#scratching

Happy hour last Tuesday (8.26.2013) went well. I started the evening talking to Vegan Boy. After a little while, I noticed someone new to me, Mad Hatter, talking to someone new to the local scene about the community in the area and about poly stuff. Besides the fact that Mad Hatter and the girl he was talking with were both attractive, I thought the conversation sounded interesting and like I might have something to contribute to it. Vegan Boy and I joined in their conversation. At one point, Mad Hatter made a comment about some kind of fairly edgy play and laughed at the differences in the reaction I had versus the reaction the other girl in the conversation had. He seems fun and I think I’ll try to get to know him better. By which I mean play with him and/or have sex with him.

I was having such a good time talking to people that I decided to skip the class that was being offered upstairs. I went up to the bar to get another drink and The Violinist made a comment to me about something or other. I’d seen him around and talked with him a bit before. He’d seemed like someone I might enjoy playing with, so after we reintroduced ourselves, I invited him to leave the bar and come join me on the couch.

We started talking and eventually the conversation turned to our kinks, of course. He mentioned rope, but then emphasized a more sadistic side. Then he literally self-identified to me as a “reaction junkie.” Well, obviously my reaction was “Well, hello there!” He started messing with me a bit while we were sitting downstairs on the couch. Eventually, the class was over and we headed upstairs.

The Violinist started hitting my thighs, smacking them with the paddle and his fists. He put his hand around my throat, called me names, dug his nails in, and scratched me. I was squirming around his lap and making lovely little noises. While he was hurting me, we were also having some nice conversation and getting to know each other. At one point I looked over and noticed that Vegan Boy was patiently holding the water I’d told him to bring me. I eventually managed to tell The Violinist that I should give Vegan Boy some attention (also I wanted to hit the kid), and we made plans to go back to my place after happy hour.

I started playing with Vegan Boy. I was slapping and hitting his arms and thighs and built up to punching him. He actually had his clothes off this time, and I was eventually hitting him basically as hard as I could. He asked me if I wanted to spank him, and I said “Sure!” I wanted to have a spanking bench put together, so I turned to Vegan Boy and said, “Watch this.” I went over to one of the nice young men watching, and in a cute little voice, asked him if he would help me put together a spanking bench with the ottomans sitting around. He obviously said yes, because who can resist an adorable young woman asking for help making a piece of furniture so she can hit someone? Vegan Boy bent over, and I started spanking and hitting him. I even got to spend some more time punching him, and from this angle I was able to put my hips into it a little. I know I’m not super big and strong, but oof this guy can take a lot. I need to build up my own stamina so I can hurt him more. And I need to toughen up my poor hands.

At the end of the night, I went to the fast food place with The Violinist and a group of people. When we left to go to the train, he put his hand around the back of my neck and left it there the entire time, guiding me to the station. While waiting for the train, he kept hurting me, mostly by digging his nails in and dragging them along my skin. I really enjoyed the challenge of trying not to cry out in pain when he scratched me. When we got to our final stop, he put his hand back on my neck as we walked to the car.

When we got back to my place, we brushed our teeth and then he dragged me to the bed. While he was hitting me, he made me hump his leg continuously, and any time I’d stop, he’d remind me to start again. When I started doing it without being told, he’d say “Good bitch.” I really enjoyed that, actually. He kept referring to me that way when I did something he liked, like I was being a well-trained bitch. At the beginning of the night, he told me “I’m not going to hit you in the face” (that night). Of course, that didn’t stop me from flinching all over the place, since I was still coming down off spending a bunch of time with Reaction Junkie, who hit me in the face a bunch. And because I just get flinchy around people who hit me. The Violinist beat me and punched me and scratched me and slapped my tits. I was moaning and grinding on his leg like a bitch in heat. Then he bit my tit so hard I cried. The crying didn’t bother him, which was good, but I felt weird about it because it was the first time we’d hung out.

