Cat and Mouse

His favorite thing is breast torture.

He plays a lot with nipples,  that's often his focus with quick little pinches and twists or more deliberate clamping sessions.

Thursday he clamped my nipples with the little tweezer clamps. He put them on me, pushing the rings up slowly, watching my tits, my face for feedback. Then, as he often does, he straightened one of them, taking it off and replacing it so it would be perfectly vertical.

And then, rather than playing with me more, he tucked my tits roughly back in my bra, which hurt. And then, a little while later, he pulled my panties off, I thought maybe to spank me, but no, he just took the panties and stuffed them roughly in my bra. It was staggering how much more that hurt. He's never done that before and I sort of want him to do it again, because it was so mean and it hurt so much and he was so indifferent and probably even unknowing of how much that escalated things.

And then, he just waited.

Because Dominants always win the pain waiting game don't they.

And he played with me. Cat and mouse I think.

They hurt more and more and eventually, I begged him to take the clamps off me.  I couldn't take the pain; I was starting to freak.

And eventually he fucked me. And came. And waited some more. Though I didn't cum. That wasn't what the session was about.

And I begged him again. Please to take the clamps off me.

And he started to play sexually with me. He reached between my legs, and pointed out that I was slick and sloppy with his cum. He said it like he was disgusted but he loves finding the mark of his ownership that way.

He played and stroked and rubbed and eventually asked me if I wanted to cum. I said I wanted him to please take the clamps of and he laughed a little and said that wasn't the question. So I said I did want to cum. So he rubbed a little more, and then told me it was too much work and that if I wanted to get off I could do the work and rub myself on his fingers til I got off.

And I squirmed and rubbed and writhed til I got myself off.

And then my tits exploded with pain. And he had me kneel up and put my hands behind my head while he watched me sweat and cry with the pain. His pain.

And then he played with the clamps, taking the first one off slowly, oh so slowly, his fingers gently moving the ring down and spreading the arms of the clamps and peeling them off my nipple as I sobbed. The second one was fast, rough, all one motion an explosion of pain.

Which was worse he asked me.

Both.

Which I guess is why it's his favorite thing?

Rationing

We've been playing this game lately.

Me asking for pain.

I know, doesn't make sense.

And it's dangerous, or it can be, asking The Sadist for sex. That's the way I think of him sometimes: "The Sadist". In capital letters.

It's scary to wake The Sadist and invite him out to play.

Because pain, no matter how exciting and sexual and submissive and glorifying it is sometimes, is also pain. And it fucking hurts.

So, when it goes past the wonderful part, where I'm thrilled to be giving it to him, sometimes it's scary and awful and makes me cry and wish that he didn't do it, and makes me wish especially that I'd never been fool enough to ask for it.

It started over the weekend. We were playing and I knew he couldn't hurt me, not really, because there were limits on him that day, and I just knew I was safe. Weirdly, it made me think of pain, of him hurting me, of offering it, of wanting it, and I started to talk about it. I kept bringing it up, kept bringing the conversation back there, over and over again. How I wanted to offer it, wanted it, wanted it, wanted it.

Pain and sex and humiliation and submission and obedience and did I mention pain. It was about channeling submission into pain and offering it that way. Or something. It was wanting him to hurt me, suggesting ways in which he could, offering it over and over again, acknowledging how hard it would be for me to take it if he started, really started, but how much I wanted him to start, to give it to me, to hurt me. Begging for it.

If I'm honest, I was crazy for it Saturday night, in a frenzy of not getting it, jonesing for it. 

Sunday morning I wanted it again. Pain. I could feel in my body where I wanted it, tits, ass, pussy. Pain. Delicious pain.

It's been a long time since I was so desirous of it. Usually I don't mind a little. Sometimes it's a trigger for sex for me. Often he blasts past the point where it's good for me and I just endure it because he wants it. But very very seldom it's something I crave. I was there.

So I asked him for it. Again. Sunday he gave me a little taste of it. I gobbled it down. Asked for more. He gave me another (smaller) taste. I ate that too.

Today, even smaller tastes. He's rationing pain. Doling it out like I'm in a pain diet. Stingy Sadist.

And he's giving me just enough to make sure I keep following him, begging for more.

I don't think it occurs to him that I will lose interest and wander off. And so far I haven't.

I still want more.

Pain whore he calls me. Yes Sir. Please.