becca333
Posts: 1050
Joined: 4/11/2006
Status: offline
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quote:
ORIGINAL: knees2you
Becca333 Where's yours?
Ant,
I'm naked, tied down over a spanking bench, legs wide apart to emphasise the helplessness and humiliation. The air is cold, I shiver slightly as I wait. He likes to watch me for a while, as I wriggle and squirm. He likes that, likes to see those tiny helpless movements.
There's a rough blanket under me, the coarse fabric rubbing against me as I move, teasing my nipples as I tense and relax, waiting. I hear no sound but I know he's watching.
And then there's a rustling, and a clatter - he's starting to lay out the implements he's going to use this time.
I'm not blindfolded, but there's objects in the way so that no matter how I try I can't quite see what's happening behind me. But I have to keep trying, with every tiny sound I flinch and try desperately to catch a glimpse of what he's doing.
Then there's the sound of a cane or crop cutting the air, the sound sending cold chills down my spine.
He swipes the cane through the air, again and again, close to me, watching me shudder and flinch. But it doesn't touch me. Yet.
Then a clatter, he's put it down for a moment. I can hear small sounds as he searches for something...
He starts touching me. My thighs, buttocks, soft stroking. His fingers circle, but never touch just where I want them to. I squirm and wriggle, but I can't bring those fingers to the parts that are throbbing now, desperate for his touch.
I know better than to speak. I make no sound.
An ice-cold chill between my cheeks, the familiar touch of the lube. He spreads it around, then pushes his finger into me. He works me until he decides I'm ready, then I feel the plug pressing against my tight sphinctre. It's not the small one. He never uses the small one. He works it in and out, a little further each time. I quiver, not daring to move. Then it pushes further, stretching me until I know I'm going to be ripped open.
Then, just as I'm sure I can't take it, it's nestled inside me. I feel my sphinctre muscles close around the narrow neck of the plug, and know that later I'll have to endure its removal.
There's always a strange hot-cold shiver that goes through me as the plug settles in, an urgency as my body tries to repel the plug. It pushes me into a different headspace, it takes away all the thoughts running through my mind and pulls me into a world where all that matters is sensation. From now I exist only as he uses me, I exist without thought, only emotion.
Then I hear the cane again. It terrifies me. And I want it so badly. I can't move, I don't try, I'm open and helpless and yearning.
And the caning starts.
....there's a lot more, of course, that's just the beginning. The cane doesn't take me to subspace, but later he'll be kind, and use the crop or the leather paddle, or the rubber one. And they take me to subspace every time. I float away, and he could use them forever and I'd love it. I still feel every stroke, the pain is the same, but I just rock on the waves as each stroke falls.
And thats's my sharing.
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