings, and headed out to get some food while we waited for the 6am train to Trenton. After wandering the wrong direction for a bit, we made it to the diner. Fuck did my nipples hurt. A lot. Like I couldn’t cross my arms, or lean on the table, or oh, pretty much even brush them without a shot of pain (and electricity running down to my cunt). I have this problem where once I’m really turned on, I am like that for 24-48 hours, so every time I’d accidentally hit my sore nipples, or lean on a sore ass cheek, I’d be ready and raring to go again.

One of the best parts of this whole thing was that we were still able to have just as interesting conversations (with random observations about our play thrown into the mix). I don’t understand why dynamics ever change after sex, but it drives me nuts. I was glad that they didn’t in this case, as that was one of my concerns. However, in the early morning tiredness, I did tell him that we was one of the hottest people I’d ever seen in Philly. Dear tongue; STFU sometimes. Thanks.

We got on the train (where I noticed that I had a bruise on my shoulder…I can always say I ran into the wall), and made it back to Trenton, and then to my place. Where I looked at my ass in the mirror. Two huge circular purple marks (edit: as of Monday, they are two huge black marks. My mom thought I got black tattoos of circles…wtf?). One on each cheek.

Yeah. Cause that’s going to be easy to explain why I have two dark purple, almost even, circular bruises on my ass. (Edit; neither swimsuit covers them. Or my back. Or my shoulder bruise. Dear people at the pool/beach; please don’t call the police. I LIKED getting the bruises on my ass/shoulder/back, and would gladly get more. Thanks!)

But whatever. It was so worth it. For all that I may kvetch about trying to explain them to others, I LOVE being marked. Right now, after sitting on a plane for hours, and now sitting on a bench while waiting for my family to fly in, my ass is screaming out in pain. A lot of it. But that pain, and the sore nipples, and the bruise on my shoulder? They remind me of a really fun time, and I’m going to be ridiculous aroused for days. Sigh.

I dropped K off with a hug and the pleasantries of “I really did have a lot of fun” and all that jazz, and got to my friend’s house, since she was driving me to the airport. She’s quite into kink, and wanted to see my ass and piercing marks. One thing I regretted was having not been able to see the piercing (no cameras allowed of course), but she said the marks were still there (can I get away with telling my mother they’re acupuncture?), so I had the genius idea of having her take a photo. You can’t see them perfectly, but I’ll have a picture of both my ass and my back up when I get back from Florida.

Edit: My sister told me my back looked like it was run over by a bike (it is bruised, plus there are needle marks still). My mother asked if she wanted to know what happened. I gave up with my acupuncture story I had concocted; I told her I’d been to a play piercing event. Her: “Will they go away?” Me: “Yes, they’re fresh.”

I love the concept of outlining/highlighting my tattoo. It really is fucking beautiful – I wish I could have seen it with the needles in. Actually, it reminded me a little of the marks that are often seen around pictures of the Virgin Mary. Regardless, I was quite impressed, and actually a little glad that those marks were left.

By the time I got on the plane, I’d been awake for more than 24 hours. I slept the entire flight…and decided to type this (while sitting on my super sore as with matching welts/bruises) as I wait for my family. Things are always better written out right after the fact.

All in all, this was one of the most pleasant, erotic, arousing and satisfying sexual experiences I’ve had. I’ve learned that I enjoy:

*Play piercing

*Breath play

*Knife/edge play

And a few other little things. 2 months ago, I’d never thought that I’d been into any of this. However, with an intelligent, attractive and experienced top, I was able to be pushed into my own, while enjoying myself at the same time. And really, does it get any better than that?