I read a lot about people’s limits being stretched. I write a lot about my own limits even as I discover what they are. The only thing I am sure of is that I do not know what they are…I know I have some hard limits and I know exactly what they are but the line of what I can handle and what I can’t blurred for me this weekend I am realizing that many of the super scary things he wants to do to me are not quite as scary as they first sound when he presents them to me. Since we have met I have known that he likes to use needles on his submissives. He and Ms. Anna at one time explored this and she spent a lot of time talking to me about it. Of course our conversations were always followed by the gentle and comforting reassurance that he wouldn’t expect anything like that from me for a long time.
Things are different now and I wonder if it is because Ms. Anna is gone…but he decided to explore this with me sooner than I ever expected. I had asked him over the past couple weeks if he knew when we would do it and he never told me. He refused to answer questions like that knowing that it may only aggravate my apprehension instead of helping it.
This weekend we made plans to stay together both Friday and Saturday night. Because of this uninterrupted chunk of time we would be together I wondered if he would decide he had waited long enough. He never mentioned it though and neither did I. I had almost put it out of my mind.
Saturday when he told me to lay down across his bed it never crossed my mind that was what he was planning. Not until I realized he was taking extra time making sure I was tied down tightly…he put pillows behind my head and told me he wanted to make sure I was comfortable. I sensed a seriousness about him that unsettled me and I asked him as he looped the rope through the black cuff around my ankle if he had decided he was going to use needles today. He didn’t answer right away which was an answer in itself. Instead he continued securing my ankle before coming around and sitting beside me on the bed. He placed his hand on the top of my head and his thumb smoothed out the nervous little furrow in my brow as I waited for his answer.
“Yes.” He said. “I am.”
I right away struggled with myself in that timeless conflict between fear and a calm acceptance of what was going to happen. We had discussed this…I had told him just last week that I was ready to do it. That I wanted to get that first time over with. I clung to the fact that I knew he would never do anything or ask anything of me that he didn’t think I was ready to submit to.
Needles though- the very idea of having needles going into my skin is scary. More than scary….I sensed myself begin to panic slightly. I felt my heart race and I felt really, truly scared of him. He began to set items out on the table. A bottle of alcohol, cotton balls and of course a box of needles. They were individually sealed….they looked like the type you would start an IV with or use to draw blood. Thin but not tiny. He told me we would start with one. Just one he said. He told me over and over I was going to be alright. That I was safe, that he was here and I would be OK. He opened the alcohol and poured some across a cotton ball. He rubbed the cotton ball on the top of my breast. It felt cold and hot all at once and I felt my breath quicken again. My heart was so loud; I could feel it and I tasted fear in my mouth. Not so much fear of the pain but fear of the very idea.
Could I be this submissive?
Could I allow myself to be here restrained across his bed allowing him to pierce my skin with needles?
The very idea excited me. The quiet side of me that realized how unreal this was stepped away and tried to pull me along. Yet the side of me that revels in submission…the side of me I have given over to him wouldn’t allow me to leave. I know there are acts that for me may always be purely submission….meaning my own pleasure will be willingly sacrificed for the sake of my submission. Part of me hoped that this would not be one of those experiences. I wanted to enjoy this…I wanted to find myself sexually responding to the idea of this but I wasn’t feeling it yet.
I felt fear. Cold fear and I simply closed my eyes. I hoped that sub space would welcome me. Richard had other plans. He wouldn’t let me escape.
“I want you to remember this. Stay with me.”
He asked if I was alright. I shook my head yes and then no. His look was soft and encouraging and I knew I was going to be OK. I am conflicted inside myself when his eyes turn soft and tender…when his voice gets soft and I hear his words with more than my ears. When my body absorbs his words and I let them cover me like a favorite blanket. I struggle with the two sides of him…the side that is eager to hurt me -vs- the side that is offering nurture and compassion.
I like how he acknowledged how hard this was…..how he knew it took a lot for me to submit to him in this way.He began to pinch the tender skin on the underside of my arm.
