Clit piercing

When we were in college, I got a tattoo and he pierced his ear. I wanted to pierce my tongue, too, but he told me if I put a piece of metal in my mouth like that he’d never kiss me again. He’d still love me, but he wasn’t interested in kissing me with metal in my mouth.

I grumped, but I didn’t pierce my tongue, or anything else for that matter, although I continued piercing my ears – I have 4 on each ear.

And for the next ten years, I really didn’t think about them at all. I saw them in porn, particularly BDSM porn, but really didn’t commit too many brain cells to thinking about them in any way shape or form. There was no point in my mind, he’d never mentioned them again in any capacity so why waste energy? I knew what the different piercings were and knew a lot of female slaves had labial piercings or hood piercings or sometimes even clit piercings but I didn’t really let my mind wander beyond the fact that they exist.

So of course, he sent me an email this morning saying he’d spent the train ride into the city looking into getting my clit pierced. What the hell?

So, I’ve spent my day in a nervous flutter. Half of me is convinced this about the same level of serious-ness as the email I woke up toback in August about branding me, which I have pretty much ruled was a mindfuck…I think.

But half of me is also a little worried…well worried isn’t the right word but…unsure, because he actually gave me a time frame and that’s usually a sign he’s made up his mind to do something. We did talk about the differences between a clit piercing and a hood piercing and a triangle piercing that goes –under- the clit and…I guess what happens will depend on what I’m anatomically suited for?

And when I asked him if I got a say, his reply was hot. He said I could say what I wanted, so yes, but the decision was his. Which has me all colours of confused because I’m torn between feeling like – hey, don’t break my clit, it works fine tyvwm! and feeling like – swoon!

And granted, at the time, I thought he was serious about branding me. I doubt he’s ruled it out for the future but at the same time until we’ve firmly agreed on what our roles are, I am equally doubtful he’d actually do it.

But I don’t know. And I don’t really understand why I’m not arguing with him, either.

On punishment and bathroom sex

Things didn’t happen quite as I had thought they would, but I –was- punished for being late to bed. He didn’t use the cane because he came home tipsy after going to a beer tasting, and to be honest, it seemed like he was going to wait until the next day – which meant not happen – which honestly had me wondering if this was going to work at all.

I didn’t want to control him or correct him on it. As much as I’m sure it still would have hurt…it wouldn’t be the same if I told him he needed to punish me. (There are times when we’ve done that and it’s fun, but that…isn’t what this is about.) I waited until he was about to go to bed before I talked to him because I didn’t want to just sit on my feelings or let the dynamic fall apart from the start; I do want this to work. I just told him as respectfully as I could that not following through was why this hadn’t worked the last time we had tried it. We talked for a few minutes because in his mind not being sober enough to handle the cane was a very good reason to not try to cane me – and he was and is right about that.

But at the same time, this was the first test – we were two days into our 30 day agreement. If things were already going awry, how could we make the rest of the month work? If he explicitly told me he was going to punish me for tardiness – and held firm to that idea up until the point of execution – I felt like we were right back to letting this go. Punishments pushed off have never happened and I wasn’t exactly filled with confidence that this would be an exception. I don’t need him to be an overbearing micromanaging dominant, but I do need him to be able to draw a response out of me. If he’s all bark and no bite, even if I jump the first time or the second time, eventually…human nature…I am going to stop jumping. I don’t want to submit to a dominant I forge in my head – I want to submit to him.

It didn’t take him very long to decide I was right.  And even though I had made it clear that I wasn’t asking him to punish me (and really, I didn’t even want him to), he yanked my hairbrush out of my hand and bent me over. I’ll admit, I was a little peeved. That was my hairbrush! And I had only brought this up when I did because I didn’t want to manipulate him into punishing me and I was immediately worried I had. I stopped worrying about that pretty fast though because damn – that fucking hurt. I’d never had more than the occasional swat with it and I was so freaking surprised at the pain – it hurt and then it stung! Not that he’s big on warm ups anyway, but there were none – and he was swinging hard, and getting harder. I actually cried out on the last one even though I could see from the look on his face in the mirror that it was going to be a bad one. Stupid brush, I might never look at it the same again – despite not having the heft of the wooden spoon or flogger or the crack of the belt, it hurt. A lot. And left me barely red! Insult to injury.

