Oki. Letzt teil von 5, von meine backlog von Erlebnissbericht dass ich am maxfisch.com in 2004 geschrieben hat. Mit hinblick muss ich sagen, 2004 sieht aus wie des Jahr von Xana für mich. Eigentlich bestimt nicht etwas schlimmes. Wenn es funktionert, es funktionert, und es war einem Jahr mit viele Höhepunkte.
Manchmal mit besondere gute session, kriege ich die gefühl dass es eine Szene von der Film "Forrest Gump" mit Tom Hanks sein könnte, mit mir als Forrest. Ich bin dabei ohne alles zu verstehen, ob ich probiere etwas zu sagen hört es aus wie ich eine IQ von weniger als 50 hat, aber am ende habe ich eine grosse Lachlen, und ich habe nochmal viel Gluck gehabt hat mit der Session.
Ja ja ja, ich weiss, immer auf Englisch. Aber ich glaube meine Deutsch wurde eben weniger sin machen.
Needle shooting dick
And before you ask, no, no one, or maybe in particular the mistress in question, did get hurt during the incident.
Anyway, CB2000, CB3000 or the curve is obviously to boring of chastity devices for some mistresses. A more “hands on approach” is needed: Sealing the little bugger shut with needles was the idea this time. Not that I could see what she did, with my face inside of a gas mask, with the glasses fogged up pretty quickly. Beside, I was tied up such that I could not look down to see what she was doing down there either, but she made sure to tell me what she did.
Not that needle play is that edgy, or need to be at least. Rather nice I say it is, at least in this occasion. And she did use rather thin needles, which even left this operation bloodless. Bloodless for now that is. Three small rushes as she pierced the skin, making it more difficult for her each time to have enough to just pierce through the foreskin, and not though the head. Her warm soft hands and hot breath over my baseball bat had its effect. And little taake, I was all set to go with whatever she decided on next.
Transformed into an obedient figure of clay, sitting there, moaning at her touch and tricks, traces of the former smart ass and masochist was all gone. To the point she even commented that I was unusual quiet. Now there was a first. Her only objection to my behaviour was my lack of focus when she took away my air. Or as she put it, softly whispering into my air: “I suggest you focus more on your breathing than looking at me.” No matter how much I wanted to agree, it just aint that easy. But she was still as focused on controlling my air as long as she pleased.
The session in this case was a lot of teasing, and considering this was the 29th session I have had with her, she knows how to push my buttons: Nipple play, breath play, and ball squeezing would be the key word. And she does it just so right. And so correctly done, usually makes sure a certain reaction happens, even by a cold and frozen noggie. This time, though, blocked by my own foreskin, the reaction had no way of expressing itself.
Or well, at first it was at least, and also maybe it is evidence that she do have a cruel streak, no matter how much she still looks like an angel in my eyes. And while she was as said, playing my buttons like a virtuous on a piano, my little Viking warrior was fighting the cage she locked it in, with the needles. And with the sound of metal against wood, the evidence clear who was going to win. In an attempt to break out, the eager Viking had pushed the needle back more than an inch, and sent it out of my body and towards the floor with an acceleration of more than 9.81m/s^2.
But how long was Adam in paradise? The snap of latex glows told me, that she was going to correct this little disobedience my Viking warrior committed, and a new needle was inserted. Securly. Not sure if my sensitivity down there has changed, but the desinfection spray she used (a lot of actually), did have a very lovely burning hot feeling on my skin. And with all three needles firmly reposition, and made sure that they would not shoot out of my skin, the case was closed, and the promise of frustration and denial was received loud and clear. To the point, where she at the end of the session, with a evil glint in her eyes, was telling me, that she considers to leave them in. Just in case I might forget her over my Christmas vacation in Norway.
Her spending a lot of time, sitting on my strapped down legs, smiling and laughing, can make a masochist forget all about the pain he was seeking, and a sub promise to willingly take anything she would dish out. Poor little taake was just sitting there humming and enjoying. And trying not to scream out in pain whenever she had her ears close by while playing with my nipples. Looking in the mirror before me, while she holds over the mouthpiece of the mask, cannot be described as anything less than a Kodak moment. About beauty, about position and grace, and not least about elegance.
Her explaining to me, in her soft voice, that she is the most considerate one I ever will know, and how much work I really am. How everything I say, do or think, will be used against me, and it will be to my own good. How she knows by heart all my buttons and tricks, how she knows what not to do. And I cannot anything else than just say; “yes mistress”, confirming every little detail she tells me. Gawd I love a good session, even without the canings I used to have.
So, 16.Jan 2005, 12:39
Erfinder des "Dominamobbings"