That depends on what your definition of “is” is.

I’m currently not allowed to masturbate. Until further notice.

Putting these clamps on had me right. on. the. edge. I was sooooooo close.

I didn’t touch my cunt. I didn’t even take my pants off.

But a little wiggle here…

…and a little tug there…

I think Master needs to clearly define the word “orgasm”.

~cunt

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“If sex is a pain in the butt, you’re doing it wrong.”

So, I’ve literally been sitting here for a freaking hour trying to convince myself not to use the “r” word. It’s such a touchy word.

I’ve never used it before. I know some people toss it around like it’s meaningless, as casually as saying they had meatloaf for dinner last night, they’ll announce that they were raped before bed.

That’s weird to me. I had made it a point previously to not use the word ’rape’ in my details of my sex life. Not only because I have given Master blanket consent to do whatever whenever He wants and so therefore, it cannot be rape, but also because I feel it trivializes the trauma of rape when it’s used so callously to describe what is actually just “rough sex”.

However. In this case, ’rough sex’ isn’t descriptive enough. I felt raped. The End.

And those people who would object to my use of the word rape based on consent are the same people who will tell me that I cannot possibly give one time consent for all things, that I am in fact consenting on a daily basis, task by task and chore by chore, and so, if that’s how it goes, then I most certainly did not consent and He raped my ass. So there.

This was, quite honestly, the single most painful sexual experience of my life. There was no preparation, no gentleness, no coaxing the ass into cooperation. He wanted what He wanted and He wanted it right then and there was nothing I could do or say to change it. He was brutal, He was mean, He made it hurt and not one second of my tearful pleas swayed His determination to force His large cock into my ass.

He smacked me when I moved, He told me to “take it”, and He told me He was glad it hurt. I cried, I begged, I screamed. And then I got fucked in the ass. It’s been two days and I’m still wiping blood.

I know I signed up for this but that truth doesn’t make things any easier to go through. It doesn’t negate my experiences as painful or traumatic or difficult or worthy of complaining. It ain’t all sunshine and lollipops, least not on my end.

So yeah, I signed up for it, but it still shocks the shit out of me when He uses me for exactly what He wants, no matter how I feel about it. It surprises me when He reminds me that I don’t matter.

Odd that.

~cunt

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“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

Yesterday was a good day. In spite of getting that punishment that’s been hanging over my head.

Master’s trip scheduled for next week was suddenly moved up to today (in fact, He is probably somewhere over Wyoming right about now) so He took yesterday off of work to get ready. There were three things He wanted to do yesterday; pack, play and punish.

The decision for Him was in what order. If He did the punishment first, we’d both be in that punishment headspace that would put a damper on the playing. But if we played first, the punishment would be less effective. And waiting it out through another trip wasn’t an option (thank God). He decided that my transgressions weren’t going to be the rain falling on His parade, so we played first.

And that was great. We were working on some things, there was some fucking and some romping and some bondage and some sucking. It was just fun (all up until the butt fucking, which I’ll tell ya about later!) – (it HURT SO BAD!)

So definitely the punishment, when it came, was different. Either I was flying high which made it less severe or He was flying high and was less harsh. Or both. It still hurt, don’t get me wrong! At the time, I was just as nervous and desperate for it to be over as I always am, it still seemed to hit bone (although watching the clip, as usual, it looks like He’s barely swinging) and I still cried.

I’m just glad it’s over. I’m even more glad that we had time to frolic in the land of perversion before He had to leave and that the punishment didn’t ruin that.

I’m off to take the dog to the vet and then run some errands, catch up on the chores I didn’t do yesterday cuz I was naked and tied up…. and then hopefully I can spend some time getting caught up on everyone. I’ve missed you all!

~cunt

(I am putting the clip up at the clip store. It’s not the best quality I’m afraid. The camera was on some funky setting and it’s a little grainy, as you can see in the still shots I took from it.)

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Clover Clamps, Clits and Climaxes…

…and nipples…

…and headaches…

I came so hard my head hurts. Imma go take some Excedrin and flop on the couch. It’s hard work being my own Sadist! *snicker*

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By Request

The blue stick (so named because I have no idea what it is). It’s heavy, yet flexible rubber. It’s square with sharp-ish, rigid edges. I think it’s the flexibilty and the weight that makes it so bloody painful. He gets a good swing and the far end snaps right down to the bone, I swear.

This was just a couple of swats for some bit of mouthiness about 6 or 7 months ago. It might have been 5? Looks like 5 welts anyway.

I’m up to 35 lashes now. :(

~cunt

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Here, there be smut.

Master kept the breast theme going this weekend. My ta-tas have had an extreme workout! Stick a fork in them, they are DONE.

I shouldn’t ought to say that, huh? He probably would stick a fork in them, mean old bastard. (Have you seen the pictures/video clips of women with those long skewers going straight through the tits??? Holy FUCK I want none of that shit. Hellooo.. crybaby-kaya over here! *waving* None of that boob-kabob (kaboob? *snicker*) stuff for me, thanks!)

