Reclaiming the evening...

Last night nearly didn’t happen, which had me fairly upset. He had spent the day teasing me, building it up – before putting our daughter to sleep he even very carefully set up supplies for tonight in front of me. He gave me instructions – when I finished my shower I was to assume a specific position on the couch and masturbate. He would be back to play in 20 minutes.

Well, fast forward, and after my shower I waited on the couch for an hour before giving up on him. He had fallen asleep. (Which by the way, cemented that if he ever suggests tying me up before he puts her to sleep….nope! Never. Ever. Not a chance. I don’t think he would, because he’s always with me when we’ve done any kind of bondage before, but note to self – if he ever suggests it, refuse 100%.)

At which point I went online, looking at more spanking porn, got restless, watched a movie (Diary of a Nymphomaniac – more graphic than I expected, although considering the subject matter I shouldn’t be surprised, but an interesting movie that I’ll watch again when I can focus more), and finally, grudgingly, clipped off the zipties he had fastened around my wrists and ankles for later ease of …binding me? Bondaging me? I just realized, I haven’t the faintest idea what the appropriate terminology there is, but for immobilizing me).

When I threw myself into bed and shoved him off of me as he tried to curl up with me, I must have woken him. He glanced at the clock and swore, and started apologizing. I didn’t to fight but I was hurt, so I limited myself to monosyllabic answers and tried to hide the tears I was trying not to shed. I wasn’t angry. Well, maybe a little pissy, but not truly angry. Just…hurt. It was like being stood up for a date, and one that the other person had spent the entire day building up.

I was amused that he offered to get up right that second. I was like…no. Haha. I mean, in my mind that ship had sailed about 90 minutes prior. So I’m amused he suggested that at all, I’m going to attribute that one to just waking up because yeah, there was no way.

And then…he started touching me. Running his fingertips up and down my back, my sides, lightly over my butt, my legs…I love that gentle kind of touching, that almost tickle that’s more stroking. It very quickly relaxes me or drives me wild, depending on where…and he knew it. (I’ve been touch centric since I was little, because the household I grew up in didn’t touch. Rarely hugged, kissed…not an affectionate household, and that was something I knew I didn’t want in any relationship I had, and when we had our child I knew that was going to be different for us.)

Honestly, I hadn’t decided we were even going to have sex, much less play – I pretty much figured if he had ditched me by falling asleep, unintentional or not, it was only fair that he touch me and help me sleep, right? So with that thought in mind, I let him touch me. I was moaning without realizing it pretty fast (I’d been turned on all day – I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that it was easy to get me to slip back to that…state?).

When he asked me to turn over, I did it immediately and without thinking about it. He continued stroking me and then – I must have been out of it, because I don’t remember him moving? – he was between my legs, licking me gently. I don’t know if I had been already wet, but I was, fast – and when he gently tugged me out of bed, I found myself following without any real protest. I did warn him I didn’t know that I wanted to play with him, I was still upset…his answer was noncommittal and I was amused to find myself in position over his lap a minute later.

I told him to at least go slow and touch a lot, because I really was upset. He said all right, stroked my back a bit, and then promptly smacked my ass, hard.

I of course protested. That wasn’t going slow!

At that point, he actually did slow down – a lot of really slow build up in intensity, sometimes on my feet, sometimes on my butt, my thighs, my breasts…I was moaning but for some reason determined not to cry out. As far as I knew the threatened punishments were off the table, but I guess I wanted to see if I could do it?

At some point, the new spoon we bought came out. That thing definitely has a bigger impact than his hand, even though I knew he was using less force. He sometimes used the handle and sometimes used the bowl of the spoon – it was so interesting, the handle felt a lot … heavier? More impact from it, which surprised me and I’m not sure why. It definitely left some interesting marks and welts and we learned that you have to be a lot more careful with an implement than a hand – we’ve never really played with stuff before (we had a small whip at some point before, but it was a rubber one, and we’ve never really done a lot with this until we discovered just how much this really turns me on). I can’t quite explain what happened, but the spoon was at an awkward angle I guess, with me on all fours, to spank my breast, and hit poorly? I don’t know how to explain it but there was immediately a wicked bruise. Today it looks horrible, but feels like any other bruise – at the time I didn’t really feel it, I was pretty lost – but he was definitely very cautious after that happened.

When he thought I was about at my limit, clothespins came out. (I wasn’t and was really enjoying it, but he was worried after that smack on my breast.)

Wow. I have to be honest, we had tested one earlier and I thought these would be easy to take. I can’t remember how many he got around my areola, but it was a lot. A lot. And they pinched a little at first, but jiggling them even slightly…ow! Those he left on for a bit, maybe 10, 15 minutes? The ones on my pussy lasted only a minute or two – I was so turned on that those stung really bad. He told me how hot it was, which helped, but wow, did those sting! As he clipped each one on, he occasionally brushed the ones on my breasts…ow!

He had me thank him after each one was on – and that was new. We’d never tried to get me verbalize about what I was going through other than “ow” and moaning – I’m shy about this. Participation in the sense of seeming willing…I don’t know. Part of what’s so hot for me about this is him doing it to me, so I can enjoy it but not…self inflict? That was what was so strange about the tabasco the first time, I did it to myself – that usually feels too dark, too perverted for me. I need that sense of “he made me do it” to enjoy…so I thought thanking him would be hard, would break it for me, but it was actually really hot. I’ll have to think more about why, but it was really hot.