And of course, he decided he liked that. Putting my hands behind head and admonishing me to keep them there, he began spanking my breasts with that stupid brush. OW. My breasts bruise pretty easily – I’ve never figured out why – but I was surprised how fast they came up. I don’t even know when it changed but at some point he spun me around to fuck me roughly from behind – while still swatting my tits with the damn hairbrush. I don’t remember much of it but I do remember being on the peak and he swatted my right breast hard enough to bring me down hard – I was snapped out it so fast because it felt like my whole breast stung. He grinned (sex in the bathroom has advantages) – bastard knew exactly what he had done! – and fucked me harder, still swatting my right breast. I’ve dealt with pain during sex before – clothespins on my clit and nipples, tabasco on my clit, him grinding into welts and bruises from me just being caned or spanked etc – but rarely more than the occasional spank during the actual fucking and I wasn’t sure if I was going to find my rhythm again to come during regular intervals of sporadic pain. Needless to say though..I did. Haha.

And it wasn’t that I liked the spanks on my breast – some of them were really hard! – but maybe it was the contrast, because I do remember that I came hard.

And damn, but there is literally a palm sized bruise on the outside of my right breast.

I have more I want to write about, but I think I’ll make it a separate post because I want to be able to find it easily later.

Back down the rabbit hole

Oh look, I have a blog. Say what?

The truth is, shortly after my last entry, he asked me to show him a post of mine, and that required giving him the link to my blog. He knew it existed but hadn’t asked to see it. And as soon as this became a space that was 100% transparent I turned chicken. So instead of blogging and reaching out to others in similar head spaces or life situations, I…ignored my blog completely.

And that’s been bugging me for about two months, but yanno. The whole chicken thing.

But blogging about my reactions and responses and feelings about submission was helpful, and while he never said a word I am pretty sure he would think so too.

So, hi blog. –dusts off the blog- Sorry to neglect you, I’ll try to be a good girl.

And well, it didn’t help that things got a little stagnant. He’s been busy, he’s worked late…and the power dynamic…wasn’t maintained. I’m not finding fault, but I had a hard time feeling submissive when he wasn’t acting dominant. Not that we didn’t still have rough sex or he didn’t still order me to blow him, but it was more like…kinky sex and expected oral sex rather than an actual kinky dynamic. There were occasional erotic threats that would send little jolts of arousal through me, but they were almost never carried through. And I just…I couldn’t convince myself that I was still being submissive when there was no one to submit to. I wasn’t willing to pretend in the safety of my own head that he was being a dom when really, he was just too tired or busy to tend to that aspect of our relationship. It just doesn’t work in my head to submit in bits and pieces; I guess I’m just too…too all or nothing. If he isn’t in control, it doesn’t work for me.

And well..I challenged him, a lot. It wasn’t conscious, but looking back, I think I was trying to get .. a reaction? I wanted him to respond by taking control, or more by showing me that I wasn’t. We did know the dynamic had slipped to the wayside in the face of overwhelming worldly issues, and it’s not like this was a conscious thing on my part – I just knew I was frustrated. And when he wouldn’t respond – or respond consistently, I became more frustrated. I don’t need him to control the minutiae in my life – I am an intelligent, highly educated person who has successfully managed professionally. But if we’re going to give lipservice to the idea of D/s relationship…it doesn’t work if there’s nothing to submit to, at least for me. Maybe it does for other people and I’m just needy and selfish. I can own that, I’m well aware of both the good points and flaws that make up my personality. But either way, it didn’t work.

But we’ve been talking about working on it and ,aking an effort, because it’s something we both find fulfilling, erotic, and enjoyable. He proposed a month of absolute; no boundaries or limits beyond those we’ve mutually established in the relationship outside of a D/s context. Complete control, complete obedience, and punishment if I don’t hold up my end. We spent quite a while emailing back and forth about it, because not only is this deeper than any of our trials before – it feels…more serious. More real.

And so…the neglected blog. –dusts it off some more-

Will it work this time? I don’t know. I hope so. I’m sitting here with the jeweled steel butt plug in because he told me too. (On a side note, that thing is uncomfortable, but not the way I thought it would be – the flat edges around the jewel…pinch. I think we need a nicer one if he wants extended use.) I had a reason for mentioning that, but I can’t remember what it is now.

I plan to give it what I’ve got…I believe he will too. And that makes me nervous. Nervous because…I think it will work. I feel like it’s a shift in our relationship. I feel like he can be strong enough to dominate me, which both frightens me because I have a strong personality – I am not a doormat. I am not the kind of submissive falling over herself to bow at her dom or master or owner or (insert label of your choice here)’s feet. To submit I need to feel like .. he’s stronger, I guess. And while I’m frightened at the idea of being broken to submission, much as it’s something I want, it’s…thrilling, too. I want him to have control not just because I’ve randomly decided to fall down at his feet, but because he’s stronger – not an ass, but stronger – and I have to. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the email I got saying that I have 10 lashes (of what? The flogger? One of the canes? I’m not sure) has me wet. Not because I want the pain – I’m not that kind of masochist to get off on the actual pain – but because I was 10 minutes late getting to bed last night and he’s going to enforce it. Which…he wouldn’t have before.