I adore him. Does it show? ;-)

And then shit got serious. Seriously painful, that is.

I was trying to zen. Become one with the pain. ~Ohm~ ~Ohm~

And then he did this. Totally ruined my zen.

My nipples will never be the same! I think they’ve grown an inch this week.

Then he got *really* mean.

And I developed a ’tude… (I really wanted to zen!)

But he has badder gear.. So he wins.

“arms out…”

“I said – arms fucking OUT.”

Following the mean was a blow job… and that was fun.

*nom nom nom*

Following the blow job was a doggy style fuck with more swinging nipple clamps. Again fun. But, nipples? So much of the ow.

And following THAT was some raunchy-ass, down-and-dirty fucking. Not sex, certainly not “making love”. We fucked. And it was nasty and messy and I squirted and he did too and I came so hard I thought I peed on him. But I didn’t. I don’t think. Honestly, neither of us much cared.

Then later, we fucked again with more swinging nipple clamps, under the desk, and it was just as good. And just as ouch. Which made it better.

So.. I’m bruised. I’m sore. My holes hurt.

I’d be up for more.. but Master flew out the this morning. *sniffle* A week (hopefully no longer than that) in Oregon. Any Oregonian (Oregonite?) readers? I told him he should go to the Wet Spot. I hear that’s the happening place in those parts.

I think my poor boobs need a week off to heal anyway.

~cunt

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“Who’s to say that love needs to be soft and gentle?”

"No woman truly knows what she is, until she has worn a collar."

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Slippery When Wet

The Master’s biggest frustration? A nipple so slick with blood that the clamp won’t stay on.

The cunt’s biggest frustration? A pussy so slick with greed that the vibe won’t stay in.

But never fear! Turns out they make clamps that don’t slip – no-how, no-way.

I did not, however, manage to dry up long enough to keep the vibe in. :-(

Life just ain’t fair.

~cunt

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Coincidence? I think not!

It was only a few days ago that I was explaining the "bed of nails" theory to Dan and Bethie in regards to mass amounts of clothespins. For anyone who doesn’t know, the theory is that using a lot of clothespins actually hurts *less* than using just one or two because the pain spreads and evens out over a larger area.

While the theory does hold true in my experience, the "mass amount" of clothespins is somewhere in the neighborhood of ten or twenty.

I rather impishly advised Bethie to use a hundred clothespins. Because I’m a brat like that.

But karma is watching me like a damn hawk.

I really wasn’t even surprised to come home from work this morning to find a little love note left from him. It said:

TASK TODAY!

100 clothespins

Because I’d tempted fate, you see. Yesterday’s task? That I swear to GOD I was going to do, I swear I was. Yeah I was all pouty and I-dont-wanna and foot-stompy about it, and I joked about not doing it, but honest to Pete I had every intention of doing it. But then Fate sat up and said "Oh look! Some cocky little cunt wants to tempt Me! I’ll play." and came along and royally fucked up my day and it really didn’t get done and of course Master comes home and reads that smug little post that was really just a silly jokey thing anyway and he thinks "Oh look! My cocky little cunt wants to tempt Me! I’ll play." and instead of yesterday’s task that was as simple as "just do some clothespins" I get this:

TASK TODAY!

100 clothespins

Now, I know he doesn’t follow my tracks on the computer. Reading blogs isn’t really his thing. He’ll look at y’alls pictures! He loves the pictures (who’d a thunk?) but he doesn’t read very often. So I know he didn’t know about the conversation between Bethie and I. And I sure as hell didn’t mention it to him! You just don’t voluntarily remind a sadist that we even own 100 clothespins. (why did I think he’d forgotten what we own? Silly goose.)

So there you have it. Karma or Fate or Coincidence.

Or stupidity on my part. I am not ruling that out.

Anyway – about that bed of nails theory? It is null and void on 100 clothespins. Does. Not. Work.

Do you know how long it takes to attach 100 clothespins to yourself?…lol. And do you know how freaking hard it is to reach around them to find a place to put one that doesn’t already have one on it? And did you know that you should do the pussy first so that you aren’t jostling around two tits full of clothespins trying to reach it? I do now!

Well, at any rate, it hurt. By the time I got them all on and got around to taking the pictures my hands were shaking so bad I didn’t think I’d get any in focus. But no-fucking-way did I care either. But also, neither was I taking a chance on not doing it right and having tomorrow’s ante upped to 200.

Did I mention that it hurt?

The removal – SUCKED!!

They look like the Bride of Frankenstein’s tits! tee hee

I will not tempt fate again. I will not tell anyone else to do something I don’t want to do. I will not procrastinate the easy tasks when harder ones wait in the wings.

Ah who am I kidding… I will too! :D

~cunt

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The Color Purple…

…inspiring sadists everywhere.

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