By the time he removed the clothespins from my sex, my breasts were really starting to sting – and he had me switch from being on my back to all fours, where he started fucking me from behind. I have large breasts, but I never noticed just how much they bounce when he fucks me. Well – with the clothespins on, I fucking noticed! He’s evil – he told me afterwards he knew exactly how much I would feel that.

It actually hurt enough that I had to ask him to stop, but I think in retrospect that was more the surprise of finding out much I bounce during sex. I think next time we try that I’ll be better prepared and able to take the pain.

He had me thank him as each one was removed, some gently unclipped and some simply pulled off – I couldn’t decide which hurt worse, but afterwards he spanked my breasts more. My breasts were aching and stinging as he slapped them. I have to wonder what was on my face, because he was watching me very intently. I’ll have to ask him about that later…I do wonder what I looked like. I remember it hurt – flinching, hands clutched behind me so I wouldn’t try to protect them – and then pushing my chest out for more.

When he stopped, there were butterflies in my stomach, because I knew what came next. He offered me a choice – did I want the long cucumber up my ass, or the fat one? I knew he’d pick the fat one if I didn’t say something, but I was silent anyway, too mortified to choose. Either way, this would be the biggest thing I’d ever had inside of me – could I take it? Could I stretch that much? I wasn’t honestly sure and the nervousness, the fear, titillated me as I listened to him carve notches in the cucumber so it wouldn’t be lost inside me. As he lubed me and lubed the cucumber, I felt tenser than I had been all evening.

I’m not sure how large that cucumber was (in retrospect – should have measured it! Oops!), but it took a long time to work in. I was whimpering about how it was too big, I couldn’t take it – and he just told me to take it, that I could do it and he wanted to see it. He had me fuck myself onto the cucumber, so the embarrassment of fucking a cucumber was there too. He teased me, told me I was perverted for fucking a cucumber, and I think I must have been blushing, but all I could focus on was this huge … thing! … invading me. I felt so stretched and I kept telling him it was too big, too big – and he kept telling me to take it. When he had it in, he started fingering me, pushing me to come as he shot a video on his phone, fucking the cucumber in and out of me.

When he yanked it out, I whimpered again – the thing had been impossibly big for me, but I felt empty without it…until he started fucking my ass. I was so turned on, so horny at that point, so wet – I can’t remember if I came once of multiple times, but I was so lost by then, so far gone by the time he finally shuddered and came himself.

And I’m such a cheeky brat. After we cleaned up, both of us, and joked about the cucumber, I told him he hadn’t met his goal – I was nearly as sore as I was the other night, so I told him I would probably comfortably be able to wear jeans the next night.

I was trying to get him to spank me!

I can’t even explain my motivations, but I wanted him to spank me more. He told me he’d tried to go easier because we’d been using the spoon, and I teased him that that was nice, but I was definitely not going to have any issue sitting down the next day. At which point he finally did spank me more – I remember it really did hurt but though I swore and cried I was pushing back for more almost immediately.

I’m not as sore as I was the other day, but I definitely couldn’t wear my jeans today.

Hello Panic, I'm Ekho!

I’m in for it.

Oh my god, I’m in for it tonight. I knew I would be. I sent him an email kind of expressing my feelings from last night and while I did end up waking him up for sex (which wasn’t just sex, it did go further, lots of breast play), it hadn’t been what I wanted…and oh my god, I have to be honest, part of me is panicking and wondering why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut!

We went grocery shopping and bought a new wooden spoon just for sex and a 50 pack of clothespins. Holy crap, I hadn’t even thought of clothespins! I’ve been nervous and edgy since we got home, going between nervous anticipation and panic.

He’s been talking about his plans for tonight – beating my ass with the spoon, finding out how many clothespins I can take, finding out how much cucumber I can take up my ass…

…did I forget to mention the cucumber? Yeah, he picked out one that looks fucking huge to me. Cue panic. Cue a very wet, very nervous me. Holy fuck.

He did a little bit of spanking me with the spoon a little bit ago while our daughter was in the playroom, trying out both ends, and OW. He did no warm up and shit, that hurt!

And of course, being the smart ass that I am (no pun intended), I promptly chastised him for only getting one cheek. Which he promptly remedied, of course, but oh shit.

I’m so in for it tonight.

And the ice on the cake – he told me flat out he’s planning to sauce my clit. That’s enough to freak out about, because that’s growing into a decidedly love/hate thing.

But the real icing? I can’t scream tonight, or he’s saucing my ass too – at the same time.

I can’t be silent. I’m not silent during regular sex.

And he is going to push me to screaming…without a doubt.

I have no chance.

Hello, panic – I’m Ekho!

Longing to be beaten?

When I woke up yesterday, I was so sore I couldn’t put my jeans on. Even pulling on a loose skirt brought echoes of pain on and I know I made some kind of face as I did. I was so, so sore – and every time I moved, I felt it, and felt a little thrill that went right down to my sex. I can’t really explain or describe it, but each time I moved and it hurt I remembered the sex and I … liked that.

