Saturday, February 22, 2014

It all started with a crop

The first implement that Mr Reg bought to hit me with was a crop. I distinctly remember my excitement when he used it on me. It signified a rite of passage: we moved from an experiment with rough sex to the next stage; he was buying things to hurt me as part of our sexual relationship.

That first time he took me to the attic and tied me to the beams using handcuffs. We had never played there before. I was horny from anticipation, worried about what would happen and feeling very submissive. The pain of the crop landing on my skin startled me. I was very tense, making it hurt more. He hit my pussy with it, and my ass. I think I screamed a little and after a while Mr Reg stopped. I felt relieved and a bit disappointed that it was over at the same time. He did not hit me very hard; I don't remember any marks or soreness the next day. I do remember feeling extremely submissive and a bit confused the days after the session.

It was in the stage of our relationship where we did not discuss any of it yet. I had no idea that Mr Reg bought it. Or when. Or in what store. It is amazing how far we've come. As I was writing this, I realized I don't know these things and asked him about it. He bought the first one in a erotic shop, where they sell toys. Later he ordered some online at a riding apparel store. It may sound trivial, but talking about these things is very important. It leads to conversations about our feelings. About our relationship. I no longer feel blocked when it comes to talking about sex, my body or my masochistic and submissive personality.

Later Mr Reg bought a number of different spanking tools: whips, riding crops and canes. I learned that the pain of the crop was one of the milder ones. And that I like pain. A lot. The crop won't send me into subspace. But it hurts enough to feel focused. The sound is scary; the impact painful and a relief at the same time.

We started to play with other people. Sometimes Mr Reg joins me, sometimes he sends me off by myself. When I meet other people by myself, I am often the one who is supposed to bring the toys. The crop is always one of them. The crop hurts enough if necessary, but it can also be handled by someone with less experience or who is less sadistic. My backpack has a special part where you can put a hockey stick. It is perfect for crops ;)

As I wrote in my last blog, I am shared between Mr Reg and Master. As it happens, the crop is also one of the first things Master hit me with. Every time we meet, I bring it with me. Along with a black rod. The black rod is made of fiber glass (or so I am told by Mr Reg). It hurts very much. It feels like punishment. The crop is the reward. Painful but good. Hot. An instrument to control me.

Obviously, if Mr Reg or Master feel like it, they can turn this wonderful instrument into a nasty painful thing by hitting me so hard I scream beg them to stop. Especially when they hit my pussy with it.

The crop and I have a long history. I look at it with fondness. It was there from the beginning. And hopefully it stays with me for a long time to come.

want to see who else has a thing for crops? Click the button below. 
Kink of the Week

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Hard limits - 30 days of kink

Day 10: What are your hard limits?

Limits are a difficult topic for me. I have difficulty saying no. I have issues using my safe word. Being forced to do things, being used turns me on. Being forced to do things I don't want to do or don't like are a big part of the thrill of power exchange to me.


I have no limits

I identify as a slave (as opposed to a submissive) because I have given up the right to have hard limits with Mr Reg. That was relatively straightforward, as I described in day-1 of this series. Last summer, Mr Reg decided to share me with another master, DiceMan UK. This was very different from becoming Mr Reg's slave. Different because of the distance and the fact I was already owned. But also in terms of limits. When DiceMan first approached me, one of his first questions was about my limits. He asked me what other limits I had, besides the usual ones concerning children, illegal activities and scat. I answered that I did not really have any other limits, except that Mr Reg determines what I do and what I don't do. This lead to a number of increasingly different tasks and sessions. He pushed me further every time. He mocked me by asking me whether I wanted to flee to Mr Reg, to avoid having to do what he asked. I never did. I just obeyed. Even against my better judgement. After only a few weeks of online conversations on twitter, kik and Google, DiceMan asked me my real name. I replied I don't usually tell people my name because both my first name and my last name are relatively rare.  I was on my bike going to work. When I returned home that night, he messaged me again. Asking for my name. And I answered him. When I asked him politely for his name, he refused. I felt horny, confused, scared, intrigued and excited.


Or do I?

During all this, DiceMan asked me regurlarly about my limits. I had become more serious about answering his questions. I explained to him that I would never do anything that would harm Mr Reg, or my children. That it was important to me I did not bother other people (innocent bystanders) and that I needed to be able to do my job. We also discussed that it is difficult to talk about limits;  there are things I would never think of, but someone else could. And things that are off limits for me with one person can be totally OK with another person. 

We continued talking, and after a while the topic of my service came up. Mr Reg decided to share me with DiceMan. I would be both Mr Reg's and DiceMan's slave. DiceMan told me to write down how I would serve him and describe what my hard limits were. To me, being someones slave means I have to do what I am told.  If I don't like what I am supposed to do, or don't agree, I can obviously talk about it. But I can't say no anymore. The only option I have left is leave the relationship. So the limits were important. Especially since we did not have a long history together. I wrote an email, describing how I would serve him and within what limits. It did not include a lot of specific activities. It was about values. About not wanting to hurt other people. About the law and my family. And since DiceMan and me share a lot of the same values, they were a good fit with his limits.



This all happened last year. I serve both Mr Reg and Master D. ever since. To me it feels I have no hard limits, except the ones they set for me. Which is a relief. Limits are a difficult topic for me. I have difficulty saying no. I have issues using my safe word. Being forced to do things, being used turns me on. Being forced to do things I don't want to do or don't like are a big part of the thrill of power exchange to me. Being slave to Mr Reg and Master D keeps me safe. They challenge me, they use me and make me grow. They push me over my inhibitions and help me deal with my fears. And they make sure I say no to things in my life that are harmful. They keep me out of trouble. Because everyone should have hard limits. To protect themselves and others.