Over the close to four years since L and I have been immersed in our D/s relationship we have discovered a number of different methods to find pleasure in the midst of pain. I do believe that even to this day, as we shed our rookie status in these endeavors, it still sometimes surprises L how intense those feelings of pleasure can be when the method being used is far from conventional.
"What do you do to me?" she will murmur at the end of a lengthy session, as she floats through the world of subspace, curled up in the fetal position next to me.
We have tried different instruments over the years, ordered a variety of devices from The Stockroom. There has been the flogger with the beaded tips, the cane, the whip, and over the last several onths or so, a highly effective and heavy rug beater. which I once demonstrated for my readers in the following video.
Then there have been items from around the house. A plastic coat hanger. Wooden spoons. Her collar. My belt. One time, on the deck of the cabin I used to live in, a branch from a nearby tree.
What device I use on any given night depends on the proximity of children. So those items that can inflict pain while at the same time not be hear beyond the bedroom door are quite popular. This of course eliminates my hand and the pleasure of a proper spanking.
But my hand closed into a fist is not as loud as a flat hand.
And it is much more effective.
Punching L's ass in a session has been a glorious undertaking for both of us. There is something about the impact of it that soaks her instantly and throws her into the depths of sub space within minutes. Alternating between one cheek, and then the next...the marks appearing instantly. It's a satisfying feeling for me as well, the brutality of it that appeals to my sadistic side. But it is satisfying more than anything because when I stop punching and thrust my fingers into her cunt, they emerge a wet, sticky mess.
One cheek, then the next. The other night she started shifting and squirming as the punching continued, the pleasure escalating to something more intense, and sensing what was about to happen, I granted her permission.
"Come for me," I said. PUNCH. "Come for me now." PUNCH
And she came, and with her orgasm came a gush of wetness that coated the sheets. I stopped punching, gave her seconds to recover and to wipe out before I flipped her over on her back and spread her legs apart and teased her clit with my hardness before I thrust it inside her. Nothing gentle, nothing soft. I fucked her in the same way I punched her, hard and without mercy. She came once that way, and then I flipped her back over to fuck her from behind, bringing her to her next orgasm before mine followed.
When your foreplay involves punching, making love does not follow.
You FUCK.
Punching and fucking.
Fucking and punching.
We would not want it any other way.
