:)

I should, right now, be attending to my obligation of writing back to everyone who has responded to a variety of prior posts.

But I’m not.

I’m sitting here on Monday morning, a bit dazed and frankly? Lost in euphoria.

That’s not a word I use a lot.

But it is exceedingly apt to describe exactly my headspace just now.

Euphoric.

My body is buzzing and painful. It hurts to move arms, legs, even shifting in my chair. My ass hurts and my pussy throbs.

It’s a funny kind of throb.

An overused-oh-please-don’t-touch-me- throb.

And an aroused, oh-PLEASE-touch-me ache.

Yes, both, simultaneously.

He made me wait a long while for that first, oh-so needed orgasm, when that door closed behind us.

Nervous.

I told Him, in the parking lot.

“I’m…nervous, Master.”

“You? Nervous?”

I bit my lip, nodded, and whispered “yes.”

And I was.

It’s been months since major pain. It’d been nearly a week since an orgasm (I know, I see some of you rolling your eyes…’not even a full week, nilla and you’re already whining?’).

I wanted, needed and craved Him.

He didn’t disappoint.

He let me slide into the bathroom and prepare. But I’d left my makeup bag in my purse on the outside.

In the Danger Zone.

Where He was.

I tried to duck out and grab it.

He gave me the once over, and a long, low “n-iiii-ce” and I felt (i know, i know) “safe”. The wall featured a mirrored glass door for the closet, and I felt safe enough to put on my eyeliner there.

No glasses.

Peering at what I was doing.

Not realizing that He had snuck up on me with the fucking pink hairbrush.

*WHAP*

Right there, out of the blue, nilla climbs the wall…

He timed it precisely. Timed it so that the eyeliner wasn’t at my eye, but just as I had pulled it away to see if I’d covered the area…

and again, another WHAP! Fast, terribly fast, and hard on the same spot. And then the other cheek. Whap, Whap…

Waves of pain.

Waves of ache.

Waves of it.

I couldn’t even yell. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t….just hung there on my tippytoes, mouth open, in a silent yelp…

and He laughed.

Just the opening salvo in a day of pain and joyful sex.

So much laughing.

So much joy.

Tears, a few, from the fucking silver cake thingy on my tits…and the fucking pink brush.

Bruises, already blooming even before it was time to go our separate ways.

And orgasms.

Many, many squirty, wet, soak-the-bed orgasms that leave one’s pussy throbbing.

Aching.

In that please don’t…and …please PLEASE do…touch me again way.

Confusing.

Arousing.

Just another subspace Monday…. in Euphoria.