When I recovered from the crying, he hit me for a while longer and then growled, “Do you want to get fucked?” I immediately said “Yes please!” He grabbed a condom and started fucking me nice and hard. He asked at one point, “How important is it to you that you cum tonight?” I responded that it wasn’t important, unless it was important to him. When he heard that, he had me flip over and fucked me from behind until he came. Then we cuddled up and passed the fuck out.

In the morning, we woke up earlier than necessary, and I started grinding against him a little. He asked “You want it again?” Of course I did. I’m an insatiable slut! So he gave me a nice morning fuck. Then I gave him breakfast and drove him to the metro. Before he got out of the car, he said we should do something at an event, so I’m super excited for the next party because I love getting hurt in public. I’m pretty pleased with myself for being such a good slut, having my first real conversation with a guy and taking him home with me the same night. Now, that’s my kind of happy hour.

My date with Lioness was amazing and a little bit scary. I was doubly nervous. Nervous because she’s a woman, and nervous because she’s very toppy/dommy. I was right to be nervous.

She selected a ramen place for us to go to and picked me up at the train station. As we drove, we chatted about our days and various other topics. She told me she prefers driving manual, “because I like control,” as she smiled at me. She nodded and said that most girls are like that when I informed her I don’t have much experience with women. I told her about my first date rules. She wasn’t at all bothered, and when we got out of the car,by he said that she liked that I had those rules.

As we walked to the bank for her to get cash, she punched me in the arm and asked “Does that hurt?” I don’t think any of the men who use me would ever dare to do that in such a public setting. [It’s both useful, because I enjoy being hurt in public, and concerning, because abuse happens in same-sex couples (and to men from women) as well, and the idea of abuse as something men do to women can get in the way of victims seeking help.] I dutifully told her that it did hurt, but the other side hurt more. I also told her that my left calf still hurts when I walk. If someone wants to use me that way, I should tell them those sorts of thing so that they can either avoid them, or, more likely with the way I should be treated, focus in on them.

As we walked out of the bank, I told her that I like being hurt in public and having to pretend everything is normal. Throwing myself under the bus, per usual. She liked this, and soon started grabbing me and digging her nails into my skin. She pulled my hair some, and pushed me around, as well. In the middle of walking down a not exactly empty city street, in early evening. It was painful, unsettling, and fascinating. I was worried about what other people thought, and tried to make only quiet noises. She enjoyed hearing my little squeaks and whimpers as she pinched me, pushed me, grabbed me, and dug her nails in.

When we got to the ramen place, I walked up the stairs ahead of her, which allowed her to grab and squeeze my left calf, making me help and grab the railing to avoid tripping. She gave me a grin as we put our names in and, as she had warned me would probably happen, were told there would be an hour long wait. I would normally never wait that long, but they had a system and she gave them her number. We headed out to get a drink while we waited.

We went across the street for cocktails and sat at a table. She started doing the most upsetting thing she did all night: maintaining eye contact. Whenever I looked at her, she was looking right at me, her dark eyes watching my discomfort. I told her it made me uncomfortable, which got a “Good.” in response. We started talking about ourselves and kink, and at some point during the conversation, she told me “I’m like a big cat,” which made me grin, thinking about her nickname, “Lioness.” I told her about that, and she liked it. She told me that I was her prey, and I realized that exactly how I felt. I wanted to impress her and behave in order to appease her. The look in her eyes was the look of a hungry predator. None of the men in my life look at me like that, even the sadistic ones. She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me. When I said that, she smiled at me and said, “I do.”

At some point during the night she said I was like a “little mouse” and started calling me that in an affectionate and dangerous way.

We continued talking and discussed what she enjoys. She very much likes control of all kinds. She really likes to hurt people, both physically and mentally. She informed me that she likes crying, and bringing people to “Yellow.” Somewhat proudly, she told me that she had played with a woman who was known as a heavy bottom and she brought that woman to use her safeword. When I told her about the fact that I have to ask a man for permission to orgasm, she seemed mildly interested, but not at all bothered by it. That was a relief, since I was concerned how a dominant woman might react to something like that.

