Stolen Seclusion

This past Sunday, Sir and I had a couple of hours completely to ourselves.

Usually, to get complete, uninterrupted alone time, we have to conduct an orchestra and calculate when Pluto will be approaching the horizon... or steal away for a weekend.

I had pretty much just awoken; only getting up and dressing to brush my teeth, but Sir wasted no time.

"Strip".

Sir placed my collar around my neck. He was merciful the night before and allowed me to choose between sleeping with the big collar on (which was very physically uncomfortable), or sleeping naked (which I find mentally uncomfortable). Since I chose the mental discomfort, now the collar returned. When not trying to sleep, its just fine. I missed it.

I miss my sleeping collar, too.

Sir bound my hands and feet. He used the extra rope that I had previously used to make arm braces. I missed that too. Rope. It was interesting to use such thin rope in binding my arms and legs - we usually use thicker rope.

Sir pushed me face down on the bed.

I could hear him setting things up. Opening the bondage bag and removing items. Choosing. Slowly, he laid some items down on the bed in my line of sight:

A pair of clothespins.
An extendable metal backscratcher.
My thin leather belt, with the beads at the end.
Plastic spring clamps.
A pair of rope scissors.
Our Wartenberg wheels.

Immediately, those butterflies were in my belly. Wondering what he was going to do. Which items he would use - all? None? Which first? The anticipation was delightful.

Sir started things out very sensual. Nice soothing hands all over me. Soft tone of voice... though to be fair, he's NEVER raised his voice or screamed at me. Ever. He doesn't need to. He can show me he means business by altering his tone, but leaving his volume level.

Sir grabbed the backscratcher. But instead of scratching my back, he used the blunt end to strike my body. Which warmed me up for his hand. I so needed his hand. When we first used the candle wax, by the end I was aching to be spanked. Then I felt a sting on my back. He was alternating the smacks with whipping. Delicious. I started to count the blows in my head, but it got a little confusing once he added the candle wax. I was over two hundred various blows before I heard him blow out the candle.

I heard a shutter click.

 

And then the peeling. Oh, the peeling.

It was amazing. And torturous. Sir used the backscratcher in the peeling process and I felt like I was going to hit the ceiling.

Then Sir flipped me over. He clamped my nipples with the spring clamps, pulling and flicking them. He alternated the Wartenberg wheels over my belly and breasts. One dug deeper than the other - an interesting contrast. Sir was able to push them into my breasts, down my feet, scraping sideways.

He pushed a hand between my thighs, and was able to see how much I was enjoying his treatment.

For some reason, I bear embarrassment in those situations, displaying evidence of my pleasure, my liking of these activities. But I like the embarrassment too.

Sir works hard to make me happy. I think my being happy makes him happy.

He said he's not a fan of orgasm denial for me - as every time I finish is like a victory.

It was an easy race to that finish line. I don't usually finish solely while having sex, but I guess he had me primed.

I missed having a longer, thought out scene like that.

I've been floating for days.