I absolutely cannot conquer the misery stick. I hate that I can’t find a way to gracefully make it through the pain that stupid skinny stick causes. He tells me to be still, to take it – and I want to, I really really do – yet one snap makes me flop about like a fish out of water. All I can think when He starts snapping me with that thing is Danger, Will Robinson! Abandon ship! Enemy attack imminent!

It started out well enough. Trussed and masked and completely exposed – a masochist’s wet dream!

Even though I very shortly begged out of the mask because under the mask I was also wearing a full mouth gag and I srsly thought I was going to die. Two tiny nose holes (that never seem to stay aligned with my nostrils) do not a well-venitilated area make. Though one of these days, He’s not going to let me panic beg out of it and I’ll have to see just how well I can manage to breathe and stay sane.

I like the mask by itself. I like the sensory deprivation, and I like the fairly restricted breathing that it forces. But mask + gag = panicked slavegirl.

I also got distractions, which was way nice.

It’s such a mindfuck to go from searing pain to the brink of an orgasm within a 1/2 second time span. I’d be flopping around on the bed, trying desperately to wiggle away from that fucking stick, and then He’d wiggle the vibe or pump the glass dildo and holy moly – stick? what stick? Just fuck me already!

But then He’d start snapping again. And I’d hate Him for a little while again.

And He had that whartenburg wheel too! Tracing over the welts as He made them with the stick. I used to like the wheel. Now? Not so much with the liking.

He finally quit. Man, I’ve never been so glad for the end in my life. Masochist? I don’t think so! More like a wimpsochist.

He finally did fuck me, exactly as I was, legs and arms tied up and out of the way, gag firmly in place. He planted Himself in as deep and as hard as He could. I still have a tendency to smirk at porn clips where a girl is being fucked and she’s squealing like a pig because, come on, sex doesn’t hurt *that* bad! Except… sometimes it does, and last night it did. I couldn’t move or shift like I sometimes do so He’s poking a different spot and He just kept at it and at it… jesus christ it hurt so good. Having to stay spread wide open while He pummeled my innards was fucking hawt.

Then He untied me and threw me under the desk for another romp. I love being a sex slave. I love it when I’m horny and I love it more when I’m not and have to do it anyway. I love it when it hurts, and love it when it doesn’t.

I was born to get fucked. And fuck I shall! Everyone needs a goal in life. *nods*

~cunt

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We got to meet Carrie and Taylor, which was freaking awesome. I love them so much. God, is she ever beautiful.

We watched a pretty intense scene between the two of them that had me turned on, enthralled and cowering against Master’s leg all at the same time. I won’t spill any details cuz I’m sure she’ll have something to say about it, but wow. Wow. It’s not very often that you get to see that type of mindfuckery and it was just amazing to watch the two of them together.

At one point in the midst of their scene, Master leaned down and asked me if I was crying. I wasn’t, but I easily could have been. Even though I engage in and understand the s&m process, I am not a sadist in any way, shape, or form. My inclination upon seeing someone I like “suffering” is to console and comfort. I have to remind myself that they want this treatment. I would seriously suck at being a “helper” in a scene.

Anyhow, I’m still all giddy about it and I can’t get the image of her out of my head. I can’t wait until she posts about it.

We played for a real quick bit at the end of the night. Master was sick and getting sicker as the night wore on, so it was a short bit of whacking. It was enough. I was pretty stoked just by the whole night in general so I didn’t need much. Couple of bruises, I’m good to go!

After the last few weeks of feeling like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, the acceptance that these people offered was really comforting. But I’ll have more on that in another post.

In the meantime, have some pictures! Master had to show off the evils of the misery stick (which I generously offered to give to anyone who wanted it but there were no-takers) and the whip and the lexan cane (which I also hate and would like to “accidentally” lose). It was all of maybe 15 minutes of scene time but I still felt like I’d been through the wringer.

Bruises are blooming today. Bruises are my crack.

~cunt

Read Carrie’s post about it here.

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