See, one of the things about kink is that it opens up your mind. It opens the thoughts of “if that was great, what about “X”” – it’s an ongoing cycle that drives kink forward and gets you to consider all sorts of things… I mean, what if…
That’s exactly the thing that is happening right now. What if the impact play is, well, played with. What if it’s more, different, etc. Not in a “beat the crap out of me” standpoint, I’m not really interested, and she’s not really interested in dealing out, the art of being a butt-fillet. But…
“Ya know,” I say… “Sometimes I wonder. That whole subspace thing. And impact play. And, well, yeah.”
I pause a beat because I’m a chicken-shit and want to but don’t want to talk about it. I know that when I bring up ideas, she’s all about changing them up, using what she likes, making them her own, and letting the chips fall where they may with me. I like that part of D/s – that we can talk about ideas, but then she changes this or that, or turns up the volume on this, or down on that.
“Oh,” she says, with that whole spill the beans look. “Tell me more, now please.”
This. This is the way I started a conversation. I should know when it’s better to shut the hell up. Stop while I’m ahead. Shut. Up. I’m thinking about this, here, prone, waiting. I look up to see her walking around me. She’s sizing me up, figuring out at the moment just what, exactly, she wants to do. I love this part. It shoves all the masochist, subby vibes to the front and my world fades away, shrinking down to the here and now.
At the same time, I can feel my anxiety rising with the unknowns. I’m face down, but she’s putting on a blindfold, and headphones, they’re over my head from the back, music playing. I can’t even concentrate on it, but it’s there picking at my brain. It’s also blocking out my awareness of where she is, what she’s doing.
Until that first SMACK connects. Then I know exactly where she is. It’s followed quickly with about 10 other smacks, then nothing but her hand on me.
Her hand goes away and I brace. But nothing. I don’t know if she’s getting a different toy or what, and my head is trying to figure all of this out as she connects again with me – lighter, but wider hits – must be a paddle or something in that realm. It stings, but it’s less than before.
She swaps out toys, crop, flogger, other paddles for a few minutes, then pauses again.
I want to know, to see, but can’t.
Then it connects, again, rapid-fire, about twice the first batch, definitely more than recent, and building… up to about 20 or so hits (I lost count), building. She pauses again, rubbing me. I’m braced, waiting for the rubbing to be replaced with smacks.
Instead, she turns on the Jett and gets out the cat-o-nine-tails, THUDDING against my back, the sensations are crazy different. Heavy. The jet pulling at my cock, the sensations have nowhere to go, but still, fuck with my head.
She’s pausing again, the Jett building and she’s playing with the intensity, looking for that magic point where the motors play off each other, this weird harmonic thing going on. I can’t tell if she’s still adjusting it, but holy crap it feels good now, and it’s building. There’s literally nothing I can do. I don’t know where she is, can’t hear what she’s doing, only the feelings roaring through my body now.
I can feel it building, feel it running up and down my spine.
SMACK! I feel the connection and it’s like it bursts out my cock, fighting to come, but blocked by the smack, then the Jett stops completely and she is back at me, more than that last more serious batch even now, but this pulsing of batches – with things between, even just a few minutes between is making my body crave, just a little bit, the Jett, the impact, all of it. But I’d never admit that…
This cycle of increasing and super-close together smacks for a duration (it seemed like usually 20 or so) and the lesser ones in between for several minutes and playing with the Jett builds and builds. I feel each connection – from the vibrations to the impacts to scratches to whatever she feels like doing… as they build throughout me.
There’s no rational thought now. Just animal feelings really. Just wanting. Wanting more. Wanting to feel more. Wanting to chase after those sensations and my body’s reactions. Feeling like I’m on display, feeling like the reactions are being pulled from me now, rather than happening on my own accord. Feeling like the energy is tied to each increasing set.
I can feel it overwhelming me, I’m sort of bouncing around this space, diving in after the feelings, the good and bad, feeling like it should never end. She’s entirely driving this, entirely controlling more, or less, and from what. She’s mixed in marks, impact, bites, and other things she’s pent up for too long.
I never dreamed it would come out in a wave. But here we are. It’s crazy mental and when it’s over and she’s relaxing a bit, I’m doing my best to come back to the present, we look at each other and just grin.
“Yeah, like that,” I say. “JUST like that.”