When he got home from work, he liked that too. He told me he liked being able to gently pat my ass and have me flinch. But I knew last night he was probably going to fall asleep while putting the baby to bed – he was tired and I’d been keeping him up late.

And yet, all evening long he’d been groping my butt as he passed by me during our evening chores (cooking, laundry, etc) and damn, but my butt still hurt. Every time he groped it hurt, and he liked it – he liked seeing me wince. I could feel how hard he was as he pressed his body against me and even though it hurt – he wasn’t a gentle groper in normal circumstance and he admitted he was being much rougher than usual – I was turned on. I wanted him so badly and though it’s hard to actually say, I wanted him to hit me, to hurt me.

As I cooked, he spanked me a couple times and I’ll admit I got a little pissy. The baby was awake and was playing in the playroom next to the kitchen – and she doesn’t need to see any of this. Adult matters can stay adult, thank you very much. Fortunately, he got that message pretty quickly and I think he felt a little guilty about getting carried away & crossing that line because he spent a while playing with her and colouring and junk. He switched to whispering threats in my ear of how we couldn’t play tonight, but he was tempted to do “maintenance beating”  - he said he liked me this sore. It reminded me of something in the Beauty trilogy that I can’t quite remember, I may have to go back and re-read them, but the essence from the book was that being that sore made a slave more malleable, easier to control.  I don’t know if I was “easier to control” but certainly being that sore made it easier for him to get a reaction from me!

Among his threats was of beating me with the wooden spoon we have in the kitchen. That scared me. I’d seen pictures of what those spoons could do and how easy it was to raise welts and bruises with them – I’d tested it on my inner thigh that morning with almost no force and raised a nice red spot immediately. It wasn’t hard to imagine what even a little bit of force could do, and with a lot….

Oh yes, I was scared. I kind of dismissed him, trying not to let him see how much it unnerved me – but he knew. He had to have, because he kept bringing it up and kept talking about spanking me just to keep me sore, with no sex. (I didn’t really know what I thought of that – it’s so sexual to me that spanking without sex seems so unfair! The idea of the spanking, of beating me just to keep my ass sore is a turn on but….no sex? I kind of felt like what’s the point? But maybe that’s the point…I think I’m confusing myself.)

But when he put her to bed last night and unsurprisingly fell asleep (he gets up so earlier for work), I have to admit I was disappointed.

I kept going through the spanking blog I had found (it’s been around a while – I still have tons of it I haven’t read). I turned some of his words over in my mind, alternately scaring myself and turning myself on. We had been looking into buying some sex toys and of course something that drew his attention was the anal hook.

And let me just say, when I started looking at spanking porn and that thing showed up I had to stop and stare. The last time I seriously looked at bdsm porn was a long time ago, clearly before those were in vogue.

And holy crap. Wow. Whoa. What? Wow.

It shouldn’t surprise me that it caught his attention – it may have even been my fault, we were toy shopping and I probably could have scrolled past it, but I had to comment that it was wicked looking, so of course he had to look.

It wasn’t a case of complaining to get something, like trying to incite a spanking. At least, I don’t think it was. If it was it wasn’t conscious.

But he told me he eventually wanted to get one, and that was on my mind. Different toys, different gags and whips we’d looked at, were on my mind. “Maintenance beating” was on my mind.

And god damn it, I have no idea why, but I wanted that stupid spoon. I wished he hadn’t fallen asleep, at least long enough to come out and beat my ass with that spoon.

I could almost imagine it, slamming onto my ass cheeks. I could almost feel it.

And yet I couldn’t believe it. Maybe I thought I could get him to fuck me too, or at least get me off? I don’t know, but damn it. I wanted the spoon. I wanted him to spank me and I wanted to hurt. I wanted to wake up sore and have that reminder even when he was at work.

Damn it.

And I'm sorry to say, but I was comfortably able to both sit and pull on my jeans today. Oh well.

Testing limits

Last night.

He’d been teasing me, playfully threatening me, the whole day. He wanted, he told me, to punish me – he wanted tabasco on my ass, inside my ass.

Cue sheer terror. Every time he mentioned it, I felt like my heart would beat out of my chest. It seemed unthinkable. I couldn’t do that, and did my best to communicate that. I think I got through, but he threatened – oh, how he threatened. He would make me ask for it – make me choose. My pussy, or my ass? And if I refused to choose – he’d put it on both.

Fear. Excitement. Horror. Apprehension. Arousal.

He couldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Maybe, but not, I was mostly confident, tonight.

When we played last night, I knew I was in for it – I’d told him the previous nights I hadn’t reached my limit for spanking. And well – I knew as soon as the first spanking fell I was going to find my limit tonight.

Interspersed with caresses, slaps fell – some hard, some soft, different spots on my butt. Some ached so deeply I couldn’t help but cry out – so slapped and stung and faded to warmth after only a moment. Sometimes he touched my legs, my thighs, my clit, my feet. Sometimes he parted my ass cheeks and flicked my anus, eliciting yelps.