When the topic of limits came up, I told her I don’t so much have any anymore, especially with MLAM. I mentioned scat and vomit, which she said she was also not into and then I mentioned “other people’s blood.” That made her give me a smile and a look, and then she asked, “And what about your blood?” I looked away, as kept doing the whole night and looked at the wall as I told her that was something that I’m interested in, but that it scares me. She told me that she would tear my back up with scratching. Basically guaranteed. That’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with, as men, or at least the men I’ve played with, aren’t so much for the scratching. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it. Of course, as MLAM reminded me earlier today, what I can take isn’t the point. I’ll take what Lioness dishes out.

I was feeling antsy and a little overwhelmed, but she did reassure me of several things, which made me more comfortable, although actually being comfortable was not in the cards for a little mouse out on a date with a lioness. She said she definitely wants me to use my safewords when I need to, and that at least the first few times she checks in what some might consider “too much.” I don’t mind that at all. MLAM does similar things, and it makes me feel safe letting go and pushing myself. She also told me that if I ever wanted to just hang out and talk, or have sex without kink, that was fine, too. She gets “lots of play,” so if I’m not up for things some evening, we don’t have to do them.

When we finally returned to the restaurant for our ramen, we were seated at the bar, which was relaxing for me, since it meant way less eye contact. Relaxing at first, that is. Then she started hurting me. She put her hand on my lower back, under my shirt and dug her claws in, scratching up. It hurt in a stingy, long-lasting way. I squirmed a bit much and she did stop. She told me that was an example scratch and asked how I liked it. I told her it was a lot, and I wasn’t used to that sort of pain, and that I’d probably take it better out of public. She understood and switched to other ways of hurting me for the time being. At one point, she dug her nails in deep into my left thigh, lifted and pulled, shook it several times, lightened her grip so I thought it was over, and then she shook it again. It was all I could do to keep semi normal in appearance. That nail dig left marks. Luckily the ramen place was both loud and dark. 

Eventually we finished and walked back to her car. She started smoking a cigarette, and when we got to her car, she said, “You want to be my ashtray, huh?” and we discussed what that might look like. Tapping ash into my mouth, of course, and possibly leaving cigarette burns elsewhere on my body. She drove me back to the train station and, of course, hurt me along the way, including slapping my tit. She told me that she enjoyed our time together and wants to see me again. She informed me, in a matter of fact way, that she almost never asks for a second meeting. “Most people bore me,” she said. I don’t bore her. That’s both good and bad for me. It makes me feel special and eager to please, but of course, what she finds not boring about me is that I’m fun to hurt.

When we stopped at the station, I got my things and then shyly asked if she wanted a kiss. She said yes, and I leaned in, expecting a nice, soft girl kiss. Stupid little mouse. She bit my lip and my tongue and grabbed me hard. Eventually it stopped, but she kept a grip on me with her nails. I asked in a small voice, “Do you want me to get out of your car?” She responded, “Get out of my car” in a dismissive voice. Before I walked away, she told me to let her know when I got home safely. I boarded the train full of subby, happy, somewhat overwhelmed feelings

When I got home, I saw that MLAM had texted me, and I told him a bit about her and the date. He asked how she handled my first date rules, and I reported that nothing seemed to phase her, including the fact that I have to ask a man for permission to cum. I also told him that the Lioness is the person who I’d told him about who smokes and wants to use me as an ashtray. His response was to say “tell her I’d like to talk to her.” Gulp.

