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30 Days of Kink: Humorous BDSM Experiences

June 17th, 2013

photo-1For the rest of this series, and links to others who have participated, click here.

Full prompt: Tell us about a humorous BDSM/kink experience you’ve had. If you haven’t had one, talk about aspects of kink/BDSM you find funny.

In eight years, you know there’s a ton of things that have happened that are flipping hilarious. It just comes down to remembering them, and not letting the punchline fall flat, like it so often does if you weren’t there when it happened. So, let me just preface this entire post with “Guess you had to be there.”

Like the fact that my nipples still occasionally lactate even though my tubes are tied, and my youngest child is nine and a half years old. So even clovers have a tendency to slip off my nipples when we intend for them to stay put. And since I laugh off accidental pain, when M tugs, and the clover slips, and it finally catches again on the tiniest bit of flesh, I laugh hysterically, while simultaneously yelling “OWFUCKOWFUCKOW!”, and M laughs right along with me.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been all trussed up, hanging in the doorway, mouth gagged, blindfold on, and I hear, “Ow! Fucker!” “Uff ooo ooo?” 

“What?”

“Ooo sthef ow. Uff ef ooo ooo?”

“I can’t understand you. Hold on.”

I’m so glad he never just yanks the Beginner Ball Gag off. The damn thing has velcro on the back. He’d probably yank all my hair out with it.

“Okay, what’d you say?”

“I asked you what you did. Why’d you say ow?”

“That’s all? Seriously? I took the gag off for that?”

“Well, no one suggested you take the gag off. You did that on your own. Damn it, what’d you do?!”

“I hit the tip of my cock with one of the flogger tails. That shit hurts!”

“Well, considering how it feels on my ass, I can imagine!”

But everyone deals with accidental whip bites. The thing I laughed hardest about could have been more serious than I thought it was. Luckily, it turned out I was right. As usual. =D

So, this one day, M got the genius idea to order a rattan cane. We’ve never owned a cane before, at this point, and I’m pretty sure M had never actually used one.

Knowing him the way that I do, I’m sure he practiced on the couch or something before coming at me with the cane, but heck if I can remember it. Matter of fact, I can’t remember much at all about that night except the sheer panic we both felt when a knotted line on my tit swelled up to about the size of an average penis, and my inability to stop laughing.

I’m pretty sure it was before M built the cross, and I’m pretty sure he just clipped my wrists to an eyescrew screwed into a stud in the wall (BDSM on a budget at its finest!). I remember I had my back to the wall, so he had free access to my chest. I remember that when the cane arrived, he didn’t even talk about caning my ass until well after he’d used it on the front of my body a few times. And I thought sure, after that first night, he was gonna toss it before he ever tried.

I was scared. Petrified. My whole kink career (which, at the time, was probably all of six months old) I’d heard how horrible canes were, and how much I’d hate them. And back then, when I got scared, I got really cold, and started to shake. I don’t so much anymore. Odd, that.

He hit me once across the tops of both my boobs.

“Ow!” I hissed, and danced back and forth on the balls of my feet. And he brought the cane down again in the same spot, a little harder this time.

It wasn’t long. Five strokes in, maybe? And I swear the stroke that did it was lighter than any of the previous ones I’d taken. But instantly, there was a welt the width of his cock (No lie!), and about as long as my middle finger on my right boob about two inches over my nipple.

It wasn’t red, which was surprising. And it didn’t bruise for about a week, which was bizarre.

Can you imagine explaining a welt that size, in that spot to a doctor? Who’s a mandated reporter and would have to call the police. And we were both freaking out (Though my version was to laugh a lot, while his version was to ask me lots of questions to make sure I was lucid. Apparently a bump on the boob is equivalent to a bump on the head. I should totally have brain damage, y’all!), which is often perceived as having done something “wrong”, but really, it was just that we were worried they’d lock him up and throw away the key. Till his next court date, at least. Which would cost him his livelihood, and us our living quarters.

So.

He starts emailing our kinky friends and demanding they get online right-the-fuck-now, because we have a kinky medical emergency, and damn it, my boob’s gonna totally falled off if they don’t hurry up and answer our questions. Okay, not quite that bad. But close!

We had this one nurse friend, and she told him, after telling him that I was probably fine, I should lay down and elevate my boob.

Is that even possible?

And for some bizarre reason, he made me lay on a blanket on the floor. Maybe I laid on a blanket on the floor in the home office, so I could be near him, rather than laying on the floor in the bedroom by myself while he sat on his computer asking every kinkster we knew if I was gonna die because of this fatal boob injury? I don’t remember. What I do remember is that sent me into another fit of giggles. And I kept saying stupid shit like “Slave Dies of Sucking Boob Injury; Master’s Response: ‘But I made her lay on the floor!’ News at eleven.”

Yeah… I guess you had to be there. But I’m still laughing.

30 Days of Kink

Originally posted at EdenCafe.com on September 23, 2010

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