(As an aside, I still don’t know why flicking or whipping my anus turns me on so much. Another fantasy element accidentally come to life one day a long time ago when he playfully flicked it and instead of yelping I flinched and pressed my ass back at him, begging with everything but words for more. Anal is so difficult for me, and internally I am still so torn over it – I feel like I shouldn’t like it, shouldn’t want it. It’s not just taboo, but it’s the same reason I like being spanked, like being whipped – it HURTS! And even the most gentle anal still has pain associated with it. There is pleasure, but there’s always pain too, and that mix…especially in fantasy…

I don’t know what it is. I’m multiorgasmic, but I have an imagination that runs away with me and any intense sensation becomes fodder for that imagination. Anal was something I both abhorred and fantasized about for a long time, which is an interesting combination. My husband is incredibly focused on my ass, so he eventually shoved me past my prejudice and anal has become a regular part of our sex life.)

As the spanking went on, there was less touching and more spanking, harder slaps. He was clearly determined that I wouldn’t find these pleasurable slaps like the day before – he meant for them to sting, and it worked. Sometimes the slaps came so fast I found myself crying out and wriggling away, but he chased me – eventually pausing for me to catch my breath.

Sometimes, I tensed – anticipating a blow. Often he struck anyway, and being tensed didn’t really help – sometimes, he waited for me to relax and then slapped. And sometimes he ordered me too, and failing to comply immediately lead to several very fast slaps that left me crying and writhing and wriggling to get away.

And while I can’t come from being smacked, I was wet.

Oh my god, was I wet.

And then, on all fours, he started fucking me – but I couldn’t come. If I came, he told me, he was hotsaucing my clit. I had to tell him to stop when I was close to coming – but every time I stopped him before HE came, I got ten hard slaps on my ass.

At that point, my ass felt like it was glowing, swollen and hot. Ten slaps left me crying out, and he said he could already see the bruises.

How long did I make it? How many times did I get to be on the edge of orgasm and stop him?

I’m not sure. To be honest, I hate games like that – I’m extremely sensual and multiorgasmic and just…sex without being able to come is frustrating, and not in the way that’s enjoyable. I play those games for him, because I know how much they turn him on and how much he has fun with them – but they’re not really fun for me.

Each time he entered me, and I felt myself getting closer – and oh, he was pushing me close, sometimes going for a bit even after I told him to stop – he threatened me. If I came…it was the sauce. Was it worth?

And if I held off on coming, my reward was going to be giving him a blow job.

Unfair! I wanted to come.

Oh my god, I wanted to come. I was aching. And despite him going in and out of me, which usually leaves me in need of lube no matter how hot and turned on I am, I was dripping. I could feel the proof of how turned on I was dribbling down my clit.

That was something I thought only happened IN BOOKS. When I thought about it after he went to sleep later I laughed, because I thought that was literary license – not something that happened. But I was that wet.

And finally – I knew. I couldn’t take any more slaps. My ass ached.

We had found my spanking limit. (And I’m pretty sure his hand hurt – he had to take his wedding ring off, haha, because his hand was kind of swollen.)

It wasn’t a choice of whether or not to come any more – it was sauce or slaps.

And I couldn’t take the slaps.

I begged to come – and he sounded surprised. “You want me to burn you?” he asked, and I couldn’t answer because I didn’t. If it was just holding back from orgasm – as much as that wasn’t fun, I could do it. But I was in one of those wonderful dilemmas that I always fantasized about – pick your pain. Burn or slap.

I begged to come. Over and over, desperate. He fucked me hard and I came – it felt like my whole body throbbed. My ass hurt every time he slammed himself inside of me, the skin so sensitive and sore that his hands on my ass actually stung. It hurt to move my legs, and I knew there were bruises forming deep beneath the skin.

But as I came, none of it mattered and if anything it added to the power of the orgasm. It was like I could feel everything – his stomach against my butt, his hands on my hips and ass, my nipples brushing against the arm of the couch – and nothing, because all I felt was the overwhelming all-encompassing climax.

I wanted it to go on forever.

But when it ended, he told me I had to be punished. Still shuddering from my climax, I could barely argue, but I remember begging him not to.

Actually, I don’t totally know what I said, if it was anywhere close to coherent or if it was just “please don’t, please, please” … small echoes of the pleasure I had just experienced had the muscles in my arms and legs still quivering.

But no, he assured me, I had to be punished. I begged, but I was going to be punished anyway. He told me to flip over or he was putting it up my ass, and I wasn’t ready for that, so still pleading, legs closed, I flipped onto my back.

He ordered me to part my legs, and I fought to keep them closed, begging, nearly crying, but my legs fell limp when he actually got…not angry, but…I can’t describe it. The order to part my legs wasn’t playful and it was..close to angry? I still tried to close my legs but it was half-hearted, and though I never stopped begging, something cool and wet dripped onto me.

I think I was crying. I don’t know.

“Does it hurt yet?”

“No..it takes a minute..”

It felt like forever, the anticipation of a pain that doesn’t end when a hand is lifted, and being on my back, sore ass rubbed into the rough couch, hurt.

But then it started burning, and I forgot everything else. It seared and burned and I can’t even remember how it felt, indescribable unless you’re experiencing it but then you’re too incoherent to voice it. It seared and it felt like forever, and I was sure he’d gotten more of me, because unlike before every bit of my exposed pussy burned – no skin on my labia untouched, and he even rubbed it under the hood of my poor throbbing clit.