“Remember this? Remember me telling you that the pain would be like this, a pinch.” He pinched me again.Yes I remembered and in my head I reminded myself of the cane…of the hard spanking I had taken from him. I could do this. After all it was mostly mental and I could control that.And I did a pretty good job until he took the cap off the first needle. I felt his hand on my breast, the scent of alcohol was in my nose. I didn’t know where my eyes should be. I wanted to look at him but something kept me from doing that. I knew I couldn’t watch the needle because I felt sick to my stomach and truly felt if I saw it pierce my skin I would either faint, throw up or both.
I picked a spot right behind Richard on the wall beside the bathroom door. It was white and clean like the noise in my ears. I watched it closely….concentrated on it intently before I squeezed my eyes closed. I felt the needle go quickly into my skin and come right out the other side. It reminded me of the kids in school who would sit and play with straight pins. They would press them through the skin on fingers and palms made rough from swinging on monkey bars and climbing on trees. I remember being fascinated by their play as they held them up showing off their bravery. Now it was my turn to be brave.
The needle rested right beneath that first tight layer of skin, that thin pale layer that tries so hard to camouflage small purple veins and streams of blue blood. I wanted it out right away. I felt invaded…indignant almost. I hated the fact that my submission led me to this dangerous place and at the same time thrilled that I was living a fantasy. Dancing on the edge of everything scary and dark and wondrous….I was letting this man methodically place needles into my body. I never felt more submissive or more owned than at that very minute. I was terrified and he knew that I was. That didn’t stop him from doing as he pleased with me. I like that.
Pure perfect Dominance.
I felt twinges of excitement…..small physical reactions that I hoped would turn into pleasure. I hoped that those feelings would win the battle over fear and apprehension. It was an up and down struggle. I would calm myself…or he would settle me and then something would surface that was not good. It felt wrong and scary and I didn’t want to continue. I willed my head to stay in the right place, begged myself to calm down. He spoke encouraging words to me…he touched me gently and reminded me I was OK. He picked up the second needle and I heard him tell me this one was not going inside of me. He dragged it across my skin as he talked me down from the ledge that overlooked my crumbling resolve to submit to him in this way. He ran it along my arm causing my body to shiver from chills that existed only in my head. He told me he was ready to begin again and he picked up another needle. His face was intent and full of gentle concentration.
He cleaned off the skin of my other breast and the smell of alcohol was again hot in my nose. The needle was in quickly and I laughed nervously when he teased me that he bet that one hadn’t hurt at all.
I ended up taking two needles in each breast. I can’t say it was easy. I can’t even say it was something I liked. I can say that I learned a lot about Richard as I allowed him to further his rights and his control over my body. I learned a little about myself too…about my limits and about Richard’s ability to judge what they are. I had moments of extreme panic as I had this first needle experience. I also had softer moments that built my trust in Richard like nothing else could. Moments that deepened our bond as I allowed him to carry me away to a scary place only to be returned to everything that was still good and safe and right.
I also am sure now that ‘doing needles’ is nothing more than a mental barrier that I am straddling. One that I know will continue to be hard on me as I attempt to make it to the other side. I didn’t like the fact I felt I was weak in my submission. My fear and panic was so great at times…I feared Richard and found myself pulling away from his comforting touch in fear of him as I submitted to this. I didn’t like that either.
I like that I am learning there are lessons to be learned in each new experience. I am able to walk away knowing myself better. I never want to be hesitant in my eagerness to explore. There is so much to do, so much I want to learn and feel and do….and such a small frame of time that we are given to do it. I hate leaving an experience knowing I could have made it better…handled it differently or been a stronger submissive. That’s who I am.Because that is who I am I found myself a few hours later tentatively asking Richard to take me there again. I needed to go back to that scary place and see again that I was stronger than it’s pull…that my submission was stronger than my fear. For as many lessons as I learned during my first needle experience I learned even more during my second. Lessons and feelings I have yet to reflect on because I am not sure where they will lead my mind.
I’ll write more about this later. The past couple days have left me emotionally exhausted….I am off to bed!
Good night for now….