25th January 2012
This weekend he asked me to choose. He has never asked me to choose before. Actually that is not strictly true he has given me options like; the wooden spoon or the whip, or the leather paddle or the wooden paddle but never just a completely free choice from all the instruments of torture. When he saw my choice he smiled but there was something else there in his eyes. Surprise maybe? Yes, it was surprise, you see he was sure I would choose the flogger.
Often there is a tussle in our play or sometimes even a downright dirty fight as I do love to be made to submit. I have always said I am happiest on my knees but only when forced down onto them but on this occasion I felt a need to give myself over to him. No struggle, no direction, just a momentary exchange of glances as I climbed across the bed, laid face down and offered myself to him.
Unlike the flogger or whip or crop to use the vampire gloves on someone you have to be close, and thinking about that now makes me realise that is another reason I love them because they nearly always come with the feel of his body pressed up against mine, and this time was no exception.
Anticipation is a wonderfully torturous thing and laying there with my face buried in the pillow I could feel my heart rate start to pick up ever so slightly as I listened to him to sliding the leather glove over his hand and as he began to draw the sharp prickles down over my back I could feel the heat already beginning to rise between my thighs.
Those first few strokes of the vampire gloves always come as a shock as the sharp little points dig into my skin but unlike spanking, or the paddle where that stinging sensation tends to build it would seem the little points dilute that sting and turn it into a deeper sensation that has me arching my back and thrusting my behind out for more.
I love the way those sharp little needles dig into my flesh causing the blood to flow to the surface of my skin and spreading around its heat like a poison within me. I know he doesn’t spank me quite as hard as he does without the gloves but even so I wouldn’t say he holds back either and there is certainly no pausing. He knows what I need and will happily give it to me until I am intoxicated with lust on the bed next to him.
Slowly but firmly he drags his gloved hand over my now bruised bottom, with enough pressure that the spikes nip and grab at my skin, tugging and pulling as his hand explores up over my back and then down again, across the fiery skin of my arse and then down onto the delicate flesh at the back of my legs. When he uses his other hand to part my thighs I groan in protest and wriggle up the bed slightly to try to escape what I know is coming next. A firm hand pressing down into the small of back halts my little dance of defiance.
He touches me so gentle but still the prickles feel so frighteningly sharp on such delicate flesh and I realise I am holding my breath in an attempt to stay perfectly still but no matter how hard I try I cannot seem to control the little fluttering ripples of the muscles inside me. Arching my back I try to open my legs further hoping that he will use the other hand to rub at my clit and let those ripples explode into fully fledged waves within me but he just chuckles and continues to drag the pin pricks of the glove all over my outer folds and the tops of my thighs.
I thought the teasing was never going to stop but I should have known better because just when I was on the verge of screaming in frustration the gloved hand came back down onto my already sore bottom and continued to abuse it over and over again until eventually the tears started to flow. The cool of his skin against the heat of my broken flesh only served to increase my desperate need to cum as he fucked me from behind but it was the way he used the glove to scratch deep groves into the flesh on my back that really sent me crashing over the edge.
Ps…. The word this week for Wank Wednesday is ‘dance’. Click the icons below to find out who else is joining in with all the Wednesday fun.
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