Roughly, he ordered me to my feet. He tried to force his way inside my ass and I had the presence of mind to ask for lube, which he did. I tried to relax my ass enough to let him inside but it was so hard to focus on that as I sobbed about the burning pain on my vulva – it hurt so badly! He reminded me that that was because I was being punished, and forced his cock inside me. He fucked me as I sobbed, and then he sat, ordering me to ride him and make him come or he’d sauce me again. I tried – I really did, but honestly, that didn’t work for me.

I hate riding him during anal and I usually won’t do it – I can usually only have anal if he’s pushing for it, and I won’t ever ask for it or initiate. Riding scares me because I feel like I can actually injure myself – I’m not sure if that’s possible, but either way, there was no threat that was working to get me to do that enough to get him to come. I tried to comply, but he finally ended up just fucking me really roughly. I usually come when he uses me like that, but I was so focused on the pain I was in that I didn’t.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t turn me on. Being used like that and having the pain of his cock stretching my asshole while my clit burned..

I was so wet. So so so wet. And when he finished, I touched myself, with no reserve, rolling my hips and stroking my clit with my finger tip as it burned. I begged him to finger fuck me, make me come, and he obliged – and it still burned.

I’m pretty sure he must have used more, or maybe I just lost all concept of time, but it felt like it burned for an eternity.

When it finally ebbed slightly, enough for me to have myself back under control, I leaned against him and kissed him gently.

And then rougher, forcing my tongue inside his mouth. Biting his lip. Biting his nippes, his chest, his hips and thighs. I knew it hurt like hell but he barely fought, and then I sucked him, hard. I wanted him hard again, I wanted his cum in my mouth – I tried to threaten him and told him I’d fuck him if he didn’t get hard fast enough, the implicit threat of the sauce that was still burning getting onto his cock – but he was spent, and eventually, I gave up, kissing him deeply and touching him.

We examined my bruising in the mirror in the bathroom after I cleaned up and saw the bruises that were just starting to come up. I liked it. He gently patted my ass – a normal gesture – and I winced. He laughed – the gesture had been a normal every day one, and it hadn’t been meant for pain.

Shortly after, he slept, but I was too wound up to sleep. I read some more spanking erotica, thought about toys. We had talked about buying toys. Canes interested me, but frightened me – you can do so much damage with them if you don’t know what you’re doing, and though we’d played around with bdsm stuff years before, it was only in the past few weeks that my interest had really peeked and we’d started really playing around. He didn’t know what he was doing, and I was afraid to buy one and then find out this was a fad for him that he wouldn’t be interested in next week.

But oh, they interested me. I found something I thought might be worth experimenting with – a chopstick, actually, and used it to thwap the soft insides of my thighs. It left some lovely stripes, but it was too small and too light to do anything more serious – but it was enough to show me I wanted it.

And in the back of my mind, the rest of the night, I thought of the sauce, and I thought of my ass. I wanted to do it, to feel it.

I don’t know why – morbid curiosity?

But it was late, and I didn’t.

But I wanted to.

Oops! An adventure with tabasco..

(initially written 7/27/11)

It should have ended with the shower. If I hadn't been so tired and so ... spaced out, so lost in my own thoughts about what had just happened, it would have.

But he was outside the shower as I was standing under the hot water, washing my hair and idly flicking away flecks of wax.

I don't remember what he asked or how he said it. I don't remember the words of my reply. It had something to do with me having been terrified when he was rifling through the kitchen.

But some how, I let it slip that something specific in the kitchen had terrified me because I'd already tried it.

I didn't say it in so many words, but he knew. He read right through what I'd said.

Immediately, the questions started. For an hour, he badgered me - he didn't let me out of the bathtub, then he didn't let me out of the bathroom. He alternated between demands and pleading, jokes, laughing, begging and being serious about how I could tell him.

I was mortified. I could not tell him. Could not not not.


I felt guilty that he had found anything out at all - I hadn't meant for him to. Knowing that there's a "secret" is unfair. But I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't.

And strangely, throughout all the badgering, as he threw out outlandish guesses (coffee grinder? knives? mixer? griddle cord?) and demanding questions (on me or in me? food or appliance?) it was easy to not budge. Mostly, I didn't answer anything, afraid he'd guess, although somehow I slipped somewhere and he knew I'd tried it, knew it had been recently. He thought it had been a few nights before and that I'd plan to exclude him and for that I felt bad, as it wasn't calculating or planned, but it was easy not to answer. I was mortified, embarrassed, terrified.


Terrified of what...I'm not sure. Terrified he'd think poorly of me? Terrified he'd think I was a slut, think I was debased, twisted? Terrified he'd wonder how his wife could do that...could put tabasco on her clit just to feel it? Liked being punished that much?

...or terrified that he'd be interested, terrified that he'd /want/ to do it to me? I still hadn't processed what I'd thought about the night before. I still hadn't decided if I COULD do it again. What if he liked it? What if it turned him on? What if he wanted to see me writhe as the evil sauce seared me in my most sensitive place?


