shibari: bondage erótico japonés

Summer arrived with its heat, vacation and bikini time. And for a change, the meeting was going to be in the afternoon. Another difference was that I had been told about some of the possible activities, and even asked about my opinion on them. This would be the first and last time.

Wearing my bon-ton slightly '60s flavored dress with white heels and walking in broad daylight carrying the toy bag, while normal folks and families passed by, made me feel extremely self-conscious.

Again, it had been two months since our last encounter and since I've had any anal sex, clamps or any other kind of pain-play. I knew it was going to hurt a lot, and I knew that with the no visible-markings clause, the blunt of the pain would be delivered to my nipples and pinky bits. As instructed, I had packed the crop, some ginger, candles, clamps, the collar and few chains.

We met directly in the hotel's lobby and after a quick exchange of "Hi!" "Hi. You got a little tan." "Yes, Thanks." he told me to choose the room.

Once we walked in he ordered me to take my dress off but to keep the lingerie on as he wanted to enjoy it a bit (blue lace bra & thong set that set off my nicely tanned skin). He also ordered me to lay all the stuff on the bed, so I went to the task dressed in my lingerie aware of his gaze on me.

After hanging his clothes as well it was time to start. He put me on my knees and secured the leather collar around my neck.
"It has been too long. You'll have to make it up to me."
My first thought was that it was not fair as he was the one that had cancelled the previous time, but I knew better then express such a thought and I simply kept my head down.

Yanked by the collar I got tied to the St.Andrews' cross by my wrists and ankles, and the dreaded clamps showed up: the butterfly on my nipples and the other set on my pussy lips. Of course as it would not be enough to just let the pain be simply excruciating, he started yanking the chain holding them together and pulling them off like that: on and off, on and off, each time punctuated my cries.

To change the flavor of the suffering, he took the crop and started hitting my nipples and my breast and ... my clit. Getting the clit hit was the most painful pain I had ever felt!

Prompted by my screams he asked:
"How much is it on a scale from 1 to 10?"
"Nine, Sir." after a bit of thinking.
"Let's get to 10." And with that, he went back to work: clamps back on the nipples and on the pussy lips, chain pulled and crop swatted.
It did get very close to 10. Very. I didn't cry tears but I got to the silent screaming stage.

From time to time he would comment on how much he loved to make me suffer, how much he enjoyed it. That perhaps one day he should just torture me and leave me on the cross while he fucks someone else ... The words registered vaguely, creating in me, both an incentive to endure the pain and the fear of what would come.

He allowed me a little time to calm down and, after untying me from the cross, he moved me to the reclining bondage chair and bound me to it, leg spread open, by my wrists, ankles, thighs and tummy.

"Did the pain get to 10?"
"Very close, Sir."
"How close."
"If we got to ten, I would have used my safeword."
"When I ask questions, I want a direct answer. We will need to correct that." And with that I knew I gave the wrong answer.