It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. ~Vita Sackville-West
Every once in awhile Richard and I will have a scene together and it will be my most fervent wish that one of us had remembered to bring a camera to the apartment. Tomorrow I will have one. Today I didn’t but there is a picture captured so clearly in my mind I may never let it go. It is of me against the cross. I am naked and Richard is standing in front of me. He has already placed a heavy clamp on either side of my cunt and has hung small weights from the hooks. He has meticulously attached heavy wooden clothes pins to the tight skin of my breasts. They seem to be everywhere. They look like petals around my nipples. He has them along the inside of my arms and down my side towards my waist line. They are across my tummy and right above where my pubic hair line would be if I had pubic hair.
The picture is still clear in my mind. And maybe it isn’t a picture at all. Maybe it is a video…because in my mind it is moving. I am reliving the pain, reliving the pleasure of his touch, the thrill of knowing I am close to my limit. Excited and hot because I know he can put me there, that he can do whatever he pleases with me. I feel him pressing against me knowing as he does his body presses on the pins pulling and tearing at my skin. He hears my moans, he ignores my pleas for mercy. He runs his hands over the pins feeling their tight resistance. He is cruel today. He pulls at them and hears my soft begging. I want him to stop but I know that he won’t. He feels the sweat dripping off of me from concentrating on the pain, on staying above the white noise in my head. He knows it is taking everything I have to stay with him, sub space beckons to me.
Richard darkly reminds me that the worst is yet to come. They hurt so much worse when he takes them off. He yanks one off of my breast just to show me. I hear it hit the floor. He presses his finger into the pain knowing the skin beneath the pin is raw and aching as it fills back up with blood. They have been on a long time. He pulls a few more pins off. I press myself as deep into the wood of the cross as I can. I hate the words that come out of my mouth. I am begging him to not take them off…and to please take them off all at the same time. The pain is incredible yet so is my arousal. I feel spontaneous little clenches deep in my cunt every time he pulls on a pin or rips one off. I feel my hot wetness on my thighs.
He takes a step back and touches my cheek. This is another picture in my mind. For an instant I thought he was going to slap my face. He didn’t. He has only ever slapped me a couple of times and I was confusingly and vaguely disappointed that his hand didn’t come back up to my face. Instead his hands began to slap away the pins attached to my breasts. As he slapped at them some flew off and some just adjusted causing new and much hotter streaks of pain to course through me. I heard the pins hitting together and I heard my own begging. It was perhaps the greatest pain he has ever caused me. I thought for the briefest of moments he was going to stop but he only paused to bend down and remove the clamps on my cunt rubbing my wet raw skin roughly. As he rubbed me my body responded to him with a strong orgasm. It was intense from the pain all around me and it was made even more intense because as my body trembled from release he pulled away more of the pins. The pleasure and the pain were one.
A moment later he was slapping away the remaining pins. I leaned into him for support as he pulled the last few away. I felt trickles of sweat run down my legs. I felt weak and dizzy as he held me close to him. I tried so hard to catch my breath but couldn’t settle myself. I heard him tell me to put my arms around him. I felt myself do it. Richard held me and pressed me as close to him as he possibly could. I heard him speak again and he told me he wanted me to lay down and then I felt myself on the bed.
Richards hands were all over me. Pressing and pulling on my breasts, pinching and squeezing my aching nipples. I was a moaning mass of open need beneath him. I felt his hand between my legs and his fingers worked back and forth. I came again pressing into his hand. I was soaked. His hand was dripping when he pulled it from me and wiped it over my breasts and neck. He wanted me to smell my cunt for the rest of the day.
And as hard as I try….even I can’t capture that in a picture.