He told me I didn't need to be, but it was still easy to say no. As long as he badgered me, I refused.


And then...he gave up. Said he was going to bed. And as we lay in bed, the pressure and the guilt was overwhelming. Two, three, five, a dozen, a hundred times the words nearly fell from my lips - but I was still so frightened.

Somehow, and I can't explain how, him telling me he'd drop it was a hundred times worse. I worried I'd hurt his feelings, that he'd be upset. No, he assured me, he wasn't...but inside me, the words were burning. I was scared but more than before now I wanted to tell him, wanted him to know.

He'd dropped it, he assured me. And then, without really having decided to speak, the words came out.

"Tabasco sauce."


There was a moment of silence. When he spoke, I couldn't tell how he felt, if he was disturbed or upset or interested. "Where did you come up with that idea?" His voice was so neutral I couldn't parse his reaction.

Noncommittally, I told him I'd read about it, and shrank into my pillow.

He admitted he would never have thought of that. I told him I knew as much - had realized it from his wild guesses. He hadn't even been close.

There was a pause, and then...he told me he wanted to do it. Rightthatsecond.

I panicked, truly and completely. I begged and fought and told him no. 20 minutes, 30 minutes he cajoled and tried to force me out of bed. My heart beat wildly and I refused - I couldn't, could not not not!

And then...he gave up again. Truly gave up. Told me he was dropping it.

And suddenly, like before, I couldn't stop talking about it. I told him about the fantasies, told him about how it happened.

He told me he was letting it go, but if I kept talking about it he'd want to do it.

And then...then he said something that set off a deeper panic, froze my insides. He told me he wouldn't bring it up - I'd have to ask for it if I ever wanted it.

But I hadn't decided if I wanted it or not! I didn't know! But the idea of asking for it...of asking him to hurt me like that...

It was mortifying. Completely, utterly horrifying.

Ask for it?

Never.

Which meant it was now...or never.

I didn't stop talking.

And then, found myself on the couch, told to touch myself as he got the tabasco sauce. My heart beat so loudly I was sure he could hear it, and I begged, pleaded for another night, just not tonight, not now...

When the baby cried, he went in to comfort her, while I panicked. Twice more he had to go in and I thought I was getting out of it, but when he emerged, I fought him as he fought to spread my legs. He was going to see my reaction to this, and he told me I just had to deal with that.


My panic peeked when it looked like he would drip it straight from the bottle, and I won my only concession of the evening - he'd pour some on a small saucer and apply it with his fingers.

My heart beat so wildly I could feel it all over my body. I felt as if I should be drenched in sweat, and my body shook - when he finally forcefully spread my legs and dabbed on the sauce, I nearly sobbed. It was done - I couldn't stop it anymore, couldn't do anything about it but wait for the pain and try to deal with it.

When he asked how it felt, my voice shook in my ears as I told him it was cold and would take a minute to take effect. How long would it last? I told him honestly I had no idea - time had no meaning when the pain was that searingly intense.

And then the burning began, and I know I was moaning and whining piteously, gasping and sobbing that it hurt, it burned, it burned - roll my hips, writhing, trying desperately to escape the sensation. I heard him murmuring that watching me moan and wiggle was hot, so hot, but the words - while distantly comforting that at least as I suffered he took pleasure in it - were nearly meaningless, as I was so lost in the sensation.

He was hard, and he told me to blow him, to suck him. I tried - I wrapped my lips around his cock and tried to suck - but the pain was so intense I couldn't focus. I tried to explain that I couldn't but even now I have no idea if the words came out or not, but the idea that he watched - and that he told me this was punishment for holding out on him - had my vagina wet with the evidence of how turned on I was.

I kept wriggling, kept trying to move my hips and butt, anything to stop the pain, the burning, as I with sobbing breaths told him how much it hurt, how much it burned - and distantly, I felt him preparing my ass, fingering me, getting ready to fuck my asshole even as I writhed and suffered as the tabasco seared my hardened clit, my vulva.

When he entered me, he was so turned on he was rough, and I remember yelping, asking him to pull out - I can't honestly remember if he did or didn't, so lost in the pain and burning, disconnected with myself and yet locked in the awareness of the pain on my clit and now the new pain in my ass. He fucked me hard, roughly, grabbing my hips as I disparately voiced the intensity of what I was going through.

And while it hurt, it was so clear, and so hot, so erotic as I was torn between the pain in my ass and the pain in my clit - a dilemma - do I writhe to try to quell the burning in my vulva, the searing pain in my clit, or focus on my ass, focus on accommodating his cock as it ravaged my asshole? I couldn't do both - trying only failed in both, but I juggled, one moment trying to move with his cock, to relax my asshole that I had tightened as I battled the burning in my vulva?

When he came, I felt him shudder and release inside me, and I was free to wiggle and focus entirely on my cunt.

I don't know how long the anal lasted, but my clit was still searing and burning, and as before, without having decided to masturbate, I found myself rubbing my clit, my body on the edge of orgasm, fueled by the ass fucking and the punishment and the orgasm that usually came from being fucked. He teased me, saying maybe he shouldn't let me come - my hand fell to the side, and I vaguely remember whimpering, but he let me come, and it was body shuddering, so intense I felt my entire vagina tighten and shudder as I came over and over. I had touched myself in front of him before, even climaxed from it before, but never, ever like this before. In my head, there was this sense that he wanted to watch me suffer, and it added something indescribable to it, something so erotic that even as I whimpered had me turned on.

