by Friday midnight, you will experimentation with multiple clothespins, on nipples, outer lips, inner lips, hood and clit You Will write about the experience
Master
me: is she to leave the house pinched or perform certain tasks, or merely stand in the center of the living room pinching and un-pinching herself? There is much room for interpretation, Sir. ;-)
Him: You may leave the house pinned if you have places to go, or you could perform household chores. The choice is yours.
A posted photo, duscreat of course , would be excellent Master
* * * * * * * But His Directions go unbidden.
Over the course of the next day or so, I find myself both without privacy and, for some reason, suddenly self-conscious about my body and sharing images of it with Him (or anyone). Not to mention there’s a weird, new feeling — one of not deserving His leadership, His trust, His affection, Him. For some strange reason, a week later as I am writing this right now, that last “undeserving” feeling sits in the pit of my stomach, literally churning away, eating at me. Unfollowed directions, until today.
The self-consciousness is mostly gone (there is always a healthy glimmer there for primal safety). A temporary state after His surprise visit here on 15 Jan. A totally unexpected visit that has me still reeling two week later from stun and shock; so profoundly moved I am, to be treasured by this Man; His choice to please me by ‘just showing up’ (and on a weekend I had important social engagements, no less). I have thought of little else the past two weeks…little else. No one has displayed affection for me like this, to go the extra mile, as much and as often as He does, especially given the obvious limitations of “Us.” I love who I am with Him, and like what He can offer now, and I hope to love and honor Him a good, long while.
With the clothespins behind the tips like that, the pain is less immediate, but on my nipples that’s a more intense use of them. Pinch the tips of my nipples if you want a gasp of pain. But pinch behind and hold, manipulate them, twist, rub, or clip there and add swinging weights? That starts a slow burn in my cunt that will eventually have me grinding my hips and begging to be fucked, fisted, or otherwise filled. Those subtle nerves behind the nipple build as you abuse them until I’m completely mad with the pleasure. Sir has learned to put this to good use, when he desires to draw a round of most sincere begging and unhinged arousal from me.
A small window popped up on my laptop screen, flashing blue. An instant message from Daddy.
Put your sparkly [anal] plug in. Find the hood and 20 clothespins
A felt a wave of excitement. Was this for real? What happens if I don’t do it? I had just been punished two days prior for not listening, did I really want to be punished again?
I grabbed the hood and carefully counted out 20 clothespins. Twice. Paranoia set in and I counted them a third time. Exactly 20. Not 19, not 21. Good. I laid them all out on the bed and placed the hood right next to it.
Anal plug. I considered using lube since the message didn’t say anything about it, but decided against it. Daddy never uses lube. I bent over and slid the plug in, gasping at the feel of cold metal being buried inside me.
The window flashed again. More instructions.
Now pick out a cane and a pair of handcuffs. I want you to get on your knees, put the cane at your feet, put on all the clothes pins, hood yourself and handcuff yourself behind the back. Wait for daddy and realize what a dirty little toy you are
I felt myself get wet and I wanted to touch myself, but couldn’t. Literally couldn’t without permission. I grabbed the clothespins and hood and laid them neatly on the floor in front of my bedroom door.
I pulled all the canes out of the closet. I looked through all of them. The sight of them made my bruises from the previous punishment ache. I ended up picking the cane/slapper hybrid that @SirRonC had given us as a collaring present. I laid it behind me. I grabbed the dull black handcuffs and laid them next to the hood.
I looked at the 20 clothespins then at my body. Did Daddy care where I put these? Was it even possible to put all them on my body? What would happen to be if any of these came off after I handcuffed myself?
I re-counted them one last time to make sure I had all 20. I proceed to clip them on me in groups of 5: 5 on my side of my pussy, 5 on the other. 5 on the left breast, 5 on the right. I saved putting them on my nipples until last. The painful sensation of the last two clothespins ran through my body and I for a full minute or so I was afraid to move. Every movement made me intensely aware of everything clipped onto me and I suddenly ached for Daddy to be home.
I pulled the hood over my face and readjusted it. It wasn’t completely opaque, but I definitely couldn’t see what I was doing. I blindly groped in front of me until my fingers brushed into the handcuffs. I hesitated. What if Daddy doesn’t come home? How long would I be sitting here, in pain, waiting?
It didn’t matter. Daddy told me to do it, so I did it. He could have left me there all night long and I still would have done it. I clumsily cuffed my hands behind my back.
and I waited. It felt like forever. My knees ached and my whole body stung. I drifted in and out of my head. I wondered what Daddy had planned and I shivered with anticipation.
After what felt like a lifetime toying with different ideas and fantasies, I finally heard my door click. I felt myself smile in relief a bit, knowing he was here. Then a brief wave of embarrassment because I knew what Daddy was going to say.
“Wow, what a dirty little slut. What kind of proper girl does this to herself?” He chided. I felt my face get hot and I tilted my head down. He was right, of course. What kind of girl WOULD do this to themselves?
I turn a shutter go off and snapped my head up futilely. I couldn’t see, but I knew he was taking pictures of me. Intensely embarrassed, I tilted my head down again.
“No, slut, keep your head up.”
I did as I was told and I heard the shutter go off one more time. I felt Daddy walk up to me and bend over. I could feel his face next to mine.
“You did a good job at listening to Daddy. Good girl. I’ll let you kiss me.”
I sighed and leaned in eagerly. I felt his lips brush against mine and I wanted more.
“Is this really 20 clothespins?” He asked suddenly, flicking a couple of the one between my legs. I gasped at the sensation and fought the urge to shut my legs. Daddy caught the movement, he’s always so perceptive.
“Don’t you dare shut your legs, you know better than that.” He flicked each clothespin on my body, each producing a different pain, a different sensation. I moaned and wanted him to touch me, thought about begging him, but didn’t. If Daddy wanted to touch me, he would.
“Let’s see if you have all 20, shall we?”
Daddy shifted around me and picked up the cane from the floor. He used it to trace the curves of my body. Then he promptly used the cane to knock off each clothespin one by one. He started with the ones on my breasts. The entire time he used his free hand to play with the ones between my legs. He occasionally ran his fingers a little higher to feel how turned on I was. I expected him to say something about it, but he didn’t. He didn’t even acknowledge me.
After all the ones on my breasts were knocked off, he pulled the ones between my legs off, varying the speed at which he pulled. He would tug on them, to see the stretch, to hear me cry or gasp, When they were finally removed, I could hear Daddy move the clothespins around to count them.
Daddy ripped the hood off my me and I blinked several times so my eyes could adjust. Daddy was frowning. He grabbed me by a fistful of my hair and pulled me closer to look at all the clothespins. He had separated them into 4 piles of 5 clothespins. Except…
“Count these. How many are there?” He demanded and he yanked my hair.
I stared at the clothespins for a long time and didn’t answer.
He slapped me and pulled my hair.
“Answer me. How many clothespins are there?”
“1..19.”
“How many?”
“19”
“Do you know what happens to bad girls who don’t listen, Lily?”
