Am I a masochist?

As I sit here, writing, I find myself still completely astounded at this new side of me which seems to have developed almost overnight. Well, not almost -- literally overnight!

Perhaps it's the influence of the other blogs I've been reading lately, particularly kaya's. Or, perhaps it's writing my novel, and realizing that I missed out, in many ways, from the chance to safely explore certain aspects of my service because of established doubt and mistrust in the Dominants I served for the bulk of my life, that is, before I met Syr.

Yesterday, I woke up craving something intense and new. I don't even know where it came from. All I know is that as I sat down to work on my novel for the day, suddenly all I wanted was to feel the pressure of the nipple clamps Syr bought for me as I wrote. A physical sensation spurring me in my writing. But, when I couldn't find them, I felt nearly desperate with need for pain, for breast and nipple torture. I was filled with surging need and I went for the only thing I could think of at the time: rope.

I pulled out the simple nylon clothes-line bundle of rope that Syr had purchased for us to play with several months before and found myself quickly fashioning a very simple self-bondage setup which started at my waist, ran between my legs with a very well placed knot just above my clit, and ended at my chest, where I tied it off, and then used a second length of rope to bind each breast firmly.

I marvelled at the look of my breasts bulging and a dark angry red, jutting out from the rope that bound them. I'd actually, formerly, always found pictures of this sort of bondage vaguely disturbing, and not the least bit attractive, but the feeling of it was something else entirely. being able to feel that rope binding me, and the full smoothness of each breast as it jutted out, and the odd way my skin felt under my hands had me absolutely enthralled. I played with the rope for a while, and then decided I needed more, somehow. I opened our drawer o' fun and withdrew the smallest of our strap-on cocks, one that Syr never actually uses strapped on (too small), and after moving the rope aside, drove it deep inside and replaced the rope which did a marvelous job of keeping it in place. I unbound my breasts (knowing it wasn't safe to leave that kind of bondage in place for too long) and then put clothes on over the whole getup and then proceeded back to my noveling 'station' to continue writing.

But I was distracted by the erotic feel of the rope and a craving for more, for something that *hurt*, specifically on my nipples. After wandering the house looking for anything pinchy or clothes-pin like, I realized I was going to have to take a trip to the store to find what I was looking for. I got out of my rope getup, got into clothes again and headed out the dollar store...

At the first dollar store, I scored: a package of 24 full size plastic clothespins, a package of 72 plastic clothes pegs (pictured above), a bag of rubber bands, and a small package of tiny plastic binder-clips.

But I wasn't fully satisfied. The first store was sold out of tacks. I don't know why, but suddenly I also wanted to try out that whole 'tack bra insert' idea I'd gotten now from several blogs I read regularly. So, I headed to the second dollar store where I got two packs of thumbtacks, a set of shoulder pads (that I thought would make good 'bases' for the tack bra inserts), and some super miniature wooden clothespins.

When I got home, I tried a couple out for a moment or two, and then mixed them up into a 'bag of fun' as a present for Syr when she got home. She had a bit of a thing for clothespins, but until yesterday, the idea hadn't appealed to me in the slightest.

When she got home from work, I immediately confessed to what I'd done that day, including the fact that not once had I given in to the urge to cum (I had specific instructions not to).

It was hard, admitting this to her. I have never been in such a 'strange' mood before, and have never before defined myself as a masochist. She took it in stride and was, I dare say, even rather pleased. But, she hadn't been feeling good and we ended up making a fairly early night of it. She did leave me with one instruction for today: if I did play I was either allowed to cum not at all or 10 times before she got home from work. All or nothing. If I didn't finish all 10, I'd be punished if I did even 1. In addition, she instracted me to build the tack bra inserts, but only partially and explained the area she wanted covered with tacks, and that I was to wear them for as long as was comfortable but NOT to push it too hard. Noted.

After I sent her off to work, I could hardly wait to try out the new playthings.

I started small, one of the clothes pegs on each nipple, and then I went and took a long shower, purposely letting the water hit the pegs, which sent small shivers of pain through me. I liked it. A lot.

I finished my shower, climbed into bed, and put a couple of rows of clothes pegs on each breast, and even played with a couple on my labia. And then, the crowning moment: I took one full size plastic clothespin and clipped it pretty much directly onto my clit.

Woah! That was new. I was drenched and soon had to unclip that last one, and the labia clips and 'do' something about all this delicious pain.

With the asisstance of a vibrating egg, it wasn't long until I got close to my first orgasm, but to add a twist I started removing the pegs as I got close. They hurt more coming off than staying on and so I played with different ways of removing them, for maximum effect. I left the two that were clipped directly on my nipples for last though, removing them at the moment of my first climax.

9 orgasms later, with a pile of clothespegs next to me, I completely passed out into a rather sublime nap.

I got dinner started, got some more things done, and then at around 1:30pm I decided I was ready to play with the clothes pegs again, though I knew I wasn't allowed to orgasm any more. I got ambitious, and I managed, in very neat rows, to clip the entire package of 72 clothes pegs on my breasts with at least four on each clipped directly to my aereola and nipple. 72. Holy crap.

I was actually somewhat dissapointed that I ran out! But I took pictures of the colorful display for Syr to admire later. :)

My goal was simple, to keep them on as long as I thought I could. After about an hour, I removed all of them, the sweet surge of mild pain as they were removed drove me a little bit crazy, but I was still hungry for more. I loved the marks that they left and tried to take pictures of those for Syr as well, though I'm not sure how well the marks really show.

I got another idea, and pulled one nipple out, stretching it as I clipped a peg fully onto the 'base' of my nipple. I repeated the procedure with my other one. The effect was that the base of the nipple was essentially 'pinched' so that blood (and sensitivity) filled the tip of each. Then I took a second clothes peg and clipped it onto the tip. I arranged them carefully so that they were hanging downward and not jutting straight out, and I pulled a long bulky tee shirt on over them and went back to my novelling station to work on my writing.

The pain was incredible, and delicious, and when I felt the heat of it get a bit too intense, I gave in and removed them. It was incredible and I would have loved to feel Syr's cock driving in to me at the moment they came off. But, alas, she is still not home from work. ;)

So, with my now incredibly sensitive tortured nipples, I put my bra on and inserted the tack bra inserts, careful to make sure the tacks surrounded my sensitive nipples, and am now sitting here, about to continue writing. The only unfortunate thing is that all this playing with pain has actually gotten in the way of my wordcount yesterday and today. I'm just hoping to make some of that up with a couple thousand words done before Syr gets home in about 3 hours.

I never used to identify as a masochist. Now, I'm not so sure.

Maybe, trust was all I needed to open the door to this other side of me.

All I know for sure, is that the feel of the tacks pressing into my sensitive flesh as I write this entry is about the most erotic thing I've ever felt.

More, please, Syr?