I asked if he could tell me what he wanted to talk to her about, or if it wasn’t for me to know. Of course he said, “None of your business, bitch. Let the adults talk.” I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I liked that. A lot. It worked well, considering they’re both older than I am by a decent number of years, and since she’s a woman, “Let the men talk” or something similar doesn’t work. Plus, calling me bitch and pointing out that I’m not a real adult was a good mix of name calling, condescension, and insulting both my intelligence and maturity. Being counted as not one of the adults and being condescended to reminds me of my physical and mental inferiority and makes me feel submissive.

I gave her his contact info this morning and she told me she would text him later today. She also called me “little mouse” again, and it’s just so perfect. Normally I’d say I’m “nervcited,” about two people collaborating in topping me, but with the these two beautiful, intelligent, and most concerning of all, sadistic, people, it’s more like scared and nervous and curious and anxious and feeling stupid that I’m excited. My life is going to get a lot more interesting, fun, difficult, and painful.

I wrote this up the day after it happened, and I like the title and the first part, so I’m leaving it, even though the “last night” in question happened weeks ago.

Last night, Reaction Junkie and I played like we haven’t in far too long. We were trying to be productive, and I asked him to order me around, if he was up for it. And boy, did he. He called me names, hit me, and reminded me of my place. I got much more done than I would have otherwise, and enjoyed doing it for more.

Later, when we were relaxing on the couch watching HIMYM in out underwear (that’s love), he started scratching my back. It felt good, so I asked him to keep doing it. When he continued, he started scratching deep and hard, which still felt good, but in a very different way. Next, he had me in my side and started hitting the back of my thigh. He punched and slapped, hitting me hard with both hands. I went to block once or twice, and he ordered me to keep my hands by my sides. I complied, although it was hard as I watched his hands slamming into me and felt the impact deep in my body. He threw in some elbowing and kneeing, and I relaxed and reveled in the pain.

After he stopped, we continued watching, and eventually he began rubbing my cunt. I closed my eyes and got into it. I got close to cumming a couple times, but kept getting distracted by the show. Eventually, I asked him to turn it off. Reaction Junkie shut off the tablet, and kept touching me. After a few minutes, he told me, “Crawl to the bedroom and use your vibrator to get yourself off.” I grinned, got off the couch, and crawled to the bedroom. Once there, I grabbed a vibrator and climbed into bed. I held it to my clit and started fantasizing.

Reaction Junkie joined me after a couple minutes. He lay next to me for a moment, watching me. Then he got on top of me. Next thing I knew, there was a hand over my mouth, holding my nose shut and cutting off my air. I struggled, a futile action, of course, and when he finally allowed me to breathe again, I gasped for air. When he put his hand around my neck and squeezed, I felt my consciousness drift a little and the edges of my vision start to grey. Reaction Junkie let go well before I was close to going out, but even that little bit gave me a rush.

Intermixed with the breathplay and choking, Reaction Junkie lobbed insults at me and growled threats in my ear. He used his hands to hurt me. He hit me, of course, but he also found just the right places to press in and make me grit my teeth and groan. I’d missed the rush of this kind of spontaneous degradation, fear, and pain. I was so turned on by everything being inflicted on me that my pain tolerance shot through the roof. When Reaction Junkie leaned over and dug his teeth into my arm, I moaned and savored the deep pain that resulted. When he let up with the bite, he quickly followed up by punching the exact spot he’d just released. I yelped, and when he started squeezing the area, I sucked in my breath at the building agony.

As he was doing all this to me, I continued to press the vibrator against my clit. I had started out this masturbation session by fantasizing. When Reaction Junkie came in, I’d been distracted from my fantasy. But I soon found I didn’t need it. Normally I have to fantasize pretty hard, and it can be quite a bit of work for me. This time, though, I didn’t have to put in much of my own work to get off. I sunk in to the experience, the fear, the feeling of his weight on me, the pain, the words he was saying to me. And I came, capping off an unexpectedly wonderful evening with an orgasm.

kinkynsoft:

grab his hair, pull his head back and whisper to him how good he is

Oh I will. Run my nails along his neck and down his chest and tease him with my touch and words until he’s begging for more.