Bruised Meat

There was much hitting (as one would expect) during our playtime. Pinned, arms bound criss-cross, I could not stop Him. Despite twisting, turning, wriggling, He slapped arms, thighs, that OMG-TOO-TENDER! spot where ass and thigh meet…and my tits. His hands squeezed, slapped, pinched, shook and molested my poor tits until I was crying.

And then he took the spoon to them.

20170827_144228_Burst01

This is how they looked an hour after he attacked them…and this is how they looked last night, 3 days later:

20170830_225113

Pretty, pretty bruises.

 

HNT ~ D/s Style

I’m still floating. Still in a really, really good headspace. I’m pretty much an “up” person these days, with occasional dips into low places, but then again, that’s part of the human condition, right?

But after playtime with Him? I’m so hurty-excellent that I’m getting much accomplished. If only you could see my ass. A full three days into this and sitting is *still* painful. Really painful.

And I’m in a constant state of horny, which is good. And bad. My head is spinning stories, my mind is finangling another playtime and and and…but wait.

I’m going on and on and it’s HNT day! Okay, here ya go…

20170625_132151.jpg

Heh. Those are not tits now, are they? (totally laughing my butt of imagining all you all’s faces.)

You must admit that it’s a purdy sexy pic though, right? I love the way M’s legs frame mine…and you can’t see it but He is pinching my nipples and I’m taking the picture around his arms. There was incentive to get it right the first time, but he had me take two just in case.

Or just to pinch my nipples longer.

So here’s the set up for the “real” HNT picture.

I’m laying on the bed, already smacked and mussed up and breathless…

“M, can I ask a favor?” I say, my voice kind of quiet and breathy. Then I think about it and say “Nevermind. I can’t believe I was going to even say that. What was I thinking.”

“What nilla?” he says. My sudden change of heart has caught his attention and his eyes sharpen,

“it’s nothing, I changed my mind,” I say, rolling over.

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

He slaps my ass then when I roll to my tummy to attempt to get away from the slap, he lays atop me to stop me. His hands dig under me, and finding my tits, squeeze them, knead them, in a rough, fierce grasp. Now I’m whining and thrashing but he’s pinned me you see. No place to go.

“What nilla?” He says in my ear, his voice amused, and also, brooking no denial.

“I…I did a pic last week a vanilla blackandbluepicture and …and…”

He pinches really hard and I squeal. His laughter shakes through my body.

“And?”

“And I wonderedifyouddoadsversionofthepic”

I said in a rush.

He crushes my tits, then rolls off me, pulling me up off the bed.

“Okay.”

I stand hands at my sides as He takes my tits out of my bra, picks up the wooden spoon I gave him in a moment of sheer stupidity and wanton abandon, and twirls it between his fingers while holding my eyes with his. Holding my tit in his hand, he starts slapping it with the spoon. He switches to pinching my tit, exposing my nipple and swats the fuck out of it. Over. Over. Over again.

Oh.

I almost came, right then. The pain was sharp, intense. Blow after blow. When he was satisfied with one area, he chose another. I was shaking, almost crying.

“Oh” he says, and drops my tit. “I almost forgot this one,” and he scoops out the other tit, and starts beating it as he had it’s mate.

There was biting in there, but honestly by then I was seeing stars and moons and totally out in blotto land. So here you go,  you pervie peeps! This is the D/s version of Black and Blue:

20170626_184240.jpg

(And those bruises are even darker now. This was what I took when I got home after playtime)

 

Thanks(giving) for the Mammory Memories

It’s Thanksgiving here in the States, and the annual tradition of turkey and stuffing and all that good food and companionship and family and friends–and the time to give thanks for our many blessings–is upon us.

I do give thanks for the vanilla parts of my life, very deeply rooted gratitudes for the blessings of my family, my home, my life.

But with this other side of me, there is a different richness of blessings.

I’m blessed to have a Master who knows me as well as He does, who spoils me and teases me and urges me to be a better me. Who loves me for being the slutty little whore who begs for His attention, for being the painslut who loves the slap of His hands upon my body as much as I love the gentle kisses He sometimes bestows. I love the feel of His fist curled up in my hair, the slap of His toys on my ass, the brutal bite of His teeth on my shoulder, the way I go in looking nice, and come out looking used. I love the pain of being fucked to orgasm so many times, (with so many toys, with His cock, with His fingers, with His mouth,) that I can barely walk when our time is over. I love that we’ve made it work for all these years and keep growing closer entwined in each others needs.

And I love the way He marks me.

Three months ago He did this….(it still makes me very wet to look at these pictures…) and I’m ready for more. So yes, I’m greedy–but I have deep gratitude that His needs mesh so well with mine, that He is the answer to the question I discovered lived inside of me. So I’ll have that turkey and veggies, to be sure, and enjoy them fully. And later, not much later, I’ll enjoy the feast of His time and attention. And maybe come out looking somewhat like this once again.

S30A08031

Happy Thanksgiving, and Blessings to you, pervy peeps!

 

“Painterly” Bruises HNT

He really nailed my tits with His wicked little cane. It’s so thin, so innocuous looking. But the way He flicks it across, over, and around my breasts is wicked and painful and, of course, wonderful. I love it, even when I suck in a sharp breath when He’s hitting the same spot over and over again. The throb that’s left behind–days later–when I touch or accidentally bang it makes me horny all over again.

painterly boobsI love the way the “painterly” effect on my phone app makes it look like He painted me with purple and blue smudges. Who knew that my beloved Master was an artist? 😀

 

HNT-Mammory Memories

How I hope to revisit this particular vision when we meet this weekend…

(Master, will you cane my tits? I’ve been fantasizing about it endlessly…?)

(*sound of deep, dark laughter* Oh nilla, you silly little slut. I’d be happy to make your fantasy a reality. VERY happy.)

And He was.

And I was.

And even now just writing about it makes me wet all over again..

 

Leftie

HNT- Bruised Memories

I’d asked for it specifically. Pleassssssse Master, please work my tits over, hard. Don’t spare me…I…need it.

I begged for a week or more before our meeting…and this is what came of it.

It’s a fond memory, one of pain and attention (oh when His focus finds a target,–it comes full-on) and weeks of bruises. A blessing and a curse to remember this so well…
S30A08031