And it still burned, and I still moaned after, but eventually, finally, as he watched me writhe, it ebbed, slightly,  but enough that I could pull myself together. I felt swollen, raw, and super erotic..and I had made it through.

First time playing in a while...

(initially written 7/27/11)

It was...an interesting night last night. As always, this may not be chronologically correct - the experience was intense and the chronological order these occurred in may have blurred slightly.

He started by by blindfolding me and told me to touch myself as he gathered supplies from the kitchen. I was instantly terrified - my mind instantly went to the tabasco sauce. Did he know? Had he seen me researching? Was it something he had thought about? Could I handle it? To tell the truth, I really hadn't decided WHAT I thought about the tabasco. Had I been stupid? Would I repeat it? But it had me utterly terrified.

The rules were that I couldn't speak unless spoken to and requested to speak.

I broke them immediately; I was utterly terrified and told him so. I hate surprises. I had to know what he was getting together. So he told me, to calm me down. (I was supposed to be nervous, not avidly frightened.)

It was nothing I hadn't expected, and fortunately, tabasco sauce was not on the...itinerary.

Wax. Something large to put inside of me. (What, I couldn't guess.) Rope. A heavier belt to smack me with. Oil.

I was scared, but excited. It was going to be intense. I wanted to feel him hit me, to feel him penetrate me.

I didn't wait long - the slap of the belt on my thigh made me jump. It stung. Badly. The area felt immediately warm. I was made to stand, and rope was used to tie my breasts. I was startled, so startled - I had seen porn with that kind of bondage, but never thought of having my tits bound like that. It hurt! But he seemed to like it, and while I wasn't sure it was something I was interested in, it wasn't something that frightened me or upset me...I was just...apathetic. Although it did make me a little nervous - it made my breasts feel <b>so</b> vulnerable!

Breasts bound, I was told to assume an awkward position on floor. My ass was slapped with his hand, with the belt. Sometimes he changed it up and whipped my belly, my breasts, the soles of my feet. (That really hurts your feet! They immediately feel super warm and throbbing - again, it was something I'd seen in porn, but never thought about doing. It actually really turned me on and I am going to have to think about why later - I can't quite process my feelings on it yet.)

I was rubbed with oil, and though that felt nice, it had me nervous, because I knew what he wanted to do. He likes fisting. It's not really something that's ever turned me on, and it hurts - but it wasn't a limit, and I know it turns him on. He worked on me for a long time, until finally, he was able to fit his large hand inside of me.  I remember making such loud sounds - it was so incredibly intense and I remember thinking my voice didn't sound like it could come from me. Ow, ah..and other more primitive sounds. It hurt - he was so deeply inside me. Pulling out - slowly working his hand back in.

When he paused, it wasn't long before I felt the searing hot drops of wax. On my butt, on my anus. Yow! Searing pain, then sensuous warmth. It frightened me, it stung, and it turned me on. I jumped and moaned each time. Inanely, I worried about dropping hot wax onto oiled skin.

Then his hand, again, and as he did, fingers inside my ass. Telling me I was his slut, that I was too loose for him - much too lose - and that he'd be fucking my ass soon. I moaned, I cried out. He started pushing something well lubed inside my asshole; it felt cool. He apologized for the coolness but kept pushing. It felt wide, but not as wide as him. I was so turned on it really didn't hurt at all - he'd done a good job with his fingers and I was ready to be fucked.

When I felt his cock pushing insistently against me, I moaned and then held my breath, trying to let him in. No matter how ready I am there's always that momentary pain when I fight having my ass fucked - when in my head, I can't believe his cock is forcing its way inside my ass. It hurts while I resist and I wonder if that's why I resist - the allure of anal for me is how intense it is. Sex is great. Anal is...infinitely more sensate, more intense. In my head, I'm reduce to gibberish once I stop fighting the invasion and finally resign myself to his cock deep inside me, forcibly stretching my asshole. "There's a cock in my ass, cock in my ass, in my ass..." is about as coherent as it gets, and I can feel how wet I am as clench and unclench my pelvic muscles. It always surprises me when I come during anal - like somehow, in my head I'm sure that I can't come from this sex. And when I do, the sounds that rip out of my throat sound foreign. Are they my voice, or has the television turned on without my notice?

As he spurts inside of me, I'm shuddering, incoherent. He kneads my ass and I wonder if he ever realizes he does that - it's something he always does at the end of his orgasm as long as we're in that position and my butt is in reach of his hands.

As he helps me up, takes the blindfold off and unties the rope, I'm shaking, quivering. I feel sore, I ache, and tiny echos of pleasure are ricocheting inside my body. He hugs me. We decide to shower together to clean up.

And that...should have been the end of the night. But it wasn't, and I'll write that in a separate entry.

Being very brave...or very stupid...

