SweetAliceInLA

Last night he started introducing me to pain.  He made me kneel in front of him and pull up my shirt and bra. He but nipple clamps on me last night for the first time.  I took some time to get them tight enough that they wouldn't come off when he pulled the chain between them.  He twisted the clamps and slapped my breasts with his hands.  He tried a cheep flogger on them, but it was not enouth.  He pulled the belt out of his pants and wrapped it around his hand, leaving about a foot loose.  He made me smell the leather and he ran it across my breasts.  He started using the belt on my breasts, making sure to hit my clamped nipples.  The pain was exquisite, deliscious, and it drew me in.  He started slapping my face too.  I was startled at first, but soon enjoyed it too.  I am a pain slut.  I had no idea.  He stopped for a few moments and asked if I was still in there.  Slowly I understood the question and answered "yes". He said that if I needed to slow down I should say "Yellow" and if I wished him to stop doing something I should say "Red".  I never said red.  I said yellow only once, after he use the belt on my right breast several times in the same area.  I was panting and crying out, but I muffled my mouth in his theigh.  When I was quiet again, he asked "What do you want?"  I answered "a little more".  He asked if I wanted the belt or the flogger.  "the belt" I answered.  "Good girl" he said.  It made me happy he said that. 

He had me take off my shirt and bra and told me to keep my hands out of his way.  He hit my breasts with the belt again.  After he hit every part on each breast, he grabbed both my nipples, twisting them hard and pulled upward.  I came up to try to follow, but not fast enough.  I made the loudest scream I had made up to that point.    I screamed "yellow".  I panted in little sobs, but there were no tears.  He made me sit up and let him look at my breasts.  He told me to look too.  He showed me the raised red welts he had made.  I hadn't even realized I'd closed my eyes.  They were so bright, many the perfect outlines of his belt width across both breasts.  I was dizzy.  I had trouble moving my hands to touch the marks.  He said I was in "sub-space." He did this two more times, covering each of my breasts with his belt licks, then twisting and pulling up on my nipples, each round more intense than the last.  I remember his saying "dont fight the pain, let it take you"  The third time he had my nipples twisted so hard and so high and held them there, all i could do was scream louder.   I was about to say "yellow" again when he let go.  It was hard to find the word, it hurt so bad.  It took much longer to calm down that time,but he held me and stroked my hair.  when I was mostly quiet, he looked at my breasts again.  He announced to me that there was no broken skin, and there should be no permanant damage.  I looked and saw 3 lines of tiny broken bloodvessels parallell with the more numerous raised welts. I sank back into him, putting my arms around his waist.  "I love  you..."  I said.  I started to realize how much my knees were hurting.

I don't remember exactly everything that happened, and I may be wrong about the order of any events.  I remember sitting in a chair, but I don't remember  how I got there.  I was shaking all over, waves of tingling ane warmth spreading across my breasts.   He came back with a bottle or lotion and made me rub some into my breasts.  He said with a questioning tone "you have never done this before?"  "Never, ever" I answered.  and it is true.  "you are more than a little bit masochistic, my dear" 

He said he had not intended to have a "session" with me.  But he said that I was getting into it, so he got into it.  That's all I remember.  

Alice 

I think I have made a discovery.  When one sees "old school" it means that his/her slaves have no limits or boundries.  The slave will be passed around to whomever the Mistress/Master feels appropriate for any activity imaginable.  I had previously (erroniously) thought that the "passing around" of a slave was part of satisfying the slave's appetite.  Or I could still have it completely wrong.  I believe my husband was a "classically trained" dom and the thing with whoring out your wife in order to make her your slave is probalby one of his issues with training me.  I need to talk with him more.  He is really just beginning to open up to me with some of his BDSM interests and sharing more with me.  Previous wife/BDSM experiences did not end well for him.  He's a very linear thinker and has trouble recognizing that I am not ANY of his ex-wives.  I very much hope to change his mind. 

Last night while I was in the fabric store looking at buttons, he went over to the Walmart and purchased a ping pong set just for the paddles.  I got a taste when we got home.  I questioned his definition of "padding" as it applies to the paddles, and was opening the bag to look at one more closely.  It is just a thin layer of a slightly rubbery substance.  That is not my definition of padding.  He took the paddle from me and gave me several  thwacks on both my ass cheeks.  I was surprised a little, but happy that he was trying them out on me.  I have not been paddled since the second grade.  He asked if I liked it, and I said I did.  It was kind of nice.  And the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.  Then I got to thinking about other parts that were good targets.  He is an accomplished spanker and I can see myself enjoying a bigger taste of it soon.  There are so many layers to the experience that I need to tease through.  My husband using a paddle on me when I hadn't done anything wrong (well not much), the initial sharpness, the surprise when he actually paddled me severl times on each cheek, the slow warmth of rushing blood to skin surface, the hours of delicious tingling later.  I will have to pay more attention next time, hopefully on bare skin.

Later he put my wrists together with a loose loop of rope, and that was OK too.  After that he had me kneel on the floor with my legs apart slightly, my hands open upward on my thighs and my eyes cast downward.  That was difficult.  My joints are not what they used to be and it was not graceful getting into or out of that position.  I could not stay in the position for more than a few minutes before my feet were falling asleep.  He said I might try using a pillow.  I think streatching would help too. 

What I learned about me:  I need time to process new sensations/ stimulations/ situations.  I may need to experience it more than once to decide if I like or not.  I will probably not respond to something I've just experienced for the first time the way he is accustomed. But if I really like it, I want more--sooner rather than later.   I think this puts him off a bit, but I think he's forgetting I haven't done this before.  I really was a good girl in college (mostly), and I never got invited to those kind of parties.  I should tell him again that I love him deeply and I trust him even more.  Without the love there wouldn't be the trust and I wouldn't be trying any of this. 

I think I may be on the right track.