(initially written 7/26/11 - reposting from LJ due to switching blogs)

I am sure I will write more on this later when I'm not pressed for time, but my head seems to be swirling and bursting at the moment, so I wanted to get this on...paper? .. while the experience is still vivid in my mind.

A few days ago, going around the internet, I found a spanking blog. And as of course that's an area of great interest to me at the moment, I clicked, read...and read...and read...a lot. It was a huge turn on, and gave me a lot of ideas to try with my husband. Ideas that I'm sure I'll want to write about...eventually.

But one thing really caught my attention. It linked to www.figging.com - and - wow.

Let me back up by saying an element in my sexual fantasies for a long time has been punishment. The idea started when I was 17 and read a book where the Mistress used a cream to create a burning feel on the new slave's clit, and then when the sensation faded, in her anus. Ever since then, variants of that have been ... not on my mind, but an added element to masturbation. It was always a form of ritualized punishment.

I, of course, had no idea it was something people actually did. The book was fantastical, predicated on vampires and werewolves. It never really occurred to me that was something people might actually do during sex.

Fast forward, and I've recently read the Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rice. In the third novel, one of the slaves is subjected to "itching oil" - and while itching isn't very appealing to me, it was the same idea. Punishment. The application of something that isn't violence, isn't force, that the slave can't escape, can't unring the bell - but must simply suffer through until it fades.

So when I saw the figging website, I was...intrigued. One of the posts was on tabasco applied all over the model's vulva and ass and...oh my god.

That was exactly what I'd fantasized about. Punishment, burning without damage - just pain. (And yes, I won't deny that you can actually be damaged by chemicals. That's not my point, obviously care needs to be taken with any kind of pain play.)

But shit. Tabasco?

It burns my <b>mouth</b>.

For a few days, the idea sat quietly in the back of my head.

It was like the bottle in our cabinet was ... taunting me.

Two nights ago, after my husband went to bed, I had to try it.

I didn't mean to.

I didn't plan to.

But I couldn't /not/.

I poured a few drops in a tiny cup, and carried it into the bathroom. I locked the door in case he did wake up. How could I explain this? It was mortifying. I was blushing as it was and I was by myself. If he discovered me, what could I possibly say? And even as I did this, I told myself it was stupid, I could never go through with it. As I stood there, I was sure I wouldn't do it. I wasn't planning to do it. It was absurd, ridiculous...titillating.

And so it's me, nude, in the bathroom, with this little bit of tabasco sauce. I stared at myself in the mirror, and I was distantly amused to see that I was blushed and had the tiniest most apprehense smile on my lips that I'd ever seen. And it's funny, because even up to the last second I was so sure I couldn't possibly do it.

Still telling myself I wouldn't, couldn't, could never ever do this, I dipped my fingers in the cup - and dabbed it on my clit between my spread legs. Momentarily, I felt satisfied - there, I thought. You can't undo it. There's no way to get it off now. You have to live with what you just did!

But then....disappointment. I frowned. It just felt cold. I gave it a second and then wondered if perhaps it was too old. Idiot that I was, I dabbed the rest on myself, telling myself that if it hurt like hell I deserved it. Doing it to myself? What an idiot. What was I thinking? How could I? How could I <b>not</b>?

I waited a moment, and oh. My. God.

It burned. My whole clit felt swollen. It was all I could do not to roll my hips and moan. The pain was intense. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt. I bounced, tears fell. I hissed. I tried not to moan loudly. It was SO hot and it hurt SO much.

And it was exactly, exactly, what I'd always fantasized about. I found myself masturbating without conscious decision to. Rubbing my clit, which was hard and swollen - and not just swollen from the tabasco. I came quickly, and I cried. I had no concept of time. Had I been there five minutes? 10? 30? An hour? I had no idea, but it was still burning. In my head, I imagined the ritualized punishment, being told this was my penance for some transgression - my mind was in chaos and though my fantasies are usually more structured, more defined, I felt close to orgasm again.

At the height of the burning, I remember thinking I had to try ginger some time.

I masturbated again. I felt so wet. I felt so turned on. I felt soooooo bad, so in pain, so ... punished.


And I had done it to myself!

When I went to bed and lay next to my husband, it was still burning slightly, like aftershocks. I was stunned.

I could never, I vowed, do that again.

Ever.

But without having consciously made any decision, I found my fingertip lightly rubbing my clit as I remembered the experience, riding the waves towards orgasm without having planned to masturbate at all.

First post.

Livejournal is driving me crazy. Initially I'd rejected blogger because I wanted to keep my writings private and restricted, I realized on reflection that I really only need them private on LJ - my husband won't see them here and while I'll share my reactions with him, I need an anonymous space to work through my responses to our playing with dominance and submission and spanking and other things.

If you choose to read this, well...I hope you enjoy? But please be aware this isn't really meant as a public tool so much as a private one, so posts may at times be very stream of conscious.

At the time I write this, I am 27, female, married. I identify as bisexual, but am in a monogamous relationship with a man I love deeply.  We have begun to play with pain and spanking and bondage in our sex play, and unlike other sex, I have found my reactions to be complex. As is my typical response, I am writing to work through them.

As a small side note, I have several pieces already written that I'll put up now - they've been written as long ago as a week, but due to LJ being extremely frustrating I am switching so they are being reposted here.